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triptuckers · 3 years

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Honesty - Kaz Brekker x reader

Request: oh hell yea "I saw we could send in requests which you don’t need to tell me twice bc I have some things in mind if that’s okay? I had an idea for a Kaz x female reader where he’s had feelings for you for the longest time but has never acted upon those feelings due to his trauma. Until one day something doesn’t go as planned during a Dregs job because his thoughts are with you and he lost his focus for just a moment. This is the moment he realises he has to talk to you about his crush on you but when he looks for you he notices you somewhere secluded in the arms of Jesper making out. How would he react to the fact that the girl he has had feelings for has been secretly dating his right hand? Lots of angst if that’s okay? 😬" Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader (plus some slight Jesper x reader) Summary: When Kaz finally figures out his feelings for you, and wants to tell you about it, he finds something he wasn't prepared to see Warnings: angst oh god so. much. angst. let's see what else uhh mentions of violence, bruises, language, kaz being a lil jealous jerk Word count: 2.6K A/N: this is the one yall I got this request and HA I was so ready to write some heartbreaking angst, get ready for this one (also I wasnt sure if I had to tag this as kaz x reader of jesper x reader, but as you can see I went with kaz) TAG LIST (grishaverse): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @Janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here

Because it was a one-person kind of job and it involved picking quite a few locks, Kaz told the crows to take the night off, while he took care of it.

Given that it was very rare for Kaz to tell you all that you could have the night off, neither of you was stupid enough to question it. Instead, you all wished him good luck and took off to do all those things you normally missed out on when you were away on a job.

Everyone trusted Kaz to be able to handle a simple job on his own. You'd spend enough time with him to know he'd be alright.

And he was.

It was indeed a simple job, all Kaz had to do was sneak into a merchant's home, pick the lock of the safe in the office, steal an important contract between two merchants, and get out.

Part of him liked the solitude of wandering around a big house in the dark. But another part of him wished you'd be there with him. Kaz had shook his head to get you out of his mind, and continued to do the thing he needed to do.

After successfully completing the job and getting the contract he needed, Kaz is standing in front of a closed door, listening for any sounds in the hallway on the other side of the door.

His minds wanders off to you again.

You'd wished him good luck before he walked out the door, and you'd given him one of you signature smiles. Saints, he loved your smile.

He was sure you could fix anything, all you had to do was smile at him. You comforted him in so many ways, and you probably had no idea. Though you could figure it out if you sensed something was going on.

The clues were all right there, all you had to do was find out all the times he asked for you help were all just excuses to be able to spend more time with you.

It was stupid, really. He would invite you up to his office to go over plans for a job, even though he had figured it all out already. He'd pair the two of you on jobs. He did anything to be able to spend time with you.

A cloud slowly moves through the night sky, allowing the moon to illuminate the room. The sudden light abruptly brings Kaz back to reality.

He'd been standing in front of the door for way too long, just thinking about you. He curses himself for losing his focus. For allowing himself to get so lost in his thoughts on you.

Kaz really needs to do something about it. It's almost embarrassing how starstruck he is by you. And he really can't have you distract him on a job like that again, even if you're not in the room with him.

After listening again for sounds in the hallway, Kaz slowly pushes the door open. Upon discovering the hallway is empty, he steps out of the office and makes his way to the front door of the house.

All the way back to the Slat, he's thinking of ways on how to tell you. He's never been really good at talking about his feelings. And he wants to make sure he tells you the right thing. The last thing he wants is to stutter to try and find the words to say to you.

Eventually, he settles on just getting you alone first. He'll figure out what to say after that.

The walk to the Slat takes a while, given that the Barrel is on the other side of Ketterdam. His leg starts to ache but he ignores it, he'd endured worse.

When he finally sees the Slat in the distance, he notices there are still some lights burning. The window of your room is dark. Kaz hopes you're just sitting downstairs.

But when he enters the kitchen, it's nearly empty. Except for Nina, who is sitting there having a cup of tea before bed.

'Hey!' she says. 'How'd it go?'

In response, Kaz shows her the folded piece of paper.

Nina grins. 'Told you it would be an easy job for you.' she says.

'It was.' says Kaz. 'Have you seen Y/N?'

To his surprise, Nina starts smirking.

'Oh yeah, I've seen Y/N.' says Nina. 'She went out back a while ago.'

Kaz moves to walk to the back door but Nina speaks up again.

'Kaz, I wouldn't do that if I were you.' says Nina. 'I don't think she wants anyone to see her.'

He gives her a confused look, not noticing the playful look in Nina's eyes. He then starts to worry about you. Did something happen to you? Why didn't you want anyone to see you?

Kaz quickly walks to the door and opens it, ignoring Nina who yells at him not to do so. He abruptly freezes in the doorway.

You're indeed there, but you're not alone. A tall figure, who Kaz quickly identifies as Jesper, has you pinned to the wall of the alley.

Aside from the street lamp, it's completely dark. It's hard to tell which limps belong to you and which ones belong to Jesper.

Kaz just stands there, rooted to the spot. He can't move. He just stands there, watching the girl he fell in love with kiss another man. And it's not just any other man, it's Jesper.

The cheerful sharpshooter who had been his right hand for so long. He'd been by Kaz' side for years, joining the Dregs just shortly after you had. Jesper had managed to save Kaz a number of times with his quick shooting. And now he's standing there, kissing you.

Kaz feels sick, like he's going to throw up. Like the air got knocked out of his lungs all at once. The world is spinning. This must be some bad dream, he was asleep and this is a nightmare, it isn't real.

But then you finally seem to notice something is going on.

You pull away from Jesper and look past his arm, to see Kaz standing there with a bewildered look on his face.

'Kaz?' you say, not letting go of Jesper. 'Are you alright? Did something happen on the job?'

Jesper turns around as well now, curiously looking at Kaz.

Instead of looking at you and answering you, Kaz turns his attention to Jesper. The sick feeling in his stomach fades away and gets replaced by anger. Jesper had the guts to kiss you, his girl.

Rage takes over, the same kind of rage that had gotten him the name Dirtyhands. It flashes like a red light in front of his eyes. Without wasting another second, Kaz raises his cane and jabs one of Jesper's legs, sending him to the ground.

'What the fuck, Kaz!' you yell at him.

You rush over to Jesper's side, but Kaz roughly shoves you away with his cane, kneeling next to the taller boy. He angrily looks at him, gritting his teeth.

'You don't get to kiss her just because I can't.' says Kaz in a low voice.

Both you and Jesper look confused, having no clue wat Kaz is talking about.

'Saints, what on earth are you talking about?' says Jesper, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

'She belongs with me, and you can't kiss her because I can't- because I won't- I forbid you from it.' says Kaz.

You look at Kaz, not believing what you're hearing. You'd never seen him like this, so angry, so full of rage. And you'd never seen him use his cane to hurt his crows before.

'I don't know what the fuck you are talking about.' says Jesper. 'But I'd appreciate it if next time, you'd say something instead of using that damned cane of yours. Now if you could excuse us, we went out back to have some privacy.'

Kaz' eyes widen in anger and you watch in horror as he raises a fist and swings it down, hitting Jesper's cheek hard. Before he can strike again, you catch a hold of Kaz' arm and drag him away from Jesper.

You drag him all the way back through the door and into the kitchen. Nina looks up, probably having heard something was going on. It takes one look from you for her to hurry up the stairs, leaving you alone.

You take Kaz over to one of the tables and roughly push him into a chair.

'Stay here.' you say as you glare at him.

Kaz, a feeling of numbness washing over him, doesn't protest.

You walk out the door again and he can hear you softly talking to Jesper. A while later, you and Jesper walk into the kitchen. Kaz sees a bruise is already forming on Jesper's cheek, right where he hit him.

Jesper looks at Kaz with a mixed expression of pain and confusion on his face.

You find some ice and put it on Jesper's cheek.

'Keep that on there.' you tell him. 'Go upstairs, I'll come to your room in a second. I have to talk to Kaz first.'

Jesper nods and as soon as he's out the door, you furiously turn to Kaz.

'You're going to tell me what the fuck that was about right now. No lies, no excuses, you're going to tell me the truth. Now.' you say, dragging out a chair and sitting down in front of Kaz.

'You don't get to kiss her because I can't?' you say, repeating the words he said earlier. 'What the hell was all that about?'

Normally, Kaz knows exactly what to say. All the time. He's always got an answer ready. But whenever it's just the two of you, it's like he forgets how to talk.

'Well?' you press on. 'Say something, for Saints sake!'

When he still doesn't say something, you slam your hand down on the table, and Kaz flinches slightly. You never got this angry.

'I don't want to see Jesper kissing you because I want to do that. That should have been me.' says Kaz.

'Well you can't even take your damn gloves off, did you really think you'd be able to kiss me?' you say in a cold voice.

'With time, maybe.' says Kaz.

You sigh and softly shake your head. You've been part of the Dregs for years. You care a lot about Kaz. But the bond you have with him is just not a romantic one. Apparently, Kaz didn't think so.

'You fucking hit Jesper.' you say, your voice less loud. 'He's going to have a bruise on his cheek.'

'I was angry.' is all Kaz says.

'Clearly.' you say. 'You need to apologise to him.'

Kaz looks at you. 'Yes, Kaz, you have to say you're sorry.' you say.

When Kaz gets up, you stop him.

'Not now.' you say. 'He doesn't want to see you.'

Kaz sits back down again and starts to avoid your gaze. After sitting in silence for a while, you sigh.

'Why'd you have to do it?' you wonder out loud.

'I don't know.' says Kaz. 'Just- seeing someone else kiss you like that, it made me so angry. Like something snapped inside of me.'

'If your really feel the way you say you feel about me, why didn't you say something sooner?' you say.

'I was scared.' admits Kaz. 'That you wouldn't have me because I wouldn't be able to kiss you, to touch you.'

'Physical affection isn't the only thing in a relationship.' you say.

'I know, I know, I just-' 'Kaz.'

He finally looks at you and you can see he's hurt. But you'd rather tell him the truth than lie to protect his feelings.

'Even if you would be able to touch me, a relationship would have never worked. Not for me, at least. I'm sorry, Kaz, I'm not going to sugarcoat it.' you say. 'I love you and I care about you, but not like that. I'm in love with Jesper. We didn't tell you or the other crows because if word gets out, people will see it as one of our weaknesses. I don't want to know what they'd do to get to me, or to get to Jesper.'

You look at Kaz, scanning his face for a reaction. He's letting your words sink in, thinking about them.

'Look, Kaz, I'm sorry. I'd rather tell you the truth than lie to make you feel better. I love Jesper, and right now, I have no intention at all of breaking up with him. You're going to have to find a way to deal with that.' you say and you get up.

'Apologise to him tomorrow, I'll talk to him.' you say. 'And next time, use your words. Not your cane or your fists.'

Kaz watches as you walk toward the stairs, to get to Jesper's room. He watches you as you disappear out of his line of sight. Regret starts to set in. He shouldn't have hit Jesper. He just felt so angry when he saw you with someone else.

You love Jesper, and there's nothing he can do about it. Right now, all he could do was sit in silence, getting lost in his thoughts wondering about what could have been if he had only talked to you sooner.

Meanwhile, you have reached Jesper's room. You knock and open the door, finding Jesper sitting on the bed. He's still got the ice pressed against his cheek.

'Hey.' you say as you walk up to him. Jesper briefly smiles at you but winches immediately at the movement. You sit down next to him and carefully take his hand in yours so you could remove the ice and take a look at his cheek.

Indeed, the skin of his cheek is red, a bruise forming. You lean in to softly press a kiss to his cheek before putting the ice back in place.

'What did Kaz have to say?' says Jesper.

'Um, that he has feelings for me. And that seeing you kiss me just made him angry. That's why he hit you.' you say.

'Should've used his words instead.' mumbles Jesper.

'That's what I told him.' you say. 'But I also told him to find a way to deal with it, because I am not going to break up with you.'

At your words, Jesper smiles. 'Thanks for kissing my war injury better.' he says, making you chuckle. 'I love you.'

'Love you too, Jes.' you say. You smile and get up to go and get ready for bed.

Little did you know that Kaz was standing right outside the door. He'd stopped there on his way to his room on the top floor. The three words you spoke to Jesper stung in his chest.

He'd give anything to hear you say those words to him. But you had made it clear that wasn't going to happen. Eventually, Kaz would have to find a way to deal with it.

After all, both you and Jesper are two of his most valuable and skilled crows. He couldn't just dismiss you because you love each other.

He'd find a way to deal with it. But not tonight. For tonight, he settles for going to his room and opening a bottle of kvas instead.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

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kareniliana · 3 years

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Klaus: Love & Power

A//N: I’ve been gone for a LOOONG minute. But I have good news about it.

I MADE THE DEANS LIST!

Winter qtr of college was a little difficult but it was the best I’ve ever done in school. Such good news right!?

Anyway, this qtr I have a little stricter schedule, which means I knew specially when I can write. And I had been.

GET READY!

& enjoy!

xx Karebear 💛🧸

Yours and Klaus’s love story seemed far fetched for most people but for those who were able to experience your connection grow into an immense amount of love for each other, would say otherwise. You became his world, alongside with Hope. In his mind, after he was able to curse Hayley and the werewolves in the bayou, he had the perfect life. His two great loves under his roof, under his sole protection. You would never agree to what Klaus has done, but nonetheless you love him. He’s the complete opposite of your previous partners in more ways than that. You understood him, through and through. You knew him like the back of your hand, you know his next move before he does.

You were holding Hope in your arms as you walked along the bookshelf trying to get her to sleep, but all the effort was about to go to waste when Klaus comes barging in panting about to rage about gods knows what.

But before he could begin you raised a warning hand, “Don’t you dare wake her!” You whisper shouted at him. He instantly stops dead in his tracks.

Once his breathing normalizes he sits down on the couch, “The witches are siding with Marcel against me, they want my crown.”

You walked over to him, handing off his sleepy daughter to him. “You don’t need to be everyone’s king. You have all that you need with Hope and I, right?” You asked shyly.

He looks down to a sleeping Hope, then he looks back up to you before nodding his head.

“Maybe you should just give them New Orleans?”

Klaus sighed before standing up, “I should put her to bed, it’s late.” Klaus avoided your advice, walking off to Hope’s bedroom.

After a few minutes of contemplating whether you want to still be here when Klaus comes back or not. If you stay, you’ll more than likely have to sit there listening to him rant about this losing battle. If you leave, you can avoid all of that.

With no incentive to stay, you grabbed your things and made your way out of the compound.

As you walked down the steps you notice a disheveled Elijah. He sat on an almost broken chair, drinking liquor out of a broken bottle. The entire ground floor is basically destroyed, broken tables, chairs, artwork, glasses and everything in between.

“Who in the Hades did you fight today?” You gasped at the sight, oddly enough no bodies were to be found. Blood could be seen splattered all around.

“Y/n, my apologies for the mess, I seem to have taken it a bit too far.” Elijah stands, setting the bottle on a table. In mere seconds the table caves in, shattering the bottle on the ground.

Elijah tried to fight the smile off his face, but it only grew twice in size.

You laugh at his reaction, soon Elijah bursts into laughter as well. As you descended down the rest of the steps, Elijah explains how some of his sires became a threat to the rest of his family.

“Therefore I sent them a message, ��come after my family, I will come after you.’ It’s what this family does best.” Elijah explains as he begins cleaning up the broken furniture as you stood on the last step listening to him.

“Violence begets violence, this family of yours lives in a cycle of violence.” You sighed, crossing your arms across your chest. You sounded almost defeated.

“You speak like it’s your final efforts dealing with the dramatics of my family, why is that?” he asked, noticing how fed up you are.

“I love Klaus and I love Hope, but...” You shake your head, holding yourself back.

Elijah stopped cleaning, “No, no, please don’t hold yourself back now. If there is anything this family is in dire need of, it’s your brutal honesty. Please continue.”

You sighed, “It’s just... no matter how hard life gets for him, he will not give up the one thing that brings most of this unwanted violence.”

As you spoke Elijah had come to the same realization as you, his face fall into a slight frown as he listened to you.

“After all this heartbreak and sorrow brought upon your family, you’d imagine he would at least hand over some of the reigns. But no, the mighty Klaus Mikaelson has to be King of everyone.” You talked without any reservations on the topic, eventually your tone became stern and cold.

“I know my brother can be a lot, he wants the perfect life for Hope. You can't blame him for that.” Elijah speaks with some regret, they're problematic past on his mind.

“I love that man but at some point I have the face the truth, there’s nothing more that he loves than power.” You almost choked on your words, first time saying them out-loud was harder than you thought.

Without another thought you gather your composure and hurried your way to the exit, “I should go.”

Elijah opened his mouth as he was going to say something but was speechless. There wasn’t something he could say that would fix what you were feeling. After some short time has passed Elijah had managed to get the ground floor back to its glory.

Meanwhile Klaus sat in Hope’s nursery all night, just watching her sleep. He kept thinking about what you had said; giving up New Orleans. How would he be okay with giving everything back to Marcellus?

Klaus hadn’t realized that he had been there all night until the sun rises and began to beam into the room. Letting Hope sleep, he finally leaves her room quietly. He walked around the house in search of you but much to his surprise, you weren’t in bed or the kitchen or even the study. You never came back.

Elijah walks into the study behind Klaus, “Hope’s still sleeping?”

“Have you seen Y/n? She never came home last night.” Klaus asked, worry evident in his voice.

“Not since last night when she left, you had a fight.” Elijah states which only angers Klaus.

“Were you eavesdropping on us last night?” He began to raise his voice, Elijah simply looked at his younger brother with a stern look.

Smirking at Klaus, “I had a conversation with Y/n on her way out, that is all.”

Klaus wanted nothing more than to chase you down and talk but Hope started crying meaning she’s awake. First Klaus tends to his daughter, contemplating on what to do with the situation at hand.

He knows you love him with everything that you are, but letting go of this city was something he didn’t think he’d every have to do again.

As soon as night falls, Freya comes to watch over Hope while Klaus goes out looking for you.

You sat in the lycée with Davina, she performed a cloaking spell on you to stay hidden for a while. She practiced different spells, continually getting up for different plants or herbs for said spells.

“I never would have thought that the city of the dead would be this... peaceful.”

“It’s a great place to help think, maybe soon you’ll start telling me why you need to hide from your own boyfriend.” Davina laughs slightly as she walks back to you with different colored potion bottles in her hands.

“Klaus needs to be King of New Orleans, I just need to finally accept that as one of his personality traits.” You sighed, setting down whatever witch instrument you had been playing with.

“A guy like Klaus means there is no changing him. Take the time that you need to sort your feelings, I’m meeting up with Josh. No one should come through here.” Davina gathered her things and walked out to go with her vampire friend.

Hours pass and soon it would be night, your thoughts ran wild. You love Klaus with every cell in your body, you could die loving him and it'd be a worth while life. So maybe him being the King of New Orleans is something to fight for. You’ve loved him when he's at his worst, so why can’t you love him when he’s fighting to stay King.

Coming to the realization that no matter where or what Klaus is doing, you’ll love him and want to be with him. Almost immediately you made your way out of the Lafayette Cemetery and straight to the Mikaelson compound.

After a few hours, Klaus lost hope in finding you before you wanted to be found. He went back to his daughter to wait for your return, running into Elijah at the enterance.

“Anything?” Klaus asked him, almost pleading with his eyes for some good news.

Elijah shook his head, “I didn’t want to mention this but, brother maybe she's not coming back.”

“Why on earth would you say such things?” Klaus asked before looking over to Elijah who wore a guilty expression. “Unless she said something?”

They slowly began to make their way inside the fortress, “Our chat last night, she mentioned that you might desire power more than you desire love.”

Klaus stopped dead in his tracks, there you were standing in front of Freya who was holding Hope.

Once you noticed the brothers enter the room you began apologizing for basically vanishing out on him. “I am so sorry, I needed time to figure out my stupid feelings.”

Klaus walked straight to you, pulling you into his embrace. Freya and Elijah looked to each other, making their way elsewhere to give you and Klaus some privacy.

When he pulled away he held your hands in his, “Your feelings are never stupid. There is nothing I love more than you and Hope. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, it was never my intention. I don’t need to be King.”

Your eyes go wide and you furrow your eyebrows, “No, no, I was wrong. I know why you have to be King. It’s okay, really. I know that everything you do is for those who you love.”

Klaus smiled down at you, “I do love you, do not forget that.”

#klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #klaus x reader #niklaus x reader #klaus mikealson x reader #niklaus imagine #Niklaus Mikaelson x reader #the originals x reader #the originals #the originals imagine #Mikaelson #the mikaelsons #tvd universe #tvdu #tvdu x reader

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melzula · 4 years

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The Beginning of the End

pairing: Zuko x Princess! reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, fluff

summary: in which the Princess learns what became of her father and turns to Zuko for comfort (requested by anon)

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

“Y/n,” your mother calls gently from your doorway. “The ships are leaving, come say goodbye to your father.”

“No.”

“Princess, he’s your father,” she chides gently. “I know you have your differences-“

“Differences?! He forbid me from water bending and he forbid me from ever seeing Zuko again!”

“Little otter penguin, try to understand that your father only has your best interests at heart. He loves you, and if you don’t say goodbye you’re going to regret it.”

“I won’t regret anything,” you insist stubbornly. “Besides, there’s no point in saying goodbye when we both know he’s going to come back.”

The White Lotus campsite is relatively quiet despite the number of members it inhabits, most of them gifting you friendly smiles or passing glances of acknowledgement as you weave through the tents in search of any familiar faces. With Aang having disappeared, you’re only hope in defeating the Fire Lord now rests upon Iroh, hence your group’s presence on the campgrounds. Zuko has left in search of his Uncle, and though you wished to see the kind old man again after having been apart for so long you knew it was something the prince had to do on his own. Besides, you had your own questions that needed answering and didn’t have much time to waste as you sought after any water tribe member who might have information on the whereabouts of your father.

Your search efforts are halted by the hand that rests itself firmly upon your shoulders, and though your first instinct is to pull the water from the air around you in preparation for a fight you’re quick to relax as you see it’s none other than Pakku. An apologetic smile forms on your features as you grant the old man and longtime family friend a tight hug.

“The last time I saw you you were barely learning how to walk, and now here you are pulling water out of thin air like a true bending master,” he comments with a laugh. “It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” you reply with a watery smile before pulling out of the hug to look at the man before you. Your grandfather and Pakku had been good friends in their younger days, and before the war he had often visited to teach water bending to the boys in your tribe, but then your grandfather had died and Pakku stopped coming. It was comforting to see a familiar face, but you were starting to dread the truth that would come with your question. What if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear?

“You’re troubled,” he says carefully, “what can I do to help?”

“My father... Have you heard what’s become of him? Is he back home in the south?”

Pakku’s eyes soften then, sympathetic and remorseful, but he doesn’t answer your question, not right away. Instead he guides you towards your tent and takes you inside to discuss the matter privately. Once you’ve seated yourself on the ground Pakku reaches into his robe and pulls out a familiar item from his sleeve.

“Do you recognize this?”

“Father’s tiger shark tooth necklace,” you murmur quietly as Pakku places the piece of jewelry into your open palm. The tooth is jagged and sharp though worn around the edges from the many years it’s spent hanging from your father’s neck; it was a good luck charm given to him by your mother when they were younger, and he never went anywhere without it. “But I don’t understand...”

It’s the way in which Pakku refuses to meet your gaze that you finally understand, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you clutch the necklace tightly to your chest.

“No...”

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way,” the man offers weekly before handing you a paper scroll. “Everything you need to know is in this letter. I’ll give you the privacy you need to read it for yourself.”

He leaves you alone to mourn in piece, and despite how desperate you are to know the last words of your father you can’t bring yourself to open the letter. Opening it makes it real, and you don’t think you can face his death. Not now, not when your friends are counting on you to be at your strongest for the arrival of the comet. Your heart is beating rapidly in your ribcage and your vision is blurry with your tears, and this time when a gentle hand rests itself upon your shoulder you collapse against the owner’s chest. Strong arms wrap around your trembling figure and encompass you in a comfortingly familiar warmth as you weep into their chest.

“Pakku sent me,” Zuko utters quietly into your hair. “What is it?”

“My father,” you whisper into the fabric of his robes, “he’s dead. He’s gone and I never even said goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” Zuko comforts gently. “I can’t even imagine what you must be going through right now. Is there any way I can help?”

“There’s a letter,” you sniffle as you pull away from Zuko to wipe away your freshly fallen tears. “I can’t bring myself to read it but I need to know what it says. Would you... would you read it to me?”

“O-Of course,” he replies quickly before scrambling to open the letter as you situate yourself to sit in between his legs with your back resting against his chest. With his arms around your waist and the letter held in front of the two of you, Zuko’s gentle voice slowly begins to morph into that of your father’s as you shut your eyes and listen.

“Princess,

I don’t have much time left on this earth, and I know the chances of seeing you again before my time is up are slim, so I’ve taken to writing this letter in hopes that all of your questions will be answered when I’m gone. I’ve been badly wounded in battle and with no healers available it will only be a matter of time before I pass on from this life to the next. But know that I am sorry. I’m sorry for making you become someone you weren’t, for forcing you to change when you didn’t want to, and for not being open enough to listen to your needs. I was blinded by my anger with the Fire Lord and I took it out on you and that poor boy. Love is a complicated thing, you cannot choose or help who you fall in love with, and perhaps if I had remember that then I wouldn’t have forced you to run away.

We all have a destiny in life and leaving was part of yours. There’s a greater world out there for you to explore; a good leader requires knowledge, and as future leader of the Southern Water Tribe it is your duty to obtain it. Learn to love, learn to be brave, learn to be kind, and learn to be forgiving. We didn’t get to say goodbye and that’s alright, we’ll have our time together again in the next life, so don’t let this slow you down. I know you’re going to do great things, my sweet daughter. I’ll always be with you in spirit, and you’ll always have my support. It is an honor to be your father, my brave little water bender.

It’s all up to you now. With love, your father Tukon.”

The air is silent as your father’s voice fades away and all that is left behind is the sound of your quiet sniffling and Zuko’s gentle breathing. You want to cry but for some reason the tears don’t come, and instead being filled with devastating loss and regret you are filled with a small warmth that fills your heart with love and appreciation. Your father is with you now, you can feel it, and in this moment that is enough.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, showing your gratitude to both your father and Zuko as he holds you close to his chest in the safety of your tent.

~~~

You wake to the smell of freshly cooked porridge, a smiling Zuko sitting beside your bed as he holds the bowl of breakfast in his hands to maintain its warmth while you rise.

“Good morning,” his raspy voice greets you. “How are you feeling?”

Memories from the previous night flood back to you all at once, and your boyfriend doesn’t miss the way in which you immediately reach up to clasp the tiger shark tooth hanging from your neck tightly in your hand. Tears begin to well in your eyes but you manage to keep them at bay, instead choosing to look upon Zuko with a fragile smile.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Did you sleep okay? I had Suki look after you while you slept so I could speak with my Uncle.”

“How is he?” You ask, features perking up with interest. A small smile forms on Zuko’s lips as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“He’s fine, and we’re okay. He’s eager to see you again. But you need to eat first, we all have a big day ahead of us,” Zuko instructs before handing you your breakfast. “Uncle says I need to reclaim the throne, and to do that I have to face off against Azula. But I can’t do it alone, so I’d like you and Katara to join me.”

It’s silent for a moment as you digest both the yummy porridge and the information Zuko has bestowed upon you. You had a feeling this day would come, and despite the apprehension you hold when it comes to fighting his deranged sister you know there’s no other option.

Your father’s words echo in your head: “Learn to be brave.” A beat passes before you finally nod.

“I’ve been wanting to put her in her place ever since she beheaded my favorite doll,” you admit with a wry smile. “I’d be honored to help you.”

“Get dressed,” Zuko says then, rising from his place beside your bed to give you the space you need to prepare. We leave in ten minutes.”

And so begins the end of the war.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal |

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko and the princess #fire lilies #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #forbidden lovers au #y’all already know what’s coming next

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️

You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!

Rung

·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.

·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?

·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.

·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.

·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...

Megatron

·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.

·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.

·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.

·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.

·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.

Rodimus

·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.

·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.

·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.

·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.

·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.

Minimus

·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.

·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.

·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.

·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.

·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.

Swerve

·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.

·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.

·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.

·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.

·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.

#transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #idw #lost light #maccadam #tf #rung #megatron #minimus ambus #rodimus #swerve #self insert #human reader #requests #anon #my writing #transformers headcanon #my asks

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elvish-sky · 3 years

Text

The Temptation of Regality: Home

A.N: Holy crap. This is the last chapter. Thank you all so much for joining me on this little journey! And don’t worry, there’s a decent chance I’ll write an epilogue with them all in Erebor. It was originally supposed to be a whole lot angstier but I felt with how I’d built the character relationships it just didn’t work as well, so there’s just a short bit of angst. Again, thank you guys so much for staying with me. love y’all very much <3. Enjoy!!

Word Count: 1,092

Pairing: Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, the smallest bit of angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

**** Home

The next morning, you blinked open eyes heavy with sleep. Your head was resting on something firm, and you could hear someone else’s breathing. You rolled to the side, noticing that you were fully on a bed even though you couldn’t remember falling asleep the night before. You sat up and glanced to your other side.

“Thorin?!”

The dwarf lying next to you shot up at your yell.

“Y/N? What are you doing- Why are we in the same bed?!” His look of alarm was rather amusing, but you were too busy thinking back over the previous night to remember it.

“We didn’t do anything. You got drunk and I brought you up and put you to bed, and I must have fallen asleep next to you.”

“I got drunk?” He looked worried.

“You didn’t do anything embarrassing. You just thought everyone was trying to murder you and hid under a table for a few hours.”

He still looked embarrassed.

“Seriously, Thorin, that wasn’t the worst thing anyone did last night.” You proceeded to recount Bilbo’s entire handkerchief-related rant, leaving both you and the king crying from laughter.

Fili and Kili burst into the room to see you and their uncle falling on top of each other in laughter. Frozen in the doorway at the sight, Fili finally spoke.

“I see things went a little further than expected last night,” he observed with an eyebrow raised.

You quickly leaped off the bed. “I fell asleep here last night, that’s all. Anyways, where were you two all night?”

“We slept in Bilbo’s room.”

Kili nodded. “We wanted to give you two some privacy.”

Thorin threw a pillow at him, and while he scolded his nephews you washed up, emerging several minutes later in your freshly laundered clothes.

“I’m going to go see if Oin will take a look at my leg before we leave.” Seeing the concerned reactions of the three dwarves, you hurried to clarify.

“It’s not hurting very much, I just want him to make sure it looks good.”

Three heads nodded in understanding, and you left with a wave.

Weeks later, the fact that your leg was healed was just about the only good thing. After narrowly escaping the goblins, and even more narrowly escaping the orcs, everyone was just about exhausted. Now, on the Carrock breathing in a sigh of relief, you reflected on the last few weeks.

After the night at the inn, Thorin had been colder towards you. You didn’t know why, but it hurt. On the mountain, he had saved Bilbo, and you had watched inside the cave as he checked on every member of the company. Except you.

He had protected you in goblin-town, but then they all had. It was just his duty to do so. And while the wargs were attacking he hadn’t even spared you a glance, but that you couldn’t exactly blame him for. Still, you had saved several of the company members by boosting them into trees, you would have thought he might have acknowledged you for that.

And now, watching him hug Bilbo on the Carrock you were jealous. Yes, the hobbit had done amazing things, had saved Thorin, but you wanted Thorin to be hugging you like that. Not to barely acknowledge your presence.

To tell the truth, deep down you wanted him to love you the same way you did him. But if how he had treated you these past weeks was any indication, that would never happen. But you were mad, and the anger clouded your judgment, so you waited until he had finished congratulating the hobbit and stepped forward.

“Y/N-” You cut Dwalin off when he tried to talk as you strode up to the leader.

“Thorin Oakenshield, of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic things to do that was the stupidest, most reckless, most idiotic thing ever.”

Everyone looked dumbstruck.

The king looked shocked that anyone was speaking to him that way, and fired back with anger brimming in his eyes. “Y/N, why do you care?”

“You almost died, Thorin! And I love you and the fact that you’ve been so distant lately is tearing me apart, and yet I cannot do anything about it, cannot leave because I care. I was tempted, and I succumbed, and here we are. But I’m just done. If you don’t care then so be it. I can’t go on like this.”

You strode over to a small rock and sat, head in your hands as you cried. A shuffling sound came close, like footsteps, and you lifted your head to see Thorin standing in front of you. He looked nervous.

“Y/N, I-”

He started speaking and then stopped. It looked as if he was mulling something over in his brain, and you watched as something sparked in his eyes.

He leaned forward, cupping your chin in his hand as he tilted your head up to look him in the eyes.

“If you don’t want me to do this, tell me.”

You stayed silent, gazing up at him, kissing you gently for all of two seconds before suddenly deepening the kiss.

It felt like fireworks.

You tangled your hands through his hair, trying to pull him closer even though there was barely an inch of space between you.

Wolf whistles sounded out around you and you broke apart, flushed, to see the entire company beaming at the two of you from behind Thorin’s back. Except for his nephews, who had their hands over their eyes and were fake gagging.

But you only had eyes for one person.

“You love me?” You asked him, hoping beyond hope for the answer he gave.

“Yes. And I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I didn’t want to give you false hope. We’re on a quest, we could die at any moment, but I see now that it’s more important for us to take what time we have.”

You smiled at him. “I love you, Thorin.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You stood, and he entwined his fingers with yours as you walked back to the group. You noticed him catch sight of something in the distance, and you walked to the edge of the rock together.

“Erebor.”

You sucked in a breath as you realized what you were looking at.

“The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarven kingdoms of Middle-Earth,” Gandalf said.

“Our home.” Thorin glanced up at you, squeezing your hand in encouragement.

Looking out into the distance, gazing at your future, you smiled.

“Our home.”

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @anjhope1 @boyruins @itgetsatadhazy

Series tag 💕: @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @moony-artnstuff @whiskeywinter89 @beakami @sassyscribbler @yes-captainstark

Thorin tag 💖: @lathalea

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hs-devote · 3 years

Text

iii. láthi: the lie

Moodboard * Content * Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

chapter ii. láthi: the touch

iii. the lie

The sex was addictive. The pair of different realm creatures loved each other's touch on their warm skin, the thirst of having sex, and the lust over each other's taste, making them unable to put their sexual needs aside. If they have the opportunity, Harry didn't hesitate to give a signal to Y/N, who of course, was accepted shyly by her.

And it's been almost a few weeks.

“Does it hurt?” Harry murmurs while gasping for breath after he came, rubbing the bruises mark on her hips, “I'm sorry if I was too rough.”

“It's okay, H. You're just too carried away.” Y/N shakes her head, tracing a little of his chest hair with her fingertips. “I'm a bit sore but nothing to worry about."

“Good then, I just wanna make you feel good.” he sighs, then dropping his body next to her. His muscular arm pulling her to him, providing warmth through their naked bodies. Y/N breathe in content after he pulled the duvet over them.

“I have one nagging question in my mind.”

"What's that?" she snuggles deeper to his neck, kissing the sweaty skin with full adoration.

“Why did you let me be your first?" he curiously asks, "I mean, you're beautiful and kind. "There must be a lot of males who are attracted to you. And, why me?"

“Because I trust you, H.” she answers softly, “I haven't dated yet because I don't have a good sense of trust. I saw my friends who got dumped with men easily, leaving them heartbroken. And.. I haven't brave yet to suffer such pain.”

“I know you're a good man and I trust you." she adds later.

Harry exhales while rubbing her temples, looking at her straight in the eye. Both of them just stare at each other, let the time perpetuate their togetherness. The man only gives her a soft smile before locking their lips together. Unfortunately, Harry's desire to continue their second session is thwarted by the open door of Y/N's house.

“Mia cara?”

The pair hurriedly move away from each other when they heard Ilitia's voice. Harry's picking up his clothes on the floor in rush and gets dressed while Y/N looking annoyed trying to find her clothes.

“I'll go out first before your grandmother gets suspicious.” he chuckles, ruffing her unruly hair and leaving her alone in the bedroom.

“Harry?”

The man startled when Ilitia standing in front of him with her signature smile while he nervously scratches his neck trying to calm him down. They almost got caught, and Harry couldn't imagine her face if she caught her beloved granddaughter being fucked with a man.

“Uh, hi. I just came from the bathroom.” he speaks then averting his gaze to the bathroom next to his lover’s bedroom, “I think Y/N is in her room if you’re looking for her.” then looking back at the old woman.

“Granny, hi!” Y/N appears from behind him not long after and smiling awkwardly. Her eyes occasionally glance at her grandmother who looks at Harry sceptically and him, who's standing next to her uncomfortably.

"I think I should go now." he breaks the silence, eyeing her with the corner of his eyes, "Thank you for the.. Yorkshire Pudding, Y/N.”

The girl just stares at him dumbfounded while the only thing he does is winking at her. As if she understands what Harry meant, Y/N just blinks and nods quickly like a doll.

“Later, love.” Harry smiles at her, and of course not forgetting Ilitia, “See you next time, ma'am.”

“You don't want to stay any longer, Harry?” Ilitia asks.

"I want to but I still have other work," he refuses politely, "Goodbye, ladies."

With that, Harry walts out from their sight leaving both the woman in the middle of the dining room. Not wanting Ilitia to ask odd questions, Y/N immediately excuses herself to do the laundry.

Meanwhile, Harry has returned to his cottage because he will return to Centauri for a few days tonight. He doesn't forget to text Y/N that he's going out of town for a few days for work so she's not confused about his whereabouts. Of course, she was asking about this suddenness and he lied that he had just been informed by his boss. He felt a little guilty about lying to her, but he couldn’t possibly tell the truth, could he?

Later that night, Harry arrives at Centauri with no difficulties. All the servant, guards, and his people welcoming his arrival with such respect. It feels so great to be able to return to his realm, back to being the ruler of his almighty realm and sitting on his throne. He feels so strong and powerful when he's back to Centauri.

When he steps into the throne room, Selene quickly approaches him with a jog, crashing her petite body into the man she had missed so much.

“Oh, my dear. I miss you so much.” Selene mumbles in his chest, her fingers crumple his shirt fabric. She's so happy to be back in her husband's arms.

"Darling. Why are you still up in this such ungodly hour? Why don't you rest?” Harry smiles into her hair.

“I heard from the guard they opened the gate because you're home. I don't want to miss my husband's return.”

He sighs softly as he breaks their hug, both his hand gripping her shoulder delicately. Selene just smiles, before tugging his hand to follow her to their bed-chamber. The Goddess doesn't want to lose this opportunity. Being her husband back at home, she wants to spend time alone with Harry intimately.

“How's your mission, my dear? Any luck?” Selene hums, rubbing his arms innocently.

“I know it's been weeks on Earth time and only days on Centauri time, but I haven't found the Goddess yet.” he shook his head, “But, I've talked to the Ocean. They said we'll have children one day and definitely find that Goddess.”

“But, it's been too long, my dear. I can't let you linger on Earth.”

“I know, darling. And I'm sorry. We have to be patient, Selene. You know it would take longer if our common guard who did it. They didn't have the ability to sense the sacred Goddess.”

“And why the ocean? She's hiding on the land, not in the water, right?”

“Yes, because the Ocean is the second soul of the Goddess of Birth.” Harry pats her shoulder, “I couldn't just ask them where the Goddess is. They'll keep me apart from the Goddess if I did that.”

Selene hums softly when they reach the front of their bed-chamber, her hand pushes gently the massive double oak door and pulls her husband inside.

“How's your day on Earth?”

“Tired and.. fun. Worth with what we'll get.”

"I'm curious. You seem so at home there until it took you today to come home only for a moment." Selene stands in front of him, raising an eyebrow at him.

“The people are very nice and kind."

“Is that so?”

“Mhm..”

“Very well,” Selene bites her lip, “Is there something you didn't tell me, my dear?”

His wife's questions catching him off guard. What does she mean? He didn't lie to her about anything. Why did Selene say that?

"I don't understand? I told you what you asked." Harry looks at her with concern, "Is there anything I haven't answered?"

“Don't lie to me, Harry.” Selene finally opens her mouth, “You're not honest with me.”

“Selene, I– ”

"You're seeing someone behind my back!" her voice roars all over their bed-chamber, even he swears he felt the room shaking even if only a little. What got into Selene to scream at him? If normally his God head thinking quickly, this time it seems like he's having a little trouble digesting the sentence that Selene had just said.

Then it clicks.

Y/N.

How could his wife know if he's indeed seeing someone behind her back?

“I'm not, Selene. If you're talking about the ladies who talked to me, they're nothing more than friends. They only talked to me, nothing more.” he denies, “I’m yours, Selene. There's no way I betrayed you.”

"Don't lie to me, Harry." she grits her shiny teeth, "If you keep lying to me, I swear–"

“My darling, Selene.” he clears his throat, “No matter how hard you argued, my answer is still the same. I wasn't, I'm not seeing someone or dating someone behind your back. Why would I do that? I have you, my wife, all my life.”

“Fine then if you keep in denial. I swear Harry, if you're proven to do that, you'll regret lying to me.”

With that, Selene walks out from their grand bed-chamber, leaving her husband alone with a loud thud of the closing door. Throughout the night, Harry keeps thinking how the hell his wife knows he’s seeing another woman. Did she know when she visited him on Earth, or she sent the Centaurian people to stalked him at the Town Hall at that time? Well, just thinking about that makes his head hurt, and choose to rest since it took so much energy for him into getting here. . . . .

Selene doesn't speak a word to Harry for almost two days. Her temper is still bad so her husband has to think about how to make her not prejudice. Albeit she's a jealous person and quite reckless, it isn't hard for him to soften her. His Selene loves nice cuddles and good fuck.. and that's his way to swoon and win her heart.

"Darling," Harry approaches his wife who had just finished her bath, with a few maids helping her to get dressed. Seeing their Gods seems to want privacy together with the Goddess, they excuse themselves, leaving their majesties alone.

Selene ignores him, busy applying olive oil to her body with her back facing him. Seeing his wife still looks annoyed, Harry doesn't give up and taking a step closer. He slowly put his hands on her shoulder, giving her a gentle massage.

“How long do you want to keep annoyed with me?” he whispers, bringing his hot mouth to kissing her bare shoulder, “I've told you I wasn't seeing someone.”

“I miss you,” he adds, “Don't you miss me?” then he lands wet kisses along her neck while his finger running along her arms.

He smirks instantly when Selene squirms under his touch, feeling something stir inside her. There's no way she denies the longing for her husband that was eating her away. She let out a sharp breath when Harry sucks her throat, letting the bruises forming for everyone to know.

“It seems you do miss me.” he hums on her ears, squeezing her hips to make her choke on her breath. He quickly turns her body to face him, and hungrily kissing her lips. With her defences have collapsed, Selene gladly kisses him back with so much passion. She runs her finger through his curls, tugging them a little when her husband licks her lower lip. It doesn't take long for Harry to push her body slowly to lie down on their bed with their lips still locking to each other. He eagerly caressing Selene's body under him, feeling the sensitive skin reacts with his touch.

“How long haven't we been like this?” his voice barely whisper when he breaks the kiss, his breath is gasping for oxygen as much as possible.

Selene just shakes her head, not answering his question. Instead, she cradles his face closer to kiss him again. While their lips savouring each other, her hands begin to take off her husband’s clothes. Selene slowly takes Harry's face away from her, taking a moment to admire her husband in his naked glory. She never gets bored and always craves his body even though they had been together for years.

“I miss this,” she mumbles, touching his abs and running her finger from his chest to his stomach. She hums while her index finger feelings his happy trails, “And I miss.. him.”

Harry choked on his breath when Selene groping his stiffened length, giving him a firm squeeze. The woman just smirks, letting her hand giving her husband a few good pump before releasing him. Yet, things turn around when he spread her legs wide open and buries his head between her thighs. She cries as Harry sucking her clit before leaving wet licks. Her legs tremble when he blows a deep breath into her entrance, then putting a single finger inside her.

“Harry..”

He pumps into her slowly, then faster his move while adding the second finger. Selene's moan gets louder when his fingers work on her, so fast until it makes her grasping his head reflexively. While his fingers work his way in and out of her, his mouth working magically – giving small bites to her inner thighs.

"I'm close, I'm close." Selene feels it, her eyes squint tightly when the wave is coming. She curses out when his pumping fingers sliding in and out of her with no mercy. She almost screams in annoyance when Harry suddenly pulls his finger from her, yet she immediately whines in pleasure when he pushes his length inside her.

The Goddess rolls her eyes when her husband roll in and out her hard – making their bed shaking violently. She mewls as Harry picking up his speed, rocking their hips together. The couple sighs in relief when they ride their high together, moaning into each other mouth and feeling the adrenaline running through their veins.

Without having to pull himself out, Harry collapse next to her while bringing her body close to him, feeling their body heat and sweat sticking on their skin. Both of them keeping their mouth shut, too much enjoying each other presence. While Harry closes his eyes to regain his breath, Selene enjoys the silence by stroking his warm skin. She giggles when she realises her nails leaving scratches around his back. She doesn't even aware when her hands were creeping up his back.

"We'll have a lot of sex after we find the Goddess and she helps me to conceive, you know? After she blesses me, we're going to make lots of babies." Selene speaks while she kisses his sweaty neck, “But for now, enjoy our time together before we make babies.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh as he opens his eyes, looking at Selene who's now on top and ready for the second round. Cockily, he raises his eyebrow while griping her hips, “Looks now who's smitten after the sex?”

Selene snorts before kissing her husband and lifts her hip as he guides her to make her way into his length. And it isn't secret for anyone in the castle that their God and Goddess are sex-crazed. . . . .

Harry has returned to Earth a few days ago. When he was in Centauri, a lot of task as the ruler he has done. From the meeting with his advisor and council to small tasks like monitoring the border guards practising. He realised, the longer he left Centauri, the more tasks he had to face later. He could have entrusted them to his advisor or even Selene, but he's a perfectionist and doesn't easily entrust them to other people.

Like he always does, he will buy new flowers to replace the old one that has withered since he left. Of course, he's planning to buy them at Y/N's, but he thinks to bring her something for making up her day without him.

Yet, when he's about to change his clothes, someone's knocking his door. He doesn't remember inviting anyone to come to his cottage, he doesn't even know his neighbour anyway. And it cannot be Selene, they just met a few days ago!

Nevertheless, he opens the door and very surprised when he finds Y/N standing on his porch with two bouquets of roses in both hands, smiling broadly at him.

“Hi, Harry. Am I bothering you?”

“No,” he stunned, “Why didn't you tell me you would come? I just wanted to see you.”

She shrugs, “I think you're still quite tired from travelling so I think it doesn't hurt if I brought some flowers for you. I believe your old ones were withered, weren't they?”

“Very thoughtful of you,” he smiles and opening the door wider for her to come, “Come in, love.”

“Thanks, H.” she giggles, waiting for Harry to close the door and escort her in. Y/N is comfortable enough on her own to replace the old flowers with the fresh roses she brought with her. Of course this isn't her first time being here, she has been trusted by him to move around freely. She often spends time together with him here after all.

“Why roses?” Harry chimes in while watching the girl putting the vase in the corner, “And why, white?”

“Honestly? I don't know..” she laughs, “But, every time I see roses, I remember you. Roses are generally defined as compassion, care, passion.. which is it's you. And the white one adds the thoughtful, innocence, and purity – which reminds me of you, too.”

“So, you consider me as roses?” he teases her.

“I.. guess?” she giggles, “And roses are beautiful. And you're beautiful.”

“Thank you for the compliment, love.” he snickers while walking closer to her, “I enjoy all the compliments.”

“Get used to that.” Y/N sticks out her tongue before leaving him to the kitchen. Harry just chuckles and shaking his head before following her behind. He smiles softly before slipping his arms around her waist from behind, putting his chin on her shoulder making her flinched in surprised.

“I miss you,” he whispers, his nose sniffs her neck which smells like the flowers she brought earlier. Closing his eyes, Harry takes a long breath letting the smell filling his nose. He grins while tightening his arms around her, “You smell good.”

“I'm working with tons of flowers, of course I am.” Y/N jokes while rubbing his knuckles. Then, she sighs as Harry kissing down her throat.

She misses this.

She misses his touch, his skin.

She misses him.

Wasting no time, she yanks him and grabbing his head down. She kisses him with her hands cupping his sharp jaw while letting his hands wandering all over her warm skin. She's smiling into the kiss when their tongues dancing with each other. As for Harry, he never gets tired to always give her the best kiss. Even though Y/N had tapped his shoulder as a signal of her running out of breath, Harry was always never enough.

“Harry.." Y/N whines as she pushes him away a little, her chest is up and down – panting heavily. "I miss you, too. But, let me breathe first..”

The man himself breaks a smile, sweeping her hair strands away before pulling back her hips and giving her smooch. Despite Y/N is only able to breathe for a moment, she doesn't deny that his kisses are addicting. The two of them cannot stay long without feeling each other's lips.

Harry makes the move first, taking her hand to follow him to his bedroom. As soon as they get to his room, he immediately gives her a quick peck on her lips before bringing his hand to unbutton the front of her dress. While he's working on her dress, Y/N starting to take off his white crisp shirt and getting help from the man when she unzipping his trouser.

Now, the two of them only in their underwear, still with the awe look on their face when adoring each other's body. If usually Harry is the aggressive one in the bed, this time Y/N who's the one who gently takes his hand and brings him to the bed with her. She misses him so much, and she doesn't want to waste the time. She hungrily kisses his lips once Harry hovering her, her hands running down from his chest to where his boxer hanging low on his hips. With one swift move, she manages to remove the fabric and make his already stiff length spring free between his thighs. Her hands snarkily creeping to his pride and squeeze him softly, only to make him choked on his breath.

“Such a tease,” he scoffs while pulling her bra strap, “Baby loves to tease, does she?”

She yelps when Harry releases the pull of the strap giving her skin hard slap. She mewls when he grinds his length to her clothed centre, giving her a taste of his shaft before his hands go under her back to unclasp her lacy maroon bra. The woman sighs in relief when the bra loosened and fall of her body with his help. Yet, a second later she rolls her head and arching her back when Harry sucks her nipple as his hand stroking her other breast. She reflexively wraps her legs around his body to keep him still, not wanting to let him go.

“Harry..” she cries out at the same time he tugs her nipple with his teeth, giving wet licks before sucks it again.

“Oh my.. Oh my...” she throws her head to the side as he running down his wet lips from her breast to her belly button, and peppering a few kitten licks before he tugs down her knicker. The cold air instantly hit her exposed centre making her squirm, but the squirming becomes even more intense when Harry spreading her legs wide open and dug his head down to taste her down there.

"You're so wet." he hums as he breathed into her, then he lifts his head to peek at her. Watching his girl squinting her eyes hard as he works his finger on her. He licks his bottom lips for the satisfaction of Y/N bucking her hips into his finger.

“Harry please, I need you.” she whimpers, “Please.. please.”

“What? My fingers working on you as we speak now.” he teases her even more by adding the second and third finger into her at the same time making her moan even more.

“Ah!” she screams as Harry pumping her in and out faster, he smirks as her wall tightening and squeezing his fingers deliciously. Not long after, she cum on his fingers along with long moan coming out from her mouth. He instantly pulls his fingers and cleaning his coated digits with his mouth while keeping the eye contact with her.

“We're not done yet, baby.”

“Want you.” she begs him while puckering her swollen lips.

“Mhm?” he wiggles his eyebrow, crawling on top her and landing a soft kiss on her forehead. Y/N smiles meekly and wrapping her arms around his shoulder. Both of them moan in pleasure while Harry pushes his length into her until he buries deeply on her.

He let him still, buried deep into her, letting Y/N adjust before he moves. He starts with slow and careful movements and begins to move faster when she gives him an okay.

“Harry.. Harry...” Y/N moans on his neck while Harry rocking his hips fastly on her, rolling in and out harder until their movement shaking his bed. His bedpost squeaked, making the headboard also jerking to the wall every time he thrusting into her with full force.

“Harry!” she cries louder as she arches her back making her breast up into the air, feeling him full and loaded inside her. She tilts her head back and forth because of the pleasure, not aware that the sheets come off of the mattress.

“I'm close... I'm.. I'm gonna-”

“Cum on me baby, cum for me.” Harry grits his teeth as he keep thrusting into her, gripping her hips hard, and he's sure it will leave some bruises later but he doesn't care.

“Oh my god!”

Y/N whimpers loudly when she reaches her high the second time, her sore breast rising up and down – gasping for the breath. She shuts her eyes for a moment, feeling the pleasure drains her energy. But, Harry doesn't give her pause, he pulls himself out and with a single beat, pushing his cock all the way inside her making Y/N chokes on her breath.

“Yes, yes..”

She gasps, digging her nails to his back – feeling the fullness of him on her. She moans, whimpers, and cries out every time his tips nudges her with their sweaty skin slapping each other. He's full inside her and she never feels this good.

Then, it hits her.

She feels him twitch inside her, ready to spill his seed into her.

“Y/N, oh.. fuck. I'm gonna cum..” he moans in her mouth, his hand sliding under her back and holding her close. And when he spurts his thick cum into her, both of them moaning each other name together as the waves hit them. Harry shut his eyes closes as he let his fluid spilling warmly inside her. When he opens his eyes, the girl underneath him is looking straightly at his green eyes, her flushed face signifies how great their sex is. Her messy hair, lips were swollen and sweat running down her beautiful face.

Yet, Harry hasn't satisfied.

After letting her grab her losing breath, he pulls out from her and slowly takes the tip of the curtain dangling from the canopy bed, tied it to the bedpost before tying it to her legs and arms, making the woman spread out like a starfish.

"What are you doing?" she asks in bewilderment, feeling a little helpless with her hands and feet tied up. Nevertheless, she trusts him enough. She believes he won't hurt her.

“Ha – oh!” she gasps when he buries his face down her thighs, running his nose behind her inner thighs, smelling his cum that too much for her cunt to handle until it flowed. She tastes just like her usual state, sweet and wet, with a bit of him.

Harry loves it.

He loves it when his girl tastes like the mix of him and her.

Sweet as honey, yet strong like him.

“Harry!”

He flicks his lips in her core, teasing her bundle of nerves with his tongue before sucking the fluid. He doesn't forget to leave marks by small biting her delicate skin, sucking them harsh. He holds her still when she's bucking her hips to her, but Harry cannot give her what she wants that easy.

“Easy, tiger.” he hums, rubbing her clit softly. He chuckles before squeezing her boobs together while his mouth does a wonder on her down there. He feels so strong and powerful, while his girls feeling helpless – not being able to touch him.

“Oh.. Oh!”

The only thing they hear is their moans, their scream of pleasure. Unaware that someone had just opened the front door. While Harry is fucking the helpless Y/N underneath him, rocking himself in and out with the utmost lust, the Goddess of Centauri. His wife. Selene, standing behind the half-closed door watching her husband having a kind of passionate sex with another woman. Not just a woman, yet a mortal creature.

Selene knows it.

She was suspicious from the start.

Her husband is having affair with someone.

Her husband is cheating on her.

A mortal human is seducing her husband.

How come Harry be seduced by the despicable, mortal, and lowly creature. A human?

She cannot allow this.

No.

Without making any sound, Selene disappeared in the blink of an eye – letting the pair fulfil their desires. *

hweelloo... ;)

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #god harry styles #romance #fanfiction

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castiels-majestic-wings · 3 years

Text

Sixth Sense - Chapter 2

Paring: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,165

Warnings: None

Posted: 31/12/2020

Thor had taken Loki to Odin, in Asgard. But you had managed to convince him to at least ask Odin if you can go in and try to get a read on his- Loki’s aura. You were waiting for his answer. He said he would come back. And if Odin permitted you to see him- read him, maybe even question him. You could find out why Loki did what he did. Maybe even change his view of things, get him to be the brother Thor had once told you about.

You’ve been waiting for a long time. It’s been three weeks since Thor went back to Asgard. You had given up, not expecting him to return. But that’s when you saw the Bifrost on your balcony appear. But it disappeared just as quickly, only there was Thor, making his way inside, his mission included your presence.

“Y/N, it has been a while, my friend.” he extended his arms with a smile before engulfing me in a hug. You pulled away smiling.

“It hasn’t been that long, not even a whole month” You informed.

“Time flows differently in Asgard”

“I know, I know. So how was the trip? What was Loki’s punishment?” Curiosity filled your voice.

“Odin, my father. He sent my brother to prison for eternity.” Your eyes fell, you didn’t know why you felt concerned about him, nor why you felt compassion. You were worried about him. Aura’s can show a lot of things about a person, and his- his was a spiral of emotions. Anger, hatred, fear and betrayal. There was no sign of any positive emotions when you first read him at the tower.

“But, if made it so you can go speak to Loki, but only if you’re under my supervision.”

“You got Odin to agree? How?! I was sure he would decline”

“I explained that you could read him, find out what happened to the brother I once knew.”

“When do you want me to go?”

“As soon as you can, my father doesn’t take lightly to tardiness” A giggle escaped your lips.

“Okay, hold on let me sort some last-minute things and ill be right with you.” You had sorted through the last of your current mission report and packed a few small things in a backpack before making your way back to Thor.

“Okay, I think I’m ready” you readjusted your backpack while walking to the balcony, Thor not far behind.

“You might want to hold on” Giving him a questioning glance you held on to his waist. “Heimdall, bring us up” After a couple of seconds the Bifrost surrounded you. You shut your eyes in fear as you could no longer feel the floor. You slowly opened your eyes, you were scared but glad you did. The Bifrost was beautiful. A rainbow of colour surrounded you before you felt the floor at your feet again. You gathered your surroundings before releasing your grip on Thor. In front of you stood a man, removing his sword from the device in the middle of the room.

“Welcome to Asgard Y/N”

“You know my name? Heimdall knows my name!” You grabbed Thor’s sleeve in excitement.

“Of course, I see everything, I know everything within the nine realms.”

“Everything? Does that mean you see whenever someone is trying to conceive a child?” Your bluntness shocked the men around you. “What? I’m genuinely curious, he’s seen everyone naked!” Heimdall coughed into his fist.

“Uhm, no, I choose not to watch anything deemed inappropriate.” He clarified.

“Okay, that’s calmed me down, I was worried for a minute there.” Heimdall smiled, obviously used to your humour after watching over you for so many years. Thor had escorted you to Odin so he could speak to you personally. To say you were nervous was an understatement. You didn’t know how to hold a conversation with a normal person let alone a king. The walk there seemed long as if you had walked for hours. But in reality, it was only 5 minutes.

As you entered the palace you noticed how tight security was. Something must have happened here before Loki trie to attack us on earth. Thor stopped suddenly causing me to halt next to him. I looked up suddenly frozen, Odin’s presence, it was excruciating.

You knew you couldn’t say anything rash, you couldn’t question him either. You had never met someone with such a powerful presence before. You bowed without a second thought. I kept my position until Thor began to speak.

“Father, this is the Midgardian I informed you of. She holds incredible abilities, she might be the key to helping Loki” Thor's voice was followed by silence.

“And what makes you think she is capable of helping Loki” Odin's voice boomed through the halls, creating an echo that made me flinch.

“She explained her thoughts on his actions without even speaking to him. I believe she will be a great asset”

“I already permitted you to bring her here, she is under your supervision, Thor. If anything were to happen to, her blood is on your hands”

“Yes, Father. Thank you.” Thor bowed his head and turned, signalling me to do the same. Not allowing him to think you were a coward, you spoke.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I shall try my best to make Loki the son you once knew. Please, put your faith in me. I will not fail!”

“Make sure you do not fail me, otherwise Loki will be the least of your troubles.” Odin snarled, obviously displeased with your presence.

“Yes of course” A small smile made it to your face before you bowed once more, taking your leave. Thor had escorted you to the prisons. Loki’s cell was to the left of the stairway as you entered. Loki had noticed you straight away.

“Brother! My my, what do we have here. The Midgardian that stayed hidden.” The smirk on his face was mischievous, much like his personality. The God of Mischief. You stood in front of his cell with Thor to your right.

“I’m a tactician I stay on the sidelines.” You were unable to place the confidence that took over your body, but you could bite back.

“Oh, but you’re much more than that.” Loki placed his forearm on the forcefield leaning on it. “You’re different, definitely Midgardian, but how you read me without my speaking was glorious.”

“Good so you know why I’m here.” His smirk fell off his face. “Don’t bother trying to hurt me, Thor will not leave my side. You won’t be able to attack me.” He lowered his arm and went to sit down on the bench in the corner. Thor opened the forcefield and entered, holding it open enough for me to walk inside. Loki glared at me, not wanting his deepest secrets revealed, by a Midgardian no less. You went to walk to Loki but was stopped by Thor’s grip on your arm.

“Thor, I’ll be fine, but if you want me to get a deep reading I need to get closer to him” I placed my hand above his as he loosened his grip. He tensed ready for any trick Loki might try. I walked in front of Loki and grabbed a chair to sit face to face.

“There’s a darkness in you that isn’t your own. It’s fighting your goodness, your natural aura.”

“Aura? There is no such thing as being able to see or read auras” Ignoring his comment you continued to stare at him, not losing eye contact.

“The colours, you’re naturally drawn to them. Greens and gold. There’s a hint of blue hidden within the darkness. That colour makes you sad, angry, frustrated. Why do you dislike blue so much” His eyes changed, no longer were they sarcastic and mischievous, but sad and vulnerable.

“Is it your heritage? Thor told me you were adopted. But still, you have a small similarity to Thor’s aura, you’re still Asgardian.” Loki saw in your eyes that you were nothing but truthful. Not one word that left your lips was a lie.

“What? No, that can’t be-”

“Why not?”

“I’m a Frost Giant, Odin stole me from Jotunheim as a Trophy, a way to bargain his way through if the Jotuns attacked once more.”

“Then if frost giants are blue, why aren’t you?”

“Odin altered my appearance when he found- when he took me”

“But you are Asgardian, Odin’s blood flows in your veins”

“I am not his son!”

“No. Not a son, but a relative of some kind.”

“How can you tell? You read auras?” Curiosity filled the room.

“People of the same blood give similar auras.”

“How can you be so sure?” Thor was eager to know, after finding out that Loki wasn’t his brother it broke him. If there was a chance that they were related- even distantly, he would take it.

“I’ve seen it, because of Clint. And his family”

“So Loki isn’t my brother? But a relative?”

“Yes, I can’t say what exactly but I could ask Odin. He might know something about this”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive-” I looked up at Thor. “I must speak to your father, alone.” You urged. Both Thor and Loki looked your direction. Both equally as confused and curious.

“Father does not allow just anyone to be alone with him.”

“I’m not just anyone” A smirk appeared on your face, much like Loki's when he knows- thinks he's won. “Let’s go have a chat with the Allfather” You stood from your position, Thor following before opening the cell. After you exited Loki looked at you curiously, with a hint of hope in his eyes.

“I will find out the Truth for you- even if I can’t tell you myself” He could tell you were sincere. Why would anyone be willing to do this for him? It intrigued him. He kept his gaze on you until he could no longer see your form. As you entered the great hall you had asked Thor to wait outside. Odin looked at you curiously seeing you make your way towards him alone.

“Odin, I must speak with you privately.”

“Privately? No one shall speak to me privately unless its Frigga or Thor”

“It’s about Loki’s origin. Unless you want the guards to know his birth mother, I suggest we have our privacy.” Odin’s eye widened, you hit a nerve. He signalled the guards to leave, and it stayed silent until he knew no one could hear us.

“What do you know Midguardian?”

“I know that Loki- even if his father is a frost giant, his mother was Asgardian. How she is related to you I’m not sure. But its royal blood- your blood.”

“How did you find this information?”

“Thor told you that I read auras correct?” Odin nodded, deeming the silence necessary. “Well families, that share the same blood have similar auras. And his aura- his Asgardian aura, is similar to Thor’s and your own. What can you tell me?”

“Who his mother is doesn’t matter”

“I assume she’s either dangerous or dead. Or both.” Odin seemed uneasy.

“I won’t tell either of them. Any information you tell me right now I won’t tell Thor or Loki”

“And why my dear, should I trust you”

“If you want me to clear his darkness, I must know everything”

“Not a word, to anyone other than myself”

“You have my word.” He sighed, composing himself. He hadn’t spoken about her in millennia, nor had he forgotten her.

“My daughter, Hela”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yes, My firstborn”

“So Loki he’s- he’s your grandson?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you won’t kill him? He might be frost giant, but he is still of your blood” Odin was breaking. His shell was slowly opening.

“Does Frigga know?”

“No”

“How could you hide that from her? She- Her daughter has a son!”

“With a frost giant! She was already trying to overthrow the kingdom. Working with the frost giants- then she became pregnant with Lafeys child” He growled, angered by the memory.

“I see. Now that I know, I should be able to get a better read of your grandson.”

“You must not tell anyone of what we just spoke”

“I gave my word. I shall not tell a soul.”

“Leave” He ordered. And you had no reason to decline. You left the grand hall telling the guards that they could return to their post. Your figure leaned against the wall, your nerves catching up, making your breath heavy and unstable. You slid to the ground, seeing Thor approach you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“Yes- My nerves just caught up with me that’s all. Plus, your father is a scary man” A giggle escaped your lips making Thor smile, happy to know that you were okay. How were you going to keep this secret you didn’t know. But you had to- you gave your word. And you’ll be damned if you broke it.

Taglist: @lovermrjokerr @lucywrites02 @lord-byron

#mcu loki #loki odinson #loki lafeyson #loki #tom hiddleston #mcu #mcu fic #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki imagine #cazza writes

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dickspeightjrs · 3 years

Text

Hope (2.2k words)

sequel to Despair (I’d recommend reading that first, it’s only short)

Chuck had been defeated.

Cas was still gone.

Those were the thoughts going through Dean’s head since the day they managed to remove Chuck from the universe for good.

As usual for Dean, he kept on a front for the sake of Sam and Jack. He showed his relief at Chuck finally being gone, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he was overwhelmed with a fresh onslaught of despair.

The day Chuck died, everyone who he had taken appeared outside the bunker. It seemed as if Chuck had been playing with them like toys and dropped them as he met his demise in the warded bunker dungeon.

Dean, Sam and Jack had stepped outside the sheltered door of the bunker to find a sea of people going on for what seemed like miles. Many of them were strangers who were innocent to the reason for their disappearance. But peppered around were also their friends and family.

Bobby. Charlie. Donna. So many more.

Only, as he scanned through the array of faces, Dean couldn’t help but be more and more disappointed that Castiel wasn’t among them. Why would he be? His death wasn’t anything to do with Chuck. Though it didn’t stop Dean hoping.

It was a few days until everything settled again.

The boys helped people return to their homes and tried to give them an explanation that wouldn’t be too traumatising. Sam had led the way - he seemed born for it, being a leader. His soft demeanour despite his towering height made people warm to him. Especially compared to Dean’s stormy face and body language.

Jack still stayed quiet most of the time. Poor kid was taking Castiel’s death hard. Dean honestly regretted being so tough on him at times. He regretted saying Jack wasn’t family. He was. Of course he was. Castiel loved Jack like a son and that made Dean love him now too.

There were times during the busyness of the bunker that Dean and Jack’s eyes would meet and he’d give Dean a look that told him that he was thinking of Cas too. That he missed him too.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the people inhabiting the bunker were gone and it was left in a more calming silence.

Donna and Charlie had just left together, both giving Dean an extra hard squeeze as they said goodbye. He knew what the hug was for and he was grateful neither of them had brought up Cas while they’d been there. Dean didn’t know how he would have reacted.

Once the two women were out of sight, Dean hunched even further into himself and mumbled to Sam that he was going to bed. He didn’t care that it was the middle of the day. He was exhausted and needed refuge from his thoughts.

Sam responded with a look of shock, which Dean wasn’t surprised by. Dean hadn’t slept properly - as properly as a hunter could anyway - since Cas died. Instead, he’d fall asleep in the library while he’d been looking through lore books.

(Sam and Jack thought he’d been helping to look for ways to bring down Chuck but he’d actually been looking up anything that might even slightly mention the Empty. He’d thought he’d been secret about it until one day he woke up to find a new book on the table next to him, open to a chapter on a possible way to summon the Empty. Dean didn’t know who put it there, Sam or Jack, but he was grateful for their quiet support.)

Dean trudged tiredly to his room. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding it ever since Cas died. It wasn’t even like they’d spent much time in there together but he couldn’t handle being alone in a space that was meant to bring him joy and comfort knowing that he’d never see Cas again.

He’d never had the chance to feel the angel lying next to him and yet he missed it with his entire being.

Dean’s head ached with a consistent, dull pain. It had been constant since he’d started visiting the woods to speak to Cas. He’d only been back there a couple of times but the night before they killed Chuck, Dean had vowed to Cas that he’d do it and get it right this time. He still looked around for any sign that Cas had heard him but there was nothing. Only the beginnings of a throbbing headache.

Blinking slowly and shaking his head slightly to try to relieve the pain, Dean finally collapsed onto the bed and let sleep take him.

Sleep started as a dreamless slumber but, at some point in the night, he felt that same pain again like a punch through his brain. It woke him up, panting and sweating, but when he sat up the pain was gone. And with no memory of what he could have been dreaming about, Dean lay there fighting the spindled fingers of sleep around his mind, determined that he’d never sleep again if it meant not having to feel that pain.

Of course, it was impossible to maintain having no sleep, even for Dean Winchester - King of sleep deprivation.

The minute Dean fell into a deep sleep he would be shocked back awake with a burning pain in his head.

This continued for almost a week after Chuck’s death. Until one night, when Dean shot up in bed, sweat cooling on his skin, he remembered.

He’d dreamt about the woodland clearing he’d been buried in when Cas had returned him from hell. The dream felt so real it was like he could smell, touch, taste the Earth around him as he ripped himself from the ground.

Cursing his mind for adding to his never-ending torture, Dean left his room and got himself some coffee from the kitchen - determined not to let himself fall asleep again until he absolutely had to.

Dean reached his breaking point a few days later.

He’d been tired and irritable, snapping at Sam and Jack whenever they so much as looked at him. Knowing he couldn’t continue living like this, he let sleep take him once more, bracing himself for the inevitable pain.

The pain came, but not before Dean saw fleeting images of the woodland again. Only this time, it was like he was a bird flying high above and he could see fallen tree trunks arranged in almost perfect circles. And in the centre was a figure, a person, hunched over on bent knees as if they were praying.

The person moved to stand on their feet and as they were about to turn a white, burning heat coursed through Dean’s head.

The pain didn’t shock Dean anymore but the recurring image of the hunched figure replayed in his mind.

Dean thought what he’d been seeing in his dreams had been disjointed memories of the time he pulled himself out of that grave. But it couldn’t have been. There was never anyone else there when he’d risen to the surface. He’d walked for miles with no soul in sight.

So who was this hunched figure? Why was Dean dreaming of them?

And why was every fibre of Dean’s being telling him to get in his car and drive all night until he reached that very spot?

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, Dean climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen.

When he arrived he was surprised to see Sam sitting at the table with a pot of coffee, freshly brewed if the rolling steam coming off it was anything to go by.

“What’re you doing here, Sammy?” Dean asked, taking a seat opposite his brother.

Sam pushed a cup of coffee towards Dean. “Waiting for you.”

“Okay… trying not to be creeped out that you’re sat waiting for me in the kitchen at 3AM…” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been avoiding me and Jack for weeks now. And I noticed you come in here at night sometimes. So I took a chance tonight.”

Curse his brother for knowing him so well.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Dean shrugged.

“How about the truth?”

Ha. There was no way Dean was ever telling Sam the truth. If nothing else, Cas deserved to be the first person Dean told about his feelings. And if he never got the chance to do that, well, the secret would die with Dean.

But Dean really did want Sam’s opinion on the dreams he’d been having. Telling Sam about the dreams didn’t count as telling him the whole truth, did it?

Dean cleared his throat. “I’ve been having these… dreams, I guess.” He sighed. “I just keep seeing the forest where Cas left me when he raised me from hell. But it’s not a memory because it’s like I'm seeing it from above and there’s this person there.”

Sam nodded, encouraging Dean to continue.

“I don’t know if I’m just going crazy but it feels real. Like something deep inside me is telling me that this is important.” Dean avoided Sam’s gaze. “And I get these pains in my head, it’s fucking agony.”

After a few moments of silence, Dean raised his head to meet Sam’s eyes.

They held nothing but warmth for his older brother.

“Look, Dean, I know you haven’t told me and Jack the whole truth of what happened when Cas d-, when he left, but I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

Dean felt all the blood in his body rush to his face.

“Come on, Dean. You can’t be surprised that I know how you feel about Cas. Anyone who has ever seen you two together knows that you’d tear apart the Earth for each other.” Sam stated, simply.

Suddenly, Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deal with this knowledge that apparently everyone had known about his and Cas’ mutual feelings before they even did.

He got up from the table and stalked to the door, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

Sam just let him go but just as Dean was about to escape to the quiet of his room, he spoke up.

“Dean?” Sam asked, waiting for Dean’s attention to turn back on him. “Those dreams you’ve been having? I don’t know if it’s the same but I just know that I thought the visions I had of Jess were just dreams and I’d hate for you to make the same mistakes I did.”

Dean swallowed and nodded once at Sam before exiting to his bedroom.

Within the hour he was hurtling along the highway in the Impala.

* * *

Dean’s skin tingled with electricity as he approached the clearing. He hadn’t been back here since that day all those years ago.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find. For the entire journey there, he’d second guessed himself a million times but ultimately he had to know.

He had to know if he was simply going crazy or if this was some kind of sign of something else at work.

Finally, he made it to the large expanse of fallen trees. The electricity running through his veins increased as he spotted a figure sat in the dead centre, curled in on itself.

His heart raced to a speed he would surely die from but Dean kept carefully placing one slow foot in front of the other.

Until he heard a crack under his foot.

He looked down to see that he’d stepped on a twig, which snapped under the pressure, sending a ripple of sound across the clearing.

The hunched figure went ramrod straight where they were.

Dean swallowed and continued walking ahead.

Only, he was stopped in his tracks when the figure turned, a slow agonising turn.

Dean felt sick. He’d come this far thinking, hoping, praying that this would somehow be something that led him back to Cas. But what if he had come all this way only to be disappointed? He didn’t think he could handle the heartbreak.

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes and stayed rooted to the spot.

“Dean?”

Dean felt euphoria storm through his every atom.

He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Castiel, angel of the lord, standing in the middle of fallen trees, staring back at Dean like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Wasting no more time, Dean broke into a sprint, running faster than he was sure he’d ever done before.

Self-doubt tried to battle its way through, telling him that this was a trick. Castiel couldn’t possibly be back. But he ignored it.

Dean could have been running into the arms of a devil in disguise and he’d still do it just to have one second in Castiel’s embrace.

When he reached Cas he pulled the angel as close to his body as could be physically possible.

“Dean.” Castiel spoke again. And, god, Dean could have cried hearing his name come from the lips of his beloved once again. “Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, still holding Cas tight in his arms. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I just didn’t know what else to do.” Castiel sobbed against Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dean said, sternly, gripping Castiel against him. “I could barely let myself hope that those dreams were you, Cas. You have no idea how fucking happy I am right now.”

Castiel pulled away from Dean slightly to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t find any other way to find you Dean. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be alive. I used the last of my powers to project myself into you. I didn’t truly know if it would work but I hoped.” Tears poured down his face. “Coming back here was the only place I knew that you’d recognise was ours.”

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. I’m here now. And neither of us are going anywhere without the other again.”

Castiel nodded and smiled, placing a delicate hand to Dean’s cheek. “Is it too much to hope that this means I was wrong, and you do actually return my feelings?”

A laugh ripped through Dean in a way that it hadn’t in years, even before Cas had been taken by the empty. “Castiel, angel of the lord, ever since you saved me from hell, I’ve never been the same. You changed me. And I am hopelessly and completely in love with you.”

Not letting a second more go to waste, Dean didn’t wait for a response from Cas. He pulled the angel into a deep kiss that he hoped told Castiel everything that there weren’t enough words in the world to say.

(Tag list below - if you’d like to be added or removed, let me know!)

@rambleoncas @eccentriccas @joharvele @tearsofgrace @starrynightdeancas @aurastiel @dreamnovak @good-things-do-happen-dean @ccstiel @destielle @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @bend-me-shape-me

@thechaosthatismybrain @rusted-peopleskills @castiel-enthusiast @wheniwrite28 @fandomsofafeather @ripreptaytion @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @writtenmemxries @gum-believable @breathingdestiel @squintingg

@thefourthheadofcerberus @professorerudite @harmonyhelms @babyinabelstaf @monipotty @tinyroolove7

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #myfic #i'll tag properly later #just wanted this out before the ep tonight #it's not proofread and im not sure i like it so enjoy i guess lmao #fluff #angst #sad #canon #2k

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janeyseymour · 3 years

Text

Old Soul

An intensely deep analysis on what qualifies Jane Seymour to be an old soul, as told through various thoughts, anecdotes, an article I found online, and a post that I saw on social media.

WC: 7219

In hindsight, what this man said was quite comical. “You’re an old soul,” he had said. It struck Jane Seymour as odd, but what he uttered was truthful, both literally and figuratively. Jane Seymour’s soul really was an old soul- 500 years old if you will. But she also had most of the characteristics of what an old soul would be classified as.

“Oh geez,” Jane would mutter to herself quite often. It didn’t matter what she was doing, it was better than what she had truly wanted to say. Knowing that she was in the public eye and had a younger audience, she did her best to keep herself as “PG” as possible, although some of the other queens didn’t follow that mindset as much.

The blonde would trip over the carpet in the house? “Oh geez.” The silver queen would be at a loss of words during an interview? “Oh geez,” she would sigh as she tried to articulate what was in her head. The third monarch would walk into the living room to see Anne Boleyn doing an Instagram live? “Oh geez,” she would laugh before settling next to the green queen.

“And, how do you think life would be different if all of the children were brought back in this life?” the man asked. “Surely, you miss the bright young Edward.” He gave her a sympathetic look. This question wasn’t as malicious as some of the other questions were in regards to the children and her family- no, it was simple curiosity coming from the man. Almost as if he sympathized with her.

“Oh geez,” she mumbled for the third time during this interview before letting out a small chuckle. “Sorry, let me try to find the words...”

“Oh geez,” he laughed genuinely- not at her, but with her. “You say that phrase quite a bit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she shrunk into her seat a little, feeling as though he was poking fun at her.

“Oh! Nothing to be sorry for!” the man reassured. “It’s just, not many people say that phrase anymore. It’s mostly older people, not younger people like you. Are you an old soul?”

“Well, I mean... Yes?” Jane shrugged her shoulders. Her soul had been alive 500 years ago, although she lived a short time back then. And it was alive now too, although she had only been brought back to life a few short years ago and was barely what others considered her to be around thirty, maybe a few years shy of it. Now though, her morals and character didn’t stray all that much- she still stayed a kind hearted soul who would do virtually anything to keep her family happy- a woman of empathy she remained.

“It’s not a bad thing dear,” the older gentleman responded. “It’s quite good in fact. The way you speak about your family and friends, it shows you’re doing just fine in life.”

“Oh gosh.” The blonde blushed. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

Leaving that interview, she smiled, a light blush still evident on her face. She wasn’t exactly sure what qualified her to be an “old soul”, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Scrolling through social media a few nights after the interview with the sweet older gentleman, Jane Seymour found an article that read “17 Signs You’re An Old Soul Stuck in the 21st Century”. Immediately curious and remembering that she was called an “old soul” and was indeed stuck in the 21st century, she clicked the link.

“There is a special kind of person in our world who finds herself alone and isolated, almost since birth.” This line at the beginning of the page intrigued her. At a first glance, she thought to herself that she wasn’t alone and isolated. She had the other five queens to navigate life with, but this would prove to mean a lot more to Jane as she read on and read into what it really meant to her.

“1# You tend to be a lone wolf”

As she read the heading, she couldn’t help but laugh to herself. Oh how this man had been so wrong. She was not a lone wolf- she was the maternal figure of her household for crying out loud!

As she read the description beneath the subheading though, it began to click more. Jane for the life of her felt as though she didn’t necessarily have a place within the queens’ friend group. Of course, the others knew this wasn’t true: Jane was their maternal figure. Jane was more interested in embroidery, knitting, among other things that older people tended to drift towards as opposed to what say, Anne liked to do. Even Catherine Parr, a woman of many written words and not as many verbal words, could relate to the activities that Anne liked to participate in. Anna of Cleves could too. Even sometimes Catalina liked to participate in the- what the third queen thought was useless- drinking nights where the other queens would have a few too many drinks and wind up the next morning with a massive hangover. Jane would sip her glass or two of wine and put them to bed before pulling out her embroidery piece.

It was hard to connect herself to the others too because she truly had been the only one to provide a legitimate son to Henry. The others weren’t resentful towards her for this of course; it was pure luck. But that distanced Jane from them.

“2# You love knowledge, wisdom, and truth”

Jane Seymour was far from the smartest woman in the group. That title went to any of the others besides her, and she wouldn’t argue with you on that one. But that didn’t stop her from trying. The blonde found herself remembering a multitude of times she had told Katherine that knowledge was power, wisdom was happiness, and truth was freedom. It was strange in that way... she had uttered those words without ever hearing them before, and here they were in an online article she had never come across before this day.

Seymour wasn’t always gravitating towards academic knowledge either, no. She would gravitate more towards emotional intelligence and was happy to do so.

“3# You’re spiritually inclined”

The third queen was always fostering love and peace in her life. Whether it be settling an argument between Kat and Anne over who had to replace the chocolate milk or staying up with one of her fellow queens during a rough night, Jane was always trying to foster a peaceful and loving environment in their home. Along with this, the woman was quite sensitive, although she wouldn’t necessarily pin herself as spiritual. The silver queen laughed as she remembered the first time someone called her sensitive and she wept openly:

“Geez Jane, you’re so sensitive. Could you take a joke? I didn’t mean it!” Anne threw her hands up in exasperation when the blonde began to pout over something stupid her predecessor said.

“I-I’m sorry!” The third queen cried.

“Oh dear God,” Catalina had sighed as she simply pulled her friend into a hug and began to rub her back. “It’s okay. Hey, hey, querida: Look at me. It’s not a bad thing to be sensitive. It’s what makes you, you.”

She had overcome the confines of her ego quite soon after being brought back to life. Jane grimaced as she thought back to the first time somewhat had put her in her place. Funnily enough, it had been Katherine.

“You think you got it all figured out, don’t you? The world according to Katherine!” Jane had mocked the pink haired queen early on.

“You think you’re so much better than us just because you had a son! Don’t you?”Kat stared at the woman. “Go ahead! Throw your rocks at me from your little glass house and then take off running! You’re no better than me! We’ve both made mistakes, haven’t we?”

In that moment, Jane Seymour was grounded by a nineteen year old girl, and she realized that she was not above any one person in this house. They had all made mistakes in their past life. Some were bigger than others, but each and every one of them had made mistakes they so desperately wished they could take back.

“4# You understand the transience of life”

So many times had Jane Seymour thought about the transience of life. How could she not? She had died before, and she would die again. It was made clear to the women that their time in the 21st century would come to an end eventually- whether they would be brought back again in another 500 years was unknown, but they had to make the most of the extra time they were blessed with on Earth. While some of the queens took approaches that, in all honesty, terrified the third queen, Jane was well aware that the decisions she made in this life counted. If she wasn’t careful, her actions could ultimately lead to an untimely death.

“Seat belts!” the silver queen exclaimed before she would move the car from the parking lot outside the theater.

“Seymour, Katherine is asleep. How the hell do you expect her to put a seat belt on?” Cleves questioned from the back.

“Buckle her in!” the blonde monarch laughed, but the way she looked at her successor through the rear view mirror told Anna she wasn’t messing around.

“Come on, just drive,” Anne groaned from the middle. “I want to go to bed!”

“No! If we get into an accident on the way home, if she’s not buckled in-” Jane shuddered.

The maternal figure in the household, in her own privacy, had many existential crises. One day, Cathy found her in the midst of one.

“Jane?” the sixth queen made her presence known, or tried to that is. When the third queen didn’t respond, she tried calling her name again.

A blank stare was quickly replaced with a soft smile as Jane came back to and said gently, “Hey love. What’s up?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be dear?”

“Do you know what time it is?” Jane shook her head no. “It’s 2:30 in the morning. You’re usually asleep by now.”

“Oh my,” the silver queen whispered. “How did this much time pass?”

“How long have you been sitting here?” The blue queen made a move to sit next to her friend at the dining room table, a mug of coffee in hand.

“You really need to lay off the coffee this late at night honey.”

“I could say the same for you and tea Mum,” Cathy joked. “But seriously, how long have you been sitting here?”

Jane turned sheepish. “Three hours,” she mumbled into her mug, sipping her now very cold tea. “I guess I just got lost in thought.”

“Why don’t I warm up that tea for you and then we can talk?” The writer gently pried the mug out of the blonde’s hand, only to set it back into her hand a few minutes later.

That night, Jane would reveal that she was terrified of going through this life only to be forgotten in history again. She didn’t know her purpose.

“Jane Seymour, I can promise you you will not be forgotten in history. You never were.”

“I’m only remembered for-”

“We all are, remember? That’s why we have our show,” the sixth queen tried to reason with her.

“Yes but,” Jane paused to wipe a tear from her eye. “Why was I brought back? What if I can’t contribute to society in a meaningful way before I pass again? I mean, we all are going to pass again, but none of us know when. Like, everyone else has already done so much in society and is making the world a brighter place, and I for the life of me can’t find my pur-”

“You stop right there. I will not hear this slander against yourself. So, maybe you’re a bit less outspoken than the rest of us, but you’re behind us every step of the way. Maybe you’re not always doing press like the rest of us, but do you know what you are doing? You foster an environment that allows us to let us be who we want to be and say what we want to say. The five of us are only doing these things because you gave us the confidence to. I mean, for heaven’s sake Jane- look at what you’ve done for Kat. She was this shy, skittish young girl when we were all brought back. She’s the sassy, outspoken, and sweetest young woman now because you helped her. So what if you’re not in the public eye as much as the rest of us? You made that choice, and that choice is 100% valid. You may not be changing the whole world, and neither are any of us. Do you know what you are doing though? You’re changing our world, and that is something none of us are ever going to be able to repay you for. You’re making our world a better place.”

Jane then understood that if she could change just one person’s life for the better, it was worth it. Of course, she was doing so much more- but sometimes it was hard to realize that.

“5# You’re thoughtful and introspective”

The third queen was never not in deep thought. She was always reflecting on the way she presented herself, handled things, and tried her best to develop a sense of self-awareness.

This started soon after she realized she had to put a lid on her temper. Yes, sometimes it would still get the better of her, but she had to get it under control- she was scaring Kat. How she hated the way the fifth queen would shy away from her for a few days after an outburst. And in the beginning, the silver queen had many outbursts, often leading Katherine to avoid her for several days at a time- sometimes even weeks.

“You really have to get your life together Seymour,” she mumbled as looked at herself in the

mirror. “You’re a mess.” From there on out, she practiced EFT on her phone, a tapping program on the right points on her body to help her de-stress and ground herself for the day. The other queens took notice to the change in the blonde’s demeanor. Jane was thankful for being able to reflect on herself and become better for the others.

“6# You see the bigger picture”

The third queen smiled softly at this one. She liked to think she saw the bigger picture. Very rarely did she focus on the trivial things in life; she focused more on how to live meaningfully and use her time to help advance her in this journey of self-growth she was going on. How would having the newest iPhone benefit her (in reality, the phone she had now was quite confusing to her still)? It wouldn’t. How would learning how to edit pictures of herself and learn all of the nifty tools on her phone help better her life? She knew it wouldn’t. It would likely consume her and take time away from her journey. Besides, that wasn’t the message she wanted to send out to her audience. She wanted to show the world that being natural and not always perfect (albeit she definitely struggled with imperfections) was okay. That was a better lesson to teach her followers. Why waste time on small and insignificant details in life when there were bigger things to focus on?

“7# You aren’t materialistic”

Jane Seymour was many things; materialistic was not one of them. Sure, she had the wealth, the status, the fame, and close to the latest tech gadgets, but did she really need them? The short answer was no.

“Janey, don’t you want the new phone too?” Anne had asked her when they all went to the store to upgrade their phones.

Jane shrugged before replying, “This one seems to be working just fine. No need to replace it quite yet.”

“Do you ever use your status to help you get somewhere better in life?” An interviewer had laughed. “It’s not an uncommon practice, I promise you.”

“People actually do that?” The blonde looked at the woman incredulously.

“I have!” Anne announced. “When I started wearing my heelys, I told people about them, and the company sent me new shoes!”

“I did it, but not on purpose. Some people asked me where I got my makeup from and the company sent me a ton of free gifts,” Kat nodded subtly.

“When I complained about my laptop breaking on a live and jokingly said that if Apple was to send me a new computer I wouldn’t complain, they did,” Cathy admitted sheepishly.

“Chocolate,” Cleves just said smugly.

Catherine of Aragon just nodded but wouldn’t reveal how she had used her status to put her up.

“I don’t think I’ve...” Jane trailed off. Had she really never reaped the benefits of her status and wealth like the others?

Materials didn’t enrich her soul the way it may others. No, the third queen was more sentimental. She appreciated the finer things in life like spending time with her family face-to-face as opposed to “Facetime” (is that what it was called?). The silver queen quickly made peace with the fact that she wasn’t materialistic.

“8# You were a strange, socially maladaptive kid”

Jane Seymour was introverted in both this life and last. Sure, she didn’t have a childhood in the 21st century, but she can’t imagine her soul would’ve changed all that much if she had the chance to grow up again. She was still very much the same person she was then... meek, mild, a bit hot tempered at times.

But even in her past life, she failed to fit into the mainstream behaviors she was set to practice. Adults never spoke to her as though she was a kid, some even referring to her as a “little adult” back then. In all honesty, now that she was thinking about it, she never even had a nickname until this life: Janey. It had a hint of a childish play to it, but she didn’t really mind it all that much. It reminded her in times where she was far too headstrong on mothering her family that she was only a young adult in reality.

“9# You’ve undergone an existential crisis”

“It’s common for Old Souls to ask deep and penetrating questions about life in their search for love, truth, and freedom. This quest to live a meaningful existence inevitably means that they will, sooner or later, experience an existential crisis.” Jane laughed- she was extremely familiar with the idea of existential crises. Point #4 easily lays out the undergoing of existential crises that the third queen has experienced. Above this though, Jane could recall many times she had wondered if life was just a product of chance.

“What are you thinking about Mum?” Katherine distracted the blonde by speaking and tucking herself into the older woman’s side.

“What is all this about, anyway?”

“What is what all about?”

“Life,” Jane replied simply. “You know, it’s funny. We all go through this life, but have you ever really stopped to think about what life is about? I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it’s about surviving. To survive you need money, and to get money you need to have a job. But to get a job, you have to be well versed in something. Of course though, shouldn’t life be about happiness? And yet here we are, in a world where many people are just... surviving. They aren’t doing something they’re passionate about and love. Are they happy? Isn’t life supposed to be about living life to the fullest and experiencing life with as much light as one can?”

Katherine could only stare at her mother figure. “Are you... is this...?”

“No, no, this isn’t about me. I was just, you know, walking around town earlier and meandered into a cafe. Do the baristas there... Are they happy with their lives? I made sure I left a nice tip for them. I always try to, but today as I thought about it, I may have left more than I probably should have.”

“How much did you leave?” Kat looked at her curiously.

“A hundred.”

“For a three dollar tea?”

“Yes, but you should have seen the gratefulness in their eyes. Young kids too, about your age. I hope they use that tip for something that makes them happy.”

“Well that’s very kind of you Mum.”

“But then I got to thinking about myself and my life,” Jane trailed off. “What is the point of everything I’ve done? In reality, I haven’t done much in either life I suppose. I mean, really. In the past, I never said anything anybody even deemed worthy of writing down despite the long lengths I went to and the hoops I jumped through to... well, survive I suppose. I wasn’t happy then. And thankfully now, I am surrounded with light and love in this life, but am I doing enough? Is there a point to everything I’ve done in this world?”

“What the bloody hell are you even talking about?” The fifth queen detached herself from the blonde to look at her. “There is absolutely a purpose to everything you’ve done in this world.”

“I mean, Katherine, I died in my past life. That’s what I’m known for.”

“But in this life, you’re known for so much more.”

“Like what Kat? You’re all making your voices heard and speaking up and out about-”

“Sure, we’re all doing that, but so are you. You’re just as much a social justice warrior as the rest of us, even if you’re not as loud about it. Have you heard some of the interviews the rest of us have done?” Jane nodded; of course she had. She would support her girls no matter what. “Haven’t you noticed that in every interview we’ve done, someone always alludes to something that you’ve said to each of us in privacy. We’re learning these social justice ideas from you. We’re just the ones putting them out in the world.”

“I guess,” Jane shrugged. “But I don’t have much to offer to those who aren’t you guys and-”

“That’s not true either,” the pink haired queen cut her off quickly. “You provide the audiences a light and a heart and soul. Think of all of those people, especially the sweet young girls who come up to you and tell you how much it means to them that you give off a maternal aura. You give them this space that feels safe and loving. That’s a lot more than you think.”

“I suppose.” The third queen worried her lip through her teeth a bit.

“I promise you, it is. There is a point of everything you’ve done, even if you can’t quite see it.”

“Thank you love.” Jane pulled the younger woman into a tight hug.

“And you’ve done so much for me,” Kat pulled back a bit to look the older monarch in the eye. “You saved me, and I can never repay you for that.”

“10# You see life through a poetic/contemplative lens”

It was no question that Jane Seymour saw everything through a poetic lens. Yes, she was not the most well versed when it came to actual poems with words, but her outlook on life was quite poetic in itself.

The blonde had settled down on a park bench, happy to observe the others playing a round of catch. Sitting down, she noticed the way the trees swayed gently in the breeze, almost as if they were dancing to the sweet whistle of the wind. Instead of opening up the book she had brought along with the intention of getting through at least a chapter, she closed her eyes and felt the slightly cool breeze on her cheeks, inhaling the sweet oxygen that surrounded her. The sun was warm on her face, creating almost a glow around her to the others who had stopped tossing the ball around to look at the sweet woman in her element. She felt the green grass that snaked its way in between her toes, giggling slightly as it tickled her gently. Nature really was a beautiful thing to Jane Seymour.

The group of five had continued to play their game, leaving the blonde to revel in the beauty surrounding her. Jane opened her eyes at the sound of a child’s laughter. A young boy, about three, had taken to playing with her family- a young boy that looked like a spitting image of the portraits of her Edward. She stopped and drew it in, savoring the sweet little one’s laugh, before heading over herself and placing herself into the game.

“You wanna play?” Cleves looked at her. The third queen nodded with a soft smile before catching the ball and tossing it gently to the little tike, who giggled. Jane couldn’t help but wish that she had these experiences with her son. This was a good time too though.

The group had long since returned home, and Jane settled in her room, a pang now in her chest as she longed for her boy, for the night when she heard a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in love!” She called, fully expecting it to be her Kat. And it was, but Anne was with her too?

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” She quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped, hoping the two at the door hadn’t noticed.

“Uh,” Kat shrugged before settling herself into the bed she so often found herself in. Anne also made her way over to the bed, although she sat a bit awkwardly.

Boleyn looked at her in a way that made Jane uncomfortable. It was almost as if Anne herself was uncomfortable in the room, but she had been the one to put herself in this situation.

Coughing slightly, she spoke, “That little boy looked a hell of a lot like your Eddie at the park. Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m alright dear. Yes, it hurts a bit to think that I don’t have my little boy with me anymore, but I have you all, now don’t I?” The silver queen pulled her predecessor into a tight hug with one arm, the other already wrapped around the pink monarch.

“I know. It’s just... different, you know?” Jane nodded. She knew Anne felt the same about her sweet Elizabeth.

“His little laugh was just so sweet, wasn’t it?” the blonde said softly, lightening the mood in the room immediately.

“Where’s Mum?” Kat asked Catalina. It was about time they started getting ready for the show.

“Did you check the stage? You know how she likes to sit there sometimes. Check the seats too.” The first queen suggested. Katherine shook her head and ventured out into the theater. Lo and behold, there Jane was, sitting in the back of the theatre deep in thought.

“Mum? Choosing the back of the house this time?”

“It’s nice once in a while to have a change of perspective, both literally and figuratively.”

“You’re so weird sometimes. You know that right?”

“And yet, you still love me.” Jane ruffled the girl’s hair quickly before smoothing it back over.

“I do. You know, we’re supposed to be getting ready for the show about now,” Kat informed the third queen.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I just needed a moment to think I suppose. You know?”

“I do. Do you think I could sit here with you, just for a few moments before we have to go backstage? Maybe I need a change of perspective too.”

“Of course love. You don’t have to ask. You’ve done it many times with me before.” The blonde wrapped an arm around her daughter and pulled her close, pressing a quick kiss to her hairline. Settling back into her position, she got lost in thought again until the golden queen would come out to tell them they should probably be getting ready now.

“Thank you Mum.”

“Of course love.” She kissed her forehead once more before offering a hand to help her up and guide the two back towards the dressing room.

“11# You tend to overthink everything”

It was no secret that the third monarch was quite an overthinker. Many times the others walked in on Jane practicing the way she walked, spoke, held herself. You name it, there was a good chance Jane Seymour had practiced it in the mirror.

“Seymour?” A slightly sleepy Cleves knocked on the door. “Are you in there?”

“Cleves!” Jane whisked the door open, a bright grin painted on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes the way it usually would. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same,” the red queen retorted back.

“Oh no, did I wake you?”

“No, no. I had to go to the bathroom, but I could hear the small squeak of the floorboards, and someone talking to themselves. Are you alright?”

“Just fine love. Just practicing the way I walk.” The fourth queen looked at her in disbelief. “I’m serious! I just... don’t want to come across cocky and rude!”

“I swear, you’re the queen of overthinking. I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before. Get some sleep, yeah?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Now,” Cleves shot her a look before patting the door frame and walking back to her bedroom.

“Just a few more minutes,” Jane sighed to herself, making a note to walk more quietly.

“Jane? You’ve been staring at the two containers of granola for the past ten minutes. Just pick one, why don’t you?” A slightly disgruntled Catherine Parr had the... honor... of accompanying the resident grocery shopper and was beginning to get antsy. They had been in the store for over an hour, and Jane had only made her way through a quarter of the list of things they needed to pick up.

“But there are so many different reasons to buy both! Which is more healthy? Which one would taste the best? What is the best value for the price? What if there’s a price drop tomorrow? Is it in environmentally friendly packaging?” the third queen rambled on.

“Oh my,” Parr looked at her friend who was now in clear distress. “Why don’t we,” she paused to take the containers out of her hand before continuing. “Just buy both and you can decide which one you like more at home? Then, you can continue to buy just that brand. Sounds like a plan?”

“But that means we’re spending more-”

“None of it is going to go to waste though. You make sure nothing in our house goes to waste hun. Just, come on. We still have a majority of the list to go through, and we need to be back in time to make dinner before Annie decides to try to cook.”

That sped the process up. She didn’t need her overthinking leading to Anne Boleyn destroying her kitchen again.

“12# You struggle with anxiety in social situations”

Jane knew herself well enough to know that anxiety was heightened in social situations. Yes, she was a star in theatre and was always in the public eye, but she was a self-proclaimed introvert.

In this new life, it was quick to show itself when she entered the room where she would meet the other five queens for the first time.

“Jane Seymour,” she spoke quietly when it was her turn to introduce herself. The others mingled, but anxiety had reared its head and left the blonde to deal with the side effects. She considered the way that she held herself. Sure, she had a kind and inviting aura surrounding her, but she was still nervous. Adjusting her posture, she noticed that she was the only one not eating the snacks that had been provided (because she feared that the others would watch and judge the way she ate). Upon this discovery, she grabbed a plate along with a small sandwich before nibbling at it just a bit. Chewing, she held a hand over her already closed mouth subconsciously. Glancing around the room, she noticed she wasn’t the only one who had distanced herself from the larger crowd and was standing in a smaller circle. Katherine Howard, although she hadn’t said much, stuck by her.

“This is a lot, isn’t it?” Jane whispered after she had swallowed her food and taken a small sip of water. The fifth queen could only nod, eyes wide and ridden with anxiety. “Would you like to perhaps get to know each other out in the hallway where it’s a bit quieter? We can maybe eat our sandwiches without feeling like everyone else is staring at us.”

The grateful look the younger woman gave her told her everything she needed to know. This girl was too frightened to say anything, but a mere hour later, the two had already formed a strong and intense connection. Jane had a warm, maternal presence, and Katherine needed someone to mother her and bring her out of her shell. They shared many of the same values, which shocked Jane considering the upbringing Katherine came from as she learned. But in reality it made sense: they were both trying to fill holes in their lives- Jane trying to regain what she once had, and Katherine chasing after what she had always wanted. Kindred spirits, it was if destiny brought them together.

“13# You easily fall into the role of advisor or counselor”

The blonde, now glued to this article, couldn’t help but laugh out loud at this one. Of course she was the role of advisor or counselor. Her girls came to her for so many reasons. They didn’t all call her “Mum” (jokingly or not, they still all had at one point or another) for nothing! She remembered all the times Catalina had come to her in regard to Cathy and how to handle her sleep schedule, the times Anne had come to her crying because she thought she had ruined her relationship with Kat after the two had fought (they were cousins, but they acted more like sisters), the times Anna had come to her with the same ideas she had about not rightfully being placed among the other queens, the countless times Katherine had come to her looking for comfort, advice, and someone to vent to, and the times Cathy had trudged into her room begging her to help her with her writing (Jane couldn’t write or necessarily articulate the way Cathy could, but the two bouncing ideas off of each other always helped the writer process what she wanted to say). Without a second thought too, the third queen had put herself into this position. She never minded either. It may be a lot sometimes for the queen because she was a bit of an empath, but the overwhelmingness of it all was worth it if it meant she was able to help guide those in need.

“14# You enjoy the company of those much older than you” The others didn’t know this, but every Sunday early in the morning, Seymour would head down to the local cafe- long before anybody else was awake. There, she had a friend who was many years older than her (in relative terms. The kind elderly woman at the cafe knew that Jane had been reincarnated, but it hadn’t dawned on her that Jane’s soul had been around for many more years than she expected). Rosemary was her name, and the blonde couldn’t help but be drawn to her from the moment Rosemary sat down across from her.

“Hi?” The queen looked up and down at the older woman now sitting in front of her. “Can I help you?”

“You’re no later than thirty. What has you up and at the cafe this early?” Rosemary didn’t waste any time.

“Just trying to soak up the peacefulness of this beautiful Sunday morning before the rest of my housemates wake up. Gives me time to reflect and think. And you?” The woman dressed in grey smiled invitingly at the wrinkled woman.

“I’ve been up for hours now. Been coming to this here cafe for forty years. Used to come here with my dear husband before he passed. But back to you: you looked to be in deep thought. Care to chat about it?”

The two were fast friends. An unlikely duo? Maybe, what with Jane’s being mild mannered and her newfound friend telling quite the stories at times- not to mention that significant age gap between the two of them. But it was right. The two would trade stories, some from their distant past (or pasts in Jane’s case) and some from the not-so-distant past. Jane had learned so much about the modern world she sometimes felt trapped in, learning that she wasn’t the only one who felt somewhat out of place in the new century.

Above all though, Jane had felt grounded. When she was with Rosemary, it didn’t matter that she was a popstar starring in a show that was making waves around the country. She didn’t have to run around like mad trying to keep up with the antics of Anne Boleyn that always kept her on her toes. No, she was just another human living her life. It didn’t matter what she had or didn’t have. Together the two could have a good old-fashioned chat in the cozy corner of a cozy cafe on a peaceful Sunday morning over a cup of tea.

“15# You crave simplicity”

Jane Seymour, although living a life in the public eye, led a simple life. She craved the simplicity in the often complex world that she lived in. Being drawn to minimalism, it made its way into her everyday. She liked when things were easily read and plain. “Plain Jane” mocked her at first, but she had learned to take pride in it. What was so bad about being plain and well read? It was truthful, and shouldn’t the truth be simple?

“16# You’re attracted to all things vintage”

Vintage drew her in. Maybe it was because some of it reminded her of the times that she lived in before, but it didn’t have to be Tudor era-esque. Really, anything that was a bit older made her feel more at home. She had collections of records to play on her old record player. She had dresses that maybe were a bit more vintage than she was willing to admit. She loved watching programs that showcased antiques. While her co stars would gravitate more towards the newer store, she was drawn into the vintage boutiques and antique shops. She loved the historical sights that she was able to see- some of them holding rich history that she could intertwine herself with. It was simply a wonder to her.

“17# You just “feel” old inside”

“Throw away the ‘Old Soul’ label for a moment and focus on how you feel inside. How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? Those who realize that they feel much older than their age reflects are often Old Souls at heart.”

Jane Seymour read over this a few times, truly trying to get a sense of how old she really felt in the times of now. It seemed as though she didn’t reflect a woman in her late twenties. No, she felt as though she reflected a woman who was in her late thirties, and although this wasn’t necessarily the biggest age gap, the difference of a 29 year old to a 39 year old was immense. And then she remembered how deeply she could relate to Rosemary- a woman who was easily forty or fifty years older than her.

“Common feelings that accompany being an Old Soul usually include a feeling of world wariness, mental tiredness, inquisitiveness, watchful patience, and the sensation of being an “outsider looking in.”

The blonde deeply resonated with the feelings that an old soul typically felt.

Later that night, the silver queen was curled up in bed, reading glasses slipping down the tip of her nose as she scrolled through social media mindlessly. She was about to retire for the night when she heard a small squeak from her door.

“Hey Mum,” Kat sighed from the doorframe. “Mind if I-”

“Not at all love. I was just winding down for bed, and I would love it if you joined.” Jane moved over in her bed and patted the space next to her, opening up an arm. Almost immediately, the pink haired queen bolted under the covers with her.

“You look so cute with your glasses on,” Kat commented sleepily. “What were you reading?” She tucked herself more into her mother’s side, if that was possible.

“Oh I was just scrolling through social media.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you. I’m just gonna get in my Mama cuddles.”

“Love you my dear.” The third queen pressed a firm kiss to the younger woman’s head before gently playing with her hair in hopes of lulling her to sleep- Katherine looked like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days.

“Love you too Mum,” the pink queen murmured as she dozed off.

Jane held her phone in one hand and her daughter in the other. A few more minutes of scrolling through social media couldn’t hurt.

“Those who experienced childhood trauma are often referred to as ‘mature for their age’ or ‘old souls’ when actually we were children having to adopt intense coping mechanisms in order to survive as adults.”

In this moment, Jane realized the truth in that statement and connected it to the statement at the beginning of the article she had read earlier in the day. She didn’t feel as though she was alone and isolated, but maybe she was a bit more than she had initially thought. She had come from a rather big family in her past life, but she had always felt alone, never being able to relate to her other siblings. And in this life, she was surrounded by five wonderful women who would have her back no matter what, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly different from the rest of them- even if she was one of the younger queens.

In her past life, she had simply found coping mechanisms needed to survive. And those coping mechanisms had made their way into this life too. She rarely had to rely on these mechanisms now. Her heart was open to the five other queens she had the blessing of sharing a home with.

So, maybe being an old soul meant she had some trauma from her past life- she wasn’t there anymore. But being an old soul wasn’t such a bad thing as she walked through life. Maybe, she wasn’t as “stuck in the 21st century” afterall. Being an old soul was rare, and those who surrounded her loved her dearly for it.

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six musical fanfic #jane seymour six #six jane seymour

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ieattaperecorders · 4 years

Text

Tendon, Heel

Considerations of injury, and the possibility of death. Discussion between the Archivist and Martin Blackwood, in situ.

(Because sometimes fanfiction is for making characters talk more explicitly about their thoughts and fears than you expect or even want them to in canon.)

Read on Ao3

They'd watched Basira walk towards the tower until she'd disappeared.

Martin had asked, because he was a glutton for punishment, how it was possible that they were headed towards the same tower from the same place but going two different directions. Jon had replied that she was on a different path now. When Martin asked what that even meant, he'd only said it "meant what it meant." Literally, symbolically, they were one and the same.

It really wasn't fair to be mad at Jon for giving him frustrating answers when frustrating answers were all that there were. Martin knew that.

They moved on. With each step, the heat of the furnace faded from the air and the sounds of metal grew distant. Jon had let his hand slip back into Martin's and his pace was slower, eyes fixed on the tower. For his own part, Martin tried not to look at it - it had a habit of holding his gaze in a way that felt non-metaphorical.

They'd walked in silence for a while when Jon abruptly cried out, his bandaged leg folding in on him. Luckily Martin had enough foresight to walk on the side of Jon's injury, so when he stumbled Jon leaned hard into him rather than falling flat on his face.

"Easy! Easy," he said, "here, sit down - -"

Jon grunted what might have been a response, teeth grit, face tight with pain. He took long, slow breaths as Martin eased him to the ground.

"S'alright," he finally managed. "Just took an odd step."

"Let me see your leg. I knew you shouldn't be walking yet." Martin sighed. "Just ‘have to stretch it out' like hell."

"That's not - - I thought it was healing." Jon reluctantly peeled up the tattered fabric of his pant leg. "It was healing, it has been. You saw the state that it was in before."

Martin didn't respond beyond a quiet hmm noise. Carefully, he pulled the blood-soaked bandages back, exposing the wound to the air.

Jon wasn't wrong, really. The mess that . . . that the thing that used to be Daisy had made of him was healing, far faster than would have been possible if natural laws meant anything. It was worlds better than what he had first bandaged up. But there was now scarring that was painful to look at, and the central spot where her teeth had dug in was still a deep, inflamed red.

"I think . . ." Jon's eyes got a distant look to them, one Martin recognized by now. "I think . . . it might not ever heal. Not completely, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"She was able to hurt me. Harm me. Something lasting," he sighed. "Something I can't easily recover from."

Martin frowned, looking at the center of his wound. He felt a twist in his chest. "It's . . . just going to stay like this?"

"Probably? It isn't - - I can walk on it fine. It hurts, but nothing serious. Just stepped at an odd angle and got caught by surprise."

"Well. I don't know how nightmare-magic healing works." Martin said, tossing the old bandages aside. "But I don't imagine a fresh bandage would hurt. And there are probably things out here that can smell blood or something, so . . . hold still for a moment, yeah?"

Jon nodded, and Martin pulled what he needed out of the pack, settling into the acts of first aid. He cleaned the area around the wound and taped down some fresh gauze. He'd just about finished his work when he felt something - a hand moving gently though his hair - and glanced up. Jon was looking at him with affection, reaching over to pet his head. Martin smiled back, brought Jon's hand down to his face and kissed it.

"I don't know if first aid makes any difference anymore," he said. "But it's something, right?"

"It does make a difference, I think. Not the physical bandaging, but the fact that you wanted to help me. That you tried," Jon looked at Martin intently. "I think it would be far worse now if you hadn't."

You tried. It makes a difference. Martin swallowed and let out a soft laugh.

"This is how it is now, huh? Dream logic. Putting a metaphorical bandage on a metaphorical injury on a metaphorical leg."

Jon smiled wryly. "I can assure you that the pain is very real."

Martin's expression must have changed, because Jon frowned and shook his head.

"It's not bad, though," he said, beginning to stand. "It'll feel better once I've had more chance to walk it off, and I think I'm ready to move on."

Oh, definitely not, no chance that he was going to allow that. Martin crossed his legs. "Well, I'm not. So how about you try resting it off for a bit instead, hmm?"

". . . Fine."

Jon sounded immensely put-upon as he sat back down. But the tension in his face lessened as he took weight off his leg, and he released a long, slow breath. Martin felt quietly vindicated.

"I really did get used to the idea that nothing here could hurt you," he said after a pause. "Not like this, anyway."

"Mmm." Jon traced his fingers over the edge of the bandage.

"Was it just Daisy?" Martin glanced uneasily around them, looking for signs of movement. "I mean . . . are there other things out here that could do that?"

"I'm not sure. Mostly not, I think. I don't know what will happen when we reach Elias, so it's possible he can. The Powers are infinitely greater, of course, but they have me where they want me already." Jon's eyes went glassy again, and Martin felt the hair on his neck stand up. "When Basira asked if - if she could kill me, I Knew the answer was no. But in hindsight I'm sort of glad she didn't try? It wouldn't have been fatal, but it might have been enough to hurt. Coming from her."

"Is there - - " Martin wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he had to ask. "Anything that can kill you? I mean . . . permanently?"

Jon blinked at him. It was a deliberate act, a gesture of surprise, as Jon never blinked anymore unless he was thinking about it.

Martin blinked back. "What?"

". . . You don't know?" Jon asked.

Martin should have been more annoyed by the question, really, but he was so sincere. There was a look of innocent bafflement on his face, ridiculous against the backdrop of darkened skies and scorched earth and a face that always seemed set in shadow regardless of the lighting.

"No, Jon," he let out a small huff, fondly nudging his arm. "There's a great number of things I don't know, as you seem to keep forgetting."

"Ah. Right."

"Look . . . I'm trying to keep a stiff upper lip and all, but it really, really wasn't fun seeing that back there," Martin said, "and I'm not sure how many more surprises like that I can take. So if there's something dangerous that I don't know about, something that could really, permanently kill you, I want to know before it's coming up behind us and - -"

"It's not - I mean - -" Jon let out a small breath of laughter, "I think I'm looking at him."

Martin stopped mid-sentence. Even realizing how absurd it looked, he couldn't keep himself from turning around - as if there would be something behind him, something else for Jon to be talking about. He turned back. Jon was still looking at him.

"What - - you mean me?" he sputtered.

Jon nodded.

"How? How is that even possible?"

"Same reason Daisy could hurt me." Jon shrugged, mildly. "Same reason Basira could kill Daisy. Maybe even the reason your bandage helped as much as it did."

"I . . . ." Martin tried to process what he was hearing. He felt lightheaded. "Oh, Jon . . . ."

Jon held out a hand and Martin took it, squeezing as tightly as he could.

"Because I love you." Jon clarified, unnecessarily.

"God . . . yeah, okay." Martin took a deep breath. "Well, uh, geez. I won't. In case that needs to be said!"

"I'm not worried about that."

"Okay, good!" Martin's laugh was anxious and too loud, his head was still spinning. "Wait . . . why - why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I didn't really Know until recently." Jon shrugged again. "I've been trying to, ah, give you privacy? . . . Not Look too hard. It wasn't until all this happened that I put it together."

Martin furrowed his brow. "But you thought I knew?"

"On some level, Basira knew she could kill Daisy before I told her. I thought this might be the same," he picked at the tattered edge of his pant leg. "I assumed you hadn't wanted to bring it up. Or you thought I knew already, since . . . ." he made a vague gesture with his free hand.

"Right . . . ."

"It wouldn't fix things." Jon said softly. "I was telling Basira the truth when I said that," he frowned in that intent way he did when he was trying hard to be clear. "I can't Know the future. But you don't need precognition to know what will happen if a glass vase is dropped from a ten story building. You just need to know how fragile the vase is, and how hard the concrete is.

"I - I'm not quite sure what my death would do," he continued. "Maybe it would be no different than the death of any other avatar. Either way, the entities would remain here. . ." he looked up at Martin, something searching in his face, desperate to be believed. "I would tell you if it would fix things, I wouldn't hide that from you. I know I've changed but I'm not a - - that is, i-if I knew a way back I would take it, even if - -"

"Hey. Hey. . . I know." Martin reached with his other hand, brushing it over Jon's shoulder. Quiet and careful. "I know."

Jon pressed himself into Martin, spindly arms clinging, head tucked under his chin. One of Martin's hands ended up crossing Jon's back, the other went on the back of his head, soft hair under his palm. He closed his eyes and breathed. Allowed the feeling of Jon shifting gently in his arms to block out everything else.

"I know you want to fix this as much as I do," he said when he was ready to speak again. "That's why we're both out here. And even if I can harm you, I never would. You know that, right?"

"Mmm." Jon held him close. There was no hint of hesitation or wariness in him, but his response still felt troublingly uncertain.

"Jon. You do know that, don't you?" He pressed. "I mean . . . lower-case ‘know,' yeah, but I'd hope you wouldn't need mind reading to figure that one out."

"I do know," Jon said. "But . . . what if I was like Daisy?"

Martin's grip on Jon tightened, he felt his stomach twist. "Oh, God," he said. "We're doing this, huh?

"We don't have to." Jon's voice was soft.

"No, no . . . let's . . . God, let's talk about it." Martin took a heavy breath. "Fuck. Would you - would you want me to? Do you want me to -" he winced, afraid of the answer "-make a promise like Basira did?"

He kept a hand on the back of Jon's head, it allowed him hold him close without looking him in the face. While he talked, Jon reached a hand across Martin's arm and gently stroked down it. The gesture was jarringly comforting against the content of the conversation.

"Honestly . . . I don't know." Jon sighed. "I should say yes. That's what I should want, but truly I don't know what I want anymore. I - I think -" his thumb drew thoughtful circles across Martin's bicep. "If it came to that, if I was that far gone, I'd wish for you to decide. Do what you think is right."

"No. Jon, no." Martin shook his head, "you can't put that on me. Not that."

"I think I might have to?" Jon pulled back, meeting Martin's gaze. "I don't understand my feelings lately. There are times I'll look around at everything, all the horror and nightmares and pain, and - -" he swallowed, but didn't look away, "and it will seem so right and so perfect. Then I'll see you, and - and I'll see the terror and sorrow in your face. And I'll remember, and come back to myself - -"

"Jon . . . ."

"I trust you," Jon's voice cracked on trust. "In a way that I can't trust myself. I can't trust my own mind. But I trust you. I - I need this to be your decision."

Martin looked at Jon for a long time, silently, until a gossamer-silk certainty rang in him. His mouth formed a hard line. When he spoke his voice was tight, calm, and iron-edged.

"Fine," he said. "If it's my decision, then I decide not to. You said yourself it wouldn't fix anything, wouldn't - wouldn't make anything better, so I can't see the point. And I don't - I don't want to."

Jon nodded and sagged back into him, resumed petting his arm. He couldn't tell if Jon was relieved or resigned. Maybe he was just glad to have the choice made, the uncertainty removed.

"We've got a plan, one that will fix things," Martin said firmly. "Go to the tower, kill Elias. Settle it all that way."

"Right. . . ."

The tone was familar. Filled with doubt he wasn't speaking of, but couldn't quite keep to himself.

"You don't need to say it." Martin sighed. "I know you don't think it'll fix things, killing Elias. But . . . you don't Know it won't, right? So it might work."

". . . Right." Agreement without conviction, more damning than an argument.

"If it doesn't, we'll figure something else out," he said firmly. "If he can dream-logic his way into this situation, we can dream logic our way out. We just have to not give up."

"Maybe." It wasn't full agreement, but the concession sounded earnest and that was something. "It's clear by now even if I could theoretically Know anything, there's a great deal I manage to miss."

Martin didn't even try to keep the sardonic lilt from his voice. "Like assuming that nothing can hurt you up until you find out the hard way?"

"Like that." Jon's hands kneaded the fabric of Martin's shirt. He smirked without humor. "It's . . . strange, you know. In a sense I'm so powerful, but I don't feel it. Not in the places that matter. I can Know the most intimate horrors of this world, but not a way to repair it. I can destroy whomever I please, but I can't . . . can't save a - a - single person who's trapped here. . . ." he trailed off, voice shaking.

Martin squeezed Jon a notch tighter. "You can protect me. You've been doing that."

"That's true . . . I'm glad of that, at least." Jon took a deep breath and pulled back, keeping their hands linked. "You're still vulnerable in many ways, Martin. But you're quite possibly the only thing in this world that could end me. And I include myself in that."

"Yourse - - wait, you don't mean - "

"No one gets that escape in this place," he said grimly. "Not unless it's part of some nightmare tableau, and then not permanently. You and I are no different there. No . . . my fate is in your hands. From a certain perspective, you might be the most powerful being in this world."

"Hmm."

"How does it feel?" Jon asked. "Being powerful?"

Martin considered for a moment.

". . . Bad," he said decisively. Jon squeezed his hands, a sad smile on his face.

"Yes," he sighed. "Yes, it does."

#tma fanfic #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #i see all your martin will kill jon theories #we all know it's going to be a fate worse than death for both of them

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slytherinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Sub Rosa [69]

xi. the dark year

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: allusions to suicidal thoughts from previous chapter (5.01), mentions of death, language, anxiety.

Summary: The march to Shallow Valley begins...

a/n: next week we finish s5!!!! how we feeling!!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

The march is as boring as you expect it to be.

At some point guns are passed around and you end up with a rifle slung over your shoulder, one more thing you're forced to carry in your trek through the desert. It reminds you of leaving Becca’s lab after Praimfaya and searching for the rover, a story that you ultimately end up telling Bellamy about. And once you get started with one story of your time on Earth without him, he’s eager to hear more. You tell him about going to Polis and then Arkadia, nearly dying until a rainstorm came through and gave you and Clarke water, the sandstorm that destroyed the rover. You tell him about the journey to get more panels, when you and Clarke almost ended it all, and he senses your hesitation when you get to that part, not sure if you should tell him everything. But he reaches out and grabs your hand, threading your fingers together, reminding you that you’re always safe and home with Bellamy. So you tell him just how bad things got, how close to the end you truly were, until the Universe sent a miracle from the sky, a bird that led you to Shallow Valley.

His favorite stories are the ones you tell him about Madi. How she nearly killed you and Clarke both when you first met her, how she taught you both how to fish, and the two of you taught her English. Learning to drive the rover, and fight, living as a mini family in the valley, waiting for the rest of your family to return. The only thing you don't tell him about are the radio calls. You aren't sure why, maybe it’s embarrassment, maybe you’re worried he’ll think it was obsessive, you don't know. All you know is that he must not have heard a single one, because he never mentions them, and you’re sure he would have if he had heard them. Instead, you skip over all of the calls and focus on the good moments instead, the happy things, not sure you’re quite ready enough to tell him just how desperately you missed him.

At some point near the end of the first day, Bellamy’s radio comes to life with the sound of Echo’s voice, broken up and speaking Trig. “Belomi, hola. Yu sen ai in?”

Bellamy, come in. Do you read me? You and Bellamy exchange a look, before he steps out of the marching group and off to the side, with you, Monty, and Harper right behind him. He lifts the radio and says, “Echo-”

You reach out and put your hand over his own, lowering the radio for a second. “Wait, Bellamy, do you normally speak Trig like this? Or is there a reason?”

As soon as you say it, you see a look pass over his face, letting you know they don't normally communicate in Trigedasleng. Your warning reminds all of you of something you need to be careful not to forget: the enemy can hear you every time you use this radio. Bellamy lifts the radio again and you pull your hand away, and this time he answers in Trigedasleng. “Hakom Trig? Chit’s skechi?”

Why are we speaking Trig? What's wrong? He releases the button and you all stare at the radio in tense silence, waiting for her answer. “Emo get in bilaik yo’s komba raun. Yo don drop nishiv of.”

They know you're coming. You've lost the element of surprise. The answer hits you like a blow to the gut, making you sick. Without the element of surprise, this war is a massacre. You can see that Harper and Monty don’t look as shocked as you and Bellamy do, and you realize now their Trig must be limited, so you translate, “They know we're coming.”

Their reaction is immediate, the same as yours, and then Monty looks at you and asks, “Clarke?”

The question hits you like a second blow, more powerful than the last. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind, but your twin was the only other person that knew about the eye in the sky that could have snitched. You shake your head, anger flaring within you at the danger she has just put all of you in, and you grind out, “It had to be.”

Echo must start to worry about the silence from your end of the radio because she comes back on to say, “Belomi, yo gaf bak yo klin. Osir don hon daun ‘mo mavrik, den yo’s klir, komonou. Ba yo nou na komba hir nowe.”

Bellamy, you have to go back. We have their pilot, so you're safe for now. But you can't come here. You and Bellamy watch each other as she speaks, both of you translating the words at the same time. It’s weird to see him so proficient in Trigedasleng considering the few words he knew before he went to space, but when you think about it, teaching Madi English made you fluent in Trig too. Both of you are so different from the people you left behind, past versions of you now burned away by Praimfaya, but somehow your comfort with Bellamy hasn't changed. There’s so many new things you have to learn about him now, but there’s no doubt in your mind that he has your heart and you have his.

Bellamy lifts the radio, shaking his head, though Echo can't see it. “Nou na kom au. Chilja: osir nou na bak op, en osir nou na hod op. Kom fai sintaim osir kamp ouder. Yo gada daun in na lok osir op klir trei. Pas daun, nou mori noumou.”

Not possible. It's a long story, but we can't go back and we can't stop. We're five days out. You have that long to find us a safe way in. After that we run out of rations. You can see the devastation on Bellamy’s face at this new dilemma you've all somehow found yourself in. Echo’s voice comes through the radio one last time before falling silent, “We're on it. Be safe, over and out.”

You can hear the worry in her voice, and a wave of anxiety washes over you, wondering if that worry is born from affection. But Bellamy being Bellamy, must sense your thoughts, and he reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek, whispering, “I love you, my radiant moon.”

“And I love you more than the stars.”

He smiles at you, one of those bright ones, and you realize this is the first time you’ve said those words to him since he came down to Earth. His smile is infectious, and it makes you smile, both of you temporarily forgetting your impending peril until Monty clears his throat and mutters, “The eye.”

The smiles drop from both of your faces, suddenly brought back to the present, and you shake your head. “Uh, right. We should probably tell Indra.”

“And Octavia.” You nod at Bellamy, agreeing, as he passes the radio to Monty. “Keep an ear out for our friends, in case they call again.”

“Will do.”

And with that, you all rejoin the army, and you and Bellamy march off in search of Indra. It doesn’t take long for you to find her, exactly where you last saw her: marching with Gaia and the other faithful. As soon as she sees the two of you approaching and catches the expression on your faces, she steps away from everyone, giving the three of you some privacy. You and Bellamy let her know what’s going on quickly, and a look of alarm passes over her face before she quickly regains her composure and nods towards the front of the army. “We need to inform Octavia.”

The three of you quicken your pace and make it to the front, only to be stopped by Miller. “What do you want?”

You can sense the anger radiating off of Indra and Bellamy in waves, so you walk slightly ahead of them, shifting Miller’s focus to you. “We need to talk to Octavia.”

He looks at you, skeptical, and you give him a pleading look. “It’s important, Miller. You know we wouldn't be here if it wasn't.”

You know he recognizes the truth in your statement, because he motions to a pair of guards walking nearby. “Disarm and follow me.”

You glance at Bellamy and he nods, agreeing to the terms, so you hand the guy to your right your rifle and knife before following Miller. Bellamy and Indra both follow you, and Miller announces your arrival to Octavia before stepping back slightly, but he sticks close enough to keep an eye on all of you. Indra is the first to speak, “You're marching us into a massacre.”

Octavia doesn't turn to look at any of you, her eyes firmly locked on the horizon ahead. “We'll see.”

“Echo radioed. The enemy knows you're coming.” She bristles slightly, and you can tell the news is affecting her even though she tries to pretend otherwise. “We don't need to worry about the missiles, but they're moving their weapons into position.”

Indra adds, “It's safe to assume that since there's only three realistic ways into the valley, that all three will be heavily defended.”

Bellamy, who has stayed silent as you and Indra do most of the talking, finally quips, “Echo's scouting now, looking for the best way in. But since we can't go back because you burned the farm, and since we can't stop because we'll starve, we thought we should let you know that you've killed your people.”

You look at Bellamy in shock, not expecting to hear the words come out of his mouth. You’re pissed at Octavia too, but you’re not eager to cross her again, your near death experience still too fresh in your memory. You grab his hand and whisper his name as a warning, “Bellamy.”

But he ignores you and snaps at his sister, “Enjoy your walk.”

He drops back and you glance at him and then to Indra, silently apologizing before you drop back and follow him. You get your weapons back and secure them to you before jogging after Bellamy and catching up to him near the back, but you can tell from the expression on his face that he doesn't want to talk. So instead, you slip your hand into his and stay by his side, allowing him his anger for now.

Eventually night falls and the marching stops, giving all of you a temporary reprieve from the long journey, at least until morning.

You and Bellamy set up your tent and then build a fire, and Monty and Harper set up their tent nearby before joining you around the warmth of the fire. All of you sit and eat your rations in silence before the other couple bids you both goodnight, leaving you and Bellamy alone. You finish up the last of your rations, just enough to keep you full for a few hours, before you pull out your Grounder knife, looking over the notches on the handle. By your count, it’s now missing a few, and as you start to wonder what you can use to add the next few lines, Bellamy’s hand reaches out to you, his own knife in his grip. You look up at him, taking the knife with a nod of thanks, unaware that anyone knows that you actually keep up with your knife kills. You might be embarrassed if it was anyone other than Bellamy, but judging by the look on his face, he seems to understand. You don’t count the kills like trophies, the way others might, you count the kills to remind you of what you’ve done. At this point, it’s hard to know how many people you’ve killed with guns, explosions, or levers that bring radiation. But this knife reminds you of the personal ones, the lives that you took in close proximity to another person, close enough to see the life drain from them. It’s a way to remind you of your humanity, a way to remind you that each of these kills affected you in some way, the same way the forgotten kills affect you, whether you realize it or not.

You add two tallies for the two Eligius prisoners you killed, before you pause and consider Cooper. You didn’t use this knife to kill her the way you usually would, but you did use it to cut a hole in her glove, sealing her fate before she even woke up. To you, it’s enough for you to know her death should stay on your mind. You shouldn't sweep it under the rug as another casualty of war. You need to remember how willing you were to kill her if it meant it could save everyone else, which ultimately didn’t happen. Cooper is dead and Wonkru is still marching on the valley, worms be damned.

As you add a third tally for Cooper, bringing your knife kills up to ten, you glance over at Bellamy, his gaze turned away from you. You take note of his clenched jaw and angry expression. “We have to talk about it eventually, Bellamy.”

“No, we don't.”

“Both of our sisters betrayed us.”

“Your sister betrayed us, probably to save Madi. And though it puts us in a shitty position, I can forgive her for that.” Bellamy turns to look at you, pulling in a deep breath. “My sister put us in the fighting pits together, after she forced you into making a deal that would save my life but end yours. She did that knowing how I feel about you.”

“Only after my sister ratted us out and left us there. If we’re keeping count, Clarke has betrayed us twice. And you’re right, both betrayals were probably to keep Madi safe, but at what expense to everyone else? To me? To you? I love Madi, she is my niece, my family, and I’d do anything to keep her safe. But sometimes Clarke’s decisions are reckless when it comes to Madi’s safety. She listens to the storm within her, just like you used to do, and doesn’t stop to consider every angle, every possibility. I’m not letting her off the hook that easy.”

Bellamy is quiet for a while, both of you thinking of your sister related drama, and when he finally speaks, his anger has cooled, though not completely, and his voice is soft. “I just can't forgive Octavia for nearly taking you from me. Not after I just got you back.”

The words melt you, your anger towards your sister forgotten as you reach out to comfort Bellamy. You pull him in for a kiss, understanding his fear of losing you, because you lived with it for six years when you lost him. When you pull away, you rest your foreheads together, keeping your eyes closed as you sit and enjoy the fact that you can even do this. Because Bellamy is back, and he loves you, and you’re alive, despite Octavia’s best efforts. You whisper, “You’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me now. I don’t want to let you out of my sight, I’m so afraid of losing you again.”

He pulls away so he can look at you, his expression sad. “I have the same fear. It was so hard being on the Ring without you. It felt like a ghost was hanging around with me at every moment. I was searching for you everywhere, always disappointed when you weren’t there.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you kiss him again, hoping it helps. This time when you pull away, he wraps you up into his arms and turns his face to the sky. You follow his gaze, both of you tracing constellations, and for the first time in six years, he asks, “Tell me about the stars?”

You look at him, feeling a rush of affection as you do, your voice cracking with emotion when you whisper back, “Of course.”

The second day of marching is just as awful as the first, though it’s now punctuated with an air of anxiety as you all march one day closer to your massacre.

The second night, all of you retire early, too tired to sit around and talk, but you wake up a few hours later, wide awake for some reason. You glance over at Bellamy, smiling down at his sleeping form, so peaceful as the worries of the world don't reach him in his dreams. Not wanting to disturb him, you quietly crawl out of the tent, taking the radio with you, just in case someone calls.

As you sit outside and look at the stars, you nearly jump out of your skin when the radio comes to life. “Belomi, hola.”

Bellamy, come in. You pick up the radio and answer, “Nou Belomi, en's ai. Wanlida.”

Not Bellamy, it’s me. Wanlida. You add your Grounder nickname at the end, not sure if she recognizes your voice. She immediately answers, “Osir don strat.”

We have a plan. You smile at the radio in your hand, feeling a rush of gratitude to your friends on the other side. “Tel ai op.”

Tell me. Echo immediately relays the plan to you in Trigedasleng, and at times, you start to think about how weird it is to be carrying on a conversation with your boyfriend’s ex. And though you get flashes of jealousy when you think about them together, you start to marvel at how talking to her now isn't that bad. Though maybe it’s because you have something to talk about, and it has nothing to do with Bellamy. Still, as soon as you get the plan from Echo, you both exchange goodbyes and you run back to your tent to tell your boyfriend the good news. As soon as he knows, you both go to Indra next, as usual, and tell her the plan. Once she knows, you look at Bellamy, both of you aware of what you have to do next, and he nods, looking reluctant.

You both walk to Octavia’s tent, and the closer you get, the louder her voice grows. You can tell she’s having a strategy meeting with her advisors, one that does not include an encouraging plan. “We're gonna take heavy fire, but as long as we stay together, we can still do this. Does everybody understand?”

You and Bellamy are both stopped at the door by the guards, and Bellamy demands, “We need to see her now.”

Octavia’s voice comes from inside the tent, granting you both permission. “Let them in!”

As soon as you step inside, you scan the room, looking at the advisors, before your eyes fall to the map on the table in front of Octavia. “You don't need that.”

“The spy found us a way in?”

“Yes.” Bellamy turns to look at the advisors gathered around. “Everybody out.”

They stand frozen in place until Octavia dismisses them, and then they all exit quickly, leaving the three of you alone. Bellamy walks closer to his sister, and you hang back, sensing that he has something he wants to say to her. “Before I tell you this, we need to set some things straight.”

“I'm listening.”

“This war that you're so anxious for is about to be fought on the last survivable land on Earth. That is monumentally stupid. But it's here, and in four days, when we march on that valley, we are gonna fight this the right way.”

“Does the right way end up with us winning?”

Bellamy shakes his head, annoyed that winning is all she cares about. “It ends with us accepting the other side's surrender. Once they lay down their arms, we share the valley with them. No executions. No fighting pits. Real peace.”

“I accept your terms. Now, tell me how to win this war.”

Bellamy steps away, already done with the conversation. “Indra has the details.”

She calls out to his retreating figure, “Bellamy...this is how it was meant to be. You and me. Fighting side by side.”

Bellamy stops beside you, both of you now standing near the exit of the tent, and he reaches out for your hand before turning to face Octavia. “I'm not fighting for you. I’m fighting for la lune, who you were willing to kill a few days ago. I'm fighting to get back the rest of my family, and I'm fighting so that we can finally build a future here.”

You see a look of hurt pass over Octavia’s face as she realizes he doesn't consider her part of his family, but if he sees it, he ignores it. He just turns back to you and walks out of the tent, guiding you along after him.

The next three days of marching are almost continuous, as Octavia decides against stopping to camp 3 nights in a row. Instead, you stop for an hour or so twice a day before continuing the march to the valley. Finally, on day 6, you arrive at the final camping spot, just outside of the valley. You all pitch your tents during the day and spend most of it resting, because as soon as the next day dawns, the war begins.

You and Bellamy crawl out of your tent sometime after nightfall, finally rested after so many days of marching, and you both sit around a small fire and talk, keeping yourselves distracted from your nerves, the way you used to before he went to space without you. Monty comes over as you chat, sitting down on your other side, splitting his rations into three. “Last of the rations.”

You and Bellamy accept his offer with a nod of thanks, and as you all savor the last bit of food you have, Monty turns to look between you and Bellamy. “Look, if you want us with you at the front-”

Bellamy cuts him off, seeing the reluctance on his face, aware of Monty’s dislike of killing. He shakes his head and motions between himself and you. “No, we got this.”

You nod, adding, “You stay. They're leaving the tents here, and once the fight is over tomorrow, you can come and join us.”

Bellamy looks up at the stars, and then over to Monty. “I told Octavia we're taking 80 acres, on the Eastern edge of the valley. Grow something other than algae, okay?”

They look at each other for a long second before they break into smiles, and you grin at the interaction, glad to see them both happy, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Eventually, Monty leaves to go find Harper, and you and Bellamy watch the stars before he suddenly asks, “The last time we were in the desert marching to war, you said something that I never got to ask about.”

You glance away from the sky, and over to him. “What’s that?”

“You said you have a house in the valley, built for two. Did you mean for us?”

“No, I was definitely getting it ready so I could share it with some other guy.” Bellamy laughs, remembering when he asked you to move in with him, and you laugh too. “Yes, for us, if you want it. It’s the perfect size for us, slightly larger than the room we had at Arkadia. It’s got a kitchen and a bathroom, but the best part is the bedroom.”

He gives you a suggestive look. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

You laugh and playfully hit his arm. “Not for that reason. It has a window on the roof that opens up to the sky. During the day it lets warm sunshine in, and at night you can see the stars.”

He smiles down at you, tugging you closer to him, whispering against your lips, “It does sound perfect for us.”

He pulls you in for a kiss and you let yourself get lost in the kiss, reminding you of how wonderful it is to be wrapped up in his arms. As the two of you start to pull away, someone clears their throat, and you jump apart, slightly embarrassed. You look up to see Indra looking down at the two of you, and you swear she’s hiding a smile as she nods towards Octavia’s tent. “Last strategy meeting, and they want you both there.”

You stand and follow her to the tent, the last three to arrive, gathering around the table that features the new map, drawn for your plan. Octavia looks at Bellamy, nodding at him to begin. “At dawn, our group in the woods will open fire on pillbox one, in position A here. At the first sign of attack, McCreary's forces at point B and C will converge to reinforce A, thinking that's where we're coming through.”

Octavia muses, “Leaving the other two doors wide open.”

Bellamy glances at you, and you finish the plan, pointing down at the map. “We'll come through here, point C. Now, if we time it right and we move fast, there won't be any resistance.”

Indra mutters, “Once we're in the woods, we take the village.”

Miller finishes, “Once we're in the woods, we win.”

All of you look up and around at each other, making sure everyone understands, and Brell is the first to nod. “Okay, I'll tell my people.”

Miller turns on her, growling, “Your people?”

Indra breaks up the argument and snaps, “Save it for the enemy. Spread the word, we go at first light.”

Everyone starts to dissipate, and Octavia turns her attention to you and Bellamy. “Tell Echo I said well done.”

“You can tell her yourself in two hours.” Bellamy grabs your hand and leads you from the tent, eager to end any conversation with his sister. The two of you head back outside and over to your fire, deciding to spend your last few hours before the war together, enjoying each other’s company. Though your victory seems imminent, you never know what will happen in war. The tides can change at any second, and you could lose, people could die. Which is why you and Bellamy stay huddled together, making sure each of you know just how much you love each other.

Just in case.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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raendown · 3 years

Link

Another follower milestone gift fic! @uintuva asked for the prompt word somnolent!

Pairing: TobiramaKakashi Word count: 1919 Rated: T+ Summary: Kakashi hurries home, excited for something he honestly never expected to be excited for.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

To Bed, Perchance To Sleep

In the privacy of his own mind where no one would ever hear him being this ridiculous Kakashi wondered, if he were excited enough, whether he could vibrate out of his own skin. With every step and push he could practically feel nervous energy gathering in unexpected places inside of him until he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop moving when he finally did make it home.

He was going to babysit.

What he wouldn’t give to reach back in time and see how his younger self reacted to the news that he was actually excited about this. For years he’d held firm to the belief that he didn’t like kids and kids didn’t like him. If anything he tended to scare them. How time had changed him that he should be pushing chakra in to his legs to run faster just to get there in time to be a part of this.

Okay so maybe it wasn’t really him that was babysitting, more that Tobirama was the one being trusted with properly caring for such tiny lives, but Kakashi lived in the house too so he got to be babysitter number two by default. If he could get home in time. Somehow even getting himself thrown back in time several generations still did nothing to staunch the habit of taking too many missions and running himself in to the ground without thought. Tobirama was working on that. Which was laughable.

Hashirama was working on both of them, in truth, and his efforts were at least slightly more successful.

Thin clouds of dust puffed up around his feet as Kakashi dropped through the trees to land in the middle of a road very few would ever find unless they knew where to look, a road that twisted through trees grown of Hashirama’s mokuton so that none could ever pass through here unnoticed. He was so close to the Senju compound he could practically smell the ever present pall of smoke that came from living without electricity. Now the smell of home in his mind; how strange the things that had changed since he found himself in another time.

Several pairs of eyes tracked his progress in to the hidden compound, though none made any move to reveal themselves or stop him. Kakashi bounded past the gate with the sort of energy that would usually exhaust him just to watch from afar. He made his way through the lazy throngs of off duty Senju with light feet, rebounding off of walls and spinning around one granny with particularly bad knees, blithely ignoring the indulgent smiles that followed him all the way to the Senju main house he still had trouble believing he was allowed to live in. Even before he and Tobirama had somehow fumbled their way in to an emotionally constipated relationship he’d been given the honor of calling this his own home.

Being a time traveller came with some really cool perks and catching the interest of a genius was one of the better ones.

The front door very nearly banged open when he crashed through it; Kakashi only managed to stop it with a very undignified lunge at the last second, not wanting to scare the children deeper inside. One of the lower clan members who came in to clean the home watched him with an amused smile. Ignoring them, he toed off his sandals and scurried away down the hall until he was pausing outside of a door cracked just enough for Tobirama’s familiar rumble to whisper through.

When Kakashi pushed the door ever so slightly he was treated to the sight of his partner cradling a small body between his arms and speaking down to the babe with the same serious expression he used when laying out battle plans. A tiny influx of chakra to his ears and suddenly Kakashi wasn’t sure if he wanted to break down crying or burst out laughing.

“That’s when you add the sulphur,” Tobirama was saying, “but it’s important you do so very slowly or else the solution will spill and it’s very corrosive on human skin.”

“Maa, trying to start teaching them young?”

His partner looked up at him with a blink and then pouted defensively. “She hasn’t fussed once since I started talking, doesn’t that mean it’s interesting?”

“I think it means she’s six months old and enjoys the sound of your voice.”

“Hmph. It could be the science.”

“Yes, I suppose it could be.”

Kakashi stepped further in to the room and very carefully did not melt in to a little puddle on the floor when a second figure waved at him from underneath several blankets against the opposite wall. “Kaka-ojisan!”

How on earth Hashirama and Mito could have two children who looked so much like their father yet still possessed the grace of their mother could be nothing short of miraculous. Although no one had ever worked up the courage to say so to their clan head, most of the Senju had been part of the betting pool when Mito first got pregnant, passing theories back and forth about just how goofy any child of poor Hashirama would turn out. No one had really suspected these adorable little mites.

“Is it bedtime already?” Kakashi asked, aware his voice carried just a hint of whining protest.

“After the story is finished, yes.” When Tobirama nodded it was with just a hint of sympathy like he’d tried to put this off for as long as possible.

“But I didn’t get to play!”

Little Takuma immediately began trying to extricate himself from the many blankets tucked in around him. “I’ll play with you Kaka-ojisan!”

“Mmn, you will tomorrow,” Tobirama cut the boy off. Before either of them could protest he shook his head. “I promised that we would try to wait for Kakashi’s return but I did not promise we would do away with bedtime entirely. You need sleep, little one, or you will never grow.”

“You don’t sleep!”

“I am already grown,” he pointed out in a bland tone.

Kakashi watched Takuma pouting and honestly wanted to do so himself. He’d been so looking forward to this. For the first time in his life he’d been excited to spend time in the company of children. Now it felt like someone had dangled a toy in front of his eyes only to snatch it away as soon as he reached for it and he was uncomfortably aware of how similar to the children he was acting. Such awareness was all that kept the protests behind his teeth as Tobirama instructed their nephew to lay back down.

Since he had apparently missed playtime Kakashi figured he might as well soak up what he could. Despite the fact that he was already buried under several layers Takuma seemed to enjoy having his Uncle Kakashi come over to tuck the blankets up under his chin, showing his appreciation with a massive yawn that almost cracked his jaw in half. Tobirama murmured a few more lines of whatever experiment he’d been describing as he transferred the babe in his arms to the crib Hashirama had grown for her and then there was little to do but to say goodnight.

“But I’m not sleepy,” Takuma insisted even as his eyes drooped.

“Of course not,” Tobirama said.

“I’m really not! I wanna play with Kaka-ojisan!”

He opened his mouth to say more but yawned instead and Kakashi’s heart clenched in his chest.

“We can play tomorrow, how does that sound?” he bartered. Takuma thought that over.

“Not now?”

Tobirama was shaking his head as he herded himself and Kakashi towards the door. “Now is bedtime.”

A very small part of him hoped that when he looked back he would be met with bright and eager eyes ready to leap out of bed. The rest of him very reluctantly acknowledged that his partner was right, small children that age really did need as much sleep as they could get to grow healthy and strong. Already Takuma’s drooping eyes were sliding shut only to snap back open to half mast in the hopes he could convince either adult that he was okay to stay up. A wasted effort. By the time they closed the door Kakashi was sure the boy would be fast asleep.

He didn’t need the amused lift of his partner’s left eyebrow to know that his mask was formed around the shape of a pouting bottom lip. Kakashi stuck his nose in the air and turned to march down the hall as if he weren’t feeling a very childish temper tantrum building up in his chest. Unfortunately he only made it as far as a few steps in to the room they shared before Tobirama caught up to him, strong arms sliding around his middle even as one foot reached back to kick the door shut.

“You got home much later than I expected you to.”

“I tried to be fast,” Kakashi murmured. “Just took a lot longer than I wanted it to.”

“Mmn, isn’t that always the way.”

Eyeing the bed wistfully, Kakashi sighed. “You know, I’ve never liked kids all that much but I really was looking forward to playing house with you and all that. Just for a day. Just once.”

“Knowing my brother, I’m certain there will be many other opportunities for him to foist his responsibilities on to us. Mostly paperwork, no doubt, but a man does need some alone time with his wife every so often.”

“Wanting alone time is something I can understand.”

Tobirama nuzzled in to the back of his neck with an agreeable hum. “Now what do you say we get you cleaned up and in to bed as well?”

“I’m not sleepy,” Kakashi declared with a smile. Pale fingers reached around to tug at the edge of his mask until it fell down around his neck, face exposed to the world. Then those same fingers pulled at his chin to bring him around so he could see the unimpressed look on his partner’s face.

“Did I ask if you were?”

“But why would I go to bed if I’m not sleepy?”

“Sage preserve me, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Even as he spoke the words Tobirama’s voice was so tender it would have been impossible to miss the blatant affection in them. He made a big deal out of rolling his eyes and puffing with annoyance but in the end he leaned in to capture Kakashi’s lips with his own, drawing out the kiss until they were fumbling their feet and twisting their bodies to face each other properly.

“Are you feeling sleepy now?” he mumbled eventually. “Or do I need to convince you a little more?”

“Oh no, I am simply beyond exhausted all of a sudden. Bed time. Yes. Shower and bed. Woe is me but I just don’t know if I have the strength to do it on my own!” In pretending to swoon Kakashi very nearly missed the tender affection worn so openly on his partner’s face.

“I’ll help you,” Tobirama told him.

Kakashi didn’t bother to hide his interest. He may have started his day out excited for something entirely different but maybe a change in plans wasn’t entirely terrible. As his partner had said, there would be other opportunities on other days. For now he was content to follow wherever the man in his arms wanted to lead him.

Especially to bed.

#rae writes #follower milestone #tobikaka #kakatobi #kakashi #tobirama #fanfiction

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