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wannab-urs · 6 months

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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 25

Hi Friends!!

It has been... a week. I didn't get a whole lot of reading done. But I did absolutely adore every single thing I read this week. I think, if I can count, I read 12 new fics this week. Also tried out yet another new format: Author summaries (or my quick one if there wasn't one) included with the rec.

As always you can find all of my previous fic recs here. Feel free to tag me in your fics and I'll add them to my TBR (please understand that my TBR is long as hell and it might take a while for me to get to it)

Fic recs below the (baby) Pedro!

Me and My Husband a Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?

This is the first married!Din series I’ve ever seen (not saying it doesn’t exist, but I haven’t seen it), so this is for my infidelity loving Din Girlies. I love how awkward and just plain bad at flirting Din is in this. And you’ll hear this a lot from me in my reblogs but POOR MAY!! I’m so excited for the rest of this series.

Oh, Honey a Joel series by @lincolndjarin

Summary: you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

Oh look Gin is reading another monsterfucking fic…. Shocker. But anywayyyy, I love the buildup in this. It’s got such a good suspenseful plot. And I love that reader goes a lil off the rails and everyone is fuckin gaslighting her aghhhhhh. Oh also baby Ellie is in this and that is adorable. The lore and the worldbuilding in this are to die for, I feel like I’m reading a mystery novel.

A Heart For Eating a Joel series by @motherofagony

Summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing.

I love Joel’s characterization in this so much. He’s a grumpy bastard, but he’s got that wonderful protective caregiver thing going on. If you’re a fan of some mild love as consumption, injured men (and taking care of them (joel)), christ side wounds, and gorgeous storytelling this is the one.

Go Ahead, I dare ya a Javi P two shot by @chronically-ghosted

Summary: 1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. A Javier Peña-shaped riff on that iconic Star Wars fic.

The TENSION!!!! The BUILDUP!!!! This fic drove me crazy dude. It’s so will they won’t they the whole fucking time right up until they do. Javi is perfectly written and reader is a perfect match for his bullshit.

Wet Work a Frankie one shot by @loversandantiheroes

Summary: Frankie accidentally discovers how to make you squirt

I???? It’s a fic where Frankie makes you squirt three times like what else do I even have to say? It’s on your kitchen table! And you call him a good boy! This fic is devastatingly hot.

Frankie Breathplay Drabble a Frankie drabble by @ozarkthedog

Summary: Frankie chokes you while you ride him

Got tagged in this lovely little drabble and ummmm oh my god? Breathplay is a little bit of an understatement for what this is. It borders on dark!frankie (in my personal opinion), which I adore. He’s choking you out while you ride him. Like that’s what’s happening. Asphyxiation but make it sexy.

Real Gods Require Blood a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes

Summary: You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears. His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

CULT JOEL! CULT JOEL!!! I love how fucking scary Joel is in this. It’s like if the stuff that happened to canon joel got all mixed up with some religious trauma and made him go a little crazy. I loved this so much. It was quietly terrifying, beautifully written. I love the ending so much too… not gonna spoil it but AHHHH

The Locksmith a The Thief series by @oonajaeadira

Summary: A Thief you’ve known for years and have conflicting feelings for brings you a gift. The gift is a not only a puzzle in itself, but part of a larger mystery, one only you can crack.

I’m like 3 or 4 chapters into this series and I love it so much. The Thief with a locksmith reader is just such a good idea and I love how he ropes her into situations. He’s such a smooth talker ugh. The opera chapter? Pls. I gotta go finish this series now actually AH.

The Haunting of Dieter Bravo a Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: "ghosts aren't real, except when they are."

As a paranormal horror slut, it really felt like this fic was written for me… (f’me, if you will, Bea). Dieter being Dieter and reader being done with his shit and then they get HAUNTED. I love it. The suspense is so good. I was actually a lil freaked out.

Everyone at this party's a vampire a Dieter one shot by @idolatrybarbie

Summary: "you look so pretty like this."

This is funny because Dieter is an idiot, but reader is so hot??? Anyway sexy vampire lady lures Dieter’s dumbass into getting murked and it’s wonderful.

Intimidation Tactics a Dave/Marcus P series by @whataperfectwasteoftime

Summary: You and your partner, Marcus Pike, are investigating a case that brings you far too close to something much more dangerous than your average art thief.

I haven’t quite finished this yet (actually just got to the big action scene), but I am so in love with this fic. I already adore the way Penny writes Marcus, but then we get her Dave too. And Dave has all these elements of movie Dave – badass, sexy, a little scary – but we also get to see him be sweet and protective and playful and I love it so much. And then also I think everyone knows I’m a big ol slut for a MMF fic and the dynamic between Marcus and Dave is so fucking good. Little baby enemies to lovers plotline and GOD their chemistry is off the charts.

Just Friends a Javi P two shot by @joelsgreys

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

I really love the way Vee writes Javi, man. He’s arrogant, annoying, rude, snarky… but also protective, sweet, and very ummmm giving. The banter is fuckin unmatched. And the mutual pining? PLEASE. I’m obsessed.

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Apologies to anyone whose series I normally keep up with... I've been a lil scatterbrained.

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Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin fics #frankie morales fics #javier pena fics #javi p fics #joel miller fics #dave york fics #marcus pike fics #dieter bravo fics #the thief fics

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

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Of Kings and Beasts - Fourteen

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Violence, Fluff (if you squint)

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Lol disappears for two months them comes back like nothing happened. Also I seem to have forgotten how to write so if this is weird and yucky I am very sorry uwu don’t be mad at me

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your meetings with the raven-haired prince have increased in frequency since that first night, until it is a nightly occurrence, one that the prince finds himself looking forward to, against his better judgment.

After the blond king is fast asleep, you slowly exit his chambers and make your way through the palace.

“Your Majesty, it is with all due respect that I ask you, but what are your intentions with the young prince?” You lift your eyes to Brunnhild then continue on your way to the Gardens.

“It's as you said,” you begin, voice a hushed whisper.

“I have the blood of my mother running through my veins. She did not die for me to sit and allow these men to continue to use me the way that they do. I have more power within me than they could imagine. And I intend to use it, if not to save the kingdoms, then to save myself. To capture the predator you cannot remain the prey.”

She presses her lips together in a thin line and nods, watching as you exit the palace and enter the gardens, the light of the moon illuminating you in an ethereal glow.

“I was wondering if you’d come join me again.” A smile finds its way to your lips.

“Why wouldn't I?” Loki watches you for a long moment, his arms crossed over his chest.

“My brother is enjoying you, is he not?” You grind your teeth together and say nothing, eyes finding the moon.

“You have kept this charade going for so long. Why? Why have you not made the next move in your plan yet?” He purses his lips and takes a few steps towards you, one of his hands finding the curve of your waist.

“There are many delicate pieces that need to be positioned just right before any major moves can be made.” He’s standing directly in front of you, his eyes trained on yours.

“The stars have aligned and the moon is full. My brother is lost in his obsession and the Kings are far too focused on trying to get you back to realize that their own council is plotting against them yet again. The time for movement is now, and I must act fast.” Your brows furrow, one piece of information sticking out like a sore thumb, a question that’s been burning in your mind for several days now.

“How have you managed to turn their own council against them?” He only chuckles, two fingers coming to lift your chin up.

“Nobody fully believes in a monarch. Those thoughts are easy to pick apart and turn into full-blown distrust and betrayal.” Your eyes flutter closed as he leans down, his lips very nearly brushing yours as he tilts your chin up more.

“My next move, darling, involves you. And I must apologize in advance for it.” You slowly open your eyes, your face contorting as a white-hot pain erupts in your abdomen.

Your eyes find his, a million questions in them as he presses the blade into your torso, an amused smile on his face as you draw in a shaky breath.

Your hand finds the hilt of the dagger, knees buckling then giving out, making you fall to the ground in a heap.

He crouches down to eye level, tilting your head up with feather-light fingers again.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me, dearest petal. It’s nothing personal, I assure you, but the only way to ensure things go according to plan. Once my brother hears of your death he’ll wage a war on Acadia without looking at the facts. And then it’s only a matter of time before the Kingdoms become mine.”

He pushes your shoulders, forcing you onto your back then steps over your body and towards the palace, leaving you alone and bleeding in the gardens, the stark white light of the moon illuminating the red dripping from your body.

It pools on the ground, a stain, an impurity.

Just like you.

You swallow hard, shaking the thought from your head.

You’ve been through far too much to give up now.

“H-help!” You call weakly, struggling to your knees, one hand holding your wound while the other grabs onto the edge of the garden fountain.

“Someone!” Your voice is soft, far softer than it should be, and for a moment you’re afraid that this is the end. Your fate is to die alone in the garden of yet another traitorous home, one where you were not welcome.

“Your Majesty?” You look up desperately, reaching out as Brunnhild rushes towards you.

“Your Majesty! What has happened?” You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath as she helps you sit down on the lip of the fountain.

“Prince Loki,” you spit, moving your hand and revealing your wound.

“The prince... did this?” You nod, your brows drawn together in discomfort.

“Someone get the King! Quickly!” She shouts. You shake your head, pressing your hand back against your wound and forcing yourself to your feet.

The fate of the two kingdoms is in your hands. You’re not going to sit around and wait for a man to save you. Not anymore.

“The king will be of no help. I need medical assistance, now.” She looks up at you then nods, supporting most of your weight as you hobble through the palace, avoiding the populated hallways and sticking to the shadows.

She pushes into what must be her chambers and sits you by the fire, pushing your cape off of your shoulders and inspecting the wound.

“I’ll need to call for the doctor,” She whispers, stepping towards the door.

You grab her wrist, blood smearing on her tanned skin.

“No. We haven’t time for that.”

There are rushed noises from just past the door, and you know that the King has called for something rash.

“But your Majesty, the wound needs tending.” You grind your teeth together and look up at her then over to the fire.

“Then tend to it.”

She furrows her brows before nodding.

Her fingers work quickly as she cuts the fabric away from your body then hands it to you.

“You’ll want it. For the pain.” A curt nod is all you give her before shoving the material between your teeth.

She gives you no warning before yanking the dagger free from your body, replacing it with the scalding hot blade of her own, now removed from the fire.

The pain all rolls together into something that nearly pulls you from consciousness, nothing but fire and agony.

But your anger keeps you awake. The fury burns brighter than the flames Loki plans to set to the kingdoms. It fuels you, keeps you strong when she finally pulls the heat from your skin.

She covers the area in an ointment then some gauze, shaking her head at you.

“What do you plan to do?”

You grit your teeth and wipe your hair from your sweaty forehead.

“I plan on stopping the destruction of the Kingdoms. Loki has begun a war. He’s inside King Thor’s head. His magic is powerful, and Thor will not see the truth. Your loyalties lie with your King, and I understand, but I need to ask a few favours before we part ways. It’s only a matter of time before he calls you to march.”

You’re surprised he hasn’t called the Valkyrie yet.

Brunnhild grabs your hand tightly and squeezes, her eyes blazing.

“My loyalties lie with you, Your Majesty. The only person whose mind isn’t clouded by greed or magic. The Valkyrie will follow you into battle. We will fight with you. For you. You have our swords, and anything else you may need.”

Your heart swells and you give her hand a squeeze.

“Thank you. Now, we must prepare. A battle awaits.”

~*~

“Your Majesties! We have urgent news from Asgard!” Natalia exclaims, bursting into the Kings’ office.

The two look up upon her entrance, waiting for her to say whatever it is that is so important.

Wanda and Sam are at her side, the former looking on with anguish in her eyes while the latter has nothing but anger in his.

“What is it?” James demands.

Natalia takes a deep breath and looks between the two kings.

“The Queen is dead. Killed in the garden. They believe it to have been a spy from Acadia. Asgard marches at dawn tomorrow.”

A million different thoughts pass through the Kings’ heads, before finally settling on the very first sentence she spoke.

The Queen is dead.

Their Queen. The woman they chose so specifically. The woman meant to raise their children and rule at their side. The woman who has never known the tenderness that she deserves.

Dead. Because they weren’t more careful of who was in their court. Who they trusted.

“You’re certain of this?” Steve asks, his voice choked and broken. It feels like every beat of his heart is a knife digging into his chest, every breath he takes is filling his lungs with water, or maybe nails.

It’s agony.

And James isn’t any better.

His mind races at all the ways he could’ve prevented this. If he had just been stronger, smarter. If he had waited to marry, or perhaps if he had spent more time searching for his husband.

A thousand different ways to have stopped this, yet the reality is that he didn’t. He didn't stop it. Didn’t prevent it.

Hell, he practically walked you right into it.

Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in his palace.

And now a war is on the horizon.

“We had riders sent to verify. They’re preparing their attack. We haven’t much time if we wish to meet them. We cannot let them breach the walls of the Kingdom. The village is weak enough as is, we cannot allow a fight to even come near it,” Sam urges, taking a step deeper into the office.

Steve composes himself faster than his husband.

“Alert all able-bodied men. Gather them, arm them. We march as soon as possible.”

The two warriors nod their agreement then turn and exit, leaving Wanda alone with the Kings.

“Your Majesties. I-I’m sorry for your loss. I was hoping I could... pay my respects to the Queen? I know a battle awaits, but she has known little friendship in her life. The least I can do is reach to her now, as should’ve been done when she was still with us.”

They both nod easily at the request.

“What did you have in mind? We do not have much we can spare, and the men will be gathered by nightfall. We’ll have to leave as soon as possible in order to protect the women and children.”

She nods, taking a deep but shaky breath.

“I was hoping to go into the village, release lanterns for her. I-I don’t know if she’d like it, but the day she went out with Thor she really made an impact on the people. I know it would bring comfort, especially with a battle looming so close.”

The Kings look at each other, discussing her request silently, before nodding.

“Yes. But everyone must be back in their house before the sunrise.” She nods eagerly, bows, then scurries out of their office to gather supplies.

Steve slumps back in his seat, trying to fight tears but they stab at his eyes.

“Who would do this? Certainly not one of ours,” he whispers, suffocating his anguish with anger instead.

“When we last saw her, she spoke of Loki, of his magic. He wishes to corrupt the Kingdoms, he’s already done so with Asgard...” James trails off, shaking his head as sorrow burrows into his soul.

Perhaps it’s what he deserves.

After all that he’s done, all the pain he’s inflicted. Not only upon you but upon others as well.

Losing you, his wife, the woman he’s been waiting for for several years... that is true pain.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t avenge you.

And avenge you, he will.

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problematicpervertpod · 3 years

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recs on recs on recs

Yaoi/Manga I’m reading/have read. Please support the artists on official websites. If you have recs or want to chat about any of these get in my messages right the fuck now my dudes. Also spoilers, also this probably doesn’t make sense to anyone but me, also I think I’m funny sorry in advance.

Dangerous Convenience Store

Tags: Ongoing, self aware lead for the most part, gangs, smut, love triangle, possessive, not rapey, seme is like the fucking hulk compared to uke, college, age gap, good art, muscular bodies, seme is adorable/romantic in sp chapters, sexual awakening, meeting the gang (in two ways!), FAINTS OF CUTENESS/HOTNESS, the memes after every chapter got me gagged, HAHE hahahahahahahahahaha, OMG DO I GET SOME CNC?! (update: short lived), we stan a vocal man (Ahjussi), thigh fucking, my mans be like my thighs hurt fuck my ass instead DECEASED, ass smacking, these memes are so good god damnit, rimming

8/10, I live for Ahjussi (Am I spelling this wrong..)

The New Employee

-love love love

Tags: ongoing, we stan supportive boyfriends, healthy relationship, boss/employee, smut, office setting, good art, 10/10 will re-read, muscular bodies

Love Shuttle

Tags: completed, ABO, enemies to lovers, possessive, coworkers, fake relationship, strong omega, the art sucks but I like the story, art gets better after the 1st season, alphas eyes change colors when happy/anxious, muscular bodies, 7/10, update 10/10 art is meh but fml this storyline is basic af in the best way and it’s the fluff/smut I need, when you’re caught by the folks *cringe*

Hold Me Tight

Tags: ongoing, boss/employee, bodyguard, gio can’t feel heat until felix comes along, uke is strong af, horny bastards, smut, possessive, tragic childhood, moving in together right away, rich seme, felix in a bunny costume though *heart eyes*, dialogue is great, rape in a technical sense but the vibe is written like both characters are all good after? Ex. hospital scene…dub con, ART IS GREAT, hand holding during sex, 10/10 will re-read, muscular bodies

Yours to Claim

Tags: ongoing, love triangle, Dom/sub dynamics, smut, main is big switch energy, reincarnation, jealousy, manipulative, possessive, self aware lead for the most part, toxic af, GREAT ART, college, rich semes, 10/10 will re-read and not even finished, SONOFABITCH that cliff hanger!! Season 3 come thruuuu (I have to wait until November? *cries* BUT MAH LOVE TRIANGLE!!, I want a THROUPLE GOD DAMN IT

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Tags: obsessed with this story, will the incense burner scenes make it?? No tags because I'll never forget this one haha wangxian 5ever, send me all fanfics/fan art you have about this story, love Dark Wangji, Jadecest, ABO/omegaverse, Bottom Wangji/Top Wei Ying, and honestly anything regarding this fandom

Bj Alex

Tags: completed, great art, 11/10 will re-read, cam boy, fanboy, seme is an asshole, uke is so sexy, jealously, rich seme, enemies to lovers kind of?, CHANWOO IS MY BOY FOR LIFE, Chanwoo MD supremacy, BDSM (like really really), fuck I love Chanwoo, college students, rich seme, emotional rollercoaster, uke soft body, mean seme, college life, that one nosy bitch ass guy trying to expose my boys needs to fuck right off, seme split/fake personality, dub con

Anti PT

Tags: ongoing, 11/10 re-readable, porn with feelings, love triangle, jealousy, attempted non-con, personal training wink wink, main love interest is actually the best, second male lead is a god damn creep, first time, smut, great art, sex addict/constantly horny uke, I WANT A HWI,

Related: https://www.anime-planet.com/manga/anti-pt/recommendations

Payback

Tags: ongoing, both are psychopaths tbh, revenge, gangs, uke sells himself to seme, violent seme, entertainment industry, brunette supremacy, what this motherfucker gonna do? hehe , great art, muscular bodies, dead dove do not eat, my mans must be GOOD looking/animal magnetism cause everyone losing their fucking minds, okay this is a comedy I’m dying, he tried to scare him with wanting to be a top but my psycho said REVERSEUNO BITCH I’M A VERSE (wait jk apparently *sigh*), anonymous masked sex (sad n’ kinky)

My Suha

Tags: ongoing, wow this gets dark, possessive af like holy shit, terrible people all around uke, rape, boss/employee, office politics/family politics, smut, characters that are punchable, dead dove do not eat, *velociraptor noises*, avoided this for a while but I’m back because nothing can be more emotionally devastating than Banana Fish, TIE HIM UP, FUCK HIS FACE ALKSJD:ASKD, FUCK SUHA UR SO HOT that dirty talk though YAS, glad I picked this back up lmao, GOD DAMN IT just when the package arrived then this red head fucker *screams*

Shame Application aka Dirty Vibration

Tags: completed, friends to lovers, model seme, cute af uke, love triangle, entertainment industry, smut, kink, all kinds of sex everywhere, realized feelings, mutual pining, jealousy, rich seme, blonde seme, big brother 1984 always watching, 10/10 would re-read, porn with plot, they were roommates!, ~straight~ seme, first times, great art, remembering some cringe but considering the story it’s par for the course

Will You Subscribe

Tags: ongoing, season 1 completed, enemies to lovers, cam boy, office politics, boss/employee, hiding a secret, public sex, stalkers/creepy men, emotionally stunted characters, mutual pining, idiots in lust, lingerie company, slut shaming, jealousy/possessiveness, season 2 bebeh, HOLDING HANDS *velociraptor noises*, LMAO okay my mans is not THAT old how tf does he not know netflix and chill, BUNNY COSTUME (quickly becoming my new fav trope in manga, A+ gang), oh we stan a good boy, wtf is wrong with wanting to do cam work, ‘I wish my marks could become permanent’ *omegaverse wink*, *works for lingerie company* *doesn’t understand where bf gets sexy costumes* like wut kind of fuckery…, cross dressing ftw, roleplay, classic BL miscommunication trope

Hyperventilation

Tags: completed, high school crush, unrequited love, mutual pining, smut, quickie (short story), class reunion, apparently furry with the extra chapter turning my man into a bunny but c'est la vie! https://myreadingmanga.info/korean-bl-animation-hyperventilation-engsub/ this is the animation of the same story, different endings but same in tone (this site is spammy AF but the English subs are so hard to find for this) 8/10

Unmei no tsugai ga omae da nante

Tags: only one bed, ABO, office setting. Coworkers, enemies to lovers, competitive, equality in the omegaverse, dubcon, real dicks and not lightsabers, fated pair, art is cute af 8/10

K’s Secret

Tags: buckle up buttercup, dead dove do not eat, angst, pining, somnophilia, dub con, non con, boss/employee, manipulative, stalking, forced relationship, tragic childhood background, weird art but gets better, uke: don’t threaten me with a good time but seriously stop threatening me, possessive & obsessive, seme is like the fucking hulk compared to uke, wow were going full psycho stalker hm?, dating a narcissist is all fun and (mind)games, con non con… ? honestly who tf knows, domestic!, OW MY HEART, the t/n WAP note sent me, ch 51 translated by gen z, do special ep= furry? Wait there’s a maid costume, bunny costume, directors friends keeping it real, rough translations 8/10

Enthusiasm

Tags: ongoing, dead dove do not eat, uke buys seme, masc boys, muscular bodies, fight club, master/slave, rich uke, revenge, real dicks not lightsabers, rough sex, cuckholding, daddy issues, suicide, wow the end of ch 5 punched a hole in my heart, penile implant life, rough translations makes the storyline wonky, nvm back to lightsabers *star wars noises*, HAD ME FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAY I CAN NOT, shibari, possessive, wait this is cute *velociraptor noises*, angst, no kithes for you “bestie”, OBSESSED, honestly choke him pupper, STAY THE NIGHT ALKSDJA:SLDKJAS:LKDJA:SLDKj, problematic but I’m riding for these two,

Ichimai Goshi Fetish

Tags: completed, short, fetishes DO start in childhood don’t they *ruminates*, author: describes ML as a beautiful 2D character meanwhile: ML IS 2D character, fellas is it gay to kiss the homies?, “real dudes don’t interest me” is a MOOD, comedy, jealousy, college setting, dialogue is A+, not lightsabers but not dicks either, first time, when you’re fucked so good you think you’ve died, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4uEq5Nx6ko, hero/villain roleplay. Fluff n smut 10/10

My Purrfect Boss

Tags: completed, tooth rotting fluff because blondie is so FUCKING cute little sensitive soul, golden retriever boyfriend, pure comedy, DECEASED, MY MAN JUST DID THE SLOW BLINK, office setting, boss/employee, ~wasted~ (red dead redemption meme), FFS SO CUTE, he put a ring on it right away beyonce would be proud af, he protecc he attack but most importantly he hit it from the back, jealousy, honeymoon phase of dating, the ex is a snake (update: oh wow literally), I’m picking up abuse/PTSD vibes based on how Kang reacts to his ex :(, classic BL miscommunication plot, immediately no meme audio (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6XWSGfYnps) , I WILL STRAIGHT UP MURDER CHA WTF!!!!!!, gang rape, spiked with drugs that force heat, me rn:*screaming/rage*, psychotic ex/abuser, HE PROTECCC, actual relief after that scene jesus fuck, okay YES kings I see you, okay this is giving me cuteness aggression, hi yes I’d like to adopt a cat and a dog please 9/10

Following Namsoo to the Bathhouse

Tags: completed, same author as, “My Purrfect Boss”, A+ comedy once again, JUNIOR, gay awakening, “fap myself to death” DEAD, facial expressions are ridic, my minds telling me no but my body, my bodyyyy’s telling me yaaaaa, ya boy is literally losing his mind over this, actual lightsabers lmao, FLUFF, permasmile, 6969, THINKS THEY’RE GOING TO EAT RAMEN, dense gay, own your skin wtf okay hannibal calm down, everyone is officially cray, ah I also am barfy when drunk, denial really is something hm, classic BL miscommunication plot, when people pleasing too far, happy ending 🥺🥰, side story: our crazy gets his very own crazy (ashton Kutcher from spread vibes), public sex, sex sparkle 9/10

Alien in my Closet

Tags: ongoing (maybe completed but def ongoing on the site I use), not rapey at all?? You’d think it’s impossible in this medium ffs, anti pt vibes, cute art, fluff ‘n smut, red head!!, they were roomates!, sex toys, bsdm, D/s (brat)dynamic or maybe owner/pet, bondage, *tiffany hadish voice* this is noiceeee, con humiliation/degradtion, SANTA CLAUS, edging, marking, one lotus please (he’s clearly read the 4 agreements and karma sutra), con non con, exhibitionism, the wrist thing stays on people, Katoptronophilia, roleplay, is it stalking when you bring your friends?, lotus: welcome home cheater, the chin on the head thing gives me cuteness aggression, the twins are my favs, when ur crush vanilla af 😭, haesung: experiment on me daddy, no dick until halfway through/fingering supremacy, bedroom sessions has me gagged, voyeurism, wait they haven’t kissed this whole time I forgot (audio: https://www.tiktok.com/@ryley/video/6976701880277748997?lang=en), sunbae is sus, YES FINALLY A FUCKING SWITCH COUPLE AKJSDHALKSJDHASKLJDHALS KJDALKSJD (update: sort of), there’s a missed opportunity for an anal probe joke, damn it okay maybe sunbae is chill, 3 musketeers, my heart*implodes*, *velociraptor noises*, 12/10 would re-read such fluff my heart

On Doorstep

Tags: completed, age gap, reese has ptsd, jimmy going from 0 to 100, jimmy really got down on his knees at work, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) deepest part you say, real dicks, ride him like a rodeo, quickie/short story, porn with plot

Gorani Jeon

Tags: ongoing, omegaverse, no alpha though, animal hybrid, art is beautiful like it's drawn on paper not a screen, 40 inch weave yours came in a pack, historical (non-modern), lord send me a sexy man pls, the memes after each chapter are golden, taking the phrase licking wounds literally, is that an eggplant or are you just happy to see me hehe, ahhh so inhibitors do exist here, vertical 69, here lays Bau fucked to death by Ran, WHY HE TOUCHING MY MAN, these chickens are dope, stomp on his dick, that’s what I call a happy meal, fucked right out the front door I’M DEAD, mpreg, i need a tiger+mountain god spin off (whoops dad/son my bad), slice of life, cute fluff 8/10

Room to room

Tags: completed, college setting, A+ dialogue, absurd size difference, unrequited love, sexsomina, dubcon, angst, death by a thousand cuts emotionally, insecurity, body envy, pining, friends to lovers, they were roommates!, homophobia, sexual assault, PTSD, gays in denial, the tattoo 🥺 ow my heart, truly this is 90% smut, “going from unrequited love to fwbs is shittier than I expected”, dowan *bad blood by t swift* when he sees garam, ch 22garam reminds me of my ex and that’s not a compliment, I’m not gay but my boyfriend is vibes, triflers need not apply, spanking, 😭😭😭😭😭 my heart hurts, is anyone getting a bit of a puppy play vibe? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vni9ZWmDXis, handcuffs, lots of head we stan, dowan’s gotta a touch of a foot thing or maybe body worship thing, asdlfgkjs ;dlkfgjsd;flkgj;sdflkgj;sdlfgjs;d/gkdf SO CUTEEEEEEEEEEE, roleplay. They broke the bed no use of crying over spilled milk ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), side stories delivering man in uniform and sex toys AND puppy, asdlkjaslfkasdjfl;askdfjasdf the shirt thing is so hot, watersports, I take it back this is 98% smut 9/10

Mistake Lover

Tags: completed, when ur bff is back on their BS, love triangle, coworkers, i swear all these ukes look the same to me at this point (which is very cute), GE!!!! (wangxian flashbacks), wait no smut?.... Paused

Yagi to ookami no hatsujou jijou

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, literally on my reading list because a comment said “nice cock 10/10”hahahaha, animal hybrids, scifi/aliens, me during chapter one: am I a furry? No. Am I? Relevant audio https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=noJNIqvDfoo, hotties when human GOD DAMN, bi king, okay I stan this girl changing gears take your opportunities honey!, does blondie have a tinder or how is this happening? (update: called it), feminization, dubcon/noncon, marking, heats, idk about 10/10 cock but not lightsabers, translation is ruff (get it?), a yankee hahaha, literal wound licking, googles chimera, *claps* yes king selfish call his ass out, tail holding caaaayoooot, not that isn’t usually copious amounts of cum but really this is a lot 8/10

Make Me Bark

Tags: completed, $250 a month rent?? *cries in Californian*, god damn it these grey haired 2D men are really hot fml, “next months rent is a looming concern but I hope it’ll get better” followed by apartment on fire is how I feel about reality, rare characters that smile way more than they frown, sex toys, kink, puppy play, owner/pet dynamic, sugar daddy/baby, college setting, harness, muzzle, leash, tail plug, shirt thing!!, soaked briefs, playing barbie IRL, omg meet cute at the adult store, intercrural sex, possessive/jealousy, ah fuck yes I saw this panel on IG but it didn’t have the source but now hehe, whipping, choking, spanking, *bookmarks*, simp city, childhood friends, side couple cute af, yeonsoo: sorry I’m an anti romantic, size queen, mens lingerie, domestic, mutual pining, these bestie pairings are *chefs kiss*, skinny but muscular bodies/no ridiculous size differences, “does he have a big dick?” “probably” “well tell him to come” GAGGED AJKSDHALSKDJHA this dialogue pure comedy, exhibitionism, human auction, maid costume, men in heels, topping in a dress, girl at the bus stop HAHAHA, ffs this is so cute, side stories: it’s a small world afterall, dynamic role reversal, pink haired boy is guru, SCREAMING AKDJA:SLDKJA:LKDJA:LSDKJLAKDJA:LDJAL:SKDJASLKDJA:SLKDJLAKSDJLASDJ:LASJD:ALSKDJASL:DJ:ASLJDPUTARINGONIT!!!! 11/10

Gurume no fukurami

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, food fetish, feeding fetish, age gap, throuple-eqsue? There’s 3 people involved, paused ch 1 pg 30

Under the Green Light

Tags: ongoing, thank you IG for rec’ing this, brunette supremacy, neurodivergent?, lmao @hag, this statue is everything I wonder if it’s based on a real piece?, we went from talking art to being pinned to the ground REAL quick, translations rough but not as rough as my mans here, draw me like one of your french girls vibe, sass master, these dicks are ridiculously huge which is saying something for this genre, i love a verse/switch, “first time he’s asked someone to stop so his self-esteem is hurt” HAHAHAHA, stealing bae’s shirt, facials galore, car sex/public sex, jin not into praise kink clearly, sort of slut shaming jealousy, marking

Walk on Water

Tags: completed, for being about porn it’s not that smutty (i take it back), “don’t even think about running away” got me like https://giphy.com/gifs/VABbCpX94WCfS, actual dicks (lightsabers later must be the cleaners not the OG), muscular bodies, blonde seme, brunette uke, k mcqueen is everything, honestly haven’t loved a couple this much since chanwoo x MD and I LOVE THEM, jealousy, orgasm denial, the angles/frames of the art in this are insane (11/10), emotional intimacy CUTENESS HASIHDLASKDHJLAKSJDH, i wanna lick lick lick you from your head to your toes, dirty talk A+, bestie you turned out to be Judas you judgy fuck how dare you touch my man, Ryan is 50 shades of fucked up bb needs therapy, Chang and yeowoons sexual tension is *chefs kiss*, I ship it/all my ships sailing, woof non con but expected tbh, YEAH BABY YEAH *Austin powers voice*, fml I don’t want this story to end, meeting the Hets ™ would make me nervous too, spiderman kith, mirror sex sjkadfhasldjkfh, 34+35, JOI but with a partner? Not D/s, promises are made to broken hehe, that feeling when you understand the title, omg the fan art is so cool!! 15/10 would re-read seriously I can’t explain how well the artist used angles/how she portrayed the scenes was fucking MASTERFUL

Woof Wolf

Tags: that's my best friend (saweetie), red heads, werewolf au, college setting, students, shoot a shot in your mouth while I'm riding, facials, marking

Sexual Awakening of an Ex Delinquent

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, sexual coercion/non con/dub con, tiddies, bondage, nipple play, edging/orgasm denial, candy in ass wow, food kink, kink in general, rich seme working class uke, lightsabers, big dick Jesus fuck, exhibitionism, public sex, men's lingerie, Blondie is a sweet baby angel, self hatred/homophobia, sexual narrating that has me like oof 😣 that's not how this works but okay, the sweet spots thing is a great line, man is a slave to the sweets, lmao at the meme at the end of ch 9 fucking facts, kidnapping plot, rapey guys all around this story, tattoo/back story reveal has me like *nods head yes*, my throats broken has me gagged, crazy amount of sfx noises that distract from the art (I really appreciate cleaners I realize), first times, rushed ending feels, would rate 6/10 not terrible but probably won't read again.

With Your Tail Yes

Tags: ongoing, IG rec, quickie/short story, on man brunette looks EXACTLY like a different character by another artist like for real duplicate, home boy pulled Elle Wood’s Bend n Snap and we are HERE FOR IT, lingerie/cross dressing, okay compilation of short stories, great artwork but wtf these are far too short (maybe uploaded wrong..?), *immediately makes deal with the devil because yum*, ah okay previews THEN stories, human animal hybrid situation, lightsabers, fucking imagine your crush delivery the sex toy you ordered online HAHA *dies*, buys toys because men ain’t shit is a VIBE, you know he’s always wearing matching sets because he’s 100% that bitch, dub con/non con, knotting (unexpected), exhibitionism, public sex, good ol’ fashion blackmail to get your lover to stay with you trope, sexual assault/attempted rape, victim blaming, shibari, leashes, D/brat dynamic sort of, copious amounts of cum, lube? What lube?, marathon sex, first time, 75 hours?? Immediately no meme, 7/10 mostly for art/concepts but not execution

Heat and Run

Tags: ongoing, IG rec, omegaverse, friends to enemies to lovers, multiple couples as main to sides then sides to mains, my heart dropped because I thought the first sex scene was incest but then realized I’m mixing up all the characters derp, dense gays, this is america (the shooting comment WOOF reality feels bad man), blondes have more fun, real dicks, dubcon/CNC dealers choice, mutual pining, idiots in love, big alpha energy BDE, there are moments I feel Hayoung on a spiritual level and not sure that’s a compliment hahaha, orgasm denial/edging, istg if he bonded without Hayoung permission *jenna marbles BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII YOU BETTAH NOT*, also I was hoping the idol was him but realizing it’s probs his sis, *deep sigh*, BDIRL, wow racism, oh no oh no no no no no meme audio, listen everyone needs to get into therapy to break that generational trauma is all I’m saying (not excusing abuse at all, trauma isn’t a free pass), NO ONE WANTS TO PLAY A GAME WITHOUT KNOWING THE RULES :ALKSDHJALKSDJA:SLKDJTRUE, matthew singing bo burnham: I’m problematic *background singers ‘he’s a problem!’*, i ship it yolo, JAEHO STAN (no means no!), mpreg, god damn it I am so worried about him getting roofie and the party scene hasn’t even started ABO WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TOO ME, OH THANK JAEHO, dayummmm that clapback was real fuck him UP, me clapping: MARK HIM MARK HIM, GOD DAMN IT WITH THESE ONGOING FUCKING CLIFF HANGERS FML, marked via knotting? Okay that’s new, but also like normal marking I think, fucking til bottom pees trope

Heaven Officials Blessing

Animated series season 1 complete. Live action currently filming (same director as Untamed too UGH SO HAPPY)

Tags: ongoing, same author as my fav ever MDZS, just finished season 1 animated on netflix and can no longer avoid this because I LOVE THEM, all the memes on IG make sense now, Prince voice: Dearly Beloved (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXJhDltzYVQ) we are gathered here today to dive deeper into a fandom I will never escape, ART IS AMAZING (https://tenor.com/view/incredible-talented-lady-brilliant-gaga-gif-14857187), group chats are always chaotic tbh, wait a minute meme audio: bride = bottom? How tf did I not get that the first time round *sigh* always hoping for a verse couple, the asst. Boys I ship hard, the sass, fuck this is going to just be pure angst isn’t it *straps in, has fluffy manga queued*, even if no smut 11/10 gege porn, not subtle, god FUCK this ART IS SO FUCKING GOOD THE TALENT skjas;ldkfja;, 🥺, traumatic cliff moment *mdzs flashbacks*, HC smirk is my new favorite thing, no fucking but lots of touching, size difference, horror, gore, wuxia, great side characters, my ear feels tingly too lmao, SOMEONE BETTER GET THESE MF SNAKES ON THIS MF PLANE (cliff), umbrella moments got me uwu, gimme at least didi pleaseandthankyou, FUCK I LOVE THIS ARTIST she keeping us WELL fed with these extras DAYUM, wind/earth master ship please sail, CALL ME DADDY IM DEAD, HC has LWJ energy like you are not qualified to talk to me LOL, WAIT this totally counts as there was only one bed trope, also I’m already excited about omegaverse ff (send me recs please please please)

4 week lovers

Tags: ongoing because apparently I want to torture myself, mutual pining/”unrequited love”, college life, friends to lovers, blackmail ur crush into sex trope, public sex, I was going to tag possessive body language but possessive in a general sense apparently (starting strong yessss), sure jan @unrequited love dialogue, THEY WERE ROOMMATES *cackles*, sus haha, rough translation, pure comedy, shirt thing!, casual abuse :( (back story, traumatic childhood), I’m getting TharnType vibes (but not quite…), that note is precious, cry during/after sex, great angles, dialogue A+

Burlesque Night

Tags: completed, quickie/short story, stripper/body guard, coworkers, lust at first sight, magic mike vibes, fridays = getting fucked on stage O-O, well that was traumatizing af, took a bullet, real dicks, LDR, CUTE, I’m not in love with you… sure jan, OH WOW MASTER dlksaj;alsdkja;lsdkja;sld, gay awakening/first time, the art detail is *chefs kiss*, disappointed but not surprised :( :( :(, we stan a yes and lover, shirt thing, still not sure wtf the vertical anus thing is but full circle moment haha, you know what fuck it I’d re-read this 9/10

My one and only cat

Tags: ongoing, cat hybrids, god damn it I’m totally in furrydom ffs, ah well here we go, idol hot = loneliness wahhh /s, so hot he literally transforms other beings, omg a cat cafe CUTE, fuck that cat is cute *so fluffy*, stalker status, comedy, real dicks, I think the uncle would be supportive/jealous even I hope they talk about it I’m dying to know his thoughts, big tiddies, if this ain’t the cutest shit FLUFF/SMUT, copious amounts of cum, ate it with the panties on, CAKE, xmas, his milkshakes bring all the boy(cats) to the yard, trifling bitch

Imitation Mate

Tags: completed, omegaverse, alpha x alpha. Class rivals YAS, childhood frans, enemies to lovers omg this is all the shit I want, manipulation 1000 but yolo I ship it

Mr. 100% Perfect

Tags: ongoing, so relatable, OCD?, hoarder, when I read the title I thought mental illness and I was right, masks ugh RELATABLE, getting back together w ex, woof sibling drama/manipulation, suicide attempt, omg their communication regarding the psycho is REFRESHING, OMG JEJU ISLAND I see it in every fucking kdrama ever but this is the first time I’ve seen it mentioned in a manga *hm* interesting, furry furry everywhere, eye contact, finished reading season 1 pause for an omergaverse cause, okay I’m back and season 2 starting STRONG #1 men are gross #2 mans just went right to a blowie while mf was trying to pee lmao i can NOT the germs barf, fuckboi extraordinaire stressing over a textback is *great*, that istg face is perfect, HYUNGGGG, hand on his heart OW MY HEART, vibe check LOL, here for this plot dev, END OF SEASON2 NOOOOOOOimnotready. Head bonks CUTE

The origin of species

Tags: ongoing, omegaverse, sex tape, blackmail, i already don’t like this teacher, size difference, ‘JUST DIE’ hahahahahaha, I’m in love with noona, wait Ahjussi means uncle/mister? Dangerous convenience store has a new meaning to me now, DECEASED @they won’t, copious amounts of cum, alcohol to have intimacy *sighs in early 20s*, also WTF THEY ARE FUCKING AND THERE’S NO PHERMONE STUFF! What’s the point of being ABO without smell *swaggy p meme???*, wait okay ch 11 it begins, stockholm syndrome but since childhood I’m fairly certain *looking at you teacher I don’t trust these mfs*, dubcon obviously, also the can’t be knotted thing has me *cardi b meme that’s weird that’s sus* obvs poor bb about to get preg af, five word horror story: I won’t hurt you again *why tf you lyinggggg why u always lyinggg meme*, white collar crime, what’s the point of a contract when there’s no actual choice

How to Chase an Alpha

Tags: ongoing, lowkey been avoiding this one not because I think it’ll be bad I just..idk the brain is a weird thing, page 2 and I love mains attitude fucking gagged sass me bb, starting with rough translation but it be that way sometimes, GROUNDS HIMSELF BY TOUCHING HIS BLACK CARD I CANTTT, pheromone city fuck it UP, MC is a MOOD, mutual pining, when u and bae both hire PI’s to get info on each other, R-E-S-P-E-C-T, shirt thing, fucking chuffed about the rival fucking bring it, funny art, cheated on ugh mah heart I saw it coming and it still hurt, pure comedy this airport scene is so funny to me wtf, LDR, good ol murica fuckboi, LOVE HIM RIDE FOR UR MAN/MORALS, liams a little rapey rapist hm? No one’s ever said no… well being flooded with pheromones isn’t consent my dude, istg liam = I love it when they struggle, obvs jealousy/possessive tag but such is ABO, cat suit, BUNNY suit, sexy costumes, god damn it I love them that proposal/mpreg so cute, imprinting AW, ugh baes fam is so cute I needed that bc I wanna strangle wooyoungs dad, THE SECETARY is my fucking fav never stops being A+, SEC+LIAM?? Here for it *i ship it*, FUCK SO CUTE 12/10 re-read, fluff n smut, excited for how to chase an omegaside story hyung needs love!, JINI is mood, sales king I’m dying, that collar is ~hot~ btw

Egoism

Tags: completed (because jesus I can’t with ongoing, theheartbreakTM), UPDATE FML THE HEART BREAK IS REAL also no smut, omegaverse, hey stepbro, starts with rape, possessive/jealousy (isn’t all ABO?), age difference (6years, alpha is younger *can I get hyung plz lord*), HYUNG, woof this dad SUCKS, child abuse, rape culture *sigh*, I wanna get jacked like rick and summer and beat tf out of the dad, me n my cat, TELL EM HONEY I love this MC, traitor indeed, beta x omega btw, fated pair, coercive sex, didi going to be his own demise, BREAKUP/TIME SKIP NO this is BL hell, the rona is mentioned in this, ALL I WANT IS TO HEAR YOUR STORY WAHHHHHHHHHH also YES MY SHIP IS GOING TO SAIL I CAN FEEL IT, okay honestly frustrating a bit but also liked it yah 7-8/10, won’t re-read unless I’m looking for hurt though cause the comfort is BRIEF

Yarichin bitch bu

Tags: ongoing, reading because I watched this anime after seeing it mentioned in the comment section of -im-being-harassed-by-the-sexiest-man-of-the-year, anime was 2 eps a fucking wild the way this is uploaded SUCKS, no reality porn what plot rape-y ridiculous and now I need to read the source apparently haha, I need to know much more about yuri and blue hair guy ASAP (they have the spin off*adds to list*), high school setting, smut, studentsxstudents/teachers, photography club my ass, sex toys, kinky, crossdressing, gay awakening, unrequited love, jealousy, fake relationship, two faced people, OCD, COMEDY, rich people problems, hoarder, inferiority complex, one bed, toono is a dumbass in this love triangle or denial might be a better word, they are cousins my dude stop shipping it (I say to both toono and myself LOL), I wanna see Yuri’s face laksdjf;aldskf, vibrator #18 line is fucking iconic, yaguchi is about to get real interesting (BPD?), lies/manipulation, oh toono you sweet summer child, YURI i can’t wit chu, wait did he just punch the student because he won’t kiss him or???, dubcon/noncon obvs, finally my verse couple but they’re not a couple (yuri/tamu), they all care about each other is a weird way awwww, love confessions to pet vibrator scene are ICONIC MY DUDES I CAN NOTTT, lowkey living for Yuri’s drooling at this point, Jimi gives me such bad second hand embarrassment, Yuri the switch verse bb I’ve been looking for need more!, internalized homophobia, blackmail, MIDDLE FINGER IN THE AIR YAS KING, the heartbreak of ongoing/hasn’t been updated in years

Yarichin bitch bu dj wa

Tags: not completed I think, years old though, see above you know what it is, so cute omg, FIRST KISS AW, degradation kink?, MY VERSE COUPLE I’ve finally found you, biting, choking, rough sex, sex toys, they had fun together for another two hours DECEASED

Fucked by my Best Friend

Tags: ongoing, friends to lovers, body swap, Porn what plot, cannon threesomes in past maybe??(MFF for sure but MMF??), beach life, revenge, he became a HOT woman so honestly get over it, sloppy seconds, first off you’re both sluts second lmao this is going to be wild hm?, fellas is it gay if you kiss the homies, classic did you cum guy jfc, that’s how you get preg dumbass, ah the joys of being a woman /s assault in der clrub, *DEEP SIGH* @ you almost being raped turns me on, YES TURNING BACK DYING, gender has nothing to do with this LOL but true. Also yes cannon threesomes/orgies, googles frotting, mans like narrating playtime, intecurial sex public sex, lingerie, this is the closest thing to straight manga I’ve read hahaha, THE SCIENCE OMG FUCKING RIDIC :you need a mass amount of semen within you SURE JAN, possessive. Objectification, she trying to fuck without Shion LMAO, 34+35, do you think he’s on r/nofap, dry orgasm honestly impressed with mans rn ngl, spit as lube, anal fingering, just helping the homies find their prostate, bottom shaming (disappointed but not surprised), bis/gays in denial smh, question if he has a wet dream will he turn into a woman?, shirt thing, lol at female orgasm =anal in switcharoos mind, paging doc perv, shion is enjoying dressing up hm? Same dude, biggest reality gap is believing shion got admitted to a college HAHA, bad anatomy all over the place dude, rui is a dedicated exhibitionist, HE SO TIGHT BECAUSE THERES NO LUBE team no lube over here apparently not even a courtesy spit, yandere territory sort of?, Mayu with the dick wet comment is *chefs kiss*, THE HEARTBREAK OF ONGOING WAHHH I can’t believe I read all this but I can? 8/10 problematic possessive porn

#yaoi #manga #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #gay #lgbt #pornwhatplot #recs #book recs #manga recs #yaoi recs #ships #yandere #uke #seme

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 23

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader CW: Drinking, slight internalized homophobia A/N: The first part dives into Lily's sexuality. It’s pretty innocent but may make readers uncomfortable. If you want to skip, go past the line break and I bolded the words ‘Round round get around’ for when it’s ‘safe’ to continue!

Chap 23 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 23: The Daily Quarrel

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Lily always considered herself to be calm, rational and level-headed, that’s what made her a great prefect and student. But over the last five months, Lily felt herself becoming everything but that.

Lily never concerned herself with dating. Of course, she’d entertained the thought. She had crushes before, many crushes, and dabbled in the idea of romance, love, dates and commitment. Especially now as it seemed like the older she got, those around her fell into relationships and quick snogs in the broom closet that she was forced to break up one too many times. If she were to date, she didn’t want to force it. Lily wanted it to come naturally. It was never that important. If it happened, it happened, and she would welcome it with open arms.

But recently, it was all she could think about.

At first, it was a passing thought. Boys — dating — and then other things she thought she buried deep down began to resurface.

Girls, by every definition, were beautiful. Lily would admire the way they style their hair or religious headwear, how they carried themselves with such effortless grace that they never seemed to notice themselves. Girls, women; Lily thought they were thoughtful, kind and more respectful than men. She felt loads more comfortable around them before her thoughts began to turn more obscure — until her mind quickly shut it down and interjected that she just wanted to be close friends.

That was an utter lie.

It’s not like Lily didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards boys. She did, very much and had feelings both romantic and well… er — unleashed a plethora of other feelings. Lily was not opposed to holding hands, kissing or cuddling them, she really liked the idea and felt herself grow warm. She would do all sorts of things with the right boy. But there was something so exciting, yet frightening when the idea of hand-holding, kissing and cuddling with Y/N. That certainly left Lily with sweaty palms, heart racing and a flustered mess.

Whenever she held her hands, went around holding her arm in the halls, or crept into each other’s beds at night, Lily felt like a puddle of nerves.

She’s managed to force a smile most of the time whenever improper thoughts surfaced. She could be alone, walking the hallways for her prefect duties and something would pop up: when her fingers ran through Lily’s scalp when she brushed her hair. Her smile. Her eyes… her damn eyes… All she thought about these days was her. How was Y/N doing? She’s so funny! Would she like the way she styled her robes today? How would she look on top of — ARGH! Lily was mortified half the time.

Let’s just say that it was a gradual realization.

Lily wasn’t stupid, far from it and knew what was happening and it left her on complete edge, especially around Y/N. It left her face scarlet red and felt as if her chest was about to burst into a bloody mess. She couldn’t even look or be anywhere near her sometimes because it was too overwhelming.

But her feelings… Lily grew up being taught that she wasn’t supposed to feel this way for another girl, let alone both boys and girls...

Her heart, mind, morals, feelings, everything she believed in was at war. Lily felt herself change inside and out. It’s always been there, those… emotions — and suddenly it just ripped at the seams. Y/N was just the tipping point.

But why did it feel like such a crime for something so innocent? Something that is supposed to be beautiful?

And Y/N… out of all people!

It had been a very tiring and stressful school year so far.

Potter’s birthday had coincided with Gryffindor’s win against Hufflepuff and thus, a joint party was thrown. Lily watched from the sidelines as Y/N’s back faced her. The glowing of lights, all charmed red, immersed her as she snapped an abundance of photos of a very plastered Potter having the time of his life. He stood on a table, drunkenly singing.

Another bright flash went off and she brought the camera down, took the photo and shook it. A wide smile plastered on her face as she watched the photo develop and her body shook with laughter. But as if Y/N knew Lily was staring, her head swivelled around with a smile so blinding that it hurt Lily’s heart; now filled with hot shame again.

She shouted over the loud music. “Petals! C’mon, let loose for once!” She pointed to the cup in hand.

Lily looked down, looking at the amber liquid filled to the brim of her cup, untouched. Her gaze looked back, giving her a shy thumbs-up and brought the cup to her lips. The bitter taste of Firewhiskey burned before spreading warmly through her. But, Y/N’s reaction was worth it.

Lily tried to still her heart as she ripped her gaze away. Y/N made her feel everything but calm, rational and level-headed. It was terrifying.

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‘Round round get around, I get around, yeah

(Get around round round I get around, ooh-ooh) I get around’

“Hip-hip —” James bellowed, raising a glass filled with Firewhiskey in the air.

“HOORAY!” The Gryffindors roared back.

“Hip-hip —”

Throughout the night, Sirius danced with probably every girl there before he went to turn the record player louder, re-filling his glass. He watched as James hopped off the table and made his way to Emmeline, peppering her skin with sloppy kisses that made her laugh and eyes crinkle.

They all officially met her that night. She’s sweet, kind and they found out she’s just as crazy as James in the love department and they seemed beyond happy.

Peter was there, who looked at the two, almost enviously, faced stained red before solemnly bobbing his head to the music. Sirius didn’t think much of it, instead just passed it off as a sad drunk.

‘I'm gettin' bugged driving up and down the same old strip

I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip’

Sirius cringed; he was never a fan of the Beach Boys but Wormtail and Prongs loved it…

Students jumped, rocking to the blasting music. Some talked, some were snogging, others tipsy or drunk. Sirius grinned from ear to ears as he looked around the room, searching for Remus. He was already a pole light, he would stick out like a sore thumb. But instead of Remus, Sirius’ eyes settled on L/N; film in hand, talking to another student. He was blond, a year above them, large in stature and Sirius recognized him from the Gryffindor tryouts back in September. Aldrich McLaggen.

His face was beat red as he chatted with L/N, his hand toying with the sleeves as he looked her up and down, wearing a flirtatious yet apprehensive grin. The bastard was flirting with her.

Sirius felt himself grip his glass tighter than normal, his free hand bunched into a tight ball while pressing firmly to his side. Neither she nor Sirius spoke, aside from their Puffskein assignment and it was killing him. From the discomfort or wishing they had kissed that night — he didn’t know. But it was tortuously awkward.

“Padfoot,” came a voice. Remus leant against a nearby table as he sipped his drink. No matter how much he seemed to drink, Remus was able to knock back drinks after drinks without it affecting him. Sirius envied that but then the thought passed, eyes settling on L/N.

“Moomy.”

Remus followed Sirius’ eyes, scrutinizing the situation.

“She’s so annoying,” said Sirius. He didn’t even mean to speak, it just slipped out.

Remus’ brow rose. “Talking about this, again? She’s not. L/N’s my friend and I like her.”

Sirius shook his head. “She’s insufferable. Who does she think she is?!”

“... Who?”

“Just look at her!” Sirius exclaimed, using large hand movements. “She acts like she owns the place. Just because she’s new she assumes she’s better than everyone else! And —” Sirius continued to rant but Remus blocked him out, head shaking.

Fucking idoit, Remus thinks. He wants to slap Sirius silly. When will he stop talking about her?

“— taking all of my friends: Prongs, Lily, Marlene, Wormy, you! I was —”

“You sound like a child.”

“— so smart. The Slugclub? All filled with stuffy pricks — except you and Lily — the kicker, I’ve seen her with Regulus! A Slytherin! Come on. That’s just asking for —”

“Padfoot —”

“— don’t understand how —”

“Crikey! Sirius!” Remus scolded. Sirius went quiet, intimidated by him. Remus took a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut but asked, “Why do you hate her? Is it because of that fucking rejection because —”

“What?!” Sirius’s voice cuts, loud and booming to the point where several heads swirled to look at him.

Remus looked at them, making hand movements to shoo them off. “Mind your business.”

“Moony, you know me! Come on! Sure, I’m a dick, but I’m not that much of a dick!”

“Then what is it? It can’t just be that she’s annoying.” Of course, Remus was right again. Always so blunt and never failed to be clear-cut.

Remus then tipped back his drink in one go without a flinch and left Sirius’ side. He’d much rather do his prefect duties than listen to him go on about the same conversation for what seemed like the eighth time that week. With Sirius left to sulk, he sighed and looked back to the scene, feeling irrational jealousy bubble up.

L/N laughed at whatever McLaggen said, who leant into her ear. What an obvious bloke.

Maybe it was because of the mix of alcohol that made Sirius place his cup down and stride up to them, but even he knew it wasn’t just the Firewhiskey.

“I’ve always wanted to visit. How was it like living —”

“McLaggen.” Sirius’ voice came out gruff and cold.

Both their heads turned towards him and she sent him a look, telling him to go. But too stubborn, he stayed put.

“Um… Black. Hello,” McLaggen responded. Sirius continued to stand tall, body language closed off, telling him silently to leave.

Tosser. Pillock. Daft bimbo lookin’ arse —

The boy coughed awkwardly and threw L/N a tight-lipped smile. “See you!” She nodded her head, giving a small, friendly wave. “Bye!”

Sirius took his place instantly. “Finally, you said something right for once. He’s a git.”

L/N’s face scrunched up in confusion. She sent daggers his way and he had to stop himself from smirking. “Surprise,” he drawled, hands going up to shake in jazz hands. “You seem happy to see me.”

“Why are you talking to me? People might think we’re friends.”

“Like we were ever just friends.”

Her mouth hung open after registering what he said and Sirius felt like using an unforgivable curse on himself. Did he have to bring it up like that?

Sirius was all over the place with his thoughts. Point blank, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening. He so badly wanted to draw near, to touch her and hear that damn laughter, but did he?

His… very unwelcomed feelings — whatever they were, were beginning to get in the way of his already messy life. Was it the chase that made him feel so electric, the need to dive into someone else to cover up his own problems? Was this him dabbling in his unhealthy behaviours and would this just set him back? Sirius wasn’t sure and he walked a fine line.

Humans, especially those like Sirius, are social beings. Like most people, they craved recognition, approval and constant reassurance from those around them. People want to fit in that desired image but struggle to find happiness — lost in that perceived image they chase. Desired reality… it’s like a mirage. The constant back and forth only drained him and it had been more apparent than ever since the break. That pretty packaged Sirius — was that him subconsciously crawling its way out, making him lose the little progress he’s made by continuing whatever this was? A game, his true feelings or a way to be social, to fill that void settled deep within his chest?

But he doesn’t think so, and that freaked him out even more. What scared him was that he wanted to get to know all the little parts of her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. It felt like a mantra playing in his head, questions about her he wanted answered. But he could never be sure.

L/N remained silent and he cut in, trying to cover up his internal dilemma.

“Now look who’s the quiet one.”

“Be more conceited, will you?”

“Insolent brat.”

She grinds her jaw aggressively, to the point where he swears he can hear bones crunching but she holds back from a snarky comment. His mouth opens, ready to add on before L/N turns around to survey the room. He watches as she looks up to James and back to him and then a small, separate room that’s cut off from the main room. The last thing either wanted was to ruin James’ night or cause a scene. “Follow me.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, teasingly staying back a beat before another Gryffindor girl comes up to him. He’d danced with her earlier. “Pretty boy,” she greets, “Fancy another dance?”

Sirius’ eyes travel to L/N who’s eyes hardened as she stomped back up to him. “Sorry, but pretty boy” her voice dripping in obvious sarcasm, “Has somewhere to be.” Then, she tugged on the hem of his sweater and the action had Sirius’s heart flutter. He let her lead him through the crowd, nearing the room.

“Pretty boy? So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirked, watching her duck her head to prevent him from seeing her reaction.

Out of the entire student body he could’ve had feelings for — feelings he’s never felt before that caused him to go speechless, heart speeding and the urge to inch closer — it had to be her? She never knew how to take a joke either! How James and Remus were so fond of her, he didn’t know.

She shoved him into the small room, casting Muffliato. It was ill-lit, the only source of luminosity were the red lights seeping in the cracks of the door and the small window; twinkling stars shining just enough. The mixture of lights made her look alluring.

“What do you want?” Her voice is passive-aggressive.

You, he reckons. Or maybe a permanent silencing charm to never have to hear her speak again. Either seemed great.

Her eyes rolled, impatient as he remained silent. “Could you be anymore… confusing? You’re hot and cold! First, you’re nice to me, then mean. Then come up to me, ruin my conversation with Aldrich and now you’re silent.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be here with you, happy?”

“Like you didn’t start this.”

“It’s not my fault you’re infuriating, constantly running your mouth.”

She takes a deep breath, her hands rubbing her face and let’s out a frustrated groan. Her eyes snap back open, “I hate you.” The silence was loud.

Sirius felt himself freeze, eyes turning half-lidded as he took a few steps towards her. She backed up, sliver of a smile there. His chest rose, breathing deeply, “Say that again.”

L/N looked up at him with those eyes he swore looked right through him. Simply being that close made him feel as if he ran a marathon. Then, a wicked, yet timid grin worms its way on her face. Their soft breaths were tense, like if either were too loud, everything would come crashing down.

She repeats. “I hate —”

She doesn’t finish her statement as Sirius pressed himself against her, pushing her back but snakes a hand to prevent her head from hitting the jagged wall.

His voice was low. “Are you sure you want to say that again?”

Her breath hitches. He grins. She swallows. “I. Hate. Y—”

Each syllable was hushed as Sirius pressed his lips onto hers, gentle, sweet and hesitant, contradicting compared to their banter.

When the initial shock wore off, he felt Y/N respond to the kiss, deepening it. Her lips parted and Sirius slid his tongue inside. She was a bit clumsy, hesitant but eager. Sirius smirked at her. Everything felt startling, incredible and better than what Sirius imagined it to ever be like. He felt like a firecracker, a warm feeling spreading through his veins like fire.

She’s soft, incredibly so. His free hand went to roam around before settling on the base of her back, stroking the soft skin up and down. Her hand is threaded through his hair just hard enough that he has to bite back a groan. Her other hand is pressed firmly onto his chest and god — she feels so good.

To Y/N, Sirius tastes like what you think he would taste like. He tastes expensive, smells really good and his kisses are a lot softer than she expected — the very opposite of him: energetic, rough, messy and wild. Instead it’s delicate, sweet and velvety.

She’s the first to pull back and Sirius can’t help but move his head to try and catch her lips but settles on pressing his forehead against hers.

Their soft pants fill the air and Sirius feels like screaming. His skin is boiling and she looks beyond enthralling. Their eyes locked and her eyes washed over him with such an intensity that it could rival any ocean wave.

Neither spoke, just trying to process what happened, letting their eyes run wild before she tucks a fallen strand of hair behind Sirius’ ear. The action, so small and fairly insignificant, made something so bubbly flare in his chest.

Both of their pupils are blown wide and this time, she’s the one to lean in first; with a series of soft peaks before Sirius prolongs it. Both his hands are now on her face, tilting her head up before one goes to graze her neck.

There wasn’t a sinking or horrible feeling in his chest that made him feel used or worthless and he took that as a good sign to continue.

This time, it’s faster, rough and passionate and Sirius leads, his hips pressed against her, caging her against the wall. Her hand then went to embrace Sirius, her nails scratching down his back and he involuntarily slipped out a soft groan into her lips.

Merlin… she’s more intoxicating than any brand of alcohol he’s ever drunk.

Eventually, they simultaneously pulled away, using whatever sense they had left and Sirius was left feeling high and shaky. Y/N looked away first, Sirius continuing to stare wide-eyed.

“Um — w-we should — ugh — get going —”

“— Right, I was just about to…”

Sirius backed up, letting Y/N free as she went to sit on a nearby chair. Sirius ran a hand through his hair and stumbled back into the party. He exhaled deeply, fingers outlining his lips in shock.

He must be mad — blood fucking mad! They’re both equally mad!

God, he must be blushing like a damn fool and certainly, he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight. Blimey…

Once James saw him, he pointed and made a B-line, strutting over, his hips exaggerating until he swung an arm around him.

“Siriusss! You’re my best friend!” James ruffled his hair, “Did you know that? Merlin — you light up my world.”

Sirius felt himself smile, but he’s still not fully there. His mind thinks back to her touch: soft and fleeting and god does he crave more and — what is she thinking?

“In love with me? You’re going to have to get in line.”

“Love with all m’friends… Moony… Wormtail — Whiskersss.” James slurred his words slightly and went on a tangent but Sirius’ eye remained on the door, waiting for her to come back.

She’s taking an awfully long time. Fuck, did he push it?

“Mate — earth to Padfoot?” James says, this time knocking his fist on his head like a door. “SIRIUS! Yoo-hoo! In there?”

“Yeah — sorry. A lot’s on my mind.”

James studied him, looking a lot more sober than he did just seconds ago as he went to fix his glasses and said seriously, “Is it… the nightmares again? We can go and talk about it?”

This caught his attention. Ever since Valentine's, he’s been talking to James about them — or at least mentioning bits and pieces which helped a lot more than he expected. “What? No, no it’s not that.”

“But if it is, you’ll tell me, right?”

Sirius has to stop himself from snorting, but it’s all too endearing. “Of course — I’ve only gotten them two times this week.”

Prongs grins like a mad man, throwing his fist in the air. “That’s one down! Amazing! You are amazing.”

And then he hears the door click open and it’s her. She sent him a small smile, barely there but Sirius felt his heart swell. Marlene bounced up to her, pulling her into a dance along with Mary. He watched as her head tipped back with a smile so dazzling and he felt his skin turn fuzzy again.

She got under his skin like nobody else and he’s starting to love it.

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

So like. What if there were a fic of Ivan and Fedyor falling in love? Just saying. Someone could write that...(and could that someone be you?!)

Fedyor Kaminsky is brought to the Little Palace when he is nine years old. Before that, he has lived his whole life in the place he was born: a small village about twenty miles southeast of Kribirsk. It is just close enough for him to be constantly aware of the Shadow Fold, looming like a thunderstorm on a hot summer day, and to know, also, the honor that it is when the examiners arrive, he receives a sharp prick in the arm, some sort of strange result takes place, and he is formally declared to be Grisha. His parents know it too, and are eager to tell him of it. They are not well off, and Fedyor is the sixth of seven children. The payment for their patriotic service will be welcome, and while his mother hugs him tightly and tells him to make the Saints proud, he feels, somehow, that they are not that grieved to see the back of him. He is the only child from his village that has been picked, and they all assemble to see him off. Just think. One of their own, in the Second Army.

Fedyor cries himself to sleep his first night in the dormitories, as most of the children do. But he wakes fully rested, hungry for breakfast, and eager to throw himself into his new life. He has a sunny temperament, a personable nature, that serves him well here, and any talented Grisha can climb high in the ranks, almost as high as the Black General himself. Back home, what did he have to look forward to, aside from the taunts and punches of his brothers, who always saw him as more like one of their sisters than one of them? He is learning things here. Religion and medicine and geography and history. And, of course, the arcane art of the Small Science, the one thing that binds these young people from all across Ravka. Their power, their responsibility, and their upcoming effort in the endless wars.

His first few years pass rather well, all things considered. When he is thirteen, it is officially declared that he will be taken onto the Order of Corporalniks, and – somewhat to everyone’s surprise, including his – he is best suited not as a Healer, but a Heartrender. It turns out that unassuming, smiling, friendly Fedyor, who knows everyone’s name and is always given an indulgent second portion of dessert from the doting canteen ladies, packs quite a punch.

It’s here where he first puts Ivan Sakharov on his back, and his whole life changes.

Fedyor and Ivan have known of each other, ever since they arrived in the same class of recruits. Ivan is a tough, taciturn northern boy from Chernast, skinny and scowling and always displeased about something, no matter what. Fedyor once saw him brood through the whole Winter Fete, and he has taken it as a professional challenge to get Ivan to smile. Once Fedyor plays a practical joke on him, to the awe of the entire dormitory, who would not dare to even imagine such things themselves. Ivan scowls at him like the Black Heretic himself, and stomps off to have his important life problems somewhere else. But now they’re both thirteen, Ivan is shooting up like a weed and channeling all that pent-up resentment into some really effective Heartrending, and Fedyor is regretting all his previous liberties. As they face each other and bow, thus to commence the duel on Botkin’s word, he thinks, Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

Then he remembers that he’s the same Order, he has the same red kefta awaiting him when he finishes his trials, that he has as much right to be here as some tight-arse bastard from the frozen northern wastes, and that is why, thirty seconds after the duel has begun, Ivan is flat on his back and looking astonished. Everyone is applauding, and Fedyor feels somewhat confused. He strides over to his fallen adversary and offers him a hand. “Good job.”

Ivan glares at him, exquisitely sensitive to the possibility that he’s being mocked. “You’ll regret this, Kaminsky,” he says, low-voiced. “Mark my words.”

After that, for several months, Fedyor lives in terror of going anywhere in the Little Palace alone, lest Ivan suddenly leap out from behind a shrubbery and murder him. He and Ivan spar in their classes, in practice, in trying to outdo each other in Baghra’s ridiculous lessons, throwing all their effort into the sort of stupid, pointless rivalry that can only be maintained by teenage boys with too much pride and too little sense. They start to look for each other wherever they go, waste no opportunity to glare heatedly, and they are sixteen years old when Fedyor notices to his extreme vexation that during all this time spent staring at him until he has memorized his face, Ivan has gotten a little… handsome.

(What? No? Ivan? Horrifying.)

Fedyor himself isn’t exactly cursed in the face department, once a persistent bout of acne clears up. With his wavy hair, dark eyes, and easy smile, he provokes his fair share of sighs and pining among the female Corporalniks, but he is oddly uninterested in reciprocating their advances. Then he and Ivan get paired together on some training exercise that goes horribly wrong, they are trapped in the woods for hours until someone comes to find them, and with nothing else to do, they are forced to actually talk. Ivan has that northern chip on his shoulder that they all seem to, and probably started fighting Fjerdans when he was two years old, but what he says next takes Fedyor completely aback. “You’re… not that bad,” he says grudgingly. “You’re the only one who’s brave enough to actually talk to me, not just tiptoe like a mouse.”

“Well.” Fedyor throws a stick of wood at him. “Have you considered being less of a total grouch all the time?”

Ivan scoffs, lunges at him, and they end up wrestling in the leaf mold, an exercise that both of them enjoy a bit too much and take extreme care that the other not notice. By the time the search party from the Little Palace comes to retrieve them, they have forgotten all about being lost. In fact, as they were lying on the ground together, tangled up and panting and staring at the stars, Fedyor had the strangest thought that it was the best night of his life, and he doesn’t have a clue what he should make of that.

After that, an even stranger thing happens: they become friends. Well, sort of. Ivan maintains his default posture of appearing to hate everything and everyone, but Fedyor is the only person he tolerates, or allows to yank his chain in any way. And in turn, though Ivan Sakharov is the last person who would seem to need any kind of protection, the favor is returned. Once, when a city boy from Os Alta starts going on about how savage northerners are, staring pointedly at Ivan the whole time, Fedyor launches him halfway across the room. He gets in trouble, but it’s worth it. And they do undoubtedly work better together, Fedyor fighting right-handed and Ivan fighting left. They cover each other’s weak sides, learn to anticipate each other’s moves, and…

It’s a deeply inconvenient fact of life that when you are a Heartrender, and are exquisitely sensitive to pulse rates, you notice when yours starts going consistently haywire around certain people. Especially when, the year they turn eighteen, they are assigned to room together. The Little Palace is spacious, but not enough for every Grisha to have his or her own room, and since they’re no longer children, they’re not expected to share with the entire class. So Fedyor and Ivan end up in a garret room of their very own, and it is here, to his extreme consternation, that the next phase of Fedyor’s torment re: Ivan begins.

It is difficult to share a small room with Ivan and not want to look at him, and unless he is much mistaken, Ivan always seems to be concentrating a little too hard on his books whenever Fedyor is changing clothes. Fedyor is self-aware enough by this point to know that he prefers men, but he has absolutely no idea as to Ivan. Do they do this sort of thing in Chernast, or does it distract from arm-wrestling bears and shooting drüskelle? Ivan is so constantly unwilling to admit any kind of weakness or effeminacy that Fedyor figures gloomily he’s just doomed to suffer in silence. Naturally.

Except then both of them start rejecting any other romantic overtures, and they even go to the Summer Fete dance together, and Fedyor is taken aback when Zoya Nazyalensky asks bluntly the next day, “So, you and Ivan? Really?”

“What?” Fedyor is aware that Zoya and Ivan cordially hate each other, though she and Fedyor have always gotten on. “We’re not – Zoya, it’s not like that!”

He pauses.

“At least,” he adds guiltily. “It’s not like that as far as we’ve said?”

Zoya gives him a look silently agreeing that for the sake of their friendship, they will never mention Fedyor’s terrible taste in men again, though that doesn’t mean she has to like it. As for her, she’s pining after Kirigan, as almost all Grisha do at some point. Fedyor did so himself – the Black General is gorgeous, all right, shoot him – but he cares about nothing except finding the mythical Sun Summoner and engaging in a busy schedule of brooding even more intense than Ivan’s. Ivan, for that matter, seems to have struck it off with him, as Kirigan always values talent, and Fedyor has to fight down an unbecoming surge of jealousy. It’s not like they’re something. Not really.

(Though not for lack of wanting.)

After that, an even stranger thing happens, which is that people start assuming that Fedyor and Ivan are, in fact, a couple. Fedyor gets asked how his boyfriend is doing (sometimes sardonically, sometimes in a tone that turns genuinely surprised when he hastens to correct them) and he minds it less and less. Of course, for his part, Ivan is utterly oblivious. They’re sitting in a sunny hallway one day, Ivan tolerantly letting Fedyor play with his hair (though he keeps it military-short and it’s not like there’s that much of it) when Genya Safin walks by, glances at them archly, and says, “You know, Ivan, you’re much nicer now that you’re going out with him.”

Ivan turns such a deep shade of purple that Fedyor’s afraid he’s going to blow a gasket. “What?!” he splutters. “We are not – we are not – we are not going out! Never! I don’t – what are you talking – I don’t even like him!”

Fedyor’s lip quivers, despite himself. “Come on,” he says, failing to make it entirely lighthearted, wounded deeper than he wants to admit. “You don’t mean that, right?”

Ivan turns to him, flustered. “No,” he says convulsively. “Don’t look sad. Don’t look at me like that. Shh. Of course I like you.”

Fedyor brightens.

Genya gives them an obnoxiously knowing look and walks away.

By now, they’re twenty-one, old enough to be properly deployed as soldiers to the front, and Fedyor can’t help but thinking about where Ivan is, what he’s doing, if he’s all right, whenever they’re apart. He doesn’t like it, it feels wrong and unnatural, they always did better side by side anyway. Finally, they both get back to the Little Palace after a grueling campaign of many months away, Ivan against the Fjerdans and Fedyor against the Shu Han. They see each other, and it’s like lightning, rooting them to the ground. They’re dusty, dirty, banged up, bruised and bloody, but they know as a simple truth, beyond any doubt or questioning, that Fedyor will be coming to Ivan’s room tonight, and that Ivan will sit up and wait for him.

And that, therefore, is what happens. Fedyor can barely concentrate on washing up and fetching supper because he is so fixated on the knowledge of what’s coming later. He goes through the motions, barely hears his friends, barely tastes what he’s eating. He scarcely manages to wait until it’s dark. Then he gets up, slips through the corridors – they no longer bunk together, but he knows the way – and reaches the door. Fights a final attack of nerves, about how long he’s been waiting and how it might go wrong – then knocks.

“It’s open,” Ivan calls from inside, his voice dark with wanting. Of course it is.

Fedyor steps inside, and looks at him. After all this time, it feels like he should make a speech, have something more grand to say, or perhaps even an I-told-you-so. He doesn’t get around to any of that. He can’t stand it. Instead he shucks his kefta in a quick, practiced movement. Runs across the room, and climbs, claws, into Ivan’s arms.

Their kiss is rough and wet and wild, mouths open, teeth dragging, tongues scraping, trying to get as close as they possibly can, and then closer. Ivan’s hands, deft and eager, rough with calluses, spread across Fedyor’s arms and shoulders, the neat muscled column of his torso. “You should have let me do that,” he scolds between kisses, evidently referring to the business of undressing Fedyor. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“You’ve been waiting long enough – ?!” Fedyor Kaminsky really does love this man, but Saints help him, he is dense. “You could have said something!”

Ivan looks at him with pure wickedness in his eyes. “I thought I just did.”

Fedyor groans, grabs Ivan’s head to kiss him again, and they roll down onto the covers together, tearing at the remaining clothes in their way. It’s raw and agonized and real, this coming together, this needing, this consummation and completion, and afterward, as Fedyor lies gasping on Ivan’s chest and Ivan sleepily strokes his hair with a tenderness that seems totally inconceivable to anyone who has met him at literally any other moment, Fedyor knows, in some way, he will never truly leave this room again. That he’s here. Home.

(Later, Fedyor finds out that Ivan actually asked his boss for help with his romantic quandary, and Kirigan’s advice was evidently so terrible that Ivan decided to just give up and go for it with Fedyor rather than trying that again. Even if Aleksander Kirigan is the Black General, the Shadow Summoner, the most powerful Grisha in the world, Ivan does not intend to let him forget it. They are all fortunate that Aleksander thinks it’s funny.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #<<is my tag for them #oops now i ship it #mearcatsreturns #ask

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novanitas · 3 years

Text

There are Other Ways to Fall in Love

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31806577

- Warnings: Zhongli is manipulative? suggestive content?

- The work was written with the mindset of a female reader but no pronouns were used so any reader may enjoy~

Falling in love was supposed to be love at first sight, and for you, it was. Falling in love was supposed to be magical, every moment filled with bliss. Falling in love was supposed to be finding that one person in your life and staying with them forever, no change in heart. Falling in love was that way for you. But were you really falling in love?

They say the devil hides in plain sight, where he is easily seen and the star of the show. They say the devil can be as sweet as honey to the right person or as cold and cunning as the winters of Snezhnaya. They say the devil draws people in and traps them with their dashing looks and silver tongue. They say love is a game. Your heart the pawn.

Falling out of love was never a thought to you. You never imagined that if you did find that one love at first sight that you would find yourself tired of your lover's presence and wondering what went astray. You heard in the whispers of the wind that falling out of love was like falling out of a tree, swift and painful, knocking the air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath. For you falling out of love was that, but it was so much more. Falling out of love was painful in the way that the love in your partner's eyes turned to something darker. Falling out of love was breathless for you in the way that you were swept off your feet by someone completely unexpected.

Love is like that of a summer storm coming in unannounced and ripping everything you knew to pieces, everything you knew to be true apart, and that is precisely what Childe did to your heart.

Zhongli was elegant, classy, breathtaking, and one hell of a man to look at. His golden eyes caught yours the second he waltzed through the room, his long coat chasing behind him. Slender legs making his gait seem as if he were from another world. His cologne engulfed every room he stepped in as if it were taking claim to the area, taking claim to your heart—a casanova in disguise.

At first, when your relationship began with Zhongli, you were stunned. How could someone of such stature be interested in you? How could the man you fell head over heels from the second he walked in the room even glance your way?

The devil is cunning, and so was Zhongli. He knew too much of everything. He knew just what to say to make any person come undone. He appealed to all your senses, and you found him intoxicating. He was like a drug you can't get out of your vein.

He came in swiftly and stole your heart, but he took so much more.

You stole away the pride that you once had in yourself. He ripped away your dignity. Zhongli slowly took everything that was you away.

You didn't notice it at first, the way that after he came into your life that everything seemed to falter. Money seemed to dissipate into thin air. Time seemed to be consumed by him. Family and friend's faces seemed never to be around anymore. Life seemed to be closing in on you, or was it Zhongli's hands around your life choking everything else out.

"Y/N," his voice purred in your ear. You stood there, still as the heat of his breath lapped against your ear. "Let's go out. For,"

Zhongli seemed to pause as if testing the waters as if testing to see how far he could push you.

You bit your lip, not daring to lift your head to meet his gaze, to meet his flaming eyes.

"Lunch," he said, placing his hand on the small of your back.

Your heart raced at his touch, flames on his fingertips, fear in your veins.

You, in fact, did not want to go out for lunch because you had no mora, and Zhongli always made you pay for the meal. You, at times, have had to pay for meals and other expenses with questionable means.

Zhongli stepped forward and walked around you, dragging his hand along your body as he went. You shuddered as he stopped behind you, placing his head on your shoulder, his lips grazing your ear.

"You know you don't have a choice in the matter. Why don't you just say yes to me?" His voice was a low growl, an inhuman pitch to it.

"Of course, I'd love to go to lunch with you." The words stumbled out your mouth.

You were strong, but the Geo archon was stronger, eviler, a wicked sense about him.

"Good," Zhongli said, standing back up straight removing his hands from your body.

"Get changed. Your clothing is," he hummed to himself, "a little damaged."

A little damaged, you thought. They are more than damaged; they were charred, blackened to a crisp, barely clinging to your body as the flames ate at the threads and danced across your skin. The only thing saving you from burns adorning your body was the cryo vision you were graced with days before meeting Zhongli.

A Geo Archon using the ability of magma rocks was never a story told in Liyue folklore, but you assumed that most people that encountered it either died or were silenced by other means.

Falling in love meant staying in love even if you lost some of yourself in the process. You did love Zhongli, didn't you? Your mind would ponder over the thought often but never for too long in fear of the answer being something less than true love.

Going on dates to the Genshin Restaurant was a common occurrence for you and Zhongli. The thought of going there again made your blood run cold. But you loved Zhongli, or you thought you did, so you would go anyway. Maybe this is what love was? Perhaps love was giving yourself up for someone else. So you changed your clothes and stood proudly by his side and made your presence known to the people of Liyue once again.

Entering the restaurant, Zhongli's fingers trailed down your arm, leaving traces of golden dust on your skin, sparkling as the light hit it. You were timid, but you held your head high because this love at first had turned to be so much more. Ningguang waved a slight hand at you both as Zhongli elegantly weaved his way to the usual booth the two of you occupied. Ningguang, the owner, so graciously allowed "Zhongli" to "buy" the table permanently in exchange for something you'd rather never think of again. You shuddered at the thought, but your attention was snapped back to Zhongli as his searing hot hand pressed into your back, guiding you into the chair.

The two of you sat quietly, making idle conversation, waiting for the waiter to approach the table. Your heart froze as Ganyu sauntered over to Zhongli. In his eyes were flames, full of lust and want. You bit your tongue, holding back the feeling that you weren't good enough even after giving yourself over to him.

The devil finds in people their weaknesses, and he breaks in, destroying everything with the drop of a match.

"What will you be eating today, Mr. Zhongli?' Ganyu asked pen and paper in hand.

Zhongli looked at Ganyu head to toe and hummed.

"You," he said, pausing a little too long, "suggest something to me."

Ganyu's face flushed red "The um slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup is rather delightful. Only men with such a particular taste know how to appreciate it."

Zhongli looked at Ganyu, studying her before nodding his head.

"And for them?" Ganyu asked Zhongli, throwing you a glance.

Zhongli stirred in his seat, leaning forward placing his elbows on the table. He stared you in the eyes.

"Hmmm, what do you deserve?" He asked aloud.

"Water, and" he flipped his wrists, "whatever you're planning on throwing out."

Your face flushed pink, embarrassed once again by Zhongli's treatment of you.

He always treated you less than him, like you were a dog picked up off the streets, meant to eat table scraps and to be beaten.

You looked around, hoping that no one noticed, hoping that no one saw again how the amazing Geo Archon treated you.

How embarrassing was it to be treated like this by someone who was supposed to love you? But Zhongli did love you, just in other ways, right?

Childe stood off in the corner watching the scene he had witnessed too many times, and his heart ached and raged burned within him. He felt his water swords beginning to materialize in his hands, and he left. He tore out the restaurant and down the streets of Liyue, looking for something to take his anger out on. He soon found himself on the outskirts of Liyue, looking towards Mondstadt, a trail of blood behind him. Was the blood his, or was it the blood of the treasure hoarders and hilichurls, or was it both? Childe heaved in a deep breath and turned around, slowly walking back to Liyue, blood rolling off his hands.

"If that bastard." Childe started to say, war raging inside him. "If he touches Y/N again and I see him treat them like that again, I will not hold back anymore. I swear."

And a few days later, the time came where Childe did not hold back. You were seated in the usual booth of the Genshin Restaurant, eyes bloodshot and clothes charred at the edges. Zhongli was across from you, but his eyes were somewhere else, following the waitress around the tables.

"Excuse me," Childe could hear Zhongli say from the corner he placed himself in. His eyes trained on Zhongli watched as Zhongli stood up and waltzed over to the waitress and whispered something in her ear, his hand lingering on her hip before slowly falling away. Zhongli made his way to the bathrooms, the waitress not far behind.

Childe stood up from his seat and took the opportunity that presented itself to him. He strolled over to the table you sat at and grasped the chair before taking a seat across from you.

Your eyes shot up with surprise at the harbinger sitting in front of you.

You admitted to yourself at that moment that you had noticed Childe before, that you had stolen glimpses of him while Zhongli was infatuated with the waiting staff. You didn't fall for Childe instantly as you did with Zhongli, but your heart began to yearn for him whenever his presence was no longer in the restaurant or the streets you walked. You began to find comfort in knowing that his eyes seemed to find you in a crowd even though the two of you didn't know more than each other's names.

"I see you need some company, comrade," Childe said, a smile playing on his lips.

You smiled at him with a genuine smile, and Childe's eyes lit up.

You didn't know it, but in all these months that Childe has seen you, this was the first time he had seen a smile on your lips.

It was as if the atmosphere had lightened up as the sky did when a storm had passed.

"I would love no other company than yours." You said, truthfully. Silently you wished that Childe could save you from the devil's trap that you had so carelessly fallen into.

At fourteen, Childe fell into the abyss, and at (your age or 18+), you had fallen into the devil's snares.

"Well, you're in luck," Childe smirked. "I so happen to be free. Care for a meal?"

"I," you sighed, "have no mora. Zhongli, he-"

"I never said I would let you pay. When you're with me," Childe cheesily gestured to himself, "You will never pay anything. So order what you want, the most expensive dish. I'll buy it or this entire restaurant all for you."

"I just," your voice was small, "thank you. I'll have 'A Prize Catch' and an Apple Cider Vinegar then."

Childe sat there shocked, "You want 'A Prize Catch?'"

"If that's too much, then," you began.

"No, no. It's just that's my favorite dish, and I have never known anyone else to like it." Childe's eyes sparkled as he spoke.

Childe raised his hand above his head and waited for someone to notice. A waiter soon made his way over, and Childe placed the order, two servings of "A Prize Catch" and two Apple Cider Vinegars, one with light ice.

The two of you sat there in the quiet corner of Genshin Restaurant and ate the food as the conversation flowed between you.

Halfway through the meal, Zhongli finally made his appearance again, his hair slightly ruffled and his clothing half undone. His eyes turned to stone the second his eyes laid on Childe's silhouette.

"Y/N" Zhongli's voice shook the entire restaurant, an ice formed in your veins. Fear grasped your heart.

"Y/N, don't look at him, okay. Look at me." Childe said, his voice soft but strong, caring.

You lifted your eyes from the table and looked at Childe, his eyes a dark blue, determination swimming just beneath the surface.

"Don't answer him. I'll take care of this." Childe said, pushing himself up from the table.

"Childe," his name slipped from your lips.

"It's okay," Childe said, reassuring your beating heart.

And so it was okay because, in that short amount of time you spent with Childe, you realized that everything you knew about falling in love was wrong. You learned that there are other ways to fall in love and that love, at first sight, is just that, love of the eyes, not a love of the heart. You found that falling out of love was painful, but it is even more painful to stay in a relationship that wasn't there. You learned that the devil could be anyone and not just those that look the part.

In the end, Childe paid for your lunch that day, and he paid for it in the coming days after that. Childe crashed your date, but more importantly, he crashed into your heart.

Love is like that of a summer storm coming in unannounced, pouring water to the earth, and drowning out all the things that don't belong. Childe was the storm, you the earth, and Zhongli the thing that didn't belong.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x childe #genshin x zhongli #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #childe x reader #childe x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #childe #zhongli #genshin impact fatui #liyue #ganyu #ningguang #childe x you #zhongli x you #one beta reader that hates me so we die like i do in co-op

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

Passed Down Trauma

Masterlist

The War Has Begun | Next

“Why are you attempting to assassinate Eito L/N?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying, L/N. We found the notes in your home, we found the gun hidden in your car, and all of Japan has seen the video of you slandering your own father. Why did you do it?” Officer Yuikmara slammed his hands on the table in attempts to strike fear in you.

Without faltering, you said with a smile, “I can’t tell you what I didn’t do. . . but I can tell you that you have twenty four hours to let me go before it all gets fully released, Mr. Yuikmara.”

Katsuki and Kirishima stood in the living room of Katsuki’s apartment on what felt like pounds of questions and anxiety. Everything was going smoothly in the operation to protect Y/N and Ryu — now one was missing and the other was in police custody. The tension in the room was thick and despite Eijirou’s tendency to lighten situations, he made no move to ease his friend’s mind. In fact, deep down he wanted Katsuki to suffer for reasons that he knew were selfish and out of line. The unspoken feelings he had for a woman that he shouldn’t want were not hidden, and could not stay silent forever. Especially when that woman’s life was in danger and he couldn’t help but blame Bakugou.

“I’m going to burn that bastard’s house down, and Icy-Hot can put out the damn flames when I’m done.” Katsuki fumed as he paced the floor to try and calm down to think clearly. It was taking everything in him to follow the law and try to take Eito down the legal way, but with every minute he spent working on the case, he realized just how inbedded that man was in hero companies and the police force.

“That won’t get Y/N home, and you know it. What we need to do is wait for her to post bail and find Ryu, she’s probably worried about him.” Eijirou said, trying to find a way to solve all of this and think of what would help Ryu and Y/N.

Katsuki glared at Eiji, “you think you know everything? Y/N wasn’t even phased when we found out he was missing, you idiot!” Katsuki seethed at him.

“I know that Y/N loves her kid more than anything else, so maybe you were too busy being emotional to understand what she was feeling!” Kirishima bit back, not wavering under Katsuki’s harsh gaze.

“You’re just some sad, lovesick moron,” Katsuki taunted. “Why don’t you just admit the reason you don’t believe that she knows where Ryu is, is because you don’t want to believe that she’s hiding things? You think she trusts you so much that she’d tell you more than me? I can guarantee you that, like always, you’ll never be better than me.” Katsuki finished, both of them standing face to face with clenched fists and locked jaws.

The silence was loud like roaring beasts threatening the other to make the first move; two men who fell for the one they couldn’t fully get their arms around. Their friendship was equally as important to both of them, but how could one swallow their feelings for Y/N, simply for the sake of the other? Neither of them thought the other was worthy enough for such a beautiful tragedy you had written in your very bones. There was no personality, no smile, no heart that could compare to you. Even if they fought, the loser wouldn’t dare accept defeat.

A ringing phone broke through the silence, Katsuki’s pocket suddenly vibrating and taking his attention as he pulled it out. An unknown number was displayed across the screen, and in normal circumstances, he would have immediately sent it to voicemail with no hesitation or concern for who was on the other line. Today was anything but a normal circumstance.

“Hello,” he answered in a clipped tone.

“Mr. Bakugou, it’s Nanami. . I have important information I need to discuss with you.”

Rotting in a holding cell wasn’t how you wanted to spend your weekend, but it was better than being dead — you weren’t sure you wouldn’t be dead soon anyway, so you’re savoring just being in jail. You couldn’t even post bail, so you had to sit on the brick like bed and wait for everything to go through. Everything you built was currently being destroyed while you sat here calmly, waiting for the fire that is your father to be put out so you can remove the remains of his hold on your life and be free. . .

. . .Free to do what?

“L/N, you have a visitor, let’s go.” An officer interrupted your peace and opened the door of your cell, and you followed him without a word.

When you entered the small, dimly lit room, a woman sat there with such a crestfallen expression that you could barely recognize her. Her skin that was always flawless with minimal makeup was bare and her color suggested sickness. The gorgeous and bouncy hair that she did her best to maintain everyday was dull and clearly untouched. She looked like a mess, even in her bright flower patterned spring dress.

“Mom?” You said quietly, feeling a twinge of fear towards her when she was in such an unhinged state.

She looked up at you open hearing that word spill from your lips, and her expression brightened ever so slightly. It settled the fear and allowed you to fully fall into worry as you slipped into the chair in front of her — for the first time in years you offered her your hand for comfort. When her cold hand touched yours, you squeezed tightly in hopes of bringing her some warmth even in the cold room.

“I always knew you were secretly a momma’s girl,” were the first words out of her mouth along with an airy laugh. The joke was strange when it came from her, but for her sake you cracked a small smile. “I have a lot to tell you, Y/N.” She said in the softest tone you’d ever heard, grabbing every bit of your attention.

“You don’t have much time, so just say what you have to say.” You urged her, unsure of when you’d be able to speak to her again once she left this room. She had fallen off the Earth after that phone call, and you didn’t want her to leave you with questions.

Your mother began with a deep breath, “I’ve been married to your father for twenty five years. I did it for the money, never once thinking or caring about what he did and how he acted. . . until you were gone. I realized that he was. . different from other people. One day he was kind and compassionate, the next he was ruthless and cold, like a ticking time bomb that kept going off and shortening the time until it’s next reaction. It was easy to ignore at first, I just left him alone as I always did and made sure our interactions were kept completely secret. . Then he saw you on the news with that Bakugou boy-“

“You have five minuets left,” a man called on a speaker into the roo and you gestured for her to get to the point.

“What I’m trying to say is that there’s something wrong with him, Y/N. If you take him down by just destroying all his business and credibility I’m scared he’ll do something drastic that will hurt a lot of people.” Your mother said shakily, and the fear in her face was chilling you to the core, along with the fact that if you looked back you could tell that she was right.

‘What do I know about my grandparents on his side? I’ve never seen a baby picture from him, or even any picture of when he was young! What happened to him that drove him to become the controlling business man that would step on anyone in his way?’ You thought at a rapid speed, finding too many similarities between your reaction to trauma with how he always had acted. If not then more extreme.

“What am I supposed to do?” You whispered, your eyes falling to the cold metal table between you two.

“You have to talk to him,”’ your mother said. “I know you have a way of getting out of here, and when you do, go straight to him and tell no one. . You are his biggest failure in his eyes, and I know you’re the only one who can get through to him.” She squeezed your hand this time, assuring you that what she was saying was true.

“And what about you?” You asked. “Whether I destroy his business or get him the help he needs, you’re still going to lose everything.”

She smiled, “no. I just got everything I needed.”

A/N: We’re getting somewhere :P

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha angst #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha x reader #anime x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

Text

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.

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shittybundaskenyer · 3 years

Text

✹ ▬ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐃

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈. — 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝔃𝔃𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓔𝓪𝓼𝓽 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 — The Goddess of War, Morrigan Marlowe I.

pairing: Arthur Morgan x Morrigan Marlowe (OC)

summary: She saved him and with that he saved her in return. It was a strange symbiosis, like wildflowers in a fruitless garden, alluring curious bees. He made her garden bloom. — Arthur Morgan thought he was done with living, but in a gentle golden sunrise, on that cursed mountain, he's rescued by a mysterious woman.

warnings: descriptions of injuries and sickness, blood, Arthur has TB, some self-hatred and unkind thoughts

𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 | 𝐴𝑅𝐶𝐻𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑂𝑊𝑁

There’s a wolf.

Between gently swaying raspberry vines and dried grass its eyes glint. Golden, with a hint of forest green. He can see it clearly, even though his vision is getting cloudy with stinging tears that are forcing their way through until they can escape from the corners of his eyes. He was never a man who cried easily but the happenings of those last few hours are starting to clear in his mind, and loneliness is slowly sinking its sharp claws into his barely beating heart.

The wolf scents the air, maybe it smells his fear now, or the lingering gunsmoke the wind stirs towards its way. Will it rip his throat out? That would be at least quicker than slowly choking on his own blood.

But the wolf doesn’t move like it would attack. It just watches him, cautiously stepping closer until he can feel its fur brushing the torn up knuckles on his right hand. It brushes its muzzle over the ripped fabric of his shirt where a bullet grazed his shoulder and where Micha's punches start to bruise a dark reddish purple.

He feels blood mingling with the tears on his cheeks, a salty copper taste lingering in his mouth as he gasps for air. The wolf snarls, but not threatening, drawing closer to his face.

Their eyes meet and the sun slowly creeps over the horizon, painting the landscape purple and golden in the early morning mist. Arthur's chest hurts, so much that he can barely catch his next breath. The wolf sniffs his face and for a second they inhale the same air. Its ears flatten, golden eyes meeting his.

There's something in its gaze, a warmth almost, like when he would look at sunlight filtering through the canopy of a forest on a hot summer day and let it gently caress his face.

Arthur struggles for another breath, even more desperate now. He starts shaking, wrecked by sobs and pain and the need to fill his lungs with the air that is barely pushing past his throat. The wolf nudges him then, places its head between his collarbone and neck, bares its teeth and he thinks now, it will tore his flesh open.

He tries to reach for the light fur that grows on the wolf's head but he doesn't have that power in him anymore. His hand lies limp over his stomach, absentmindedly pressing down on a wound to slow the bleeding. Not that it would mean too much.

His vision starts to go black around the edges but it's not from the wolf's attack. It just… rests there, like it would listen to his breathing, the slowing beats of his heart, until it rises and stomps its large paw on his chest, flaring up the pain from broken ribs again. He wheezes and the wolf growls, almost annoyed. It circles him and pushes its head under his arm and shoulder and turns him to his side. It's even worse now, the pain and the lack of air, and he moves as the wolf pleases, too weak, so goddamn weak.

The wolf rams its head into his back, making him cough until a thick patch of reddened spit and phlegm leaves his mouth. He can feel blood trickle down from his nose and he retches, helpless, and spits again.

There now, he can gulp down a breath.

It doesn’t let him rest. Hits him with its paw and nose, bares its teeth when their eyes meet after the reddened saliva dribbles down his chin. He’s too tired to do this, too weak to keep on breathing, but the most animalistic instincts of him and the wolf doesn’t allow him his final rest, not yet. So he wheezes and coughs and chokes until he calms down, until the wolf looks at him once more, with the rising sun glinting in its eyes, and rests its head on his aching chest, huffing a warm breath over his jaw.

Sunrise paints the landscape golden and under, the misty forests a warm reddish-purple. The world is quiet, only his tired breaths are mingling with the quietly whistling wind that twists and turns around the Grizzlies and the old, crooked pine trees. A whitetail buck grazes not too far, the sunshine glinting on his antlers. He raises his head and Arthur and the wolf stare back at him until he turns and jumps, disappearing between frost-kissed blackberry bushes.

The wolf and the sun warms him, caressing his face and pained body, gently lulling him until the sky turns into pink, purple, and then a brilliant blue.

He can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

When he wakes the wolf is gone but there's a woman.

He's in a room, laying in a bed that is covered with something soft, maybe a pelt. His senses are still muddled, but they slowly creep back to him. The ache in his body is still present, breathing is still a struggle. The light coming from a hearth and a kerosene lamp is making him blink back tears, but with his hazy vision he notices the woman quietly busying herself with brewing something, and the air is heavy with the sweet smell of burning herbs.

And then he coughs.

The coughing fit wrecks his body, makes him gasp for air between spitting up blood and choking on it. It stains the fur he's laying on, and drips down the corner of his mouth, disappearing in his beard.

The woman drops the kettle she was holding and rushes to him, carefully pulling him by his uninjured arm to lay on his side. He spits again, the blood finally clearing from his mouth while she holds him in place with one hand and hits his back with the other until he coughs up the mucus that's choking him.

Arthur goes limp when it's over, wheezing in painful breaths while she regards his face and the stained pelt under his head. She reaches for his overgrown hair and brushes it out of his face, her gaze meeting his. She has doe eyes that glint golden in the light of the dimmed kerosene lamp placed on his bedside. He doesn't recognize her but somehow he feels he knows her at the same time. Maybe from another life.

"Better now?" she asks quietly while she places his hand on the bed and gently lays him back.

Arthur tries to speak but only a tired groan leaves his lips while a string of bloodstained saliva dribbles down his chin. He tries again.

"Not much," his voice is so quiet that only a whisper of a gentle breeze could blow the words away. But she listens and lays her palm flat on his forehead. His skin is clammy there, probably the result of a fever, and she clicks her tongue disappointedly, confirming his assumption. "If—If I may ask," he rasps out, trying to be polite, even if speaking feels like being stabbed in the throat every second, "where am I, Miss?"

She pulls back her hand and glances towards the window on the far wall for a minute, where blinking stars and an inky black sky is visible through the glass, and then back to his eyes.

"Found ya half-dead while I was huntin'. You're in my home now, up in the Grizzlies."

Arthur just nods and closes his eyes, not having the energy to keep them open anymore. The woman pulls back for a little and when she returns he feels a cool, wet rag on his forehead, and soon after, her hands again, sneaking under his head to keep him upright while a tin cup is lifted to his lips. He forces himself to look up at her when he feels the fresh water hitting his tongue.

She’s a bit surprised when he grabs the cup she’s still holding, his palm wrapping around hers so he can drink all of the water. When he’s done she doesn’t pull away immediately, but regards his face, the scars and blackened bruises still lingering there. The blood on his chin over an old, jagged scar.

“Why did ya bring me here?” he rasps, every word a stinging pain to form. She looks down for a moment, at his bruised hand that carefully releases hers. The tin cup is empty.

“Guess life ain't done with you yet.”

That's all she says and he sighs, regretting it the next moment as his lungs try to expand, so tired, so weak. He stifles another cough into the fur he stained with blood earlier.

“You’re wrong, Miss. I’m as good as dead.”

Her face turns a bit worried, but she tells him she saw him fighting on that mountain. That after all he did she couldn't let him die while those other men in black swarmed the place like rats to search through the dead.

His face falls at that, a frown drawing his brows together while she watches him. He tells her that she got herself into something that could kill her. She answers with a sad, bitter smile and that she knows exactly how cruel men could be. He doesn't ask her how or why, he only nods and turns his head to the side where he can see the stars glinting silently outside the window. He knows women who met cruel fates.

If the Pinkertons didn't find his body, they'd track him down. Milton assured him that he would be hunted to the ends of the earth until the end of time. Agent Milton was dead now, shot down by Abigail when Arthur's strength failed in fighting him off. Still, his voice whispers in his mind regardless.

Arthur is sure that they'll hunt him down and shoot him like a dog, or make it last like they did with Mac Callander. The sick bastards .

And this woman, they will kill her too. There's no mercy after what happened, no offer for amnesty. Just a gun and a finger on the trigger.

"If they turn up… They'll kill us, Miss."

"They can try," is her only answer.

She lifts the rag from his forehead, puts it in a bowl of water he can't see from where he's laying, but he can hear it splashing as she wrings out the cloth. The cool touch of the fabric is back in a few seconds while she rises from the chair next to him and her pinky finger accidentally brushes his scarred knuckles as she lifts up the tin cup from his weak grasp.

Arthur doesn't feel like talking anymore.

He spends a week sweating out his fever. The woman brews him herbal teas that taste awful and knock him out cold within five minutes. She feeds him broth when he's too weak to even lift a spoon and she tends to his wounds and bruises.

Arthur tried to refuse her help, the food she made for him, the care she gave so willingly. He never could defeat that kindness in her, however stubbornly he tried. She just gave and cared and made sure he was living day after day, not letting him succumb into that self-destructing hole he dug for himself. Arthur marveled at how such a pure soul can still exist in such a cruel world. She told him it's easier when she's alone in the mountains, and that people are kinder here than stuck up city folk. That, he agreed on.

And now, after each passing day he feels vulnerable. He never had to rely on someone else when he was wounded or sick—he always managed on his own, even stitched his own wounds sometimes. They always left a jagged, ugly scar, but he never had to bother someone else with them. Now, he's furious. But his anger is directed only at himself, his weakness, his foolish self that got himself sick, that worked himself to the ground, that didn't die on that mountain.

He asks her to stop once, when she's taking out spoonfuls of broth into a bowl. She doesn't understand. Arthur looks at her when she comes closer with the bowl in hand, sitting down next to him on an old wooden chair. He tries to sit up but his broken ribs protest and he sinks back into the bed with an annoyed huff.

"Why're ya still doin' this?" he asks while she lifts the bowl to his lips. He drinks it, his body fighting, not as stubborn as his stupid mind—it fights to live, because it always fought for that.

"'Cause you're not gettin' better."

"You know what I mean."

"We're more similar than ya think. I was in your place once. A stranger helped me, and now look at me. I live. And you'll live too," she manages to be so openly honest with him without revealing any real detail about her past. Arthur's beyond curious, but he just takes the bowl from her now, gulps down a mouthful because he feels, for the first time in a month, truly hungry.

She watches him while he finishes the food, smiles at him when he pulls away the bowl and his upper lip and beard is smeared with the broth. She has a kind smile, a lady's smile that was not born to live in the wilderness like this.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm, the ache in his shoulder flaring up like gasoline poured onto embers.

Arthur realized a few days back that she was the only person who lived here. One night, when he couldn't sleep from the nightmares and his aching chest he listened how she walked around the house, checking the doors and lighting the lantern outside, on the front porch.

But no one was coming home in the late hours of the night.

He asks her then, that she lives alone or her family is just away. She looks down, a hint of sadness softening her features before she can hide it behind a fake, barely there smile. They're not coming back.

"I'm sorry."

It's not pity, not when he's lost so much too. It's more like a deep understanding, a knowledge of hidden wounds that never can heal fully. She looks at him again until their eyes meet and he's confronted with an honesty that usually only mirrors can muster.

"It was a long time ago now," she tells him while she takes the bowl into her hands, leans back on the creaking chair. Arthur follows her movements with tired, bloodshot eyes. She looks outside, through the small window where the curtains are only half-open, the early morning sky burning behind them in a deep red and purple.

She rises then, takes the bowl to the washbasin in the other corner of the room. She brews coffee, its familiar scent awakening a comforting warmth in his still aching chest. She offers him a cup, leaves it on his bedside to cool a little while she takes her own and steps out to the front porch, into the sunrise in red.

She asks his name the next week, when he still doesn't start to heal. Arthur answers her with a bitter smile and his name, so strange now on his tongue that still tastes of coppery blood after coughing.

"You wanted something to write on my gravestone, ain't ya?"

"Don't be silly Arthur," she scolds him, walks closer from the stove where she's brewing some new kind of tea. He likes how his name sounds when it rolls down her tongue. It's soft. Strange. After so many other people had said it with hate and anger, it's nice to hear it like he could be a normal person. Not a no-good ugly bastard like him. It's also nice hearing his first name, the one that is stained with a bit less blood than Morgan , the one that shines inky black on every wanted poster from Blackwater to Annesburg.

She sits beside him, on the bed this time, and she checks the cool rag that's draped over his forehead. Her hands smell like various kinds of herbs, of the outside, of the wilderness. Arthur inhales it deeply, fights down a cough while he ignores his aching chest. He misses the outdoors. It's nicer dying in a forest than a bed. It's more fitting for him, too. No outlaw deserves the warmth of a home in his last days.

"It's still burnin'," she sighs and pulls back her hand.

"I'm not gonna get better, Miss." Arthur turns towards the window again, where he can see the pine trees basking in the early afternoon sunlight. Frost glimmered on their branches earlier and painted the cobwebs in the corner of the windowframe a shining silver. "I have consumption."

Admitting it to her feels like a mistake, just like being in her house, eating her food, accepting her care. He doesn't deserve all this, not when he has taken so much from kind people like her before. He tried to do good in the end, he tried , but—

"I know," she nods, a hint of sadness sparkling in her eyes. "My Pa had the same symptoms. He had it as well."

He starts to understand now, the things she said about her family. He wants to ask but he bites into his lip instead and nods. She watches him for a moment, her eyes following the tired lines of his face.

She tells him her name then. Morrigan. Arthur remembers the Irish tales and legends Hosea used to read for him when he was still young and somewhat careless and happy . A Celtic goddess, war and fate and doom and death. How fitting for him. But not for her, not when she's so gentle. She reminds him of Boadicea, another kind soul named after women of war.

"I've seen enough death, Arthur," she whispers and she stands up from the side of his bed, walks towards the whistling kettle on the stove, but she turns back for a second to look into his eyes and say "I don't wanna see yours too."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 fanfic #arthur x morrigan #morrigan marlowe #my writing #sunrises in red #im finally done sitting on this chapter #i wrote this like a week ago #so here ya qo i can't look at it longer #also i'm pretty rusty still so i'm sorry if this is shitty #anyways i want arthur to heal #so this will be the center element of this fic #with some love and care sprinkled on it

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

These Hands Were Made For You (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because its amazing!

This is my first time writing Wild Bill. Lemme know what y’all think!

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, palming (is that a warning?)

Words:2600

Tag List: @happyveday @sydney-m @saritanotserena

As soon as you stepped into the barn-converted-to-mess-hall in Albourne, you knew what was coming.

"There she is, fuckin' goddess of war herself! Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin' this morning?"

You just chuckled and shook your head at his exaggerated smug look. "Yeah, Bill. Something like that."

Guarnere winked at you and you could not figure out how it was possible for such a simple action to be so dirty. The way he tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smirk followed by a quick wink...you could feel heat pooling in your belly and your breath catch.

The cocky grin on his face grew as he saw the hint of pink on your cheeks. He knew what that wink did to you and he LOVED using it against you.

Bastard.

"Something you need, Y/L/N?" Martin asked from the table closest to the door.

"Yeah, any of you seen Lip?"

Luz answered from the table, cigarette dangling from between his lips. "Think he went back to the house to grab something. Why?"

You waved Luz off as you could see him start to stand, stepping further into the barn. "Just need to ask him something. Winters is in a meeting otherwise I'd ask him."

"Why don't you take a seat, he should be back soon."

"Perfect spot saved right here for the Valkyrie of Easy!" Bill announced, patting the open spot on the bench next to him.

You rolled your eyes but relented, moving past the other table to drop next to Guarnere. On his other side sat Heffron, still looking a bit wide-eyed and nervous that he somehow won the coveted spot with the Toccoa men. Toye sat across, giving you a brief nod when you sat down. Perconte, Christianson, Skinny, and Grant also took up residence around the table. Perco seemed to have been in the middle of telling some overly, exaggerated story.

Most of Easy relaxed in the barn. The Toccoa men were grateful for the break from the front-line and hot food instead of K rations. All the replacements were eager for the next jump, ready to soil their ODs, not truly understanding that war would only take from them, never give. The division between Toccoa men and replacements was painfully obvious.

Heffron leaned around Guarnere to meet your eyes. "Hey, sorry again about the fellas yesterday. They've been like that since training."

"Not your fault, Babe." You shrugged, running a hand through your hair.

"What's he talkin' about?" Guarnere narrowed his eyes at you. Even Toye across the table was staring at you in concern.

"Nothing, Bill. It's fine."

"If you're sayin' its fine then it ain't fuckin' fine." He growled. When he realized you were not going to elaborate, he turned on Babe. "What the fuck happened?"

The redheaded replacement looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world in that moment than being interrogated by Wild Bill. "Some of the men were...ah, tryin' to...um… proposition her." He finished with a wince.

A long beat of silence.

Then Guarnere exploded.

He pounded the table with a tight fist, the table shaking at the impact. A snarl on his lips, he started to rise from his seat, eyeing the tables further away full of replacements. "Who the fuck was it? Someone from our platoon? Imma fuckin' kill 'em. Who was it?"

"No," you cut in, grabbing his arm and restraining him, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up into a frenzy, "some replacements from third."

He growled but let you pull him back down. "Goddamn replacements. They touch you?"

"No, Bill. I handled it."

Toye spoke up, eyeing his friend carefully as if to see if he was going to have to prevent a replacement's murder or help hide the body. "What you do?"

You smirked, squeezing Guarnere's arm for good measure then pulled your hand back into your lap. "Told them if they tried to pull that shit again, I'd rip their cocks off and mail them to their mothers."

All the men at the table either winced or shifted uncomfortably at the mental image.

"Hey, don't you be touchin' no one's cocks." Bill said, fury still on his face but also amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, "what would you rather I have done? Swung at them? Give Sink a reason to send me packing?"

"Nah, you swing at 'em, they might fall in love." He winked at you again, telling you he knew exactly what he was talking about. Underneath the table, hidden from view, his knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. You attempted to hide the shiver that caused but knew you failed when Guarnere chuckled quietly.

"Why would that matter?" Babe asked innocently.

"Oh, here we go." Toye sighed.

"Shut up Joe, the kid asked alright." Guarnere started his story, pleased to have a new, rapt audience. "So here we are, back in Toccoa, right? Most of us have already arrived and started trainin' with goddamn Sobel. Then one day this beautiful broad shows up and we're told she's joinin' the paratroopers. None of us believe it. Why would a broad be joinin'? Don't make no fuckin' sense. So the next day we're supposed to be startin' to learn self-defense and guess who I get paired up with? Huh? Lovely Y/L/N over here. Right, so I'm fuckin' pissed cause I don't wanna be fightin' no broad but Sobel is watchin' like a hawk. I tell her I'll pretend to swing at her and she should just fall down. Play fightin', ya know? Like when youse a kid. I take a swing at her, thinkin' she knew the plan. She easily dodges my swing and before I can right myself, she lands a punch on me. Knocked me flat on my ass and seein' stars. I look up to see this goddess standin' over me, bloody knuckles and all, and she says 'you better get up and fight me like a man before I knock you on your ass again'."

"So, what you do?" Heffron asked, surprise clearly written all over his face.

Guarnere tapped the table with his finger. "What did I do? Well, I got up and told her that when this war is over, I'm gonna fuckin' marry her, that's what I was gonna do."

Those who had heard the story before chuckled while Heffron sat there, head tilted and eyes bouncing between you and Guarnere like he was waiting for the punchline still.

"Why? No offense, Y/L/N."

Guarnere threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Cause she hits harder than any fella I've ever known, includin' me brother Henry. Boxin' champion that one was. Now if that ain't a reason to marry someone, I don't know what is."

"And she puts up with your bullshit." Toye deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, sliding out from underneath Guarnere's arm. "That's just words unless there's a ring and I don't plan on marrying for a while yet. Still gotta win a war first." You stood up, smoothing down your ODs. "'Sides, maybe by then I'll find someone who doesn't annoy me so much."

"Nah, you'd miss my handsome face too much."

"You keep telling yourself that, Bill."

"One day you'll come around." He winked, making your insides warm. You would never understand how that was possible. The Philadelphian pointed a finger at you. "You lemme know if any of those replacements bother you again. Can't have those bastards propositionin' my future wife."

"See you later, boys." You said, not even bothering to answer him. You headed towards the door, intent on finding Lipton; but also to get away from the man who gave you such feels without even saying a word. Then when he did speak, complimenting and claiming you in front of the others…. it was becoming harder and harder to keep your hands and your lips to yourself.

*****

You leaned against the doorframe, admiring the man who was too caught up in writing a letter home to have noticed you yet. He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about his words. The chair creaked under him as he shifted, leaning forward against the wooden desk to continue writing. The small bedroom only consisted of the desk, chair and bed. Guarnere's duffle bag was thrown in a corner with things haphazardly pulled out. The NCOs had been billeted in a house together, everyone able to have their own rooms unlike the enlisted men who were forced to share a converted barn.

When you had first met him, and your first real encounter resulted in you punching him, you had thought he was the most unhelpful, condescending, little shit; and you had no problems telling him that for weeks after. When he had bounced back to his feet and proposed...you had laughed so uncontrollably, it had taken a sharp bark from Lipton to get you to focus again.

Over the following weeks, the bastard would openly flirt with you and practically pummel anyone else who tried to. Sometime around Fort Benning, your own feelings toward him started to change. No longer was he a man you loathed. You found yourself happy he was in your platoon, that he hovered around you keeping assholes from other companies away, that you enjoyed his flirting and when you two were alone... you reciprocated.

Actually, the first time you flirted back, he almost choked on his tongue he was so surprised. After that, things shifted between you two.

He continued openly flirting but understood you could not since you were under far more scrutiny and Sobel was looking for ANY reason to get rid of you.

For two years Guarnere had been in your life...and you hoped for the rest of it too.

"Enjoyin' the view, sweetheart?"

You smiled at him as he leaned back in the chair, legs still under the desk. "Should I be?"

He scoffed. "You know you like what you see...I'll tell you though," his eyes raked over you, "you're a fuckin' goddess with a body to drive a man crazy."

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand to minimize the sound, as he winked at you before turning back to his letter.

"The other NCOs said you were going out tonight for drinks."

"Yeah, yeah. Told 'em if I didn't finish this letter for my ma, she'd jump on a boat and come find me. Got three letters from her already. Last one she threatened to come find me. So, I told the fellas I'd meet them there."

The muffled sounds of the other NCOs drifted up the stairs; they were gathered in the common room getting ready to head out. With that in mind, you moved silently across the room to where he sat at the chair. Coming up behind him, you dragged your hands over his broad shoulders then down his firm chest, stilled his motions.

"Y/N…"

You loved touching him, could not get enough of it when you were able to. What you also loved doing was paying him back for teasing you.

One of your hands continued to travel downward until you palmed his cock. He froze, pencil hovering just about his letter. Without a word, you slowly, torturously, stroked him over his trousers.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned, tipping his head back slightly.

"You said earlier I wasn't supposed to be touching anyone's cocks...does that include yours?"

Turning his head, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye but before he could speak, you took the tip of his earlobe between your teeth.

"Hands on the desk, Sergeant." You growled in his ear.

Immediately, his hands slammed on the wooden desk, palms down. The pencil fell to the floor. Letter now forgotten on the desk.

"Mmm, yes, sir… you keep them there." You continued slowly stroking his cock over his trousers. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to kiss you earlier when we were at the mess hall." You licked up the curve of his ear, feeling him shudder under your touch. Your hand gave him a gentle squeeze as you continued whispering in his ear. "Think I should punish you for teasing me earlier? That wink you gave me...all the dirty images it put in my head. Want me to tell you about them?"

"Fuck, sweetheart, yes."

"I thought about you bending me over one of those tables. Notice how they are at the perfect height? How good you would feel inside me. How deep you would be."

One of his hands started to move off the table, drifting towards where your hand played with him.

You nipped his earlobe sharply, making him hiss. "Hands up, Sergeant, or no reward later."

"You're gonna kill me, darlin'." His hand slammed back on the desk.

You licked a line up his neck before pressing your lips against his ear again. The pace of your hand increased, his chest rising and falling to match. "Remember that time in Mackall where we snuck into the parachute packing building and fucked on the silks. You couldn't wait to get inside of me and almost tore my new ODs. So I made you wait and watch as I started touching myself. After someone came in and we almost got caught."

His hips were now rutting against your hand, the chair shaking with his movements. His hands were in white-knuckled fists on the desks, trembling with his desire to get them on you.

Unable to help yourself, you grabbed his face with your free hand, turning it to press a bruising, messy kiss to his lips. He greedily took ownership of your mouth and deepened the kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, reminding you how his mouth and skillful tongue alone could drive you wild.

Finally you broke away, pressing your forehead against his temple as you attempted to refill your lungs with the oxygen he had stolen. "God, I wish I could kiss you out there. Let everyone know I am yours. Maybe share quarters with you instead of sneaking around like teenagers. Fuck whenever we want."

"I'd be the luckiest, fuckin' bastard in all of Easy. You're mine. My goddess."

"There is one thing I need right now. I need the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch above me. I need my man inside me." You squeezed your hand, making him tip his head back and loudly groan. "Now the other NCOs are just downstairs. Think you can keep quiet?"

He pressed a hard and fast kiss to your lips. "Oh darlin', it ain't me whose gonna have to keep from screamin'."

"Mmm, think you can help me out?"

"I'd do anythin' for ya…." He turned in his seat, hands now stroking your waist with a completely wicked and sinful smirk on his face. "Go lock the door."

You stepped back, admiring the disheveled look on Guarnere, how his eyes blazed with passion and desire. For you. Without tearing your gaze from his, you shut the door and locked it behind you.

"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

"Only for you. Come on, Sergeant, show me how good you are with your...arsenal."

Before you could move, he leapt out of his chair, making it clatter on the floor as it tipped over in his enthusiasm. He picked you up easily and tossed you on the bed. You laughed only to be immediately silenced by his mouth slamming against yours, a moan drawn from you as his talented fingers rid you of your clothing with an almost inhuman speed.

*****

Later that night Guarnere was quite late for getting to the pub but he did not mind one bit. Especially since his bed now smelled like you…. And he had been able to remind you how much he loved you.

Quite vigorously.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #bill guarnere #wild bill #william guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #babe heffron #joe toye #mzwrites

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corvusravenette · 3 years

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Fan Fiction: Qi Ye

Title: I Thought of You and Yet You Came Based on Original Work: Qi Ye Author: Priest Genre: BL Warning: Gore and Violence Rate: Teen / Young adults Pairing: M/M (Wu Xi + Beiyuan) Chapter: 4 of 5 (... maybe 10. I don’t know. We’ll see...) * This fiction might have a few more chapters extended. I ran away with the plot again. Too much coffee does that to people. I also started a Mafia AU on WenZhou. The first few chapters will probably be up in a couple of weeks. We’ll see... +-+-+-+-+-+- “We… want to see him if he’s alive, his corpse if he’s dead! Someone! Come here!” the Emperor bellowed hysterically, almost dementedly. Wu Xi stared at him fixedly, unblinkingly, apathetically. His decision had been right. There was no way this man could be allowed to know the Beiyuan was still with him. He would not allow it in this lifetime or any other lifetimes. As the imperial doctors and attendants hurried into the room, Wu Xi turned amidst the chaos and left without saying anymore lest his face betrayed his disgust. He knew that this would not be the last time he had to deal with the Rongjia Emperor. +-+-+-+-+-+-

He was not as calculative as Beiyuan but his despicable beloved had taught him in a short span of days how easy it was for the Prince to manipulate and to lie through his teeth. A spark of anger was ignited in his heart. How was he to forgive this betrayal? Did he not understand he was his man? That in this lifetime, it can only be him, to live and die for him, no one else but him? They were supposed to stay together, fight side by side together… die together. Was he the only one who believed in that? Did he think he needed protection against a bunch of barbarians and dimwitted power-hungry courtiers? He was no longer a child! How was he to forgive Beiyuan for throwing him away after leading him on, making him believed that there was no one else in his heart but him, and taking him to bed? How dare he use his own drug on him after making his heart bleed open with a love so beautiful, so painfully obsessed, so wretchedly enraptured by him?! What was he to do now when the love of his life was comatose and bedridden, and on death’s door? Did the damn bastard realize just how much he loved him? That he would have died for him and taken his place on the battlefield? Did he not understand the significance of his own life? Did he not care whether he lived or died? Did he not care about… me…? Can he not see that without him… without him, I cannot breathe? Can he not see.. without him, I do not want to live…? Without him, there is no point in me… living…? Hot tears pricked his eyes and he lowered his gaze to the ground, blinking away rapidly as this small voice whispered his deepest pain and fear, buried in the abyss of his heart. A few of the guards who were stationed outside the inner courtyard escorted him out, struggling to keep up with the Great Shaman’s long strides. He was taller than most Great Qing people, and had an air of powerful but cruel nobility about him, now that he had inherited the Illustrious One’s position as the Great Shaman of Nanjiang. He was paler than most Great Qing people as well, his bone jade skin a stark contrast to his pearl-black eyes and thick eyebrows. Beautiful, yet menacing at the same time. The guards escorting him towards the outer courtyard stole furtive glances at him, their hearts admiring and fearing him. They had barely rested after the battles were over, many of their comrades dead although many more were saved by the timely arrival of the Nanjiang-Great Qing border army as well as the Great Shaman’s own personal troops. The shortage in personnel had forced them out of their resting beds and onto guard duty at the Imperial Palace now that the Emperor had return to the dragon throne despite barely recuperating from their wounds. As their eyes followed the Great Shaman on the long trek to the outer courtyard, they noticed that he was still wearing the very same robes he wore on the battlefield, he had not changed at all, his fingers were still caked in blood and traces of dried blood was visible on his clothes. The image of the Great Shaman swooping into the battlefield like he was the reincarnation of Asura himself was still fresh in their minds: his long saber swinging and slicing through countless Vakurah necks; the bloody crimson arcs that accompanied the flying heads; the horrendous screams that were cut off mid-voice as he slaughtered his way through; the thick aura of death that clung to him as blood splattered on him, soaking him to the skin. They would be awed and haunted by the brutality of the Nanjiang warriors as they stormed the battlefield in all their might that day. They were a different breed of people: taller, more muscular, more unforgiving, more ruthless in their approach than their own soldiers. It was the Great Qing’s blessing to have this fearsome race on their side for once. They were their saviours but they were also a double-edged sword. If that sword had turned on them, they would not stand a chance… like the Battle of Nanjiang, where the Great General Feng was entombed in the grasslands of Nanjiang, along with four thousand of his elite knights. In their hearts, they knew that the Great Qing dynasty owed their lives to these Southern warrior race for turning the tides of this war. Right now, there were thousands of Nanjiang warriors camped outside the city. Despite being a vassal state of Great Qing, their pledge of loyalty was only to the Great Shaman in front of them. They only needed one word from this man, and protector could turn conqueror overnight. The guards shuddered at the thought. The black stallion was making its rounds on the grounds of the outer courtyard, waiting for its master to come back. At the sight of him coming down hurriedly from the stairs, the stallion neighed, shaking its head away from the guard holding on to its reins and pulled towards Wu Xi as though it could sense his tumultuous heart. The familiar sight of the man seemed to have calm the warhorse down, as it butted its head against his face. Wu Xi didn’t smile, but his heart settled a little. He always had an affinity with animals: the sable, the little viper he now kept in a cage lest it got injured in the war, the tigers and wolves he kept back home in Nanjiang… Patting the horse’s neck, Wu Xi saddled it, gave a nod to the saluting guards and galloped back where he came from – back to the large posthouse located quite close to Martial Order Gates, back to his heart, his beloved, back to what he had to do to keep his man safe and sound. Judging from the Emperor’s reactions, he would follow suit soon. Smiling grimly, he thought of Beiyuan. You would be proud of the bastard I’m becoming Beiyuan, you taught me how to do this, what a brilliant teacher you are. Spurring the black beast on faster, he reached the posthouse in record time. It was heavily guarded by his own intimidating warriors and his fearful neighbors steered clear of the area, affording a wide berth of privacy for him and his men, and more importantly, for his beloved. There were curious stares as Wu Xi made his way through the streets. Hawkers and vendors were just setting up their stalls, shops were just opening their doors and about to do their morning sweeps, and inquisitive neighbors had started milling about their compounds. There was still fear of a future unknown, but life needed to go on. The war had ended, and the people picked up where they left off. Like every other war before this, the National Treasury would suffer a large blow: to feed, clothe, weaponize and support an army numbering in the tens of thousands would drain what few luxuries their country had. It didn’t help that years of idleness and corruption made it even worse. Life would be difficult for some ten or twenty more years, more so for peasants and farmers who were already struggling to make a living. It would not be easy to rebuild but they have done it before, and they would survive again. The posthouse was converted from a private mansion with its own four-walled compound. It was a lot smaller than his residence behind Prince Nanning’s own personal residence but large enough for a man of his standing. It was also hastily prepared for the Great Shaman given the circumstances of the war. Helian Yi must’ve had someone run ahead to get it ready. It was within reach of the Imperial Palace but its stone throw’s away vicinity to Martial Order Gates was also tantamount to how much Helian Yi unconsciously wanted to keep the Great Shaman at a certain cordial -if not cold- distance. Regardless the reasons, Wu Xi could only thank Gazh for his lucky star aligning. Its location afforded him a hiding place for Beiyuan, as well as time needed to do what was necessary to accomplish now. With the posthouse coming to view, and the familiar banners of his Nanjiang colors snapping against the wind in this frigid morning, Wu Xi’s heart settled more even if it was just a smidgen. It might not be home, but these familiar colors and the sight of the Nanjiang warriors guarding the entrance six feet apart from each other warmed the cockles of his cold soul. The political tide was going to turn in their favor, he would force Helian Yi into submission or risk a second all-out war. He knew that Helian Yi would feel threatened enough with the Nanjiang encampment just outside of the biggest gates to the city. He only needed to say a word, and they would assemble and attack at a moment’s notice. He was no longer a hostage, and he had been crowned the new leader of his people, he had the power of Nanjiang in his hands, and unlike his Mentor, he was crueler in nature. He would make this proud city blessed by Heaven bend to his will.

Receiving the salute of his men patrolling the entrance and around the compound, Wu Xi got off his stallion, gave it a good pat and a whisper of thanks in his native language before letting one of his guards take the horse away for rounds, water and hay. Ashinlae and Nuahar came out of the main house, greeted him in unison and informed him that a certain visitor had come. Wu Xi listened carefully, the tones of both men had changed – there was a solemn urgency and seriousness in Nuahar’s voice, unlike this morning and Ashinlae, the more hot-headed of the two also seemed to have a change of attitude. Wu Xi nodded. “Lead the way,” he instructed simply. His voice uninflected and unperturbed. His face a cold mask of indifference. He had learned the hard way, the fastest way to remove all traces of emotions from his face. He had his beloved to thank for the forced enlightenment. There was an unyielding bitterness in his heart, and nothing anyone could say would heal this hurt. “Nuahar, have the servants ready hot water and new robes and my veil for me. If my guess is right, within the next hour or so, the Emperor will make his way here. I need to take a bath,” “Immediately, Great Shaman,” Nuahar nodded, excusing himself from the receiving room of the main house. They had brought several of their servants from Nanjiang as well, and though this mansion had their own servants, it was better to have their own people serve them. Those ‘borrowed’ servants were only too glad to make an exit. No one wanted to work with the Poison King. They had heard horror stories over the years from the mouths of the Great Shaman’s previously hired Imperial Tutors. How he would let poisonous critters crawl around freely in his now former residence. How he would experiment with toxins and venoms of vipers and scorpions on himself and his warriors. How he would leave weapons tipped with poison drying out in the open, that if someone had accidentally stepped on it or nicked themselves on it, would suffer a pain unlike no other. No, no one wanted to work with him. They were only too glad to be allowed to leave in one piece. Aside Prince Nanning’s own servants who were familiar with Wu Xi over the last ten years and were comfortable with his eccentricities, everyone else opted to leave the very night they could. Wu Xi turned his unwavering gaze to the man waiting for him. Unlike the night before when he had slunk into the posthouse to remind him of the Emperor’s impending visit, today he had cleaned himself up and had discarded the torn garb he had on yesterday. He no longer hid his face from view, and in its place was the clean, misleadingly trustworthy face of a young man, possibly in his early twenties, maybe older than Wu Xi by a couple of years. He was even more good-looking in his imperial guard uniform, his facial features gentle yet unreadable, his frame slender but hiding the forms of a master martial artist, his eyes focused on the Great Shaman yet not betraying any of his own tumultuous inner thoughts. Wu Xi thought to himself, this was a man not to be trifled with, he was a master con artist, a master of disguise, an assassin working in the dark for the Emperor. A blind, unwavering loyal follower. Wu Xi could not fault the man, he could not fault a man for his loyalty, no matter how misplaced he believed it was. If it was another lifetime, he would welcome this man as a friend. Beiyuan and himself had good affinity right from the start, Wu Xi lamented, two peas in a masquerading pod. “Master Zhou, are we ready?” Wu Xi questioned, a nod and a frank remark all in one in a manner of greeting. He was not known for beating about the bush. He had no patience for mere trivialities. He hit the mark immediately. “We are. Come away, Da Wu,” Zhou Zishu replied. His heart the lightest it had been in so many years of toiling about in the dark in the name of the Emperor, his hands never recovering from its bloody stains. He led the way to an opposite exit from where Nuahar had left. The posthouse had several main rooms, and several smaller ones – usually reserved for the lower family or the concubine family. Zhou Zishu explained that he had Ashinlae locate the remotest room in the posthouse, preferably an inner chamber and they had helped him move the Prince there. It was done quickly and with as little hassle as possible, only keeping the bare necessities in the room. They came up to an unassuming door after what seemed like a maze of steps, twists and turns. Zhou Zishu knocked thrice and the door opened to a darkened room. Ping An stuck his head out and saw who it was, stepping to the side to let them in. It was akin to a treatment room: clean, sterile, practical. Wu Xi was greeted with the sight of Beiyuan sleeping on the bed, a medicine table by its side, and several bottles of his personal concoctions arranged on it by labels. There was also a small medicinal stove in one corner, and an unpleasant smell was currently wafting from it.

“Beiyuan…” Wu Xi whispered softly, lost in himself for a moment as he approached the sleeping Prince. His features soften as he watched Beiyuan’s serene face. He sat on the bed, the thin mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and took Beiyuan’s wrist in his hand. Checking his pulse, he nodded and stood to lift the cover of the brewing pot in the corner. He took the ladle on the side and slowly stirred the contents of the pot, scrutinizing its color and smell. Lifting the ladle to his lips, he took a small sip and frowned from the biting bitterness. Turning his head to Ping An, he instructed in clipped tones to feed Beiyuan one bowl of the medicine in approximately half a shichen. “Where’s the corpse?” Wu Xi asked Zhou Zishu curtly, earning him a reflexive shudder from Ping An who knew why the Captain of the Imperial Guards was here for. “Da Wu, are you alright?” Ashinlae asked worriedly, his eyes staring at the black stains on the Great Shaman’s lips. He knew Nuahar had added Manchurian scorpion venom to the concoction, “Is… is the remedy working?” “The poison is reacting well with the herbs,” was all the answer Ashinlae was going to get from him before Wu Xi stepped out of the room with Zhou Zishu in the lead. It was enough for Ashinlae to believe him. Ping An on the other hand looked up sharply but the warrior warned him to stand down with one look. “Trust our Great Shaman, I know you are worried for the Prince, but you have seen how strong his medicines are. He will save your Prince. It isn’t a choice for him,” With that said, Ashinlae closed the door behind him and ran to catch up with his leader. Ping An stood staring at the closed door long after it was shut, shaking in his boots as he turned trembling gazes over to the insignificant pot brewing quietly in the corner on the stove. Poison? He was going to feed the Prince… poison? He turned his eyes back to the shut door and nodded vigorously, steeling his resolve. If poison would revive the comatose Prince, he would pour all the poison in the world into his mouth. He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. He had to trust the Great Shaman. Wu Xi followed Zhou Zishu back to his own compound, noting that the doors were shut tightly and a few of his Nanjiang guards were stationed there. It was quite heavily guarded. Voicing their salutes, they stepped aside to let their leader in. Wu Xi cracked opened the door and he immediately had cause to pause in his steps. He recognized the man lying down on the bed but he was clearly also, very dead. Finally gaining his senses, Wu Xi stepped in, and walked closer to inspect the man’s body. He had similar wounds to Beiyuan, a long deep gash from shoulder to abdomen, a similar physique to his beloved as well: tall, slender and lean. If he had not been lovingly intimate with Beiyuan, he would easily have mistaken him for his Prince as well. The similarity was too striking. As morbid as it sounded, this would work in his favor. “Master Zhou, are you sure?” Wu Xi probed out of courtesy. “He’s…” “Yes. It’s what I should do. He would’ve agreed as well, I know he would. It would be just like him. He had a fondness for the Prince, and we’ve shared many a jar of wines together,” Zhou Zishu replied, “Let him take the Prince’s place,” Both of them stood by the bed, a heavy grief in the air as they looked upon the young man who had a future so bright but was taken too soon from them. “Rest well, dearest shidi,” Zhou Zishu whispered. His hand caressing Liang JiuXiao’s pale face, his lower lip trembled, his face breaking into a rare sliver of emotion as a tear fell from his lashes. Even in death this child always seemed like he was smiling, he thought fondly as his heart contracted painfully from his sorrow. Wu Xi bowed his head in a reverent prayer to his Almighty Gazh, closing his eyes and entering a semi-trance like state. He prayed that this young man who – even in death would serve his final act of goodness – that his next reincarnation be a happier, more fulfilling one. Wu Xi casted his prayers into the heavens, and just as he opened his eyes, a slight breeze floated in from the open window, carrying with it the telltale scent of peach blossoms. He nodded to himself, as though it was a sign from the heavens. “Go in peace little brother, may we meet again in the next lifetime. Let us be friends once again then,”. To be continued. +-+-+-+-+-

Click here for previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]

#qi ye #fan fiction #jing beiyuan #wu xi #xiyuan #zhou zishu #lord seventh #priest #I thought of you and yet you came

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

A Song Among the Stars Ch 3

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/tags:

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (never by Thrawn)

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Masquerade

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Summary: Lyra's life was turned upside down the day the Empire took her. Once a renowned singer and performer on the Outer Rim, she is now little more than a songbird trapped in a gilded cage. Forced to perform and used as Imperial propaganda for years, she grew to despise her life until one fateful night and a chance encounter with a certain Grand Admiral.

Author's note: Hi everyone! Please let me know if you enjoy chapter 3 of A Song Among the Stars. I'll have a masterlist soon with all of the chapter links, but here's the link for the first 2 chapters on Tumblr and AO3 here. Tumblr likes to hide my writing, so please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it!

A big thank you to @pala-din-djarin for formatting advice!! 💙💙

AO3 link here for chapter 3 if you'd prefer!

Song Suggestions At the beginning: Thrawn - AtinPiano The dance: Masquerade Ballet Suite: 1. Waltz - Aram Khachaturian

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

The edge in the Grand Admiral’s voice glittered with dark promise, and a tense silence fell. Even in my current state, I could tell that he was definitely not asking; his statement was little more than a scarcely veiled command. Bost stood incredibly still as the oppressive atmosphere continued. I could tell he was carefully considering his options, but there couldn’t have been many, as Thrawn’s commanding body language clearly showed he had no intention of backing down.

Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps broke the silence. All my muscles involuntarily tensed as my instincts screamed danger. Three more shadowy figures came running around the corner of the maze behind Bost. Fearing the absolute worst, I physically and mentally prepared to defend myself again. I dropped my weight evenly between my legs and shifted into what I assumed was a passable fighting stance. Apparently, the change in my posture did not escape my new friend even though I was still completely behind him.

“There will be no need for that,” Thrawn’s voice had returned to its original soft, dulcet tone, “excellent timing, Commander Vanto.”

How did he recognize him? It’s kriffing pitch-black out here!

I quickly decided it was a question for another time and relaxed ever-so-slightly as Thrawn acknowledged the newcomers. If he knew them, considering the present situation, it was currently good enough for me. Thrawn gestured back towards me and spoke again in an infuriatingly calm tone for the situation, “Please escort her back towards the ballroom. I will join you momentarily; the Commodore and I have something to discuss.”

I had no idea what Thrawn needed to discuss with Bost, but anything was better than me being chased down.

The three shadowy figures stepped into a patch of starlight. Any relief I felt earlier was amplified tenfold because Dreycolt and Arkmad were instantly recognizable. They stood slightly behind the third man, who I assumed was Vanto. All three of them looked ready for a fight, and their facial expressions flickered between worry and relief. Vanto gave Thrawn a curt nod before pushing past Bost and offering me his hand.

I don’t know him, but I don’t have much of a choice here, and there’s not really any time to think…. I have to trust my instincts.

Tentatively, I reached out and placed my hand in his; he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Vanto’s hands were noticeably calloused, which gave me another sensation to focus on. However, even with those feelings grounding me to reality, my frazzled emotions swooped in like carrion birds as the adrenaline started to wear off. Intrusive thoughts started to slip through every mental wall I had in place as he led me away from the maze and back through the garden.

Stars, what do they even think about this situation… How is this going to be handled? Is the Empire going to somehow blame me for causing a scene? Am I going to be the one punished??

Before I realized it, we had walked about half of the way back to the ballroom. Vanto led me to a nearby bench; I gratefully sat down and stared back in the direction of the ballroom. The flickering lights, laughter, and faint music indicated that the party was still in full swing and would be for some time. There was zero chance of me leaving early because the second part of my job tonight hadn’t even started.

Vanto took a seat on the bench directly across from mine, and I didn’t even have time to open my mouth before words came tumbling out of his, “Are you alright?”

I immediately recognized the accent, and it momentarily drew me out of my melancholy state. “Commander Vanto, you’re from the Outer Rim too,” I noted with as much of a smile as I could manage.

He returned the smile, but his deep brown eyes and creased eyebrows still showed unease, “Yes, I’m from Lysatra, but please call me Eli.”

It was obvious that Eli wanted to discuss the incident, but it was so very rare to meet another person from a world near mine on Coruscant that I actually felt slightly relieved. It was like having a small piece of home nearby.

Another pleasant change was that the starlight shone bright enough for me to fully see in this area of the garden. Eli’s tanned face seemed kind, even though half of it was hidden by a black mask, and his dark hair and eyes were a welcome contrast to Bost’s icy complexion. Maybe it’s a sign that everything will be ok.

I could tell that Eli was trying to find the right words to continue, but he only managed to gesture around like he was trying to pull them out of the air. That alone told me all I needed to know; he had a rather good idea of what Bost tried to do.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself as I nodded with all of the confidence I could muster. You must be strong. “It’s happened before. I didn’t have anyone to rescue me, but I survived then, and I will survive now.” I was reminding myself just as much as I was informing Eli.

His face paled. “This isn’t the first time?” He trailed off before nervously running his fingers through his dark hair. I heard him muttering something under his breath that sounded like a long string of swearing in another language.

Any chance of further conversation was stopped by the sound of footsteps and the arrival of Dreycolt. He was out of breath from running through the garden, but he still managed to get the words out, “I cannot apologize enough for what happened. We tried to get help, but….”

The apology is nice but pointless.

I raised a hand to cut him off. “I’m assuming you don’t know Bost like I do. That conniving bastard would have found a way to dispose of you both so he could get me alone. However, you getting help likely saved me; the Grand Admiral arrived at a very timely moment.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but a pointed look from Eli cut him off. I raised an eyebrow at the two men.

Eli rushed to speak first. “I was the contact if there was trouble, but we weren’t expecting anything like this.

Something doesn’t quite add up here…..

At that point, I noticed both Dreycolt and Eli had the same insignia on the shoulder of their uniform: an extremely stylized black tribal design with three heads. It was emblazoned on a grey circle, and the whole thing was ringed in red. They had to be from the same fleet, and if Thrawn knew them immediately….

Suddenly, everything clicked into place as I locked eyes with Eli. “You’re all from the Seventh Fleet, and Grand Admiral Thrawn is your commanding officer.”

“Quite perceptive.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden reappearance of Thrawn’s smooth voice behind me. Unlike with Dreycolt, there had been no footsteps or any other warning of his arrival.

Kriffing hell, why is this man so silent? He may have helped me, but that doesn’t give him the right to scare me out of my mind a few minutes later.

Concern flashed across Eli’s face as he wordlessly reached out to make sure I wasn’t too rattled by the shock. I took a deep breath and nodded slightly in reassurance. My thoughts raced through my previous mantras. You are fine. You are safe now. Eli shot an annoyed look at the man behind me as I composed myself and turned to face Thrawn so I could properly thank him.

It was still dark but I immediately realized that he was tall. Very tall. Even though I was looking up, my small stature combined with my seated position meant my gaze fell on his broad shoulders. I instantly noticed the crisp, white hue of his close-fitting dress uniform and the shining rank bar he wore confirmed his earlier claim. He was absolutely a Grand Admiral.

He smoothly stepped backward and acknowledged me, “My apologies, it was not my intent to frighten you.”

Any words coming out of my mouth died at the tip of my tongue as I finally saw Grand Admiral Thrawn fully illuminated in a patch of shifting starlight. All thoughts of this rank or thanking him abruptly left my mind as one thing became abundantly clear: he was not human.

Where the neck of his pristine uniform ended, his skin was blue. Not merely tinted with blue, but it was truly the beautiful color of a deep pool of water that had frosted over in winter. My gaze continued its path upwards and traveled to his face, which was partially obscured by an ornate mask resting atop high, regal cheekbones and an aquiline nose. From beneath the mask, his ruby eyes seemed to burn into mine like red-hot coals.

Trying desperately not to make a fool out of myself, I did my best to snap out of the shock. Grand Admiral Thrawn was the only non-human Imperial of any significant rank I had ever met, and I severely doubted any others existed. Every Imperial gathering I attended before this one had been filled with countless human guests, but I had only ever seen non-humans used as servers or entertainers. Talle, Kaia, and Ahni had never served a non-human Imperial, but almost all of the other handmaidens were non-humans taken from their worlds.

Why is he working for the Empire in this high of a position?

I fervently hoped the dim lighting hid any sign of my surprise. After all, no matter the reason why, this man was still a Grand Admiral. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t request some kind of a favor in return for saving me earlier. I knew enough legends about the types of favors high-ranking Imperials often pulled or traded, and I was already way more indebted to Thrawn than I was comfortable with. His appearance may have surprised me, but I refused to let my lack of knowledge show. I fully realized that lack of knowledge was a weapon the Empire had firmly pressed against my throat, and it was marking me as prey like blood in the water.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and mentally berated myself. This was all my fault. I had gotten too complacent and comfortable with the Imperials. I had no idea Bost was even here, but I let down my guard and accidentally gave him an opportunity. Dreycolt, Arkmad, Eli, and now Thrawn…… There was absolutely no guarantee that I could trust any of them.

Think, Ly, you have to think. These people prey on the weak, so you have to seem strong, at least for now. At the very least, use caution. Just get through this night.

It was like flipping a switch mentally; all of my walls flew back up, and my emotions dulled until everything was just numb. The sparkling, faultless personality I used in Imperial society clicked back into place. I inclined my head respectfully and addressed Thrawn, “Grand Admiral, I cannot thank you enough for your help tonight; your quick response to the situation likely saved me.”

“There is no need,” his voice was still impossibly soft as he regarded me. I lifted my head and met his eyes for the second time; the heat of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “From the state of his hand, I would say you were defending yourself admirably.”

My face flushed, “Still, I do not know what would have come of the encounter. If it came to a case of my word versus his, especially since I injured an Imperial officer, I doubt anyone would take my side.”

As a “guest” of the Empire, I had everything to lose based on my reputation. If I angered the wrong person or fell from social favor, I would no longer be useful as propaganda……. The weight behind my previous words went unspoken but was understood by all.

An indecipherable expression crossed Thrawn’s face. Krayt spit, he’s hard to read. Most people had tells that let me read their expressions like an open book, but the Grand Admiral seemed to be very different.

“However, I do have one question. What happened to Commodore Bost?” I couldn’t help the tiny falter in my voice when saying his name, but it was small enough to be excusable.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed and seemed to burn brighter, “I sent him to be treated for his injury. However, I made it perfectly clear that you were a guest and asset of the Empire, so his behavior towards you would not be tolerated.”

I mentally scoffed. So that’s what upset him. Not the injustice committed against me, but the mistreatment of Imperial property. I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the protection he had provided, but my blood absolutely boiled at his words. However, I gritted my teeth and smiled at him, “Again, I do not know how I could possibly ever thank you enough for this.”

I wasn’t worried about the medics treating Bost; they knew enough about Imperial society to keep their mouths shut on what and who they treated. Most likely, they assumed he was one of the many starting an after-party early. The rumors of the extreme tastes of some officers and politicians often spread like wildfire among the servants and handmaidens. Talle had been unofficially requested at an after-party once before, and she told me stories that made my stomach turn.

Thrawn inclined his head towards me in acknowledgment of my thanks, and I continued speaking, “However, I do need to return to the ballroom. The orchestra will be the main entertainment for the rest of the night, but I was requested to be available as an escort. I’m sure my dance card is already quite full, and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

After all, what good is propaganda if it isn’t thoroughly used, I thought dryly. It honestly did not matter to me if I kept anyone waiting; in my opinion, they could wait for all eternity. Unfortunately, it would matter a lot to my handler if they complained.

“Don’t worry, Captain Dreycolt and Lieutenant Arkmad will still be accompanying you. Both of them are already on your card,” Eli reassured me as I turned around to face him again. “I also took the liberty of placing myself on your card so that I will be close by too.” He pulled out a small datapad and continued, “We are all spaced evenly throughout the remaining time so that you will have someone checking on you often.”

Now that was reassuring. As much as I wanted to be wary of Eli, he seemed to be very kind and it was making it hard to keep my guard fully up.

I thanked him with another smile and reached up to check my hair. Thankfully, all of Kaia’s hard work seemed to have paid off. Not a single pin or gem felt out of place, and I chalked it up to a minor miracle. After a brief inspection, my dress was still pristine, and my shoes were fine too.

I stood up from the bench and turned to address Thrawn once more, but he had stepped off to the side and seemed to be in deep conversation with one of the medics. His current expression was much easier to infer because the poor medic looked terrified. I quickly decided that I didn’t want to know, and it was better that I didn’t ask.

When I glanced back towards the ballroom, Eli offered me his arm, and I accepted the gesture. He signaled to Dreycolt, and the three of us began the short walk back through the garden. Thankfully, it was uninterrupted and uneventful.

Arkmad was waiting for us at the same side door he and Dreycolt had helped me exit from earlier. He was fixated on the small datapad he was holding and muttering under his breath. The datapad looked very similar to Eli’s, but this one was exceedingly familiar.

I peered down at the list displayed on it, “So, who’s on the card tonight?”

“Oh, just the usual mix of the usual senators and high officers. You actually seem to be in higher demand tonight; the performance earlier must have really impressed some important people,” he responded with a sympathetic look. “It looks like your card is completely full for every dance tonight.”

Oh, joy. Sometimes I was lucky enough to escape the last few dances, but, of course, tonight couldn’t be that convenient. I sighed inaudibly and shifted my feet. At least these shoes are comfortable.

Arkmad tapped me lightly on the shoulder and gestured to the far side of the ballroom, “Your first partner will be waiting for you near that column. The next song is about to begin, so I suggest you get started.”

The first thing I did when I stepped inside was signal the nearest server. I took a glass of sparkling wine, quickly glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at me and downed it. I felt the effects of the strong alcohol almost immediately; one glass was nowhere enough to make me drunk, but I hoped it would further dull any remaining nerves. I returned the glass to the tray and ventured off in search of my partner.

The first few songs passed by quickly. The slight buzz from the alcohol lightened my mood and made it easier to tune out any faults of my partners. Some were heavy-handed with flattery or praise, intent on trying to steal me away for the night. Others had already indulged in too much alcohol to the point where their breath smelled of the wine and their steps faltered. At least they all seemed to be decent dancers, and I was skilled enough in social etiquette to politely refuse or divert the conversation.

I truly had no problems dancing; most of the time I rather enjoyed it. My education at the conservatory had included many lessons on the classical styles and different regional dances in addition to my more intensive singing lessons. We were all supposed to be well-rounded performers, so the education contained much more than just singing, even though it was my main focus. When I was taken to Coruscant, it was vaguely easy to learn any dances I didn’t already know. Most of my partners here were higher class, so they had some kind of dance instruction at least once; they weren’t always graceful, but almost all of them were bearable partners that only sometimes stepped on my feet.

As the orchestra played on, the long list on my dance card grew shorter. Some faces were new, but many were the same senators and officers that often requested me. Before I knew it, I had danced with both Arkmad and Dreycolt, and less than half of my list remained.

I told both men the same thing when they checked on me: the rest of the night was going well. They each seemed satisfied with that answer and moved to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. As Eli’s lively dance was finishing, he pushed his stray hair back into place with a gloved hand, “Miss Lyra, it was a pleasure.” He gave me a small bow as an excuse to lean in close and whisper, “Are you doing alright?”

I responded with a curtsy and an almost imperceptible nod. “The pleasure was all mine, Commander.”

He seemed satisfied with my answer as he walked off to join the other men on the balcony. I had turned to grab another glass of wine before my next partner found me when an all-too-familiar voice turned my blood to ice.

“I do believe that I have the pleasure of claiming the next dance. It seems the man on your card….. won’t be able to make it.”

I whipped my head around and stared directly into the cold, glacial eyes of Commodore Bost. Somewhat vindictively, I noted that his injured hand was bandaged and slung across his chest. He had also donned a plain, white half-mask that covered the scarred side of his face since our last encounter.

My heart raced in my chest; I scanned the upper balcony for Eli, but he was nowhere to be seen. I caught Dreycolt’s eye and he raced off with a panicked expression at the sight of Bost standing in front of me. Even though my heart was racing and panic rose in my throat, I knew that as long as I stood inside the ballroom he couldn’t harm me; even Imperials dew the line somewhere.

Bost reached out to seize my hand and I snatched it away from his grasp. “I refuse to dance with you. You aren’t the name on my card and I have no reason to accept your request.”

He clicked his tongue at me mockingly, “So defiant…” He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “However, I am a very patient man. I can be here all night if that’s what it takes.”

Another shiver ran through me at Bost’s chilling words. I closed my eyes and winced at the foul feeling of his breath on my neck. Suddenly, a looming presence appeared behind me and Bost quickly stepped backward. Assuming Eli came to my rescue, I turned around and gave a low curtsy in greeting, but I instantly realized my assumption was profoundly incorrect; the figure standing in front of me was dressed in white.

Still in my low curtsy, I raised my head and stared directly into the smoldering gaze of Grand Admiral Thrawn. His red eyes remained fixed on mine as he bowed and offered me his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Thrawn’s request rang in my ears. Did he actually want to dance with me, or was he just guarding an Imperial asset? Either way, I was incredibly grateful for his second timely arrival of the night. There was no other choice for me but to take his hand.

Before I could, Bost made a small noise of protest behind me. Thrawn rose from his bow and silenced him with a single look. The Grand Admiral’s voice had the same dark, commanding edge as it had in the garden, “Commodore Bost, your presence here is not required. I will be claiming the rest of Miss Lyra’s dance card tonight.”

My thoughts raced again at his statement. Sometimes a particularly wealthy or powerful person would request multiple dances a night, but someone claiming the rest of my dance card was absolutely unheard of. However, I highly doubted anyone would be willing to argue about it with Grand Admiral Thrawn if he was serious.

Bost must have realized the futility of his position; he glowered at me, turned away with a flourish, and exited the ballroom. I sighed audibly, “Thank you for stepping in again. However, I don’t wish to be a burden on you for the rest of the night.”

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Not at all. I believe it will provide an enlightening distraction.” He offered me his hand again, “May I?”

Kriffing hell, he was serious then. I gently placed my right hand in his left, and he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around mine. The orchestra played the beginning notes of the next song, a waltz, and he seemed to recognize the dance immediately. Thrawn murmured appreciatively, “ah, an excellent choice,” as he pulled me in until our chests were almost touching.

My cheeks colored slightly and I prayed he couldn’t tell. The familiarity with which he moved me was almost seductive when combined with his velvety soft voice and the lingering effects of the wine.

The dance began and we glided across the ballroom floor to the music. This was one of the more difficult dances of the night, so many stepped off to the side and watched the braver couples attempt it. I knew it by heart, but Thrawn led us with an intensity that told me he did too.

Some of my previous partners could dance very well, but none moved with the same warrior’s grace that he exemplified in every step. The feeling of his broad chest against mine and his strong arms firmly around me made my mind spin. He was so unlike anyone I’d ever danced with; he seemed to move with the same strength and confidence with which he commanded.

No, no, no... you are not doing this. It’s just the wine and your overcharged emotions running all over.

I distracted myself from the dance and his burning touch by studying the intricate pattern on his mask. It was white, but under each eye a thin strip of red in a slightly darker shade outlined the openings and made his gaze even more intimidating. An intricate pattern of entwining, golden snakes bearing their fangs delicately wove their way around the mask’s rim.

In the back of my mind, I came to a sudden realization: Thrawn was testing me. As the song progressed, he began using more and more complex movements. It was as if he was trying to see if I could keep up with his brutal pace.

Kriffing blue bastard. I’m not some little thing for you to toy with.

Well, two could play that game. I locked eyes with Thrawn, gave him the most stubborn look I thought I could get away with, and switched my step pattern up. If his gaze was smoldering before, now it was blazing. He flashed me a grin that was absolutely feral and twirled me out on his arm. As he brought me back in, he pressed me against his chest and dipped me low. He murmured in my ear and his breath smelled faintly of the sweet wine, “Very enlightening, thank you.”

The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion. Thrawn led and I matched his pace step for step, challenging him the entire time. By the time the final note on the last song rang out, we were both breathing noticeably harder. A single strand of his neat, dark hair had fallen into his face and I knew some pins had fallen out of mine. This was the first time a dance partner had made me break a sweat since I was at the conservatory.

He released me from his arms, and the loss of contact was more disappointing than I cared to admit. The Grand Admiral bowed one last time as Eli, Dreycolt, and Arkmad appeared behind him. His voice seemed to have the slight accent from the garden as he addressed me, “You dance quite artistically; thank you for indulging me.”

Thrawn turned away and shared a quick word with Eli, who had an expression of shock on his face. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes before he addressed me again. However, this time his accent was gone. “I’m afraid I must take my leave now, but Commander Vanto will see you safely home.” He reached up to push the stray lock of hair back into place and walked off the dance floor and out of the building. Dreycolt and Arkmad shared a look before following closely behind him.

Eli still seemed to be in a state of surprise. He shook his head like he was clearing out his confusion and offered me his arm, “Miss, if you’re ready, we can head outside. I have a speeder waiting for us.” I smiled at him as we walked out of the ballroom and into the crisp Coruscanti night.

Tags: @mittheresabosen @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @handbaskethell

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x oc #thrawn fanfic #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #please tumblr stop hiding my work #original character #original female character #my oc character #thrawn fanfiction

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colehasapen · 3 years

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(CHAPTER 1) ba’jurir STAR WARS

A03

If there was one thing that Cody had to choose that shocked him the most about bounty hunting, he would have to say it was the speed in which information spreads. As Kote Cerasi, one half of a mysterious bounty hunting pair, he’s become somewhat of a rising star among the Guild. As ruthless and efficient at his new occupation as he was as Marshal Commander of the Third System Army, his new position as one of the best in the Guild comes with a slew of priceless intelligence that he passes on to Organa and his budding Rebellion. He’s made a name for himself, and his code is already as synonymous with this rise in fame as his beskar’gam is; his preferred hunt is demogolke, those who dare lay a hand on children, and for those who had managed to catch a glimpse of the infants he and his partner toasted around at times, it wouldn’t have come as much of a surprise.

It’s his reputation that lets him hear the news first.

“Hey, Cerasi!” Cody barely tilts his helmet away from the bounty board as Karga approaches, a sly smile on his face. He’s considering a bounty on Bracca when he calls out for him, of a scrapper that had gotten too handsy with some well-off natborn’s daughter, so the other hunter doesn’t really hold his attention, even if he keeps himself aware of the man’s movements and location.

Karga’s useful for information gathering, but not much else in Cody’s opinion, though he had been slated for the position of a Contract out in the Outer Rim should a spot open up. Obi-Wan had decided that it would be beneficial for them to stay on his good side, to have their own in with the man for intelligence, but Cody didn’t trust the man as far as a cadet could throw him.

“Karga.” He greets with a gruff grunt, and the man watches him with greedy, intelligent eyes. “What can I do for you?”

Karga’s smirk widens, and he slides into the booth across from him, “Oh no. The question, my friend, is what can I do for you?”

Cody’s head tilts more, a sign of his attention, “A job then?”

“Something of the sorts.” Karga equivocates, and from under his buy’ce, Cody shoots the man a look that had once made his men fear the training coming their way if they didn’t get to the point immediately.

It had never worked on his riduur though, because Obi-Wan was an unrepentant chaotic bastard when he got into the mood, but enough of the gist of it gets through the visor to make Karga squirm. Though it could just be the gold-on-black jaig eyes staring him down.

“You’ve made a name for yourself, Mando.” Karga says, “And I know talent when I see it; you could be the best.” Cody hums non-committedly, tilting his head pointedly. He’s been the best before, but now he’s only interested in keeping his small family safe. “A little birdy told me that Bane’s been dethroned, and his successor is easy pickings.” Karga leans in close, voice hushing, “And I’d throw my weight behind you.”

“Oh?” Cody probes, uninterested, but it’s what the other bounty hunter wants to hear.

“It’s Boba Fett.”

Cody’s grip tightens on the datapad he holds, breath punching out of him and feeling like he had been gut shot. Boba, his brother, Jango’s only son while the rest of them were products and tools. Boba who had been proof that Jango could be a good father, a good person, that he could have loved them but chose not to.

Boba who was innocent of the blame for how they were treated, and who used to sneak into training with the CCs when they had all been the same size. Boba who had once traded spots with Cody, back when they were identical, who had once let Cody have a taste of his life, of a life being something other than a mindless copy. Boba who had seen his father killed in combat and fell into the wrong sort of crowd.

Boba who had helped kill Ponds. Boba who hadn’t been able to pull the trigger.

Manda - he was still a child, out there alone and picking fights with the likes of Cad Bane. He was still a brother, a free brother without family on his side.

Cody lowers the datapad slowly, his attention on the bounty hunter, and when he speaks, his voice is gravelly. “How much for a head start?”

He finds Boba on Vanqor, hidden away in a small apartment and nursing his wounds. He’d left Obi-Wan and the ik’aade on the Jate’kara, docked in the hangar, and sent Threepio, Artoo, and Arfour to collect the supplies they’d need to look after a teenager while he hunts his brother down.

He finds Boba bedridden and feverish, surrounded by the smell of sick, and as weak as a Tooka kitten. The owner of the building, an elderly Rodian, hovers worriedly behind him; she had been trying to care for him, Cody knows, but didn’t know much about medical care for Humans, hadn’t had the money for the proper bacta for a Human either. She’d been glad that family had shown up to get him the help he needed.

“Thank you.” He mutters to the Rodian, passing her a pouch of credits, before stepping further into the room. He doesn’t need to turn to know the woman had given them privacy.

Cody grimaces with disgust as he pulls his buy’ce off, staring at the child absolutely swimming in ratty clothes too big for his body, and the pile of damaged beskar’gam piled in the corner. Boba’s pupils are dilated, his face so pale it’s unhealthy and gray, and limp curls are matted to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and puss, originating from the infected wound on his temple that the Rodian woman had tried to wrap.

The whole room stinks, and Cody wonders just how long his vod had been bedridden.

“Boba.” He calls, forcing delirious eyes to meet his own, and Cody winces at the heat rolling off of his skin, hot enough to feel even through his gloves when he places a hand on the teenager’s sunken cheek.

The kid blinks at him slowly, confused. “Buir?” Boba warbles thickly, tears rising in his eyes, and Cody isn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole. Instead, he turns his eyes to the crusty gauze wrapped around his head, gently peeling it away, and immediately hisses in sympathy. The bone had caved in slightly, the skin around it burnt, and at some point, the skin had been split open, ragged and painfully swollen, allowing old pus to crust over it.

“Dank ferrick, Boba, what did you do to yourself?” Cody hisses - he hadn’t brought the supplies he’d need to deal with this here. He’d have to carry Boba back to the ship. He curses again, replacing his buy’ce to bundle the boy up with his dirty sheets, noting absently that he’d have to burn everything Boba is wearing once he’d gotten him cleaned up, but for now, it’s not safe to leave Boba where he is and in this state. Karga wouldn’t be giving him much of a head start, and soon there would be bounty hunters out for his brother’s blood, looking to gain the fame of killing the one to defeat Cad Bane.

Boba leans into the touch when Cody lifts him, curling into his chest with a watery hiccup, the heat of his skin scalding through his kute. “I missed you Buir.” He rasps, head dropping against Cody’s shoulder. The kid is too light, too small, and Cody curses the Galaxy that had turned the happy boy he remembers from Kamino into this.

He had no lost love for Jango, no fond feelings for him, but Cody wishes he hadn’t made the choices he had, that had led to his death and to Boba being left alone in the Galaxy. He wishes Jango hadn’t died, if only for Boba.

He has a long road to recovery before him, but Cody would help him, would take care of him, because Boba is family.

Cody has very little family left.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42 @tumceteri-fratres @etainskirata @arkainea @phoenix1760

#cole writes #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan #bounty hunter cody #boba fett #TBMOMAJ verse #in which obi wan and cody adopt children and fight fascist #bounty hunter obi wan kenobi #star wars #Post Order 66

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lovingmyselfcore · 3 years

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i can go anywhere i want just not home

A fic based on My Tears Ricochet!! Highly recommend listening to the song while reading. Very angsty, it's if something happened and Aelin was forced out of Terrasen and had to fake her death. So yeah. I'm working on my Illicit Affairs one so that should be soon? No promises

**Not beta-read or anything we die like men here and I think I'm allergic to editing after 8pm so I can't be blamed if it's really bad

“Do it,” She spat, staring up at him - at all of them. Rowan was the only one who met her eyes, he didn’t flinch away from her, he never flinched away from her. Until recently, at least. There was a sort of comfort in knowing that she was horrible enough that Rowan Whitethorn had finally flinched.

She felt that achingly familiar lick of flame, starting at the base of her spine slowly curling up, lighting the hollows in her spine and bones, in her soul.

Something must be smoldering in her eyes because Rowan shifted, almost imperceptibly. Only being his mate and carranam did she recognize it for what it was. He’d shifted enough to have placed himself between them. Between her, Chaol, and Dorian.

With a bitter laugh, she spat again, “It’s come to this? You’re protecting them from me!” Her voice got shrill.

“Fireheart,” Rowan started but she cut him off.

“No. No. Don’t. You. Dare. Call me that.” It took all her years of training in hiding herself, of becoming other people, that allowed her to keep her voice steady.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in her massive bed, half sprawled against the comforting warmth of her husband, with Fleetfoot resting in her lap and a good book in one hand, the delicious chocolate hazelnut cake an elderly woman in town had learned to make just for her in the other. She wanted to go home.

But home was a long way from here.

Dorian shoved forward, elbowing past Rowan, ignoring Chaol’s muttered warning, and stopped once he and Aelin were nose-to-nose.

“We didn’t want to do this.”

She just hummed, not backing away from him.

Those flames still curled, ready for her to wield.

“This is better than the alternative,” Chaol spoke up and she and Dorian both moved to look at him.

She arched a brow and schooled her face into that indifferent arrogance she knew made nearly everyone see red. “The alternative? What was the alternative to forcing me to flee my kingdom I have fought so hard to keep and fake my own death with only,” She jabbed a finger at each of them, “You three knowing the details of what happened.”

“The alternative was taking away the fake part,” Dorian said, cold water to match her own burning flame.

She started, and against her better judgment, looked at Rowan. “You were going to,” She swallowed and tried very hard to ignore the agony in his gorgeous eyes. “Kill me?”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anybody voted for that.” Dorian offered.

“Voted?” Her voice went shrill again and she saw Rowan twitch. “You all voted on what to do with me?”

“You couldn’t stay in Terrasen anymore, not after what you did, so yes. We voted.”

“And you three are the lucky bastards who have to force me out.”

“Force is only needed if you decide to fight us, Aelin,” Chaol said.

She ignored how pointed the words were, how they angered those festering embers.

“So Lorcan didn’t volunteer? I was sure he’d be the first to want to force me out of my own home and fake my death.”

“Nobody volunteered, Aelin. Nobody wanted this to be the way it went.”

“Hmm, well it seems someone did. Since we’re here, and all.” Her voice dropped low and she was suddenly talking only to Rowan. “Was what I did so unforgivable that you don’t love me anymore?”

He couldn’t look at her, this man, who used to look at her like the stars were born in her eyes, now couldn’t look her in the face. “I’ll always love you, Fi-” He cleared his throat, “Aelin. Don’t ever think I stopped but-” He looked like words had become too hard and merely stared at whatever his eyes were fixed on, somewhere behind her left ear.

Chaol and Dorian were both looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Looking at him in the dying sunlight filtering through the web of branches formed from ancient oak trees, the way his eyes glittered, the hard lines of him all highlighted, and his hair ruffled from the autumn wind, her resolve broke. She took a step, then another, then she was running. He caught her, swept her up, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

It was oddly reminiscent of a time long ago, in Adarlan. That, however, was a reunion. This was a goodbye.

Tears streaked down her face and he held her closer; as if trying to further commit all of her to memory. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whispered.

“I know. I am too.”

She pulled away first. He wiped her tears away with painstaking gentleness and kissed her forehead, “This may not be the end.” From his tone and the way he was looking at her, he believed it as much as she did. Which is to say, this is the end. “Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Take care of Terrasen for me. They need you.”

He nodded, his hands still resting on her face, making no move to leave. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged helplessly, “Maybe I’ll bring Lillian back. I don’t know. I’ll just stay in the shadows for a few centuries, try and build a life where nobody knows me, nobody knows Terrasen.”

He nodded again and slowly dragged his hands from her face. She was the one that was ‘dying’ but he looked ready to keel over himself. He took a few unsteady steps backward and stooped to pick up a backpack they’d brought. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily, slinging it along her back.

She turned and looked at Dorian and Chaol, biting her lip. She wanted them to hurt, she wanted them to feel the betrayal she felt. Not a sting, no, she felt like she’d been stabbed. And as someone who had been stabbed many times before, she felt confident in her analogy. But they were her friends, once.

Make them hurt a voice whispered deep from inside her. She clenched her fists and felt the flames bubbling up.

Aelin. Rowan. In her head.

She breathed in deeply and nodded to them once, they nodded back. She acknowledged the pain in their eyes with not a small amount of satisfaction.

She took off sprinting into the forest and didn’t look back.

~~~~~~

They were walking back to Terrasen, they’d let Aelin off at the border.

“Rowan,” Dorian laid a hand on his arm, “Are you-”

He shrugged the young king off and shifted, taking to the skies, as far from them, from anyone, as he could get.

“We made the right decision, right?” Dorian’s voice was so strained it cut at Chaol’s heart.

“Yeah, yes. This was the right choice. The only choice.”

He nodded, but Chaol could tell the doubts lingered. As long as Aelin was out there, on her own, free but never allowed to return home, the doubts would always linger.

~~~~~~

Her knees buckled not far from where she’d taken off running from the three of them. She flew forward, throwing her hands out and scraping her palms along the rocks as slid to a stop. She tried to breathe, ragged, shaking breaths, as she tried to calm her mind. The world blacked-out around the edges and a whimper fell from her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t fucking do this.

A weak scream ripped from her throat and she dug her hands harder into the rocks, they sliced her palms open, warm blood trickling into the grass.

She tried to wrangle the fire, she tried to use the tactics Rowan had taught her what felt like lifetimes ago, but just like it had which led to her being here, she couldn’t control it.

It didn’t explode like she thought it would, it bubbled. Like lava in a volcano, it bubbled out of her, hot smoldering fire, trickling down her face like tears, tracing lines along her body like blood. It covered the grass around her and spread, her cry was futile. It burnt straight through some of the ancient oak trees, bringing them down and melting them entirely into the earth.

Despite the chaos around her, despite that first anguished cry, she knelt in the dirt. Wind ripped her hair away from her face as she burned the world around her, nobody could say Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius went out gracefully.

~~~~~~

Despite the initial burning at the border, no sign of Aelin had surfaced. He had to give her credit, the woman knew how to disappear. The thought sent an ache through him, intensifying what was already there.

He’d been like some kind of ghoul, Lorcan and Fenrys traded shifts watching over him, making sure he bathed and ate. Someone always sat at his bedside with him, waking him when the nightmares took him. Nightmares that Aelin was still held captive by Maeve. When they resurfaced, the first night his hand had shot out, seeking a warm body that wasn’t there. He’d flown into a fit of panic until someone had brought someone in. One of the women, Elide, maybe? They had calmed him enough to tell him Aelin wasn’t with Maeve. They weren’t in the war anymore. He remembered where Aelin was. That he didn’t know where Aelin was, only that he had sent her away. In some ways, that hurt worse.

Most of them had moved into the castle and would stay until most of Terrasen, until Rowan, settled enough to be left. Most of them were Lords and Ladies, however, so they alternated. One week Elide would stay at the castle, the next week Lorcan would. The same went for Aedion and Lysandra. He knew it hurt them, being separated like that, but they never once complained. Rowan hadn’t entirely been paying attention when they had decided how Aelin’s ‘death’ had happened, but they’d fabricated a story and spread it. Today was her funeral, nearly a month after she had left - since they’d made her leave - and Terrasen’s people had been in mourning ever since. They would be for a long while, but not nearly as long as Rowan would be.

He wasn’t sure what woke up, it wasn’t even dawn, but his eyes fluttered open. He oriented himself with what - who - surrounded him. Fleetfoot, that damned dog, was at his feet. She hadn’t taken Aelin’s spot, as if hoping she would be back. There was another animal asleep near the foot of the bed, on the floor, Lysandra or Fenrys, and he watched their chest slowly rise and fall and matched his own to it. His heart had been racing. Maybe that’s what woke him, an unseen nightmare.

He crept past the sleeping figure, probably Lysandra then, not as attuned to his every move like he knew Fenrys was.

He slipped out onto the balcony and was struck with the memory of the time Aelin had woken him and he had found her staring with tear-filled eyes at the Kingsflame blooming across those rolling hills.

He surveyed those same hills, the sleeping town below, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the railing until he was close to tumbling off the edge and stayed there in silence for a long while before speaking. “Damn it Aelin!” He was nearly sobbing, he had no idea when the tears had started. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight harder? Gods,” He broke off and slumped down, unable to speak thanks to the sobs wracking through him. “Please stay,” He nearly whimpered. “I know it’s too late but please, Fireheart, I need you. I need you.”

He fell asleep there, on the balcony, soothed by the beat of his heart. A beat that sounded suspiciously like an echo of Aelin’s fingers dancing along the pianoforte, drawing out a sound she commanded while quietly singing a lullaby she had told him her mother sang to her when she couldn’t sleep.

His eyes closed and he could’ve sworn her voice carried on the wind, that lullaby, followed by a nearly inaudible, “I love you, Rowan. I love you.”

~~~~~~

Half the time she slept in the forest like some kind of wild animal, the other half of the time she disguised herself and found some disgusting tavern to sleep in. She had no idea where she was anymore, she was just wandering aimlessly. She was currently sitting on the roof of one of said taverns. It reminded her painfully of her days as an assassin. She stared up at the stars, unblinking, the night wind was cold and stung her face but she was past caring. Up here, she took off the glamour, becoming Aelin again.

“Do you miss me, buzzard?” She asked the stars. “I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.” She shook her head and laughed angrily. “You became everything you didn’t want to, didn’t you? You bastard.” Her voice was getting louder with each word. “To whatever end? Right.” Angry tears streaked her face for what was definitely not the first time. “I’ve listened around enough that I learned my funeral is tomorrow.” She didn’t even know what she was doing anymore, besides pacing on a roof and shrieking at the sky. “Maybe I’ll stop in, I’ve always wanted to see my own funeral.” She jabbed an angry finger at a star she had deemed was Rowan’s stand-in. “I hope you make it worthy of me, you bastard. Gods, I hope you know me enough to make it as me as you can.” She blew a kiss at that star and something in her cracked, “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn. I shouldn’t, not anymore, but I do.”

She pulled her glamor back on and jumped down from the roof, landing on her feet with practiced ease. “Let’s see if I can make my own funeral, hmm?”

~~~~~~

It was as outrageous as Aelin would have wanted. Everyone was miserable, even those within the inner circle who knew what had really happened. Most everyone was here, except for all the royals within Erilea, and every other land Aelin had touched.

Music flourished from every corner, musicians from all over had come to play pieces for her, in honor of her. It was like some kind of twisted wedding, the way everyone turned when the royals entered. The leaders that Aelin had not known as personally entered first, stopping individually to give impersonal speeches about her. Then Galan entered. He knelt before the basically-shrine honoring her. “You were one of the greatest Queens this world has ever seen, cousin.” He cleared his throat, “You were so much more than all your titles give you credit for, and that’s saying a lot. You were so full of life and energy and,” A broken laugh. “Fire. You burned bright, Aelin. And now that you’re ash, we’re ash too.” He cleared his throat again and stayed kneeling next to the other leaders, murmuring words meant only for him and his cousin.

Manon entered next, she knew the truth but despite that, her eyes were rimmed an angry red. She stood next to Galan, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.” She went silent for a moment before sinking to her knees. Everyone gasped. Family knelt, but other than that no leader, especially not a witch, knelt. “You-” She broke off and bowed her head, curling her hands into fists at her side.

When it was clear Manon wasn’t going to finish, Dorian entered. He knelt beside Manon (cue another gasp) his mouth moved, but it was only for him and Aelin. The goodbye he hadn’t had the chance to say in that forest.

Nesryn and Sartaq strode in, Sartaq didn’t speak, but Nesryn did. Her voice carried, unwavering. “No King or Queen is perfect, but Aelin was pretty damn close. She and I were never the closest but,” She hesitated and Sartaq reached for her hand, “She believed in me. She never looked down on me because I was human, and wasn’t in any huge position of power, and that faith in me never changed even when I became,” She gestured at her and Sartaq, at her dress, “Aelin mattered in a way that not many people have ever mattered. She will be remembered, for her fire and power, for what she’s done, but also how she has a soft spot for dogs and chocolate,” A few wet laughs, “How she loves music and theater, how kind she is to everyone.” The crowd nodded their agreement, there wasn’t a soul that wasn’t crying. “You did it. You made your mark.” She bowed her head and it was clear she was done.

Rowan was last, Goldryn in his hands. He laid in with pain-staking gentleness at her shrine. He stepped back and opened his mouth as if about to speak. His fingers fiddled with the ring on one finger. The ring Aelin had given him that he hadn’t taken off. That he would never take off. “Damn you,” He said finally. “Damn you, Aelin.” He bowed his head to hide from the crowd and someone moved, Elide. She came up to him, murmured a few quiet words, and led him to kneel next to Sartaq. She waited a few moments before returning to her spot.

The music rose as everyone knelt, heads bowed, before their dead Queen. It was ghostly, the way they knelt in total silence, besides their tears. Aelin was going to haunt everyone, for a very, very long time.

If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a female figure in the trees, slipping away as quietly and quickly as she could, tears flowing freely at the love everyone held for her.

“Goodbye,” She whispered. Well, looks like she could make a graceful disappearance after all.

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