#CoG Chapter 13

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 3.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

authors's note: Merry belated Christmas to those celebrating! 🎄 I’m back with another chapter and just want to say how much I appreciate all of you for reading my story. Your support means so much to me! Hope you enjoy this chapter! 💖

Pending…Pending…

Date: August 16th,2174.

Location: Sully Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 2:13 PM.

Imagine this: I was caught in a tug-of-war between two lives—the one I’d known, built on logic and expectations and the one I’d stumbled into, raw and untamed, a pulse that didn’t just beat but throbbed deep into my bones.

The fluorescent-lit labs of Earth felt like suffocating cages now, a reminder of everything I’d left behind: the pressure to be perfect, to be a cog in a machine. And here, amidst the alien beauty of Pandora, I felt both out of place and strangely alive. I wasn’t just another human anymore—I was a scientist surrounded by warriors, an outsider in a world that was anything but human.

It was disorienting. Every decision felt like a battle. I was forced to fight not just for survival, but for a place in this alien landscape.

Then, there were his eyes. Golden, piercing, like they saw right through me. At first, I tried to ignore him—the way he watched me, as if he understood something I couldn’t even put into words. But it was hard to ignore the pull, the weight of his gaze, the flicker of something deeper in those eyes. The quiet confidence in the way he stood, the power in the way he moved—it stirred something in me.

I couldn’t deny it. No matter how much I tried to push it away, the attraction was there, undeniable. And in that moment, it wasn’t just the pull of Pandora that had me trapped. It was him.

Welcome to my mind. It’s a chaotic,yet beautiful and conflicted place. I suggest you hold on tight.

“Follow me,” the Na’vi said, his voice firm.

I stumbled a little, catching myself on the rocky terrain. The high base of the Hallelujah Mountains loomed around us, the bioluminescent glow of the plants and moss lighting our path. He cast a glance back at me, his sharp gaze softening when he noticed my unease.

“I’m not going to run,” I muttered, crossing my arms. I’m starting to regret this.

“Good,” he replied simply, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You wouldn’t get far.”

I wanted to argue, but I bit my tongue, focusing instead on my surroundings. He’s cocky,it seems. The base was alive with activity—Na’vi moved between the makeshift structures, their voices mixing with the hum of the forest. Humans were here too, walking among them, though they stuck out like sore thumbs.

The sight unsettled me. The RDA had drilled into us the belief that humans and Na’vi were sworn enemies, that coexistence was a naïve fantasy. And yet, here they were—working together, living side by side, proving everything I had been taught wrong. It made me sick to think about how blind and helpless humanity back on Earth really was, trapped in RDA’s own fairytale.

He stopped in front of a large hut, motioning for me to enter. “Inside,” he said.

I hesitated, glancing at the entrance. “And what exactly is waiting for me in there?”

“Answers,” he said simply, his tone giving no room for argument. I hate these half-assed answers. Is he trying to seem mysterious?I mutter under my breath -

“Ugh,dick.”

-visibly annoyed,though the flicker of his left ear tells me he caught that,and I can’t help but grin a little at the dumb situation I got myself in.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside.

The air inside the hut was heavy, a mix of earthy smells and an undercurrent of tension that prickled at my nerves. Sitting at the center was Jake Sully, his elbows resting on his knees, his sharp gaze locking onto me the moment I entered. Neytiri,his mate, stood behind him, her posture stiff, her golden eyes filled with suspicion.

It all slams into place like a punch to the gut. Wait—what? No way. This guy... the one who brought me here... oh my God, he’s his son. Jake Sully’s eldest. Neteyam Sully.

“Sit,” Jake said, nodding toward an open space on the floor.

I sat cross-legged, a sense of vulnerability crawling under my skin like never before. My eyes darted to Neteyam, still standing by the doorway, his face as unreadable as ever. Is he... more attractive now that I know who he is? No, I immediately scolded myself. That’s not the issue here.

“What’s your name?” Jake asked, breaking the silence.

I introduce myself as I try to steady my already-trembling voice.

Jake nodded slowly. “Alright, You’re a scientist, right? That’s what Neteyam told me.”

“Yes,” I said. “I work in the Avatar Recom project. I’m not a soldier, and I’m not a spy.”

“You work with the Recoms,” Neytiri said, her voice sharp. She really is as scary as they say. Sheesh. “You help create them.”

Her words felt like a slap, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I study Avatars. The Recoms are just one part of the project. My job is research, not combat.”

Jake leaned forward, his gaze narrowing. “Then tell us. What is the RDA doing with the Recoms now? We’ve fought them before, but every time, they’re tougher, faster. What’s changed?”

I hesitated, glancing at Max Patel and Norm Spellman, who sat silently to the side, their expressions unreadable. I recognized their faces back from Earth’s most wanted screen that would glow in Times Square every night at 8 PM sharp. Funny how most people here,especially Jake Sully,have their faces there. What’s funnier is,I actually saw them as criminals back then. Finally, I took a deep breath and began.

“The Recoms have been refined since the last time you encountered them back in 2170.” I said. “The RDA has addressed issues like genetic instability and neural lag. But the biggest advancement isn’t physical. It’s uh…psychological.”

Jake frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve started integrating emotional responses into their programming,” I explained. “Specifically, feelings of anger and loyalty. They’ve found a way to amplify those emotions during combat, making the Recoms more aggressive, more determined to complete their missions.”

Neytiri’s tail flicked sharply, her expression darkening. Why do I feel so guilty?  “And what happens when they fail?”

“They don’t fail often,” I admitted. “But when they do... they’re designed to self-destruct rather than be captured.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my words settling heavily on everyone present.

I never wanted this. All I ever wanted was to make art and have a nice,peaceful life,away from anything related to science. . How the hell did I even get here? I feel awful. For being part of this horrible organization that destroys everything that is beautiful,and now...I can see it in their eyes.

The way their troubled eyes betray their stoic expressions as they listen to my words.

“Self-destruct?” Norm echoed, his voice filled with disbelief.

I nodded. “The RDA can’t risk their tech falling into the wrong hands. To them,the Recoms are disposable."

Jake leaned back, his jaw tightening. “This is worse than I thought.”

Neteyam, who had been silent until now, stepped forward slightly. “And you? How do you fit into all this?”

“I-I don’t,” I said quickly,a stutter coming out. “I was recruited in my first year of college because of my knowledge,then I got trained for 6 months before being sent here. That’s it. I didn’t sign up for this war. I swear.”

Neytiri scoffed, crossing her arms. “Convenient excuse,vrrtep.”

“Ma yawntu.” Jake warned, though his voice was tired.

“I’m not lying,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I didn’t choose to be here. Your son brought me.”

At that, Neytiri’s gaze flicked to Neteyam, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Mo’at, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. “Eywa brought her to us,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “The atokirina does not choose lightly.”

I look at her a bit confused. What atokirina? I see her and Neteyam steal a glance,nodding before they look at me. This is unnerving.

Mo’at’s gaze was steady. “Eywa decides where you belong. Not you.”

I stumbled out of the hut, my mind racing. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the suffocating tension of the meeting. Plus,I just hope there’s a place where I can finally take my exopack off.

Neteyam was waiting outside for me, a thoughtful look on his face as he looked at the ground. Probably zoning out. He straightened when he saw me, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said shortly, brushing past him. I can't believe he got me into this mess.

He fell into step beside me. “You didn’t exactly make any friends in there.”

 I scoff. “Not my priority,” I snapped. “And thanks for the heads-up, by the way. Really appreciated being thrown into the deep end,Mr. Blue Prince.”

Neteyam smirked faintly. “You handled yourself fine.”

I shot him a glare, but he didn’t seem fazed. Instead, his gaze softened slightly, and he continued, “You were honest. That’s all that matters.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I kept walking. I don't know where to exactly. I’m sure he laughed inside as he saw me stomping off,considering I have no actual idea where I’m headed. But the unspoken tension between us lingered, a thread pulling tighter with every step.

The human quarters were...modest, to say the least. A simple cluster of prefabricated modules, they were a far cry from the sprawling labs and luxurious accommodations back at the RDA base. But they were functional, blending into the caves in a way that felt intentional rather than invasive.

A woman met me at the threshold of one of the modules, her face lighting up with a warm smile. She was older, with streaks of gray in her short hair and kind eyes behind round glasses.

“You must be the new scientist,I assume?,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Dr. Marie Holden. I heard you used to work with…Dr. Ellison?Max and Norm told me you’d be staying with us.”

I shook her hand, appreciating the brief moment of normalcy. “Yeah,that’s uhh…That’s me. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, waving me inside. “We’re used to taking in strays. Though I think you’re the first one brought here by a Sully.”

I flushed, glancing at Neteyam, who had followed me to the door but lingered outside,like a shadow, leaning against the frame.

It's kinda creepy,if I might add.

Marie gave him a knowing look, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “You sticking around, Neteyam?”

“No,” he said quickly, his voice sharp but steady as he pushed off the doorframe. His movements were fluid, deliberate, as if every step he took was measured and precise. “I need to report back to my father.”

But then his gaze flicked to me, and the air in the room seemed to shift. Those golden eyes, burning with the same intensity they held during the ambush, locked onto mine. It was the look of a warrior—fierce, unyielding—but underneath it, I caught something else. A quiet, restrained anger. A hint of exhaustion. The weight of a fight he hadn’t chosen but couldn’t walk away from.

And damn him, it made my heart stumble in its rhythm, just like it had that day.

“Try not to cause any trouble.”

I scowled playfully. “That’s rich, coming from the person who dragged me here.”

Neteyam chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. “What can I say?Welcome to the rebellion, syulang.” And with that, he disappeared into the night.

Gosh,did he really just call me that?I’m pretty sure he wants to mess with me,knowing I understand his alien language. I just hope my ears aren't burning.

Marie watched him go, shaking her head with a bemused smile. “He’s a good kid. A bit of a hothead, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“Is he?” I ask,a genuine chuckle coming out of me.

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I kept any more thoughts to myself.

Marie led me to a small room with a single bed, a desk, and a storage locker. The walls were adorned with faded maps, sketches of Pandora’s wildlife, and handwritten notes. I wonder who used to live here before me,yet the thought makes my stomach turn.

“This will be your space,” Marie said, gesturing around. “It’s not much, but it’s private.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

Marie studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I know this must be overwhelming. You’ve probably heard a lot of... propaganda about us. But we’re not your enemy.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. I sigh,letting the tension melt off my shoulders. “What’s expected of me here?”

“For now, just settle in,” she said reassuringly. “Tomorrow, Max and Norm will wait for you in Unit 2 of the Avatar department. They want to debrief you more thoroughly. And the Sullys... well, they’ll decide where you fit into all this. Don't overthink it too much.”

The idea of being judged by Jake and Neytiri again made my stomach churn. “What if I don’t fit?”

Marie’s smile was kind but firm. “Everyone here has a purpose. You’ll find yours.”

Sleep didn’t come easily. Every creak of the metal walls and rustle of the flowing mountains outside kept me on edge. When morning finally arrived, I felt more exhausted than rested.

Marie was already up, bustling around the small common area with surprising energy. She handed me a mug of something that smelled faintly of coffee and motioned for me to sit. I’m pretty sure this coffee was smuggled,but I’m not complaining.

“First day,” she said cheerfully. I’m glad she’s friendly, honestly. “You’ll be fine.”

“I swear I feel like Katniss on the day of The Reaping.” I say in a dramatic whine,which seems to get a giggle out of her. I sip the drink, wincing at its bitterness. I wonder if they smuggled sugar too?

“What exactly is on the agenda?” I ask.

“Max and Norm will walk you through our operations here,” she said. “And then there’s another meeting with the Sullys.”

Of course there was.

Turns out, after Dr. Augustine’s death, Norm became the leader of the Avatar department, which divides into 4 units.

Unit 1 is meant for special engineers working on the Avatar link machines, ensuring they work smoothly and fixing any kind of error. These engineers are the silent backbone of the entire operation, constantly tweaking the machines to keep the delicate balance between human minds and their Avatar bodies intact.

Unit 2 is where doctors make sure that every Avatar driver, as well as their own Avatar, are in great health. Physical and mental. That means everyone must get blood samples once a month on different dates,and a psychological exam once every  three months. Turns out, that includes the Sully kids too, since they’re Avatar offspring, and that’s where I’ll be working for now.

Unit 3 is designed for research and development, where they study the intricacies of Na'vi physiology, the integration of human and Na'vi traits, and the environmental effects on both species. This unit is where new advancements are made—whether it's understanding how Avatar bodies react to Pandora's atmosphere over time or testing new methods to enhance the connection between the human consciousness and their Avatar. It’s here that the majority of the data from the Avatar link experiments is processed and analyzed.

Unit 4, however, is where the real magic happens. This is the heart of the Avatar program, where the Avatar link machines are housed. The research here is strictly classified, and I’m not allowed anywhere near it just yet. I was supposed to drive an Avatar too,actually back at the RDA base. I trained for it in the small period of time between getting invited into the next RDA mission to Pandora and the day I actually left,but once I got here, I had to wait around a month since my Avatar wasn’t fully developed yet.

…Guess I won’t be doing that now, and for the first time, I think I’m starting to realize that maybe I never will. It’s a strange feeling, but somehow, it’s becoming easier to let go.

Max and Norm were surprisingly welcoming, though their curiosity about my work with the Recoms was…palpable,to say the least. We spent hours checking over diagrams and notes, discussing everything from Avatar neural interfaces to the psychological conditioning of the Recoms.

When I mentioned the integration of emotional triggers—specifically anger and loyalty—both men looked genuinely horrified,their faces matching the ones from yesterday,during the meeting.

“That explains a lot,” Norm said grimly. “We’ve noticed the Recoms are more... ferocious than before. It’s like they’re out for blood.”

“That’s the point,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt again. “The RDA wants soldiers who are ruthless and obedient. Emotions are just another tool to control them,sadly.”

Max shook his head, his expression dark. “This is beyond unethical.”

I didn’t disagree, but the conversation left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

The meeting with the Sullys was no less tense than the first, though this time, I felt slightly more prepared. Jake sat at the head of the group, his expression hard but thoughtful. Neytiri was as fierce as ever, her sharp gaze cutting through me like a knife,and I could now see more unfamiliar faces, Na'vi and humans alike.

Neteyam stood to the side, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“Ralngeyä’a ‘upe, ma sempul?” Neteyam asked, breaking the silence. His voice, low and steady, carried the weight of his ancestors’ language, each syllable dripping with a subtle rasp that seemed to echo through the air. His eyes, sharp and intent, were locked on his father as he sought to understand what he had learned about me.

Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Enough to know she’s valuable. The knowledge she has about the Recoms... it could give us an edge.”

“Fu kxawm alu säsyep srak?” Neytiri said coldly.

I bristled at her tone but forced myself to stay calm. I can’t believe she just asked if this is a trap. As if being stolen by an 8-feet-tall Na’vi alien prince is convenient in any way.  “What benefit would I get in doing that?I just want to survive.”

Mo’at spoke then, her voice calm but commanding. “Survival is not enough. If Eywa has brought you here, it is for a reason.”

Again with that. The mention of Eywa made me shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know anything about your goddess other than what I read in Dr. Augustine’s book. I’m just a scientist. I don’t…I don’t know how to see this world through your eyes.”

Mo’at’s piercing gaze seemed to see right through me. “You will learn.”

Jake leaned forward, his expression softening slightly. “Look, kid, I don’t trust the RDA as far as I can throw them. But if you’re willing to help us, we’ll give you a chance.”

Neteyam’s gaze lingered on me, and for a brief moment, his expression softened, almost imperceptibly.

“I’ll help,” I said finally,my stubborn nature present in my tone. “But only because I want to.”

The unspoken tension in the room eased slightly, though I could feel Neytiri’s lingering distrust like a weight on my shoulders.

Marie showed me to my room again after the meeting, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You did well,” she said. “Better than most would in your shoes.”

“Thanks,Marie.” I muttered, though her words did little to ease my anxiety. With that,she closed the door.

As I settled onto the bed, staring up at the metal ceiling, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life had just taken a turn I wasn’t prepared for.

And yet, as my thoughts drifted to Neteyam’s sharp gaze and the quiet way he had observed me during the meeting,I couldn't help but wonder what his deal was. The feeling’s odd to me,I haven't felt that in years. And…

It’s making me a bit hungry,honestly.

The hum of the station was the only sound that accompanied me as I wandered the dimly lit corridors of the human base. My mind was racing, too many thoughts colliding at once,still wrapped around the weight of the day’s meetings, the endless questions hanging in the air, and the awkward tension I couldn’t seem to shake when around the Sullys—particularly, him.

I passed through the narrow hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the faint noise of distant conversations and equipment hummed from behind the closed doors. This place felt strange—like a temporary home that would never truly settle. Everything was different from Earth, but in a way, it felt like I was just an observer, caught in the web of something far bigger than myself.

The door to the common area creaked open in front of me, and I froze, half-expecting to see some of the other humans still up, working through their endless piles of research. But it wasn’t anyone of that nature.

It was him.

Neteyam.

The dim glow from the overhead fixtures cast soft shadows across Neteyam’s features. His skin, a rich azure blue, shimmered faintly with sweat from the humid air, giving him an almost ethereal quality. It was the kind of glow that made him seem perfectly at home in this vibrant, untamed world, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of awe.

His eyes, framed by dark lashes, gleamed in the low light—deep golden irises that seemed to catch every speck of light, as if holding the fire of the sun within them. When he turned to face me, the air between us thickened. It wasn’t just the sharpness of his gaze, but the weight behind it—a depth that spoke of untold stories and burdens carried for far too long.

His glowing markings,tanhì, like ancient symbols of power, danced subtly across his chest and arms, pulsing with life. They made him look otherworldly, as if he were an extension of the forest itself. The light caught the edges of his sharp jaw and high cheekbones, leaving me breathless.

I couldn’t help but admire the strength in his build—broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist, his body honed and defined by years of living in the wild, of being shaped by this planet’s untamed forces. He moved with an effortless grace, the way he carried himself so confidently, yet with a quiet calm that contrasted with the power his frame promised. Even in the softest light, there was no mistaking the intensity of his presence. He was made to lead, to protect, to command. And somehow, in that moment, it felt as if he was commanding my attention without even trying.

The way his braids fell loosely around his shoulders only enhanced his wild, untamed aura. His posture was that of someone who was always alert, poised for action, but also mindful of his surroundings. It was a magnetic blend of strength and restraint that made him seem almost too perfect—too much like some unearthly figure carved from the very land he walked on.

For a moment, I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin as he moved, the tautness in his arms and chest giving away the sheer power he possessed. His lips, full and slightly parted, were set in a determined line, but I could see the curve of a smile beginning to tug at the edges, as though he had an idea of the effect he was having on me.

I inhaled sharply, suddenly aware of how close he was. I told myself it was just the quiet atmosphere playing tricks on my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something far more dangerous—and intoxicating—about him than I was willing to admit.

He noticed me staring, of course—how could he not? And for just a split second, I saw something flicker in his gaze. A knowing look. A moment of awareness, as if he understood the effect he had on me. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but it left me feeling exposed, like he had seen through all the walls I had built up.

I wanted to be closer to him, to understand him better, but at the same time, I feared what that connection could mean, what it could cost.

Neteyam seemed to sense the shift in the air, his posture softening ever so slightly, as though recognizing the vulnerability in me that I hadn’t yet fully acknowledged. But even then, that guarded, untouchable strength remained in his eyes, a reminder that he was still a warrior, still a son of the Na'vi, and that nothing—no matter how much I longed for it—could change that.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he was cautious about waking the others.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I muttered, crossing my arms, surprised at how defensively I’d sounded. My heart was still too heavy, still too confused from everything that had happened today, and now here he was—looking at me with that same intensity. The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle.

“I don’t sleep much,” he said, stepping closer, though not too close. “I have a lot to think about. You?”

“Ha,same.” I paused, unsure of how much I wanted to admit. “Just... getting used to everything here.”

He nodded slowly, studying me with an intensity that seemed almost... protective? I didn’t know what to make of it, or why he was still watching me so closely.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to wander around at night,” I added, trying to mask the strange discomfort that was beginning to curl in my stomach. Fuck,I’m hungry.

“I’m not usually,” Neteyam replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes didn’t soften. “But there’s a lot going on, and... sometimes it’s easier to think when everyone else is asleep.”

There was a pause. I stared at the floor, letting the weight of the silence settle around me. It felt strangely familiar, like a habit from back on Earth. The stillness, the quiet—the world always seemed more… raw in the late hours of the night. Back then, I’d sit by the window of my apartment, gazing out into the dark city, and I could almost feel the weight of everyone’s existence, each one of us caught in the ebb and flow of life.

“You’ve been thinking a lot, huh?” I asked, breaking the silence.

He met my gaze, his eyes flickering with something soft, almost uncertain. “Yeah. About you.”

I blinked, confusion flooding through me, my heart suddenly racing. “About me?”

“About why you’re here. What you’re really doing here.” His voice had dropped to a quieter tone, less certain now, and I couldn’t quite tell if he was searching for the truth or if he was testing me, probing for something deeper.

“I mean…You and your grandmother did mention something about Eywa so,clearly,you know more than me.” I said with a soft chuckle,though my laughter died softly. “I didn’t think I’d be... dragged into any of this.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, and for the first time, there was a small flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You didn’t want to be a part of the RDA when you came here, but you were stuck with them,” he said, as if he understood the weight of it all in a way that nobody else did. “You’re here because you are lost. Inside.”

I looked up at him, surprised. “How did you—”

“I’ve seen it before,” he said quietly. “People like you... forced into a situation they didn’t choose, trying to make something of themselves. Trying to belong.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. His words resonated in me, but the idea of belonging here—among them—was too overwhelming to comprehend. The thought made my heart ache. 

A silence fell between us again, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before. There was something in the air, something unspoken, tangible, like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Neteyam took a step forward, close enough now that I could see the faint glow of the tanhì on his face.  “I don’t think you’re meant to fit in. Some people aren’t meant to,but…You’ll find your place here. Just... take your time.”

I nodded. I wanted to trust him,I swear, but inside, I could feel a storm brewing. He had no idea what it would take for me to fit in, how hard it’s always been for me,let alone what I was still carrying—what was still hanging over me like a cloud.

“I don’t belong here,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not one of you.”

“You’re more than just a human,you know.” Neteyam said, almost as if to himself. “You’ve got something in you. Something... different.”

I blinked, taken aback. Before I could answer, he raised his hand, pointing toward the exit. “I should um…I should go. I have some errands to run early in the morning.” he said. “But if you need to talk...” He hesitated, then added,a warm smile making its way on his face. “I’m here.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. “Thanks. I’ll uh…think about it,yeah.” I said, feeling a pang of uncertainty claw at me.

He gave me a short nod, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer before he turned and walked off into the shadows of the hallway.

I stood there, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us—if anything at all. But as I watched Neteyam disappear into the night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing. And whether I liked it or not, I was right in the middle of it.

[solar4seekstron]

Chapter Six: I Am Optimus Prime

Transformers One x Reader: Awakening Chapter Six

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five,

Optimus Prime Ending, Megatrons Ending, Elita Ones Ending, B-127 Ending, Bonus+ Deadlocks Ending

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!Reader

Introduction Movie Masterlist

TW/Tags: Death, the besties are fighting, this divorce is rough man, great ending omg they nailed it, mostly fighting, angst, I think that’s all?

(Oh boy, last chapter here we go. Here the alternate endings won't be until after this chapter. So tomorrow after this chapter comes out will be Optimus primes, Megatron, Elita, and then B. This ending is for if the reader ends up with no one. The alternate endings I will do my very best to put in action and dialogue that the characters will do. Drift yes will get his own ending too because I love him. If you don't want to read his ending you don't have to. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy crying like I have. And having a good morning. Evening. Or night.)

Orion now falling into the planet. Elita reaching for Orion and B held her back from falling in. Y/Ns face was full of shock as their optics were wide.

Staring at D with disbelief. D stands straight and looks back at sentinel who still try’s his best to crawl away.

You could only watch sentinel as you stay stood there, sentinel even reaching towards you as he struggled more. Some of his gaurds appearing to protect him from D.

D would then yell and start running. His optics now bright red. While Orion keeps falling, the spirit of primus lights grabbing him and taking him to the other primes. D continues to fight until he finally has sentinel in his grasp. D would then pick up senteniel over his head and pulls him apart splitting him in two. Elita and B watched. Your cervo over your intake in order to not scream at the horror. Dropping sentinel and opening his chest. Revealing Megatronus cog.

D grabbed and pulled it out with a rawr. Orion now in the presence of th spirits of the 13 primes

“The age of Primes has ended! No more false Profits! Follow me! And you’ll never again be deceived! RISE UP!”

“Orion Pax. Your noble sacrifice for the greater good has proven you worthy in the eyes of primus. He intrusts in you the future of Cybertron and The Matrix of Leadership!”

“I will lead us all into the future.” D roared to the crowd.

D would then open his cog. Removing the current one as he replaces it with Megatronuses which alters his appearance causing him to grow to be as big as a prime. At the same time the same thing happens to Orion as his body is altered after the Matrix is put in his chest and soon his life is is restored

“I. Am. Megaton!!!!”

“Arise……Optimus Prime.”

As the crowd cheered, Y/N has started walking a bit more towards D. He would turn around and see them as he watches them get closer. Y/N struggled

”D you won! We can rebuild Iacon. O-Orions death not in vain as we- you create an army to fight the Quintessons to protect our people-” Y/N has finally gotten close. Their words weren’t a lie although they were wary around him. Megatron was a bit intrigued.

They struggled a bit when coming close. He took note they’re still wounded. Their cervo still over their wound.

Keeping their distance since seeing him drop Orion. D would then take a few steps to them putting his cervos on the side of their shoulders to help them stand straight a bit more. He would stare down at them with farrowed optics and a frown as they catch their breath.

”Not….before destroying….sentinels..empire…” Y/N looks up at him confused. “What?….”

”Stay Down Y/N” He’d then punch them down before turning around to the crowd as Y/N looks at him confused. This making their wound worse.

“Burn it down! All of it!”

Megatron would then start shooting at many towers as thee high guard soon joins him. Elita and B still down there

“All Hail Megatron!!!”

“He’s going to kill everyone!”

“We have to stop him! Come on!”

The two would make their way to Megatron and Elita is the first to grab his canon

“Stop! It’s over!”

“It’s over when every one last of his followers is dead!”

“D stop please!”

He would then grab Elita pinning her down until B stops him fighting with her to stop Megatron. Y/N tries to make their ways round starting up their blaster.

Struggling to stand once more. Wanting to shoot D at the leg to weakin him. But is scared to hurt him more and the others. The three will continue to fight Megatron showing no mercy to them.

As Orion, now Optimus makes his way to the surface. Megatron would then have B pinned down and about to punch him before a large explosion causing Megatron and the others to fall back. It being Megatron and Optimus on the tower as B and Elita land back at their stop below.

Y/N flown back along side Elita and B. B helping them get back up as Elita sees them putting her cervo on their chest and helping them stand you too.

”Y/N!” B said.

”I’m fine” The three look up at the two watching

“Impossible…”

Megatron was surprised then fully standing up.

“Primus gave you the Matrix?”

“We could’ve built the future together.”

“I’ll build it myself. After I tear down everyone in my way!”

The two would then fight. The fight causing them to go almost all over the tower. Elita and B along with the other guards watching and waiting for someone to win.

“We were given the power to change our world and you chose to destroy it. Just like sentinel. You have betrayed Cybertron and its citizens and you betrayed…Me.”

“Go. Take the High Guard and Leave. You are banished from Iacon.”

The lights in Megatrons eyes dim and fades a little. Until returning as more anger shows in his face.

“It didn’t have to be this way…”

“This isn’t over…Prime.”

The two stare at eachother until Optimus stands to the side letting Megatron walk past him. D would look at Elita and B still holding Y/N up. Y/N stared at him but then groan their head going down as energon leaves their wound. Elita giving him an angry expression and B looking at them worried.

D lets out a sort of growl before starting to run

“High Guard! Follow me!”

He would then transform the others following him as they make their way to the surface once more

“A line between friend and enemy is not as clear as I once believed. Once it's crossed there’s no going back because some transformations are permanent.”

*Flashback-

“Hey, Megatronus Prime nice!”

“Oh yeah well he’s my hero-“

“The greatest prime to ever live.”

“I’m D-16.”

“Orion Pax.”

“You ever mine energon before.”

“No, have you?”

“No, I hear it’s dangerous.”

“Well I tell you what. You watch my back. I promise to watch yours.”

“All right. Thanks…Pax.”

*End of Flashback

“A new beginning for Cybertron.”

“And a new leader.”

The three walk up next to him as they watch Megatron and the others leave. Y/N having their arms around the two still before taking their arm off B and putting their hand over their wound. Y/N looking at Optimus with a small smile

“Yes about that. I could use some help from a bot who is better than me in every way.”

“Who me? Oh no no. I have a pretty sweet gig working in waste management.”

“Well Captain I do owe you a promotion. How’s Major Elita sound?”

“How about Commander?”

“Even better. And I’m sorry B but I cannot let you go back to sub level 50. I may be a prime now but I'm going to need you by my side.”

“Are you serious! This is the greatest day of my life! I get to work for the government.”

“And Y/N….how since Airachnid is out of…commission” he looks at Elita who chuckles along with B and Y/N.

“Why dont you become my personal bodyguard? I believe with the four of us. We can win our greatest foe.”

”Yes…Optimus I’ll…” they chuckled “Fight!” They give a sure smile but Optimus smiles non the less nodding to them. Then his chest starts to glow

“Ok so that’s new.”

“I’m sorry, what is happening.”

As the Matrix glowed energon starts to pour behind and around the three and past teh citezins and Optimus rises the Matrix in the air. The energon making its way to the surface causing many of the deers to go to the energon. Then cogs appear from the energon. Going to their destined holder causing them to form to their full form.

Soon the Autobots are running on the surface with determination. Optimus forward and behind him Elita, Y/N and B stay behind but next to his side. All full of determination

“And now we stand here together as One. Proving we all have the power to transform. To become who we were destined to be. To write wrongs. To make our world better because here freedom and autonomy are the rights of all sentient beings. Here all are truly Autobots. This message is a warning to all Quintessons. If you dare to return to Cybertron. The Autobots will be waiting. I will be waiting.”

“I am Optimus Prime”

…….dont look at me I’m trying to not cry rn. 😭😭😭

I hope you all enjoyed sorry this one is shorter but I hope you guys liked it! Tomorrow will be Optimus Prime ending. Hope you guys enjoy it! Have a good rest of your day!

[itsquakey]

NextGen AU MasterPost

Since the last masterpost had to be deleted here is the new one! Not all posts in the AU will be here however I will make sure things like comics and reference imagery are. Comics will be linked in chronological order. Things will get updated as new or reuploaded stuff comes into the picture.

--------------------------------References---------------------------------

Oldest Nextgen References

Second Oldest Nextgen References

Newest Nextgen References

Newest Castella Reference

Old Castella, Narcol, and other noddy oc References

Powehi Reference

Cog and Sprocket References

GSA References

Knighted-Meta/Meta-Soul

Jorarch Reference

Mirror Versions 'References' - Darx/Shadstella

Reaper Meta, Magolor/his mother, and Gryll References

Birth of a Wish Character references

Rosie Reference

----------------------------------Comics-----------------------------------

Papi Origin

Morpho Origin (Knight of Hades)

First Meeting (Marstella)

Birth of a Wish (Links will be per chapter, not per page.)

Chapter 1 Pg1

Chapter 2 Pg1

Chapter 3 Pg1

Chapter 4 Pg 1

Armour

Meta Knight dies for real

Pike Knight

Afterlife

Revenge of Pike Knight (Links will be per chapter, not per page)

Prologue

Main comic

Epilogue

Confessions (Marstella) [Links will be per chapter, not per page]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Arthur's true colors

Halloween Comic 2022 [Marstella]

Chirstmas comic (maybe 2022 idk) [Marstella]

Powehi (Marstella)

----------------------------------Other-------------------------------------

The cycle of matter and light matter growth stages

Revenge of Pike Knight teaser

Morpho Origin (Knight of Hades) teaser

Birth of a wish teaser

Kirbtober 2022

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Day 14

Day 30

Kirbtober 2023

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Day 13

Day 14

Day 15

Day 16

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Day 31

[morgan-va]

Corporate Dread (Serial Designation N x Reader)

Main Masterlist

In a world where drones are more of a liability than a solution, you're stuck in the soul-sucking grind of customer support at JCJenson, a company that promises "safety" while leaving you to clean up their mess. Between endless spreadsheets, horrific drone-related incidents, and an overbearing boss, your life is nothing short of monotonous.

But when you're roped into a last-minute assignment that throws you far outside your job description, you find yourself face-to-face with something much more mysterious than just another defective drone. With a truck full of questionable cargo, a cryptic mission, and a weekend stolen from you, you can only wonder what JCJenson really has in store-and whether you're just another cog in their relentless machine.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

[purplebass]

Have you noticed that this first TWP chapter is a parallel to the prologue of Chain of Gold?

Spoilers for the first tlkof chapter

And it doesn't surprise me since TLH has a lot of parallels with TDA too and Dru is a descendant from the Blackthorns mostly likely descended from Lucie and Jesse's side.

In the CoG prologue, Lucie is 10 and falls into a faerie trap in Brocelind forest and Jesse helps her out even though there were no threats back then. Lucie thought he was a changeling child. Years later they meet again and they remember each other even though Jesse believed and wished Lucie had forgotten about him.

Dru and Ash also met for the first time when she was 13 and in this TWP chapter, Dru climbs the hole of a tree and finds a path to Faerie. Ash helps Dru out because the goblins are bothering her, but Dru doesn't remember about Ash, and in the end, he makes her forget about him again.

[pinkenigmaart]

Downpour 🌧️

Hey guys!! So, as well as an illustrator I am also a writer. I write primarily horror comedy and I grew up on strange stories from the internet, if even to go as far as to say they saved me. I wrestled with this for a long time but there was always a story that rubbed me the wrong way. It was a product of its time and became satire for the genre but I felt the character deserved more. His story in every iteration was a tragedy in every sense. The character I am referring to is none other than Jeff The Killer.

So over the last few months I’ve been tucked away in my office and writing a retelling of his story. Snipping threads that didn’t need to be there and tying others together that could be explained. Giving him and his family and even the other supporting casts the opportunity, to be more than cogs in a machine to push a story forward. Giving them the opportunity to be people, Something no one in the 13 years since its release had done. So if you would like to come with me on Jeff’s journey and how he became an urban legend and all that happens after, I’ll be posting a link to my website and my patreon should anyone like to become a beta-reader! Thanks for reading!

The first chapter will be released Feb 26 so keep an eye out 💖

My website: https://www.pinkenigmaart.com

My patreon: https://www.patreon.com/PinkEnigma?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

[swadloom]

Sorry I sent that too early. Why do you think you like Pyrrhon so much? Like what specifically about him draws you to him? I’m curious :3

OK I'M GUESSING YOU'RE WHO SENT THIS AND THATS FUNNY BC I ASSUMED IT WAS INTENTIONAL AND WAS JUST GONNA ANSWER IT ANYWAYS 😭

ANYWAYS UM so I first played Kid Icarus Uprising when I was 11, and what initially drawed me in was that I liked loud, goofy, funny, flamboyant characters. And still do!! I just really liked anything absurd and memeable (I probably made some mlg edits of him in my mind. Shudders.) Some of it might also be I always liked acting goofy but had some growing shyness from growing into preteen-ness, and so very confident characters appealed to me (that's still a big reason I like him I think, with the tempered "goofy" parts now also being shown through neurodivergent headcanoning & such.) That was also around when my biggest obsession was space instead of fish like it is now so the whole arc appealed to me there. But the other thing is that I was also really into stuff like the scarier episodes of Steven Universe and Gravity Falls and Regular Show and the crazy lore and bossfights in Kirby and such. So I was already hooked by that, then take the stuff that happens in chapter 17 with him turning on you then getting possessed and it just opened the adhd flood gates in my brain. I already was obsessed with Magolor from Kirby before that and this was kinda like an ultra enhanced version of that hyperfixation. I would be 12 and just fall asleep imagining what it was like for him being possessed that way, what happened behind the scenes, what kinds of scenarios could happen post-story? Like when you're a kid and find something horror-adjacent compelling you think about it all the time. Also like. Motions vaguely. Body horror. Hypermasculine character. 🏳️‍⚧️ and such.

The massiveness and unendingness of the hyperfixation is partly because I didn't know I had adhd and autism, so when the pandemic hit when I was 13 I was stuck sitting in bed and thinking about him all the time (including weird stuff I didn't particularly mean to and want to think about) and I thought that meant I was stupid and obsessed and couldn't stop, and it frustrated me a lot. Unironically I truly thought God and Jesus hated me because I thought about him too much and would sometimes unwillingly think "HEY YOU TWO LISTEN TO THIS LOOK AT MY THOUGHTS". I was normal and cool. I learned I wasn't evil only after. Places my head in my hands. the invasive thoughts episode of sanders sides. Yeagh. Because trying to push out thoughts on purpose often just works in opposite I came out of that and I legitimately believe there been very few days in my life that have gone by since where I haven't thought about him at least once. All of my neurons were mylenated with his jpegs. So my obsession with him now is at least partly he's just a cog in my brain now, but also when you think about a character so much you pick out a million potential things to like about him yk. Also a million things that make you rip bark off of trees and grow fangs and destroy things with psychic pulses but that's neither here nor there

[jadegretz]

Tali: Keeper of Quarian Lore by Jade Gretz

Title: "The Siren of the Stars"

Chapter 13: Whispers in the Void

The Normandy drifted silently through the cold emptiness of space, a solitary speck against the infinite canvas of stars. The ship was a marvel of engineering, a beacon of hope in a galaxy teetering on the brink of chaos. Within its steel walls, the crew went about their duties with the precision of well-oiled machinery, each person a vital cog in the machine that had saved countless lives.

But for Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, the silence felt different today. It was thick, oppressive, as though the very air inside her helmet was trying to smother her. She stood alone in the ship’s engine room, surrounded by the comforting hum of the drive core, yet she couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest. Her fingers danced across her omni-tool, running diagnostics she’d already completed a dozen times over, searching for something—anything—that might explain the disquiet gnawing at her.

“Everything checks out,” she murmured to herself, her voice a soft echo in the confines of her helmet. “No anomalies, no malfunctions. So why do I feel like something’s wrong?”

The answer, it seemed, lay beyond the walls of the Normandy.

“Tali,” Commander Shepard’s voice crackled through her comm. “We’re getting some strange readings from the star cluster up ahead. Could be nothing, but I’d like you to take a look. Meet me on the bridge.”

Tali acknowledged the order and set her omni-tool to standby. As she made her way through the ship’s corridors, the unsettling feeling only grew stronger, like a shadow lurking just out of sight. By the time she reached the bridge, it had become almost unbearable.

Shepard was already there, standing before the main console with a furrowed brow. Joker, the ship’s pilot, was hunched over his controls, muttering under his breath as he attempted to make sense of the data streaming in from the sensors.

“Tali,” Shepard greeted her with a nod. “Take a look at this. We’ve detected an energy signature in the system ahead, but it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before. Almo …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[growthgoddess]

Welcome, my children. My name is Helena, and I am the Growth Goddess. I scour the world altering the fates of worthy women and grow them into unstoppable giantesses. 🏢🚺🏢

I hope you enjoy my work! You can find written records of my displays of power listed below:

Most of these women's stories have open endings. Feel free to reblog and continue any one of their stories <3 in fact, I highly encourage it!

EVENT ONGOING (02/2025): I'm writing a 25 chapter romance story between an OC and Doris Zeul. Practicing what its like to write in the perspective of a man witnessing a giantess and falling in love with her. Catch it in My Wife: Giganta!

Giantess Calculator

COG: Cause of Growth

Case Ω: Helena Turner the Goddess (Size: Galactic) - COG: A Mix of Brilliant Sciencse, Ancient Magic, and a bit of Desperation

Case #001: Ysolda the Witch (Size: 80ft.) - COG: Vengeful Enchanted Brew

Case #002: Maria the Liberator (Size: 120ft.) - COG: Botanical Growth Accelerator

Case #003: Lily the Gunslinger (Size: 175ft.) - COG: Ancient Native Growth Stimulant

Case #004: SooYeon the Executive (Size: 1500 ft) - COG: Experimental Super Soldier Serum

Case #005: Megan the Undergrad (Size: 140 ft.) - COG: Extraterrestrial Mineral Crash

Case #006: Lisa the Patient (Size: 225 ft.) - COG: Untested Surgical Procedure

Case #007: Jessica the Intern (Size: 100 ft.) - COG: Unknown Cocktail of Chemicals

Case #008: Rachel the Sleepy (Size: 80 ft.) - COG: Hormone Therapy

Case #009: Sophia the Lupara (Size: 150 ft.) - COG: Underwater Wishing Artifact

Case #010: Eleanor the Maid (Size: 30 ft.) - COG: Witch's Enchantment

Case #011: Grace the Cowgirl (Size: 100 ft.) - COG: Radioactive Milk

Case #012: Nehru the Protector (Size: 25ft.) - COG: Sacred Jungle Fruit

Case #013: Gwen the Attendant (Size: 350ft.) - COG: Smuggled Growth Serum

Case #014: Anne the Drunk (Size: 180 ft.) - COG: Unknown Drug Reacted with Alcohol

Case #015: Leah the Bashful (Size: 85 ft.) - COG: Livestock Growth Inducer Overdose

Case #016: Amelia the Teacher (Size: 70 ft.) - COG: Just the right dose of lethal radiation

Case #017: Tamara the Mambo (Size: 7550 ft.) - COG:. Favor of the Lwa

Case #018: Lamia the Loyal (Size: 1800 ft.) - COG: Dr. Vander's Legacy

Case #019: Beatrice the Glutton (Size: 40 ft.) - COG: Curse of Gluttony and a Witch's Spell

Case #20: Amy the Biologist (Size: 394 ft.) - COG: Unknown Marine Animal's Venom

Case #21: Cassandra the Slytherin (Size: 230ft.) - COG: Swelling Solution overdose

Case #21: Alice the Unhinged (Size: 80 ft.) - COG: A mix of several medications and a trigger drug

Case #22: Daisy the Clown (Size: 75 ft.) - COG: Enchanted Coin from a Mysterious Woman

Case #23: Celestine the Incarnation (Size: 130 ft.) - COG: Possession by an Unknown Entity

Case #24: Sunrise the Bodyguard (Size: 90 ft.) - COG: Experimental Growth Injection

Case #25: Elara the Queen (Size: 100 ft.) - COG: Eldritch Magic

Deific Dames GTS Game Show:

Ep 1 Polls: Maria, Grace, Jessica, Megan

Ep 1 Results Post

Ep 2 Polls: Rachel, Leah, Alice, Daisy

Side Giantesses:

Hobby Project #1: Cosplay Conundrum

Hobby Project #2: Dominance

Hobby Project #3: Teasing Titaness

Hobby Project #4: Totally Spies Spinoff Synopsis

Hobby Project #5: Delilah's Dilemma

Hobby Project #6: Dueling Damsels

Hobby Project #7: Kaiju Haiku

Hobby Project #8: Not Anymore

Hobby Project #9: Courtney Doesn't Swim

Hobby Project #10: Anything for You

Hobby Project #11: I Will Never Be Small Again

Hobby Project #12: Engorgio V2

Hobby Project #13: Anzu's Ascension

Hobby Project #14: Poem to the Sun

Hobby Project #15: Trampling Tiddies

Hobby Project #16: Wizardry in Work

Hobby Project #17: Jumbo Julia

Hobby Project #18: Wish You Well

Hobby Project #19: Helena's Random Lab Growth

Hobby Project #20: Overgrown Olivia

Custom MTG Cards:

Day 1: Kalemne and gals

Day 2: Aliessa's bearer of the heavens

Day 3: More giant gals

I will try to diligently grow women every weekday, for this goddess rests on the 6th and 7th days of the week 😁😉💗

I use NovelAI to generate my images. Its not free for me, but I really want to make my stories come to life! If you are interested in supporting me, I will be posting a Patreon soon to help fund my interventions 🧚

Stay tuned for my next endeavors! 😊

[julietpricee]

Day 16 - Sharpuary (Blush)

This is part two of my Valentine prompt so go read that one first if you haven't already!

The cold air ate away at your delicate skin as you sat on an insanely uncomfortable bench watching the water ripple throughout the Black Lake. You hadn’t planned on staying to watch the sunset but time had escaped you once again. Not that you were complaining though, it truly was a beautiful sight to see the sun lower across the horizon. 

Valentine's Day was a week ago and you knew you wouldn’t receive anything, especially not from Aesop, but you were truly heartbroken to find out he destroyed your gift so harshly. Maybe your dream of building a relationship with that man should stay just as that - a dream. 

A defeated sigh left your mouth as you continued to berate yourself. You’d been sitting on this bench for hours in your own misery. It was obvious Aesop wasn’t into you, but you just had to get him a gift, and now you’re upset because he reacted, in frankly, the most Aesop way possible. 

You shot, you missed, get over it. 

…But you couldn’t get over it. He hadn’t exactly rejected you, but it sure felt like he had. 

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay out here any longer.” You look up to see the tall potions professor standing at the end of the bench looking over you with concern clear on his face. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt, you looked like you were deep in thought. Is everything ok?” 

You nod weakly at him and return to looking out at the horizon again, wishing he’d just leave you to your misery instead of rubbing salt in your wounds. 

“May I?” He continues, gesturing to the spot beside you on the bench. Again, you nod.

He cautiously sits next to you, wincing as he stretches his bad leg out beneath him. Your eyes remain glued to the sunset, but you notice a small wand movement in the corner of your eye and immediately feel a warmth spread over your body as Aesop silently casts a warming charm on your clothes. 

He wasn’t making it easy for you to be mad at him. 

One of the things you most enjoyed about Aesop was how comfortable he was to be around. He never forced you to open up or talk to him, you could simply just exist around him, something he stayed true to today. You knew he wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, the two of you just silently sat together, enjoying the ironically romantic sunset ahead of you.

“Do you fancy being a bit naughty?” Aesop chuckled to you.

You bit your tongue, trying desperately not to chuckle at Aesop's words. You simply turned to look at him slightly confused. Aesop pulled a small flask out of his blazer and removed the lid before passing it to you. You cautiously took it from him, taking a sniff of the liquid inside.

“Fire Whiskey?” You questioned. Aesop nodded with a small smirk. 

You slowly touch the flask to your lips but quickly pull it away before taking a sip. You hand it back to Aesop who shoots you a very confused look. “Who knows what you could have poisoned this with?” You bite at him.

Aesop stares at you for a prolonged moment and you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. Suddenly, his face blushes, turning an obscene shade of red. “N…No…” he stutters.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” you confess weakly as you look down to the floor. 

Aesop contemplates your words for a moment. “So this is why you’ve been avoiding me all week.” He scoffs at himself. “You don’t need to pity me though, I don’t think there’s anything more embarrassing than having your friend buy you a non-romantic Valentine’s Day gift.”

If looks could kill, you would most definitely have killed him by now. “Are you stupid?” You ask him before realising what you’re saying. Aesop looks at you dumbfounded. “I like you, you idiot. If I was buying you something out of friendship, don’t you think I would have bought something for the other professors too?”

Aesop lowers his head into his hands in a mixture of shame and embarrassment, trying to cover the deeper blush growing over his face. “Yes,” he mumbles into his hands, “I am stupid.”  You finally allow yourself to chuckle at him as he tries to compose himself. 

“It’s ok though, I get it if you don’t like me back, I just thought I’d shoot my shot and it seems I missed by a mile.”

Aesop scooches closer to you and places his hand over yours, squeezing it gently. “You didn’t miss. You’re just trying to make a move on an old fool… a stupid old fool at that.” You both giggle and you begin rubbing your thumb over his calloused knuckles. “Can I try and make it up to you? What are you doing this weekend?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you replied with a wide smile.

“Great, I’ll meet you at your chambers for seven,” he replies, matching your smile. “Get ready for the best date of your life, I definitely have a lot of making up to do.”

You both look out to the horizon with wide grins on your faces, watching as the last of the sun disappears behind it. Aesop gives your hand another gentle squeeze and you realise that Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448181/chapters/136211182

[puutterings]

a puttering, something-broken-in-the works existence; shadow of a machine

        But whatever you do, don’t forfeit your calling... Don’t give up and bury your talent. To do so is to choose a puttering, something-broken-in-the works existence.  

ex a discussion of the failure of T. E. Lawrence, his forfeiture of identity following disillusionment after his desert exploits, and his subsequent life of obscurity under an adopted name — “an empty man who spent his time puttering as if ‘there is something broken in the works . . . my will I think.’” ex chapter 13 “When You're All Alone and Blue,” in Stanley C. Baldwin, Bruised But Not Broken (1985) : 173 borrowable at archive.org : link

—

more, from the same —

      “Concerning his choice to become an obscure enlisted man, Lawrence had once said, ‘I do it in order to serve a mechanical purpose, not as a leader, but as a shadow of a machine. . . . It is a blessing to be only a part of a machine.’       To bear limited responsibility, to become an anonymous cog in an impersonal machine — it seemed wonderful to Lawrence. By biblical standards it was a tragedy...”  

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 13: Well-Oiled Machine

Another update? Within 6 months? It’s a miracle! 

Anywho, please let it be known that this chapter does delve into 18+ and thus MINORS DNI PLEASE I do keep track of these things, thank you!

Masterlist

Red hot, angry tears fall down your cheeks as your furious gaze looks down at the contraption in your hands. It’s a pair of goggles you’re trying to upgrade, but as you try to tighten the cogs with your powers, you’re met with the sound of screeching and then a ‘pop’ as the metal cracks under pressure. For a moment you look down at the now-useless pair of night vision goggles, your eyes trained on the pieces of metal until your nose scrunches up. The tension rolls into your shoulders, slouched as you sit perched atop a rooftop until you let out a furious scream. Your fists tighten and, with every fiber of your magic pouring into your fingertips, the goggles are crushed in your grip.

You keep ripping at the bits of metal that survive your initial attack until there’s nothing left, eventually just chucking them off the rooftop. The dust shards flutter onto the streets below like glittering snow and for a moment, the tears stop and you don’t even realize you’re holding your breath. But then, after a long moment, they start up again tenfold and your breathing starts up all over again, gargled this time. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…” You chide yourself, ripping your bandana off your head in frustration. You crumple the red fabric into a ball, stuffing your face into it as you curl your legs into you. “Stupid girl with her stupid feelings and stupid machines.” Your voice is a garbled mess as the lump in your throat tightens, your mouth feels phlegmy and all you can smell is the Underground smog ingrained in the fabric of your bandana. “Just had to fuck things up, didn’t you? Can’t do anything right…stupid, stupid, stupid-”

Your hands raise to deliver a strong hit to your head, but the sound of crushed tarmac under someone’s heel alerts you. Without even thinking twice about it, you swing your hand around, latching your powers onto your knife that’s holstered on your belt, and send it in the direction of the footstep. But you feel a whole new sense of panic as you turn to find Vander standing there behind you, your knife gripped tightly in his hand just a few inches away from his sternum. There’s already a thin line of blood leaking from his enclosed hand. 

“Well, thankfully you weren’t aiming for my face.” He’s joking, but you feel like having another meltdown all over again.

“Fuck, I’m so so so sorry! I didn’t know it was you, all I heard was the footsteps and-” “Hey.” He cuts you off, and you’re frozen in place. Still sitting, so he’s towering over you in contrast, you’re gazing up at him with your tear-stained face just in silence. Then he crouches down to you, bending at his knees so he can look you in the eye. “Those were good reflexes, don’t apologize for protecting yourself.”

You feel a whole new round of tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes, but you tried your best to choke them down. “You went looking for me?” You hiccuped. Vander shrugged and sat down cross-legged in front of you. 

“Was pretty clear that something had happened when Silco stormed back in without you.”

You bit your lip. “I thought you were ignoring me…” Hesitantly, you motion to his injured hand, which he hands to you. Holding the meaty limb, you feel the weight as you study the shallow gash that now runs the length of his palm. You wrap it tightly in your bandana. 

A large sigh left Vander’s mouth as he rubbed his free hand against his face. “I was, but I was still kind of watching you guys. Then Silco was clearly pissed off and you were nowhere to be found…” he takes his injured hand in yours, interlocking fingers. His hand is so warm, calloused, and engulfs yours with its size. The warmth spreads through you with a happy buzzing, but upon remembering Silco’s words from earlier the buzzing turns into deep regret and your stomach sinks a little. He doesn’t notice, instead just carrying on speaking. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick lately.”

“I’m the one who fucked up, I should be the one apologizing.” You sigh, pulling your hand back. This makes Vander’s eyebrows purse together, wrinkling a little as he looks down at his now lonely hand. 

“I mean, I wasn’t exactly pleased about the job. But that’s not on you. The more I think about it, I can admit when I’m wrong. The job makes a lot of sense, and I’m sorry for how I handled…all that. I know you can take care of yourself and that you’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to cause you this much…” he watches you more. “Is…that not why you’re upset?” 

You wanted to be happy about this. Not only was this the first time you and Vander had actually talked in weeks, but he was admitting he believed in you! What you’d been waiting for for weeks was finally happening, but all you could do was sniffle as your sadness continued. “I mean…kinda!” Vander’s eyes squint as he tries oh so hard to read our thoughts. Stubbornly, he takes your hand in his again as if that will help. He holds it softly, but firmly, like a dog possessive over his favorite toy. “What happened with Silco?” There it was, the lone trigger. His words send out the tears in your eyes that had been threatening to spill over. 

“Nothing, I just…” You blink hard, trying to blink away the tears. “I didn't know you told him about that night! And now he’s all upset, and…” 

"He's seriously still mad about that?" He rolls his eyes. "Shows what I get for talking to him about my lady troubles."

"I thought you forgot about it!" You exclaim, but he just looks back, confused. 

“You thought I forgot about that night?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly bring it up! And you were piss drunk!”

Before you’re aware of it, his other hand has come up to your face, pushing a few strands of your hair out of your face. “I’ll never be so drunk as to forget kissing you, Love.” 

The heat in your face rises, biting against the nightly cold. His eyes are looking at you again, and although you feel the pull to fall into their depths, you steel yourself as the anxiety in your chest refuses to disperse. Once again, you pull your hand away, this time standing to your feet and beginning to pace back and forth on the roof, fury in each step.

“No, you don’t just get to…” Another frustrated groan. “You can’t just ignore me and then come find me and expect me to just…melt back into your arms as if nothing happened! Is that what you think of me? That I’m some desperate little plaything that you can just come in here with your stupid eyes and your stupid voice and I’ll just roll over for you?” 

He’s hurt, it’s all over his expression, but you’re too anxious to apologize right now.

“Do you really think that’s what I think of you, after all this time?” 

“What do you even want from me, Vander? You make everything weird with Silco, ignore me for weeks, and then just come strolling back up here while I’m fucking crying my eyes out, and what? I don’t know what you…” You’re only semi-aware of the tears that have started flooding now.

He just shrugs, the bastard. “You know what I want, Minnie.” The words come so simply to him, so easily as if he doesn't understand the weight of them. He probably doesn’t, and the realization of that hits you like a brick wall. Does this idiot not understand what’s at stake here? You realize you’re gawking at him. 

“No, actually, I don’t! We’ve tried this, Van, and look how well that turned out! We weren’t healthy! The fighting, getting our friends involved…we’re planning a revolution and keeping our family safe, there’s no room for anything else.” 

“We could always try it again. Do it right this time. I’ll be less protective, try this whole ‘communicating my feelings’ business.” He sounds so hopeful. “I’m tired of acting like I don’t miss being yours, Minnie. I think about it, all the time. Every day I see you in the apartment, or while we’re out; and all I want is to be able to talk and laugh and touch you like how I did when we were together. I miss you. These past weeks have been hard and I’m so sorry I got so caught up in my anger…I promise I’ll get better at it!”

You can only let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Do it right? You just spent weeks being mad at me for taking a job! A job that I deliberately hid from you because I knew you’d get all angry guard-dog again! We're just as messy as we were last time."

His nose scrunches up. “We’ll get better at it!”

“Silco’s already mad at me for stealing you away again! We’ll tear up the friend group, for good this time maybe.”

He stands up but hesitates to start approaching you just yet. “Let me handle Silco.”

“That’s not…why are you so insistent on this?”

“Min’, I want you to look me in the eyes.” He starts, and you finally stop pacing. “Do you still love me?”

You freeze, gawking at him once again and gaping like a moronic fish. “I…that has nothing to do with it.”

“Doesn’t it?” He asks, stepping closer. “You’re telling me that you didn’t want me to kiss you that night?” 

The heat in your face is back again. “As I said, that has nothing to do with it! It’s more complicated than that.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’...” Another step closer. You don’t miss the slight smirk that itches at his lips, and that pisses you off even more. How does this guy so oblivious? You steel yourself, straightening your shoulders and tilting your head up to look him dead-on.

“You and me, we can’t, Vander. We’ve tried, but it didn’t work, we have to move on.”

Another step closer.

“Does that mean you don’t want to?”

His eyes watch as you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers flexing at your side before they ball into fists. “Aye, yeah, that’s what I mean.” You can feel the weakness in your voice, but you try your best to hold up the facade. 

Another step closer.

“Right.” He nods in agreement, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s agreed then, we won’t try again.”

“Good.” You nod as well. Your muscles can feel the metal of his belt around his waist, and your powers ache to move your fingers and pull him closer. “It’s what’s for the best.”

“Definitely.” He’s still nodding, a little longer this time. You both stand silently, staring at each other. He’s only about a foot away now, close enough for you to see the way his eyes dilate as they look down at you, the way the broadness of his chest rises and falls when he breathes, the way his muscles are tensing under his sleeves. There’s a new scar, a small line just under his right cheekbone. You don’t know when it got there, or how. The slight gust of wind that blows by ruffles his hair, tendrils of deep brown floating out of his face to show off his leathered skin. 

Your eyes betray you, darting down to his lips for just a moment. One, singular, traitorous moment, and you know you’ve lost. Those same lips pull into a smirk as he takes the final step toward you. You see him move, it’s slow at first. His hand brushes through the hair at the base of your scalp, his fingers moving through the short strands with purpose. He doesn’t properly hold your hair yet, simply resting it there, an invitation for what’s to come.

The moment your lips make contact with his, you feel his grasp on your hair tighten. Fingers interlocking with the strands, the pressure is enough for you to tilt your head up even further. He takes full advantage of this, lifting his other hand to hold the newly exposed skin of your neck, and you feel the fabric of your bandana press against you. Those same hands that engulfed yours, now pressed ever so gently against the length of your neck, you feel his thumb resting against your pulse and the heat of his flesh sends sparks of excitement and wanting through your skin. Without any hesitation, you grasp the sides of his vest, wrenching him closer.

His body presses into you, fitting just the way you remember. The feeling makes your brain purr, incentivizing you to keep trying to pull him in.  His smell, the feeling of your face in his hands, the way his lips feel against yours. Fuck you had missed all of it, even more than you’d wanted to admit to yourself. There’s a tenderness in his kiss, him holding back despite the pouring amounts of passion and heat. He’s holding you and kissing you as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like glass. He should know better. When you feel his tongue force its way into your mouth, shocks of electricity run through your spine. It’s like your entire mind and body stall as you’re suddenly fully engulfed with the sensation of just him. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself get fully lost in the sensation of touching him-feeling him next to you, and the way your bodies seem to mesh together so seamlessly. It’s beyond just a kiss now, you both crave more. The desperation is palpable between the two of you, it’s all you can think about. Your knees buckle, but he’s already there to catch you; hands running down to catch the back of your thighs and lifting you. You don’t even think twice before wrapping them around his hips, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

You both inevitably stop to take a breath, pulling your heads up for air. But you don’t open your eyes, and neither does he. The two of you are scared, letting the moment hang for as long as humanly possible. Gasps of air fill the atmosphere around the two of you, chests pressing into one another as they rise and fall with your heavy breaths. You feel so small to him, his hands fitting perfectly in the curves that make up your torso. He’s felt your body so many times, both in reality and in his dreams, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get properly used to the feeling. He feels the way your body moves under your baggy clothes, the expanding of your ribs as you breathe, and the slight crookedness of your spine as you arch into him.

He breaks the silence first, “Minnie,” But you just shake your head. 

“Please-” It sounds like you're pleading, and you’re not entirely sure that you’re not. “Please don’t stop.”

This was such a bad idea.

Stupid.

Reckless.

Downright dangerous.

His lips move to your neck, and all sense of right and wrong is suddenly flung out of your mind and into the Underground streets below. Where there was once tenderness, there was now only a flurry of open-mouthed kisses, messy and rushed against the sensitive flesh of your neck. His teeth skim over your pulse point and you shiver in his arms, fingers curl to dig short nails into the meat of his shoulder. He feels the way the warmth of your breath brushes past his ear, the slightest whimper of a curse word being muttered-one he didn’t recognize from your mother tongue.

Your back crashes onto brick and you realize he’s moved the two of you to a nearby wall, the doorway to the inside of the building you were currently on top of. The force shocks you a bit, but only barely as you soon recapture his lips in yours, hungry to repay him for the assault on your neck. His hands are groping every bit of you that he can reach-your stomach, your sides, the curve of your ass, your thighs…his thumb skims under the loose-fitting t-shirt you’re wearing and brushes against the soft skin of your stomach. Vander had never felt real satin before, only seen it in some of the shops Benzo liked to haggle at, but he imagined that it felt exactly like how your skin did against the calluses of his hands. 

Without even thinking twice, your hands rush to grab ahold of the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. Your skin is met with the cool air, goose pimples sweeping the span of flesh as Vander’s eyes lower to scan you over; eyes full of hunger.

“God damn, Doll…”

“Not like you haven’t seen all this before.” You laugh. Vander’s eyes meet yours once again, and you find yourself recalling just how primal his gaze can get. “Hound of the Underground” may have just been a silly title he used for the ring, but it seemed just so fitting. A shiver runs up your spine, only worsened when Vander opens his mouth and speaks in a tone that is so deep and gravely that, had you had any time to react, you would have thought he’d become possessed. 

“I’m going to absolutely destroy you, got it, Love?” 

After half a moment of collecting yourself (and rebooting your brain), you nod and smile, collecting a fistful of fabric from his shirt to pull the man’s face closer to yours. You feel his hand slide up your back, pulling you away from the brick and closer to his panting chest. As your noses brush against each other, you whisper against his lips in approval as you let your real accent slip through. “Give me your best shot.” 

“Hmmm…there’s a good girl.” With a pinch to the fabric, the hooks of your bra are released and the garment opens around you, swiftly pushed off your arms by your own excited hands. Without missing a beat, the hand that had slid under you to unclasp your bra is moving back to grope the newly exposed mounds of flesh. The way he pinches your nipple is rough, rolling the puckered nerves between his thumb and his index finger, just teetering the line between too much, and you can’t stop the desperate whimper that leaves your lips. Vander delivers one more kiss to the skin just under your ear before whispering to you. 

“Think you can stand for me, just for a bit?”

You nod, and gently release your legs from their perch as he sets you down oh so carefully. Your knees don’t immediately acclimatize, almost buckling, but he doesn’t let you fall as he lowers himself. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he steadies you with a firm grasp on your hips. Once he’s sure you’re not about to topple over, his hands move to the button of your baggy cargo pants, popping them open and pushing the fabric, as well as your underwear, down. You help, kicking off your boots and stepping out of the clothes. As you reveal the rest of your body, Vander is once again ogling you. Hands once gripping your hips are now running up and down your thighs, studying them and your stomach, moving closer to plant kisses across your navel.

“Oh yeah,” He groans into your skin, “I’ve missed this.” 

“You’re sure your knees will be alright like that?” You ask, ignoring the rising heat around your ears. He’s tall enough that even when he’s on his knees, you can still cup the side of his face in your hand without having to stretch your arm. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Love. It’s not my legs that I’ll be focusing on.” He smirks, looking up at you and the sight makes your heart leap up into your throat. The warmth in your face worsens as he loops one of your legs over his shoulder, taking on some of your weight. He continues to kiss your flesh, each touch of his lips followed by a flurry of butterfly wings in your stomach. This continues for a solid, agonizingly long, second and you’re just about to open your mouth and complain when suddenly his mouth is on you and oh fuck never mind. His tongue is on you, sliding up to your clit before delving deeper, you find your breath caught in your throat, seizing up. Both a cry and a heavy breath fuse together on the way out and you choke on the sound. 

He knows exactly where to go, exactly where to apply pressure. The map and memory of your body are still very much present in Vander’s mind as his tongue slides between your inner labia. The sounds you’re making, and the fluid meeting his lips, only motivate him further as the scraggly beard on his upper lips brushes against your clit. To his amusement, this makes you arch against him further, your back pushing against the roughness of the brick to grind closer into his mouth, and your hand that had been gently caressing his cheek now flew back to his head, holding on.

“Fuck, Van…” 

He’d ached to hear you moan his name like that again.

His hands grip the meat of your thighs, strong enough that you’re sure he’s leaving bruises. You remembered how much he loved to leave markings on your body, how he’d eye any discoloration on your body with such pride afterward. Not that you ever complained. He licks you fully using the flat of his tongue, and your body is shaking, even though you’re not even close yet. It’s excitement, feeding off the energy between the two of you. The air feels electric, and the pleasure just feels so delightfully right. Up here, on this rooftop, the consequences of these actions don’t dare to cross your mind. Right now it’s just him and you and your beautiful bodies melding together. All that matters is the muscle of his shoulders, the power in his gaze, and the way he’s not only feeding off of the liquid that currently coats his lips but also the strangled moans and curses that leave your breathless mouth. You know him, he knows you, and you both know that this is the only thing in this fucked up city that just makes sense. He knows how to make your legs weak, and you know to make his eyes dilate the way they are when he looks up at you. 

A thought passes through your mind, and your fingers find their way back to his locks of hair; gripping on and pulling. Not hard, but just enough; and the low, rumbling growl that emanates from him shocks through your core and along your spine. 

Yeah, you think, you still got it.

After a few minutes, you’re sure you’re being loud enough for anyone around to hear your pathetic noises. But the louder you dare to get, the faster he goes. You’re not sure when he brought his fingers into play, but that certainly wasn’t helping matters. They slip in and out of you, covered in your slick as you’re currently dripping wet, and for the Lady’s sake, you need this man to fuck you, right now! The warmth of his tongue, the scratchiness of his beard, and oh gods he’s sucking your clit, the coil in the bottom of your stomach is becoming increasingly taut as your hips buck mindlessly. 

“That’s it, Love.” His thumb rubs circles on your clit as he pulls away, just for a moment. His eyes refuse to leave you. “Scream for me. Cum on my tongue, I know you can.”  The coil finally snaps, and as you hit your orgasm, your thighs move to crush the head of the man beneath you. Vander just moans at the pressure. Your ears are ringing so loud you can’t even tell if you’re screaming, but you’re sure you are, and can’t even find it in you to care about who may hear.

***

Pulling out of you, you feel the warm combination of your combined arousals leak out of you and down your thighs. “Fuck…” Vander murmurs against you, his breath moist against your cheek as you try and think through the buzzing in your ears. Your head is all fuzzy, but you can still feel the bitter cold as Vander peels his body off of you to look for something to clean with. You don’t miss the way his eyes hesitate on the sight of his cum leaking out of you, satisfaction in his expression before he pulls his attention away.

“There should be a hand rag in one of my pockets.” You motion, breathlessly, to the heap of your clothes back over by the wall, and he dutifully crawls to retrieve them. 

“Sorry I didn’t have anything, Darlin’” He half-smiled, handing you a scrap of white fabric. You take it, immediately moving to clean your thighs before handing it back to him to clean himself off.

“It’s alright, I don’t think a lot of people are just walking around with spare towels on them.” You joke, but the tiredness in your voice takes over as you lay there on your back, gazing up at the expanse of buildings above you. The whole world feels like it’s buzzing, light and fuzzy. Even though you’re on one of the fairly higher levels, you’re still surrounded by nothing but metal and smog, and as you look up at the distant blueish that is supposed to be the sky, you wish you could see the stars.

Once Vander is finished cleaning, he moves closer to you, now with his pants back on. He’s sitting against the wall, his legs laying perpendicular to your body and close to your head. It would be so easy to cuddle up next to him, to lay your head in his lap and fall asleep like that. You’d be lying if you said his heat didn’t draw you in against the chill, but you hesitate to move closer. 

His hand comes down to play with your hair.

You lay there in silence for a long moment, possibly a couple of minutes. You stared up at the sky and him with his hand against your scalp, playing with your choppy strands of hair like they were spun gold.

“You remember that time way back in the day…” Vander started speaking, “when you first started teaching me how to read and write?” 

You chuckled a little. “You promised you’d teach me how to fight properly in return.”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “I was like, what? Fourteen? Making you twelve or so, and I’d told you that everyone else had tried. Mom, Dad, Silco, Benzo…hell, even a few of Dad’s friends over the years. But you were the most determined out of all of them.”

“You could do it just fine.” You yawn. “Just needed an honest shot at it, and to keep at it.”

“Same with you and fighting. Although, helped that I had a cute tutor that I wanted to impress.” He remarked, causing you to roll your eyes and scoff. “It’s true! I swear, every night after our lessons I would stay for hours trying to go through everything you’d taught me so it looked like I was learning better. Used to piss Dad off cause I’d be all tired and groggy in the morning. But that’s just how crazy I was for you, even back then.”

His words hang in the air, but you’re terrified to respond. You’re scared that the moment you say anything; this wonderful, warm, perfect moment will shatter around you. There’s a lump in your throat that’s building, dryness in your mouth, and you’re praying that your eyes aren’t too noticeably glassy.

“...I’d give it all up for you, you know that right?” He admits. You sigh, already feeling the cracks in your precious moment beginning to appear.

“Van-” “The fighting, the mines, the revolution; all you’d have to do is ask. If that’s what it took…I can’t say it would be easy, but I’d be willing to try!”

And there it was. Him, laying the very world down at your feet. You knew he was telling the truth, knew full well that if you asked him, he would do all that and more in a heartbeat. You thought about it, thought about the kinds of lives you’d lead. Was it even possible to live a life here in Zaun like that? What would life look like without Vander working in the mines, or without the rebellion? What would happen to your family? Would you be able to live a nice life, scraping by with working other odd jobs outside of the mines, and be able to settle down and start your own family like Felicia and Connol? Would you have to leave the city, maybe run away back to Bilgewater together? 

“I’m still crazy for you, Minnie.” He admits. “I am still very much in love with you.”

You closed your eyes and took a breath, letting the thoughts leave your mind. You’d never ask Vander to give up the life he’s built for himself, and you knew neither of you wanted to leave your family behind. This was your home now, and you needed to keep it that way.

“I know.” A tear escapes your eye, and you hope that he can’t see it. “I love you too.”

Taglist (if you want on or off of this please just DM me)

@the-lake-is-calling @conretewings​ @officialjellydoughnut @ladyoakenshield​ @lovesleepybearwriter @pinkrose1422 @pinkheartfleece

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 6 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 5.3k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 6 - It’s Just The Time for Dancing

The next few days pass quietly for you. Which is a good thing, really. Your lip still hurts from biting it so hard. Luckily, it didn’t swell much. You need a few days to get back into your daily routine, making sure you are where you are supposed to be, and you’re seen by the people who need to see you. The tram driver on your morning route, the lady at the bakery on the corner, your co-workers as you clock in, the security guard reading the newspaper under his desk—everything is normal, everything is routine, everything is as it should be.

Except for the American pilot you have hiding in the loft. But no one needs to know about that.

You exhale heavily, puffing out your cheeks as you look at the wet streaks your mop leaves on the marble floor. Finally back on the evening shift, you spend the hours after dark mopping floors, dusting shelves, wiping down desks, swiping ration books, polishing brass doorknobs, collecting forgotten cups, forging two new identity cards, dusting shelves and taking out the trash.

It’s an unpopular shift for many reasons. On a bad day, you’re cleaning until midnight. And it’s generally a creepy place. The Ministry of Interior is housed in an imposing, modern-looking building that, at best, looms ominously over the city from its position on top of one of the hills surrounding the river valley. And at night, when the building sits deserted, a chill sets over the place. Many of your coworkers speak of strange sounds, like the ghostly ticking of typewriters echoing through the halls and strange shadows moving in locked rooms.

You don’t mind, though. Possibly because you were the source of those phenomena. The national police and gendarmerie are headquartered here, and for all the reorganization for efficiency in the last few years, civil servants will always be too overworked to really notice (or care) about small discrepancies in the paperwork. Or they are crooked, which makes getting ration books near child’s play. Plenty of crooked cops sell them on the black market, so they usually keep a stack stashed away somewhere—a somewhere you’re bound to find as a cleaner—and it’s not like they can report them missing. 

And it’s really nice of them to have all the forms prepared like that—it saves you a lot of time filling in travel permission forms, adding a stamp here, making a file disappear there, and creating two new identities with legit personal numbers.

Because all the forms are the same and most people working here fill them in on autopilot, they most likely can’t recall which they actually did, or which might have been slipped into there by you. The efficiency of the system has made it so monotonous that it dumbed everyone involved down, ironically.

It’s the day shift that generally gives you the shivers. When the place is filled with men and women with sour faces and their ill-fitting suits, complaining about the workload, dutifully submitting their reports on people and signing off on another arrest, another cog in the machine of the regime. 

No, you’ll take ghosts over those beasts any day.

Carefully reaching under your tabard apron, you adjust the ration books tucked between the waistband of your skirt, making sure your sweater is covering them. First, you have to finish mopping this hallway, and then you will wipe down the desks in the offices on this floor, paying extra attention to the desk of the officer handling identity cards. 

You take your time mopping. It’s natural to want to work fast as the adrenaline starts pumping in anticipation of… well, committing a crime. Even if you believe it’s for the greater good, identity fraud is not a small crime. Besides, the more people filter out of the building, not wanting to spend a minute more here than necessary, the less noise there is. 

The empty, almost gaping halls and cold marble floors might feel might be spooky in the way they eerily echo the smallest sounds, but they also make it virtually impossible for anyone to sneak up on you.

Slowly, lowly humming, you work your way down the hall. The dirty water sloshes in the metal bucket as you carry it into the stairwell, leaning your mop against the wall. You wait for a moment, listening for any sounds from the other floors. It’s quiet. Good. Fishing a dusting rag from your apron. Time to get those desks cleaned.

By the time you reach your destination, your heart starts beating harder. You force yourself to breathe calmly—don’t let fear rule you. You’re going to need a steady hand.

You wait a moment in front of the office door. Still not a sound.

Now you hurry. With quick movements, you pull out registration forms from different folders, so the ID numbers are not consecutive, and therefore will be easier to… lose in the filing system. Sitting down at the desk, you stretch and flex your fingers. 

Calm. 

You start diligently filling out the forms on the typewriter—the quicker, the better, because this is the noisy part. New names, new birthdays—new people. Carefully, you unscrew the cap of the too-fancy fountain pen, hesitating for a small second before copying the signature from one of the other papers on the table with a flourish. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t look quite perfect—actually, it’s better. It bears every mark of a hastily processed form by an overworked civil servant trying to get home at the end of the day, the authentication stamp smudging the still-wet ink, mindlessly filed away in the wrong folder. Everything just deliberate enough to make it look indistinguishable from regular incompetence.

You hesitate to remember when your brain switched gears like this, always looking to find a loophole, always looking to find a way around other people and essentially exploit their behavior. In high school, you once cheated on a biology test by peeking at your deskmate’s test paper. It was an inconsequential pop quiz. The deskmate in question was your best friend Eva, who would later get into med school. But still. You barely slept for the rest of the week until you got your grade because you were so scared the teacher knew and was going to fail you publicly. 

It feels strange. Foreign. Like that fear you felt so profoundly at 16 was only a pebble skipping in the pond. You mull over the hollow feeling as you start filling in identity cards with a neat looping script, where it feels like that same pebble has been sinking deeper and deeper into dark dread. Every time you think you might have found the bottom of your greatest fears, something inevitably happens that pulls out the rug from under you. 

Like Rooster.

His very presence feels like another rug pull. 

And to your growing annoyance, despite every problem he poses, instead of working on some sort of solution, your mind wanders to that warm skin, that crooked, cocky smile—and god, that broad chest, those powerful arms, how comfortably close he seems to get to you and how some part of your brain is itching for more.

Just as you finish up, leaning your elbows on the polished wood as you resolutely screw the cap back onto the fountain pen, almost as if you’re hoping to screw a top onto your wandering thoughts. 

You hear footsteps. Heavy footsteps, that are too close for comfort. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice. Shit.

 As you shoot up from the chair, swiping the identity cards from the desk and stuffing them into the waistband of your skirt, you hastily straighten your apron. In a flurry of movements, swiping the forms off the desk and stuffing them in the back of the first open file drawer, you go to grab your dusting rag, but with that, knock the fancy fountain pen off the table.

As the black pen with the fancy gold trim clangs loudly against the marble floor, you see the cap pop off in an almost comical, slow-motion way. The black ink splatters out over your shoes and socks. You curse, wide-eyed, ducking behind the desk, desperately trying to mitigate some of the horrendous mess you just got yourself into. The ink is staining your fingers and palms as you try to hide the absolute massacre you just caused. Your blood is rushing in your ears so hard you cannot even hear the footsteps anymore, and you can only hope that they passed you by now, that they didn’t need to be where you are, and they didn’t see you in the first place.

“Is someone in here?”

You are pretty sure you can feel the blood physically drain from your face—the deafening rush is suddenly replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The security guard, who is usually halfway down a bottle of cheap liquor at this hour and somewhere off in dreamland, has decided tonight to actually do his job.

Slowly, you get up, clutching the pen between your ink-stained fingers. You want to look up and see how the guard reacts, but you force yourself to keep your gaze trained on the toes of your dirty shoes. 

You are known as the slowest cleaner. Kind of clumsy. That’s why you’re typically the last to leave. You don’t discourage the rumor—even though it stings. Sometimes you lean into it. Every time you feel a little bit less like yourself.

“Miss Anna?” The guard doesn’t even seem surprised. His voice sounds like brittle paper—he is an old man, after all. Back bent and fingers almost pulled into claws from a lifetime of heavy labor, his uniform seems to hang off his wiry form. You don’t actually know his name—the rest of the staff just refers to him as the gamekeeper, after the brand of cheap herbal brandy he seems to favor to keep him company on the night shift. 

“I’m sorry sir, I…” You trail off, jerking your hands slightly in a graceless motion, drawing attention to them. “I just wanted to take a look.”

“Oh, you unlucky girl,” The guard sighs, part empathetic, part exasperated. “Clean up, you are going to miss your last tram.”

You nod, hurriedly starting to clean the mess with your dust rag.

“Is your bucket in the hall?” The guard asks, not unkindly. “You can mop up the mess quicker.” Nodding, you start moving towards the door, where the guard is still standing. He looks up and down at you, clicking his tongue as his gaze lands on your splattered shoes. “Just a bit of vinegar when you get home, and blot it out carefully.” He offers, in an almost fatherly tone. 

“Thank you, I didn’t know that,” You smile awkwardly. “I thought I just ruined these.”

Water and soap work just as well, you know, but it’s best just not to say.

“Run along now.” He dismisses you as he starts down the hall, the other way from you. “People might get suspicious if you hang around too long.” The gamekeeper croaks, not looking back at you.

Your luck is up for tonight.

***

Bradley is bored. 

Never in his life has he been this bored. In school, in detention, church on Sunday, every endless ocean crossing, where there’s no land in sight, and he’s just surrounded by a wide expanse of nothing on the horizon. Because at least there are always people around. 

In his plane, up in the sky, he is pretty much alone. But even there, he can see his fellow aviators whiz by, he can hear their chatter on the radio. Even up there, he is never truly alone.

He doesn’t like being alone.

He also doesn’t like being bored. But the small room under the roof has little in the way of entertainment for his lonely days. Finally, he has a place where he can recuperate in peace at least. 

It’s been over a week now.

Recuperating means laying in bed mostly, starting at the ceiling. The pain is getting less, but his energy is falling too. Sometimes Bradley moves through the room, leaning out of the small window, smoking. There’s not much to see but other rooftops, a few church spires on the horizon, and the blue sky. 

He tries to stretch his sore muscles carefully, almost scared he’ll lose every part of his health (and vainly, physique) if he stays idle too long. There’s nothing much he can do about his ribs, the dull ache gets a little less every day, but they take a long time to heal. He has time in spades, he thinks bitterly. Bradley’s ankle was a different story. It looked horrendous in the first days he got to the safe house: swollen, hot, blue-ish bruises forming under the skin. 

As your cool fingers graze over his ankle, you tell him to keep it elevated. If it doesn’t get better in a few days, you’ll find someone to help. Bradley doesn’t want his ankle to be broken, but he likes your soft and kind touch. He craves more of your touch. It’s in such stark difference to your serious expression and earnest tone.

When he’s alone again, sometimes he thinks of home, allowing himself to finally dwell on some thoughts he buried a long time ago. It’s strange—Bradley traveled many places with the Navy, never feeling particularly homesick. Probably because deep down, he was always convinced he’d return. He had to, right? It’s bad luck to dwell on death, but it’s foolish not to fear it. But now… now he’s dwelling on it. The thought of never seeing his home again, never visiting his parent’s grave again leaves him feeling hollow. 

And guilty.

He meant to visit the grave site before he shipped out to Britain, but a particular blonde and bourbon caught his eye and he decided to wallow in that, rather than his own grief. Now there is no blonde, no bourbon, just him.

And sometimes you.

You are like a breath of fresh air.

Sure, you still don’t smile much—not as much as Bradley would like any way, and he entertains himself by getting a reaction out of you. But he looks forward to the moment when he hears your footsteps coming up the stairs. It’s been only a week and something, but Bradley is pretty sure he could pick out you padding up the stairs—gracefully, determined—in his dreams.

You bring him books to pass the time. They are old, dog-eared copies, some passages highlighted with a pencil, little notes in the margins in neat script, sometimes long-winded, sometimes no more than an exclamation mark or little cross. Bradley spends almost as much time reading as half daydreaming about you sitting at a desk, or sprawled out on a sofa, tapping a pencil against your lips, mouthing the words on the page. There is nothing particularly scandalous about those daydreams, if anything they feel strangely homely. Comforting. You’ve spent hours with these books, and they’re keeping him company now. A little bit like some part of you is with him all day. He likes that.

It’s small comforts until he hears your footsteps come up the stairs—sometimes you come around dusk, other times you keep him company in the morning. 

You never tell him anything about what you do, or where anything comes from, dismissively waving your hand in reply, face unreadable. Food appears at his door every day like clockwork, but you stay mum on how it gets there.

When Bradley looks over your ink-stained fingers one late morning, catching them as you wave them through the air in that practiced nonchalant manner, he runs the pad of his thumb over the faded ink and red skin—you’ve clearly tried to scrub it off unsuccessfully—a beat of silence passes between you.

You can feel it in your bones.

Bradley notices how your palm flexes under his touch like you want to touch him back. You’re looking at him, lips parted ever slightly, breathing shallow.

“What did you do?” He asks softly, inadvertently breaking the spell. Bradley tries to ignore the sting as you immediately drop your hand from his, averting your gaze. Every time he thinks he might have found a way in with you, like he just about manages to catch a glimpse of what you are like underneath all the bits of untruth, diversion, and armor you seem to have wrapped around you, you seem to pull up your walls even higher.

The next few times you come to visit, you keep your distance from him. You ask about his ankle, but your hands stay put.

“It’s getting better.” He looks at you pointedly, sitting up in the bed. You don’t move from the chair at the small table on the other side of the room. “The swelling is as good as gone, and it doesn’t hurt when I walk.”

“That’s good.” You sound at least a little bit relieved. But you still don’t move from your spot.

That’s okay, Bradley tells himself. The why has him conflicted. Is it okay because you are his handler, and more interested in staying alive than him? He respects that, even if he’d still like to tease you a bit anyway.

A darker side chimes in: it’s okay. He can wait—snug on his perch. He’s a patient man.

And they always come to him in the end.

You will come to him.

Guilty, he shakes off the thought as soon as it rises. That’s not fair. It’s not a drunken tryst in a bar where he doesn’t have to think about what makes you tick, what makes him tick, and it’s mutually understood that that moment will be all it’ll ever be.

This is different. He depends on you. He can’t get a grip on you. 

And quite frankly? 

It scares the everloving shit out of him. 

It exhilarates him.

“You look pretty nimble on your feet now.” You comment as you come into his small room one early evening. It’s sometime in late February, meaning Bradley has been missing in action for a month.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready to dance again.” He smirks, playfully extending his hand to you. Of course, you skillfully parry his gesture. There’s a playful glint in your eye as you shoot him a stern look. Undeterred, Bradley tucks his hand back into his pocket casually, as he watches you move around the small room. 

“I got you something, Rooster.” You start, a little hesitantly. That catches Bradley’s attention. You are rarely hesitant when you speak to him—if you don’t want to answer or talk, you usually just don’t. “A few somethings, really.”

Somewhat bashfully, you hand him a large can of peaches. Fruits in winter wartime are somewhat of a rare treat, and typically when you happen upon some you use them for trading. It’s good to be in people’s good graces, or even better, have them owe you a favor. But this time, you figured Bradley might appreciate them. And you kind of want some yourself.

That’s the reason you kept the peaches. Right? You kind of want them, but you’d feel bad not sharing. And Bradley is the one cooped up in a safe house for weeks now. You’d be going stir-crazy in his position. Even though he appears as annoyingly positive as ever when you see him.

“Nice, where’d you get these?” He weighs the large can in his hand, his eyes keenly following your fingers as you unbutton your coat and unpin your hat, gently putting them away on the neatly made bed. You meet his gaze, before you force yourself to look away again.

“I brought two forks.” You reply instead. “You have a can opener here, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s on the table.” As he puts the can down, he frowns for a moment. “Do you ever get tired of deflecting every other question?” 

It comes out a bit sharper than Bradley wanted it to, and judging from the surprised look on your face, it cut a bit deeper than he had wanted it to. Your eyebrows raised, mouth open like you’re about to say something, but you seem to have frozen in the moment.

Tired? You think. Try utterly exhausted. Not one version of your life is authentic or complete—the handler, the roommate, the cleaner, the neighbor, the coworker, the friend, the daughter—you keep secrets from everyone everywhere, tell so many lies that it’s like you’re living all these different lives, and by god, you so desperately want to talk to someone about everything. But you can’t. You can’t even bring yourself to answer the most basic questions anymore without going down a list in your head if it’s safe to share that information or if it’s just easier to let a lie roll down your tongue instead.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you actually rendered speechless,” Bradley jokes lightly, breaking the too-long silence, trying to inject some levity back into the situation, almost nervously looking away from you and focussing on opening the can. You blink slowly and lick your lips. You want to tell Bradley about everything, what you really think, what you really feel, so there’s one person on this goddamn earth who will actually know you. But you bite your tongue and shrug instead.

“I would have actually answered you this time.” You reply, trying to match his joking tone. Bradley grins at you, as he places the opened can in the middle of the small table, and pulls out one of the chairs, gesturing you to sit down. Unable to keep a smile from tugging on your lips, you sit down, and Bradley pushes your chair in.

You shake your head, ignoring the flutter in your stomach. 

Sitting across from each other, fishing slices of peach out of the opened tin, Bradley can’t help but study you. You look relaxed—chin resting on your palm, foot tucked under your leg on the chair, taking a small bite from the peach slice on your fork. Bradley is leaning on his elbow, bent slightly forwards, toward you as he casually lifts another slice out of the can. He is dressed so casually, his white shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. He seems perfectly unbothered to sit around with his undershirt on display—you can’t even complain. You’re just glad he isn’t going around shirtless. Right?

It’s one of those strangely intimate moments, that if it weren’t for the reality of the situation, could be… almost romantic. At a table together, sharing a dessert (of sorts), and talking about the books Bradley has been reading. You try not to have your mind addled by the notion that this is the closest thing to a date you’ve been on in almost two years. You try not to let the flutter in your stomach grow every time he says your name in that deep, velvety voice. You try to keep your heart from jumping in your throat every time he catches your eye with that lopsided grin on his face to see if his joke landed.

“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” Best to get back to business. “Now that you’ve healed enough to walk again-” “And dance again.” Bradley interjects playfully, leaning just that little bit closer to you over the small table.

“...and dance again.” You deadpan, the soft look in your eyes taking the sting out of your words. You sigh lightly before you continue. “You need to learn your way about the city. Where to go, where the escape routes are, and look like you belong when you walk around. We might get into a situation where there’s no one to take you, so you need to be able to do this by yourself.”

Bradley frowns. “What do you mean, if there’s no one to take me? Aren’t you supposed to be my handler until…” 

He trails off, seeing the pained look on your face. You don’t say anything, and Bradley is actually grateful for that right now. After a moment of silence, you clear your throat a bit awkwardly.

“So, uhm -” You shift in your chair, sitting up a bit straighter. “I brought you some things. A map—wait, let me get it.” You get up, feeling strangely anxious. You grab your purse off the bed and take it back with you to the table. “So, here’s the map. It has the most important things, like the train stations and major roads marked.” “Thanks.” Bradley nods as he takes the map from you. He recognizes your neat script on the map, marking several landmarks. “Anything I should pay special attention to?” 

You feel relieved Bradley is not joking right now. 

“Mostly these two train stations and the surrounding areas. Either of these will most likely be part of your escape route.” You bend a bit further over the table, finger tracing the two marked points on the paper. Bradley feels like he should move back a bit, as he already knows that if he looks up now, your face will be close to his. He isn’t sure you are all that aware, focus on the map between you. He should really be a gentleman about this, but he’s also enjoying your proximity to him, and he’d like to enjoy it a little bit longer. 

In the end, you make the decision for him, leaning back again.

“How quickly do you need me to have this memorized?” Bradley asks, looking up at you. You avoid his gaze. “We’ll start with the first route to the main train station tomorrow, so the sooner, the better.” You reply, still not looking at him, but rather at your own hands as you fidget. It’s strange to see you nervous, and Bradley wonders what is making you so anxious right now.

“I also got you new papers.” You push a small booklet toward him. 

“Oh, you got me like a fake identity and everything?” Bradley curiously leafs through the booklet.

“Yeah, it’s legit as far as most police will be willing to look.” 

“So what’s my cover story?” He asks curiously, a smile playing over his face again. 

“It’s nothing special, so don’t read too much into it,” You shrug, trying to stop yourself from talking too fast. “It’s best to stay close to the truth anyway. When we go out, you still can’t talk, so I got you veteran status. We should be able to chalk it up to shell shock or something if we get stopped.” 

You pause as Bradley nods.

“Also we’re married now.” You blurt out. Bradley’s head shoots up, eyes wide.  “I - I mean our fake identities are married.” You amend, lamely.

You cringe, it seemed like such a good idea when you forged the identification cards, but now you’ve said it out loud, it almost feels like an admission of… something. To your mortification, Bradley just starts laughing. Of course. It’s preposterous, after all. He only likes to tease you, and you deluded yourself into thinking he might actually have any feelings for you. This means you must admit that you’ve developed feelings of your own.

Preposterous, indeed.

“Well, I suppose I could do a lot worse than you, sweetheart.” He is still laughing. You have difficulty wiping the hurt frown off your face, so you just look away. There’s absolutely no reason you should be taking this so personally, but you are embarrassed that Bradley laughing actually… hurts. It feels like you’re being rejected.

“I do have one question.” He adds, as he stops laughing, voice a lot more serious. You scrape together the courage to look at him, mouth set in a hard line. Bradley has a completely serious look on his face. “Why, pray tell, are we married, Anya?” 

You take a breath, trying really hard to keep the hurt and embarrassment from creeping into your voice. “Because it looks weird for a man and woman to walk together without talking. No one will buy we’re friends—let alone dating—if we walk around mutely.”

“Fair,” Bradley admits. “But we have a bad marriage, then?” 

“What?”  

Bradley is momentarily taken aback by your sharp reaction, but grins at you anyway. It seems like this whole situation has you a little off-kilter, and he wants to rock your boat just a little more to bring the spitfire out. You look so offended, lip curled up in disgust, that the suggestion that your marriage must be bad. It’s adorable.

“We don’t talk, so our marriage must be bad, right?” He questions, doing his best to be serious.

“You think not constantly talking equates to a bad marriage, Rooster?” You question him back, a cutting edge to your words. Bradley loves how riled up you suddenly are.

“I think communication is important, Anya.” He replies smirking, leaning forward again. He’s pretty sure he just saw your eyebrow twitch.

“I agree, but being comfortable in silence together doesn’t mean there’s bad communication.” You retort in a low voice. You have no idea how you got to discussing what entails a good marriage instead of exit routes, but it has your stomach in twists. Bradley seems all too comfortable. Ass.

“Of course, and there are plenty of other ways to communicate.” If at all possible, Bradley’s smirk grows. The implication of his words hangs heavily between you. You should pull back now and end this conversation. This is probably what he always does, you think bitterly. There’s just no one else to focus his attention on. But you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting to you like that.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough how compatible we are, Rooster.” The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. You close your eyes for a moment to stave off the crushing embarrassment, before resolutely getting up, smoothing down your skirt, absolutely not wanting to sit here while Bradley laughs at you again. 

There’s no use in editing your words, backpedaling that that was really not what you meant—it will only make it worse, and you will inevitably dig yourself into a deeper hole with him. Bradley gets up from the table at the same time, grabbing you by the elbow as you move past him. You inhale sharply as his large warm hand wraps around your arm.

You tug your arm sharply, but you don’t really stand a chance against Bradley’s grip. He’s not even holding onto you that tightly.

“Let me go, please.” Your voice is flat, words measured carefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Rooster. But I’d like to go home now.” 

Bradley’s heart sinks a little bit. There it is again, your walls pulled up higher than ever before.

“It was just a bit of fun, Anya.” He tells you softly. 

“Of course.” There’s a forced airiness to your tone. You jerk your elbow again, and he lets you go this time. You move past him, grabbing your coat and hat off the bed, before turning on your heel and going straight for the door. You snatch your purse off the table as you try to keep yourself from sprinting to the door.  

Hand on the doorknob, you stop for a moment. Letting out a deep sigh, you turn around. You are overreacting.

“Sleep well, Rooster.” You tell him genuinely. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, face concerned. When your eyes meet, his lips quirk back up into a smile. A nice smile this time. You feel your own lips pull into a smile in response as you turn away again. 

Everything about him is so magnetic, it’s pulling you out of orbit. You know it’s because you’re allowing yourself to become too comfortable around him. But he makes it so easy.

“Sleep well, Anya.” He tells you in that same deep voice that makes your insides quake as you slip out of the door.

note | It's been a while~ sorry <3 more will be coming soon.

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[parrotwatcher]

Is there a Totem Force romance guide? I need help getting with Lani and Mirebell...if that is her real name.

There's one on the CoG forum, but I'll copy it out over here, too:

Kay Tennyson: One of your best friends for the last few years. Kay is strong, tough, and determined to do the right thing, no matter what. (Note: Kay is the most moral character, and if you act in too villainous a manner, she won’t like it.)

Sammy Siegel: Your other best friend from childhood. Sammy is intelligent, but rather lazy, although he can get obsessive if he finds something that truly interests him. (Note: Sammy craves attention. Even negative attention is better than being ignored, although he’d certainly prefer positive attention.)

Anara Datka: Your classmate (and potential rival/crush). Anara is the principal’s daughter and her sterling academic record is proof of this.

Chi Ikonnia: Another classmate (and potential rival/crush). Chi is the son of the town mayor, and is an easygoing, friendly young man, who’s both a star athlete and a member of the school drama club. (Note: Chi and Anara are reasonably easy to date; just don't be a jerk to them.)

Phil Tennyson: Kay’s older brother. A martial artist like his sister, although even more dedicated. (Note: when romancing Phil, it is recommended to take martial arts lessons from him. The alternative should not be impossible, but it will be much harder.)

Lani Kawaii: The class president. She terrifies teachers and students alike, is rumoured to have mob connections, and has the largest collection of pink stuffed animals in the world. (Note: Lani prefers it when you stand up to her, but without making yourself or her look stupid. She also prefers less moral characters.)

More detailed Lani romance advice:

When you visit Lani to ask her out in Episode 6, just kiss her; don’t say “I want you!” Most of the time, she should agree to date you. If you have a very low score with her, she might still turn you down, but you can avoid this by being antagonistic to her in previous encounters (e.g. calling her a “frinking witch”, telling her to “shut the frink up”), but don’t actually make fun of her (e.g. “jokingly” claiming to be the superhero, or suggesting that it’s Lani herself).

It’s also possible to get with Lani by being with someone else (especially Sammy), and letting her kiss you at the party…

Also, in Episode 11, you can visit her mansion, threaten to hurt her, select all of the above, and agree to make it a permanent thing.

In Episode 12, various factors (including her relationship stat, how villainous you are, and whether you visited her in the previous chapters) can make Lani get bored of you. In that case, insist to see her, and agree to fight for her. In the “date”, if you’re too nice, she may tire of you also, but you can still succeed by replying “Frink you” or “do I have to be your thug?”

In Episode 13, if Sammy’s alive: on the Man route, if you either forgive Sammy or choose not to work for Lani, then she will dump you. Likewise, on the other two routes, she will automatically dump you based on various factors (the simplest way to avoid this is to have dated her in Episode 12). If Sammy’s “dead”, both of these are skipped.

Ryu Yoshida: A mysterious rival who seems to hate everything and everyone except his sibling Akira. He has a burning need to prove himself, although he doesn’t seem to know who to. (Note: in order to romance Ryu, you need to convince him of the Power of Friendship. Beating him the second time you fight helps, but shouldn’t be mandatory.)

More detailed Ryu romance advice Ryu’s visible relationship stat is (at first) fake. It represents how he thinks he should feel about you, not actually how he does feel about you. His real relationship stat is raised by choosing the overly-sappy, Power of Friendship style options (e.g. running to Kay after he’s beaten her). In order to romance Ryu, you need to get him to accept his true feelings. (Note: technically you can get this if you tried to blind Akira in Episode 3, but it’s far easier if you didn’t.)

The first time you can do this is Episode 6. Beat him in the fight, and then either offer him your hand to help him up or collapse next to him (both options will require high relationship and/or Power of Friendship). If you have succeeded, Ryu will briefly turn up at the party, although you can’t actually date him yet. (Note: there is a possible kiss in Episode 6, but it’s not required.)

The next point is Episode 11. Go see him and Akira. You can talk to Akira first, ask them what it’s like living with Ryu, and then when you do meet him, tease him for being younger than Akira, and then ask why you can’t be friends. Or you can go directly to Ryu, ask him how he ended up the way he did, and then say they don’t need to do it alone. (Both require a less villainous character, or good Ryu relationship, although the latter can use Power of Friendship, instead.) If you have succeeded, you’ll be able to ask Ryu out right away. He’ll refuse, but if you return in Episode 12, he’ll agree.

Note: You have to go out with Ryu in Episode 12 to activate the romance. He will state that it’s “not a date”, but that means nothing. What is important is that if you watch Space Story, when Ryu leaves, follow him. At the end of the date, kiss him. At the end of the episode, after you’ve both been taken into Akira’s mind, don’t attack. Finally, if you join with the army in Episode 13, there’s a chance he will leave you.

Mirabelle: An even-more-mysterious blonde girl who seems to be keeping an eye on you. (Note: Mirabelle’s romance only really begins in Episode 12. As long as you met her at the party, just choose to spend the day alone and she’ll find you…)

Akira Yoshida: Ryu’s hyperactive-acting sibling; they prioritise having fun over almost anything else, although their definition of “fun” is a little skewed. (Note: Akira is not technically romanceable. They are asexual and while not completely aromantic, they aren’t interested in starting anything right now. You can hang out with them in Episode 12 instead of actually dating them, however.)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Breath of the Sky Ch 13 (Skyward Sword meets BotW)

Summary: When Princess Zelda goes to the Spring of Courage to pray, accompanied by her appointed knight, a giant magical cog spitting out a goddess is the last thing she expects, but it is what she gets. Meanwhile, the Spirit Maiden Zelda is trying to figure out what the heck is happening and where her missing chosen hero is.

AO3 link

Chapter 13 - The Failure

They needed to talk. They needed to plan.

Despite the overwhelming despair and uncertainty, despite the fear and pain, Zelda found herself growing motivated the longer she held the princess. She felt the fire returning, the stubborn determination that made a goddess let herself die and be reborn, the steadfastness that pushed her to seal herself away for thousands of years, the protectiveness that had led to the creation of Skyloft.

And so, after wiping the princess’ tears, Zelda had told her they were going to talk to Link. Both of them.

The champion had been easy to locate. He had been hovering outside, trying his best to look calm but easily giving away his concern with the way his eyes lingered too long on the princess, the speed at which he walked to her. Zelda had explained quickly that they needed to find her Link next, and they set about that goal quickly.

The conviction of a goddess mixed with the nervousness of a teenager, though, and Zelda fell into her habit of worrying when it concerned those she cared about… particularly Link.

“Okay,” she said as she marched ahead, nearly dragging the other two with her. “Okay. So. The plan—the plan is to seal him away. We can sort out killing him after. We can do that. We just need to figure out what’s going on with your ability to seal him away. And you—” here she turned to the champion, finger pointing with enough ferocity to be a dagger “You get to kick his ass, but I’m helping do that too because I want to punch his stupid face. I’m sure Link—my Link—uh, Cloud can help with that too, but we need to find him. This is just—this is fine. This is fine. We don’t need the Triforce yet, it’ll be okay. This is fine.”

The look exchanged between the princess and the champion implied that her ramblings were not, in fact, fine, but Zelda ignored it.

Her anxious energy began to grow frustrated as they wandered the castle. Link’s plight of constantly chasing her down was becoming extremely relatable at the moment. As they rounded yet another corner, Zelda felt relief at seeing a familiar colorful uniform with sandy blonde hair peeking out of the navy blue cap.

“Excuse me!” Zelda called, running towards the familiar guard. He genuflected when he turned and saw her. “Have you seen Link? My Link?”

“I know his location, Your Grace,” he answered. “I was actually heading his way. Would you like me to take you to him?”

Given all the information she’d been dealing with, and given all the running around she’d already done, the sheer comfort and happiness at not only hearing that someone could help her locate her husband, but that it was the one person who reminded her of Impa, made Zelda laugh and fall to her knees to be at eye level with the guard. She hugged him tightly. “Thank goodness! Thank you so much, I would love that!”

The guard stiffened under her hold, just as Impa had the first time she’d hugged her, but she didn’t care. Goddesses she needed some kind of stable rock to rely on in this place, and she didn’t have one, but this guard came close. She saw the reflection of the window ahead of her that he was looking at the princess and the champion, the former holding a hand over her mouth to cover a gasp while the latter watched the guard worriedly.

Honestly, these people. How did any society develop to be so emotionally stifled, anyway?

“I need to teach all of you that hugs are a good thing, good grief,” she chuckled as she pulled away. “But anyway, please do show us where Link is.”

The guard took a deep breath, nodding and rising. He guided them in silence, though the sights of the castle kept Zelda preoccupied – they were heading somewhere she hadn’t been yet, and though the stone walls all blended into each other to create a massive maze, she saw light from outside and grew hopeful. It seemed Link, just like her, didn’t care for being cooped up in this stone prison of sorts, as beautiful as it was.

Zelda had to admit that, though she wanted to help her people grow on the Surface, she was a child of the Sky nonetheless.

They wandered a path that seemed vaguely familiar from their expedition into the nearby large town, though the guard guided them down a road that Link and Zelda had pointedly avoided due to the place flooding with people. Eventually, they wound up near a tower farthest from the castle, overlooking a good portion of land and the town below. The sun was high in the sky now, and Zelda turned to the guard as they approached the tower.

“Is there somewhere we can get food in town?” she asked. She was well aware the castle had food too, but she… didn’t want to go back there.

“We can arrange to have lunch brought to you here, if you wish,” the guard replied. “But yes, there are many places in Castle Town where you can get food.”

Upon their arrival to the structure, the guard dismissed the two colorfully clad knights who had been standing post in the entranceway. He turned to face the group. “The Hero is inside, Your Grace. I’ll ensure no one enters.” His gaze moved beyond her, settling on the champion, and he spoke with a softer tone, “When time allows, Link, Princess Mipha wished to speak with you.”

With that, the knight moved aside to let them pass, standing guard. Zelda looked back at the other two, temporarily distracted—was there another princess? Did Princess Zelda have a sister that they hadn’t met yet? She shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. She could only gather so many people together at once, after all. It had taken half the day just to get to this point.

Motioning to the two behind her, she walked into the cavernous structure, hearing Link’s footsteps scraping the stone up above. They climbed a ladder to reach the upper level, the bright daylight dazzling Zelda’s eyes for a moment, and she saw the silhouette of her husband pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

“Link,” she called with a smile, relieved they were all finally together. Her smile fell, however, at the distressed look on her husband’s face.

Link froze, facing away from her, holding himself with trembling hands. She approached him slowly, worry eating away at her already weary heart. When she was close enough to touch him, she wrapped her arms slowly around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Dove?”

Link felt tense under her arms, but then he draped his arms over hers and squeezed her wrists lovingly, stroking her hands with his thumbs. She shifted so she could stand beside him, peeking around his arm with a curious glance. His expression was soft, enchanted by what he saw, but his eyes were dark and stormy. He glanced at her, his heavy brow relaxing a little. “We started all this.”

There was wonder and a quiet timidity to his voice, awe and disbelief and acceptance settling into him. Zelda squeezed him reassuringly, cocking her head to the side and giving him a soft smile. “Yeah. We did.”

Link let out a shaky breath, and then he let her go, looking down. Zelda’s arms fell to her sides, and she grew worried as she watched him ruminate.

His mouth became a thin line. “And I… I screwed it all up. I cursed everything, everyone. I cursed them.”

“Link,” Zelda said, caught off guard. Although the guilt was gnawing at her as well, she wasn’t entirely blaming herself in such a manner. Demise had outplayed them, and it made her angry and scared and mournful, it made her question how they could actually defeat him if she hadn’t been able to as a goddess or with the Triforce, but she’d still placed the majority of the blame on the demon king himself, not her or Link. Her husband’s worries were clearly eating him alive. He hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t alone.

“Don’t,” Link immediately hissed, growing stormy. “Don’t even try it. You did everything right, you did your part, you trusted me to finish things and I didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Zelda asked, putting a hand to his cheek. “Link, you defeated him. We had no way of knowing—”

“I did,” Link spat, pulling out of her reach and turning away, his hands shaking as he clenched his fists. His shoulders hunched and his entire body was so tense it was ready to snap. “He said it himself. I thought—I was such an idiot, Zelda, I—I thought—he started speaking about how his hatred would follow my spirit and your bloodline, and it sounded like the dying words of a monster, I—I didn’t realize it was a promise, a curse, that he was—I didn’t—I d-didn’t—”

Link’s body stiffened even further as shuddering gasps and hiccups interrupted his words, and he bowed his head, hugging himself. Zelda immediately rushed around him to face him fully once more, dragging him into the tightest hug she could muster, willing all of her love into it as her mind whirled.

“You had no way of knowing,” she repeated as she processed what he’d said. What promise was he speaking of? Did it even matter? “And who’s to say it was a curse right in that moment? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened whether he spoke it or not? Who’s to say there was any stopping it? Link, I was a goddess. I was a goddess and I couldn’t stop him. You did everything you were meant to do – you solved the puzzles, you tempered the Goddess Sword and made it into the Blade of Evil’s Bane, you traveled through time, you got the Triforce and used it to kill him. You beat him. It was Ghirahim who screwed everything up.”

Ghirahim. It was Ghirahim.

Was that truly why they were in this mess? The realization struck her as she spoke the words, because they were true – she’d exited her slumber because Demise had been killed, after all. Ghirahim was the one who sabotaged it, but Link had ensured that…

“What exactly did he say?” she asked, pulling away to look her husband in the eye.

“He said… he said his hatred never dies. That it would be born again and again, that those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero would forever be bound to this curse: an incarnation of his hatred would follow our kind forever, dooming them to darkness and bloodshed.” Link said slowly, refusing to look at her.

Zelda stared at him, dumbfounded. Why… why hadn’t he ever mentioned this before?

As if reading her mind, he stepped away from her, shaking his head and saying, “I—I thought—he was defeated, Zel, I stabbed him in the chest, I thought it was over. The amount of times Ghirahim would give some speech or another despite being defeated, the words were meaningless at that point. Just some other enemy spouting hatred while he bleeds to death. The sword… Fi told me to raise the sword, that it would absorb the remaining evil, that she would seal him away as designed. I didn’t—I didn’t realize—what did I do wrong?”

The trembling of his tone tore at her heart, and Zelda tried to walk towards him again. She couldn’t fathom why Link wouldn’t have mentioned this, but at the same time, his words made sense—and brought so many more questions to mind. How many times had he fought Ghirahim, anyway? The more she considered it, the more she realized she hadn’t really asked much about his adventure. Their time after that journey had been spent recovering and then pointedly avoiding the topic altogether.

Goddesses above, this was all a mess.

“Impa was right,” Link said suddenly, his voice no longer trembling, but so, so dark. “You were wrong. Hylia was wrong. I’m no Hero. Even Fi has decided that! She already chose a successor, after all.”

“Link,” Zelda tried to argue, immediately growing agitated. This sort of talk wasn’t going to do them any good, and she hated seeing him like this. “This isn’t—I know—”

Link’s eyes narrowed at her as if she were an enemy. The look stole her voice from her throat and made her blood freeze. She’d never seen Link this upset. “Yes, you know. Your Grace knows everything. You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late to even stop you from—from—How does it feel to not have all the pieces until it’s too late? You were wrong.”

Zelda took a step back, her breath sucking in like a gasp as if she’d just been smacked. Link sighed, sensing the change in atmosphere, immediate regret flashing across his face before he finally seemed to notice the other two, who at this point were practically trying to disappear into the walls.

Link’s eyes fixed on the champion, and then he shook his head. The fight quickly drained out of him, but so did any desire to continue talking. He moved quickly towards one of the openings and leapt out of it. Zelda didn’t follow.

The champion ran across the way to peer over where Link had jumped. The princess slowly walked towards Zelda, who was still trying to catch her breath.

There was silence for a long time as the princess hovered near her, as she tried to catch her breath, as Link’s words played over and over in her head.

“Your Grace…?” The princess began hesitantly, a tenderness and shyness to her voice.

Zelda burst into tears.

You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late.

Guilt sprang forth anew, revitalized by her husband’s accusations, having been squished again and again by both her and Link. It reared its ugly head, reminding her that the fact that Link had been dragged into all of this was very much her fault. Despite being the best fighter among the knights of Skyloft, Link was a softhearted young man through and through. She should have never—but—what choice did she—

Zelda continued to cry, bending over and hugging herself and falling to her knees. Her hiccups and sobs echoed in the area, lost to her own whirling mind but very much laying heavily on the other two occupants.

Link, Champion of Hyrule, felt very much out of place. But he also felt very desperate to try and help. He made his way to the goddess, crumpled on the floor, and his heart hurt to see her like that. He knelt carefully, gently resting a hand on her shoulder, desperately looking at the princess for help.

His own mind was whirling as much as everyone else’s likely was. The words that had been spat out by the Hero of Myth and Legend no longer held the same sting to them. Instead, they rang with such a heartbreaking familiarity, all the way down to the misplaced vitriol.

Zelda. He’d sounded like Zelda.

Never in his life had Link considered that if he ever met the Spirit of the Hero, it would act exactly as his dejected princess did.

He wanted nothing more than to reassure the weeping goddess that it wasn’t her fault at all, just as it wasn’t his fault that Zelda struggled to fulfill her destiny while his came easily. He wanted to tell her that the Hero just needed time and help, just as his princess did. But he was in absolutely no position to do so – he didn’t know what words he could say to reassure Hylia herself, nor could he brainstorm such a conversation with the princess as she herself was just as much a culprit of such behavior as the Hero was. Though, to her credit, she was trying to improve that, hence their budding friendship. But…

Desperate, Link looked pleadingly at Zelda, motioning to the goddess with his head. Do something.

The princess held her hands in front of her chest anxiously, one hand playing with the her wrist. “Your Grace… I… I’m sure he didn’t…”

Hylia continued to cry, not acknowledging either of them. At least she wasn’t upset that Link was touching her. He really wished he could do more.

Link thought of suggesting that they get lunch, but he had a feeling his own love for food would not help the matter. Hylia didn’t seem like the thought of a delicious meal would cheer her up.

The champion was quickly running out of ideas, just as his friend seemed equally clueless. However, Zelda finally knelt down as well, ignoring the dirt she was getting on her dress, and placed her hand on Hylia’s other shoulder. “Your Grace, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Hylia glanced up, eyes puffy, tears staining her flushed cheeks. It was… not a look Link would expect from a goddess.

He supposed he had never thought a goddess could get upset like this. He remembered her radiant smile and eagerness to befriend earlier in the day, and his heart ached even more.

He opened his mouth to speak, but still found himself choking on words. He didn’t know what he could say to help her, what would be appropriate, what would be helpful. Hylia’s gaze was fixed on the princess instead, and Link hesitantly pulled away to give the two some space. Zelda’s eyes quickly darted to his, pleading for support, but he didn’t know what to do.

Hylia stole Zelda’s attention anyway as she hiccupped and shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor again as she squeezed her eyes shut. The princess shuffled a little closer. Link stepped further away, trying to figure out how he could help, what he could do. He could at least maybe get them some food, giving Hylia and her descendant time to regain composure, and then he could help them in that regard.

Sliding down the ladder, Link continued to hesitate as he dragged his feet to the exit of the guard house. His father was surprisingly missing, despite having been standing guard, leaving Link a little disappointed. He doubted his father could give him advice on the matter, but it would have been nice to at least see him. Instead, Link fumbled to follow through on his decision, feeling like it wasn’t helpful but not knowing what else to do.

“Oh, Link! There you are!”

Startled, Link turned to see his friend, Mipha, approaching, looking relieved. She smiled, red scales glowing in the noon sun, and Link felt like he was drowning in the ocean and just finally saw a lighthouse guiding him.

Link strode up to her immediately, hands gesturing frantically with words he couldn’t piece together, and his friend quickly noticed his distress. “Link, what’s wrong?”

“He—she—” Link spat out, his chest about to burst, trying desperately to hold the words in but unable to do so. He wasn’t sure this was appropriate to share, but by the goddesses he needed to say something. “He’s just like Zelda.”

The words flew out of his mouth like an arrow released from a bow, and he nearly collapsed onto the nearest bench, overwhelmed and exhausted at holding it in for so long, at the sheer relief that nearly drowned him and screamed he doesn’t actually hate me. Mipha slowly sat beside him, watching him hesitantly. He shook his head, leaning over until his face was buried in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well…” Mipha said slowly. “You… could start by telling me what you mean.”

Oh. He supposed she needed context.

“The Hero,” he started slowly. “He… feels bad about himself. Like… like the princess. But he… and Hylia… he made… she’s crying, and I…”

Mipha jumped a little. “Hylia’s crying?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Link shook his head. “Mipha, what am I supposed to do?”

“Why is she crying?” Mipha asked.

“She—he—” Link stopped himself and took a breath to reorganize his thoughts. “The Hero. He… he got upset. Really upset. Like… remember when I… when I mentioned… I mean, you kind of dragged it out of me, but…”

Mipha, bless her, remained patient, knowing how Link could struggle to express himself. He’d barely spoken to anyone these last few months, but he’d finally started opening back up to his friend, even if it was just a little. She was the only one who knew that Zelda had yelled at Link in their first weeks together, although the other Champions had clearly sensed the tension.

“He got angry at her,” Link explained slowly. “He got angry. He’s… he said he was a failure, that he wasn’t worthy of being the Hero of Legend. Mipha, it’s… he sounded just like Zelda. But he… he got angry at Hylia about it, and now she’s crying.”

“Oh, my,” Mipha said softly, hand over her mouth. “I… didn’t realize a goddess could cry. That’s… awful.”

“It is awful,” Link agreed, the words spilling out of him now as his emotions mixed with them. “Mipha, what do I do? How do you cheer up a goddess?”

His friend was quiet for a long time, ruminating the matter. “Well… I suppose the same way you cheer anyone up. She cries just like the rest of us… perhaps she just needs kindness like the rest of us too.”

Link thought about the words, remembering all the rituals they did for the goddess. But then he remembered once, when he was very little, when he’d offered flowers to the goddess statue in Hateno, to the warmth that had filled his heart and soul when he’d done so, to the smile that always pulled at his lips whenever he saw silent princesses ever since.

Silent Princess. Zelda’s favorite flower. It always put a smile on the princess’ face too.

Link’s eyes lingered on the one garden that had tried to cultivate the flower, the only one that had succeeded so far, though herbalists hardly called it a success as only one or two flowers grew from the entire batch, and one was wilting already.

Filled with relief and hope, Link dragged Mipha into a hug. “Thank you.”

His friend was stiff under his embrace, and he felt her heart fluttering against his chest. Suddenly, the embrace felt too intimate, too personal, too close, and Link felt his own cheeks blush as he quickly pulled away. Before either party could speak, he hastily made his way to the flower bed, fingers reaching for the healthier of the two specimens.

“Link, wait, isn’t that endangered—”

The silent princess yielded easily to his fingers as he pointedly ignored how the tips of his ears burned, but as he reoriented to his original excitement, he stared at the beautiful, delicate blue-and-white petals with determination.

He turned and smiled at Mipha, nodding in gratitude, before rushing back to the guard house. By the time he reached the top, Hylia’s sobs had evened out, though she was still crumped on the ground. Zelda was on the floor beside her, arm halfway across her shoulders in a hesitant but heartfelt hug. Link took a steadying breath and walked towards the pair, kneeling in front of them. When the two looked up at him, he offered the flower quietly, eyes trying to convey everything his mouth refused to speak.

Hylia stared at him a moment before her gaze lingered on the flower. She reached out slowly, carefully taking the plant from his grasp and turning it in her own calloused fingers.

Her eyes watered, but a smile pulled at her trembling lips. The heaviness of the air seemed to dissipate, and Link smiled back at her.

“It’ll be all right,” he finally said softly.

“We’re here for you,” Zelda added on, growing bolder. “Just as you are for us, Your Grace. I… I may not… I may not have my powers, but I…”

The princess sighed shakily and continued, “I will still do my duty, and I will support you just as you’re trying to do for us.”

Hylia let out another sob, brow pulling together, but the way her face glowed, the way her cheeks puffed and lips pulled conveyed it for the emotional, relieved laugh that it was.

XXX

Abel supposed it was time to break protocol.

He ignored the anxious words warding him away from his goal as he walked down the stone path towards the city. He could practically hear the drill sergeants from his youth telling him to listen to superiors at all costs, to respect those in charge, to fulfill his duty and never question those above his station.

He could hear his heart telling him to do otherwise, his mind set in stone in his path, his beloved wife encouraging him to keep walking forward.

The Hero of Myth and Legend sat on the wall dividing the castle from Castle Town. Abel leaned against the stone beside him, staring out as the sun began to descend from its zenith.

The Hero glanced at him, startled, and moved to get up, but Abel ordered immediately, “Stay put.”

Oh, how his decades of training balked at ordering such a figure around. But mostly, it felt familiar, like when he was talking to his son. Perhaps the fact that they shared a name and a destiny helped.

The Hero slowly resumed his previous posture, bolstering Abel’s confidence on the matter. Now the captain of the guard just had to figure out what to say.

He’d honestly tried not to listen to the conversations in the guard tower. It wasn’t his business – his son, the princess, the goddess, and the mythical hero were all far above him in importance. Although he would always cherish Link, he respected the role his boy had to play, and he wasn’t going to interfere or be so immature as to eavesdrop on important discussions.

It was hard not to hear it, though, when the Immortal Hero was shouting.

Words of a curse, of a demon king, of blame and failure and guilt – they’d all spilled down into Abel’s ears as easily as rain. And it was hard to get them out of his head once heard.

Abel once again found himself wondering what the benefit was in having heroes so young. He still had plenty of strength and endurance in him at the ripe age of thirty-seven, and he didn’t have the emotional issues he’d had when hew as a teenager. Experience was as good a weapon as any.

Not to mention it assisted in cutting through drama and getting to the heart of the matter.

Of course, it still didn’t prepare Abel for such a conversation. It hadn’t prepared him for any of the conversations he’d had with his son once Hyrule had noticed a Hero had arisen. The words the Hero had hissed rang in his ears once more, thoughts of demon kings hunting down his son buzzing before he pushed them away. His son had been preparing for years had the support of all of Hyrule, and Abel would double his efforts in protecting the castle. This one, on the other hand, was a soldier in an eternal war, and Abel and even Link were simply another battlefield on which he had to fight. It seemed he was only just realizing that too, which was... odd and... heartbreaking.

He really had no frame of reference for this person, young and ancient, magical and so unbelievably normal. But he could speak to what he’d seen, and… he dearly hoped it was enough. He hoped it was enough and would be taken in the right spirit. The fact that the—the boy had listened was a promising start, after all.

“I don’t understand what it could possibly be like, being created by the goddess Hylia for the sole purpose of fighting off a demon king,” Abel started honestly, bluntly. “You look as Hylian as anyone else.”

The Ancient One glanced at him, tired and hurting and confused all at once. “I… I don’t know what that is.”

He didn’t know what a Hylian was? Abel supposed he wouldn’t. He was created to fight. Yet he was just like any other teenager. It still made no sense to the captain, but… a boy was a boy. Abel motioned towards the boy’s ears, small and curved like leaves, unique and honestly a little cute. It had always been said that Hylians’ ears were the way they were to better help them hear the goddess – perhaps his were shaped so differently so only he could hear her whispers, so only he could be privileged to her song. It… honestly made Abel’s skin crawl a little. He wished the Hero didn’t look so young – the thought of a child being molded to fight and married off to the goddess… it felt…

Abel didn’t dare say the sacrilegious word, but the ill feeling in his stomach lingered nonetheless. He tried to remind himself that this strange figure was ancient and not actually a teenager, even if he seemed to act like one.

“Your ears,” he commented. “They’re as Hylian as anyone else’s.”

The Hero instinctively reached up to touch his own ears, staring at Abel with wide, genuinely curious eyes now. The traces of guilt and sorrow were fading away in wake of his bemusement, and in that moment he really, truly looked like a kid.

Abel swallowed, trying to get to his point. “You’re… different, perhaps, but you still seem pretty Hylian to me, if you’ll pardon my ignorance on the matter. And if that is the case… then it seems such pressure that you’re putting on yourself is unrealistic.”

Hylia’s Chosen stiffened, though he didn’t comment.

“Calamity Ganon is a scourge that has plagued this land for millennia,” Abel said carefully. “And each time it has come, it has taken all of Hyrule to fight it. Though the Spirit of the Hero and the power of the Goddess are required to vanquish it, they have never fought alone. It seems… unreasonable to expect any different of yourself.”

The Hero bit his lip, his hands falling to his lap as he looked down. “But I was supposed to.”

“Did you defeat him?” Abel asked.

The Hero glanced at him, and though he held guilt in his gaze, he nodded.

“So you defeated him alone, which no one has ever accomplished before or since then,” Abel pointed out. “Yet you blame yourself for his return? If you fought him before and won, this should be easy, should it not?”

“But I—”

“But what?” Abel pressed on. “You can’t change that he’s here. Only that you’re here to stop him. Are you going to fight him or not?”

The Hero stared at him for a long while, eyes growing weary. Abel recognized the look, the exhaustion of war, the scars hidden within. He faced the boy fully.

“You won’t be alone this time,” he told him firmly. “Link will fight alongside you, as well as all the Champions, the guardians, and Hyrule’s army.”

“Sounds rather like I’m not needed,” the Hero said softly, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“I am not one to waste resources,” Abel replied perhaps a bit too curtly, but he was tired of the adolescent’s moping. This was what the ancient child had been created for, after all, was it not? “You defeated Calamity Ganon long before any army ever could be raised against him. If you fight alongside our forces, if you support Link, then it makes the likelihood of actually killing it all the higher.”

Hylia’s Chosen perked up at the idea given to him, though he still looked a bit uncertain.

“Will you fight alongside Link?” Abel prompted. “Will you help him? Or are you going to drown in your sorrows instead while the rest of Hyrule tries to fight?”

“I’m the only one who can,” the Hero muttered, eyes darkening once more, shoulders set in resignation. “That’s what he said. That’s… what they always say. It’s my destiny.”

Abel waited, unsure what to say to such a remark. The ancient one’s words held a pain and exhaustion to them, but also a bite, and the captain of the guard was suddenly reminded that he was a nobody speaking to a legend.

The Hero of Myth and Legend stared out at Hyrule, sitting up straighter. “I won’t let him destroy this place. I won’t let him hurt Link, or Zelda. Or the princess. I promise.”

“I thank you for your protection,” Abel said genuinely with a bow of his head, catching the Hero’s attention.

“But I…” the Hero continued hesitantly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. She’s… I know I upset her.”

Abel hadn’t heard Hylia’s reply to any of the words the Hero had said, but he supposed accusing her of being wrong would be upsetting. She seemed too kind to get angry, though, and the hurt on the magical boy’s face implied it as well.

Well. This was certainly a topic he could relate to. He was rather short tempered compared to others, after all. “We’re not perfect, Hero. We will say things that hurt those we love. What matters is that we apologize for them.”

Hylia’s Chosen watched him with a look so eerily similar to Link’s own when his son had been younger—so eager for wisdom from his father, so desperate for guidance—that it almost made Abel falter. Then the boy sighed and nodded in agreement.

Abel smiled as best he could. “Now, I believe Her Grace is waiting for you, great Hero. And if I may be so bold as to say… as a married man, I advise you be quick – our wives don’t like to wait for long.”

The smile that broke out on the Hero’s face was unexpectedly soft and sweet, his eyes glittering as if he was coming back to life, and the Immortal One leapt off the wall, much to Abel’s shock. The captain reached out hastily before seeing the Hero deploy some sort of paraglider, and he sighed heavily, realizing that now he had yet another hero who was going to give him heart attacks on a regular basis.

Oh, how he wished he could hold his son in that moment. But duty called, and he had strayed from it for long enough.

XXX

Admittedly, despite how his heart warmed at the thought of being with Zelda again, Link felt guilt crushing him the closer he got back to the structure he’d run from.

He knew what he’d said was hurtful. He’d chosen his words very particularly so that they would sting. He hadn’t wanted Zelda’s reassurances because he’d known they’d be empty, and suddenly hurt and resentment that had been long forgotten and shoved into the dark recesses of his mind had snarled into the light.

Link was ashamed to even get near his beloved. But he’d be damned if he didn’t own up to it.

And he missed her. He missed her smile, he missed her warmth, he missed her embrace. He was drowning and he wanted nothing more than to hold on to her. He supposed after what he’d said earlier it was a selfish thought at this point, but… if there was one constant in his life, no matter the storm, it had always been her.

He wasn’t going to be the one to lose her again. He wasn’t going to be the one to push her away.

The walk felt like it took an eternity, even though it was only a few minutes. Link hesitantly stared at the ladder leading up to the top, and then he climbed it, steeling himself.

When he got to the top, he found only a couple guards.

Link didn’t bother to speak with them, sliding down once more, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he was met with one of the stranger looking people from the festival. Their skin was red and shimmering, eyes nearly the same shade of amber as the crystal that had held Zelda in a trance for millennia. Their fingers were delicate but held sharp claws, and a blue sash was the only clothing they wore, though their body was adorned in glimmering jewelry.

“Hello, Hero,” the person said in a soft, feminine tone.

Wait, he’d seen her before. She had been sparring with the new Hero that morning.

“Do you—do you know where Zelda is?” he asked quickly, nearly laughing at the irony of such a question given his history with it.

“The princess is with Her Grace and Sir Link,” the woman answered. “They decided to head out into Hyrule Field, I believe. They were going to pick up lunch on the way.”

Hyrule Field? “Where’s that?”

The woman pointed back to the direction where he’d just come from. “It’s just beyond Castle Town. If I were them, I would go to the Sacred Grounds. It’s a pleasant place for a picnic. It’s close to the center of Hyrule Field, you can’t miss it. Would you… like me to take you there?”

Out of a nearly gone habit, Link nearly said no, as if he would find it on his map and could dowse for Zelda beyond that. Goddess. He shook his head, and then hastily said, “Yes, please.”

The strange looking woman—girl? Woman??—smiled and asked him to walk with her. Link tried to ignore the people staring at them as they progressed, feeling the number of eyes on them grow as they entered the big town he and Zelda had explored a few nights ago.

The joy of that exploration felt so far away now. He felt so empty, so unbelievably alone. But the guard had promised he wasn’t, and he…

He just wanted to go home. But it was just like his original journey, wasn’t it? He hadn’t wanted the weight of the world on his shoulders then. He’d just wanted to find Zelda. Headmaster Gaepora had said that the destiny of the world was his to bear, and his alone. No one could know.

Just as now, it was his destiny to fight Demise once more. But… the guard had said it himself.

Link wasn’t alone. Even if he deserved to be, after somehow managing to mess this up.

He would be alone if he continued to push everyone away, though, and he knew it. He remembered just after the world had nearly ended, remembered how isolated he was, and how Zelda had been the only one who could reach him in those dark moments.

Link hardly noticed that they’d reached the fields, hardly noticed that the woman he was with kept glancing at him to make sure he was okay. She seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk and was somehow blessedly fine with it, making the occasional remark about the weather or anything else to ensure it didn’t get too awkwardly quiet.

The awkwardness did linger, though, when Link realized he didn’t know her name. When she stopped and pointed straight ahead, he said, “Thank you… I… didn’t get your name.”

The woman’s eyes widened, suddenly embarrassed. “O-oh! I’m—I’m so very sorry, I—my name is Mipha, Princess of the Zora. I beg your pardon for my lack of manners!”

Another princess? Link stared at her, curious, but then smiled. “Thank you, Mipha.”

The woman’s shame faded, and she nodded, heading back towards Castle Town. Link took a fortifying breath and walked towards the Sacred Grounds. The trees hid some of the area and his approach, allowing him to see the new Hero sitting on the ground alongside Zellie and his wife. His successor was eating away cheerily, garnering a chuckle from Zellie, and Zelda… picked at her food quietly. She smiled when acknowledged, but didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

Link wanted to kick himself. He also kind of wished the other two weren’t there.

Miraculously, Zelda alone seemed to notice his approach. She paused from holding her food, watching him with a little trepidation. Her eyebrows wrinkled together, and the hurt and worry on her face made Link want to melt into the earth. Zellie seemed to notice something was up, but before she could speak, Zelda rose and walked slowly in his direction.

She paused just out of his reach, and the pair watched each other quietly. A wind stirred between them, trying to push Link away, and he nearly gave in to it, shaking like a leaf.

“Link…?” Zelda called quietly, almost timidly.

Link wasn’t sure if it was the stress of everything catching up to him again, or if it was the way his own wife was scared to approach him as if he were shatter or explode on her… all he knew was that he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately said, shaking his head, taking a frightened step away. “I’m sorry, Zelda, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

Zelda’s eyes widened, and she immediately covered the ground between them, nearly tackling him in a hug, carrying him with strong but trembling arms, easing him down to the earth as the world spun around him. He couldn’t get anything else out aside from apologies that stumbled over each other, words only stopping when he hiccupped or gasped for air, his tears endlessly staining her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, tightening her hug.

“No it’s not!” Link sobbed. “None of it is, I’m so sorry, I’m—”

Again and again the apologies came forth until he’d exhausted himself, until he found himself clinging to her with as much desperation as he had when she’d awoken from her trance months ago.

He heard Zelda take a shaky breath, her exhale tickling his ear. “I am too.”

The words were raw, the sentiment so genuine it ached. Link didn’t have the emotional energy to reply, couldn’t defend her after trying so many times to reassure her and then eating his own words due to his outburst. He had nothing left to offer except himself, broken and worthless and idiotic as he was, and he just held her all the more.

The sun shone brightly on the pair as the other two slowly rose and watched in silence.

[lady-iizsil]

Hi!!!! Some fanfiction news for the Lucien Lachance Experience.

I'm still not finished with chapter 3 yet, it's 13 pages long and I still have a lot of deliberation to do for it. EXHAUSTING! I did not expect it to get as long as it did and now I'm wondering where to place its end.

But I have hence moved on to working on some scene ideas I had for chapter 4, getting these cogs turning again, and I wanted to giggle over one of my scene ideas:

Lucien, a bat, stumbling into the sun for the first time in a week and he promptly trips over a root in his blind stupor and eats shit. In his only colored shirt no less! Poor guy