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easy-there-leftovers · 1 year ago

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I See You, Darling (2)

[Astarion x reader] Due to surprisingly overwhelming demand, the previous fic, along with this one and many more to follow, will now be part of a series!! It was honestly very difficult trying to come up with what happens next, but here we are. The idea came to me during a fever!! |Word count: 2.5k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 1 here!!

Next part here!!

The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Alternatively;An ex-art-student-now-traveler accustoms themselves to the party.

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“Shadowheart. Shadow…heart. Hm.” His gaze bounced between you and her.

“I’m sure her parents meant well, but the name is rather ominous, isn’t it?” He leaned over to your side, not bothering to hide his blatant distrust. Lowering his voice dramatically, if anything.

“Unless she chose it herself. Which is even more worrying, honestly.” He chuckled out.

It had been no more than two bells after mornbright when you met Astarion. Since then, you’ve come to realize how…different your presence has changed the course of the story. Though more subtle than you expected.

It would seem as if you had met the elven vampire before the party was formed, which was strange as your last save point was far later than that and the forest had been quite a long way from the beach.

When you finally stumbled upon Shadowheart, he was quick to share his inner thoughts that you haven’t heard from the game before.

As they continued with their quest to find a cure for the Illithid problem, expanding their party as they did so, you had tried to make yourself useful by doing the dirty work for them. Looting and opening crates filled with camp supplies, armor, and potentially useful weapons and artifacts could always come in handy for trade or for “artifact consumption,” as per Gale’s need. Sorting them for your group’s convenience.

And while you did not have more direct and immediate practical use for your course of study in the modern world, the research you’ve created and reviewed for character creation and world building was doing wonders for your survival.

Or as much as it can for a magicless, not so athletic human.

The “runes” of the medieval ages that have been carved into stone, along with the basic history and background of the common races and deities of the fantastical world that tabletop RPG has offered puts you at quite an advantage.

Not to mention your experience with the areas of the game giving you the same effect.

But this library of information had also aroused something akin to suspicion and concern. It would be understandable if you were a simple traveler just like them, or perhaps even an artisan from the guild, but you were not as astute as either background.

So how could you have access to this much knowledge yet be unaware of more practical matters? It’s as if you had simply read about it from somewhere.

Astarion had been quick to give an explanation before you could form one of your own that could poorly convince your companions. Although, perhaps his suggestion was more outlandish than anything you could have come up with.

“They came with me. Property and all the formality that comes with it. A family pet, if you will.” A perfect excuse to justify your constant proximity to him, and a likely explanation to being well read, but not well experienced.

You thought nothing of the title, your apathy to the non-hazardous labels of this world apparent.

The same couldn’t have been said about your associates who had a few comments about this disclosure.

“I am unfamiliar with the–well, I shall not say ‘culture.’ ‘Customs’, perhaps. I did not think your kind to house such breed of cattle. Perhaps they could be useful.” Was Lae’zel’s.

“I assure you, they typically don’t. Humans aren’t naturally subservient to Elves, at least in this manner. This setup sounds more akin to slavery. Blink twice if you need help.” Was Gale’s response.

“It seems like Astarion's from the upper city, given the embroidery on his armor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have servants that follow them around.” Shadowheart’s nose crinkled at the thought.

The party already had such an interesting rapport. Not entirely comfortable with one another to divulge everything, but loose enough to have semi-pleasant conversation with.

You thought this as you sorted out the fruits of your collective labor into neat pouches and bags, keeping items similar to one another factioned into their respective holding space. The chest being closer to Withers more than you’d like, but it was nice to hear the ramblings of an…undead person? Hearing someone continuously talking allows you to be more productive.

You’ll admit, handling enchanted armor and crystals does make you a tad nervous but you’re comforted by the thought that it will not be you who wields it in battle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale approaching your direction. Possibly to ask for his share of the camp supplies just a little earlier to sate himself as you had an abundance of it for now. You regard him with your back turned and he stops for a bit.

“I will say that I don’t have the lightest of feet, but I figured myself better at sneaking around.” It’s not his fault that he got caught, but the bright purple robe and the smell of the oils you’ve been crafting for them are particularly noticeable.

“You are, but I’ll assume you're not exactly in the best shape after dealing with a few goblins.” You hold up a bottle of a healing potion, swinging it a bit with your fingers to indicate that the smell had warned you of his arrival.

“You’ve got a keen nose on you. Must be from all of Astarion’s training but, speaking of which,” He nears himself to your crouched form, going in to lean against a very old and empty crate.

“Gale, wait–” Right as your warning leaves you, they seem to evade him as falls right through the wood. A comical layer of dust and lichen pluming out from the force. He tries to quickly recover from both the physical and emotional damage as he brushes himself off to make himself presentable once more.

“Ahem, as I was saying,” He again makes his way over to you, settling for just standing close as his attempts to look unbothered temporarily cost him his ego.

“I was serious about what I said before. While I don’t know what to make of our pallid friend just yet, as enigmatic as he is, what he said before is quite confusing. Best make haste away from here if you want your freedom while we’re distracted with this worm problem.” His tone suggests a genuine concern which confuses you.

You’d be lying to yourself if the label of the set up didn’t sound odd, but you’ve never expressed discomfort as there was nothing all too worrying about it on your end. It was mostly for show, and you had as much independence as Tav would have in your game.

You endeavor to quickly dispel his worries.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m very satisfied with my servitude under Astarion. He’s very lenient and reliable, and I’m better off with him than on my own." You return to your task of sifting through your materials but pause and look back up at him to continue.

"I do thank you for turning my way though. Your concern is much appreciated but unnecessary.” You lowered your head a bit to show your thanks.

“Well if someone as generous as yourself says to trust you on this, then I have no choice but to concede! I’ll keep a watchful eye and offer guidance, should you need it. Also, do we happen to have something for—” As he asks you for some sort of salve, just a few ways off, your eccentric “handler,” of sorts, watches the two of you interact.

Don’t get him wrong, such matters don’t really catch his attention, but being an elf does curse him with the ability to have extensive hearing. Something that he thinks Gale knew, and something you forgot. That would explain the lack of distance between you two.

He thinks it’s amusing how the wizard is trying to make conversation with you as if you were some foreign creature. His usual eloquence nowhere to be seen, and you seemed as unbothered as ever. Like how he usually saw you when you conversed with someone through a crystal.

It was a phone, not that he knew that though.

“They’re a real nice one, aren’t they?” Karlach says from her side of the camp which was nearer towards his tent and yours.

“Hm, yes. While that may be an admirable trait, it’s hardly going to get them anywhere if they keep this up.” Astarion huffed out, not very keen on your altruistic playstyle so far.

He doesn’t know much about what you do and don’t know, all he knows is that you do know of the events to unfold and could be the key to defeating his master.

All he needs is to keep you at his side. So he’ll allow you this much freedom.

“Oh come on, you. You can’t seriously think that after everything. Our camp’s pretty well maintained because of ‘em, not to mention the connections we’ve been able to get!” She fortifies her statement by knocking on her chest, the engine humming within feels lighter and newer since you’ve informed her of the tiefling blacksmith at the grove.

He hums in response, returning to reading his book as he thinks about his growing hunger. He’ll have to hunt soon enough. While your positive reputation occasionally reflects on him by proxy, it can also reflect negatively due to the alleged nature of your relationship. If he wants the journey to a way of understanding the tadpoles to be a more comfortable one, he has to at least prevent their trust in him from diminishing.

Night falls later than he’d have liked, having waited for everyone to be asleep so that he may prowl the forest for sustenance.

The rest were sound asleep in their bedroll as the skirmish from earlier on in the day had proven to be sufficiently tiring. The crackling fire surely brings a lulling warmth that he supposes he’ll have to miss out on for a while.

As he begins to slink off into the darkness, he looks back to gauge his surroundings and catches your form from across the settlement. It seems you were tallying away the items in the shared chest and double-checking to see that everything is checked and balanced with your records.

Your shoulders jump at his suddenly standing form, but try to understand his intentions. You mouth, “where?” with a very confused face, to which he responds with a simple shushing motion and waits for your acknowledgement.

You nod slowly, and he holds your gaze before sneaking off once again.

‘He’s coming back, right?’ You wondered. The progression of your experience now in comparison to the game was vastly different, and you didn’t know if all scenes, or only some, would present themselves in this world. You assume he planned to hunt, and while you trust his abilities, you want to make sure he’s attended to properly should he be harmed in any way.

So after retrieving a few potions, a journal, and a pencil, you stashed them in a satchel and positioned yourself at the base of the tree in the direction he left in. You weren’t particularly sleepy tonight, and planned to pass the time in wait of your companion.

There wasn’t much to do in this century to keep yourself entertained. The only things you’ve found so far were a few instruments and all manners of journals and inks.

The inkpot that you picked up appeared to be red this time. The game of, “which ink dye will I get this time?” will have to be the most of your entertainment for now. Not all too different from home, you suppose. And while writing keeps your mind at bay, illustrating all manners of wildlife have proven to be quite the fun exercise.

You’ve made a few notes on creatures that you and your company have encountered. The visual elements of a drawing allowed you and the others to keep track of materials that could be salvaged from them, and their resistances to certain attacks.

Though as much as you liked depicting such lifeforms in paper, you’ve come to be very interested in portraying your vampire friend.

Evidence of your interest present in the pages filled with his likeness as you search for an unmarked page. You’ve made a few of the others, yes, but anyone who would gain access to your journal would surely see which member of the group you favor more.

You continued to draw, and occasionally write, on the parchment as you waited for Astarion to come back. All sense of time evading you as you focus on the task at hand.

A perfect opportunity for a tired rogue to surprise an unsuspecting human.

“And what are you still doing up, little one?” He appears from behind the very tree you rested against, causing you to spill a bit of ink on your thumb.

You clicked your tongue, not at all annoyed by the character but by your absentmindedness and now stained appendage.

“Sorry, I was just waiting for you.” You sealed the inkpot, and gathered your materials. Effectively, but unknowingly, hiding your work from peering eyes that were the same deep red as your finger.

“I’m very flattered, darling. But couldn’t you wait until morning? I'm sure this couldn’t have been all too important, yes?” He gestures to your satchel, referring to your journal, but you misinterpreted it as him asking for your medical supplies.

“Oh, that depends. Are you hurt, by any chance? I stayed awake in case you might've needed help tending to yourself.” You opened the pouch to reveal its contents to him, your stained thumb in full view.

The sight makes him sigh out, but is thankful for your offered service.

“I’m alright, nothing of interest happened while I was away.” He considers telling you about the nature of his little…'escapade.' He's unaware if you are of his condition, and he doesn’t wish to out himself if not necessary to avoid possible conflict. So he settles for advising you to rest.

“We need you well rested, my dear. You sleep. I’ll keep watch.” The dialogue is familiar, and you can’t stop yourself from letting a small laugh out as you responded with an equally familiar line

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for that.” You lower your head as you usually do in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He mirrors your gesture, albeit in a way that is most appropriate for someone of his character. “Sweet dreams.”

You walked back to the chest. Returning the potions and ink you’ve plucked from the supply, but keeping the rest of the pouch’s materials with you as you turn in for the night. Awaiting the promise of further study that a new day typically makes.

As Astarion is left with his own thoughts, a sour taste still in his mouth from his earlier meal, he thinks about the man in the journal you kept. He did not see much, only a vague outline of the figure. He thinks about who, or what, it could have been but dismisses the thought rather quickly.

He has no time for a mysterious person with hair less perfect than his own, touching his untainted locks as he does.

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Thank you everyone for your interest in the series!! As per the request of some, I'll now be adding a taglist!

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, and @tiannamortis for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x mc #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#aware!astarion #though I guess not so aware--#lol

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the-lying-heavens · 3 months ago

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"Do You Want to Dance Too?"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: After a very rare date with your boyfriend, it starts to rain and you two find yourselves stuck in a cafe with no way to get home without being soaked.

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word Count: 1.1k words

(A/n: First attempt at a fanfic. I thought about this when I was trying to sleep and I really wanted to write it down.)

You curse under your breath as James and you quickly run to the small cafe at the end of the empty street. The rain started just a few moments ago, so it wasn't bad now, but you had a feeling it would only get worse.

You finally make it through the door, only slightly wet.

"Nice end to the day," he mumbles, clearly unhappy.

You sigh and take a seat at your usual table when Ella, a good friend of yours, pops up behind the counter.

"Well, this is a surprise," the barista says. "Thought I was finally going to be able to go through the whole day without you showing up."

"Ha ha," you muse, "Get us some hot chocolate."

She rolls her eyes but goes to make the order nonetheless.

James takes a seat next to you, glaring out the window as if that would stop the rain. The rain didn't take kindly to that as it starts a downpour, confirming your earlier suspicion.

He grumbles, and you take his hand in yours.

"Tonight was nice," you say gently.

"It could've been better."

You shake your head, "You can't control the weather, love."

But you could understand his frustration. You rarely got to spend much time together as it was.

You usually only see each other at night but by then are too exhausted to do anything other than eat and sleep.

James and you had started dating a few months ago, but you had known each other for years before then. You used to be an Avenger, but you quit after Steve left. First, it had been out of grief from your best friends; then it changed to you not wanting that kind of life anymore.

James was still very much in it—he was a soldier first, after all—and, as long as he didn't get himself killed, you were okay with that.

You unconsciously trace a small scar on his palm as Ella brings you the hot cocoas.

"Okay, here's the deal," she starts, "I have to close up in 45 minutes. You guys can stay to try to wait the rain out."

"Do you at least have an umbrella we can borrow?" you ask.

"Nope. I even gave mine to an old lady."

"And you can't let us stay?"

"Nada."

It's your turn to grumble, "Fine."

Ella shrugs, "I need to clean up," she says before making her leave.

James is still glaring out of the window when he suddenly turns his stare on you.

"This is why we should've taken the car," he concludes.

You are taken aback, "So it's my fault for suggesting that we walk for 20 minutes to the restaurant?"

"Guess so."

You scoff, "You are on very thin ice here, Barnes."

He raises an eyebrow, "Are you threatening me?"

"Guess so," you mimic.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, amused.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

He scoffs at your threat but doesn't say anything else.

Smart man.

You sip your hot cocoas in silence.

Then, suddenly, you're laughing. James looks at you with an amused grin.

"I can make you sleep on the couch," you say, still giggling.

You poke his chest, and he starts laughing too.

"I know you can, dear. I know you can."

He grabs your chin with his right hand, tilting your head so you look him directly in the eye.

"What would I do without you?" he wonders out loud.

"It's too awful to think about," you joke.

He laughs again before pressing his lips against yours.

You sigh in the kiss. It's difficult to think you were once distrusting of the super soldier you had grown to love. Now you trusted him with everything you had and more.

It took a long time for you to see the ex-Winter Soldier's true nature. His gentle, shy yet annoyingly protective nature.

Too long.

He breaks off the kiss with a small smile.

"We should finish the hot cocoa before it gets cold," James suggests.

"Hot cocoa is more important than kissing your girlfriend?" you pout.

He shrugs, "It's good hot chocolate."

You don't deny his statement.

It's your turn to look out of the window. As rain bangs on the roof and glass of the small cafe, it seems to play out a rather aggressive tune. You don't like when it rains. It brings back rather painful memories, but you've learned that countering the bad memories with good ones helps make peace with the pain caused in a moment.

That gives you an idea.

"Do you want to sprint for it now?" you ask randomly.

The super soldier nearly spits out his cocoa, "What?"

"It's probably only gonna get worse, and we are going to have to eventually."

"Do you want to dance too?" he says sarcastically.

Your eyes light up at the idea, "Can we?"

James' eyes widen, "I meant it as a joke."

"But why not? It's as cliche as dancing in the apartment," you point out, "Besides, it'll be fun."

He shakes his head, "We are not dancing in the rain."

"But—"

"It's way too cold, and the last time you got sick, you couldn't get out of bed for a week."

You try to hide your wince by pouting, "Fine. No dancing."

He sighs, "But maybe we should go soon. It does look like it's going to get worse."

"So let's go then."

~~~

"Wait up!"

James' voice is nearly lost in the rain. You keep running, knowing full well he could catch up with you within a minute.

Or maybe he couldn't. You are pretty fast.

You laugh into the wind, your mouth filling with water as the painfully large raindrops hit your face.

You sprint in the direction you think is your house and try to calm the leather jacket that James gave you by wrapping it around your torso.

While doing so, you accidentally stumble on your feet and go flying forward.

Strong arms wrap around you within a moment, one made out of a now freezing metal.

"I got you," Bucky assures, "I got you."

You hear him loud and clear now despite his voice barely being above a whisper. The drumming of rain seems like an irrelevant background noise.

You turn to him, grinning like an idiot. His hair is stuck to his face. He shakes his head at you but is unable to hide his own smile.

No words need to be exchanged in the moment as his hands rest on your waist, and your arms loop around his neck.

You look at James with possibly all the love you hold and softly press your lips against his. It is easy to forget everything with him, even easier to forget the bad things.

He puts his arm on your neck and pulls away. "You're going to get sick."

"I've accepted it," you confess quickly, chasing his lips.

He shakes his head again but lets you kiss him regardless.

You got sick for a week afterward, but it was well worth it. Especially when you had James looking after you.

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megwritesriddles · 1 month ago

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Heavenly Torture ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 11 - Teasing & Degradation. After Hogwarts, Reader and Neville end up working together at Noltie's Botanical Novelties. Reader soon discovers she holds an unexpected power over Neville, one she'll have fun exerting over him at her whim.

Tags: Teasing, Degradation, Oral sex (m receiving), Neediness, Begging, Virgin!Neville, Sub!Neville, Dom!Reader, Slytherin!Reader, Set post Battle of Hogwarts, Coworkers to lovers (??).

Word count: 4.8k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I know I'm running a day behind right now, I'll try my best to catch up when I can (hopefully monday)!! Another day, another submissive pathetic man... lol!! Also why did this end up so long... all this backstory for what?? Why do I keep doing this?? Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Getting the job at Noltie’s Botanical Novelties, the garden shop on Diagon Alley, had been one of the most relieving moments of your life. Not only did you have an income secured, but they’d hired you despite you having been in Slytherin. It seems silly for you to have been worried about this, given that people are starting to heavily advocate against stereotyping based on houses, but that didn’t mean it had actually stopped happening. At the moment, Slytherins were quite radioactive. Less than a year out from the war, all Slytherins near your age were assumed to be Death Eaters who just escaped consequence based on their age. This, of course, was not true for most of you, and certainly not for you. You’d been on the right side from… well, perhaps not the start, it takes time to shake your upbringing, but probably from some time in the fifth year. However, most people only remembered you as a Slytherin, and that was a decidedly bad thing to be currently. You knew you should have made more appearances at Dumbledore’s Army meetings, but back then you were facing the same issue, avoiding the meetings because when you did go, people would be distrusting of you because of the colour of your tie. Now people barely remembered that you’d been a member at all. It was frustrating beyond belief, but you just had to keep going.

The job at Noltie’s was an undoubted blessing, just a few years ago it would have been a no-brainer for you to get the job, given your expertise, but this year it had truly felt like it wouldn’t happen for you. When you’d gone in to pick up your uniform about a week before starting, Edward Noltie himself had confessed to having been a Slytherin himself in his school days. You wouldn’t have guessed it, the kookie old man certainly reminded you more of the types that come out of Hufflepuff, but you told yourself to stop stereotyping, you had learned its inaccuracies over and over by now. It amused you slightly how much he tried to separate himself from the Slytherin label, only claiming the identity in the past tense, while most Gryffindors were likely to wear their Gryffindor scarves until at least their 200s. You thanked him anyway for his understanding, emphasising once again that you’d had no ties to the Death Eaters. As you were leaving with the bag containing your uniform, he stopped you.

“We actually have another employee with us from your year group at Hogwarts, a very talented young man, instrumental in winning the war, we’re lucky to have him, really. Joined a few months ago,” Noltie chuckled. You smiled and nodded awkwardly over your shoulder. You knew exactly who he was referring to.

There’d never really been any doubt in your mind that Noltie had been talking about Neville Longbottom, but the suspicion is confirmed immediately on your first day. You walked in, hair neatly up as was required (less for aesthetic reasons and more for safety against the various plants stocked that had a tendency to thrash), your uniform tailored to fit you perfectly, and saw him behind the counter. You had been dreading this moment since you realised you’d be working with him. You knew what he’d say to you, how he would call you brave for going against your house, how much he appreciated your efforts during the war, things like that, and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to it. You just wanted to stop thinking about the war, and all the things you’d had to do to survive, but it seemed too much to ask. You took a deep breath and approached him and he did just that. With a serious and sympathetic expression, he began to thank you and commend you. He stared quite intensely at you as he spoke, which made you admittedly uncomfortable, your eyes flickered around the store as he spoke.

“We barely had any Slytherins in the D.A. and I know some people gave you a hard time about it, so I think it’s–” he continued in his solemn voice. You squirmed in discomfort and decided to cut him off.

“Look, Longbottom, all the same to you, yeah? You’re a war hero and all that, so… that’s great, congratulations! Can you show me how the till works now?” you huffed. He blinked in surprise at your little outburst, before flushing slightly, clearly having realised he’d made you uncomfortable in some way, even if he’d only been trying to compliment you.

“Sorry, err… yeah…” he cleared his throat, showing you over to the till on the counter at the back of the store. You walked in front of him toward it and when you turned back to face him, you saw his eyes flick up and his flush deepen a little. You realise with a start that he’d been looking at your ass as you walked. These uniform trousers really were tailored perfectly, so you were sure he’d gotten a good view. You just smiled to yourself and filed the information away for later as he started to explain the machine to you.

The next few weeks go surprisingly well. Sure, you’re only working the till and shop floor rather than actually doing any research or fieldwork, but at least you’re in your desired field, and the work is quite easy. The shop is never terribly busy, and the people who do come in like to spend a while browsing and contemplating, meaning you get to tell them all you know about the plants they’re deciding between, which you find quite fun. Neville works mainly in the backroom, counting stock, moving boxes, and maintaining the plants that can’t be kept on the shop floor because they’re too dangerous or require certain temperature conditions. You help with inventory, letting him know what’s running low on the shelves and making notes of what needs to be ordered for Mr Noltie. Mostly, you’re out of each other’s ways, but that doesn’t mean you’re not highly aware of each other.

You knew Neville had changed over the years, every girl who’d been at Hogwarts was aware of it. You remembered quiet nights while the D.A. had been hiding out in the Room of Requirement, when a bunch of the girls would get together for some girl talk, trying hard to feel a sense of normalcy. Lavender Brown’s idea, which initially seemed silly, actually raised spirits quite a lot. You joined in, even though people were still rather wary of you, being one of only two Slytherins in the room, you mainly listened because of this. The girls huddled together in one corner of the room, while the boys chatted about who knows what in the other, and gossiped about the boys. There was hardly time for romance in the conditions you were in, which is perhaps why so much of it was happening, forced to stay together in one big room and fearing for your lives, you had overheard a lot you wish you never had. Neville ended up being the subject of a few of these conversations. He had changed a lot, becoming taller, broader and more handsome. He had also taken the role of the leader of the D.A., and many of the girls admitted that they quite liked the authoritative voice he used, which made everyone tease and giggle. He was nothing like the timid little boy he’d been for the first few years at Hogwarts, he was a man now, a strong, handsome man. However, no one ever reported any sort of action with him like they did with the other boys. At the time, he became sort of untouchable, which was odd considering he was Neville Longbottom.

These days, he was looking even better. His face was no longer so marred by the constant scrunch of stress as it had been during the war. He’d grown out his hair a little, rather than keeping it quite as short as he had during the war. He overall looked healthier, and even more muscular now that he was able to eat properly, his skin looking less pale and dull. Days of moving and stacking boxes in the backroom gave you plenty of time to subtly watch his muscles. He really was handsome now, though he didn’t seem to even realise this himself. Occasionally, when he’d be bringing stock out front for you to shelve, there’d be a woman in the store who would begin to flirt with him. He always seemed baffled and out of his depth, never flirting back and just trying to escape.

“What was that all about?” he asks you once, poking his head out of the backroom when she leaves. This woman had come onto him particularly strong, trying to touch his arm and invite him to the Leaky Cauldron.

“She was flirting with you,” you chuckle, sorting the coins into the till. He scoffs.

“No, she wasn’t,”

“Yes, she was,” you laugh in disbelief. He chews his lip.

“Only because of what I did during the war,” he dismisses, fiddling with his wand in his apron pocket. It amuses you how insecure he is. But he is partially right, he’s become a bit of a celebrity in the wizarding world, thanks to Harry Potter’s insistence on mentioning Neville’s contributions every time he’s interviewed about the war. Sometimes you think it’s selfishly motivated, wanting the world to focus on someone other than him so he can be left alone, and dumping it on poor shy Neville.

“That could be true I suppose, but I bet she’d still let you shag her,” you grin at him. Neville splutters.

“I… I don’t…” he runs his finger through the collar of his shirt. You chuckle at his reaction, enjoying teasing him like this. “That’s not… I wouldn’t do that…” he swallows thickly.

You’d discovered quickly that you had a certain power over Neville. At first, it was catching him occasionally staring. You’d be leaning on the counter, your ass jutting out slightly as you scribble down inventory notes and you’d glance at the door to the backroom, spotting him peering through the glass door. He’d immediately blush beet red and look away, clearly ashamed to have been caught staring at you. It was sweet, in a way, because most guys didn’t seem to have any shame in ogling at you, at least Neville seemed to know he shouldn’t be doing it, even if he couldn’t stop himself. Slowly, you start leaving more and more of your shirt buttons undone, revealing glimpses of your cleavage. You revel in the way his eyes constantly stray to you as he brings you boxes, taking shaky breaths as you bend over to pick up the little plant pots from the box and organise them onto the shelves. Whenever you talk, you take to standing just a little too close. His height gives you a perfect view down your top, and although he tries his best not to, he takes advantage of this fact often, his eyes flicking down and then his face going red. You like to innocently ask him if he’s feeling warm, which makes him stammer. It’s a bit of fun to fill your days, and quite an ego boost too. Every quiet moment in the shop you take to showing yourself off somehow, or even just chatting to him, which seems to fluster him too.

“You wouldn’t shag her? I thought she was cute…” you tease. He goes a deeper shade of red.

“She’s… it’s not… uh…” he stumbles. You smile, leaning yourself onto the counter in a way you know shows off your ass. His eyes flick immediately down your body and he goes redder, success. “I don’t… shag…” he coughs, looking mortified.

“What? Never? But you’re the saviour of the wizarding world!” you taunt, pretending to be shocked, when really it had become abundantly clear not long into working with him that despite how much his looks had changed, and his confidence in every other area, women still made him unbearably anxious, especially you.

“I- I mean I…” he stutters and then straightens up. “This is none of your business,” he asserts shakily. You shrug.

“Just curious about you,” you smile flirtatiously, watching as he blushes once more and avoids your eyes. “Do you never want to shag? Some people are like that and it’s perfectly fine–”

“No! I… uh… I do want… oh Merlin!” he groans, burying his face in his hands. You press on, pretending not to realise how uneasy he is, delighting in his discomfort.

“Well, then what was wrong with that girl? She was cute… more than willing…” you taunt, taking a few slow steps toward him now.

“She just… it’s not… I can’t just…” he stammers, eyes following you until you’re right in front of him. You catch his eyes flicking down to your cleavage. You smile.

“Are you a virgin, Neville?” you ask bluntly. He twitches anxiously.

“I’m not answering that,” he squeaks, but you both know that it’s answer enough. He sighs, seeing the smug way you’re smiling at him. “It’s just… the only girl I’ve ever liked enough to do that with didn’t feel the same, she… never wanted to do that sort of thing with anyone… like you were just talking about,” he mumbles, avoiding your eye.

“Luna?” you hum. He just nods. You’d heard about that through friends, his wartime confession and her confession that she did not experience romantic or sexual feelings for anyone. To many people, it had seemed a completely foreign concept. You imagined that, even though he’d been understanding, it had probably felt like another blow to his confidence.

“It’s… that’s over now… she’s my friend and I respect her… I don’t feel that way about her anymore…” he rambles. His eyes flicker over your face. You believe him, you touch his arm, making him tense.

“You poor thing,” you coo gently, rubbing your thumb over the bare skin of his arm, feeling the muscle underneath. “You must feel pathetic, saviour of the wizarding world, women lining up, and yet you’re still a virgin,” he jolts slightly, not expecting your words. He feels confused, your tone is sweet and soothing, but your words are insulting.

“I- I don’t, I’m fine,” he stammers, his cheeks red as he looks at you cautiously. What are you playing at? You pout and tilt your head.

“Poor baby,” you coo again, making him nervous.

“Why are you–?” he cut off when the bell above the door jingles, signalling a customer entering. You pull your hand away with a teasing smile, he just stares a little dumbly at you as you return to the till and greet the customer. He can’t help his eyes from straying to your ass, perfectly hugged by your uniform trousers. He’s never felt this crazy before, this overtaken by lust. He wants you and something about your faux-pity has made it worse. He hadn’t felt this way about Luna, he’d liked her first and foremost, he never ogled her like this, never felt this maddened by her simple presence. He forces himself to return to his work in the backroom.

You torture him the rest of the day. He knows you’re playing at something, but he’s not quite sure what. You keep flashing him mockingly sympathetic glances, showing off your body more than usual, touching him. You’re making excuses to come into the backroom, you’ve never been in here so many times in one shift before, perhaps even ever. Leaning over his shoulders, touching his back, stretching up to the top shelves in front of him. He’s oblivious, but he’s not completely blind and while he’s suspected before that you might have taken to teasing him, now he’s sure. After trying fruitlessly to avoid you most of the day, he gives in toward the end, letting himself admire your body and enjoy your closeness. He’s had a few relentless flirts at his neck since graduating from Hogwarts, but you feel different. Most girls flirt with him because they think he’s something special, something big that will help them earn fame and get them in the Daily Prophet. You flirt like you think he’s a pathetic little puppy dog, and perhaps he should take offence from it, but instead, it makes him need you even more. Because it’s what he is, he’s not big and strong when it comes to this, he feels small and he needs someone who understands that, which you seem to, in your own roundabout way.

He helps you close up the shop, at your request, which is something he only usually does on particularly busy days, yet he knows the question is coming. You pout at him sweetly and ask for help and he comes running. As a thank you, you lean over as you count up the day's purchases, emphasising your chest and not commenting when he stares and blushes. He wouldn’t mind being compensated like this more often. He sweeps up the soil that’s accumulated on the floor from the various pots being moved around. Technically it’s your job, but how can he say no when you look at him like that and push your tits together just so?

You’re still double-checking the accounts when he goes into the back room again. He checks on all the special plants, making sure nothing is wrong, before moving toward the little cupboards in the corner of the room. He washes his hands and unties his apron slowly. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he sighs. You’ve been driving him crazy today. The subtle way you mocked him made him so needy for you even though he should hate you for it, he didn’t want to psychoanalyse that. He hears you enter but does his best to ignore you, you never usually talk at the end of your shifts, usually too tired and eager to get home to bother small talking. You wash your hands and remove your apron too, hanging it up by the door, your name tag facing forward. You feel his eyes on your ass again, which makes you smile to yourself.

“Is that why you stare at me so much?” you taunt, being purposefully vague. You glance over your shoulder at him. He’s bright red and chewing his lip.

“What?” he croaks.

“Because you’re a virgin? Is that why you stare so much? My ass in these trousers is the best view you’ve been allowed?” you mock, cooing as if you’re being sympathetic. He hates that you know, but he knows he hasn’t at all been subtle enough for it to be a shock. He just takes a shaky breath.

“I’m so-sorry, really… I don’t—“ he pulls nervously at his shirt. Godric it’s hot in here. You stalk closer.

“Poor thing, can’t control yourself around me, can you, hm?” you ridicule him, stalking closer with those dark seductive eyes. He realises you’re backing him into a wall as he takes a clumsy step back, moments away from hitting the hard surface. He swallows hard and you come closer, pressing your chest to his, emphasising the curve of your breasts. He can’t help but look, even if only for a split second. “Can you?” you prompt again, your voice lower.

“No,” he chokes. You laugh, low and mocking.

“No… you can’t control yourself around me… you pathetic little thing,” you finally backed him against the wall. He looks nervous, but you can feel his hardening arousal against your stomach. You shift yourself slightly, making him gasp and harden even more. You look up at him, smirking, the irony of belittling him in this way doesn't even matter, because you feel powerful and he feels small in this moment. You reach up and trace his cheek, making him shiver and his eyes flutter. “Poor little loser,” he whines loudly at that, and you watch carefully to see if you’ve actually hurt his feelings or not. When his eyes flicker open again, his pupils are wildly dilated and he looks desperate. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I am,” he whimpers. You’re surprised to hear him talk, but you let him, caressing his cheek in a mocking gesture. “I don’t want to be pathetic but I am, I can’t— do this sort of stuff,” he laments. “What kind of freak am I? Getting off to you calling me a loser?” you giggle at him and he laughs slightly too, looking down at the ground, not before glancing once more at your tits.

“You just want someone to see you for who you are and want you anyway, not put you on some pedestal,” you hum. He blinks at you. That actually… made sense. He glances up at you. “Isn’t that pathetic of you?” you tease with a smile and you both laugh a little.

“Yeah, Godric… I really am pathetic,” he chuckles quietly, watching you.

“A complete loser,” you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him. He squeaks, taken completely off guard by your lips on his. You fist your hands into the material of his shirt, forcing him to lean down to your level to kiss you. He kisses back, desperate and shaky. He pants into the kiss, already feeling a little dizzy. Your hand is reaching down and brushing feather-light against the bulge in his trousers before he can register what’s going on. His hips stutter and he whines against your lips. “So pitiful, barely even touching you and you’re whining,” you mock, brushing your fingers up and down the bulge, slow and teasing. His hands come to grip at your waist, exhaling shakily against you. “So needy,” you chuckle, pulling back and pouting at him.

“Y-yeah,” his eyes flit all over your face. You smirk up at him, trailing your hands down his body as you move to kneel in front of him. He gasps, his hands falling to his sides, chest heaving. He stares down at you, wide-eyed. He mumbles your name in question, wondering if this is really happening. You reach up, still smirking and pop to the button of his trousers. “Ah… oh Merlin…” he exhales, his eyes closing. You gently tug his trousers down and then lean forward, nuzzling your nose against the bulge in his boxers. You watch as his face twists in pleasure, a strangled gasp on his lips. He leans his head back against the wall as you press barely there kisses along his twitching length through the fabric. “This can’t be happening right now,” he pants, pushing his hips towards your face.

“Don’t you want it to?” you tease, gently licking the wet spot on the fabric, making him gasp.

“I— yes I want it but—this doesn’t happen… to me…” he groans as you slip down his boxers, springing him free. He stares down nervously now, no one has seen him like this before. You just smirk up at him, gently massaging his thighs.

“You want it?” you taunt, gently blowing on his length, making him twitch and buck.

“Nngh— yes,”

“Then beg me,” you grin. “Show me how pathetic you are for me,” he stares down at you, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard you can watch his pulse. He should feel humiliated, but the pre-cum dripping from his tip tells the both of you the reality. You lean up, placing soft open-mouthed kisses against his length, making him inhale sharply. “Beg me,” you sing-song between kisses.

“P-please,” he gasps. “Please, I’m pathetic, I need this so bad… I’ve never– ah��!” you cut him off by licking a stripe up his length. He dissolves into a string of shaky moans as you wrap your lips around his tip, softly suckling. He’s never felt this amazing before. He fights to open his eyes and look down at you, needing the visual of you doing this committed to his memory desperately, even though he knows it will likely haunt his every waking thought from today onwards. You look smug, even on your knees in front of him, and he knows you have him wrapped around your finger. He tries uselessly to dig his nails into the wall for purchase, watching as you slowly envelop more and more of him into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Your head bobs slowly, torturously slow, up and down the length of him. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you take a gentle hold of with your hand. Your tongue swirls and laves against him within your mouth, making his hips buck toward you. You immediately withdraw, making him sob.

“You just can’t control yourself, can you?” you chastise harshly. “Needy and brainless,” he nods along because he really can’t help but think you’re right.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll control myself, I will, please… I need you,” he wails. You look unimpressed, slowly teasing your hand up and down his shaft. He whines, melting against the wall. “Please…” he whispers. His voice is entirely wrecked and he already looks thoroughly debauched by you, you find the image exciting. When he glances down at you with those pleading wide eyes, you can’t deny him any longer. As a final teasing act, you lean in and gently kitten lick at his slit for a moment, tasting the salty sweetness accumulating there. You feel him trying to twitch in your hand, his head falling back again and desperate groans leaving his throat. You take him as deep down into your throat as he will go, gagging just a little, and start to bob your head again. His fingers curl, and you can tell he wants to grab your hair, but he’s being good, you keep in mind to tell him he was good later. Your lips slide up and down his length, using your tongue to swirl and add an extra layer of stimulation. He’s very vocal, whining, whimpering, groaning, completely ruined. You stare up at him as you gently swallow around him. His eyes squeeze further shut and his hips cant forward, making you gag a little, but you do it again. He gasps loudly and his hands start to flail, smacking against the wall. You only realise he was trying to warn you between strangled moans when you feel the warm spurt of his release in your mouth. You swallow it down as he frantically withdraws himself from you, crying as he rides out the feeling of his orgasm, his legs shaking. He feels like he’s left his body and ascended to heaven, this was why all his friends were so crazy about sex. He got it now. Once he’s returned to himself a little, he falls to his knees in front of you. “I’m so sorry, I tried to warn you but I felt so good, I-” he fusses. “I’m so sorry, th-thank you,” he whimpers, wiping a tiny bit of cum from the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,”

“It’s fine,” you dismiss him as he holds your face and thanks you over and over. It amuses you how wrecked he is. “It’s alright, Neville,” you chuckle in disbelief, leaning forward and pecking his lips. He can vaguely taste himself on your lips, even without you opening your mouth, and it makes him groan. He chases your lips as you pull away, opening his eyes to give you a puppy-dog look.

“Merlin … I really am pathetic,” he swallows and then laughs nervously, leaning back against the wall, smiling sheepishly as you tuck him back into his boxers. You sit on your knees in front of him and he stares at you, half in awe, half in apprehension. “Are you going to tell people about this?” he questions, slightly anxious, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“No, I can’t lose my job, we’ve just broken a bunch of rules, you realise?” you tease and he smiles slightly.

“Are we going to do this again? Or you know… something else?” he glances at your body, feeling a little bad he couldn’t do anything to make you feel like he just did.

“Maybe, maybe not, you’ll just have to wait and see,” you taunt, pecking his cheek and rising to your feet. He cranes his neck to watch as you fetch your bag and coat. You glance at him over your shoulder, seeing him sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking dazed and ruined. You can’t help but giggle, the sound stirring his stomach again. “See you soon, Longbottom,” you blow a mocking kiss and leave. He stares after you, both glad you’re gone so he can process what just happened, and also wishing you were never away from him again.

Tomorrow at work was either going to be heaven or hell on earth, and he found himself eager to find out.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

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luimagines · 2 months ago

Text

Soulmates from the Start Part 7

Final Chapter!!! Wooo!!!!!

Masterlist

First Chapter/ Previous Chapter

Content under the cut!

“Wha- what?” Link looks at you as all the breath in his lungs leaves him at once.

You swallow the spit in your mouth, but it feels like sandpaper going down your throat. “I… I did a very bad thing, Link. I’m sorry.”

Your Link shakes his head, scooting closer to you, holding your hands tighter. “You’re not that kind of person. I know it. Stop this.”

You bite your lips harshly and hang your head in shame. How could he have so much faith in you? Haven’t you done enough damage? How isn’t he angry with you?

“Ok.” Someone else speaks up. “Can I say something?”

You look at him. He’s one of the two you don’t recognize. Green undertunic, red on top, blue hat, pink hair- wait. Pink hair? You can work with that. What was his game again? A Link to the Past?

While you’re busy trying to figure out where you might know him, he takes your silence as permission to keep talking. He puts his hands on his hips and manages a smile. “Whatever it is. It can’t be as bad as you think. You’re clearly shaken. The Rancher here is going to take good care of you, now. We’re not here to make enemies. We’re to end them. No one is in trouble. Got it?”

That last sentence seemed pointed, but you’re too distraught and distracted to figure out who he was actually talking to.

You take another deep breath, holding onto Link tighter and tighter. You’re shaking. You can feel the tremors wreck your nervous system from the top down. Luckily, he seems to meet you halfway, pulling you closer to keep you contained and to keep you close.

Feeling a little braver, you turn to the boy. “Which one are you?”

Because that’s a normal question to ask.

It shows on his face because his reels back in shock, not fully understanding what you mean by that. “...Meaning?” If anything, he seems to calm a little more. “See? How can you know all of our secrets if you don’t even recognize me?”

You flush. He has a point. “Every Link is famous to some degree. But… the only thing I have to go off of is your hair. I don’t recognise the rest of you.”

“I- ok. My hair isn’t supposed to be this color.” He deadpans. You can feel your Link snickering by your side. The untitled one shakes his head. “They call me the Hero of Legend. Or The Veteran. Whichever floats your boat.”

“The Veteran?” Strange name.

He smirks. “Yup! I'm the most experienced hero here. Seven adventures, counting this one!”

Your mouth makes a small ‘o’ shape. That makes more sense. If he’s responsible for and is the protagonist for at least six or seven Legend of Zelda titles, there would have been no way you would have known at first glance. Your breath gets short again. Your lungs feel hollow and heavy. You need to breathe again, but you’re too frozen to make a sound.

Your Link (you refuse to call him anything else) notices your spiked panic and gently rubs circles on your back. “Darlin’, what is it? No one will attack you here.”

You don’t fully believe him. The one they called The Captain, Warrior, has been eyeing you suspicious the entire time you’ve been here. You turn back to Mr. Legend, gulping down more sand. You hesitate to ask. You’re aware this is a loaded question. You have to take a few more deep breaths to even think of making your mouth move the way it needs to speak.

You’ve probably taken too long. Legend now looks nervous.

Your voice is quiet and weak, barely above a whisper. There is very little reason to believe that this is going to end well. “...Do you know Koholint?”

You see it before the others do. His eyes widen and his pupils widen to almost exaggerated proportions. He takes a step back- going as white as a ghost.

The rest of the group looks between you both.

Legend himself begins to shake, staring at you with renewed suspicion and distrust. “How… How do you know that?”

You bite your lip, keeping our eyes on him, watching his fear and shock. You deserve this. You knew better and did it anyway. You should have better self control. Now he’s in front of you. Time to confess your sins. His reaction is all the answer you need.

“She had a beautiful singing voice.” You say, twisting the knife for you both. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“You knew her?” He whispers.

You shake your head. “No. But I saw you… and her... And the windfish.”

Then he surprises you. He gulps, also meeting you head on as tears begin to pool in his eyes. “Could I have saved them?”

You both know who he’s talking about.

You shake your head.

He takes in a shaky breath, hanging his head- not dissimilar to how you had your earlier. But he nods, surprising you again. “I understand… Who else knows?”

Do you even answer that? Would it do more harm than good? But the look on his face- the bond you share with the boy next to you- the way everyone’s eyes are on you, waiting for you to explain yourself and answer his questions- You can’t bring yourself to lie.. “....Millions.”

Warrior scoffs and finally takes his eyes off of you as spins on his heel. You don’t even bother hiding your flinch.

“It’s true.” You weakly defend yourself. “I’m not the only one.”

“How?” Says the final one you have trouble placing. They called him Hyrule and he does magic. But you can’t pinpoint anything familiar about him that would tell you of his identity. What happened to him? What were his adventures about?

“There’s… stories.” You can’t really answer his question either. The truth would seem cruel, mean and pointless. You know better than anyone thanks to Your Link- it was more than what you saw. Their fears and experiences were real- so real and you had no right to learn what you did.

“Just that? Stories? Down to the details then?” The Hero of Time raises an eyebrow at you. You’ve that look in passing when Link would let it slip through your connection. You never considered how it would feel to be on the receiving end.

It feels worse, somehow. You think you might vomit.

You nod. “....Interactive stories.” Because how else would you explain it? “But yes.”

“So you know us?” The Hero of Winds bounces towards you. At least, he seems more intrigued than offended and suspicious. “Do you know about me?”

You nod. “I do… You wield the Wind Waker… And sailed on the King of Red Lions.”

He laughs, delighted with the recognition. “That’s me, alright! One of the fiercest pirates to ever sail the Great Sea.”

“An interactive story, huh?” The Blacksmith (The Hero of the Four Sword- Hero of Light- Hero of Men- your brain supplies unhelpfully) leans forward from where he’s sitting and puts his palm to his chin, his elbow to his knee. “I bet that’s mighty entertaining. I’ve never heard of a story that you interact with.”

Game- Game- It’s a game- They’re games- They’re fun- They’re for children- Your brain fires off in rapid succession, deepening your guilt. There’s no way you can tell them. They’ll be horrified. They’ll be pissed.

“Games?” Yout Link whispers beside you, turning to you with an unreadable expression. The fur along your hair stands on edge. He’s caught on. “Darlin’ games?! Is that all this ever was to you?”

You flinch violently.

In a last ditch effort to defend yourself, even though you’re fully responsible for your own actions and his anger and awe is fully justified. “Link- please- You know that’s not true!”

He growls.

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t say you didn’t know.” He snarls. “I’ve had you in my head since we were children. Don’t you dare say you didn’t know.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You whimper, letting your chickens come home to roost. “I didn’t think I would have ever met them. Link- I only followed along with your story but I never touched it. I never stepped into that. I know what it was like for you. I remember the sleepless nights- the panic attacks- the fear in your ice cold blood as you journeyed. It felt wrong to take your struggles and make it a game.”

“What about them?” He gestures to his friends. They’re all staring at you with looks of incredulous judgment.

“...I thought it would be just you.” You whisper pathetically. “I couldn’t have known you’d meet them. So many of them don’t even touch your time and era- I wanted to know them! I didn’t think it would have mattered from where I was because they… they didn’t exist, Link! They don’t exist and so many people don’t even think the land of Hyrule is real-”

Your Link rubs his hand down his face, taking a moment to breathe and calm himself down.

“We’re not real?” The Champion, Wild, steps forward. “We’re… toys?”

You bite your lips. “I… wouldn’t go that far. But many would.”

“So this is why you feel guilty.” Your Link mutters, ruffling his own hair roughly.

“....Link, I’m sorry.”

“Just-... give me a minute-!”

You click your mouth shut.

“We’re games.” The Knight of Skyloft sits down on a nearby log. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “It’s incredibly popular actually… So many people love you.”

“Do they?” The Captain scoffs again, turning back and glaring into you. “Toys. That’s what we are. To break and remold as they see fit because we’re not real people to them. That’s not love.”

“That’s-” You struggle to find the words. The stench of betrayal lingers heavily in the air. It’s all your fault. “That’s because you don’t see how many lives you save by just existing, even as a thought.”

“Explain.” The Hero of Time doesn’t leave room for negotiation.

“Your stories… despite your struggles, are lighthearted.” You swallow down figurative glass. “Because they’re told from your perspective- because despite everything, you just wanted to help people. You just wanted to do the right thing. Even when everything was against you, you stayed true and proud and you were so brave-” Your voice catches and you’re shaking again. “You all have so much love… for your people… your homes… your friends and families… They push you forward. They give you a reason to keep going. I-if we… If we could so much as copy a fraction of what it means to have courage, our lives wouldn’t have to seem bleak and… hopeless. What use are ruins in an old world when there is no love to preserve the present?”

Your words silence the group as they mull it over. You're on the verge of tears again. You’re so scared. Your heart is pounding. You never wanted to hurt them. You weren’t trying to hurt anyone. You hiccup and clasp your hands together, trying to lessen the way you vibrate. It doesn’t work. “...I wasn’t trying to do anything wrong… I panicked…”

“This conversation isn’t over.” Your Link curls up his lip, revealing a fang that you’re not entirely sure was there before. “But even if I’m not happy about this, I stand by what I said earlier. You’re not that kind of person. You didn’t do this maliciously.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeat yourself for the nth time.

“I know.” His voice finally softens and he pulls you close to him again. “I know you are. I can feel it in every fiber of my being.”

“If we’re famous even outside of Hyrule,” Wind speaks up again, appearing more calm than the others at the news. “Then why did you stop talking to Twilight? You were avoiding him for a while.”

You hang your head again. “I was with you guys… I didn’t want to risk Link learning something of your adventures that could have ruined the timeline or potentially… ruin the relationship we already had. I didn’t mean to-”

“Are there people who know more than you?” Legend asks again, having calmed down from earlier.

“Yes, of course.” You wipe your eyes, coughing on your own spit. “I… became obsessed- I won't lie or sugar coat, but I am certainly not the craziest fanatic out there. It’s not like I’ve got shrines in my room or collected all the icons and merchandise I can… I thought about getting a few… But again, I didn't want to risk hurting Link if he saw something he recognized when I couldn’t give him a straight answer.”

“Idiot.” Your Link clicks his tongue. It stings but in the way a blade or a fire would. At best, it’s close to tearing a scab. Not the greatest feeling, but you have the inclination to admit he’s not trying to actively insult you.

“Millions…” Warrior throws his back against a tree as he scowls into the space in front of him. “We can’t even be mad at you then. You’re not the only one and you’re not the worst.”

You’re scared to see how they’d react to the people who dress up as them. “Yes, neither the first nor the last. I’m not the only one.”

“But you’re the only one that matters.” A new and dark voice whispered in your ear. It made you jump, making all the hairs on your body stand up on edge.

Your Link jumps to his feet, reaching behind to his hand on the hilt of his sword. He puts his hand on your shoulder, keeping you down on the log before you can get up as well.

“Pathetic, little hero.” The voice taunts. You don’t know where it’s coming from. It seems to be both in your head and yet all around you at once. “It wasn’t my intention for you to find each other, much less so quickly. It certainly complicated some things, but I can’t say that this hasn’t been entertaining in the least.”

“Touch them and DIE.” Link snarls.

“I’d love to see you try.” The voice mocks.

It shakes you to your core. The voice echoes in the clearing you’ve found yourselves in. It circles you, like the shadows of the setting sun. In through one ear, behind your head, teasing the other ear as it makes its rounds.

“Link…” You say softly. This is too much. Why can’t today end already?

Multiple swords are unsheathed in an instant, moving around and getting into a circle around you without muttering a word. They certainly know what they’re doing, even if it isn’t just to protect you specifically. You won’t lie, it does help your heart somewhat if you allow yourself to think that they’re protecting you despite it all.

“Do you feel that betrayal, little hero?” The voice taunts Link again. He said, “They knew about you all along but didn’t share a single detail about themselves.”

“I couldn’t!” You shout impulsively, almost jumping to your feet in the same second. Your Link keeps you down. “I would have if I could have!”

The voice chuckled darkly. His form simmers out from the shadows of the trees, appearing within the circle the other heroes have made, appearing right in front of you. Your heart jumps into the thick of your throat. He looks so much like Your Link, but with solid black abysses for eyes instead the blue you fell in love with. “....Liar.”

***

You suck in a breath, getting to your feet at once.

Twilight pulls you back and quickly puts himself between you and the monster that threatens you. This is not the time for this. He points his blade at the shadow man, grazing the flesh of his throat with the tip of his sword. A bead of crimson blooms just beyond the edge of the sharp steel, but the shadow monster doesn’t seem to be impressed.

“You’re no better, little hero.” The creature turns its head to him, cracking it unnaturally as it bends at an abnormally twisted angle. “Have you even told your sweet ‘Darlin’ of the effects that crystal of yours has done to you?”

“I owe you no answers, beast.” He spits, thrusting his sword ever closer to his jugular. “Leave now or lose your head.”

“I am not the beast.” The shadow man sinks into the earth, reappearing behind you, grabbing you by your hair and stealing you away from Twilight. “You are.”

You both scream as the shadowman laughs. Yours; in pain. Twilight’s; in outrage. “Go on! Tell them. Tell what has been done to you!”

“Link.” You gulp, trying to reach behind your head to lessen the pressure. Twilight can see it; the way your hands seem to phase out so you can’t physically touch the being that has trapped you. One wrong move and you could be gone forever.

But Twilight doesn’t know what to say to the creature. He doesn’t understand. You already know that he turns into a wolf. He can remember how you started to research all about wolves just to learn more about him. Not that you told him that part- that was before you started to drift away.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t, stupid boy.” The creature pulls on your hair sharply. Your cry of pain causes Twilight to growl, baring his teeth as the fangs set in his jaw. He doesn’t register the warmth of the crystal- just the bubbling determination to get you away from him as fast as possible.

“See that?” The shadow man starts backing up slowly, ignoring the rest of the group as they all wait on baited breath. “There’s very little man left in him. It’s only a matter of time before the beast inside takes over.”

“That’s not true.” You whimper, trying to get away.

“It is very true, my pet.” The creature tugs harshly again, toppling you over in an instant. The sound you make when the hit the ground is worrying and it makes Twilight unleash a feral sound. It startles himself, he hadn’t known he was capable of such noises.

The creature seems pleased by the development. “A perfect demonstration, little hero. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

An arrow flies, nicking the shadow man in the shoulder. A crimsonline blooms from the injury, making him stubble backwards and away from you. Twilight dives to pull you back up, cradling you close.

It appears that the creature wasn’t expecting the attack. Its hubris had caused it to believe that no one would make a move when he had you in his grasp. “Pathetic fools. I’ll be back.”

He slinks away back into the shadows, not sparing any one but you a passing glance. Twilight doesn’t like it one bit and tightens his grip on you.

“Twilight, what the hell?” Wild throws his hands up. “Is there something else we need to know about? Why are they-” He points to you with an arrow. It slips from his grasp. “-brought into the middle of this?”

“I don’t know.” Twilight grumbles. If he had things his way, you would both be meeting under very different circumstances. “But they’re here now and the shadow wants them for some reason-”

“It claimed you were changing-!”

“I can feel him. He’s not changing.” You speak up, still shaking. Twilight tightens his grip on you. Despite… everything, the rose around his heart is too real and too intricate for him to bash his way through. Any amount of brute force on his end would crush the already delicate foundation that it’s built. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to comfort instead.

You’ve had one hell of a day. You both have. Twilight doesn’t want to ever repeat those terrifying hours of not having you connected to him. And thinking about it, there’s no misplacing that amount of guilt and sadness in your voice and soul for him to think you would have hidden all that you did out of malice.

You were that kind of person. He’s said it already. He’s said it twice, even.

“What do you mean?” Four speaks up, tilting his head, keeping his sword unsheathed. Nobody else seems keen on putting their swords away after the not too violent attack on their senses. They had thought this was a safe space. Apparently not.

You gulp and cling to him like a lifeline. He holds you. “I have him. He’s mine. I can feel him. And I’ve had him for as long as I can remember. He’s always been the same.”

Twilight sighs and hides his face in your hair. A hand of his comes up to gently soothe down the spots where the monsters had viciously grabbed you. You relax within seconds, leaning more of your weight on him and loosening your grip.

“We should move.” Time growls, not dissimilarly to how Twilight was earlier. “We can’t risk having the shadow come back while our backs are turned. We need to find a spot to camp for the night.”

“On it!” Warrior twirls his sword, taking Legend and Wind without a second thought. They lead the group as scouts while everyone else picks up their equipment to follow them. Everyone gives you both passing glances but no one says anything.

You’re his soulmate. He’ll figure out what to do with you. You’re here now; he has to take care of you and make sure that thing never comes close to you again. Today was too close. It was toying with you both. If it ever so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s going to rip out its throat.

His grip on you increases subconsciously and you squirm.

“I know you’re mad.” You whisper. It rings more through your connection than through his ears.

“Not at you.” Twilight huffs. He’s decided it. You’ve been chased, hunted, cut, bruised, thrown about and frightened within an inch of your life. He’s already told you that he’s forgiven you. He’s not going to take it back.

You’ve already apologized and cried him a river. Something he never in a million years would have asked for. What more does he want from you?

“How?” You say, looking up at him. The cut on your cheek makes him grit his teeth. You’ll survive, he knows this. He’s still not happy about this. He’s not happy about any of this.

But it’s never been your fault.

“...Even if you know our secrets-” he starts and takes a deep breath to steady himself. The others have all left save for Wild, who doesn’t want to leave you alone on the off chance that danger still lurks in the shadows. “-it’s not inherently wrong to know about us. If we are toys in your world-”

“Please don’t say it like that-”

“Let me finish.” He takes another deep breath, looking into your eyes. “If we are only stories and games to other people, you know better. You know we’re real. That I’m real. And while others would brush us off as fiction, you went in with a different mindset entirely. You wouldn’t feel so guilty if you didn’t see how badly it could have gone. I can’t fault you for the place you’re from or how other people see us.”

You lip wobbles once more and you collapse against him, properly hugging him back at long last. “You’re too good to me.”

Twilight tries to fight another snarl. Was the shadow creature right? He wasn’t this beastly before…. And he has been using the crystal more often now that he’s with the group. “I’m still processing everything, but I personally think that what should take priority now is keeping the shadow away from you and making sure that you don't get hurt. Do you fight?”

You still have the energy to give him the flattest look ever. “Link, you already know the answer.”

His lips twitch up. “Forgive me for asking anyway?”

You drop your forehead to his shoulder. It gives the impression it would hurt if he wasn’t wearing his layers and wolf pelt. “...Fine.”

A beat passes. Wild stands a little ways away, looking through his sheikah slate for something Twilight can’t be bothered with. Not while you’re in his arms and slowly sinking deeper into the embrace. “How’re you feeling Darlin’?”

“Tired.” You sigh. “I’m exhausted. I’ve never run so much in my life.”

He snorts and shakes his head good naturedly. “Come on. We’ll walk from here on out. The group should make camp soon enough.”

You blow a raspberry but break away from him. Twilight all but dives to take your hand, capturing it in his hold. You hold him back without question.

Do you really think I’m not changing? He asks through the bond, not wanting Wild to overhear him.

You lean your head against him again and shrug. Mentally, psychologically? No. Physically? Not really. Although admittedly, I’m not the best judge of that. However the fangs are new.’

Fangs? Twilight raises an eyebrow, bringing his free hand to poke at his teeth.

He has fangs.

And they retract apparently, given that he can feel the sharp point receding the more he calms down. That’s new.

I just said that.

Twilight smiles. You’re feeling better already. You have to be feeling better to banter like this with him again. It’s like a weight’s been lifted from your shoulders. It feels lighter on Twilight too.

Does it bother you? Twilight tries to ask casually. He’s aware he looks different from the people of your world. You haven’t ever seemed bothered by it before but then, he’s never asked.

No. They’re hot.

You trip over yourself.

Twilight snickers, covering his mouth with his hand. You blush brightly, still holding onto his hand even if you’re unable to meet his eyes.

“That,” you say out loud, “was a little more honest than I was intending.”

“I would rather if you both kept your flirting in your heads.” Wild rolls his eyes, coming forward at last. He has a sword in his hand. Twilight feels the need to protect you flare up, but it’s strange. He’s never felt threatened by Wild before. This is weird. He’s being weird? Is he being weirder than before?

“Here.” Wild snorts, seeing the way Twilight gets offended. He hands you the sword.

You take it, inspecting it. “A flame blade?”

“You recognize it?” Wild seems surprised. “Oh wait- duh. You know my story too?”

You nod. “...Yours was fun…. I yelled at you a lot.”

Wild deadpans. “You’re Twilight’s soulmate alright.”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

Twilight takes a deep breath, feeling the sound penetrate to the deepest marrow of his bones and fill him outward with such a peace he didn’t even know was achievable. Is that corny? Screw it, he’s a farm boy. He can handle corn.

You swing the flame blade experimentally, a bright smile that only spells trouble for Twilight’s (and the group’s) future. A small tail of fire follows the path of the sword. Twilight thinks he recognizes this. It’s not his powerful variant of this weapon but it can be held in one hand and deals a decent amount of damage regardless. Setting the opponent on fire usually helps with that.

This choice was purposeful.

Twilight wants to feel grateful that Wild is already looking out for you too, but the fact that you seem a little too excited about it has Twilight reconsidering the option.

“I love it.” You grin at Wild and it fills Twilight with a familiar sense of dread. “Do I get to keep it?”

“So long as you swing it at the other guys and not towards us.” Wild gives you that same smile.

You giggle, hopping excitedly on the balls of your feet as you grip the hilt of the sword tighter..

Twilight groans and has half the mind to smack Wild. “Why did you give them that?”

“They need something to protect themselves with.” He says decisively, leaving no room for argument.

“...But the flame blade?”

You pause and look back at Twilight. He can vaguely feel where your thoughts are going. But before he can stop you, you speak up with a wide grin. “If this is a problem, can I have the one that freezes stuff instead?”

“Let’s stick with the fire.” Twilight finds himself saying. The only thing worse would be to give you something that would inevitably backfire on all of them. A fire is (unfortunately) more their field of expertise.

Wild chuckles, knowingly giving Twilight a wink over your head. You seemed to enjoy Twilight’s disgruntlement very much, laughing at his expense when he agreed to the weapon. He’s in trouble. He barely fought that.

“Well, that’s all from me.” Wild gives a mock salute as he begins to walk away. “I’m going to catch up with the others.”

“Thank you, Link!” You call out to him and he smiles.

“I think you’ll fit in just fine. Just give the other guys some time to adjust.” He says and walks away.

You gulp quietly and nod. You look down but have nowhere to put your new toy flame blade. “Hmm… That could be a problem.”

Twilight rubs his temple before you shove the sword in his direction.

“Oh wait-! You’re my boyfriend! Hold it for me?”

He coughs but takes it on instinct. He stares at you for a comment before your words sink in. He blushes, feeling it crawl up his neck to the tips of his ears. He hooks the blade to his back, converging with his other sword.

You smile nervously and take his hand again. “...Are we good?”

“We’re good.” He says softly, bringing our hand up to kiss it. “Come. A new chapter awaits us.”

“I can’t wait.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu twilight #soulmate au #soulmates #i never thought someone or even multiple someones would indulge me in my shenanigans #thank you all <3 #soulmates from the start

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lynsstrange · 11 months ago

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I have some issues with how the action scenes and tension were done in this episode, but if there’s one thing I can say is how WELL this script truly understands these characters, their fatal flaws, and the underlying themes of the entire series.

They understand that Percy is so trusting of Luke immediately that he doesn’t want to bring him on the quest. The quick glimmer of resentment in Luke’s eyes that would go unnoticeable to someone who’s never heard this story before when he mentions that the shoes are a gift from his father. Percy choosing someone who he knew would never betray him, and someone he thought he’d keep at arm’s length to go on the quest, instead. The differences between his goals and Annabeth’s goals, the small secrets they’ve already kept from each other, and how it’d inevitably drive distrust and suspicion between them immediately.

Annabeth’s anger and denial of the gods’ often self-serving and shitty ways because she wants approval from a parental figure so badly. Her arrogance and pride towards her heritage. Percy’s willingness to trust in people, and already brewing anger towards the gods making him more willing to hear Medusa out, because deep down, he knows there’s part of him that is already resentful. Medusa getting into both of their heads by telling them they’re doomed to repeat their parents’ mistakes, doomed to repeat the cycle.

But Percy still deciding he’d rather risk death than betray Annabeth and Grover to Medusa, even as she preys on his loyalty, and Annabeth being unwilling to give up Percy to Alecto when she had the chance, even as she has her own pride used against her. It causing both of them to realize that maybe they’re not who they initially who they thought each other were. The unspoken knowledge that this quest is so much bigger than their own desires and grudges, at the end of the day.

I’m just so excited about the way Rick is clearly able to go back and edit and incorporate themes that are introduced later on in the books, expand on character beats that he feels are important, etc. It’s been so cool to watch so far.

#pjo spoilers #percy jackson #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson series #percy jackson disney+#percabeth #rick riordan #pjo #spoilers pjo show #annabeth chase #grover underwood #pjo episode 3 #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #lyn talks pjo

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aphroditelovesu · 7 months ago

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The Lost Queen - XIII

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,325.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 13

Time turned into an indistinct blur, while your breath seemed to freeze in the air. Before you, the man emanated an intimidating aura, his presence filling the small space of the tent with palpable tension. Every detail of his face, sculpted by shadow and dancing light, seemed like a macabre work of art, a mixture of mystery and imminent danger. His dark eyes, deep and penetrating, held yours as if they had the power to probe your soul. And you, paralyzed in front of this spectrum of strength and mystery, could barely utter a single word.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled, watching you with interest shining in his dark eyes. Those words, tinged with a touch of humor, echoed in your ears like a distant echo of a distorted reality. Was he mocking you?

"It's because I'm seeing one." You scoffed, your tone laced with disdain as you stared at him firmly, barely able to contain the fear from spreading through your body. He clicked his tongue in disgust at your tone.

The man looked inside the tent, his interest piqued by the surrounding environment. "You look good." He commented, his voice carrying a casual tone, but his expression still enigmatic and impenetrable.

"Why did you bring me here?" You finally asked, your fists clenching as you stared at the man with disgust and a slight fear shining in your gaze.

"All in good time, my dear." He hummed in response, his relaxed tone contrasting with the tension that hovered between you. He approached you, his imposing presence filling the space between you as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of the uncertainty of what would come next.

"Do not play with me." You spat, your voice filled with suspicion and a hint of suppressed anger.

He arched an eyebrow, a subtle smile dancing on his lips.

"I'm not." He replied seriously, his dark eyes boring into yours with piercing intensity, "I'm not messing with you, sweet girl. Everything I've done has a purpose." His voice echoed in the tent, filled with a conviction you struggled to understand, as the mystery around you seemed to deepen even further.

You felt even more suspicious and uncomfortable with the man's words.

Who was he? Or rather, what was he?

"Who are you?" You finally asked, your jaw clenched in a mix of nervousness and defiance.

"I have several names." He purred in response, a chilling sensation running down your spine as he circled around you like a wary predator, "But you can call me Aslan for now."

Aslan? For now? The name echoed in your mind, loaded with a meaning that you could barely begin to understand.

"What do you want with me?" You frowned, your voice thick with tension and distrust.

“What I want doesn't matter, but what you want does.” He replied calmly, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you uncomfortable.

What do you want?

"Are you mocking me?" You rolled your eyes, frustrated with his evasive answers, "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Aslan." Your words were spoken firmly, a mixture of irritation and determination evident in your voice. You were going to get answers one way or another.

He laughed darkly, and involuntarily, a chill ran down your spine at the laugh that escaped the man's lips.

"Be patient, my dear. I'll explain everything to you, but for now..." He stopped talking when he heard a commotion outside your tent.

''Finish speaking.'' You ordered, your voice firm and determined, demanding answers in the face of the growing intrigue and urgency of the situation.

He smiled, a mysterious gleam dancing in his eyes, "You're learning to act like a Queen."

You looked him straight into his dark eyes, ''I am one.'' Your statement was delivered with unwavering confidence, your identity and position clearly defined, even amidst the confusion and uncertainty that surrounded you.

You were a Queen. You were the Queen of Macedonia, and as strange as that title still sounded in your ears, it felt right when it left your lips.

Aslan smiled widely, his features softening with the confidence of your words, ''You are.'' He confirmed, his voice filled with respect and recognition, as he slowly headed towards the flap of the tent.

''Where are you going? We're not done talking!'' Your words came out in a rush, your gaze narrowing with each step he took towards the exit.

''Duty calls me.'' He sang, his voice filled with mystery and promise, ''But I'll be back soon. We have plenty of time to talk, (Y/N).'' Aslan bowed slightly and left before you could utter another word.

''Aslan...'' You uttered his name, or one of his names in this case, and was strangely pleased with the sweet way it fell from your lips. Why did he look so familiar? Your fingers gripped the hem of your traditional Persian dress, your nails digging into the soft fabric.

You would have the answers soon, you were sure of that. But for now, there was something more pressing to deal with. You needed to meet Darius in person, a meeting that promised to be crucial to your future.

Darius's tent was exactly as you expected it to be: extravagant. Even in the middle of a war camp, the Persian King did not give up his luxuries and comforts.

As you observed the opulence around him, you couldn't help but reflect on how that very extravagance may have been one of the reasons for Darius' downfall. His excessive indulgence and disconnection from the reality of the challenges he faced as a leader may have weakened his rule and undermined his authority among his people and his armies. Vanity and ostentation can be double-edged weapons, especially in times of conflict and political instability.

As you carefully observed Darius and a man who resembled him, your eyes wandered to the king, whose luxurious attire made it clear that he was Darius. You took in every feature of his features: his dark skin glowing in the golden light of the fire, his long black beard that complemented his face firmly. A faint smile curved his lips as you bowed respectfully before him, and his dark eyes softened slightly.

The similarity between Darius' imposing presence and Alexander's was remarkable, and you couldn't help but find it intriguing. Both possessed an enviable charisma, capable of attracting loyal followers and soldiers, even in the face of defeat and adversity. It was as if an aura of authority and leadership surrounded them, inspiring admiration and respect wherever they went. They were similar in that way.

Perhaps it was this magnetic charisma that allowed Darius to maintain a large number of loyal followers and soldiers, even after suffering defeats in battle. His commanding presence and ability to inspire confidence may have been crucial factors in maintaining his power and influence despite the challenges he faced. That was something admirable, and even though he was technically your enemy, you couldn't help but admire those traits.

''It's a pleasure to meet you in person.'' Darius's deep, calming voice sounded in your ears and you nodded slowly, hiding any possible nervousness. He seemed to know how to speak greek and that made you calmer.

"I say the same," You replied calmly, following Darius' lead and settling into a chair reserved for you, "Though it was unpleasant circumstances we found ourselves in." You couldn't help but poke him lightly, after all, he had kidnapped you. The tension between you was palpable, but you were determined to maintain diplomatic composure. You needed to ensure your safety above all else, especially now that you were pregnant.

Instinctively, your hand found its way to your belly, as if trying to protect the baby growing inside you. Darius's gaze followed the movement and rested on your belly, understanding the source of your apprehension.

"Nothing will happen to you or your child." He assured you calmly, his words filled with sincerity and empathy. A feeling of relief spread through you at his assurance, even though tension still permeated the air around you.

The presence of the man who resembled Darius, with malice shining in his eyes, further heightened your sense of unease. As Darius cleared his throat and called a name in Persian that you vaguely recognized as Bagoas, you knew you were looking at an intriguing historical character.

You knew Bagoas's name from contemporary records, which described him as a eunuch who had been the lover of both Darius and Alexander after the conquest of Persia. Your frown at this information was inevitable, and you stared at him as he entered the tent, carrying a jug of wine. Your eyes followed his every movement as he poured the liquid into three cups, and you couldn't help but notice the subtle glance he threw your way before disappearing with silent steps.

Darius took a sip of his wine and the other man did the same. Meanwhile, the wine in front of you remained untouched, as you knew that drinking alcohol during pregnancy was not recommended at all.

The other man finally decided to speak, his rough voice echoing in the tent. The greek that came from his lips was a little difficult to understand, but his words were clear, "We brought you here to negotiate."

Darius stared at the man disapprovingly and sighed, ''That's Bessus.''

Bessus. Uh-huh. This was bad. You knew this man and didn't trust him at all and it seemed like even Darius didn't trust him.

''To negotiate what?'' You raised your eyebrows.

''In exchange for your safety and life, Alexander must abandon the war and return home.'' Bessus replied, drinking his wine with great enthusiasm. You looked at him with disdain evident in your eyes. Did they really think Alexander would give up so easily? They will be fools then.

The idea that Alexander would give up so easily was absurd, and those who believed it were mistaken. Alexander was a formidable leader, determined to pursue his goals with fierce determination, and you knew he would never abandon the war without fighting until his last breath. He would rather die fighting than return as a coward.

"Alexander won't give up." You replied firmly, your voice thick with conviction, "He never will."

Bessus's expression was disdainful as he arched his eyebrow, "Not even for his beloved pregnant wife?"

You fought the urge to punch Bessus at his taunts and replied dryly, "Alexander will destroy the world for me, and you made a huge mistake by bringing me here."

There was a certain arrogance in your voice, but it was the truth. You knew the destructive power Alexander was capable of inflicting when provoked, and those who dared to defy him were playing with fire.

You remembered the stories about what he did to his enemies, to those who dared to cross his path or take what was his. His revenge was swift and merciless, sending a clear message to all those who dared defy him: there was no mercy for traitors and invaders. Darius and Bessus were in hot water when they decided to kidnap you.

''Let's talk, shall we?'' Darius interrupted the conversation between you and Bessus, sensing the animosity between you.

You nodded, even though you knew this conversation wouldn't get you anywhere. Their situation was complicated, and it seemed like they were about to face the consequences of their actions.

Every action has a reaction, right?

"My wife is not here?" Alexander's voice was low, but his fury resonated clearly in every word, his clenched fists denoting his intense emotion.

The generals present, Hephaestion and Ptolemy, seemed worried and fearful of the king's wrath. Finally, Hephaestion decided to take the lead, his expression carefully controlled to avoid further provoking Alexander's explosive reaction.

"She is not here." He said with the greatest caution he could have at that moment, his words chosen precisely to convey the truth without triggering an even more violent reaction from the King. The tension in the air was palpable, as everyone awaited Alexander's next response and the consequences that could follow.

"She's not here.'' Alexander repeated, his voice sounding louder, reverberating through the room. Ptolemy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of responsibility in deciding to speak,

"(Y/N)'s guards said they didn't find her in her tent when they woke up.'' He stated, holding Alexander's menacing gaze as long as he could, his expression showing both concern and determination.

Finally, the King snapped. His fists hit the poor makeshift table hard, causing it to fall with a deafening crash. Hephaestion fought the urge to shudder at Alexander's display of fury.

"So where is she?" Alexander asked, his voice filled with anger and despair, staring intensely at his two friends, "WHERE IS SHE?" The last question was shouted, echoing off the walls of the room and reverberating in the minds of everyone present. The tension reached its peak, as everyone awaited the answer with a mixture of apprehension and fear for what could happen next.

"W-We don't know!" Ptolemy was quick to say, fearing for his life, his words flowing in a torrent of fear. "We've done a thorough search of the entire camp and surrounding area, but there's no trace of her. It's as if she's disappeared."

"People don't disappear out of thin air." Alexander sneered, his penetrating and suspicious gaze scanning every detail of his generals' faces. His blue eye narrowed, emanating an intensity that made it clear he would not accept evasive answers or excuses.

Hephaestion decided to speak to try to help calm his friend, aware of the urgency of providing any information that could help or worsen the situation.

"According to the guards stationed at her tent, they were knocked out and the Queen was gone." He reported, his voice firm but filled with concern.

Alexander looked his friend in the eyes, his expression a mixture of anger and grim determination, "Who took her?" His question was uttered with increasing urgency, indicating that he would not rest until he found answers and brought his wife back safely.

Ptolemy and Hephaestion exchanged a heavy look of mutual significance. They knew Alexander wouldn't take this information very well. Betrayal was never something he dealt with easily, especially when it came from such a dear friend.

Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself for the coming storm, Hephaestion took the lead once again.

"Perdiccas." He said, his voice heavy with the weight of revelation as he faced Alexander's furious gaze. The words hung in the air, loaded with inevitable consequences, while everyone awaited the King's explosive reaction to the betrayal of one of his closest confidants.

"Perdiccas.'' Alexander repeated the name carefully, feeling a bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth.

Perdiccas.

His childhood friend, his trusted general, now revealed himself as the traitor who had kidnapped his wife. The reality of the situation hit Alexander with devastating force, a mixture of disbelief and fury boiling inside him. How could someone he trusted so deeply betray like this?

The feeling of betrayal pierced his heart like a sharp blade, leaving him furious and determined to carry out the worst punishment, torture known to man.

The fury building inside Alexander was like an uncontrolled hurricane, a primal force that threatened to devour everything in its path. His vision turned red, his mind flooded with images of violence and revenge. All he could see was a pool of blood and a cruelly mutilated body in the middle of it. Perdiccas' body.

He wanted revenge, revenge as brutal and painful as the betrayal he had experienced. The pain of being betrayed like that tore him apart, consuming him with an overwhelming rage that threatened to swallow him whole.

The idea of killing Perdiccas slowly and painfully took root in his mind like an obsession. He imagined every macabre detail, every torment he would inflict on the traitor, fueled by the relentless thirst to recover what belonged to him and the unbearable pain of betrayal.

With a herculean effort to contain his burning fury, Alexander finally managed to muster the strength to ask, "Where did he take her?"

"We don't know yet." Ptolemy replied, his eyes fixed on Alexander as he carefully assessed the King's reaction.

The answer seemed to echo in the room, filled with tension and uncertainty. Alexander was strangely restrained, his expression too controlled for the tastes of those present. This was worrying. Ptolemy and Hephaestion exchanged a quick glance, sharing their silent apprehension at what might come next. The approaching storm was invisible, but the tension in the air was palpable, foreshadowing a series of events that could change the course of history.

With palpable determination, Alexander finally made a decision. He stared at the broken table, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and resolve.

"Send all available men to search for any possible information." He ordered firmly, "Spread the news and whoever brings me information about my wife's whereabouts will receive a generous reward."

Ptolemy nodded in understanding and hurriedly left the tent, leaving Hephaestion and Alexander alone in the silent wreckage. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but beneath this layer of anger and worry, there was an unwavering determination that guided Alexander's every action. He was determined to find his wife, no matter the cost.

Hephaestion carefully approached Alexander, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Alexander did not react immediately, his mind still absorbed in turbulent and bloody thoughts.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion's voice sounded gentle and calming, seeking to draw his friend's attention to the present.

"Hephaestion," Alexander replied carefully, his voice filled with determination and a focused intensity, "I want Perdiccas to be brought to me alive."

Hephaestion nodded silently, even though he knew Alexander wasn't looking directly at him. He perfectly understood the implicit meaning behind the order to bring Perdiccas alive.

Even without being asked, Alexander continued, his voice filled with determination and a calculated coldness, "I want to interrogate him personally, ask him why he betrayed me and stole my wife. And then, personally, I will torture him and kill him." The words were delivered with icy calm, but there was no doubt that each one carried a deadly weight.

Alexander's determination was unwavering, his mind focused on just one goal: getting his wife back, no matter the cost. He was willing to throw all of his power and destructive force against any obstacle that he dared to stand in his way.

Cities would fall, armies would be torn to pieces, and populations would be subjugated. Men would be killed, while women and children would be taken into slavery, all in the name of desperately searching for his beloved Queen. Alexander did not care about the human or moral cost of his actions; his fiery fury eclipsed any consideration of compassion or mercy.

The entire world would tremble at Alexander's wrath, for he was determined to leave a trail of destruction in his wake towards those who dared to defy him and take away what was most precious to him. His journey would be marked by blood, pain and suffering, but he would not rest until his wife was safe in his arms again, no matter what the cost.

He would recover his Lost Queen.

— lady l: And things get more and more complicated for the Persians, don't they? Poor things, they thought it was a good idea to steal a yandere's wife. There wasn't one to warn you, right?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I changed my writing style a little and I hope this pleases you. Feel free to send your feedback and I'll see you in the next chapter! Love you all!! ❤️

#the lost queen #tq #yandere history #history #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #fanfic #long fic #yandere au #yandere historical characters

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kanonavi · 4 months ago

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Spoilers for Simulanka Day 3

There's a conversation that I've had with friends from time to time about the fact that the world of Teyvat is, at its core, incredibly kind. Shockingly so, even for most fictional stories that aren't directed towards children. Even though the traveler has faced many antagonists on their journey, the people around them have always banded together to overcome those challenges. Even when people are hurt it's very rare for anyone to die, and many of the antagonists in question aren't pure evil and have their own reasons for taking the actions they take. They may not always operate on the same morality as the traveler or the player, and they might not be "good people", but they still believe that what they have to do is right, or at the very least necessary.

To put it more simply, Genshin is filled with characters that are made to be liked. Not every player will like every character, but very few of them are actively trying to work against you, and even when they do there's still something there to like. Except for like, Il Dottore, but he's likable for how unlikable he is (I have to say that or my Dottore enjoying friend will be sad lmao).

I got to thinking about this when playing the last part of Simulanka because it was a reminder of how, despite the kindness that they've been shown by Teyvat for the past three and a half years, the traveler's morality is still shockingly black and white in many situations.

We see this the most in how they interact with the Fatui. The Fatui, particularly the Harbingers, have cause a lot of damage in the past, but a lot of the grunts are just ordinary people following orders. the commission line in Mondstadt with Viktor, Golden Apple Archipelago 2 and The Chasm come to mind for times when we've interacted with Fatui grunts in a way that really humanizes them and shows that a lot of them really are just people doing a job. Some of them have just been surveyors or low-level guards, but the traveler and Paimon treat them like they're cartoon villains until proven otherwise (and sometimes even after proven otherwise).

The way that they acted towards Simulanka Durin before the party gave him their blessings also seemed to reflect this, especially in comparison to the other party members. Wanderer was obviously the most sympathetic to Durin, since his memories were like looking into a mirror for him, but Nilou, Navia, and Kirara all stepped forward to give Durin their support while the traveler was still showing doubts. They were thinking about how the residents of Simulanka might not forgive Durin, or how his form was too big and scary to coexist with everyone, which was an incredibly unsympathetic outlook even though they were ultimately able to change Durin's form.

It honestly reminds me a lot of how the traveler treated Scaramouche/Wanderer in Inversion of Genesis, like he was a person to be kept the company of only out of necessity as a means to keep him under control, even after Nahida said that she trusted him. Even though something did go wrong at the time, it still showed that the traveler's suspicion and distrust of Scaramouche was strong enough to outweigh their trust of Nahida, despite Nahida having proved herself many times to be wise and worthy of trust in the past. That mistrust and even disdain for him even carried over into when he reappeared with no memories, as the traveler was forcefully adamant that he needed to reclaim his memories and atone, to the point that it seemed like they were being a little bit mean about it.

It's arguable that Scaramouche deserved that treatment, since he was kind of a little shithead who caused a lot of harm in the past, but the traveler was also witness to how deeply he was hurt and manipulated in the past, and therefore would have some kind of understanding of why he turned out the way that he did.

Despite the traveler's usual helpfulness in Simulanka, Nilou, Navia, and Kirara all feel like contrasts to them. Nilou's whimsical outlook and positive mindset allowed her to grasp the magic of creation and even gave her the initiative to try and change Durin's form with magic in the first place. Navia is used to taking care of "the little guy", as it were, through the Spina, and was therefore willing to listen and empathize with the toy people who didn't want to undo the power of prophecy. (With those guys also being called "conservatives" or a "conservative radical" in English, that doesn't really have a good connotation depending on your political leaning, but Navia listened to them anyway). And with Kirara, while I haven't played her little sidequest yet, the description of her outfit described how the little cat burglar stole and returned the emotions of the cats that they hadn't been given when they were created, casting her in the role of someone who can understand the balance that anger, sadness, and pain bring to happiness.

The three of them, as well as the Wanderer, all carry Teyvat's fundamental kindness with them, and it was then coaxed out of the traveler only when all of them had already stepped forward.

It made me wonder if this is some kind of lesson that the traveler has to learn before reuniting with their sibling, that they need to be more willing to put their trust in people, or at least be more understanding of others. While the abyss twin hasn't divulged too much of what they've learned yet, they've made it clear that there are lessons that the traveler needs to learn about the world before they reunite. While that likely has a lot to do with various truths about Celestia and the sky being fake and all that, perhaps they're hoping for their sibling to learn that at least in Teyvat, sometimes people who cause harm to others are simply trying (or have tried and failed and lost hope) to find a path towards co-existing with others.

Since the abyss twin is supposedly born of Teyvat as well, perhaps they've already understood that part of this world from the very beginning and are waiting for their sibling to catch up.

#genshin impact spoilers #genshin impact #navi gets meta #lumine #aether #wanderer #scaramouche #durin #Usually when I'm writing the traveler I try to give them morality that's a bit greyer #But it's also fascinating to look at how they act in the game itself #Because honestly it's just kind of exhausting sometimes #Like Lumi you've met so many people by now you think you'd be less of a doubter #I was hating on Paimon a lot for this quest for being utterly whimsiless #But the traveler could use a bit more whimsy too #Or at least positive thinking #The fact that genshin's world is filled with so many well-meaning people will never not be fascinating to me #I kind of doubt that it's a fact that will ever be acknowledged by the narrative #But as the player it's so interesting to examine

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buccini555 · 8 months ago

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𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: "𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞" 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝

≡ They reacting to you making the TikTok trend "Happy House" (The trend is about you having problems in your home...)

⌕ H e a d c a n o n s!

☆ 𝑭𝒕. Kazutora Hanemiya, Baji Keisuke, Hanma Shuji, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Yuzuha Shiba and Izana Kurokawa

𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚

He also often has problems at home, due to this fact, as soon as he saw you participating in Trend and exposing some kind of bad situation in your home, he would definitely not ignore what happened, Kazutora would call you to talk and do his best to help you keep at least some time out of your home until you make sure you're staying in good health.

"As long as I'm here nothing and no one will hurt you, do you understand, baby?" He would say briefly in a serious tone as he would gently hold your face to make you look at his face while he spoke, finally, he would give you a small kiss on your forehead, hug you to at least try to comfort you and demonstrate that he didn't care, no matter what was happening, Kazutora would not leave your side and would take care of you just like he wanted to be taken care of when he went through problems with his father.

𝐁𝐚𝐣𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞

Baji would not ignore the fact that you were having problems at home, he would be clearly concerned about your well-being even if he didn't show his feelings so easily, thinking about your good, he would definitely find a way to remove you from that environment, no caring about any kind of consequence or something like that.

"I promise I won't let you go through anything alone, are we accordingly?" He would speak without thinking twice, as soon as he knew your real situation, Keisuke would take you out of the house, making you spend some time with him at his house, Baji wouldn't mind taking care of you almost full time, so he would commit to keeping you safe and away from situations that directly affect you.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢

Hanma already suspected that you were suffering some kind of reprisal at home in some way, because of that, he had already been planning to take you out of that environment for some time, as soon as he saw you do the Trend and his suspicions were confirmed, Shuji would come and look for you without caring about any kind of consequences and much less fearing anyone who wanted otherwise, Hanma wouldn't mind taking you with him anywhere he went and he would do so even if you didn't believe that much in how much he sincerely loved you.

"Do you really think I would leave you here knowing you're suffering? Fuck,I will never leave you alone again." Once he made sure that nothing bad would happen to you anymore and that you were far enough away from home, Hanma would say without thinking too much, he would become a little more responsible and would also show determination to take care of you in whatever way he could and thought it better.

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

He definitely already had a bad feeling about your house and also somehow knew that you were suffering in some way there, his distrust began when he heard you say that you didn't like staying at home and you felt safer when he was nearby, so his until then only distrust was confirmed when he saw you doing the Trend, Ran really wouldn't allow you to stay another minute in that place, so he would look for you so you could stay by his side without If he cared about anything other than your well-being, Ran wouldn't mind having to take on the responsibility of taking care of you and so he would.

"I would never let you go through these things alone..." He wouldn't bring it up directly after he managed to keep you away and safe, but even so, Ran would promise and commit to taking care of you under any circumstances, after that, he would be much more attentive and affectionate with you to keep you at least distracted from your own traumas.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Rindou had no idea what you were going through inside your house, even though he had previously had some suspicions when he realized that you never wanted to go home and clearly felt safer when he was around, despite that, so who ended up seeing you doing the Trend and explaining that you were suffering from some kind of dam inside your own house, Rindou got worried and at the same time ended up feeling guilty for not having noticed it sooner and removed you from that environment, but, that same day, Rindou was pick you up even if you didn't want to go with him because you were scared or something.

"I should have protected you, forgive me, I had no idea, I'm sorry for letting you suffer for so long..." Hugging you as tight as ever, he would say, somewhat apprehensive about the guilt he was feeling, after that, He would take you home and spoil you as much as he could to at least try to make you at least disconnected from those situations that affected you so much previously.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

Sanzu always paid a lot of attention to you and the things that happened around you, for that reason, he had known for some time that you were suffering from some kind of dam within your own self home and had been planning to get you out of that environment anyway before something worse ended up happening, however, as soon as he saw you doing the Trend, Haruchiyo didn't think twice about rushing into his plan to get you out of that house, Sanzu didn't care with anything other than your well-being that's why he didn't care about facing anyone or any type of consequence, Haruchiyo would take you out of your house that same day, taking you to his even if at first you ended up hesitating out of fear or anything like that.

"... I'm sorry for not getting you out of all this sooner, I promise that nothing and no one will hurt you while I'm here." It would be his only speech on the subject, Sanzu would not pressure you at any time to know exactly what was happening inside his house, on the contrary, he would avoid the subject so as not to cause you any more bad feelings, Haruchiyo would be attentive to you, he would also do everything to keep you safe and comfort you as much as necessary.

𝐘𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 𝐒𝐡��𝐛𝐚

Yuzuha always paid a lot of attention to you and your behavior, for this reason, the girl often questioned you about something happening to you or in your house, but if you simply wanted to keep that situation to yourself she would respect it, despite that, so who saw you do the Trend Yuzuha got worried at the same moment, getting worried to the point of taking you out of the house and taking you to any safe place, Yuzuha didn't care about anyone she had to face or the consequences, she definitely wouldn't let your suffering goes unnoticed before her eyes.

"I'll take care of you no matter what, we'll be together, okay?" Seriously, he would say as he committed to taking care of you by keeping you away from anything that would hurt you in any way, Yuzuha wouldn't bring up the subject too much so as not to cause you even more trouble and would be careful the entire time they were together with intuition, you can at least dispel the bad feeling you were feeling in your home.

𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

You would spend some time hiding the problems you had at home since you knew that if Izana ended up finding out his reaction wouldn't be the best, even though you tried to hide this fact, Izana had definitely suspected for some time that you were suffering from some type of abuse. at home so he paid a lot of attention to you and your behavior, due to this concern, as soon as Kurokawa saw you participating in Trend he simply didn't think twice before immediately taking you out of your house and taking you with him to somewhere far away and safe.

"I never want you to hide anything from me again, okay? You're important to me and I...I care about you more than I care about myself." At first, Izana would certainly be angry in some way because you kept your suffering silent all that time, but, later, he would really try to comfort you after all those situations that affected you previously.

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muiitoloko · 9 months ago

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Your Protector

Summary: He would burn the whole world down for you.

Pairing: Harry Hart (Kingsman) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dark Harry, Obsession, Protectiveness, Distrust, Possessiveness.

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for the 100 followers 🥳🥰 This fanfic was lost in my drafts and I decided to post it.

You enter the dimly lit room with a mixture of apprehension and hope swirling in your chest. Merlin's words echo in your mind, the revelation that Harry is alive hitting you like a tidal wave after a year of mourning his supposed death. But the knowledge that he doesn't remember you, that he's been locked up at Kingsman, struggling with aggression and suspicion, casts a shadow over your heart.

As you step further into the room, your eyes fall on the figure sitting in the corner, his posture rigid and his gaze cold and distant. Harry Hart, your husband, alive and well but wearing an eye patch, his once warm and loving eyes now masked by a veil of confusion and distrust.

Your heart aches at the sight of him, so close yet so far away, a stranger in the body of the man you once knew. You approach him cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the room, your hands trembling with emotion as you clutch the photos in your grasp.

"Harry," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper as you come to stand before him. "It's me, your wife. I know this must be confusing for you, but please, look at these photos. They'll help you remember."

But Harry's reaction is not what you hoped for. Instead of recognition or warmth, his eyes narrow with suspicion, his lips curling into a sneer as he regards you with thinly veiled hostility. "Who sent you?" he demands, his voice laced with accusation. "What do you want from me?"

Tears well up in your eyes as you realize the depth of his confusion and mistrust. He doesn't remember you, doesn't trust you, sees you as nothing more than a stranger in his fractured reality. And yet, despite the pain and rejection, you refuse to give up on him.

With trembling hands, you offer him the photos, each one a snapshot of your life together, moments of happiness and love frozen in time. "Please, Harry," you plead, your voice cracking with emotion. "Just look at them. Remember who we are, who you are."

For a moment, there's a flicker of something in Harry's eyes, a glimmer of recognition buried beneath the layers of confusion and fear. But it's fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, replaced once more by the cold mask of indifference.

"I don't know you," he says, his voice hollow and distant. "I don't know any of this. Leave me alone."

Your heart shatters into a million pieces at his words, the weight of his rejection crushing you like a vice. You nod silently, understanding his need for space and his mistrust of those around him. With a heavy heart, you turn to leave, but not before placing the stack of wedding photos gently in his hand.

"I'll leave you in peace, Harry," you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "But please, take these. They're important."

As you start to walk away, a sudden grip on your hand stops you in your tracks. You turn back to see Harry, his gaze fixed on the engagement ring adorning your finger. It was his mother's ring, a cherished heirloom that held a special place in both of your hearts.

For a fleeting moment, there's a spark of recognition in Harry's eyes, a flicker of memory stirring within him. And then, as if a veil has been lifted, his features soften, and he looks at you with a sense of familiarity that fills you with hope.

"You," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I remember... [your name]."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, tears welling up in your eyes as you realize that he's starting to remember. Maybe not everything, but enough to know that you were someone important to him, someone he cared about deeply.

"Yes, Harry," you reply, your voice choked with emotion. "It's me. I'm here."

And in that moment, as Harry looks at you with newfound recognition, the weight of his suspicion and aggression begins to lift, replaced by a sense of connection and warmth. You know that it's just the beginning, that there's still a long road ahead filled with challenges and obstacles. But for now, in this moment, all that matters is that Harry is starting to remember, starting to come back to you. And with that glimmer of hope lighting the way, you know that together, you'll find a way to overcome whatever darkness lies ahead.

As you watched Harry's tentative recognition flicker and then ignite into a spark of remembrance, your heart soared with hope. Finally, it seemed like you were breaking through the barriers that had separated you for so long. But that hope was short-lived as Merlin entered the room, his presence casting a shadow over the fragile moment you had shared with Harry.

Merlin's expression was a mix of concern and anticipation as he approached, his eyes locked on Harry's guarded stance. But as he drew nearer, Harry's demeanor shifted, his suspicion rising like a dark cloud as he tensed, his hand tightening around yours in a protective grip.

You tried to reassure Harry that Merlin was a friend, that he was someone they could trust, but Harry's distrust ran deep. He regarded Merlin with narrowed eyes, his lip curling into a snarl of aggression as he pulled you closer, as if shielding you from a perceived threat.

Merlin's heart sank at the sight of Harry's hostility, his hopes of Harry regaining his memories fading with each passing moment. He had watched the entire interaction through the hidden camera in the room, praying for a breakthrough, but now it seemed that Harry's mistrust extended to everyone, even his closest allies.

"Harry, it's me, Merlin," he said softly, his voice filled with sadness. "I'm here to help you, to guide you through this. Please, you have to trust me."

But Harry's response was a growl of defiance, his distrust of Merlin palpable in the air as he refused to let his guard down. He saw Merlin as a threat, an intruder in his fractured reality, and he would do whatever it took to protect what was his.

In the days that followed, Harry's suspicion only deepened, his aggression simmering just beneath the surface as he clung to you like a lifeline. He didn't remember Kingsman, didn't remember his years as a spy, didn't even remember his own name. All he knew was that you were someone important to him, someone he had to protect at all costs.

You tried to reassure Harry, to help him piece together his fractured memories, but it was like trying to hold onto water slipping through your fingers. He didn't remember who he was, didn't remember the man he used to be, and it broke your heart to see him slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.

As Harry descended into darkness, consumed by suspicion and aggression, you found yourself caught in the crossfire of his turmoil. He was fiercely protective of you, distrustful of everyone else, and it was starting to take its toll on both of you.

You longed for the man you had once known, the kind and gentle soul who had stolen your heart and filled your life with love and laughter. But now, he was a stranger in the body of the man you loved, lost in a maze of confusion and fear.

And as you watched him spiral deeper into darkness, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any hope left for him, for the two of you. But deep down, you refused to give up, clinging to the sliver of hope that someday, somehow, you would find your way back to each other, no matter the cost.

As Eggsy entered the dimly lit room, his gaze filled with determination and hope, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety knotting in your stomach. You knew how much Eggsy longed for Harry's recognition, for the bond they once shared as mentor and protege to be restored.

But as Eggsy approached Harry, his enthusiasm palpable in the air, Harry's reaction was not what either of you had hoped for. Instead of warmth or recognition, Harry's cold gaze remained fixed on the photo album in your hands, his expression unreadable as he deliberately ignored Eggsy's presence.

"Eggsy maybe you should give him some space," you murmured softly, offering him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, he's just... not himself."

Eggsy sighed in disappointment, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he realized that Harry was still lost in the fog of his confusion and suspicion. "Yeah, I get it," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "I just... I miss him, you know? Miss the old Harry."

You nodded in understanding, feeling a pang of sympathy for Eggsy as he struggled to come to terms with the reality of Harry's condition. But despite the disappointment, he remained optimistic, his determination unwavering as he clung to the hope that someday, somehow, Harry would come back to them.

"I know, Eggsy," you replied softly. "But we'll get through this together, I promise."

As Eggsy tried to engage Harry in conversation, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, Harry remained stoic and unresponsive, his attention focused solely on the photos in your hands. It was as if he had built a wall around himself, shutting out the world and retreating into the safety of his fractured memories.

As you sighed at your husband's indifference, sadness washed over you like a heavy wave crashing against the shore. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm separating the man you loved from the reality of his fractured mind. But before your despair could consume you completely, Eggsy reached out to shake your hand in an encouraging and comforting grip, his presence offering a glimmer of solace in the darkness.

But Harry's reaction was swift and brutal, his hiss of warning slicing through the air like a knife as he grabbed Eggsy's hand and threw it away from you. The look of shock and fear on Eggsy's face mirrored your own horror as Harry's aggression escalated, his words dripping with possessiveness and jealousy.

"If you touch her again, I'll break your hand," Harry growled, his voice low and menacing as he fixed Eggsy with a steely gaze. "She's mine, understand? Mine."

You screamed in horror at Harry's outburst, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate attempt to reason with him. "Harry, stop! He's just trying to help," you pleaded, your voice trembling with fear and frustration. "You can't just—"

But Harry's grip on reality was slipping further with each passing moment, his possessiveness bordering on obsession as he sent Eggsy away with a warning to stay away from "his fucking wife." Eggsy, visibly shaken by the encounter, hurriedly left the room, casting worried glances over his shoulder as he disappeared from view.

Alone with Harry, you felt a mixture of confusion and apprehension swirling in your chest as you confronted the dark and unfamiliar side of the man you loved. "Harry, what was that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to make sense of his sudden aggression. "You've never been like this before."

But Harry's response was unwavering, his gaze intense as he held you captive with his piercing stare. "I have to protect you," he said, his voice tinged with desperation. "No one else can touch you, only me. Do you understand?"

You were taken aback by Harry's possessiveness, his words sending a chill down your spine as you realized the depth of his paranoia and distrust. "Harry, this isn't like you," you protested, your voice tinged with concern. "You can't just—"

But Harry cut you off with a gentle yet firm touch, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he silenced your protests with a tender kiss. "Trust me, darling," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing against your lips. "I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

Reluctantly, you nodded, unable to deny the fierce determination in Harry's eyes. You knew that trying to reason with him in his current state would be futile, that the only way to calm his fears was to play along with his delusions, at least for now.

And as Harry smiled, his touch gentle and reassuring, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind. Harry may never hurt you intentionally, but his descent into darkness was a reminder that the man you loved was slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.

But for now, you pushed aside your doubts and fears, focusing instead on the fragile connection you still shared with Harry, praying that someday, somehow, you would find your way back to each other, no matter the cost.

As you reluctantly walked away from Harry, your heart heavy with the weight of his words and actions, you made a move to retrieve the wedding album from his grasp. The photos held precious memories, fragments of a life you both shared, and you couldn't bear to leave them behind, especially not in Harry's current state of confusion and suspicion.

"Harry," you began softly, your voice trembling with emotion as you reached out for the album. "I need to take these with me. We'll come back, I promise, but for now, I need to go home."

But to your surprise, Harry's reaction was not what you expected. Instead of acquiescing to your request, he tightened his grip on the album, his eyes flashing with determination as he declared, "No, I'm going with you."

You froze, taken aback by Harry's sudden insistence. "Harry, you can't," you protested gently, trying to reason with him. "You need to stay here until you've recovered your memories. It's not safe for you to leave."

But Harry's response was resolute, his gaze unwavering as he held you captive with his intense stare. "I don't need those useless memories," he insisted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I have you, and I have to protect you. That's all that matters."

You sighed in frustration, knowing that convincing Harry to stay would be an uphill battle. He was stubborn and fiercely protective, and you knew that trying to reason with him would only lead to further conflict. But you couldn't let him leave Kingsman without his memories, not when it could put him in even more danger.

"Harry, please," you pleaded, reaching for the album once more. "You can't go with me. It's not safe, not until you remember who you are."

But Harry's determination only seemed to grow stronger, his grip on the album tightening as he pulled you closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper. "I want to go home," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to feel your heat, taste your essence. I want to fuck you like I used to, lost in ecstasy."

You blushed deeply at his explicit words, taken aback by the raw intensity of his desire. Harry had never been so forward before, his words sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But you knew that indulging in his fantasies wasn't an option, not when his safety was at stake.

"Harry, we can't," you protested weakly, trying to push away the flood of desire his words had ignited. "Not here, not now."

But Harry was relentless, his gaze dark and hungry as he looked around the room, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "This place isn't safe," he growled, his fingers trailing down your arm possessively. "But home... home is where we can be together, where we can finally make love without fear."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in as you realized just how far Harry had descended into darkness. But despite the danger and uncertainty, a part of you couldn't help but be drawn to his passion and intensity, to the promise of intimacy and connection that lay just beyond your reach.

"Harry, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you tried to reason with him one last time. "Stay here. You'll be safe, I promise."

For a moment, Harry's resolve wavered, his grip on you loosening slightly as he searched your eyes for reassurance. And then, as if coming to a decision, he reluctantly released the album, his gaze softening with resignation.

"Okay," he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. "But promise me... promise me you'll come back soon. I can't bear to be without you any longer."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. "I promise, Harry," you murmured, holding him close. "I'll come back for you, I swear."

And as you pulled away, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips, Harry's gaze lingered on you with a mixture of longing and desire. "Until then," he whispered, his voice filled with yearning. "Just know that you disturb my dreams, darling. I want you so much."

You blushed deeply at his words, a mix of embarrassment and affection flooding your heart as you watched him reluctantly release you. "I'll... I'll remember that," you stammered, trying to compose yourself as Harry chuckled softly, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Good," he replied, his smile filled with genuine warmth. "Because I'll be waiting for you, ready to make all your fantasies come true."

With one final glance back at Harry, his form silhouetted against the dim light of the room, you turned and walked away, your heart heavy with the weight of his words and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

As you crossed the threshold of Harry's suite the next morning, you were met with a sight that both warmed your heart and filled you with apprehension. Harry, with his rugged appearance and intense gaze, rushed towards you with a sense of urgency, sweeping you up into his arms in a gesture that felt both familiar and comforting.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he began to inspect you for any signs of injury, just like he always did whenever you returned to him.

You couldn't help but smile at his familiar routine, the way he checked you over with such meticulous care, as if he couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you. "I'm fine, Harry," you reassured him softly, running a hand through his unruly hair as he continued his inspection.

But Harry's worry didn't seem to diminish, his touch lingering on your skin as he searched for any hidden wounds or bruises. "I missed you," he confessed, his voice tinged with sadness as he finally let you go, his arms still wrapped around you in a tight embrace.

You tried to downplay the situation, reminding him that you had only been gone for a few hours, but Harry's grip only tightened as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"I know," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "But it felt like an eternity without you."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that Harry's confusion and paranoia only seemed to worsen with each passing day. But despite the darkness that threatened to consume him, his love for you remained steadfast and unwavering.

As you gently stroked his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips, Harry's gaze softened with affection. "I'm going to shave today," he declared suddenly, a hint of determination in his voice. "Merlin said they'll bring me a razor blade. I want to look presentable for you."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the thought of Harry wielding a razor blade in his current state of mind, but you nodded nonetheless, not wanting to dampen his spirits. "That sounds like a good idea, Harry," you replied, offering him a reassuring smile.

As you stood in Harry's suite, enveloped in his protective embrace, the sudden sound of the door opening behind you shattered the moment of peace. Harry's reaction was immediate, his grip tightening around you as he tensed, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.

But to of your relief, it was only Merlin who entered the room, his expression a mix of concern and apprehension as he took in the scene before him. However, Harry's guard remained firmly in place, his suspicion evident as he held you back, his gaze fixed on Merlin with a steely intensity.

Merlin approached cautiously, his hands held up in a gesture of peace as he tried to defuse the tension in the air. "Harry, it's just me," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I brought something for you."

But Harry remained on high alert, his distrust of Merlin apparent as he watched him closely, his body coiled like a spring ready to pounce. It was clear that Merlin's presence only served to heighten Harry's paranoia, his suspicion of everyone around him growing more intense by the day.

Merlin seemed to have anticipated Harry's reaction, as he approached the table and placed an electric razor on the surface before retreating, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to provoke Harry further. But even this small gesture failed to put Harry at ease, his defensive stance unwavering as he continued to regard Merlin with a mixture of caution and hostility.

You sighed in frustration at Harry's refusal to trust Merlin, knowing that his paranoia was only exacerbating the situation. "Harry, Merlin is our friend," you reminded him gently, reaching out to touch his arm in an attempt to calm his nerves. "He's just trying to help."

But Harry shook his head stubbornly, his distrust of Merlin deeply ingrained as he refused to let his guard down. "I don't trust him," he muttered darkly, his gaze never leaving Merlin's retreating figure. "I don't trust anyone."

You sighed again, feeling a pang of sadness at Harry's growing isolation. It pained you to see him so lost and alone, his mind consumed by suspicion and fear. But you knew that pushing him to trust Merlin would only push him further away, so you remained silent, allowing Harry to come to his own conclusions in his own time.

As Harry cautiously approached the electric shaver on the table, his movements deliberate and cautious, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this small act of defiance against his paranoia was a sign that Harry was starting to come back to himself, that the man you loved was still buried somewhere deep inside.

With a sense of cautious optimism, you watched as Harry examined the electric razor, his expression shifting from suspicion to curiosity as he inspected it for any signs of danger. And when he found nothing amiss, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of his old self shining through the darkness.

"I'm going to shave," he announced suddenly, his voice filled with determination as he picked up the electric razor, his gaze meeting yours with a sense of pride. "Just like the old days."

You returned his smile, feeling a surge of warmth in your heart at the familiar routine. Despite everything that had happened, Harry still had moments of clarity and connection, moments where the man you loved shone through the darkness of his confusion.

As Harry set to work shaving, his movements careful and precise, you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stirring within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to bring Harry back from the brink, to help him reclaim the memories and the identity that had been stolen from him.

As Harry called you into the bathroom to help him, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to expect. But seeing the determination in his eyes, you pushed aside your doubts and entered the room, closing the door behind you.

Harry handed you the electric shaver, his expression serious yet strangely vulnerable as he took a seat on the toilet lid, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of apprehension and trust. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the sight of him, once a confident and capable spy, now reduced to a shadow of his former self.

Gently, you began to shave Harry's stubble, your movements slow and careful as you navigated around the scar tissue on his face. It was a task you had performed countless times before, a simple act of intimacy and trust that had once brought you both so much joy.

As you worked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you, memories of happier times flooding your mind as you recalled the countless moments you had shared with Harry before his memory loss. But those memories felt like a distant dream now, a bittersweet reminder of the life you had lost.

Suddenly, Harry spoke, his voice breaking the silence of the room as he confessed, "I remembered something today."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, excitement bubbling up inside you at the prospect of Harry regaining a piece of his lost identity. "What was it?" you asked eagerly, hope shining in your eyes as you waited for his response.

But Harry's answer caught you off guard, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he replied, "I remembered fucking you in a car."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment at his blunt admission, the memory of those passionate encounters flooding back with startling clarity. It was true - you and Harry had shared many intimate moments in the backseat of his car, stolen kisses and whispered promises exchanged under the cover of darkness.

Harry watched your reaction with satisfaction, a playful smirk gracing his lips as he reveled in your embarrassment. He took the electric razor from you and set it aside on the sink.

"Harry, we can't—" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to find the words to convey your discomfort. But Harry cut you off with a wicked grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"Why not?" he whispered huskily, his tone laced with desire. "We're alone, aren't we? No one will know."

You blushed even deeper at his suggestive tone, the heat rising in your cheeks as you pushed him away gently, your heart pounding with a mixture of desire and apprehension. "Harry, we can't do that here," you protested weakly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's not appropriate."

But Harry seemed undeterred by your protests, his gaze lingering on you with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "That's why I want to go home."

You shook your head adamantly, knowing that allowing Harry to leave Kingsman before he had fully regained his memories would be dangerous. "Harry, you can't," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's not safe for you to go back until you remember who you are."

Harry's expression darkened at your refusal, his frustration bubbling to the surface as he struggled to contain his anger. "Why won't you let me go?" he demanded, his voice laced with frustration. "I need to be with you, to protect you. Don't you understand?"

You sighed heavily, knowing that Harry's insistence was driven by his fierce protectiveness and his desire to keep you safe. But you also knew that allowing him to leave Kingsman prematurely could put both of you in danger.

"Harry, I know you want to protect me," you began gently, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of reassurance. "But we have to wait until you've regained your memories. It's for your own safety."

Harry's grip tightened on your arm, his frustration boiling over as he struggled to control his emotions. "I don't need to remember anything to know that I love you," he growled, his eyes flashing with intensity. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means defying orders."

You recoiled slightly at his sudden aggression, surprised by the depth of his conviction. But you knew that allowing Harry to leave Kingsman against medical advice would only put both of you in danger, no matter how much he insisted otherwise.

"Harry, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. "We can't risk it. Not until you're ready."

For a moment, Harry seemed to waver, his anger dissipating as he searched your eyes for reassurance. And then, as if coming to a decision, he reluctantly released his grip on your arm, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. "But don't think I'll forget this."

You nodded, knowing that Harry's frustration was born out of his fierce protectiveness and his desire to keep you safe. But as you watched him turn away, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your mind, a silent reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume him.

As you tried to compose yourself, Harry's voice suddenly broke the tense silence once again with an unexpected question, his tone soft yet tinged with curiosity. "Did you... touch yourself last night?" he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours for any signs of hesitation.

You blushed furiously at his blunt question, feeling a surge of embarrassment wash over you at the intimate inquiry. "Harry, that's none of your business," you scolded gently, trying to deflect his attention away from the uncomfortable topic.

But Harry seemed undeterred by your deflection, his gaze intense as he pressed you for an answer. "Did you think about me?" he persisted, his voice low and husky with desire. "Imagined it was me?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal at Harry's brazenness. Despite your attempts to maintain composure, his proximity and his suggestive questions left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"I... that's not important right now," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you tried to change the subject. But Harry wasn't ready to let it go, his gaze unwavering as he continued to search your face for a response.

"Why not?" he countered, his voice tinged with frustration. "We could... we could make love here, in this bathroom. There are no cameras here, I checked."

You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his sudden revelation. Was Harry aware of the surveillance cameras in Kingsman? It was a detail you hadn't considered before, but now that he mentioned it, it made sense.

"Harry, how do you know about the cameras?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity. "Did Merlin tell you?"

But Harry shook his head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No," he replied cryptically. "I figured it out on my own. Did a little test."

You frowned in confusion, unsure of what he meant by "test." But before you could press him for more information, Harry continued, his tone serious yet tinged with mischief.

"I pretended I was going to kill myself here in this bathroom," he explained calmly, his eyes locking with yours in a silent challenge. "But no one came to stop me. Unlike the other times I did this in the bedroom."

You gasped in shock at his revelation, horrified by the thought of Harry putting himself in danger just to test the surveillance system. "Harry, that's reckless," you scolded, your voice tinged with concern. "You could have seriously hurt yourself."

But Harry brushed off your concern with a wave of his hand, his gaze unwavering as he pressed you for an answer to his earlier question. "Did you think about me?" he repeated softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a surge of arousal at the intensity of Harry's gaze. Despite your reservations, a part of you couldn't deny the allure of his suggestion, the promise of intimacy and connection in the midst of uncertainty and fear.

"I... yes," you admitted quietly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you met Harry's gaze head-on. "I thought about you."

Harry's eyes lit up with satisfaction at your confession, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Good," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "Because I've been thinking about you too."

And as Harry pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing down on yours in a passionate kiss, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the heat of the moment, the promise of intimacy and connection overshadowing the darkness that threatened to consume you both.

As Harry's lips trailed down your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, you tried to protest weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Harry, we shouldn't..."

But Harry silenced you with a hungry kiss, his hands roaming over your skin with possessive urgency. "Shh, love," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Trust me, it'll be quick."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle at his promise, the tension between you palpable in the air. "God, I hope not too quick," you joked, trying to lighten the mood despite the apprehension coiling in your stomach.

Harry chuckled softly in response, his eyes dark with desire as he unraveled his sweatpants and took them off along with his underwear, his erection already straining against the fabric. "Don't worry, darling," he whispered, his voice husky with need. "I'll make it good for you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as Harry helped you take off your jeans and panties, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he caressed your skin with gentle reverence. But just when you thought he would take you, he surprised you by kneeling down in front of you, pulling one of your legs to rest on his shoulder.

With a sense of anticipation building inside you, you watched as Harry leaned in, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thighs, teasingly close but never quite reaching where you wanted him most. It was as if he wanted to savor every moment, to draw out the pleasure until you were begging for release.

You fought to stay silent, biting back a moan as Harry's warm breath ghosted over your most intimate parts, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Despite the urgency of your desire, you knew that making a sound could alert someone to your activities, and the last thing you wanted was to be interrupted.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you reached out to tangle your fingers in Harry's hair, urging him closer with a desperate plea. "Harry, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I need you."

Harry's response was immediate, his lips closing around your throbbing clit as he began to suck and lick with fervent intensity. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure washing over you in waves as Harry expertly teased and tantalized you, his fingers slipping inside you to stroke your most sensitive spots.

You couldn't hold back anymore, a moan escaping your lips as Harry's ministrations pushed you closer and closer to the edge. "Harry," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "I'm so close."

But Harry didn't stop, his pace relentless as he drove you towards the brink of ecstasy. And just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he plunged his fingers deeper inside you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a skill that left you breathless.

With a cry of release, you came undone, pleasure crashing over you in a tidal wave of sensation. Harry didn't let up, his touch unrelenting as he milked every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body, his own desire evident in the way he worshipped you with his mouth and hands.

As you lay there, panting and spent, Harry rose to his feet with a satisfied smirk, his eyes burning with hunger as he gazed down at you. "You taste even sweeter than I remembered," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire.

You couldn't help but blush at his bold compliment, feeling a surge of arousal at the raw intensity of his desire. Despite the darkness that threatened to consume him, there was no denying the passion and connection that still burned between you, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

With a wicked grin, Harry pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss that left you breathless. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered against your skin, his voice filled with promise. "There's so much more I want to show you."

As Harry turned and bent you over the sink, you spread your legs even wider, eager to receive him. Your heart raced with anticipation as Harry grabbed your ass and spread your cheeks, his touch possessive and commanding.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and menacing as he gazed at you with intense desire. "All mine."

You whimpered in response, unable to suppress the surge of arousal that flooded your senses. "Please, Harry," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "Fill me up."

Harry didn't hesitate to obey, his one eye fixated on your expression in the mirror as he thrust into you with primal urgency. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the raw intensity of the moment.

As Harry rocked against you, his balls hitting your clit with each powerful thrust, you couldn't help but moan in ecstasy. The sensation of him filling you completely, his body pressing against yours with unbridled passion, left you breathless and wanting more.

"Open your eyes," Harry commanded suddenly, his voice firm yet filled with longing. "Keep them on the mirror."

You obeyed without hesitation, locking eyes with your reflection as Harry continued to drive into you with relentless determination. The sight of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, the raw desire and need reflected in both your gazes, only fueled the fire burning between you.

With each thrust, Harry's grip on your hips tightened, his control unwavering as he claimed you as his own. You surrendered completely to the pleasure, lost in the sensation of being filled and owned by the man you loved.

Harry grunted with each thrust, his voice breaking through the haze of pleasure, you felt a surge of heat flood your cheeks as he tightened his grip on your hips. His intense gaze bore into yours through the mirror, his one eye filled with primal desire as he questioned you with a husky tone.

"Have I ever taken your ass?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and hunger.

You blushed even deeper at his blunt question, shaking your head slightly as you denied his assumption. "No, Harry," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've never tried that."

But Harry wasn't satisfied with your answer, his movements never faltering as he continued to drive into you with relentless determination. "Why not?" he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration. "I must have been pathetic back then if I didn't."

You tried to protest weakly, knowing that Harry's perception of his past self was skewed by his current state of confusion and paranoia. "Harry, you weren't pathetic," you insisted gently, your eyes meeting his through the reflection. "You just... you thought it was messy."

But Harry wouldn't accept your explanation, his grip on your hips tightening even further as he pressed you against him with possessive urgency. "I don't care about that anymore," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I'll take your ass one day, I promise."

You groaned at the idea, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions as Harry's relentless thrusts drove you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Part of you wanted to protest, to tell him that he didn't need to prove anything to you, that his past self wasn't pathetic and that you loved him just the way he was.

But all coherent thought fled from your mind as Harry reached out to squeeze your breasts through your blouse and bra, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the overwhelming arousal that pulsed through your veins, drowning out any semblance of reason.

"Harry," you gasped, your voice filled with need as you clung to him desperately, your body arching against his with unrestrained desire. "Please, don't stop."

Harry's movements only grew more urgent in response, his grip on you tightening as he plunged deeper and deeper into your welcoming heat. His one eye bore into yours with a mixture of intensity and possessiveness, his primal desire evident in every powerful thrust.

Meanwhile, Harry's thoughts raced with a newfound sense of clarity, his perception of his past self tainted by his current state of paranoia and suspicion. He was convinced that the old version of himself was pathetic, weak, and unworthy of your love. But now, now he was different - stronger, fiercer, and more determined than ever to protect you at all costs.

As he lost himself in the pleasure of being inside you, Harry's mind became consumed by a single thought - he didn't need to recover his memories to be the man you needed him to be. He already had everything he needed right here, right now, with you in his arms.

"You feel so good," Harry murmured, his voice thick with desire as he buried himself deeper inside you, relishing in the sensation of your tight, wet heat surrounding him. "You're mine, [Your Name]. All mine."

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless and wanting more. With each powerful thrust, Harry claimed you as his own, his grip on your hips possessive and unyielding.

And as you surrendered completely to the pleasure, lost in the intensity of the moment, Harry's resolve only grew stronger. He would keep you safe, no matter the cost. Even if it meant tearing down everything and everyone that stood in his way.

"You're mine," Harry growled, his voice low and menacing as he pressed you against him with unbridled passion. "And I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. Even if the world has to burn for it."

You whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his desire and the fierce protectiveness that burned within him. Despite the darkness that threatened to consume him, there was no denying the depth of his love and devotion, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

As Harry continued to move inside you with primal urgency, you clung to him desperately, knowing that he was yours and you were his. And as you both reached the peak of ecstasy together, a sense of belonging washed over you, binding you to him in a way that transcended time and space.

"You're mine," Harry whispered against your skin, his voice filled with reverence and awe. "And I'll never let anything or anyone take you away from me."

And as you melted into his embrace, surrounded by the heat and passion of his love, you knew deep in your heart that you were safe, cherished, and fiercely loved by the man who would do anything to protect you. Harry was yours, your protector, your guardian angel demon that would keep you safe no matter what.

#harry hart #dark harry hart #kingsman secret service #harry hart x reader #colin firth #merlin #eggsy unwin

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starlightomatic · 8 months ago

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i want to ask that this post only be reblogged by jews, because this is an intracommunity conversation i want to have.

i recently made a post about october 7th, which i ended with acknowledging what's going on in gaza and a discussion of the bigger picture. a couple of people reblogged this with something like "in case the beginning made you want to scroll, read to the end."

my initial reaction here was being upset; the first half of the post would have been valid on its own, and it's fucked up to see a post about pain the OP is connected to and automatically assume it's propaganda.

so i added an addition about that, and here are some of the things i said:

if describing my multiple personal connections to a woman burned alive made you roll your eyes and want to ignore it, i urge you to sit with that response and strip it of the associations of other posts you've seen, and look at the bare truth: someone describing their personal connections to a woman burned alive made you want to roll your eyes and ignore it.

and:

and i'm not talking about folks with compassion fatigue who just didn't want to hear more about death and violence -- that is very understandable. it's for those ready to toss this in the "bad post" bin because they automatically assumed it was propaganda.

and:

a lot of you have been receiving significant amounts of propaganda for months that is training you to read anything that reference october 7th victims of death, rape, injury, or trauma, or reference hostages, as fake and a warning sign that someone is an Enemy. you are not immune to propaganda and you need to really reflect on how you evaluate information if this is where it's gotten to.

and

what brought you to the place where you're automatically suspicious, distrustful, and dismissive of people relating certain experiences? what messages have you received about who to listen to and who to dismiss, about what's true and what's probably lies?

and:

i know that in large part it's because october 7th is weaponized to silence palestinians and manufacture consent for genocide. what tools can you use to recognize when that is and isn't happening? can you seek out voices who don't do that, and are able to hold both truths?

and:

what would it look like to not either dismiss or weaponize?

writing this made me realize, we need to talk about something. we have needed to talk about it for a long time.

i have seen exactly this same dynamic occur when it comes to people discussing gaza.

i have seen folks in the jumblr community and in other jewish communities on and offline view any post or discussion about gaza as propaganda, as a way to dismiss october 7th. i have seen people view every claim about what is happening there through a lens of suspicion and distrust. i have seen people assuming ulterior motives, assuming that people could not have been genuinely motivated by care and concern but must have some other harmful purpose.

i've fallen into this too, unfortunately.

and i understand why this is happening. when you're dismissed, in mourning, and hurt, it's going to make you more reactive, and likely to assume worst intent.

so i want to use the things i asked in my post as a framework for recognizing when this is happening.

when is our instinct to ignore or scroll past posts about gaza and palestine? can we pause first before dismissing?

how often do we view something as propaganda and distrust it? what would it mean if it is propaganda; what would it mean if it's not? how useful is the term propaganda in the first place; can something have a political goal and still be true?

what messages have you received about palestinians and their goals that would lead you to dismiss the information they're sharing? if propaganda is a useful term, what propaganda has been aimed at you and played to your existing sympathies? what palestinian narratives have you been trained to dismiss, ignore, mistrust or suspect?

to what extent do you assume that discussion of gaza is intended to dismiss or deny october 7th, or is disingenous? can you recognize when that is or isn't happening? can you seek out voices who don't do that, and are able to hold both truths -- but actually both truths, not just lip service?

what would it look like not to dismiss gaza? what would it look like to speak up about gaza? what would it look like to be rooted in truths and our own experiences and values, and to speak up about gaza in that framework?

What would it look like to know and internalize that while someone like me might have eight confirmed second-degree connections to people killed on October 7th, a Palestinian in diaspora might have dozens, or more?

What would it look like to internalize that while I never got to visit Nahal Oz and a man once dropped me off at a bus stop on his way to Be'eri, a Palestinian in diaspora has many towns that were destroyed before they were even born.

Can we hold our own pain, and our own very valid anger at the ways we're mistrusted and dismissed, without slipping into mistrusting and dismissing the pain of others?

Can we reach out to our communities and ask them to take the crisis in Gaza seriously? Can we evaluate whether we and our communities are materially complicit in that crisis, and speak out against it if that is the case? Can we call in the people in our lives who dismiss or excuse this? Can we support the people of Gaza via donations? Can we reach out to our political leaders to put pressure on them to end this war?

#jumblr #loon.txt

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godspeedviper · 5 months ago

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How the Therapists Handle your Suspicions - Headcanons

𖤐 SFW || TW: mentions of psychiatric hospitalization

𖤐 Requested by @cthulhu-cat : Can I please get headcanons of the psychiatrists with someone who has distrust of mental health workers? (i.e. "If I'm honest, I might get committed." "They wouldn't understand." "They'd look down on me if I admitted this.")

Dr Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)

It's the "hard" patients he likes the most. Jonathan Crane has always been up for a challenge, but what he really enjoys is the fear. He knows how to read fear in its many expressions; as standoffish behavior, as shyness, as body language and tone.

As soon as he identifies his patient's expression of fear he switches tactics. Watching him transform his entire demeanor in a matter of seconds only intensifies the fear and anxiety you feel sitting in front of him.

"Do you know what fear is, child?" It's his favorite question to ask. "A relinquishing of power. Fear is your mind telling your body to surrender. Now, are you gonna let me have all the decision making power over you, or are you going to give me something to work with?"

While his methods may be a bit harsh, they are ultimately effective. Over time he teaches you how to tackle that fear head on, how to use that emotional energy to your advantage, and ultimately how to see it in others. You're his best pupil, he tells you. He's very proud of the person you become when you bend fear to your will the same way he does.

Dr Hannibal Lecter (NBC)

Unlike Dr. Crane, Hannibal approaches apprehensive patients with a more gentle approach. He makes sure to give you a few sessions just to bond and get to know each other better before you opened up about why you're really here.

Sometimes he will offer you tea and make sessions feel more like a friendly invite. However, this doesn't mean he goes easy on you either. Hannibal seems to have bizarre skill that allows him to sense when you need some interrogation, and when you would otherwise shut down if pushed.

"Do they need to understand?" he questions you. "One does not need to understand someone in order to have sympathy for them. Anyone can see that you're suffering, so it's understandable to act up under such pressure. People can be more accepting than you initially believe."

He gives you the courage to explore vulnerability, and learn to let your guard down. Over time you come to think of him almost as a close friend. There's an inherent intimacy in Hannibal's office, he cultivates that feeling with ease.

Dr Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn)

There's Dr. Quinzel and then there's Harley. That is, there's Quinzel's professional side, and then her "quirky girl next door" side. As soon as she feels you holding back from her, she goes full Harley mode, talking to you like a concerned aunt.

She always does her best to make you feel safe, and you soon learn that her pristine office holds a lot of little surprises. Hidden among the filing cabinets and drawers is a cache of plushies and fidget toys.

"Would it be so bad if you were committed?" There is a sincere worry present in her eyes. "I will never purposely put you in harm's way, and I also want what's best for you. I work inpatient half the time so I'll be sure to watch you. I won't let anyone hurt you there, I promise."

You ultimately stick to just weekly visits in her office, but there is that sense of comfort knowing that if things ever got too bad, Harley would still be there on the inside to help you through the journey. You would be in safe hands.

Dr Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs)

"Are you afraid of me? Or afraid of what I do as a psychiatrist?" He seems to almost be amused by your initial apprehension. He gently pokes and prods with various questions trying to get a feel for you. At first you find it a bit cruel, but as you learn over time, Hannibal loves to make everything a bit of a game.

Two can definitely play at that game. Once you pick up on this playful tone, you start to make your own moves. Sometimes you purposefully held back, taking mental note of how many ways he will try to crack you open like a thief picking a lock.

You grow fond of these sessions and look forward to each one. He inspired that mischievous spark in you, and you enjoy trying to toy with him as much as he does you. He awakens a curiosity in you to see what you'll become when you allow yourself to trust.

"They will think we're in love." He teases. Sometimes you do wonder if you love him. Sometimes you think it's just a leap, and you're simply happy that his presence in your life has really made a difference. "I'm just projecting." You tell yourself, but the truth is you don't quite know.

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

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Hello Sofia! My name is Aleksandra! Just wanted to send a request of Zoro x reader where reader has just joined the crew she is a witch and very strong, sweet, but could be intense (in a good way) as well as mysterious everyone in the crew absolutely loves her but it takes time for Zoro to completely trust her so he keeps his eye on her causing them both to have some tension some days they are arguing over tiny situations some days they are sitting alone together laughing and smiling at one another with feelings building up that they have yet to understand even though they are confused with their feelings their connection runs deeply to the point it drives them insane everyone else in the crew see's this (Besides our dear Luffy.) They try to get them to open up but it's hopeless at times. I was thinking Zoro gets a deep cut during a fight and Reader helps him with his wound this is where they are able to share their feelings and once they deeply kiss they understand how they feel from there.

I hope this is a good one to do! Thank you!✨🌻✨

I would love to be tagged at!💜 @shewalksinanotherworld

This took a little bit longer and I have nothing to say for myself except that my executive function does not, in fact, function. Enjoy! @shewalksinanotherworld Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

"The way to a man's heart" - Zoro x Reader

[graphic descriptions of open wounds]

Somebody once said that love and hate are two sides of the same coin - a token of devotion. Like tides of two seas that create storms and whirlpools upon meeting, it is often impossible to determine where one ends and the other begins. Perhaps, these waters have never differed as they are two ends of one river. Both lovers and enemies alike make up the first row of the funeral cortege.

And just like those seas, no matter whether they are the same or two different bodies, Zoro and you seem to be ebbing and flowing across love and hate. Flipping the coin of dedication each day to see where your tense relationship will take you. Sometimes more than once a day, when mere hours separate passionate fights from merry laughter.

But speaking of turning tides and seamlessly flowing waters, wouldn't the seas know each other far too well? What constitutes oceans of hate was once the pond of love. Conversely, the waters of affection had once flown as tides of enmity. If the answer is yes, it would explain quite a lot about the rather inexplicable connection you share with the swordsman. Sometimes not a word has to be spoken but a fleeting gaze exchange for either of you to know perfectly well what the other has on their mind.

To be fair, it's hard for you to put your finger on the why - Why are you and Zoro so strange with each other? The most plausible explanation would probably be his stubborn distrust. He's a very guarded person which, by itself, is not unfathomable considering his journey and livelihood. But it is absolutely tedious when he sticks to his guns against all available evidence. Weeks went by when Zoro was the only crewmember who perceived you in different shades of suspicion, even after witnessing you put your life on the line for your mutual friends. His stubbornness was frustrating, so you gave him as good as you got and well... Here we are, wading in the murky waters of passion, both pleasant and adverse.

However, you'll be wading much different waters, those flowing in the Styx River, if you don't escape now. The Indigo Cross pirates are a little too close behind you. You can almost feel their breaths on your neck as they scream about revenge, bloodshed and defending their captain's honour. Yes, about that... It wasn't exactly Luffy's fault that the man he told to apologize to the tavern waitress was the world's most narcissistic pirate. Alas, the damage is done and so is your chance at a peaceful shore leave.

The Merry Go is but a few meters away. You just have to get to the gangway and run up the stairs so fast your mother would go bald from stress. Just two things, right?

Your foot gets caught the between rotting planks of the pier. The unforeseen obstacle in your escape startles you, giving you barely any time to shield your face from the painful impact of the ground.

"Shit!" you groan to yourself, yanking your foot.

Zoro yells out your name. In long strides, he catches up with you. He manages to rip away one of the mould-covered planks. Despite your foot being set free, the man lifts you to stand on your own.

"You go, I'll hold them back," he orders you as he nudges you in the direction of the ship. Before you can defy him, Zoro is already running towards the oncoming wave of looking-for-a-scrap pirates.

Time seems to slow down as you watch a spear, its polished head shining in the sunlight, fly through the air and pierce Zoro's chest. He stumbles backwards and falls on one knee. With a roar of agony, the swordsman grabs the long shaft of the weapon. A loud snap fills the air as he breaks the wood off. Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes,, Zoro stands up. Although his legs tremble slightly, he still lifts his swords and fights off the Indigo pirates. Some seem to drop their weapons in surrender, seeing that not even death can grasp this demon of a man.

You want to call for him but Sanji firmly grabs your arm and pulls you on board. "Come on, he can handle himself."

Having hidden on the lower deck, you're not sure what happened on the shore and onboard the ship until you saw none other but Roronoa Zoro, stumbling down the stairs and almost falling on the floor. Luffy, Usopp and even Sanji yell and nag at him to get his wound looked at while Nami keeps calling him different variations of "stupid" but Zoro only curses at them and tells a less savoury "Leave me alone".

Maybe thirty minutes pass by until the emotions die down or are at least well hidden. Your four friends sit around the kitchen, all strangely silent. They all give you a curious look when you let out a heavy sigh and march towards Zoro's room. He's going to die one day, obviously, but it's not going to be today. And definitely not because he put your safety before his own. What kind of rom-com death would that be?

Zoro is facing you with his back when you swing the door open without even knocking first. You seem to have interrupted his rather poor attempt at bandaging the hole in his chest. He looks over his shoulder, his face bearing an expression of annoyance.

"What do you want?"

You toss a handful of medical supplies on top of the chest with his belongings. The fresh dressings, a small bottle of alcohol, a needle and a thread tell quite the story, lying next to the bloodied head of a spear with splinters coming out of where the long shaft should be. It's still hardly believable what he did back there.

"When you get an infection, you green-haired idiot," you speak with your hands crossed on your chest. It's clear as day - you're pissed off, "it will be Sanji spoon-feeding you. I'm sure you'll be having the time of your life then."

Your sarcastic remark doesn't seem to phase him. The wrinkle between Zoro's eyebrows only gets deeper.

"I'm fine. I've been worse," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Just piss off," the man groans in a low voice.

Maybe if he wasn't already injured, you'd punch him straight in the jaw. "Stop being a stubborn ass," you raise your voice, "and let me help you."

Zoro rolls his eyes dramatically. Making a show of his discontentment, he sits on the edge of his hammock. If he was just a few yours younger maybe he'd stomp his feet too, as befits a toddler he seems to have chosen to act like.

Minutes go by in silence as you clean the deep would and do your best suturing it. Meanwhile, Zoro doesn't even wince. He's perfectly calm and collected, almost as though his soul has left his body and gone for a stroll.

By the looks of it, you haven't stitched wounds many times and Sanji would probably be better at this, with his experienced hands and all, but that would require Zoro to be either already dead or at least unconscious. There's no other way he'd willingly let those slimy fingers touch him.

“They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach," you say under your breath as you tighten the knot on the last suture. The last thing you want is the deep wound reopening. "I guess going through his ribs works too.”

"A lot more efficient." The swordsman chuckles but his laughter soon turns into winces and groans. Although he's not going to bleed to death anymore, the rather large hole in his chest is this painful and not something to trifle with.

"A spear nearly pierced right through you and you're having a laugh?" You nod with approval. He's impressed you, you have to give him that. "Roronoa Zoro, you command respect."

A silence falls between you again as you put back the collection of medical supplies you've managed to find aboard. Little do you know, Zoro's watchful gaze doesn't leave you. He seems to be intensely thinking about something.

"Thanks," he finally spits out. "I would rather die than let Sanji spoon-feed me."

It's not the wraith of death that scared him into letting you patch him up - it was the cook in a striped shirt. Really? Roronoa Zoro is a lot of things but "ordinary" or "predictable" is not one of them.

You burst into laughter. "Unfortunately," you manage to breathe out, "I would have loved to see that."

He shakes his head in disapproval but his lips are curved into a grin. "I hate you."

"No, you don't, big guy," you answer as you playfully poke his arm. It's still covered in dried blood and sweat.

His dark eyes stare into yours with a strange glint to them. It's almost like amusement but not entirely - it's deeper, much deeper. "Yeah, I don't," he whispers.

Everything happens so fast: Zoro grabs your neck and pulls you flush against himself, crashing his lips against yours. Involuntarily you yelp, which elicits a chuckle from the man. On one hand, you're surprised with his sudden declaration of passion but on the other hand, you're relieved. Of course, you have joked that Zoro must be in love with you to be so annoying most of the time but rarely did you consider it a real possibility. He just... didn't seem like a man who loves, only desires. But now, when he's kissing you so desperately and eagerly, you feel stupid for ever thinking such thoughts. As his hand roams your body, you begin to wonder whether all of this has always been this funny - every one of your friends already knew the feelings you had for each other, except the two of you. Something so obvious it's easily overlooked.

It makes you think that he was, actually, scared of losing but not his life. He was scared of losing someone.

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saintsenara · 1 year ago

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are you still doing ur asks abt the ships? if u are what r ur thoughts on wolfstar? if not have a very good day!

thank you very much for the ask anon - and thank you in particular for leading me into danger...

my answer to this is going to be - and wolfstar shippers keep calm please - similar to my jegulus one. which means the tldr is: write what you want, but i’m unlikely to read it, especially if you don’t acknowledge the difference between canon and fanon.

i have no aversion to wolfstar coming up as a background ship [let them be happy while harry/anyone are having drama, i’m all for it] but i generally don’t search out fics in which wolfstar is [one of] the central pairing(s) and tend only to read wolfstar-centric stuff if it’s written or recommended by someone whose opinion i trust.

this isn’t because i think the pairing is unfeasible [the canonical sirius and remus very much have the vibes of people who have enjoyed each other’s bodies…] but because the community which has built up around wolfstar, both among "original wolfstar, y’know, like in canon" fans and their sworn enemies"‘marauders fandom, canon who?" fans, largely expects certain tropes and characterisations which divorce the characters from what i personally think is interesting about them.

the most egregious of these tropes, in my opinion, is the fact that wolfstar which purports to be canon-compliant or which follows the canon timeline deals so infrequently with the fact that both remus and sirius have such little trust in each other that they believed utterly sincerely that the other was a death eater.

it’s crucial that we understand the profundity of this suspicion and - therefore - what it says about the fragility of the loyalty between them prior to 1980-81. this is not a brief flash of distrust in a high-pressure couple of days at the end of october. the evidence of canon is that we’re talking about a period of months - if not a full year - in which remus and sirius not only think it justifiable to doubt the other’s loyalties, but also seem to be acting on that doubt to try to get the other in trouble.

harry is born in july 1980, at a point when voldemort has all but won the war. severus snape defects to the order at some point relatively soon after this, when voldemort decides that the potters are the family referred to in the prophecy. peter pettigrew then defects to the death eaters in the autumn of 1980 [which we know because sirius says in prisoner of azkaban that he was spying for a full year before voldemort’s fall].

snape then evidently tells dumbledore that there is a spy in the order - although he clearly doesn’t, despite a common accusation levelled against him, know this is pettigrew, since the voldemort of the first war has apparently heard of operational security, unlike his resurrected counterpart - and this leads dumbledore to demand a restriction on james and lily’s movements until - by august 1981 [the plausible date of lily’s letter to sirius in deathly hallows] - they are basically under house arrest. the implication of canon is that, by this summer at the very latest, james and lily are aware they’re being spied on, from which i think it’s reasonable to infer three things: that dumbledore has begun to suspect that sirius is the spy over the opening half of 1981; that remus, who canonically always trusts dumbledore’s judgements, uses this to confirm his own suspicions about sirius; and that sirius, whose canonical relationship with dumbledore has an undercurrent of unease, especially in order of the phoenix, picks up on this and assumes remus is briefing dumbledore against him. i think it’s also reasonable to infer that the only person convinced there isn’t a spy among his close friends is james.

peter visits the potters’ safe-house and is aware of its address, so we can assume remus and sirius are the same. by october 1981, however, there are clearly concerns that james and lily’s whereabouts are known to the death eaters - perhaps also accompanied by information from snape that voldemort, who loves a bit of symbolism, has selected halloween as the day he will strike - which trigger dumbledore’s advice that they perform the fidelius charm. dumbledore’s unease when james picks sirius as secret keeper is confirmation that he had identified sirius as the spy. that remus is never suggested as a potential candidate is confirmation that sirius believes him to be the spy - and possibly also that james is beginning to think his best friend might be onto something [i always wonder if remus’ bitterness when accusing james of being too trusting in deathly hallows is a flash of self-loathing about the fact that james didn’t trust him]. sirius then persuades james to use peter and, within a week of the charm being performed, james and lily are dead, peter has disappeared, and sirius is in azkaban.

[as an aside here, i don’t love the amount of dumbledore bashing in wolfstar, and i think it’s worth doing some dumbledore defence: sirius’ internment in azkaban without trial - a reference to an actual historical event, if you were thinking it sounded far-fetched - is not dumbledore’s fault. the wizengamot acts on dumbledore’s credible belief that sirius was the secret keeper, while sirius - who is cackling his head off the whole time - refuses to speak in his own defence. similarly, dumbledore does not deny sirius access to harry (via hagrid) when he arrives, distraught, in godric’s hollow because he’s contrived a machiavellian plan to keep harry alone and unloved with the dursleys instead of with his true family, but because all the evidence he has available to him is that harry’s life is in danger at sirius’ hands.]

so sirius spends the next twelve years in azkaban, with remus clearly nowhere near his mind. that he stays in prison, and only escapes when he has an unimpeachable chance to get his revenge and protect harry, is because he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is so haunted by his role [indirect, but he canonically thinks that he essentially cast the killing curse himself] in the death of someone he fiercely loved that he considers azkaban a punishment he deserves.

this links to the next issue i have with a lot of wolfstar: that the defining force in both remus and sirius’ lives is james, not each other.

the dynamic of the marauders is frequently reduced to the following: wolfstar, who are best friends and lovers it would take the heat-death of the universe to pull apart; james and whichever romantic partner the story wishes to pair him with, who are the same; and peter, who is either there and completely futile, or is replaced with a fanonised female character [dorcas, marlene, alice etc. - none of whom, may i say, it makes sense to have in the same school year as the marauders, dumbledore is not actually running the order as a gang of child soldiers] or a woobiefied death eater [regulus black, barty crouch jr., evan rosier etc.].

but in canon, a different dynamic is clear. james is the lynchpin of the marauders’ world, the anchoring point to all their senses of self; and the moment he is out of the picture no bonds of loyalty remain among the other three. [it’s tempting to imagine that remus always harbours a belief that sirius is innocent, but i think that this would be less due to an unconditional affection for his friend and more due to the fact that his own self-loathing needs to believe that he couldn’t have stopped james and lily dying; which he should have done if sirius really was the culprit, since he clearly suspected he was a death eater].

if you asked remus, sirius, and peter, clearly each of them would describe james as their best friend [even though james’ eyes are only for sirius - he only has one best man, and harry only has one godfather], but their relationships with each other outside of james are less clearly defined, at least before sirius and remus are the only two left.

this doesn’t prevent pre-1981 [or james lives au] wolfstar - your boyfriend and your best friend being different people is fine, obviously - but it is going to change the dynamic between them in ways i think are significant and which i would like to see explored more, particularly in fics which acknowledge that - for remus and sirius - this dynamic might not lead to the healthiest relationship…

for example, during their schooldays, wolfstar are likely to talk to each other through james, rather than james being surplus to the flirtatious dynamic between them; remus is likely to feel awkward or insecure about the fact that sirius - whose personality is closer to james’ than his - is so happy and gregarious in james’ company; sirius is likely to resent remus’ tendency to stay out of the action, since the fact that he and james mutually encourage each other in their exploits is key to their relationship; remus is likely to resent the fact that sirius is treated by the potters as a second son, while he isn’t, and so on.

during the first war, even if we remove the fact they suspect each other of spying from the equation, they will clash over how to protect james - and remus will undoubtedly take this to mean that sirius cares more for james than for him. during the second war, the long shadow of james - so painful that remus can still barely talk about him, while sirius wants to do nothing but - will hover over everything.

and this leads on to the third reason i generally don’t enjoy wolfstar: that the complicated threads of their canon personalities are removed or reduced to irrelevance to make them fit fanon which has no basis in the books.

now, i’m not going to get into appearance discourse here, although yes, i prefer a tall sirius who tends to wear wizarding clothing and has never heard a single cool piece of muggle music in his life, and i prefer a hollowed and world-weary remus who doesn’t have visible scars. i think background discourse is slightly more important: a great deal of sirius is lost if he is turned into someone who likes being pureblood, who feels more comfortable around his "own kind", or who aspires to sit on the hereditary wizengamot; a great deal of remus is lost if he is turned into someone who didn’t grow up in a loving home with parents who did their best, but whose inability to give him the childhood he really deserved in the face of the prejudice against werewolves in the wizarding world encouraged his absurd gratitude towards anyone who made even a half-hearted effort to act in his interests.

all of my preferred aspects of characterisation are canon-compliant. but deviating from canon is not a moral failing. the term is more flexible than many of its defenders acknowledge, and people are at perfect liberty to imagine that characters look, identify, or behave differently than they do in the canon narrative without that automatically bringing accusations of writing them out-of-character [after all, it’s clear in the books that both harry and hermione are white, but art and fics which portray them as a different race can still meaningfully be described as canon-compliant if that's an aim they're written to have].

similarly, rejecting canon compliance entirely is just as fine - i think you should indicate to your readers if you’re doing that, but i’m capable of using the back button and moving on with my life if you don’t.

the only hard and fast rule is don’t seek out people who do things differently to you and insult them directly, although i would also suggest that it’s worthwhile to spend a bit of time in introspection about how lots of popular wolfstar and the fandom around it - like the fandom around all slash ships - portrays queerness in ways which are heteronormative [i.e. exclusively equating bottoming with femininity] and portrays women in ways which are misogynistic [i.e. how tonks is often treated in wolfstar discourse].

however, with this said, i think there is a difference between rejecting canon compliance and yet still writing the characters in ways which feel connected in interesting ways to their complex canon selves, and just writing original characters named sirius black and remus lupin.

because i just cannot get on board with a remus who is written as the cleverest one of the four, as assertive and direct instead of avoidant and passive-aggressive, as anything other than incredibly selfish, as anything other than an extreme people-pleaser, as being soft and sensitive [his mild manner hides the fact that he is incredibly cold and calculating - this is a man who is prepared to execute wormtail in front of three children mere minutes after learning he’s still alive], as majorly regretting the snape-versus-werewolf incident [he loves it! snape is terrified of him! he downplays it constantly!], or as functioning as the moral heart of the marauders [when sirius says in order of the phoenix that remus tried to restrain their bullying of snape, he is doing it to make remus - who is incapable of self-criticism - feel better in the face of harry’s anger] when he is in fact quite morally cowardly.

and i cannot get on board with a sirius who is written as a goofy himbo, as a constant flirt and womaniser [more grey-ace sirius, i would like to see it], as the world’s wokest king [a man who’s upset his slave isn’t sufficiently deferential to him isn’t someone who’s going to speak in queer theory buzzwords - this, of course, doesn’t prevent sirius being written as queer, non-binary, trans, femme, and so on, it just means that authors have to deal with the fact that sirius’ way of existing as any of these things will be human, rather than perfect], as a small bean unable to take care of himself [he escapes from prison and swims across the north sea! he charges into danger at the drop of a hat!], as anything other than incandescently loyal to james and harry, as - after james’ death - anything other than completely wrecked by guilt over the fact he caused it, as best friends with his brother and his gang of slytherins, or as lacking the fundamental arrogance and cruelty which make him so interesting.

and wolfstar can work, absolutely, when these things are taken into account. i find the idea of second war remus and sirius, stuck in grimmauld place together, buying harry a joint christmas present, the last survivors in a generation completely hollowed out by loss, incredibly moving. remus' choice to self-destruct in half-blood prince - having lost sirius so soon after having found him again - does, i think, justifiably indicate a change in their relationship during order of the phoenix which can be seen as romantic. i find the idea of first war remus and sirius, each in love with a man they think is a spy, wonderfully bittersweet. i find the idea of school-aged remus pining desperately for a friend who is head-over-heels in love with james to be, quite frankly, canon.

and i also think that two original characters called sirius black and remus lupin can do whatever they want - i’ll just be closing my eyes, pretending i cannot see, and leaving them to it.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #i am once again in danger

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