#I’m so glad no one can see my ao3 history

[cancerravenclaw]

I have offically read every alpha remus omega sirius fic on ao3, including wips, and have determined there are simply not enough available.

I will bear this cross.

[ferida-kahlo]

♡ Hotline ♡

Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.

Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.

Word count: 3.8k

Read below the cut OR on AO3

Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄

For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.

Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…

… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.

“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.

Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.

Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.

Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.

Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.

You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.

He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”

You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.

“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”

“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.

“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.

“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.

You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…

You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.

“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.

“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.

“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.

He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”

You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”

“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”

“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.

“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.

“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.

“That fucking sucks”.

“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.

“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.

It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.

The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.

“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.

“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.

“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”

With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.

There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.

You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.

“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”

“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.

“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”

“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.

“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?

Wait. Is he…?

You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”

A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.

“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”

“You know… freeing the junk.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.

“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”

You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”

A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.

“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.

Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”

“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.

“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.

“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.

Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.

Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.

In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.

He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.

It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.

“… Mike? Are you still there?”

It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-

Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.  

You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”

“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.

You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”, he laughs along.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.

“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah?”, you whisper.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”

Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.

A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.

You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”

His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.

“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”

“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”

“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”

The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.

“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.

He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”

“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”

“Yeah? What kinds of things?”

“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.

“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.

You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”

“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.

Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”

He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”

You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.

“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”

You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…

“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”

“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.

You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you��”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.

“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.

“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.

You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”

At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.

“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.

“Mikey- fuck!”.

Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.

A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.

He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.

You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.

“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”

You notice a shift in his voice.

“Yeah… what is it?”

“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”

You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.

“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.

“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”

“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.

“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.

After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.

[skzhocomments]

The Rising Empress (Bang Chan) - Chapter 8 - Envy and Power

General Masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Taglist: @vxllxnsworld

---

Chapter 8 - Envy and Power

Chapter word count: 7.5k words

Each new day brings new opportunities, Aristia thinks as she steps out of her room with resolve. She wants to accomplish two things today:

1. Reading at least one book on the history of the Empire,

and

2. Punishing that maid – Juliana.

As her doors open, she is shocked to see someone else standing in front of her room; not her usual guard.

“Changbin?” Her eyes widen.

“Your Majesty.” He bows respectfully. “I’m glad to see you’re in good health.”

“What are you doing here?”

“His Highness informed me that I will be your personal aid from now on. I was supposed to come yesterday, but there was some… business… to take care of.”

“Business?” Aristia inquires and notices the way Changbin is carefully looking from left to right to make sure no one is able to hear them.

Her maids are a safe enough distance away.

“We needed to dispose of your father’s body.” He whispers, and Aristia is glad she now has Changbin, as she’s always thought of him as an open book that keeps her in the loop.

She truly didn’t expect Chris to give him to her, and the fact that he decided to do so before their talk yesterday warms her heart a little bit.

Changbin’s always been talkative, which she would exploit to the hilt.

“What did you do with it?”

“Burned it. We also made sure to lock all of his guards in the dungeon, to hopefully get some more information from them. The Emperor opted for that instead of killing them.”

“I see.”

“However, he decided to let one of them go and sent him back to the Kingdom with an official letter declaring war.”

Aristia’s eyes widened.

“Truly? Wouldn’t it have been better to play innocent to buy some more time?”

“The Emperor also thought of that, but Seungmin – one of his assistants – suggested owning up to it and blaming the King for your injuries. Would be better for the people’s morale, he said.”

“Seungmin… I see.” She smiles. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re going to be my personal guard. I’ll be in your care.” Aristia smiles and Changbin’s lips switch to a proud smirk.

“I’ll be the best guard in the world! You can count on me!”

“Great. Let’s go now.” She chuckles.

“To the dining room, I hope. I have strict instructions from the Emperor to make sure you eat this morning.”

“It’s not even morning anymore.” She chuckles.

“Even more so to not go on an empty stomach.”

Aristia rolls her eyes but follows Changbin to the dining room anyway.

She is on her own, but this time, her food comes out perfectly fresh and tasty. It turns out that starting the day with a good meal sets you up for a good mood.

~

“Alice, grab the third book on the second row there and put it in the stack. Ah, and the fifth book on the 8th row. They seem related.”

“I’m on it, Your Highness!” The young girl exclaims excitedly as she picks the requested books and places them in Juliana’s arms.

The second maid is now holding over a dozen books that look heavy to say the least. Her hands must’ve surely gone tired.

“Alright, I think this is all for today. Let’s go sit down at that desk over there. Do you know how to read, Alice?”

“Uhm… I do recognise most letters, but I’m still learning.” The young maid smiles.

“Great. Then pick up the third book in Juliana’s arms and sit down. I want you to know how to read and write. If you feel like you’re not able to do it on your own, feel free to say so, and I will arrange a tutor for you.”

“Your Majesty! I could never accept such grace… I will do my best!”

“Good.” Aristia smiles and pets the child on the head. She’s only 5 years younger, but they are on completely different levels as far as maturity goes.

Alice is still an innocent child, whereas Aristia never had the chance to grow up surrounded by such innocence. However, Aristia is aware that Alice was brought up in the Capital, which surely means that she’s clever to say the least.

“What should I do, Your Highness?” Juliana asks.

“Oh, you’re already doing your sole task of the day. You are to hold my books so I can get them easily.”

“But Your Highness, I could place them on a chair, or on a table, or-”

Aristia raises her hand in the air to stop her from talking.

“Have I requested your opinion?” She smiles cunningly.

“No, but-”

“Then stay there quietly, will you? This is a library.”

“But-”

“Juliana.” Aristia turns her whole body to face the maid. Her eyes are cold.

“I understand you are upset at me, however-”

“Upset at you?” Aristia chuckles. “Tell me, do the insects you pass by in the streets upset you at all?”

“Your Majesty…” Juliana’s eyes widen, unable to believe that the Empress compared her to an insect.

“Defy me one more time and you’ll wish you'd been born an insect instead.” She warns and slaps the top of the book stack as hard as she can, making Juliana lose her balance and drop all of them on the floor.

With a low chuckle, Aristia continues her torment:

“Oh my, look at the mess you made. You should clean that up and resume your position quickly. And be careful, the books are the Emperor’s property. If you damage one, you could be punished.”

Aristia sits down and opens one of the books, beginning to read about the founding rulers of the Empire. They are described as cruel, but well-respected between the people, and Aristia can’t help herself but think that she might be a bit cruel to Juliana as well.

She wonders if she’s at least well-respected outside the Palace’s walls, since she’s brought peace to the Empire. However, with the upcoming war, she starts to worry, and a new plan starts brewing in her mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to it now, as she has something more important to focus on: her health, acquiring knowledge as soon as possible, and making sure she does a good job as the Empress.

After at least two of these conditions are met, she will execute the plan as well.

~

Aristia’s days are productive enough; with the library pass, she makes acquaintances with the books in the library and reads to her heart’s content. She thought it was going to be hard focusing on her books with Juliana throwing daggers with her eyes in her back, but it was surprisingly easy to ignore her, despite her sighing and fidgeting annoyingly often.

Juliana doesn’t even complain much anymore; she’s gotten used to Aristia telling her to clean the same spot on the floor over and over again, to carry heavy books and keep holding them, and to even run certain errands, although for the more important ones, Mari and Alice were mostly trusted to handle them.

Despite going to the library and reading every day, it’s been a period of resting for Aristia; her back is a bit better, with almost no risk of the wounds opening back up, she has been eating well and gaining a bit of weight, and she’s been sleeping well enough during the night.

With a new week starting, there are many things she wants to do: first of all, there’s the meeting with Seungmin and Jisung, who will have to teach her how to do her job as the Empress.

Then, there’s the matter of the court ladies. Ever since Arabella’s been sent away, they’ve all been living quietly between the Palace’s walls, most likely afraid they’re going to meet the same fate and have their lives uprooted by the cruel Empress, as they like to shush between themselves.

Although Aristia’s never been interested in what they have to say, she doesn’t want to let it go like this either. So, she decides to host a brunch and invite them all, to become acquainted properly. It’s about time they have a chat.

She settles on a time and place a few weeks away, and begins writing letters, sealing them with hot wax and with the Empire’s seal.

~

“It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Your Highness.” Han bows, and Seungmin follows suit.

After they introduce themselves, they sit down in front of Aristia’s desk. Chris has given her a room to turn into an office, specifically to do her job somewhere outside her bedroom.

“So,” Aristia begins, “let’s start from the beginning. What should I know about you two?”

“About us?” Jisung’s eyes widen. “Uhm, well-”

“We are mere subjects of the Emperor, Your Highness. There’s nothing of importance to be known about us.” Seungmin intervenes.

“Is that so? I’d still like to know what you two are like. If I am to choose somebody, I have to know who I’m dealing with, unless you’d be able to suggest a different method?” She challenges Seungmin, whose lips turn into a thin line.

Truth is, she already knows who she’s going to pick, but learning things about Chan’s people is never a bad idea.

“Your Highness, I’ve been training to become an advisor ever since I was born, as my father himself was an advisor.” Jisung replies, his cheeks growing a subtle pink tint.

“What became of your father?”

“He unfortunately caught a severe illness and never recovered. He left us a few years ago.”

“I see. I’m sorry for your loss. What about you, Seungmin?”

“As I mentioned, there’s nothing of importance Her Highness should know about me. I am but a clever man and the Emperor thought I deserve the honour of serving the Empire.”

“I believe the modest look doesn’t suit you too well.” Aristia attacks, but Seungmin only deflects.

“Regarding your future work, what exactly do you wish us to teach you?” He asks coldly. “We’ve been doing a very good job so far, so, perhaps Your Highness’ efforts would be better spent someplace else.”

“See, we don’t agree on that, unfortunately. I have enough knowledge in budgeting and accounting, but a brief explanation on how you’ve managed until now would be greatly appreciated.”

“We are in your service, Your Majesty.” Han bows.

“Thank you, Jisung. Then, what should I know of?”

The two men begin talking to the Empress, explaining all sorts of concepts regarding the way they’ve been dividing the work. It’s not simple, but it’s also not impossible, and with a bit of training, Aristia is sure she would have no issues taking over.

There’s a stark contrast between the ways Jisung and Seungmin are explaining things, she notices. While Jisung tries to explain every other term, unaware of how much knowledge Aristia possesses, Seungmin speaks unfiltered, using any term, no matter how complicated or hard to understand.

“So, who do you wish to assist you further?” Seungmin asks impatiently after about an hour. “As you might be aware, there are a lot of things to do, and keeping both of us here-”

“Yes, you’re right, Seungmin. Well then, Jisung,” she starts, and Seungmin places his hands on the handles of his chair, preparing to stand up, “you may go finish whatever work you have. Seungmin shall assist me from now on regarding this matter.”

“What?” Seungmin’s eyes grow wide, annoyance plastered all over his face, while Jisung bows and exits the room. “What do you mean? I thought that-”

“What, did you think that you’d get out of this if you acted like an asshole?” Aristia chuckles.

“Like an asshole-” Seungmin replies baffled, leaning back into his chair. “I see how it is. You think that because of that high title of yours, you can act however you please and everyone would bend over backwards for you and your wishes. But you see, Your Highness? Respect is not conveyed by your title, it’s earned. These cheap tactics might work on everyone else, but not on me.”

“And that goes both ways, Seungmin. You have yet to prove to me that you are worthy of my respect.” She answers with a sneer.

“Why me, then? Jisung is clearly a way better fit for you.”

“Because you declared war on the Kingdom.”

“Is that all? We have a common enemy and now you want us to be friends?”

“Nothing of that sort. I just found it a clever way to boost the people’s morale, as they now have a new objective in mind: protect the Empress at all costs. You did well.”

Seungmin sits straight in his chair and looks at Aristia, dead in the eyes.

“I will teach you, but only if you manage to solve this issue we’ve been having throughout the Empire.”

“A test?” She chuckles. “Let’s hear it.”

“The economy’s been plummeting for no apparent reason. We are the most prosperous in the continent when it comes to trades, and yet- just look at the Empire’s budget, and you’ll notice a gap.”

“Have you already solved this issue?” She asks.

“Not yet. It just came to our attention the other day when we rummaged through whatever papers we’d use to teach you.”

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” Aristia chuckles, but Seungmin only smirks.

“Those are my terms. Take them or not, there is nothing for me to lose. You have until the end of the week to find a cause and a solution to this problem.”

“Fine. I shall think about it. You may go.”

Seungmin stands up, satisfied that he’s probably won a battle against the Empress. This is a delicate matter that neither he nor Jisung know the answer to so far, that has yet to be brought to the Emperor’s attention, so solving this task would most likely be impossible for Aristia. 

He is almost elated that he won’t have to teach her anything. His aversion is very much still there; before, he hated her because she was the King’s daughter, and now, he hates her because she caused ruckus by forcing them to start a war when they are still unprepared.

He simply dislikes her and everything she stands for, and this is not going to change.

~

Aristia studies long and hard about this. What could possibly cause the decline of the economy in such a prosperous nation?

She tries to recall every economy book she’s ever read, and she reads countless more in the following days, but still, she is unsure.

Could it be counterfeit coins?

That’s the only idea that comes to mind as she reads the 15th book on the topic this week, but even if this is the answer, what would a solution be?

Seungmin mentioned explicitly to ‘find a cause and a solution’.

Ugh. Aristia frowns and stands up to grab another book from Juliana’s stack. She’s not complaining as much this week.

She briefly glances through the large library’s windows and notices the dark sky outside.

How much time did I spend here today? She wonders, but it doesn’t matter, for tomorrow is already Friday, and unless she finds a solution as well, she’s doomed.

Of course, she could always study from Jisung, but there’s just something about Seungmin that she knows would make him a better fit for her. She likes his ideas.

As she sits back down at the table, she takes one more glance at Juliana and lets out a small sigh.

“Juliana, do you know how to read and write?”

“I do, Your Highness.” She replies quickly.

“I see. Put those books on the table and pick up the third one, the one about the noble families. I need you to write a summary for me about every relevant family of the Empire, their children, and specifically, their daughters.”

“Your Highness…” Juliana immediately follows soon, her eyes showing gratitude for the first time ever.

“I need your report by Monday.” Is all Aristia says. She’s punished Juliana enough, and she’s ready to finally give her a chance to be useful to her.

Before the maid can reply, Alice enters the library and comes running towards the table, and panting, she tells the Empress that she must go to her rooms immediately.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Aristia asks.

“It’s an urgent matter, Your Highness.” The young girl responds, so Aristia instructs Juliana to see to her task and put all the books back in their place when she’s done, while she follows Alice back to her rooms.

When they get there, a selection of nightgowns and lace underwear lays flat on the bed.

“What is this…?”

“My lady, His Grace sent word that he expects you in his rooms tonight, so I selected a few beautiful pieces appropriate for such an occasion.”

“Alice… what?” Aristia’s cheeks turn red. She examines the clothing once more, and she feels that same stomach dropping sensation she felt during her wedding night.

She also remembers the way Chris treated her that night, how he practically ripped her garments just to show her how easily it would be for him to overpower her, and she shudders.

Does he really want to lay with me?

“My Lady, I think this robe would be most appropriate, as it comes easily undone.”

“Alice, you’re barely 14 of age! How do you know about these matters?!”

“I have to serve Your Grace to the best of my abilities!” She counters and urges Aristia to get changed. “Besides, I’m 14, not 4.”

“Too young!” Aristia frowns but obliges and instructs Alice to get out of the room.

She feels nervous about this for some reason, as she examines herself in the mirror. Sure, she looks beautiful, but this attire is way too inappropriate and revealing!

Ugh, why does he want to see me?

And why do I have to wear this?

Aristia grimaces when someone knocks on the door and pulls her out of her thoughts. She quickly grabs something to put over the skimpy outfit and tells them to enter.

“Your Highness, are you ready to go?” Changbin asks, blushing at the sight of the Empress. Even though she is covered in a robe, he has a rich enough imagination to know what might happen tonight, she thinks, and this thought makes Aristia grimace again.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

The walk towards the Emperor’s chambers is quiet, as the hallways are empty so late into the night. Aristia yawns and suddenly feels tired, realising how many hours she spent in the library the past few weeks.

Even today, she lost track of time and it’s now a little bit past midnight. Why did Chris ask for her so late?

They reach the Emperor’s room and Lee Know nods shortly before opening the doors.

To her surprise, both him and Changbin follow her inside. She looks at them bewildered, before turning her gaze at Chris who was sitting at his desk and got up as soon as she entered.

“Good evening, Aristia.” He greets, then looks at her clothes and rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” She replies, annoyed. She doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“Yeah, I can see that, but- oh, God.” He goes to his wardrobe in slight annoyance and pulls out a thick fur coat, similar to the one she’s worn on her wedding night.

“Well, you asked for me at midnight, so I thought- ugh, nevermind, give me that.” She snatches the fur coat with annoyance and puts it on her shoulders, tightening it around her body. “Why did you send for me?”

“It’s time for you to hold your end of the bargain.”

“My end of the bargain?” She tilts her head in confusion.

“That’s right. I gave you Changbin, so it’s your turn to give me what you promised.” Chris points to the guard and chuckles, and Aristia rolls her eyes. Changbin blushes a bit more, unaware of the deal between them, but he is nonetheless flattered that Aristia asked for him specifically.

“Alright. Here?” Aristia asks.

“No. We have a meeting to go to, so let’s make haste.”

Chris goes to his large bookshelf and pulls out a few books, uncovering a lever. Aristia watches him with curiosity as he pulls down the lever and the bookcase begins to spin, revealing a secret passage.

“Come on.” He urges Aristia to go first, and she does, despite it being hard to see.

They walk for a good 10 minutes until they reach the far end of the passage that ends with a large wooden door. Chris takes out a key and unlocks the door, opening it, revealing a room with multiple other entrances, which indicates that multiple other bedrooms or common rooms must be connected together through passages throughout the Palace.

The walls of the room are covered with maps of the world and bookshelves, and in the centre, a large table with ten chairs around it occupies the space.

“Take a seat.” Chris instructs, and she follows his orders, sitting down at the table and looking at the faces of everyone around it.

She recognises some – Seungmin and Jisung – but there are also several men she’s never seen before around the palace. Most of them are a lot older than her and Chris, but there is also one man who seems around her age, with pitch black hair and fox-eyes dark enough to make anyone shudder.

They don’t bow at her, nor do they bother to introduce themselves, but their auras are all the same; they exude power, and she believes they must be strong individuals that have earned a spot at this table through their own devices.

A grin threatens to spill on her lips at the thought that she has also earned a seat at this gathering of formidable people, at least for tonight, but she is quick to control her expression the moment her eyes dart again around the unfamiliar figures, and she notices the way they are looking at her.

She doesn’t pose any significance to them, she’s not of any authority, and they don’t respect her. Especially the man her age, whose eyes look disinterested in her at best. If not for the golden crown on her head, no outsider would realise she’s Empress by these men’s behaviour towards her.

Everything changes on their faces the moment Chris sits down, though. The demeanour of these unfamiliar men morphs into something different, and they share a completely distinct look, contrasting the one they’ve given her. Chris’ simple presence projects strength, but in a different way compared to the other men.

The way his head sits on his shoulders, and the way he places his arms steadily on top of the table is so authoritative, it’s immediately noticeable that he has the power and that you must respect him, and every man around the table does so, undoubtedly.

Their eyes sparkle with veneration, and Aristia becomes, for the first time in her life, envious. She remembers the conversation she had with Chris, how she told him she wants more, but now that she is sitting at this secret meeting, the feeling only gets amplified a million times.

She wants way more. She wants power. She wants these people to look at her the same way they look at Chris, and she wants a permanent spot at this table.

“So,” Chris starts, looking at Aristia. He immediately notices that burning in her eyes that attracted him since day one, and his heart skips a beat. He starts wondering what could be going through her head, what made her eyes spark that way, but time is scarce and there’s more important matters to focus on. He continues. “Since we’re all here, let’s start the meeting.”

They start discussing various things, such as problems that arose between the nobles, a possible rebellion which might put the crown in danger unless they take action, and eventually, they move onto the most troubling matter: the upcoming war.

“Aristia, you told me you have some crucial information that might help us. Let’s hear it.” Chris urges her to speak, and for the first time since the meeting starts, she does.

“First of all, my father’s army is led by a very powerful man. He’s called the General, and you must’ve heard about him in legends, as he had won all his wars. All of the legends are true, and he is a truly frightening and strong man. However… in case you battle against him, there is a secret no one knows, a weakness.”

“Which is?” Lee Know asks, his sharp eyes observing Aristia.

“His left eye. He’s been stabbed in it, and his current eye is a prosthesis our doctor created specifically for him. It looks natural enough to fool anyone, but he has no sight from it.”

“That’s impossible. You said so yourself: the legends are true, which means he’s never been scratched in battle. How would he lose his eye?” Lee Know counters with scepticism.

“He didn’t lose it in battle. My father took it out when drunk one night. You see, he was overly fearful that people would betray him, so… he asked the General if he would sacrifice his whole life for the Kingdom and for him, and upon his agreement, my father asked him to prove it. ‘How?’ he asked. ‘You must give me something of importance. Something you truly value. Unfortunately, your limbs are crucial, so how about this?’ my father replied, and pulled out his blade. You can imagine the rest yourselves.”

“And how did you come to know about it?” Chris asks, and Aristia averts her gaze.

“I was there… when he stabbed him.”

“Alright… that’s good to know. His senses might not be as sharp on his left side, then.” Changbin nods.

“Now, what do you know of his army?”

“Right…” Aristia nods and starts explaining the way their army is divided. She seems to impress most people around the table with the knowledge she has on the matter, as it’s truly unexpected. She is even able to give an estimated number of soldiers from when she still lived in the Kingdom.

Most people are amazed, with the exception of the fox-eyed man, whose gaze remains dark and unchanging.

She decides to ignore his hostility and continues telling the men about the Kingdom’s usually discussed strategies, their strengths and their weaknesses, and she tries to convey as much information as possible, despite this not being her strong suit. Truth be told, she doesn’t know much about the military; it never interested her to read about. However, she does her best to remember what she’s heard her father and the General talk about, and by the end of her talk, Changbin and Lee Know, as well as three other men she doesn’t recognise that are sitting around the table begin talking about their own strategies, using the new intel from Aristia.

“Do you all know what you have to do?” Chris asks after a little while, observing everyone. They all nod, so Chris stands up. “Alright, then. We will retire for the night. I’ll see you in a week from now, unless other problems arise.”

He comes behind Aristia’s chair and helps her stand up as well, and he guides her back to the passage. He opens the large wooden door and steps through it with her, before locking it.

“What about Lee Know and Changbin?” She asks, noticing that it’s just the two of them, but her mind is still stuck on the meeting, and on the new information that a week from now, another one will be held.

One that she has no spot at.

Yet.

“They’ll go to their own rooms for the night when they’re done planning.”

“I see.”

The walk back to Chan’s room is quiet except for their steps that echo through the long passage. When they finally reach the room, the bookshelf turns back in its place, making it impossible to notice there is something hidden behind it, unless you knew it was there.

Aristia finds it fascinating.

“So…” She starts, pulling the fur coat closer to her. “I guess I should go.”

“It might be better to sleep here, or at least stay until the morning.”

“Here?”

“Unless you want people to start talking again about how you got kicked out in the middle of the night.” He chuckles, slight mockery behind his words. “You asked me to make you Empress, and I’m giving you a chance to secure your position.”

“What, do you want to sleep with me now?” She asks in slight annoyance.

“No, Aristia.” He sighs. “I’m just thinking of how to prevent any more rumours from circling around you. I won’t touch you, so you can relax. And next time I ask for you, don’t wear such scanty clothes, and there’ll be nothing to fear.”

She chuckles, to Chan’s surprise, and drops the fur coat, going to the large bed and pulling the covers off to make enough space for her to go under.

“How’s your back?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Sometimes it’s sore, but Hyunjin comes to apply a salve if I ask for him.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks. Aren’t you going to come to bed?” She asks with a frown, noticing that Chris is heading to his desk.

“… No, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head with a smile.

“Why not? It’s big enough for both of us.”

“I just have some work to do. Worry not and go to sleep first.” He urges her, and she pouts a bit before covering herself with the comfortable duvet.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

She closes her eyes and lets herself listen to every sound Chris makes. He’s not loud at all; sometimes, he flips a paper, or tuts, or sighs, but other than that, she can only hear his breathing.

She continues laying on the bed with her eyes closed for some time, but despite being fully relaxed, it rubs her the wrong way that Chris keeps working instead of coming to sleep.

She decides to sit up and observes him for a while, until he notices she’s not asleep.

They look at each other for a few moments without saying anything.

“What are you working on?” Aristia asks eventually, supporting her head on her knees.

“I’ve been reading some reports from the Capital. It appears a new disease has been spreading and no one knows why. A lot of people have died already. Hyunjin’s team is investigating as well.”

“Oh.” Aristia replies. Once again, she’s out of the loop.

She’s at least glad that this time Chris is the one to fill her in, and not Changbin.

“What are the symptoms?” She asks.

“Stomach pain, vomiting, diarrhoea, cramps, fever… Hyunjin said it might be food poisoning. There was an issue with a trade a few years ago where the Empire received spoiled goods, and a lot of people passed away after eating them.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“We assumed it was a disease at first, we tried treating the symptoms, but as the people kept consuming the spoiled goods, they kept getting sicker. Hyunjin was, at that time, a doctor somewhere in the countryside, and he suggested which food is causing the issue. It’s what earned him a place in the Palace, actually.”

“That’s amazing, he’s a very talented doctor.”

“He is, indeed. I’m just dejected that we didn’t find him earlier. We’ve lost important people because of it.”

“Like… Jisung’s dad?”

“… Yeah. How do you know about him?”

“He told me the other day…”

“If only I would’ve met with Hyunjin earlier…”

“It’s not your fault.” Aristia tries to console him, but Chris still looks dejected. He looks back at his papers and then changes the subject, back to the Empire’s actual problem.

“I was looking at all the reports of the trades and trying to figure out what the spoiled goods might be this time.”

“Maybe it’s not food. It might be water.” She shrugs, and Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Water?”

“Yeah. Contaminated water… wouldn’t it lead to the same symptoms?”

“I’m not sure. I guess? I need to talk to Hyunjin about it tomorrow. How did you think of this, though?”

“I’ll tell you if you turn off the lamp and come here.” She grins and pats the empty space beside her in bed.

Chris chuckles but stands up anyway and comes to the bed to lay down. He doesn’t go under the covers; instead, he sprawls out on top of them, supporting his head with a hand while he watches Aristia with curiosity.

“Let me guess, you read about it in a book.”

“No, not this time.” She chuckles.

The air between them feels light and relaxed, and so she lays down as well.

“My mother’s maid has taken care of me since I was born. She was like a mother to me. Since I didn’t have the King’s affection, other servants mistreated me quite often, if my maid wouldn’t pay attention. I would get sick often, despite my food being fresh, and we couldn’t figure out why. One day, though, she caught one of the maids washing some apples with dirty water, and suddenly, all my stomach issues made sense. She took care of all my meals going further, until she passed.”

“Aristia…” Chris immediately frowns, seemingly upset about the new information. “You’ve received such harsh treatment ever since you were little…?”

“It’s fine. It’s all in the past.” She says, watching Chan’s gaze. Her eyes get adjusted quickly to the dark, and his sparkle in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry… how was it after she passed away?”

“Well … let’s just say that the way I was treated here was light compared to how it was in the Kingdom.” She chuckles lightly, but Chan’s expression only falls more.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“Not necessarily. Only if you want to hear it.” She shrugs.

“I want to hear it.”

She hums and thinks about how to begin, and a few seconds later, she resumes talking.

“I was given old food most days, and I would be sick often. I wasn’t allowed to get out of my rooms much, but thankfully I had access to the library. My father called for me one night and that’s when it all started… and it got progressively worse with each passing week. I never knew when to expect the next beating. It honestly broke my heart when he came here and did the same thing. I thought… I foolishly thought I’m safe here.” She lets out a bitter laugh that’s pulling at Chan’s heartstrings.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He places his hand on top of hers. “No one should ever have to go through something like this, let alone a child. And you are safe. You are safe here…”

“What was your childhood like?” Aristia smiles softly, trying to ignore his last words, as they seem meaningless. To her surprise, he actually opens up.

“My childhood?” He hums. “My parents were lovely people, but my mother passed away soon after Felix’s birth, and my father was poisoned a few years ago. That’s when I got on the throne. I was your age.”

“You became Emperor at 18, just as I became Empress at 18.” She replies in thought, knowing how much this title weighted on her shoulders. It must’ve been much more difficult for Chris, whose responsibility was so much bigger.

“Yeah.” He lays down completely, putting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes briefly. He feels tired, worn out, but he doesn’t think he can sleep.

He never can.

“How was he poisoned?” She asks almost in a whisper, making Chris open his eyes again.

“A noble’s son worked as a butler here. They were a loyal family, and that’s precisely why their son was sent here, but they were secretly planning a rebellion. We simply weren’t careful enough.”

“I’m sorry…” She gets out of her covers and lays down as well, on her side, looking at Chan’s side profile. He is a beautiful man, she notices once again, and she is reminded of the first time she’s seen his face in the church. It feels like a lifetime ago, even if it’s only been a year.

Back then, she would’ve never thought she’d spend a night with him talking casually like this.

“Is this why you can’t sleep?” She whispers again, and she decides to move one of her hands towards his head, ignoring her rapidly pulsing heart.

When her fingers touch his hair, she halts temporarily, waiting for a reaction from him, but he simply closes his eyes, so she digs her fingers deeper, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails.

“Yeah. It’s a sad realisation, knowing that you might get killed any second, unsure if you can truly trust anyone around you.”

Just then, he suddenly grabs her wrist and turns on his side as well, looking into her eyes.

“Can I trust you, Aristia?” He asks, but before she has a chance to answer, he continues speaking. “Tonight, at the meeting… you surely noticed that only important people are allowed there. I trusted you blindly, which resulted in everyone else trusting your words as well. I didn’t make a mistake, did I?”

She immediately shakes her head.

“But how can I know that?” He whispers and releases her wrist, showing a sad smile. “Can you prove it somehow?”

“How, Chris?” She asks. Her chest grows tight, as his expression is tugging at her heart. She’s never before wished so strongly for someone to believe her.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then begins talking again, and his words simply don’t sit right within her heart.

“I guess there’s no way to find out before it happens. If I am to die in this war-”

“I’m sincere, Chris. You can trust me.” She says with resolve and breathes in, trying to get enough courage to move. She decides to stop thinking so much, and closes her eyes tightly, getting closer to him and pressing her lips against his.

Chris opens his eyes wide and doesn’t understand what’s going on for a few seconds. Aristia moves away and is glad for the darkness of the room, as her cheeks must be blood red.

“Uhm, I-” She starts, but is cut off by Chan’s lips on hers, his left hand finding its way to her waist, holding it tightly.

Their kiss deepens as Chris bites her lower lip, making her gasp slightly, moment when he slides his tongue inside her mouth.

Their tongues touch numerous times feverishly, and Aristia’s right hand finds Chan’s neck. They keep kissing passionately, gasping for air, when Chris ends up on top of her. She makes space for him between her legs as her hands move to his back, fingernails touching him through his shirt, and when they get down enough, she finds a patch of skin around his lower back, and she slides her hands under.

Chris can’t get enough of her sweetness, and he keeps kissing her passionately until he feels her nails scratching his back, and he pulls away to look at her. She looks so beautiful under him, moonlight radiating on her skin, and fuck, her skimpy clothes are not helping the growing bulge in his pants. He wants to devour her completely, to make her his, and his fingers move to the small cord keeping her nightgown together.

He hesitates for a few seconds, looking into her eyes that seem as full of desire as his. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes that enticed him since day one with their powerful, alluring burning.

“May I?” he asks, and she nods eagerly, closing her eyes in anticipation. This is a stark contrast to their first night, when, despite them not sleeping together, he ripped her robe open to show her how easily it is to overpower her.

He doesn’t want to overpower her this time, or control her, or dominate her. He simply wants to bring her pleasure, and to chase his own by using her body, as long as she wants it as well. He wants them to be Emperor and Empress, husband and wife, equal to one another as they become one.

Having her accord, his fingers untie the robe that reveal her underwear quickly: a two-piece lacy set that hugs her body perfectly. He touches her breasts through the lace bralette, and she lets out a soft moan, rolling her head back.

“You’re so beautiful, Aristia.” He whispers, connecting his mouth to her neck, sucking patches of skin and marking her with his kisses.

She arches her back at the contact, and Chris takes advantage of this moment by sliding his hands under her, unclasping her bra. He takes it off swiftly, watching her breasts bounce as her back connects to the mattress once more.

He moves his mouth lower, taking her left breast into his hand as his lips latch onto her right, and he begins sucking on her nipple, while his fingers play with the other.

Aristia squirms under him, trying desperately to clench her legs together as she feels her arousal building up, but Chan’s body is still between her legs, so she is unable to move much. However, he notices her urgency, so he decides to spare her of her suffering.

He begins moving his mouth lower, and when he reaches her abdomen, he presses a long kiss on her belly as his fingers entangle the hem of her underwear, beginning to take it down.

“Chris, I- oh, God.” She moans as his mouth connects to her core, licking her clit eagerly. She rolls her head back again, and she’s never felt as much pleasure before. An unfamiliar feeling settles deep in her stomach, as she moans louder and tries to move away from him.

However, his hands on her thighs keep her in place, and he continues licking that sweet spot until she comes undone with a loud whine.

He begins kissing his way up her body again, and when he gets on top of her, he presses a long kiss against her lips.

“How was it?” He asks, looking into her eyes for any second-thoughts or doubts. He doesn’t find either. Her eyes are burning up more than ever, with a passion stronger than he’s ever seen before, and instead of replying, she raises her head to kiss him again, and she’s the one biting his lips this time.

Her hands find the hem of his shirt and she urges him to take it off, watching in awe how perfect he looks. His body is as beautiful as his face, extremely toned and pleasant to the eyes.

She holds her breath in anticipation as he takes his pants down, and when he presses his hard dick against her entrance, she closes her eyes instinctively and holds her breath.

She tries counting seconds in her head instead of thinking of all the books she has read about the female anatomy and the stinging pain a woman has on her first night, but she tenses up, nonetheless.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” Chris asks, touching her face tenderly with his hands and making her open her eyes again and release her breath.

“I’m just… scared.” She replies honestly in a small voice, it comes out as a whisper. “It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Probably.” He nods. “But I’m not going to hurt you deliberately. I’ll be as gentle as I can, and if you decide you can’t take it, we can stop anytime.”

“Do you promise?” She whispers again, and all of a sudden, she feels exposed and vulnerable. All the confidence she had until now, gone, in the blink of an eye. “Do you promise not to hurt me?”

“Yes.” He answers quickly, resolve lacing his tone. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise.” He continues, pressing a kiss on her neck.

“Alright…” She nods unsurely and buries her head in Chan’s shoulder, her hands hanging onto his back for dear life.

He begins pushing in, and she feels a slight pain, but it’s nothing as bad as she thought.

“Ugh…” She lets her head fall back on the bed, looking into his eyes, noticing how closely he observes her.

“Can you take more?”

“Yeah…” She nods, and he pushes in some more, until he bottoms out into her. The stretch is uncomfortable, but Chris is not rushing her; he lets her get adjusted to him before he begins moving slowly, and soon enough, his slow thrusts get more momentum, and the pain mixes with pleasure.

Her hands release his back momentarily, until she connects them to it again, digging her nails in his skin softly. She also adjusts her position and moves her legs around his waist, allowing him to dive in even deeper than before and hit an angle she never thought possible.

“You’re so good…” Chris praises, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, and with no warning, he stalls on top of her, panting heavily.

He pulls out and she feels something warm dripping out of her, before Chan’s fingers find her pussy again, rubbing it. He moves his other hand as well, making two fingers enter her, curling up and touching that sweet spot from inside as he keeps rubbing circles on her clit.

She comes undone for the second time with ease, gripping his arm to signal him to stop.

He does, and comes back on top of her, taking some stray hairs out of her face and tucking them behind her ear, as he kisses her lips.

“Was it that bad?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“I was expecting… the worst, honestly.” She laughs. “You were really good. Thank you for being patient with me.”

Chris is the one who lets out a laugh this time. Who thanks their partner like that?

Nonetheless, he is glad she also had a good time, as this experience came as a surprise to him. He never planned to bed her, and the way it happened, the way his heart kept beating faster and faster until his desire became almost impossible to control, caught him completely off guard.

Hell, his heart is still beating way too fast for his own liking, and her plump lips look so inviting, he wants to kiss her over and over again.

“We should head to sleep.” He says instead, and she nods softly.

Chris aids Aristia in getting under the covers, and he follows suit shortly, but his body suddenly feels cold, empty, like something is missing.

He turns to look at her again, his eyes softer than ever before, and he grabs her body, making her come into his arms.

She responds to his touch and snuggles into his chest, and they fall asleep, cuddled against each other.

~

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

[pinkrose787]

A Troll By Any Other Name Would Be As Sweet.

Summary: Branch realizes that she's trans. When she goes to tell Poppy, she finds that Poppy has something to tell her too.

Inspired by this post

AO3 Link

After everything with the Bergens, Branch has finally had some time do some introspection on who exactly Branch is.

And the answer is quite surprising.

Branch is a girl.

Looking back it does make a lot of sense. There had been so many signs that she ignored over the years. Like how she never really liked the way she looked in the mirror, how dressing up in suits always made her feel terrible about herself, or how she always felt like her name never really fit her.

For years, she attributed it to her very severe depression. Everything was bad for her emotionally. So, it made sense that she’d hate looking in the mirror and seeing the troll that she had become. Now that things are better, she is finally able to see it for what it really is. Severe gender dysphoria.

All she has to do now is tell everyone.

Which isn’t terrifying at all.

Troll society is generally very accepting of queer trolls. Branch remembers when Floyd came out as gay. Everyone was very supportive of him. There were a few female fans who were distraught. But other than that, no one really made a big deal of it.

Despite this acceptance, there is still this part of Branch that is terrified that she’ll be rejected. That others will look at her and say, “This is too much. She’s too weird.” And have her be outcasted from society again. Right after they had all accepted her back in.

But Branch refuses to let herself live her life in fear again. She’s coming out. 

Poppy is obviously going to be the first person Branch comes out to. For one, she’s the nicest troll ever and if anyone is going to be supportive, it’s her. Two, Poppy is her best friend and she should be the first one to know the truth about her.

Branch stands in front of her pod. She raises her hand to knock on the door. Her hand starts to shake. Every part of her brain is activated like there’s a level 10 threat and she’s miles from her bunker.

She can’t do this.

As she turns around, the door swings open. “Branch! Hey! What’s up!” Poppy says.

Branch stops in her tracks. She turns around. This is the time to do it. There is no turning back. “Hey Poppy.” Branch waves at her. “Can we go inside? There’s something important I need to tell you.”

“Sure! Come on in!” Poppy waves Branch inside.

Branch’s legs feel like jelly as she walks in to Poppy’s pod. The last time she was this nervous around Poppy was when she was all gray and angry. Before the two of them were as close friends as they are now.  

“What do you need to talk about?” Poppy asks.

“Well…” Branch wants to stall. But she won’t. “I want to tell you that I’m trans.”

“What?” Poppy says.

“I’m a girl, not a guy,” Branch says. She thought that Poppy would know what being trans meant given how socially conscious she is.

A wide smile forms on Poppy’s face. “That’s crazy!” She pulls Branch into a big hug. This is the type of reaction that Branch had expected from her. The hug feels so comforting, as Poppy’s hugs always are. “I’m so glad that you told me!”

Poppy releases Branch from the hug, to her slight disappointment. “I actually was going to tell you that I’m trans too!” Poppy says.

“What?” Out of all the responses she expected, that was not one of them.

“Yeah! I realized a couple of weeks ago that I’m a transguy!” he says.

“What?” Branch repeats.  “Really?”

“Yes!” Poppy shouts very enthusiastically. “Have you picked out a new name yet? I haven’t. Nothing that I’ve thought of has really felt right.”

Branch rubs her arms. “Well, I haven’t.” She sighs. “Honestly, I haven’t really given anything about my transition much thought.”

Poppy gasps. “I just had the greatest idea in the history of ideas!”

“What is it?” Branch is dreading whatever he’s about to say. Often times, his “great” ideas end in a massive mess.

“We should switch names!”

“Wouldn’t that be confusing?”

“I don’t see why it would be,” Branch says.

Poppy shrugs. “Alright.”

“Yeah! I’m King Branch now! And you’re Poppy, my best friend!” Branch pulls Poppy into another big hug.

Poppy hugs Branch back. She loves his hugs. She loves him.

“We’ve got to tell everyone!” Branch thinks for a second. He gasps. “I know! We could throw a gender reveal party for ourselves!”

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that.” Poppy rubs her arm. “It’s just that telling you took a lot of courage. And I’m not sure if I’m ready to tell anyone else.”

Branch smiles softly. “That’s okay. We can tell everyone when you’re comfortable.”

Poppy sighs. “Yeah. When I’m ready.”

“Until then we could get you a new wardrobe!” Branch takes Poppy’s hand. He takes her over to his closet. “I’ve got lots of dresses that I don’t need anymore and you would look great in.”

Branch goes on and on about helping her with her fashion. Taking out different dresses and talking about how he thinks it will match her style. It’s so sweet. The kindness that Branch is showing her is one of the reasons that she loves him.

This isn’t exactly how Poppy imagined coming out would go. It’s a lot better than she could have ever imagined. Transitioning is scary, but at least she won’t be alone. She’ll have Branch by her side. And she’ll be by Branch’s side for his transition.

[jmagnabo92]

Princess Alex

Just a little fluff fic for the boys :)

AO3

After the boys celebrate their engagement, Alex teases about if he's going to get the chance to be Princess Alex.

***

Three plus years after the leak, and four years after their first visit to Paris together, Alex finds himself curled up in Henry’s arms.  Henry had arranged for them to spend spring break in Paris.  Visiting the city, enjoying being happy and in love, and as of dinner tonight… engaged. 

Naturally they had celebrated and now were cuddling together. 

Alex is laying on his right side, curled into Henry, and smiling at his ring.  He’d gotten a similar band for Henry – although more catered to Henry’s taste just as Alex’s ring is catered to his own, he’d been planning to propose to Henry at the lake house that summer, but Henry beat him to the punch, and he wasn’t going to wait months to see his ring on Henry’s finger. 

“You like it, love?”

Alex hums.  “Love it.  Really making history here, huh, baby?”

“Absolutely.  I’m just imaging the chaos of a Royal Wedding with two men – one of which is from the country that succeeded from us 250 years ago, it’s definitely going to make history.”

Henry kisses his curls, and adds, “Plus, it’s going to make my ancestors roll in their graves and I’m going to love that.”

Alex laughs.  “Can you imagine your gran’s reaction if she were still around?”

“The only reason I was able to get permission to marry you is because my mother is Queen now.”

Of course, Alex knows this.  Catherine has been Queen for more than a year and that’s made everything far easier on them.  Even if the long-drawn-out funeral situation had affected their relationship with Henry being required to do certain things in London for so long while Alex was stuck doing his second year of law school.  He wanted to be there for Henry, but ‘official royal suitor’ is not enough to get much leeway for his schooling. 

He was just glad that it fell in a way that he could join Henry for the summer in London as he took up some of his royal duties after the coronation of their new queen.  Unlike with the former Queen, Catherine encouraged Henry to have Alex supporting him throughout those duties, which made both of them a lot happier and the press had started teasing about wondering when Alex would become Princess Alex, which Alex actually loved.

“Speaking of my new queen, do you think she’ll officially make me a Princess?” Alex teases. 

Henry bursts out laughing.  “Typically speaking getting married warrants you the title of Duke or Duchess, not Prince or Princess, but I do think you could convince the public to call you Princess Alex, they already do anyway.”

“I suppose that I could settle for Duchess,” Alex grins.  “But why deny the public what they really want?”

“You’re such a menace to society.  It’s not the public that started this whole Princess Alex thing and you know it,” Henry says, with a chuckle. 

He’s right, of course he is.  Shortly after their forced outing and his mother winning the election, the crown and the white house wanted them to do an interview discussing things and answering a few questions. 

“So, Alex, now that we know a little about what Prince Henry’s plans are, why don’t you tell us a little bit about your own?” the host of the interview asks.

“Well, given everything that’s happened with the campaign and the election, I have to say my political aspirations have definitely changed, I definitely don’t want to be a senator by the time I’m thirty anymore, but that left me a little… floundering.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.”

Here he decides to make a joke because he really doesn’t want to talk about why he’s changing away from politics. 

“So, I considered my options.  I briefly considered just being a princess now that I got Henry –”

“You would be a pretty princess, Alex,” Henry teases.

“And it even rolls off the tongue well, Princess Alex,” he teases.

“I do like the sound of it.”

There are cheers from the crowd that agree.

“But,” Alex states, despite the grinning.  “But part of the reason Henry and I fell in love is because we both want to do good in the world.  So, rather just be a princess, although it would be delightful, I’ve decided to go to law school.  I want to help minorities and underprivileged people and make a difference.”

“That’s great.”

There’s a bit of a lull and Alex knows the show’s about to end, so he says, “Besides, Henry’s mom got to be the first princess with a doctorate, so I could totally be the first princess with a law degree someday.”

He and Henry had burst out laughing, as had the crowd.

After that, the hashtag Princess Alex had gone wild on twitter and Instagram with everyone arguing that Alex would be an awesome Princess (helped by June and Bea’s comments that he would look oh so pretty in a dress and tiara – Pez and Nora had even done mockups of him in dresses and tiaras next to a mockup of Henry as Prince Charming –, and it was not at all hindered by Zahra or Philip’s annoyance by the tag).  Ever since, the press had referred to Alex as “the First Son (Princess Alex)” in the papers.  Particularly when he was in an article with Henry.

It helped that any time Alex tweeted about him and Henry, he used the hashtag as well, and so had the others, who thought the idea was hilarious.

“It doesn’t matter who started what – it doesn’t even matter that I was joking, what does matter is that the people have taken to it and me like I knew that they would, and they would thrilled to make me an official princess.”

Henry laughs.  “Half of me thinks you only said yes so that you could officially be a princess.”

“You’re so right – I befriended you, let you kiss me and turn my world on its axis by making me realize I’m bi, go through this whole thing where I was madly in love – couldn’t get enough of that mouth and your dick – but really all along… it was ploy.  I wanted to be ‘Princess Alex’ and it was worth sucking your dick just to get that.”

Henry reaches behind him and grabs a pillow before hitting him with it.  “You’re such a demon.”

“Yes, but I’m your demon now,” Alex says, returning fire with the pillow.  “Now and forever,” he says as he laces his left hand with Henry’s left hand, smiling at the way their bands shine together. 

Henry grins.  “Even if it was some ploy to become a Princess – I’m okay with that, as long as you’re my princess.”

“You’re such a sap,” Alex teases.  Then he goes and kisses him anyway.  “Can we make a post celebrating or do we have to wait for the press teams involved?”

“Technically we’re supposed to let them announce it, but since when do we ever listen to them?”

Alex grins as he holds up their hands laced together and snaps of them with their rings – he’d do a picture of him and Henry kissing, but it’d be far too obvious what they’ve been up to tonight, so hands it is. 

He adds the caption:

We said yes, here’s to making history again.  #theprinceandtheprincess #princessalex #princehenry #engaged #firstprince #history, huh?

He shows it to Henry, who smiles and nods, “Post it.”

The second he does, it breaks his records on his posts in minutes and knowing that they would rather celebrate than deal with wedding details already, he turns the phone off and says, “Well, baby, I think we can let the world marinate on us making history again, while I make use of the wonderful mouth of yours.”

Henry grins, “Sounds like a plan, love.”

“Good.”

***

Tagging those that seemed interested in the snippet:

@onthewaytosomewhere @iboatedhere @thesleepyskipper @theprinceandagcd @fullsunsets

[maul-of-shame]

I always see you posting Elrondriel fics and saying you have stuff coming up so just wondering, how many of them do you have planned?

Ngl Anon I read "I always see you plotting Elrondriel" and that made me chuckle XDDD

SO GLAD YOU ASKED!! Currently I have a lot of AUs, some in the works, some currently out and some drafted entirely!

My current AUs:

The Hunger Games/TROP: "Gilded Choices: The Reaping of Stars" A multi-chapter juggernaut already reaping attention on AO3. Two sequels and one prequel are coming because who doesn’t love a good Games binge? (Prequel = Nimue and Gil's turn to play with fire.)

The Witcher/TROP: "Of Tides and Sorrows" Already available on AO3! Shorter multi-chapters planned, but there’ll be a flood of them because when it rains (sorrows), it pours. Geralt with TROP vibes? Consider me tossed a coin.

Shadow and Bone/Grishaverse/TROP AU: “Enter the Fold” of this seven-chapter masterpiece in progress. The Elrondriel angst? So perfectly gut-punching, it should come with a warning. (Shadow and bone-chillingly good!)

Frozen AU: Do you wanna build a ship? The potential here is snowballing. (Also, “Let It Go” but make it Elrondriel: chef’s kiss.)

Pride and Prejudice/TROP AU: Three chapters of delicious Elrondriel angst so far. It’s Darcy-level dramatic, but I can’t decide if I should keep dancing at this Netherfield Ball or let it rest.

Tangled Elrondriel AU: I mean, Elrondriel in Tangled, aka "Best Day Ever"? Yes, Mother Knows Best, and I know this fic is spinning into one of my favorites.

Umbrella Academy AU: Sometimes, you just need the giggles. Add Elrondriel to the Hargreeves mess, and you get chaos that’s number one.

Kingsman Elrondriel AU: I suited up and teased this in the server recently. This fic is all charm, wit, and sharp-edged banter—just the way Manners Maketh Fanfic.

Sherlock AU: Elrondriel but make it Victorian. I’m solving crimes and shipping feels one mystery at a time.

The Musketeers AU: I'm French bestie, so of course, this exists. One for all and all for Elrondriel! (C’est la fic vie! 🥖🗡️)

"My Lady Jane" AU: Elrond looks like Guilford, and I look like someone who could not resist. Hilarity, history, and a heads-up—this one’s royally fun.

Pirates of the Caribbean AU: POTC AUs are my rite of passage. Elrondriel meets swashbuckling? You better believe me, you scallywags.

“Keeping up with the House of Finarfin” (Kiddos and Teens Edition): Nine stories waiting to be edited because who needs a peaceful family dinner when you can have teen chaos and Elrondriel parenting goals?

Five Elrondriel Smut Pieces: These are currently hidden because shy me is winning, but Fallout!me and Star Wars!me posted +15k smut like it was a light saber duel. Stay tuned, maybe?

Probably More Random Fics: Let’s just say my WIP folder is a fandom black hole. Apologies for the chaos (but not really).

[rolandtowen]

hey! are you also feeling shitty this week? so am i. so i wrote a fic framing self-care tasks as a form of spite. you know, for reasons. this'll be quite a few chapters, so please enjoy.

read on Ao3 or under the cut:

I'm doing this for revenge / I am doing this to try and stay true

I'm doing this for the ones / We had to leave behind

I'm doing this for you

-  "Training Montage", The Mountain Goats

Bucky likes his new therapist. 

After helping to defeat the Flag Smashers, he’d started looking for a new therapist. While Dr. Raynor had been helpful, he felt that he was shifting into a new phase of his recovery, and they just weren’t clicking anymore. Luckily enough for him, the US government decided that he was trustworthy enough to pick his own therapist after saving the world (again). He’d asked both Sam and Dr. Raynor for their recommendations in the Brooklyn area. He wanted someone who had a lot of experience with PTSD, had worked with veterans extensively, and hopefully disabled veterans specifically. He didn’t mention this to Sam or Dr. Raynor, but Bucky also wanted a queer therapist. Oh, and the therapist also needed to be comfortable with phone therapy in case Bucky, you know, needed to save the world again. 

That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

That’s how Bucky ended up in the office of one Carlos Sanchez. He was sitting on a couch, like with Dr. Raynor, but that’s where the similarities ended. Dr. Sanchez’s office was colorful and open, and one wall of the room was entirely covered with bookshelves. He’d gone to adjust one of the pillows on the couch before realizing it was a green dinosaur, and it was… heavy?

“Oh, that’s Rodger,” Dr. Sanchez smiles, wheeling out from behind his desk. “He’s weighted, some of my clients find it comforting to hold him on their laps while we talk.”

If Bucky had to guess, he’d say Dr. Sanchez is in his thirties. He’d come highly recommended from Sam, and Bucky’s own internet searching reassured him. A veteran himself, he’d been hit by an IED on his second tour as a medic, causing lower-body paralysis. After being honorably discharged, he went back to school to become a therapist, specializing in PTSD and trauma-informed therapy. On his website, Bucky noticed a little flag with a rainbow on it, and the phrase “queer-friendly” next to it. So far, Dr. Sanchez is checking all of his boxes. 

“Mr. Barnes, I’m really glad you came in,” Bucky shakes his hand. “Before we get started, are there any questions you want answered right away?”

Bucky takes a second to consider before shaking his head. “No, Dr. Sanchez. And please, call me Bucky.”

Dr. Sanchez smiles, making a note on his notepad. “Of course, Bucky. And you are welcome to call me Carlos if you want – I know some clients prefer the formalities, but I want you to know that it’s not necessary here.”

Bucky nods. They spend the first half of the session going over Bucky’s history. Carlos had been sent all of Dr. Raynor’s notes, as well as several files detailing the history of the Winter Soldier, although these were heavily redacted. Carlos asks about his life now, about Sam, and about his current work. Bucky finds him easy to talk to, and when Carlos takes notes, it doesn’t feel like a punishment the same way it had with Dr. Raynor. It feels like Carlos is actually listening to what he’s trying to say. 

Carlos checks his watch. “We have about half an hour left, and I feel pretty caught up on your background – was there anything you want to start talking about today?”

Bucky flounders for a second. Carlos has been nothing but kind to him today, but if he says what he wants to work on – will he laugh? Judge Bucky? “You can say whatever’s on your mind, Bucky. I promise, I’ve heard stranger.”

“I don’t like myself.”

“I see,” Carlos says, making a note. “That’s quite understandable. A lot of veterans struggle with lower self-esteem – that’s something we see in people with PTSD in general. Can you tell me a bit more about that?”

They spend another twenty minutes talking about Bucky’s view of himself before Carlos pauses. “This is a really good start, Bucky. I have an idea I want to run by you.” Bucky nods and Carlos continues. “I’m hearing that self-care is hard for you because you don’t think you deserve it, does that sound right?” Bucky nods again. “So, I’m wondering what it might look like if you started viewing self-care as a form of revenge. Spite, if you will.”

“Spite? In spite of who?”

“In your case, HYDRA. You spent seventy years of your life being denied care and compassion – perhaps it would help to imagine that every time you care for yourself, you’re taking revenge on HYDRA.”

Bucky’s brain tries to wrap itself around the concept. Would it really help him eat better, sleep better, care for himself better if he imagined he was doing it to spite HYDRA? If he’s honest with himself – yeah. “I want – I want to try,” he says. 

Carlos smiles at him. “Alright. Then your homework for this week is to identify at least one self-care task you can improve, keeping in mind this idea of spite. Any questions?” Bucky shakes his head. “Alright, I’ll get you booked for the same time next week, and of course you have my number if you want to meet earlier.”

His first opportunity for spite/self-care (spite-care?) comes the next day. Sam’s been visiting him in Brooklyn, for the first time since their relationship became official. Sam’s helping him unload his groceries for the week, peering into his fridge before saying – “Damn, Buck. You got anything with flavor?”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky gripes, turning to look at Sam. Sam gestures broadly to Bucky’s fridge. “I don’t know man, everything is just, plain, you know?”

Now that Sam’s pointed it out, Bucky supposes that the contents of his fridge aren’t usual. There are a lot of protein shakes, formulated by Shuri especially to deal with his enhanced metabolism. There’s peanut butter and jelly, some fruit, a gallon of milk, and some overnight oats. “What’s wrong with plain food?”

Sam hums, wrapping his arms around Bucky. “Nothing wrong with it. But you seem to really enjoy Sarah’s cooking, so this is surprising to me.”

“I love Sarah’s cooking,” Bucky sighs. He resigns himself to be embarrassed. “I just don’t really know how to cook like she does.” 

“Surely you know how to cook a little bit, right?”

Bucky spins around to look Sam in the eye. “I learned how to cook during the Great Depression, Sam. The extent of my culinary skills is being able to boil potatoes three ways.”

That gets a laugh and a kiss from Sam. “Okay, I see your point. Do you want to know how to cook better?”

“Like Sarah?” Bucky asks. “God, yes.”

“Okay, we’ll make a date of it then. I’ll text her tonight and see what she thinks a good beginner recipe is, and then we can go back to the store tomorrow, yeah? I know her recipes pretty well, but we can video call her too.”

“Really?” Bucky hates how small his voice sounds. There’s the familiar feeling closing in around him, the voice in the back of his mind whispering you don’t deserve this. But he takes a breath and thinks about what Carlos said. Taking care of himself is an act of revenge. HYDRA would have never considered if he liked the food he was eating. Hell, they didn’t even care if he was fed. 

“‘Course, Buck,” Sam’s voice brings him back to the present moment. His phone pings, and he reads a text from Sarah. “Okay, she’s just sent me our grandma’s jambalaya recipe.”

“Sounds like a date,” Bucky murmurs, resting his head against Sam’s shoulder. 

Bucky Barnes is going to make a jambalaya to spite HYDRA.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Hi! If you haven’t been asked yet, I’d like to hear about your Sam Wilson P|/Bucky Barnes Art Thief AU please!

wip game

Ooh, well, technically, yes, I have answered this, but you know what? I'll give one more snippet from the series because I have been telling people for like years that I'd publish this damn thing on AO3 😂 So, you're getting one more snippet from the fic. Enjoy! 🥰 :

But as Sam stepped into the narrow diner, Sam saw him.

Completely and utterly focused on some monster of a laptop in the farthest corner of the room, drinking what looked to be a milkshake.

There was something breathtaking about it. How everything in Bucky was in what he was typing with one hand, as if he could tune out the entire world.

Sam got it.

He did spend a good seven hours measuring and looking at a card.

Sam walked over to the table, feeling almost mournful that he had to break the guy’s concentration as he said, “Hey. Is this seat still open?”

Bucky jumped, stumbling and fumbling and falling to the side of the booth he was sitting at. He scrambled up and closed the laptop to be polite, trying to gain some semblance of cool probably, and Sam had to stop himself from smiling too big.

So, Sam wasn’t the only nervous person here.

That was nice to know.

“Hey. Sorry. I just – when I’m working, I really get into work, you know?” said Bucky.

“I can’t complain,” said Sam, shrugging, “I just spent my entire work day and most of my night staring at a card. I might have lost some of my sanity in the process, so I apologize if I don’t make a lot of sense. But I wanted to see you, so I hope you’re fine with me as is.”

Bucky smiled sweetly.

“I’ll take you any way I can have you,” said Bucky, the two of them just… staring at each other for a moment.

“Shit. I’m being weird,” said Sam, wiping his face, “I’m sorry. It’s been a bit of a day.”

Sam was about to take the seat across from Bucky when Bucky scooted over, patting the seat next to him, “No, over here. You look tired. Rather you fall asleep on me than fall over onto the ground or something.”

Sam decided yes please, glad to have an excuse to sit so close to the guy. And there was something electric about sitting thigh to thigh with the man, Bucky’s face so close.

“What are you drinking?” asked Sam, glancing over at the milkshake.

“I think it’s called an Appalachian Breakfast?” said Bucky, offering Sam a sip and –

“Oh wow, there’s bourbon in that,” said Sam, a little surprised.

“Yeah. You make me nervous, so I needed something for that,” said Bucky, Sam snickering, “You’re a very handsome man. And charming. And smart. It’s all very intimidating in a very hot way.”

“I’m intimidating?” asked Sam, not really believing that, “You’re the mysterious, suave graduate student who convinced me to come to a secondary location.”

“I mean you say that, but this isn’t really like me,” said Bucky, curling in on himself a bit, looking away from Sam, “I don’t talk to a lot of strangers and I rarely get along with people instantly like this.”

“You could have fooled me,” said Sam, feeling their arms close, hands closer, so close their hands could just fold into one another but neither taking the plunge yet, “I don’t really click this easily either with people. Something about being with you, though… It’s just so easy.”

“It helps that we both have a very specific set of skills that we both appreciate,” said Bucky, relaxing again, “My art history knowledge has never helped me pick anyone up before you, I can tell you that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably the first person I’ve tried to date who hasn’t looked like they were going to get a migraine as I talked their ear off about the travesty of the paint being washed and chipped off Greek statues,” said Sam, forever mad at the idea that plain white marble statues were somehow preferable to what they actually were, how the malpractices of the past impact future exploration and understanding of ancient lands.

Bucky glanced down to his laptop, then to Sam.

“Lemme show you something,” said Bucky, opening his laptop, typing in a very long password.

“You do this with all your first dates?” asked Sam, trying not to think about Bucky’s thighs and sort of failing.

“Only if I like them,” said Bucky, the fucker winking, “And only if they might know what I’m talking about when I talk about my work.”

“What, here to honeypot me? Use me for information on the exhibit since I was allowed in today?” asked Sam.

Bucky laughed.

“Oh, I’d seduce you whether or not you had any information to give. Trust me,” said Bucky, his smile teasing, “Information? A rare bonus while finding a cute guy at a random coffee stand. And it probably isn’t even pertinent to your consulting work, I just thought you might find what I’m doing cool.”

[book-of-baba-fett]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter 21

Captain Rex x OC

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: The battle for Anaxes has reached its breaking point. As the Republic and Separatist forces face off, will Rex and Talia be able to get past their history or will the rising tension between them lead to further broken hearts.

Chapter Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f receiving), PiV, creampie, canon typical violence, mentions of death.

A/N: Thanks for your patience with the wait on this one. It's a long chapter, but I in no good conscious could split it in half and make y'all wait (which for me, who loves good cliffhangers, is saying something.) Thanks to my darling @galacticgraffiti for beta reading, and for being with me on this journey for TWO YEARS. Won't be much longer for the next chapter.

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

19 BBY - Anaxes

The Republic suffered heavy losses on Anaxes, something that Rex couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt for as he walked through the medical station at camp. Given the chance, he wouldn’t do anything differently, he would always go back for Echo; but he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought in the back of his head that he should also have been in the field for the rest of his men. It was hard for him to not feel like he had the responsibility of the war on his shoulders. After so many years of command it was impossible to not feel that burden. Part of his mind told himself that he should be used to it by now, that this was the way of war. But the other part reminded himself that he was feeling that guilt because he was human. 

Echo had been in medical care since they arrived back on Anaxes the night before, and Rex hadn’t seen him since. He had to get caught up on the siege and was also encouraged by Kix to give the medical team some time, and Echo a chance for much needed rest. But Rex came as soon as he had a moment, he wanted Echo to know he had someone there for him. As soon as Rex walked in to see him, he was greeted by the sound of raucous laughter. 

“-and that’s not even all of it,” Jesse was saying as he stood in front of Echo, a grin overtaking his face. Kix was leaning on a table to the side, shaking his head but smiling along, Echo sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as he shook with laughter. “You know how Hardcase could never say no to anything. So, when he was dared to try a sip, he downed the whole bottle-”

“And the whole barracks regretted the dare with how much he puked that night,” Rex added, remembering the story Jesse was sharing as he walked in. Jesse and Kix laughed at the memory and Echo smiled along. “We were lucky to be shipped out the next morning: I feel bad for the cleaning droids that had to deal with that.”

“I’m sure the 501st is responsible for half the contraband rules in the GAR,” Echo joined in, the smile on his face making him look livelier than he had the day before. Jesse and Kix said their goodbyes, giving Rex a chance to talk to Echo alone. 

“How are you feeling?” Rex asked tentatively.

“As good as I can be,” Echo replied simply with a small shrug. “Medics say I’m fine, I’ve just been getting some nutrients and solid food for the first time since…well, since it happened.”

Rex nodded, glad to know that there weren’t any flags raised. Echo would still have to go through some conditioning and a psych eval before going back to combat, but there was some relief in knowing Echo would be ok. Echo shifted his seat, a frown creasing on his lips as his face scrunched in thought. He glanced at the door where Jesse and Kix just walked out, then back at Rex. 

“Fives is dead, isn’t he?” 

Rex exhaled heavily. Of course, Echo was too smart to not figure out why Fives hadn’t come to see him yet.

“I’m sorry. That’s one of the reasons I was coming to talk to you today.” 

Echo nodded, his head tilted down, so he was looking at his hand and the scomp link the Techno Union had attached. “The last thing I remember was him calling my name. Next thing I knew-”

Echo’s words choked in his throat, but he swallowed whatever he was trying to say. He glanced back up at Rex and forced a smile. “Figured he would have been on the mission with you guys, that’s how I knew he was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Rex repeated, because once more guilt was taking over him. It felt too simple just to say ‘sorry’. That one small word couldn’t encompass all the guilt he was feeling, and how it connected to Fives.  He forced a low chuckle, thinking of a different world.“Fives would have been the first volunteer, and he might have single-handedly taken on the Techno Union if he’d seen what they did to you.”

“How did it-” Echo started to ask but a knock sounded on the door. Rex and Echo glanced to see Talia standing in the doorway. A pit formed in Rex’s stomach at her sudden appearance; he hadn’t spoken to her since their conversation on the Havoc Marauder. 

“Sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting,” Talia quickly said, her eyes flicking once in Rex’s direction before locking on Echo. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“It’s fine. I was just leaving, General,” Rex said quickly. Echo’s eyes darted between the two of them, but he smiled politely at Talia. In truth Rex did have to leave - he was supposed to be in command for a briefing on his next assignment. And Cody was still injured, so he was going to stop by his quarters to see him after checking on Echo. He was also being selfish, because he hadn’t thought of how he would explain how Fives died to Echo before he stepped in. Everything around Fives’ death was painful, and he didn’t want to cause Echo any more potential stress. It was just another burden for Rex to carry. 

Since Cody was out of immediate danger, he was allowed to rest in his officer’s quarters and attend briefings, but much to his chagrin, he wasn’t cleared for combat. When Rex entered Cody’s room, the commander was out of the bed, sitting at his desk with a datapad in front him. Rex knew no medical orders could keep his brother from work. Cody didn’t look too bad anymore, he was just bandaged around his chest; it was probably precaution more than anything that kept him on rest. Cody looked up as Rex entered and offered a mumbled greeting.

“How are you feeling?” Rex asked, sitting on the edge of the bed that Cody had abandoned.

“I’m fine,” Cody grunted, uncharacteristically grumpy. He sighed and looked at Rex. “I should be cleared for duty already. It’s ridiculous being cooped up here.”

“I’m sure Kenobi has things under control, and wouldn’t want you to rush yourself,” Rex offered. Cody grunted again.

“You’re right. Hell, he’s probably the one ordering the medics to keep me here no matter how much I try and pull rank,” Cody’s tone had lightened a bit. “Still, I can’t imagine I’ll be out of action much longer. I heard things went well on Skako.”

Rex nodded. “Echo’s still being looked over. He seems to be holding things together well, after everything he’s been through.”

“That’s good to hear, he was always a good kid,” Cody said. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Never deserved for that to happen to him.”

Rex nodded. He couldn’t think of anyone who would deserve what the Techno Union did to Echo.

“How’ve you been holding up?” Cody asked. 

“It’s not easy to see brother in that state, or  to know I’m partially responsible for him being left behind-”

“You’re not,” Cody interrupted. “You know you can’t think like that. It was a mission from hell, and we couldn’t have known what would happen to him.”

“Still doesn’t make it any easier.” Rex replied darkly.

Cody seemed to accept that and nodded. 

“Still, that actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Cody said slowly, as if Rex was missing something more obvious. Rex just stared at him in mild confusion. Cody put his datapad down and fixed Rex with a serious stare. “You looked like you saw a ghost when you saw General Riva the other day, Rex.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Rex frowned and shook his head.

“Rex, we aren’t going to sit here and act like you haven’t been a miserable piece of shit since you two ended things.”

Rex scoffed at that, “Bold of you to call that out.”

Cody sighed and pushed his chair back. “Honestly… seeing how you’ve been since and watching you two dance around each other in command meetings this past week, I’m surprised no one else called either of you out before.”

“There’s nothing to call out, we ended-”

“I know it’s over,” Cody waved him off, “But Rex, come on. You look at her like the stars shine out of her ass. How the hell did I never see it?”

Rex stared at him in disbelief. “What does it even matter now?”

Cody sighed and fixed Rex with an imploring look. “I’m saying you do everything you can to look after the 501st, all of our brothers. Maybe I was wrong to call out the one thing you did to look after yourself.”

“What, suddenly I have your blessing or something?” Rex scoffed. 

“I don’t give a shit what you do. All I care about is that you take care of yourself. We’ve lost so much. All of us. And we need to fight for something that we believe. Not because we were trained to fight for it, but because we chose to fight for it. It’s what makes us human.”

Rex frowned and looked at his hands, already warring with himself. He opened his mouth to try and find a reply, but nothing came out. He was rescued by his comm beeping - General Skywalker ready to brief him on the next assignment already. Rex sighed heavily, and glanced back at Cody who was still giving him that frustrating, knowing look. If he hadn’t been injured, Rex would have had an urge to slap it off his face. And yet once again, Rex was leaving Cody’s room after a conversation that would stick in his mind.

The air around the base was tense. One didn’t need the Force to sense that something was about to finally give in the battle for Anaxes. They had been stuck in this stalemate for too long, and now both sides were getting ready for a final push. Rex trusted Echo’s plan to feed false information to the Separatist forces, even if Rex was worried Echo was pushing himself back into action too quickly. Rex would also stand by Echo, no matter how much the Batch seemed wary of his intentions, worried that he had spent too much time working with the Separatists to truly be on the Republic’s side again. Rex knew Echo, knew he’d had no choice in what his mind was used for. But now, he did.

The Batch and Anakin had already boarded the Havoc Marauder, and as Rex turned to join them a voice called out, “Wait a second!”

Rex turned as Talia was running over, a little out of breath. She halted in front of him as Rex stood next to the walkway.

“Aren’t you leading the 412th into the assembly complex?” Rex asked bluntly. Talia frowned, but shook her head.

“Storm has it under control. I figured you all could use some extra support here,” Talia’s tone turned stiff. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Rex couldn’t ignore the slight crack in her voice. He sighed and shook his head, “It’s not my call what you chose to do, General.”

Talia pursed her lips but nodded, “Then we best get on our way.”

She sidestepped him and boarded the ship, leaving Rex looking on as he once again found himself berating every little action he took. Just like when they went to Skako Minor, he knew her help was always an asset. And he didn’t want it to be this way, but he was still thinking about his conversation with Cody, and what had happened on Skako.

It wasn’t his place to question her, especially not anymore, but Rex could still feel the terror-filled awe that had overtaken him when he watched Talia take down the tri-droids with lightning. He had seen many incredible things done by the Jedi, but to see that amount of raw power coming from someone he cared about… it was mesmerizing, inspiring, and terrifying all at once. He had always known how powerful Talia was, even when she doubted it herself, but this was beyond anything he could ever have imagined. And what had scared him the most was that Talia didn’t seem to care about the cost it took on her. He saw how the lightning lit up her body, encasing her in a frightening glow, only for her to fall weak to her knees, exhausted and drained instantly after. Rex was a practical man, and Talia was right that a power like that had its use. He just didn’t think it was worth risking anything that could cause her pain.

As he contemplated this, he was only left more frustrated afterward, unable to convey his worry as anything more than irritation.  Especially when it seemed like there had been a chance for normalcy between them again with how they had talked on the mission.

He didn’t want to hurt her, that was never something Rex desired. But he couldn’t resist throwing her words back at her, because even though Rex knew Talia hadn’t meant to be cruel, she had to know how horrible it made him feel. But now he felt even worse for the pain he saw in her eyes, seeing that she obviously felt guilt for the way things had ended between them.

And then there was what Cody said. As frustrated as Rex was by his brother’s sudden change of tone, Rex couldn’t go back on his decision just like that. For all he knew, Talia wouldn’t even want him anymore. Rex had surely done enough to keep her at arm’s length in his own misguided sense of duty, but he also worried he may have lost his chance. Crosshair’s teasing remarks to Hunter still rung in his ears, and he thought of how comfortable she seemed with the Sergeant. It hurt to think that she might have moved on so quickly, but Rex couldn’t fault her for doing what made her happy. In fact, the only thing he wanted for her was happiness.

If only there was time to work out this mess between them before it complicated things on missions even more. But Rex couldn’t ignore the rushing feeling around him, that the galaxy was heading in a certain direction and couldn’t be stopped. He, his brothers, and the Jedi were caught in the middle, ready to crash when this all ended.

Sneaking onto the Separatist dreadnought went almost too smoothly, something that kept Talia’s nerves on edge. They didn’t encounter any droids on the way to the comm vault, aiding their plans for a stealth mission - even if Wrecker seemed to be tired of all their sneaking around. The vault was a small, circular room lined with wiring and electrical lights, and a tall console in its middle that Tech was rigging an interface in so Echo could safely log in. Anakin was checking to make sure there were no other entrances to the vault, ensuring that they couldn’t be attacked by Separatist troops. Talia held her blade in her hand, twirling it in her hand, ready to ignite at a second’s notice.

Talia was playing things close to the chest with this mission. Storm had already sent her a message conveying that the other Generals were not so understanding of her decision to abandon the plan that she should lead the 412th into the assembly complex, and that she had left Storm to command in her stead. But Talia’s mind was in too many places, and her judgment told her this was the place she needed to be. She could deal with the council later, even though she could guess that she would be under criticism for her rash decisions. 

Once Tech gave the go ahead, Echo scomped into the mainframe, instantly accessing all the data. He intercepted a request from Admiral Trench, which Tech pointed out they would need to reroute the message to make it seem like the call was still coming from Skako Minor.

Talia stepped into the corridor that was leading to the mainframe, giving some space from the small room. They were lucky to have been undetected this long, but Talia knew that luck would eventually run out. She tapped her foot, glancing around as she tried to keep her mind focused.

“You doing alright?” Hunter’s question cut into her nervousness as he stepped up beside her in the corridor.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Talia shrugged off, her voice more curtly than she had intended, earning a raised brow from Hunter. She exhaled, and attempted to sound more at ease. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve just noticed how…tense you get whenever the Captain’s around.”

Talia stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel to face him. “Your enhanced senses can’t work like that.”

Hunter snorted at how she didn’t even deny it, a grin curving on his tattooed face. “They don’t. Anyone with any sense can see it.”

Talia cursed under her breath. “Here I thought we were always good at hiding it.”

“You probably were before,” Hunter shrugged. “But whatever happened between you two…it’s still hanging in the air.”

Talia huffed a laugh at that, it was such a simple observation, but she couldn’t ignore the truth behind it. “You don’t even know half of it.”

“Well, I know one thing; even if you had never told me you had a history with a clone, I would have still known you were in love with him by the way you two go back and forth. In battle, and in conversation,” Hunter stated as simply as if he were recounting a mission. He made it sound so obvious, , as if it were the most natural thing.  “Hell, even the way you look at him when you think no one else is noticing. Same for him.”

Talia let out a mirthless laugh at that, “I think we’re long past the days where he looked at me that way.”

She berated herself for letting that slip. She had already overstepped with Hunter in too many ways to count, but he just looked at her with a somewhat exasperated look. “He’s doing it now.”

Talia frowned and glanced over her shoulder, just to see Rex’s head turn the other way. Talia’s cheeks burned and her heart ached, she couldn’t give herself that hope, even if Hunter was trying to make it feel better.  Shaking her head, she mumbled, “We should check what’s going on.”

Walking back into the room, Rex’s eyes flicked in her direction once more, to Hunter, then back to Talia. His lips flickered to an almost imperceptible frown, something anyone but Talia wouldn’t have noticed. She must be imagining it, though. Interrupting her musings, Tech made a confused noise as he looked at his datapad.

“I’m intercepting a transmission,” Tech said, suspicion in his voice, “Trench is ordering all his troops to the assembly complex.”

“All right, Echo, what are you trying to pull?” Hunter asked doubtfully.

“Don’t worry, that’s what I told him to do,” Echo answered with an assuredness only an ARC Trooper possessed.

“But our troops will be vastly outnumbered?” Rex deduced doubtingly.

“Not when I send the feedback pulse that shuts down all the droids,” Echo explained.

“How do we know that’s what you’re really going to do?” Hunter asked suspiciously. Both he and Tech were sharing a doubting look, as if they had been expecting this all along.

“We have to trust him,” Rex jumped in, frustration mounting in his voice as he tried to placate Hunter and Tech.

“Rex is right,” Talia joined, knowing that nothing would be accomplished if the squad was arguing amongst itself. “If Echo says the plan will work, it’ll work.”

“We’re counting on you, Echo,” Anakin said as he lifted his wrist to call General Windu, warning him that things were going to get a lot heavier for the troops in the assembly complex. Echo returned his focus, and Hunter and Tech seemed to accept that if it was a good enough plan for the Jedi, it was good enough for them, even if Talia could still feel the lingering suspicion on them. Rex on the other hand, didn’t waiver in his trust. In fact he seemed grateful that the tension had dissipated.

“We should be on guard,” Talia said aside to Rex, “With what I know of Trench, he’ll probably be suspicious the second things don’t work out as planned.”

“You’re right,” Rex agreed, glancing down at Echo, “I hope he didn’t play his hand too strong.”

“Keep an eye on things here, I can patrol outside and be ready at the first sign of trouble,” Talia ordered, already turning to the exit.

“What?” Rex asked, following her, “Let one of the Batch do it, I know Wrecker is itching for a fight.”

“And that’s a surefire way for us all to be discovered before anything happens,” Talia joked, earning a light huff of laughter from Rex. “Don’t worry: they won’t see me until it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Rex nodded as Talia turned away, her hilt in hand and ready for action.

“Talia,” Rex called, and she stopped; she had almost forgotten how sweet her first name sounded off his lips. She glanced back at him, his hands clenched at his sides, his brow furrowed as if he didn’t know why he called for her in the first place. He exhaled softly and met her eyes, “May the Force be with you.”

Talia nodded in return, a warmth settling in her, “May the Force be with you.”

The eerie calm of the ship was something that might have unsettled a younger Talia, new to war and battle. Hell, even a few hours ago she would have been more unnerved by the prospect of sneaking around, waiting for the calm to break. But she had to be prepared, she knew this calm would not last. It never did. She hid in the ventilation shafts, out of reach of any droids who passed by on patrol, waiting for any sign or signal that would propel her into action.

Talia’s comm chirped and she answered quickly, hearing Rex on the other side.

“Talia, they know we’re onboard. We’re going to have to make a quick evac,” Rex said rapidly.

“Got it, I’ll clear a path for you,” Talia answered. Sure enough, the sounds of clanking footsteps were starting to fill the corridors. Talia kicked open the grate beneath her and dropped below, landing with a thud and ignited her saber. She held the blade in front of her, the glow lighting the corridor as the steps approached. Talia stood still, breathed in and out, and waited for the first droid to round the corner.

Once they turned, they immediately fired, but Talia was ready, redirecting their shots effortlessly with her saber. The hall was narrow, preventing more than two droids from lining up side by side as they approached. Talia sprinted forward, her momentum carrying her up the side of the wall, and she leapt in the middle of the group of droids. Before they could turn back to fire at her, she tossed her saber at the front group, slicing them in half before calling it back. She twirled her blade rapidly, redirecting the shots the second group was firing at her, slowly pressing forward to make it to the end of the hall.

Blaster fire echoed down the corridor; more droid forces must have corned the rest of the squad. Still, Talia pushed forward, hoping that her presence as a Jedi would call more of the droid troops to her position. 

She sliced droids in half, used the force to crush them into the durasteel walls of the ship. Their shots danced around her, narrowly missing her as she carved a path through them. Her comm beeped, but she ignored the sound as she focused on the droids. Rapid metal footsteps behind her proved her plan worked, as a pair of commando droids stormed towards her. She held up her hand and slowed them with the Force, still using her blade to take out the droids closer to her. As she lost her hold, they sprinted toward her, but she moved quicker, sliding to the ground on her knees and slicing the droids at their calves, making them crash to the ground. The disassembled droids tried to push themselves up, but Talia Force-pushed them backwards, into the pile of miscellaneous droid parts her fighting had caused. 

Talia ran forward down the hall, getting closer and closer to the port the squad had used to enter the ship. Blaster fire still sounded, and she hoped the squad had made it back unharmed.

Another squad of droids found her, and Talia had to give their programming credit for their tenacity. A few more, and this might even grow to be a challenge for her. She raised her blade, ready to strike again when a small round device rolled towards the droids from behind her.

The droid popper went off and the droids crumpled to the ground from the shock. Talia’s blade disengaged as she turned in confusion to see Rex standing behind her, one hand holding a blaster that pointed at where the droids previously stood.

“The rest of the squad is already on the ship, we need to go,” he explained shortly.

“I had it under control,” Talia answered irritably; she didn’t need to be rescued from a handful of battle droids. Rex sighed as he turned.

“You weren’t answering your comm,” Rex said as he stepped away. “And I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Guilt wrapped in Talia’s gut for how harsh her tone was. She quickened her steps after him and grabbed Rex’s forearm. He halted his steps, his helmet locked on where her hand grabbed him as she said, “Thanks…for having my back.”

His helmet lifted and she stared into the back of his visor. “Always will.”

Talia didn’t know what to say. She just nodded, and finally released his arm when she realized she was holding it for far longer than she should have. Rex nodded and turned back down the hall, his blaster raising once more.

It didn’t take them long to reach the Marauder, which dislodged from the dreadnought as soon as they were safely on board. Anakin handed a detonation device to Wrecker, who let out a loud cheer as the dreadnought exploded, and Talia internally echoed his joy: after so much back and forth, it was good to have a victory that meant this siege was over. She stepped out of the cockpit, going to sit in the back of the ship for the quick trip back to base.

“Talia,” Rex’s voice called from behind her, she turned to find him approaching her, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Talia flicked a simple grin back at him, ignoring the way her gut flipped as he came up.

“For the record,” he started, and Talia tensed, preparing for some other fault he had suddenly discovered in her. But to her surprise, Rex;s hand was scratching the back of his neck, his tone more apologetic as he continued. “I know you could have handled those droids. I wasn’t trying to overstep-“

“You were trying to show off,” Talia interrupted, deciding humor was the best way to dissolve yet another moment of tense awkwardness. To her relief, Rex smiled. “I meant my thanks. You know more than most how stubborn I can get.”

Rex laughed at that, then asked, “So, what’s next for you?  I’m assuming the 412th will be shipped out pretty quickly.”

“I’m sure I’ll be getting orders from the council as soon as we land,” Talia shrugged, not letting herself feel hope at the twinge of something akin to sadness she felt coming from Rex as he asked her, “That is, of course, if I’m not grounded on Coruscant again.”

Rex raised a brow at her, and Talia sighed, biting her lip before continuing, “I kind of went rogue to join you guys here. Storm covered for me, and things ended up working out, but I can bet I’ll be getting an earful about recklessness.”

“Why would you do that?” Rex asked. His brows were cinched as he tried to read her face. For such a smart man, he could be truly oblivious at times. Talia was sure the same could be said about herself.

Talia glanced around the ship, making sure the Batch and Anakin were still otherwise focused before she met Rex’s eyes. “Look, Rex, I know things are complicated between us right now. But I still care about you, and I was worried.”

Rex didn’t say anything, his brows still furrowed as he listened. Talia gulped and couldn’t hold back the words spilling from her mouth.

“It’s just, I can tell how much stress you’ve been under, and I know I haven’t helped with that, but when you went to Skako I had to be there for you in case things with Echo didn’t turn out as well. And today, I was just still so nervous that something would go wrong, and even if you didn’t want me here I had to make sure-“

Talia’s words were cut off as Rex’s lips pressed into hers, her eyes widening in shock but fluttering closed as she melted into the kiss. His hand was placed against her lower back, holding her close to him; Talia had weirdly missed the uncomfortable way that plastoid pressed into her as her body was against his.

Rex pulled back slowly, his eyes drifting open, that soft, warm brown that still made her gut twist in the best way. For a moment, he looked content, then his eyes widened, and he removed his hand from her back.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“ Rex shook his head softly but the way he looked at her told Talia that he didn’t believe a word he was saying.

Talia opened her mouth, trying to say a million things back to him. It’s ok. You have no idea how much I wanted that. I missed you.

I love you.

“We’ll be landing shortly, everyone should get seated,” Tech called from the cockpit. Rex pushed away from Talia, returning to the cockpit. She was frozen, still feeling him on her lips and cursing herself for not saying more, terrified that she had lost her last chance.

Some people hated goodbyes, or at least Rex had heard that in sayings tossed around by natborns. But Rex had always felt differently, mostly because he couldn’t count the number of people he never had the chance to say goodbye to. He couldn’t let himself linger on it, it wouldn’t help anything, but sometimes he found himself wondering what he would say with one last word. But Rex was beginning to understand what the sayings meant, as he watched Echo leave.

He knew it was the right call, that Echo knew where his place really was. It just felt like Rex was saying goodbye to a part of him, even though Echo hadn’t been back for long. But Echo was something to hold on to from the early days of the war, ever since he was that overeager shiny from the Rishi Moon. Just a kid when he joined the 501st, now he was a man forged by the harsh clock of war. And with him left one of the few things that tied Rex to an older version of himself he could scarcely remember.

Rex informed the generals that the Bad Batch had already departed, not being the types for the ceremonies of the medals they had earned. The generals didn’t comment, and Rex stood tall as General Windu handed him the medal he had earned. It sounded egotistical to say, but Rex couldn’t count the amount he had gotten in the last three years. He kept them of course, but he never knew what to think of them. At first there was an honor that came with them, and he still felt that, but now he couldn’t ignore the way he was shrouded by a bit of jadedness. After everything that had happened, this was just another campaign to add to the countless he had been in. He saluted as Windu gave him the medal, but the one thing on his mind was Talia, and wondering why she wasn’t there.

Dusk had quickly settled over the encampment, its golden glow and the harsh shadows casting over the men who already worked to pack up equipment. A small force would remain on Anaxes, as was protocol, but the cog of GAR couldn’t slow down, and most of the forces would be quickly redistributed to wherever else in the Galaxy they were needed. Rex had assumed the 412th would be one of the first groups to set out, something seemingly confirmed by the amount of troops wearing black and gold armor that still hustled around the base.

It was reckless and stupid for Rex to kiss Talia, not just because they were in plain view of Anakin and the Batch, but because he had done it without thinking. His feet carried him across the compound, somehow more determined than his own confused mind as they led Rex in a direction with no idea what course of action he could even take.

  Three heavy knocks pounding on her durasteel door shocked Talia out of her meditation, or more of her attempt at it. She should be packing; she was heading out first thing in the morning, but when she got back to her room she couldn’t focus on anything. Not the report she needed to fill out, not the fact that she was clearly in trouble with the Council from the tone that Windu and Kenobi had used with her. The only thing she could think about was how she could still feel Rex’s lips on hers, could still feel the pressure of his hand against her lower back, the remnants of his essence tattooed in her memory. She practically bolted to her room after speaking with the other Jedi, trying to rid the confusing moment from her mind to no avail.  So when the knocks sounded, in the way that only he ever did, she stared at the door as if that would will it to open, for she was frozen to the ground and unsure if she could even handle being in a space alone with Rex.

Slowly, she rose from the ground, approaching the door with heavy steps before opening it.  Rex stood on her step, his helmet clutched tightly in his hands, doubt and questioning etched into his face. His eyes met Talia’s, and for a moment she half expected him to excuse himself and turn away, instead he blurted, “Can I come in?”

 With a lump in her throat, Talia nodded and stepped to the side, allowing Rex to enter, quickly shutting the door behind him. It was strange how easily he fit into the room, she was so used to sharing spaces with him that she hadn’t pinpointed how empty her quarters felt without him until this moment. His eyes scanned over the room, shifting his feet uncomfortably as he fiddled with his helmet in his hands. He exhaled, and set it on Talia’s desk, before returning to face her.

“Echo left,” he said with measured words. Whatever he was going to say, that wasn’t close to what Talia expected, and she sensed it was not what he planned on saying first.

“I’m sorry,” Talia offered sincerely, knowing how conflicted Rex must feel about it. “I’m guessing he joined the Batch?”

Rex nodded. “I told him to go, and said that if it was where he felt his place was, then that’s where he belongs.”

“Not everyone’s path is the same one they started on,” Talia said sagely, “After everything Echo’s been through, I’m glad he’s able to choose his own way.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Rex said slowly. “’Choice’ was never something us clones would have thought of. From the moment we’re created, our whole plan is set ahead of us. We train, we fight, and then we die for the Republic. Or atleast, that’s what I used to think. Once I got out here, once I lived, I knew nothing could be so simple, no matter how much my training tried to tell me there was just one goal for me. In fact, the longer I’ve survived, the more confusing it all seems.”

“That’s living,” Talia mused softly, “Even the wisest seers in the Order can misread the future. That’s because there’s no accounting for how people grow, how they can change their minds and their wants.”

“Or how they can be pushed in different directions,” Rex added. He shook his head, then glanced back at Talia. They stood in silence, just the low thrum of the air running through the vents of the quarters, the faded sounds of the camp outside the walls.  Rex shifted his stance, and took a breath before addressing Talia again.

“I had to see you before you left,” Rex started, his words weighted and heavy. “I owe you an apology-“

“Rex don’t-“ Talia interrupted, crossing her arms and avoiding his gaze. She gulped. “Emotions were running high, and that can be confusing enough for anyone.”

“That’s not-, I’m not here to apologize for the kiss,” Rex took a deep breath, “I mean...yes, if it upset you, I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

Talia’s heart pounded, “It didn’t upset me.”

Rex was trembling slightly as he approached her, as if the weight of all the burdens he had been carrying of late were finally releasing from him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Rex said softly, his voice rough and sincere. “That’s the thing I want least in the galaxy.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Talia pleaded, the gap between them closing. “Rex, you know I think so much more of you, of all of you, than that you’re just soldiers-“  

“I know that, “ Rex offered, “I know you too well to think you meant it. But at the moment, it hurt.” 

“I regretted it the second I said it,” Talia continued, “But you left and I realized I ruined everything.”

“You didnt-” Rex took a deep breath, shaking his head as he insisted, “I was the one who fucked it all up.”

“What a pair we are, huh?” Talia forced a laugh before toying with her lip. She glanced back up at Rex, and hesitated before admitting. “We had everything, but it fell apart so fast.”

“We knew it was too good to last.” Rex muttered, but he knew he was lying to himself, trying to comfort the guilt he was feeling.

“Did we? I think I was so blinded, I couldn’t see anything other than you. But then you were gone and…I realized how much of a fool I was…” the words were beginning to roll off Talia’s tongue, faster than her own mind could comprehend what she was saying to hold herself together. “I realized how much I held back and wished I didn’t. How much more we could have had if I hadn’t been such an idiot. Now, when I think of you I’m in pain; because I had something perfect, something amazing. And I lost it because I felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

Rex was silent, and fear crept into Talia that she had admitted too much. That she was speaking to a lost cause, that he had lost any ounce of feeling he once had for her and this conversation was doing nothing but making him pity her. 

“I’m the one who pushed you away,” Rex offered, cutting through Talia’s thoughts. Rex avoided her eyes, as if the piercing gaze would be too strong for him to face as he searched for his own explanation.  “All because I got scared that we could never have what we wanted, that no matter what I felt, it wasn’t possible. You called me a coward, and you were right. Just… after you got hurt, I was so terrified. I couldn’t deal with the pain of losing you like that. And when Cody confronted me, I gave in. Almost as if I felt that if we weren’t together, that it would hurt less than the fear of losing you.”

“Rex,” Talia said softly, lifting a hand to his face. Rex tensed at the contact, and Talia almost retracted her touch, but his eyes met hers and they were those same soft, warm eyes that she loved. She lost her train of thought, any words of reassurance or doubts of herself that she was about to say we lost as she looked into his eyes. Instead, she blurted out words she should have said long ago-“I love you.” 

 Her heart pounded as the words escaped her lips, fear and doubt creeping into her mind as she worried if she lost her mind for even saying it now, the same fear that had kept her from saying it before. But now it was out there and couldn’t be taken back. 

 “I know,” Rex replied softly, stepping so close to her now that barely inches separated them. “I’ve always known. Just like I’ve always known I’m in love with you.”

Talia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, whether to keep spouting her feelings, dating back to all the times she should have said it before, but she just did the thing that felt most natural to her, which was to pull Rex closer and kiss him. 

Rex’s arms were around her in an instant, holding her tightly against him, his grasp so tight it was clear he had no intention of letting her go. Talia’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck, fingernails scraping against that small patch of skin not covered by his undersuit or armor as their kiss deepened, hard and needy. Rex pushed her back into the wall, the cold durasteel firm against her back as Rex’s armor pressed into her front. She gasped as they pulled back for air, at first overwhelmed by the closeness, but when she saw Rex in front of her, she just felt comfort and longing. She pulled him back in, desperately seeking his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thigh slotted in between her legs. 

The noise awakened something in Rex, and he rushed to start taking off some of the armor from his upper body, his fumbling hands unlatching the pieces as Talia held him for the kiss. He needed to be out of his armor, needed to feel the warmth of her body against his. Talia realized what he was doing and pulled back, freeing her hands so she could help. But Rex’s lips found hers once more as they both clumsily grasped at the armor, dropping pieces of plastoid without a care to where they landed, only separating for air. 

“Wait,” Rex gasped once as they pulled back, his lips swollen but a confused look on his face, before he hesitantly asked. “What about Hunter?”

“You know about Hunter?” Talia asked, guilt and apprehension filling her. 

“I do,” Rex swallowed and nodded. “I’m not upset…at least not with you. I let you go, and that’s the biggest mistake I ever made.  If he’s what you want, I’ll step away now. You’ll never hear from me unless you want to. I’m sure he could make you happier than-”

Talia shut Rex up by stepping up on her toes, cupping her hands on his cheeks and catching his lips with hers. Rex's eyes bugged wide, until they fluttered closed, his arms wrapping around her once more, holding her, taking comfort in the soft warmth of the curves of her body she pressed against the grooves of the remaining parts of his armor.

 “I just told you I love you,” Talia reminded him with a slight, teasing giggle. Her face softened as she caressed his cheek with her thumb, “I slept with Hunter, but it was just so I could try and forget you for a moment.”

“I - really?” Rex asked. Talia could almost laugh at how surprised he was, as if he had already accepted the worst. His face then became more serious. “I…you should know. I slept with someone else too. It was just a one night thing, I haven’t contacted her since.”

“It’s okay,” Talia nodded, ignoring the hypocritical way she was hurt. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have to talk about that now. Just…shut up and keep kissing me.” 

“More than happy to follow that order,” Rex leaned in with a smirk and kissed her with a renewed hunger, his hands tightly gripping the curve of her hips. Talia groaned into Rex’s mouth as she pressed as close to him as possible, her hands fumbling for the latches on his chestplate. Rex pulled back to help her lift it away, and dropped it to the floor with a loud clunk. With only his lower armor still on, Talia’s hands ran up Rex’s chest, feeling the firm muscles and warmth of him in her grasp. Her fingers clenched around the fabric, using it to pull him to her once more. Rex’s hands slid down her waist, gripping under her thighs and picking her up, making Talia yelp in surprise. 

They stumbled to the desk, Rex clumsily setting Talia on the edge of it, their lips barely separating for air. They were frantic, needy, desperate, as if they were afraid the other would disappear if they stopped. Rex pulled at the wrappings of her tunic, exposing Talia’s heaving chest. His mouth only left her lips then, trailing to the soft skin of her neck, his teeth nipping along the exposed skin and down to the breasts about to fall out of her bra. Talia moaned  as Rex slid her bra cup to the side, and sucked at her now exposed nipple. His other hand slid under the other cup, groping at the soft flesh. The cold air left goosebumps over her skin, contrasted by the warmth of Rex’s hands and mouth. Rex could spend hours like this, slowly exploring the body he knew so well yet hadn’t been able to appreciate in so long. In fact there was little else on his mind at that moment besides what he wanted to do to her just in this state of undress, except he had other ideas in mind. 

Rex lowered to his knees, kissing down Talia’s stomach and dragging his hands down her torso, relishing in the sweet gasps for air that were leaving Talia’s lips. Rex’s hands stopped as he began to tug her pants down. Pink scars lingered  on her hip, trailing down her leg from the flame licked path. He paused, his fingers caressing the slightly raised skin, Talias breath hitched, Rex’s eyes flicked to her face, searching for any sign of discomfort. Talia’s eyes had squeezed shut, enough for Rex to push himself up from where he was kneeling. Talia’s eyes opened.

“I’m fine,” Talia reassured quickly, but Rex was still frozen, searching her face. She pressed a hand to his cheek, “Really, I’m ok. I just didn’t think about them.”

“I didn’t either,” Rex explained, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Talia leaned in to peck his lips, then checked, “Are you ok? We can stop if you want.”

Rex shook his head, “I’ll only stop if you want me to.”

“Please don’t,” Talia said quickly, earning a smirk from Rex for how desperate she sounded. His fingers toyed along the waistline of her pants where they rested on her thighs. 

“Someone’s needy,” Rex teased lowly, his voice thick as honey, slowly pulling at her pants. “Tell me what you want.” 

Talia leaned back resting her elbows on the desk, offering up a sweet look, “I think you know what I want. And I think you want to do it.”

Rex offered a low noise of agreement, but taunted, “That some Jedi instinct?” 

He slowly pulled the pants down a little further. Talia wiggled her hips, trying to shrug them off, but his hand held her firmly in place. She let out a frustrated noise, but Rex just smirked. 

“Use your words, princess,” Rex ordered lowly. Talia’s cheeks burned, and she felt the pit of desire grow in her gut. She was half tempted to curse him for teasing her, and for how well he knew to play her. But she didn’t want to drag this out, they didn’t have time for a back and forth. 

“Please,” Talia started sweetly, only to get slightly desperate as she ordered, “I want your mouth on me.”

“Hmm, I could ask you to be more specific,” Rex murmured, to which Talia made an indignant noise when he smirked, tugging her to the edge of the desk, making her squeak and falling to his knees. “...But I’m not patient enough today.”

Rex tugged her pants and underwear down with one swoop, wasting no time to press his face between her legs, his tongue swiping over her slit. He groaned at the wetness already there, and Talia moaned as his tongue flicked over her swollen clit. One hand held to the edge of the desk, the other leaping to the back of his head. It took everything in her to not hold him still as she ground against his face; she knew he wouldn’t have minded. But Rex licked at her like a man possessed, like she was the best thing he ever tasted. His hands held her firmly against him, grasping at the top of her thighs as he positioned her where he wanted her. He may have been the one on his knees, but he was the one in control. 

It was surely a talent of Rex’s to have barely started but to already have Talia a whimpering mess. Her tunic was still half undone, her chest still half exposed as a red flush settled over her pale skin. She was biting her lip, trying to restrain her noises in some way but she would fail as Rexs tongue flicked over her clit, eliciting louder moans from her. And all he would do was grin up at her, his eyes almost taunting, before he continued his work. 

His grip was tight around her thighs, nails practically digging into her skin as he held her in place. His tongue slid up and down her slit, teasing her by flicking at her clit in between each swipe. Her breaths hitched higher each time, her body reacting so easily to the simplest touch. Rex knew how to set her off, and there were few things he loved more than making her fall apart with just his mouth. He could feel every twitch of her thighs in his hands, hear how she failed to keep herself quiet, and taste just how aroused she was. He wanted her to feel good, wanted to feel her let go, and he worked as if he had something to prove, that he needed to remind her that only he could make her feel this way. 

He circled his tongue around her clit, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked, sending jolts of pleasure up Talia’s spine. The wet heat of his mouth was intoxicating, Talia could hear herself begging him not to stop. Her arms shook so much she struggled to hold herself upright. But her gaze was locked on Rex’s face and how he devoured her. She couldn’t look away, even as tears sprung in the corners of her eyes and her whole body trembled. It was impossible to tear her gaze away, she was fixated even as she was falling apart. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she was coming undone, but she couldn’t help the way her body was lit aflame from every swipe of Rex’s tongue. He was precise, practiced, as dedicated to bringing Talia pleasure as he was in every other aspect of his life. He didn’t let up as her breath quickened, as her body tensed and he didn’t stop even as she cried out his name and quaked, coming from just the quick work of his mouth. 

Talia’s moans faded, but her breath was still heavy as Rex rose from the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He leaned in and kissed her, pulling her off the desk as he did. Talia’s legs were like jelly as she stumbled with Rex to the bed. Her knees hit the frame of the bed and Rex gently nudged her back, causing her to land with a soft flop against the mattress. 

“Take your clothes off,” Rex ordered gruffly, his own hands tearing at the strips holding his remaining armor on. Talia pressed herself up on the bed, still breathless and flushed, but not moving quickly enough for Rex’s liking as he glanced over her, his heaving chest bulging through his undersuit. “Take them off before I rip them off of you.”

“You would just be finishing what you started,” Talia quipped as she gestured to the state of her tunic, still loose around her torso. Rex’s eyes flashed as she still played with the edges of fabric. He stalked to the bed, slowly taking his shirt off; Talia’s mouth went dry as she glanced over his chest, taking in the scarred and muscled form.  He lowered himself to the bed, and slowly crawled on top of Talia. Her heart pounded in her chest as his hands ran up her sides and found the edge of her robes. Talia cocked an eyebrow in a challenge as his eyes met hers. Rex rolled Talia over roughly so she was on her stomach, and her hands braced herself against the mattress as Rex’s hands at the top of her tunic’s back and tugged. With a shredding rip, the fabric pulled off her back and slipped off her arms, leaving Talia in just her bra. She half expected Rex to tug that off as well, but instead his lips met the back of her neck, kissing her softly as his hands deftly undid the clasp. Talia sighed as his lips traveled down her skin, the stubble on his face tickling her. 

For a moment Talia thought Rex would take her like this, that he would shuck his pants off and roughly enter her from behind, pounding her into the mattress as she sheets muffled her cries. And she wouldn’t have minded; her body was coursing with need, prickling with the desire of his touch. But Rex instead gently flipped her over, opposite of the man who had moments ago torn her clothing to shreds. Rex’s lips met hers as soon as her back hit the mattress, a soft, exploring kiss, the moment slowed once again, as if savoring the moment before they delved back into their pure need. But this was what Talia loved about him, how there could be both sides when they were together. The tender with the tough, the smooth against the rough. She could see the switch flip in his eyes whenever they made love, see how his own desire kicked in. But he was always there for her, reading what she wanted and adjusting off her energy. 

The kiss deepened, grew more hungry as they pressed against each other; Rex’s body pining Talia down as she squirmed beneath him, trying to angle her hips so she could relieve some of the tension settling back in her core. Rex ground against her, his still clothed, hard cock pressing against her pussy. Rex groaned into her mouth as he felt how wet she still was, dampening the fabric of his pants. Talia’s hands ran up and down his back, feeling the way Rex’s muscles flexed as he moved against her. Her hands slid down to his waistline, as she tried to nudge down his pants. Rex’s hands met hers as he helped pull them off, rushing to remove them so he could finally have her again. Once they were off, he pressed down against her again, the flame reignited as their naked bodies pressed together, already sweaty and burning with want. Rex’s cock pressed against Talia’s stomach, weeping with precum as he rutted against her, their tongues meeting as they moaned into each other’s mouths. 

“Rex,” Talia whimpered between breaths, “Please. I need you.”

He pulled back slightly as he readjusted, a thin line of spit connecting their mouths. Rex was panting, his eyes blown out as he looked down at her. But he spoke with such an assured, put togetherness as he said in his rough voice,  “Anything for you.”  

Rex entered Talia quickly and forcefully, her breath hitching and her legs spreading wider to ease his access. Rex waited until her body relaxed and her eyes opened, then Talia nodded her head and Rex began to thrust. His hips slammed against hers, his cock thick and hot as it stretched her cunt, her walls gripping around him and practically pulling him in. Rex’s eyes rolled back from the warmth of her, ready to be lost and never come back but he had to last longer, he didn’t want this feeling to end. 

His arms wrapped tightly around her, squeezing her against him in a near crushing grip. Her nails were marking his back as she whimpered beneath him, her breaths punctuating every move of his hips into hers. The room was filled with the loud smack of flesh on flesh, the squelch of their bodies meeting, and the moans and grunts leaving their lips in near unison.

This wasn’t the way this should have gone, it was rushed and needy, with no time taken to care about the little details. They were still dirty from the mission, but the time taken to tidy up might have raised more uncertainty between them than either could stomach just yet. But yet this rushed state was perfection, pure desire coursing through and guiding them, an unstoppable force pushing  them together. 

Talia cried out as Rex’s cock hit a spot deep inside her, making her head bend back in ecstasy. Rex did it again, wanting to see the way her face contorted in pleasure.

“It feels good, doesn't it?” Rex said, continuing to thrust. 

“Yes!” Talia quickly responded, her cheeks flushed. “So good.”

“Who’s doing this to you?” Rex asked, a cocky possessiveness creeping in his tone. 

“You are.” Talia gasped, her eyes meeting his. Rex’s hold around her loosened, and before Talia could whine from the change of pace, Rex’s hand gripped under her thigh and pulled her leg up to rest on his shoulder, his other arm still wrapped around her. His dedicated pace resumed, each thrust like a promise, punctuated with gasps, moans and words escaping lips like a prayer. 

“Who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?” The possessive side of Rex was coming out stronger, as if he had something to prove, or that he needed to hear Talia’s response as much as he knew what it was. 

“You are!” Talia answered. She swallowed, her breath heavy as pleasure crested within her. “I’m yours, only yours.”

“That’s right, you’re mine.” Rex echoed, firm and unyielding. He pounded into her harder, a renewed surge of need running through him. “Mine.”

Rex’s pace continued, hitting Talia right where she needed him. Each thrust was a jolt of pleasure that licked up her gut, so deep she could practically feel him in her throat. She was twisted around him, and he was all encompassing. Their skin was dewed with sweat, their chests almost clinging together as they pressed into one another. Talia would give him anything in this moment, ready to sacrifice all of her as long as he brought her that sweet release. 

“Fuck Rex, don’t stop please.” She begged, cheeks burning and eyes watering. “ I love you.”

“Say it again.” Rex ordered, his pace unfaltering and his chin set, gritting his teeth as if he was barely holding himself together. 

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you!”

Tallia cried out as she came, her breath ragged and her body tensing as Rex lost what last bit of self control he had and he released inside her, hot spurts of cum filling her cunt. Rex’s thrusts slowed, exhaling as he hilted himself inside her. Their foreheads met, sweaty brows and panting breath meeting as their lips barely touched. After a moment that they wanted to last a lifetime, Rex pulled out of Talia and fell to the side, their bodies squeezed next to another in the tiny bed. The space was as small as they were used to sharing, but somehow there was a rightness in the way their bodies fit next to each other, even after all this time. 

“This doesn’t change anything, does it?” Talia asked, still breathless. The air shifted, the calmness that had settled between them now filled with the unknown. Rex tensed, and exhaled a large breath. 

“I don’t see how it can,” was all Rex could think to say. A lump formed in Talia’s throat, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes as she nodded. She rolled over to her side, already pulling off the covers to slip out of the bed and pull her clothes on. Rex’s hand gripped her arm, preventing her from leaving. “Wait, I don’t want-”

“What do you want, Rex?” Talia snapped, “I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself think there’s a chance for something just for you to change your mind. I’m not strong enough to hurt like that again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rex repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He meant it, but he knew he had failed that promise in the past. And he didn’t want to mess this up again, to cause her any pain, but he didn’t know what promises he could offer her. Rex sat up, still holding Talia’s arm as he tried to work through this.. “I…I know that things haven’t changed in our situation, but I also know ending things was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. I want you, Talia.” 

“I want you too,” Talia sighed, leaning back against the headboard. They sat in silence, stuck in the same moment as a million thoughts rushed through their heads. Talia knew there was only one answer to this, at least only one that had a chance to  make them happy. 

“What if I left the Order?”

Rex shook his head, “it was wrong of me to ever ask that of you, it’s not fair-”

“You’re not asking it of me - I’m suggesting it. Rex.” Talia said softly. She looked down at her hands, wringing her scarred wrists as she worked to the realization that has been hidden from her for so long. “I’m not happy. This war has taken so much from me. The Jedi were the only thing I knew, and the only possibility I saw for a future. But Rex…I know so much more now. I know you, that you’re what makes me happy. I can’t lose that again.”

“But you could have so much more than me.” Rex insisted. His hand rested on her face making her meet his eyes so he could make sure she wouldn’t lie to him just to make him happy. “ You could be a Master Jedi, could go on to do great things.”

Talia silenced him by leaning in to kiss him, she pulled back and didn’t let her gaze falter. “Rex - you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me - there’s no more that I need.” 

“But still-”

“Being a Master was never in my cards.” Talia cut him off before he could go on about plans for a different future for her. “ I had a vision about it once, but I think I understand it now. I was always on the outside looking in, never quite fitting in with the rest of the order, or what the council expected of me. But I can find my own path without them. When the war ends, I’ll leave the order. And I’ll be yours, if you’ll have me.”

“You’ll always have me.”Rex answered quickly, a firm promise. “But, what about now? Our situation hasn’t changed.”

“Now is…more complicated. We need to be more careful than before. So. Not really together but…” Talia’s voice trailed off, still not sure what guidelines they could set. Because it was too complicated. She wanted Rex with everything in her, but she couldn’t abandon her men and leave while the war still raged on. And being with Rex while she was still in the Order was too risky now, they’d had too many slip ups already, too many chances that they would be exposed. “Now just…Just hold me, for a few minutes more and we can pretend like everything is okay.”

“We’re not pretending.” Rex said as he pulled her into her arms. His lips brushed against her forehead, lingering there as he continued. “It’s not perfect, but it’s something. I’ll wait for you, whenever you’re ready to leave. I know it’s a big thing.”

“It is, but I think it’s the right thing,” Talia answered. They settled back lower into the bed, a strange kind of peace laying between them. “This mess has to be over soon, so now we have something to look forward to once it’s done.”

“What do you want to do first?” Rex asked tentatively, allowing himself to think of an ‘after’ the war for the first time in a way that wasn’t dimmed by darkness. 

Talia hummed thoughtfully, her lips pursing in before a grin curved on her lips. She glanced up at Rex, a twinkle in her eye as she said, “We should go back to the island.”

Rex huffed out a light laugh, “Better prepared and without the crash landing this time, I hope?”

“Duh,” Talia mocked. She wrapped an arm over his chest, her fingers tracing along the edges of his scars like she had done that first time on the very beach they were talking about. “It’s where we began, it’s where we can start again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Rex mused, a lazy half smile on his lips, “How about we meet there, once it’s all over.”

“Sounds like a plan, captain.” Talia pressed her lips to his again. “Or a promise.”

 “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Rex murmured, his hand cupped on the side of Talia’s face.

Talia thought her cheeks would ache from smiling, that they were burning from the blush that lingered on them. “You might have mentioned it sometime.”

“Not enough, I daresay,” Rex offered with a sly grin. He leaned closer to her, the coarse hairs of his scruff grazing along her neck in a way that sent shivers down her spine even in her exhausted state. He pressed a kiss in the curve of her neck, trailing up to her ear where he whispered once more, “You’re beautiful.”

“I love you so much,” Talia sighed.

Rex huffed a low chuckle. “So that’s all it took? Me calling you beautiful?”

“It’s a fair trade, I think,” Talia teased, lightly smacking his arm. But she set her face straight as she met his eyes again. “I mean it. I love you, Rex.”

 “I love you too.”

He leaned down to kiss the spot just below her ear, repeating his words once more. He trailed his kisses, followed by his adorations up her neck, to her jaw bone, as if tattooing the words upon her skin to leave his mark evermore. His lips traced to the end of her scar, pausing when Talia slightly flinched from the contact against the slightly sensitive skin. His eyes scanned  hers, waiting for Talia’s nod that it was ok, and he leaned in, tenderly kissing over the raised skin, “I love you, Talia.”

Talia sighed, a warmth of contentment filling her she hadn’t been sure she would ever feel again. She curled against him, feeling the warmth of Rex’s skin beneath hers, listening to the thud of his heartbeat. Her lips grazed the scar in the center of his chest, from the bolt that just missed his heart all those years ago. They laid together under that rough spun blanket, in the far too small cot, their arms wrapped around each other, their skin clinging to each other as they didn’t want to leave the others grasp. They fought off sleep, savoring the small moment they had with one another. It had been so long without the other's touch, but that absence only created a craving, a burning desire for the other’s comfort that would never be satisfied. They didn’t have the answers, not completely anyway. This simple impassé would be enough to hold over, to bridge the road to repair what they’d had before. There was the promise of something stronger, the unknown path of destiny and fate a sweet calling. What further doubts they had were buried beneath the surface, vanquished at the broken walls of their greatest barrier. As she drifted off, Rex’s hand brushed over Talia’s back, fingers grazing over the scars she received at the hand of the Zygerrians. The soothing action propelled her into sleep, no nightmares to be had tonight. Her dreams were filled with contentment and comfort, something the promise of a future with Rex held.

--

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[chickenfics]

the way I love the ocean

Relationship: Robin Buckley x Female!Reader

Summary: It was the summer of ‘87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.

It was the summer of ‘87, and you were falling in love.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: Reader is described as wearing a dress (waitressing uniform) and as being able to ride a bike, but no other descriptions are given. Y/N used sparingly.  

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Chapter 3: The Smiths

It was hot out. Like, really hot. It felt like the sun had been cranked up to one hundred. The usually pleasant yellow sunlight turned to a blaring white, and even as the afternoon rolled into evening, the pavement continued to bake underneath blinding heat. You could have cut the air with a knife. Instead, as you shouldered your way out of the diner’s doors, the glass cool against your bare upper arm in a too-quick moment of relief, you took the plunge into the muggy atmosphere. It hit you square in the face, and for once you found yourself thankful for your thin waitressing dress. 

A customer walked by and you held the door open with your elbow, giving them a tired smile in reply to their thanks and trying not to drop the cardboard cup holder in your hands. The styrofoam cups tilted concerningly before you finally stepped away from the door and steadied them with a hand. You squinted up at the sun, hoping that the milkshakes didn’t get too melty -- knowing that they probably would. 

After your night at the movies, you’d realized that you hadn’t even asked Robin for her number. After three days, you’d felt slightly ridiculous when you realized you could just look it up in the phone book. You did, but then you’d realized that if you called her home, someone other than Robin was very likely to answer, and you weren’t sure what you’d say if one of her parents asked you who you were. So… you’d ended up just calling Family Video instead. At least with FV, there was a fifty-fifty chance of Robin answering -- with the other fifty-per-cent being Steve, who you were much less apprehensive about talking to than Robin’s parents. Plus, this way it felt less like you were intruding on her privacy. It felt less weird. 

Predictably, considering your history with luck, Steve picked up after a few rings with a very chipper, “Family Video, this is Steve, how can I help you today?”

“Hi, uh, it’s Y/N--”

“Oh shit! Hey!” he replied before you even had a chance to explain yourself or apologize for calling them at work. “Hey hey, how’s it going? Long time no see. Oh, do you want me to get Robs? She’s just stacking shelves, but I can grab her real quick.”

“Oh,” you started to panic. “If she’s busy, you don’t have to--”

“Nah, no way. It’s pretty dead in here anyway -- the shelves can stay unstocked for a few more minutes,” he snorted. “Besides,” his voice dropped an octave, “If Robin found out you’d called and I didn’t let her talk to you, she’d probably strangle me. Hang on a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” you managed. “Thanks, Steve…”

There was silence on the other end, followed by the sounds of shuffling before--

“Hey!”

“Robin,” you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her voice. “Hey, how are you? I, um… sorry for calling here, I just… well I didn’t really know how else to…”

“No, it’s totally fine. I’m glad you did. Call, that is. Much better than talking to an impatient mother of three who insists she returned ‘Back to the Future’ even though ‘I have it here in my records, ma’am -- you definitely did not return the VHS, so you had better ask little Timmy what he did with it because he didn't give it to us.’” 

You laughed, and she laughed, and everything felt right with the world. 

“Tell me about it,” you leaned against the wall, playing absentmindedly with the phone cord. “Today I had an old guy insist that he’d asked for his eggs sunny side up, and that he should get free breakfast since we’d gotten it wrong. I swear I thought he was going to dump the whole plate on me when I showed him that I’d written down his order and he’d definitely asked for scrambled.”

“Customer service sucks,” Robin said with a grin that you could hear. You laughed some more. 

“Customer service sucks," you agreed. 

“Oh shit,” her voice grew a little more distant as she presumably leaned away from the phone. “Speak of the devil; I better go, Steve’s waving me down. We work better as a team when it comes to dissatisfied customers. I think our combined presence unsettles people.” 

There she had you laughing again. You wished you could see her face…

“Uh… I could give you my number,” she hesitantly added. “Then, if you wanted, you could call my house later tonight. No angry customers to interrupt us then -- just my mom,” she laughed nervously.

You didn’t tell her that you’d already looked her up. Instead, you wrote down the number that you practically had memorized at this point before telling her you hoped she had a good day. 

That had been less than a week ago. Now you were pedaling toward Family Video and trying not to pass out from heat exhaustion. The skirt of your dress rode up your thighs, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. The breeze created by your speed broke up the stagnant air, but by the time you caught sight of the parking lot, you were drenched in sweat and ready to drop. The sun beat down on your head almost mockingly, and you wondered how it could possibly still be this hot even when it was nearly six in the evening. 

Pulling your bike up to the side of the building, you glanced around before lifting the hem of your skirt and wiping it across your face, trying to stop yourself from sweating any more than you already were. In hindsight, this might have been a bad idea. At least the milkshakes were still somewhat cold thanks to the styrofoam. 

Shaking out your arms and smoothing the front of your uniform, you tried to make yourself look the least disheveled possible before rounding the corner and backing your way through the door. When you spun around, you were greeted by Steve and Robin staring at you like you’d just appeared in Family Video via UFO -- except they actually looked excited to see you rather than concerned. 

“Jesus Christ, did you bike here?” Steve demanded. 

Okay, maybe they were a little concerned. 

“Uh… yeah,” you felt your face heat up despite the air conditioning that you had just mercifully stepped into. 

“Oh my god, are you, like, okay?” Robin asked. “Do you need water or anything -- Steve, do we have water?”

“I’m fine! Really. I just came from work and wanted to bring you guys, uh…” you set the cups down on the counter and pulled two straws from your apron pocket. That must have been when Robin noticed what you were wearing because suddenly the other side of the room was a lot more interesting than you were. 

“What… are those milkshakes?” Steve asked, mouth falling open. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I figured since it’s so hot, and I wanted to give a little 'thank you' for the other week. I, uh, didn’t know what you liked, Steve, so I just got chocolate. Hope that’s okay”

“Are you kidding?” Steve grabbed the cup. “This is perfect -- thank you.”

“‘Course,” you grinned. “And, uhm, Robin, I got you strawberry. It probably won’t be as good as the diner in town, but--”

“No, holy shit, that is so nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

If you’d been hot outside, you were absolutely going to explode into a ball of fire as Robin took a sip of the milkshake and grinned over at you, declaring that it was the best strawberry shake she’d ever had.

“And I worked in an ice cream shop for a whole summer, so I have a vast catalog of experience in this department.”

All you could do was smile down at your feet and try not to combust. 

“So, uh… I didn’t know you worked at Tiffany's,” Robin said, hopping up onto the counter and swinging her legs over the side. She was wearing brown corduroy shorts and suspenders and you thought you might actually die if she didn’t stop being so cute. 

“Y-Yeah. Started working there my senior year. Tiffany was just getting it up and running around that time -- I think she’d only been in business for a year or two.”

“I remember when Benny’s burned down, everyone wondered where they’d be able to go to get a good burger,” Robin tilted her head. 

“Yeah. Really sucks, what happened to him.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, her brow wrinkling for a moment as you both considered it. “Still, I’m glad Tiffany’s Kitchen opened.”

“Me too. It’s a decent job. There aren’t many of us, so we get paid pretty well since we’re usually working overtime.”

“Hey!” Steve interjected, coming back from flipping the ‘open’ sign to face inward. “Are you gonna help me close up or what?”

“Steeeeve,” Robin whined, kicking her legs before casually crossing her ankles. “Y/N brought me a milkshake. Why can’t you do it this time?”

“Uh, she brought me a milkshake, too, and you don’t see me slacking.”

“I think you can manage,” she slowly articulated, eyebrows raising challengingly. With a dramatic sigh, Steve gave in. Still, he made sure to grumble enough for the two of you to hear him. 

“Sorry about him,” she lightheartedly apologized. “We come as a package deal at this point, so you’ll have to overlook his general dingus behavior if you want to stick around.”

“I don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “How’s the milkshake?”

“Perfect,” Robin replied with a pop. 

“Hey,” you suddenly remembered. “I’ve been meaning to ask… do you have any more music recommendations. I think I’ve burned a hole through ‘Tango in the Night.’”

“Wait seriously?” Robin straightened, and you barely had a chance to wonder if she meant ‘seriously you want more recommendations?’ or ‘seriously you burned a hole through Tango in the Night?’ before she was hopping off of the counter and flipping through the display of cassettes, her eyebrows scrunched in concentration. 

After a moment, she grumbled something to herself before spinning around to face you, milkshake abandoned on the counter. 

“Okay, so The Smiths have a really great album but I don’t think we carry it anymore. Uh… but I have it at home. I could totally lend it to you.”

“Cool,” you shakily replied, trying not to pass out before the question was able to leave your lips. “Uhm… maybe we could listen to it together sometime? Only if you want to!”

Robin's eyes widened, and you had just begun to kick yourself for making a move when--

“I… would love to, y-yeah. Totally. I, uh… I don’t have a car,” she said it almost like a question, and with a slight frown that betrayed how much of a deal breaker she seemed to think that was. 

“Me neither,” you offered. “I have a bike, though.”

“Yeah,” Robin laughed, the corners of her eyes dimpling. “I know.”

“Right -- sorry. But I mean, if you wanted, we could meet in the middle? There… um, I’m not really sure if you're into this sort of thing, but there’s a park by my house. It’s really woodsy and stuff, so there usually isn’t anyone else around…” You said that last part slowly, eyes scanning up to look meaningfully into hers. 

It kind of felt like staring into the sun, those eyes; like something you shouldn’t be looking directly at. It made you feel fuzzy and hot. 

“Okay,” she breathed. “'S long as we don’t run into any axe-murders, sounds like fun.”

“I have yet to cross paths with an axe-murderer, so we should be alright,” you replied, smirking at the way her scoff quickly migrated towards a laugh. 

“Cool--”

“Whenever you two are done making dinner plans, or whatever, I’m ready to close up shop -- no thanks to you,” he leveled Robin with a stern look. She rolled her eyes, shooting you a look that said ‘can you believe this guy?’

“I should probably be getting home, anyway,” you quickly offered. 

“Hey, thanks again for the shakes,” Steve said, and you’d just opened your mouth to tell him that it was your pleasure when Robin perked up. 

“Can we take you home? It’s, like, super hot out and heatstroke is no joke--”

“Hey hey hey, who drives the goddamn car? What, last time it was kidnapping perverts and now it’s heatstroke, Jesus Christ what is wrong with you?”

“I’m just cautiously prepared for any worst-case scenarios, Steve.”

“And I’m not a fucking taxi service!”

Robin turned to you.

“He doesn’t mean it. He always does this. I think he feels the need to act like an asshole so that people don’t think he has an actual heart beneath all that stupid hair.”

“It’s true -- well,” Steve furrowed his brows. “The part about me not meaning it. I don’t know where that other shit came from -- I think Robin’s been breathing in too much VHS dust. Anyway, yeah, I’ll take you home. No big deal.”

“It kind of sounded like a big deal…”

“Ehh,” Steve drawled with a curl of his lip as he waved a hand dismissively. Robin nodded encouragingly to you, so you gave in. You probably would have done anything if she was the one asking you to.  

Steve insisted on carrying your bike again. Robin rolled her eyes just as hard the second time. When the three of you finally piled into Steve’s car, you were all sweating buckets and Robin insisted that she’d definitely gotten a sunburn while Steve insisted that “that’s definitely not how the sun works, Robin” before checking his own face in the rear view. You leaned between the seats again -- what now sort of felt like your place among their duo -- and laughed. 

Sometimes you forgot that you’d only met them a few weeks ago. 

Steve didn’t remember the way to your house, explaining, with surprising genuineness, that he didn’t have the greatest memory any more thanks to several concussions. You’d wanted to ask him if he was okay -- your knee-jerk reaction -- but before you could, Robin was directing him to take the next turn. 

“It’s Nora Avenue, dingus,” she said, her tone a bit gentler than usual -- probably on account of the whole ‘concussions’ thing. 

You were still trying to figure out your feelings surrounding Robin knowing how to get to your house from just one trip -- and in the dark, no less -- when Steve pulled onto the curb. 

“Hey, thanks again for the milkshakes. You should come around more often--”

“Steve,” Robin hissed before spinning around to look at you. “I swear we’re not just friends with you because we want you to bring us milkshakes.”

“Wha-- that’s not what I m--”

“Wait, we’re friends?” The question came out before you could stop it, and you immediately wished you could take it back because not only was it the quickest way to fucking friend-zone yourself, but now you also sounded like a total loser. 

“I-I mean… yeah?” Robin murmured, her eyes searching yours -- and she looked like she was worried she’d just sounded like a loser, too. “I-If you want to be, that is. L-Like I said, this isn’t a kidnapping, haha…”

“I… cool,” you grinned. “I mean -- yeah. For sure.”

Robin exhaled a breath, nodding minutely as her smile grew, lips curling above her teeth. She really was beautiful. 

“Great,” Steve interjected. “Now that we’ve got that figured out -- care to help the lady to her front door, Robin?”

The girl scoffed. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, dingus,” she said, flicking him in the ear, but she threw open her door anyway. Before you could even touch the handle of yours, she was opening it for you. 

“Thanks,” you managed, voice more than a little breathless. You told yourself it was just because of the heat -- which was stupid because you knew it definitely was not. 

And when Robin’s hand brushed yours as she helped you get your bike out of the trunk, you decided that heat stroke was the least of your worries; Robin might actually kill you by accident. The sun never stood a chance. 

“We should get, like, a bike rack or something,” she softly teased, grinning as you laughed in response. 

“I’m not sure Steve would be on board…”

“Psh, who cares what he thinks,” she replied, obviously joking. You could see it in her almost proud smile, how much she cared for her friend. And, though you didn’t know Steve well, you could understand why. 

“So,” you straightened back up, wiping some sweat off your forehead. “I’ll, uhm… call you later, then?”

“Y-Yeah,” Robin raised her eyebrows. “I’ll be waiting. This time with no customers or dinguses to interrupt us. You’ll have me all to yourself.” Her laughter was like nervous birdsong; fluttery and high and unmistakably glorious. Fuck The Smiths, you wanted to listen to that sound on repeat until the tape crumbled to dust.

“Alright,” you smiled, and you thought maybe you were giving the sun some competition, too. “Talk to you later.”

“See ya,” Robin replied, her dimples creating valleys for her freckles to hide in. 

You managed to remember your manners and called a quick ‘thank you’ to Steve, giving them both a wave before booking it for the air conditioning. 

That night, you and Robin made plans on the phone. When you hung up, you both began counting the seconds, waiting for the moment you’d get to see each other again. 

________________________________________________________________

You stood next to the sign for Oak Street, fingers tightening and loosening over your bike handles as you tried to combat your nerves. You were excited -- more excited than you’d been in a long time -- but you couldn't help feeling some anxiety, even if you knew that Robin was cool and kind and likely just as nervous as you were. You tried not to think too hard about what that meant, or the fact that you couldn't remember a time when anyone had ever been flustered by you, as you waited. 

You were early by fifteen minutes. You may have gotten a little excited and left sooner than you’d needed to -- maybe peddled a little faster than you usually did -- but you just couldn’t help yourself. You hadn’t wanted to be late for fear of Robin thinking you’d been axe-murdered on the ride over. The only downside was that now you were worried she had been axe-murdered. Or, perhaps a tad more realistically, that she had Steve had crashed and were lying in a ditch somewhere. 

The possibility that she’d stood you up didn’t even enter your mind; it seemed so far away from something Robin would do that you hadn’t even considered it. Instead, you’d worried that something had gone wrong at Family Video until, with the soft humming of an engine, you saw Steve’s BMW climbing over the hill, distant and small like a child’s toy. 

When he pulled up beside you, Steve rolled his window down and gave you a charming grin. 

“Need a ride?” he asked, and you laughed, feeling your nerves increase tenfold as Robin’s head appeared above the car. 

“Hey!” she called. “Sorry I’m late. We had this guy come in like five minutes before closing and he was a total douchebag, so of course he hung around until we practically had to herd him out the door even though he threatened to tell our manager -- who’s literally Keith, so we told him to go right ahead and tell him because Keith would absolutely love a crack at the guy. I think he genuinely gets off on conflict because he just, like… shit, sorry, you didn’t really ask, and… hi,” Robin blushed, smiling at you as she ducked her head shyly. 

“Hi,” you replied. It hadn’t even been a minute and already she’d taken your breath away. From the car, Steve snorted. 

“Good luck,” he called to you. “Robs, you good on getting home?”

“Yeah. Thanks, dingus.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just be safe guys.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you waved as he rolled up his window and pulled out onto the road, leaving you and Robin standing alone by the Oak Street sign. 

“Hi,” Robin said again, smiling at her feet before looking back up at you through her eyelashes. 

“Hey,” you whispered. You felt like it was necessary to whisper -- like anything louder would break the sky and snuff out the late afternoon sun; like it would all somehow be a dream if you didn’t move slowly or speak softly. 

“I, uh, brought the tape…”

“Right!” you blinked, trying to jumpstart your brain into doing something -- preferably something normal and not embarrassing. “If we walk past the playground there’s a hiking trail,” you pointed across the small clearing.

“Oh, awesome,” Robin replied, tilting her head in invitation. You left your bike near a bush hidden from the view of the road and eagerly followed after her. 

The two of you walked in silence for a moment, surprisingly comfortable as you looked around at the trees and the empty playground; as you’d predicted, no one was around. School was only just now letting out, and no one ever really came around this particular park, anyway. It was too out of the way for most people, and the forest that stretched on either side of it gave the place a sense of isolation. It was perfect. As if reading your mind, Robin turned to you as you led her towards the wooded path. 

“This is so cool. I’ve never been to this part of Hawkins.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Do you think it connects to the woods around Lover’s Lake?”

You tried to imagine a bird’s-eye view of Hawkins. 

“I think so? Maybe. Lover’s Lake would be… that way. I think,” you added. It was very likely that you had no clue what you were talking about. 

“No, I think you’re right,” Robin insisted. “The last time I was near Lover’s Lake, I remember thinking how crazy it was that the trees just kept going, so it makes total sense that they’d come all the way out here.”

“Do you, uh… spend a lot of time in the woods?” You cringed at the awkwardness of the question, wondering if you’d just managed to make yourself sound like a total creep. 

“Not usually, but Steve and I… and some other friends, we… well, it’s kind of a long story, but we had this thing we had to take care of and so we sort of wound up spending a few nights out in the woods. It was… not a good time, but you know,” she shrugged. 

“Does that… have anything to do with the whole… thing that went on last year?” you hesitantly asked. 

You’d heard about Chrissy Cunningham, and then Eddie not long after, but only vaguely. It had taken you almost a week after the movie to realize that Robin and Steve’s Eddie was actually Eddie Munson, infamous cult leader -- or so Jason Carver had claimed. You’d never listened to a word that came out of that douchebag’s mouth, and you weren’t about to start now -- especially after you’d met Eddie. Besides, Robin didn’t seem like the kind of person to keep murdering cultists around as friends. 

“Uhm… yeah, sort of,” she admitted, wincing. 

“Sorry -- I shouldn’t have pried.” It really wasn’t any of your business, anyway.

“No, it’s okay! It’s just, like I said, a very long and labyrinthian story that, honestly, if I told you, would probably end with you thinking I'm crazy.”

“Oh, I dunno if I could think that,” you meekly offered. “But I get it -- you totally don’t have to tell me. We’ve all got stuff that’s a little complicated to explain.”

Something in your face must have convinced her that you were being sincere, and she broke out in a smile. 

“Don't I know it. Sometimes I feel like they’d lock me away if I ever actually said half of the stuff that was true about me. Which is kind of an issue, considering I, for some reason, find it insanely difficult to shut up sometimes.”

Her laugh was raspy and light, and her nose scrunched as she gave a toothy grin. You were helplessly whipped. 

You’d made it a good distance into the woods, and the previously bare dirt path had widened into a clearing with grass and wildflowers growing underfoot. You stopped, leaning down to pick one up, twirling it between your fingers and watching the blue and purple petals whirl together in a blur. 

“This place is kind of magical,” Robin said, her voice hushed as she blinked around at the small clearing surrounded by sturdy trees, a green canopy of branches interrupting the patch of sky, creating a bowl above your heads. 

“It is,” you grinned. “We could stop here awhile, if you wanted?”

“Oh yeah! We could, uh, listen to The Smiths,” she sang, waving the hand that was currently stuffed into her jacket pocket -- where you assumed her Walkman was. You nodded, grinning eagerly as you headed for a tall patch of grass. Robin followed as you sat down.

“I don’t really know if you’ll like it,” she was saying. “And it’s probably not even their best stuff, but I think it’s kinda cool. It reminds me of, like… I don’t know. It’s like taking a deep breath of really cold air in the summer, or… listening to the crickets at that time of the day where it’s, like, indigo out.”

“Awesome,” you exhaled, scooting closer to Robin’s side as she pulled her jacket off, removing her Walkman and headphones before spreading it out on the grass. 

Laying on her stomach, she propped her elbows onto the jacket and got to work untangling her headphone cord. When she finally managed to get it somewhat un-knotted, she turned to smile softly at you, jerking her head in invitation. You rolled onto your own stomach, lying next to her, your shoulders brushing. It was a single point of contact, but it was enough to make you buzz. Your whole side felt warm, like she’d wrapped you in a blanket. 

Robin lifted her headphones, offering you one side. You leaned down towards the foamy earpiece and waited. 

“Hopefully it’s not total trash or anything -- and if you don’t like it, we don’t have to listen to the whole album. I think it’s like almost an hour, so… oh, there it goes,” her already quiet voice fell into a whisper, and she clamped her mouth shut. 

You pressed the pad of the headphones to your ear and Robin followed suit. Her cheek was so close to yours; you were tempted to count every single freckle that dotted her skin. You would have if it wouldn’t have been completely obvious that you were staring. But God, how you wanted to stare. You wanted to stare at her skin -- at the smoothness interrupted by small wrinkles and laugh lines and pores, at the rosy color of her cheek followed by the paleness of her jaw, at the spray of auburn freckles that seemed to cover every inch of her skin, at her lips, so red that you were convinced they had to taste like cherry. 

You were still thinking about cherries and Robin’s lips as the first song began to play. ‘Reel Around the Fountain,’ you read on the case of the cassette. You’d heard a few songs from The Smiths on the radio, but never this one. It was melancholy; slow and sad, and it wove through the blades of grass and the trees and the hum of a late summer evening. The blue sky above your head felt wider as Morrissey’s voice softly filled it up. 

‘Fifteen minutes with you

Oh, I wouldn’t say no

People see no worth in you 

Oh, but I do’

You looked over at Robin, who was already watching you, and you smiled. 

“How is his voice so… sad.”

“Right? God, it’s like listening to someone’s heart if their heart could, like, talk. Does that even make any sense?”

“Yeah, kind of,” you laughed, nose scrunching as you smiled, and as you listened, and as you tried not to wonder what Robin's hands felt like, her arm, her neck. 

The tape whirred and there was a brief moment of uninterrupted birdsong before the next song began to play, more upbeat than the last one -- almost frenzied, a tired kind of bitter. 

‘You are your mother’s only son 

And you’re a desperate one

But I don’t want your lover 

I just want to be seen’

“This is amazing.”

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you think so. I was kind of worried you were going to hate it and then you’d never want to hang out with me again.”

“Wha-- Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you just because of your music taste?” you questioned, eyebrows furrowing gently even as you smiled at her obvious relief. 

“I don’t know,” she laughed. “It’s totally ridiculous but it kind of kept me up last night.”

“Well, I like it. And even if I completely loathed it with a passion, I’d definitely still want to hang out with you.”

“Wait, really?” Robin asked, a little breathless. “Because I’ve found that most people tend to check out around this time in the relationship.”

You would have had a hard time believing that if it weren’t for the genuine look in her eye. Then again, it felt like everything Robin showed you was genuine. You knew she wasn’t always, like when she gave Steve a hard time or was extra polite to customers, but you were almost completely certain that you’d never seen that side of her. If you had, she was pretty damn good at hiding it. 

“Yeah. Definitely. You’re…” Amazing. Beautiful. The coolest person I’ve ever met. The sight of you literally makes it hard for me to breathe. “Uh, I really like hanging out with you, so.”

It was a dull replacement for the things you wanted to tell her, but it seemed like the safest option because you really didn’t want to screw this up. If being her friend was the only way you still got to see her, you’d just have to find a way to live with that -- even when her lips looked like they would fit perfectly against yours. 

Robin stared back at you like a doe, her blue eyes wide and her lashes heavy, and her fingers shifting like insect wings over her side of the headphones as Morriessy’s voice danced in the space between you like a spell of demanded silence. 

‘I’m not the man you think I am

And sorrow’s native son

He will not rise for anyone

And pretty girls make graves…’

Robin opened her mouth, a single breath drawn in, expanding her ribs so you could see the movement of them through her t-shirt like the shudder before an earthquake. Her eyes were bright as they sought yours, and in them was such alarming clarity that you were sure she knew everything. When the moment for her to say something passed, she used it up by turning onto her side. You swore you could feel her breath fanning against your cheek as she looked at you so delicately, so contemplatively that you wondered if you’d died and this was all some hallucination filling the time it was taking your soul to trade the Earth for whatever came after. 

You could only return her look with a soft smile of your own, wondering what she was reading in your face -- what it was telling her even though words had failed you long ago. Maybe you wouldn’t need words, though. Maybe something in Robin would be able to understand that similar something within yourself. Maybe you could communicate with each other in a way that was completely reinvented; through hands brushing over bike handles and the sharing of tapes and cryptic glances that had yet to be deciphered.

Robin gave you one of those looks, the kind you wish you had something like a roadmap to understand, and then turned onto her back. You followed suit, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of her, hair sprawled out around her head like a halo in those old religious paintings they used to show in history class -- of Mary with a veil and her hand clutching her chest. Robin looked like an ethereal being, lying there in the grass. She looked like a saint or a goddess, or maybe a knight. She looked powerful and reverend and holy; as if she belonged in a museum, painted with wildflowers. 

And when she smiled at you, you decided that a higher power must be real because there was no way someone like Robin happened by accident. Or, maybe that was the beauty of it, because maybe Robin had just been a chance taken by the universe, and maybe your meeting had been purely coincidental. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but feel a desperate gratitude for the steps that had led you here, laying in the middle of the woods with a girl who’d described The Smiths as the sound of crickets and the color indigo. 

“That cloud looks like a heart,” Robin whispered, pointing toward a corner of the sky. You tilted your head and followed the direction of her hand. 

“Oh yeah,” you whispered back. “It does… Look, that one looks like a -- like a big bowl,” you snorted. You’d just followed up one of the most romantic things that had ever happened to you with ‘hey, look at that bowl cloud.’ Jesus Christ. 

But Robin was laughing. 

“Oh my god, it totally looks like a bowl. Look!” her raspy voice raised an octave in excitement as the gentle breeze twirled the clouds around, shifting them into new pictures. “It looks like spaghetti.”

“A bowl of spaghetti,” your eyes widened as you giggled. 

“God, now I’m hungry,” she groaned, and you laughed harder. 

“Shit, me too. I want spaghetti.”

“Oooh, and breadsticks,” Robin squeezed her eyes shut as she imagined it, and the breath of your laughter fanned against her cheek. 

“Holy shit, Robin!” You reached over to smack at her arm, and her eyes flew open to meet yours before following your pointed finger to the sky. 

“Oh my God,” she cracked a grin as she caught sight of the lines of clouds you’d found that maybe looked a little like breadsticks. “There’s, like, a whole Italian dinner in the sky right now.”

“Stop,” you gasped, clutching at your stomach as you tried to repress your laughter. “My guts are gonna explode.”

“Oh, shit,” Robin whispered, reaching out to lay a hand over the one that was pressed against your stomach. “Keep ‘em in there. Generally speaking, I don’t think guts are supposed to leave the body.”

“Ow,” you furrowed your brow as you laughed. “My abs hurt.”

“Well, that’s better than losing your guts--” she grinned as you squeezed your eyes shut, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

The two of you had been so busy goofing off about sky spaghetti and the proper orientation of your insides that you hadn’t noticed the tape had clicked off. Stopping to catch your breath, you turned to look over at Robin, a stray tear curling down your temple and landing on her jacket. 

“So,” she alluringly began. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” you smiled drowsily. Robin sighed in relief, grinning so wide that you could see her canine teeth peeking out from behind her lips. “You were so right about the indigo thing, by the way. That’s exactly what it reminded me of. Like -- you know in summertime when the air starts getting cool in the evening and you feel like you can finally breathe?”

“Yes, exactly! That’s exactly how it feels!”

“I’ll have to try and find a copy somewhere,” you said, sitting up -- stretching the muscles in your back. You’d like to listen to it again. 

“You can have this one,” Robin suddenly offered, clicking the Walkman open and holding the tape up to you. You looked down at her with widened eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally,” she nodded. “I’ve listened to it, like, a million times. You can give it back to me after you’ve listened to it like a million times,” she smirked, and it went right into the pit of your stomach. It made you warm. 

“Thanks, Robin,” you softly replied, taking the tape from her, looking down at it for a moment before slipping it into your pocket. It felt like more than a tape -- felt like some priceless lost treasure that she’d just offered you. It made your heart pick up pace. 

“Sure thing. I’m glad you liked it. I’ve tried listening to it with Steve, but I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He’s a dingus. He, like, can’t grasp the depth of emotions, or something. Cyndi Lauper is more his style.”

“Cyndi Lauper?” You gaped. “I never would have thought…”

“Yeah, most people don’t,” she smirked. “Though he does like ABBA, so at least there’s that. Not that Cyndi Lauper and ABBA aren’t, like, emotionally deep, or anything, just… I don’t know, he’s got weird taste.”

“Sounds like it,” you laughed. “He’s cool, though. How, uhm… how long have you guys known each other?”

“Mmm,” Robin’s brow pinched as she thought, and you had to stop yourself from having a stroke when you realized she was still practically lying beneath you. “I mean, we’ve known each other since high school, unfortunately -- but we didn’t really start hanging out until, I think almost three years ago, now.”

“Nice--” Nice? You were fucking impossible.

“Yeah,” Robin grinned at you like you weren’t a total loser. “We worked at the Starcourt mall together before, you know, and we’ve kind of been inseparable since.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know you worked at the mall.” You’d heard about what had happened there -- everyone in Hawkins had -- and it sounded pretty intense. 

“Yeah. Those were definitely some… weird times…” she trailed off, eyes fogging a bit as she seemed to get lost in thought before snapping back to reality -- and to you. 

“I feel like I should ask you a question now, but I already know about your job and your favorite season, and honestly I’m kind of drawing a blank.”

“Well,” you smiled, glancing down at your lap. “What do you want to know about me?”

Robin studied you for a moment, eyes scanning delicately over your face, down your neck, skipping quickly away from your chest. 

“Everything?” she softly replied. “Like… what’s your favorite color? Or, what kinds of things can’t you live without? What food do you hate -- o-or what’s one thing you absolutely have to do before you die? What's that one thing people do that drives you up the wall even though it's so stupid and really not that big of a deal, but for some reason, you can’t stand it?”

You were in love. God, you were completely and utterly in love. You barely managed to hang on to the questions she’d asked you under the weight of your overwhelming need to kiss her; stronger than your need for oxygen or the blood to keep pumping through your veins. If you were about to take your final, dying breath, you still would have wanted to kiss her. 

Instead, you picked a flower from the grass and began to talk. You told her what your favorite color was, she told you her favorite top three since she couldn’t pick just one. You opened the window to your soul and gave her the answers to all she’d asked -- the things you couldn’t live without, the things you wanted to do before you died, the things that annoyed you even though they were trivial and dumb. She told you that she wanted to see a solar eclipse before she died and that she hates when people chew with their mouth open. 

You agreed. On both counts. 

She asked you what your parents did. You told her that it was nothing special -- your father was a manager at the bank and your mother was a stay-at-home mom when she wasn’t working small jobs here and there. You asked her what her parents did. She told you that it was equally nothing special -- that her dad worked a boring desk job and her mom was a receptionist who also sold Avon on the side.

“You should hear her sometimes -- she’s always trying to get me to wear makeup and do my hair all nice. God, she wanted to take me to get a perm for my sixteenth birthday,” Robin winced. “Like, can you imagine?”

“No,” you wrinkled your nose, smiling apologetically -- but Robin didn’t seem to mind. 

“Anyway… parents, right,” she chuckled, sounding a bit nervous again. She did that, bounced between confident conversation and nerves. It made your stomach flutter like someone had let a whole conservatory full of butterflies loose between your ribs. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em, haha…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, twisting a few flower stems together. “I mean, my parents are fine, I guess. They could definitely be worse, but… you know, I just,” you shrugged, glancing up. Robin was watching you with such an openly enthralled look that you found yourself continuing. 

“I just -- sometimes I feel like they don’t even know who I am. Like they’ve got this… I don’t know, this idea of me in their heads and that’s the only version they see.” You glanced up through your eyelashes, just starting to feel self-conscious that you were oversharing when you saw the expression on Robin's face. Just… lovely. 

“No, yeah, I get it. I mean… my mom’s always had this expectation of what the ‘perfect daughter’ should be like,” she gestured with her hands. “I’ve always kind of felt like she wanted a doll instead of a real kid. Like, this little thing she could dress up and show off at parties or dinners, or whatever, and just… bend to her will. I don’t think I’ve ever met that expectation of hers.” She shrugged, smiling sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “That must be really tough.”

“I guess,” she shrugged again. “I mean -- thanks! Thank you, but, uh… I don’t know, I guess I’m over it? Which sounds horrible, but--”

“No, I get it,” you quickly assured. “It’s like… you spend your whole childhood trying to be perfect for them and then one day you wake up and realize you’re never going to be, so… why bother trying, right?” 

“E-Exactly,” Robin’s eyes widened as she blinked at you, mouth half-open. “That’s exactly how I feel, like, all of the time. I just wish they weren’t so exhausting, you know?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding as you glanced down at your lap. “God, they can be so exhausting sometimes.”

“So exhausting,” Robin agreed, looking at her own lap. It was only then that she noticed what was happening on yours. “Woah -- what’s…”

“Oh,” you started, holding up the crown of flowers you’d been weaving. “I used to do this all the time as a kid,” you smiled, glancing at Robin to find her smiling back at you, her eyes shining in the evening light. 

“It’s really pretty,” she said. 

Yes. Yes it is, you thought, your eyes getting lost in the oceans that were hers. 

“Uhm,” you struggled to pull yourself out of her grasp -- even for just a moment, long enough to speak. “Uh, let me just,” holding up a finger, you turned your attention back to the flower crown, giving it a few finishing touches before looking back at Robin. 

“Here, if you just--” you scooted closer, holding the crown up, and Robin sucked in a breath before stooping down to meet your hand. 

You took extra care placing the flowers onto her head, arranging her hair around the winding stems. The colors of the pedals looked so delicate, so vibrant against her sandy hair, almost lit aflame by the growing sunset. The very same sunset that you found lighting up her eyes as you leaned back. Robin’s eyes had grown a bit darker, you noticed, and it took you a second to realize that it was because her pupils had blown out. 

“H--” she drew in a shaking breath, rearranging her voice to do its best impression of something lighthearted. “How does it look?”

Your eyes flicked up to the crown nestled in the soft waves of her hair, then down to the freckled expanse of her forehead and the curve of her nose, the wrinkles in the fine skin under her eyes, the crow's feet from years of laughter and smiles. You stopped there, afraid of what you’d do if you caught sight of her lips when you were this close.  

“Beautiful,” you whispered, a breath. “Looks beautiful.”

“R-Really?” Robin asked, her voice somehow softer than yours.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and this time you couldn’t help yourself -- you glanced down at the curve of her cupid’s bow. God, her lips were so red, and they looked so soft, and they were parted just enough that you could see the tiniest hint of teeth. 

You sucked in a breath, hoping that it didn’t tremble, and then held it. She felt too close for breathing, and time stood still as you noticed the way her eyelashes were almost laying against her cheek and -- 

She was looking at your lips, too. 

Your face burned at the realization, heart stuttering in your chest, lungs threatening to burst -- and then it was all over. You and Robin pulled back at the same time, each glancing away, out into the darkening forest.

“Oh,” you whispered, the first voice to break the silence since you’d called Robin beautiful. “Look.”

She followed your pointed finger out into the trees, where the first lightning bugs had begun to appear. You noticed that the crickets had started up, too, and your smile met Robin’s as you glanced at each other. 

“The Smiths,” she said with a small raise of her eyebrows, tilting her head towards the scene in front of you. The forest was bathed in indigo. 

You smiled and listened to the crickets.

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:  @alonezz, @gaysludge, @gray-cheese, @rare-breed-of-human, @vea-vea-vea, @lady-silkwing , @im-a-milf

[alpydk]

Eclipse (Part 12) - "Sequester"

Next chapter is another of my favourites - But this one has Rolan living life to the max!

Ao3 Link

“My dear, Tav. It has been too long.”

You had passed through the portal with Lúthien, glad to see that your old friend Rolan was still in charge of Ramazith’s Tower. You remembered the day he took over so many years ago, surpassing the Elven wizard and becoming master. He’d tried to play it off humbly, speaking about how the tower had always been destined for him and you’d smiled as he’d then gone on to have no idea how anything worked around him. Now, he seemed much more competent.

“Rolan, you really need to do something about the projection at the door. It has about three phrases and none of them work if you have even so much as a slight accent,” you lectured before wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. The long-needed contact with someone almost brought all of your emotions to the forefront, and it took a lot of your focus not to unload everything on to him instantly.

He laughed, his tail whipping around you both involuntarily, and he quickly pulled himself back from your grasp with a slight blush of his already scarlet tinted cheeks directed away from your smile. “Well, a projected image is required. It can’t be expected that I’m to be downstairs with the common rabble, can it?”

“You’re just as terrible as you used to be.” You smirked before noticing Lúthien out of the corner of your eye trying to pull a book from a throne shaped collection. “Really? That’s what you’ve spent the years doing?” Looking at the literary seating, you motioned for your daughter to find something else to investigate.

Rolan noticed where your gaze lay and chuckled before walking in its direction, his presence enough to cause Lúthien to scarper. “Well, a wizard needs his hobbies when the drive to carry out research is dwindling.”

You sighed, curious about what other random artistic displays he had come up with over the years here. It reminded you of a day with Gale where, in a rare moment of downtime, he had spent hours on a spell to arrange all his star charts onto the ceiling, creating a replica of the stars in the sky. You’d asked why he hadn’t just conjured them as normal, only to be told this was something essential to his research. It hadn’t been; he had just been experiencing a rare bout of boredom.

“But Tav, I suspect you are not here to complain about the service at the front desk or about my choices of pastime. What brings you to me after all these months? Waterdeep missing wizards of my calibre?”

“But of course,” you playfully said, having missed the time with your friend.

“As I suspected. The quality of Blackstaff has been slipping since that debacle all those years- “ He realised his poor choice of words as he saw the sight of your body language bristle. He didn’t need to say any exact details, as there had been so few accidents in the history of the academy. “Ah, my apologies.”

You nodded, knowing he didn’t mean any harm. He just had a habit of forgetting himself sometimes. “It’s actually that debacle I’m here about.”

---

Gale was growing increasingly frustrated at the projection in front of him as it ignored his requests. He spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to get it to acknowledge what he was saying. “I…need…to…”

“Welcome back, valued customer,” it interrupted in Rolan’s cheerful tone.

“Oh, for the love of…” sighed Gale tiredly. “We’re not going to get anywhere at this rate.”

Shadowheart stood under the stairs, looking towards a woman who was whispering to the other customers. “Gale, perhaps that is who we need to speak to.”

He rubbed at his brow, taking his eyes off the projected image. Why couldn’t they just hire a real person to help? It would be much more effective and less time consuming, he thought to himself, raising his eyes to the ceiling above him. An essential incantation. He noticed star charts hung above him, the curling parchments overlapping, the smell of the ink on the papers, and with it, he heard the sigh of a woman. Taking his eyes from the unnecessary art, he saw her smile and knew from then on that he wanted to create stars for her and for her alone.

“Welcome back, valued customer.”

The charts were gone as he looked back up and remembered where he was; another memory placed. “Well, it can’t be any worse a solution than this.” He relaxed his shoulders and followed Shadowheart to the back of the store with a hope of finding the answers to what the crown was and how it could be used for their benefit.

---

Mystra sat amused at the spectacle before her, that all her pawns were again in the same place. Never could a mortal go against fate, and it was fate that was bringing them together, her control of the weave pushing the pieces around as if they stood on a lanceboard of her creation. She had spoken to Elminster about her wishes, and although he had not questioned her, he had also not been as willing to follow orders as he had in previous generations. Too many times had she been asked about why she wanted not only the crown, but Gale and the child as well, and each question she had batted away with annoyance. What did it matter to him why? All that should matter is that it was her will.

A cruel smile emerged on her lips as she thought of Gale by her side, his astral form embodied with hers once more. She had missed this sensation, this feeling of being alive. It was one thing to live for eternity, but another to experience it, and few would ever understand the demands that came with immortality. She watched as Gale heard of the book that would tell him all he needed, as he walked up the stairs with a new determination in his eyes. Her gaze turned to the child as it stepped towards the portal, ready to leave the sanctum of the tower, moments away from meeting its fate.

---

Rolan had tried for some time to get the crystal ball to work for you. He’d conjured up images of others with ease, even letting you see Avernus for a moment and one of his tiefling contacts which fought there. But Gale had not appeared at all, the magic artefact instead glowing lightly before the shadows set in once again.

“And the sending spells no longer work, you say?”

You nod your head knowing that all these factors together mean one thing: that Gale is gone. Despite everything, the spells, the words, the distance travelled to be with him; you had lost him again. Your mind tried to tear itself in two. It wanted you to break down and accept the harsh reality in front of you, for you to have to return to Waterdeep without him and ultimately lose all hope, but a small part of your heart refused those truths; not until you had heard it directly from the one responsible, from Mystra herself.

You barely spoke as again the crystal ball went dark and Rolan took it for his collection. It was Lúthien, hurrying to the portal, excited for the next destination, that caused you to say something. “Thank you, Rolan.”

He smiled with sympathy before he spoke with care to you. “Tav, do not lose hope. My life has not always been one of constant success. You may not even believe this, but I, too, had my share of failings.”

His words caused you to let out a light scoff and nod in agreement. They may not have been much, but they were enough to let your hope simmer deep down.

“Oh, before you leave. Maybe the young girl would like a souvenir of her time at the tower?” He knelt, signalling to Lúthien for her to collect something from him, and she ran over with enthusiasm.

You were not sure what he handed to her as he waved his hands around in a mock magic trick, pulling something dark from behind her ear, but you appreciated the gesture, nonetheless; that this small moment would be one that all of you would remember fondly.

---

Gale walked past the portals and stood casually as Astarion picked the lock behind him. “Knock would be much more effective, my dear.”

Astarion scowled as the first lockpick snapped in his hand. “Maybe so, love, but it’d also have every person in here looking at us.” The lock clicked, allowing the vampire to open the door. “Besides, knock would mean the absence of these delicate hands.”

Gale moved aside, allowing his companions to enter the small room now accessible to them and gave a thankful smile to Astarion for his help in this task. After everything that they’d been through together, he was grateful that any of them were willing to indulge him in the way they were. It would have been so much easier to just reach the Absolute and detonate the orb, and yet they were willing to going to such extremes for him; now breaking and entering a magically enforced vault. He followed them and carefully closed the door behind him, ignoring the prickling of the weave that brought goosebumps to his arms.

---

She could not believe her own eyes as the young girl turned back to Rolan, missing the opportunity to exit the portal and run into Gale. Fate again had gone against Mystra’s will. The goddess of magic herself, again being made a fool of in her own domain. She clicked her fingers, allowing the spark of magic to flicker in her eyes, a volcano erupting in a distant area of Faerûn. As she took a deep breath, she fought against the rising fury and concentrated on finding Elminster, quietly issuing her commands to him. She had not wanted to do this; she had wanted to remain an observer, but now it was becoming too late. Speaking to Gale herself would be her only option.

---

Lúthien ran out ahead of you from the portal, her hand held out in front of her with the small black coin. She paused, looking at the metal door which stood closed nearby, and then shook her head like she was being bothered by a tiny insect.

Asking her if everything was okay was met with a nod before she hopped down the stairs one by one and you glanced at the door before following her, ignoring the familiar warmth that brought goosebumps to your arms.

---

His insane laughter could be heard far and wide as the tiefling called for the child, handing her the soul coin and distracting her for just enough time for Gale to leave the upper floor of Sorcerous Sundries. Oh, how he enjoyed this game, with no purpose other than to stand in Mystra’s way.

“Three petty thieves standing in a row; one chose sword, another chose bow. One petty thief with magic in her eyes; fell and chose love, which then brought lies.”  

He cackled as a volcano erupted, knowing that the eyes of the other gods would be drawn to her. Was the Lady of Magic losing her touch? Was it time for someone else to step in and take up the mantle? All this frustration over a simple mortal brought him such glee, and he stood from his throne; his arm held out in front of him to the nothingness of the chambers. His audience of trophies watched over him as he saw himself as the lord of his own manor; everything there, a witness to his magnificence.

He spoke with a faux chivalry in his tone. “Mystra, my dear. May I have this dance?”

“Never. For my heart belongs to another!” A high-pitched voice came from his lips, a mockery of the goddess.

He lowered his arm, his delight turning to anger, and the flames of his eyes burnt brighter with the rage. “You dare to choose someone else when I am here!?” His voice rose into a yell, and he hit out aggressively before falling forward onto the naked cobblestones beneath him.

Growling a little tune, he slowly got back up to his feet before returning to his throne, a creation to seat his own madness.

“Three petty thieves living in the sky; one chose magic, the other to die. One petty thief with madness in his eyes; born into chaos, cursed only with lies.” 

[weirdestbooks]

We Should Know Who We Are (Wattpad | Ao3)

Finland and Estonia, requested by 39based, title provided by @lost-islands

Finland was excited to meet the new country of Estonia. He had heard many things about the country’s people, and he knew that they were of a similar culture to him. He knew that they were cousins, perhaps, or related in some sort of way. That interested him greatly. The only sort of family he ever had as a child was through the Russians, people with a very different culture and language.

If he could form some sort of relationship with this new cousin, if this supposed cousin really was family, then Finland could, for once, have a relationship with the side of his family that was like him. 

Finland had invited the nation to Helsinki and was quick to receive a response that Estonia was willing to meet him. 

So now here Finland was, sitting in a room and waiting for his maybe-cousin to arrive.

“Hello, Estonia,” Finland said as the young nation entered the room. Finland was quick to look the new nation over. He looked about fifteen, typical for a newborn nation. His flag consisted of three horizontal stripes: blue, black, and white.

“Hello, Finland. Thank you for meeting with me,” the young nation said, sounding nervous.

“You’re welcome. I was interested when I heard the news of another Finnic country being born. It will be nice to have more members of our extended family independent from Russia.” Finland said, trying his best to calm the younger nation’s nerves. 

He remembered how nerve-wracking it was to talk to other countries alone for the first time, wondering if they were taking you seriously, wondering if they were mocking you behind your back.

“Are we related?” Estonia asked. Finland shrugged.

“We’re both Finnics, so we must be. I don’t know how far back as Russ—the Russia before the current one—wasn’t a fan of giving me information about my mother. He wanted me to be his, so he hid everything that could pose a threat to that idea.” he explained. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You weren’t alive when he made those choices. You could have done nothing to help. It’s okay,” Finland reassured. Estonia’s shoulder slumped.

“I know. I just…there’s a lot of pressure on me right now. It’s been easier just to say I’m sorry for things outside of my control and try to move forward.” Estonia said with a small smile.

“Moving forward. That’s something a lot of people have been eager for,” Finland mused. Estonia let out a bitter laugh.

“I mean, with the last war, you can see why. Everyone wants to rebuild. And us new countries? We want to establish ourselves and prove that we are not the empires that once controlled us but different people within our own histories.” Estonia said. Finland’s face twitched into a slight grin.

He liked his cousin so far.

“You aren’t wrong about that,” Finland said before standing up and holding out his hand for Estonia to shake. “I think we are going to be good friends.”

Estonia looked excited at that and quickly stood up to shake Finland’s hand.

“Glad you think so.” the smaller country said.

[seekingjamaharon]

Kirk/Spock Fic Recs

(These recommendations are not organized by rating, universe (AOS/TOS), or tags, so it is your responsibility to review before reading!)

***

Veritas - theproblematique

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141066/chapters/2308617

This story is an utter DELIGHT to read, from start to finish. There are several AMAZING scenes that LIVE  ABSOLUTELY RENT FREE IN MY MIND. If you’ve read it, you know which ones I’m talking about. If you haven’t read it… my ask box will be open for you to come scream at me about it later!

Through Blind Men’s Eyes - ladyblahblah

https://archiveofourown.org/works/329721/chapters/532085

It’s exactly like the summary says–”Pon farr–with a twist.” But what a twist it is!!! There were points in this story where I had to put my phone down and walk around my room before my brain fried itself. The pacing is perfect. The characterization is perfect. The angst is perfect. The sex is perfect. It hits exactly the right notes with me, personally, in every single line. This fic changed me as a person.

For gladness of you - kariye

https://archiveofourown.org/works/610649

I’ve never read anything quite like this before. It’s like you’re watching someone paint, where first there are the rough outlines of color, and as you watch the artist goes back and adds shadows and highlights and everything starts to take shape. Once it’s finished you can see each detail that makes up the whole. Just a beautiful, wonderful story.

Also, there are rocks.

The Bond - WhatIfImaMermaid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593152/chapters/26056887

The premise of this story means that some of the usual tropes are reversed, and it’s just so sweet and earnest. I particularly like this version of AOS Jim and his relationship with the crew.

Spice - eimeo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/285483/chapters/455338

I know it’s more than a little ridiculous for me to recommend a story without having actually finished it, BUT: I started this story without realizing that it was essentially a retelling of The Motion Picture, which I have not seen, so I stopped reading about halfway through to give myself some time to catch up on my watch of the series. However, even with only a portion of this piece under my belt, I feel confident enough to say that it’s DEVASTATINGLY GOOD. The PINING. The LONGING. The YEARNING. Truly unparalleled.

The Marriage of True Minds - spicyshimmy 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020522/chapters/2029865

When I first saw this story in my AO3 results, I looked at the word count and said, “Impossible.” But one day when I was feeling ambitious, I opened a new tab, and the rest is history. I am now essentially a Spicyshimmy stan, and recommend their entire body of work. This particular work takes you on a JOURNEY. Both Spock and Jim learn and grow together, and it’s not perfect, but I adore Spicyshimmy’s Spocks–absolutely ADORE THEM. There’s a certain scene in Chapter 39 that had me laughing out loud. Even now, I’ll re-read it for a little boost of serotonin.

[thot-son-of-odin]

20 Questions For Writers

I’m taking @galaxythreads’ post as unofficial tagging because I want to do this lol

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

23!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

102,192

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Thor (unfortunately the hyperfixation has taken root)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. midas is king (and he holds me so tight)

2. a shrike to your sharp

3. be as you’ve always been

4. I am loved (I am loved)

5. our truth is burned from history (this is actually my favorite of all five, I’m glad it’s on here haha)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to, I haven’t really been recently since I’ve been busy (and lazy) but I wanna start doing it again.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This since the situation that Thor and Loki in does not get resolved lol,,,,,maybe I should write a sequel.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I actually thought most of mine ended happyish but I’m realizing the really happy ending is probably this one???

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Not really? I’ve been getting some weird anonymous comments that aren’t hate??? They’re just odd. And I feel like they come from the same person too. I’m not bothered by it, I’m just,,,,,,confused????

9. Do you write smut?

Yes! I only have one smut fic so far but I want to write more!

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, I’m just not really interested in them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and hopefully that never happens

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! Blanket permission if anyone ever wants to, please just let me know!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes and I love doing it! It’s so much fun, plus you have another person to complain to when the fic isn’t going the way you want!

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Thor and Loki, but both platonically and romantically if that makes sense? I am a brodinsons fan before I am a thorki fan.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have too many, writing is hard :’(

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I like to think I have a good head for plotting and coming up with ideas

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Actually writing down what I have planned. People should look thru my idea list and write some of the fics I’ve thought of lol

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Think it can be good in small quantities if you’re simply using google translate but if you’re trying to write a lot in that language, you should probably either already know it or ask for help from someone who does. As a reader tho, it’s not entirely helpful unless there’s a translation also given — I think it takes you out of the fic if you have to look it up

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor who

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Hmm I feel like my fav fic shifts from week to week. Right now it’s mother make me a big gray cloud because it’s the longest I’ve written and it’s also finished!! So super excited about it!

Tagging @babygirlthor, @worstloki, @thorarms, @nostalgia-tblr, @shinysoroka, @thortwenty151, @colifower, and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Spolia

Parings: Malleus/(Light Fae) MC // Slight Rook/Vil // MC (Parental)

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings.

Notes: Character's lore heavily based on "changelings"- they are fae children who are swapped out with human children because fae believe humans strengthen their bloodline, can be used as servants, etc. They usually develop faster, are an "unearthly" beauty, and are quite intelligent, but appear/behave odd and unnerving. Their existence stems from religious beliefs that odd/sickly children are possessed by the devil/succubus/incubi or a hybrid of the latter and human. TW for religious trauma and child abuse overall but I'm adding comfort since I would literally explode without it. Am I projecting as an art history major with a noggin full of trauma? Shut up. Notes at the end explaining some of the terms. My autistic brain isn’t satisfied without one

I’m cross posting from ao3 to here, so I will be posting there first, before tumblr.

CW: Child Abuse, Mentions of Verbal Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad French

Part 1 (here) // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

AO3 Link Here.

Masterlist

————————————————————

You glanced quickly around the classroom from your seat at the far left corner, your heart thumping at the mere thought of having to raise your hand AND your voice. After a quick confirmation that everyone seemed to be as half asleep as they usually were, you slowly raised your hand.

"Yes?" Trein gestured towards your direction.

"I, uh, had a question about the development of the architectural structures after the fae and human war." You struggled to look at your Professor's eyes while talking as it had been ingrained into you, however you settled for a spot slightly below his face at the beautiful emerald brooch.

"...after the war, was each race more specialized in their own architectural styles? Or did they care for a spolia* situation with certain buildings or areas each of them conquered?"

Despite all the complaints of drowsiness and the workload of the class, Trein's history lessons were your favorite. Your family background never allowed for any lessons outside of family and national history, so you were happy that Trein would indulge in your inquiries of the art and architecture surrounding the history of magic. Unlike people, buildings and paintings were easier to read- and often they were much more rich with beauty within the layers of history they called with them. Unlike humans.

"That's a good question Mx. D’aramitz. Now I cannot say I have the exact answer as of now..."

Your shoulders slouched a bit in disappointment.

"...however I do have some suggestions on readings if you are interested after class. Any other questions from any other students besides Mx. D’aramitz?" Treins eyes bore into the collective glazed look of the other students. After a beat of deafening silence he swiftly turned to the chalkboard, writing the homework for the weekend.

"That is your work for the weekend. You're all dismissed."

Students began to filter out the door, eager to get to their lunch. You anxiously made your way to Trein, carefully collecting your books, as well as a leather bag containing your art supplies.

"Ah Mx. D’aramitz. Glad to see that you've stayed. Wait here I'll write out the list for you- I take it you've already finished my last recommendations?"

"Ah- yes! It was very interesting, the intertwining between magical royalty and stained glass has some interesting symbolism and political history I never considered...thank you for the suggestions!" You felt your lips unintentionally pull into a grin, as you attempted not to gush about the nuance and beauty of Gothic architecture. Trein listened intently to your review regarding his reading recommendations. His usually tight expression softened into a small smile.

"I'm glad you enjoyed those books. I actually have some other suggestions if you're curious- I'll write them along with the others I promised you." He neatly listed a couple of titles onto a piece of parchment before he handed it to you. "It's always a pleasant surprise to see students like you Mx. D’aramitz. However I don't want to keep you from your lunch. I'll see you in class."

You see some students already filtering into the classroom for their next period, you quickly bow your head. "Th-thank you! Have a good weekend!"

Swiveling around to scurry out of the classroom, your face was met with a large body instead. You instinctively flinched backwards, quickly snapping your anxious gaze to Malleus Draconia, with a calm expression resting on his slender face.

He looked down onto your scrawny figure, virescent eyes staring into your own.

You internally screamed.

"S-sorry! Excuse me..."

Pulling the hem of your hood down, you weaved around the incoming students, making a beeline to your usual place for lunch. Unlike the bustling bodies and loud chaos of the school’s hallways, you were relieved to find the library mostly empty, and tranquil as usual. Despite the silence, you pulled your noise canceling headphones over your pointed ears tucked under your hood, and hit shuffle on your music library. Neatly placing you books on the table, you excitedly trotted over to book shelves, Trein’s list in hand. After some vigilant searching, you found two of the books on your list. However, Power of Artistic Appropriation: Postwar Victory of Gothic Fae Architecture was nowhere to be found.

Ah I guess I can just look at a later time…

Scurrying back to your usual corner, you laid out your lunchbox on the table. You were much more interested in devouring the contents of your book, than eating the homemade meal you had made this morning. Excitement rumbled through your chest, to the tips of your hands and feet, as you absorbed the information on the page. You enjoyed peaceful times like this, untethered to the thoughts that normally weighed you down. The honey gold warmth that shone from the large arched windows reminded you that you needed to buy more yellow pigment from Sam’s shop after your plain air session after classes. You swatted that thought away as you continued to leaf through the last few pages of the chapter Trein recommended.

Ah what peace…

“I said, hey, human .”

You jumped at the sudden presence.

What is with all of the Diasmonia students today??

Stern green eyes looked down in seeming disgust as narrowed in annoyance. You took this que to take off your headphones, careful not to let your hood down. Sebek held out his hand expectantly, shoving it in front of your face. You flinched on instinct but maintained a trained look of composure despite the rush of tingling anxiety creeping to the tips of your hands. You dug your fingernails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself.

“I believe you have a book that my young master is in need of. Hand it over and we can be done here, human .”

…hah?

“S-Sorry?”

To your horror his face twisted in anger. “Are you deaf, human ?! I said hand it over.” Sebek seethed through his teeth.

He seems more trouble than he’s worth… and this feeling, and the Diasmonia uniform…half fae perhaps? It can’t possibly end well…

“Ah s-sorry! My notes are still in it but‒“ The student snatched the book from your hands, before marching away from you with a pile of books in hand. Maybe the book you were looking for earlier is also in that pile. Ah, at least you finished most of the chapter, better than being hurt or in a difficult situation. You collected your things before brushing off your pomefiore uniform, heading to your next class.

How troublesome…

You couldn’t wait until you were away from the noise of people.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you trotted out of the school, towards the gothic structure of the Diasmonia dorm. To be frank, you had half a mind to avoid the dorm with the run-ins you’ve had with the students today, however you were almost finished with the painting , aside from the painful drying process and varnish. Eager to begin another piece featuring the gargoyles you read of in the book that was rudely snatched from you today, you decided to risk it. You were already creating a color palette you could use for the painting, perhaps you would check with Sam if any interesting or rare pigments arrived.

Swiveling your head to check for any students, you were thankful to see no one. After all, this was an unpopular part of the campus, off to the side of the Diasmonia dorm where you could get a good look at the dynamic structures supported by the towering buttresses. Airy walls suspended from the heavens, while the hefty stone ground it into the Earth creeping up the structure with its mossy appendages.

Finally able to relax, you let down your hood, putting your music on speaker to give your pointed ears a break from the noise canceling headphones not made for fae ear structure. Shrugging off your uniform jacket, you let your translucent wings free from the restricting fabri. Stretching your achy wings, you basked in the light wind, and warm sunlight‒ soaking it deeply into your wings. As a light fae (you were pretty sure anyway, your family deflected any questions of your origins), the sunlight felt especially good on the delicate appendages on your back, too bad this itchy wing prevented you from feeling it in your light hair. However, that would leave you completely vulnerable to people finding out your identity‒ and no good sunbath would be good enough to make up for the verbal abuse you would suffer if that were to happen. You tried not to think about that place; the cold, dark closet; the venomous words‒ ah, no, time to get to work.

It’s almost the culture festival, and I want a couple more pieces to what I have planned already. It’s my duty as Art Club president to act as model for the underclass men…

Opening your leather bag, you pulled out a sealed palette, some bristle brushes, palette knife, and some linseed oil you extracted yourself. As a member of the Pomefiore dorm, you took quiet pride in your collection of homemade oils, tinctures, and pigments you made specially to improve the longevity, quality, and opaqueness of your works. Though you had been originally sorted due to your family’s involvement in dealing expensive health and beauty potions, you thanked the great seven you were placed into a dorm that appealed to the prestigious image you had to maintain, and your parents constant pushing for modeling, while also fitting within your interests of artistic pursuits of painting and experimenting with paint formulas. However, you weren’t too fond of the rococo* design the Pomefiore dorm favored, and gravitated more to the gothic styles of the Diasmonia dorm. Despite your fondness for the dorm, you did not excel especially in magic like other fae, and in fact strictly forbidden in your home to practice magic.

Do not bring such demonic workings into our house! Your existence is a manifestation of the devil’s doings as it is. Pathetic child.

The center of your chest sunk to your stomach reminded of those words by your “mother”. You quietly tugged your uniform back on, pulling your hood over your head once more. Rolling your sleeves up, you began to layer thick globs of paint onto the impasto below.

———————————————————————————————

“Young Master! I’ve returned with some reading I thought you would be interested in!”

Malleus set down his borrowed copy of Power of Artistic Appropriation: Postwar Victory of Gothic Fae Architecture , slightly taken back from the tall stack of books that was dropped onto the table.

“You didn’t have to do that Sebek…Though I do thank you, these readings seem intriguing and would serve well to the Gargoyle Appreciation Club during the cultural festival coming soon.”

“My pleasure young master!” Sebek boomed, bowing. As Malleus leafed through some of the books that appealed to his interest, his eyes paused at the sight of a wad of purple sticky notes lining almost every page of a chapter, decorated in neat cursive written in red ink. He softly traced the curly lettering, feeling goosebumps on his skin as his fingertips felt the raised paper from the ink soaking into the thin paper. He was entranced by the intricate notes, full of excitement and terms he had never heard before, steeping to every inch of his mind as he devoured the chapter. To his absolute pleasure, he also found a few pieces of nimbly scrawled sketches of the types of gargoyles the chapter introduced. Though they were rough, he could sense a sort of liveliness and breath to them. He hadn’t even seen Sebek excuse himself to club activities, engrossed in the internal dialogue of mystery person who had left their pretty cursive and sketches in every crevice of this particular chapter.

Mn? Pretty? When had he decided that?

However, such a melody he could imagine from this person’s internal dialogue and vibrant imagery could only be described as pretty .

Not even bothering to finish the book in its entirety, he leafed through the pages once more. It was imperative that he find this mystery person immediately, of course to ask for their help in for his club during the cultural festival. Could it be a fourth year? That would definitely be a challenge finding them. He quickly checked the library card‒ ah, no luck, just a stamp from today, presumably from Sebek and two more from more than 60 years ago. Could this mystery person made the notes in the library without checking it out? Dozens of scenarios spun in his head. Maybe he could ask the librarian? Or he could ask the art-related students on campus?

He felt and airy warmth bubble from his chest grazing his hands across the sketches, and annotations once more. The sun had began to set, slowly sinking his dormitory in a blazing orange. Perhaps he could think of a solution on his nightly walk.

———————————————————————————————

After stopping by Sam’s shop to peruse through his collection of pigments and oils, you were struggling to balance the precious vials of rare Lapis Lazuli* and Tyrian Purple* powders for your next painting. It had been an expensive decision, surely your funds were going to run out soon, which meant you would be having to complete a modeling job sooner or later.

You really should have taken up the offer for a bag damn it. Your bad habit of declining the smallest bit of help had gotten the best of you once more.

The sky was beginning to darken, a deep mauve hue starting staining the vermillion sunset.

Between the day you’ve had today, your scrunched up wings folded uncomfortably under your uniform, the itchy wig that was digging into your temples, and the mere idea of having to interact with your parents to acquire merely a percentage’s worth of the work you do for them‒ this was too much. You slumped to the ground, setting all of your items down while holding back the tears that were burning the back of your eyes. However, after a beat, you swallowed that feeling like a rock, plunging it deep down in your chest, cradling it within the slow, heavy breaths as if to lull it back to sleep.

Go down go down go down go down

“Are you alright?”

You slowly pulled your gaze to a towering figure, one with the same sharp green eyes that bored into you in Trein’s classroom. For a minute you questioned what planets could have aligned for such encounters to happen today.

“Y-Yes! Sorry, excuse me!” Malleus’ steel gaze watched you immediately scramble for your things, cupping it within your clumsy arms, but not without your canvas slipping from your hand and thumping onto the ground.

“I can help you carry that for you. You’re a Pomefiore student?”

I am absolutely going to scream

“Oh…um, sorry, thank you! And y-yes, third year Pomefiore student. It’s this way…”

Ah yes as if a third year like him doesn’t know where things are

The man hummed in acknowledgement, before following behind with your canvas in hand.

“What were you doing out all alone here? It’s almost completely black out, and a child of man like you cannot see in the dark. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sorry! I-I was just painting after school to prepare for the cultural festival for the Arts club, and I took too much time at the store choosing pigments for my next painting and I’m so stupid, I didn’t bring a bag to fit all my supplies and the paint still isn’t dry yet because I didn’t add enough fast drying medium this time and‒“

“You’re part of the Arts Club?”

For a second you were taken off guard from his geninely interested expression. Rarely you would see such an expression when you explained the activities of the Art Club. Usually you were met with passive stares or a polite nod before they moved on.

“Yes, I’m the president actually! If you’d like, please visit us during the cultural fair!” You wanted to gush about the events you held, and your specific special interests within the field, but you held back.

No one would want to hear that.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, child of man.”

“Ahaha…child of man?”

“What your species is called. ‘Humans’, correct?” You felt his eyes turn towards yours, your cheeks slightly rosy with the intense eye contact. You prayed to the great seven that he had not sensed anything from you, especially with the bitter potions that you choked down everyday to appease your family’s relentless reminder for you to be anything other than what you were.

“…yeah…haha I-I guess. Oh! You should join the Art Club if you’re that interested. We’re always short on members so I’m usually the only one organizing and participating in events…”

“Ah, as much as I would like to…I’m already in my own club, the Gargoyle Appreciation Club. I appreciate the offer however.”

“Oh…that’s a shame‒ ah! Not that your club isn’t interesting‒ in fact‒“ you caught yourself mid sentence, preventing yourself from dumping the loads of information that was threatening to bubble up from your throat. You were pretty sure you had used up a life time’s worth of luck with today’s events when the Pomefiore’s dormitory came into view to save the day.

“W-We’re here. I think I can carry the short distance to my room. Thank you for helping me!”

“No need for thanks, child of man. I look forward to seeing your presentation at the cultural festival.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your booth as well!” After seeing him off, you scurried into the dormitory, eager to get a head start on preparing your paint mixtures before your plain air tomorrow.

“Ah L’artiste en folie! Marvelous timing.”

“Indeed!”

“(name), good timing. We were just talking about you”

I am absolutely at my limit‒

You leaned your canvas against the staircase ( for quick escape ), turning to the voice.

“Yes, vice dorm leader, dorm leader? Oh, and headmage Crowley, a pleasure.” You answered with a curt bow. Just like you were taught.

“We were wondering if L’artiste en folie would be willing to draft up some posters for the cultural festival!”

“I had a connection with someone in the professional art industry but they bailed last minute. Rook suggested we ask you instead, based on the art galleries you’ve been holding every now and then.”

Weird that they know about that. You make sure never to sign your works in case of any slim chance your family would hear about your activities at Night Raven College, and to mix it with the submissions by the other Art Club Members. However you haven’t seen many other members or artists wandering around the campus with canvases as big as yours, or struggling to balance vials of previous pigment to your dorm ah, you definitely weren’t as sneaky as you thought. Still you glanced over at Rook, he is a hunter after all, you figured, he’s likely trained in careful observation. You’ve also seen him sneaking around spying on people, so, there’s that.

“I said it was a brilliant idea Mx. D’aramitz! You must! I’ll even offer compensation for the job!”

Your ears definitely perked up at the sound of that.

Hm. Money and some practice for my calligraphy. Temping offer…

“…Ok. I do have one condition though since the posters will be in public.”

“Phenomenal!” Crowley shot up, already ready to take his leave upon sealing the deal. You flinched in surprise at the sudden movement. “Your condition is?”

“Please leave out any evidence of my name or involvement in this project. That is all.”

The three paused, slight surprise adorned on their faces. Crowley was the first to relax, letting out a hearty laugh.

“Haha! That’s it? That can be arranged Mx. D’aramitz, rest assured. Ah this is wonderful news…” Crowley began to mumble something about not having to spend so much money on professional artists, which you quirked your eyebrow at. Oh well, you weren’t really in the position to be lecturing people about money right now, taking note of how painfully light your wallet was in your pocket after your visit at Sam’s.

“L’artiste en folie! Truly magnifique that you’re pouring your artists soul for us to save us from the absolute peril!”

He’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit.

“We appreciate this (name). Here is the information we need on the posters. We’ll leave creative liberty for the design aspects. I trust your taste after seeing your work on display.” Vil handed you a piece of paper with the date, time, groups, and main highlights of the cultural festival. You had a feeling it was going to be a busy few weeks before the festival.

———————————————————————————————

Notes:

Adding bits and pieces of my knowledge of medieval/gothic architecture is hard when you’ve only taken 1 course on it lol. Though I consider my art history knowledge to be pretty well rounded, my academic concentration isn’t in the Middle Ages (it's contemporary/modern and non European) so please correct me if you see anything wrong, because my autistic brain likes information yum.

Spolia: Basically when you defeat someone, break apart pieces of an Artwork of their country and incorporate it into a symbol of victory. Not only does this save time during the building process, but it's also a political/social/religious/symbolic fuck you to your opponent. Also can show that you're building upon the foundations of the old to rebuild the new.

The Arch of Constantine is a very good example of this. A lot of examples I've personally seen are triumph arches. Lots in France because they're always fighting

Rococo: From what I can largely gather, while the exterior of the castle is largely based off of German castles post medieval era, the interior of the Pomefiore’s dormitory is heavily inspired by Rococo design. Similar to Rococo art, the style is very frivolous, decadent, and overall excessive. I imagine due to the reader’s family connections which I will establish further on, their home is in a similar style, perhaps with more religious elements.

If you look up the Palace of Versailles (A heightened example of Rococo culture right at the prissy center of the movement) and compare it side by side to the hallway of the Pomefiore's dorm its literally the same. I took one glance at the wiki page and was like wait I've seen that before. Low and behold the French have come to haunt me everywhere

Gothic: people have a lot of misconceptions about this word including and especially the people at Disney lmao their architecture is a mess. But "gothic" as we art historians use it refers more to a list of characteristics than a specific time period (Though usually around the 12th to 16th century). You've seen the stained glass windows with the thin frames and the dynamic, pointy architecture from sites like Notre Dame de Paris (the one that caught on fire also the one Victor Hugo based the Hunchback for Notre Dame off of‒ praying for cool architecture in the new dorm based off of the Disney movie so I can analyze the fuck out of it.) or the Notre Dame de Reims‒ these are actually late gothic when the technology to build higher, more airy structures was available. But there's actually a lot more to gothic architecture, like I mentioned buttresses which allow gothic architecture to be as tall as it is, or gothic arches, ribbed vaulting, arcade (essentially an added strip of decorated wall), and a long long nave that leads to a central apse. Oh and of course Malleus' favorite, gargoyles. They actually served a very functional purpose in the beginning, aiding in water flow off the building to prevent erosion. It is also told that the head of a Gargoyle helps in repelling evil spirits which cathedrals would obviously want to do. I imagine this to be some sort of symbol of technology and innovation on the Fae's part, and perhaps used as a symbol of victory over humans during the war?? Idk I'm making shit up and I think too much but I think the idea is interesting

Not going to go too far into explaining because it gets long but Diasmonia's high windows, separation of each section of the wall (ie the arcade and clerestory) and gothic arches (the ones that are pointed slightly at the top) and ribbed vaulting makes be believe the artists were going for early gothic or at least was what they were referencing when designing the interior of the dorm (Look up Sens Cathedral if you want an example). Really wish they leaned more heavily into the gothic thing and designed it to be more late gothic with "goth" touches, but maybe the new dorm based on the movie based on the book based on the late gothic Cathedral has me having hope we will get our beautiful stained windows and voluptuous flying buttresses

Lapis Lazuli is the mineral that makes Ultramarine, but it's super fucking expensive and it's been heralded as a symbol of royalty since the Bronze age by some of the oldest civilizations in the world (Bull Headed Lyre of Ur is one famous example of how it was used to honor royalty, even in death since it was a funerary object). The color is also featured in Vermeer's Girl with the Pearl Earring. Mans was rich

Tyrian purple is the pigment made out of crushing a certain sea snail, also expensive because it's very labor intensive, and has a specific locality in availability. I'd like to think Vil's robes are dyed in this color just because he's extra like that. I also imagine Sam making a deal with Azul to acquire the snails/pigment which is why reader is so very broke after purchasing it lol

[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

Thank you so much @inthedayswhenlandswerefew​ for allowing me to pick your brain again, and giving us a glimpse into your process for your amazing stories. 💜  

This series is near and dear to my heart, completely self-indulgent, but I am glad others are enjoying it too. You can look over the masterlist to see the other amazing authors I have spoken with; this series is just a BTS of some of the talented minds on Tumblr and ao3.     

Name: inthedayswhenlandswerefew

Story: Now I’m Covered in You

Paring: HotD/War of the Roses AU Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Rating/Warning: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Where did the plot for Now I’m Covered in You come from?  I’ve always, always, always loved British history. I’ve read countless books (mostly nonfiction, some fiction) about it and when I studied abroad in college, out of a hundred possible locations I chose to go to the United Kingdom. London is still my favorite place on Earth and I would love to live there someday. It’s truly where I feel like I belong. NICIY is definitely inspired by my love of British history (especially Renaissance-era) as well as two phenomenal television series: The Tudors and The White Queen.

I had the idea for NICIY but was still warring with it—I desperately wanted it to just go away so my life could be nice and simple, haha!—when I was driving to work listening to my Spotify playlist. I have a long commute, about 40 minutes, so I listen to a LOT of Spotify. And Taylor Swift’s song Ivy came on and I was like…about to drive off the road it hit me so hard. It struck every chord of this story and made it louder, unignorable. The forbidden pining. The wintery, mournful, timeless quality. The idea of someone growing over you and through you, like ivy, and turning you into a whole new version of yourself. And ivy (the plant) is indomitable, it’s very difficult to get rid of and it ends up destroying a lot of other foliage. The love that Aemond and Ivy share is like that, but Ivy herself is too. She’s adaptive, resilient, and…under the right circumstances…a bit ruthless. She was always going to survive. What is your planning process? How do you know the steps that need to unfold? I really adore foreshadowing. But I have to be careful because there are a few people (like @aemcndtargaryen​) who have this superpower where they seem to be able to latch onto EVERY little hint. So I'm always working on perfecting that balance between foreshadowing and being the right amount of mysterious!

My planning process always starts with a chapter list. For each chapter—starting with the last few and then looping back to the first one—I give it a name and a few key words to remind myself of which major events go where. Then as phrases, scenes, and conversations occur to me, I write them non-chronologically. 

For example, one of the first parts of NICIY that I wrote was the miscarriage in Chapter 3 and the disjointed exchanges between Aemond and Ivy as she’s floating in and out of consciousness. I fill in the gaps when it’s time to publish each chapter. I think this helps me maintain a consistent thread of foreshadowing that runs throughout the story because when there’s a certain metaphor or phrase that I like, I’ll go ahead and drop it into every chapter where I think it’ll end up fitting, and then tweak it later if necessary. 

But honestly, there are a lot of aspects of writing that I still can’t really explain. Sometimes a phrase will pop into my head and I’m thinking “what??” and then, weeks later, I finally see how it fits in the design. It’s all rather mystical in a neat sort of way. Explain your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in NICIY? NICIY Aemond is, to me, a mirror image of canon Aemond and also the version of Aemond that appeared in my first HOTD fic, Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? 

He’s a bit more sensitive, reserved, emotionally intelligent, merciful, and of course poetic. Sir Criston tells Ivy in Chapter 9 that Aemond had changed for the better since she arrived in England, and that is what allows him and Ivy to get their happy ending. NICIY Aemond is affected by his past, but he’s not ruled by it. He is ultimately motivated by the future—by the possibility of having a family with Ivy, and the need for England to be stable in order for that to happen—rather than retribution for past wrongs. So he tends to be less reckless and more forgiving. He does lose his temper at times, he’s still human (and watching your brother be married to the woman you love is stressful), but he tends to be able to move past that wrath quickly and shift to something more productive, for example strategizing or comforting.

However, it must be said: Aemond is rather unhinged when it comes to Ivy, like he behaves in a way that is borderline obsessive. I think that’s a natural consequence of someone who does not connect with 99% of humans finally feeling like he’s found a perfect match that he never believed would exist. But Aemond cares greatly for Ivy’s wellbeing and respects her autonomy/preferences, so it’s a partnership that works.

Was his poem to Ivy a Maggie original? So my main writing medium is fiction, but I do occasionally write poems. I don’t feel especially comfortable with poetry but every once in a while the inspiration strikes and I’ll write like five in a week, and then none for months at a time. They usually fit with one of my stories rather than as standalone pieces, for example the way that “Ivy” only occurred to me because it was an aspect of NICIY. It’s an unapologetically deranged poem, especially in the way that Aemond uses it—he confesses love that he can’t bear to express out loud and then runs away to hide in the chapel—but the sentiment is heartwarming, I think.

What was the inspiration for Ivy?  I spent a lot of time thinking about the values that were instilled in royal women of this time period (1400s) and how different personalities would cope with those pressures. Ivy is (generally) a dutiful wife and does genuinely want to be the mother of a large family, but she’s also more scrappy than a typical princess. I think this has a lot to do with her upbringing. 

Ivy is from Navarre, which was a relatively small and undistinguished kingdom, and we have hints that her family life was a lot less stifling and formal than Nico’s, Kunigunde’s, or Alicent’s. She did a lot of rough-and-tumble activities like sparring and horseback riding, and seems to have genuinely warm relationships with her parents and siblings (Alonzo!!! 😍). She has an innate willfulness and ferocity that Aemond is mesmerized by.

He was instantly attracted to her when she arrived in London—hence being too shy to interact with her��and then when he saw how bravely she handled challenges (Aegon, Daemon, the miscarriages, court gossip) he fell absolutely madly in love with her. Aemond values nothing more than strength in the face of adversity, and he desired AND respected Ivy in a way that transcended anything he’d felt before.

Aemond and Ivy’s first interaction in Chapter 1 is this odd moment because for Ivy, it seems random and confusing (although welcomed), but for Aemond it’s this culmination of a year of all-consuming clandestine longing. Aemond finally talking to Ivy is sort of by chance—he runs into her and is caught off-guard, therefore he hesitates too long to excuse himself gracefully—but he’s also pushed into it by how much she’s suffered in England up until that point. He genuinely feels tremendously sorry for her and feels that she deserves better…and he also feels a drive to protect her from further harm. Aemond wants Ivy to be happy, and that eventually overpowers his paralyzing shyness.

Why do you feel Ivy complements Aemond well? Ivy and Aemond complement each other wonderfully. She is amazed by him—his competence, his beauty—and gives him the tender, protective, unconditional sort of love that he has always craved. Ivy is also not disturbed by Aemond’s disfigurement and has difficulty understanding why Miss Kuni has such trepidation about it in Chapter 6. Ivy can understand the trauma that Aemond carries because she has suffered similarly—in both her miscarriages and in her marriage to Aegon—but she does not consider him limited by it. 

They are equally dutiful yet passionate, and have the capacity to be both extraordinarily gentle and selectively ruthless. They are a bit of a power couple, and accomplish more together than either could separately.

What was the inspiration for the character creation of Kunigunde? Kunigunde—who I always refer to fondly as Miss Kuni, it’s cute but also proper in a way that I think suits her—is the perfect Renaissance-era princess. 

She’s wealthy, she’s honorable, she’s loyal, she’s beautiful, she’s clever, she’s sporty, she’s confident, she’s all the Spice Girls rolled into one. But Aemond feels absolutely nothing for her. This is a manifestation of the fact that Aemond is truly changed by Ivy at this point, and that she has covered him; the old Aemond never would have dreaded a match that was THIS advantageous to the Greens, nor spurned a bride that is supposedly everything he’s always wanted. 

Furthermore, Aemond’s prior sexual experiences (with the exception of Ivy and the Bearskin Rug Incident™️) were not what we would consider to be consensual, and the trauma that he carries from that adds another layer to his inability to be intimate with Miss Kuni, someone that he not only doesn’t have feelings for, but also cannot touch without feeling that he’s betraying Ivy.

Miss Kuni does her absolute best in a terrible situation and demonstrates steadfast loyalty to Aemond and the Greens. This is in part because honor demands it, but it’s also because her upbringing was very different from Ivy’s. 

Kunigunde grew up in a very formal court, and her family was not as warm as Ivy’s; Miss Kuni mentions in Chapter 7 that her family would blame her if her marriage failed, a stark contrast to how Ivy’s family has already plotted to bring her back home after feeling that Aegon wronged her. 

Miss Kuni confronting Daemon also illustrates just how cemented her traditional beliefs are—women aren’t combatants, princesses can’t be harmed—and it ultimately dooms her. But that sacrifice paves the way not only for the Greens’ military victory near Castle Rising, but also the Holy Roman Emperor taking Rhaenyra’s youngest children hostage as revenge for his daughter’s murder, which helps to neutralize Rhaenyra as a threat once the war is over.

Were there any other characters in your story that you enjoyed writing? I always adore writing Aegon. In every fandom, there are a few characters whose voices are so clear and so impactful in my head that their lines just feel like they write themselves. Aegon is like that for me. He is damaging without being malicious, pathetic and yet unpredictably heroic at times, weirdly insightful but also a dumb babygirl. I just love, love, love writing him. Especially since the Aegon who exists to me is Tom Glynn-Carney’s more nuanced and sympathetic interpretation, not the HOTD show canon version.

I also really enjoyed writing Nico. She is light and bubbly and enthusiastic and innocent, and compulsively honest in a way that is cringey for the royal family but hilarious to us readers. She adds some much-needed levity to an, at times, deeply tragic story. She’s also brave in a way that is sometimes unwise and childlike, which is consistent with her personality.

Lastly: Alonzo, as one wise anon message said, is a vibe.

So, I have to ask, you were “retired” but... Does this mean my “retirement” is over? Well…at the moment…yes. 😂 

I’m a lot more open to new fic ideas now because I’ve learned how impossible it is to predict when inspiration will strike, and I’ve also gained the perspective of what a loss it would have been if I’d never written NICIY. 

I think I’ve accepted that fics are likely just a part of my mental landscape and will be indefinitely. For example, after I finished up NICIY two weeks ago, I immediately dove back into my novel, write 20 pages…and then was assailed by a new fic idea! Of course I tried to ignore it, but as we have all learned, I am not very good at that. 

So a new HOTD fic is on the way! You will know more about that soon…very soon…very very soon… 👀