#happy ending au

[warriorofthought]

Flower Bouquet

Summary: You buy him flowers.

Word count: 1811 Words

Warnings: No one.

Bucky Barnes X Reader

You walk into the flower shop, your footsteps quiet on the polished floor. The moment you open the door, a wave of floral scents greets you, sweet, fresh and calming. You pause for a second, just to take it all in. Flowers have always held a special place in your heart. They’re simple but full of life, just like the way you feel when you’re with him. Bucky.

You glance down at your phone. It’s been a few months now. Time has flown by, but in the best way. You and Bucky have found a rhythm, a connection that grows deeper each day. He’s no longer the stoic man he once was. Not entirely. And you… you’re no longer the person you were before he came into your life.

A smile tugs at your lips as you begin to peruse the shelves. The roses are beautiful, but not today. Not for him. You want something different, something that suits who he is, not just the conventional symbol of love. Your fingers brush against a bunch of white lilies, their petals delicate and pure, and you stop.

Perfect.

You pick them up carefully, admiring their simplicity. Their fragrance fills your nose, soft but with just enough sweetness to make your heart flutter. You take your time, adding a few sprigs of lavender and a couple of purple irises to the mix. It’s subtle, elegant.. like him. You know he’s not someone who needs grand gestures, but you also know how much he appreciates when people show they care, when they take the time to think of him.

The florist wraps the bouquet in soft tissue paper, tying it with a simple satin ribbon. You thank her, your hands cradling the flowers like they’re something precious, because to you, they are. You’re giving them to him.

When you reach his apartment, the nerves start to settle in. They’re not nerves from doubt, but more from the excitement of wanting to make him feel special. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten him something, but it’s the first time you’ve given him flowers. It feels like a big deal, like you’re taking another step together. You’re not even sure why you decided to do this, maybe just maybe because you saw them at the flower shop and thought of him, or maybe because you just want to see him smile.

You knock on his door and wait, your heart thumping in your chest. A few seconds later, the door opens and there he is. Bucky. Standing in his usual attire, a simple T-shirt, jeans and his leather jacket that fits him perfectly. The way he looks at you, his blue eyes lighting up when he sees you, makes everything inside you settle.

“Hey” he says, his voice warm, low and familiar. His gaze flickers to the bouquet in your hands. “What’s this?” he asks with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

You grin, a little shy now, but trying to keep your cool. “For you,” you say, holding them out to him. “Just because.”

Bucky blinks, his gaze dropping to the flowers. His metal hand twitches slightly at his side, like he’s not sure if he should take them or not.

“…You got me flowers?” His voice is cautious, like he’s expecting a punchline.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s usually how this works.”

His brows furrow slightly in surprise, his lips parting as if he’s not sure what to make of this. His hand hesitates before he takes the bouquet from you, fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electric second.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low but filled with genuine gratitude. “What’s the occasion?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, though your heart is racing a little. “No occasion. I just thought you’d like them.”

Bucky stares down at the flowers, his expression softening as he takes in their delicate beauty. “They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “But, uh… I’m not used to getting flowers.”

He looks at it like it’s some kind of unfamiliar artifact, turning it slightly in his hands, inspecting the mix of blue delphiniums, white lilies and a few sprigs of lavender.

“No roses” he murmurs.

“You don’t seem like a roses kind of guy.”

His lips twitch, the closest thing to a smile. “And I seem like a…?”

You shrug. “Delphinium and lavender kind of guy.”

Bucky lets out a small, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s a first.”

You chuckle, stepping closer to him. “Well, consider it as our first,” you tease. “I figured you could use something to brighten your day.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, do I get a ‘thank you’ or are you just gonna stand there looking at them like they’re a bomb?”

He huffs a laugh but looks back down at the bouquet, his fingers tracing one of the petals absentmindedly. His expression softens, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

“I… yeah.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight. “Thank you. I just… no one’s ever given me flowers before.”

You tilt your head. “Never?”

He shakes his head. “Not really something guys like me get.”

You frown slightly. “Well, that’s dumb. Flowers aren’t just for girls. They’re for people you care about.”

Something in his expression changes, something subtle but deep, like he’s trying to process the weight of your words. He looks back down at the bouquet again, then exhales softly, almost like he’s letting himself accept it.

He smiles again, this time with a hint of something vulnerable. He looks up at you, his gaze searching, before he clears his throat. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t really know how to handle this.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s simple, Bucky. You just accept it. No need for a big speech or anything.”

He lifts the bouquet to his nose, inhaling deeply. For a moment, his eyes flutter closed and a quiet sigh escapes him. You watch him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It’s a simple thing, this gift, but you can already tell it means something to him. Maybe it’s not the flowers themselves, but the thought behind them. The fact that you were thinking of him, that you wanted to give him something. You know that his past has made him wary of affection, of kindness, but moments like this show that he's willing to let down his guard just a little more each time.

After a moment, he looks back up at you, his expression softer, more open than before. “Thank you. This... really means a lot to me,” he says, voice thick with something you can’t quite name.

You smile, relieved to see that he’s not rejecting the gesture, but genuinely appreciating it. “I’m glad you like them. I thought they suited you.”

He chuckles, a small, almost awkward sound and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m just not used to this. People... doing nice things for me, just because.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Well, you deserve it. You deserve to be treated well. And these” you gesture to the bouquet “are just a small way of showing you that.”

Bucky’s eyes soften and you notice the way he’s looking at you, like he’s seeing you in a new light. “You’re something else,” he murmurs, his voice full of awe, like he’s trying to process it all. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Your heart skips a beat and for a second, you don’t know what to say. You just stand there, looking at each other, a thousand unspoken words hanging between you. The vulnerability in his voice, the warmth in his eyes… it makes your chest ache in the best way.

“Well” you say, your voice teasing to break the tension. “Now that I’ve made you blush, I’ll take my leave.” You make a move toward the door, but before you can step past him, Bucky grabs your wrist gently.

“Wait” he says, his voice a little rougher than usual. “I want to thank you properly.” He pulls you back toward him, not forcefully, just enough to close the distance between you. His eyes search yours and before you can even react, he steps closer, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek in a soft, lingering kiss.

You freeze for a second, your breath catching. He pulls away slowly and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You glance at the flowers in his hands again, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you.

“You didn’t have to do that” you murmur, though you know it’s a lie.

“I wanted to” he says quietly, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “You don’t know how much this means to me. You’re making me believe in things I didn’t think I could anymore.”

You look up at him, your heart full. “I’m glad,” you whisper.

“Come inside” he says after a moment, stepping back to let you in.

You follow him in, watching as he moves toward the kitchen, still holding the bouquet with a sort of hesitant reverence. He sets them down on the counter, staring at them for a second before glancing at you.

“So… what do I do with them?”

You snort. “You put them in water, grandpa.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I know that.” He pulls a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water before placing the flowers inside. It’s not the best makeshift vase, but it works. He stares at them for a long moment, then, almost absently, lifts one of the lavender sprigs and twirls it between his fingers.

“They smell nice,” he mutters.

You smile. “Yeah. Figured you’d like that.”

Bucky’s quiet for a second before he leans against the counter, looking at you with something unreadable in his expression. “You really just… got these for me? No reason?”

You shrug. “Do I need a reason?”

He shakes his head slowly, his thumb brushing over the lavender again. “No. I guess not.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that makes your chest tighten. You don’t push, don’t press him to say anything more. Instead, you just step closer, resting your hip against the counter beside him.

Bucky exhales, running a hand through his hair before giving you a sideways glance. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You smirk. “I get that a lot.”

He huffs another soft laugh, then looks back at the flowers, something warm settling into his expression. “I like ‘em,” he admits, voice softer now.

Your chest warms. “Good.”

And as he stands there, quietly admiring the simple gift, you realize that this, this quiet, unspoken moment, is exactly why you brought them in the first place.

[kingwoodok]

Todavía no le entiendo bien al dlc pero ya quiero incluir a Cassie en el Au jajsj hasta ahora se que Michael y el papá de Cass son compañeros de trabajo y desde entonces son los raritos de la escuela juntos, ya veremos que sigue después :D

[oonaluna-art]

Senator Amidala and Former Jedi General Skywalker

Sometimes it's nice to make a happy-ending AU, as a treat.

—

[My Ko-Fi] [Patreon]

[lilbitofsomthin]

Dead Pixel Anya and Tiny Crispy Curly

⚠️CURLYA RANT INCOMING⚠️

TLDR: I only ship Curlya after the crash (I have an AU for exploring more of their relationship post crash where they don’t die) :D

Okay so imma take this opportunity to rant about Curly and Anya’s relationship and the ✨only✨ time I will ever even entertain the thought of Curlya as a ship (cause like most of it is what I see pre crash and I’m like ✨no thank you✨)

First off forget and I mean FORGET anything pre crash. My mans is not ready for all that is Anya. He’s the definition of unworthy. Has not had his ✨arc✨. Has not truly drank his fair share of respect women juice 😔

When it was Curlys turn to care for Anya he failed spectacularly, like a main plot point of the game is how bad he fucked up by standing aside and letting J*mmy hurt her. So BAM he becomes cosmically and ironically put into a mirror position to Anya’s in their relationship.

Because now, in an instant, his very life is now in HER hands. She is literally the only one who can save him. Idk all of the medical knowledge to understand just how royally fucked up Curly was, it’s safe to say that keeping him alive at any rate would’ve been difficult to do. So that fact that she did it, with only the bare essentials of medical supplies, by herself, is nothing short of incredible.

She worked herself to the bone for months to keep him alive. After knowing that he failed her. After knowing her didn’t protect her. Knowing, for a FACT, that he wouldn’t do the same, and she still saved him anyway.

I mean, I’m sure at some point Curly must have realized that too.

And like THATS the part where I’m like “if I was Curly I would’ve fallen in love with her a little bit”. Not in the “oh you saved me I’m indebted to you” or “severely trauma bonded” way, I’m speaking in the characters being able to kinda analyze even in crazy stressful situations (like all the monologues and stuff being very well written and deeply metaphorical gives me the idea that their all capable of self reflection (except of course for J*mmy but that’s not the point).

So like I imagine that Curly can reflect on the fact that, after he failed her, over and over and over again. To the point where everything literally blew up in his face. And when the tables were turned and it was his life in Anya’s hands? She held no resentment, no malice. She saved him over and over and over again. And he had to have realized how incredible of a person she was at that point.

But only now that he finally realizes it, he can no longer say do or say anything about it. And listen that’s not even getting into J*mmy revealing his more obvious abusive tendencies to Curly. Because now not only does he have perspective on how strong of a person Anya is but how horrific the abuse was from J*mmy while being on the receiving end of it. That’s like a double serving of empathy and understanding. I’d like to imagine that, if we got to play as Curly, he’d go through that realization. 🤷

Okay now that THATS out of the way let’s get to FANON SHIT!!!! Time for the happy ending aus baby! Listen I love the game but I wanna see the characters I love get to resolve their traumas cause they deserve it!! I KNOW WHY CANON IS THE WAY IT IS I JUST WANNA PLAY PRETEND ON THE INTERNET!!

Just a quick psa, okay back to it.

I like to imagine that in those rescue aus they happen riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight after Daisuke gets out of the vent and finds Anya (btw I’m gonna say at this point her body was under too much stress and she lost the pregnancy). Apparently overdoses can be reversed so let’s say our rescue team is able to work hard and save Anya and patch up Daisuke.

The rescue team is also clocking J*mmy immediately cause this is all REALLY fucking sketchy

“why’d you send the intern into a vent shaft that you knew was dangerous”

“oh Captain said if I did I’d make my boss proud 😄”

🧍🧍🧍🧍 “dude your like 40 why’d you send the intern half your age that’s fucked up”

like that alone is enough for them to be suspicious but once Anya’s up all bets are off. I mean the shit show J*mmy “captained” the Tulpar to mostly speaks for itself but once Anya can tell someone what happened to her they can put enough together to put him in whatever space brig they have. That’s because we got a rescue team of space feminists who believe victims baby!!!

“And who funded this whole rescue hmmmmm??” I hear you say? No one. Nope. 🙂‍↔️ Capitalism doesn’t get to take the fun out of my character study so imma say their “Volunteer Rescue for International Cosmic Waters” or something idk 🤷. That’s not the point. The point is that this is a big shit show that got revealed by people that Pony Express couldn’t pay hush money to. And when I mean revealed I mean, this became a huge news story cause it had such a great hook. I mean that was the whole advertisement for the game!

“Crew lost in space forced to eat mouthwash while their former captain has been mutilated in the crash”

I mean I saw that on like 5 different thumbnails. Anyway people love a good story and the one Mouthwashing tells with a RELIABLE narrator at this point is tragic BUT salvageable.

Like Curly is gonna have like serious medical intervention and Daisuke will probably need stitches for the gash in his arm and Anya will need to be hospitalized from the stress of keeping Curly alive alone. Swansea might need like, idk a Tylenol or something idk? But like they CAN recover, the wrongs that Pony Express allowed can’t be made right but can at least be helped out with.

I imagine that this news story is like planet wide news. If I know humans, we love to help when we have a target and this story was popular as hell. So id like to imagine that they could the crew with whatever financial troubles they would be having. Curly could afford operations, Anya could afford medical school (which she doesn’t need because you better believed she got full ride scholarships for SAVING A MAN MUTILATED FROM THE CRASH FOR MONTHS WITH A GLORIFIED FIRST AID KIT), Daisuke could go to college (I know some people headcanon engineering or art so take your pick) Swansea could even retire if he wanted idk.

And we get the rare satisfaction of getting to see someone like J*mmy to be revealed for exactly what he is on a global scale. He’s tried, prosecuted and the world is on the crews side and they become micro celebrities (kinda like those news stories where everyone talks about it and pushed a bunch of support for like 2 weeks then moved to the next thing) cause fuck you capitalism human nature is enriched in empathy 😤

So here’s where I like to imagine where fix it fics start. The stage is set, therapy bills are paid and while everyone gets a nightmare or panic attack every now and again, things have officially been given the “happy ending au” stamp. So call “my version” of the story an angst with a happy ending rather than the original tragedy and cautionary tale 🤷

So like NOW we can START on the POSSIBILITY of curlya.

That’s right the idea of these characters getting together is a tick that has crawled in my brain and I am cursed.

Because now Curly has his chance to drink respect women juice. And you better believe my man’s gonna chug that shit. And honestly I can see Anya respecting Curly for trying to grow. Like everything is 1000% platonic (I mean maybe a little one sided crush on Curlys side and maaaybe something develops later on) and the main 4 crew are all kinda hanging out for a few reasons (interviews and meet and greets or whatever people who survive major news stories do) and also like they DID go through a shit storm together so their a little trauma bonded but in a found family way.

Anyways THIS is where I imagine all Curlya stuff to take place. This fun low stakes “we made it through the storm and now we can rest on the shore” kind of happy ending zone.

And like maybe they can get up to shenanigans and work through their trauma and love and support each other. That’s like where my fan content takes place 🧍

⚠️SO IF I EVER POST ANYTHING AND TAG IT AS “CURLYA” THIS IS THE CONTEXT IM PUTTING IT IN!!!!! I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED IN CANON OR IN THE CONTEXT OF THE GAME!!!! I SHIP CURLYA AS A PURELY FANON CONCEPT⚠️

Like idk if this is media literacy or brain rot at this point but that’s my rant thanks for reading :D

[violencelittlething]

You voted for Sloane/Dain fic? Here you go :)

It was supposed to be soft and fluffy and well...it happens at the end that way!

TLDR: Sloane is afraid of siphoning her son :)

AO3 LINK

I turned this into a little series on AO3, called "alls well that ends well to end up with you" and plan to keep adding all of my fics in this au to that collection. That being said, please feel free to send requests and stuff :) Imrrick is next on the list :)

Maybe I should make a tumblr masterpost of my fics too idk stay tuned!

@shadowofthoughts and @bookishbroadwaybish you both once again get a shout out for putting up with me just..rambling about this au and THIS concept. It has been like eating my brain like a little worm.

If y'all don't like baby fic this is not for you :)

Kisses kisses love you all ❤️

[cravingpepsimax]

thinking abt happy ending!stan and ford coming out to the rest of their family.

i imagine it’d happen in their 30s. they want it to be clear that this isn’t just them suddenly deciding to date, no, this is them after they got together as kids, after running away together at 16, after living with each other for at least 14 years — like, functionally, pretty much Nothing has changed, and they’ve been together for so long everyone’s kinda forced to accept it LMAO

obviously the initial reaction from filbrick, caryn, and shermie is “WHAT THE HELL”. caryn and shermie eventually get over it, i think — they’re still family, and if they weren’t related… well, they’d be so sweet, wouldn’t they? i imagine stan and ford came out as being bi and gay respectively before, so that’s not as much of an issue.

filbrick. is. PISSED. he is NOT getting over this EVER. this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. he is scarred. there’s nothing he can do, either — stan and ford are grown adults that live together and are also swole from sailing. filbrick is getting on in years. what’s he gonna do? beat them? he’s got arthritis and they’ll make him hurt a whole lot more

[aboutferret]

Happy Ending AU

But... Just because it's a happy ending doesn't mean it's an easy ending.

(Sorry for the poor quality)

Poorly made comic

[mangohgeckoh]

Excerpt from Silco x OC!Reader fanfic

Vander and Silco were not surprised to see their close friend singing on the counter of the bar, no, it was when a cloak was chucked at them from across the bar. “OuR LoVE~” Felicia’s drunk voice rang throughout the bar. The cape slowly fell off the brother’s faces to reveal an interesting sight: the newest addition to their ally list was also hammered, laying on the bar next to the dancing woman. “‘Atta girl!” Vander boomed. Even though he was caked in coal and soot he had no issue sprinting across the bar to indulge in some late night-debauchery. Silco stood feeling a headache coming on as he watched helplessly as his friends got drunk on the bar’s already limited stock. “IS a BuRniNG foUntaiNN~” Felcia’s heavily hammered singing continued, Vander only supported as a backup singer. Ophelia laughed at Vander’s singing voice and turned her head as her neck started to get stiff on the wooden counter. Her eyes met Silco’s, but her drunk demeanor made her smile at him, thinking his scowl was the most funniest thing in Runeterra.

[pizzapetes-thatiscool]

Happy late new year!!

[sergeantgoggles]

He's up early to help Wrecker with some stuff around the island, starts a pot of caffe, pours himself a cup and sets out mugs for Mayday and Howzer. It's a quiet sunrise, and Crosshair enjoys the soft pinks and oranges peeking up from the water.

He relaxes even further into a hard, warm, naked chest that presses into his back, and smiles when he smells the distinct scent of spicy cologne remnants and last night's sex wafting from them. Lips kiss down his neck and Crosshair purrs.

"Howzer..."

"Mornin', babe."

Crosshair hums and fits himself to Howzer's chest. "Mayday?"

"Still asleep, but I missed you."

It's so silly. Howzer has no reason to miss him, but he drinks in the affection, and he might not be opposed to the butterflies in his stomach.

[deny-the-issue]

OK HEAR ME OUT

There are clearly spinoffs planned with how Cait said it isn’t the end

Vi is dead in the happy ending AU

Jinx is now dead in the original universe

I see a universe smashup happening in the future!!!

[warriorofthought]

The Pendant

Summary: A Pendant holds memories, but can it bring back your happiness?

Word count: 6461

Warnings: Sentimental but practically no one

Adar x Female Elf Reader

Inside the dimly lit tent, Elrond sat tense yet composed, his gaze fixed on the unsettlingly calm Adar. The distant crackle of fires and orcish murmurs filled the night outside, but his thoughts were solely on Galadriel, held captive nearby, as you and two elven guards stood watch behind him.

“You must release her,” Elrond demanded, his voice low but edged with urgency. “This fight is between us. She has no part in it.”

Adar’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his scarred face barely illuminated by the firelight. “No part? She is woven into the very fabric of this world's decay, just like you, Herald. Her light dims as the shadow rises.”

Elrond stepped forward, eyes hardening with resolve. “You may have twisted your own kind, poisoned them with your hatred, but you will not break her spirit.”

Adar stood slowly, leaning closer, his voice a dark whisper. “Spirit does not survive the darkness, Elf. It withers, like everything else.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, but Elrond remained a pillar of strength. “Not her. You underestimate what endures in the light.”

Adar’s eyes narrowed, his smile fading as silence filled the space between them. “Give me the Ring and we can finish Sauron.”

“It would be a foolish act to bring it here,” Elrond replied, his voice serious.

“You are a couturier. More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword,” Adar mocked.

“You’ve never seen me wield either,” Elrond countered.

Your eyes watch both discuss and then Your eyes flicker to your dear friend Galadriel.

Your form is mostly hidden under the cloak.

When she spoke, Adar immediately ordered, “If she speaks again, cut her tongue.”

You and the guards stiffened, hands instinctively moving to your sword handles, a strand of your hair slips from the cloak.

He lets his eyes move back to Elrond.

Elrond watched you intently, silently communicating a warning to keep your composure. His gaze flitted back to Adar, his expression stern and tense, his hands clenching into fists.

Adar leaned on a pole, eyes flickering to you, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “She’s quiet,” he drawled. “A rare quality in these lands.”

Elrond tensed further, anger flickering across his face. “Leave her out of this, Adar.”

Adar's eyes flicker back to Galadriel.

Under the intense gaze of Adar, Galadriel's eyes met his, a storm of defiance and anger burning within them. Adar let out a small chuckle, seemingly satisfied with the reaction.

As Adar walks, a pendant slips out from beneath his clothes, catching your eye.

The pendant, an unusual piece of jewelry, had your curiosity piqued. Adar had turned his attention back to Elrond, seemingly unaware of the item that had slipped out.

“That pendant…. who gave it to you?” The question lands with a weight that leaves little room for an answer.

The Pendant displays a trio of purple, blue, and green stones, seamlessly arranged and etched with intricate elven runes, exuding an air of mystical elegance.

The moment your voice cut through the tense air, Adar's eyes flickered towards you, his face hardening as he became aware of your attention on the pendant. He quickly shoved it back into his clothes, but the damage was done.

"It is none of your concern," he responded gruffly, his fingers still lingering on his chest, where the pendant was hidden.

"It's a rare elven Pendant and clearly doesn't belong to an Orc. From whom did you took that." You snarl.

It looks like the one you have made centuries ago. Could it be your's?

A brief flash of surprise crossed Adar's face as your words hit their mark. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tensing as he contemplated how to respond.

"It was a... gift," he finally replied, his voice low and guarded. "From an old friend.”

You scoff, about to step forward, but Elrond’s hand catches your arm, grounding you. “Remember, we’re here for Galadriel,” he murmurs, steadying your resolve. With a quiet sigh, you hold back, though the curiosity in your gaze remains sharp.

Adar watched the interplay between you and Elrond, his expression guarded.

"Enough," Elrond said, his voice firm. "We're here to discuss the terms of Galadriel's release. Nothing else.”

Adar's eyes flicked between you and Elrond, his gaze lingering on you both. He took a few steps closer, studying the two of you.

"And what makes you think I'd let my prisoner go so easily?" he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Adar continued "You don't have the ring I want. I see no reason to give Galadriel back to you.”

Elrond took a moment to process Adar’s words, his expression hardening with resolve.

"We cannot give you the Ring," he said firmly. "It is not an object to be used for trades and exchanges.”

Adar let out a bitter laugh at that comment.

"Ah, the honorable Elf. Always righteous, even in defeat," he taunted. "But you forget, this War isn't about honor. It's about survival.”

“If you have no intention of setting her free, then grant them a moment for a proper farewell,” you state.

Adar paused his gaze flickering between you and Elrond, weighing your words. After a long moment, he waved a hand dismissively.

"Very well," he said grudgingly. "Let them say their goodbyes.”

———————————————————

You and Elrond exited the shadowy tent, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere within.

His face was drawn with concern, eyes cast downward as you walked silently beside him.

With the guards, you made your way away from the Orc camp.

Soon after, you settled into a tent at the elven camp, where Elrond soon walked in.

You sat quietly in the simple elven tent, the silence broken only by the rustle of fabric and the quiet breathing of the guards stationed outside.

As Elrond entered the tent, his usually composed face now lined with tension and worry. He sat down across from you, his eyes meeting yours, a wealth of unspoken thoughts reflected in them.

Elrond glanced at you, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes as he realized you had momentarily lost sight of Galadriel’s plight, distracted by the pendant Adar wore.

His gaze searched yours, revealing his concern. He knew you well enough to notice how your attention had shifted, captivated by the pendant instead of focusing on Galadriel's fate.

"You focused more on the pendant than Galadriel," he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of frustration.

“Galadriel is safe. You gave her the key along with your farewell kiss, so she’ll be here shortly.”

Elrond let out a surprised huff at your comment, his frustration replaced by a touch of amusement. "You're more confident in my tactics than I am," he replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

You slightly chuckle. "You are smart, Elrond. You should have more thrust in yourself.”

Elrond's smirk softened at your words, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "Coming from you, that's quite the compliment," he said, the teasing tone back in his voice. "You've always believed in my abilities more than I have myself.”

The atmosphere between you and Elrond shifted slightly, the tension from earlier melting away in the quiet tent. Elrond leaned back, his gaze softening further as he looked at you.

"Speaking of sharp minds," he said with a touch of wry humor. "You're awfully interested in that pendant.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you reply.

Elrond raised an eyebrow at your denial, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't play coy," he replied, his tone a tad playful. "I saw the look on your face when you first saw that pendant.”

"It's like it held some secret, some hidden meaning," he continued, watching your expression closely. "Why were you so intrigued by an orcish pendant, anyway?”

"That’s an Elven Pendant," you nearly spat.

Elrond's eyes widened slightly at your sudden vehemence. He leaned forward, the previous lightheartedness gone from his expression.

"How can you tell?" he asked, an edge in his voice. "And why does it anger you so much?”

"You can't dismiss it as a filthy orc pendant when it's clearly elven," you retort.

Elrond's surprise at your reaction to the pendant slowly morphed into understanding. 

"But why does it bother you so much?" he asked, more gently this time. "It's just a piece of metal and jewels. Why does it matter so much to you?”

“It’s more than just a chunk of metal or jewelry. I created it,” you say, a hint of pain in your voice at being reduced to something so simple.

Elrond's eyes went wide with shock, his composure slipping for a brief second, before it returned.

"You made it?" he echoed, disbelief and realization dawning on his face. "You made that pendant?”

"Tell me, are you slow on the uptake or what? I said I did make it, what's so difficult to understand about that?”

Elrond shot you a glare at the blunt jab to his intelligence, but he took a deep breath, collecting himself before replying.

"No, I'm not slow," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I just can't believe that you, of all people..." he trailed off, his mind still sorting through the implications of your revelation.

"What? Make jewelry. That was centuries ago.”

"I know it was centuries ago," Elrond said, his voice growing more heated. "But you never told me you made jewelry before, and now you're suddenly upset that someone is wearing something you made?"

He stood up, beginning to pace the small space of the tent, his frustration growing with every step.

“Because I gave it to my husband,” you say, frustration creeping into your voice, unaware that you've just revealed something you had intended to keep hidden. The weight of your words lingers in the air, shifting the atmosphere between you.

Elrond's pacing came to an abrupt halt, your words freezing him on the spot. 

"Your husband?" he repeated, his voice a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "You were married?"

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense and searching.

“I... What?” you breathe out, struggling to process your own words. A mix of surprise and confusion washes over you, leaving you momentarily speechless.

Elrond stared at you, his mind swirling with questions and realizations. 

"You were married," he repeated, a note of incredulity in his voice. "You, the fierce warrior who has been by my side through countless battles and dangers, you never thought to mention having a husband in all that time?”

Your stunned silence confirmed his suspicion. Elrond let out a long breath, his expression shifting from disbelief to something more resembling hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice quiet but filled with a mix of disappointment and confusion.

Your mind is racing but you don't get a word out.

Elrond sees the turmoil in your eyes, the struggle to find an explanation written all over your face. His expression softens slightly, but there's still a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

"How many years have we known each other? Fought together, bled together, shared meals and tales and laughter?" he asks quietly, still waiting for an answer.

"Almost 1800 years." You answer with a sigh.

Elrond falls silent for a moment, processing the magnitude of that number. 1800 years. More than a millennium of friendship, trust, and adventures together.

"1800 years," he echoes quietly. "And you never thought to mention a husband. Why?”

You look over at the fire.

Elrond's gaze follows yours to the flickering fire in the center of the tent. For a moment, there's a tense silence, filled only by the crackle of the flames.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions before inquiring further. “Who was he?”

You exhale softly, lost in thought.

“He was a strong elf, mischievous, but with a kind and gentle heart.”

“He had black hair that always caught the light, shimmering like polished obsidian in the sun.”

Elrond listens intently to your description, his face betraying a mixture of emotions as he pictured the mystery man.

"He sounds like an impressive individual," he says quietly, his eyes still fixed on the fire. "And yet I've never met him, nor have you ever mentioned him before.”

“I had a mission to complete, and before I left, I gave him the necklace as a parting gift. Then I set off from the village. When I returned after the mission, I found the village in ruins, completely destroyed.”

Elrond's expression darkened as you related the tragic tale of your return, destruction and loss where there should have been home and comfort.

"You came back to find everything gone?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nod. " I found my parents body, his parents  but not him.”

Elrond's expression was grave as he listened to your words. The pain of losing your loved ones was clear in your voice, your eyes distant as you remembered that day.

"You never found him?" he asked softly.

"no, not a glimpse”

Elrond reaches out, a subtle gesture of comfort, his hand gently touching your arm. There's a look of understanding in his eyes, a painful empathy for the loss you've suffered.

"Do you..." he begins, his voice hesitant. "Do you think he survived?”

“That could be possible. He was always stubborn. I suppose it’s possible he simply has amnesia and forgot me or something along those lines. It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t remember.”

A small flicker of hope crossed Elrond's face at your words. The possibility of a loved one lost, but still alive, igniting a spark of optimism.

"It's possible," he said, his voice holding a note of comforting encouragement. "People have survived worse, with their memories intact. And if he's as stubborn as you say, then he may yet be out there, somewhere, waiting to be found."

“It unsettles me to see Adar wearing his pendant,” you say, a knot forming in your stomach. “Every glance at it reminds me of what I’ve lost and the memories I wish I could erase.”

Elrond nodded, his mind returning to the original topic of discussion. The fact that Adar wore the pendant you made was clearly weighing heavily on your mind.

"It must have been a shock to see someone else wearing something so personal," he said quietly, understanding the depth of your emotions.

“I didn’t forget Galadriel, but when it fell from Adar’s clothes, I thought I had lost it for good,” you say, your voice laced with sorrow. 

Elrond listened intently, his expression a mixture of sympathy and understanding. He knew you well enough to know that your feelings were complicated and deeply personal.

"I understand," he said softly. "You didn't forget Galadriel, but seeing that pendant brought back memories, emotions long buried.”

"I think you both would have been good friends..”

Elrond gave a small, bittersweet smile at your heartfelt comment. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes as he responded.

"I agree," he said quietly. "If he were still here, I think we would have gotten along well. And Galadriel would have liked him too.”

For a few moments, Elrond and you sat in silence, both lost in your thoughts. The memory of your lost love hung in the air, a poignant reminder of what had been lost.

Finally, Elrond spoke up, his voice soft and gentle.

"Can I ask you something?” You nod. 

Elrond looks at you intently, his gaze full of unspoken questions and emotions.

"Why haven't you ever spoken about him?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. "All the time we've spent together, through battles, feasts, and quiet evenings, you've never once mentioned having a husband, a love who you lost.”

“First of all, you never asked, and second, I don’t want to dwell on it. I searched for centuries and still haven’t found him.”

Elrond listened to your reasons, his expression unreadable as he took in your words. 

"I never asked because I never realized," he said quietly. "You're my closest friend, my sister in arms, and yet you've kept this part of your life hidden. I don't blame you for searching, but..." he trailed off, his eyes filled with a mix of understanding and melancholy.

"All those centuries of searching must have been so difficult," he continued. "Did you ever think about giving up? Moving on and finding someone else?”

“Moving on? No, that would feel like a betrayal to his memory and everything we shared.”

Elrond nodded silently, understanding the depth of your loyalty and devotion. 

"It must have been lonely, though," he said quietly. "All those years, alone and searching…”

“He could be alive somewhere, still thinking of me, longing for me, and unable to find me. I can’t break the promise we made to each other without knowing for sure that he’s gone.”

Elrond's heart ached at the depth of your devotion to your lost love. The idea that he could still be out there, somewhere, remembering you, aching for you, touched a part of him that understood loss all too well.

"I admire your loyalty," he said softly, his voice filled with both respect and sadness. "But the odds of finding him, after all this time…”

“I don’t want to hear that,” you interrupted, frustration rising in your chest. “It feels like giving up on him, and I can’t do that.”

Elrond fell silent, realizing that his words, though driven by concern, were not what you wanted or needed to hear. He changed tact, his voice softer now.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't want to see you hurt any further. But I can see that your spirit is strong, your hope unbroken. I will not question your path any further.”

A bit later Galadriel walks into the tent.

Galadriel's slender figure appeared in the opening of the tent, her gaze immediately falling on you and Elrond. She looked tired but unharmed, a hint of relief present in her eyes.

Elrond stood up, greeting her with a warm smile, his worry for her evident in his expression.

“So, Elrond’s little farewell kiss actually worked...” you chuckle softly, recalling the key he had given her. It had proven invaluable, enabling her escape when she needed it most.

Elrond shot you a look, his cheeks reddening slightly at your teasing comment. Galadriel chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Yes, his little trick came in quite useful," she said, a hint of amused gratitude in her voice.

Elrond rolled his eyes at your playful banter, his cheeks still slightly flushed.

"Well, I'm glad it helped," he said, trying to maintain a hint of dignity. "But let's not make a habit of using my romantic overtures as a tactical maneuver, shall we?”

"Why not?" You slightly giggle amused and make place for Galadriel by the fireplace.

Elrond shot you a mock glare, his lips twisted into a half-smile despite himself.

"Because it's humiliating," he replied, a hint of mock seriousness in his voice. "I have a reputation to maintain as a leader, not a pawn to be used in escape plans."

Galadriel joined you by the fire, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“You can be both a leader and someone who knows how to share a kiss.”

Elrond stifled a laugh at your impudent remark, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"Is that so? I suppose I might have to start a new strategy, then: using kisses as persuasive tactics in war councils," he said, his tone joking but with a hint of challenge.

You laugh. "Would be a surprise for them.”

Elrond chuckled, his earlier embarrassment giving way to a light-hearted banter.

"Yes, it certainly would," he agreed, "imagine a council of hardened warriors being left with a bunch of blushing fools after a particularly effective...tactical kiss.”

The image of a bunch of flustered warriors stammering and blushing after witnessing a strategic kiss was too much. All three of you shared a hearty laugh, the tension of the day momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the fire and friendly banter.

————————————————————

A few days later, you slip away from the elven camp, moving quietly into the orc camp undetected. You make your way into Adar’s tent, finding it empty. As your eyes scan the space, they land on the pendant, and you reach for it, studying its details closely.

The familiar sight of the pendant lying innocently on a small table sent a wave of emotions through you. The delicate craftsmanship, the intricate patterns, all spoke of a past you longed for and a love that still echoed in your heart.

You picked up the pendant, cradling it carefully in your hands. The cool touch of the metal against your skin felt strangely familiar, as if it was your own heartbeat against your fingertips.

"the same metal and stones.”

You turn the pendant over, your eyes going over every detail. The metal, the setting, the stones - they were all so familiar, so deeply ingrained in your memory.

"The same," you murmur softly, your voice filled with a mixture of wonder and nostalgia. "As if not a day has passed since I made it.”

Before you can react, a hand seizes your hair, and a dagger presses against your throat. Adar's gaze roams over you, assessing your presence.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you feel Adar's hand grip your hair, pulling you back against his chest. The cold steel of the dagger against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You had been so focused on the pendant that you didn't hear him enter.

"What are you doing in my tent?" Adar's voice is low and dangerous, his breath hot against your ear. He tightens his grip on your hair, the dagger's edge digging slightly into your skin.

"aren't you seeing what I'm doing?”

"Yes, I am seeing what you are doing," Adar replies, his voice cold and menacing. He gives your hair a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at him. "You're sneaking around in my tent without permission.”

Your eyes meet his. "That's true..”

Adar's gaze locks onto yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and malice. He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks.

"And why, pray tell, are you sneaking around in here, looking at my things?”

"The pendant is mine.”

Adar's eyes narrow at your assertion, his grip on you tightening. He gazes down at the pendant in your hand, then up at your face, suspicion in his gaze.

"You're claiming ownership of this pendant?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

“I am. I crafted it myself,” you reply, standing your ground despite the danger.

Adar's eyes widen slightly at your declaration, disbelief and intrigue flickering across his face. He gazes down at the pendant clutched in your fingers, the realization of your connection to it sinking in.

"You...made it?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of surprise.

You draw your dagger, but Adar is quicker, forcing you to your knees and disarming you with ease. The sudden shift catches you off guard, and a startled gasp escapes your lips as your dagger clatters to the floor.

The pendant, once clutched tightly in your hand, tumbles onto the pillow, its fragile presence contrasting sharply with the tense power struggle unfolding between you.

Adar stands over you, his tall figure imposing in the dim light of the tent. He looks down at you, a mixture of anger and interest in his eyes.

"You have quite the nerve," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "Sneaking into my tent, trying to claim a pendant as your own, and then pulling a blade on me?”

Adar watches you closely, his eyes taking in every detail of your expression. He can see the frustration in your eyes, the anger and defiance in your body language.

He crouches down next to you, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me," Adar commands, his voice firm and authoritative. "You're in my tent, you tried to steal from me, and then you attempted to attack me. And all because of a pendant you say you made.”

“Hold it to the fire, and the inscription will become visible.”

Adar's eyes narrow as you mention the lettering, his interest piqued. He releases your chin, his gaze flickering to the pendant on the pillow.

"And what does this lettering say?" he asks, his voice suddenly intense.

“In the quiet whisper of the wind through the trees, you may find what my heart dares not speak aloud,” you reply, feeling Adar’s heart lift slightly as he recognizes the words he once heard centuries ago.

As your words float through the tent, Adar's eyes widen, a flicker of recognition passing over his face. The inscription, the words you uttered, hold a significance that can't be denied. It triggers something in him, a memory, a feeling he thought long buried.

Adar's gaze remains fixed on you, his expression cautious, as he holds the pendant over the fire. The metal warms against the flames, and slowly, the familiar lettering begins to become visible.

With each flicker of the fire, the words he once thought forgotten are slowly revealed.

Adar's breath hitches in his throat as he stares at the now-visible lettering, his hand beginning to shake slightly. The sight of the words, written by your own hand, stirs something deep within him, memories and emotions long suppressed bubbling to the surface.

“The pendant isn’t yours,” you declare.

Adar's gaze snaps from the pendant, back to you. There's a flicker of anger in his eyes, as if your words have somehow insulted him.

"And it doesn't belong to you either," he says, his voice quiet but tinged with irritation.

He holds the pendant up in front of your face, the letters now fully visible against the metal's surface.

"This pendant was made centuries ago, yet you claim to be its creator," he says, his voice laced with a strange mixture of curiosity and doubt. "How can I be sure you're telling the truth?”

Adar's gaze roams over your form, taking in every feature, every detail. There's a hint of recognition in his eyes, as if something about you seems both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

His eyes linger on your features - your hair, your beautiful eyes, your elvish ears, your pale skin, your cherry-red lips. Something about your look triggers a memory, a feeling he can't quite place.

He reaches out, his fingertips lightly tracing the edge of your ear. The touch is almost tender, his fingers exploring the shape, the texture, as if trying to confirm his own suspicions.

Adar's touch causes your ear to twitch slightly, a small reaction that doesn't escape his notice. A hint of a smile touches his lips, as if he finds this small detail somehow endearing.

He continues to explore, his fingers tracing over your cheek, your jaw, as if committing every feature to memory.  

"You look so familiar.." he murmurs, his voice betraying curiosity and a hint of wonder.

As he studies your face, his gaze intent, he slowly circles around you.  

"Very familiar.." he repeats, his voice quieter now, as if he's speaking more to himself than to you.

His eyes roam over your hair, your ears, your slender neck, and a frown of concentration forms on his face. Something about you is stirring memories, awakening something in his heart he thought long dead.

He stops in front of you once again, his eyes boring into yours. The expression on his face is a mix of confusion and realization, as if the pieces of a puzzle are slowly falling into place.  

"Who.. Who are you?" he asks softly, his voice holding a tremble of uncertainty.

“Y/n”

Adar's eyes widen ever so slightly as you give your name, your simple answer triggering something within him.  

"Y/n.." he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue like a long-forgotten melody. The sound of it seems to ignite something deep within him, stirring memories and feelings he'd thought lost to time.

"the pendant, how did it get into your hands?”

Adar's expression hardens at your question, his jaw clenching as if you've hit a nerve.

"That's none of your business," he snaps, his voice sharp. "It belongs to me, and I don't have to explain its origins to you.”

“It belonged to my husband,” you snap.

Adar's eyes narrow, his anger tinged with a hint of curiosity.

“Your husband?” he echoes, disbelief evident in his voice. “You’re claiming this pendant was his?”

“Yes, I gave it to him before I set out on a mission,” you assert firmly.

What neither of you realize is that this moment resonates with a deeper connection, Adar had received a pendant from his own beloved before she embarked on her journey, but neither of you recognizes the shared history that binds you.

As your words sink in, the realization of their significance hits Adar like a ton of bricks. The way you describe giving the pendant to your husband, just as he had received a similar piece from his own loved one, sets something off in his mind.

His eyes widen as the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place.

"Who.. What was your husband's name?" he asks, his voice suddenly shaky.

“Sytal”

Adar's heart seems to skip a beat as you say your husband's name.

"Sytal..." he repeats, the name rolling off his tongue like a long-lost song. Memories, feelings, and realization swirl in his eyes, the connection becoming more apparent with each word you utter.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze intense, studying your face with an almost desperate look.

"Describe him, your husband," he demands, his voice taut with emotion.

You frown slightly.

“He had black hair that shimmered in the sunlight, and a scar on his right ear from when my arrow grazed him. His mind was sharp, a true warrior like me... Mischievous, gentle, and kind.”

A wave of nostalgia washes over you as you remember the moments you shared, each memory a bittersweet reminder of what you’ve lost.

As you describe your husband, Adar listens intently, his expression becoming more and more captivated.

Each trait you mention ignites a memory within him, each word drawing pictures in his mind's eye. The description of the scar on your husband's ear, the one caused by your own arrow, hits him hard, awakening an ache in his heart.

"I have been searching for him, since centuries and now you have his pendant.."

Adar's eyes flicker with a mixture of guilt, anger, and confusion. The realization that the pendant he has cherished for centuries belonged to your husband - the same man you have been searching for - creates a maelstrom of emotions in his chest.

His grip on the pendant tightens, his knuckles turning white as his own memories of his loved one flood his mind.

"Who gave it to you?" You ask again.

Adar hesitates for a moment, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Reluctantly, he speaks again, his voice low and heavy.

"A female. A Warrior," he begins, his words slow and measured as if the memory is painful to recall. "She gave it to me before she left on a dangerous mission. She said she would return.”

You slowly stand up from your kneeling position.

"Do you have her name or a nickname?”

As you rise to your feet, Adar tracks your movements closely, his eyes wary and conflicted. At your question, he falters for a moment, as if the memory stings.

“Her nickname...” he begins, his voice rough with emotion. “I called her... moonshine... She adored it.”

“Because she lit up like the moon whenever she saw you, right?” you add, a knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Adar's eyes widen slightly, your words hitting him with an unexpected force. It's like you had read his mind, like you know the very thoughts he had harbored in his heart.

"Yes.. that's exactly why.." he responds, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

You look at him and move closer. You know it's a bold move but you cub his face and look at his right pointed ear, having a hunch.

As you approach him, Adar tenses slightly, unsure of your intentions. But your touch is surprisingly gentle, your gaze focused on his ear. 

He doesn't pull away, instead he allows you to inspect his ear, his heart hammering against his chest.

The sight of the healed but unmistakable scar on Adar's ear makes your blood run cold. It's the same scar you had inflicted on your husband, a mark as unique as a fingerprint.

"The scar.." you murmur, your voice tight with emotion. "It's the same..”

You meet Adar's eyes. "Who destroyed our village, my love. Who killed our parents? Who was the one that took you away from me?”

Your words strike Adar like a dagger to his heart. They're filled with a mix of anger, accusation, but also love and sorrow.  

His eyes widen as he realizes the truth you're hinting at, the words catching in his throat.  

"How... How do you know-”

"You are my Sytal.." 

Adar's eyes are wide and disbelieving, his mind struggling to process the truth that's crashing down around him. He looks at you, really looks at you, truly seeing you for the first time.

Your eyes, the color of which he could never forget. The way you hold yourself, the familiar curve of your lips... it all resonates with him so deeply, it's like a part of his soul that's been lost is finally being returned.

But alongside the realization, there's a deep well of guilt and self-loathing.

"You were once an elf, right? Centuries ago?" 

Adar nods slowly, his expression still one of shock and disbelief.  

"Yes... I was once an elf. Before..." he hesitates, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Before I was made like I am now.”

"and your elven name, do you remember it..”

Adar's eyes flicker as he calls upon the distant memories of his past life. It's been centuries since he's dwelt on them, and it takes him a moment to retrieve the name he once held before he was... changed.

"My elven name..." he murmurs, the syllables of his long-forgotten name coming to his lips. "It was Sytal.”

"You are him.. you're really him..”

Adar nods slowly, a mix of guilt and heartbreak etched on his face.  

"Yes..." he whispers, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I am... I am him."

The weight of realization settles between you, the truth of your identities and shared past crashing over you both. Emotions churn through you, too overwhelming to bear. Your vision blurs, and before you can steady yourself, everything fades to black.

Adar’s eyes widen as you sway unsteadily, then collapse. Reacting instantly, he lunges forward, catching you before you hit the ground. His arms wrap protectively around you, and he gently lowers you, his hands cradling your head in his lap.

“No... no, no...” he murmurs, his voice filled with panic and regret. He strokes your hair, his heart racing as he gazes down at your unconscious face. Emotions he had buried for decades now break free, shock, guilt, worry, and an ache he can barely contain. The memory of who you were to him, who you still are, pierces through him, raw and real.

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he studies your face, taking in every familiar line and feature. Trembling, he lifts a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing tenderly over your skin, as if hoping this touch could somehow bridge the years of separation, the pain he’s caused.

As he holds you, you stir slightly, a faint movement that sends a flicker of hope into his eyes. He cradles you closer, his hand cupping your face with a gentleness that belies his strength.

“Y/n...” he whispers, his voice soft and aching. “Can you hear me?”

As your eyes flutter open, Adar’s face comes into focus above you, his features softened by worry and a tenderness you recognize but thought you’d never see again. His hand rests against your cheek, as if assuring himself that you’re real, here, beside him.

“Y/n,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. You smile faintly, grounding yourself in his presence, and your gaze drifts down to something glinting at his chest, the pendant.

“You kept it?” you murmur, surprise and warmth mingling in your voice.

Adar’s expression falters, and he glances away, shame flickering across his face. “It was all I had left of you,” he admits, voice thick with regret. “But you… you’re unchanged, as beautiful as the day I last saw you. And I.." He hesitates, looking down at himself, the scars and hardened edges from years in darkness weighing heavily on him. “I don’t know if I’m the man you gave it to anymore.”

You tighten your hold on his hand, your voice gentle yet resolute. “Adar, you kept that pendant because you never let go of who you were. And I haven’t, either. You’re still the man I loved, no matter what time and the world tried to do to us.”

A tear slips down his cheek as he looks at you, both surprised and touched by your words. “But… you deserve more than this broken shell,” he whispers, the insecurity in his voice breaking your heart.

“Then let’s be whole together,” you say, reaching up to stroke his face, your thumb tracing a gentle line over the scarred skin. “I spent lifetimes longing to find you again. Nothing else matters to me now. Nothing.”

At this, his composure finally crumbles. With a soft, trembling breath, he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if anchoring himself in the storm of emotions. “I never stopped loving you,” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of awe and relief. “I never will.”

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that feels like a promise, a reconciliation, a homecoming. The weight of all those years, all the missed moments, falls away.

When you pull back, you’re both smiling, a shared, quiet joy that speaks of acceptance, of strength, and of an unbreakable bond. You rise together, hand in hand, stepping out of the tent into the fresh light of dawn. The path ahead may still be unknown, but it’s one you’ll walk side by side, as elf and orc, bound by a love that time and trials could never sever.

[kingwoodok]

Al parecer nunca publique este dibujo aquí, solo en mi insta jajs

Como sea, intente hacer a el papá de Cassie, quien es tmb compañero de trabajo de Michael (es por eso que Greg y Cassie se conocen).

[a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten]

Saw this template and had to do this

Original Template can be found here. Also, I'm not an artist, so please forgive a few blunders.

P.S. I was gonna have Starlo be Gold and make Clover Yellow, but I didn't like the yellow that the program uses, so I made Starlo orange.

P.P.S. I only marked Dalv in "gets them out" since I didn't want him to be stuck with only three squares.

[yamchioya]

Blood like Golden

#PATROCHILLES || 20k words || Explicit

AO3 Link ♡

Lovers were bound to meet at the age they had died.

Tags:

Strangers to Lovers / Alternative Universe - Afterlife / Suicide Attempt / Fluff / Light Angst / Eventual Smut / Getting Back Together / There Was Only One Bed / Sharing a Bed / Alternative Universe - Modern Setting / Memory Loss / Mentions of Abuse / Secret Identity

[cravingpepsimax]

au where stan and ford get together as kids and run away together as teens they stay jn love forever. yay ❤️

they double down on stan o war development bc 1. they REALLY wanna go off into the sunset now and 2. ppl tend to leave them alone then so like. date nights!!!! they complete it and sail off together

they track anomalies and whatnot but eventually they settle down for a bit so ford can go to college. they rent a place together bc it’s not like ford is Legally Obligated to live on campus but every time ford goes to classes they stare at each other like 🥺. they’re like clingy dogs