#to share your heart with the world in whatever form you choose | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

circeyoru · 8 months ago

Text

Shadow and Void _ Part 2: Memory and Deal

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Arc 1: Part 1 ― Part 2 (here) ― Part 3 Arc 2: Part 4 ― Part 5 Arc 3: Part 6 ― Part 7 Arc 4: Part 8 ― Part 9 ― Part 10 ― Part 11 ― Special Arc 5: Part 12 ― Part 13 ― Part 14 ― Part 15

Before Jinwoo woke up from his encounter with the Architect, Ashborn showed him something else or told him something else other than the war Ashborn was in. There were moments where it was showed Ashborn with someone.

Ashborn was in a world void of war and violence, serenity and calmness as far as the eye could see. The ruler of such a place was a misty figure that barely reached Ashborn’s chest. The misty figure would reach out a hand to Ashborn and drag him around, showing him all sorts of stuff like a child, it almost resembles Earth’s nature.

The misty figure seemed ignorant of what Ashborn is and floated around like a ghost. If it wasn’t for the fact that this misty figure didn’t share any trait of an extracted Shadow, Jinwoo would be thought this figure was one of them.

“Monarch of Void. You can’t keep me here forever.” Ashborn spoke in the softest tone possible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call be ‘ ’? Aren’t we close enough for that?” The misty figure spoke, the voice all echoy and mythical as if everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “And for your information, I can keep you here forever. No one can enter my domain without my permission.”

“We aren’t close enough that you’d put me over your own safety nor I yours.” Ashborn sighed. “And the war is ongoing. Blank.”

The misty figure seemed to pout, how Jinwoo figured that he has no idea, “Now calling me that is just…. Whatever….” The figure turned away without a care, “So what if the war is ongoing, just let them fight to their heart’s content and we can take whatever’s left.”

Ashborn got up from his seat and headed to a direction, “I will not stand idly by.”

“You can’t leave! I forbid it!” The figure’s shout made the King of the Dead stop in his path. “If you leave… You’ll regret it! It’s all over!”

“What aren’t you telling me, King of Mist?”

The misty figure held back, staying silent.

“You know you can’t always stay like this, yes?” Ashborn questioned, he continued without looking back. “You’re strong but you choose to hide it and lend others your strength. You know to side with the strong and aid them in return for security and safety. But what if, one day, you found someone to side with no matter their strength? And your former clients come back to bite?”

You stayed silent but muttered, “There won’t be a day. I will always prioritize myself and my survivability.”

Ashborn chuckled, “You say that now, but you never know the future. We, Monarchs and Rulers, have been here since the beginning. There can always be change. Monarch of Void.”

“...”

“There will be a time where you have to pick a side and I mean your priority won’t be just yourself.” Ashborn spoke in a lecturing manner. “Remember well, if they can’t have what they want, they would rather no one else has it.”

With a wave of a hand, a vortex opened before Ashborn. “I’ll… Keep it in mind…” The figure’s voice seemed to have cracked, “You may leave… King of the Dead.”

Then the memory played back to the war and Ashborn’s betrayal. The words of that misty figure rang in Jinwoo’s mind the moment he in Ashborn’s form was impaled. Jinwoo deduced, that misty figure already knew about the betrayal and tried to keep Ashborn from getting hurt but it wasn’t enough. That mysterious figure was the Monarch of Void and King of Mist, a master of spatial magic.

“You’re the King of Mist, Blank, aren’t you?” Jinwoo questioned.

“You have no right to call me that…” You hummed, “Not unless you’re Ashborn. Which you don’t appear to be.” Your eyes glowed when you stared at him, “You have a great Shadow Army and great abilities, but you’re not Ashborn. Vessel.”

Jinwoo crossed his arms, this was a bad spot to begin with. It was obvious you held nothing but annoyance towards him and maybe impatience since you kept calling him ‘Vessel’ or ask when Ashborn was going to appear. Meanwhile, he didn’t like you too, you are a Monarch and the cause of Chairman Go’s death. The barrier around his office was your work and you were there when Gunhee died, he even protected you, for some unknown reason.

He prevented you from leaving through whatever gate that Monarch of Frost left through and thus you were pinned to the wall. Yet, if memory serves correctly, you have a misty form that could escape anytime. The question was why didn’t or haven’t you retaliate even when you were in pain?

“I’ll give you protection.” Jinwoo tried to bargain as he recalled what little information the memory flashback from the Double Dungeon gave him. “In exchange, you stay by my side.”

Your eyes blinked twice and glanced over to the daggers impaled into your vessel’s flesh. You have taken over this body completely so you do feel pain and the blood lost will be fatal. “Whatever you’re doing now is contradicting your words, Ashborn’s vessel.”

His eye twitched at the name, “Call me Jinwoo. Or Hunter Sung, even.” He thought for a second if he should let you go, but if you wanted to escape, you would have. So he summoned back his daggers and made them disappear. He took out a healing potion from his System’s store and handed it to you. “Now will you believe me and agree to my terms?”

Hesitantly, you took the potion and inspected it before drinking it down in one gulp. Within seconds of its consumption, you felt refreshed and energized that you let out a hummed moan. You exhaled and relaxed yourself, it was a familiar feeling. Perhaps it was because Jinwoo was Ashborn’s vessel that’s why you could be this way with him. “Logically speaking, I should be your enemy, wouldn’t it be… Beneficial for you to cut down the numbers?”

“You’re knowledgeable of what I want and need to know, so it’s better for me to keep you by my side.” Jinwoo answered easily, it was the perfect cover story until he could sort out his thoughts regarding you. “And I know you can make your targets more powerful.” Ever since his eyes first laid on your misty form in Ashborn/his memories, he wanted to keep you by his side. “I saw Ashborn’s memories.”

Jinwoo noticed the visible flinch and frozen state of your form when he told you that information. You appeared puzzled, your eyebrows furrowed together and your eyes looked down in deep thought, even your lips were pressed together. “There’s no way Ashborn would… He was serious? A successor…? Not a vessel?”

He couldn’t understand the phases you’d mumble from time to time. What he does know was that you were too fixiated with Ashborn. While he was grateful for this otherworldly being for giving him all this power and the opportunity to meet you, he didn’t like how you were this concerned with Ashborn when he was in front of you.

Jinwoo flinched as he turned around, his expression that of confusion. Why was he having such thoughts? What’s it matter what you were concerned with so long as you’d be making him stronger and giving him more power to protect his loved ones? Plus the protection he offered you, was it because it was a leverage for you to stay simply because you’d be targetted by the other Monarchs? Or was there more to his own words?

“Fine, I’ll take your offer.” Your words snapped Jinwoo out of his thoughts. You waited until Jinwoo turned around and composed himself for whatever reason you didn’t care for. As long as you’re next to this Jinwoo, Ashborn’s vessel and maybe successor, you have a chance of atoning for what you did to Ashborn. Perhaps a chance to see Ashborn even for a while.

“Great. Cool.” Jinwoo nodded. He controlled the urge to smile or raffling your hair that looked misty and soft. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, “So, do you have a place to stay, or do you stay in some dimensional crack?”

“I have an apartment. There’s no need to worry.”

There goes his idea to have you close monitor you in close range. There was another idea… “I’ll send some Shadows on you. I can’t have you warning the other Monarchs or betraying me.”

You eyed as some Shadows moved from Jinwoo’s into yours, feeling the added weight on your form and the chills. It was a familiar feelings. Jinwoo does remind you of Ashborn but different. “Betrayal would suggest that we are close, friends even, in your human terms. So I believe the phase ‘stabbing you in the back’ would be more fitting.”

Jinwoo shrugged while internally fuming, “The idea is not to have you be a disadvantage to me or cause one.” His eyes glowed and bloodlust was released, “That understood?”

As hard as it was, you stood your ground. You laughed at yourself mentally. An enemy is still an enemy. This human was picked by Ashborn himself, so you shouldn’t have underestimate him. Even more so when he is going to be the successor instead of a mere vessel. Shamefully, you bowed your head in the form of a bow of submission. “Understood.”

Note: I've decided to continue this and turn it into a series. There's more parts to come and it will be heavy manhwa focus, plus some scenes and events will be moved around. Do join me on this journey!

Also. Happy Halloween!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #yandere sung Jin woo #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere jinwoo #Yandere sung jinwoo x reader #yandere sung jin woo x reader #Shadow and Void

385 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 5 months ago

Note

could you do ratio, gepard, and aventurine where theyre in like a good mood like maybe they have a day off or smth and they had a date planned out and they come walking up to their wife only to find her in tears? Like may e she had a bad family situation or smth

also separately plz in case that wasnt clear

thank you <3

In the Shelter of Your Sorrows

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Gepard x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff with Angst, Emotional Support, Established Relationship, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of Emotional Distress and Family Issues, Reader experiencing a breakdown/crying, Characters expressing worry and offering comfort.

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

It was an unusual day for Ratio. The usually intense and calculated man had found himself with a rare, free afternoon, a luxury he hadn’t enjoyed in what seemed like ages. He had planned everything meticulously for the day—the perfect venue, the perfect time, the perfect conversation. The only thing missing was you.

With his hair tousled ever so slightly and the customary blue cloth draped over his right shoulder, Ratio was in high spirits. He arrived at your shared home, walking with an air of confidence, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He knew you had been having a bit of a rough time recently with family matters, so today was meant to be a reprieve—a day just for the two of you.

But as he rounded the corner into your shared garden, his steps slowed. There you were, sitting on the bench where you and Ratio often spent quiet moments, head in your hands, shoulders trembling with sobs.

His heart sank. Ratio was a man who prided himself on being in control, on solving problems with logic and wisdom, but this was a sight that defied even his vast intellect. He stood still for a moment, his piercing eyes softening as he took in the sight of your vulnerability.

"Love," he said softly, his usually confident tone faltering for just a moment. You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face instantly breaking his heart. "What... what happened?"

You didn’t respond at first, only shaking your head as the weight of whatever had occurred still seemed too fresh to articulate. Ratio slowly walked towards you, his fingers brushing the side of your face gently, wiping away the stray tears.

"I was looking forward to our day," he murmured, his voice low and comforting, though there was a hint of frustration in it as well. "You know I detest seeing you like this." His eyes softened further, the cold intellect replaced by something far warmer. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together."

He didn’t push you, instead choosing to sit beside you, his arm naturally pulling you toward him. You leaned into his embrace, taking comfort in his presence as he whispered quietly, “I’m here. I will always be here, even when you need to cry.”

Gepard had been counting down the days until he could finally spend time with you. He was a man of duty, yes, but even the stoic Captain of the Silvermane Guards needed a break. And today was that rare occasion—a day off. He had promised you a peaceful afternoon, one where he could be by your side without the weight of his responsibilities.

As he walked toward your house, his frame emanated a quiet sense of calm. His skin glowed under the sun, his eyes scanning the surroundings in his usual vigilant manner, but today, he was full of hope. His armor was set aside in favor of something more relaxed, yet he still exuded a nobility that couldn’t be erased.

However, as he approached the door, he heard it—your sobs, soft but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat, and a knot formed in his stomach. The world felt suddenly off-balance, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy.

He opened the door gently, the sound of it creaking almost deafening in the silence that followed. And there you were—your back turned to him, hunched over, unable to keep the tears from flowing.

Gepard’s heart clenched. He had faced the battlefield and the monsters of the Fragmentum, but nothing prepared him for seeing you like this. His breath caught in his throat, and he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle but firm, his usual composed demeanor slipping into something softer when he saw how deeply you were hurting. "What happened? Why are you crying?" His tone was full of concern, his posture relaxed but alert, as if he could immediately spring into action if you needed him to.

You wiped your eyes quickly, attempting to hide the pain, but it only made his concern deepen. Gepard kneeled beside you, taking your hand gently. "Tell me, love. I want to know. You don’t have to carry this alone."

You finally looked at him, the raw emotion in your eyes breaking the Captain’s steady composure. He swallowed, his expression hardening with the need to protect you, and then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "Whatever happened, we’ll get through it," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. "You don’t need to bear this weight on your own."

Aventurine wasn’t a man who enjoyed days off. He thrived in chaos, in calculated risks, in the rush of winning impossible games. But even he knew that some things were more important than power and influence. And so, today, he had set aside time just for you, a break from the constant games of life. He had planned a date—a luxurious evening full of surprises and thrilling moments.

His signature grin stretched across his face as he strolled toward your quarters, his golden rings glinting in the light, his glasses perched at the perfect angle. His attire fluttered slightly in the wind, each step oozing with confidence.

But as he opened the door, the sight of you nearly stopped his heart. There you were, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, your arms wrapped around yourself as you silently wept, your shoulders shaking.

His usual smile faltered, and for a brief moment, his bravado slipped. It was a look so foreign on him that anyone who might have seen it would have sworn he was someone else entirely—a man who had forgotten how to play the game.

"Aventurine..." you whispered through your tears, barely able to hold it together, your voice breaking as you looked up at him.

His heart twisted painfully in his chest. His usual self-assured confidence crumbled, and he took a slow step toward you, kneeling before you. The carefully crafted mask he wore for the world fell away as he softly cupped your face, wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. "What happened? Why are you like this?" His voice was low, softer than you had ever heard it before, full of a deep vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

You told him about the family issue, the hurt and betrayal, and as you spoke, he listened. His mind raced as he worked to think of ways to fix it, to strategize an escape for you, to make you happy again. But all he could do in that moment was be present.

"You don’t have to carry this burden alone," he said, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet sincerity you hadn’t expected. "I’m here. And I’ll always be here." His hand reached out to gently tug you into his embrace, his chest rising and falling as if he were the one who needed the comfort.

"I’m not going anywhere," Aventurine murmured against your ear, his usual playful tone absent. "I’m staying right here with you, no matter the game."

177 notes · View notes

lovedbysolaris · 7 months ago

Text

Through Ash and Iron (2)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU. (She/her)

Word Count: 5.9k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy.

___________________________

The soft chime of a bell echoed through the modest shop as Caitlyn stepped inside. She adjusted the cuffs of her coat, scanning the space for you. The shop was a humble place—wooden counters, shelves stacked with tools and gadgets, and an air of organized clutter.

A middle-aged woman stood behind the counter, her brows furrowing in suspicion at Caitlyn’s pristine uniform. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Caitlyn cleared her throat. “I’m looking for your daughter. She—uh—was released from custody yesterday. I wanted to check on her.”

The woman blinked, her suspicion giving way to surprise. “You’re a Kiramman, aren’t you?”

The name seemed to ripple through the shop like a shockwave. A boy, about fifteen with neatly combed hair and sharp, pale features, peeked out from the backroom, his expression caught between awe and curiosity. Caitlyn nodded politely, ignoring the knot forming in her stomach.

“She hasn’t been home,” the woman said with a shrug, her voice carrying an air of dismissal. “Not surprising, really. She’s always been… difficult.”

“Trouble, if we’re being honest,” added a man seated in the corner, presumably your father. He barely looked up from the newspaper he was skimming. “Never fit in, not like our boy here.”

The boy stood straighter at the mention, his demeanor clean and polished—a stark contrast to your rough edges.

Caitlyn’s gaze darted between them, the pieces slowly falling into place. There was something off about the dynamic, something deeper than simple familial tension. The more they talked about you, the more it became apparent that you were the outsider in your own family.

“And she’s nothing like the rest of us,” your mother continued, shaking her head. “Always running off, getting into fights… we’re better off when she’s not here causing trouble.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank, her chest tightening with unease. Her eyes drifted over to a family photo on the wall. The boy’s resemblance to his parents was undeniable. But you… you were missing from the picture entirely.

“Well,” Caitlyn said, forcing a polite smile, “thank you for your time.”

She turned on her heel and left, her thoughts racing as she stepped out into the bright morning light. “She doesn’t even look like them,” she muttered under her breath, her mind spiraling. “Something’s not right. I need help… and fast.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　　

When you woke, your head pounded like a drum, and your body ached in ways you hadn’t felt in years. Your hands were bound behind you, ropes digging into your wrists, and the chair beneath you was cold and unsteady. The room smelled like oil and damp metal, the faint hum of machinery in the background.

You groaned, rolling your sore jaw. “What the hell…?”

“Good morning, sunshine,” came a gruff voice.

You lifted your head, blinking away the haze to see a tall woman leaning against the wall. Her broad shoulders were imposing, and her metallic arm gleamed in the dim light.

“Who are you?” you croaked, your voice hoarse.

“Sevika,” she said simply, stepping closer. “And you are?”

You squinted at her, confused and defiant. “Pretty sure you already know the answer to that if you went through the trouble of tying me up.”

Sevika smirked faintly. “I know what you are. A little street rat with a chip on her shoulder. But I’m curious about who you are… before you meet the person who asked for you.”

“Who?” you demanded, your mind racing.

Sevika ignored the question, circling you like a predator toying with its prey. “You don’t look like much,” she mused. “But I’ve heard stories. Fists like hammers, a temper to match. People like you don’t belong in Piltover.”

“And people like you don’t belong outside a junkyard,” you shot back, gritting your teeth.

Sevika chuckled darkly. “Cute. Got any other tricks, or is sarcasm your only weapon?”

“Let me go, and I’ll show you a few,” you snapped.

The banter continued, each of you trading barbs like a pair of prizefighters warming up before a match. The tension in the room thickened until the door creaked open, revealing Clagg. He was fidgety as ever, glancing nervously between you and Sevika.

“She’s coming,” Clagg announced, his tone almost reverent.

“About time,” Sevika muttered. She leaned down close to you, her metallic arm brushing against your cheek. “You’re lucky she wants to meet you. Otherwise, you’d already be in pieces.”

“Charming,” you bit out, then spat at her feet.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and before you could blink, she kicked the chair back. You hit the ground with a jarring thud, the air rushing out of your lungs.

“Watch your mouth, kid,” Sevika growled, her boots echoing as she walked away.

Still tied to the chair, you craned your neck to yell after her. “You think this scares me? I’ve had worse!”

Your voice bounced off the walls, but no response came. Alone again, you gritted your teeth, your frustration mounting. Whoever had gone through the trouble of taking you, they were going to regret it.

The ropes around your wrists burned as you twisted and yanked, desperate to free yourself. Every muscle in your arms screamed in protest, but you pushed through, muttering every profanity and insult you could think of under your breath.

"Come on, you piece of—" you hissed, jerking harder at the ropes. The chair scraped against the filthy floor as you shifted your weight. "Cowards! You’re all cowards! Can’t even fight me head-on, huh?"

The sound of a creaking door silenced your outburst. You froze, hearing light, almost playful footsteps approaching.

Then she appeared.

The first thing that caught your eye was her hair—a vivid blue, pulled into chaotic pigtails that swayed with every step. She moved with a strange, fluid energy, like she was dancing to a song only she could hear. Her hooded cloak hung loosely around her, barely concealing the mischievous smile spreading across her face.

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t stop staring at her. It wasn’t just her striking features—the sharp curve of her jawline, the glint of piercings, or the deliberate sway of her stride—but her eyes. They were a haunting, electric purple that seemed to glow even in the dim light. They locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting, as if she was peeling back every layer of your mind.

She tilted her head, noticing your stunned expression as if she was taking inventory of your soul. Without a word, she strode forward, her boots clinking lightly against the ground. With surprising strength, she grabbed the back of your chair and lifted it upright, bringing your face level with hers.

“Not so loud now, are we?” she teased, her voice smooth yet tinged with mockery.

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close she was. Her lips curled into a knowing smirk as she leaned in, inspecting you like you were some kind of rare artifact.

Her hand reached out, almost delicately, tracing a faint line over the scar that ran through your eyebrow. The sensation made you flinch slightly, but her touch was lighter than you’d expected.

“What’s this, huh?” she mused, her finger trailing down to where a tattoo peeked out along the side of your neck. Her head tilted again, curious, as she studied the intricate lines and shapes. “A map? A secret code? Or just something to make you look cool?”

You didn’t respond, your throat dry.

She grinned wider at your silence. “Funny. You had so much to say earlier. All that yelling, cursing. What happened?” Her voice dropped, playful and sharp. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

Her teasing only made your pulse race. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as she continued to examine you like you were her newest obsession.

Finally, she leaned back slightly, resting her hands on her hips. “You’re a fascinating one, I’ll give you that. That punch you threw at that enforcer? Oh, that was beautiful.” She sighed dreamily, spinning on her heel before whipping back around to face you. “I saw you and thought, that one’s got fire. And fire is just what I need.”

Her words finally broke through your haze. You leaned forward, pushing your face so close to hers that the gap between you was almost nonexistent. Her eyes widened, caught off guard for a brief moment.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice low and steady.

Her lips parted slightly, then curled into a devilish grin. “Takes one to know one, sugar.”

Her grin widened as if your words had only fueled whatever twisted fire burned inside her. Those vivid purple eyes danced with amusement, mischief, and something far more dangerous.

She leaned in closer, her nose nearly brushing yours, her lips curving into a sly smirk. “Insane?” she repeated, dragging the word out like it was a sweet candy she didn’t want to swallow. “Sugar, you don’t know the half of it. But you? You’re a little spark in this dull, gray world. And I like sparks.”

Your jaw clenched, but you couldn’t look away. She was intoxicating, the kind of energy you could feel crawling under your skin. Dangerous. Chaotic. Addictive.

Her gaze flicked down, studying the scar on your eyebrow again as if it told her a story she hadn’t finished reading. “This,” she said, lightly tapping the scar with a manicured finger, “has a tale, doesn’t it? Did you earn it in a fight? Or did someone get the better of you?”

You jerked your head back, her finger hovering in the air where your face had been. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Ooooh,” she cooed, pretending to be wounded, clutching her chest dramatically. “Tough girl, huh? You’re even more fun than I thought.”

She circled you slowly, her boots scuffing the floor as she moved, inspecting you from every angle. “And these tattoos… I’m dying to know what they mean. Are you some kind of treasure map, or are you just trying to look mysterious?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk despite yourself. “Maybe both.”

Her laughter rang out, light and airy, but with that edge that made your skin crawl and your heart race. “I knew I liked you.” She stopped behind you, leaning close to your ear, her breath brushing your neck. “So much potential, all wrapped up in a pretty little package.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you shot back, though your voice betrayed the tiniest hitch.

“Oh, I don’t need flattery,” she purred, sauntering back around to face you. She crouched down, her chin resting on her hand as she peered up at you with those piercing eyes. “I’ve already got you wrapped around my finger.”

You barked a laugh, leaning forward as much as the ropes allowed. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Hate to break it to you, but I don’t play by anyone’s rules.”

Her grin twisted into something darker, more dangerous. “Oh, I’m counting on that.”

Her gaze locked with yours again, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. The intensity of her stare was overwhelming, like she was peeling back every layer of you, reading the parts you kept hidden even from yourself.

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?”

Her lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Everything.”

The word hung in the air, and for the first time, you felt truly out of control. It wasn’t fear—it was something far more maddening.

“You’re full of yourself,” you muttered, breaking eye contact to glare at the floor.

“And you’re full of surprises,” she shot back, tilting her head. “That’s why I want you, sugar. You don’t even know what you’re capable of yet, do you?”

You snorted, finally meeting her gaze again. “And you think you do?”

Her smirk deepened as she stood, towering over you for a moment. She leaned down, her face close enough that you could feel the heat of her breath. “Stick around, and maybe you’ll find out.”

Before you could respond, she straightened, her manic energy returning as she twirled on her heel. “But don’t worry, sweetheart,” she called over her shoulder, “I’m not done with you yet.”

She paused at the doorway, turning back with one final, piercing look. “Not by a long shot.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you tied to the chair with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

The edge of Piltover where it bled into the Undercity was a liminal space, caught between the polished steel of progress and the grime of survival. Caitlyn tightened her coat as she approached the meeting spot, her sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit area until she spotted the unmistakable silhouette of Vi.

Vi was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, her usual air of nonchalance masking the weight she always carried in these spaces. She looked up as Caitlyn approached, her smirk lighting up the otherwise somber surroundings.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Cupcake herself,” Vi drawled, pushing off the railing and striding forward. “What brings you to the edge of the world? Couldn’t be my charm.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Vi. Always the comedian.”

“You know me,” Vi said with a wink, gesturing toward a ledge that overlooked the Undercity below. “Come on. Let’s catch up like old times.”

The two of them sat side by side, the hum of Zaun’s machinery rising faintly in the background. For a moment, there was silence, the kind only two people with shared history could share.

“So,” Vi started, leaning back on her hands. “What’s got you out here? I know you didn’t come all this way just to see me.”

Caitlyn hesitated, her fingers brushing the edges of the folded paper in her coat pocket. “I need your help, but… I want to ask you something first.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“Did you ever know someone—when you were younger—who didn’t quite fit in on either side of the city?” Caitlyn asked, her voice cautious.

Vi’s expression shifted, her smirk fading into something more contemplative. “You’re fishing, Cait. But yeah. There was someone.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Who?”

Vi leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared out over the Undercity. “Back when Vander was still running things, there was this kid who’d come around sometimes. Silco’s kid.”

Caitlyn blinked. “Silco had a child?”

Vi nodded, her gaze distant. “Yeah. He didn’t bring her around much. Vander always told us to play nice with her, though. Said she wasn’t like her old man. And he was right. She was a good kid. Quiet, but tough in her own way. Ekko and I used to call her ‘little spark’ because she’d light up whenever she got into trouble with us.”

“What happened to her?” Caitlyn asked softly.

Vi’s jaw tightened, and her voice dropped. “The bridge. You know the story—when everything went to hell, and we lost everything. I always thought she was one of the ones who didn’t make it.”

Caitlyn frowned, her hand brushing her coat pocket again. “She must’ve been important to you.”

Vi glanced at her, a sly grin creeping back onto her face. “What’s with all the questions, Cait? You getting attached to someone?”

Caitlyn straightened, her cheeks heating slightly. “That’s not—”

Vi chuckled, cutting her off. “Relax, Cupcake. I’m just messing with you. But the way you’re talking, you’ve got a soft spot for whoever this is.”

Caitlyn huffed, crossing her arms. “I do not.”

“Sure,” Vi teased, her grin widening. “Now, are you gonna tell me what this is all about, or do I have to guess?”

Reluctantly, Caitlyn pulled the folded paper from her pocket and handed it to Vi. “This is who I’m talking about.”

Vi unfolded the paper and stared at the mugshot. Her smirk dropped instantly, replaced by a rare look of genuine shock.

“What?” Caitlyn asked, alarmed by her reaction. “What is it?”

Vi’s fingers tightened on the photo as she stared at it, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s her.”

Caitlyn blinked, confused. “Her?”

Vi looked up, her eyes meeting Caitlyn’s with a mixture of disbelief and dread. “That’s Silco’s kid. The one I told you about.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not,” Vi said firmly, her voice steadier now. “I’d recognize her anywhere. She’s older, sure, but it’s her.”

Caitlyn stared at Vi, the weight of the revelation settling over her like a storm cloud. “If she’s Silco’s child… then she’s in more danger than I thought.”

Vi nodded grimly, folding the paper carefully before handing it back. “You have no idea, Cait. If Jinx is involved, this isn’t just danger—it’s a ticking time bomb.”

The two women sat in tense silence, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing down on both of them.

You remained seated on the ledge(finally untied and freed), your legs dangling over the edge, gazing out at the endless sprawl of the Undercity. The cool air carried the muffled hum of life below, its chaotic rhythm strangely soothing. Jinx's words echoed in your mind, tangled with your own doubts and fears.

"You're different. You've got a fire they can't put out."

You clenched your jaw, your fingers tightening around the edge of the ledge. A small part of you hated how much her words resonated. The Undercity, with all its grime and disorder, felt more genuine than anything you’d ever experienced in Piltover. It felt... like home.

But why?

Shaking the thought off, you stood, brushing your hands on your pants. The colored neon signs beckoned below, their strange symbols and shapes leading a breadcrumb trail toward what could only be Jinx’s lair. You followed them, the glowing lights guiding your every step through winding passages and corridors that grew stranger the deeper you ventured.

When you reached the entrance, the sound of laughter and faint music greeted you. The room was an explosion of color and chaos, a living reflection of its owner. But before you could take it all in, something small and solid slammed into your side, nearly knocking you over.

“Whoa there, kid,” you said, steadying yourself with a smirk.

The small figure in front of you was a girl, no older than seven or eight. Her oversized helmet tilted awkwardly over her face, obscuring her features. She straightened it, looking up at you with curious eyes. You chuckled, gently pushing the helmet down so it covered her face again.

“That’s a safety hazard, squirt,” you teased.

The girl let out a muffled huff, adjusting the helmet again before darting behind your legs as if hiding. You turned, bewildered, just in time to see Jinx leaning casually against a wall, watching the exchange with an amused grin.

“That’s Isha,” Jinx said, pushing off the wall and sauntering closer. “She doesn’t talk much, but don’t let that fool you. She’s a little firecracker.”

You crouched down, leveling your gaze with the girl’s. “Isha, huh? You trying to knock me out or what?”

Isha peeked out from behind her helmet, her big eyes locking with yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without warning, she launched herself forward, wrapping her small arms tightly around your neck.

You froze, your arms hovering awkwardly before finally settling around her in return. The hug was fierce, filled with an intensity you hadn’t expected from someone so small.

Jinx stood off to the side, her grin faltering into something softer, something almost vulnerable. She tilted her head, studying the moment.

“Would you look at that,” Jinx muttered under her breath, her voice quieter than usual. “You’ve got that thing... that spark. The kind that makes people believe in something better, even when the world’s a mess.”

She leaned against a beam, her purple eyes narrowing slightly as if lost in thought. “I always thought people like you didn’t exist. Or if they did, they’d never make it down here. Guess I was wrong.”

Isha pulled back slightly, her tiny hands gripping your shirt as she looked up at you with a small smile. You returned it hesitantly, unsure what to do with the sudden warmth spreading through your chest.

Jinx crossed her arms, a flicker of something complicated crossing her face. “You’re a piece of work. You make people feel things they don’t even know they’re missing.”

You glanced at her, confused by her tone, but before you could say anything, she clapped her hands, her grin returning in full force.

“Alright, reunion time’s over!” Jinx said, gesturing grandly toward the chaotic space. “Welcome to the fun house. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

But even as she walked away, her eyes lingered on you and Isha for just a second longer, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a secret.

Vi and Caitlyn moved quietly through the shadows of the Undercity, the flickering neon lights casting distorted shapes along the walls. The tension between them was palpable, Caitlyn walking briskly with purpose, while Vi lagged slightly behind, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“Alright, Vi,” Caitlyn snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “Enough of this. Why are you so anxious about this? It’s obvious you know something you’re not telling me. Just spill it already.”

Vi ran a hand through her short hair, letting out a sharp breath. “It’s not that simple, Cupcake.”

“Don’t ‘Cupcake’ me,” Caitlyn shot back, frustration bubbling over. “You practically froze when you saw that picture. And now, every time her name comes up, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is it about her? What aren’t you telling me?”

Vi hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. She leaned against a graffiti-covered wall, her eyes scanning the dark alley as if trying to find the right words in the chaos around them.

“She’s Silco’s kid, Caitlyn,” Vi finally admitted, her voice low and uneven. “And that’s bad enough, yeah? But it’s worse than that. There’s… there’s something about her—something Silco did to her—since she was just a baby.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? What did he do to her?”

Vi looked away, unable to meet Caitlyn’s eyes. Her voice dropped further, tinged with both anger and sadness. “He gave her Shimmer. Since she was an infant.”

Caitlyn’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief, her mind racing. “Shimmer? That toxin? The stuff that drives people mad? He gave it to his own child?”

Vi nodded grimly. “He called her Spark for a reason. It wasn’t just ‘cause of how she lit up a room with her energy. It was because when she got mad, Cait, there was this… this purple flash in her eyes. It wasn’t natural. And it wasn’t just her eyes—she got strong. Way stronger than any kid her age should’ve been.”

Caitlyn’s hand instinctively moved to her chest, gripping the fabric of her coat as the weight of Vi’s words settled over her. “That’s… inhuman,” she whispered.

“You’re telling me,” Vi said bitterly. “Back when we were all still running around with Vander, she’d hang with us sometimes. Vander told me and Ekko to play nice with her—said she didn’t have a lot of friends.”

Vi let out a shaky breath, her voice cracking slightly. “One time, some goons jumped us. Usual Undercity crap, right? We could’ve handled it, but one of ‘em hit Powder. She lost it. I mean… lost it. It was like a switch flipped. She went from this scrappy, loudmouthed kid to…” Vi paused, swallowing hard. “…something else. She tore into that guy like a rabid animal. Took five of us to pull her off him.”

Caitlyn stared at Vi, the story painting a picture she could hardly comprehend. “How old was she?”

“Maybe eight,” Vi muttered, her eyes distant. “Nine at most.”

Caitlyn couldn’t hide the horror on her face. “And no one did anything? No one tried to help her?”

“Silco didn’t think she needed help,” Vi said bitterly. “He thought it made her special. He was always talkin’ about how she’d be the future of the Undercity. Said she was born to be more than the rest of us.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, her voice firm. “Vi, we need to find her. If she’s still being exposed to Shimmer—or worse, if she gets ahold of it again—she could become…”

“Someone no one can stop,” Vi finished for her, her voice heavy with guilt. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Caitlyn’s eyes. “Look, Cait, I don’t know if she’s beyond saving or not. But if anyone can find her before it’s too late, it’s you.”

Caitlyn’s gaze softened slightly, seeing the weight of the past etched into Vi’s face. “We’ll find her,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ll find her. And if there’s even a chance of pulling her back from whatever Silco did to her, I’ll take it.”

Vi gave her a weak smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Careful, Cupcake. You’re starting to sound like a hero.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smirk on her lips as the two of them continued walking deeper into the Undercity shadows.

─ ⊹ ☆ ⊹ ─

You sat cross-legged in the center of the pillow fort, its patchwork design of fraying fabric and mismatched cushions somehow providing a sense of calm. Isha sat close by, fiddling with another scrap of metal. She handed you a device—a small, intricate thing that looked like a broken clock mixed with some kind of makeshift toy. You turned it over in your hands, your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of it.

“How does this thing even…” you muttered, shaking it slightly.

Isha tapped your arm and held out her hand. You passed it to her, and she pressed a hidden switch with an exaggerated motion, her small fingers moving with practiced ease. The device clicked open, and she handed it back to you, her expression triumphant.

“Ah,” you said, smirking as you caught on. “Got it now. Thanks, kid.”

Isha nodded, pleased, as you reached for a small set of tools and peered into the inner workings of the device. As you worked, focused on aligning the tiny gears, Jinx stood nearby, leaning against a support beam of the fort. Her purple eyes flickered between you and Isha, her fingers twitching idly at her sides.

For a moment, her gaze softened, as though something about the way you interacted with Isha stirred a memory buried deep within her. A fleeting image of another life—of being that child watching someone patient and kind—flashed in her mind. But the memory was jagged, incomplete, and the voices began to stir.

“She’s like them. She’ll leave you, too.”

“Don’t let her in. You know what happens.”

“Softness gets you killed.”

Her hands clenched into fists as her breathing grew uneven. The taunting chorus in her mind grew louder, mocking her, reminding her of every loss, every betrayal, and every vulnerability she had ever exposed.

Then, one voice—a quieter, unfamiliar one—whispered. “Or maybe… maybe she’s different?”

“No!” Jinx’s outburst was sharp and sudden, her hand slamming against the wall of the fort. Both you and Isha flinched, startled. Isha quickly raised her hands, signing something to you, her movements calm despite the tension.

You glanced at her, brow furrowing. “She says it’s no big deal,” you murmured, translating Isha’s message. But something in you didn’t sit right. You set the device down carefully, rising to your feet.

Jinx’s eyes flickered to you as you approached. Her breathing was uneven, her jaw tight as if bracing herself for whatever she thought you were going to do. But you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stepped close, reached out, and placed your hand gently on her shoulder.

The contact was electric—not in the physical sense, but in the way it seemed to pull her back from the chaotic spiral in her mind. The voices stuttered, silenced as if they’d been struck mute. She stared at your hand, then at your face, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

“Are you good?” you asked softly, your voice steady.

She blinked, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. She didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. For the first time in as long as she could remember, the storm in her mind had quieted.

“The voices…” she said softly, her words almost childlike. Her gaze locked onto yours, searching. “They stopped.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just left your hand where it was, steady, grounding.

Jinx let out a short laugh, the sound almost bitter as she pulled away. “What are you, a miracle worker now?” she teased, her tone trying to recover its usual sharpness, but it lacked the bite. She crossed her arms, glancing away as though embarrassed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You smirked faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

For a moment, there was a quiet tension between you—an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully grasped but could feel nonetheless.

She finally glanced back at you, her expression softening. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “For, uh… whatever you did.”

You raised a brow, leaning slightly against the beam. “Don’t mention it.”

But even as she turned back toward Isha with her usual swagger, there was a different air about her. And in the quiet moments that followed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her had shifted—just as something in you had, too.

The tense air of Jinx’s lair was broken by the heavy footfalls of Sevika as she strode in, her expression lined with irritation and determination. She stopped a few paces from where Jinx stood, her arms crossed, her purple eyes locked on a distant point in the room. You sat with Isha, fidgeting with the scrap she had handed you earlier, trying to piece it together while she motioned instructions. Both of you froze when Sevika spoke.

“We need to talk,” she said bluntly, her gravelly voice cutting through the silence.

Jinx glanced at her, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “About what? Your new hobby?”

Sevika’s jaw tightened. “The rally. You need to be there. They need to see you.”

Jinx snorted, spinning a small, makeshift grenade in her hand. “Need? They don’t need anything. They just want a show.”

“It’s not about a show, Jinx. It’s about showing strength. If you want people to follow you, they need to see you, not some memory of who you used to be.”

Jinx laughed sharply, shaking her head. “They’ll get over it. They always do.”

From your spot, you glanced at Isha, who gave you a meaningful nod toward the door. Her small hands signed: We should go.

You hesitated, glancing between the two women. Jinx’s smirk was faltering, her fingers twitching as she tossed the grenade between her hands. You nodded at Isha, but as Sevika’s frustration grew and Jinx’s refusal hardened, you couldn’t help but linger, watching the scene unfold.

Sevika’s patience finally broke. “Fine,” she snapped, throwing up her hands. “Stay here. Hide in your fort. But don’t expect anyone to keep waiting forever.” With that, she turned and stormed out.

Jinx stared after her, her smirk fading entirely. She muttered something under her breath, then stalked off into the shadows of the lair, leaving you and Isha alone.

─ ⊹ ☆ ⊹ ─

The streets were alive with energy as you walked through the dense crowd, Isha’s small hand clasped tightly in yours. Voices rose in unison, fists pumping into the air as chants echoed off the crumbling walls of the Undercity. The sea of people pressed around you, a strange mix of defiance and desperation in their faces. You couldn’t help but feel out of place and yet… oddly drawn in.

At the center of the chaos, Sevika stood atop a makeshift platform, her mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light as she addressed the crowd with a booming voice.

“They take everything from us!” she roared. “Our homes, our families, our freedom—and they think we’ll just bow down and take it! But we’re stronger than they’ll ever know. We’re the beating heart of this city, and we will not be silenced!”

Her words sent a ripple through the crowd, igniting a fire in their eyes. You stood still, feeling a strange stirring in your chest. Her speech felt like a challenge, a call to action. Around you, people murmured and chanted, their voices swelling with Sevika’s words.

“Where’s Jinx?” someone shouted from the crowd, and the question was quickly echoed.

Your brow furrowed as you looked around, confused. The crowd seemed to be searching, yearning for her. Why are they all so obsessed with her?

Suddenly, Isha tugged her hand free from yours and darted toward the base of the massive, weathered statue that towered over the square.

“Isha!” you called out, pushing through the crowd after her. You caught sight of her climbing up the crumbling base of the statue, her small figure illuminated by the glow of the flare she held high above her head.

The flare’s blue light cut through the darkened sky, a beacon that silenced the crowd for a breathless moment. You felt something deep inside you shift, something raw and instinctive. Slowly, you raised your fist to the sky, the gesture unthinking yet powerful.

The crowd seemed to freeze, their eyes on you, and then one by one, fists rose alongside yours. The chants grew louder, the unity in the air palpable.

Sevika’s eyes snapped to you from her platform, her expression hard to read. For a moment, she looked almost… impressed. She raised her own fist, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

But the unity was short-lived. The roar of engines and the heavy march of enforcers filled the air as they stormed into the square. The crowd erupted into chaos, some scattering in fear, others standing their ground to fight. You were caught in the middle, trying to keep sight of Isha as the chaos unfolded around you.

You spotted her just as a massive enforcer grabbed her, flinging her small body into the stone fountain with a sickening thud. Your breath hitched as you saw her crumple to the ground, unmoving.

A spark ignited in your chest, and for a moment, the world blurred. Your vision tinged with purple, and before you knew it, you were charging toward the enforcer, your movements unnaturally fast.

The enforcer barely had time to react before you were on him, striking with a strength and speed that caught even you by surprise. Blow after blow landed, each one fueled by a fury you couldn’t contain.

A sharp pain exploded in your side as you were suddenly knocked off balance. You hit the ground hard, gasping for breath as you looked up to see Sevika standing over you, her mechanical arm sparking from the spear that had pierced through it. She grimaced but grabbed you by the arm, dragging you away even as you fought against her grip.

“They’ve got Isha!” you screamed, your voice raw with desperation.

“We’ll get her back,” Sevika growled, slamming you into the wall of a nearby alley. Her eyes were fierce, her grip unrelenting. “But we need Jinx. She’s the only one who can get her out of wherever they’re taking her.”

You froze, your breath heaving as her words sank in. Sevika’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm.

“Get it together,” she snapped. “We don’t have time for this. You want to save her? Then we need Jinx. Now.”

She released you, and for a moment, you stood there trembling, anger and fear coursing through you. But as the chaos raged on, you nodded, steeling yourself for what was to come.

--------------

Chap 3 getting edited rn :) Thanks for reading! Isha is alive here I DONT CARE

#lgbtq #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #wlw #caitlyn #vi arcane #arcane #sevika #arcane silco

160 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

I Choose You || Legolas

Summary: Request - Hii hope you're having a good day, is it okay if I request a Legolas x reader where reader is Gandalf's granddaughter and joined the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring? They both slowly fell in love with each other along the way and when the incident in Moria happened where Gandalf dies, Legolas comforts her.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing request! Had a blast writing this as usual :) It's a lil long, so enjoy!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: Talks of war/death, war, death, orcs, general LOTR triggers

You stand silently amidst the gathered council fading into the background as best you could. The murmur of many voices echoing softly through the vaulted halls of Rivendell. The air is crisp, filled with the mingling scents of ancient scrolls and the distant freshness of autumnal leaves. Elves, men, dwarves, and even a few hobbits have come to discuss the fate of Middle-earth, their faces marked by concern and resolve.

Your grandfather, Gandalf the Grey, stands at the center of it all. His presence both commanding and comforting. You’ve always admired his wisdom and strength and today, more than ever, you feel the weight of your lineage. You are his granddaughter, gifted with a touch of his magical prowess and a deep love for the mysteries of this world.

As the debate swirls around you, Elrond, the lord of Rivendell calls for silence. His gaze settles on the small golden ring laid upon the pedestal. It’s simple form belying its terrible power. The task is clear though the path is fraught with peril: the ring must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. "We must form a fellowship," Elrond declares. His voice resonant and clear. "Those who will take this burden upon themselves and walk into the shadow to see this evil undone."

A hush falls over the council. Eyes turn, some in fear, others in anticipation, seeking those who might step forward. This is the moment you’ve prepared for, not just since you arrived in Rivendell but throughout your life under Gandalf’s tutelage. With a breath that steadies your resolve you step forward. The rustle of your cloak is like a whisper against the stone floor and several members of the council turn in surprise as you move into the circle of light cast by the morning sun through the high windows.

"I will go," you say, your voice firm and clear. "For the love of my grandfather and for the safety of middle earth. I will see this quest through to its end."

Murmurs of approval ripple through the room and Gandalf meets your eyes across the circle. There’s pride in his gaze and a touch of sorrow, knowing well the dangers that lie ahead. But in this moment you see also the unspoken bond between the two of you. An acknowledgment of the shared commitment to what is right, no matter the cost.

Legolas, a prince of the Woodland Realm, nods to you with respect clear in his bright eyes. Beside him, a stout figure grumbles under his breath, yet Gimli the Dwarf gives a curt nod of assent, recognizing your courage. Beside them a young hobbit named Frodo, who is to be the Ringbearer, looks on with wide, earnest eyes. It is for him, and for all who call this land home, that you pledge your strength. As the council disperses to prepare for the journey you stand beside Gandalf feeling the ancient power of Rivendell around you and the even older strength that lies within your own heart. This is just the beginning you know but you are ready. For the Fellowship, for middle earth, for Gandalf.

You will face whatever comes, together.

As the Fellowship journeys south from Rivendell the path grows increasingly treacherous, winding through craggy mountain passes and shadowed forests. The air is crisp and the first frost of winter sparkles on the leaves. Your companions walk close together. Each step a testament to the weight of the task ahead.

Aragorn leads with a steady hand, his ranger skills essential as the terrain becomes more challenging. Beside him, Boromir of Gondor often lends his strength. His booming voice echoing off the stone trying to keep spirits high among the group, especially the hobbits—Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin—who find amusement in the smallest wonders along the way. Like the frost patterns on the leaves or a particularly stubborn squirrel.

Legolas glides effortlessly beside you. His elven grace a stark contrast to Gimli who stumps along with a determined scowl, his axe ever at the ready. Despite the solemnity of your mission the elf and the dwarf have already begun what seems to be an endless competition, each trying to outdo the other in tracking skills, strength, and the telling of tall tales.

One balmy afternoon as the path narrows along the edges of a steep ravine the rivalry comes to a head between the two of them. Gimli insists he can clear a particularly large fallen tree with a single vault much to Legolas’s skepticism.

“Watch and learn, Master Elf,” Gimli grunts as he began to back up for a running start. Legolas watches with an arched eyebrow, clearly very amused by the red headed dwarf travelling beside him.

Just as Gimli begins to charge forward you step in placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps, Gimli, it would be wiser to assist each other over the obstacle rather than compete with others. After all, the road ahead promises ample challenge for both of your strengths.” You smile warmly down at the ambitious dwarf set out to prove himself.

Gimli stops mid-stride puffing out his chest a bit as he turns to you, then to Legolas. “Hmm, perhaps you are right, lass. What say you, Legolas? Shall we make this journey a test of our cooperation rather than our competition?”

Legolas’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. “I believe our companion speaks wisely. Let us proceed together.” He offers his hand to Gimli who looks at it for a moment before shaking it heartily.

As the journey continues you find yourself often mediating and bringing lightness to tense moments. One evening as the Fellowship gathered around the campfire you recount a humorous anecdote from your days studying under your grandfather. Making sure to mimic Gandalf’s stern voice and dramatic gestures. The group erupts into laughter, the sound carrying through the trees and lifting the spirits of all including the hobbits who clap delightedly and ask for more stories.

Aragorn, sitting across from you nods appreciatively. His eyes meeting yours with a silent thank-you for the lightness you bring. Boromir chuckles, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes clearly more at ease. “You have the gift of your grandfather. Not only in magic but in spirit.” Aragorn comments, his voice warm in the chill air.

Legolas who was sitting beside you leans closer and speaks softly, “Your wisdom brings much-needed peace. And your humor is a light in dark times. It is a rare gift.”

You meet his gaze. The firelight cast dancing shadows across his features. All elves were beautiful but there was something about the Price of Mirkwood that drew you in. “We all carry our gifts, Legolas. Yours is your unerring optimism and sharp eye. Gimli’s his steadfastness and heart. Boromir’s his valor. Aragorn’s his leadership. And the hobbits’ their enduring cheer. Together we are stronger than each individual.”

As the nights grow longer and the path more daunting the bonds within the Fellowship deepen, fortified by shared challenges and your quiet efforts to understand, and support each other. In the quiet moments Legolas teaches you Elvish songs of old. And Gimli shares tales of the great Dwarven halls, their voices blending into the night creating a tapestry of friendship and hope.

As the Fellowship delves into the ancient depths of Moria the air grows thick with the mustiness of ages and the weight of stone. The walls echo with the memory of Dwarven voices, now silent. The path is lit only by the faint glow of Gandalf’s staff. Gimli moves with a mix of reverence and sorrow. His eyes reflecting a deep familial connection to the lost realm of his kin. The narrow passages twist and turn leading you deeper into the mountain’s heart. The quiet is oppressive, only broken by the occasional drip of water or the scuffle of a boot on stone. Tension mounts with each step and even the normally unflappable Legolas seems taut, his eyes scanning the shadows.

All too suddenly, the dark stillness erupts into chaos. A low growl escalates into a deafening roar as the Balrog, a creature of fire and shadow, reveals itself. The ground trembles beneath its weight and the air sears with heat. Gandalf steps forward his face set with grim determination. “Lead them on, Aragorn,” he commands. “The bridge is near. Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!” Your grandfather cries as he gives you a sharp look. Obey. You must listen to him now.

The Fellowship rushes forward driven by fear and the urgent need to escape, but you hesitate, your heart torn as Gandalf faces the monster alone. As the others cross the bridge of Khazad-dûm you watch, helpless, as Gandalf confronts the Balrog. His staff was raised, a brilliant light flaring to meet the darkness.

“You cannot pass,” Gandalf declares. His voice echoing powerfully. It sends a shutter down even your spine.

The Balrog advances and with a defiant cry Gandalf strikes the bridge with his staff. It crumbles sending the creature plummeting into the abyss. But the Balrog’s fiery whip lashes out, catching Gandalf’s leg, pulling him towards the edge. With a calm but utterly sad glance back at you, he murmurs, “Fly, you fools,” before falling into the darkness below.

Shock paralyzes you momentarily, tears blurring your vision. The others tug at you, pulling you away from the crumbling edge. As you flee Moria the loss of your beloved grandfather hits you. A deep ache that seems to echo through the empty halls. Outside, under the grey, mourning sky, the Fellowship collapses in a clearing. Each member grappling with grief. Your knees give out and you sink to the ground, overwhelmed by sorrow. Legolas is at your side in an instant, his presence a silent solace. He does not speak, but his hand finds yours, squeezing gently. A clear reminder that you are not alone.

Gimli joins you. His own eyes rimmed red. “He was the greatest of us all,” he says gruffly with his voice thick with emotion. “I am honored to have walked beside him and I vow to you, we will see this quest through. For him and for all our sakes.”

The words are a balm to your spirit even as you could not reply. Words were too hard for you now. You lean into Legolas, his strength supporting you. You mourn the loss of the only thing you knew. Legolas and Gimli by your side reminding you that even in the depths of loss, the bonds of friendship and love hold firm.

You manage to whisper a weak "Thank you," before the sorrow overwhelms you once more. Tears flood your cheeks, each one a memory, a moment shared with Gandalf that you'll never experience again. Overcome, you turn into Legolas's side, seeking the comfort that only close, physical presence can provide. Though he was not typically fond of physical touch he does not hesitate to comfort you. He wraps his arms around you, his embrace firm and unwavering. In this moment your need transcends his usual reservations, and he holds you close. A silent sentinel in your hour of vulnerability.

His hands are steady on your back, one arm around your shoulders, the other at your waist, grounding you as your grief spills forth unchecked. Legolas's heart aches for your loss and though he may not express his emotions openly his actions speak a clear language of care and adoration. As you cry into his side, Legolas rests his chin atop your head. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon where the last light of day gives way to twilight. He feels the weight of your sorrow as if it were his own, yet he knows he must stand strong for you.

Legolas knows that the road ahead will be fraught with further trials but for now, he offers you all that he can—protection, comfort, and an unspoken promise that no matter what lies ahead, you will not face it alone. In the stillness that wraps around you and Legolas there's a respectful pause from the rest of the Fellowship. They were giving you a moment to collect yourself under the cloak of Legolas's support. Aragorn, ever attentive to the needs of his comrades, notices the depth of your grief and the comfort Legolas provides. He understands the significance of this moment, the necessity of mourning and the importance of support in such times.

Standing a short distance away Aragorn speaks quietly with the hobbits making sure everyone is ready to continue but delaying their departure ever so slightly for your sake. His leadership is subtle. His decisions shaped by a deep understanding of his people's emotional and physical stamina.

After a brief moment, Aragorn looks over, his eyes meeting Legolas’s over your bowed head. There’s a silent communication between them. A leader’s acknowledgement and a friend’s gratitude for the support given to one of their own. Aragorn’s face softens, his respect for whatever was forming between you two clear in his gentle nod.

With a deep breath, signaling both readiness and respect, Aragorn approaches. His voice is soft yet carries a necessary urgency as he speaks. His words meant to soothe but also to remind of the path ahead. “We must move on for night will not wait for us and neither will our enemies,” he spoke with his tone conveying both compassion and resolve. “Take the time you need but remember we must not linger long.”

Legolas gently helps you stand straighter his arms still offering support. As you wipe away the last of your tears, strengthened by the comfort you’ve received, you nod in understanding. Legolas gives you a reassuring look. His eyes promising continued support and then he gently releases you. He was ready to stand by your side as you all prepare to resume the journey. With a final glance at Gandalf’s last stand you and the Fellowship gather your gear and set off once more into the fading light. The memory of Gandalf a guiding light that pushes you forward through the darkness.

Emerging into the sunlight of the world again does little to lift the sorrow of the Fellowship which soon deepens with Boromir’s tragic fall at Amon Hen. His valiant defense of Merry and Pippin against the Uruk-hai, though ultimately costing him his life, marked him forever a hero in the annals of your journey. The loss of such a stalwart companion leaves a void in your heart and within the group, casting a pall over your spirits.

Driven by a fierce determination to honor Boromir’s sacrifice, you, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli give chase across the plains of Rohan to rescue Merry and Pippin from their captors. The pursuit is grueling. Pushing each of you to your very limits. The landscape of Rohan is vast and relentless, but the tracks are clear, guiding you unerringly toward the thick fringes of Fangorn Forest. The hope of rescuing the hobbits fuels your weary bodies onward even as your hearts ache with the memory of Gandalf's fall and Boromir’s courageous end.

As you follow the trail into the shadowy depths of Fangorn a sense of ancient watchfulness grows. The forest feels alive, old beyond reckoning, and filled with secrets. It is here among the whispering trees that the unexpected happens. A figure steps out from the shadows garbed in white, his presence bright against the dark underbrush. The shock of seeing what you believe might be Saruman stops you in your tracks. But as the figure approaches the energy changes—the air around him shimmers with a familiar warmth and power. Not the cold malice of Saruman.

"Gandalf?" Legolas breathes. A note of awe mingling with disbelief.

You squint, hardly daring to believe it to be true. As he draws closer, clarity dawns, and recognition floods your senses. Overcome with emotion you shout, "Grandfather!" and sprint toward him. Your heart swelling with joy and relief.

Gandalf opens his arms wide, and you crash into his embrace. The impact strong yet comforting. "My dear child," he murmurs. His voice warm and welcoming as he wraps his arms around you. His cloak envelops you with a familiar scent of pipe-weed and the road clinging to the fabric grounding you in the reality of his return.

"Yes, it is I," Gandalf responds gently, now looking down at you with sparkling eyes, "but as Gandalf the White. I come back to you at the turn of the tide. Stronger and renewed. Just as our hope must now be."

The grief at Boromir’s death and the shock of Gandalf's return blend into a complex tapestry of emotions. The initial shock gives way to a festive air as relief and joy wash over Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They join in, their earlier despair replaced by laughter and words of amazement, forming a tight circle around you and Gandalf.

As Gandalf explains his battle with the Balrog and his subsequent rebirth his words filling the gaps in your understanding and rekindling hope in your hearts. His return not only signifies a miraculous second chance but also invigorates the Fellowship with renewed purpose and determination. With Gandalf's guidance now as Gandalf the White you all feel a renewed sense of purpose. The path forward is still fraught with danger but with Gandalf returned, and in memory of Boromir’s bravery, you are reminded that even in the darkest times there can be resurrection and hope. Together you prepare to resume the quest, stronger and more determined than ever.

"Your guidance has been sorely missed, Gandalf," Aragorn says. His voice steady but thick with emotion as he joins you. He captures the mood of the moment, channeling the Fellowship’s relief into focus. "What should we do? Frodo and Sam are gone to Mordor. Merry and Pippin are captives of the enemy." Gandalf releases you from the embrace but keeps one hand on your shoulder, grounding, and comforting. He surveys the small group with a decisive gaze and the air around you seems to thrum with renewed energy and urgency.

"We will split our efforts," he declares. "Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and you," he nods at you, "will pursue the orcs who took Merry and Pippin. Every second counts and your skills will be crucial in navigating this perilous chase."

You try and protest, but he shakes his head continuing along. "Meanwhile, I shall seek aid from the Ents of Fangorn," Gandalf continues, turning to look at the dense woods behind him. "Their strength will be necessary in the wars to come. We must rally all allies for the shadow from the East grows ever bolder."

As plans are made Legolas stands close by your side, his presence a silent vow of protection and partnership. You feel his hand briefly squeeze yours. A gesture of support that sends a surge of warmth through your heart that he had done so many times before.

"You have grown much, under shadow and trial," Gandalf remarks. Looking at you with a blend of pride and affection With the reunion drawing to a close and the path forward set you all prepare to leave. Gandalf’s return has not only brought back a beloved mentor and friend but has reignited the flame of hope within your heart. Together you feel ready to face the challenges that await knowing that the bonds of friendship and duty will guide you through the darkest of times.

As you traverse the expansive lands towards Rohan the camaraderie within the group deepens, each member adjusting to the rhythms of travel and the complexities of intertwined destinies. Amidst these dynamics your relationship with Legolas finds new ground. The elven prince, always serene and composed, begins to show a more attentive and tender side in his interactions with you. His glances linger longer and his conversations, once filled with tales of ancient elven lore, now often drift towards thoughts and dreams of the future, your future.

It’s during one of the long nights while camped under the vast, starlit sky near the borders of Fangorn Forest, that Gimli noticed the growing tension between you and Legolas. He decided to give you both some space. With a knowing wink and a gruff voice Gimli volunteers for the first watch, his tone unusually gentle. "I reckon the night is best shared with stars and heartfelt words, not an old dwarf's snoring."

Grateful, you share a smile with Legolas as Gimli settles a little distance away, his back to you, affording you a semblance of privacy. Legolas turns to you with his blue eyes reflecting the starlight, and for a moment he simply looks at you as if contemplating a thought long held in silence. "I have seen many wonders in my long life," he starts, his voice soft and mesmerizing under the night sky. "But none compared to the courage and kindness I've seen in you. In these trying times you have become a light guiding me."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you. "And you, Legolas, have been my solace. In you I find peace amidst turmoil. A joy that even the darkest shadows cannot diminish." He smiles. His gaze intensifying with affection and something more, something unspoken yet palpable between you. Then, in a move that surprises you both for its boldness and its intimacy, Legolas shifts closer and gently pulls you into his side. It's a daring gesture for an elf, particularly one as reserved as Legolas. But it feels right as if many paths had converged to bring this moment into being.

The warmth of his body against yours, the protective embrace of his arm—these are things you never expected to find so far from home. "It seems we have found comfort in one another's presence," he says softly. "Would that we might find a way to keep this light alive… no matter what lies ahead?"

"I would like that very much," you whisper as you leaned into the strength of his embrace.

The two of you sit under the blanket of night talking softly of dreams for a peaceful future and the immediate plans for the days to come. The reality of the quest remains but for now, under the stars, you both allow yourselves the luxury of imagining a life beyond the war. Both of you bound by a newfound affection that promises to grow with each passing day.

At Helm's Deep the air is thick with the tension of impending battle. The great fortress, built into the deep folds of the mountain, stands as the last bastion of hope against the relentless march of Saruman's forces. As the sky darkens and the torches flicker against the night you stand on the ramparts beside Legolas watching the sea of enemies gathering in the distance.

Legolas turns to you, his expression clouded with concern. “You should not be here,” he says softly. His voice barely above the howl of the wind. “This battle... it is not like the ones before. I fear—”

“I know,” you interrupt, understanding his fear but meeting his gaze with a resolve that mirrors the steel of the swords of your comrades below. “I know what this battle could mean for all of us. But I must stand with you, with all of you. There is no other place for me now, Legolas.”

Seeing the determination in your eyes, Legolas's expression softens and he pulls you gently against his side. It was a bold move for him, especially in such a public setting. “Then we will face it together,” he says squeezing your hand tightly as a silent promise passes between you.

The night deepens and the enemy’s drums beat a terrifying rhythm that seems to match the racing of your heart. Legolas pulls you closer. His eyes searching yours in the dim light. “No matter what happens tonight, know this,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the chaos swelling around you. “I love you. I have loved you amidst the shadows of our journey, and I will love you beyond the reaches of time.”

Your breath catches at his words. The simplicity and depth of his confession anchoring you amidst your fears. “And I love you,” you repl. Your voice strong even though you felt so weak. “Whatever may come, whatever we face… we face it together.”

As the battle commences the air fills with the clash of steel and the cries of warriors. You fight back-to-back, Legolas’s arrows finding their marks with deadly precision while you fend off attackers with sword and spell.

Gimli joins two of you, his axe a blur as he protects your flank. “Ha! I’d like to see them try to break this line!” he bellows. His voice a rumble of thunder over the din of battle.

The hours stretch. Each moment a lifetime but you fight with a clarity borne of love and the will to protect not just middle earth but the futures you hope to share. Legolas’s presence is a constant reassurance. His quick glances amidst the fray a reminder of everything worth fighting for.

As dawn breaks the tide of battle shifts. With Gandalf’s timely arrival and the charge of the Rohirrim, a new hope is rekindled. The enemy falters and breaks. Exhausted but alive, you, Legolas, and Gimli regroup, your bodies weary but spirits lifted by the victory, however costly it may have been.

Standing amidst the ruins of the battle you all share a look of relief and unspoken understanding. The war is far from over, but the strength of your bonds, the depth of your love, and the courage of your friends give you the fortitude to press on, to fight another day. With Legolas watch the sunrise, the light washing over Helm’s Deep painting the world in hues of gold and red. A daily rebirth, a reminder that after darkness there always comes a new dawn.

After the long shadow of war finally lifts with the destruction of the One Ring the world begins to breathe again. Minas Tirith stands gleaming under the bright sun, its banners waving in a joyous breeze. The streets are filled with music and laughter as people from all corners of middle earth gather to celebrate the victory. The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers brought forth by a spring that signifies not just the changing of seasons but the dawn of a new era.

You, Legolas, and Gimli stand on a balcony overlooking the jubilant city with a cup of fine wine in hand. The Fellowship has been honored by kings and lords, sung by minstrels, and cheered by crowds. But in this moment, the three of you share a quiet moment that speaks of deeper bonds forged in the fires of your shared trials.

Legolas looks out over the city, his eyes reflecting the green of the fields below. “The world is changed,” he says thoughtfully. “I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. The darkness that once threatened to swallow us whole is now but a shadow of the past.”

Gimli nods. His eyes twinkling under his bushy brows. “Aye, and it’s time for more pleasant journeys,” he chuckles. “I promised you both a tour of the Glittering Caves, did I not? And I intend to keep that promise. You’ll find no finer sight beneath the mountains, mark my words!”

“And I,” Legolas adds turning to you with a gentle smile, “would have you both come to Mirkwood. The forests have suffered in the darkness. But they recover, much like us. There are places of such beauty and tranquility that they deserve to be witnessed with friends.”

You sip your wine, letting the rich flavors linger on your tongue as you consider the future. “And what of you?” Gimli asks, looking at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

“I think,” you say slowly, smiling at the possibilities that stretch before you, “that I would like to see more of this world that we have fought so hard to save. From the forests of Mirkwood to the caves of the mountains and perhaps even beyond. There’s so much to explore, so much to learn.”

“And so much to rebuild,” Legolas adds. “Wherever we go we carry with us the legacy of those who fought beside us. Those who fell, and those who lived to see this day. Gandalf’s wisdom, Aragorn’s courage, and even Frodo’s quiet determination—they remain with us, guiding us forward.”

Gimli raises his cup, and you and Legolas do the same. “To the future,” Gimli declares heartily.

“To peace,” Legolas adds, his voice warm.

“To friendship,” you conclude. The three of you clink your cups together, the sound crisp and clear.

As the celebration continues below you lean against the stone railing admiring the city sprawling at your feet. Around you the laughter and music rise to the starlit sky, and you feel a profound sense of contentment. The road ahead is uncharted, but you face it not as a lone wanderer but as part of a fellowship that has endured the darkest of times to see the brightest of days.

With Legolas and Gimli by your side you know that whatever adventures lie ahead, they will be filled with joy, discovery, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship. This is not the end of your story but the beginning of a new chapter, one that you will write together.

As the celebrations in Minas Tirith begin to quiet down into a gentle hum of merriment and the evening deepens, Gimli, with a knowing grin and a subtle nod towards Legolas excuses himself to “inspect the integrity of the ale supply,” leaving you two alone on the quieter side of the terrace that overlooks the city’s sprawling, illuminated gardens.

Legolas watches Gimli depart and then turns to you with a serene expression. His eyes reflecting the myriad lights of the city. He reaches into the folds of his tunic and pulls out a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “I have something for you,” he says. His voice low and filled with a tender emotion that sends a thrill through your heart.

You watch, curious and expectant, as he opens the box to reveal a pendant. It’s a delicate piece, shaped like a leaf but crafted with such intricacy that each vein in the leaf is visible. It shimmered with a light that seems to emanate from within the silver itself.

“This is a leaf from the Mallorn trees of Lothlórien,” Legolas explains as he carefully lifts the pendant from the box. “Galadriel herself gave this to me before we departed and though I cherish it... I believe it was always meant for you.”

He steps closer. His presence so familiar and yet so heart-stirringly profound at this intimate moment. “In the elven tradition,” he continues, his eyes locked onto yours, “to give such a gift is to choose a companion. To offer a token of one’s heart and soul. I give this to you not out of obligation but from a free and willing heart. I choose you and it’s you I wish to be with through all the ages of this world.”

He pauses while holding the pendant up between you. His eyes searching yours for an answer, a confirmation of your feelings. You nod gently, overwhelmed by the emotion in his gaze and the significance of his gift.

Legolas smiles, a soft, joyous curve of his lips, and delicately clasps the pendant around your neck. His fingers brush lightly against your skin as he secures the clasp sending shivers down your spine. The metal feels warm as if charged with his affection and presence.

“I cannot promise that the road ahead will be free from hardship,” Legolas says softly while drawing you close so that your foreheads touch lightly, “but I can promise that you will never walk it alone. Where you go I will follow. And where I go I hope you will be by my side.”

“Legolas,” you whisper. Your voice thick with emotion. “There is no one else I would rather have by my side. No one else I would want to share my path with. I choose you, too, today, and always.”

Without hesitation Legolas leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s gentle at first. A tender meeting that speaks of mutual respect and deep affection. But as you respond the kiss deepens, becoming a profound expression of your shared love and commitment.

The world around you—the city of Minas Tirith, the sounds of celebration—fades into a blissful quiet. In this moment wrapped in Legolas’s embrace, you realize that while the war might have brought you together it is love that will lead you into your future. Beneath the stars and above the glowing city you share a promise of a thousand sunrises to come. Each one a new day to explore and cherish the world together.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

472 notes · View notes

wwinterwitch · 1 month ago

Text

choosing ─ bucky barnes x reader x ava starr

summary: you started to fall for bucky almost as soon as you met, but it's impossible to pretend like you completely got over your complex feelings for ava. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader, ava starr x fem!reader word count: 7.6k tags: bisexual!reader, poly dynamics (nothing happens between bucky and ava tho), new avengers featured, angst and fluff, comfort too i guess, happy ending, kissing, proofread but this story changed a lot so some pronouns might be all over the place because it used to be an oc fic rather than x reader oops so keep that in mind!

a reblog and/or comment is always appreciated!

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

The chemistry between you and Bucky is undeniable. There's something about the playful banter and the stolen glances here and there when one of you thinks the other isn't looking that makes it painfully obvious. You two aren't just co-workers or friends.

You were somewhat aware of Bucky's existence before getting involved in all of this mess. You have heard a few things about the tragic fate of Steve Rogers' best friend and his path of redemption. The former assassin becomes a struggling politician.

But Bucky probably didn't know much about you before the team was formed. How could he? You’ve been keeping an extremely low profile most of your life. That's how you keep a good reputation in your line of work. You’re good at disappearing and making people disappear. One of a kind, as the Kingpin used to remind you. He was the one who recommended you to Valentina before you officially cut any ties– from one shitty employer to another.

There was something there from the moment the two of you met, after you and the others managed to escape that death trap Valentina had set for everyone. An unspoken thing that somehow was too loud to ignore.

Perhaps neither of you wanted to acknowledge it at the time. Perhaps you thought nothing would come out of it. Perhaps you were way too focused on the life-or-death situation involving The Sentry to really pay any attention to your growing chemistry.

Bucky can't even remember the last time he has felt anything remotely romantic towards someone else, his love life being as much of a failure as his work as congressman so far. But that vacancy in his heart was something he had become used to at that point, because he simply didn't have the energy or time to care.

As for you, you have also grown accustomed to being alone, coming to terms with the idea of it after so many years in this line of work. You tried exploring the idea of having a partner but it just didn't work out the way you expected. Eventually, you figured it would be better if you didn't have those distractions, and you didn't want to put someone in danger by dragging them into your shitty life because you were selfish enough to keep them around.

But that was before. Now, you're apparently stepping up as 'The New Avengers', and that changes everything.

You all live together at the old Avengers Tower, which means you and Bucky started spending a lot of time together. There are plenty of nights where you have stayed up just talking about whatever you and Bucky feel like sharing with each other, seeing far beyond the harsh exterior you two present to the world.

This newfound proximity has made Bucky realize how painfully large that empty spot in his heart truly is, and it has shown you that it's okay to be a little selfish sometimes.

The banter is just straight up flirting at this point and pretty much everyone in the team knows what is going on– including her.

Ava has been oddly unfazed by it, and even when you should probably be relieved that she doesn't seem to care, it's impossible to deny that such indifference hurts.

It's almost pathetic to think she was one of the main reasons why you were holding back from even allowing yourself to process your attraction to Bucky in the first place, thinking you owe it to her after all these years. What a slap in the face it is to realize how little everything meant to her.

Your relationship is anything but simple. You met through Valentina, working on a few assignments together here and there but nothing too serious. Eventually, you started to get closer, but you were never an official couple– in fact, you’re not entirely sure Ava even wanted to be your girlfriend in the first place. She just needed someone to rely on and you were there to provide the comfort and companionship she's been craving for a very long time, absolutely tired of being (and feeling) alone.

You gave her a sense of purpose she thought she'd never be able to find...or so she said, because it looks like she never gave a fuck about whatever it was that you two had.

But perhaps you not working out was for the better. The situation just wasn't ideal. You had a lot of work at the time and many things to figure out on your own. Too unavailable. You would avoid any interaction that differed from a friendly or professional exchange to avoid getting into a situation where you might not know how to escape safely when it inevitably leads to failure. Ava would say something like "I've never felt this way about anyone before". And then you let her in. And then Ava would disappear. It was an endless circle– one of you would say something outrageous before avoiding contact for weeks.

Would it have worked now that you're in a far more stable situation? If Bucky never showed up, would you be together now? Ava's behavior seems to answer those questions right away. Perhaps you not working out was for the better.

You have come to a point where you wish Ava would just ignore you. That would mean that perhaps she cares at least a little bit. Instead, she acts completely normal. She simply does not care that the girl who (supposedly) 'gave her a sense of purpose' is getting closer to someone else. Not happy, not upset...just nothing.

Her indifference evidently pisses you off, because you genuinely thought that what you had was special...it was to you, at least. It’s frustrating to think back on all of those instances when you almost dared to take that extra step…to suggest that you could leave your lives as Valentina’s little helpers behind and just try to figure things out on your own. You genuinely thought that you could’ve had your chance to finally be together.

That explains why you struggled to admit to yourself that you were developing feelings for Bucky, or why you were reluctant at first to let your connection develop even further. It was only when you realized Ava never truly cared about you that you finally understood it was pointless to maintain any sense of loyalty. You let go of the guilt of developing feelings for someone else– feelings scarily similar to the ones you were developing towards Ava before everything was suddenly over between you.

Still, even when you should feel at peace with it, knowing you’re free to explore your feelings for Bucky, you don't feel okay at all. If anything, you just feel conflicted. A part of you wants to focus entirely on Bucky, but another part of you is still trying to understand how Ava is so nonchalant about this when she used to stroke your hair in the middle of the night as she thanked her for changing her life.

Any reasonable person would expect that someone with such claims would give a fuck, right?

The whole situation is confusing. You know you really like Bucky. The feelings you have for him are real and exciting. He has proven to you his intentions are sincere and genuine, and he's not afraid to express his feelings for you.

But even then, you can't deny you still care a lot about Ava. You wish you could magically forget about what you went through together, but you just can't let go of those memories. You never got a proper closure. Never quite figured out why you could never make things work. It’s impossible to let someone go when you don't fully understand the reasons why you should let them go in the first place.

These thoughts invade your mind from time to time, torturing you with the uncertainty of it all. This is definitely one of those days where you’re fixated on it. They distracted you at your training session this morning and haunted you in the shower later. Even now, as you’re walking towards the kitchen, is all you can think about.

To your luck, you bump into each other, just as Ava is trying to leave the kitchen and you’re trying to walk in. Again, you wish the other woman would just completely ignore you, or perhaps look at you with eyes filled with disappointment and betrayal. You just want her to do something. Anything to let you know she cares.

“Bob brought everyone donuts this morning, if you want some," she says extremely casually, pointing back at the kitchen before intending to continue walking.

Donuts were the breaking point, apparently.

"You've got to be kidding me, Ava."

"What?" she asks, acting genuinely confused.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Her expression changes almost immediately, jaw tightening just enough and her eyes darkening. Her face is a reflection of the uncomfortable situation she's about to endure. The inevitable conversation she knows she can't keep avoiding.

"Could we go somewhere more private?"

You don't say anything back, which Ava takes as a silent agreement. You start walking towards the elevator, immediately hitting the button that would take you to the rooftop. It's highly unlikely anyone is up there now. They're mostly up here when they want to watch the sunset or just sit underneath the stars and chat until one of you is tired enough to fall asleep (that's almost always John).

You reach the rooftop, walking towards the small balcony area that all of you set up as a team. Each of you has a designated recliner because Alexei suggested it. The area is decorated with tons of plants that you and Yelena take care of. Ava hanged a few fairy lights on the wall. Bob tends to forget a book or two up here that somehow always contributes to the decor. Bucky claims he got a free candle at a market once and decided to keep it here (everyone knows he probably bought it intentionally but just won't confess it). Oh, and John brought a pillow from his bed once and it's still here for some reason. The entire place is painfully theirs, everyone contributing to it being what it is now.

"Alright," Ava says as soon as the two of you walk closer to the balcony, crossing her arms across her chest. "What is it?"

You scoff at her question. "Really?"

Ava clearly doesn't like your demeanor, getting more and more defensive, frowning slightly. "I just don't know what there is to talk about, to be honest."

"There's everything to talk about!" you correct with obvious exasperation. "Do you have any idea how confusing it is to see you act so normal about...about everything?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you having a hard time?"

There's a brief silence between you. You look back at her with evident conflict, feeling a knot tightening at the pit of your stomach. Ava looks extremely upset– exactly the face you were expecting to see after all these weeks of receiving absolutely nothing from her.

"I just don't understand why you don’t talk to me about how you feel."

Ava avoids looking at you now, eyes glued to her boots as she starts to mindlessly pace around the rooftop. "Because I knew it wouldn't have made a difference," she replies, almost cryptically, a weak smile adorning her lips. "I mean, I wanted to talk to you– truly, I did, but then I realized." She pauses just briefly, almost hesitating to admit what she's thinking about out loud before continuing. "I realized the way you look at him."

The comment has a far bigger effect on you than you would've ever imagined. It's particularly difficult to hear it when Ava looks so...peacefully defeated by it. Like she has come to terms with it.

"As soon as I saw that, I knew I had to stay quiet," she continues, her weak smile never fading. "I can tell Bucky cares about you a lot. You deserve to be with someone like that– someone who doesn't run away when things get too overwhelming. Someone who gives you a lot more than what I can offer."

"Please, don't tell me what I deserve," you say almost immediately. It's a nice sentiment, but you hate to hear it. "I'm the one who should decide that."

"Haven't you already made that choice?"

You get even more upset, letting out a tired sigh at Ava's inability (or perhaps reluctance) to understand just how cruel her silence has been.

"All this time, I thought you didn't care. I just assumed whatever we had was meaningless to you and that it didn't matter if I moved on."

She doesn't say anything at first, simply looking back at you. Smile fading, frown reappearing. Perhaps the gravity of her behavior is just starting to sink in. The idea of her possibly being chosen by you, flaws and everything, until she decided to walk away like many times before.

"How could you–?" she tries, voice breaking slightly at the end, feeling extremely vulnerable at this point. "How could you think that?"

"Because that's what you showed me, Ava! I can't read your mind. You didn't talk to me."

"And why didn't you talk to me?" Ava's voice sounds more desperate now, pointing a finger at you and then to herself to emphasize her words. "I just stood there and watched as you and him got closer and closer, and I had no idea what was going on," she continues, visibly shaken up, finally letting out all of her pent up emotion. "I watched him hugging you. I've heard the two of you laughing together. I’ve had to deal with everyone in the team cracking silly little jokes about the two of you. I noticed you look at him like nothing else in the room exists. And all I could do was watch."

Another silence. Ava is taking a seat on her designated recliner, hands covering her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh, not anticipating she would get this emotional. You stand in the same spot you’ve been the entire time, but as soon as you hear Ava quietly sobbing, you immediately walk up to her.

"I believe we can agree we both have trouble communicating," you start in a soft voice, kneeling to be closer to her height now that she's sitting. "I'm sorry."

Your heart sinks when Ava dares to look at you, revealing her teary eyes. "I'm sorry too," she whispers weakly, feeling incredibly vulnerable right now. She stays completely still as the girl in front of her delicately wipes her tears away. "I really don't want you to think that what we had didn't mean anything to me. It meant everything."

"I know," you reply, trying to comfort her in any way possible. She shouldn't torture herself about it right now.

Before she can stop herself, Ava is reaching for your hand, giving it a light squeeze while offering a sad smile. "I really want you to find the happiness you deserve, you know? Even if it’s not with me by your side."

It's impossible to try to come up with an answer to that right now, too overwhelmed and confused to think. Could you truly be happy if that means never exploring your connection again? It doesn't feel quite right when you try to imagine it.

Before you can say anything, Ava finishes wiping her tears away all by herself. "I'd like to be alone now, if that's okay," she says in a soft voice, showing how distraught she is.

As much as you would like to stay, maybe keep talking about the situation until you reach some sort of conclusion together, you can tell Ava is emotionally exhausted right now. The amount of sharing she has done right now is more than enough, especially considering that it's been very difficult to get her to open up in the past without her completely closing off.

"Okay," you nod, right before standing up from the ground to head back to the main floor.

You’re standing all alone inside the elevator, feeling the knot in your stomach tightening as you try to hold back your tears. You feel completely lost now, knowing whatever you choose won't keep you truly satisfied. You don't want to let go of Ava, but it'll crush you to have to end what you just discovered with Bucky.

Your guilt is eating you alive, and it's getting more and more difficult not to burst out crying. How could you be so selfish? How did you allow this to happen? Ava doesn't deserve it. Bucky doesn't deserve it. And you certainly don't deserve them.

After that emotional encounter, you spent most of the afternoon locked inside your room, away from everyone. You were in dying need of some alone time to think and truly process your feelings. You know you’ll have to make a decision, heart shattering into a million pieces at the idea of losing one of them.

The rest of the group quickly started to notice your sudden absence, starting to get increasingly concerned.

"Is she really not gonna come down?" John asks the entire group as they all gather around the dining table.

"Perhaps she's ill?" Alexei guesses with evident concern, shrugging. "Although I talked to her this morning and she seemed fine."

"Yeah, we were training today and she seemed fine," Yelena chimes in. "A bit out of it, maybe. But overall fine."

Bob briefly points at the untouched box of chinese takeout near him on top of the table. "I can go upstairs and check on her. See if she wants something to eat."

While everyone voices their concern regarding their friend, Ava quietly eats her fried rice as she avoids joining the conversation. From the opposite side of the table, Bucky watches her cautiously, finding her silence a bit strange. She's not exactly the most talkative person in the group, but she’s not this quiet either.

"I can go," Bucky says rather suddenly. As soon as he speaks, Ava looks up at him, only to immediately look back at her food when she notices his analyzing gaze upon her already.

Bob quickly hands him the box containing your food, before closing another extra box for him to take upstairs. "I saved her a few dumplings too," he says with a soft smile, silently hoping that little gesture might make you feel better in case you need it.

Bucky grabs the boxes before heading to the elevator, making his way to your bedroom. He could see a faint light from under the door, indicating you’re probably still awake.

"Hey," he says cautiously, hearing no response. "Is it okay if I come in?"

Nothing. Just silence.

"Everyone's worried about you," he tries again. "Please. I just want to make sure you're okay."

For a second he thought you weren’t going to say or do anything, but he's gladly surprised when you finally opened the door. He takes note of how you look, immediately noticing your puffy red eyes and vacant expression.

"What happened?"

Instead of answering, you just wrap your arms around his torso for a much needed hug. He doesn't know what to do at first, holding a box of chinese takeout in each hand.

"It's been a very shitty day," you simply say after a few seconds of you just hugging in silence, moving back and towards your bed as Bucky walks further inside your room.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitate at first, shrugging lightly. "You're going to hate me," you reply, still being painfully vague about the entire situation.

"I highly doubt it," Bucky comments with a smile, trying to ease the evident tension that surrounds the entire interaction. Contributing further to it, he hints at the two boxes. "Here's your food. Bob saved you a few dumplings."

You immediately smile at that, appreciating your friend's gesture. It's particularly nice considering last time they ordered chinese, you shared your adoration for dumplings with Bob. It was really just a random comment, but it looks like Bob remembered it.

Bucky takes a seat on your bed, right next to you. "Talk to me."

You have no idea how to even begin to express the complex web of thoughts that have been running through your mind the entire afternoon. How could you even express how you feel without hurting his feelings? How are you supposed to explain you have feelings for Ava and him without sounding like a selfish prick who can't seem to choose between them?

Then, suddenly, Bucky speaks again. "Does it have something to do with Ava?"

You don't reply– not verbally, at least, but Bucky's suspicions are immediately answered by your expression. A mixture of surprise and guilt, not expecting him to bring her into the conversation.

Bucky smiles again, unsure on how to approach this topic. "I've noticed a few things...I wasn't sure, though. But if it helps to ease your mind, I don't...I mean, I don't really mind."

You can't take it anymore, eyes filling with tears as you shake your head. "I feel awful," you mutter. "You don't deserve this. I can't believe I've been so selfish. I'm really sorry for creating all of this mess and dragging you into this."

"You didn't drag me into anything," he quickly replies, wrapping an arm around you in order to comfort you. "And you don't need to feel sorry. You did nothing wrong."

"But I did," you argue, a fake and ironic smile on your face as a few tears start to stream down your cheeks. "I should've been more considerate of yours and Ava's feelings. I should've been more considerate of my own feelings too, instead of ignoring what was going on."

You take a much needed pause, trying to control your breathing as more tears trail down your face, barely able to face Bucky, feeling way too ashamed to do so.

"I really do like you, Bucky. I like you so much, it's actually starting to scare me," you whisper, but Bucky can't exactly focus on your endearing words when you look so broken. "I shouldn't have been so selfish to allow us to develop more than a friendship when my feelings for Ava– as confusing as they might be, are very much there still."

He takes a second to think about your statement, not exactly knowing what to think. "So...you regret what we have?"

"No, of course not!" you quickly reply, moving back to properly look at him. It’s already crushing you, but you know the best decision would be to establish some distance if you want to truly clear your head and figure out your feelings. "I like you and I like what we have...but I can't ignore what I feel for Ava. I think I still have to figure out where she and I stand, and I don't think it's fair to put you through that."

Bucky is once again quiet, which only makes you increasingly more nervous. Silence is the worst answer. You would much rather watch him get upset and say something back at you.

What comes out of his mouth next truly shocks you. "I don't mind that you have feelings for her."

"What?" is all you could muster, beyond confusion.

"I mean, your feelings for her don't immediately invalidate your feelings for me, right?" he says, trying yet again to approach the topic very cautiously. "I don't think you're obligated to choose."

He couldn't possibly be implying...

No. Not a chance. He can't be.

But is he?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

Bucky offers you an awkward smile. "I guess I'm just trying to say that I don’t mind being with you if you want to figure things out with Ava at the same time," he says with a light shrug.

He really is implying it!

You would've never imagined Bucky would say this. Not in a million years. You never even considered it to be a possibility.

The only option you had ever considered was choosing, but you never stopped to think if there was a way that the three of you could make this work. The more you familiarize yourself with the idea, the more it helps to ease your inner discomfort. Perhaps part of the problem with choosing was that, deep down, you really didn't want to choose.

Not choosing makes sense. It feels right. If Ava is open to this idea, this might actually work out.

"Only if you feel comfortable with that," Bucky clarifies shortly after, because you’ve been quiet for way too long. "If it's not, I'll understand we need to take a step back from this."

You snap out of your thoughts, wiping the last few tears away. "No– it’s just…I was just thinking about what you said," you explain your sudden silence. "I actually think I'd like to explore that idea." You can’t help but smile at the mere thought of being able to freely explore your connections with the two of them without being forced to choose.

Bucky smiles back at you, reaching for your hand. "Really?"

"Really," you reply, inching closer until you’re practically on top of him, letting out a soft giggle when Bucky is fully pulling you into his lap. "I'll have to talk to Ava about it, though."

"Sure.".

There's a brief pause, and you’re unable to hold yourself back from inquiring further about this topic. "Where did this even come from?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck as you get more comfortable sitting on his lap.

Bucky shrugs. "I don't know. It just makes sense to me, I guess."

You nod, the answer seemingly enough for you. It makes sense to you too now that you have thought about it. Perhaps there’s not really much to explain when the idea simply makes sense.

Without really thinking much about it, he moves your hair to the side, just enough to expose more of his neck to him. He starts caressing the side of your face with his fingers before leaning closer, placing a few tender kisses on the side of your neck, trailing up to your jaw before finally meeting your lips. You return the kiss almost immediately, feeling the familiar butterflies you get whenever he’s around, smiling as soon as you break apart.

Bucky places a quick kiss on your forehead before speaking again. "You should eat."

"Can't I stay here on your lap a little longer?"

It’s the way you say it that has Bucky grinning, shaking his head as you giggle at his reaction. "Don't," is all he says about that, giving you a gentle pat on your upper thigh as a silent way of telling you that you should stand up. Just as you’re about to argue, he pats your thigh again.

You finally do as told, standing up to grab one of the boxes and the chopsticks to begin eating. Bucky gives you another short kiss on top of your head before leaving the room, immediately in the search for Ava.

Downstairs, he could hear the thundering laughter of Alexei even before he reached the dining room. The atmosphere around the table is cheerful. It's been a few months since Valentina’s announcement, and the group starts to feel more and more like a family. But Bucky still struggles to comprehend how he went from living in an empty apartment in D.C., to the Avengers Tower surrounded by people he would've never imagined he would learn to care for so much– and that they would care so much about him too.

"How is she?" Yelena asks as soon as she notices Bucky. The entire table stays quiet as they turn to look at him for updates. "I hope she’s not up there you did something wrong, because I swear I’ll kick your ass if you don’t behave."

He immediately throws both hands up. "I didn’t do anything. Relax."

"So the relationship is going well?" John asks, more as a way to tease his friend rather than to genuinely ask the question.

"Yeah, it’s pretty good."

"You two are a wonderful couple!" Alexei exclaims, genuinely happy that two of his best friends and teammates are together. "You know, I sensed there was something going on between you from day one."

John sighs. "So you have said every chance you get."

"No, but it’s true," Bob intervenes. "You two are very cute together."

Bucky doesn’t really know what to say, feeling a bit uncomfortable for having all the attention on him. "Thanks guys."

Yelena can only roll her eyes at the exchange. "We get it. Romance is awesome or whatever," she adds, not really caring much about it at all, wanting to go back to the original topic. "How is she?"

"She's okay. Just feeling a little exhausted," is all Bucky would share for now. The team seems satisfied with the answer, although Yelena does give him a warning look before they all resume their previous conversation.

Bucky notices Ava is still staring at him, trying to decipher if he knows more about the situation. It's clear to her that he does, as soon as she watches him shortly tilting his head to the side, hinting for her to follow him.

The group barely acknowledges what is going on, too focused on their rant about infamous movies they should definitely watch tonight. Ava stands up from her seat, following Bucky to a small lounge room nearby, away from the rest.

"What happened?" she asks, sounding incredibly defensive like she did earlier with you.

"I think you two should talk."

"Did she tell you anything?"

Bucky gives her a soft smile. "I know enough to understand you two should talk."

Ava finds this extremely confusing, squinting her eyes at him. Why is he deciding to offer his opinion on the matter? Even when she hates to admit it, the gesture is almost upsetting. You’re drifting away from her because of him. Sure, Ava hasn't been the best at handling your previous relationship– you weren't exactly perfect either, but if Bucky wasn't in the picture...perhaps you two could've figured it out by now.

She hates to think of her friend as an obstacle that stands between her and the literal woman of her dreams. It's also very conflicting, because she cares for him enough to also wish him happiness, even if it means she has to let go of you in order for him to achieve it.

"Why are you doing this? Why would you talk to me about it?"

"Because I care about her. And I also care about you. I don't want either of you to be hurting."

"But you must be feeling at least a little conflicted," she insists, not understanding how he could be so incredibly okay about this entire dynamic. "I mean...we both have feelings for her."

"Yeah, I don't really see that as a competition."

Ava frowns almost immediately. "Rude."

Bucky chuckles softly at her reaction. "That's not what I meant."

She appreciates that he’s somehow trying to lighten the mood, deciding to contribute to it. "Good, because clearly I'm a far greater catch than you."

"I wouldn't go that far," he replies, making her smile. "But really, what I meant to say is that I don't think she has to choose between us."

Ava is definitely more confused now. His last statement sounded almost like a cryptic invitation and she wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks, having the idea very much present in her head, but still needing further confirmation that he really is implying such a thing.

But Bucky doesn't say anything else regarding that, and instead just reminds her, "You should talk to her."

Needless to say, Ava is immediately making her way upstairs to your bedroom for a much needed clarification on what is genuinely going on, glad to see the door half-open.

"Can I come in?" she asks before even peeking inside.

"Sure," you reply from inside. Ava walks inside the bedroom, noticing the empty boxes of the chinese takeout on top of your desk. You were probably starving after being locked up here in your room, immediately feeling even more guilty because your conversation is the reason why you decided to do that in the first place.

You’re laying on your bed, immediately standing up when Ava walks in. The little notebook in which you were previously sketching is quickly placed on your nightstand. "Would you like to sit down?"

You offer her to sit on the bed, but Ava is still feeling a little too cautious, so she chooses to sit on the chair by your desk instead. Pérhaps her fears are unjustified, but she can't shake the bad feeling that things between you might end for good tonight. Perhaps that would explain why Bucky seemed to be so calmed about this situation. Perhaps he knows you'll choose him anyway.

You take note of Ava’s behavior, your mind completely blank now, even after spending minutes rehearsing a speech to properly approach this situation. You don't remember a single word of it.

All you decide to do for now is apologize once again. "I'm so sorry about the way our conversation ended."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I didn’t handle it well either. I think we both need to work on our communication skills."

"Yeah, and I'd really like for us to communicate right now."

A brief pause. You’re trying to figure out if Ava is really up to that, while also trying to control your growing nerves. Ava notices your analyzing eyes on her, nodding. "Alright, then. Let's communicate."

"Okay, so...I had a conversation with Bucky."

There it is. Ava feels as if a bucket of ice cold water has been pulled over her head. She should've known better than to admit something was going on with her. She should've stayed quiet and allowed you and Bucky to build your relationship in peace while she suffered about it in silence. In her head, it's a much better destiny than having to sit in front of you while she hears you say exactly why you prefer Bucky over her– oh, and Bucky...how deeply she's despising him right now...

But she tries to calm herself down as soon as that avalanche of thoughts starts to invade her mind, fully aware that it comes from a place of fear, causing her to feel that sudden urge to run away again. The same urge that cost her losing you in the first place. It’s the worst possible way of dealing with her emotions.

Deep down, she knows she needs to get some sort of closure regarding this relationship. Having the opportunity to hear you and to be heard by you until there's nothing left unsaid. Perhaps that's the only way to truly move on from what you had and maybe (in time) learn to be friends.

And Bucky...how could she possibly begin to despise someone like Bucky? She's grateful to have a friend like him.

"Yes..." is all Ava has to say at the moment.

"And I– I think that conversation changed my entire perspective," you continue. For once, Ava feels more hopeful about the outcome. "I was really conflicted about having to choose because I care so much about both of you. And after talking with Bucky, I realized that maybe I don't necessarily have to choose. And not choosing shouldn't be a bad thing...if the three of us agree it isn't."

Oh, Bucky was really implying what she thought he did earlier.

Is it a bad thing? The idea doesn't sound too bad if Ava truly thinks about it. She wants to figure things out with you, just as much as she wants the two of you to have the chance to continue your relationship. Is it really impossible for two different people to have such a strong connection with the same person? And for that person to feel connected with both? One bond doesn’t necessarily cancel out the other one.

But still, is something new to her that she hasn't really thought about before. She hasn't stopped to think if it'll suit her and her relationships.

"So...what you're basically suggesting is for us to try to work things out, while you continue dating Bucky."

You look almost embarrassed, even when you shouldn't feel like that. It's just part of communicating. If Ava says she doesn't feel up to it, you can talk it out and figure out what works for everybody.

"Yes, that's...I guess that's what I'm trying to say."

"And Bucky has already said that he's okay with that?"

"Yes."

"And you are okay with that?"

"...yes."

"And now you're asking me if I'm okay with that?"

"Ava."

"Alright, I’m sorry! It's just...I never really considered it. I've never been in this kind of situation."

"It's new to me too. It kind of makes sense to me, so I'm open to giving it a try. Maybe it turns out it doesn't work, but right now I feel like it could, and I'd like to explore that with you guys," you add. "Like the kind of risks you have to face in any kind of relationship."

Thinking about it for a moment, that statement it’s very much true. Why should this be any different than the risks and compromises you make in a monogamous relationship? Or even a relationship with a friend or a family member. It’s all about listening to the other person and compromising where you can for them. If the three of you manage to communicate and put your efforts into making it work, who says it won't actually work out?

"I guess we can give it a try," she finally says, choosing to take that risk rather than run away again. She’s willing to take the risk for you and your relationship. "Perhaps it might work."

"It could work," you say, a big smile on your face, unable to stop thinking how incredibly right this feels.

Ava is at a loss of words at first, looking down at the floor with obvious embarrassment. "So this means– like are we–" she tries, hating the way she's practically stuttering like a nervous wreck. "Does this mean we’ll get our second chance?"

"I'd really like that."

Once again, she has no idea what to say, choosing to crack a joke to ease her emotions. "Well, it's probably like the hundredth chance," she comments, standing up from the chair.

You laugh, standing up from your seat as well. "I didn't want to say it, but..."

Ava scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes. "Oh, shut up!"

"Hey, you brought it up!"

The two of you stand right in front of one another, staring into each other’s eyes in complete silence. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s evident that there’s some tension growing the more you look at each other. An unspoken thing between you that it’s practically impossible to ignore.

Before she can regret her impulses, Ava takes a step forward to close the space separating you, grabbing your face to bring you in for a much awaited kiss. It’s intense, passionate and incredibly desperate. It’s evident in the way you hold each other. It’s a kiss that you both have been craving for a long time, not sure if you would ever get the chance to satisfy that need.

All you can do after pulling back is to grin back at each other like fools. You let out a soft, nervous giggle before wrapping your arms around Ava’s shoulders. The other woman returns the hug almost immediately, resting her head on your shoulder as she lets out a sigh of contentment. "I missed being like this with you."

"I missed it too," you whisper. "I missed you."

Ava’s heart almost melts at that, feeling like the happiest person in the entire world. "I missed you." It feels so incredibly nice to feel like your dynamic is going back to what it used to be. After parting ways for what she thought was forever, she couldn’t help but feel an invisible barrier between you when you two were forced to reunite again back in that desert– the one that you always felt whenever you started your vicious cycle over and over again. Now, it’s as if that barrier completely disappeared, feeling the familiar comfort only you can bring into her life– for once, neither of you fear that the barrier might come back.

"Can we go to the kitchen? I feel like I need to seriously hydrate myself after crying so much today."

"I'm sorry I made you cry," Ava mutters, still holding tight onto your body. It's adorable how clingy she can be sometimes. You absolutely adore it.

"It wasn't your fault."

Ava lets out a soft sound as a complaint when she feels you trying to break the hug. "Should we go to the elevator exactly like this? I don't want to let go just yet."

"Oh, so you’re feeling extra clingy now, huh?"

She lets go as soon as she hears that you’re making fun of her. "Nevermind."

Unable to contain your laughter, you grab Ava by the arm to prevent her from walking away, pulling her back in for yet another kiss, this one much shorter than the other. "And extra grumpy, apparently."

Ava rolls her eyes again, hating to be mocked and hating that you enjoy it so much, moving once again away from you to start heading outside the bedroom. You grab the empty boxes of take out before both of you walk out into the hallway, briefly chatting about an upcoming mission you have in a few weeks together while you take the elevator to the floor below where all the common areas are.

"Ah, you’re alive!" Alexei shouts excitedly as soon as he sees the pair walking past the living room area. "We thought you wouldn't come out of your room all night."

"Are you feeling better?" Yelena asks now. Apparently, they're all getting ready to watch a movie together. That would explain why everyone is already in their pajamas, a blanket for each of them, and two large bowls of popcorn on top of the coffee table. You smile at her and nod, appreciating her concern.

"We're about to watch The Shining, if you want to join," Bob offers the two of you.

"You don't want to miss Alexei getting scared every two seconds," John jokes.

"Movies look too real!"

"And you're also way too dramatic, dad!"

"I could join you, but I need to get some water first."

"We'll be right back," Ava says this time, both of you continuing your walk to the kitchen.

Inside you meet Bucky, who's apparently waiting for the last package of microwave popcorn to be ready. He greets the two of you, glad to notice you seem to be on good terms now.

"Did you guys have a chance to talk?"

"Yup," Ava replies, leaning back against a counter while you pour yourself a large cup filled with cold water from the fridge. "Your girlfriend is also my girlfriend now, Barnes."

"Girlfriend, huh?" you comment with a smirk, turning to look at both of them. You weren’t sure if Ava would be comfortable using that term, but you’re glad to realize she might be.

"You know what I mean," she replies almost immediately, avoiding making eye contact with either of you.

"I'm glad you were able to talk and resolve things between you."

Ava looks at Bucky now, crossing her arms across her chest with a soft grin on her face. "You know, it still amazes me that out of all three, you were the one to suggest this dynamic."

"Why, because I'm over a hundred years old?"

"Well…yes."

Bucky lets out a quick laugh. "That's like thinking gay people didn't exist before the 2000s," he points out.

Ava doesn't say anything back, simply raising both of her hands up. "I guess you’re right."

Bucky gets the popcorn in a bowl, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek as he walks past you before heading outside the kitchen. You get your cup of water ready before you follow after him, joining the rest of the group.

"Please, try not to scream so much. You might actually give me a heart attack this time," Yelena warns Alexei, just as she’s moving from her seat on the large couch to give the others space to sit down as well. Meanwhile, John and Bob were sitting in a pair of armchairs, one at each side of the couch.

"If you don't want me to get scared, don't pick scary movies."

"This isn't even scary," John points out immediately after. "We'll let you pick one next week."

The remaining three sit down next to Yelena and Alexei. The movie starts, the entire room only illuminated by the large screen before you. You don’t wait before grabbing a bowl of popcorn from the table before you. Before you could eat any though, Ava reaches to grab a handful of them, smiling playfully as she does so. "Thank you," she whispers, filling her mouth with the sweet treat.

As you lay back, Bucky's arm resting on the couch behind you and Ava resting her hand on your thigh underneath the blankets, you couldn't possibly be more sure on your decision. It makes perfect sense. Not choosing makes perfect sense.

They make perfect sense.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #ava starr x reader #ava starr fic #ava starr fanfic

71 notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 2 years ago

Note

hear me out…jason proposing 😵‍💫 i’m such a sucker for a lowkey proposal like you’re just having a normal convo and he’s like “marry me” and you’re like wtf but you laugh it off bc like ofc he’s joking so when you’re like “you’re funny” he’s just dead serious, “marry me.”

I don’t really know where I was going with this, but if you get the reference I respect you.

—

Time written - 10:10 a.m

—

You weren’t a criminal when you met Robin, years before his tragic prime. It wasn’t every day when your paths crossed with a cape wearing teen around your age, even more so on his search of a bag of valuables you were ready to deny when it ‘accidentally’ came into your hands.

“Care to tell me how that happened?” The Boy Wonder at the time smirked, amused at your gawking face.

“Cat got her own tongue? What, you need some milk?”

You rolled your eyes. I you were a thief, you’d have sense to throw the satchel at his head. The cheesy jokes must’ve been a Robin thing. “I’m more of an Ice cream girl, actually. But, I didn’t steal this!”

To add up on this horribly unprecedented situation, Robin quirked a brow behind that domino mask of his, gesturing his head towards the bag of valuables in question.

“Trade you a milkshake for that.”

It was your turn to be incredibly confused, your mouth left open for quite some time. Was he serious right now?

“I choose the flavor.” You state after a further moment of thought.

“Seems fair.”

“And the place it’s bought from.”

“That’s askin’ a bit much,” Robin began to huff, hinting his growing smirk as your frown deepens.

“All I’m asking for is a five dollar shake in exchange for this bag full of hundreds of dollars, bird boy.”

“A five dollar shake in exchange for about seven hundred bucks inside that bag,” Robin points out, his smile growing bigger and bigger. “Throw in your phone number, an’ we got a deal, kitty cat.”

It turned into unconventional milkshake roof dates, sitting over the skylines, staring down at the chaotic world below as the two of you shared an unintentional paradise.

He’d tease your fear of heights, constantly calling you a Catwoman rip off, but he always made sure to never let you fall. Your relationship was sweet, too sweet, and gone way too fast.

Your rooftop dates were a tradition you kept alive when he died, only to resurface when a knock at your window interrupted you of sleep, opening your balcony to find a single milkshake perfectly balanced, with a bright black arrow drawn on the cup to meet Red Hood on the roof.

Jason Todd wasn’t the same as you remembered him to be, but he was still Jason, underneath all that broodiness that shielded him from whatever unseen traumas he hadn’t shared with you quite yet.

All these months since he ‘returned’, he always made sure to keep up your ice cream date schedules. Nine o’clock sharp on the roof of your apartment building. Sometimes, ontop of Wayne Industries on special occasions. He’d always be the one to carry you, especially now.

What did stick with him was his horrible Robin humor, which was what you believed he was using when he popped such an unexpected question.

“What?” Came your first response, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. A strange warm throb formed in your heart, thudding rapidly in your chest.

“What did you say?”

“Marry me.” He repeats again, never putting off that firm expression plastered on his face.

What an untimely thing to say in the calm before an unknown storm. Both of you were out of breath after chatting for an hour, sipping on thick melted shakes and laughing over the previous Boy Wonder.

“Jason, this isn’t funny.” You peer down at your cup, nearly finished with its contents. He always got your favorite.

“You’re right,” He agrees, his tone a little too calm to be considered any sort of joke.

All possibility of opportunity to pop a laugh and admit he was joking weighed heavily in the air, carried around by the nightly breeze. He never says he’s joking, never shrugs off such an alarming, mind blowing question.

“What if you’re kidding?” Your denial still leaks through, making his lips twitch upwards. It has to be a joke, he wouldn’t say it like this.

“What if I’m not?” He casually responds, nearly wearing down your patience.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Jason.” Saying his name so softly, littered with fear and hesitancy makes his second life heart melt. Being so sweet on his girl, even after his death, taught him a great lesson about time.

Regardless if he didn’t arrive at nine o’ clock sharp, or if you arrived two minutes late, time could easily be taken away, ruining everything.

He remains quiet, watching your flustered expression vary from your hands along your cup before setting it down beside you. Taking this chance, he gently grasps hold of your hand before it had a chance to retreat into the safety of your jacket pocket.

“I meant what I said,” Jason speaks again in a more calm, soothing tone of voice. “I know this ain’t traditional. I don’t exactly do traditional, but … I wanna marry you.”

His hand squeezes yours, making you hesitant to speak further. He was serious, the realization was heavily daunting in such a unique way. A unique, exciting way.

“Why?” You look at him again, swallowing slowly as he leans closer, nearly making you anticipate a kiss.

Instead, his forehead settles against yours, taking in the rich, crystalline serenity of your unique, radiant beauty.

“Because,” he mutters, “You waited for me.”

Dedication, patience, hope; That was worth more to him than gold, worth much more than the bag of valuables he knew you didn’t steal.

“I have a ring for ya,” Jason continues on whilst his thumb strokes along the back of your hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll getcha whatever you want. We’ll have as big of a wedding as you want, then we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” You whisper.

“Yeah. Just you and me; no crime fighting, no danger. Nothing. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah babygirl,” Jason peers into your eyes, wanting to coo at your noticeable tears. “Wherever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

You just needed to say yes.

You couldn’t help but giggle with an overwhelming mix of emotions, your trembling hand reaching up to settle behind his hooded head.

“Why do I feel like,” you nearly laugh in between your words. “Why do I get this feeling you put the ring in my cup?”

“An’ ruin a perfectly good five dollar shake?” Jason expresses in surprise, chuckling along with your giddy laughter. “C’mon babe. I’m not that inconspicuous.”

“Then where is it?”

Jason tilts his head, raising a brow. “Why’re you asking, kitty cat? Plan on stealing it?”

“No,” you muse, your nose nearly bumping against his.

“You expecting me to slip it on right about now?” His hand finds purchase along your hip, cradling your supple body. “Dosent work unless you—“

You cut him off via a kiss, one he graciously accepts.

You tasted like cherry sublime mixed with the highlife, a good life where you always existed in it. If he were to die again, he needed to know that he went with one successful accomplishment. Marrying his Robinhood sweetheart.

“Yes,” you whisper, those tears you worked so hard to hold back cascading down your cheeks. “I’ll marry you, Jason.”

In knowing him since he was Robin, till you met him as the muscular, ever brooding Red Hood, you’ve never seen the man smile so big. His eyes shining brighter than the moon that was ever so beautiful tonight.

Grasping hold of your hips, he pulls you into his arms, carelessly tilting over his half finished milkshake cup in the process. His lips find you once more after sitting you in his lap, muscled forearms snuggly hugging around your waist, holding you as physically close to him as possible.

“The ring I gotcha-“ he muffles against your pretty lips in between kisses. “- is at my place. Waiting for you—on my bed.”

Your laugh was all you could respond with. From the very start, it’s as if he planned this all out. All it took was a bag of misplaced valuables and the promise of a five dollar shake.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #it’s an interesting thing #I like this but I don’t #idk why #I didn’t like how I wrote it #but i hope you enjoy #it

988 notes · View notes

theodorenmyth · 1 year ago

Note

Mattheo with a s/o who literally had a past of fighting a lot 😭. Reader has changed and is more peaceful, but Mattheo figured out that reader was literally worst than him and it makes him question reader about their past.

Shadows of the Past

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Summary ; You and Mattheo Riddle have grown close, but rumors about your violent past begin to surface, casting a shadow over your budding relationship. As Mattheo confronts you with what he's heard, you reveal the anger and struggles that once defined you, and the person who helped you find peace. Through heartfelt conversations and shared moments, Mattheo seeks to understand the person you once were and the journey you've taken to become who you are now. Together, you navigate the complexities of your past, finding strength in each other's acceptance and love, and forging a bond that is ready to face whatever the future holds.

A/N ; Enjoy! :3

Warnings) ; nothing

Word count ; 1.2k+

The soft glow of the setting sun bathed the Hogwarts grounds in a warm, golden hue as you walked alongside Mattheo Riddle. The two of you had spent the afternoon exploring the quieter corners of the castle, enjoying each other’s company away from the prying eyes of your peers. For once, the conversation had been light, the laughter genuine.

As you reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from relaxed to contemplative. You felt a knot form in your stomach as he turned to face you, his eyes searching yours.

"I've been hearing things," he began, his voice measured. "Things about your past."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was bound to come up sooner or later. "What kind of things?"

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. "People say you were... different. That you used to get into a lot of fights. Worse than me, even."

You sighed, looking away. The memories of your past were not something you liked to dwell on. "Yeah, I did. But that was a long time ago, Mattheo. I’m not that person anymore."

Mattheo studied you for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. "Why did you fight so much?"

You hesitated, the old wounds threatening to reopen. "It’s complicated. I had a lot of anger back then. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I fought. It was the only way I knew how to cope."

He nodded slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle. "What changed?"

You took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling your lungs. "I met someone who helped me see that there are other ways to handle things. They taught me how to find peace within myself. How to control my anger instead of letting it control me."

Mattheo’s gaze softened. "And you think you’ve changed?"

"I know I have," you replied firmly. "I’m not proud of who I used to be, but I’ve worked hard to become a better person."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I’m not judging you, you know. I just want to understand. It’s part of who you are, and I care about all of you, not just the parts that are easy to love."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Mattheo. That means a lot."

There was a moment of silence, the two of you standing together at the edge of the forest. The air was filled with the sounds of nature, the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird.

"Tell me more about it," he said finally. "About who you were back then."

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back. "I was angry at the world. I felt like I had to fight to be seen, to be heard. I didn’t care about the consequences. I just wanted to prove that I was strong, that no one could mess with me."

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And now?"

"Now, I’ve learned that true strength isn’t about how many fights you can win. It’s about having the courage to walk away. To choose peace over violence."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I’m proud of you. For changing. For becoming the person you are now."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly wiping it away. "Thank you. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth it."

Mattheo pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "We all have our demons. What matters is how we deal with them. And you, you’ve done something incredible."

You clung to him, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his embrace. "I just hope you can accept me, past and all."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I do. I always will."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in shadows, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. Mattheo knew the truth now, and he still cared. It was more than you could have hoped for.

"You know," he said with a grin, "I think I’d like to hear some of those stories. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

You laughed, the sound echoing through the trees. "Maybe. But only if you promise not to get any ideas."

"Deal," he said, pulling you back into a hug.

Together, you walked back towards the castle, the past no longer a shadow hanging over you but a part of your journey. And with Mattheo by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next few days were a whirlwind of exams, classes, and stolen moments with Mattheo. He had a way of making you feel at ease, his dark humor and sharp wit a constant source of amusement. But there was an underlying curiosity in his eyes, a desire to know more about the person you used to be.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, Mattheo broached the subject again. "So, tell me about your most memorable fight."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Absolutely," he replied, leaning in closer. "I want to know everything about you."

You took a deep breath, recalling the incident that had marked the turning point in your life. "There was this one time, back in my fourth year. A group of older students thought they could push me around because I was younger. They didn’t expect me to fight back."

Mattheo’s eyes gleamed with interest. "What happened?"

"I ended up breaking one guy’s nose and giving another a black eye and a broken arm," you admitted, a hint of pride in your voice. "But it wasn’t just about the fight. It was what happened afterward that changed everything."

He frowned, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"I got into a lot of trouble, obviously. Detention for a month, extra assignments, the whole deal. But Professor McGonagall, she took me aside and talked to me. She didn’t just lecture me about fighting. She asked why I was so angry."

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And what did you tell her?"

"I broke down," you confessed. "I told her everything. About how I felt invisible, how I thought fighting was the only way to get people to notice me. She listened, really listened. And then she helped me find a way to channel my anger into something positive."

Mattheo’s grip on your hand tightened. "Sounds like she really made a difference."

"She did," you agreed. "She suggested I take up dueling, but in a controlled environment. It wasn’t about hurting others, but about mastering my skills, my emotions. It helped me find a sense of control and peace."

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I’m glad she did. I can’t imagine Hogwarts without you."

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thanks, Mattheo. It means a lot to hear you say that."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "We all have our battles, our pasts. But what matters is how we move forward. And I’m here with you, no matter what."

You kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and unspoken words. When you pulled back, you felt a sense of calm and certainty.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "For accepting me."

"Always," he murmured, pulling you close.

As the fire crackled and the shadows danced around you, you knew that with Mattheo by your side, you could face whatever the future held. Your past was a part of you, but it didn’t define you. And with him, you felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

222 notes · View notes

gnocchisworld · 1 year ago

Text

Beautiful Stranger

Joost Klein x singer!reader

Summary: reader is playing at a festival and her set is right after Joost's, they meet in the backstage tent after his stage and hang out after reader does hers! Rumors circulate after fans spotted the pair and they reconnect after missed opportunities when they were together :PP

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: no use of y/n, YEARNING! no physical description of reader but uses of she/her and feminine descriptors!

A/N: omgomg this is my first fic ever on here so anyways I am a firm believer of the meeting people twice theory like yes second chances yes reconnection yes!

Entering the backstage tent of the festival, you were immediately hit with a wave of scorching heat, the sun's relentless rays seeping even through the canvas. The energy from the performance on stage outside was pulsing and lively, carried by the young artist who commanded the crowd's attention, music increasing the adrenaline in your blood. Yet even as you prepared for your own set, the background noise and excitement faded to a muted hum as you focused on your vocal exercises and cues. As you readied yourself, the atmosphere surrounding you was as sultry and intense as the heat outside, the hot air seemingly alive with a buzz of anticipation.

With as much haste as the sound disappeared from your brain, a new, baritone voice flowed through the air.

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t see you here.”

You looked up from your daze and were met with a deep, hypnotic blue, one that would make even the skies jealous. The angles of his nose were perfectly shaped, as if God had taken extra time to mould the clay that would later take on his form. From the standpoint of a bystander, the two would seem like the sun and the moon; two opposites that seemingly complimented each other like second nature. As the silence lingered for a second too long and his gaze set comfortably on yours, you choked up the first words that came to mind.

“No worries! I was just lost in my own world there for a moment.”

He was entirely captivating — you were unsure of how to compose yourself as you burned under his stare. As if reading your mind, he quickly offers his hand out to you, eager to make any form of connection.

“You can call me Joost.” He urges, carefully tracing his eyes over every line in your face for a reaction.

Taking his hand in yours, you promptly share your name. A subtle yet powerful exchange — trading names — the fibres in which every invisible string between two people begins to entangle together. His hands felt as though they had once held the warmth of a flame, having the ability to breathe life into anything it touched. For lack of better word, you were electrified.

A careful knocking on the stage door alerted the two and prompted the release of your hands. Your manager walks in, choosing to ignore the other figure in the room.

“Sorry, you’re on in 3.”

“I’ll be there, thanks, Jere.” He nods, closing the door with relative ease and resuming whatever words he was muttering into his walkie-talkie.

A beat passes as Joost speaks up again, “Succes!” Smiling fervently, he lightly brushes the skin on your shoulder with his palm as he walks out into his own dressing room before you could even respond, taking with him the warmth of his presence.

Unsure of how to make sense of what had happened, you drowned in your own quandary. The blood in your veins were still pounding against the valves of your beating heart and your kidney was beginning to beat to the same rhythm. You were unsure of whether this was due to stage fright or your recent encounter, though it didn’t really matter anyways; it was the fact that they were both valid options.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

As you step on stage, the roar of the crowd engulfed your senses like a crashing wave. Your eyes scan the sea of bodies, a kaleidoscope of colours and faces all there to witness your performance. Unconsciously, you were scouring for the blue that looked at you as if you had been the only girl in the world.

Unbeknownst to you, he had joined the crowd to experience the passion that you had brought out with your music — he wanted to get to know you, and music is the window to one’s soul. As you sang your first song, it became adamantly clear to him how the atmosphere shifted and every light softened under your radiance. Your music highlighted the more subtle hues in life that Joost had not seen in awhile, eliciting memories of lustrous summers and fleeting springs; it felt as if his world, which was always turning at 100 kilometres an hour, began to slow. Your voice was mellow, it filled his eardrums and calmed the ringing which usually reverberated in every corner of his skull. He took note of everything you did, from the way you held your guitar to the reds blossoming on your fingertips as you held down on its strings. Ultimately, he was hopelessly captivated — by your lulling melody, your beauty, and the entirety of your being.

Diverting your eye from your guitar to the crowd, you locked your gaze on a familiar aquamarine — a shade you couldn’t get out of your head as it bloomed in your peripheral vision. A smile played on your lips; you couldn't help it. It was as if the corners of your mouth were tugged at, forcing them to curve upwards. The warmth which was previously absent in your stomach began to reignite and it felt as if rainbows were being drawn on the skies of your psyche. Being on stage in front of thousands has never felt so intimate before.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

As your final song comes to an end, your cheeks are numb from the constant smiling — not performatively but rather from sheer happiness. You step off the stage and back into the backstage tents, still dazed from the trance you were under as you had, prior, melted under the beautiful stranger’s gaze. You could feel a familiar set of eyes linger on you and you’re met at eye level with two deep blue pools. He spoke up gently, breaking the silence between the two before it could settle on your shoulders.

Joost grins at you, his eyes still sparkling with the same intensity as before. "You were phenomenal up there," he says. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."

You felt your cheeks flush a rosy pink, with a shy smile you replied, “you weren’t too bad either.”

Joost let out a hearty chuckle, amused by your comment. "Just 'not too bad'?" he teased, feigning offence. A beat passes as you forget to answer, as if wind had been sucked out of you from the mere sight of his laughter. Taking the initiative, he inquires you; “Hey, uh, I was thinking of walking around some more, take a look at some other stages if you wanted to hang out for a bit?”

Your eyes sparkle with a glint of excitement, “I was actually thinking the same thing — I’d love to join you.” Your voice cracking ever so subtly, betraying your nervous plight.

Carefully, he took your hand and started walking out of the tent, leading you towards the next stage — “so you don’t get lost.”

As you shuffle through the labyrinth of crowds, your bodies are constantly pushed together, every small touch prompting an exchange of warmth in return. His doting predisposition was almost overbearing, each time he looked back to make sure you were still behind him was so subtle, yet so appetent. The implications of it all, his hands on yours as you traverse the field of human bodies, wide open for the consumption of a myriad of prying eyes, was not lost on either of you, yet it remained a fact that both of you choose to ignore.

Breathing away the air of silence encapsulating the two of you, he speaks up. “What kind of music are you into? Like what artist do you want to see right now?”

You hadn’t realised how your gaze was so readily fixed on him — as if it were a force of habit, until his voice fills the silence you’d had in your head; racing at 100 kilometres an hour to catch up to the speed of your heart. Without much time to formulate a response, you quickly mutter the first few words that enter your thoughts. “I’ll watch anyone! Plus — maybe you could introduce me to some new music?”

Your words elicited a gentle smile as he tugged you towards a new area; “truth be told I don’t know who’s performing either — but we can discover together!”

As you settle into the crowd and your bodies blended in to the splatter of colour amidst dancing souls, he rested his hand on the small of your back, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your top — holding dear to you and praying to a higher being so as to not get partitioned in the middle of thousands.

Although you were sure your attention was focused on the performance just ahead, you could feel each time his gaze averted into your eye line — his stare burned into your cheek the same way a kiss would; searing your flesh with a romance that lingered like sun rays on burnt skin. You used each chance he looked away to do the same — to leave a persistent stain on his peripheral vision which sent his heart to the moon. This prolonged back and forth lasted all the way to the end of the artist’s set, his songs being nothing more than background noise as your heart pounded prolifically in your ears.

Eager to extend your time together, you asked to buy him a drink — with which he gladly accepted.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Minutes passed into hours discreetly — you were lost in conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, until the noise settled and the crowd thinned, bringing your conversation down to weak attempts at staying in each other’s company.

You take the final sip of your drink; you promised yourself this’d be the last. Eased by the momentum of your mutual exchange, you ask him: “Do you ever look out into the crowd and realise that every person that everyone’s ever met was brought together by chance?”

“Like how your set just so happened to be right after mine?”

Hesitantly, you replied, stepping on eggshells as you cherry pick each word carefully, trying to gauge some meaning behind your blooming relationship. “Yeah, I mean like what if I hadn’t been in that tent when you came in? Would you still watch my set? Would you be having a drink with me right now?”

“I’m pretty sure someone with a presence like yours would’ve caught my attention one way or another.” His response was delivered almost immediately, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

Attempting to hide the smile inevitably slipping onto your face and the pink creeping up your cheeks, you let out a sincere chuckle. “I’m glad you think so.”

As your conversations drift with the sunlight, a call from your manager reminds you of your responsibilities, prompting an exchange of see you soons and subtle glances over the shoulder as you both depart from each other’s warmth.

It was hard to be around him — to be close but not close enough. To say he charmed you would be an understatement, and to say that he didn’t feel the same would be a lie. Being back in your hotel room reminded you of how intoxicating it felt to be near him, and it felt like an itch as you traced back the steps that you took so carefully around him; how the two of you danced around each other so gently. You weren't sure you'd ever cross paths again; the regret of not being forward about how you'd felt with him loomed around you as you lay in bed, phone in hand, wondering if he was still thinking about you. His name rested on the tip of your tongue as you drifted off to sleep, naturally burrowing a home in your chest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Waking up to waning notifications and texts hardly alerted you as you were seemingly stuck in the same state of wonderstruck that you had been in the day before. As you recollect your fleeing consciousness, the blots of colour on your screen begin to form coherent shapes, revealing texts from your manager and PR team, all addressed at several tweets and posts discussing you; their messages growing more and more panicked with each one. With a deep breath, you clicked on the Twitter app, bracing yourself for what you knew was coming.

The tweets were overwhelming, discussing everything from your performance to your interaction with Joost. People were making assumptions about your relationship and dissecting every detail of your interaction.

Mindlessly scrolling through the barrage of tweets, a text from a number you have labelled as “Joost :)” halts every single movement and thought previously in motion.

J: hello girlfriend :D

R: joost?

J: have u seen what theyre saying about us??

R: its really brutal

they dont hesitate

J: this is my first time experiencing something like this (・´з`・)

R: me too!

i hope youre ok with that kind of stuff though, its pretty intrusive

J: yup, but im going to have to get used to this (╥﹏╥)

and you are cute, so i dont mind (⁀ᗢ⁀)

R: oh thank you, youre cute too :D

You smiled as you read Joost's messages, feeling a warm sense of relief and happiness. Despite the gossip and speculation online, he seemed to be handling it all in stride – easing any preexisting worry that he’d be weirded out or pushed away by the assumptions forced upon you and your relationship. You stared intently at your screen, your fingers hovering anxiously over the keypad. Your heart rate quickened as you contemplated hitting send on the message, a wave of trepidation washing over her.

R: maybe we can talk more over lunch? just to make sure ure all good!

Was it too desperate? Did it seem like you wanted a second? First? Date amidst an unfortunate impasse? Would he be discouraged? Did he even want to see you again?

J: i’d love 2!!!!

Oh. You release the breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding in, letting the pressure dissipate from your shoulders. Despite the weight of the situation, you found solace in knowing that he had playfully accepted the circumstances and was willing to brace the full extent of the accusations by risking another day with you. Finalising the details for lunch, you got ready and swiftly made your way out the door – towards the destined spot.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Stumbling through the city, you took in the sights as you passed by slews of oscillating buildings and unnamed parks. Unanswered messages from your manager remain rigid and unread as you lock away your phone, looking forward for signs of the restaurant you were to meet Joost in. Determination sets in to the anterior parts of your brain – the tenacity to express your interest in growing together with the man you had just met the day prior. Although it was sudden, you were sure that getting to know him would only continue to confirm the feelings beginning to harbour at the base of your judgement. Rounding the last corner, you were hit by a familiar warmth; it was sudden, intrusive, preponderant, and all-consuming simultaneously.

“Hallo!” The Dutch accent slipped into his greeting like honey, the same baritone voice you’d come to be acquainted with to fill the air around you, as a blanket would. Suddenly every smell, minute sound, or gentle breeze that was prevalent became subdued – every one of your senses focusing on the presence of the alluring companion standing in front of you.

Your grin evident in your voice, you reply tenderly, “hello, stranger.”

#joost klein x reader #joost klein #joost klein fanfic #joost x reader #x reader #joost klein x you #joost #joost fic #joost klein fic #smau #eurovision #joost klein imagine #joost klein fluff #europapa

329 notes · View notes

databoyreekoo · 5 months ago

Text

Elsa, the Power of Love, the χ-blade and Riku

Finally getting around to re-uploading some of my old posts that got deleted when I nuked my blog a while back. I will not be hiding any text behind a "read more" just in case...

You know, now that I’m thinking about it…

How is Elsa able to be a princess of heart? We know that princesses of heart lack darkness whatsoever, and the whole plot of Arendelle was about Elsa’s struggle between finding her light or accepting her darkness. Even Larxene couldn’t tell what Elsa was going to choose.

“Okay, I’ll admit Elsa is a person of interest to us. Maybe she’s one of the seven pure lights we need — the New Seven Hearts. Gotta make sure though. Fortunately, we’re in the best position to tell. Can’t pick out that ‘special glimmer’ unless you’re standing in the shadows. And maybe…Elsa doesn’t have it. I mean, just look how icy her palace is — made of magic she forced herself to keep hidden until now. What if it’s dark magic?”

[Sora: Elsa would never rely on the darkness!]

“Actually, it’s still too early to call. Depends on how she sees it. If she believes her magic is darkness, that’s what it will become. Accepting her power, whatever it is, is the only way she can set her heart free. So what will Elsa accept? Light or darkness? I know I wanna know!”

[Sora: Well, good for you, but guess what? I won’t let her fall to darkness!]

“It’s her choice to make, not yours. You know, I’m starting to understand why she gave you the cold shoulder.”

[Sora: Larxene!]

“You wanna help her? Then stop trying to be her hero! Let her figure things out her own way!”

Going off of the lore that kh has provided thus far, a princess of heart shouldn’t even have a struggle between light and darkness, since princesses of heart are maidens born with hearts of pure light. Belle, Snow White, Alice, Jasmine, Aurora and Cinderella never had to struggle with their “darkness,” because they have none. Negative emotions are different from darkness, because even though their hearts are pure, they’re still human and experience sadness, frustration and fear.

Both Rapunzel and Anna fit the description of a princess of heart, but Elsa? No, not entirely. She’s the first princess/queen in kh that we’ve seen have this kind of dilemma. Had the OrgXiii stepped in and manipulated her, she more than likely would’ve fallen to darkness. Or, alternatively, had Sora successfully stepped in to try and help her (even with good intentions), that would’ve just pushed her further into isolation and further into the dark.

The phantom pain Sora shared with Anna when she was struck in the heart by Elsa’s ice magic? That very same thing could’ve happened to him in a timeline/worldline beforehand where he was successful in confronting Elsa, only to get injured in the process. Which… would’ve probably sent Elsa into a downward spiral and eventually end in her giving into the darkness of her heart. Darkness that shouldn’t even exist inside her if she’s actually a princess of heart.

I mean, Larxene was surprised that Elsa chose light, and was even more surprised to find out that there were two princesses of heart in one world.

“So, love has filled both their hearts with light.”

[Sora: Larxene!]

“Two in one world… Definitely didn’t see that coming.”

Larxene seems to be suggesting here that “love” (true love in the context of the movie) awakened Elsa and Anna’s light and their powers/status as princesses of heart.

To think… that love in its purest form (true love) has the ability to “awaken” the power of the x-blade (rather, a piece of it really, since each princess of heart holds a piece of the x-blade within her heart). Not only that, but love being able to take what darkness is there inside the heart, and either drive it away or return it to the light…

Ah. There it is. The themes of pure/true love, as well as returning the darkness to light — but this time, there’s the possibly of it being connected to the x-blade; love may be required to unlock the x-blade’s true potential and summon the true Kingdom Hearts from within the darkness.

Love being necessary to wield the x-blade and unlock its true potential actually makes sense if you think in terms of Ventus-Vanitas and Xehanort.

Ventus and Vanitas’s fusion was by force, controlled by Xehanort and his obsession to see the end of the Keyblade War and to unlock Kingdom Hearts. Ventus-Vanitas never experienced a “complete” fusion of their hearts. The x-blade appeared complete on the outside, but within Ventus-Vanitas’s heart, it was incomplete. Xehanort’s corrupt desires return again in kh3. His reasons for forging the x-blade have remained the same since bbs. There never was love behind his actions. What he wanted was control. Power. He wanted a world that could be shaped to his ideals. He wanted to play god. His reasons were selfish and devoid of love (and that’s putting it lightly).

Yet… What happens to Xehanort at the end of kh3?

The love from an old friend was enough to push away the darkness in his heart, making him realize that his time was finally up. That it was the end. No more fighting. He failed. Checkmate. And Xehanort, a seeker of darkness, was content to return to the light.

Some afterthoughts…

Elsa is a special kind of princess of heart, just like Riku is a special kind of Keyblade Master; one who walks between light and darkness and uses his powers for good. They both learned that love was necessary to unlock their heart’s true potential and grew stronger from it. To have a world with a character that’s similar to Riku (and in game parallels to Riku) also reveal that true love is the power behind the ability to “consume the darkness and return it to light,” as well as awakening the light within the x-blade… Not to mention, Riku once wielded a blade that was powered by the darkness it consumed; Soul Eater (which happens to be an ability of the Dark Knight class in Final Fantasy, using souleater sacrifices HP to strengthen attacks… like Sora’s rage form).

There’s a possibility that Riku, who has control over his darkness, who once wielded a sword of darkness, could actually resonate with the darkness half of the x-blade already. I mean… Riku wasn’t the one to touch the x-blade. Had he, there may have been a surprising result. But now that Sora’s wielded it, it’s not too far out of his reach. However, Riku still hasn’t learned how to utilize light… yet. What do you think Braveheart symbolizes? It’s proof of his evolution; Soul Eater turned into Way to the Dawn, which broke to give life to Braveheart. He is still learning and growing. Braveheart isn’t the final form of his Keyblade. I believe it’s temporary. This is the first Keyblade Riku has wielded that was properly forged from his heart. And as the wielder changes, so does their heart, and by extension… their Keyblade.

The keychain of Braveheart is a Mickey head, just like the Kingdom Key Light, Kingdom Key Darkside, and Kingdom Key White (also known as Star Cluster), yet I don’t think anyone has questioned why.

Why would Riku’s keychain change from the heart emblem to a Mickey head of all things? Especially since Riku’s character symbol has been that heart since kh1, (even his chess piece is that symbol). Well… I’ll tell you now that it has nothing to do with Mickey at all. Like I said; Braveheart is the first Keyblade properly forged from Riku’s heart. It’s in its basic form; gray, bulky, awkward and entirely different than most other Keyblades we’ve seen (his is based on a pin tumbler lock key, while most of the other Keyblades are based on lever tumbler lock keys). It’s no wonder the keychain is something as basic as the default Mickey head. Riku’s heart is still growing from each experience. Riku already broke through dawn. His heart is looking for the next path he needs to take in order to grow stronger. For now, he’s in a state of suspension, which is represented by a “blank” keychain.

#theory #speculation #kh #riku #x-blade

38 notes · View notes

dawnsarchive · 2 months ago

Text

At Your Service - Chapter 1

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Fandom: The Hobbit (Movie)

Pairing: Fili/Reader/Kili

Reader: AFAB

Style: Multi-Chapter (Around 4000 Words a Chapter)

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: N/A

Summary:

They shouldn't trust you. You wouldn't trust you if you experienced what they did. You know things you shouldn't - you know names, places, and events that hadn't even happened yet and something dumped you in a strange forest, face-to-face with a trio of trolls and a company of armed strangers.

Stuck in the middle of a king's quest to reclaim Erebor, you're now navigating a world both familiar and foreign at the same time. Not to mention the growing tension between two brothers who are far too invested in your presence amongst the group. Every step toward the Lonely Mountain is a choice you're making but are you important enough to rewrite a story that already has an ending?

Can you choose between the two Durin brothers? Do you even need to?

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Whatever you expected the afterlife to be, it didn’t smell anywhere near as terrible at this.

Well, you didn’t know for certain that you had died but it was a possibility that fluttered through your mind when you woke up with a start.

There had been a storm before you went to bed that night. You remembered the thunder that shook your bedroom window and the lightning so bright it illuminated the night sky. It kept you up for a few hours before sleep had stolen you away.

But then you awoke to the lightest drizzle on your face and no roof above your head.

Instead, you stared up at an endless dark sky.

The remnants of a rain cloud hung overhead, moving slowly away to reveal thousands upon thousands of stars as far as the eye could see. Great trees framed your view, their broughs hung heavy with moss as they reached for the moon.

The wind brought smells of the forest – peat, wet moss, and a stench so horrific it made you bolt upright.

You reached for your blanket but grabbed at naught but air. The pillow beneath your head had long disappeared and when you reached for the back of your head, your fingers came away muddy and wet.

Somewhere nearby, a bird cooed and you jumped to your feet.

A dream? You didn’t feel as though you were dreaming. The ground squelched beneath you as you stepped. A mosquito flew past your head and you batted at it automatically. But this had to be a dream. You hadn’t been outside when you fell asleep and there wasn’t a forest like this anywhere near your house.

Beneath you, the ground trembled and your heart kicked into gear. A thick lump formed in your throat as you spun to see what could have caused it.

Through the thick bristle of the fir trees, you could make out a faint amber flicker. Like a miniature dancer caught behind the bars of a jail cell, a fire burned in the distance. Its warm glow made you bitterly aware of how cold you were. The water on your skin sent a freezing chill deep into your soul.

The wind brought the smell over you once more and you balked. Rot and death hung heavy in the air here and you covered your mouth in a vain attempt to ignore it.

You didn’t want to walk closer to the smell but the first was the only sign of life around and, in the case that this wasn’t a dream, you had no other options. It would do you no good to stumble around in the forest with no direction.

Still, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you wouldn’t wake up before you took a wary, muddy step forward.

This forest was strange. You knew it and you didn’t at the same time – like a dream you’d passed through once before. As you walked, you stared at all the small plants and great trees as though they’d share their secrets. A moth fluttered past your face, light green and gold and you stopped to watch it in awe. Never had you seen a moth quite as beautiful as that.

The branches above you creaked with concealed threats and you watched them uncertainly.

Had somebody stolen you from your bed? Kidnapped you just to abandon you in the woods with nothing but your clothing? The thought panicked you but it simply didn’t make sense. How had you not woken up before then?

But if it was a dream, how were you not waking now?

Sleep still lurked in the corners of your brain and you shook your head to get rid of it. You didn’t know where you were and predators may well hide amongst the trunks so you hurried up and started for the fire with renewed invigoration. A fire meant people and whoever they might be, they were probably a far cry better than standing alone in the woods and freezing to death.

That assumption was quickly proved wrong because apparently a fire didn’t mean people anymore.

A fire meant monsters.

And you had never seen monsters like this before.

Deformed abominations with massive, hulking frames and heavy-ladened limbs that resembled humans in the vaguest sense of the word. Three of them stood in the small clearing – gathered around a large campfire with grotesquely-mutated forms.

Right where you would have broken free from the forest, the body of what might have been a horse once lay. It had been pulled in half and its head lay abandoned on the ground before you, bones stripped free of flesh.

You gagged and one of the creatures turned its head.

Thankfully, the great rock you were standing beside was close enough that you could hide from its disgusting gaze. Its face was smashed in a malformed like somebody had hit it repeatedly with a large rock at some point. Beady, hungry eyes scanned around the clearing and you crouched lower with a whispered prayer in your mind.

A smaller, higher voice spoke and it looked away, allowing you to release the breath you’d been holding.

“Well, what are we going to do with them then? I don’t want parasites.”

There was something uncomfortable about hearing it speak in a voice you could understand clearly rather than the grunts and grumbles you’d expected. Parasites? What was going on?

Something about the entire scene scratched an itch in your brain. You felt like you knew what these creatures were though you had certainly never seen them before. Or had you? Not in real life but somewhere else?

Their fire had been made in a small clearing, pushed up against a great rock and surrounded by fallen trees. At the feet of the monsters, you heard a cacophony of shouting but you couldn’t see the source and over the fire itself, there were several people – far more fitting of the word than the monsters but different enough to give you pause – lashed to a great spit and being rotated slowly as they yelled.

It was familiar. You’d seen this before but not from this angle, hunched against a stone with trees to your back.

A brief memory of a movie, played in the background while you did something else, flashed in front of you. You remembered these creatures while they hulked over their meal and tried to decide how to cook it.

You pinched yourself again, hard enough to bruise this time, but you still didn’t wake.

This couldn’t be happening. This was a movie. Monsters like these weren’t real and they didn’t lurk around forests, discussing how best to eat people. You wrinkled your nose at the stench of burning hair and rotting flesh and fought against the urge to run away.

The group over the fire were yelling in a language you couldn’t quite understand or maybe it was because they were all speaking over one another. You had a pretty good idea of what they were saying though.

What was this movie called again? The more you thought about it, the more certain you were that it hadn’t been in the background. You’d been watching it pretty actively with snacks in your hand and a blanket on your lap but still, the name kept eluding you. Weird because it hadn’t been that long ago but you could barely remember the room you were in.

What was happening?

Memories – or lack of – faded as you came back to whatever reality this was. The problem before you was far more important than anything else.

The trolls – and that’s what they were called, trolls, you remembered – weren’t looking at you. You could easily go back the way you came and find your own way home. Wherever home might be. Or you could wander around until you woke up from this dream.

Unless it’s not a dream

The troll who had been guarding the fire stepped away and you stared at the group on the spit, debating. If this was a dream, you wouldn’t be in any danger. If it wasn’t, going forward would be the stupidest idea you had.

Close to where the bodies of the ponies had been dumped, various items had been left strewn about. Saddlebags and broken carts; likely once owned by previous groups that had unfortunately found themselves in the grasp of the trolls. And luckily enough, the rain from earlier must have filled some of those items with water.

You debated with yourself for far too long before you crept forward.

Every step you took was carefully placed to ensure you didn’t step on a twig or cut your foot on the splintered bones that littered the ground. You weren’t dressed for this but now that you looked, you hadn’t been wearing leather pants and boots like this when you climbed into bed. You frowned at your feet.

Just a second ago, you had been sure you were barefoot and able to feel the mud under your toes.

Where had these boots come from?

A snort from the trolls made your head snap up. They hadn’t turned back to you but you were exposed now. If you stayed in this clearing for much longer, it wouldn’t be long before they caught sight of you.

You hurried along, hopped over a small log and grabbed what looked like a large bucket that had filled.

It burned your shoulder muscles as you picked it up. The water sloshed and you strained to drag it free from the rest of the broken wood around it. This clearing felt far too small.

You could smell the trolls themselves. A disgusting, unwashed scent permeated from their skin as they moved. They were absolutely enormous – far larger than they had seemed from a distance – with heads too small for their bodies and mud caked onto skin as thick as a rhino’s hide.

You dragged the bucket closer, your heartbeat increasing with every step you made toward the fire and then with a great shove, you pushed it over as one of the trolls turned its lazy head back to you.

The flames disappeared with a great woosh of water and a flurry of steam that plunged the area into darkness and chaos erupted between the trolls.

“Oi! Who’s there?!”

“Weren’t you watching the bloody fire? Why’d you let it go out?”

“I didn’t let it go out! Somebody must have put it out!”

“Which one?”

“How am I supposed to know?!”

Their footsteps made the ground tremble and though you couldn’t see, you had a vague enough idea of where the base of the spit had been. You leaned your shoulder against it and with a mighty shove, it gave, sending the dwarves who’d been tied up crashing to the ground instead.

Before you could do much else, a massive hand grabbed for you and you barely managed to jump back before it closed around air.

“Hey, there’s somebody running around here!” the troll called. “That’s what put out the fire!”

“Catch it then you idiot!”

You stumbled back, disorientated by the lack of light and hoping that their clumsy grabs and steps didn’t end with you squashed into paste. If one of them stepped on you… you dived to the ground as one came far too close for comfort and scrambled toward the edge of the clearing where the trees and thornbushes could give you cover.

The sky was beginning to lighten and with it, you became more and more exposed. You dropped into one of the bushes and winced as a thousand brambles snatched at the skin on your arms and tugged at your clothing and hair.

One of the trolls stubbed his foot against a rock and howled in pain, jumping up and down and sending rumbles through the ground that almost knocked you over.

You could barely see but it looked like the dwarves were starting to wriggle their way free from their confines in all the chaos. The only danger was that now they looked as though they might get stepped on by fumbling oafs.

At least they weren’t cooking anymore.

“Is it another one of them burrahobbits?”

“Must be! There must be more of thems sneaking around.”

“Good. They’re too small to make a meal on their own.”

“Hang on, our meal’s getting free over here.”

One of the trolls leaned down and grabbed the spit. You cursed as he lifted it up, aiming to put it back on the fire. You had bought only a precious few seconds of distraction and it still wasn’t enough.

“Just ignore it,” he said. “We got enough food here anyhow. Let’s get them cooked and get out of here – I don’t want to be here when the sun’s up.”

“We can’t start the fire now. It’s all wet!”

“Well what else are we supposed to do?”

You frowned and tried to reach for a memory that wasn’t quite there. How had it gone in the movie? You vaguely remembered a rock being broken in half and a man with a long, white beard. A wizard? What had had name been?

Gan… Gandalf!

“The sun’s coming up. Let’s just cook ‘em in the cave.”

You cursed under your breath. That wasn’t what you wanted to cause. If they moved into the cave, they wouldn’t be exposed to the sun at all.

You grabbed a rock off the ground and threw it as hard as you could towards the trolls. It hit one in the leg and you stood to allow them to see you. The three of them turned slowly and frowned in your direction.

“Wait, there it is.”

One of the trolls lumbered toward you faster than you thought they could move and your distraction worked far too well for its massive hand closed around your body before you could scramble away. He lifted you off the ground with ease and you left your stomach behind as you hurtled toward the sky.

“Hey, this isn’t a burrahobbit,” he said. “It hasn’t got the big feet or nothing. It’s just a human.”

“Oh good, I much prefer human to dwarf.”

The trolls appeared to have abandoned their previous meal as they clustered around you curiously. Sweat rolled off their faces and you thought that if this was a dream, it would be an ideal moment for you to wake up. Unfortunately for your sense of smell and for your ribs (which were being rather crushed by the troll holding you), you remained firmly in the situation.

“There’s only one of them though,” complained the troll not holding you. “Maybe there’s more around. Most humans stopped coming here after we moved in. Where’d you come from?”

“Really wish I could answer you,” you said and your voice shook from the panic of being held up to a monster’s mutilated face. “I don’t know where I came from though.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’ll taste just the same,” grunted the other.

The more you thought of it though, you didn’t actually know the name of your home street. Or more like you knew it but the information danced tantalizingly outside your reach, just barely on the tip of your tongue. That was weird because you were sure that a few minutes ago, you knew exactly where you lived.

Not that it mattered when you were a few minutes away from being eaten by trolls in some forgotten forest.

“Do you have parasites too then?”

“What? No!”

Your reflexive, offended answer came too quickly and seemed to please the trolls who looked at each other and grinned.

“Then we don’t even need to cook ya.”

Shit.

“I’ll eat this one then and you two can has my share of the dwarf. Too tough for me anyhow.”

“Hold on, it’s me that spotted it in the first place!”

The voice sounded like the trolls though from where they held you, you could see none of their mouths move. You frowned but you had no time to tell what might have happened for immediately, they began to bicker and you flailed around in his hand not unlike a ragdoll.

“No, you didn’t!”

“You let it put out the fire!”

“How was I meant to see it when you were standing over there blocking my view!”

Through the arguing, you heard a very clear clicking sound, like a piece of wood smacking against a rock. The trolls stopped flinging you around and you fought the urge to throw up as you saw a scene that fit with your memories all too well.

Gandalf stood atop the large stone, the earliest morning light streaming past him.

“Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat him too?”

The wizard brought his staff down and with a mighty crack, the great boulder split in half and sunlight erupted past. The trolls bellowed in pain as their skin turned to stone and the hand around you loosened just enough for you to slip free.

You hit the ground with a huff of effort and barely managed to stay standing as the great monsters froze to rock.

For a moment, there was silence and then the dwarves began to cheer.

You took a step away from the scene, your ribs tender and your head spinning from being thrown around. This was exactly as you’d seen in the movie and names mixed together as you looked at the people around you, some shoved into bags that smelled like rancid meat and others freeing themselves from the great spit they’d been lashed to.

At the same time, you knew where you were and forgot it all. This had to be a dream. It didn’t make sense otherwise because this was a movie.

This was not reality. Reality didn’t have trolls and wizards and…

You reached out to touch a scratch on your arm. It wasn’t very deep – likely caused by your earlier dive into a thorn bush – but it burned where you touched it. The red on your finger was too real and the panic settled like a vice around your throat.

When you looked up again, there were far too many eyes watching you. You realised with a start that maybe you should have left before questions began – questions you didn’t have answers for.

“Who in the blazes are you?”

The question came from one of the dwarves though as you looked over them, you found you couldn’t think of any of their names. You knew them though. Or at least, recognised them. Small facts came through as you studied their expressions, knowing that you didn’t have much of an answer.

Though one you recognised in a second.

The king under the mountain. You knew his title but not his name – knew why he was important but not quite how he would. You recognised his regal aura, the strength of his stance and the distrust in his brow. He regarded you as if you were nothing more than an insect before him but you stared at him with knowing.

Because you’d seen his death.

You remembered it in flashes. It played across a screen in front of you. A blade thrust forward with hatred. It pierced through his skin as somebody screamed a name, the sound muffled within the memory. Him and the others.

You spotted them next. Young dwarves who regarded you with curiosity and distrust equally. One blond, the other brunet, but both clearly related.

They had all died in a great battle against a creature your mind had forgotten. A war or a fight high in the mountains. You remembered the feeling of loss but even as you reached for it, the feeling fled from you and left you standing with an unanswered question.

“I… really don’t know,” you admitted truthfully. “Well, I know my name but I don’t know why I’m here or how I arrived. I woke up a few minutes ago not far from this camp.”

They stared at you and you stared back because you’d already provided them with the knowledge you had. There was nothing more you could say if you didn’t even know yourself.

The wizard approached you then with a gaze that made you shift uncomfortably. He stared straight through you as though he could see right to the very bottom of your soul – like he knew something even you didn’t.

“You are rather curious,” he said. “I certainly don’t think you’re meant to be here but where you might be from, I’m not sure I could say.”

“I know you,” you blurted out. “You’re Gandalf, right?”

“That I am.”

The knowledge was uncomfortable. If he really was Gandalf and you knew him from a story, not from reality, then why did he stand in front of you. Even in your most realistic dreams, you hadn’t been able to see so many details in the world like the way the sun played over the grass or the tight crow’s feet around the wizard’s eyes.

“I don’t know where I come from,” you reiterated. “But it’s not from this world.”

How else could you explain it? You had no idea what you were doing here or what to do now that you were standing before a great wizard but the best option you had was magic. After all, what else could have dragged you here in th first place?

You should return home. You knew you had reason enough for it – a responsibility of some kind – but you couldn’t remember quite why you had to be back.

“Perhaps not,” Gandalf agreed. “Though I might not know where you’re from nor what brought you here, there is reason enough for it. Magic works that way sometimes, frightfully annoying though it may be. It doesn’t always tell anybody exactly why it does things, not even us wizards.”

“What would I do then?”

He thought about it and rested a hand upon his beard. “Perhaps the reason you are here is to join us on our travels until such a point that you find what it is you’re looking for.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The king spoke and his voice rumbled like thunder across you, rich with authority and distrust. “You don’t even know who she is.”

“She provided your company with valuable assistance today Thorin. Why, her distraction kept the trolls’ attention long enough that not one member of your party carries so much as a scratch on their head.”

“We did not require her assistance nor did we ask for it.”

“I can’t travel with you if I don’t know where I’m going,” you hurried to say. “I’m ill-prepared for it anyway.”

“And why shouldn’t you?” the wizard asked. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

You hesitated on the truth. You did have somewhere else to be but that place was quite out of reach at the moment and what little you knew about where you were came through memories of a story. Wandering off by yourself seemed a bad idea.

But what would happen when the story ended?

“Well, no,” you admitted. “I don’t.”

There was a twinkle in his eye when he smiled at you. “Then I see no reason why you should not travel with us until we figure it out.”

“But I don’t even have a weapon,” you said.

“Though it may be small, a blade is still a weapon.”

You frowned and turned your attention down to your belt where, sure enough, the hilt of a sword glinted vaguely in the light. You reached for it and drew the blade slowly. The steel shone brightly, well-forged and polished to perfection. You flexed your wrist and watched the way the sunlight glittered across the metal.

That hadn’t been there earlier.

Neither had the rest of your outfit, which appeared to be rather robust travel gear, crafted from hide and laced over your chest. A green cloak made from thick wool sat on your shoulders, fur-lined and durable. Even your gloves, so comfortable that they were practically invisible, were new.

“Gandalf, we cannot be collecting strays at every step of this journey. There will be no further split in the treasure nor provisions to spare.”

“Come now Thorin, you trusted me with the burglar and you shall have to trust me with this one. Now, I do believe those trolls had a cave nearby that we should take a closer look at.”

Thorin’s eyes didn’t slip from you as Gandalf walked away and you tried your hardest not to wither beneath his furious expression. You opened your mouth to… you didn’t know. Defend yourself? Warn him about his death which you kept getting vague flashes of? Would he believe you if you did tell him?

Or would he deem you insane?

“He’s awfully demanding for a wizard. You’ll find that once he’s made up his mind about something, he’s quite difficult to convince otherwise.”

The man who spoke to you startled you quite substantially. You jumped a little when he appeared beside you, his steps completely quiet. This one was another whose face you remembered – and his name now that you thought about it. Bilbo. Yes, that seemed right.

“He speaks in riddles,” you said.

“You get used to it. Rarely makes any sense at all, if you ask me,” Bilbo huffed. “Thank you for your intervention. Though you won’t hear it from the others – these dwarves have awful manners – I certainly appreciate you stopping the trolls from eating us.”

You gave a breathy laugh. “It’s no problem though I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of it. I nearly ended up getting eaten myself.”

“Well, you didn’t,” he said. “Having a wizard on our side is good for that at least.”

You laughed a little and turned your attention away from the hobbit to see if you could spot where the wizard had disappeared but instead, you caught the eye of one of the younger dwarves you’d spotted earlier.

Blond with hair like a lion’s main and the faintest furrow to his brow, he very obviously looked you over before he looked away with a small smirk on his face – whether of approval or he was humoured by your strange appearance, you had no idea. It sent a flush over your cheeks regardless and you quickly looked away again.

What was going on?

He said something to his dark-haired brother whose attention immediately snapped to you. You turned away purposefully to stare into the forest instead.

This could end poorly if it wasn’t a dream. The smell of the troll’s breath still lingered around you – too real to have been crafted in your mind. You had no idea what this world had in store and not even the faintest clue on how to use the sword on your hip.

“Where are we heading toward?” you asked Bilbo. “Seems rather silly for me to join without even knowing what we’re doing.”

He looked a little miffed then, his lips pressed into a fine line as he answered. “It would seem we’re going to be killing a dragon,” he said. “Or robbing one at any rate.”

“I’m sorry? Killing a what?”

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

#the hobbit #kili x reader x fili #kili x reader #fili x reader

42 notes · View notes

haven-0325 · 2 years ago

Text

Evening imagine - Bangchan x Gn reader (18+)

A difficult dinner with his parents has left you upset, but Chan never fails to say just the right things to make you forget all about it.

'How are you feeling?', Chan asked sweetly, making the bed dip as he sat down next to you. You looked up at him, eyes previously glued to your hands that were fidgetting restlessly.

Chan's eyes were sparkly, almost as if he had some tears leftover in his eyes from crying, but he never did. Your eyebrows crunched together, your heart aching to choose between a lie or the truth. But just a few more seconds of your eyes in his and you knew what to say.

'I don't know Chris, today was...', you looked down and back up to his gentle expression, making you feel more at ease that he wouldn't judge whatever you were going to say. 'Today was a lot', you spoke quietly as a tear rolled down your cheek.

Chan didn't waste much time to lift his hand from the bed to wipe the tear away. His simple but warm touch making you feel heard and loved.

'I know baby', Chan responded as he guided your hand in his, drawing circles over the top of it. You watched your hand in his, no longer looking up at him.

"You know it doesn't matter what they think though right? It wouldn't change anything between us', Chan tried to reassure you. You held his hand tighter, breathing out a few more tears and stopping them eventually.

'You're right, I just...I just really want them to like me', you replied. With every sentence you two shared your bodies couldn't help but move in closer to each other in a need for more comfort.

'Even if it's just a part of how much you like me, you know', you continued. 'Hey...', Chan whispered, two of his warm fingers wrapping around your chin to guide you back to look at him. This time his eyes really seemed teary, not just full of their usual spark, however his smile slowly grew.

'I don't just like you', Chan whispered almost so close that a kiss too soon could have prevented all of this from coming out. You couldn't help but lean in even though you know more was coming, placing a soft kiss of encouragement on his lips.

Even with a small kiss both of you were out of breath, eyes glued together. Chan soon pulled you even closer by the small of your back, his hand eagerly rubbing your thigh higher and higher the longer you two were kissing. Before you could even register this moment in your head you moved on top of him, continuing to kiss him eagerly.

'You didn't even let me finish my sentence', Chan teased as he moved his kisses down your neck instead, his hands resting gently on your waist. His big lips made it feel even better, always wrapping so easily around the skin to leave his mark too. No matter what his parents thought of you, Chan never cared enough to stop showing the world that you were his.

The longer he kissed your neck the stronger the pulsing between your legs became, the more you could feel him right below you too. You moved your hands over his back, touching him all the way up to back of his neck where goosebumps had formed from your touch.

He hummed against you sweetly as your fingers disappeared into his hair, lacing your fingers into the strands to guide him downwards towards your chest.

'Just show me instead'

355 notes · View notes

dreamyelectronicmusic · 1 year ago

Note

Aaah I missed you were asking for drabbles! Honestly I think you would do an amazing job on all of them but I was thinking value me? Or quiet me or tell me or unbind me? Hahaha ok so I couldn’t choose

have a great day!

Thank you so much! I went with your first choice and picked "value me" so I could write a scene from a wip that's unlikely to see the light of day in full. For context, Wille and Simon have been broken up for five years, then some things happen and when they see each other again, it takes them approximately 0.5 seconds to fall into bed together.

I hope you have a great day too!

------------------------

Wille brushed a sweaty curl from Simon’s forehead, letting his fingers run along his hairline and down his jaw. Simon’s eyelashes fluttered at the touch as they lay facing each other, their breathing slowly getting back to normal. He returned Wille’s gaze, seemingly equally unwilling to look away, searching Wille’s face for evidence of the years gone by. He was so beautiful. For what felt like the millionth time today, Wille wondered if Simon had become even more beautiful in time they’d been apart. He wanted to remember him like this, flushed and glowing from the pleasure they’d shared and looking at Wille like he was the only real thing in the world.

All too soon, though, his face grew sombre as Wille had known it would, and he flopped on his back to stare at the ceiling, Wille’s hand sliding off his face and falling empty on the pillow.

“What are we doing here, Wille?” he asked.

Wille hadn’t expected today to go the way it had, hadn’t imagined he’d ever end up sharing a bed with Simon again, but he knew the answer to the question.

“That’s up to you,” he said softly. “I’ll respect your decision.”

Simon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head minutely. “What does that mean?”

Wille briefly considered mirroring Simon’s position and lying on his back, wondering if it would be easier to talk about this like that. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. He wanted to keep looking, for as long as he could.

“I would very much like to have you in my life again, Simon,” he said, grateful to find his voice didn’t shake. “In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with. As friends or acquaintances or…” His mouth refused to form the words casual hookup, knowing too well nothing involving Simon could ever be casual for him. “... or whatever you want. But I don’t want to cause you any more pain or complicate your life. I’ll understand if you just want me to go and leave you alone again.”

Simon was quiet for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He ran his hand over his face, sighed. “I think I ruined our chances of being friends when I jumped your bones the moment you walked in,” he said with a strained little chuckle. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking.”

“You promised you wouldn’t regret it,” Wille blurted. It wasn’t strictly speaking true. What Simon had said, when Wille had stilled his hand on his belt buckle and asked him not to do anything he’d end up regretting, fully aware he couldn’t ever say no to Simon, was I have never regretted a single thing that happened between us.

That was the only thing that mattered to Wille. He would do anything, but he didn’t want to be Simon’s bad decision.

Simon turned his head to look at him, then turned his whole body, scooting closer. “I don’t,” he murmured. He lifted a hand and stroked the side of Wille’s face the way Wille had touched him earlier, so exquisitely tender Wille felt like his heart was going to shatter. He was powerless against the urge to lean his cheek into the touch. “I don’t. But I’m – I don’t know if I can –” Simon sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

Wille smiled softly. His kind, caring Simon. (Well, not his. But his anyway. Always his.) “Please don’t worry about that,” he said. “I promise I’m not getting my hopes up. I meant what I said. Whatever you want is fine. Anything or nothing. I’ll always be grateful that I got to spend a little more time with you, but you have to do what’s right for you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “All I want is for you to be happy, and I know that wasn’t so easy with me around.” It was a hard thing to say but it was true, and not much about their circumstances had changed in any meaningful way.

Simon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a droplet of moisture clinging to his lashes. “What about you?” he asked, sounding slightly choked. “Do you get to be happy?”

Simon’s hand was still cupping Wille’s cheek, thumb stroking gently. Wille covered his hand with his, pressing it closer while he still could.

“I get to have known you and loved you. That’s pretty much the same thing.”

#sorry it's sad again #young royals #wilmon #yr ficlet #prompt fill

79 notes · View notes

thesensteawitch · 1 year ago

Text

What Blessings Are Coming For You In 2024?

🤍🙏🏼🤍🙏🏼🤍🙏🏼🤍🙏🏼

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls!🩵

I am back with another collective reading. Take a deep breath and choose your pile intuitively!🤍

To book a personal reading checkout the links below:

-Booking Form

-My Rate Card

Check My REVIEWS Too!

Pile 1

Tarot Cards- Ace of Cups, 8 of Swords, 4 of Swords, Seven of Wands, The Tower

~You will be blessed with a solution during tough times.

~You'll be given enough time to relax and reflect. Know that you'll feel that time is running out but that'll all be in your head.

~ Anything that doesn't work out in your favor will be a blessing in disguise.

~ Your new self will be taking birth.

~ Don't sleep on the calling of your heart.

~There's a childhood dream of yours that destiny will be pushing you to go after. You'll be unsure as it will be a new territory for you. Your old life has to die for the new life to begin.

~Close your eyes and sit in a meditating position to get clear guidance. Your dreams will give you some clues. Track them.

~I also see someone new coming into your life (romantic or work). This will be an emotionally fulfilling connection.

~You will be called to follow an artistic pursuit. The choice to paint the picture of your life will be in your hands.

~Your thoughts will be very powerful this year. Whatever you think will manifest. So don't fall into negative thinking patterns.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards- The Sun, 9 of Swords, 10 of Cups, King of Wands, The Hierophant

~After weeks/months of anxiety a new life will emerge. Your mental health will improve.

~A new chapter of your life will be beginning. You'll feel anew.

~The answers you have been desperately looking for will be coming to you. The answers will be divinely guided.

~As you've grown so much you'll be helping others based on your experience of life. You'll have some great insights to share with the world.

~People will be interested in knowing what you've got to say.

~For some of you I even see popularity on social media.

~Know that the difficult phase is over. You'll feel abundant in every way possible. Especially emotionally! You'll be surrounded by your kind of people.

~Expect new and deep connections on your journey ahead. You'll be overjoyed to have such amazing and understanding people in your life!

~The fulfillment you've been seeking in several areas of your life is coming! I also see travel to your desired place.

~Initially this year your income might be equal to your expenditure. But soon you'll be entering the abundant phase as you playfully put efforts into your work. The more you enjoy the process the more you'll gain.

~2024 is your year!

Pile 3

Tarot Cards- Knight of Swords, 7 of Wands, 5 of Cups, 9 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups

~Your angels will try to communicate with you with angel numbers such as 777, 789, etc.

~An emotional breakthrough will bring some positive change in your life.

~Peace will again be restored.

~You are recommended to spend time alone and get comfortable in your own company.

~Financially you'll be doing great but you'll see the results of your hard work near September.

~Try not to find your escape in connecting with people from the past. It will only bring more confusion and heartbreak.

~Stay happy with a few relations that you have got. They are the true blessings in your life. Because if those who left would've been a blessing too then they wouldn't have left in the first place. They were simply a lesson. Don't cry over spilled water. Look what you've got.

~You will be spiritually awakened this year. You'll be called to practice gratitude. The more you're grateful for the more you get.

~You will receive great communication in work-related areas.

~To have more fulfilling connections start valuing yourself first. Don't try to find your worth through other people.

~This year is here to transform you and make you comfortable in your skin. It will show you that you're worthy of love and you don't need to prove that to anyone at all.

~Birds and cats can be another sign that your guides are near and are protecting you from any challenges coming up in your life.

#2024 tarot #2024 predictions #pick a pile reading #pick a pile tarot #pick a picture #tarot reader #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotblr #free readings #tarot readings #tarotcommunity #pick a pile #free tarot reading #message for the collective #tarot #tarot witch

155 notes · View notes

missedmilemarkers · 7 months ago

Note

Hi again!! Figured that since you were technically open to any question, I want to hear your thoughts or views on this. I'm not sure if I could message you (because I'm very awkward and I can't exactly hold a conversation based on small topics) But, how do you feel about choosing something practically over passion? This question has always plagued me ever since it was brought up during class, and it provoked to me how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" them more than pursuing their passion.

Was choosing tech for you a more practical choice or were you passionate about it? I don't want to sound rude over this question, but it only occurred to me when you mentioned that you were working in a field that is quite more on the technical side. Do you see it as something similar to an art form as you develop products that could help improve lives tremendously? Or is it just a job that you expect to pay good?

(P.S Sharing these photos I took some time ago, I believe it was last year and it was submitted for a class. Hope you enjoy them as well! Not as much sun as the last one though)

First off. Before going into any of the content of this post. THAT GIANT SNAIL IS SOO COOL! I just recently found out that they exist and was just amazed by the size of them. GREAT PICTURE!!!

Alright lets unpack the content of this ask.

TLDR:

You got this I believe in you. Stand tall and proud and go for whatever your heart and head want. If they disagree pick one and evaluate later. Even if your heart and head dont know that is OK as the story of your life unfolds the path will become clear. If you are honest you can always move with confidence and never lose a moment of sleep.

I am choosing to dive deep into this again for a few different reasons. The reason I am doing this you are at a moment in time which you perceive to be important (final exams, deciding about life etc etc etc). The unfortunate thing is this moment is no more important then any other you will experience. All it is would nothing more then a "MileMarker" which you will use for evaluation later in life. That does not mean its not important. All that means is every decision you made every action you took got you to the moment you are in RIGHT NOW. So dont worry no matter your choice you will always make the right decision. Even if its wrong you will always gain insight and that insight will always lead to success if passion is applied.

how do you feel about choosing something practically over passion?

I am not sure if there is exactly a correct answer for this one. If there is I think the best one would be do whatever makes you happy, and the only way to find out what makes you happy is to try. One thing I have learned is sometimes money or love is not enough. One can have all the money in the world and be miserable. Same goes for love. One could be loved by the world and be empty inside. That answer is kind of B.S. for someone that is seeking input. With that being said I will go over some of my experiences. My very first job was at an auto mechanic shop. I used to love working on cars. I would spend my weekends doing it. I would hang out with my friends and all have a great time. So i figured it would be a good choice to work as a mechanic. So I went and got that job. I worked it for about 5 years. At the end of it I never wanted to work on cars again. To this day I will not even change my own oil because I hate it so much. Am I upset it turned out that way? Not at all. Life is all about the experience nothing more nothing less. That lesson for me was finding out what I did not like in life and was just as important in my journey as knowing what I liked. At the end of my mechanic experience I figured I should just go be a garbage man. I would get the same blue jump suit but instead of the trash coming to me I would go to the trash. Really all we can do is to try. There is no wrong answer. Even if one makes a choice and find out its wrong for you that is OK.

Was choosing tech for you a more practical choice or were you passionate about it? "Neither and both"

The reason I brought up the above being a mechanic. If i did not want the same thing to happen on my outlook of computers as it did for mechanics. It was because of this I did not get into tech. I loved it so much I did not want to risk ever hating it. So that is passion but born of practicality based on what is important to me and only me. This is was dictated by my previous experiences and not wanting to have any regret in life. More on this: I have always been interested in computers and tech. I grew up in a very poor household. We only ever had exactly what we needed and nothing more. My childhood was amazing. Yea at the time I wanted more but after I got older and realized how the world was I landed on the outlook of "I could not have asked for more and it was amazing even though it was viewed bad at the time". One of my best friends growing up his family was very rich. It was through him that I was able to get access to technology. From that my obsession was born. I loved tech so much I avoided it professionally because i did not want the same thing to happen as did with mechanics. Then one day just purely by happenstance a neighbor offered me a job. I decided at that moment you know what try it. Why not, I now knew the signs of when i might start to hate it. so why not. We can never have any form of regret. So at that first job I literally ran around a call center unplugging and plugging back in headsets. Was this something that made a difference in this world. No, was it something that I found great internal satisfaction. No. At this point did it provide me financial security. NO IT SURE DID NOT! It was until many years went by to get a chance to shine. When that moment came I was ready and I crushed it. From that moment it was all different. I gained both functional and passion in my career with huge paychecks. But you know what, none of that matters now. The only thing it provides is a story for others of my personal experience. None of it means anything right now and clearly I cannot seem to pay the bills. That is ok. I would not change my situation, the outcomes, my choices or or any aspect of how i got to this moment right now. As long as I continue to try, learn and adapt I will find my way. However none of that will happen if I never take steps on my own and try with every fiber of my being each day.

how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" them more than pursuing their passion.

Based on that statement I feel how you are looking at this in the wrong context. That statement is taken from the third person. You need to have it worded something more like this. how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" me more than pursuing my passion. The context of that change is huge. Lets take a moment and reflect on that. I bring special attention to this because 1. We can never know what is best for any other person. Its hard enough knowing what is best for ourselves. Its ok to use other peoples stories and experiences as guidance in our own actions and decisions. It should never be our place to dictate what is best for another. We can never know that persons experiences, thoughts, emotions or context. We can offer guidance and feel happy we had an opportunity to share. 2. This now forces an action from the third person to a first person. This logic dictates something must happen. Even non action is an action and should be evaluated later and potentially adjusted. Sometimes non action is the best action. Often times its not though. Its all about that re-evaluation. 3. Experience is the most important thing in life. If you are struck in any form of "I wish I could...", "I always wanted to...", "Why cant i just...", "I don't know what ...". The only way to fix that is to do anything different. If you are frozen in a conversation start with one single word "Hello". If you are struck with any form of indecision just make one that is easier and more open ended. Instead of "I will make a final decision by", change it to "I try to evaluate my choices on", then take some time do a proper evaluation. Ok i wanted to try but i was unable to do that. Its ok that happened what can I do differently to "try anything else" and step with confidence in whatever choice you make. Even if its wrong there is never any regret because you made the best decision for you at the moment. Changing the view from "Observer" to "Doer" is what this context change provides. When an honest action is taken you can always do it with confidence no matter what it is. to Your final question. Money is a sign of a job well done. If you enjoy what you do you never work a day in your life.

In final thoughts: Tomorrow will never come and yesterday is just a story that only you care about. People might want specific things for you but none of that matters. Anyone who truly cares will want your happiness above all else. If that person cant understand that then they are probably not the best person to spend your time with. If you are living in the past you are depressed. If you are living in the future you are anxious. Its all about right now nothing more nothing less. Just smile, be confident and just do what is best for you and no one else. No decisions are final, you are free to change your mind at any time. Its ok not to know. We can never know the story of life through any other way then just living it how we choose. If future you is worried (anxious). Then present you should do something to set that person which don't know but implicitly care about up for whatever that success is defined as such by you. If past you is upset (depressed) about something then future you (currently present) can do something about it and make a change. Even if that change is wrong you can tell past you (depressed) that you tried and ask that person for advise and make adjustments accordingly. As long as you try you will always get exactly what you need. Survival is a very strange thing like that. It always is right up until it is not. The moments of survival in most cases outnumber the moments of conclusion. So dont ever worry the statistics are on your side.

Time is the only thing we never get back. I choose to spend my time happy. My personal definition of happiness has changed many times throughout life (story). Money will come for me as a result of that. So far it has worked out for me. To date I have survived (lived) far more moments then i have concluded (died). The same thing can be said about anyone reading this.

Conclusion: Each time i chose based on passion, One time I lost a passion. The other time I did not. Each time I was able to survive. Each time i gained valuable experience and understanding of who I was. I always succeed because I will always try hard and hopefully learn from my mistakes just enough to be good. I want to be happy in life and If at any moment I am not that is my measuring stick to make some kind of change.

Much like the seasons change is forced.

But we will always find the beauty of tomorrow. Even though we might have suffered a broken arm.

#photography #nature #snow #original content #original writers #writers on tumblr #thoughts #questions #responses #missedmilemarkers #eyeofcathulu

29 notes · View notes