fortress-of-iserlohn - Tumblr blog

fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Text

brothel!au -reuenthal/yang: ~1200w

His guest is waiting for him as usual in the private tea room.

Oskar knocks briefly before he pushes open the door and enters, keeping his movements slow and smooth.

“Oskar.”

His guest stands, clambering onto his feet a little inelegantly, and walks around the table.

Oskar smiles, his first genuine expression of the night, and holds out his arms which is filled in the next moment as the other man stumbles into his embrace, fingers coming up to clutch at the expensive gauzy silk of his shirt.

“It’s good to see you again,” Oskar murmurs, carding his fingers through the fine dark hair of the man in his arms, “Yang.”

Yang isn’t your run of the mill customer, this Oskar knows for a fact even if he doesn’t know anything else about him - his age, what he does, his full name are all mysteries that Oskar is not quite willing to solve.

The brothel that Oskar serves at is one of the most exclusive on this side of the galaxy, admitting patrons solely by recommendations and even then, only with bookings made up to a year prior. Despite this, Yang seemingly comes and goes as he pleases.

Oskar himself is one of the few in such high demand that he has his pick of customers and is allowed to refuse whoever he wants. His usual clientele are women, all of varying ages from blushing sweet virgins barely into adulthood to older matrons who enjoy his pretty face and his skill both in and out of bed.

He likes women, their soft curves, and sweet scent, and none of his customers are too hard to please.

Yang though is an exception from start to finish - Oskar’s only male customer and secretly, the one that Oskar likes best out of all of them.

Yang with his wide dark eyes and the shy way he ducks his chin when he smiles. He’s always so cautious when he touches Oskar, as if he were made out of glass. Oskar finds the way that Yang goes bright red whenever he tries a new trick quite endearing, and he especially likes the way that Yang says his name when they’re entangled in dark silk sheets, sweat-slicked bodies moving against one another.

The same Yang who, one night just a few months into their acquaintance, sinks to his knees next to Oskar and asks him if he wants to leave.

“If you had a choice, would you leave here with me?” Yang asks, expression completely serious.

Oskar laughs, soft, and smooths a falling lock of hair away from Yang’s eyes, tucking it behind an ear. “The matrons would never let me leave,” he tells Yang. He’s thought of it many times, of buying his own freedom eventually, of leaving here and never coming back. Of being free.

Yang’s fingers tighten briefly against his own. “If it’s about the money -” he starts.

“It’s not always about the money.” Oskar strokes a hand across Yang’s cheek and leans in to kiss him gently before he pushes him away and stands, turning his back. “Go home, Yang. Go back to where you truly belong.”

He might know nothing about Yang, but the one thing that Oskar does know is that Yang doesn’t belong here in this pretty gilded cage, shackled down for eternity.

Months pass and Yang doesn’t return.

“Lost your golden goose’s favour finally?” one of the matrons asks him one night, in the parlor where she’s supervising some of the new girls.

It’s almost unheard of for Oskar to appear down here, mingling with their customers, but he’s been lonely lately without Yang and in a fit of desperation, he had made his way down the winding staircase, just to see if he can get a glimpse of dark hair and dark eyes in the crowd.

Oskar shrugs, gaze outwardly cool and disinterested as he’s surrounded by men and women clamoring for his attention, feeling isolated and alone.

Yang isn’t here. Yang isn’t coming back.

And it’s only now that Oskar realises that maybe, his feelings towards Yang weren’t as shallow as he had thought.

Life goes on for Oskar. He’s more or less stopped entertaining clients overnight and in bed for the most part, relying on his other skills to earn his keep.

Another one of the matrons tuts at him when she finds out. “Your top spot might be taken from right under you if you don’t wisen up,” she says.

Oskar shrugs one elegant shoulder at her, uncaringly. Since Yang had left, sex had become nothing but another pointless, boring task, something he derives no pleasure out of beyond going through the empty motions.

He craves Yang’s uncertain touch, his warm kisses and the feel of his slick heat wrapped around Oskar. Having Yang in his bed had never been a chore.

Some nights, Oskar touches himself, drunk on red wine and the memory of Yang, in his room, in his bed, in his heart.

He always comes with a shuddering gasp, spilling across his hand, with Yang’s name on his lips.

The season is just on the cusp of turning into spring, the snow finally melting away and the skies warming enough for some of the braver girls to start venturing outside onto the balcony to show their faces and interest potential clients.

Oskar’s packing his fur-trimmed cloaks away and shaking out a few of his longer woolen jackets when his assistant bursts into his room one afternoon.

“Did you hear,” she says, eyes wide, “one of the senior ministers of the Alliance resigned.”

Oskar glances at her, eyebrows raised. “And I should care because?”

She shakes her head and turns on the video projector in his room, bringing up a news broadcast. The scrolling headline below is written in bold for emphasis.

Breaking News: High Minister Yang Wenli tenders resignation, effective immediately

The thick jacket slips out of Oskar’s fingers when Yang, his sweet, beautiful Yang, appears on the screen, dressed in an expensive sober suit, hair slicked back from his face as he walks up to a podium.

It’s a recap of some press conference and most of it sounds like nothing but white noise to Oskar. It’s not until the end, when one of the reporters asks Yang about the reason for his sudden resignation, that Oskar finally is able to process spoken words again.

The Yang on the broadcast pauses and he hesitates, the first instance of uncertainty he’s shown the entire time, and it’s a gesture so similar to the Yang that Oskar knows that his heart aches.

“In recent months,” Yang says slowly, gaze steady as he sweeps the room, “I’ve come to the realisation that perhaps, it’s time for a change, for both myself personally and for the cabinet.”

He walks off after that and Oskar is left staring mutely at the space where he had been.

The sakura blossoms are in full bloom when Oskar sees Yang once more.

It’s like their first meeting all over again, staring at each other from across the narrow path, pink petals from the cherry blossom trees buffeted by the wind and swirling around their feet.

Oskar’s heart squeezes and he reminds himself to breathe as he takes in the sight of Yang standing there, nothing like the polished image he had given the impression of on the news. This Yang is in a soft, worn sweater and a pair of rumpled pants, hair a mess from the wind, blowing stray strands across his forehead and cheeks.

Yang smiles and this time, he’s the one who reaches out his hand.

“Oskar,” he says, eyes soft, expression earnest and sweet. “Did you want to leave here with me?”

And this time, there’s nothing that can stop Oskar from taking that hand and pulling Yang into his arms.

“Yes,” he says and tilts Yang’s chin up for a slow, gentle kiss, a promise for the future.

#reuyang #linc ficlets #not my favourite thing #but it needed to get written #reu doesn't know yang's identity until the end because he avoids news and details of the outside world as much as possible #there was a scene where i wanted them to meet originally during the cherry blossoms #but it didn't want to write itself so #so many gaping plot holes #ugh #but i did it #lmao

4 notes · View notes

fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Photo

ユリカリ

#logh #legend of galactic heroes #HOW CUTE

65 notes · View notes

fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Text

you belong with me; Reuenthal/Yang, Part 1 of 2

title: you belong with me

pairing: Reuenthal/Yang

backstory: High School AU (they’re in their final year, so they’re both 18)

summary: childhood friends talk on a moonlit night.

Rating and warnings: PG, no warnings

wordcount: 763

author’s notes: This one is for Catraverse! WELCOME TO LOGH HELL, may you have a long and happy (as well as one may expect given the fandom) stay here. A HUGE THANK YOU to Catraverse, bioticgrasp and Omi, who came up with an amazing high school AU premise that I simply HAD to write and invent a whole backstory for. This was a beautiful world to inhabit and I’m so excited to write about the things we DID talk about next!

THINGS EVERYONE SHOULD READ:

1. Catraverse‘s Oskar von Reuenthal/Wolfgang Mittermeyer/Eva Mittermeyer modern day Cafe Reuenthal AU where they’re all raising Felix together.

2. Linc’s Reuyang college AU. You will probably already know I’m madly in love with just about everything Linc writes, & this is one of my favourite AUs of hers.

Keep reading

#reuyang #/SCREAMS LOUDLY INTO THE COLLAR OF MY HOODIE AT 1AM IN THE MORNING #THIS IS EVERYTHING THAT I WANTED #EVERYTHING #i have been so blessed to be able to read this #also guys #part 1 out of 2 #I AM DYING #SO EXCITED #TWO PARTS #CHRISSSSSSSSSSS #CHRIS YOU ARE A GIFT #A GIFT #/cries 5eva #FIC REC BABY

6 notes · View notes

fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Photo

just wanted to show off my tiny lil otp thanks heaps to ao for gifting me with these adorable cuties

#logh #oskar von reuenthal #yang wenli #reuyang #<3 #my faves #I also have a tiny lil mitter #but my biases #😂

9 notes · View notes

fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Text

snippets from a crime!au that’s all @beingevil ’s fault like usual huehue

crime!au - reuenthal/yang & schonkopf/caselnes: ~ 2100w

The first time Yang returns to Fleet headquarters after spending the entire night out, he tries to sneak back without anyone noticing.

Unfortunately for him, half of his senior officers are lying in wait down the corridor leading towards his personal quarters, black suits blending seamlessly into the unlit darkness.

Caselnes is the one who snags him by the arm, pulling him into one of the meeting rooms adjacent, allowed this liberty by the sheer fact that he’s been the one at Yang’s side the longest, from the very start, guiding him and helping mold him into the person he is today.

When the lights switch on and everyone gets their first good look at Yang, there’s a moment of silence. Yang goes to straighten his crooked collar almost self-consciously but is stopped by Schonkopf who steps into his personal space, staring down at him with grey eyes narrowed dangerously.

Caselnes is the one to break the stilted atmosphere, sighing loudly. “When I said it might be a good idea to see if we could get him to defect to us, I didn’t mean go seduce him, Yang.”

Yang shrugs one shoulder and the movement parts the barely buttoned collar once again, revealing the expanse of previously pale, unblemished skin to the eyes of everyone in the room.

“I’m going to kill him,” Schonkopf growls, words forced out between clenched teeth, gaze skimming down Yang’s very disheveled clothing and the blossoming bruises against the soft skin of his neck. There’s also a small twist of pain across his face that Yang can’t quite hide when he shifts on his feet.

Yang glances up though when he hears Schonkopf’s words and he lifts his chin, dark eyes intent. “You’re not to touch him,” he says, words soft but backed with a layer of pure steel. His eyes sweep over the rest of his men present, Frederica included, pinning them each with a slow, careful look. “None of you are. Oskar von Reuenthal is mine.”

“He’s dangerous,” Schonkopf says to Caselnes later, several months after Yang first makes contact with Reuenthal.

Caselnes tilts his head back slightly from where he’s making notes, a titanium tipped fountain pen pausing briefly in its smooth flow over the thick paper.

“There are no regrets in our line of work, Schonkopf,” he rebukes mildly, tone deliberately disinterested. He glances down at his slowly drying ink. “Besides, it’s good to see Yang so enthralled by something, even if it is just a pretty face.”

Schonkopf snarls lightly and spins Caselnes’ chair around, uncaring of how the ink splatters across the desk as the pen goes flying out of Caselnes’ hand at the momentum.

Caselnes’ blue eyes are flashing, a rare show of temper that makes Schonkopf wet his lips in anticipation, heat already curling low in his gut. He smirks, the expression curving across the edges of his mouth, showing the briefest hint of teeth.

He’s not sure who moves first, but the next thing he knows their lips are pressed together, the kiss nothing but violence, Caselnes’ teeth sinking into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The tang of copper mixes with the cool, minty taste of him as Schonkopf licks into his mouth.

Afterward, tangled together on top of Caselnes’ low sofa, the leather sticking a little uncomfortably to their bare skin, Schonkopf withdraws a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pocket and lights one, ignoring Caselnes’ frown. He inhales deeply before passing it over, their fingers brushing.

“I can take care of Reuenthal,” he murmurs, lips skimming across Caselnes’ jaw, pulling the hand with the cigarette away before he kisses him slow, tasting nothing but ash and smoke.

Caselnes lets him have his way for a few seconds before he shoves him back, expression flat and disinterested again. It makes Schonkopf want to press him back down against the leather sofa and fuck him until he begged.

“Leave it,” Caselnes says, buttoning his shirt with quick, efficient movements and tucking it into his slightly wrinkled trousers as he turns his back on Schonkopf. He picks up his tie from the floor and starts knotting it easily, without a single glance down. “You heard Yang. You can’t make any moves against him or else.”

Schonkopf makes a small, considering noise but doesn’t push it any further.

Caselnes looks back at him, a flicker of a glance that’s gone almost as soon as Schonkopf registers it. “Are you done interrupting me for today?” he asks, sliding back into his seat, neat as a pin again. “If so, you can see yourself out.”

“Ah, you’re so cold, Alex,” Schonkopf says, drawing out the name teasingly as he gets dressed haphazardly, leaving his shirt untucked and slinging his jacket across his shoulder instead as he saunters towards the door. He wanted to see if Caselnes would be inclined to order him to dress properly or let him wander out in his current state where everyone would be able to tell what he had been doing just before.

Caselnes doesn’t even seem to register his presence anymore, engrossed in whatever file he was reading and making notes on. Schonkopf sighs softly but does end up leaving, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Apparently, whatever he and Caselnes shared, it was still a work in progress.

There’s something about Yang that doesn’t add up.

Reuenthal knows this but he’s so captivated by those dark eyes that can reflect the galaxy and the sigh of his name that falls ever so sweetly when he kisses him just the right way that he doesn’t want to look too closely.

“It’s a trap,” Mittermeyer tells him, uneasy and jittery after the first time he sees Yang walk out of Reuenthal’s room, dressed in nothing more than a barely buttoned shirt that’s definitely not his, the hem skimming his thighs as he pads past on bare feet towards the kitchen, passing by with a soft ‘hello’.

Reuenthal himself is too busy staring after Yang, drunk on the memory of how smooth his skin felt beneath him and the way his eyes widened, cheeks flushing with colour when Reuenthal had moved inside him, slow and gentle.

Mittermeyer’s hand closes tight around his arm. “Reuenthal, listen to me. You need to get yourself out before you find yourself with a bullet through your heart.”

Reuenthal shakes Mittermeyer off and finds that he doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing at all, to die by Yang’s hand. “For him,” he murmurs, lips tilting in a soft quirk of an expression that even Mittermeyer has never seen. “I’d willingly lay down my life.”

It’s not until he’s bleeding out, a bullet through his shoulder, another through his side, breathing ragged as he kneels on the floor, red splattering the white tiles around him, that he finally lets himself see.

Yang’s hold on the gun is easy, familiar even though he has to brace the semi-automatic against the palm of his left hand to keep it steady. His shots hit true, every single one and soon, it’s just the sound of Reuenthal’s rattling breaths and the steady inhales and exhales from Yang that suddenly seem so loud in the empty space.

“Oskar.” Yang lowers the weapon, not forgetting to flick on the safety before he slides it into his pocket. He drops to the floor next to Reuenthal, the knees of his neatly pressed grey slacks immediately soaked with blood. His touch is warm against Reuenthal’s cold, clammy skin.

“Yang,” Reuenthal murmurs, fingers grasping weakly at Yang’s own.

“I’m sorry,” Yang says and he leans in, pressing his forehead against Reuenthal’s own. “I didn’t mean to hide who I am. I just wanted someone to see me as me and not -”

Reuenthal lets his forehead fall against Yang’s shoulder. “The Admiral. The Fleet’s Admiral.” He’s known this, or he should’ve known this the first time he saw the stylised rose and crossed swords inked on Yang’s shoulder in blood red and black but he hadn’t wanted to believe, hadn’t wanted to know.

Yang’s laugh sounds more like a sob but Reuenthal’s eyes are closed and he’s too tired to do more than sit here and listen. It’s better this way, Reuenthal thinks, because even if this is all nothing more than an act, at least he can die believing that Yang, beautiful, mysterious Yang, actually cared for him.

“I’m sorry that this is how it had to end,” Yang says and his voice is growing more and more distant, or is everything just fading? Reuenthal can’t tell anymore.

“It’s alright,” Reuenthal tells him, or he thinks he does, the words are either spoken out loud or just in his mind, one or the other, but he thinks that Yang understands. “I’ll lay down my life for you without question,” he says as everything spirals into darkness, “Because I lo -”

Yang sweeps into Fleet headquarters one day, months afterward.

Caselnes glances up and pulls a wry sort of expression. “Well, I guess seducing him did work out in the end.”

Reuenthal raises his eyebrows from where he’s half a step behind Yang before he smirks, a shallow curve of an expression that manages to look both absolutely smug and extremely pleased.

Frederica scans him from head to toe, where he stands hands tucked into his pockets in a tight-fitting suit that blended in with the rest of the Fleet, and tilts her head. “Three guns, including the .38 in an ankle holster,” she says, pointing at his right arm, his waist, wrists, and ankles. “Four knives and a garrote that doubles as a bracelet.”

Reuenthal’s smile goes a little more genuine. “Not bad,” he says, unbuttoning his jacket to flash the dual shoulder holsters briefly, the leather straps buckled tightly around his broad shoulders and chest. “You missed the SIG with the silencer on the left and the retractable tonfa in my jacket pocket, but the rest are right on.”

Caselnes seems to notice the way that Yang’s eyes go dark where they’re fixed on Reuenthal and he snaps his fingers in front of his eyes. “Hey, mind out of the gutter.”

Reuenthal turns and slants a look at Yang who’s pouting at being caught out, but otherwise utterly unrepentant. “We could always go back to your room,” he murmurs, loud enough that everyone in the vicinity can hear. It’s accompanied by a hand sliding around Yang’s waist and then lower.

“Alright, enough.” Caselnes steps between them even as Schonkopf pushes Reuenthal to one side.

“I don’t like you,” Schonkopf tells him matter of fact.

Reuenthal brushes off his hand and steps out of reach. “The feeling’s mutual, I would think.”

Schonkopf’s smile is nothing but teeth as he leans in, this time Reuenthal doesn’t give an inch, standing his ground with his chin raised. They’re about the same height, but Schonkopf is definitely broader in the shoulder and he’s had a lot of practice just looming threateningly.

“You hurt him or if he even gets a papercut, you’re dead,” he says, tone almost cheerful. “I’ll personally tear you from limb to limb.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Reuenthal tells him, sliding easily into Yang’s personal space and tilting his head back with a hand lightly underneath his chin. He kisses Yang then and there, a show of ownership right in the middle of the meeting room, making sure to go slow, using every single trick at his disposal until Yang’s flushed prettily, lips swollen and eyes slightly unfocused, breathing hard and clinging to Reuenthal.

Caselnes sighs. “Seriously? Can you not do that in public?”

Reuenthal quirks an eyebrow and sweeps Yang up into his arms and striding towards the door. “If you’re giving permission then -”

“Wait -” Caselnes raises a hand but it’s too late, Reuenthal already halfway down the hallway, Yang still curled against his chest easily.

Schonkopf comes to stand next to him, shoulders brushing lightly even as the rest of the Fleet filter out of his office, going back to their daily business.

“He’s still dangerous,” Schonkopf says when it’s just the two of them left.

Caselnes shrugs, casual, and leans back into his chair. “He’s Yang’s problem now. Yang has him wrapped around his little finger - Reuenthal will do anything he wants just to please him.”

Schonkopf leans down, bracing one hand on the back of Caselnes’ chair and the other on his table. His eyes flicker down to Caselnes’ mouth for a brief moment before he looks back up, meeting his gaze.

“I guess,” he says softly. “We’ll be here to take care of things if anything ever goes wrong.”

Caselnes smiles, a slow curve of his lips that he presses against Schonkopf’s. “I guess you’re right.”

snippet where i couldn’t find a way to fit because i ceebs - but lbr just a reason to write topping from the bottom!yang <3 ~ 440w

Reuenthal traces the ink, first with the tips of his fingers and then with his tongue, pressing across the skin.

Yang makes a soft noise beneath him, a half bitten back moan as he arches his back, flexing his shoulder blades and making the image shift beneath Reuenthal’s lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Reuenthal murmurs, hands smoothing down Yang’s sides, making him writhe a little, pushing his hips into the sheets beneath himself.

Yang turns his head and glances back at Reuenthal, dark eyes hazy, long lashes damp with tears. “Please,” he says.

Reuenthal turns him around, pulling him up until he was in a sitting position, the two of them facing each other, kneeling on the bed. Yang’s in nothing but his shirt, pants, and underwear long discarded onto the floor somewhere. Reuenthal is still mostly dressed, only a few buttons of his shirt is undone, and the button and the zip of his trousers are loosened.

“Please what?” Reuenthal asks lightly.

Yang’s dark eyes flash and he slides into Reuenthal’s lap, settling down easily, pressing his ass up against Reuenthal’s hips, grinding down slow and filthy. He watches as Reuenthal’s eyes flare with heat.

“You’re playing with fire,” Reuenthal warns him, hands closing around his hips tight enough to bruise.

Yang slides a hand between them, down past the pesky barriers of material and closes his fingers around Reuenthal, hot and hard and big enough that he licks his lips unconsciously. He pushes those layers of material down as much as he can and shifts his hips until the tip is pressed against his entrance.

Yang sinks down slow and takes Reuenthal in, all of him in one slow, wet slide, a soft noise of pleasure low in his throat once he’s fully seated.

“If you’re not going to please me,” Yang tells him, rising up on his knees and then sinking back down, once, twice. “Then I’ll just have to use you to take my own pleasure.”

#reuyang #linc ficlets #imma stop tagging the main tags lmao #but yes #crime au #where the fleet are yang's small but powerful crime organisation #and the empire is reinhard's #reuenthal is considered one of the cornerstones to reinhard's power #along with mittermeyer and kircheis #caselnes and frederica put their heads together and came up with the idea #to lure reuenthal into betraying reinhard for them #and they think yang would have the best chance #frederica is the one who suggests yang #she actually thinks that the seduction technique would work #caselnes just thought yang would work his magic like he did with schonkopf #by talking him around with his sincerity or whatnot #poor innocent caselnes #either way yang doesn't set out to fall in love with reuenthal #but he does

11 notes · View notes

fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Text

i was gonna take a break from writing, but i wanted to jot this down quick?

i mean i already did rr/fpa!reu, what’s to stop me from doing imperial!yang?

a couple of notes - not heavy on canon, mostly heavy on my otp. please don’t be too offended by the handwaving and general nonsense as i continue to make shit up XD

for @beingevil because i haven’t written you anything for a while (and i’m totally not trying to encourage your reuyang fic. nope. not at all)

canon!au feat imperial!yang - reuenthal/yang: ~ 1500w

First year

“I’m your roommate,” the other boy says. He’s slim and pale and his hand is soft and unblemished when he slides it into Reuenthal’s own for a brief shake, clearly not trained in any sort of weapons handling. “My name is Yang Wenli.”

Reuenthal tilts his head slowly as he drops his hand. He’s heard of him, of course, the young heir to the largest fortune in the empire, but he hadn’t expected him to be so normal and nondescript.

“Oskar von Reuenthal,” he says, returning the introduction.

Yang smiles at him then, a soft curve of his lips, dark eyes bright, and Reuenthal immediately retracts his previous thought of ‘normal’ and ‘nondescript’.

At that moment, with the afternoon sun shining upon him from their room’s window, Yang reminds him of nothing more than a brilliant, untouchable star.

Second year

The back of Reuenthal’s hand comes away smeared with blood. He licks at his lip experimentally and winces when the cut reopens, tasting copper on his tongue.

Yang barrels back into their room just in time to see it and he scowls, dropping his armful of things onto the side of Reuenthal’s bed. He reaches out and grabs Reuenthal’s wrist, pulling it away forcibly from his face. “I told you not to touch it.”

Reuenthal lets him have his way, watching Yang from beneath his lashes as he starts unwrapping bandages and disinfectant wipes from the pile he had to throw down. Yang, so focused on his work on cleaning up Reuenthal in the aftermath of the fight, doesn’t even notice how soft Reuenthal’s eyes are when he watches him.

“You should’ve just let it go,” he murmurs, leaning in close and pressing a cotton bud doused in disinfectant against the corner of Reuenthal’s mouth, wincing in sympathy as Reuenthal hisses. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

It’s Reuenthal’s turn to curl his hand around Yang’s wrist now to get his attention. “No one says that about you and gets away with it,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always have your back, no matter what.”

Yang’s fingers falter for a moment as he ducks his head and there’s a hint of red across his cheeks when he glances back up at Reuenthal. He’s smiling though when he replies, “And I’ll always have yours.”

Third year

Reuenthal is late back to their rooms as always, having slipped out of his latest girlfriend’s place just before midnight.

He raises his sleeve to his nose and decides on a shower immediately, frowning at the floral scent that seems to permeate his clothes and person, stripping down in the bathroom and stepping into the shower.

Yang’s not yet back himself, probably lost in a history book at the library, Reuenthal thinks fondly, and he resolves to go search out his wayward roommate if he’s still not back when Reuenthal’s shower is done.

He has a towel around his waist and is rubbing another through his hair when he opens the bathroom door and runs straight into Yang.

“Oof.” Yang stumbles, off balance and it’s only Reuenthal’s fast reaction speed, snagging him around the waist just in time, that stops him from face planting straight down into the wooden floorboards.

Yang blinks up at him, looking a little confused for a second before he seems to suddenly notice just how naked Reuenthal is, droplets of water dampening Yang’s pale blue shirt where he’s basically pressed up against Reuenthal, hands spread across the bare skin of his chest.

The flush of red that sweeps over his face is endearing and Reuenthal is suddenly struck by the realisation that he wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss him.

So he does.

Fourth year

“What are you planning to do after graduation?” Reuenthal asks him casually.

Yang glances at him briefly, raising his head from his book for one moment, before he goes back to reading. “Not sure,” he says, tapping his pen against the corner of his mouth, slumped over the desk where he’s trying to memorise enough to pass tomorrow’s final exam.

Reuenthal’s sitting on his neatly made bed, notes spread across the top of his blankets in a show of solidarity. He doesn’t really need to revise, already effortlessly the best student in their graduating class, guaranteed top honours even if he does proceed to flunk all of his finals in a row.

Reuenthal stands and wanders over to Yang’s desk, draping himself over the back of his chair, arms sliding around Yang’s shoulders, fingers dipping below the neckline of his loose sweater.

Yang turns his head to look at him with a tiny frown. “Oskar, I need to study.”

Reuenthal strokes up Yang’s neck and tilts his head a little more back, leaning in to kiss him, a slow slide of lips and tongue. “I’ll teach you,” he murmurs, pulling an unresisting Yang with him and tumbling them both into Yang’s sheets.

He pushes the soft material of Yang’s sweater up, lips skimming over the smooth, pale skin, listening to Yang’s rapid breaths and the speedy thrum of his heartbeat.

Yang’s lips part prettily on a sigh when Reuenthal does something particularly clever with his hands or mouth and before long, he’s clinging to Reuenthal, repeating his name with breathless moans.

When Reuenthal brushes a sweat-damp strand of hair away from Yang’s face afterward, as they lie curled around each other in the tiny one person bed, he silently vows to follow Yang for the rest of his life, no matter where he might choose to go.

Now

“Admiral.”

Reuenthal looks up from where he’s examining the real-time live feed of the battle zone, trying to determine the most efficient place to strike. His fleet does not have Mittermeyer’s speed, nor Bittenfeld’s aggression, both of them needed elsewhere, but he thinks he has something that will work.

His men are a more than a little tired from the five-day long siege of the Alliance stronghold but they should have enough time to recover on tank beds while they made haste to their next destination. The war is drawing to an end and Reuenthal was determined to see it through.

Bergengrün salutes briefly when Reuenthal meets his gaze. “The preparations are done.”

Reuenthal nods, an elegant incline of his head and strides towards his command chair. “Transmit the data burst across all channels and standby for launch.”

His adjutant salutes again before taking his leave to carry out Reuenthal’s commands. Reuenthal lets himself close his eyes just for a moment, exhaustion washing over him. He made a promise long ago and there was little short of death that could make him break that promise.

Just a little longer, he thinks.

The jump through hyperspace is smooth and he arrives just in time to reinforce the solitary imperial fleet at Vermillion.

The Hyperion is still untouched, thankfully, and Reuenthal hails it as soon as his fleet secures the immediate perimeter, covering their retreat to a safer zone for a moment of breathing space.

Yang’s face flickers up onto his command console and they both manage to get through the formal greetings, saluting each other solemnly before Reuenthal’s lips quirk upwards at the corners. Everyone in the vicinity on the Tristan’s bridge mirrors Reuenthal, standing straight and saluting sharply at the sight of their Fleet Admiral.

“Reuenthal,” Yang says and just the mere fact that he voices Reuenthal’s name without his full title tells Reuenthal that he’s been sorely missed.

Of course, here in public, aboard the Tristan, Reuenthal’s limited in what he can say or do, even if their relationship is more or less the worst kept secret in the Empire. “Admiral,” he murmurs in reply and falls silent, just to drink in the sight of him for a moment.

Yang’s smile is a little tired, the dark circles beneath his eyes speaking of possibly even less sleep than Reuenthal over the last few months, since they had parted ways on Fezzan.

“What are your thoughts, Admiral?” Yang asks him after a moment, breaking their silence in order to address more pressing issues.

“Müsel is not an easy opponent,” Reuenthal tells him. “The fact that he’s been able to keep you here, forced into a stalemate speaks of his talents.”

Yang nods, the absent movement making his hair fall slightly into his eyes. Reuenthal’s fingers itch with the need to brush it back into place. Soon, he tells himself and closes his hand into a fist at his sides.

“Any suggestions?”

Reuenthal’s eyes brighten at this and his smile tilts into a smirk. Mittermeyer and Bittenfeld should be at Heinessen by now. Reuenthal didn’t think that the combined might of their two fleets would have any trouble subduing a civilian government.

“It’s all under control, Admiral,” Reuenthal says even as the Alliance fleet’s endless volley of fire suddenly ceases. There’s a flashing urgent communication from the Beowulf on his console that Reuenthal transfers to the Hyperion instead.

“Admiral Yang.” Mittermeyer salutes, unsurprised to see that Yang is the one to answer his call. His grey eyes are pleased, and there’s the barest hint of teeth when he smiles wide. “Admiral Bittenfeld and myself have secured Heinessen. The Alliance has officially surrendered.”

Yang blinks, turning back to look at Reuenthal, even as all of their officers start talking amongst themselves in low excited voices, torn between joy and disbelief.

“I promised you didn’t I, Yang,” Reuenthal murmurs to just to him, barely able to be heard over the noise surrounding both their bridges, eyes fond. “I’ll always have your back.”

End

#logh #legend of galactic heroes #oskar von reuenthal #yang wenli #reuyang #linc ficlets #au au au #tbh i just wanted reuyang imperial officer school shenanigans #in this one reinhard runs away with his sister and kircheis to the fpa instead to save her from the kaiser's lecherous grasp #yang's father lived a little longer and they were rich enough that they were given permission to settle on odin by the kaiser #yang has lots of money in this verse #more than he knows what to do with #so he goes to officer school to be 'useful'#and he meets reuenthal #and they fall in love #for my smol classic

7 notes · View notes