#right now I’m thinking Asphodel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hp-hcs · 6 months

Note

Could I request some Yan poly Theo and Mattheo x male reader please?

Where he is an animagus that can turn into a cat just like McGonagal.

Where he goes to them in his cat form for cuddles and scratches and stuff because he’s touch starved, but what the reader doesn’t know is that they know who he is and that he’s not a normal cat, and the reason everyone’s been avoiding him both in his cat form and human form is because they’ve made everyone besides him know that he’s theirs and threaten them. Just the usual possessive Yan behaviour from the duo. Maybe they buy him a collar or something in his cat form and he gets all embarrassed because he doesn’t know that they know he’s a human and just has to wear it when he’s a cat-??

I’m so sorry if it’s too detailed

um, obsessed???

also i tweaked the ending you asked for just a little bit cause i never know how to end fics 🫠

i genuinely despise this. fully anticipate me just deleting this and starting over.

also please never apologize for too much detail it literally makes writing these so much easier and faster

requests? 🥺🤲

“He is, most of all, l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.” — Yandere! Theodore Nott x Animagus! Sirius’ son! Reader x Yandere! Mattheo Riddle

warnings: very mild—mostly implied—yandere possessive/violent stuff

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ah, Mr. Black. Lovely for you to join us.”

You cringed, hastily smoothing down your hair in an attempt to look like you hadn’t just woken up.

Snape gave you a stern look. “Very well. Now that you’ve elected to make your presence, perhaps Mr. Black can tell us what asphodel is?”

You flushed at the way your professor put you on the spot; the way all of your classmate's eyes were on you.

“U-uh, it’s a flower. It’s supposed to grow in the Elysian fields in the Greek underworld…?” You trailed off uncertainly.

Snape’s lips thinned, a sign that you were correct. “We have a new seating chart—a fact you might’ve known if you’d shown up on time. Over there. Quickly.”

You scurried over to the table he indicated, sitting down in the empty chair between two Slytherin boys.

The boy on your right gave you a sympathetic look, waiting until Snape turned to continue writing on the board before leaning over and whispering to you.

“We’re doing a project in pairs, but me an’ my friend Theo here said we’d add you in ours to make a group of three. Snape wanted you to work with Longbottom.”

The boy on your left—Theo, you presumed—leaned in to whisper, “Yeah, we wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. ‘specially not a pretty thing like you.”

You blushed at the flattering name, whispering back, “Longbottom? Merlin- thank you.”

He grinned brightly, seemingly pleased at your willingness to hold a conversation with him, if the gentle flush of his cheeks was any indication.

The boy on your right tugged at your sleeve with a charming smile. “That’s Theodore Nott, by the way. And I’m Mattheo Riddle, darlin’.”

~~~

“Well, I think we’re just about finished,” Theodore mused, sitting up from where he’d been leaning over your group’s poster board. “Think we used enough glitter?”

“No such thing as enough glitter.”

You laughed at the two boys’ antics as the three of you sat on the floor of their dorm room. They had a good rapport with each other, one that you fit easily into. There was no real awkwardness as you all joked with each other. You actually felt like you belonged, like you’d been a part of their pair for years.

It was a nice thought.

“Well, if we’re finished, then I desperately need to go to the library,” you sighed. “Flitwick assigned twenty inches on the difference between the Conservo and the Protego charms.”

The two groaned in sympathy.

“Good luck,” Mattheo shook his head, resting his hand on your knee.

You’d noticed that both boys were extremely touchy. They always seemed to be accidentally brushing hands with you, peering over your shoulder to look at the poster, and finding any excuse to rest their hands somewhere on your body.

You nodded your thanks, putting away your personal reading book, your glitter quills, and your googly eye stickers that you as a group had had far too much fun with.

“See you guys around!”

~~~

“Woah- Here, kitty kitty kitty!”

You blinked sleepily, annoyed at whomever was disrupting your nap by the warm common room fireplace.

Two blurry, vaguely boy-shaped blobs plopped down on the floor by you, one of the blobs’ bags spilling out its contents all over the floor. You swatted lazily at a feather quill that rolled to a stop beside you on the rug, quickly losing interest and yawning.

“Whose cat is this?” The shorter one—the one whose bag had dumped parchment and jellybeans all over the floor—asked, suddenly scratching the top of your head.

You froze, an unfamiliar rumble rising from your throat at the odd sensation.

You were purring.

If you were human right now, you were sure your skin would be prickling from the stranger’s gentle touch.

Gentle touch had always been uncommon for you. Your family was odd and disjointed. You grew up without a father, raised only by grumpy paintings and a sour house elf.

And once he returned, on a the back of a winged marvel, with stories of rats and traitors and time, his overjoyed smile had faltered when he learned you wore green and not red. His now ever-present pinched look of poorly hidden disappointment whenever he looked at you, paired with your god-cousin’s short and stiff hugs and forced smiles, you felt like an outsider in your own home.

“Virgil!”

The strangers startled you out of your reverie. Your ears flattened back, but the taller one just pet your head softly. The short one crossed its arms, shaking its head vehemently.

“No, dude. Why the fuck would you name our cat that?”

“Cause of the book? Dante’s Inferno?” The taller one pointed at one of your abandoned books lying on the rug, most of the stack on Charms subjects, except for that one. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading it, and changed into a cat at some point during your nap.

“Nerd.”

“Just because you don’t ever read, Riddle-”

You perked up at the familiar name. Blinking away sleep, the two blobs- boys come into better focus.

They’re your fucking group mates.

Fucking Circe.

Theo goes back to petting your head, his steady pets prompting you to instinctively push your head up against his palm to demand more.

“Oh- hi Vee,” he laughed, moving his hand further down to stroke along your spine.

“Wh- We’re not calling it that.”

~~~

They ended up calling you that.

They visited the library after school every day now, where sure enough, you’d always be sitting by the fire or sprawled out on the couch.

Some days, they brought extra friends. On those days, you’d always squawk and wind between your boys’ ankles to get their attention when they got too engrossed in a conversation, like an adorable, jealous tripping hazard.

And after you’d turned in your project, you had also remained friends with them as a human. You now lit up every time you saw them in the halls or the common room, and they always grinned whenever they saw you.

It was nice.

~~~ “Hel- oh.”

You watched as your History of Magic table mate, a usually kind and friendly Hufflepuff girl, scrambled out of her seat to sit elsewhere as soon as you set your bag down. You stared after her in shock.

What had you done to warrant that?

As you stared after her, you finally became aware that your classmates around you were staring at you with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Everyone avoided the seat next to you like the plague.

You sat alone that class.

~~~

You set your textbook down on your desk, sitting down heavily in your chair.

Today had been awful. Nobody dared come near you in any of your classes, like you were a leper or something. You ate lunch alone, walked to class alone… you just hoped Potions, as your last class of the day, would pass quickly.

“Hello, lovely,” Mattheo greeted warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he sat down beside you—the first person to do so all day. “How are you this fine afternoon?”

You rolled your eyes grumpily, steadfastly ignoring him as you doodled on your parchment.

You suddenly felt fingers underneath your chin, lifting your head up until your eyes met Mattheo’s.

“He asked you a question, doll,” Theodore breathed into your ear from behind you. “Answer.”

You shivered at his tone and firm behavior, blushing despite yourself. “‘m- ‘m fine.”

“Good boy,” Mattheo sighed, patting your cheek patronizingly. “Was that really so hard?”

Your cheeks flush immediately at the name, as you remain a bit confused as to their sudden changes in personality.

Where were the lovably awkward pair of dorks that you usually hung out with, both as a human and as a cat? (Although, you supposed, they didn’t know about the latter.)

Maybe you were wrong about them?

~~~

You weren’t wrong about them.

You leaned against the side of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, watching interesting passerby on the street as you waited for your god-cousin, Harry, to return back outside.

You were so focused on people-watching, imagining backstories for everyone, (especially the creepy Gryffindor who liked to hit on you no matter how many times you said no: Cormac McLaggen. The boy had practically sprinted away as soon as he caught sight of you leaning against the wall. Odd that he also had a black eye and a busted nose) that you were completely startled by arms wrapping around you from behind.

You jumped, but relaxed a bit when they put their chin on your shoulder and whispered into your ear, “It’s Mattheo, doll. Calm down.”

“You just scared the shit outta me. Tellin’ me to calm down,” you roll your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

“M-me. And Theo. Both. Yeah?”

“Wow. Smooth, dude. Real master of words, aren’t you?” A new voice chimed in sarcastically.

You spun around at the arrival of a second person, relaxing when you saw that it was just Theo.

“What Matty is trying to ask is, will you go out with us?”

You gape at them.

“Both of you?”

“Ideally, yes.”

You blink at them, eyes wide.

Mattheo shifts nervously.

“Sure.”

Theodore blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Sure? Like- like yes you will?”

“Yeah.”

The two boys exchange a rather disbelieving, giddy look.

“Uh, how does the Three Broomsticks at seven tonight sound?”

“Works for me,” you shrug, a pleased smile slowly creeping onto your face.

“Oh! Here. We- we got this for you. In case you said yes,” Mattheo digs through his pockets, pulling out a small, rectangular box, like the kind that watches come in. “But, you have to promise you’ll wait to get back to your dorm room before you open it.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Okay, sure. I promise.”

Theo narrows his eyes at you before sticking out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

You laugh again at the way his serious look contrasts with his childish request, obliging and wrapping your pinky around his. “Pinky promise.”

~~~

You shut your dorm door behind you, dropping your bag on the floor and collapsing onto your bed. You, true to your word, waited to open the box, pulling it out of your pocket only just now.

It was small, simple gift box, with a scrap of folded parchment taped to the top.

Y/N –

Thought you might like this. We’d love to see you wear it on our date.

– MR & TN

You raise your eyebrows, setting the note aside and lifting the lid, unsure of what to expect.

You were not expecting there to be a blue cat collar inside, the dangling metal tag reading:

Virgil

If lost, return to either

Theo Nott or Mattheo Riddle

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheoxreader

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Potion Bottles

Characters: Snape x Reader

Warnings: Mention of Umbridge

Summary: You visit the dungeons to vent about the pink toad had been flaunting authority around the castle.

You picked up a crate labelled ‘Asphodel Root Powdered’ and lifted it onto one of the tables. “She can’t do it. I’m telling you Severus, there’s a law against it all.”

Snape was sitting at his desk. He was flipping through scrolls of parchment with great concentration before setting them back down, painting a grade in the corner with fresh ink, and then repeating with the next set.

“In case you’ve forgotten, she’s been appointed ‘High Inquisitor’ by the Minister.” The professor reminded, his face twisting into a frown as he re-read a sentence. “This handwriting deserves a ‘T’ on its own.”

You weren’t paying attention to the comment and picked out a few bottles of the powder from their pack and began stocking the shelves. “Fudge is a joke. He’s going to run the whole wizarding world into the ground by ignoring Voldemort’s return.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that the reason Umbridge has restricted your interactions with the students is simply because you’re a public member of the Order of the Phoenix and are a credible source of the truth?”

You glared at the bottle in your hand. “Oh, it’s passed my mind.” With a sigh, you settled the item in its place. “But that’s no excuse for her behaviour. And these Educational Decree’s - what rubbish!”

Snape quirked a brow, “Yes, we all know how you handle rules.”

Turning to collect more bottles, you glanced over at your friend. “Rules are fine. It’s excessive and constant creation of unnecessary rules that are the problem. I mean, banning Quidditch? She may as well raze the whole field to the ground.”

“Yes because Hogwarts sporting events are the real victims.” Snape deadpanned.

The sarcasm didn’t go unchecked and you rolled your eyes. “I hope that’s your attitude when she’s busy watching your classes with those beady eyes and interrogating you.” You told him and picked up another handful of vials as a devious thought popped into your head. “I wonder if we could get her banished.”

“I believe the Headmaster is the only one with power to do that so unless you’re planning to have that conversation with him-”

“Point made. I don’t think Umbridge is high on his agenda right now.” You replied and finished up with the potion restock. Stepping back to admire the handiwork, you paused and rested your hands on your waist.

“Why in Gryffindor’s name am I resupplying your shelves like a muggle?”

Snape quietly read the essay on parchment and shrugged. “No idea. You just waltzed in, started ranting and unpacked the boxes. Didn’t seem fitting to stop you.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #snape imagine #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape imagine #harry potter imagine

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lavandula-ipsum · 2 months

Text

The sweet waters of Plegethon

Asphodels ch. 2/2

Tags: dark!Luke x Fem!Reader, force sensitive reader, reader is injured, porn with plot, angst, smut. Like, this is the smut bomb of the series.

Summary: Waiting to be torn apart once again, two lovers find each other under the stars.

Asphodels is a sequel to Pomegranate, a short smut series that has kinda ended up growing a plot. I do think you can enjoy this part without the previous one, since you can infer enough of their dynamic from context if you're just here for the smutty fun. Feel free to check the previous chapters if you feel like it!

Asphodels pt. 1

It was a hard job convincing the rebel survivors that all they needed to do to avoid the mortal threat of the stormtroopers closing in around them was to take refuge in the caves and just wait for them to just leave. Huddled in the tunnels, the children of the Rebellion look up and fear that the promise won’t save them. There is a twinkle of understanding in (Y/N)’s new ally, old Imoviah, when she assures him they will be safe for now.

As soon as it mlike the danger has passed them by, the rebel captain hurries back to the cell where her prisoner awaits. Shame nails her eyes to the floor at first, handing him the comlink as she swallows thickly. She’s forgotten herself again, and now she has to deal with having to manage problems so abysmally different in nature she’d need to split herself in two for it. But she needs to suck it up and be a big girl today. Politics must come first.

After Luke dials in the code, he puts the device back on her palm, his hand lingering for a bit. At least he doesn’t seem resentful for leaving him like she did, bothered and denied. She mentally hushes herself, she needs to focus

“It will be alright, I swear,” he assures. The rebel tries to paint her expression with all of her resolve and hopes the Sith lord can’t choke her through this distance.

Suddenly, the little communicator emits the ambience buzz that indicates there’s someone listening on the other side. Faintly, the dreaded sound of a mechanic breathing echoes.

“Excuse me if I don’t introduce myself properly, lord Vader. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I am well aware of who you are. And you will tell me, right now, how you obtained that communicator as well as this code.”

Her blood freezes at the idea that he already knows her. They have never met face to face, apart from a couple of occasions when her ship narrowly avoided capture by his TIE fighters while he looked down on the hunt from the Executor. Even then, his cold ghost managed to freeze the Force around her like a nasty omen. There was also the quick encounter at Bespin, though there wasn’t much time for pleasantries back then. No, he either has gathered intel about her, for whatever chilling reason, or Luke has been talking about her. She suddenly feels out of her own body and shudders at the ridiculous concept of Vader giving ear to the fallen Jedi’s story about a girl he almost came to love.

“That’s the interesting part, my lord. You see, right now I have in my power a certain prized someone you might be interested in getting back.”

Luke rolls his eyes at her, which lightens her heart a little bit. It almost makes her enjoy getting threats in exchange.

“You might think you scored some kind of goal with this, but no matter what you do, even if my troops have been ordered to spare your cowardly rats in hiding for now, the Rebellion is doomed.”

“I’ll keep my prisoner for myself then. Maybe I’ll find some better use for him before we’re all dead at your feet, my lord.”

“Your tone is starting to become cumbersome, girl.” He doesn’t need to raise his filtered voice for her to feel a dreadful cold creeping up the back of her neck. “I demand proof that he is unharmed.”

Luke steps forward, his eyes fixed on the girl at all times, reassuring that she’s navigating this delicate situation successfully but a little fearful it could all fall down with just a wrong word. “I’m here, father. Please, listen to her.”

Silence. For a few moments, only a faint metallic breathing comes out of the comlink. (Y/N) realizes now she’s been squeezing Luke’s hand too hard. She barely dares to even breathe until lord Vader speaks again.

“Alright, go on. And do not test my patience any further, rebel. Consider yourself greatly privileged to be having this conversation.”

(Y/N) is not aware of the dark lord having any tolerance whatsoever so, with a slight triumphant smirk on her lips, she continues. “These are my demands, Lord Vader.”

****

After long hours of packing and preparation to evacuate the refuge under the sanctuary, night has fallen once again over the forest. Right now, somewhere, the survivors must be leaving the surface of Jolah on a brand new Imperial transport. Even though they’ve taken all the precautions available to them to prevent being followed, (Y/N) still fears it might not be enough. However, the only thing she can do now is let them go and trust that her plan will work.

The silence is broken by the beeping in her hands right before Imoviah’s voice comes out of her comlink

“The starbird has taken flight. Good work.”

She sighs. “Thank you, friend. Take care. I hope our paths will meet again soon.”

“Likewise. May the Force be with you, girl.”

(Y/N) tries to answer it back, but the woshrds can’t find their way out before the communication is cut. So all she can do is reduced to just sitting there, her glossy eyes blurring the stars above her, as her fingers tear apart one of the wild flowers growing through the crevices of the stone table they’re sitting on.

“You’ve done it, they’re safe”

At her side sits her only source of warmth in this cold night. It’s Luke’s arm against hers that keeps her feet on the ground now that she feels like she’s inhabiting a stranger’s corpse. Perhaps the sensation has been accompanying her for a while. It’s by his side that she’s finally able to see the tension and constant nausea that’s taken hold of her body the last few hours.

His stun cuffs suddenly come undone and fall to the floor. Luke gives her a confused grin, but she looks away. She trusts him enough to free him. No, it’s way more than that, dangerously so. (Y/N) yearns to give him anything he might ask for. However, the question of why she’s waited this long to do it keeps her tongue tied in a knot.

The rebel also hands him back his lightsaber. The corrupted inner sizzling of the agonizing kyber crystal has been making her sick with the memories of how much time and effort he put into building it, how she clapped and laughed the first time she got to see the emerald blade. I'm proud of you, she had said after kissing his cheek.

And as revolting as its aura echoes in the Force, she feels a little colder after it's no longer in her hands. A cloud lifts in her brain too. It will be a while before Vader’s shuttle appears, a few hours at least. Hours she doesn’t feel like using on running away.

If only there was something that could keep him by her side.

“Your sister still believes in you, you know?”

“She does?” Luke seems surprised at first, but then he shakes his head. “That is too far gone.”

She’s too tired to fight about this again, so she just sighs and sinks down a little.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get away?” he says.

“I was thinking of stealing your fighter, actually.”

He grimaces, but doesn’t complain further. “I guess that’s fair.”

(Y/N) groans and rubs her forehead on his shoulder. It takes him by surprise, but it prompts him to relax a little and open up his cloak so she can take refuge under it. But she can’t allow herself to rest while she still has homework left to do.

“You can have your questions now.”

A furrow appears on his brow, displeased by her transactional attitude. However, curiosity ends up being more powerful. “Is Leia being trained?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

“You don’t know her.” (Y/N) glares at him before standing up to pace around with the help of her walking stick, anxious. Even though she feels the blunt pull of the stitches on her leg, the movement helps clear her head. This is a subject she’s not willing to get into, and every word that slips out could be fatal to someone else. Thankfully, Luke seems willing to drop the issue.

“Where is your lightsaber?”

“I gave it to her.” However, he doesn’t seem satisfied with this vague answer. She thinks of a lie, something like she needed it but, again, Luke is not someone she can lie to. And she’s getting tired of trying to do it. “I did it because I was donafraid of ending up having to fight you.”

“So you’ve given up.”

“I thought you’d be happier about it.”

“I’m not. There’s the chance you’ll see yourself in a bad situation without a way to protect yourself.” His impatient tone also reveals he’s still hurt about what she said earlier, when they fought in the cell. “I never intended to make you weaker.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to either surrender or die if I find myself in a pickle.”

It would be easier to embrace either of those decisions if she took it beforehand, wouldn’t it?

The night is cold and the dark hides them, which is known to work the magic to conjure the words that seem impossible at any other time. The young man in black leaves the stone table to go after her, but stops a couple of steps away. His hand twitches at his side.

“Do you hate it when I touch you?”

(Y/N) thought these questions were going to be utilitarian in nature, so she’s about to complain about it for a second. However, she can just sigh at her lack of an answer. The reason why she freaked out when he touched her earlier is a mystery to her too. She liked it when he caged her between his bound hands and the wall to kiss her. It was sudden and desperate, with a passionate sense of urgency that could’ve been mistaken for roughness if she didn’t know him as well as she does. No, this fear has bloomed from a seed planted way before, that very first night they shared after learning of his betrayal. She steps closer to squeeze his hand, relieved by him reciprocating the gesture.

“I don’t. It’s just- Kark, I’m not sure I can explain it. ”

“Will you try for me?” he asks, need glimmering in his eyes.

“I think it started… the last time we were together. I was so confused. I lost myself and acted like a brat. I gave in to the idea that the pleasure would erase the pain, but then I felt so guilty. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“You don’t have to feel bad about it. I needed you too.”

“That’s why I tried to regain control. I wanted to give you everything, I really did.” She swallows a sob. “But I couldn’t picture myself surviving, or at least the part of me that matters, if I didn’t run away. So I did. And now I’m not even sure if it’s still alive.”

Luke’s fingertips graze the back of her hand on the walking stick, and a shy flutter reaches her through the Force as he gently takes her hand, slowly enough to watch in her expression and feel in her signature that he’s not overstepping, and presses his lips on her knuckles, “I don’t blame you.”

“I didn’t know I was going to react like that earlier. I was so focused on the little time we had I didn’t realize how scared I was.”

“Of me?”

“No, no. Of myself. I was terrified of losing control.” (Y/N) nuzzles his shoulder, every word a struggle. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess. I don't mean to mislead you. Isn't it messed up that I behave like this when I'm supposed to fight you?”

The finger tracing down her cheek melts her worries away until they’re just a bittersweet aftertaste in her mouth. “I’ll gladly take all you're willing to give.”

Grabbing his shirt collar, she gently brings him closer till their lips meet. The kiss is sweet and light, slow as if they had all the time in the world. Clean.

“Such a lovely mess,” he whispers against her mouth. She groans, sensing yet another worry fluttering around his aura.

“How many more questions do you have?”

“Only one. But it’s a bit selfish.”

“I promised I would answer. Shoot.”

“Do you still love me?”

Luke retreats back a little to look at her better, his gloved hand still under her chin. The frail hope trembling behind his eyes breaks her heart a little.

“I do. I love you. But I still hate you too.”

The wind lightly tousles his hair as a watery chuckle escapes his throat. He’s relieved. “I know. Don’t worry. Don’t let it hurt you any more than it needs to.”

This time it’s him who leans down to kiss her, holding her face between his palms as he gently parts her lips. Their invisible bond ripples with a wave of gratitude. Suddenly, she feels a little embarrassed about earlier, when she went straight to shove her hand down his pants.

“Your eyes are wandering, love.”

“I was feeling a bit guilty about something else, that’s all.” As (Y/N) looks down, finding by the tension on his pants that affairs are more or less where she left them. “I’m sorry I had to leave you like that earlier. I thought you would have, I don’t know, done something about it by now.”

His eyelashes flicker as he grows excited and flustered in equal measure with the understanding of what she’s referring to. “I haven’t.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

He nods, his fingers threading her hair, exploring her features in the search for a signal that she’s not out of his grasp yet. “Are you ready to let go a little? Only as much as you want to.”

The rebel delves in for another kiss, a tiny spark catching fire as her hands travel down his torso with a hungry caress. However, before they can reach his belt buckle, he stops her, a sweet smirk across his face. Without ever letting go of her hand, he takes her back to the carved table, where he sits in a purposely open position. However, doubt briefly returns to him just as she curls up in between his legs.

“I told you to take everything the other time, didn’t I?”

“Do you really think this is the place?” he teases, his hands all over her, carefully exploring every little limit each of the curves of her body represents before lovingly conquering the next one.

“What? Are you missing the cell? Or was it the stun cuffs that did the trick for you?”

Luke shakes his head, muffling a chuckle with a kiss under her ear, “I just wished I could give you something better than this rock.”

The rebel briefly thinks of the time she spent in his quarters, of the gigantic bed with silly silk sheets and at least a dozen fluffy pillows to comfortably plop herself on. Yeah, their first time could have been quite comfortable there, in theory. More than on rock and moss, under the cold stars. On the other hand, she doesn’t miss the constant buzz of the imperial cruiser, the many tiny signatures of officers and stormtroopers running around. No, this place feels far more peaceful. It lacks the luxury, but also all those other reminders that she’s already lost him.

Impatient to give herself fully this time, she guides his hands up her waist. Luke barely dares to brush the curve of her breast until she coaxes him to discover the hardness of her nipples through the fabric of her tunic. Watching over her shoulder, burning breath on her skin, his thumbs swivel over them, twisting them subtly between his thumb and middle finger while the index rubs the tip raw until little whines start escaping her throat.

Under her, his hardness grinds against her ass as she unconsciously swivels, anticipating the release of all the pent up heat cruelly repressed all day. The fire has spread to his hands, that turn her around so she faces him, impatiently undoing the laces closing off her dress. His hungry mouth leaves a tingly path of kisses along her collarbone in its way down to her tits, tender and sensitive under the unabashed wet sounds of his suckling. She cries out with that first frenzied attack, making him look up from where he’s devoted to the task of making her lose her mind. As an apology, his tongue becomes gentler, but the girl grabs the back of his hair and brings him closer again, begging for more. After a moaned hum, Luke sucks more intensely again, leaving her weaker by the second and dependent on the support of his arms around her waist.

Unable to bear the insufficient friction any longer, Luke lays her down, spreading his cloak over the carvings to protect her from the cold stone. (Y/N) briefly ponders what could the intended use of this altar have been, the sacred knowledge she should be diligently gathering to study it later, before having to hand this sanctuary over to the enemy. Instead, she’s getting fucked on it. Ravenous hands undo fastenings, take off shoes and outer clothes as their mouths look for each other again. His lips take a detour down the contours of her throat, then her shoulder, setting each centimeter of skin on fire as soon as it’s revealed to the cold night air.

But before Luke can realize his intentions of journeying down her body, she stops him by the collar of his open shirt. Though her anxious hastiness is momentarily driven to his skin as she falls quickly to the allure posed by the mauvish lines of his scars. (Y/N) grips her healthy leg around his waist in order to bring him close enough to kiss them. His heart beats fast under her tongue as she faithfully tends to that darker nest marking his chest, then following the paths of lightning to his neck while her hands caress tingly trails down his hips. Luke curses under his breath.

“Need you,” she begs, rolling her hips upwards against his erection, loving how it grows and throbs following her touches.

“You got me already,” he promises in between kisses, ”you got everything.”

With a quick movement of her fingers, she slips his cock under her panties, rocking her hips against it. “I want you inside.”

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“I’m serious,” she whines.

“You’re soaking wet.” A note of morbid pride tints his voice, slowly grinding as the movement bulging through her panties teases her lips open. His voice is slipping out already. Their combined dance rubs her swollen clit, each stroke smearing precum on her underwear until the fabric is soaked. “You sure?”

With an excited hum, she captures his mouth again and devours it as his hands tug down on the elastic around her waist to take her panties off, his heated palms always careful to stroke around the bandages on her thigh. She gasps impatiently when she feels the warm pulse of the tip against her, making a nasty wet sound at first contact. Luke strokes her cheek, the gentle caress of his thumb on her lips, gaze locked with hers as they toy with the edge of this one last limit between them. Until, with a dallying thrust, his cock finally delves inside.

Despite the lubrication and his slow advances, the tension pulls a gasp and then a brittle whimper from within her. She’s already had him in her hand and in her mouth, and still she’s clearly overestimated how quickly she could take him.

“You ok?” he asks in a whisper. (Y/N) nods, fervent to deepen this feeling of being stretched so sweetly by him. Even though she shouldn’t find it pleasurable, he does it so deliciously slow she’s willing to take it all. So she wraps her healthy leg around him and brings him closer, making his cock finally sink all the way down into her. Luke shudders and shoots her an exasperated look, though lust-filled still.

“T-too tight.” However, she grips tighter, taken by the tingly wave of euphoria that just washed over her brain, erasing every other thought or sensation that isn't his body on her, breathing fire on her throat, her hole stuffed. “Don't do that, not yet, f-fuck.”

Oh, so he needs a bit to adjust too. It's probably her fault, for rushing into this without proper preparation. She probably shouldn't have, for both of their sakes, but those little whines he's making are too glorious to think of anything else. So she praises him, you're stretching me so nicely, and then he finally thrusts, his motions flowing at a lazy pace, still shy because of the fear of hitting a tender spot. Don't hold back, she begs. As Luke obliges, she lets out a thankful moan while he’s immersed in the slow plunging inside of her, seemingly spellbound.

“That’s it, love. Just like that,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. Luke pounds into her hard yet slow, deep. And yet, not a single time her wound gets grazed or her thigh handled in a way that makes it hurt more than it already does. She aches to switch places and be on top, but her wounded leg won’t let her, rolling her hips desperately to feel him deeper inside. Her frustrations get interrupted by a kiss.

“Please, let me serve you this time,” he pants against her lips, as if he’s sensed her thoughts dispersing. Fuck, of course he’d say this. He’s tried to hide it, but she knows damn well how he’s been enjoying himself all day, trying to help her covertly. “I’ve been needing you for so long. It’s been s-so long.”

She props herself on her elbows to follow after him, to kiss and nibble under his jawline. His hand at the back of her head keeps her close, the intimate gesture radiating a warm feeling that makes her clench harder involuntarily.

“Been missing you too, Luke. I thought of you every waking moment.”

They didn’t dare reach this step their first time together. There was expectation in the air, a need to wait and see where loyalties and affections lied and what might end up weighing more in the scales. Now (Y/N) knows more about her principles than she would have liked. She has seen the cost of his betrayal, tasted the pain and the bitterness of everything she held dear being twisted and stomped until she couldn’t recognize it anymore. And she hates herself for still loving him through it all.

It would be easier if she could keep her love contained in her chest, but she can’t hide it from him. Neither can he keep his own feelings locked down, even if she finds them so hard to believe. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give in to the yearning of her flesh.

The tentative taste they had of each other last time now seems like an innocent game. The rebel feels spent and disillusioned enough to recognize the futility in the little hope she kept tucked away that maybe Luke would come to hold her hand and leave the shadow together. Now, pain has ruined her world beyond fixing.

This just feels plain wrong and yet she enjoys it that way.

“That’s it, use me. Please, use me,” he begs, tightly pressing their bodies together so her clit gets that intoxicating friction she’s been chasing. “Use me.”

(Y/N) can’t help but softly whine his name, gripping his hips and steering him deeper into her pleasure before sinking her teeth in his shoulder. The sudden sharpness steals from him a deep moan and makes Luke embrace her even more firmly against him.

“Is it good?” he asks in between hasty exhales, “Please, please, tell me.”

“L-love you inside of me,” she manages to articulate, interrupted by her own voice cracking while trying to repeat it, the word love melting into incoherent whines. Each of those deep thrusts tests the limits of what she’d thought she’d be willing to take.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

She whimpers, unsuccessful at weaving coherent thoughts. There’s only his hands on her skin, that alluring frontier of his open shirt, an ever moving limit she’s burning to mark with her kisses following the lightning scars. His cock plunging desperately into her, making her head feel light and drunk with lust. Oh, her face must be pitiful right now. “F-feels good. More, please, more."

Limbs entangled, bodies hardly pressed and brushing against each other, Luke huffs loudly in her ear, one hand pressing her hips closer, the other cradling the back of her head. The impatient pounding turns to a deep rocking, smearing their combined juices all over where their skins brush together in the addicting chase of release.

He praises her. So good for me. So nice and wet for me. And that seals it for her. In a broken chain of desperate whimpers she begs him to go faster, she grinds her hips harder against him, fingers digging into her flesh, until her legs shake. Every wave of evergrowing pleasure tightens her up, pushing his cock deeper as delight overflows all of her senses. Her head falls to rest weakly on the arm holding her, tingles still clouding her vision.

A mischievous smirk lights up Luke’s face.

“Did you just cum?”

She can just let out a faint moan in response. He gently brushes her messy hair away from her face in search of the flushed bliss across her cheeks, and he licks his lips as he softly caresses hers. It’s cute how he seems so damn proud of himself.

“Stars, you’re beautiful. That just felt so good, it almost-” One of those last waves tenses her up around him and drowns his words.”S-stop, please.”

“But you just made me cum,” she teases, her body coiling around him with the rolling of her hips, “so hard.”

“Please, sweetheart. I wanna fuck you more.”

Luke leans down to taste her mouth once again, so her yes gets melted together with the blazing kiss. Her body, sensitive and vulnerable, screams from the inside when he starts moving again. Ah, it’s almost too much. Luke spreads her legs wide now, a gloved palm on her injured thigh pushing it up with the utmost care, and slowly picks up the pace. This new angle hits a sensitive spot within her, still tender after her orgasm.

“During every damned boring meeting I… I could only think of fucking you on the war room table,” he breathes out, railing into her with every word.

“In front of all those generals?”

“Well, no-” but his answer makes her laugh and clench around him, making his whole body shiver. “Oh, fuck.”

Pent up beyond what he can take, broken pleas loosely woven into his loud whimpers, Luke grabs her hips and ruts into them in a frenzy at a deep angle, the desperate thrusts making all of her thoughts vanish. Take it. Take it, he groans, like in a trance, most of his weight pinning her down while her broken sobs are all she has left to express how amazing it feelsple. For her, everything fades except his name spilling off her tongue like a deranged chant.

“Where should I-?” He manages to string out, “…please, tell me, I can't take it anymore.”

“No, you tell me.” She has a feeling that she already knows the answer, but asks anyway, “Tell me where you're gonna cum.”

“I…” he moans. In his eyes she sees how he’s struggling to not completely lose his mind after a whole day of torture.

“Tell me.”

‘I-inside. Let me cum inside you, please. Please, please, please.”

She closes a fist around his hair to bring him close. Do it. Cum for me, she whispers. And the command finally pushes him over the edge. Luke moans her name in her ear, his fingers digging hard into her hips as he comes undone.

With her limbs warmly tangled around him, they find each other for a breathless kiss. However, she finds herself still rolling her hips, enjoying those last lazy thrusts as he becomes softer inside of her, thick cum starting to drip down onto the carved stone. Luke sinks his head into the crook of her neck and, feeling him shiver as the sweat on his back gets cold in the chill night air, she runs her fingers through his hair in a comforting manner while he struggles to catch his breath. There are tears pooling in his eyes when he finally looks at her. It breaks her heart a little how young he suddenly looks to her.

“I love you, Luke.”

However, playfulness glimmers in his gaze too. “I love you.”

(Y/N) is still trying to figure out this little hunch when his right hand starts stroking down her body, giving a soft squeeze to a tit, then caressing down her waist, finally reaching between her legs. The light stroke of his fingers up the overflowing slit unearths a gasp out of her, caressing the sticky mess until they’re slippery enough to swirl around her swollen clit.

“No, wait, I can’t. I just-”

Luke teases her with a wet kiss under her ear. “But you’re so needy still, love.”

She muffles a moan on the back of her hand, ashamed of how her body is opening up so greedy to the new stimulation. Her legs quiver at the intoxicating rhythm of his fingers; it’s too much, too soon. Gloved fingers go in, filling her lusciously, and her hips grind into them on their own.

“Do you like my fingers that much?”

The rebel whimpers, defeated. “So much better than mine. Mine haven’t been enough since…”

“Since what?” Pumping deeper into her makes her words come out pitiful through lewd pants. But perhaps that’s his goal.

“Since you.”

Luke is all her wandering mind has been able to conjure during those few times when she’s managed to find enough privacy to hopelessly ram two fingers into her loneliness, longing for him. Indulging those fantasies always leaves her feeling empty, like she’d just betrayed herself, but her inability to find pleasure in anything else had her always coming back to her memories of him.

Suddenly, she feels a slight tingle on her inner thigh. A kiss.

“Wait, that’s-”

“What?” he taunts, his lips softly brushing up her leg, his fingers still fucking her at a steady pace. Her voice is barely audible over her flustered gasps.

“Dirty.” She stammers, her back arching with anticipation. "Th- this is so unfair,"

"Is it? Then I'll stop."

She sobs broken complaints, wordlessly begging. And Luke understands perfectly. His hand retreats to make room for his tongue, a flat and slow lick upwards, his icy gaze burning into her mind that delirious image of being eaten out right after he came inside of her. Clumsy in his relative inexperience yet desperate, voracious. His presence grows omnipresent on her skin, his flesh hand now caressing her thighs around him, now cupping a breast, while his gloved fingers pound into her relentlessly, his mouth on her cunt.

"Can I make you cum again? Will you let me?"

She looks down at the way his fingers fuck his seed back into her, obscene sounds escaping through his steamy sighs. And, through this unbearable ascent of her incredulous senses, his eyes always demand her attention. A devilish glint in them tells her that he won't allow her release until she begs for it. He goes back to suck on her clit, overstimulation bringing tears to her eyes. He’s on the verge of ruining her forever.

"I can't. Oh, Luke, please. I can’t."

"I think you can, sweetheart."

She can't muster a sliver of authority by this point, but the adoration in his smile confesses his desire to spoil her.

“F-fuck. Yes, please, make me cum.”

"Thank you, love. Now, let go. Cum for me."

The licks become pointed, harder, faster; lips, tongue and fingers slipping over their combined fluids. When she squirms, his left hand lays on her stomach to keep her in place, closer to his face as she weakly tries to writhe away from the intense stimulation. Her trembling legs fight to close around him, helpless to resist the overwhelming delirium turning her senses into a devoted mush.

And then she floats into that white fire. Even through the piercing bliss, she can feel his satisfaction through his pleased moans when she cries out his name, the broken syllables drowned in whimpers. Ah, she’d walk away from everything if he asked now.

“That’s it,” a loving thumb caresses her lower lip, “love seeing you like this.”

It gently enters past her lips, sliding up and down her tongue suggestively. Leather and musk floods her senses as she blissfully lies there, contemplating this creature with the light of the moon behind him spilling a crown of silver on his head, looking down at her like an angel. She can merely drool on his hand as she pitifully tries to recover her breath.

That’s when something grazes her knee, awakening her. He's hard again. So she sits up, eager to tend to him. However, he shakes his head. “Look at you, sweetheart. You barely-”

With a glistening finger, she teases the sensitive spot behind the flushed head “What?”

A muffled moan escapes him, all concerns defeated.

“My beautiful girl,” Luke sighs just as she brings him closer for a kiss, her hand beating him up and down as she satisfies her own ravenous desire to taste them both on his lips.

“Where do you want it?”

“I’d like to be inside you again. But-”

“Then fuck me again,” she smiles. “Please.”

With a passionate kiss, (Y/N) struggles to climb on his lap, but she’s soon taken back by a painful flare on her wound. The captain whines a little, since she’s really eager to ride him until her legs give out. After Luke checks she isn’t in serious pain, he actually finds her pouting adorable.

His kind hands gently bring her down, her back resting on him as he lies behind her, an arm hugging her waist, the other pushing her injured leg up and out of the way. Inside the warm chest pressed against her back, Luke's heart speeds up as his cock slides into her again. Penetration isn't as deep at this angle, but it rubs just right into that delicious spot.

His lips cover her neck with warm, generous kisses, though she can feel him peeking down to what his hand is doing traveling up from her waist to play with her breasts.

“Enjoy the view?” she teases, receiving a muffled hum in response.

Their mouths seek each other, treasuring each dallying thrust. His fingers come to tease her clit, already tender and slick. (Y/N) sobs quietly at the touch, too spent to complain about the maddening pleasure flooding her mind. And in spite of how much it is, far beyond what she can handle, she wants. She still wants hopelessly. What little remains of her, she’s willing to renounce it.

And she yearns to tell him, she’s about to.

However, Luke silences her with another kiss, leaving her to whimper into his mouth as he gently wipes a tear off her cheek. Why? He could have what he came to this damned system for. Just- why?

It’s hard to think while being relentlessly filled by his thick cock, with his hands around her body pushing her down harder into him as he fucks her slowly.

“That’s it, love. Y-you’re taking me so well.” Though she can tell how much it overwhelms him too, Luke is still making the effort to keep holding her, praising her. Completely enveloped by his embrace, she hasn’t felt this safe in months. “Is this good?”

“Y-yeah, so good. So good for me.”

She shifts a bit to lie on her back so she can reach him better. She craves to look into his gleaming eyes as his fingers pick up the pace. Their hips buck into each other hypnotically, overflowing slick running down their legs. Growing needy as he approaches another climax, Luke moans her name, a tug in the Force sinking down into her chest and pulling desperately towards him, as if she’s going to vanish at any moment.

“I’m here, Luke,” she reassures him, brushing away some dirty blond locks from his sweaty forehead. “Just like that. S-so close again, angel. Keep fucking me like that. K-keep…”

His heavy breaths turn into whimpers as words melt off his tongue onto hers, and his embrace grips her closer with the hastening of his thrusts. She cries out in sweet agony, overcome with the combined stimulation, unable to break eye contact. You're gonna make me lose my mind. Need and desire burn in the blue of his eyes, his fingers threadinglo her hair as his other hand turns her anguish into her last, glorious flare of pleasure.

The orgasm tenses her up tightly around him, the aftershocks bringing him down with her along with the cute breaking of his voice, wretchedly loud. Their foreheads come together with those last few attempts to prolong what’s already over, smearing the dripping fluids into a hot, sticky mess over their thighs as his second load starts spilling out, hot and thick.

Lacing their hands together, Luke’s lashes flutter on her cheek. Love you, he breathes.

Theyb stay there for a few moments, limbs tangled. With tears still streaming down her face, (Y/N) trembles because of the exhaustion as much as the biting cold. It's the perfect circumstance to hide a shuddering heart. A warm hand comes to rest on her face, as tender eyes take in the bliss in her features. Luke drapes his cloak over her, a soft smile on his face, so she can’t help but pull him closer under the cloak and kiss him, greedily holding his blazing cheeks between her palms.

“You’re cold, I’m sorry.” His arms envelop her weakened frame. As she nuzzles his shoulder, he lets out a faint chuckle. “In the end you were able to do both things, rebel. Have the prisoner and fuck him too.”

“Not sure if I’ve been a good rebel, though,” she says, tracing a finger down a lightning scar before giving it a light kiss. Luke cradles her head closer, his cheek pressed on her forehead. The heart under her palm, the point from where the mauvish spiderweb expands, slowly relaxes its beating.

His eyes turn up, caught by a far away tingling in his senses. Their time together is coming to a close.

Dreading the possibility of being found naked by the incoming shuttle and her masked pilot, (Y/N) finally sits up to put on her tunic, which Luke imitates, though not without a whiny puff. When sitting up, she realizes the extent of the mess between her legs, though she has no other option right now than get dressed and let it dry on her skin. However, the euphoria of that third high still persists in her brain too much to find it gross.

When looking for the rest of her clothes, a certain item seems to be eluding her. It isn’t long till she spots it in Luke’s hand.

“I kept the other pair. Would you mind…?”

“Starting up quite the collection, Skywalker.”

“Keep the cloak in exchange. You’re gonna need it.” She laughs and nods, after which he puts the ruined panties in his pocket, not without his ears turning red. “There’s something more. When you go find my starfighter, look for the compartment under the pilot seat. What’s in there is yours.”

“Like the rest of the fighter, you mean.”

Luke snorts as he welcomes her on his lap, covering them both with his cloak again. “I’ll let you steal the ship if the idea thrills you so much, but this other thing is a gift. Way better than a hickey, I think.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, did I get you into an uncomfortable situation last time?”

“You hadn’t striked me as someone who’s into that, that’s all. But I did like it.”

Well, that’s a thing she didn’t know about herself until then. Until she left his side and spent the next two days blushing at any sensitive grazing of that tender, violet spot that her demands to be marked resulted in, finding a sick excitement in it. She did her best to keep it hidden, but she wasn’t all that successful this one time her clothes moved accidentally while trying to help her friend run away from imperial blasters. She didn't realize until later, when she was putting staples into Leia’s arm and saw reflected in the princess’ face her exact thoughts about the hickey. She seemed more disappointed than angry. Even shut off from the Force, (Y/N) could sense how sad it made her, alongside the complete lack of strength to scold her about it.

Luke seems lost in his own thoughts too, his fingertips drawing circles on her shoulder. “Remember when we used to teach each other? We could do that again.”

There’s nothing she’d love most. Exchanging the little knowledge they acquired from each of their masters, trying to puzzle together a whole that made sense. It seems they never were all that successful, or they wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Her voice comes out tiny, fearful. “Earlier, I almost…”

“I know, love. Don’t worry.”

In the heat of passion, for a moment she was about to give in. However, it was Luke himself who kept her from falling. It wouldn’t have satisfied him if she didn’t commit to him clear headed, and he certainly isn’t pressuring her for an explanation no. She combs some hair pieces off his brow and brushes their noses together, thinking about that world he’s about to leave her for.

“Will you be alright with him?”

“Of course.” His hand down her hair offers a comfort she can’t bring herself to believe in fully. “It’s not like you think. He’s… kind to me.”

The word comes out crooked, but she knows he’s telling the truth. Or some version of it. She squeezes his artificial hand, now uncovered as the ruined glove lies on the rock. Her fingertips stumbling on all the telltale signs of worn out synthetic skin, she can think of a few dozen reasons why things are indeed like she suspects, because she can imagine Vader committing a thousand atrocities, and none of them close to being kind. The fact that Luke’s fall happened while she was gone instills a painful jab of guilt. There’s something she must have missed, something vital that changed his world forever and can’t just be explained with words.

Sensing her concerns, Luke sighs. “He likes you better than he’s willing to admit, I know it.”

“Great, just what I wanted to know. Allow me to harbor some doubt, though.” The idea of him talking of her to Vader seems taken out of a fever dream, even in the weird reality she lives now, where everything has been flipped upside down. “You love him, don’t you?”

Luke’s gaze turns to the stars, and in the silence (Y/N) hears all she needs. Even if she’s been trying her best to ignore it, the bond between father and son is almost visible to her, like a thick echo, resounding on everything around them and turning it back into a signal pointed in the other direction. She tries not to wonder how much of what’s happened on Jolah was projected onto it. However, the freezing note characteristic of the Sith lord’s signature still pervades, like a stench that can’t be washed off.

The rebel senses how one of her worst nightmares hovers over her head as the buzzing approaches.

Tears fall on Luke’s knuckles as she kisses them goodbye. Unable to do or say anything of weight, he sweetly takes her flaming cheeks between his hands and seeks her mouth one last time with a mortal hunger written on his lips. She surrenders to his warmth, her tongue deep into the kiss. Their lips dance with a purposely slow passion, an underlying anxiety over the approaching moment of separation looming over them. An open, warm kiss is all they can attempt to sooth each other. It tastes salty. (Y/N) opens her eyes to find that he’s crying too, teardrops caught in his lashes falling to tickle her cheeks.

Looking up at the landing shuttle burns like putting a hand on a hot stove. She prefers to spend these precious last seconds memorizing his eyes, taking advantage of the lights falling from the starship that illuminate his face. As the kiss dies, she registers every single little fleck and threads of blue, that tiny speck of golden brown, how those irises glimmer with bittersweet adoration for her.

She wouldn’t remember the moment his body was torn from hers, only the dark shape of his shoulders walking away from her.

The rebel’s exhausted mind goes to those treasured details as the shuttle flies away. But it isn’t like last time, when she ran off and closed herself to the Force; fearing the pain too much just resulted in this dull void she’s been living in. No, now she can see the shapes of that unbreakable thread weaving their signatures together. It pulls when he jumps to hyperspace, so brutally she’s scared it might tear her apart. However, after the initial shock, it remains there, irremediably binding her to Luke.

(Y/N) awaits for the aftershocks of that ghost pain to subdue a little before standing from the engraved altar.

****

Under the compartment Luke indicated (Y/N) finds a book. An actual book, made out of paper. The captain blinks, astonished to find what she’s sure is poetry written in Huttese, even if she can’t read it. He never mentioned an interest for that sort of thing, even though it’s true that they didn’t have time for almost any kind of leisure at all back in the Rebellion, nor was it something he had access to at home. Right now, this is just another reminder of everything she’s missed in his life.

She flips the yellowed pages, filling her nose with their old aroma. However, there’s another note to it, deep and sweet. Another object lies pressed inside the book. A single Malreaux rose, its darkened petals flattened in between the pages. Her fingertips stroke lightly the stains left by dark pigment, remembering the night she gave herself to Luke for the first time among spilled flowers, their scent mixing with his skin. After this little indulgence, she carefully hides the book in her clothes.

As she quickly does the basic flight checks and maneuvers the starfighter to leave the forest planet of Jolah behind, her hand doubts over the communications panel. She should contact the Rebellion. In a matter of minutes, Han’s voice would fill the cockpit, and she’d be shown the way home. However, she enters a different code, one she isn’t supposed to use except in case of a true emergency, unsure of what she’s even going to say during those dreadful seconds it takes to establish the transmission.

“You got some nerve.”

“Hey, princess.”

Leia sighs, “Already heard of your little feat. If it wasn’t for what you’ve done for the survivors of Jolah, I wouldn’t be picking up.”

“Did they get there safely?”

“Yeah, Han called to tell me.”

Since Leia has been gone from the front to devote herself to the Jedi path, the ex-smuggler has stepped up as a general for the dwindling Alliance. Most of the few that still fight out there answer to him nowadays. Maybe it’s seeing what once was a powerful fleet turned into a guerrilla of a few stubborn rats, but something about the current arrangement doesn’t feel quite right. An inert buzz takes over for a few seconds as both women sit wordless.

“I think I have an idea of how you pulled it off.”

“It’s ok if you’re pissed at me.”

“I am. But I also can’t find the strength to blame you. I’m too damn exhausted. Some people that could be dead lived, that’s what’s important.” Her tone softens a little. “Good job.”

“My pleasure. How have you been?”

“Exhausted. Artoo keeps me company, but he’s spending a lot of time switched off these days. Not that he’s missing anything, just me belly flopping into the mud.”

“And the training?”

“I didn’t think learning to kill would be so awful.” To kill him, is what she doesn’t say.

“Do you think it’ll come down to that?”

“Master Tano thinks so.”

(Y/N) clicks her tongue. “It should be me over there, the Rebellion needs you.”

“No. That’s not your path. I still got your lightsaber and you know I’m of the opinion it should be with its owner. But I don’t think that’s what you should use it for.”

“Why? You’re so confident I’d lose?” They both know the cockiness is fake, but she needs it. Even if she tried with all she’s got, there’s no way she’d win, no matter how much she got to train with an actual master.

“No. I just don’t feel like losing you too. You keep trying to find another way, ok?”

When they say goodbye and the transmission ends, (Y/N)’s not sure how she could have cleared that one out better. She isn’t trying anything, she’s just selfishly stumbling into her desires every time she encounters Luke. Truth is, she’s abandoned Leia to carry everything on her shoulders, a role she’s too eager to fill, even if it breaks her.

(Y/N) pinches her nose. She’s done running. These are words her friend deserves to hear. So the rebel captain sets course, hoping it’s not too late to speak the truth.

****

This transmission with the commander in charge of the division assigned to Jolah is testing the last remains of Luke’s patience. He doesn’t ever enjoy having to mingle with Imperial officers, but today every single second paying attention to this man feels like an unforgivable waste of his time. He’d much rather be left alone with his thoughts.

“Make it effective right now,” he orders. The commander immediately straightens his posture and salutes, feeling how much of a nuisance he’s becoming.

“It will be done, sir. The whole squadron will be sent to Thediyo.”

Those men he’s condemning to the cruel cold of the inhospitable Thediyo aren’t but flies, so the fact that they’re able to do so much harm feels wrong. Absurd. They deserve to be destroyed. He made it well karking clear that they were to make prisoners without harming them, didn’t he? And they just hounded (Y/N) like she was a prey animal, which almost killed her. If they just listened to their orders this wouldn’t have happened to them. And still, they should be thankful for his mercy. It would be so easy for him to crush their puny rib cages and skulls until their eyes pop out.

But something keeps him from giving in to unchained wrath, and it’s the possibility of her finding out. (Y/N) doesn’t deserve to have that in her conscience, and he’s sure she’d blame herself for their deaths. Because she’s actually good. And clean. Way more than she gives herself credit for. No, those men will suffer worse learning to listen to their orders by holding their blasters in the middle of an eternal snow storm until their fingers freeze off.

Luke can sense with distaste his own dark machinations vibrating into the bond next to him, like an insect trapped in a spider web. If his father thinks he’s weak for not just murdering the bastards, he can choke in his disappointment. The same with his thoughts of his whole ordeal. They’re close to winning, right? The Alliance will soon be no more, and he has had an important hand in that. He doesn’t have the right to reproach him about anything. Vader won’t chastise him directly, he rarely does, but the young apprentice knows training sessions are going to become hell from now on, even more of what it’s been. He doesn’t care.

His father’s tutelage has been tough. Back in the day, Yoda’s training had put his mind and body to the test far beyond what he thought possible. But his father’s can’t even begin to compare. Now that he’s endured it long enough, Luke is starting to see the seams that reveal the structure, the reasons behind every exerting challenge. Some things within himself had to be broken in order to build a new kind of power, a lot had to be torn down before his new master deemed the results satisfactory. And he came out of it more powerful than he could have imagined.

It had never been easy. After going to his father, to his family, he looked back and saw all the things he regretted leaving behind. Luke hadn’t held real hope of being followed to this side, except for her. Maybe it was self indulgent, wishful thinking on his part.

(Y/N) knows what he’s done in the frontlines and she’s still managed to look him in the eye. To love him. However, he can’t help but torture himself with the thought that if she knew the ways he’s used to delve deeper into the dark side, she’d immediately go retrieve her lightsaber and end his life with it.

But that selfish little voice wonders why, even after all the sacrifices, all the loses, she can’t see how close the fight is to its end, just as they both wished together in the past. If he could just be made to see…

Shit. That’s an ugly thought. He shouldn't forget he once thought of things in stark white and black terms. Once, falling to the dark side meant the destruction of a person’s soul, left as a hollow husk with no salvation other than slaughter. He'd be lying if he said he doesn't feel empty and beyond help sometimes, often on the battlefield. Killing isn't all that different now than when he did it for the other side, just the same fire and ash, burnt skin. The feeling that he’ll never be able to inhabit his own skin again after staining his hands with so much blood. The only difference lies in the lack of that wretched self righteousness he used to brandish to justify his actions. During the day, at least. At night come the ghosts of screaming, agonizing souls through the Force, right before the void of death. The hole in the fabric of the universe left by the annihilation of the Death Star, hundreds of thousands erased with a movement of his finger. It’s lingered ever since, always in the last nightmare before waking up, always in the corner of his vision and the faint ringing in his ears.

However, he pushed forward. Because it was all supposed to matter, because there was a plan. And then it turned out he’d been lied to. Soon after, (Y/N) was taken. He lost her because he was too soft and undecided. Too weak. He dragged on for a good while that he'd never see her again, that she was gone and it was his fault.

If she had been there that one time he encountered Vader again, after Bespin. It turns out the death mask held more than just the monster. When the lines between life and death, friend and enemy, were blurred, a kind hand capable of kindness was extended to him. It felt like family. There, consumed by shame and impotence, Luke became convinced that he'd never get to feel that again. So when it came down to the decision of killing it along with his father, he found an unexpected comfort in the realization that he'd already made his choice

However, Luke doesn’t appreciate the impatient silence building up next to him, on the pilot seat. One thing that surprised him at first is that his father was a quiet listener, always pacing around the shapes of his thoughts. He also didn't expect not minding it at all, but also missing it when it was gone.

“Go on. Blame me.”

“I do not care. Some worthless flies just escaped for another day. Now matter how hard they wriggle, their downfall is inevitable now.”

“I thought you'd dislike my weakness.”

A discordant note rings through their bond, a bitter echo. It dissolves quickly, leaving the accusation unanswered.

Yeah, he's definitely saving payback for later. He can try all he wants, torture him even. Of all the things Luke regrets, this will not be one of them.

He shakes his head in distaste. The vertigo he felt when he made that jump of faith for his father still echoes sometimes. Even if it was his choice, he sometimes struggles to see if he really had any say in it. It all happened so fast, it was pure instinct.

No, he won't fall to suspicion and start resenting him, that path ends up with an inevitable betrayal. That's the Emperor’s way and, with him gone, his ways must die too, for everyone's sake. Luke has found a new power in the dark side, and he's sworn to use it for good. Until now, he's been successful at keeping that intoxicating darkness at hand, that scarlet rush that tingles through his whole body with the temptation to let go all the way into blind, destructive rage. However, he’s found he can control his passions, harness them into a tool, as much as it hurts.

Luke doesn't care about power, it's just a means to an end. He loathes it. He just wants all this to end

His fingers instinctively go to the inner pocket of his tabard where, kept close to his chest, he put a stem of those little white flowers that grew through the window of his cell. The delicate petals look reasonably intact, though a little sadder than this morning. He better press them soon.

His father subtly turns his head, but he doesn’t say anything. However, the exasperation travels all the way through their bond.

“I don’t blame you. However, this bond… You need to be prepared to be hurt if you keep it.

“You're saying she won't understand.” Luke runs a hand through his hair, feeling the fleeting warmth of her body leave his skin. “You've prepared me for pain, haven't you?”

“I’ve trained you to understand pain. To harness anger into power.”

Only the artificially aided breathing echoes while Lord Vader’s thoughts float far away, somewhere close to those white blooms in his son’s hand. Luke sighs.

“Then it's fine. I'll be hurt for it.”

#the glove stays on #getting plowed in the sacred jedi sanctuary #star wars fanfiction #my writing #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker/reader #luke skywalker smut #dark luke skywalker #sith luke skywalker #dad vader

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everybodyshusband · 6 months

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i got so inspired by @im-a-marion3tt3's fic "i am cruel only to be kind" that i had to write my own take on what could have happened !!! (if you're planning on reading my fic, make sure you go and read hers first so it all makes sense !!)

major tw for attempted suicide and a suicide note. please do not read this if you are not in the right headspace to do so <3

1.2k words, dewdrop angst, rain loving dewdrop so so much.

“Dewdrop? Dewy?” Rain sobbed as he shook the limp body of his mate, begging him to wake up. “Come on, you’re okay… Come on, come on!” When no response came from the fire ghoul beneath him, Rain started screaming. “Help! Help, it’s Dew! He– He– Fuck!”

“Rain? What’s going on–” Mountain rushed into the room at Rain’s screams, words catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. “Shit!” In an instant he was at Dew’s side—Phantom too, although Rain truly had no idea how the quintessence ghoul had arrived; trailing behind Mountain possibly—and kneeling down next to the fire ghoul’s unconscious body, cradling his head in his hands. The three of them had tears running down their cheeks as Phantom did their best to work their tendrils of quintessence through Dewdrop’s body, keeping him alive and breathing until someone could come along and sweep him along to the infirmary for further observation.

That had been a few hours ago. Now, Rain’s back in Dewdrop’s room, collecting clothes and anything else he might need while he’s staying in the infirmary. He’s got Dew’s favourite duffle bag laid out on the bed, throwing the basic essentials into it, too out of it to really pay attention to exactly which shirts he’s throwing in; he thinks at least one of them is actually his. It’s as he’s turning back around to the cupboard after throwing a handful of socks into the bag that he notices something out of the corner of his eye. He’s not sure how he’d missed it before, but the contents of Dew’s bedside table litters the floor around it, replaced by a piece of paper folded in half. It’s not addressed to anyone, but it’s obvious what it is. It’s a letter. Dewdrop’s final goodbye to the world, written under the assumption that his attempt at hanging himself would work.

It’s his suicide note.

With shaking hands, Rain reaches out and picks it up from where it’s resting on the bedside table. Unfolding it, before he can even take in any of the words written on the paper, he notices teardrops crinkling the surface of it. His own eyes well up in sympathy at the idea of Dew sitting here in his bed, sobbing quietly to himself as he writes out his final farewell. Rain takes a deep breath, sits himself down on Dew’s bed in preparation of what’s about to come, and begins to read.

hi.

i’m sorry.

i don’t know what else to say. feels stupid to write a note you probably won’t read. and even worse that this is supposed to be poetic or meaningful, not a handful of poorly thrown together words written long before i actually worked up the courage to do this.

i used to fear death. i think i still do. i’m terrified, to tell the truth. i don’t think i’ll ever be brave enough to go through with my plans… but then i have thoughts like that which prove my worthlessness, and i think, maybe one day i will be. brave enough, that is.

i’m going to miss you all. not that i’ll be able to miss you. i don’t think i get another chance of life in the pits. or at least, i hope i don’t. but maybe my soul will still wander the asphodel meadows forever, crying out your names. i don’t know. i’ve never really believed in an afterlife. or god, satan, whatever. ironic, i know. the part of me that’s still scared wants there to be one. a second chance. another go. maybe in a body or brain less fucked by my own shitty decisions. the other part of me wants to slowly rot in a coffin for the rest of time. it’s what i deserve, after all.

i had a point. my point is i love you all. at least, i think that’s what i’m trying to say. i’ve never been good at expressing affection. but you all know that. i’ve never been much good at anything, really.

i shouldn’t be piling this onto you. i’m sorry. this is supposed to be my goodbye, not my pathetic life story. maybe i’ll meet you all again someday. i hope for your sakes we don’t, but for my sake we do. is that selfish? i think so. then again, it doesn’t really matter, does it? we’re never going to meet again. not if this works.

i hope it works.

it’s hard to convey my love and adoration and appreciation for all of you in any letter or note. especially since i’m not… well, i’m not exactly known for my emotional capabilities. but please know that i love you, and i’m glad we all met. thank you for the ghost project. thank you for everything.

dew.

By the time Rain’s finished reading and rereading the note several times over, dozens of fresh teardrops litter the paper’s surface. He… He doesn’t know what to think. Doesn’t know what to do. He hugs the piece of paper close to his chest, no doubt smearing the tear-damp ink all over his shirt. He doesn’t care. For all he knows, this could be the last piece of Dewdrop he ever gets to hold. The infirmary staff say he’s going to make it, and while Rain believes them and is holding onto that belief for dear life, he refuses to get his hopes up. He knows he won’t be able to bear it if Dew’s taken away from him just as he starts believing that the fire ghoul will pull through. Genuinely doesn’t know if he’ll survive without Dewdrop living and breathing beside him.

His heart is breaking open under the weight of Dewdrop’s letter resting on his chest. He needs to go see Dew, find his room in the infirmary and sit with him until he knows the fire ghoul will wake up. Right now though, no matter how much he longs to move, to get up and find his mate, he can’t. The weight in his chest is too much for him to bear and he’s exhausted. He reaches down to the floor for one of the books Dew kept on his bedside table before he shoved them all off. He opens it to a random page and places the note delicately inside the pages, keeping it safe and uncrinkled. The passage underneath the note reads: “Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” Rain can’t help but think it seems quite fitting for the predicaments he and Dewdrop have found themselves in tonight.

He rests the book on the bedside table and gets under the covers of Dew’s bed, surrounding himself in his mate’s scent. He’s barely laid himself down before his eyes are slipping closed of their own volition. He doesn’t want to fall asleep just yet—wants to stay awake and soak in the warmth of faded body heat that lingers on Dewdrop’s blankets—but before he knows it, his eyes are closing and he’s falling asleep. A small, sad smile on his face as he dreams of angels with long, blond hair and the remnants of hellfire in their veins.

#husband ficlets #tw suicide #tw sui attempt #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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lucienarcheron · 9 months

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Quiet Thunder - II [ Elucien ]

Prompt: This is a follow-up to part one of Quiet Thunder where Lucien expresses his frustrations to Elain post-ACOFAS. This is the Elain follow-up. |

Rating: SFW

Elain took a deep breath of a new day in Velaris. She paused in the busy streets and her eyes darted around the buildings, the color, and the different kinds of people roaming around her.

Would she ever feel like she belonged? A lump formed in her throat and she tried to swallow it as she walked on. Elain tried. She tried to fit in and stay busy and be happy but every time she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt nothing but shame.

Shame for who she had been. Shame for who she was now. Shame for allowing herself to cope in the only way she knew how, by ignoring it.

Everything was different and yet, the same.

She took another deep breath and walked on, her fingers gently rubbing the tip of her right ear; a new habit she had picked up when nervous. A habit that only kept reminding her of the differences in her body. A body that was hers yet not, a body she was still getting to know all over again.

Elain walked on, past the busy streets into a quieter neighborhood, where each of the houses burst with personality. She saw one, two, and three-story homes, with yards, picket fences, gardens, and treehouses. She smiled at those who smiled at her and nodded at those who didn’t.

Would she ever get used to being so known like this? Would she go back to enjoying socializing and welcoming people into her life?

Elain sighed, as she did so often these days, and finally stopped in front of one particular home. A quaint, cottage-like home with a modest gate, surrounded by greenery. Wildflowers lining a white fence. Her heart thudded and her throat bobbed. It was so lovely.

Elain swallowed then slowly made her way to the front door of his home and stood.

She stood and stood and stood.

Elain stood, eyeing the white door and she wondered how long she’d been standing there; ten minutes or ten months.

It had been about three weeks since he’d come to see her and said all that he said to her but she hadn’t heard from him since. She may have only been standing in front of his home for these few minutes, but deep down, Elain knew she had been standing still in all aspects of her life for so much longer.

“Feel better. Find me when you do.”

The words echoed in her mind now as she stood, rooted to her spot. Thinking back on the past year and some, so many things had just happened to her in her life and she had stood, passively letting it by. Had she just been lying in wait then? Waiting for something to push her story forward? To force her into action?

She shook her head then and bit her lip. What was she so afraid of? He was giving her a choice. A chance. Free reins. He had made it clear from the very beginning, he wanted nothing more than a conversation and gave her the choice to decide when.

“If you don’t want anything to do with me, then that’s fine, but we need to discuss that.”

A decision she had the right to make. A choice given back to her to move her life forward, on her own terms.

“I didn’t ask for this either and I’m not looking for you to love me. I’d just like to at least be your friend.”

A friend. A friend that would be tethered to her soul.

Feyre had mentioned he was back in Velaris for the time being, to visit, to work, she wasn't sure. Elain had stopped listening after Feyre had announced his return, the first one of his since she last saw him. She had shot up and had finally decided — actually, decided on her next move. No one had questioned it.

As she stood here now, her grip tightened around the bouquet of flowers she had put together to give to him. Her gaze dropped to the rainbow of color in her hand; it was a mix of Scarlet Geranium, White Poppy, asphodel, and purple hyacinth. She tried to pick flowers that would express how she felt; there wasn’t a language she spoke as fluently as when she spoke in flower.

She hoped he could translate her apology but then again, Elain wondered if he’ll even want anything from her. After all, she hadn’t been very kind to him.

“The least you could grant me, us, is a chance to talk about this.”

Elain closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe she should go back. She didn’t know what she’d even say to him. What would they even talk about? Was there a point in moving forward if you didn’t know what direction to go?

“Elain?”

His scent hit her as she whirled around and found him standing a few feet back, a bag of goods in his hand. He blinked at her in surprise and she instantly flushed.

“Hello.” she said, eyes darting all around them before settling on him again and she held the flowers out. “These — these are for you.”

Once again, Lucien blinked at her in surprise and Elain’s flush deepened.

“Oh!” he said and hesitantly reached out to take them. “Thank you...I, um — hello.”

Their fingers brushed as he took the bouquet from her and the two shuddered. She eyed Lucien and by the look on his face, he had felt the shock of the touch too.

She curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear then clasped her hands together, took a small breath, and stepped back. “Feyre said it had been a while since you’ve been back to this home here. I figured flowers could...brighten it up.”

Elain watched him look down at the flowers silently and hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he chuckled softly and she loosened a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. I appreciate the thought.” he replied, meeting her gaze. “I went to replenish a few missing things.” He paused and she noticed how his fingers tightened around the bouquet as a moment of silence passed between them, then, “Would you like to come in?”

Elaine blinked. “Come in?”

“Yes.”

“Inside your home?”

“...Yes?”

“...I don’t know if that’s proper.” she said breathlessly and watched his mouth slip into an ever so slight frown. “Unless!” she quickly added and he blinked. “Unless...it’s fine?”

“Of course it is.” he replied softly, his brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Elain bit her lip as she glanced at him. Their eyes met and they both immediately flushed again when his gaze narrowed on her lips. “I don’t know what the social etiquette rules here are.” she whispered. “I don’t want to overstep.”

Lucien gave her a smile of understanding. “You could never overstep.” he said softly and she nodded silently, brows furrowed.

A heartbeat of silence passed then,

“So... you want me to come inside your home?” she asked hesitantly, feeling her face heat all over again.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.” he said with a small smile. “Did you think I’d have you at my door and not invite you in? Terrible manners that would be, wouldn’t it?”

She gave him an awkward smile. “To be completely honest...I hadn’t thought about what would happen after I got here.”

Lucien paused then, gazing at her, his eyes locked on hers and Elain felt a tingling sensation — as though he could see right through her. Right through her jumbled thoughts. She watched him nod, seemingly to himself then walked past her to open his door, gesturing for her to go in.

“If this is your way of instigating a night of sweet lovemaking, I’m afraid you’ll have to invite me for dinner first.” he replied with a cheeky smile.

Elain froze mid-step, her eyes widened and her face flushing even deeper than before. Lucien’s eyes found hers and his expression shifted from a smile to horror, his body going rigid.

“Oh gods.” he whispered and immediately straightened. “I’m so sorry Elain, I was only joking —I do it when I’m nervous — very inappropriate — I don’t want to make you uncomfortable – it was just — ”

But he stopped as she started giggling.

Lucien watched her giggle uncontrollably, doubling over and his lips twitched, unsure of what to make of it.

“I thought I insulted you but I suppose I really am as hilarious as I think I am.” he said with a brow raised. “The idea of us making passionate love is just hysterical, hm?”

Elain sighed, wiping her eyes. He had caught her so off-guard with his statement, her own reaction surprised her. The man she’d been ignoring for over a year now was making jokes with her! About the two of them! Being intimate!

The two stood and looked at each other, taking in the lightness of the moment. That he had made her laugh. It brought back the memory of the first time he had inspired a smile out of her.

“Of all the things I thought you’d say, that was definitely not it.” she finally said, looking away from him shyly. “I — it’s not very proper though, is it?”

“Mmm.” he mused, then chuckled. “Proper is selective in my arsenal but I’ll be sure not to scandalize you further with my jokes. I can be a gentleman for you.”

“I would think being yourself is the best policy.” she replied with a small chuckle and finally stepped into his home. Her eyes darted around his living space, taking it all in.

“Are you saying if I am being a gentleman, I’m not being myself?” he asked with mock offense and Elain snorted.

“Based on the things I’ve heard from Feyre? It’s debatable.”

“Asking Feyre about me, are you?” Lucien asked teasingly and Elain rolled her eyes. “I knew my wily charms would eventually come through.”

“There’s the snark I was warned about.” she muttered and he chuckled.

Elain felt his eyes on her as she continued to scan his home. It wasn’t too cluttered. It was kept tidy and everything in the space had a practical use. Without having to look at him, she could tell her assessment was making him nervous.

“Is it alright if I close the door or should I leave it open in case you want to run after I crack another inappropriate joke?”

Elain rolled her eyes, then turned to meet his gaze, her cheeks rosy once more. “I’m here, aren’t I? I made the choice to be.”

Lucien hummed softly and walked past her, placing both the bags and flowers on the small dining table. He paused then, “Yes. You did make the choice to come.” he said and braced his hands on his kitchen counter, clearing his throat. “But, forgive me for asking so bluntly and right away but — why are you here?”

Elain’s brows furrowed and she looked down, thinking exactly how to answer that. A moment passed then she looked at him, patiently waiting for her response.

“You told me to feel better and then come find you.” she said quietly. “So I’m here. To talk.”

Lucien slowly nodded. “To talk.”

“Yes.”

He watched her and it unnerved her how assessing his eyes seemed to be, how assessing his eyes had been from the moment he saw her. Elain had often wondered just how the mating bond worked and had asked Rhys and Feyre so many times... but it didn’t quite make sense as much as it did at this moment.

When he gave her a small smile and she felt a warm jolt in her chest.

“Talking is one of my favorite things to do. I do love the sound of my own voice.” he replied with another one of his cheeky grins. “Are you hungry? I could make us something quick if you’d like. Or we can have a cup of tea?”

“I think tea would be lovely.” she said, a small smile and he nodded.

Elain watched him quietly as he moved about his kitchen and it was when she noticed the slight tremble in his hands as he filled the kettle she realized how awkward it must feel for him and how hard he was trying to make her feel comfortable.

Elain could try and meet him halfway. She was a social butterfly. She could diffuse the awkward.

“Do you have powers — I mean abilities?” she blurted out and Lucien paused. “I think fire, yes?’

His lips twitched and Elain flushed at how silly the question was. Social butterfly indeed.

“Yes, I do. Fire manipulation is one of them.”

She pursed her lips at the teasing smile he gave her. “Can you heat up the kettle without using actual fire then?” she asked, pointing as she moved closer to inspect.

Lucien tilted his head as he watched her stand closer to him. Without taking his eyes off her, he put down the kettle then touched it and Elain watched in fascination as steam started emerging from it and then heard the bubbling of the boiled water.

“That must be handy.” she said lamely.

“Please Elain, settle down. What will the neighbors think if they hear how inappropriately you’re flirting with me?”

Elain scoffed and playfully shoved him then immediately froze at the contact. She slowly looked up at him and when he smiled at her she felt her whole body heat up.

“Sorry.” she mumbled and stepped back but Lucien only chuckled in response and playfully bumped her with his shoulder.

“No apologies needed. Let me set up the tray and then we can sit outside by the garden.”

“You have a garden?” she asked and Lucien watched her whole face light up in excitement.

He paused then rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile. “It’s not in the best shape at the moment, considering I travel often but I had started growing some plants and vegetables,” he said then gestured with a hand. “Maybe you can give me some ideas on how to fix it? I know you enjoy gardening.”

“I’d love to!” Elain beamed then curled a hair behind her ear, her cheeks rosy. “It could be a fun project to work on — if you want to.” she began, gushing. “I really love the organization process of setting up a new space and knowing which plants to put next to what and you seem to have good space back there and —”

But then Elain froze again.

Had she just casually offered to work on a project with him? Someone she’d been actively avoiding for a year?

She blinked.

Why was it so easy?

She glanced at him, for Lucien had paused in place, watching her and Elain swallowed, her heart thundering.

Why was it so easy to slip into a comfortable conversation? To joke? Like they were old friends?

“Because it’s supposed to be easy.” he answered her quietly and Elain startled, not realizing she had spoken the words to him. Lucien hesitantly reached out to curl that same strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of place in her excitement. “It’s okay, Elain.”

Elain watched him swallow and bring his hands back to his sides. Watched his hands flex then fist.

“I’d ask you how you could be so calm about this but I can feel your heart beating.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I felt it the moment you set foot in Velaris.”

“My body is in a constant state of fight or flight.” he said with a shaky laugh, running his own hand through his hair. “Calm is something I’m still getting used to.”

Elain looked at him then, really looked at him. She had always avoided looking at him directly but now, in a feeling she wasn’t entirely sure she was in control of, she stared bluntly. She let her gaze take in his fiery red hair, his sun-kissed skin, his one russet eye and his other metal one that was widened as he watched her watching him. Elain’s eyes scanned the scar on his face and her teeth clenched at the sight of it.

But then she blinked. She had no right to be angry about it. They were hardly acquainted and yet...the tug between them was taut, clear as day.

Elain watched him swallow again then casually gesture towards his eye. “Jurian likes to make a joke that if I add an eye patch, I’d make one heck of a pirate.”

Another attempt at humor for her sake.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “You’d be a very eye-catching pirate, I’d think.”

Lucien chuckled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Elain, please control yourself. If not dinner, at least take me out for lunch before propositioning me. I’m willing to be a mid-day harlot if asked nicely.”

Elain huffed out an unexpected laugh then rolled her eyes at him. “You’re very arrogant.”

“Not annoying?” he asked cheekily and she snorted.

“That too but arrogant felt more polite.”

“Polite with a bit of a bite, hm?” he asked again with a quirked brow and both her brows raised.

“I am a civilized lady.” she replied, the corner of her mouth lifting. “My bites aren’t so bad.”

“Hm.” he mused with a smirk. “In my experience, civilized ladies tend to have the strongest sting.”

“Mmm.” she mused in return, glancing at him through her lashes. “Have a lot of experience with civilized ladies then?”

Lucien gave a casual shrug. “So, so.” he said and studied her. “But I do have to say, I haven’t met any like you.”

Elain paused then, realizing again how easy it was to — to flirt with him. She gave him a thin smile. “You mean one who is your...your mate?” she said with a bite to her tone.

“Definitely not, no.” he said softly.

And just like that, Elain felt the air become tense between them again and frowned in the silence that followed. She swallowed, unsure, and met her mate’s gaze. Lucien gestured gently towards the back door.

“Why don’t we head out to the garden and talk things out?”

Elain nodded tightly then made her way outside, a finger rubbing the tip of her right ear again. Her eyes flickered back to him and she bit her lip, watching him take a deep breath, his hands shaky once more. Taking in her own deep breath, Elain let her gaze scan his backyard space as she assessed her emotions. He had a small seating area but it was mostly neat with small semi-alive plants and vegetable patches.

She took a seat. How was she feeling? Nervous?

Definitely not as nervous as she had expected. He was as courteous as he’d always been. He was patient and seemed very kind. Lucien was funny and wasn’t pushy at all. He was trying so hard to make her comfortable. So why did she feel shame that it wasn’t going terribly? Shame that she didn’t mind sitting in his garden and waiting to talk to him?

Shame as she thought of the man she once loved glaring at her in disgust for what’d she become. For even considering the option of accepting Lucien for what he was to her.

“I feel it too, you know.”

Elain turned her head to see him approaching, a small tray in hand that carried tea and an assortment of cookies.

“Feel what?” she asked, fiddling with her fingers, avoiding his gaze now.

“Your shame. It feels nearly as crippling as mine.” he said quietly and slowly took a seat opposite her. She looked up at him.

“What do you have to be ashamed about?” she whispered and Lucien gave a humorless chuckle.

“My whole life has been a cascading waterfall of shame.” he said bitterly and Elain assessed his anger, his clenched fists. It was a moment before he spoke again and his hands relaxed. “I’ve lived with shame long enough to be able to tell you, with confidence, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Elain shook her head and gave him a sad smile. “I can’t stop thinking about him. His disgusted face the last time he saw me. How he ignored me after. I loved him enough that it’s given him so much power over how I view myself. He doesn’t know how much power he has over me and I allowed that. He definitely doesn’t care...but he still has power over how I view myself because I gave him so much of my love... How can you say I have nothing to be ashamed of?”

Lucien gave her a gentle smile. “Being so in love that you trust your partner to give them your world isn’t something to be ashamed of. He should be ashamed for letting blind prejudices take away from what you two had.”

Elain blinked rapidly, her lips trembling slightly and she avoided his gaze once more. He was understanding her too easily, feeling what she felt too easily. “I know I seem naive in my view of it but...before this all happened, I had already envisioned our life together. He...let that go. Maybe it’s because it was my first love that I’m taking it so hard but — but he should’ve fought harder for me.”

Lucien sat back, arms resting in his lap, his expression thoughtful. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve thought of anyone but her.” he said quietly. “She’s always in the back of my mind, even when I’ve attempted to take new lovers and it’s been a long time since I’ve met someone who views love the way it should be viewed. As something so pure. It’s refreshing.”

She shrugged, not feeling particularly insightful at all. Every time she thought of Graysen now, Elain only felt stupid.

Lucien leaned forward and tapped the table gently to get her attention and she met his gaze. “You know, I can feel whatever it is you’re feeling,” he said. “Nothing you feel is stupid. Your first love will always have a special memory or teach a specific lesson. Either way, it leaves a mark that you’ll remember.”

Elain looked at him, taking in his expression, and gently asked, "I thought...I thought mates couldn't handle talking about other partners. That you'd — you wouldn't take this well."

Lucien pursed his lips, brows furrowed. "I'm not a heathen without any self-restraint. You're also not an object that I own." he simply said. "I'd be an idiot to think someone as beautiful as you wouldn't have had any previous lovers, as did I."

Elain looked down, embarrassed of her assumption and of her question. Why had she just assumed he'd be awful to her? Why didn't she —

"It's okay, Elain." he said gently, cutting into her spiraling thoughts. "You can ask whatever you want. I'd be more than happy to answer."

She nodded and then softly asked, “Will it always be like that? You aware of how I feel?”

He nodded slowly. “Part of the bond’s magic is that you and your mate have a connection so deep and sacred, nothing will ever compare. You’re essentially two sides of the same coin, always in touch.” he explained and paused momentarily, licking his lips. “This past year...especially because I went in and out of Velaris often...I am very aware of how it has been for you.”

“Would this connection remain even if...even if the bond was rejected?”

Elain watched him flinch at the question and felt herself wince, knowing how touchy this was based on Rhys and Feyre’s explanations.

It took Lucien a few moments before he finally swallowed and answered quietly. “Even if the bond is rejected, the link is always there.”

It was a tense quiet before Elain broke the silence. Feeling like she owed him honesty, she only said, “I’ve been aware of how you felt as well but...I always ignored it.”

“I know.” he said with a sad smile.

“It was never about ignoring you as it was...ignoring the situation.” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. It hasn’t been fair to you.”

“No, it hasn’t.” he agreed and the two sat in silence once more as Elain attempted to express exactly how she was feeling. She looked at him and when he gave her an encouraging smile, she flushed.

“With everything that happened since the cauldron and everything that was taken from me and then given to me…” she quietly began then paused, curling a hair behind her ear. “Having you as my mate felt — it felt like another thing I had to take without having a say in. It felt like — as though — “

Elain paused again, anger flaring suddenly and she clenched her teeth. “I was in a body that was my body but not, with powers I didn’t understand and suddenly I had now become the possession of a man I didn’t know.”

“I have never once thought of you as a possession and will never think of you that way.” Lucien said softly.

“While I appreciate you saying that...it still felt that way for me. Especially when I started realizing how the bond works. You...you made me feel things that felt against my will.” she whispered. “I didn’t like it that these instincts I wasn’t familiar with were taking charge with someone I knew nothing about and someone I wasn’t ready to know.”

“It can be very overwhelming.” he agreed.

“Very.” Elain said with a frown. “Do...do you feel that way?”

Lucien chuckled and gave her a tight nod. “It’s worse for males. This stupid idea that we’re supposed to resonate with our animalistic tendencies and claim, protect. But I am not these tendencies nor will I ever let myself fall to them. I am more than that and you are more than that.”

Elain shied away from his firm gaze, understanding what he was trying to tell her. What he had been trying to tell her for the past year and it was as she sat in his garden, the sun shining down on the two of them that she finally understood. She looked up and closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting herself bask in the sun, as if it was here at this specific moment to remind her how much she needed this conversation to happen.

She’d spent the last year looking for the sun and trying to stand in it but it was only here, Elain actually felt it on her skin, warming her up.

“This feels nice.” she said quietly and opened her eyes to give him a smile, finding him watching her, slight awe on his face.

Once again, she felt the bond between them as he gazed at her but it didn’t feel as daunting as it had before.

Lucien looked away from her, a flush in his own cheeks. “Yes...it does. I do like it here. It’s the first home that’s actually mine.” he said with a small smile. “I’m not living on anyone’s property but my own for once.”

“You don’t feel lonely in it?” she asked, facing him fully for the first the time since they sat, her arms resting on the table.

Lucien quirked his head in thought. “I think…” he began. “I think inherently, I’ve always been lonely. I was always on my own in the Autumn Court and the Spring Court was a little better but not great. I was Emissary and it was wonderful working with many different people but I also never felt like I belonged anywhere or was tied to one place. Except when I met Jesminda and then…” he waved his hand and Elain understood. He’d rather not dive into those memories.

She hesitated for a moment then, “I always felt a little lost in the middle between Nesta and Feyre. They’re both so strong and have such distinctive personalities. I was always just...the middle sister. Until I met Gray — until I met him.”

“You felt seen.” Lucien said, a knowing look on his face. “You felt understood.”

“Yes.”

“I know. I did too.” he said with a sad smile. “She saw me for all that I was and all that I could be.”

Elain’s sad smile met his. “She was the person you loved most, wasn’t she?”

“She was, yes.” he said quietly and Elain nodded.

“He was that for me. He saw me. He saw that there was more to me. He listened to things I had to say...it was easy with him. I thought he loved me.” she choked out bitterly. “He may have hated fairies but I was still me...still me just with pointy ears.”

Lucien gave her a half-smile at the attempt at humor, despite the shakey tone with which she said it.

“It turns out he didn’t see me after all.” Elain whispered and before Lucien could stop himself, he reached over, placing a hand on top of hers, and squeezed gently. Despite any initial reservations she had about him, Elain squeezed his hand back and took a deep breath.

“Now I’m lost all over again...I’m trying to find my way back to myself. The old me isn’t enough anymore.” she continued with a shrug. “I’m too angry for it. The life I had and wanted was ripped away from me and I had no say. With everything that happened after, I still had no say and I hate it. I’m still processing and coming to terms with it...I have so much more to offer and deserve more. I — I don’t want to be reduced to just your mate. I want to learn how to be brave, brave to be me with all the changes that have happened.”

A breath rushed out of her as she spoke, the words she had been wanting to say for so long. They came out strong, clear, and Elain felt a rush of pride that she had not flinched away from him as she spoke. Felt a weight off her shoulders.

Lucien squeezed her hand once more with another encouraging smile, as if he too, had felt the pride she felt for herself. “Bond or no bond, Elain — this is what I want for you and for myself. You may be my mate but you are your own person first and foremost. I am my own person first and foremost.” he said firmly. “I’ve lived my whole life trying to be molded into what others want from me and now, I want to spend it on what I want for myself. If we decide to be mates, I want you to choose me. To be with me as I am. I’m not here to convince anyone to love me. I want to be a choice and deserve to be a choice. I am not a burden on you or anyone else.”

“But that’s what I want too!” she said, leaning forward and tightening her grip on his hand. “I don’t want this to be something we do because we have to, but because we want to. I need something this significant to be on my terms, something I decide. Something we decide together.”

“That’s all I’ve been trying to tell you since I met you.” he said with a small chuckle.

“I know.” she said quietly, her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry I didn’t give room for it to be discussed. I was — am scared.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand.” he said. “There’s nothing I want more than for this to be a comfortable experience for us both. This is...new and different for me too. The mating bond will be what we decide on, as you said, together. I expect nothing more from you than conversation and friendship...if that’s something you’re open to. This will be at your pace. We can be brave together.”

She smiled at him then her gaze fell on their interlaced hands and she thought about this all for a moment. The idea of a mate didn’t have to be something burdensome or heavy. It could be friendship. It could be more. It could be nothing. They would decide it.

A sense of ease washed over her, pleasantly surprised that he, Lucien — her mate, was the cause of it. This male who she had thought would be the cause of discomfort in her life had taken all her worries about this bond and eased them in one conversation.

“I am open to that. I’d like to get to know you as a friend first.” Elain said with a shy smile.

“Elain please, calm yourself. What will the neighbors think?” he said with a grin and Elain laughed softly, pulling her hand away and slapping his lightly.

“They’re going to think the tea went cold and we haven’t even touched the cookies.”

“I can fix that.” he said, his grin widening as he pushed the plate of cookies towards her and let his hand settle on the teapot to heat it.

Elain rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I bet you work that trick into everything you do.”

“Stick around and you’ll find out soon enough, friend.”

She looked at him then, her gaze as firm as his, the two smiling at each other shyly. Elain thought back to the first moment she felt the tug from him, long ago in the House of Wind. It had been a strange sensation and at that point in her life, an unwelcome one.

Elain found now, she didn’t mind the idea of having a friend that was tied to her soul. A friend that would understand her in a way no one else ever would. A friend that could...later on, be more. When she was ready. If they wanted to take that step.

A step they would either take together or decide not to, together. A choice she would make. A decision she had the power in.

Elain decided then that, no, she didn’t mind Lucien becoming her friend at all. In fact, as the sun continued to shine down on them and she basked in its warmth, she looked around his home and found herself at ease. As she looked at him, seated across from her, pouring her a cup of delicious-smelling tea, Elain found that she didn’t mind Lucien one bit. So she smiled again, taking the teacup he passed to her, and said,

“I look forward to it, friend.”

#elucien #elucien fanfics #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #gfics #fic: quiet thunder #previously: moononastring

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pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid · 1 year

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As an Octavian enthusiast and his self-proclaimed husband 💅🏼 ✨I’m not letting go of the possibility that Octavian could be in Tsats, unless stated otherwise when the books comes out.

So I am going to state a few ways of how he’d be introduced or play a part in the story:

If he plays a rather less significant role, He could have a small cameo in the Fields of Asphodel. While Nico and Will are passing, maybe one of them notices the familiar looking spirit, and on further inspection recognise it to be Octavian’s.

Or a cameo in either of their dreams, since apparently dreams in Tartarus are supposed to reflect your inner fears. Maybe one of them has a dream about Octavian’s death. And we get a monologue about him by either one of the boys. I think since Nico already described his thoughts in his POV in BoO, then this time it could be Will’s thoughts on the incident. Cuz in BoO he didn’t really say much about it and it seemed like he didn’t exactly want Octavian to die.

Now if he is indeed significant. I think he’d be a mini boss, clearly for shock factor. I don’t quite know where exactly this scenario will fit but it could be either right before they find Bob, or after. So this is what happens.

So basically what he does is that he stalks them for a good amount of time throughout the story, causing small accidents of sorts. But actually this isn’t there in the story and it’s all happening offscreen. So we won’t know until the very end. Tho there’d be mentions of an “eerie feeling” following the boys.

So somewhere around the middle-ish? They find Bob, then there’s a boss fight and a dramatic reveal. Octavian has led many monsters to where Nico and Will are. He proceeds and gives a big speech about how he was betrayed. And something along the lines of “You let me die” to make both of them feel guilt (his usual gist of manipulation). Both in a sense do, but Will is more affected. This time he really wants to save him no matter what since he didn’t get the chance in BoO. There’s a whole segment about this in Will’s POV about his thoughts during the Onager scene.

Another reveal, Octavian never truly had a trial, and is turning into a Mania. the only reason he could cross over was that he managed to bribe Charon (Man does not get paid enough) with all the gold jewellery he was wearing. But that was to no avail since he didn’t have a trial he couldn’t enter into Elysium, So he wandered around the underworld hiding, until he slowly started to lose his sanity. And when he saw Will and Nico, he followed them around until they found Bob and cue the boss fight.

(In case Nico and Will went straight to Tartarus through the Trog’s tunnel. Let’s believe At some Octavian fell into Tartarus on accident, became a mania over time, saw the two of them enter once day, followed them around and cue boss fight)

There’s either the good ending or the bad.

Bad ending: They defeat Octavian, Nico banishes Octavian into eternal damnation which parallels Bryce Lawrence’s death scene. And they go about their quest.

Good ending: They defeat Octavian, Will gets his chance to save him, he knocks some sense into Tav’s head before he can fully transform into a spirit of pure insanity. Nico banishes him to the overworld and he is now a Lar. But he got transported to CHB instead of CJ and he’s now stuck there and doesn’t know how to get home.

Now I leave this here to put on my clown makeup 👍🏼

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heyzeil · 4 months

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Out of all of your ocs . which ones do you think would survive a zombie apocolypse

OOOOOH this’ll be fun (I spent way too long thinking about this)

Crinkle - Probably not. She would try to find some kind of cure but get infected/killed in the process.

Mocha Bark - Well, in present day he’s dead, but if he was alive maybe?? If he had competent adults with him perhaps. I feel like he would be one of those characters to get their arm bitten or something and the group would have to amputate it.

Sugar Paper - Similar to Mocha Bark with having competent adults helping, but I feel they’d be a bit more independent. They would probably be with Crinkle until she gets infected and then learns to survive on their own. They’re the “resilient child that survives at the end of the movie with trauma” trope.

Lemon Zest - You’d think she’d survive, but nah. Well okay she would last a while. Like, she’d get infected right before the cure is found probably protecting others. She goes out with honor.

Confetti - Survives by pure luck. Everyone he knows is dead. He’s forever ridden with the intense pain of survivors guilt.

Fondant - Dies like halfway through. They aren’t really that athletic, but is very good with quick, rational decision making so they’d be a valuable asset. His lack of physical strength would come back to bite him though (literally lol)

Moringa Leaf - Survives. He’s the one to find the cure. Moringa is actually pretty sly and nimble when he needs to be so even if he can’t physically overpower the zombies, he’d be clever enough to either slip by, or trick them.

Rose Checker - Guy who dies first energy. I’m sorry Rose Checker I love you, you’re great, but you wouldn’t last a day. Though I can maybe see them dying with honor distracting or fending off the first few zombies so Moringa Leaf can escape and warn everyone.

Choco Checker - She’s a smooth-talking loan shark who has to hire her own assassins. I’m sorry girl, but your sly vocabulary skills can’t save you here. Plus, mostly everyone hates her so it’s not like she’s getting any help from anyone.

Rose Water - Would just give up. She wouldn’t even want to try, but Bosc Pear would drag her along with her. Wouldn’t even matter though because they both die together when they are eventually cornered.

Belladonna - Would survive by any means necessary. She feels no remorse to those who need to be sacrificed. “Oh no! The only way to get out of this enclosed space surrounded by zombies is to sacrifice one of our own!” “Sacrifice the 8 year old child, they’re dead weight anyway what are they gonna do for us??” Zero hesitation.

Bosc Pear - She had to talk Rose Water into trying to actually survive the apocalypse, but they both end up dying together anyway. She’s actually pretty strong physically so she would have an advantage, she just got unlucky. At least her girlfriend would be the last thing she’d ever see.

Withered Asphodel - Is upset that the infected cookies can’t fully die. Business is running a little slow now and they are NOT happy about it.

Overall:

Survives: Mocha Bark (maybe??), Sugar Paper, Confetti, Moringa Leaf, Belladonna

Dies/Gets Infected: Crinkle, Lemon Zest, Fondant, Rose Checker, Choco Checker, Rose Water, Bosc Pear

Just Kinda Annoyed: Withered Asphodel

#👑Krinkle Kingdom #⭐️hazel responds #this was actually so fun to think about jahdskhdk #tagging everyone here we go hrrgghh #cookie run oc #crinkle cookie #mocha bark cookie #sugar paper cookie #lemon zest cookie #confetti cookie #fondant cookie #moringa leaf cookie #rose checker cookie #choco checker cookie #rose water cookie #belladonna cookie #bosc pear cookie #withered asphodel cookie

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baejax-the-great · 5 months

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Hello hello! WIP Wednesday? 👀🫶🏼

Here's a bit of Chrysalis that I don't think I've shared.

“Charon, mate, I have a plan.”

Charon is listening. His only reason for being in Asphodel at this moment is to sell his best customer some wares and then watch him beat the crap out of a hydra. For that, he can spare a few minutes to hear what Zagreus intends to do next.

“I’m going to die somehow, and when Thanatos comes for me, I need you to hit him over the head with your oar as hard as you can.”

Charon considers this with a grumble. In general, he’s not opposed to hitting Thanatos. In the past, it has been more of an impulsive decision rather than a plan, however. And hitting him as hard as he can hardly seems in service of the goal to get him to come home and act normally.

“I know, I know, but listen. Every time I die, I come back perfectly fine! So, I think we should just kill him. And since neither you nor I can really spend a lot of time up there, I think luring him here would be for the best.”

Charon has never attempted to kill his brother, though there is some appeal to the idea. Zagreus is right that whenever he or Megaera pop back up in the Styx, all their wounds are gone. Whatever has befallen Thanatos could be washed away by a clean death.

“So… what do you say?” Zagreus asks, and Charon assents. He will be part of this plan.

“Great. Now I just need to die somehow in a way that gets him here.”

Charon can help with this as well. As Zagreus considers the pottery lying about everywhere and the flaming Phlegethon, Charon strikes him once in the gut.

Zagreus doubles over with a cry. “You could warn a man, first,” Zagreus coughs out.

Charon shrugs. It’s not like they are planning on warning Thanatos. His hit was precise. Zagreus is strong, though. As soon as he stands up straight again, Charon hits him once more. This time he is certain Zagreus’s spleen just exploded.

Zagreus slumps to the ground.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, mate, but urrghhh.”

#hades game

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myrtlesandasphodels · 11 months

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About me

Hello, everyone!

You can call me Myrtle (or Asphodel - I’m not picky), I am 27, and I write fic and create funny posts from time to time. My pronouns are she/her (though I don’t mind they/them occasionally) and I’m dumb of ass and bi of sexual.

My askbox is open to everyone! I don’t take requests, but if you have any ideas that tickle my interest I might be persuaded to write something.

Right now, I’m HotD trash and specifically Rhaenicent trash, though I do also post about asoiaf and fire and blood. If you’re here for my sillier posts you can find them under the tag ‘goofiness’.

My fics

Mutlichapter:

Remorse is memory awake || Complete || 20k || Teen || Modern AU

Alicent receives an invitation for her high school reunion and thinks back to the events of her senior year when she had a falling out with Rhaenyra. Contains multiple flashbacks where we see the high school drama unfold. If you like teen dramas you’ll probably enjoy this. Rhaenicent.

Argumentative Attachment Style || WIP || Mature || Modern AU

Sitcom AU where Rhaenyra is a school counsellor with short hair and pronouns, and Alicent is a recently widowed soccer mom with too much on her plate. Alternating POV. Rhaenicent.

My one shots:

My Enemy Most Cherished || 3k || Explicit || Future Fic

Set during Rhaenyra’s occupation of King’s Landing. Alicent is summoned to the new queen’s chambers in the middle of the night. Rhaenicent.

A Minor Hitch || <1000 || Mature || Canon Compliant

Alicent’s maid has figured out her proclivities. Dark!Alicent. Alicent x OFC.

Call her Mother || 2k || Teen || Missing Scene

Rhaenyra and Alicent have a heart to heart before the royal wedding. (listen this one is some of my best writing and it hasn’t got much love so give it a chance). Rhaenicent.

Surrender to your Senses || 4k || Explicit || PWP

Alicent finds she enjoys getting tied up, Rhaenyra enjoys taking care of Alicent. Dom/sub. Rhaenicent.

are you lonely just like me? || 19k || Explicit || Modern AU

Features escort!Alicent rekindling her relationship with ex gang member!Rhaenyra, who is trying to go straight after disappearing for a few years. Unfortunately, crime lord!Daemon has other ideas. Rhaenicent.

#about me #rhaenicent masterlist #fanfiction

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impossibleprincess35 · 7 months

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[9 People You'd Like to Know Better]

Thanks, @LadyLucksRogue for the tag! I love these little asks. :)

Three Ships: Peggy Carter x Steve Rogers. Satine Kryze x Obi-Wan Kenobi. Leia Organa x Han Solo.

First Ever Ship: Sailor Moon x Tuxedo Mask (Serena x Darien) ((Usagi x Mamoru)). Listen, I was in middle school watching the English DIC dubs before school on the USA Network channel. I went to school and SOBBED in the computer lab as I told a friend about the episode where Darien/Tuxedo Mask dies.

Last Song: “Cradle” by Paris Paloma. I started to write with it on but it got way too fucking sad. I don’t think Asphodel needs that right now.

Last Movie: “Moonstruck.” It’s one of my all-time faves. A BRIDE WITHOUT A HEAD! A WOLF WITHOUT A FOOT!

Currently Reading: Nothing. Aside from my AO3 bookmarks. :D

Currently Consuming: Coffee. I really think this should be “perpetually consuming.”

Currently Craving: A Wawa sub. (*starts singing “Constant Craving” to herself ironically ‘cause I am always wanting a Wawa sub*) On a serious note, better treatment for my migraines. I’ve had them since I was 13, and I’m struggling a bit with them lately. The change in the weather is always a factor, but I’m getting these strange electrical pulse feelings in my auras, and I’m blowing through my monthly triptans with the amount/intensity of them since August. Also, I just started physical therapy for my messed up lower back, and that’s fun. :/

Tagging: @piccolaromana @alternatescififandomelover @callmevexx @c0rv1dae @highromances @jelly-opal @scottysketches aaaaand anyone else who wants to do it. :)

#ask me anything #get to know me

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auroragehenna · 7 months

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This is just a prompt...

I'm just considering Adam and Lyra here... Adam is torturing Lyra and he messes up for real and he doesn't know it until it's too late. So he panics and he has to save her...

AI-less Whumptober

Day 21 Blood loss, near death experince

TW/CW: Sadistic whumper, overjoyed whumper, knife whump, careless whumper, thinking about death,bleeding out Word count: 714

Boy am I lucky I don’t have to count. Lyra thought to herself. Another sharp cut, this time over her cheek again.

“Hey! Eyes on me Thýma, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, yeah, eyes on me, I want to trigger all your senses.”, she mockingly quoted him through gritted teeth. Voice carefully composed.

“Exactly.”, Adam agreed darkly before slashing a shallow cut over Lyra’s throat. He saw Lyras eyes widen in surprise and her bound hands trying to reach up to her throat. He grinned.

“Damn Adam, I thought you wanted to keep me.”, she joked half-heartedly.

“Oh I do. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

But the sadistic glint in his eyes did nothing to convince Lyra of that.

Her body jerked against the ropes holding it as Adam drew the knife over the entire side of her legs. She could feel her eyes widen again; something is seriously off here! She thought through the haze of pain.

She looked away from the knife and up into Adam’s face. And it was practically beaming with excitement and sadism. Sure she often saw him sadistic but this…By now there was barely any space left to cut so she hoped it would be over soon. As soon as possible. Please. Suddenly Adam’s finger curled under her chin and hastily lifted it up. He raised the knife and outlined the contours of her face with the blood tip. No doubt leaving bloody lines.

“You’re so beautiful!”, Adam exclaimed, not even noticing the way Lyra stared at him in absolute perplexity. “The way you scar so perfectly! The blood on you! The way you breathe when you try to control the pain! So beautiful! Perfect! I want more!”

Lyra breathed out the tiniest whimper but Adam blessedly didn’t hear it in his excitement. Lyra closed her eyes and tried as well as possible to let the pain fade out into white. Adam threatened her, to keep her eyes open again and so she did. Until he finally had to go.

“Alright! This was exhilarating! But sadly I have to go!”, he said cheerfully and tossed her a disinfectant spray and a bundle of bandages before untying her, “you got this, right. Great. Byeee.”

Lyra collapsed onto the piles of the pool. Her whole body burned and she was still actively bleeding from a bunch of wounds. She pushed herself up against the basin wall and tried to be steady. She reached for the spray and grit her teeth hard before applying it. When she had disinfected all the wounds as well as she could she tried to bandage them. The smaller or less complicated ones weren’t a problem but the still bleeding ones were a problem. She sat there for God knows how long, bleeding through bandages over bandages. It’s not stopping. This isn’t normal. Right? Or is it? I don’t know. Adam was never so…careless. She thought with a shiver. The movement only pushing out more blood. She couldn’t try to tell the time with the light because it was nighttime. She could only have said that it got from dark to even darker. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Am I going to bleed out here? I mean surely not yet but…If the bleeding continues like this…Is that it? Again? Okay no, I never died. But a lot of times nearly. She thought back to those times. The near drownings had always felt peaceful in her memory. The possible-car crashes not so much. At least she finally would be free. What then? Unfortunately she would probably go to Asphodel. She wasn’t a hero, so no Elysium and hopefully she didn’t deserve Tartaros. Be that as it may, finally…no torture anymore. She tried to gather her mind and changed the blood soaked bandages again. There was a growing mountain of bloody bandages in front of her. And blood everywhere on her. It was so hard to stay conscious. And even thought Lyra had never really cared very much about her life having it slip away from her again felt so…weird. So…sad…after all. But that’s how it was. She wasn’t going to yell for Adam. Would probably not work anyway. This was freedom…She thought before losing consciousness.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @ailesswhumptober

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drhoz · 1 year

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#1894 - Phormium tenax - New Zealand Flax

@purrdence is in New Zealand for a month, so of course I asked her to photograph every species she sees, or at least those distinctive enough that I think I can ID them.

The one with the four-meter tall flower spikes and strap-like leaves in the middle distance there, at Sandfly Bay, is one of the most iconic plants from Aoteoroa, and is variously known as harakeke in Māori; and New Zealand hemp.

photo by Kahuroa on Wiki, showing a few more details.

Taxonomically, you might find it listed in the Phormiaceae, Asphodelaceae, Xanthorrhoeaceae, or currently, the Hemerocallidoideae subfamily of the Asphodels. Plant systematics is a headache at the best of times. I’ve posted related species from Australia before, but I’m going to have to check exactly which genera those are first thanks to the revisions - my tags are probably no longer accurate.

As you might have guessed from ‘flax’ and ‘hemp’, it’s a important textile crop to the indigenous peoples of the island, and Europeans found plenty of uses as well after they showed up. Indeed, the hara in the Māori name is a remnant of the Austronesian root *paŋudaN (via Proto-Oceanic *padran) referring to Pandanus plants with similar leaves used for weaving. Pandanus and some other Oceanian textile crops don’t grow well or at all that far south, so the Māori invented all kinds of uses and ways to prepare this one. Captain Cook wrote in “Of the leaves of these plants, with very little preparation, they (the Māori) make all their common apparel; and of these they make also their strings, lines and cordage.”. Also baskets, mats and fishing nets (up to a kilometer long!) from undressed flax.

Joseph Jenner Merrett,1846 - Hone Heke, Harriet (Heke's wife), and Kawiti. Harriet (Hariata) is on the left in a European skirt, a Māori cloak worn as a stole around her upper body and tied at the waist, leaning on Heke's shoulder. Heke stands centrally, holding a rifle and wearing a short checked flax and feather cloak and flax skirt. His uncle Kawiti is on the right in a flax cloak, holding a taiaha.

The Māori also used (EDIT: And still use) various parts of the plant for medical purposes, and thickly woven or plaited flax as armour during the Musket Wars and later New Zealand Wars.

Phormium tenax is Native to NZ and Norfolk Island, but is now grown as a ornamental in many parts of the world, and as an ecological problem on St Helena where they ran a textile industry based on the stuff from the late 1800s to 1966. In its home range the flowers are an important food plant for nectar-feeding birds, and as coastal vegetation forms breeding habitat for the Yellow-eyed Penguin.

The blades of the plant contain cucurbitacins, better known from the pumpkin family, which make the foliage terribly bitter to herbivores.

#phormium #Hemerocallidoideae #new zealand flax #new zealand plant #harakeke

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marcellabelanades · 11 months

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Person: @netteliax Location: Alexa Play Cemetery Drive by American Rock Band My Chemical Romance She doesn’t mean to keep going back. August had been right to disrespect Brielle, the moment that masquerade was over her aunt had hidden away with her coven. A coven that no longer stood, that just had Hazal and Ciro to its name now. Marcella should feel sad but as she walks away from her aunt’s grave and through the winding cemetery, she doesn’t feel much of anything except worry for the two left. Hazal was a local staple, she’d been someone she saw at least once a week for nearly two years now, she’d been kind. And Ciro was….Ciro didn’t deserve to lose his mother’s coven. Even if she’d put pressure on him, even if it seemed apparent their relationship was strained, he didn’t deserve that. Now he was back and it was because she’d called him back home and if anything happened to him here, she was directly responsible. It’s something she thinks about a lot now as she walks, that people close to her had already paid a price for her to be with the Asphodel and on one hand she loved the power, she loved feeling practically invincible after going years being helpless back home. On the other, she’s terrified by the whole thing, feels this sort of bone deep emptiness that she thought she’d rid herself of long ago. She’s not alone at the Amaranthus plot which wouldn’t be strange except it’s quite late for most other visitors. Mourning doesn’t really have any sort of timeframe though and so she doesn’t acknowledge the dark haired woman seemingly observing the graves maybe two feet away. Nothing about it is strange, not the feeling of magic in the air between them, the silent understanding of two people at a gravesite. And yet there’s something else. “I’m sorry to bother you, but that perfume you’re wearing is something I haven’t smelled in ages.” Earthy, some kind of sandalwood, bergamot, amber maybe. It’d been something the witches on the bayou wore and it’s almost comforting.

#nettelia 01.

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barrenclan · 2 years

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It was snowing.

Back where Cormorantpaw used to live with Egrettail, snow was a rare sight. He only experienced it once, back when he was just a kit. He can’t remember it. At least, not that well. He remembers his mother watching him tumble and play in the snow, and he remembers Thrasher yelling at him.

He thinks he only remembers it because it was the first time he can actually remember getting yelled at.

Needless to say, he was somewhat nostalgic from the sight of the gentle flurries falling down, and despite the darkness of the apprentice den, he was able to watch the snow fall down.

He shifted in his nest, his tail drooped over the moss. He had to admit, with the extra moss, the nest felt nice.

I can’t believe that mouse-brained cat gave almost every cat extra bedding, Cormorantpaw thought bitterly. I mean, Cypressfoot, Nightberry, and Blacknose I understand, but why did almost every cat need it? Seems like a waste of moss.

Cormorantpaw knew why. The clan was small. If one cat got sick, it wouldn’t be long before everyone did. And Cootstorm was practically never in camp during the snow, because she ‘needed to find cat mint’. Cormorantpaw thinks she just wants to leave the camp for the day. He can’t blame her.

Leaving all the work to poor Pinepaw, he thought, nuzzling his muzzle into the moss, tail flicking. Poor Pinepaw? What next, I’m going to start calling Egrettail my sister? I’m turning soft.

Almost as soon as he set his head down, he raised it up again, hearing paw-steps come closer to the den.

“Asphodel? Daff? Either of you awake?” Pinepaw asks, tone leaking with excitement as he sticks his head into the den, sending flurries scattering down his muzzle and onto the floor.

Cormorantpaw’s shoulders droop. Just the feather-brain.

“No, Pinepaw, just me,” Surprisingly, even Daffodilpaw was asleep. “Aren’t you usually asleep by now?“

Cormorantpaw wasn’t quite expecting Pinepaw to let out a small, hearty purr of amusement.

“C’mon, Cormorantpaw! It’s sewing! Qe should be enjoying it while it lasts!”

Cormorantpaw’s nose scrunches. “Sewing? It’s pronounced Snowing.”

Pinepaw lets out an amused huff, followed by a cough. “Oh, shush, you fox-heart! You’ve been in the den practically all day!”

“So?” Cormorantpaw scoffs, resting his head on his paws. Wow, forget turning soft. I’m just turning into a fox-heart. Why am I being so mean to the nicest cat in the clan? Next thing I know I’ll be acting like Thrasher.

“Sooo..” Pinepaw considers his next words closely. “Come out and play with me!”

Cormorantpaw stares at Pinepaw, confused. If he didn’t have dignity, he was certain he would be gawking in amazement. He assumed Pinepaw was mad at him, or just hated him or something. Ever since Daffodilpaw started talking to him, Pinepaw was doing everything in his power to avoid the raven-furred tom. And play in the snow? What were they, kits?

“Play? Why?” He scoffs, tail flicking slightly. He knows Pinepaw doesn’t have a bad intention, but still. What apprentice still plays in the snow?

Pinepaw lets out a sneeze.

“Well.. because it’s fun. And besides, it’ll be good exercise! And we can practice hunting and fighting!”

Cormorantpaw scoffs, lashing his tail. So, yeah, maybe playing in the snow sounded pretty great right about now. But what if some cat saw? Did he have any dignity?

Pinepaw’s smile wavered as Cormorantpaw looked away.

“Oh, well. Tell Daffodilpaw that she can join if she wants! Asphodelpaw, too, but you know she won’t wake up unless she’s being murdered by a badger.”

Cormorantpaw didn’t get the chance to tell him that if Asphodelpaw was getting murdered by a badger, she wouldn’t wake up at all. Pinepaw was out the den in record time, unintentionally spraying snow inside.

Cormorantpaw huffed. Mouse-brained cat, he thought, curling up to go to sleep.

He waited for his thoughts to settle. And waited. And waited.

“Great.” He grunts, eyes snapping open. He couldn’t sleep. Not when he knew his one chance at playing in the snow, without judgement, was right outside.

He heaved himself to his paws. What are you doing? He suddenly thought. Playing in the snow?! With the cat that gets you sick?! What are you, a helpless kit? Go back to your nest, unless you don’t care anything about pride.

Cormorantpaw started lowering himself back down, before perking up again. No, shut up. It’s not mouse-brained. Pinepaw’s doing it. And Pinepaw, sometimes, isn’t a mouse-brain.

He storms outside the den, grumbling at his thoughts.

Pinepaw is play-fighting a dead shrub in camp. Cormorantpaw grimaces at the attempt.

“No, No, Pinepaw, you’re doing it- you’re doing it wrong, Pinepaw.” He groans, giving up on watching the tom attempt at the attack. Pinepaw stumbles over his own paws at the sudden statement, leaving a deep dent in the snow. He sneezes, scrambles back to his paws, and shakes snow out of his head.

“Is it?” He asks with a curious tone. He was doing the thing again, where he stands on the tips of his paws at the idea of someth-

No! Bad, Cormorantpaw! The clan is turning me mushy! Stop noticing little, unimportant things about him!

“You’re putting all your weight in your hind legs. The jump is important, sure, but you need to actually get force on your front paws to do anything.” Cormorantpaw scoffs. Did no one teach Pinepaw anything?

Pinepaw looks at him with a dubious glance. Cormorantpaw returns it with a glare.

Excuse me for trying to help, he thinks, turning away to walk back into the den. This was a bad idea. Before he knows it, he feels something leap onto his back. Whatever it is clearly missed, since they ended up hitting him on his head with a paw, before falling down onto the snow with a thud. Cormorantpaw pounces on whatever it is, hissing.

A fight! A real fight! I knew that this clan wasn’t this soft! Cormorantpaw thinks excitedly, tail lashing as he tries to focus on whatever it is. Getting hit right between the eyes tends to jumble your vision a bit.

Cormorantpaw’s shoulders slump in an odd mix of relief, disappointment, and another feeling he can’t quite comprehend as he hears the familiar purr of amusement from Pinepaw.

“You can’t do that, Pinepaw! You scared me half to-“ Cormorantpaw only gets halfway through his lecture when Pinepaw bats at his muzzle playfully. Cormorantpaw lets out a low hiss. He felt too childish doing this. When Pinepaw rolls away, clearly excited now, he sighs. Might as well humor him a little. Just a favor. Not going soft.

Pinepaw lunges forward, front paw outstretched, with sheathed claws, as he aims for Cormorantpaw’s chest. Cormorantpaw jumps away, hissing.

“Pinepaw, you’re being too slow. If you want to actually attack me, do what you did earlier. Wait for me to be unprepared, then do an attack that would be effective. Remember, I have more experience then you.”

Who gives advice to their opponent?! Are you a mouse-brain?!

Pinepaw nods quickly, coughing for a few moments. Cormorantpaw lashes forward, batting him hard on the head. Pinepaw has good instincts, he must admit, and manages to spring onto his back. Though he slips off quite quickly, he manages a hard kick at Cormorantpaw’s side, making him wobble slightly and hiss.

Pinepaw’s head spikes up in worry, and Cormorantpaw regains his balance. After a quick, approving glance towards Pinepaw, he leaps down and nips at his neck playfully.

Since when did you come here to play?! You came to practice fighting! You’re so soft now. What, can you even fight with claws anymore?

Pinepaw lets out a playful yowl, rearing up and batting lightly at Cormorantpaw’s stomach. Cormorantpaw feels an odd feeling in his throat, and he nearly falls over in surprise.

“No. Way,” Pinepaw suddenly gasps. “Did I just get the great Cormorantpaw, stone faced as ever, to purr? Wow! I can not wait to tell Asphodelpaw about this!!”

Cormorantpaw hisses, not quite as amused. He shoves himself forward, head-butting Pinepaw square in the chest.

Cormorantpaw stumbles back in surprise as Pinepaw erupts into a coughing fit.

Well, he wasn’t surprised at coughing; That was common when getting hit in the chest. But that wasn’t just ‘I just got my airways blocked’ coughing, it was also ‘I’m sick’ coughing.

Now that he thought about it, Pinepaw had been coughing and sneezing all day. He was sniffling a lot too. And seemed really tired.

“Pinepaw! Are you sick?! And didn’t tell any cat?!” Cormorantpaw hissed, fur rising. That mouse-brain! He was taking care of everyone when he couldn’t even take care of himself?!

“N-No! No, I’m f-“ Pinepaw’s statement was interrupted by a coughing fit. “I’m fine! Just-.. Just a cold! I’ll get some herbs later for it. No reason to worry Cootstorm.”

“You- You ignorant, selfish mouse-brain! Imagine if it was green-cough! Or worse! Cootstorm’s whole job is to make sure you don’t get sick! And what do you think Daffodilpaw, or Asphodelpaw, or Slugpelt would think, if they woke up one day yo find out you died of green cough overnight!” Cormorantpaw left out the part about hoe upset he himself would be.

Pinepaw shuffles his paws, brows furrowing. He does that when he isn’t sure, Cormorantpaw remembers.

“You really think they’d care that much?” He asks.

“Yes. They would. Now, go to your nest or I’ll get Mallowstar and Cootstorm.” Cormorantpaw snarls.

Pinepaw’s fur raises, and he quickly ducks into the den. Cormorantpaw storms in behind him.

Stupid, stupid mouse-brain. You’re so soft now. You can’t do anything right, can you? What happened to your dignity, huh?

Cormorantpaw froze, staring at what Pinrpaw just laid down it. That didn’t look like a nest. That looked like two moss balls.

“Pinepaw, what happened to your nest?!” Cormorantpaw hissed, carefully stepping over Daffodilpaw’s tail.

“I- Well, with the chill in the nursery, I figured Blacknose could use more moss.” Pinepaw says.

Cormorantpaw sucks in a breath, before sighing heavily. “Just- Just go to sleep. I’m already mad enough as is.”

Cormorantpaw flops down into his nest, his brain arguing with itself. It’s odd. It’s his brain, but he feels like he’s catching snippets of a conversation that isn’t his own. He isn’t able to track what’s going on, when it’s happening, whatever.

It isn’t long before Pinepaw starts snoring.

Don’t do it. Now his brain sounded like his own again. All day you’ve been worried about if you’re too soft. If you do this, you’re essentially saying ‘yeah, I’m a soft, weak, mushy pushover!’

If you don’t do this, you will feel like the worst cat alive.

Cormorantpaw stands up. Don’t. Don’t be weak like you say you are. Cormorantpaw strolls over to Pinepaw’s nest, grabbing his scruff. Keep going, or next sunrise you’ll feel awful. You’ll feel like the worst cat in the history of the world. Cormorantpaw gently drags Pinepaw over to his own nest. Stop. Stop being a pathetic pushover. What would Thrasher say?

Cormorantpaw nearly stumbles over his own paws at the last words. He hisses a retort to himself, before flopping down next to Pinepaw.

Pinepaw turns around, tucking his head under Cormorantpaw’s.

Pathetic is the last word Cormorantpaw thinks before falling asleep.

(yall we should start a patfw tag in ao3)

Oh my GOD this is so cute. Pure sugar and fluff I LOVE IT. Plus it's quite a bit of writing, very impressive!

Cormorantpaw's inner thoughts are so perfect. Silly little man always trying to be so tough. I especially like whenever he compares himself to Thrasher when he thinks he's being weak or soft. Hmm... good reading of his character! :)

Oh, the "A gets sick and B has to take care of them under duress... unless?!" Such a classic. I read a great fic with that premise once.

Thank you so much for this! So charming! If you do start a PATFW tag on AO3 I'll cry for real. I can't believe how much writing this story is inspiring, it warms my heart.

#ask #anon #fanfic #pinepaw #cormorantpaw

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