#I apologise in advance for such a short description for them

[kijoou]

Oml guyys you're so kind... thank you so much... I really appreciate all your comments and interactions <333 ( referring to designs i made! )

[harrystylesfan2686]

Thirst For Blood

Pairing: Azriel x Reader.

Summary: What happens when you finally escape one prison, only to be locked in another for merely surviving...

Warnings: Mentions of slavery and torture (nothing descriptive). Blood (ig)

A/N: This is probably my longest writing yet. I'm so proud of myself for this one. I tried writing in 2nd POV after the results of survey done by @leafsandstarlight so i apologise in advance if the povs change suddenly mid sentence. I did my best to edit out the mistakes but if there are some left still, do tell me and I'll correct them right away. I love this one and I hope you do too. 🫶💕

Masterlist

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The soft cracks of fallen twigs fills the silence spread across the forest. The wounds on your bare feet had finally stopped flowing blood. It didn't really mattered though, considering you were covered with it.

The streaks of dried blood coming out of your mouth lined all the way down to your chest, soaking through the torn material. The dress shirt and pants you had stolen from your very first kill had been ruined, having constantly walked for weeks. Covered with dirt and blood that now appeared dark brown.

You didn't know where you were going, only that you had to keep walking, running away as far as you can from the place you left behind.

You saw something move behind you and froze. You turned and held your breath, looking around, hoping for an animal or something to jump up and attack you. After what felt like ages but was probably a minute, your shoulders sag in relief when you didn't see anything unusual.

You turned to continue down your path but gasped when you saw a male right in front of you. Tan skin with black short hair atop his head, adorned in leather and blue stones. Not normal stones, you realized, Siphones.

You hadn't even had a chance to think about what to do now, before he twists his wrist at your direction and a black shadow comes out in a blur, hitting you on your forehead hard enough for the world to turn into darkness in you eyes and you fall unconscious.

-☆-

Azriel paced around the dark room, frowning at the females body asleep on the floor in front of him. The shackles around her hands and legs were bound to prevent her from running or pulling any tricks when she wakes up. It's been hours since he brought her here and imprisoned her, he realized. And she still hasn't woken up.

He has been trying to catch her for a long time, longer than what it normally takes him to find his targets. The creature that's been killing fae left and right. Draining every drop of blood from her victims and leaving the bodies for everyone to find.

She's been moving from one Court to another without leaving any trace of who or what she is. Never letting anyone predict her next move. It has thrown every Court into a spiral, not know what kind of creature has been killing their people everyday.

Azriel has been searching for the monster–her for a while. It took him a lot more time then it should. Always coming up blank while predicting what she was and what it's–hers next move would be. He was starting to question his position as the Spymaster, starting to feel ashamed every time he couldn't give Rhys the information he needed even though Rhys assured him multiple times that it's alright.

But now he knows.

He finally has the answer to all his questions. Finally found the only thing that kept him awake long into the nights, wondering why he couldn't perform his best this time. He felt as if he could finally breath freely again, without feeling abashed.

But as he watched her for hours, waiting for her to wake and using that time to observe her. How peaceful she looked and her calm features and clothes made him question himself, again. He's started to feel agitated. Maybe he made a mistake. Maybe she isn't the one he was after, all this time. But the one thing that stopped him from releasing her was the dried blood on her body. It seemed almost black from the darkness of the dungeons.

The wind in the room moved when a dark cloud formed and Rhysand stepped out. The energy in the room calmed to an eeire silence before he looked at Azriel and raised an eyebrow,"Still not awake?".

The shadowsinger shaked his head and sighed,"I don't know what's wrong. I didn't hit her with much force, just enough to make her faint for a few hours."

Rhys hummed and moved towards her sleeping form, staring at her for a few minutes before crouching down, raising a hand and placing it down on her head.

-☆-

You woke up with a startle and let out a small yelp at the sight of a male touching you. You scrambled back going as far as you can before your back hits a wall, breathing loud and fast while switching your gaze between the two male in front of you.

The one who was crouched in front of you stood and moved back, standing beside the male that was already stood with his hands crossed. Wait. You've seen him. He is the one that took you from the forest, the one with siphones straped to his body, seven siphones, you counted. They glowed so bright in the darkness. You forced yourself to look at your surroundings. A small room with four walls, a window on one of them and a metal door on another. A table in the middle on which a siphone–less male was now leaning against.

Your hands felt heavy when you tried to lift them, looking down and feeling the weight of the shackles locked on your hand and legs. The chains on them were small, enough to stand but not run. The air left your lungs and you felt like blood drained from you body when you realized where you were.

A torture chamber.

No no no.

Not again. You had just got out of one. You refuse to be locked up again. Anger filled your body as you looked up at your captures and snarled. "Release me!" You demanded.

The siphon male narrowed his eyes while the other's lips thinned in a straight line. The disappointment clearly displayed on both of their faces.

"No." Said the narrow eyed. And before you could speak again, the other one extended his hands as though calming a wild beast and said,"How about we start with introductions? I'm Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court." His then pointed at the siphoned one,"This is Azriel, The Spymaster of Night Court." He gave a gentle smile which you knew was fake and asked,"And you are?"

Rhysand. Azriel. The High Lord and Spymaster. Night Court. Prythian. Right. I am in Prythian.

Your expression soften and eyes widen when you realized how far you've travelled. You were at the very top Court of Prythian. Did you really walk all the way through the continent without even realizing it?

Rhysand cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows in a silent demand to answer him. You swallowed a lump, wincing when you felt your throat sore and scratchy from dryness. You opened you mouth and told them you name, feeling a lot calmed then you did a minute ago. Rhysand's eyes widens as he looks at you as if he hadn't expected you to answer. "Will you answer a few of our questions?" You nod slowly.

"First of all. What are you?" You frown upon hearing his question but then relax looking at him. Of course he doesn't know.

"I'm a Vampire." You answered. Both their faces shocked and you sigh. Feeling the weight of your life on your shoulders. Azriel composes himself the next second but the High Lord's mouth still agaped a for longer than a minute.

"That's not possible. Vampires aren't real, they're a folklore created by ancients to scare the younglings." It's Azriel that says it this time, shaking his head in disbelief. His voice oddly comforting and you lean your head against the wall closing your eyes for a second. "And even if they were, they are extinct. They haven't been seen in a Millennium."

"So were Seers. But they came back too, didn't they? Even if only one." You open my eyes and raise an eyebrow.

"Yes. And im not going to ask how you know that but that's because a female was thrown into the cauldron and it gave her powers." Rhysand states.

"Exactly." You say. "The cauldron made her a fae and gave her powers, along with her sister. And I know because I've heard about you, high lord. The one who stole Spring's wife." You laugh softly. "It's absured what they say about you."

Rhysand's jaw clench.

"Calm down. I'm not making fun of you." You gave an apologetic expression.

"How are you a vampire? Have you been hiding all this time?" Azriel winces as he says, probably cringing at how crazy his words sound.

"Couldron made me a Vampire when I was pushed into it. Since I was already fae, I became the creature who feeds on blood to live. I was transformed in hybern, been made one of the King's experiments." You explain. They both frown in confusion and share a glance while you close your eyes and rest yourself against the cold, hard wall, the exhaustion of your journey finally hitting you at once.

"How did you get here?" Azriel questioned.

"I used my powers."

"What, exactly, are your powers?" It's was Rhysand this time.

"Compulsion. I can compell anyone to do anything I want."

"Is that how you hid yourself? Killing or compeling the people, who saw you?"

You finally straighten your neck, giving them your full attention and raise an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious? I compell the people to forgot they saw me." Rhys' body tenses as that. "You can control minds?" His calm tone shealing the panick and anger behind it.

"Not exactly minds. I can control your consciousness by looking into your eyes and ordering you." They shared a glance, unsure to believe you or not.

"Don't think im telling the truth?" You tilt my head towards the shadowsinger. "I can show you." Azriel assessed you cautiously and nodded once.

You peered into his yellow onyx eyes, the gold flickering in them can be seen clearly even from the distance between you both. Concentrating on energy thuming beneath your mind, your iris' expand as you give the order,"You'll do as I say."

His face cleared of any feelings, his expression bland as he repeated,"I'll do as you say."

"Take off my binds." You lift your hands and the corner of you lips quirk up.

His eyes widen,"No!" He exclaimed but his feet moved on their own, seeming as if they were they're own person. He stopped in front of you and sat on his toes, hands moving to your restrins. "What the fuck?" He barked.

"Azriel stop!" The High Lord ordered, stepping behind him and held onto his shoulders, trying to get him away from you. Azriel didn't budge.

"Stop." You spoke, pulling your hands back toward you before he actually opened your chains. Azriel stood and took a big step away from you, finally in control of himself. He and Rhysand breathing hard, staring at you in disbelief. "Believe me now?"

A moment of silence passed, no one speaking anything before Rhysand cleared his throat,"How–," He shaked his head slightly. "When did you became a vampire?"

"I'm not quite sure of the time. All I know is that when you killed the king, I ran and came here." You shrug.

"Tell us everything." He ordered, the traces of a gentle man gone, leaving only the authority of a high lord. "You said 'experiment'. What do you mean by that?"

"You don't think he just threw the high lady's sister in there and hoped for the best did you?" Your lips thinned. "He tried it at first, obviously. Trying to see if his theory actually worked. Since he couldn't throw in humans, he bought fae slaves like me and drowed us in the Couldron. He drowned one fea at a time. The first two didn't survive but he didn't give up hope. When the third subject resurfaced, he was overjoyed. Thinking it finally worked but all that hope was destroyed when he crawled out of the Couldron and died a few minutes later.

The forth subject the same as before but the fifth survived. She came out a dragon, being able to exchange skin for scales and pikes, hands to wings, and breath fire when angry. The king locked her up and tortured her, trying to check how strong she was. She lived a full month but at the end died of bloodloss." You sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for further.

"The sixth subject came out looking normal. But everyone quickly realized they had made a mistake calling her a fail when she looked at a person and that person turned stone. She was executed the second she turned the gaurd stone. I don't know details more than this because as I said we were never transformed at the same time. I heard all this in small pieces of information, listening to the guards that were stationed to my cell, talk.

I was the seventh subject. The only fae who was weak enough to torture and strong enough to keep alive. They beat us, burn us, and tortured us in ways I couldn't even imagine were possible. I had a better of it though because not long after I was turned, you killed that king in war. When I heard the he was dead and the castle was in mayhem, I ran. I ran and compelled my way out of Hybern and into Prythian, in hopes of finding a better life." You gave them a lopsided smile and sigh.

"You killed innocent people in the process. You murdered your way through our land." Azriel finally spoke and the look in his eyes as he looked at you was pure rage.

"I was weak. I was hungry. I couldn't control my hunger, I didn't know how to. When I fed on those people, I planed to just take a sip of thier blood and leave. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't control myself in the few killings. I would never kill a person on purpose. I never want to harm anyone. And after I was strong enough, I did learn to control. I fed, compelled and ran." You tried to explain yourself but it seemed clear he didn't believe you.

"You could've used your power to get out of here the second you woke up. Why didn't you?" He abruptly changed the topic. You swallow a lump.

"As I said, I don't want to harm anymore people."

You turned to the high lord and said,"I won't hurt anymore people. You have my word. I just want my freedom. A peaceful life is all I want." You plead.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Azriel asked in an irritated tone. I glaced at him and said to Rhysand,"You can look into my head. If you find that I'm laying, you can kill me right here and never let me walk out alive. I'll accept whatever punishment you give. I promise you I'm saying the truth." You considered begging at this point if it got you free.

Rhysand looked at Azriel, The two of them held each others gaze for a minute without saying anything, having an unspoken conversation. Your eyes skipped between them, confused because they weren't even blinking.

Suddenly, Rhysand turned to you, stepping near and put a hand on your head. He either didn't notice the dirt in your locks or didn't care. You gasped feeling a dark shadow within you soul, you winced and shut your eyes because it felt almost painful, not so much that you couldn't handle it but enough to steal you focus only to the shadow digging around your subconscious. Your body locked itself in the position you were sitting in. You couldn't do anything but sit there and let the high lord examine your thoughts.

After what felt like forever Rhysand finally stepped back and sighed. The relief of body finally back to your control almost made you drop to the ground but you kept yourself composed. Breathing heavy and looking up to the high lord, you raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him.

"She's telling the truth. She doesn't intent on killing anymore people." Rhysand informed Azriel and his face relaxes the slightest. "And as for your request," He told you,"Fine. I'll let you walk through Night Court," I couldn't control my smile. "But only on one condition." He raised a finger.

"Anything." You noded.

"Azriel will be with you at all times. Anywhere you go, anytime you go. He will be there. At least until we are sure to trust you won't harm our residence." Rhysand ordered and Azriel clenched his jaw.

"Alright!" You felt so happy, you could dance.

Rhysand and Azriel shared a worried glance, again but you were too in your own joyful world to realize. You are finally free. You closed your eyes and rested you head on the wall, the smile on your face refusing to go.

I am finally free.

-☆-

Azriel watched with skeptical eyes as you practically skipped through the road. You both were on your way to a small bakery Feyre had suggested.

When you were taken out of the dungeons, the High Lady of Night Court had arried there complaining how long her mate had been gone. Her eyes had widened when she took a look at you, worry clearing written in her expression. When the high lord and spymaster explained who you were and what your situation was, she immediately took it in her hands to get you comfortable.

It was weird, to be honest. You had never experienced someone being so kind and nice to you, treating you like you were important, like you mattered. Even before you were turned, your life was rough, being a slave waiting to be sold, it was expected. So yes it had been very weird.

You were transfered in a house built above a mountain. Rhysand said it was because Azriel lived there and you were always expected to be with him, but you knew the real reason. It was because the House of Wind had ten thousand steps, standing so high the if you ever tired to run, you wouldn't be able to go far without being caught or dead. But you didn't care because you never wished to run. Never wished to give them any reason not to trust you.

So you accepted your fate with a happy face. You met with High Lord's inner circle who were cautious with you, still are, but a little comfortable thsn before. You only met them once and are sure they all could kill you the second you did something wrong.

Everyday you walked with azriel around Valaris, going from one shop to another, learning the style and culture of people of Night Court. You were first a bit scared to do or touch anything in front of Azriel, not even speaking much but you have to admit, you got used to having him around. Finding him at every corner you turned to, watching you. After a while you tried to talk to him, making small talks about random things as you walk and surprisingly he replied to you everytime.

Azriel didn't understand how someone can be so annoyingly curious about everything. You looked at every person, every dish of food, every single thing with so much curiosity and happiness, it made him almost angry. The smile of your face hadn't left for a second since they released your shackles. It was like walking with a bubble full of pure contentness.

Your eyes widen in excitement as you pointed to a bakery in front of you. "There is it!" You took your hand in his and walked faster, almost ran to the door of the small shop. He opened the door and stepped aside to let you in first and closed it behind you both.

You smile impossibly wide as you take in the pink interior. A few tables spread across the left side of the shop with even fewer people sitting on them and the right filled with freezers that contained verities of sweets. From cakes and pastries to cookies and different breads, everything looked so delicious, you can't possibly choose what to taste first.

"Good morning darlings, what can I get you?" The lady behind the cash counter asked with a smile.

"I apologise but I can't decide. Why dont you suggest me something?" You gave a smile.

"Alright do you like chocolate?" She asked. You opened you mouth to reply but stop, trying to remember if you've ever tasted chocolate. You don't think you have. Well guess you'll if you like it now. "Sure." You smiled.

When the lady asked Azriel what he wanted he just said that he doesn't want anything. You both go to sit in one of the empty tables on the very left corner, taking the seat opposite to one another. There is a widow right next to you from which you glimpse at every person walking through the road.

While you observe outside the window, Azriel observes you, thinking how can anyone be so energetic all the damn time. He thinks of how you look so different than how he first saw you, covered in so much filth, and now your skin is as clear as water. Your eyes and lips so perfect, he can admire you for days without stopping. The one thing he's sure is amazing, is the joy in your eyes, he swears you could have the deadliest disease and still be happy.

He breath catches for a second when you turn to him, realizing he had just been caught ogling you. He expected you to frown in discomfort or turn to the other way trying to avoid him but he stopped breathing entirely when he sees you smile even brighter at him. The blush on you cheeks and sparkle in your eyes fading away the rest on the world around you.

His focus entirely on how breathtakingly beautiful you are.

The moment shatters when a girl in aprone comes in with a dish and places it between you both, muttering a small enjoy and going away, leaving them alone again.

"I've never had chocolate before. I'm not sure if I'll like it or not." You quietly admitted. Azriel tried not to let his surprise show as he digested the information. Of course you never had chocolate, you were a slave most of your life. He mentally rolled eyes at himself.

You picked up the spoon and scoped a small piece of the brown substance. You put it in your mouth and instanty let out a small moan at the taste. Sweetness explods in your mouth as you chewe, digging in for the rest of the cake immediately.

Azriel tried to ignored what that moan did to his body. He tried to suppress the smile itching to appear on his lips as he watched you eat the piece of cake in utter amusement. The chocolate covered you lips and you tounge poked out the lick in clean. You finished the cake and beamed at him. "One more, please?"

Azriel's lips turn up at the corner as he gestured the waiter for one more pastry. He noticed the end of your lips still brown. "You still have chocolate on your face." He stated and pointed at his own lips, trying to show the exact place. Your hand came up and wiped the opposite end. "Better?" You asked. He shaked his head. "The opposite." You wiped it almost cleaned but missed a spot. You raised you eyebrows, silently questioning him again.

He sighed and reached his hand to your face and wiped the rest clean. His fingers felt rough against your soft skin. You intake a sharp breath feeling fire ignited against your skin as he moved his hand back. He then pulls his thumb near his mouth and open his mouth to lick the chocolate off. His eyes held your gaze for a heated moment and you forgot how to breath.

The moment interrupted when the waiter came in again. Bringing in the second dish of chocolate cake you ordered, though before she could rest it on the table, someone pushed her, causing her to lose footing and drop the dish, shattering it to the ground. A hundred broken pieces of ceramic glass spread through the floor and she spoke out a curse. Bending down to pick up the pieces, she repeated apologises under her breath, but as she picked up one sharp pieces, the sharp edge cut through her skin and she instanty dropped it and gasped. The small cut deep enough to gush out a trail of crimson blood.

You tense as the smell of blood fills the room faster than anything. You close your eyes and try to control but the smell is so strong you feel hunger hit you all over your body. Azriel quickly stood up and grabed you, standing you up too as you both quickly get out of the shop, you running as fast as you can from the desire to feed on that poor girl until you feel her limp in your arms.

Azriel pulled you in a dark ally beside the walk way, placing your back against the wall and resting both of his hands beside your head. You press your eyes with both hands trying to think of something else, anything other then the beautiful scarlet liquid ready to be suck on just a few steps away.

"How are you feeling?" Azriel doesn't mention how he feels proud of you that you controlled yourself enough to get out after not drinking blood for so long.

"Hungry." You growl, trying to distract yourself by thinking.

"You need to distract yourself."

You scoff. "You think im not already trying." You snapped at him, not even in enough mindset to feel bad. Your head hangs low as you reach to your hair, pulling as hard as you can. Pain. Yes that's what's going to distract you.

Azriel licked his lips. "I have an idea but I'm not sure you'll like it." He whispered.

"I don't care if I like it not. If you have something to calm me then act on it!" You finally lowered your hands and glared at him.

Azriel felt speechless as he looked at you. Your irises glowed red and veins that coloured black and purple pulsed around you eyes. Your mouth in a snral, showing off you pointed canine that stood out proudly with sharpest edge amongst the other teeth. You looked deadly as though you could kill him this very second without a problem.

It made him want you even more.

Pushing every doubt out of his head he slam his lips to yours. You mouth open in a gasp and he used it to his advantage, pushing his tounge in your mouth. You returned the kiss with a sigh, pushing yourself into him, hands in his hair and tougne tied with his. His one arm wrapped around you waist and other behind you neck pushing your head upwards to deepen to kiss.

You both kept your lips to the other until what felt like forever. Finally pulling back and opening your eyes to find him already looking at you. The hunger you felt now was of a entirely different reason than before the kiss. The gaze you shared was a lot more than desire, it was raw and intimate.

You smirked at each other.

"I hope you liked that, because we are definitely doing that again."

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[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[boyfhee]

· BELLADONNA · lee heeseung

SYNOPSIS · sometimes, love is not about the sacrifices you make, but about the selfishness you hide.

GENRE · thriller, historical

WORD COUNT · 5k

WARNINGS · slight mentions of drugs and alcohol, slight implications of sexual activity ( not between the main characters ) graphic descriptions of injuries and associated weapons, blood, descriptions of graphic acts of violence, descriptions of a person in a very bad state. over all, this could be disturbing to some extent so please watch out before reading.

NOTE · thought i was slaying with this but i got sleepy and idk what happened in the middle, you're on your own. for @koishua's there were two collab i am literally so embarrassed fr bff idk what's ab to come, the style part of my writing yeeted itself somewhere in between i have no recollection of what happens in the middle . vie i apologise in advance. OK A FEW THINGS BYR :

don't trust me on the history here. i don't know when atropa belladonna was introduced in korea, google doesn't help. just know, it isn't native to east asia

the clans mentioned here are real though none of them reigned in the timeline this fic is set in ( since monarchy ended in korea after the end of Japanese occupation, please correct me if i'm wrong ) so, every character here is rather a descendant than a ruling figure. moreover, i don't know if lee heeseung is from jeonju lee clan or not so please do not rely on my information

atropa belladonna is toxic and contains neurotoxic alkaloids. no it was never given to pregnant women ( it's dangerous ) the severeness of this drug is heavily ignored and watered down in this fic. do no associate with the plant / drug irl

the wedding 'dress' here refers to a hanbok

THIS IS FICTION ! DONT RELY ON THE INFO HERE im saying half of it is wrong

“The best thing about being identical twins,”— Ah-young hands over her school bag to you, carefully stepping across the short trail of bush that ran along the length of the roads inside the public tutoring house— “we can switch places and no one would ever know.” 

PRESENT DAY, 1951

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t Ah-young be the one trying this?” 

“She’s trying on another dress,” Your caretaker hissed. “It’ll suit her if it suits you. You both look the same, anyway,” The first time you met her was when you and your sister were five, in the yard, picking tangerines for your mother— Madame Bella, as people called her.  

Belladonna, ‘beautiful woman’ in Italian, refers to a common cosmetic practice during the Renaissance, in which women used the plant to dilate their pupils, making their eyes look bigger. However, the name popularised in Myeongryebang in the late eighteenth century, originally assigned to women with bewitching beauty, who were known to be blessed by the Gods on the day of their birth. Atropa Belladonna, a plant introduced in Korea in the early sixteenth century, deemed illegal and marketed at a high price for those who desired it’s captivating effect, was taken and prepared into a syrup to be given in drops to women with milk in the first three months of her pregnancy, in hopes that she would give birth to beautiful children, and the bloodline will be graced by beauty for generations to come. 

Its plant was grown by the previous Lady of your house— the Belladonna Residency— who was known for her blinding attractiveness. As time passed, legend dissolved along with other historical practices, leaving behind a few of those who continued to believe, your great grandmother being one of them. And on a full moon night, with nightshade in its full bloom, your mother was born. 

“Oh, Miss Ko, I’ll take these two,” Ah-young stepped outside from her room, handing the dresses to your caretaker.“I can’t believe I’m getting married already,”

“Right, it feels like just yesterday you asked me to attend History lessons in your place because you disliked the teacher,” She sits next to you on your bed in her chemise, not caring enough to put on a shawl even during the peak of winters. 

One of the earliest memories you have with your twin sister is about the two of you attending lessons in place of each other. Ah-young filled in for your piano lessons while you did the same for History. A sense of pride followed the two of you around every time you successfully fooled your tutors under your father’s nose. Perhaps, it’s the gift of being identical— to be present and yet, be completely invisible. To win games and lodge fear in your younger cousins was the best use you both make of your striking familiarities. Amusement drizzled through your eyes every time you and Ah-young came up with another childish trick, although it didn’t last longer than when you both turned ten and met Heeseung. 

She takes your hand. “I wanted you to get married first, Yn,” 

Ah-young, meaning, grace and kindness. 

“Why?” 

“It’s scary. I’ve seen how it was for mother. So, I wanted to get married after you, for you have always been the braver one,” Your mother’s name was Sang-hee, who was married to the one of the most influential jewel merchants— your father. Sang-hee, benevolence and pleasure, that’s what her name means. They say, the meaning that a person’s name holds reflects upon their life. Names are not just words to distinguish an individual from the other, but rather, they define the person for who they are, and what they will become in life. From your maternal grandmother, Min Hei-ran from the Yoheung Min Clan, to your father, Kim Yong-san, who is a descendant of Gwangsan Kim Clan, everyone has a few things common in them— versatility, grace, wealth, desire. 

Names are for people just the way colours are for paintings. 

“But now, I have Heeseung,” The frown of her face morphs into a gleeful smile. “I’m not scared anymore,” The earliest memory you have of envy and regrets was when you were ten, and when Ah-young brought Heeseung home to introduce him to you and consequently, the whole family. 

Coming from Jeonju Lee Clan, or more appropriately, one of the descendants of the same, you knew Heeseung would hold an important place in your household. Your father focuses on establishing secure connections with prominent families while your mother, well, Miss Ko— who your father married when you and Ah-young were eight, after your birth mother hung herself from the cherry tree that faced your shared bedroom with your sister— pursued an unwavering goal of acquiring wealth and exploiting luxuries after becoming the Lady of the Belladonna Residence. Heeseung, though for you, was a ray of hope. 

Not a day was spent without you intoxicating your blood with regrets of skipping piano lessons and making Ah-young take those for you. The reason could be anywhere between not wanting to trim your perfectly manicured nails, and the fear of facing failure after knowing that your hands were nowhere as swift as hers when they danced on the keys, to the very melodies they produced. In a letter shared with your grandmother after your mother’s death, she quoted, ‘A noble blood shall bleed like one,’ Eight year old you didn’t understand the weight of those words, but thirteen year old did then you saw Miss Ko, the woman who had claimed to love your father dearly, bring drunken men into her bedroom on nights your father didn’t come home for the sake of business. The fruits of Belladonna are poisonous, presumably deadly. The tree withstands the changing of seasons, from harsh monsoon winds to calloused winter streams laced with snow. Every leaf plucked and every scar that wounds the trunk, a heart so determined to protect what belongs to it, a poison that takes life from the ones who dare ingest it raw. 

The tree is old but it never weakened. Your mother died wearing the royal hanbok that was passed down through generations by newlywed women, hiding the scars on her skin that tell tales of every moment that she spend being mistreated by your father, for a noble blood shall bleed like one, your mother never hung her head low even after a war she lost. 

“Why do you love Ah-young?” It’s a question that ought to be asked long ago, when you had first heard about their relationship. Heeseung has been the man of every woman’s dream, the ideal son-in-law for every mother with a daughter. Yet, fate guided him towards the Belladonna tree in your backyard in the middle of the night, and you knew he’s the one you’d need. Despite meeting Ah-young first, you and him were closer than any other companions you have had. He would walk you around his estate, tell you about the distant seas you’ve only heard of in stories, of the girls that chimed around him and how it makes your skin itch with disgust, because no one deserved him more than you. If so, then why her. 

“She’s beautiful,” He responded almost immediately. 

“Does that mean you love me too?” And words fell off your mouth involuntarily. Maybe because you’ve been keeping them in for so long, this was bound to happen someday. “We look the same,” 

A pause. He took a sharp breath in, averting his eyes away from you. It felt like ignorance at first, as if he’s avoiding your words, suppressing an urge to tell you how gauche they sound. The unsophisticated behaviour didn’t suit you, but every memory you share with him resurfaces every time the picture of him and Ah-young at the temple crosses your mind. Envying your sister is new, for you have always received the same things— clothes, toys, jewelries, footwears, anything materialistically possible. Neither of you have lived a life much different from each other. Seeing Ah-young has always been like seeing yourself, living with yourself, watching yourself do things in a different fashion. It has been as if you’ve been living your life with two different perspectives, but watching her with Heeseung felt foreign, like some parasite has taken your place and is living as if it belongs to her. But you can’t show it, so you continued with a chuckle, “I’m kidding,” 

“I think it’s the colours,” You realised later that what you’ve been thinking of as sheer ignorance was actually hesitation. “Red suits her more,” He added, fingers fiddling over his engagement ring. “as for you, white has always been your colour,” 

You’ve been thinking about white and red since that day. 

Day and night, awake and while sleeping, eating, bathing; his words have been plaguing your mind ever since you had that conversation with him. ‘Red suits her more,’ it rings in your ear like the sinister cawing of a crow. ‘White has always been your colour,’ it comes off as the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. You remember him ordering cherry topped desserts every time you both ate out, the reason being, cherries are his favourite fruit and red happens to be his favourite colour. Heeseung tells you about his preferences and you hear his talk as if they’re your own, and with every ounce of information that you learn about him, a new you is born. You never liked red but started wearing it more around him, red lipstick for the evening you were supposed to tell him your feelings before he sent a messenger notifying you that he wouldn’t be able to come. You wouldn’t have minded being disrespected if he hadn’t gone to the academy to visit your sister and congratulate her with red roses for winning the debate.   

You rush to her room and shut the door the moment she steps out to finalise a few things regarding the wedding. You take her wedding dress out from the cupboard, there’s jealousy oozing through the cracks on your skin, fingertips leaving prints of greed all over the silk fabric as you stand in front of the mirror, one hand holding it in front of you while the other brushes over it’s soft creases, admiring it’s heavenly look. You’re picturing yourself in the attire, next to your Heeseung, celebrating your day, just like it was supposed to be from the beginning. Sisters for life, what everyone taught you both as children. ‘Because your sister is your biggest fear and your greatest weapon, treat her with tenderness,’ quoted your grandmother. But you’ve attended all the history lessons for her; and the lesson of History is that no one ever learns. 

Your eyes traverse between the dress and the image of you in the mirror, heart sighing with admiration that screamed of wanting more. A smile makes it way up your lips, fingers wrapping tighter around the hem of your dress— a promise you make with the silk, to never let go. You twirl around, the image of you in that dress next to Heeseung getting clearer and clearer in your mind. You’ve spent your childhood playing into each other’s roles. You know it in your blood, the foot she steps forward first while walking, the turn she sleeps, the style she dances, the pattern she breathes. Your eyes land upon a photo frame of her and Heeseung from the day of their engagement. A sharp breath in, you straighten your back, mimicking her pose from the picture, a soft sigh out; sometimes, you think you are more like Ah-young than she, herself, could ever be. 

“What are you doing?” The door flies open, your blood runs cold. The sight of your sister has never been so frightening. 

Ah-young has been all about sharing, from elite delicacies to credits for things you didn’t even help her enough with, to reach the finished product. To think, she gets more of her traits from your aunt. You don’t remember your mother being much of a saint, except when it came to her daughters. You remember her cradling you in her lap on nights neither of you could sleep. While most of the mothers would recite tales of fairies and land of sweets, your mother told you about the horrendous acts of people, the traps set by family members, about how trust is nothing but giving someone the power over yourself. She’d warn you about the horrors of the nights, the limits that men would cross to strip a woman off her dignity, the acts your best companion would exhibit behind your back to step over you. She would teach you of ways you could secure your position in the hierarchy— 

“Oh, well, I was seeing how I’d look in a wedding dress,” —and of ways you could acquire what if yours, and if, for some reason, you’re unable to find one, she’d teach you to make one. 

“You would not look much different from me,” She mumbles up close, standing right behind you and holding you steady by your shoulder with one hand while the other lifts up your chin to face the mirror. “Just as pretty,” 

“I love how dreamy it looks,” She takes the dress from your hand, putting it around herself and twirls like a toddler. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, eyes glistening with all the happiness the world could offer to the mortals. Her words talk about her content with the dress and how perfect it looks, while your mind paints a picture of Ah-young standing next to Heeseung on your wedding day, and you know she’s trying to steal him from you just as she has always done. “The design, patterns, and such fine work of embroidery. Don’t you think so?” 

You walk to the drawer behind her. “Yes, it’s spellbindingly beautiful,” 

“I’ve always thought white of as an empty colour, it doesn’t quite fit me. But wearing this, I look pretty,” Every passing second erodes the patience you’ve been keeping in for years. Her voice stings in your ears, making you feel like they’d bleed out of pain. She looks at herself in the mirror, the smile never leaving her face, saccharine words of love leaving her mouth relentlessly; you want to shut her up. A knife from the kitchen would do the work, you can slice off her tongue, or take the embroidery box from her bedside table and sew the mouth with nylon. Your breath gets faster, shallower than it was, ears begging you to stop her from talking further, but she doesn’t shut up. You pick up the flower vase. “White must really suit me!” 

And the next second, she’s on the floor, succumbing to unconsciousness while looking at you with eyes that call for help, despite knowing what you did. Her eyes shut close, silence takes over the room, you stand still with the flower vase in your hand. A part of you feels content, she’s gone, while the other fears the reality of being caught. You consider running away, but her words ring inside your head like a tinnitus, making it unable for you to think straight. And so, you drag her unconscious body under your bed, wiping the droplets of blood from the wooden floor with acetone, hoping it would go away. But the voices compel you to go further. 

You snatch the dress out of her grip before kicking her under the bed. “White has always been my colour.” 

A part of you hopes she never wakes up, for this is your chance. Another part of you wants her to be alright, because you wouldn’t be able to answer if someone asked for the two of you together. Though, the voice tells you to keep going— kill her, throw her, burn her, all sorts of things that have never crossed your mind in any situation. You could go, grab water and help her wake up, but the picture of you and Heeseng appears before your eyes, and suddenly you want her gone. 

“Your sister is not coming down for dinner?” Miss Ko asks when only you show up for dinner instead of the two of you. She has been working for the Residence for years but still hasn't learnt how to distinguish between the two of you. She has been looking after the two of you ever since you both were four but, there hasn’t been one day where she actually cared about you and your sister. Ko’s goal was to earn as much as she could, to live a lavish life, and she would go beyond extents if it means she could get what she dreams for. Maybe, it’s another reason why you’ve always found her similar to yourself. 

“She’s not hungry as of now,” You reply with a smile, a smile that otherwise dances on Ah-young’s face. “I’ll take her food upstairs,” A part of you wants to poison her dinner, easiest of all methods. Or maybe, you should melt her face with concentrated acids to create disfigurements and throw her by the city outskirts so that no one suspects who she actually is. You can stab her and hire guards who would feed her to hungry wolves and vultures. There are a number of other ways, burying her in your backyard and making it seem like she ran away— you ran away, because from today onwards, you were going to live as her, for her identity is all you need to make Heeseung yours.                                              

“Ah-young, I have brought you dinner!” Your voice sounds cynically sweet, words laced with deadly adoration, hoping to see your sister, but the place where you left her remains empty. You pause, fingers gripping the diner plate firmly. “My lovely sister, you never learn, do yo—” And a strike from behind you sends you to the floor, pain radiating from the site of injury to your entire head. You turn your head around, your sister stands with her jewellery box in her hands, shaking with fear. Your hands are covered with the dinner you brought her, and now you wish they were coloured in her blood. 

“Yn,” She crouches in front of you, putting the jewellery box aside, taking your face in her hands. “This is not you,” And listening to her talk like she actually knew you made your blood boil, so you grab her neck, holding her down to the floor, watching her tap your hands to let go while struggling to breathe, with a smile on your face. Her face turns pale, eyes shutting close before you let go, loosening the grip around her throat. 

“No, this is you,” You brush strands of hairs off her face, hovering over the frightened figure that struggled and coughed to breath. “I am you, Ah-young, the one who’s getting married tomorrow,” A sinister touch graces your words, a smile that keeps growing wider with every sob that chokes out of her mouth. There’s an odd sense of satisfaction in the way she begs for her life, as if the Heavens are making her pay for stealing what belonged to someone else, and you wish you could relive this moment for as long as you wanted. 

Her hand reaches out for yours. “Why are you doing this?” She cries out. 

“Right, why do I have to do this?” And you sit back, pretending to think of reasons to justify your actions, although there is only one explanation: Heeseung, and you continue, “I am pretty. I have no reason to be jealous of you,” 

“We’re literally the same,” Somehow, she manages to draw a chuckle out of her, attempting to pull herself up and sit straight. You’ve come to despise those words, ‘twins,’ ; ‘same,’ they make you feel suffocated. Ah-young always had the habit of using those against you, and every time those words rolled off her tongue, it felt like you'd ripped off your identity, not that you had one that belonged solely to you in the first place. You try to imagine Heeseung’s reaction in this situation, would he take your side or hers, or if he would even care who survives because you both look the same, it barely makes any difference. 

But, somewhere inside, you know he would choose her over you.  “That’s right,” There’s firmness in your voice, a sense of hatred, as your hand ghosts up her cheeks and grabs onto her hair. “Then why do you get to have all the good things?” 

Perhaps, it’s the fragrance of the nightshade flowers that fill your room and intoxicate your senses, but the blood on your palms feels like jewels of a newlywed, and her pleas to be spared— music to your ears. You always had it in you, the will to fight back, the numbness to fear, the sparks of insanity that blew up and suddenly, your heart is in flames. Normality has always been a paved road, comfortable to walk but no flowers could grow. You were the flower that yearned to bloom, your sister was the tree taking up your sunlight. When a flower doesn’t grow, one shall change the environment it has been planted in, and not the flower itself. The soil must be tilled, weeds should be removed, pests are to be killed, anything unnecessary shall be discarded. You could care less about her silent wails trying to reach across the piece of cloth in her mouth as you dragged her to the basement from under the staircase. Her cries got louder with every step that her head hit down the stairs, across the cold concrete stinging her satiny skin, albeit not enough to cross the walls and reach for help, every second filled you with content; a step closer to the love of your life. 

“Heeseung would never love you,” And silence. The words leave her mouth as soon as you remove the handkerchief. You wanted to hear her beg for her life, to plead forgiveness, to quietly hand over what you wanted if she feared death, but her words come off as a curse, as if she’s trying to anathematise your to-be married life with him, to take away the happiness you’ve been devoid of for years. You could fear her words and the wrath of Gods that may follow along as a consequence of your actions, but you have the desire, and nothing to lose. 

For you have always been a child of war, and Ah-young is simply born with tragedy in her blood. 

The basement served as a cell for solitary confinement for the previous family who lived in the house, for children who displayed unacceptable behaviour and disobeyed their parents, for servants who said more than what was needed, for wives who dared standing on the same level as their husbands. The walls of the house have been renovated over the years, decorated with exquisite wallpapers everytime they have been changed. People fawn upon its beauty, unaware of the secrets it hides deep down below. The walls of the basement have seen a lot over the decades, centuries, even, and the decoloured blood stains on the floor and corners describe each of those stories. One would quiver under the worn out ceiling that feels that it holds eyes and spirits of the dead beyond its arches. Though, Ah-young stares at you with resentment in her stare, one that was filled with hope up until a few minutes ago. 

You could gauge her eyes out, the ones that she’s so proud of, the ones that hold all the memories of Heeseung that should’ve been yours. Or, you could carve her plum skin with incisions and lacerations, painful enough that her soul withers inside, deep enough to leave scars that would make it difficult for anyone to believe she's the daughter of the most beautiful woman in the state. You could do things no one would do to their siblings— the ten year old didn’t know a day like this would come— but some things are inevitable. The scissors are in your hand, she is in front of you, slouched down, hands tied behind her back with wrists that have been bruised by the rope, oh so poor eyes gleaming with pain and hatred wishing they could do something. The scissors are in your hand, and your hand is on her cheek, the cold metal sending shivers down her spine as you run it down her face— the game was yours to play.  

“Hell, you look so much like me, I can’t even kill you,” You whisper close. The scissor is on her neck, it’s as if you could fear her blood rushing through the arteries, right under the skin. You slide it across her throat, pressing it on her collarbones— Ah-young draws in a quick breath— you pierce through her skin, a minute cut, single tear rolling down her cheek that lands on the back of your hand; it feels like you’re killing yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll get to see each other around, yes?” 

You discard the scissor somewhere behind you, taking a few steps back, watching her fall down to the floor, eyes squeezed shut in excruciating pain. It’s nowhere near what you’ve experienced all these years, alone and in regrets, guilt and depreciation, watching the person you love fall in love with someone else. But, love doesn’t ask for sacrifices, for kindness. Love isn’t about letting go, but instead, it’s about holding onto, love is about crossing the limits to prove that you’re deserving of it; because love has always been about the selfishness your heart conceals. You pick up the handkerchief, your sister chanting trails of nos while shaking her head, throwing her leg around frantically to keep you away, but your hand grabs her face, nails digging mercilessly into her skin, enough to draw blood. A moment of silence, ‘stop’ she begs you with her eyes, ‘die’ you tell her with yours, and put the cloth around her mouth, tying it behind her head. 

Tears fall further. Your lips curl up. 

“He’s right, red suits you the best,” You wipe your thumb on her temple, over the loose clot that had formed on her wound. Your smile grows wider, you pluck out the mass of dead cells, letting the pus and blood ooze out as her muffled wails fill the room. Your hands cup her cheeks, a touch of pity, and you lean in towards her forehead, a kiss of death. “Goodnight, dear sister,” 

Perhaps, it’s the game of fates, how destiny plays into the hands of those who continue to fight without fearing the aftermath. The irony of happiness and despair— they go hand in hand. Sunlight graces upon the lands and your handmaidens are ready with everything they need for the bride, not you— Ah-young; unaware of the truth that lies beneath the grounds they walk onto, the truth under the enchanting smile that makes everyone believe in the tricks you’ve played. 

The eyes leave you unattended for minutes and you're on your way to the basement. The air inside smells of urine; your nose scrunches in disgust. A lot could happen in one night, you expected to greet her corpse by dawn, for she has always been as fragile as a dandelion, but you’re met with her exhausted body that dragged itself to the cover, above the dusty rags to save itself from the deadly cold of winter nights. 

“Look at you,” You say it in a way she would’ve said it if she could. It wasn’t intentional, you’ve just always been more like her sister, more than anyone ever knew. A chuckle rolls off your tongue as you walk to her, pulling her rolled up chemise down her thighs, admiring the scratches on her legs that she had gotten while dragging herself over the concrete and the numerous little red spots left by the mosquitos on her arms and feet. Even with chapped lips that beg for water and hands that are tied to even wipe off the nasal discharge off her face, her eyes spell of indignation at the sight of you, brimming with fear and yet so full of anger and detest. The blood had dried off her face, the wound inflicted on her collarbone inflamed to stages it could possibly be home to infections her soul would have never heard of. You could barely say she was your sister, that she was even a part of you, let alone being the splitting image, because you were standing in your best dress while she was lying in the dust that had soaked the blood off the injury on the back of her head. She looks defeated, head hung low, like a pest that had been hunted by the predator and is now ready to be eaten. Her eyes ask a question— why, and nothing more. Perhaps, an answer would help her survive without food and water longer than her body could sustain itself. You take a step towards her, accidently hitting your elbow against the corner of a rusted iron cupboard and wincing in the process. She laughs through the cloth, you restrain yourself from coercing into picking up the scissors thrown around and slitting her face from one end to the other, making sure she smiled forever. 

You grit your teeth, fist closed tight, eyes glaring into her putrid sight. Her condition makes you feel good about yourself, that you don’t need to feel threatened by such lowly lives, until your eyes land onto something shiny on her fingers, and it belongs to you. She needed an answer why, you have nothing to say for she’s smart, except what she used to tell you all the time: 

“The best thing about being identical twins,”— You take her hand, slipping out the engagement ring from her finger before sliding it on your own— “we can switch places and no one would ever know.” 

note : if u made it this far ,, thank u i luv u pls lmk what u think im itching to know 😔

[skybluewritings]

Plane- Pope Heyward x fem!reader

Description: (Name) ends up at the same college as her former academic rival Pope and is forced to share a flight with him.

AN: References to panic attack.

She took a swig of beer from the red solo cup, the burn of the alcohol warming her throat. She had felt prepared for tonight when she had slipped on a cute bodycon dress and her favourite denim jacket. She scanned the crowded party, wishing she hadn’t lost her roommate. A strange shyness crept over her as she helplessly looked to the different clumps of people talking.

Back in Kildare she’d had no problem at parties, it was easy to know what to say. But here at Columbia she felt completely out of her depth. Everyone seemed so much more older and wiser than her, despite also being freshman. For as long as she could remember she had wanted to escape to a different life, now more than anything she longed for a familiar face. And the universe listened to her.

In the corner of the room looking just as lost as she felt stood-Pope Heyward? He was staring reflectively into his own solo cup as he swirled it with his wrist. He was wearing blue jeans and a navy Kildare jumper. It was a far cry from his usual shorts and loose fitting t-shirts. She longed for her own Kildare jumper, which was still shoved at the bottom of her suitcase.

She supposed it wasn’t all that surprising that Pope would attend the same college as her. He was insanely intelligent. They had been in a lot of the same advanced classes before she had transferred to Kildare academy in her Junior year. Despite having a reputation as a fairly nice guy, a smug smile would spread across his stupidly handsome face every time he beat her for top of the class. She had once been so mad the pencil in her hand had nearly snapped in two. Past annoyances aside it was relieving to see someone she knew.

The ground was sticky under her new nike shoes, as she made her way across the tightly packed room. She hoped it was just beer.

“Pope hey.” She said.

He ignored her continuing to investigate his cup. He probably hadn’t heard her over the music.

“Pope hey.” She said again, still no reply.

She moved closer to him. “Pope!” It came out louder than she had expected.

He let out a gasp, his cup falling to the floor. His brown eyes snapping straight to her.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” She apologised bending down to collect his discarded cup.

She pressed the cup into his hands, his jaw clenched as he looked inside it. “It’s empty.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I guess I overestimated the volume of my own voice.”

“Yep.” He replied in a clipped tone.

It was just beer, she thought to herself skin prickling.

“Anyway, how’re you finding college so far?” She asked brightly.

He shrugged at her. “Well no one’s spoken to me in 15 minutes so.”

“To be fair you aren’t helping yourself brooding in the corner.” She pointed out.

“I’m not brooding, you make me sound like batman.”

“You’ve definitely got the muscles for it.” She teased, immediately regretting it as soon as she’d said it.

It technically wasn’t untrue she’d seen him at the beach a few times surfing, she had found her face heating up when he’d once caught her staring.

“Uh thank you?..”

“Sorry-that was just a joke.” She stammered.

He let out a heavy sigh. “(Name) what do you want? We barely even knew each other back home.”

“That’s not entirely true we went to the same school.” She firmly reminded him.

“Until you pissed off to the kook academy.” He told her.

She desperately wanted to know who put the stick up his ass.

Her lips pressed into a line. “I forgot people still used those words. You know you can drop all that stupid shit, we’re not children anymore. What’s even the problem?”

“That’s easy for you to say, you aren’t the one who has to worry about how you’re gonna keep the lights on in your house. So I’ll stop using them when it stops being a problem.” He icily replied.

Yeah so clearly this conversation was clearly over.

“I’m gonna go get another drink it’s been fun?” She said earning an eye roll from him. “Enjoy college Pope.”

As she walked away from him she hoped she wouldn’t ever have to interact with him anymore at college. And once again the universe worked its magic.

Two and a half years (and many more college parties) later, she was 21 years old on the plane back to North Carolina. It had a been a few months since her last visit and she was excited to go back. She had felt like a different version of herself in New York. Not that it was a bad version, just different.

She usually enjoyed the short flight home. She would engross herself in a new book or gaze out of the window with her music blaring. But this time her usual peaceful journey had been interrupted by a child kicking her seat.

She turned round in her seat. “Excuse me sorry, do you mind asking your child to stop kicking my seat?” She politely asked the boy’s mother.

“He wasn’t kicking your seat.” The woman replied.

“I promise you he was, it’s all I’ve felt the past thirty minutes.” She assured her.

“My son’s a good boy how dare you accuse him of things.” The woman snapped as the boy once more booted her seat.

“See he just did it!” She said in exasperation.

The woman glared at her. “I didn’t see anything.”

She glared back at the woman. “Because you weren’t even looking.“

The boy did it once more she turned to the kid. “I swear to god if you don’t-“

“What's going on?” A familiar voice asked.

Pope stood in the narrow aisle a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Of course he had caught at her yelling at a child.

“Pope hey.” She said far too casually.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

She shamefully sank back into her seat. “Yeah I’m great, what are you up to?”

“Flying home…”

“Oh fun.”

Silence hung between them neither sure how to further the conversation. He then placed his duffle bag in the overhead compartment before falling into the seat next to her.

Her mouth fell open a little. “What-why are you sitting here?”

“It’s my seat.” He explained. “Unfortunately.”

How was she meant to go an entire flight next to him? They were bound to annoy the other as they usually did, every time they interacted.

“Look let’s just keep to ourselves ok? You do your thing and I’ll do mine.” She decided.

“That’s good with me.” He agreed, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in his seat.

And as the plane took flight things became promising. The little boy had stopped kicking her seat and Pope rested. She read her book- until her kindle ran out.

“What no!” She groaned as the device switched off.

“Fucking hell.” She swore softly as she dropped the kindle into her carry on bag.

She pulled out her phone and was horrified to find it only had 5 percent battery. And she’d need that remaining percent to call her parents after the flight.

She had no idea what to do with herself. It wasn’t as if she could just strike up a conversation with her delightful classmate.

She alternated between drumming her manicured nails against the arm rest and flipping open the shutter attached to the small oval window.

“I’m so bored.” She complained to no one in particular.

“Oh my god can you please keep it down?” Pope demanded.

She jumped at his sudden outburst. “I thought you were asleep?!”

“I was until you woke me up with all of your noise.”

“It’s not as if I meant to.” She huffed. “My kindle died.”

He snorted. “Your kindle really?”

“What’s wrong with that?” She asked defensively.

“I don’t know it’s just typical that you of all people would have a kindle.” He laughed unkindly.

She folded her arms across her chest. “All your favourite books in one place what’s wrong with that?!”

“Until it runs out of battery.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Buy a physical book?” He suggested.

She rolled her eyes. “Wow great help you are.”

“I’m full of bright ideas what can I say.” He said dryly.

She needed five minutes away from him or she would scream.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She told him standing up from her seat.

The plane started to shake from turbulence, she clung onto the headrests in front of her as she moved. A particular jerk sent her hurtling backwards directly into Pope’s lap, a shriek leaving her as she fell.

His eyes were wide. “What are you doing?!”

She swallowed hard. “I fell?”

“Yeah I can see that!”

Her throat tightened. “It was the turbulence!” She stammered.

“Get off of me!” He yelped.

She scrambled off him and bolted to the bathroom. As she slid the lock into place she replayed the moment over and over in her mind. Why did she have to constantly humiliate herself in front of him? And why had his cologne smelt so intoxicatingly good? It was nothing like the smothering cologne of other guys at college. But then she guessed Pope wasn’t like the other guys at college. He never really bragged in lectures or smashed cans of beer against his forehead at parties. He had a lot of friends but seemed to keep to himself. He was smart in a way that was humble (at least with everyone else but her), in the classes they shared. And he was surprisingly snarky.

As she washed her hands the plane began to shake, she quickly dried her hands on one of the cheap paper towels and successfully returned to her seat without anymore incidents. She avoided eye contact with Pope as she shuffled past him, the seat belt sign lit up.

The intercom dinged. “Ladies and Gentleman we’re experiencing a little turbulence, nothing to worry about it, hang tight.” The captain assured them.

“A little, is he serious?!” Pope asked her, as she clicked the clasp of her seat belt together.

“He said it’s nothing to worry about it, I wouldn’t worry.” She replied, mostly trying to convince herself.

The shaking of the plane increased, her chair shuddering underneath her. He suddenly grabbed her hand. She glanced over at him, his eyes were squeezed shut and his chest rising and falling sharply.

“Pope are you ok?”

“It’s happening again.”

“What do you mean again?”

He shook his head. “We’re gonna crash.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “We’re not gonna crash, I promise. It’s going to be ok.”

His grip on her hand tightened. “I can’t breathe.” He whimpered.

“I’ll distract you ok?” He nodded weakly in response.

She wracked her brain for something, anything. “When I was six I was obsessed with the little mermaid. More than anything I wanted to be a mermaid, I never shut up about it really. So one day after school my dad takes me out on his boat tells me we’re gonna go mermaid spotting. We go out pretty far and I see this huge grey tail in the distance slapping against the water.”

His breathing had started to slow, she continued on. “And of course I now know the truth, but back then I was too young to know any different. So I go into school the next day and tell all my friends I saw a mermaid. And they all believed me until you pipe up that it was probably just a whale.”

He opened his eyes. “I think I remember this.” He quietly told her.

She smiled softly. “I should have been upset with you but I just remember thinking how cool it was that you could tell the difference, I thought you were so smart.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah, I still do.”

“For the record I think you’re really smart too.”

Butterflies swam in her stomach. “Thank you.”

The turbulence gradually came to a stop and she found she still holding his hand.

“Oh uh sorry.” He excused dropping her hand.

“It’s okay, I kinda liked it.” She joked, he blinked at her. “Joking of course.”

“Oh right yeah.” He shyly chuckled.

"Why don't you ever talk to me at college?" She asked.

"I wanted to I mean I want to!"

"Then why don't you?"

"I didn't think you wanted me to." He confessed.

"Why wouldn't I want you to, remember that time I tried to talk to you at the party when we were freshmen?" She reminded him.

"Because you're a kook and I'm a-"

"Really you're gonna use those names again?"

"What else am I meant to call it?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't know just something that doesn't make me cringe."

He let out a sigh. "Point is I guess I believed you thought you were better than me. But I was wrong. I'm really sorry."

"I forgive you." She smiled. "And for what it's worth I've never believed I was better than you. Besides I actually thought, you thought you were better than me!"

He let out a laugh. "To be honest I just get nervous around pretty girls."

"You think I'm pretty?" She breathed.

"I mean yeah-you're beautiful."

Her pulse quickened. "So are you." She told him.

For a moment the two stared at each other, before Pope cleared his throat. "Anyway did you have a chance to look at the uh safety card?" He blurted out pulling the sheet of plastic from the pocket in front of him.

"No, it didn't cross my mind."

"I think we should take a look at it especially after what just happened!"

The two of them burst into laughter at the absurdity of the entire flight. She would definitely be getting his number before they got off the plane.

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #157

1. Hello, first of all thank you for all your hard work 🫶 really appreciate! I'm looking for a fic i read about a year ago: unfortunately i can't remember much, so i apologise if it's a vague description. I also think i might be mixing some facts with this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39533883 so i’m sorry if i’m making it hard to find. Trigger warning from here on (depression, su! c!de): the fic was set in the crowley's flat and the characters were canon (im pretty sure it was set a short time after S1's canon events, but somehow C still had holy water). Crowley had just suffered some sort of physical and emotional trauma (r@pe? sorry, i can't quite remember) and couldn't trust neither Aziraphale nor himself. He fell in a state of depression and couldn't see any other way out but use the holy water in his safe. (Spoilers) | remember a scene where he weakly walked to the safe and wrote a note, then tried to reach the thermos but was stopped last second by Aziraphale. Thank you in advance🫶; and if you manage to find it, congrats😅 - anon

2. Helloo I hope it's not too hard to find but I lost a fic on ao3 a bit ago I didn't finish reading and was hoping someone recognise it, it starts off with post apoca-nope Crowley being confronted by demons in his flat who tell him to stay away from aziraphale and summon a screen through which to view him. buuut since there was no audio they all missed a conversation between aziraphale and god in which god gives him a golden string (I think) and explains that metatron has been giving orders independently from god, then asks aziraphale to go to heaven and stirr up trouble. And that's when I accidentally closed the Tumblr app and lost it :( - anon

3. so theres this fic i was reading where its post canon but basically crozira gets locked up in heaven and crowley does his snake thing and releases them both (was in the beginning ish) but thats all i remember 😭😭 im sorry if this is too much to ask for, thank you in advance!!! - @stars-v3ria

4. Hello! I hope y'all are doing all right in what I imagine is a swamp of new asks from season 2's approach. (Writing this in the final few weeks til release.) I'm writing in search of a lost fic--I've scrounged through the Aziraphale's True Form tag but come up empty. It was T, M, or E rated, and more or less a true form sex fic, but may or may not have included genital sex. The part I remember (which I think was the focus of the story, it being a oneshot) was framed as a divinity/grace kink scene in which Aziraphale revealed his true form to Crowley. It was overwhelming to him (verging on pain iirc), but also very beautiful, intense, and possibly sensual or sexual. The part I really remember, though, came at the end-- Crowley, crying, used their safeword, which was "Amen." And after that I think it was more on the tender side. Would you happen to have encountered such a story? Thank you very much for your time, and potentially that of your followers-- I very much appreciate all the work you do for the fandom. <3 P.S. In case this reaches the author, and you with to remain anonymous, please know that the fic really stuck with me and I was merely searching for it in hopes of leaving a comment to that effect. &lt;3 - @elderly-worm

5. Hello! I was recently told about the (cursed) movie script and was told that there is a fanfiction of Book and Show Crowley saving movie Aziraphale from movie Crowley. The person said they're sure they read it on ao3 but cannot find it now and I'm extremely curious. Any help would be very appreciated and thank you so much for the library you're doing here, helped me to find a lot of gems. - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[explorersaremadeofhope]

What's your favorite Sherlock Holmes story?

oh no this is so hard!! i apologise in advance for how long this will get

in terms of like, craft and a good story and what i'm maybe most likely to pick up for a reread, cliché answer, but probably hound of the baskervilles. i think doyle was an occasionally really good horror writer, i'd happily have read more stories where he combined horror and sherlock holmes. i love the setting and the spooky descriptions of the moor. and it's got some of my favourite things, like watson getting to play a large role and be a hero in his own right (even if holmes does humiliate him a bit halfway through).

study in scarlet also, because it's so wonderfully character-driven and focused on holmes and watson's relationship (and how focused they are on each other), even though i gotta admit i tend to skip the middle flashback section lmao.

when it comes to the short stories they're so uneven. i think some of them are genuinely good, redheaded league is a good mystery plot and also hilarious; milverton and illustrious client are similar but both great (and feature another of my fav things: Holmes And Watson Sneak Around). musgrave ritual too, i love the riddle and the historical background, and the framing device of watson scolding holmes for not tidying up and holmes bringing out a box of old cases (did you see this comic? it's so good). final problem and empty house are kind of shoe-ins just because [gestures at their everything], but i actually especially like empt for how it shows us watson still being involved in cases on his own! solitary cyclist is solid too (and has the incongruously metal exchange 'she's my wife!' 'no -- she's your widow.')

but SH is a bit like star trek tos for me - some of the plots are thin as hell, but they have good character moments! so e.g. 3 garridebs is just redheaded league recycled, but it has the infamous 'worth the wound' moment which is incredible. blanched soldier and lion's mane are very mid (okay, lion is just bad lmfao) as mysteries go, but they have holmes being extremely dramatique about how watson has Abandoned Him. reigate squires isn't a favourite case of mine but shows holmes having had a literal breakdown and watson looking after him... i'll stop there because this is way too long but tldr, Many of them are Good for Different Reasons

[skyriderwednesday]

Uhhhh... spontaneous 630ish words about Holmes observing hangry Watson...

--

My Watson, generally speaking, is driven more by emotion than hard logic. Regardless, though he is prone to romanticise the mundane and to flights of fancy, he is on the whole reliably sensible.

He has his blind spots, as do all men. The lengths of his temper and ambition equally shift depending on his moods, and when they do not match up he becomes rather upset with himself. He is a frequent insomniac who waxes often about the importance of sleep. My Watson exhausts himself in service to others and would run himself into the ground if not forced to take time to rest, frequently by his own health. It is then his habit, whenever he has need to be cared for, to apologise incessantly over his 'being a burden'. I have had the mind, on more than one of these occasions, to quite shortly inform him that the only 'burden' in the situation is the weight of his irritating apologies. I have not in fact, as I am sure that to do so would be ruinously rude.

On the subject of rudeness, though its expression is usually restrained to the page, it will become apparent that contrary to his usual projection as a perfect gentleman, my Watson is in possession of a razor-sharp tongue. He does not, in the privacy of his own head, refrain from making harsh judgements on the people he meets - though he does endeavour not to act upon them. More than once, his editor has requested him to 'tone down' a description that comes off as overly unkind, regardless of its accuracy, and there are several examples in his works that my Watson now regrets.

His regret is unfortunate then to the simple fact that when his mood turns sour - out of pain, weariness, the weather, or most frequently, hunger - the grate through which he filters his thoughts before they reach his mouth is the first defence to fall. I have more than enough confidence to assert that a hungry Watson will make statements that sated he would not dare. If ever I am surprised by a cruel remark, or he begins to swear and to become argumentative, it is always most useful to consider the likelihood of him speaking over an empty belly, and that ascertained is ordinarily enough to determine the weight that ought to be placed on his words. I have gathered this from observation, and also heard it from the man himself.

Not too long into our acquaintance, he gave me the following briefing on the heels of his starting an argument an hour before luncheon, which had sent him muttering and stalking up to his bedroom.

"I will warn you not to listen to me when I'm hungry," he said, "or at least not to take anything from it. It's just that I lay a very short fuse on an empty stomach, and all that comes out of me is hot air. I often don't realise it myself, and I'm awfully sorry to offend you."

I am not so thin-skinned as to be offended by a dear friend's careless remark and I know my Watson enough by now to read the change of his manner well in advance, I certainly do not need to wait for the rumbling of his belly to know that his fuse is growing short. He rounds his shoulders and starts to frown. When reading he is prone to mutter, and writing, his penmanship suffers. If we are out, then he changes his grip on his cane. As a whole, the shortening of his temper and the loosing of his tongue is just a very small part. He does not however, appreciate my pointing out of these symptoms, even though I am sure he would find them quite useful.

[cl-01-kestis]

Held Hostage

Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Female Rebel!Reader | Part 13

Summary: After making a swift recovery from the ship wreckage, you find yourself taken off world and registered for interrogation. Until then, Omani works her magic to tell her father everything in hopes of saving you.

Warnings: injury description, angst, reader and Kallus end their friendship

Guess who? Yesss finally an update!! I want to apologise for the long wait between part 12 and 13, I haven’t had time to come back to this story mostly because of writers block and planning plot. I hope you enjoy!! Some parts of this are messy, and I didn’t pay too much attention to detail so I also apologise in advance

(I’m creating a tag list for this series to please let me know if you want to be included for future instalments!!)

The events that took place a few weeks ago had destabilised you momentarily. You made a short recovery, only lasting a week, but you still had a lot of healing to do with your lungs. You were prescript to use an inhaler as well as a wireless cannula which sat under your nose 24/7, thanks to the advanced technology on Yavin. But apart from that, any scratches or bruises had healed.

It took you a bit of time to regain your footing, you tumbled a bit the first time you tried to walk again but thankfully Omani was there to support you. As well as Kallus, who was relieved to see you were alright. Things seemed to be rigid between you though, especially after that whole kiss fiasco. But either way, he was glad you were alive.

There were rumours spreading around the base; rumours of you and the Grand Admiral. As you expected, there was images floating around; clear evidence of you attending the Imperial Gala around the holo-web. A lot of people were asking who you were and why a New Republic Politician was attending an Imperial party. You excused every question thrown at you from visitors in your ward, you didn’t want to deal with anything just yet. Not when you were just out of recovery.

Omani was by your side during your coma, as well as all the surgeries and check ups. She helped you settle into your old home back inside the base, she even made a cake which read ‘Glad you’re back, Tiscen’i’ in bright blue letters, followed by a messily drawn heart. She said that Ezra Bridger assisted her, which did draw a bit of curiosity out of you as a bit of purple illuminated her cheeks.

As for Thrawn, you thought of him but didn’t speak a word to Omani. You were worried about how he was feeling, about the whole ship wreck and the fact you literally died. You can’t remember ever saying goodbye to him, which is the one thing that made you feel most guilty. You poured your heart out to him, and he poured his heart out to you, but neither of you really said farewell before the attack finished. Did he escape? Was he alright? Was he angry? All your questions were about to be answered. But not in the way you wanted them to be.

You were escorted to a facility on a planet called Takodana. You knew why you were being sent away, you were now seen as a threat by the New Republic for what you did and who you were in contact with. Everyone seemed to be angry with you because you didn’t put a bullet through your lovers skull; the man that was causing them so much chaos.

You sat inside a prison chamber, hands bound and back pressed up against the wall which faced the bars. You felt like you were inside the imperial prison again, with Pryce screaming in your face before Thrawn showed up and whisked you away to a safe haven. How you wished that would happen now, if only it were him and not your own best friend who faced you through the bars. Kallus.

“You need to understand, we’re doing this to protect you,” He insisted with a frown, hands crossed firmly over his chest as he glared at you. You weren’t convinced.

“If you want to protect me, why am I in a prison cell with my wrists tied?” You hissed, shifting a foot and aiming it at the bars before giving it a harsh kick, causing Kallus to flinch back.

“You came into contact with an enemy, the enemy, and didn’t bother consulting the Senate before your actions, this makes you a threat in their eyes,” he replied.

“So you’re not protecting me, you’re just protecting your reputation,” You sigh, resting your head on your shoulder and coughing slightly as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Am I even going to get the inhaler and treatment I need? If you’re going to interrogate me you might as well keep me alive,” You chuckled to yourself bitterly, hands scratching your knees out of boredom. You weren’t sure what to physically do with yourself.

“You’ll be supplied with an inhaler soon, but you will be sedated to prevent any escaping,” Kallus answered your question sharply.

“Fantastic, and what about my daughter?” Your question rose another sigh out of the man standing opposite you.

“She’s under interrogation, everyone now thinks she has something to do with Thrawn, your secret is no longer safe,” Kallus looked pitiful towards you, but the last thing you wanted was his sympathy. He was supposed to be your friend, someone you thought you confided in before and after you left the Empire. He was the only person you knew for so long who you considered a friend. Now he was just a rebel.

“If they so much as touch her… I’ll kill them,” Your tone turned deadly, holding no sense of humour or casualness. Kallus stared at you with wide eyes for a brief second, looking almost astounded by your comment.

“You sound like your old self, the woman who was so cold and numb to death and killing people to get the job done… don’t let hate blind your senses, you’re better than that,” Kallus raised his voice more and more but he didn’t yell, not when others were near and possibly listening. You didn’t look at him, all you saw was red. You had reasoning for your daughters protection, for years you were the one to provide her with that, and now she has none of it. Not even Thrawn can help.

“If it means protecting my daughter, you’re damn right I’ll become that woman again,” You didn’t blink as your eyes met his, you didn’t even try and made it seem more awkward for him.

“Don’t try and relate to me Kallus, you may have known me during our time in the Empire but you’ll never understand my devotion to my family. Yes I killed, tortured and maimed many people, but that’s nothing compared to what I’ll do if I find out she’s hurt, don’t think I’m incapable” Your words were filled with poison, and your glare almost burned two holes into Kallus’ head. He stood in shock, unable to recognise the woman he knew from a few weeks ago. He didn’t respond, he only looked upon you with a saddened expression before turning on his heel and making his exit.

You were relieved he left, you weren’t sure how much longer you would talk until you’d start threatening him. It was instinctive, especially when it came to Omani. She was the only person supporting you right now. Thrawn believed you to be dead, and you could only imagine the damage he’s inflicted on the New Republic out of rage and revenge. They were the ones who caused the wreckage in the first place, they were the ones who took you away from him once more. So of course you had a reason to be angry towards them; your own people.

You knew becoming their enemy was bad, because you wouldn’t stand a chance on your own outside of the Rebel Alliance, you would wind up dead in a cantina somewhere due to a disagreement with strangers, or even worse, bounty hunters. You could only imagine what the Rebellion’s plan was for you, they’d keep you locked up and probably assassinate you for becoming an ally to the enemy. Or maybe they would let you go, or even hand you over to the Empire. You wonder if they would do the same to your daughter, you knew for a fact Thrawn would cause much more damage than you if he found out how they were treating her, especially now that everyone knew she was related to him in some kind of way. You knew the secret would come out at some point, but you didn’t expect it to be so sudden.

Omani was barely an adult and she had her own platoon of rebels, now that was all taken away from her, all because of her heritage. All because you fell in love with one of the Empire’s most feared.

You were dreading this interrogation, you were fearing for your life. You knew how these interrogations worked, they would poke and prod around you until they would eventually start electrocuting you if you wouldn’t talk. And if you still wouldn’t talk, it was either death due to exhaustion or going completely numb and forced to stay longer inside a cell. Or maybe they would simply ask you questions without any malicious torture device, maybe the rebels were still trying to strive towards a cleaner and more happier galaxy. You hoped.

-

Omani sat alone in the interrogation room, eyes fully focused ahead of her as she felt her hands twitch uncomfortably in the handcuffs that bound them together. She was relieved to see there were no robots or interrogation devices in the room, she had been lectured by you about the kind of things to prepare herself for if she were ever to get captured by the Empire. But in this case, it was her own people.

She looked with a blank stare, no emotion past her bright scarlet eyes as she turned her attention to Kallus sitting in the chair opposite her.

“We’re going to start this off with some simple questions, it would be most preferred if you could cooperate,” He nodded to the mirror, an obvious sign that someone started recording the upcoming conversation that was yet to happen.

“Get on with it,” Omani scoffed, fiddling with the handcuffs and figuring out mentally if there was any way she could break out of them.

“Omani, you’re well aware of the position you and your mother are currently in, and talking would help us get a better understanding of the full situation,” Kallus began, clearing his throat to clear the tension as the Chiss female stared him down. She certainly had her fathers thunderous glare.

“Are you, or are you not, related to Grand Admiral Thrawn?”

“I thought you said we were starting out simple with the questions?” She clenched her hands into fists, face hardening as Kallus narrowed his gaze and inwardly sighed. He said nothing, and Omani knew it would be her to speak first. She rolled her eyes and fidgeted with her hands.

“My full name is Mitth’ormani’zorva, I’m a direct descendant from that family” She murmured.

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Kallus frowned.

“He’s my father,” Omani said with a stern voice, irritation starting to rise within her more and more as time went on. “There, are you happy?”

Kallus swept by her sharp tongue and looked down at the papers in front of him. He cleared his throat once again.

“And can you explain your mother’s relationship with your father?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that one, she never really told me,” Omani told nothing but the truth and Kallus couldn’t help but believe her. He heard you tell him before that Omani never really knew your stance with her father, she only assumed you were together because you produced her.

“Then I’ll move that question to her interrogation,” Kallus scribbled a line over the question on the paper.

“Do you know your fathers whereabouts?” The blonde man looked back up at Omani and was met with a distrusted glare. She sneered, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted into a displeased frown.

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” She took her hands off from the desk separating them both and placed them safely on her lap, in an attempt to distance herself.

“And why’s that? You do realise your father is in charge of most of our destruction and loss,” Kallus raised a brow, holding the pen idly in his hand as he watched the young Chiss female.

“I don’t care, Kallus, he’s still my father and he protected me and my mother when we were in trouble, it’s only fair that I do the same” She made an attempt to slip her hands through the restraints but it was no use. If anything, it felt as though they had tightened.

“What makes you think that defending him, a war criminal, is better than defending your own people?” Kallus interjected with a loud voice, his frown deepening as he peered judgementally at the Chiss woman.

“Family is everything for Chiss, we value our blood more than we value anything else in the galaxy, what makes you think I’d throw that away? Over a war? I’m not choosing sides and I certainly don’t support the Empire, but I support him,” Omani answered, her voice growing louder the more she spoke.

“You used to work for the Empire, Kallus. You used to torture and maim people and think it was the right thing to do, what makes you any different from my father?” She inquired.

“Because your father cannot see the truth and continues to cause havoc everywhere he goes, if anything, he refuses to see that what he’s doing is wrong,” He slammed his hand onto the table and startled Omani abruptly. Her glare burned into Kallus’ skull and for a second he thought it was Thrawn looking at him. Their appearances were near identical, he had flashbacks of the days Thrawn would scold him for failing missions, and facing Omani was no different.

This was going to take longer than expected.

-

Omani was escorted to a different room with steam coming off her, she was so angry. She never wanted to punch someone so badly, never mind insult or yell at them. Throughout the entire interrogation, she kept her composure and didn’t lash out or make a scene. That was beneath her.

The room she was placed in seemed to be a communication room. Her comm device was on one of the shelves near the door, but one of her hands was cuffed to the leg of a table with all kinds of computers atop of it, making it near impossible for her to move. She groaned quietly, wondering if there was any way she could move the table without making much noise.

Omani needed to get that comm device, and she needed a way to contact Thrawn. Fast. She felt that her dad was the only person who could really help in this situation, considering she didn’t trust anyone else. The ghost crew weren’t available, and Kallus was no longer a friend. Ezra Bridger gave her his number, but not exactly for this scenario. She had no other choice.

The young Chiss woman tried to slip down the seat, stretching her leg as far as it could go and trying to reach the device with her heel. But with no avail, she cursed in her native tongue and gave it another few tries. She barely scuffed the edge of the shelf, and her muscles eventually began to ache.

Omani stood up from her seat, turning to the table she was attached to and very gently picking up equipment from the pile on the surface. She had to get moving somehow, and she only needed to remove a few things so she could move the table along, just enough to reach the device. The equipment was heavy, and she could only pick it up with one hand because the other was restricted by the cuffs.

Eventually, she could move the table and make little noise. She had to make sure the legs didn’t scrape loudly against the floor, or else someone would come in to check on her. She had to be cautious.

Omani very carefully shuffled along the ground, gently dragging the table with her. She winced every time it got a little loud, but proceeded with her plan regardless.

She strained as she reached for the shelf, successfully grabbed her comm device and immediately turning it on. It started up and the screen illuminated blue, before the letters popped up out of the device and hovered above her wrist.

From that point onward, she wasn’t sure what to do. How could she contact Thrawn if she didn’t know how contact details? Maybe she could find an official number on the holoweb and go on from there. Every official imperial had a professional number, right?

After she searched her fathers name into the holoweb, multiple news articles popped up about his recent behaviour on the war. She didn’t read them, she couldn’t have her opinion knocked down now. Omani just needed his help, she didn’t have time to think about his actions or opinions.

She looked at his details, hacking into a private server, with some training she received as a child, and spotted an imperial number which seemed to direct her to an ominous phone line after she clicked on it. She held her breath sharply, heart beating rapidly in her chest as she sat quietly on one side of the phone line. Omani patiently waited for some kind of greeting, eagerly chewing on her nails impatiently.

“You have dialled the personal number of Admiral Thrawn, state your business and the reason for your call” A robotic voice spoke on the end of the phone, Omani believed it to be a service droid of some kind.

“My name is Omani, can you please tell Thrawn I asked for him? Please, I’m a close relative” She didn’t say anything else, nothing more to give away personal details. The droid was silent for a few moments, but she could hear the machinery in its legs move. She wondered if it was going to Thrawn.

“He will be with you shortly” Jackpot.

Omani sat in anticipation, barely able to stay still with nerves as she continued chewing her nails and damaging the skin, too occupied to care. The line was quiet for too long, and she found herself feeling rather claustrophobic. The walls felt as though they were caving in, and it didn’t help that she was in such a small dull room. Her mouth went dry, and she couldn’t move her tongue since it was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

But eventually, the line picked up at last.

“Omani?” His tone was so full of concern and confusion, but she sighed in relief as she heard her fathers voice.

“Tisci, thank the maker, I didn’t think you’d pick up” She felt a sob bubble up in her throat, but she swallowed it down and focused on getting the message across to Thrawn.

“What’s happening? Is everything alright?” Thrawn couldn’t have sounded more stern, barely having spoke to her but already so protective. Thrawn never had a full conversation or even a greeting with his daughter, so he was happy, but terribly worried for the reason of her calling him.

“You need to help us, Tiscen’i and I are in trouble” Omani done her best not to yell, worried in case any rebels were nearby.

“Your mother? I thought she-“

“No, she was in a coma for a while and has almost had a full recovery, but the rebellion have us imprisoned” The Chiss woman knew her father wasn’t aware of her mothers survival, she expected a long pause from his side of the line, and that’s exactly what she got.

It took Thrawn a good minute to process that you were, in fact, very much alive and healthy, and it took all his strength not to burst into tears. His chest hurt and his vision went blurry, thank the maker, you were alive.

“The rebellion have you imprisoned? What do you mean?” He took a while to answer back, voice cracked a little as he spoke, but neither of them cared to mention it.

“They found out about Tiscen’i attending that imperial ball, they believe she’s been conspiring with the Empire, and specifically you” Omani kept her voice quiet when she heard footsteps in the distance, although they weren’t approaching her destination.

“I’m scared for her safety, Tisci, I need your help,” The young woman’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed down a cry, controlling her breathing before a panic attack occurred. “We’re on Takodana, I’ll send you my coordinates” She tapped into her holo device on her wrist and sent the exact coordinates of her position to whatever device he was using. Thrawn received them a few seconds later, barely able to register anything his daughter was desperately telling him.

He was overwhelmed.

“Takodana? I can’t say I’ve heard of that planet before” Thrawn inquired seemingly to himself after he wrote down Omani’s coordinates.

“There’s a rebel base camp, it would be best if you didn’t bring an entire imperial fleet with you” Omani allowed herself to chuckle, and it made her father smile just for a split second.

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee anything Omani, I don’t want the Empire knowing about this” His tone was stern, he needed to keep his personal life split from the Empire because he didn’t want his family involved in any way.

“Please just do something, Kallus and everyone else is against Tiscen’i, she’s got no one” Despair laced itself in Omani’s voice and she struggled holding back her emotions.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do” Thrawn sighed.

“I have to go,” Omani whispered after she heard footsteps approaching the communication room. “Talk soon” And with that, she hung up at the speed of light, the door opening a few seconds after. It was an average rebel coming in to check on her, oblivious to the device around her wrist as she hid it unsuspectingly by folding her arms across her chest. She glared up at the rebel, and watched as he turned around and left the room, comming Kallus or some other higher up on the base to tell them her status.

Little did they know, trouble was on the way.

[halfyourheart]

Hej, I'm really bad at finding fanfics that I actually enjoy. So I was wondering if you knew any 5sos fanfics where it's just cute stuff. Like just two people obsessed with each other. Some kissing and fluff maybe :)) Sorry if this is too random, but it was worth a try

hi hi hi anon! 💗 

Sorry for the freaking late response, life has been busy 🥲

This might be stuff that you’ve already read, so I apologise in advance but onto the fluff (in no particular order)! 

(I assumed since you requested some kissing and fluff that we were aiming for a general and/or teen rating - lemme know if that’s wrong 💛) 

(also didn’t know what length you were looking for - so some have a bit of plot and some are shorter one-shots 💗) 

I really just went through some of my favourite fic writers and picked some personal favourite fics with your requests in mind :D (also they’re very luke centric because… yeah)(but every writer has fluff related to another pairing I’m pretty sure so check them out!)

the essentials - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise

Pairing: Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Words: 1677

Summary: They’ve only been on tour for a couple weeks, but there’s already stray glitter littering the bottom of Luke’s black toiletry bag. 

I immediately thought of this fic, because it’s one of the softest things I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It’s friendship, but that doesn’t deter from the fluff! and it never will! it’s very sweet to explore luke’s relationship with makeup, michael’s relationship with luke, and Michaels relationship with luke’s relationship with makeup! 

Putting on makeup is such a personal thing. It’s a fun little ritual that makes you feel good and sharing that with another person is such a lovely thing !! like here is something I love !! and I am sharing that with you !! it’s an extension of me !! and michael actively taking part even if he’s complaining about it (I mean banter is their love language so) is just AH. 

I think about this fic a lot. 

crowning glory - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1000

Summary: It’s not unusual for Luke to find somewhere to nap pre-soundcheck if they have time, curling his too-long limbs up into an impressively small croissant of Luke Hemmings, his curly head just poking out the side

Napping with someone, or in this case, one person is napping while the other is just in their presence, is just so much casual intimacy, which is my kryptonite, that it makes my head explode. 

This is a routine that they’ve established !! meaning it’s repetitive and something that comforts them both !! they feel safe enough to let their guards down and just exist in each other’s space. Calum doesn’t want to talk to anyone so he just sits with sleeping luke and pets him. That is the softest shit and it makes me want to sob. 

This is short and sweet and the gratuitous descriptions of luke, specifically his curls, will send me to an early grave. 

stolen shirts/heart - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience 

Words: 6132

Summary: There's a sort of inevitability that comes with being in this band. A set of concrete circumstances that never seems to change. They annoy each other to hell, they know every last thing about each other, Calum is in love with Luke, and Luke always steals Calum's clothes. 

That's the way it is. That's the way they all know it is, except maybe Luke, who might be ignorant to the third thing on the list.

Fluff, clothes sharing, and calum being obsessed with Luke, what more could you ask for? 

I like the passage of time being marked by what items of clothing Luke has stolen from Calum. That’s how the calendar should be 😌 All events can be related to this !! and I will die on this hill. 

sweet and salty - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 9290

Summary: “We could get a bunch of stuff to try? See what’s good before we commit to buying anything in bulk?”

“That’s actually not bad,” Luke admits. “Go to the store, grab some things that catch our eye, try them out…” A fantastic idea is formulating in his head. An excuse to spend even more time with Calum. 

“We could make a night of it? Like have a full-on sleepover? Really surround ourselves in the sorority girl vibe.” He chuckles to ensure Calum is aware this is very much a joke. But also a very serious suggestion. But also definitely a joke.

Frat boys cake buying an assortment of bath bombs, face masks, nail polish, ONESIES, etc, and doing stereotypical sleepover things in the name of science (well in the name of making a gift basket for a sorority)? Iconic. 

I love you humour. I love you Luke jk unless-ing the whole time. I love you idiots in love trope. I love you frat boy!cake. I love you snapbacks (something I never thought I would ever say). I love you casual flirting that constantly confuses them because what are they! 

Cake is ridiculous in this and I love it !! 

I leave you with this snippet, “Has Luke’s friendship with Calum just been one long series of dates, and somewhere in there they just forgot they could be kissing?” 

you wanna be closer - kaleidoscopeminds /@kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Words: 5063

Summary: In hindsight, Calum probably should have seen it coming. In hindsight, he supposes he was incredibly obtuse about it. And in hindsight, he wishes he had pulled his head out of his ass earlier (thanks Michael), so he could have been doing this earlier. He’s not dwelling on hindsight though when his brain is occupied with other things, specifically the way that Luke’s mouth feels against his own lips.

Five times Luke and Calum touch platonically, and once when Calum realises maybe it was never platonic at all.

Essentially a love letter to physical affection, my beloved !! Physical affection, whether platonic or romantic, is my shit !! Hugs!! forehead kisses!! hand holding!! legs touching just to remind the person that you’re next to them!! sharing space!!   just existing together !! 

As a 5+1 fic the scenes are little pockets of lovely moments with physical affection!! Fluffy touches!! 

The reminiscing in this fic about the progression of their relationship makes me very soft but also incredibly feral. 

Off-screen - allsassnoclass / @allsassnoclass

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin

Rating: General Audiences 

Words: 3038

Summary: Now that classes are being taught from home due to the pandemic, students are getting a glimpse into Professor Irwin's home life, especially when his mysterious husband keeps interrupting class.

An outsider POV about secret husbands lashton? I LOVE IT. I love an outsider POV because you get to see a pairings dynamic in a way they themselves probably don’t see. You see little subconscious things they don’t notice until pointed out! love that stuff :D Can’t get enough of people watching honestly !! 

and what if you’d never smiled at me - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 14910

Summary: He opens up the loaf from the cut, exposing the pale inside that was previously encased by the dark crust. He wonders if you were to split people open whether they would match their appearance; he worries that his own exterior might be a little too much like the hard crust of his sourdough. Not Luke though. He’s pretty sure people like Luke are as soft and golden on the inside as they are on the outside. x Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

I had to include a bakery au so I just added it!! I think it fills the obsessed prompt pretty well. Pining idiots my beloved. 

These are just some that I love! I didn’t want to go overboard because I feel like I’ve already done that agahsjsjsjsz

I would check out all the writers I’ve listed on AO3 because I’m sure there’s way more fluff, various ratings, pairings, etc. I’m just too focused on Luke 🧍‍♂️🥲

I hope this is kind of what you had in mind ! 💛

[sankyeom]

i spy with my little eye | l.jy

pairings: lee juyeon x reader (she/her/hers pronouns) genre: spy au, rivals to lovers warnings: some descriptions of fighting, injuries, explosives, and guns summary: in which the company you work for is the main rival of juyeon’s company, and you’re known for always being one step ahead of him; even when it comes to realising his feelings for you (based on this timestamp that i wrote before the stealer came out) word count: 8.3k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“I hope you understand how important it is that we get our hands on that file,” your boss, Mrs Kwon, explained to you after briefing you on your next mission. Your agency was the leading organisation in espionage, amassing over 30 countries. “The encryption on it is extremely advanced, so we’ll need it back undamaged so our cyber division can recover the files,” she finished, closing her tablet and glancing at you. “My understanding is that CKR have their best agents on the job as we speak.”

You nodded, “I’m familiar with them,” you told your boss, having come across the agents from CKR on several occasions, especially Juyeon. “They won’t be a problem.”

Your boss gave you a curt nod in agreement, handing her tablet off to her assistant. “You must know how important this is, Y/n. I cannot stress it enough. I chose you for this mission because you have proven yourself to be loyal and competent after the three years you’ve been here. I trust you to complete your mission well; this cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“I understand,” you assured your boss. “I won’t give anybody the chance.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mrs Kwon nodded. “Now, the gala is starting in six hours. I suggest you stop by costume and weaponry before you go. We wouldn’t you to stand out or be unprepared.”

You paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Maybe that’s exactly what we want…” you trailed off as you exited your boss’s office and made your way to the costume department.

You had purposefully made contact with the head of governmental cyber security multiple weeks prior to the gala. Knowing that he had the key to hacking into governmental firewalls and protections meant that you couldn’t let it slip through your fingers that night.

Mr Kim had recognised you immediately, since your stunning red outfit couldn’t be missed. You had clearly made the right decision to wear it, because Mr Kim couldn’t keep his eyes off of you the whole evening.  

“Do you have eyes on the target?” Sangyeon’s voice rang through Juyeon’s earpiece. Juyeon had been undercover for the duration of the gala that evening, staying low-key in a formal but simple suit in order to blend in with the crowd. Sangyeon was surveilling from a getaway car parked nearby for a quick exit. Not only was Sangyeon the team leader, he was also their best and most efficient driver.

As subtly as possible, Juyeon placed a hand on his earpiece to reply to his team leader. “Affirmative. Exiting main ballroom through the North door,” Juyeon informed as he followed the short man who was speedily walking through the crowd; the man looked flustered and slightly tipsy, despite being the head of cyber security for the South Korean government.

“I trust you’ll secure the package and not let it slip like last time,” Juyeon could hear Kevin tease through his earpiece. He spotted Kevin sipping on champagne in the corner of the ballroom, raising his glass to him to further poke fun at Juyeon’s previous failures.

Juyeon rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he retorted, placing his glass down on the nearest table and following the target out of the ballroom.

Before he could exit the room, somebody stood before him – dressed in a stunning red outfit that could capture attention from ten miles away – and blocked the doorway. You stood in before Juyeon, an eyebrow raised as ran your eyes down his body. Most of the time when you met him, you were both dressed in your all-black protective gear; it was a nice change to see your handsome rival in a black suit, hair styled to perfection.

“You clean up pretty good for someone who works for the second best agency in the world,” you taunted as you dragged your eyes up to meet Juyeon’s eyes.

Juyeon gulped.

He had always been attracted to you, and this had been his downfall.

The two of you worked for competing agencies and were always put on the same missions, being the best and most experienced agents at your agencies. However, nearly every time Juyeon came close to completing his mission, you already had it in the bag. You were clever, stunning, and always a step ahead of him. You also knew that Juyeon was fond of you, and you used it to your advantage whenever possible.

Juyeon couldn’t find it in him to hate you for it.

“I don’t have time for this,” Juyeon said, trying to sound as passive and bored as possible. By the smirk on your lips, he could tell you weren’t convinced, causing Juyeon to falter slightly. “I’m-“

You pulled a USB stick out of your pocket and dangled it in front of his face. Juyeon’s eyes narrowed, and he could hear Kevin and Sangyeon cursing in his earpiece. Dread filled him, overpowered only by the adrenaline he felt whenever he was in your presence.

You had beat him to it, again.

“-looking for this?” you finished his sentence, titling your head to the side to feign innocence. Then, you grinned, tucking it back into one of your pockets safely. “You should get to know your targets better,” you criticised with a smirk. “Maybe it’ll get you somewhere instead of trying to sneak up on them for the first time the night of a celebration.”

Juyeon narrowed his eyes at you, unsure of what to say. “That outfit draws too much attention, how did you manage to get it before I did?” he wondered instead.

You shrugged. “Sometimes you need the target’s attention,” you reminded him, leisurely stepping closer to Juyeon and leaning in so you lips were next to his ear. “Poor Mister Kim kept his eyes on me and made it easy to snatch this,” you patted your pocket. “Right from under his nose.”

“Abort,” Sangyeon told Juyeon through his earpiece. “Get out of there. We need to regroup for Plan B before we’re out of time.”

Seeing how worked up Juyeon was at your victory only made it more enjoyable for you. Before Juyeon could exit through the door, you bushed your lips against his cheek in an almost-kiss. “See you for round 2,” you told him with a wink, leaving Juyeon behind with his heart pounding erratically as you disappeared through the door.

“What the hell happened?” Sangyeon asked once Juyeon and Kevin were back in the car. “You told me you had eyes on him.”

“I did,” Juyeon snapped, trying his best to calm his temper. Realising how rude he sounded, he softened. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “Y/n got to him before I even realised. She probably knew his routine by then, maybe even personally came into contact with-“

“I don’t want to hear about Y/n again,” Sangyeon interrupted, sighing. “What are you doing, Juyeon? You’re the best operative at the agency, yet the same person keeps intervening on all of your missions. It’s making you look incompetent, and our team look weak.”

“He’s doing his best,” Kevin piped up to defend Juyeon, who slumped in his seat. “I was in the room, and you had surveillance on Mr Kim the whole time. Y/n got past all of us, not just Juyeon. She’s just too good at her job.”

“You’re right,” Sangyeon allowed. “I’m sorry, Juyeon. I shouldn’t have blamed you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Juyeon mumbled. “I get it. You’re just looking out for the team.”

When they returned back to CKR headquarters, Sangyeon called for the whole team to gather so they could put Plan B into motion.

“We know where the USB is,” Sangyeon explained. “Y/n is too far from her headquarters to get there by tonight, she’ll have settled somewhere nearby and will be waiting to get transportation back tomorrow. We have to intercept them before that happens.” He decided.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Sunwoo, the intelligence analyst, wondered. He was one of the youngest members on the team, but was no less competent than the older members. “If Y/n has custody of the USB, we’re hardly going to be able to pry it out of her fingers.”

“No,” Sangyeon agrees. “She’s only going to hand it over to people that she trusts,” he added. “So, we need to become people that she trusts.”

“Pose as her team,” Jacob, one of the main intelligence operatives on the team, realised. “If she thinks that we are her transportation, she’ll have no problem handing over the USB.”

“Exactly,” Sangyeon agrees. “We need to have Chanhee run cryptography as soon possible. From what we understand, the information on the USB is timed. We only have 72 to decrypt and access it before it self-destructs and erases everything. And we need that information to be kept out of the wrong hands.”

“She’s not just going to get into any car and hand over the USB to somebody she doesn’t know,” Hyunjae pointed out from where he sat, spinning himself in circles on one of the wheeled office chairs. “I’m sure they have a system where she gets the licence plates so she knows she’s in the right car.”

“It’s a small window, but we can make it,” Sangyeon was sure. “After we know the message has been transmitted, we take down the driver and send in Juyeon to pose as her driver. She’ll recognise him as soon as she gets into the car, so we have to act fast.”

Juyeon was unsure. “I don’t know…” he trailed off, thinking. “It seems too simple,” he admitted. Juyeon had dealt with you enough to know that nothing got by you so easily.

“Simple is best sometimes,” Sangyeon retorted, crossing his arms. “If we think about this too much, or create an extravagant plan, I think Y/n’ll see it coming from a mile away.”

Juyeon nodded. “Alright, leader. I’ll trust you on this,” he decided, knowing that Sangyeon had been operating for far longer than Juyeon had.

The next night, after the sky had darkened, you packed up in your lavish suite at the hotel a few blocks down from where the event was held last night. You were staying down low so that you could get to headquarters as soon as possible. You knew that Mrs Kwon was right when she said that the information on that USB stick was incredibly important; it also had a timer on it and wouldn’t stay relevant for long. There were only around 48 hours left on the information.

After receiving a text from your usual driver saying he was a block away, you secured all of your belongings and tucked the USB into a hidden compartment of your black cargo pants. Tying your hair back, you made your way out of the room and left your key at the reception. They already knew who you were and took it wordlessly, allowing you to slip out the revolving door to wait for your car in the back alleyway.

As the familiar black SUV came rolling around the corner, you smiled and headed over to sit down in the back. “Good evening Phil,” you greeted, getting in and moving to buckle your seatbelt.

The familiar click of a gun made you freeze in place, hands on your seatbelt as you glanced up to see Juyeon sitting in the driver’s seat. “Oh, hi,” you greeted casually, as if your biggest competitor wasn’t just sitting in a car he had abducted. “Nice to see you in more casual clothes. Do you think you could step on it? I’m kind of on a time crunch, here,” you said.

Juyeon narrowed his eyes. “Stay right there,” he told you, trying not to fumble with his gun. He didn’t want to have to harm you in any way, so he hoped for his own sake that you’d be compliant.

You rolled your eyes. “How is it that I’m always one step ahead of you?” you wondered. Quick as a flash, you lifted your leg and kicked the gun out of Juyeon’s hand, taking his surprise as a chance to grab the gun for yourself and point it at him.

Juyeon cursed, freezing in place. He should have known that the threat of a gun wasn’t going to scare you; you were better trained in hand-to-hand combat anyway. “Get out of the car,” you told him in a slow voice, looking at him through narrowed eyes. Juyeon could see the hurt that lingered in them, and guilt filled his gut at the realisation that you somehow felt betrayed by him.

“Y/n,” Juyeon began, trying to convince you otherwise.

“Do as I say, Juyeon,” you replied, opening your car door and slowly following him out. You realised that the narrow alleyway behind the hotel you were staying in provided the perfect place for someone to hijack your car. “Now, what exactly do you think that you’re doing?” you wondered, motioning for Juyeon to step away from the car.

“Y/n, just listen,” Juyeon pleaded. “I know this looks bad, but I just-”

Before he could finish, a giant force threw the two of you into the air. The force of an explosive going off in your car.

Juyeon hit the ground hard, winded from the explosion and coughing as smoke and fire enveloped the black SUV. You had also been thrown to the ground, but your closer proximity to the car meant that you had suffered worse injuries than Juyeon. Both your side and wrist had hit the ground at bad angles during your fall, your head spinning as a result from the impact.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, coughing on the ground. You had a ringing in your right ear, which had been facing the car when the blast went off, and were struggling to properly get up due to the injury your ribs had apprehended during the explosion.

Civilians had started running away from the surrounding area, terrified. “You just tried to kill me, you asshole!” you exclaimed, horrified at Juyeon’s approach of getting the USB stick from you. Explosives? Really? “What did I do ever do to you?”

“That wasn’t my explosive,” Juyeon snapped in response.

“You pointed a gun at me,” you retorted, coughing. “Why should I believe that you didn’t try to kill me?”

“We need you alive and you know it. Besides, why would I blow up a car that I was planning on driving?” he added, slowly getting to his knees and attempting to stand up.

You let out a shallow breath, realising what this meant for you.

Your boss, Mrs Kwon, had sent a car with a timed explosive in it.

To kill you.

Had Juyeon not hijacked the car, you and your usual driver Phil would have been dead on the way back to headquarters. Police sirens neared you, and you did your best to drag your feet up.

“We need to go,” you murmured, Juyeon trying to help you up as best as he could. “Now,” you added firmly, wincing as you used your non-injured hand to take Juyeon’s arm. Head spinning, you did your best to adjust to your surroundings.

“I know a place,” Juyeon suggested.

Unsure, you glanced up at him. “And why should I trust you?” you asked.

Juyeon paused, eyes softening at the sight of your injured and scratched body. He sighed, “You know why,” his eyes implying even more than his words did.

And you did know.

Ever since you and Juyeon started meeting during your assignments and missions, the attraction between the two of you was clear. Competing against one another had only added to the heightened emotions and energy between the two of you, and when Juyeon realised he had fallen for you, you were once again ahead of him.

You knew the second he was emotionally invested in his relationship with you. But someone as honest and expressive as Juyeon, almost to the point where he seemed innocent, couldn’t hide how he felt.You had never used his feelings for you against him, and you had never indicated that you felt the same either.

“Besides, what other choice do you have?” Juyeon added. “Mrs Kwon just tried to kill you,” he had also caught on. “I’m the best shot you’ve got at hiding out until it’s safe for you again.”

You weighed out your options. “Okay,” you gave in, mostly because you could barely walk on your own. And partially because your gut was telling you to trust Juyeon. “Where are we going?”

After a short argument about whether or not you would let Juyeon fireman carry you, you had won the fight and did your best to hide how badly your ribs were really injured, holding your tongue and diligently following Juyeon. You had sustained many injuries from missions in the past, and you were quite sure that your ribs were just badly bruised and not fractured.

Juyeon turned on the lights to his apartment, helping you over to his sofa. “This is my place,” he explained. It wasn’t too far from where the blast went off, and it was the only safe place Juyeon could think of letting the two of you hide out. He went into the kitchen and rifled through his drawers for his first-aid kit.

“I thought you were just going to take me to your headquarters,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you?”

Juyeon paused his search, spotting the first aid kit and pulling it out quietly. “I don’t know,” he replied, sighing. “You’re hurt and I can’t take you to the hospital because we’re spies and I’m not trying to let you bleed out or anything,” he added, kneeling in front of you and tending to your wounds. He had clearly looked after his own injuries before in the past, as you often had to do after missions, so you let him help you as the two of you sat in silence.

You had always known that Juyeon was handsome. The first time you met him, it was the first thing you noticed about him; his sharp features, small eyes and narrow nose. Something about the combination of his characteristics made him more stunning than you could comprehend.

“Stop staring at me,” Juyeon mumbled, sounding more shy than teasing under your stare. “It’s making me nervous.”

You rose an eyebrow. “I didn’t think spies got nervous,” you replied.

Juyeon paused his handiwork to meet your eyes, an eyebrow raised. “We don’t. I can disarm a bomb anytime. Get information out of the least willing witnesses. But you. You make me nervous,” he retorted. His words caused your breath to catch in your chest, eyes widening slightly at his candour.

You allowed Juyeon to finish tending to your wounds in silence, thinking better than to provoke him again. You weren’t sure what you would say if he responded to your questions like that again, so you decided to not say anything at all. When he finished, you thanked him quietly and let him wrap your torso to support the injury on your ribs. Silently, you watched him tend to his own, much milder, wounds.

“You’re very soft,” you observed as Juyeon quietly put his first-aid kit away and brought you some water. He was far more graceful than you had expected him to be. “The way you move and handle yourself. I know you’re stealthy because of your job, but your movements are very controlled and elegant.”

Juyeon took a seat next to you, handing you a glass of water. Despite everything the two of you had gone through, it felt very comfortable and natural to sit with him like that. “I used to be a dancer,” Juyeon said. You perked up at his confession. “When I was younger. It was all I wanted to do.”

“I can see you as a dancer,” you said, tilting your head slightly, as if imagining Juyeon standing on a large stage and performing. “You have that air of control about you; like you do a lot with your body,” Juyeon hummed. Feeling the need to level with him, you opened up more. “I used to want to be a magician.”

Juyeon burst out in laughter. “You’re kidding,” he accused in disbelief.

“I’m dead serious,” you swore. “I wanted to be a magician. Not a real wizard or someone with real powers, I just wanted to convince people that I could do magic,” you explained.

Juyeon perked up at your words. “A magician,” he murmured, as if trying to picture you with a top hat and a fake wand as a child. “I see that. You always have something up your sleeve whenever we’re on the same mission.” Juyeon recalled.

You smiled. “Sorry about that.”

Juyeon’s eyes shimmered with amusement. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you agreed reluctantly. “It’s one of the few talents I have. Other than elite espionage.”

Juyeon laughed. “God, you’re good at your job,” he sighed. “How is it that you beat me every single time we have the same mission?” he wondered, giving up on trying to pretend like he didn’t know you were the better spy. “Level with me on this. Every single time.”

“I’m good at reading people,” you shrug. “After a while, I got to know how you thought and how you problem solved. Then, it just became a matter of being a step ahead of you.”

“Which you always are,” Juyeon shook his head in disbelief. “Right when I’m about to act, you’ve already finished the job.”

“Like I said, magic tricks and espionage are my only talents,” you reminded him. “It just comes easily to me. Some people are great painters. I’m great at… physical combat? Logistics? Fooling people?”

“I think you’re an overachiever,” Juyeon mentioned it so casually that you actually laughed.

“Maybe so,” you mused, a grin playing on your lips. “Or I just really like winning.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Juyeon said, nodding to himself. “Everything between you and I is a competition, and you always win.”

“Not everything between us is a competition,” you whispered.

Juyeon smiled slightly, closed-lipped and slightly forced. “I wish that were true,” he replied.

You supposed he was right. In terms of your careers as spies, most of the times you met it was due to having the same mission. This meant that a large part of what made up your relationship was the competitive drive you felt whenever the two of you were together.

Perhaps that was why you tried so hard to deny the fact that you returned his feelings for you.

You sighed. “I wish that I never knew you were a spy,” you mumbled, hugging your legs and resting your head atop of your knees, your glass of water set on the coffee table. “I wish that you and I met at,” you thought about it. “A coffee shop. Or university. Or somewhere else, I don’t know.”

Juyeon nodded in agreement, following suit and mirroring the position you were in, resting his chin on his knees. “Me too,” he agreed. “I wish that I didn’t have to hide you here. Hide you from your horrible boss Mrs Kwon, and my team…” Juyeon groaned. “My team. Oh god, I have no idea what I’m going to tell them.”

“Right,” you recalled. “This was your mission. To get information from me,” you said, the thought making you pout subconsciously. “I’m a mission.”

“You’re not a mission,” Juyeon denied. “You were a part of my mission.”

“Two hours ago, you were pointing a gun at my head,” you reminded Juyeon, raising an eyebrow. “I’m a mission, Juyeon.”

“You’re not,” Juyeon insisted. “You’re… special to me. You’re not an object or an assignment. You’re a person.”

“This is so messed up,” you buried your face in your knees, willing everything to disappear around you. “Up until this morning, you were just the guy that I flirted with during missions.”

“That’s all I was to you?”

“No,” you admitted. “But that’s all our relationship was. Now, I’m on the run from my boss, who’s trying to kill me, and you’re hiding from your team, who assigned you to basically kidnap me for intel.”

“Why do you work for her?” Juyeon wondered. “She’s dangerous, and you’re doing missions for her.”

You shook your head. “You don’t get it,” you told him. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then simplify it.”

“Drop it, Juyeon.”

“Why?” he exclaimed. “You’re putting yourself in danger for somebody who wants you dead, and you don’t want to tell me why?”

“You’re right, I don’t want to tell you why.”

“Fine,” Juyeon huffed, purposely moving his body so he wasn’t facing you head on anymore. “I just saved your life and you still don’t trust me.”

“Do you trust me?” you retaliated.

Juyeon’s silence was enough to answer that one.

“Then we’re back to square one,” you rolled your eyes, moving your legs to stand up. “How-“ you cut yourself off with a cry of pain, having forgotten how badly you injured your ribs in the car blast.

You fell back against the sofa, Juyeon leaping to his feet to help you sit back down. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice rushed as his eyes flitted across your body, searching for any visible sign of pain.

Your eyes clenched closed as your severely bruised ribs throbbed, the sharp pain slowly fading now that you weren’t moving your upper body. When you opened your eyes again, you met Juyeon’s deep brown gaze. His expression had softened when he realised you were no longer in immense pain, and his close proximity made you glance down to his thin, pink lips.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” Juyeon whispered, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he spoke. “Is that okay?” you nodded, not finding the words to reply to him; drawing him in with your eyes.

He leant forward, bracing his hands on the sofa on either side of your body, lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and his touch felt familiar despite it being your first kiss with him. You exhaled a sigh through your nose, relishing in how close Juyeon was when he normally felt so out of reach from you. Pulling him closer, you threaded your fingers gently through his hair, parting your lips to deepen the kiss.

This closeness, the fact that Juyeon was within your grasp, caused warmth to blossom in your chest and stomach. For as long as you could remember, your attraction to and feelings for Juyeon had always been pushed to the back of your mind; a fantasy you would never reach. And here you were, wrapped in his embrace.

Waking up in Juyeon’s bed was heaven.

Of course, your whole body felt sore from the impact of hitting the ground after the explosion, and you still couldn’t stand up properly without it hurting due to your ribs. But still, you felt satisfied.

“Hey,” Juyeon greeted, running his fingers through your hair, eyes bleary from sleep. “You okay?” You nodded, wordlessly tracing shapes onto his t-shirt covered chest, not wanting the moment to end. “Your wounds look like they’re closing,” he mused, searching your body. “I think a shower might be due.”

After setting you up with a towel and clothes to change into, you stripped your t-shirt off – having gotten rid of your cargo pants for comfort the night before – and made your way into the bathroom to shower.

Your reflection looked awful.

You had several cuts, bruises, and lacerations on your body from the impact, and you ribs were terribly swollen after you unwrapped it, blue bruises forming across it. Wincing, you hopped into the shower and scrubbed all of the dirt and dried blood from your skin. After using Juyeon’s shampoo and body wash, your chest felt warm and cozy as his scent filled your nose.

After lying in bed for a few extra minutes, Juyeon decided to clean up a little. He made his bed and picked up your clothes from where you had carelessly dropped them in his living room the night before. He paused, feeling the cold touch of a small metallic object in one of the inner pockets.

The USB.

Juyeon hesitated, not sure what to do with it.

A part of him wanted desperately to pocket the small device, a deep desire within him begging him to finish his mission and do the right thing. He knew that the USB falling into the wrong hands would be detrimental to the safety and wellbeing of many government officials and innocent citizens.

Another part of him wanted to tuck it back into the pocket he found it in. The information on the USB could only be encrypted for a short period of time. If Juyeon did nothing, then the information would disappear in 30 hours. He would preserve the progress he made with you the night before and  could make other plans to protect you from Mrs Kwon.

Juyeon didn’t realise how long he held the USB in his palm. Your footsteps snapped him out of his daydream.

“You found it,” you said, too shocked to continue towel-drying your hair. You had gotten changed into one of Juyeon’s long sleeved t-shirts, sweatpants, and socks after your shower. Had it not been for the situation at hand, Juyeon might have told you how stunning you looked in his clothes. “What are you gonna do with it?” you asked him, biting your bottom lip.

Juyeon glanced up, stepping towards you. “Nothing,” he replied, pressing the USB into your hands. He closed your fingers over it, covering your closed fist with his own hand. “I don’t need to do anything about it.”

The moment was ruined as the front door to Juyeon’s apartment was kicked down, several agents and elite spies from Mrs Kwon’s organisation making their way into the living room, guns pointed at the two of you. “Minho,” you said calmly, recognising your team leader.

Minho’s eyes had hardened as he observed the position you and Juyeon were in. “What were you thinking?” Minho asked, his voice unnervingly calm. “Why would you come here with him instead of going back to headquarters? You had a mission, Y/n.”

“She was hurt,” Juyeon defended your actions. “Her car exploded just metres away from her. I wasn’t just going to bring her back to your headquarters after your boss tried to blow her up.”

Minho watched the way you quickly pulled your hand out from under Juyeon’s, raising both of your hands in the air. Juyeon followed your actions, curious about why you were surrendering so easily.

“This is interesting,” Minho mused. “Is this why you keep failing your missions?” he asked Juyeon, tilting his head and mocking him with his words.

“What are you talking about?” Juyeon asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re purposefully failing so that Y/n can succeed?” Minho said it in a teasing tone, as if he was revealing Juyeon’s crush during recess in the playground.

“No,” Juyeon denied. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“She can’t be that good of a spy,” Minho retorted. “She’s beat you out on seventy eight missions over four years.” You remained silent, unsure of what to say with so many guns pointed in your direction. “How long have you been together for?”

“Stop it,” you interrupted. “Are you going to fight me, Minho?” you asked.

Minho had been your team leader for almost three years. You had each other’s backs, and the fact that he and the rest of the spies from your organisation were pointing guns at you didn’t sit so well with you.

“I might,” Minho admitted. “If you don’t hand over the USB.”

“I can’t do that,” you said. “Mrs Kwon tried to kill me for this, I’m afraid I won’t just let go of it so easily,” you admitted.

“Please,” Minho rolled his eyes. “That car blew up after your little boyfriend stole it from Phil. He clearly planted it. Why would Mrs Kwon put an explosive in your car? You’re her best agent, and she wants those files,” he recalled. “Forgive me if I just don’t buy it, Y/n.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “I forgive you.”

You turned, nodding at Juyeon and balanced your weight across your feet before you leapt at Minho, swinging your arm in a punch. Juyeon followed suit, turning to kick the guns out of your colleague’s hands and ducking under their jabs. You took on Minho alone, since he was the team leader and the most experienced spy on the team other than yourself.

Usually when you fought with Minho, it was sparring during training; honing in your skills and building each other up. Now, you were fighting to get away from somebody you used to consider close to a friend. “You sold out,” you accused Minho, kicking his gun away from where he had dropped it during your fight.

“So what if I did?” Minho replied, raising an eyebrow. “You think you’re always a step ahead of everyone, but this time, I was,” he added, striking you in your torso. You yelped, falling to the ground as the pain in your already injured ribs intensified. “Any more tricks up your sleeve? Or just a fractured rib?”

“Asshole,” you exclaimed, biting your tongue to suppress more shouts of pain. You struggled to fend off Minho’s advances. He was larger, stronger, and in better condition than you were. Even when the two of you sparred during training, you could only ever win against Minho if you outsmarted him somehow.

Getting to your feet, you tucked your hair behind your ears and squared your shoulders. Minho approached you, diving with his hands stretched towards your torso; by that point, he had realised that you were injured and had a weak spot. You blocked it easily, using the momentum of Minho’s slight stumble to aim your fist at his jaw. Minho exclaimed in pain, falling to the ground and holding his jaw.

You risked a moment to look at Juyeon, who was easily taking on two men at once. The swift and calculated manner Juyeon moved in reminded you of how he said he wanted to be a dancer when he was younger. This, you could easily believe after seeing him in action.

You struck Minho further while he was disoriented from your hit to his jaw, not letting the gruelling pain in your ribs stop you from doing your best to defend yourself. Minho pushed you against the wall, both of your actions getting sloppier from the injuries you were both sustaining.

“Enough,” you exclaimed, taking the USB from where you stashed it in your pocket and holding it out of the open window. Juyeon and Minho audibly cursed, everyone stilling at your bold choice. “One more step, and I drop it,” you warned, the sound of the traffic outside reminding everyone that a car would immediately drive over the USB if you dropped it.

“Y/n,” Juyeon said slowly. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Listen to your boyfriend,” Minho agreed. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“Regret?” you echoed. “I almost got blown up because I had this. You think I’ll miss this thing when it’s gone? The only person who loses out would be you,” you told Minho. “This is your recovery mission.”

“Juyeon!” a shout came from the hallway leading up to his apartment. You turned, seeing Sangyeon, Kevin, Jacob, and Haknyeon rush into Juyeon’s apartment. They seemed to have realised where Juyeon was soon after Mrs Kwon’s team had, and were shocked at the scene in front of them. “Are you hurt?” Sangyeon asked, causing Juyeon to shake his head.

“The rest of your boyfriend’s team is here,” Minho drawled. “So, what’s it going to be, Y/n? Are you going to hand it over to me, or him?”

“Why do I need to hand it over to anyone?” you retorted. You had kicked Minho’s weapons out of his reach, and now that Sangyeon and his team were there, Minho was outnumbered. He wasn’t likely to try anything stupid. “What are you going to do? You can’t win this one, Minho.”

Juyeon watched with bated breath as you opened your palm, dropping the USB from the twenty-fourth floor of his apartment building. Sangyeon and Minho gave angry shouts at your action and you stepped away from the window, opening both of your hands to show your empty palms.

Minho moved forward, his fist colliding with the side of your face. You fell to the floor, Juyeon yelling as he ran towards Minho. Sangyeon held him back, stopping him from doing anything he might regret. “I’ll deal with you later,” Sangyeon told him. Juyeon startled; Sangyeon had never looked at Juyeon with so much disappointment before.

Your chest heaved with deep inhales as you tried to catch your breath, propping yourself up using the wall behind you. “And what about you?” you asked Minho, raising an eyebrow; challenging him. “Are you really going to go to Mrs Kwon empty-handed? The USB is gone. About ten cars have crushed it into the road by now. She’s not going to want me, dead or alive. She’s going to want the team leader that let her precious files slip through his fingers.”

Knowing you were right, and seeing how Sangyeon and his team had outnumbered him, Minho glared at you before fleeing from the scene, most likely going to hide from Mrs Kwon and her resources. Sangyeon didn’t stop him; Minho was of no interest to him now that he didn’t have the USB, and he was from a different organisation. Elite spies aren’t a part of law enforcement; he wasn’t going to chase after Minho like a police officer would.

“You don’t know what you’ve just done,” Sangyeon accused you, seething with anger. “You’re protecting Mrs Kwon under the facade that you don’t care what happens to the information on that USB.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” Juyeon added quietly. “You were almost killed for that, twice. Don’t you think we could have used what’s on there?”

You nodded. “I suppose you’re right. It’s a good thing I always have,” you pulled the USB out from under the sleeve of Juyeon’s long-sleeved t-shirt that you were wearing, an ode to the many magic tricks you learned as a kid when you dreamed of being a magician. “A trick up my sleeve.”

“We can trust Y/n,” Juyeon insisted, rushing after Sangyeon and Kevin as they led you out of his apartment complex to their SUV. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. Mrs Kwon tried to kill her!”

“Except she has done things wrong,” Sangyeon retorted. “Y/n’s boss is corrupt, Juyeon,” he informed. “Mrs Kwon has been giving government and civilian security details to the highest bidder. That’s the reason her company is the best in the world. They sell private information for profit, and hundreds of people have died for it.”

Juyeon felt his heart drop to his stomach at Sangyeon’s confession. “That’s her boss, not her,” he tried to defend you as best as he could. “It’s a job, Sangyeon.”

“Elite espionage doesn’t exist for the rich to play games with innocent people for money,” Sangyeon snapped. “Our organisations exist so that we can protect people and put away bad guys.”

“I agree,” you voiced, causing Sangyeon’s eyes to meet yours as you neared the car. Despite his harsh gaze, you weren’t intimidated by him. You had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. “Believe me, that’s why I took this job.”

Sangyeon studied your expression, trying to find a hint that you were lying or deceiving him. Then, he held his hand out to you. “I’ll take that USB,” he said. You gave it to him, seeing no point in trying to keep it from him at that point. Minho and the other spies from Mrs Kwon’s agency were long gone, and Sangyeon and his team wouldn’t be able to crack the code without you anyway. “Get in,” Sangyeon told Juyeon. “We’re going to headquarters.”

If Sangyeon wanted to take you to CKR, you had no reason to fight him.

“What’s the status?” Sangyeon asked Chanhee, who had been working on decrypting the files on the USB for over an hour.

You and Juyeon had been driven to CKR headquarters in seperate cars. Kevin did his best to be kind to you, but you remained silent and allowed him to lead you to a simple room with a one-way mirror in it.

Juyeon had debriefed the team on exactly what had happened when he tried to bring you to headquarters the night before. Sangyeon remained unimpressed that Juyeon hadn’t immediately brought you to them, and scolded him for taking away an extra 15 hours of time they could have used to decrypt the files and question your organisation’s best spy.

“There’s over 200 digits in the password,” Chanhee explained, still typing out potential passwords onto the laptop in a blank document. “There’s only three chances before the files self-destruct. I already used one of our chances, and I don’t want to try again until I get a better idea of what it could be,” he said, lush lips stuck in a concentrated pout. “It would help if I knew anything about Mr Kim, but he seems to be a pretty elusive man. Does’t have much of an online presence, which makes sense since he’s in charge of cybersecurity.”

Sangyeon sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache was coming on. “If Mrs Kwon was willing to kill Y/n to keep this information out of her hands, we need to get to it,” he said.

“What’s on it?” Eric wondered from his place on the sofa, playing a game on his phone.

“I don’t know,” Sangyeon shook his head at the youngest. “Boss won’t say.”

“Maybe we should ask Y/n,” Kevin suggested. “If Mrs Kwon wanted to keep it out of her hands specifically, maybe she thought that Y/n could crack the code?”

Sangyeon had already thought of this option, but he didn’t want to have to bring you in. “She works for that awful lady,” he reminded his team. “I don’t trust her.”

Juyeon frowned. “What’s she ever done to make you distrust her?” he wondered. “Other than the fact that she works for an organisation that we think is corrupt? Most of the missions she was on were ones that you sent me on, too. That means that she’s been doing a lot of good during her career in espionage,” he pointed out.

“Bring her in,” Sangyeon decided, sending both Jacob and Kevin in to collect you. You soon appeared, wincing as you limped your way over to the team leader. Your bruised ribs had probably become fractured from your fight with Minho, and any other contusions you had sustained from the fight were starting to bruise a deep purple. Juyeon wanted nothing more than to rush over to you, but he figured this would be the wrong move.

“Can you solve this?” Sangyeon asked you, pointing at the screen.

You shrugged. “I can’t be sure,” you admitted. “But I have a pretty good hunch.”

“Which is?”

“I got to know Mr Kim personally before the event two nights ago,” you explained. “Before he started his career in cybersecurity, he was a chemistry major at Yonsei University for his undergraduate degree. He used to go on and on about how he had to memorise all these different formulas and numbers to pass his exams,” you recalled. “But there was one thing he was particularly proud of, something that none of his classmates could do.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the first 300 digits of Pi,” Chanhee said, frowning. “Because that would be so boring. I could do that when I was eleven.”

You shook your head. “He can recite the atomic numbers of every element on the periodic table,” you told the cryptologist. “In order.”

“Pull up a picture of the periodic table,” Sangyeon ordered to Sunwoo, who quickly complied and pulled it up to the large screen in the centre of the room. “Chanhee?”

“On it,” he mumbled, already typing in the numbers in order. When he was done, he stared at the screen in surprise. “The number of digits perfectly fits,” Chanhee told his team leader. “Do you want me to enter it?”

Sangyeon glanced over at you. “I don’t suppose you made up an elaborate lie that just so happened to work in your favour?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I had that kind of a trick up my sleeve,” you admitted. “But no. I’m not lying.”

Sangyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Alright,” he agreed. “If Juyeon trusts you, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this once. And we always have one more try, then I’ll know for sure if you were lying.”

Sangyeon gave Chanhee the okay to give in the password. Chanhee tapped on the enter key, a grin forming on his lips as he started typing frantically. “I’m in,” he said, causing cheers to burst out around the room.

The boss of the CKR spy agency entered the room, pleased to see the success that Sangyeon’s team had during their mission. “That sounds like good news,” he said, causing all the members of the team to bow in greeting of their boss.

“Yes, sir,” Sangyeon confirmed. “We just got into through the encryption with 28 hours to spare.”

“That’s wonderful work,” their boss complimented, smiling at them all.

“Y/n provided important details about Mr Kim’s life that helped us,” Sangyeon added, surprising you. “Without her help, we wouldn’t have been able to figure it out.”

“Excellent work, Y/n,” the CKR boss complimented, reaching over to shake your hand.

You beamed. “Happy to help, sir,” you told him cheerily. “After all, it is my job,” you reminded him with a wink.

The room went silent as Sangyeon’s team stared at you in shock. “I knew I made the right choice trusting you,” the CKR boss told you, looking proud. “There aren’t many people that can outsmart Juyeon on his missions, as well as work undercover long enough to deeply infiltrate Mrs Kwon’s organisation.”

“Did you just say work undercover?” Juyeon wondered, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

“Yes,” his boss admitted. “I hired Y/n five years ago to infiltrate Mrs Kwon’s organisation and expose her corruption. That’s why these files are so important,” he explained.

“Oh my god,” Chanhee muttered, flicking through the files on the USB. “This traces Mrs Kwon’s online presence, dating back over three years. It’s incriminating information against Mrs Kwon’s organisation; she can be sent to jail for the evidence on here.”

“That’s why she tried to kill you,” Juyeon realised, addressing his words to you. “Because Mr Kim uncovered her online footprints.”

“I told you it wasn’t so simple,” you reminded him, giving him your best smile. Juyeon beamed. He often wondered if he was naïve for trusting you, but you had proved to him that you were worth the risk. A double agent. Somehow, Juyeon felt incredibly proud of you.

“Thank you for your hard work, Y/n,” CKR’s boss thanked you. “And now that we have what we need on Mrs Kwon, I’d love for you to continue working here for my most elite team,” he invited you.

“That’s us!” Eric exclaimed happily, now solving a Rubik’s cube upside down.

“As long as they’ll have me, I’d love to,” you told your boss.

Everyone glanced over at Sangyeon, who had the final say on any new members as the team leader. After seeing your skillset that day, everyone on the team was excited to work with you. You had something to offer in almost any area they specialised in. Plus, you were a fairly famous spy amongst the different agency; known as the best of the best. Sangyeon seemed to be struggling to comprehend the situation, having gone through a pretty confusing day.

“So you’re been working for CKR all this time?” he asked. You nodded. “And you’ve been gathering information on Mrs Kwon to use against her with Mr Kim from cybersecurity?” Another nod. “And you really did outsmart Juyeon on all of his missions?”

“I’m afraid so,” you confirmed.

Sangyeon seemed stunned. “Then I think you’d make a good addition to the team,” he agreed. Kevin and Eric cheered, excited that someone as well-known in the spy community as you would be a part of their team. You were infamous around CKR for always outsmarting their best team, and it turns out that you were CKR’s best asset all along. Your boss said his farewells, allowing you to get to know your new team better.

“I can’t believe all of this,” Juyeon breathed out in surprise, helping you onto one of the sofas in the back of the room, careful of your injured ribs. “You’re…”

“A double agent?” you filled in for him.

“…Even more amazing than I thought,” Juyeon finished his train of thought. You grinned, letting Juyeon press a kiss to your cheek and hug you. “And always a step ahead of me, it seems,” he kissed you gently.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Younghoon mumbled, wincing at the sight of you and Juyeon kissing.

“My little magician,” Juyeon sighed happily against your lips, pulling away to beam at you. His eyes, tired and worn out from the last two days, glimmered with excitement. “This is so much better than competing against you.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and hugging him tightly, wincing slightly at the impact on your ribs. “Who says we’re going to stop competing?”

note: here is the long anticipated full version of my spy!juyeon timestamp!! i hope you guys enjoyed it! it wasn’t super romantic like the other ones but i hope i capture the spy juyeon concept i was going for well :)

[snipergirl21]

My TopJoe Pornathon picks

It’s been a couple weeks since the event ended, and now that I can breathe again, I wanted to come up with a list of fics and art that I really liked (and I’m sorry if this gives you an insight into my tastes 🙈). The list is in no particular order, and I have brief descriptions of the fics. I apologise in advance for the inevitable wall of text.

This is by no means a definitive list, we had 120 (AWESOME) entries in the collection on AO3, and several others that were shared only on the Discord server. These are just the AO3-based ones I like right now. If you enjoy my picks (mind the tags on some of these), do check out the rest too!

FICS

From the Deep by Sholeh675 (Solange956). Nicky rescues a giant octopus. Which turns out to be an alien. With tentacles. I love this because it reminds me of a certain Gintama doujin *cough cough*. 

Joe and Nicky’s Excellent Journey by ejdominus. A choose-your-own-adventure fic, where you follow Joe and Nicky as they jump through dimensions and encounter different versions of themselves. I know how hard ejdominus worked on this fic, and it is soooo worth it!

They Meet in Berlin by fishie_scribbles. A newly married Joe carries out a  steamy, years-long affair with a mysterious stranger. This story is dark, angsty, and loaded with feels. Oooh, the feels!

Hot Mess Supernatural Threat Eliminators: Sexventures of Malik & Guido by loflight501. From the author of A Leap of Faith, comes a series featuring my new favourite crossover pairing. Super kinky and super romantic!

let yourself go by ejdominus and mildlyhorrific. This is a WIP but ohmaigawd, it is so good. The story is super well-written (mind the tags!), and worth following if you are into really dark fics with a cat-and-mouse theme.

Little Animal Disaster by o_psique and Harucm. This WIP fic is in Spanish, and features comicsverse Joe and Nicky in a College AU. It’s also omegaverse! Also, check out their other Spanish-language fics from the collection!

I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth by primo_nizzuto. I like Majid/Fabio, but this fic presents an angsty twist, where Majid feels drawn towards Fabio’s weaker twin brother Cesare. The feels!

Love At First Time by yonge_sonne. A super interesting, and super kinky omegaverse fic with a really unique twist on the whole size kink thing. Like, really unbelievably hot and dirty!

Recalescence by quincette. It’s got magic, it’s got omegaverse, and it’s got forbidden romance! It’s a WIP, but I really recommend you following this one, as well as the author’s other WIP fic Bits & Glimpses, a kinky gloryhole dating app fic.

Passion by LumusWinter. An omegaverse fic where sex pollen triggers Joe’s rut, and a virgin omega Nicky has to save him. Repeatedly. With sex.

And Let My Cry Come Unto Thee by yusufs-stew-of-romance (Orientation). A sexy, supernatural-themed fic where an exorcist Nicky battles a sex demon that has possessed his friend Joe, a man he secretly loves. So good! Also, check out the author’s other fic, a super hot FMM threesome between Joe, Nicky and Nile!

Of Forbidden Pleasures by Anonymous. A fic that somehow manages to imbue the acts of fisting and lactation with romance? Ohmaigawd, yessss!!!

The Holy by Ealasaid. These two fics are short, but packed with emotion. There’s also a bit of necro in there, which may not be for everyone, but I certainly like it.

We Found Love In An Invarrie Place by Claire. I have watched this fic spark and bloom on the server, and ohmaigawd, everyone should read it. It’s very, very kinky and also very, very romantic!

your scars remember healing by dana_norram. The prequel to the amazing Wistful is the rain, I could feel my heart squeeze so many times reading it. It’s so angsty, but full of hope.

ART

The Adventures of StickFigure!Joe and StickFigure!Nicky by Claire. Most of these are in the collection, and they are hilarious!

You steal my body and worship it, This is what it is to love an artist and Pas de trois + No. 13, the 4th movement by linx91. All of these are super sexy!

Local Tentacle Man Falls in Love by beeans. Ohmaigawd, so cute!

Harem, Heat, Lingerie, Nipple play and Pet play by carocchi. I love the pink tones and the sexy mood!

Which Time in Malta? by shatterthefragments. This is a mix of fics and art, and I just love the simple hand-drawn, hand-painted nature of them.

The Perfumer and Sweet bun(s) by Somberio. A dark moodboard and a sexy bunny art!

I wanna be a champion, I wanna be a loser by GioTanner. A naughty pharaoh/centurion comic!

The more the merrier by Fancy_Dragonqueen. Lots of Marwans, one Nicky. Enough said.

[moriartysnerd]

Jim Moriarty x rockstar!reader

A/N: this is my first time ever writing with moriartys character. It may be off from his true character and there may be human error. Apologise in advance.

The sweat dripped down, circling around your body as you continued to prance around the stage. By now the speakers had cut off any noise that wasn’t the beat or your own voice. The constant beat of your guitar bouncing against your abdomen and hips had started to become slightly sore. You flicked your head back, while grabbing your guitar, in an attempt to move the damped mess out of your eyes. The crowed was cheering, almost mimicking the ringing in your ears as you swallowed dryly. You where out of breath and worn out, but by God where you going to give the last verse your all. Finally, you stilled on stage, feet glued to a particular position as the lights faded to black. You panted hard unable to catch your breath, your lungs hurt, your eyes hurt, your throat hurt but holy shit, that was one of the best performances of your life. You’d spent months on this tour, and needless to say, your partner back in London didn’t seem to be too happy about it. He’d warned you how bored he’d be without your undivided attention. James had built your career. He was somewhat of a manger for you. When he first came up to you, you’d never recognised him. It was a cold evening, your fingers hurt twice as much as they did remembering the events

——————————————————

You where softly strumming on your guitar in the middle of London town centre, waiting for your friends to finish up with their classes and come and meet you. The unfortunate thing about going to a separate university was the scattered time tables. You weren’t causing too much attention to yourself, it was a busy day and at worst people would think you where a busker. You where only tuning your guitar back up, it was starting to sound pitchy and unpleasant and you needed it perfect for the bar later tonight. You weren’t just specialised in the guitar. You where a jack of all trades. Could play a lot of instruments. Thinking back that must of been what James saw in you. It had to be. It wasn’t long until you caught the attention of someone, despite it being a humid day he still wore a trench coat and scarf. A shorter man following behind him. They taller man seemed to stop when you locked eyes, hair being brown back by the wind. You found the nerve to atleast smile, he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. The fear finally stuck you when he headed quickly towards you, muttering to himself. He was analysing you. It didn’t take a genius to realise that. His loyal lap dog following short after. The shorter man seemed to limp, he stuttered on a few words but managed to keep a conversation with you going. The questions lingered in your head longer than you’d like to admit, and with the cloaked man looming over you. You felt trapped.

“My names doctor John Watson, and this is sherlock.”

You recognised him. How could you not. The Sherlock Holmes. They wernt there to hurt you. They where there to interrogate you. Johns words seemed to calm you once you realised who they where. Fortunately for you the conversation and answers didn’t last Long when you heard a groan from sherlock, who suddenly stormed off calling back behind him.

“They don’t know anything John. They havnt been here for that long. No change from the music. Even their fingers arnt reddened from playing their guitar. Well loose the suspect if we wait any longer.”

John sighed. It seemed as if he was used to being dragged all over the place. He thanked you before waddling back after sherlock. You groaned softly, you wernt a busker, but you didn’t dare say that out loud. Imagine telling a famous detective he was wrong. You sighed softly, running your fingers through your soft hair, taking a step back you heard a crunch. Instantly looking down, you seemed to pray you hadn’t accidentally stood on a pigeon. Thankfully, it wasn’t. However, what was there seemed somthing more important that the slight decrease in London’s flying rat population. A pendrive. It wasn’t there when you first sat down. And no one other than the detective and his faithful sidekick had been near you. You added up the dots rather quickly. It couldn’t be important, Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t of just simply dropped something right? You picked up the drive, looking around before shoving it into your pocket. Going back to your guitar, finally your friends came from around the corner. They all looked out of breath, it was reliving that they’d actually run to meet you. You loved your group of nerds. However the rest of the day was draining. You couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. Not fully anyway. Even with your friends constantly around you there was always something just slightly off. It was later that evening when you met James. You where about to come on stage when a man in a gorgeous black suit came out, he had a soft Irish accent and smelt of mint and old books. He instantly caught your attention. His little smirk covered his face as he realised you where staring.

“Didnt mummy ever tell you not to stare my dear?”

You face flushed with embarrassment as you clutched your guitar case. Biting your lip hard and walking past him to get to the stage. To this day his little chuckle still rang through your mind.

——————————————————

After they lead you off stage you where taken back to your dressing room and completely spoilt. They made sure you had water, and an ice pack just incase and they finally left you alone. Once alone the realness set it and all you could think about was James. How mad you where at him. How you’d left London angry as he screamed about how he’d made you.

“I could just as easily take it away”

you mimicked under your breath. Fists clenching into balls.

“What was that, my love?”

——————————————————

It wasn’t until after your little solo that you ran into James again. This time he was outside when you left. You where planning on leaving with friends but the night hadn’t planned out this way when two of your friends had gotten so drunk they’d thrown up. Another vivid memory you’d never forget. The Irish man approached you, smirking a little wider as you kept your eyes of him

“You’re learning.”

He spoke softly standing just infront of you, you wanted to know what he wanted. He knew it But the drawn out silences caused you to crack faster

“Can I help you?”

You asked, trying to keep it polite. You wernt one to judge based on looks, but he looked important.

“Your preformance. I want to represent you, wouldn’t you like to be a star my dear? I could make you shine.”

—————————————————————

“What was that, my love?” The sweet sound of his voice filled the quiet room as you turned to glare. The second you locked eyes your glare softened. You couldn’t stay mad at him, well you could, just not when he came out all the way from London.

“I didn’t think you’d ever leave London.”

“For you dear the distance was worth it.”

He tried to make a move towards you before you stood up, backing further away. He stopped in his tracks, chuckling and looking down.

“Still bad blood?”

—————————————————————

He’d lied to you. About everything. You’d figured it out a few months after. All because of that stupid pendrive. You’d left it out in the open when James had first visited your apartment. It was quite a cozy small space. You’d put the kettle on and had a cup of tea while discussing what you where studying in uni. The man seemed very enthralled with what you had to say, and everything about you if we’re being honest. By the time he had left the pendrive was also gone. You didn’t think to much of it. A clumsy mistake, you’d misplaced it. That wasn’t the case. You’d found the pendrive in James’s pocket once again when he came to visit. Only it was accompanied by a second one. You bit your lip and placed them on the table while he was in the kitchen. He’d noticed they’d been moved. But didn’t hide them. He didn’t even pick them up when he left. He just left. It had information. Cases on Sherlock Holmes. Most importantly the victims of the London bombings. A full detail description of each and every single one of them And that’s when the knock came on your door. Sherlock Holmes himself.

“He’s stalking me! I don’t know what he wants but he won’t leave me alone Y/N! I never asked for this I never-“

“Jim. Jim Moriarty. He told me James... he told me everything. He had photos. Evidence. He took those pendrives. You’ve been using me as a messenger for months. Sherlock knew that if he faked an interest in me. You’d use me. And that’s what you did. I was secretly passing both of you those pendrives without even knowing. I was helping a criminal!”

James snapped out of his little victim role. He chucked and shook his head

“smart, very smart my dear. It’s a shame, my plans for you wernt over yet...”

You shook your head frantically, and grabbed your suitcase. Leaving soon after. The criminal didn’t even give chase. He watched you leave. He knew he’d hurt you.

“I made you.”

——————————————————

You glared at the now foreign man stood there. Your gaze was burning into his soul. He was right. He made you. He could take it all away. But was it really yours to begin with. Moriarty sensed your thoughts by the look on your face and gently moved to put his arm around your waste, this time you didn’t stop him. You leaned into him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“See, isn’t it so much better to be in daddy’s arms agian kitten?”

He was a psycho. he’d ruined you. He was a murderer. He killed people. He blackmailed people. But, he was different with you, he was kind and gentle, he’d helped you with you career. You where already in to deep. He wouldn’t let any harm come to you. In that moment. That was good enough. You locked eyes with jim Moriarty. Your Jim Moriarty. And gently placed your hot lips aginst his, pulling him closer by the jacket and slowly letting him claim you. You tried to pull away when you needed air but Moriarty just chased your lips. Even outside of work he couldn’t help the torture. When you two finally separated you looked deep into his eyes, holding his face in the palm of your hand.

“I love you Jim Moriarty.”

“I know you do my love. That was the plan.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

What are some good book recommendations? I’ll be honest, I’ve never considered myself very much of a reader because I’ve never really found a genre that I’ve fallen in love with. But your taste in books is rather beautiful and makes me want to give it another chance

omg no-one has ever called my taste in books beautiful before, thank you 🥺 This is going to be an extensive list, I apologise in advance! I’ve provided a brief description of each book/series so you can go through and decide whether it would best suit you. The last thing I want to do is inadvertently trigger anyone.

Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Wicked by Jennifer L. Armentrout - A series of three books following the life of Ivy Morgan. Good fae, evil fae, secret orders and a love interest with dark hair and green eyes. 18+.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas - A series comprising of seven books and one book of novellas. This series follows the assassin Celeana Sardothien as she enters into a competition to become the King’s Champion. This series is violent, and has some distressing scenes as well as scenes of 17+.

Crave by Tracy Wolff - I like to think of this as Twilight if it took place in a boarding school in the middle of Alaska. For those that read Twilight in high school, or have recently read it, this book is a hit of nostalgia you didn't know you needed. It is so entertaining and the love interests are *chefs kiss*.

A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair - A series comprising of three books so far. A modern retelling of the famous Hades and Persephone myth. I adore this series. I seriously cannot tell you how much I love this series. The world building to the character development to my love of Hades by the end of it. It’s such a great read, I even waxed lyrical about it in one of my Fred Weasley fics. 18+ (scenes of mature nature).

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness - Like history? Like vampires, witches and demons? This series is for you. A trilogy following the love shared by Diana Bishop, a historian and witch, and Matthew Clairmont, scientist and vampire. This series is for mature readers - it doesn't hold back on violence as well as sex. However, if you choose to read, I promise you, you will enjoy. It is also a series on Sky with a second series being aired in January (in the UK anyway). 18+

Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerri Maniscalco - A series of four books following the lives of Audrey-Rose Wadsworth and Thomas Cresswell. Set in Victorian London, the first book follows the Jack the Ripper investigation ending on a cliffhanger not even I saw coming. This does get maturer as you continue the series and there are some gruesome scenes throughout. 16+

From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout - What can I say about this series that I haven’t already cried about? I bought the first book in lockdown and devoured it. I bought the second book about a week after it was published and it has not left my mind since. World building? Astonishing. Character development? Stunning. Handsome love interest? You best believe it. This isn't YA Fantasy; this is NA and it is mature. There are scenes throughout both books that are violent as well as mature. 18+.

Heartless by Marissa Meyer - The origin story of the Queen of Hearts and with no better way to put it... it’s heartbreaking. This book had my heart soaring only for it to be crushed in the best way possible. An incredible read. There are some violent scenes but it’s YA so it’s at a minimum. 15/16+.

The Wicked Deep by Shea Earnshaw - I read this book in one day. I could not put it down, I loved it so much. This books follows three sisters set on a quest for revenge - and how love may be the only thing powerful enough to stop them. 16+.

Historical Fiction 

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller - Patroclus, an awkward young prince has been exiled to the kingdom of Pthia where he meets Achilles. Follow them through their coming of age tale through the Battle of Troy. So I adore this book, I love this book. I could talk about it all day long. It’s fantastic - go read it. LGBT+, 17+.

Lovely War by Julia Berry - A multi-layered romance set in the perilous days of World War One and Two, where Gods hold the fates - and hearts - of mortals in their hands. Oh... my... word... this book left me speechless. It left me speechless. I couldn’t not finish in the day that it arrived on my doorstep; it’s prose is poetic, it’s romance is dreamy and I just found myself tearing up at the words on the page. 17+

The Disappearances by Emily Bain Murphy - Every seven years something goes missing from the town of Sterling: people’s reflections, the stars in the sky, the ability to dream. Aila realises her mother may have something to do with such a curse. Again, I read this in a day. I couldn’t put it down. It’s set through WW2 and I just think the plot is genius. 15+.

Prose that makes me want to cry

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - I read this for the first time back in 2014 and have read it so often since that I have had to buy a second copy so I don’t ruin the pages of my first. I LOVE THIS BOOK. It follows the creation of a circus that only opens from night until dawn and how this circus weaves itself into the lives of its workers/owners. An absolute masterpiece. 16+.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab - This book has been one of my most anticipated releases of 2020, and it has not disappointed. When Addie LaRue makes a pact with the devil, she trades her soul for immortality and the curse of no-one remembering who she ever was. Until one day, somebody does. Every part of this book, I savoured, I made myself read it slowly for the fact that I didn't want to miss a thing. Utterly breathtaking. 18+.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson - Anything by Jackson deserves to be on this list. It drags you in and keeps you there. Why do you think they made a Netflix series of her work? 16+.

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter - This is a collection of short stories that are dark retellings of classic fairytales. It is so utterly fantastic. 18+.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid - Definitely in my top 10 reads of 2020. A former Hollywood starlette tells her life story to a reporter; every seedy detail of her life including that of her seven husbands. I was hooked from the first page. 18+.

18+ (This section can be ignored if this genre of books is not your thing).

A Lesson in Thorns by Sierra Simone - When librarian Poe Markham takes the job at Thornchapel, she has only two aims. One - to stay away from Thornchapel’s owner, Auden Guest. And Two, to find out what happened to her mother twelve years ago. This is a series comprising of three books so far with the fourth published at the end of this week. This series covers a lot of dark themes as well as mature content. 

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas - I have only involved this series here for the fact that it does have a lot of smut involved. Not as much as other books, but a lot more than your typical YA. However, these books are gold and so far this year, I’ve read the whole series about six times. I love them, go read them. 

A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair - I mentioned this series earlier but it does have a lot of smut.

Pestilence by Laura Thalassa - The first in the Four Horsemen series. This has a lot of violence and a lot of smut. However, the overall plot is so interesting as well as badass female characters that bring so much energy to the plot. 

The Bargainer series by Laura Thalassa - If you’ve read ACOTAR, then this series is the perfect hangover cure. A love interest to swoon for and a plot to only keep you interested.

Authors I buy every book of

Cassandra Clare

Sarah J. Maas

Jennifer L. Armentrout

Scarlett St. Clair

Deborah Harkness

Kerri Maniscalco

[aotsimmer]

When She Leaves

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader/OC

Genre: Fluff. Romance.

Word Count: 2.1k? (I will be double checking)

Warning: Mentions of breakdowns. Mentions of abandonment. Possessive Levi. Nothing major really. Probably not even worth a warning but I still put them on here just in case. I don't want anyone to have a bad experience reading.

A/N: Hi. I'm new to writing for AOT. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is basically a snippet of the relationship between my OC, Eden Beckwith, and our favorite husbando Levi. Honestly, Eden is meant to be like a build-your-own-character kind of character if you know what I mean. Her physical description are meant to be vague and be imagined by the reader however they wish to imagine her to look like. Like the Y/N system I guess. I have my own vision of Eden in my head. Sometimes, a notice in advance, I will mention her height but that's just about it. *She's a lot taller than Levi by the way.*

Most of my work will revolve around them and their relationship. The ups and downs. So if anybody has any ideas, or just want to know more about Eden in general, I will love to answer questions. Eden is one of my favorite OCs and the love child of all the fanfic ideas I've had for AOT.

Lastly I will like to apologise for my grammar. I try my best to edit these but I'm not really good at it. As I go along I will most likely improve and get better at writing. For now please bare with me until I get a beta reader and/or I get better.

I will like to also apologize for maybe writing Levi a little to ooc. In this case he's already in an established relationship and therefore I headcannon that he's just a romantic at heart. Just needs the right person to let it all loose.

I think that's about it. I hope you all enjoy.

.

“Levi! Good morning!”

He was writing down requests for a shipment of earl grey tea. His attention suddenly successfully snatched by his lover walking through the door. Eden greeted him enthusiastically before she closed the door with her foot. His favorite tea set laid out nicely on the tray she was holding with both her gloved hands.

He noted her dress wear. The casual day dress Eden was wearing grabbing his attention. The beautiful light blue color of her dress contrasting with her skin. Her hair halfway pined up and flowing over her shoulder. Making her look younger than she looked. She gave him a beautiful smile as she approached his desk; setting down his tea set carefully onto the wooden surface.

‘Good morning. Are you going somewhere?” He questioned her. She never dressed like this unless it was for an important event. Like balls and visiting her grandparents.

Levi leaned back onto his chair and looked her over. She looked beautiful. It made him jealous of all the gazes she must have gotten while making her way to his office. It made him want to lock her up somewhere safe and secure. Where he knew she will be safe and no eyes but his will lay upon her.

He knew he would never do that to her, even if he desired it. After all, she was completely his and she had proven that so many ties. The possessiveness in him only pacified by her. Only completely quieted down with the things she does and has done for him. Like bringing him tea.

She ignored his staring. Eden placed the items in front of him. Side eyeing him with a pointed look, as if knowing what he was thinking. He raised his hands as if surrendering and crossed is arms across his chest. She smiled, satisfied, before answering his question.

“Actually, yes. Nana had sent a letter and asked me to meet her at Trost. You know, the bi-annual visits to the estate. I will be leaving before the bell rings at noon and will return before the week ends. Just in time for the expedition meetings.”

“And why did you not tell me beforehand?”

This was not the first time she had gone off without telling him beforehand. The first time happened during the beginning of their courtship. It had sent him into a frenzy, snapping at everyone and cleaning vigorously to the point of over exaggeration.

For days.

Nobody seemed concerned with the disappearance of their missing superior officer. All he thought to himself during those days was the worst had happened. She had abandoned him, and to an extension the Survey Corps. 

It reminded him someone he personally knew.

The only one brave enough to confront him about his behavior was Hange. They, to this day, are convinced that he tried to kill them with his gaze.

After that fiasco, Levi had made Eden promise to never do that again without ing him beforehand. A promise she’s done good job at keeping. In exchange he promised to ease off on Eren during her time away. The kid being his number one victim during his borderline breakdown.

He begrudgingly accepted the conditions.

“Because I just received the letter yesterday, and we both know you will try to convince me to stay if I give you enough time of a notice- Don’t look at me like that. We both know its true and I'm determined to not fall for your trap of a body... Again.”

Eden looked him up and down before she bit her lip and wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully. He could not help but amuse her with a short chuckle before he straightened up in his seat, taking the tea cup she placed neatly in front of him for a sip.

The fragrance. The smell. The taste.

Just the way he liked it.

“It’s not my fault you get distracted by me. I say that’s entirely your fault.” He spoke after placing the cup down on it’s saucer.

Eden walked around his desk slowly, moving along sensually before arriving behind him. She leaned down, arms snaking over his shoulders and then running down his chest. She hugged him and laid her chin on his shoulder before pecking his cheek.

“I’ll give you a point for that one... Try not to miss me too much.”

Levi will never admit to it, but he always missed her terribly when she leaves.

Often, they did not meet during the day in their everyday lives. Private moments shared almost always during the evening and into the nights. Sometimes whole days and nights go by without seeing each other. Rare but not uncommon. Both occupied in their roles as senior officers during it all, but he knew that she was close by. Even during expeditions when they are literally on opposite sides of their formations. When danger is at its highest and possible death at their every step. He seemed not miss her more than what he deemed as normal for someone in a relationship.

Not that he knew much of relationships before Eden. They were each other’s first relationship and first of everything romantic.

It was only when she was away, far away, that it reminded him that he was somewhat emotionally invested in her. It made him realize how much he hated the notion of it. Use to hate. Still hated? He did not know anymore. The weakness she brought him. How he allowed her to wrap him around her fingers.

Addicting.

She was all addicting, and he could not stop himself from her even if he wanted to. He did not want to if he was honest with himself. He was tired being alone. To be left behind.

Maybe that was it. He was tired of being alone, and afraid of her leaving him behind spontaneously in whatever form. He wanted to be by her side as long as she allowed him to be there. Forever if they both could.

Is this what love is?

“Tch. Miss you? I will dance with glee when you leave. A thorn out off my side. Fucking finally.”

Levi could practically see her beam at his seemingly cruel words. Her breathy chuckle a musical note in his ear that sent delicious shivers down his spine. The vibrations of her laugh practically echoing within him as she pressed against him.

He tapped on her arm, and was promptly released from her hold. He turned to her and stared up at her soft smile that played across her lips. Eyes soft only for him; her lips parting as she was about to speak her musical tune. 

Levi couldn’t help himself any longer. He pulled her closer to him, his arm around her waist. She leaned heavily against him, between his legs, and her hand landed on the backrest of the seat to steady herself. The other hand on his chest near his shoulder. Almost practically siting on his lap.

Eden raised an eyebrow at him.

‘What are you doing?” She asked him, knowing full well his intentions as he looked at her lips and the up to her eyes. She was looking down on him due to his short stature sitting down compared to her. Those beautiful orbs of hue transfixing him into her world and into the essence of her.

She was truly a beauty amongst men.

All his as he was hers.

“Is it wrong for me to want a kiss?”

“No...” Eden looked down to his lips then to his eye. Copying his motions before smiling softly, taking her own hand from his chest to caress his cheek before laying it against the skin of his neck. Thumb still stroking the recently shaved skin of his jaw and cheek. He leaned against her hand unconsciously. Seeking the warmth of her hand as he received an understand look from her.

“No, it is not... Kiss me.”

The captain did not have to be told twice. His lips softly brushing teasingly against hers in an intimate moment. It took a few second, teasing her only to feel her smile again before their lips met. Softly at first. A quick kiss before they parted.

“That’s not enough...” She complained. Levi chuckled and gave her a quick peck. And another, And then one more before he leaned away to look at her funny expression. Her closed eyes and dramatically puckered lips. He smirked, making a small noise that made him receive a small scowl from her as she opened her eyes to look at him.

“I think I’ve had my fill.” He declared, leaning back fully into the backrest of his chair. Her frown deepened.

“No. I want more my love.” There it was. The nickname only reserved for these moments between them. Private. Intimate. Just for the two of them to hear and no one else.

He brought his hand, running it along her spine to cradle the back of her head. Hair tangling between the space of his long slender fingers. She let him guide her closer to him. Surrendering herself to him for their mutual wants and needs.

“If you insist.”

It was tender, their kiss, but it quickly grew heated. She was seated completely on his lap and leaning against him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulling him close. Lips running wild with his own.

His own hands were not passive. His hand in her hair, completely tangled in its strands and pulling her impossibly closer to him. The other hand on her waist sliding down to feel her buttocks through the thick materials of her many layered dress. Not stopping their mission on feeling his lover, and holder of his heart, under his hands.

Then there was a knock.

Eden detached herself from him in a flash. He had never seen her move that quickly without the assistance of ODM gear. She quickly fixed her hair and upper part of her dress, tidying herself up too look presentable. She made her way around his desk and away from him as quietly as her heels allowed

Levi on the other hand scooted himself into his desk. Clearing his throat and fixing his own hair before allowing their visitor to enter the room. Pretending to continue his earl grey orders with his usually stoic expression. Humanity’s strongest just having a short conversation with one of the Survey Corps brilliant minds and strategists.

“Come in.”

One of their soldiers entered the room, saluting to their superiors.

“Captain Ackerman. Section Commander Beckwith. The carriage has been loaded by your coachman and is ready to go, ma’am.”

Eden turned to their subordinate. Hands clasped together elegantly.

‘Thank you. Please let him know that I will be out in a bit. Dismissed.”

The soldier saluted and promptly left the room.

Eden turned to Levi, and sighed heavily. Offering a sad smile to him.

“Well, Captain Ackerman, I will be leaving now.”

“Have a nice trip Section Commander. Don’t fall off the carriage. It will be hassle to find a replacement for you.”

Eden snickered and made her way around the desk again. Levi ignored her, but she forced him to look at her. She kissed him while holding his chin, and pulled away before he grabbed her again. Her eyes staring right into his own silver before speaking softly for only him to hear.

“Behave. I will be back before you know it my love. Don’t go crazy.”

Levi watched her leave his office after her farewell. A small wink sent his way before she disappeared from his view.

He stood abruptly from his chair and grabbed the already cold tea. He walked over to his window and looked down towards the entrance of the base where the carriage was stationed. He watched her leave the building with a few of the new members of the corps right behind her, wishing her a nice trip.

Then she looked up and smiled. Knowing he was there to watch her leave.

She got on the carriage and off it went out of the castle grounds and into nature. Towards the city of Trost.

He stared down her carriage up until it was nowhere in sight and past the castle gates. He drank the rest of his tea in cold silence before looking down on it and finally going back to his desk to place it there.

Instead of sitting back down and returning to his work. He thought for a moment before he decided. Nodding to himself, he sauntered over to his door and opened it wide before he left the office. Closing the door behind him with a bang.

"JAEGAR!"

While he waited for her to return; cleaning time was a go.

[thereluctantinquisitor]

OC Kiss Week 21

I arrive with a humble entry, dedicated to my lovely @frenchy-and-the-sea. Thank you for letting me borrow one of your Seven Cities characters!

This turned out a lot longer than expected because of who I am as a person. Anyway I hope you like it, and I apologise in advance for any wild inconsistencies with the Captain of my Heart and Soul.

~2000 words, original fiction (a hearty blend of Stonebreaker and Seven Cities)

                _______________________________

There weren’t a lot of things to be said about sailors. Well, other than the conclusive fact that they were all utterly insane. But there was something about that cocksure Captain Alex, with her big hat and big ego to fill it, that had been keeping Sylda up later and later into the night. Before, she would just lie in her makeshift pallet, entertaining increasingly ridiculous ideas; the kind that scythed their way through her skull to the rhythm of the rocking ship. This time, partly out of desperation, she had opted for the aid of fresh air to clear her mind.

Perched on the wooden taffrail, her gaze - and left leg - swung out over the ocean’s dark oblivion. For the first time in over a week, she was finally alone. Thinking.

Just... thinking.

How Delver had managed to find them passage on a remotely seaworthy vessel was nothing short of a miracle. Sylda hadn’t asked any questions - she certainly knew better than to look the proverbial horse in the mouth. But the fact that they hadn’t been gutted and keelhauled the second they lost sight of land still hadn’t quite sunk in. She’d heard stories about the mad seafarers of the east. About their obsession with dark water. About their greed and cold steel. About the way they used people as bait to lure creatures from the deep... 

Well, she supposed she should be grateful they hadn’t ended up on one of those vessels. Delver was a lot of irritating things, but at least a decent judge of character appeared to be one of them.

The sound of a door suddenly creaking open earned a carefully languid glance, the motion at utter odds with the lurch of surprise in Sylda’s stomach. Relax, she chided herself. This wasn’t some ale-soaked back alley. It was probably one of those twins - Fin or Din or something - wandering out to take a piss.

Her rational side’s attempt to assert dominance crumbled the second she realised who had actually stepped out onto the afterdeck.

“Captain Sheffield.” Sylda wasn’t about to snap to attention, but she gave Alex what she felt was a suitably deferential nod. “It’s a nice night. Out for a stroll?”

Alex’s nose wrinkled slightly. “Some fresh air, more like. Not much strolling to be had back here.”

That was true enough. There were far better options for an evening walk than the stern, after all. Letting the door swing shut behind her, Alex groaned softly and moved forward, hands on her lower back, stretching as she went. From her vantage, Sylda swore the line of Alex’s spine had fixed itself into a slight bow, ready at any moment to diligently curve itself over a desk. Whatever she and Delver had been up to, it seemed to have gone far longer and far later than expected. He probably drove her half-way mad, rambling on the way he does, she thought, smiling slightly to herself. At least someone else got to experience the uniquely infuriating pleasure of his company.

As quickly as the smile arrived, she shooed it away with a start. No - she would rather die than admit to even an ounce of fondness for the insufferable man. He was a means to an end, and she was exactly the same thing for him. That knowledge - that truth - had served them well over the seasons.

A sharp clearing of the throat pulled Sylda from her thoughts. Alex had stopped a few steps from the door, and something about the hawk-like intensity of her gaze made Sylda feel very much like a mouse on a platter. “Do me a favour,” Alex began slowly, as though each of her words required careful and deliberate measuring. “If you’re plannin’ on tipping yourself into the sea, kindly do so when I’m not close enough to feel obliged to go in after you.”

That startled a laugh out of Sylda. “Oh? Is that something captains do?” When Alex’s stern expression didn’t waver, she cocked her head and smiled. “C’mon - don’t give me that look. Are you trying to tell me that daring rescues aren’t actually part of the job description?”

It took a moment before Alex responded, and when she did, it was strangely like a confession. “It’s... more a personal habit than a demand of the position.” She snorted softly. “An unfortunate one at times, if you ask Tahir. Reckon that particular impulse has had a fair hand in turning him grey over the years.” The brief moment of levity, however, vanished as quickly as it arrived. “But let me be clear; I've no intention of feeling guilty tonight.”

There was no mistaking the unspoken command. And frankly, with those piercing eyes leveled at her, Sylda didn’t feel particularly keen to risk disobedience. That was a strange thing all by itself. Divider, she’d cussed out bandits with a knife to her neck - spat in the face of guards hauling her off for a week in the pit. But now, she found herself sighing and swinging both her legs ship-side. Without even a trace of her usual malicious compliance, she slid smoothly until her feet were pressed safely to the wooden deck. “Well, I wouldn’t want to cause you any grief, Captain.” Her eyes flicked up and she flashed a half-smile. “You know, I’ve actually got a pretty steady set of legs under me. Been running rooftops since I was tall as your waist.”

“That so?” Alex folded her arms, but something about her posture had shifted. Loosened. “Well, when rooftops start pitching in a swell, make sure you pass on word. I’m sure plenty of folk will be keen to know another viable application for their sea legs.”

“Alright, alright. Point taken. I’ll keep my arse off the rails.” Still chuckling, Sylda turned, leaning her forearms on the lacquered wood instead. “Can’t imagine a stiller night than this one, though. Can a ship even move in this?”

The sound of boots against the deck heralded Alex’s approach. Arriving beside her, the Captain mirrored her pose, allowing her weary back to settle into a more familiar position. “Aye, it can, but not at any particular speed.” She motioned at something in the dark, her finger tracing a line over the water. “The current here runs south-east. We’ll just let her drift in that direction until the wind picks up.”

“That won’t take us off-course?”

Alex shrugged. “Not far enough to be worried, unless we’re becalmed for days on end. But I can’t say I’ve had that happen out here. The Pale’s not a quiet sea. This is...”

Alex trailed off, closing her eyes, as though to better feel the strange stillness. There was no real need for her to finish her sentence; Sylda simply allowed herself to lapse into the same peaceful silence. The sound of the water lapping against the hull was a soothing rhythm for tired souls. It had been a long few weeks. Seasons, even, if she were being truly honest.

“Hey... can I admit something?” Sylda eventually asked. That, it seemed, piqued Alex’s curiosity. The Captain turned away from the water, arching a brow to indicate her approval. Maybe even her curiosity, if Sylda felt like flattering herself. “Coming out here,” she continued, “out on the open water... it kinda scared the shit out of me.”

To her surprise, Alex snorted. “And here I thought you’d be telling me something I didn’t guess the first hour out of port.”

Sylda cringed. “Was it that obvious?”

“Finn reckoned you were wound tighter than a tenday clock.”

Groaning theatrically, Sylda made a show of hanging her head. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. At least I kept all my meals down.” They shared a glance at that, and twin smiles slowly spread across their faces. Who would have thought that the image of Delver, green-faced and dramatically clinging to the rail, could actually bring people together? For a moment, Sylda almost forgot where she was. Who she was with. It was like being back in Yelen. Back in the Nest, sitting across from someone she knew. Someone she trusted. Respected, even. Someone with eyes of steel and a liberal dusting of freckles.

Someone she might just want to lean towards and...

As quickly as the feeling had taken her, Sylda remembered that everything she knew about Alex Sheffield could comfortably fit into a thimble - with her thumb already in it - and the smile drifted away. Clearing her throat, she did her best to hide her burning cheeks, turning back towards the quiet, dark ocean. The Pale. An ironic name if ever there was one. “Anyway... I heard a lot of stories. About the deep water. I’m not sure if any of them are true, but they were enough to convince me I wouldn’t let myself anywhere near it. Just in case.”

Alex turned as well, the folds of her shirt shifting softly as she leaned backwards against the rail, her weight resting on her elbows. With the stillness of the night and her head tipped slightly skyward, Sylda couldn’t help but picture Alex as a kind of statue, her sight forever set on the stars. She supposed anyone willing to sail the open water had to be a bit like that. A bit in love with things distant and unknown.

“But, despite it all, here you are,” Alex said after a moment. Her voice was suddenly soft. Thoughtful. Somehow, Sylda got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t just talking about her anymore. That was alright. It was a night for quiet contemplation, apparently. That could be nice, sometimes. Calming.

Leaning into the moment, Sylda exhaled slowly, feeling her shoulders dip. Feeling the weight of her feet pressing against the deck, of her arms on the rail. “But here I am,” she replied, then playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Fuck me, right?”

Alex snorted. Confused, Sylda turned to discern the source of her amusement, and when it hit her a half-second later, she let out suffering groan. “Oh come on. You’re better than that.”

“Am I? You’ve seen the kind of company I keep.”

It was Sylda’s turn to laugh. “Okay then, maybe not. But if we could side-step the gutter for a moment, I’d like it known to you and anyone eavesdropping nearby that I expect at least a kiss first.”

“That so?” A gentle breeze stirred - just enough to tease the curling locks framing Alex’s face - before quickly falling away again. For a second, Sylda’s words stuck in her throat, and she realised just how close they were. Just how alone they were.

Then the playful gleam in Alex’s eyes - as though she somehow knew exactly what she was doing her - tugged Sylda back to the present.

“What can I say? I’m an old fashioned kinda gal.” Sighing in mimicry of the high class ladies whose purses she liked to pluck, Sylda arched her back and mimed demurely fanning her bosom. “I require courting.”

“Really?” Alex raised a brow, her lips twisting in what Sylda quietly hoped was amusement. “With just a kiss?”

Sylda grinned and mimed tossing the fan into the sea.

“Well, I never said a lot of courting.”

Laughter seemed to carry further on still nights. It was as though, in the absence of wind, it sought to fill the sails all by itself. For the first time since leaving port, Sylda felt lighter. Not without burdens - never that light. But at least, for a few moments, she could flit and flirt and pretend it was something a person like her just got to do. Without guilt. Without worrying about all the things standing in her way. About all the ways she would inevitably fall short.

And for her part, Alex proved surprisingly open to the game. Maybe it was just because she was tired, and her walls were lower than usual. Despite her curiosity, Sylda hadn’t expected to even catch the Captain alone, yet alone rope her into a starlit conversation. After all, she knew - acutely well - how much of a time-siphon Delver could be. Particularly when his passions were piqued. It was a miracle he hadn’t shackled himself to Alex’s ankle like the ball and chain he was.

No. That's not fair. Closing her eyes, Sylda pulled in a long, slow breath. When she opened them again, Alex was regarding her quietly, her arms folded once more, her head cocked ever so slightly. Sylda knew when someone was sizing her up, but this... well, it wasn’t quite the same. A step to the left of it, perhaps, where she knew something was being measured, but she just wasn’t sure what.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Sylda asked eventually. Alex blinked, then reasserted herself, her arms unfolding as she hummed and levered herself from the rail.

“Just committing some things to memory. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

At that, it was Sylda’s turn to arch a brow. “Oh?” She reached up absently, her fingers twisting the ends of her hair as Alex smirked and headed back towards the door. Then, finally, she decided to be brave. “Well, before you head off, here’s another thing for your memory. I wouldn’t mind, ah... worrying myself.” She paused, then hastily added, “Over it. That.”

She swore she heard someone snort from somewhere in the rigging, but she was already too mortified to pay it any real heed. Well, that was smooth as fucking gravel, Sylda thought, cringing inwardly. It took everything in her power not to flip herself over the rail and into the sea. Idiot. This is why you don’t do this. This is why...

Again, maybe it was the product of weariness, or perhaps the strange stillness of the night, but Alex Sheffield, Captain of the Ranger, actually turned back. Her hand rested on the carefully carved doorknob. Her hair, untouched by wind, curled loosely at its ends.

“Well,” she said, then graced her with a quick, sly smile. One that went straight to Sylda’s knees. “Suppose I’ll go ahead and add that, too.”