#Mendes Army Fic

[mywrittingwonderland]

5. Everything means nothing if I don’t have you

Some more fluffiness of my favorite couple.

Is someone even reading this? LOL!

Have fun! And I apologize for the mistakes in advance.

- - - -

June

Sophia hadn’t really left Shawn’s house much since they became official. They were unofficially living together, after the first week she had her own key, her own drawer and even her own working spot close to him. The first time they were apart was when Shawn had to go on a day trip for press, and neither of them were able to sleep that well that night. He was so used to her using him as her own personal pillow that he missed the way her head would always be laying on his chest, right above his heart. No matter how they would go to sleep without fail that’s how they would wake up. He felt unease and regret for not catching the 1a.m. flight after the red carpet and getting back to her sooner, he thought about calling her but he also didn’t want to risk waking her up. Just when he was about to give up and go read a book instead of sleeping he felt his phone vibrating.

“Hi Baby, I thought you were in dreamland when we hanged up” He said, remembering how he stayed on the phone with her to make sure she would sleep.

“Shawn” Her voice sounded trembly and he did not like that for one second.

“What’s up, Honey?” he asked switching the call so he could see her and make sure she was okay.

“I miss you”

“I miss you too, I will be home later today”. He said bitting on his lip and wishing he could hug her out of whatever was bothering her. “Did something happen?” 

“I had a nightmare” 

“You had a nightmare? Oh, I am so sorry, Lovey. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You were coming back from the red carpet and someone shot you right before you entered the house. And then- then…” 

“Hey, I am okay. No bullets, I promise.” He said trying to calm her down. He also looked up the next flight he could take, since he had no hopes of getting back to sleep. “Baby I am changing my flight, I will be home in 3hs”.

“Wait, no Shawn, you should get some sleep. I shouldn’t have called you.” She said instantly getting worried.

“No, Honey, I couldn’t get to sleep without you anyways, don’t worry. We can sleep the whole day together with no nightmares.” He said, texting Andrew to let him know he was going home sooner, and getting up to get dressed and leave. 

- - - - - -

July

“So, are you officially living together or what?” Brian asked after crashing the couple’s breakfast for the 2nd time that week. Sophia had just left to go to the toilet so he jumped the question.

“Hm, I mean, no, not really”. Shawn replied, sounding a bit unsure. They hadn’t really discussed much about their living situation, although Sophia was not going to her house that much. Brian looked at him silently asking if he was sure about that. “She has her place with Connor remember?” 

“Do you remember?” He asked.

“Oh shut up”.

“Shawn, seriously, are you sure you two are not going way too fast? Don’t get me wrong, I know you haven’t been this happy since I have known you, but tour stats in a few months and I am just worried you might lose your sense of personal space or something” 

“Brian what are you talking about?”. He asked, really not understanding what Brian was up to.

“All I am saying is, it might be harder for you when you go away. I just don’t want you to have one more thing to be anxious over, that’s all.” He said, but before Shawn could think of a reply on how crazy Brian was sounding Sophia got back to the table and they dropped the topic. 

Sophia half heard the conversation and got a little self conscious, she thought she might be imposing her presence too much in Shawn’s space and she got worried about what Brian was saying. If he got back to touring and he was more anxious because of her she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself, so she made a personal note to go sleep home that night. Once Shawn was gone for the studio she made him a fresh batch of cookies, because he happened to mention he was craving cookies that morning, and then she got her book in the nightstand and her working equipment before driving for her house. 

“Hellooo”. She said as soon as she got inside, expecting Connor to be there. But then she remembered he would definitely be with Shawn in the studio, so she just ended up in her kitchen making herself some tea and getting back to writing. 

Shawn on the other hand finally got to finish his talk with Brian, this time with Connor also present while they were on their lunch break with takeout pizza, since Shawn didn’t wanna leave the studio and find a restaurant without paps.

“Connor, do you also think Sophia and Shawn are just going too fast?”. Brian blunted out making Shawn drop his pizza slice and look at him as of saying: not this again.

“As long as he has no intentions of breaking by best friend’s heart I think they are doing okay, you tell us Shawn”.

“I think Brian is way too invested in my love life all of a sudden”. Shawn said, getting a bit annoyed.

“Bro, I am honestly just worried about you”. He said putting up his arms in surrender.

“I thought about what you said this morning, and perhaps it was my mistake to not ask her to move in already. I know it might seem like we are going too fast, but I just really love her so much, and I wanna spend every single minute I can with her before we actually have to be apart for tour.” He explained. “And Connor I have no intention of breaking my soulmate’s heart, ever.” 

The boys continued to talk for a little bit before Shawn had to get back to rehearsals. Shawn was relieved when his day was over, he missed Sophia, and she hadn’t texted him the entire day, which was making him worry something was up. When he entered the house he immediately felt the smell of cookies in the air, it looked like she had just pulled them out of the over some minutes ago. 

“Babyyy, where are you? These are so good.” He said grabbing a cookie and going searching for her around the condo. He quickly noticed she wasn’t in any of her spots and her book and computer were also not in the house, so he grabbed the phone and called her.

Sophia completely forgot about her phone, she used to do that a lot whenever she would get lost in a book.

“Wait Shawn, I literally just got home. Phi, are you home?” Connor asked giggling between his keys, phone and camera bag. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, Connor went to look at her tiny library and found her very deep into reading. “Yeah she is here. Okay sure, I will let her know” 

“Oh hey Con, I swear I didn’t see you there”

“Yeah I noticed. Shawn is coming over by the way.” Connor said making his way to sit beside his friend. “He was super worried when he got home and your cookies were there but you weren’t” 

“Oh, that wasn’t my intention, I mean he did want cookies this morning, but I didn’t want to make him worried, I just thought I might give him some space today. Just in case. I have been over his house way too much”. She said, sounding a bit insecure.

“I personally don’t think he minds, but you can talk once he gets here”. He said giving her a kiss on the forehead and leaving her to get back to reading. Shawn was there in less than 15 minutes, and Connor opened up for him.

“She is reading”

Shawn walked inside and went straight to her library, he leaned on the door for a bit observing how focused she was in her book. Until she notice his presence and smiled at him making him instantly smiling back and getting close to her for a kiss.

“You got me worried, Missy” He said waiting for her to mark up her book before engulfing her in a tight hug.

“I am sorry, I just thought I might be way too much in your space, I don’t want to suffocate you”. She said making him frown. “I head a bit of what Brian was saying this morning.” She explained making him understand where she was coming from. 

“I am totally killing Brian tomorrow” He said making her laugh. “Baby you don’t suffocate me”.

“Are you sure? I mean I have been over a lot, and I know it’s not my house, and I don’t-” He interrupted her rambling by kissing her gently.

“I am sure. You could never suffocate me. And about that, I wanted to ask you something”. He said and she waited for him to continue. “Do you wanna just stay over indefinitely? Because, it’s no longer home without you.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm, oh and you can change whatever you want, let’s make it ours?” He said with a big smile on.

“Okay I think I would love that” 

- - - - - - 

August 

“Sweetie, I am sure my parents will love you, in fact I am sure they already love you.” Shawn said trying to reassure his girlfriend.

“Still, Shawn we have to make sure to welcome them properly, so please help me out with what I should cook for them”. She said, half ignoring what he was saying and coming back into what Connor would call the wonder hostess mode.

“Phi, are you sure you don’t want to just order take out? I don’t want you to stress too much about this.” He said, worried that she was overdoing it.

“No, that would make me a very bad hostess. I am not having that. You know that.” She said looking up from the list she was making to make sure he understood what she was saying.

“Okay, fine. I think that your Ravioli al Pesto will make everyone happy”. He gave in, receiving a smile back from her. 

“How about Tiramisu for dessert?”

“That’s perfect, Love.” He kissed her forehead. “My only condition is that you let me help you cook, it will make me feel better”

“But Shawn, you don’t really know how to cook”

“Teach me, please?”

And teach him she would, over the months Shawn learned probable more about cooking than he had his entire life, and he really was up to making the extra effort because she was constantly making him small things, brownies because he seemed sad, blue cookies because she was re-reading Percy Jackson, and many other instances in which she would learn his favorite treats and home made them. He wanted to be able to do the same for her, so he took it very serious.

There was something he was right about though, his family loved her, in fact he thought they might love her even more than he loved her, if that was even possible.

“Phi, you have to come to my Hockey game on Friday, I wanna talk more to you before my brother’s birthday when we have to be with everyone.” Aaliyah said by end of dinner, while helping Sophia with getting dessert.

“Really? I would love to come!” She said getting excited while finishing to cut the tiramisu pieces.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, go for it” 

“Is my Brother treating you right? Because I swear if he isn’t I will beat him up for you”. Sophia have out a loud laugh at that which made Shawn join the girls in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” 

“I am just checking with her that you are being a gentlemen since she is just way too good, I won’t allow you to break her heart.” Sophia blushed at Aaliyah’s statement and all of a sudden she was a bit overwhelmed by the attention and love the new Mendes was giving her.

“Never, but I appreciate you also taking care of my Angel”. Shawn said grabbing Sophia’s hand for a kiss on her forehead. “Isn’t she cute?” He asked his sister while Sophia conveniently hid her red face in his chest for a second.

“Shawn she might just be my favorite sister, sorry”. Shawn smiled and hugged his girlfriend while still paying attention to Aaliyah.

“I am okay with that”. Shawn said looking at his girlfriend and noticing how her eyes were full of tears.

“You guys are making me cry”. Sophia said, not knowing how to handle the love she was getting. “Come here”. She said hugging Aaliyah. “Thank you, I also can’t wait to have a sister”.

- - - - - - 

September

“So what’s your plan for today”. Connor asked Shawn, and he gave him a clueless look.

“Well, rehearsals? And probably call mom and dad tonight, why?”He questioned the blonde’s sudden interest for his day.

“Shawn you do know what day is today right?” Connor asked, and Shawn quickly revised his brain for something he might have missed, but nothing did come to mind.

“I have no idea what you are talking about Connor, where we supposed to do some external shooting for the doc and I am forgetting it?” Connor eyes widened in surprise for his answer.

“Dude, you are so screwed” 

“What? What did I do?” 

“Phi didn’t happen to mention today is her birthday, right? Why am I not surprised? She  never loved her own birthdays.” He said tapping his friend’s back in comfort.

“Connor, are you serious? Please tell me this is a prank?”Shawn asked fully entering panic mode when he realised he actually never asked his girlfriend when was her birthday, and it happened to be conveniently exactly a month after his, September 8th.

“I would never, here I sent her happy birthday this morning”. He said showing Shawn the text and Sophia’s thank you response.

“Holy shit, I need to go”. Shawn said, quickly looking around and gathering his things and his keys. “Can you smooth things with Andrew for today? I will talk to him later, and thank you, you are the best friend ever” He quickly said running out of the studio and into his car. 

He felt very bad, he never actually asked her when it was, and this week was very crazy with all the final preparations for the Global Citizen’s festival, and also Niall’s birthday coming up. 

“Fuck me, all week talking to her about Niall’s birthday and the festival”. He said gripping on the wheel, he remembered what she did for him on his birthday, she actually organised all the tiny details and baked his cake, he didn’t want anything big, so they all went with his family and the crew to a small retreat in her family’s countryside in London. She also had an amazing gift for him.

���Well, I know that you are allergic to dogs, so I thought maybe I could get you some other kind of best friend, plus Pinky was a bit lonely.” He replayed her words in his head and this new horse that was currently being taken care by her grandparent’s in their farm, and of course he was Pinky’s best friend. He remembered that she also explained to him that she had done a lot of research on anxiety after she was diagnosed soem years ago, and that Pinky helped her a lot, and that she wanted Shawn to also have that new kind of support whenever he had a break and things got too much. 

He quickly stopped at Sophia’s favorite flower shop on the way home. It was this very tiny shop owned by an Italian old lady, and he dropped by every week to pick her something, every time the previous flower was dying he would give her a new one. It was a nice tradition he started after hearing one of Sophia’s grandma story on how she fell in love with her grandpa because he would always bring her a flower, no matter if it was sunny or raining, everyday since they met he would give her a flower. He ended up getting a mixture of her favorites, little delicate white and purple daisies, scorpion grasses and lavender, wrapped with a classic white lace.

When he opened the door of their home it was already 17:00, so he was relieved to see music playing and the lights on. “Hi Baby, I am home”.

“In the kitchen”. She sounded happy, which was a bit of a relief to Shawn. He caught her finishing up the cake she had started the day before, lemon and rose flavoured, he remembered her saying when she asked him to test the filling. It didn’t crossed his mind that she was baking herself a cake, she was constantly baking so he really didn’t think anything different. “What do you think?” She asked, referring to her little cake, decorated with light pink frosting and some rose petals on the top.

“It’s very cute”. He said making his way to her and giving her a kiss. 

“Are these for me?” She asked noticing the bouquet with her favorite flowers on his hand.

“Yes”. He smiled back at her still amazed by the fact that she didn’t seem even the slightest mad at him.

“They are so pretty, thank you.” She hugged him and went to her vase to change her flowers.

“Your welcome, Baby.” He replied observing her untangling the flowers from the lace, taking the old ones, choosing a dying flower and putting inside her book, and then throwing the rest of them out. Without failure she would do that every week.

“Why did you get so many today?” She asked, noticing he got her way more flowers than he usually does. And he looked at her thinking that it wouldn’t surprise him if she forgot her own birthday, she was so worried about everything around her sometimes every so often she would need reminders that she was also important.

“Connor might have let it slip that today is someone’s birthday”. He said getting close to her and pulling the string of hair that escaped her braid out of her face. 

“Oh”. She looked guilty back at him.

“Yeah”. He smiled and gave her a slow kiss followed by a peck on her nose.

“I promise I was gonna tell you.” He giggled and hugged her.

“Happy Birthday, Baby. I love you.” He said kissing her one more time. “What happened that you didn’t tell me?” He asked softly keeping his hands on her back and his forehead on hers.

“After we came back from London, things were just so crazy, there was the iHeartRadio MuchMusic Video Awards, and then and you were so anxious about having to fly to Ireland and doing the festival in New York in a very short span of time, and also the finishing things for tour that have to be settled this until next month. I just didn’t want to bring up one more thing to make it even crazier.” She said explaining the reasoning behind her actions. Shawn immediately felt like she had somehow made him fall even more in love with her. “Also I am not the biggest on my birthdays, I much prefer other’s birthdays”. She bit her lip, nervously looking at him. “I am sorry”. She said, making his heart melt.

“I love you, you know that?” He said, giving her a big smile. “You truly are the kindest person I know”. He kissed her one more time. “Baby, none of these things are even a tiny fraction more important than you… -”

“Shawn… -”

“Wait, let me finish please?” She nodded. “I know things sometimes do get crazy in my life, and I really do appreciate every single thing you have done to support me these past weeks, I don’t think I could have done it without you. In fact I am sure I wouldn’t have managed it, at least not sanely.” He chuckled. “But I really don’t want you to think that you don’t have space to also share your important things, because I want to hear all of them, and I want to also help you get through all of them. You are as much important as I am in this relationship. And honestly, all of this, everything, it means nothing if I don’t have you. All of you.”

- - - - - - 

Taglists: Shawn x Sophia Taglist: @shawn-youth  General Taglist: @arypesanchez @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @lanallaa   @pammyloumendkens

Message me if you wanna be added to the Taglists :)

[violetsandfluff]

Hiii

Can I have Shawn Mendes and Y/N with

🥣🥪☕🥂🍬🍡

Translation: fluff with fiancé!shawn with morning kisses on a date night/anniversary, “when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while…” and playing with each others’ hair.

A/n: if it’s okay with you I’m going to make the special occasion Shawn’s birthday 🥰 thanks for utilizing my concept café!

A/n 2.0: I forgot to post this last week :| so oops

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

“Mmm, ten more minutes,” Shawn hummed with an adorably lopsided smile, his morning voice low and groggy, as he swatted your hand away from his head. With his eyes still closed against the early morning light, he pulled you close to his chest.

You felt his chest vibrate with the chuckle that escaped from his lips, causing you to giggle as you continued to pepper his face and neck with kisses. “I thought I told you to wake me up,” you reminded him, your eyebrows arched playfully.

“I thought you told me to sleep in as long as I wanted,” he retorted, adding, “Plus, it’s no fun if I don’t get to wake up to this pretty face.” He reached out and squished your face gently in his hands.

You squished his, too, not wanting him to get the final squish, and sank back into the pillows behind you as a contented blush flooded your cheeks.

Your fiancé shook his head playfully as he reached over your shoulder and tugged on your ponytail lightly. “If I could, I would drink that smile right off your mouth.”

Only one silent moment later your peace was disturbed by a persistent poking at your ribs. “Baby. Babe. Baby. YYYYY/NNNNN.”

“What?”

“Look over there,” Shawn pointed, and like putty in his hands, your head swiveled right into his hands. Before you could think, your lips were being smothered in sloppy, affectionate kisses.

“Shawn.” you feigned annoyance at his behavior, but he responded only with a smirk and a shrug. “Baby, you have to let me get up and ready now since you were too busy obeying me to obey me.”

“Fine,” he replied, pouting slightly as he lifted up the covers to let you get up. “I’ll be in the studio until you’re ready for me. Gimme one last kiss before you go.”

You leaned down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as you blessed his lips with a warm, heartfelt kiss. “Happy birthday, Shawnie.”

“One more,” he called just as you’d turned around. “I don’t think the last one took.”

You shook your head wordlessly as you leaned down to kiss his lips once again.

As soon as you pulled away, his mouth opened to ask for one more, but he stopped when he saw the expression on your face; eyebrows arched, lips pursed, adoring glitter dancing in your eyes.

“You… are… exasperating,” you mumbled between pecks.

~~~

The soft strumming of Shawn’s guitar drew you into his home studio once you’d finished putting together his last-minute birthday surprise.

He looked up when you entered the room, but didn’t stop playing, although the chords he strummed out changed ever so slightly. He began singing softly and sweetly as you squeezed into the bucket chair beside him. You recognized the song as the first song you had slow danced to as a couple.

“When you smile,” he began, “the whole world stops and stares for a while because you’re amazing just the way you are.”

“Aww,” you cooed, letting your head rest in the warm, smooth area between your fiancé’s neck and head, blinking fast and acting chipper to distract your eyes from welling up. “Good job, baby.”

~~~

A/n 2.1 i sat on how to end this for way too long, so my apologies if it was abrupt 🙃 it’s not my finest work but I haven’t written fanfiction in forever, so excuse the quality

taglist: @chocochipcookie305 @fishingirl12 @monikamendes @sonder444 @yournameoneverypage

[nnon0]

JJH fic recs

other fic rec posts : 1.(active post) 2.

been getting a little hard trying to find long fics to read these days but here are some that i complied in the last month or so :)

(🫀) -personal faves

all these years @domjaehyun

WC: 34.1k

fluff, smut, angst; childhood friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, neighbors!au

Just friends @lonelyharmonies

WC: 22k

Strangers-to-friends- to-lovers!au , college au

what happens when you wake up in someone else���s bed after getting drunk in a party?

(🫀) Only @ppangjae

WC: 21.6k

almost!lovers au

You like to believe crossing paths with Jaehyun after graduation is just pure coincidence. He always comes and goes. But what if he decides to stay? To stick around? To give what was an ‘almost’ a chance?

Romeo roulette @wincore

WC:21.1k

soulmate au, office au, fake dating

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of Russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

he fell first and he fell harder @taurusdaylight

WC: 18.7k

Basketball captain!jaehyun, childhood-friends-to-lovers

jeong jaehyun really loves basketball. but also, he’s terribly in love with his childhood best friend of seventeen years, you.

(🫀) all i wanted @yutaholic

WC: 17k

heartbreakers, smut

A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.

(🫀)The Apple of My Eye @sehunniepotwrites

WC: 17k

school! au , teacher!au , Kindergarten teacher!jaehyun

As a young and handsome kindergarten teacher of two years, Jeong Jaehyun was used to receiving presents during Teacher’s Appreciation Week. This, however, was the first year Jaehyun wanted to give a present of appreciation to someone else—his new and ever-so-lovable teacher’s assistant.

(🫀)song for a little sparrow @ppangjae

WC:13.7k

poet!jaehyun x painter!reader , strangers-to-lovers

As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

I like me better (when i’m with you) @tyonfs

WC:11.8k

friends to enemies to lovers, sports au , smut

there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts. 

Someone to Bring Home @rouiyan

WC: 10.2k

Med student!jaehyun, College au, Brothers best friend , home for thanksgiving

synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)

Boyfriend material @mochidoie

WC: 6.2k

fake dating au, strangers-to-lovers , slight angst

Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.

Back up Valentine @tyonfs

WC: 2.9k

Spiderman!jaehyun

you don’t have any unrealistic expectations for valentine’s day considering your love life has never flourished, but the least your best friend could’ve done was not summon an intergalactic army of an alien species during your first blind date ever.

SERIES

S.C.S; ayakashi @starlightkun

WC:66.2k

heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories

[m4rst0ns]

Hiii this is my first time doing a request and i noticed that you are willing to write for eagle flies 😭(i luv him so much but there isn't much written about him💔) so maybe a fluff with him and a fem reader who's from the van der linde gang, maybe like he love her but she's thinks all his way of him showing his love is just him being nice (she likes him too but is a bit shy around him) or you can do whatever you like idk i just need something that has eagle flies in it 👉👈

THROUGH DEEDS, NOT WORDS.

Pairing: Eagle Flies x fem!reader

Warnings: this is my first fic in a while that I’ve posted, please be nice! If you are willing, give criticism!! blood, stitches?, I don’t know a lot of stuff abt medical things so bear with me, knife/sharp object, fluff, probably errors somewhere even tho I proofread like a million times, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for!! I tried my best 🥲 Eagle Flies is so underrated!

It all started when you had went with Charles to visit Rains Fall and the Wapiti people. As you both rode along, Charles explained the small altercation between them and the U.S. Army. A few people had gotten hurt—nothing huge— but Charles insisted on helping. You both arrived after, getting to work immediately. You patched up a few people before he walked in.

Eagle Flies, the son of the chief. He stood tall, his sharp gaze meeting Charles’ with a nod before settling on you. “Eagle Flies, you should let her check your arm.” Charles speaks up, not looking up from the woman whose face he was currently cleaning.

You looked away from his face to his arm, only just noticing gash along his forearm. His skin was torn, along with the sleeve of his shirt, dried blood sticking to his tan skin. “I’m capable,” he said dismissively, but Charles just huffed, leaving the tent when he had finished up with all of his ‘patients’. You glanced at Eagle Flies’ arm once more before meeting his gaze, still on you.

“You probably should let me look at that.” Eagle Flies hesitated before sitting in front you with a huff, rolling up his sleeve. The cut wasn’t too deep, though he probably needed a stitch or two. You reached for your supplies to mend the wound. Your fingers brushed against his skin as you cleaned it, and you swore you felt him tense.

You two didn’t say much after that. In fact, you two didn’t say anything after that. You both sat there in silence, though not entirely awkward. You ended up not stitching the wound—it had looked worse than you thought when it was covered with blood—but told him to go easy on it, or you would have to.

You dressed the young man’s arm precisely, making sure it would hold. He got up and offered a small ‘thank you’ as he exited the tent. You and Charles headed back to camp as the sun began to set later that day. Charles appreciated the help from you. And little did you know, Eagle Flies did too.

⇝⇝⇝

A week had passed since you visited the Wapiti camp, but the thought of you lingered longer than Eagle Flies cared to admit. The way you looked so rugged, yet so beautiful. You, a wanted outlaw, yet you cared for him so softly when you didn’t need to—it captivated him.

When you arrived once again, the Wapiti camp was much calmer. The evening sun settled just above the camp with golden light, the heat of it made you sweat slightly. You had agreed to help an elder prepare medicinal herbs because she was quite busy. You worked at the task—grinding herbs, mixing—when Eagle Flies walked over. “Let me help you with that,” he offered.

You accepted the offer, slightly annoyed that your alone time was disturbed, but glad for his help nonetheless. You hadn’t exactly warmed up to him yet, despite how you had cared for him just a week ago. You had heard from Charles he was quite hotheaded, impulsive, and almost always searching for fights. This was merely the first of many times he would come to your aid, though, despite your initial reluctance.

⇝⇝⇝

You spent as much time as you could in the Wapiti camp, it was calming, a distraction from the dangers of the life you led. You liked the people there, especially a specific someone. Eagle Flies had been oh so helpful to you all this time, and it was having an effect on you. He plagued your mind, but not that you were complaining. He was nice to think about, nice to talk to, and particularly nice to look at. Though, his kindness wasn’t just directed at you, he cared for all of his people the same way he did you.

You knew your feelings were not reciprocated, though you had hope, even if it wasn’t much. Would he even consider dating outside of his tribe, let alone an outlaw like you?

You were helping prepare food for Pearson, not that you really wanted to—you’d much rather be out there with Arthur or Charles. You were cutting up vegetables when you heard footsteps padding against the grass behind you. You didn’t even have to turn around to know whose they were.

“Cutting vegetables? How thrill-seeking.” Eagle Flies teased. The two of you had talked a few days before about how you only took the thrill-seeking jobs, drawn to the adrenaline and the challenge. Sitting still and playing the role of a maid was never an option for you. You rolled your eyes and glanced at him—just a second too long. A sharp sting pulled you back as the knife slipped, nicking your finger. Blood welled up, dripping onto the blade.

You hissed and clutched your hand. Eagle Flies moved swiftly, carefully wrapping a cloth—where it came from, you had no idea—around your finger. You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against yours. He would do this for anyone, but you liked to believe you were different.

You sat on your cot with Eagle Flies in front of you on a rickety stool that creaked with every slight movement. You glanced up at him from your lap as he worked on your finger gently. He was focused, his brows slightly furrowed as he tended to the small wound with practiced hands. You hoped he wouldn’t notice how sweaty your palms became and the effect he had on you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage.

He looked up at you after tending to your finger, and for a fleeting moment, you felt as if your heart stopped right then and there. His eyes filled with something that you thought resembled admiration, or maybe you were just being hopeful. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied in the same subdued tone, a stark contrast to his usual impulsive, hotheaded nature.

“You’ve cared for my people like they’re your own, me included. I’ve always admired you for that,” he began softly after a brief silence between you, his voice low but steady, as if carrying the weight of unsaid words. “I’ve watched you, always putting others above yourself. You never ask for anything in return. And… well, I—I’ve never known anyone like you. So stern and headstrong, yet so kind and willing.” His gaze flickered to the ground for a moment, before finding your eyes once more. He took a deep breath.

“Truth is, I’ve come to care about you. A lot. More than I ever expected. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t anymore.” He cupped your cheek softly in his hand and you looked at him, surprised. You swallowed hard at his confession. His touch was warm, grounding. “I—I don’t know what to say. I thought you were just being nice.” Eagle Flies chuckled, shaking his head at your words.

“So that’s what you think this is? That I go rushing after everyone, making sure they’re okay and fetching things for them?” He leaned in slightly. “Tell me, have you seen me spend hours, upon hours, trying to find someone else’s lost horse? Have you seen me lose sleep over whether Paytah ate today?” His hand lingered against your cheek, his touch warm. You placed your hand on his, your palm to the back of his.

“I help my people because it’s right,” his face softened, the teasing tone no longer evident in his voice. “But you? You are different. Or have you really not noticed?” You look at him before you grinned and crossed your arms.

“So what you’re saying is I get special treatment? I think I can get used to that.” You teased. Eagle Flies rolled his eyes and placed his lips on yours, effectively shutting you up.

His kiss left you breathless, the tension between you melting away instantly. The world around you fades, and you deepen the kiss. Whatever frustration lingered before was forgotten, replaced by the steady beat of his heart against yours. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics where the main pairing is versatile in bed and both top/bottom (or as we say in this fandom they kind of share that really) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🔄 And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint

(E, 158k, canon) Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

🔄 Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc

(E, 99k, Will & Kate au) Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

🔄 Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

🔄 Been Together Since Way Back When by @alivingfire

(E, 95k, established relationship) the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

🔄 taste on my tongue by bethaboo / @bethaboolou

(E, 77k, reality tv) Take Louis. Take Harry. Add in a heaping cup of sexual tension. Another cup of delicious (and not so delicious) food. A smidgen of competitive spirit. A dash of hopes and dreams. And you get Kitchen Wars, a TV show that promises to be the must-watch event of the fall.

🔄 Now you know me (for your eyes only) by nadinecestmoi

(E, 77k, famous/famous) harry clearly had someone in mind when he wrote the song so the last day of recording comes and louis’ like “thanks for having me on the song” and harry just shrugs and is like “well it just seemed fitting bc the song is about you”

🔄 After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 71k, historical) In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland. Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses.

🔄 Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, fwb) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

🔄 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Louis is bored, rich and lonely. He has no reason to expect that this summer in the Hamptons with his friends will be different from any other – until he meets Harry.

🔄 best kind of bad something by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, established relationship) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

🔄 Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) by @hellolovers13

(E, 20k, only one bed) Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad.But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

🔄 Can I just be the same? by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun *

(M, 17k, vampire) Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

🔄 I Still Find You Lovely by @angelichl

(M, 16k, one night stand) In which Harry goes to a bar in search of a bloke with an air-conditioned flat.

🔄 Salt and the Appetite by @sadaveniren

(E, 14k, bdsm) Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

🔄 getting yourself wet for me by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(E, 10k, secret relationship) frat boys take on watersports

🔄 Just For Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

(E, 9k, Posh/Becks au) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

🔄 Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright *

(E, 5k, pwp) Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him? Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

🔄 Switching the positions for you by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 4k, omega Louis) the omegaverse AU where they decide to try a completely new position in bed

🔄 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis *

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🔄 Eager To Please by @enchantedlandcoffee *

(E, 1k, pwp) "Ah, ah." Louis tsked disapprovingly, the younger boy's actions immediately halting. "You want to be a good boy for your Daddy, don't you?"

- Rare Pairs -

🔄 honey, we should run away by narryblossom

(M, 18k, Niall/Harry) It’s… kind of nice, actually. But being a nice house doesn’t take away the sting of what Harry’s done or what he’s asking Niall to give up by moving there.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Its been a while since I sent you an AU.

Granted, I'm.medicated and sick so if this is complete nonsense, know that I love you enough to send you my nonsense. 💋

Dark SBI: Four Immortals AU

The Empire is protected by Four Immortals. Each Immortal protects a cardinal direction, North, South, East, and West. However, while they are CALLED immortals, they CAN be killed. They simply don't age and won't die unless killed. And, also, if they ARE killed, they will reincarnate within a year or so in a magic pool.

However, while they are gone, uncontrollable natural disasters WRECK the kingdom. Each Cardinal Direction has a different terror. If the South Lord dies, uncontrolled typhoons and hurricanes. If the East Lord dies, heat and drought and fire. If the West Lord dies, Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

No one knows what happens when the North Lord dies.

Because Technoblade NEVER dies.

Until, he does.

It was an accident. A remodel of their home gone wrong. A wall or a tree fell. While knocking the youngest Lord (who had JUST been reincarnated 3 years prior) out of the way, the North Lord Technoblade made a mistake.

And died. For the first time in history.

And an unstoppable winter came.

No one was prepared for it. No one expected it. People starved and froze and died. Revolts and coups sprang up, fighting over the meager food stored.

The Immortal Lords were not the rulers of the country, but its protectors. Mostly, they lived in seclusion together as family. They did HAVE political power. They were treated with honor. Sought out for advice. But they didn't rule the kingdom. They had no interest in it. So, even as the world went to shit, it wasn't their responsibility to fix. They protected their domains and waited for Technoblade to reincarnate.

Except...time went on and he didn't.

The Immortal Lords grew confused and then also afraid. The three remaining ones had died plenty of times over the centuries. (One did it somewhat regularly so he could visit a certain goddess he was courting, natural disasters be damned). They knew how long it should take.

Yet, even as years passed, Technoblade wasn't reincarnating.

And a rift split between them. They pointed fingers at each other. They blamed each other. They blamed the normal humans. They blamed the politicians and nobles and aristocrats. They became ANGRY.

Two centuries pass before Technoblade is reincarnated and the world looks vastly different. It is an infinite tundra, except for the small sections of the world that the Immortal Lords have carved out for themselves to rule. They couldn't fix the eternal blizzard, but they could make sections of livable zones.

And they could rule over those sections as they saw fit.

Technoblade reincarnates and it is disorienting. He had never done that before. He had talked and helped the others through it. The confusion, the scattered memories. It usually takes a year or two to completely piece everything back together (except for Wilbur who, for some reason, bounced back almost immediately every time). But when Technoblade steps out of the sacred pool, alone and surrounded by abandoned ruins, he is only confused and cold and directionless.

So, he wanders off.

Completely oblivious to how each of the Three Lords stiffen and KNOW that he has returned. And KNOW that the pool has been abandoned and not maintained for years, none of the three letting themselves die and be reborn in those 200 years for fear of the other two's retribution.

Technoblade wanders away from the dilapidated remains of an unrecognizable home.

Completely oblivious to how the world is warming with each delirious step he takes.

Completely oblivious to the three sided war that is declared immediately, bad blood between the Lords running so deep that even the return of Technoblade couldn’t mend that bridge.

Cue the rest of the fic being Technoblade running from three armies chasing him with incredibly limited and chaotic control of his powers. Eventually, one of them will catch him and he will slippery slip himself away only to be caught by another. Phil, Tommy, and Wilbur desperately trying to catch him and also making sure he DOESN'T FUCKING DIE AGAIN GET THE BUBBLE WRAP WHAT IF HE TAKES ANOTHER 2 CENTURIES TO RETURN???

It would also be fun if the disgruntled bloodline of the original king caught him, holding him hostage and forcing the other immortals to give up their kingdoms and live as prisoners. Alive, to prevent the world falling apart, but no longer in places of glory.

It's fun to play around with!

Have a good night, friend!!!!

-cracks knuckles-

Okay, let me finally start posting all the excellent Lenn AUs I'm keeping hostage in my ask box.

Even though this is the most recent one you sent me, I want to start with this one because we talked about it in DM afterward and I can confidently say it has been living in my head rent-free ever since, it's so great. There's an amazing blend of humor and angst you can make out of this.

Humor obviously because Techno is essentially stuck in the most shitty custody battle of this divorce lol, but also the angst because for Techno, his most recent memories are of all four of them together being a happy family so imagine how jarring and terrible it is for him how they changed in a blink. How much they hate each other now. And also I think a lot about how each member of SBI would have a unique way of approaching Techno. Based on their own personalities and how they changed in the meantime, some of them might be more prone to using physical force while another opts for classic emotional manipulation.

Good stuff 10/10

[midnightdraftqueen]

A STEADY HAND (PART 1)

Richard Winters x Nurse!Reader | Angst + Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of war, violence, blood, maybe a few curse words

Hi! I’ve really been in a writing mood, and as should be obvious by this second BoB fic, I am also really deep in my World War Grandpa Era. This story is in multiple parts, but they’re all completed and being posted at once.

As always, this story is based on the dramatized 2001 HBO series - Band of Brothers. This story is not meant to disparage or otherwise belittle the real stories of Easy Company and others that sacrificed their lives in World War II and armed conflicts thereafter.

Prologue: A Vow

Normandy, June 6, 1944 – Nightfall

The night was eerily quiet, save for the distant echoes of artillery fire. Winters sat alone, a short distance from where some of his men had gathered after a long, harrowing day. The fighting had been relentless, and the weight of command pressed heavier on his shoulders than his gear ever could.

He ran a hand through his dirt-slicked hair, his thoughts racing. The men who had followed him, trusted him—they had made it through the jump, but the war was just beginning. He had seen death today, more than he ever wished to, and knew he would see it again. Gazing up at the darkened sky, he let out a slow breath. And then, in the quiet between shell bursts, he made a promise:

"God, if you get me through this—through this Day of Days and the ones to follow—I’ll find peace. When it’s all over, I’ll live quietly, away from all this." He forced himself not to flinch as another explosion echoed in the distance. He had never been a man to make reckless vows, but this one? This one, he meant.

Chapter One: First Encounter

Aldbourne, England – 1944; 2 Weeks Before D. Day

She first met Richard Winters in the chaos of Aldbourne. The air buzzed with anticipation, filled with the scent of damp dirt and gun oil. She had been assigned as a field nurse to the 506th PIR, a role that felt both too small and too consuming all at once. Her duty was clear—mend the wounded, keep them moving, and stay out of the way of the men fighting. She had expected hardship, the ups and downs of dealing with men at war, but she hadn’t expected him.

Winters was everything the rumors suggested. Steady, intelligent, and composed, with a quiet authority that made men stand taller in his presence. He wasn’t one for unnecessary words, but when he spoke, people listened. Including her.

It had started simply enough. She had walked into the command tent with a supply report, only to find herself caught in Winters’ unwavering gaze. He had nodded, taken the paper from her hand, and murmured a polite, “Thank you.” That should have been the end of it. But Nixon had other ideas.

“Winters, you didn’t tell me the Army was finally sending us someone who can actually stitch us back together after a night of drinking.” Lewis Nixon quipped, leaning against the nearest table, whiskey already in hand. He shot her a grin, the kind that promised trouble. “Well, not you, obviously,” he spoke at Dick. “You’d rather drink a glass of milk and read a field manual—but for the rest of us degenerates, this is a much-needed addition,” he gestured in her direction.

She arched a brow at Winters. “Is he always like this?”

Winters exhaled sharply, the ghost of a chuckle passing his lips. Nixon looked delighted.

And so it began.

Chapter Two: A Reunion in Normandy

Normandy, June 1944

She arrived days after the initial assault, landing with a group of medics meant to assist in stabilizing the wounded before they were moved to field hospitals. The beaches still carried the scars of battle, but Easy Company had already pushed inland.

Reuniting with Winters and the boys wasn’t immediate. Reports of Easy’s movements were scattered. Dick was always at the front, always leading. When she finally saw him again near Carentan, he looked different. His uniform was dirtied and stiff with blood—none of it his own, she noted. But his presence was still the same, an unshakable, steady force in the storm.

“You made it,” he said simply.

“Eventually.” She glanced at the makeshift aid station. “Looks like I missed the welcoming committee.”

Nixon smirked. “Yeah, you’re a little late for the fireworks. Mortars, machine guns— real nice way to kick off a party.”

Winters shook his head at his friend’s remark before turning his attention back to her. “You doing alright?”

She nodded. “You?”

He hesitated, then nodded once. It was a small moment, but in a war that moved too fast, where time for reflection was scarce, it was enough.

Chapter Three: The Road to Carentan

Normandy, June 1944

The fields of Normandy were thick with hedgerows, each one a death trap. The wounded arrived in waves—shrapnel wounds, bullet holes, burns. She had seen it all before, but never this relentless, never this unending. The air smelled of blood, damp earth, and the acrid tang of gunpowder.

Winters came in just before nightfall, his uniform dark with sweat and dirt, his eyes sharp as ever despite the exhaustion that lined his face. He barely had time to sit before she thrust a canteen into his hands. “Drink.”

He took it without argument. She knelt beside him, pressing a fresh bandage against a gash just below his elbow. He flinched but said nothing.

“You need to be more careful,” she murmured.

Winters let out a tired breath. “Not always an option.”

She looked at him, taking in the quiet determination in his eyes, the burden he carried. “Then let someone look after you for once.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “That what you’re here for?”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t run yourself into the ground.” She secured the bandage, brushing dirt from his sleeve. “You know you can’t take care of them if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Winters met her gaze, something unreadable in his expression. For a moment, she thought he might say something, something real. Instead, he simply nodded. “I’ll try.”

That was the closest thing to a concession she would get.

Part Two

[memoiich]

Hey !!!

i just wanted to ask if you could write a Captain Rex x reader where reader is a medic? Thanky you so much i really liked the last fic

POLL WINNER DING DING DING

(thank you for the request ❤︎︎)

In service of serenithy

Medic!reader x Captain Rex

Wc: 1,2k

Tw: light angst and setup

Read on ao3: here!! ->Part2

It wasn't an uncommon sight anymore. Covered in cuts and quickly mended bones, troops staggered out of their ships at the coruscant plaindoc. Wayworn faces that all carried a sole sadness. Maybe they had lost friends and companions or their own blood. Your heart couldn’t help but burn for them. Yet they wore the knowledge that battle would call in a fourth night as a protective shield against their own tears. Brave eyes almost all the same color shined true.

Sure it has shocked you the first time, but after the last 4 months the med-bay got used to it. Some of your colleagues grumbled about the clone’s recklessness, others complained about their medic’s competence. The odd one here or there questions the need to heal a dying army. Almost all saw the downgrade from the hall of healing to army medic as an insult. A strange sentiment for a bunch of healers.

You put on a more welcoming face. All you cared for was to help the wounded, clone or jedi it did not matter. Both had shed blood in the endless war and both carried scar far deeper than skin.Your hands dropped to the bag on your hip. Having been taking in as a child in the halls,you had the time to create your own personal medkit. You skimmed past the bacta patches. They clearly needed more than that.

A clone like many others made his way over with a small wobble to his left leg. You quickly walked over in hope to not burden him. Before you could form a sentence he spoke panicked, “Could you please follow me our captain is in dire need” you nodded immediately.

“I tried to suture the wound as best as I could but we were running low on supplies” the man added while jogging you through the port to a white ship. As you stepped inside you noticed the trooper's medic logo on his arm. That explained why he carried the monster known as guilt with him “Sadly a common problem Sir” Your tongue cut through the claws of the beast leaving the poor medic to breath for a second.

You were brought to a chamber that looked like a very small version of the floor you worked on. By a centered bed there sat a Jedi master you presumed with his padawan. You were confused for just a second, they both looked fine. The medic next to you spoke up once again “General Skywalker, I brought the medic from the heeling halls.” “Thank you kix” as he spoke, the Jedi and his padawan both sat away from the bed. Leaving you space to slide next to the bed.

As you laid your eyes upon the man you quickly started to take the wraps of the cash on his abdomen. You were used to these kinds of injuries, blasts that were strong enough to pierce their breastplates. You opened your medical kit near your hip when a squeaky girl voice spoke up, “Is he going to be alright?” The padawan to your left asked.

You took a second to assess the damage better. “He should be” a wave of relief came over the room. Whoever this man was, he was well loved. You moved quickly cutting open the stitches Kix (as you now know) had inserted. Maker, this man was lucky, as far as you could see no vital organs were hurt. You drained the wound knowing that infection was a painful silent killer. After that, you dressed and tended to the wound. Once you were done you wiped your forehead with your sleeve.

You finally looked over to his face. He was truly lucky. His blond short hair suited him. You could not deny that he was handsome. You quickly avert your gaze to Kix. “Here” you handed him a bottle out of your pack “he should take these 2 times a day for the next 2 weeks” Kix nodded as the Jedi stood up next to him “And make sure to redress that wound every 2 days. If he doesn’t improve in 3 days, bring him in straight away to the med-bay” Kix was about to turn away to what you presume store away the bottle. “Kix” his head whipped around “You did well with what you had. You should bear no guilt” You wanted him to know that. He looked a little less lost. A soft smile appeared slowly as he left the room.

“ How long would it take before he is able to work again?” The jedi to your left asked guilty. Normally who would recommend 3 weeks but you knew they didn’t have time. No one has these days. “ In a week he should be able to stand and the pain should be subdued a little” they both looked hopeful but you couldn’t send a wounded man out “ give him at least 10 days general skyewalker “ the young togruta still looked a little stressed. You gave her a reassuring smile “ he will heal and if you would be sent out before those 10 days, he’s always welcome in the halls of healing”

You took one last glance to the man’s abdomen to check your work of course. The jedi cleared his throat to catch your attention. “Uh, could you take a look at my other men?” He asked while a knowing smirk played on his lips “Of course” you answered far too fast. You walked out to go help the others who only had minor injuries.

Rex woke up groggy. He tried to sit up straight but was held back by a stabbing pain and the sour muscles from the last 5 months of labour.A dumb reminder of an even dumber mistake. Jumping between a crossfire is as stupid as can be . Ahsoka was in the middle of a battle herself when a blast was aimed at her back. He understood that she could have parryd it easily but the risk wasn’t worth it to him.

An image of Kix Frustrated state trying to stitch him up fleshed to his mind. He pulled the blanket off him, expecting a festering wound but instead he found his stomach neatly wrapped in soft, white cotton gauze. Before he could question where those supplies even came from Ashoka rushed in.

“Rex! You’re finally awake!” She yelled excitedly as she raced past the door. He looked back up to her confused by his mended middle. Ahsoka wiggled her eyebrows “That was done by this really pretty medic.” She was about to continue when her face went a little blank “Now that I think about it she didn’t give me her name.” “Y/n” Anakin said smugly as he walked in “but that doesn’t matter. You could always go visit her in the halls of healing” Both of his commanders gushed out in fits of giggles.

Rex was even more confused than before. He knew of the healers, having accompanied Anakin on one of his many injuries. They were the top of the medical world, specifically for the Jedi. Years and years of knowledge filled those halls, when you walked past them (as Rex had done a few times) you could smell the old ink and parchment flowing by. Libraries filled with hopeful students patiently studying their teachers' brilliance with passion that could rival the jedi they so cared for .So why did they help a clone?

Rex ended up too far in his own thoughts again, he didn’t hear Anakin or Ahsoka speak or really anything for that matter. Finally he decided to lay his head back. Sleep would not quiet the storm raging in his head; it would also help his injury.

꧁Masterlist꧂

I am going to make this a tiny series just because its set through a few weeks and otherwise it would be a lot of timeskips and past days.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading ❤︎︎

[hlficlibrary]

Hello!

we all know lot of 'pretend relationship' fic but are they some where they have to pretend that they are not together?

i just saw video from some interview when Louis touches Harry and Harry instinctively starts to lean into him and i start wondering if there are some fics with scenes like that? can be both canon ones or not <3

thank you so much for all your help! hope you are good! <3

Hi, anon! You're very welcome! Here are some secret relationship fics for you!

Do Not Go Gentle by @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

Midnight by @kingsofeverything

“Alphas are for fucking and pheromones,” Louis said during their first conversation, when he was moving into the building and Harry offered to help haul boxes up the stairs. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own groceries.”

Louis relented when his Omega friend Zayn intervened and asked if he was also capable of moving his couch by himself. All Harry’d wanted to do was be a good neighbor. Now, here he is, half a year later, balls deep and four months into a no strings attached, sex only situation with the Omega of his dreams. He’s still not sure how it happened. 

After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

[violetsandfluff]

Coffee Shop AU (s.m.)

a/n: this has been in my drafts since November. I planned to post it on Christmas Eve, but only now got around to polishing it up.

tw: allusions to smut?

word count: 3.4k+

summary: shawn and a cute customer in the shop after hours

Only a university campus would have a coffee shop open from six am to midnight. A vast variety of students flowed through the shop steadily, getting their beverages to go or staying to enjoy them and take advantage of the free wi-fi. The shop’s location made it easily accessible for students traveling to and from their classes, and a convenient place to study and work on group projects. The shop was also run primarily by students, providing them with a way to make money on campus in bite-sized shifts.

The cafe was a small shack designed to look like a log cabin. Despite the limited space inside, the tables and booths were comfortably spaced. The booths were covered in a rough, resplendent upholstery and the tables were a yellowy, polished wood. A long, narrow high-top table was positioned down the center of the room, divided by a metal structure down the center with built-in outlets for convenient charging. There was an assortment of chairs and backless stools available for maximum comfort, and a plethora of outlets scattered around for convenience. The wifi password was plastered on the wall by the door, and on the chalkboard menus, which were always neat and colorful.

It was a popular study spot for students during the day, but not so much at night. Students tended to flock to the shop before their classes or for a mid-afternoon energy boost; not a bedtime snack.

Among the workers there was Shawn, a lissome junior who tended to keep to himself. He was pleasant enough when taking orders or preparing coffee, but he usually chose the latest shifts when fewer people came looking for coffee. He never minded sweeping the floors or locking up in the dark, and the lack of bustle didn’t bother him. After all, it was rare for even college students to go seeking out caffeine in the form of coffee past midnight.

As finals approached, there was a steady increase of anxious students pouring into the shop late in search of caffeine, wi-fi, or an extra charger for their laptops. As studying intensified, the late-night crowd grew, and more nighttime workers were brought into the shop.

Shawn was used to working alone, rarely having to worry about a customer requiring attention as he worked on another’s drink. However, as finals week drew near, he was positioned solely at the front counter, manning the orders and bakery selection. The small cafe was brimming with students sipping on hot caffeinated beverages as they poured intently over their laptops and textbooks, retaining as much information as they could.

Despite the steady flow of students in and out of the cafe, one girl, in particular, caught Shawn’s eye. She ordered the same thing every night, a dark chocolate mocha, and sat in the same booth by the window as she studied. She, along with the others, tended to pack up and leave just before twelve, leaving Shawn and his coworkers time to clean before they locked up, but one night, Sunday, she found herself so engrossed in her studying that she didn’t realize when the other patrons packed up and left.

Hannah, one of Shawn’s coworkers for the night, tried to secure her attention and ask her kindly to wrap up her studies, but Shawn reassured her, saying that he’d tell her to leave if she hadn’t finished in fifteen minutes.

Giving a resigning sigh, Hannah retreated to the back door, hanging her apron on a hook before disappearing into the cold night air, flipping the sign from open to closed as she left.

Shawn gazed over the counter at the studious girl, entranced in her studies like they were the only thing in the world as he cleaned the coffee machine absentmindedly. Her hair was tucked into the band of her headphones, and she was wearing a simple white sweatshirt with the university’s name on it. Her legs were tucked up next to her, one under her and the other to the side, and her head was resting in her left hand as her right hand flipped the pages of her book. Her drink remained untouched, aside from the sip she’d taken from it when Shawn had handed it to her. The laptop on the table in front of her dimmed, but it did nothing to pry her eyes from the pages of her textbook.

Her lips moved ever so slightly as her eyes scanned the pages, fighting the avalanche of words to retain as much information as she could. Shawn watched all the while, nearly halting as he ran a sudsy rag over the outside of the coffee machine in lethargic circles. His eyes were fixed on the girl’s hunched figure and they had no intent to move.

Fifteen minutes passed faster than Shawn thought they ought to. He had promised Hannah that he would remove the girl from her spot in the cafe in fifteen minutes, twelve-twenty, but his heart raced as he thought of doing so. He fought himself internally behind the counter before finally closing the distance between himself and the compelling girl.

He stood nervously beside her table as he racked his brain for words to say to her.

“Excuse me,” he croaked, his words thudding soundly into the silent room. He repeated it once before sitting down in the booth beside hers, a safe distance away. He reached out a hand to tap her shoulder gently and she jumped in alarm, hastily removing her headphones and shifting her attention to Shawn.

“I’m so sorry,” he began. “I know you’ve been working really hard, but we’re technically closed now. Again, I’m so sorry.”

She glanced from him, to the corner of her computer screen, and back. “You’ve been closed for half an hour!” she noticed in horror. “You could have told me sooner!”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your work,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly as her eyes met his. “I know it sucks to be interrupted.”

“Your shift ended half an hour ago,” she repeated, scrambling to close her book and laptop. “You should be at home, enjoying your own time, not stuck here with me.”

“I don’t mind,” he babbled softly. “My homework’s in the back room. I’ve been working on it a little.”

“That’s good,” she managed apologetically as she turned to her backpack, which was occupying the seat beside her. She shoved her headphones in, but before she could get any further, Shawn stopped her.

Placing a hand gently on her forearm, he asked, “What have you been working on?”

“Studying for exams,” she groaned with an exhausted sigh. “I have a history exam tomorrow and I’m grossly underprepared.”

“That’s the worst,” he empathized.

“What kinds of homework do you have?”

“A little bit of everything,” he replied slowly, feeling his confidence bloom slightly as she took interest in him. “A lot related to holistic health.”

“Really?” She raised her eyes to inspect the honey-colored ones hidden timidly behind his thin, inconspicuous glasses, noticing his flawless complexion and curly, chocolate-colored hair in the process. “You’re into that kind of stuff?”

“Yeah. Holistic medicine and things that go along with that; herbology, homeopathy. Things like that.”

“Is that your major?”

“One of them. I major in both holistic health and psychology, and minor in music theory. What about you?”

“I’m a business major. I can’t imagine taking on two majors. I can hardly handle the one I have.”

Shawn let out a soft chuckle. “I’m Shawn, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she frowned. “I like the name Shawn.”

“I like the name Y/N,” Shawn smiled slowly as he listened to the syllables as they glided off his tongue. “Are you a junior, too?”

“I’m a sophomore. Three semesters in,” she huffed.

“It gets better,” Shawn consoled her automatically.

“Does it really?”

“Not at all,” he replied with a chuckle. “But believe it or not, you’ll get the hang of things.”

“That’s reassuring,” Y/N hummed, rising to her feet. “I should probably let you get home. Do you live on campus?”

“No,” Shawn replied slowly. “I live with my parents since they’re pretty local.”

“Will they be worried since you’re not home?”

“They’ll be fine.” Shawn cast a wary glance at his watch before redirecting his attention to the beautiful girl standing before him. “You can stay a while longer,” he suggested. “I don’t mind.”

She eased back onto the booth beside him, swiveling her body so she was facing him rather than the table. She reached for her drink and maneuvered it to the edge of the table, pulling the straw into her mouth as she glanced away from Shawn’s enchanting honey-colored eyes.

“Are we supposed to be here after hours?” she interrogated, eyeing him skeptically.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he answered absentmindedly. “After all, I’m used to locking up.”

“At twelve o’clock. Not at twelve-thirty-five.”

Shawn shrugged, shifting his attention to a small rip in the upholstery of the booth. “Do you need help studying for anything?” He felt pathetic dragging what could have been a short conversation out so long, but something inside of him longed to converse with her for a while longer.

“Actually?” She withdrew a planner from her backpack and began flipping through it. “Can you quiz me for my exam?”

“History? Sure.” He tried to hide his excitement as he held out his hand for the notepad. He examined the pages, noting their layout, before turning his body to face hers and clutching the papers against his chest so she couldn’t see. The pages were filled with events and their dates, as well as various other facts that she would need to remember for a thorough paper.

The neat rows and columns made it easy for Shawn to quiz her with. He cleared his throat jokingly, making playfully intimidating eye-contact with her before looking back down at her notepad.

The first few questions breezed by as she recited the answers confidently. But when the questions advanced into more obscure niches, her confidence began to falter.

“Try again,” Shawn urged simply as she sunk her teeth into her lip, her cheeks reddening as she scrambled for the correct answer. Shawn had flipped from the history dates to other tidbits of information she would need over the course of the next few weeks.

“What was the question?” she whined, pulling her drink closer to the edge of the table.

Shawn moved closer to her, resting his head on her shoulders as she examined her page of notes.

He read the page’s contents softly, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She took note of his gentle voice, strong arms, and complex cologne, which seemed representative of his true self.

Pulling the straw back into her mouth, she sat up. The cup tipped over, splashing its milky brown contents all over her pale gray sweatshirt.

She and Shawn pulled apart in alarm. He scrambled to the nearest paper napkin dispenser, grabbing a wad of the flimsy, white material in an attempt to soak up the lukewarm coffee as it dripped down her sweater and onto her white jeans. While they helped pull the excess liquid off of her clothing, a dark stain remained, sinking into all of the creases in her clothing.

“Shit,” she muttered as she stood. “I can feel the wet fabric clinging to me.”

“I know we have some things here to spot-treat it,” Shawn suggested. “Aprons don’t often serve their purpose in these conditions.”

“Then I’d really be wet,” she chirped, ignoring a potential double meaning that could arise.

“I have quite a few extra sweatshirts in my car.”

“Are you saying you’d like me to take one?”

“If we’re going to clean your clothes here, then yes.”

“Staying after hours with a naked girl. I can see it perfectly,” y/n quipped, glancing superstitiously out of the dark windows to Shawn’s lowly green SUV.

“I forgot, I was supposed to close these.” He stood beside y/n for a moment, giving her a taste of how tall he really was before he knelt on the side of the booth to close the blinds. He made his way around every window in the cafe before returning to her. “We have some stain removers in the back room. I’ll get you something from my car if you want to work on getting the coffee out of your clothes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed as he darted out into the snowy night. The lights switched on in his vehicle when he opened the door. She watched through the door as he rummaged around in his back seat, through the presumable mess of textbooks, calculators, and mechanical pencils. Eventually, the car door slammed shut and Shawn pranced hastily back to the front door, cautious of ice patches.

“I forgot that I cleaned out my car last Thursday. I don’t have any sweatshirts.” He paused awkwardly as he toyed with the sleeve of his black cable-knit sweater. “Unless this would work?”

Y/N hesitated. “No. That’s yours.”

“I’ve got an apron,” he reasoned. “Come on, Y/N. It’s nice and soft. And I’ve warmed it up for you.”

“You make it sound so dreamy,” she chuckled. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

He handed her the bottle of stain remover and she disappeared into the shop’s sole bathroom to work in peace. The door was locked behind her as she bent over the sink, Shawn’s sweatshirt falling to her mid-thighs even in the back. She worked at the meddlesome stains with cold water and watched hopefully as the stains faded.

A soft knock on the door alerted her to Shawn’s presence.

“I’m not naked,” she said sarcastically.

He poked his head into the room, raising his eyebrows adorably as he asked, “Is the stain remover working?”

“Pretty well,” she responded.

“That’s good. If not, I have bleach.”

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him. “Thanks, though.”

He glanced at her sweatshirt, which was drying on the coat hook and peeked over her shoulder at her pants, the garment which she was scrubbing vigorously.

“It looks better,” he said pointedly. “We can let the stain bubble out for a few minutes if you want to stop scrubbing.”

She dropped the jeans, allowing them to rest on the counter. “What time is it?”

“Just about one.”

“You had better go,” she said hurriedly, gathering her clothes into her arms. “You should have been gone an hour ago.”

“I’m not kidding when I say I have time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for you,” Shawn breathed in response. He took a step backward, but she took a step towards him.

Shawn bit his lip as his deep, sincere eyes flicked to the provocative length of her thighs that wasn’t hidden by his sweatshirt. She could tell that he was a terrible liar.

“If you’re okay with me staying, can you quiz me again while my clothes dry?”

“Of course!” His eyes flashed back to her face as he shook the unholy thoughts from his mind. Reaching behind his back, he untied his apron, ducking out of the bathroom and behind the counter to hang it by the employees only door. Without the paisley-printed brown apron, a signature pattern of the cafe’s, Shawn was dressed in a skimpy white undershirt and tight-fitting black jeans. On his feet were minimalistic black boots, and a delicate silver chain was visible around his neck.

“Bring your books, too!” y/n called. “We can study together.”

Shawn gave her a playful salute, swinging his book bag over his shoulder and emerging from behind the counter. He set it on the upholstered bench beside her, watching in feigned dismay as she took a careful sip from her lukewarm beverage.

“I can warm that up for you,” he said pointedly. “But only if you promise to be careful.”

“I can’t make any promises,” she quipped, pulling the straw into her mouth and casting him a deliberate smirk.

“Smartass.” Shawn shook his head, picking up her cup and bringing it into the kitchen. He placed it in the microwave and covered it, his jaw setting instinctively as he punched one minute into the keypad. He pushed his sleeves up his forearms as he rested his head on his hand, which was supported by his elbow on the wall.

Y/N wasted no time opening her thick textbook to the page she had been reading when Shawn interrupted her earlier. Without moving her eyes from the page, she reached fruitlessly for her cup, which she found stupidly to be missing.

“Looking for this, sweetheart?” Shawn inquired with a genuine laugh. He set her drink down beside her book, less than an arm’s length away. She leaned towards it, keeping her eyes locked with Shawn’s as she drew in a swift sip of coffee, effervescent with heat.

“Holy shit, that’s hot,” she cursed after a painful and panicked swallow. “Burned my fucking tastebuds off.”

“Might have overheated it slightly,” Shawn grimaced apologetically.

“My lip is burning from where the straw was,” she whined with a slight chuckle as her eyes watered.

Without explanation, Shawn leaned in to bless her lips with a swift peck. “All better,” he cooed sweetly.

Her stomach fluttered every so slightly at the feeling of his lips on hers. She felt his warm breath condensing on her neck once again as he leaned over her shoulder to absorb the words in her textbook.

Every so often, he nodded his head into her neck, rosy pink lips caressing her skin gently with love. She tried to focus on the materials on the mahogany table in front of her but it was growing increasingly difficult to ignore the fire between her bare thighs. Nonchalantly, she pulled the patterned plastic cup containing her now lukewarm coffee towards her, but before she could take a sip it was snatched from her hand.

Shawn raised the straw to his lips gradually, taking a hesitant sip as his eyes bored holes in hers.

Her heart hammered inside her chest. It had been so long since a man effectively gave her butterflies.

“Just making sure it’s safe to drink,” he explained, sliding it back into her grip across the table’s smooth surface. “Wouldn’t want you to burn your taste buds off, hm?”

Swallowing hard, she agreed.

“Y/N?”

“Shawn?” Gulp. Even saying his name made her heart beat a hundred miles per hour.

“Have you ever been in love?” he inquired innocently, catching you off guard.

Her head snapped to examine his face, furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “I guess so.”

“I mean, have you ever been in love, in love?”

His words were met with a blank expression.

“I know I sound stupid, but… you see a cute girl…or guy… and they turn out to be really nice. Lots of common interests, good music tastes, the right mix of flirty and serious. You hit it off but know deep down inside it probably won’t work out.”

“Go on?”

“How do you tell the person? And how do you beat the odds of never crossing paths again?”

“Are you asking for my advice?”

“I guess so,” Shawn began twisting an acrylic ring on his middle finger as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Tell her…or him… how you feel. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could be forced to live my life without her. Even though I just met her, I know that she is the one.”

She nodded slowly. Taking time to absorb his lamentation—and another sip of coffee—she planned out her next words carefully. “Take life at a slow pace. Stop to smell the flowers. And when life gives you cold coffee, don’t let a stranger heat it up.”

Shawn looked up in surprise before erupting into the most euphonious laughter she had ever heard. The whole demeanor of the room shifted.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he leaned forward so his nose was barely brushing against hers. “Well. I’d like to tell you that you are the single most perfect girl I’ve ever met. I… really like you.”

“You’re sweet,” she whispered in surprise after a moment. “I like you too.”

Her lips connected with his in one fluid motion. They parted and closed with respect to each other in a kind of routine she had never danced before.

Just as Shawn’s hand began to creep up her thigh, the sound of a key in a lock and hinges squeaking echoed through the empty building.

“What the hell, Shawn?” Hannah’s voice resounded through the air, thick with tension. “Why are you still here? And half-naked?”

~~~

a/n 2.0: It’s been a minute since I’ve seriously written about Shawn because sometimes it feels like a waste of my time. Thank you if you’re still reading and one of the people I can count on to read my Shawn fics. You guys are the ones who started my blog and the reason I’m still going 💕

~~~

Taglist: @fishingirl12 @chocochipcookie305 @monikamendes @butlerbliss @sonder444

[padfootagain]

Running

Yet another character I’m writing for, I guess…

Answering an anonymous request even if I was planning on writing something like this anyway: ‘aaahhh i saw that you were opening request for the darkling but i dont have any original ideas for him i just want to comfort him and have a softer aleksander idk i JUST NEED COMFORT like having the darkling breaking down over something and the reader comforting him and just loads of fluff i need him so baaad’

Thank you so much for your request, anon! Changed it a little bit, but I hope you’ll like it anyway!

Going to use Ben as the physical description for him although I’m going to use some character traits that are a mix of book and show, because… you know me by now, do I really need to give you a reason for this artistic choice? I don’t think so.

I loved the idea in the book (that was not used enough in the show in my opinion) that Aleksander’s amplifying abilities were a threat for his life, because he was a target for Grisha too. So… I used it a bit here, I love that detail. Adds to the whole tragic of his character, I reckon.

Anyways! I hope you all like this fic! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: Blood, mentions of war and violence, angst, hurt/comfort, pretty sad…

Summary: After a particularly violent battle, only a handful of soldiers remain. The aftermath is difficult for everyone, while you travel across the country in search of a safe place. Even the most stoic ones can show weakness sometimes…

Word count: 3472

Masterlist

It was cold.

It was dark, but that was a good thing, it meant that you were hidden.

It was cold, strong wind coming from the Fjerdan border up North, blowing and howling through the tall pine trees.

It was night time, stars lighting up the sky, a shy moon only in its first quarter. So far up North, there could have been Northern Lights. But not tonight.

Tonight was for grieving, not admiring.

You were exhausted. You were in shock. You were still bleeding.

And yet, there was a man before you, a friend, Andrei was his name. Lying in the young snow, tainting the white ice with crimson blood. The liquid fumed, warmth against the cold. The irony sent of blood against the resin of the pine trees.

There was a friend lying before you, bleeding, on the verge of dying, and you were the only one who could save him. The wound that crossed his abdomen was deep though, and you were no Healer.

Heartrender. You were trained to fight, not to mend. This was only a secondary use of your power to you. But then again, you had no choice, there was no Healer left alive in your army.

An army? What a joke. There was but a handful left of you. Most of them wounded, just like you were. You were part of the lucky ones though, you had but a only a flesh wound. It was painful, and made you weaker than your usual self, but your life was not endangered by the cut across your thigh. You limped though, for travelling, it wasn’t the best…

Andrei seemed to choke on his own blood, the barrier you had created to keep the rushing blood out of his lungs breaking for a mere second, but it was enough. You focused, sweat glistening across your dirty forehead under the silvery starlight. You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but you were too tired, too unexperienced to treat such a serious wound…

He was the tenth man you were healing tonight. Your whole body was shaking from the strain of it all by now.

The gurgling noise drew worried glances and blank ones your way, and you tried to ignore them all, these soldiers of the Second Army, who had fought and survived out of pure luck, just like you had.

This idiot of a King had sent you right into a trap. You stood no chance…

You blinked your tears away as images of the battle flashed before your eyes. Bodies falling, hands moving in the air for summoning, the loud pangs of gunpowder detonating, the grunts, the shouts and the scent of blood and sweat and urine heavy in the air, and blank stares turned to the sky that would never see again…

You felt your power wavering, but you forced yourself to focus on Andrei again. Because he was not dead. And despite your exhaustion, you could still save him… maybe it was a fool’s hope, but no one could survive without hope…

“Will he make it?”

The deep voice behind you made you jump, and you turned to look up at the Darkling.

Tall figure standing before the moon. The silvery light coming through the branches made some kind of hallo around him.

He was covered with mud, blood and ashes too. Just like everyone else. He was dishevelled, his black kefta partially torn apart, with dark circles under his even-darker eyes. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still something so powerful about him…

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. Somehow, speaking to someone else made it all more real…

“I’m doing my best, sir,” you answered, your voice shaking.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at your shape sitting in the snow.

“It’s only a flesh wound. I’m okay.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fists. Always a bad sign. But his gaze was still stern and calm when it met yours again.

You couldn’t say that you knew him well, but then, you reckoned that no one truly did. He kept people at bay, it was safer that way.

Still, you thought that you knew him enough to recognize the anger in his set jaw, the frustration in his tight fists…

You were surprised, though, when he kneeled in the snow by your side.

“You are no Healer,” he said, it was more of a statement than a question, as if he was reminding you.

“No, I’m a Heartrender, sir. I’m trying my best, but the wound is very deep.”

You felt a little stupid for reminding him of your Corporalnik status. He knew who you were. Better than anyone, in a way. There had been long nights in his War Room spent talking about your childhood, about his longing for a safe haven for Grisha, about dreams unreachable even through the dark…

But then again, nothing more than that. Just talking, for long hours. And he hadn’t shown you any sign that anything more would happen, and neither had you. To you, it was ridiculous to think so, anyway. He was the Darkling, after all.

You didn’t know he enjoyed these moments as much as you did though; that despite his better judgement, he longed for them.

How could you know? He was good at keeping a mask on. He had had centuries to master this talent to perfection.

“Allow me,” he spoke, voice soft, barely audible above the howling of the wind in the branches and the cracking frost of snow. Still, it was delicate, velvety almost…

You nodded, although you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He was the Darkling, after all. You trusted him blindly.

You started when he gently pulled on your dirty red sleeve, pushing it up your forearm to reveal your wrist.

“Keep working,” he instructed, and you obeyed.

He found your pulse easily, without looking for it at all, as if it called for his fingertips. He simply rested the pads of his fingers against your wrist, and they naturally landed on the pulsing blood. As if his fingers were meant to rest there…

You felt a surge of power cursing your entire body; and if you were still shaking, this time it was because of power instead of fatigue.

You stared at him, gaze intense and unwavering, for several seconds, and he held your gaze too. There were no feelings to be read in the two inky orbs that stared back at your soul, but you couldn’t escape from them anyway.

You had heard many rumours about the Darkling’s amplifying abilities, you guessed they were all true.

“Will you be able to save him now?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, asking a mere question, as if there wasn’t a life depending on it.

You nodded and focused on Andrei without another word, the Darkling following the movements of your hands to keep the contact between your skins. Your heart was beating faster than ever, and you weren’t certain if it came from the sudden surge of power running through you now, or by the Darkling’s nearness…

It took you a while before Andrei was stable enough for him to be transported safely in the morning. Or maybe you would start moving again before dawn, you weren’t sure, you didn’t even know where you were going…

You lowered your hands at long last, feeling exhaustion rush over you once more despite the Darkling’s amplification, but you were surprised when he didn’t let go. You expected the lack of contact to happen as soon as you would be done, for his fingers to run away, to flee your skin and leave in their trail only a cold gush of wind. Instead, his fingers remained there, pressed to your pulse, and when you looked up at him, he looked like he was the one holding an amplifier in his hand, instead of the other way around.

You got caught in his eyes again, trapped in two dark orbs that captured everyone who dared to look at them, and you knew it. He had something dangerous, magnetic about him. You had seen him at court enough to know that he played with his charisma to manipulate people to do his bidding as much as possible. But what could he manipulate you to do now? You had almost died today. You had killed under his command, you had watched your friends die, you had run away wrapped in his protective shadows…

What else could he get from you? There was nothing more to extract anyway. Maybe that was why you didn’t doubt his sincerity when he spoke again.

“Please, follow me, Y/N. I need your help.”

You didn’t question where you were heading, how you could help. Instead, you stood up despite your exhaustion, and followed him through the trees. You didn’t walk far, it was too dangerous to venture away from the group, but he guided you where you wouldn’t be disturbed, where you couldn’t be seen by the remnants of the Second Army.

And his fingers were still there, burning against the skin of your wrist… unwavering, unfaltering, eternal…

When he stopped, turned towards you again, the Darkling was shaking slightly. You wondered if it was because of you, because of how he had helped you. After all, he was a living amplifier. Did he tire out if he helped someone else use their powers?

He gave you a smile that you found shier than his usual ones. You were used to see them filled with nothing but confidence, or threat sometimes. Now, the gesture was almost tender.

“I know you are tired,” he breathed, eyes capturing your gaze once more. “But my shoulder is very painful.”

“I can help,” you assured him, moving your hands into position, and his smile widened.

“Always so brave…” he muttered, but there was fondness in his deep voice. “Still, we should sit, for your leg.”

You nodded, and the two of you sat down side by side, not caring about the cold of the snow under you. He had a pretty nasty cut running across his shoulder, but it wasn’t very deep. It was much easier to heal than Andrei’s wounds.

“If you are too tired, it can wait till morning,” he offered, but you shook your head, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you help me, I can heal you now.”

He nodded, a silent order for you to get to work. Or rather… it looked perhaps more like a question, like he asked for a favour. You were happy to comply either way.

He felt better now, his shoulder almost completely healed in a matter of minutes, the throbbing pain fading away a little more with each movement of your fingers over his shoulder, despite the itchy sensation that came with the mending of his flesh. And the reassuring warmth of your skin against his…

Earlier that day, he looked for you through the battlefield. He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You wouldn’t linger the way he would. Like his darkness, you would be gone with the first signs of dawn.

Still, at the most violent part of the battle, his eyes looked for you, without him noticing. Like they were meant to search for your frame through the chaos.

He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows…

“How is your leg?” he asked once the pain across his arm and back had almost vanished, knowing you were almost done.

“It’s just a flesh wound. It’s nothing. And to be honest, I’m too tired to think about it.”

“I’ll bandage it for you.”

He wasn’t asking for permission this time, he was stating a fact, almost giving an order. You nodded in a silent agreement.

You wondered how he did it. Once you were done, there was still a long, reddened line crossing his shoulder blade. It must have been extremely painful, and yet, he had remained stern for hours, not a single wince forming on his features throughout your crazy run through the battlefield, through the forest…

Was he so used to being hurt after so many battles that he had mastered hiding his pain to perfection?

You could never have guessed how true that was…

“I’m done,” you spoke at last. “It might remain painful for a few days, I’m sorry.”

But he smiled at you, his head tilted a little to the side, something amused on his features now.

“There is no need to be sorry, you’ve done a good job.”

He moved his shoulder a little, as if to prove a point.

His fingers didn’t move away from your pulse though… burning…. Burning through your skin…

“Do you need anything else, sir?” you asked, thinking that was the reason behind his lingering touch.

It wasn’t. It simply… it simply felt good. To touch somebody, no matter how innocent that touch might be. Skin against skin. Feeling your pulse, the rhythm of your heartbeat, directly under his fingertips…

It was a luxury to him. Had always been. When you were to be a prey, you needed to choose the moments to reveal your weaknesses carefully, or you would be devoured.

He was more of a predator himself now. He had grown into one, had taken a hold of these shadows that scared him as a child, had become ruthless with time. For the most part, at least.

Still, he craved for it. The simple contact of another human’s skin against his, even if it were to last for a mere moment, for just a second…

And you had been allowing him to touch you for what felt like hours now. He could barely breathe at the thought.

He trusted you enough to let you feel it. The power that ran through his bones. The curse that made him undying. That made him linger even after all was gone. That made him run away again, and again, without any place to fall down to…

He let you feel it, running through your veins, and he trusted you enough to believe that you would not crave for more after he would pull away. He hoped that if you touched him again, it would be to touch him, not his power.

He moved his fingers to hold your wrist more firmly, and his thumb grazed the inside of your wrist, brushing your pulse, making your heart stumble. You were used to it now, to the power of the amplifier. You weren’t used to his touch, though. You weren’t sure you would ever be…

You weren’t certain why you started crying. Why now. You had not shed a tear during the battle, afterwards, as you fled, as you healed your friends, as you saw their dead bodies… You hadn’t cried at all despite everything that had happened. And yet… yet now you were letting a tear roll down your cheek, looking down at the snow to flee the Darkling’s gaze, to run from everything…

You shuddered, leaned into his touch, when he brushed your tear away from your cheek, touch gentle, delicate, barely there at all… almost like a dream… like a passing thing, one of his shadows…

“I’m sorry for today,” he whispered, and you looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning a little.

It was shaking, fragile. Deep still, laced with something that came from darkness but he looked so human now…

“None of this was your fault,” you replied, letting him brush another of your tears away.

“It was though. I was the one in charge. It was my fault.”

“It was the King’s fault. Even you have to obey sometimes.”

He clenched his jaw for a second, because you were right. Even he had to obey. Had to let Grisha die over nothing but a piece of land.

One day though, he wouldn’t have to. He would be the one to take decisions, and then the Grisha would be safe, at long last. It was an old promise he had made to himself, he intended to keep it…

But the worry quickly disappeared from his gaze, he relaxed again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.

“Only sometimes, though.”

You exchanged a smile, and you felt safer now. Safer than you had felt ever since you had left the protection of the Little Palace. But was it surprising? He was the reason why the Little Palace was safe to begin with…

You didn’t know why, but you were certain nothing would happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, some heavy denial after being so close to Death all day… you weren’t sure. But then again, no one could survive without hope…

And he should never have touched you like this. He shouldn’t have let you feel the power you could earn from him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow fond of you in the first place, because maybe now it was something a little more than that… He was too old, he had lived too many lives to fall into this kind of traps.

Or was he?

It was better not to tread on this. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would disappear with the first signs of dawn, and he would linger on. The curse of this power running through his bones…

Slowly, he pulled his fingers away from your face, released your wrist, left your pulse, ran from the steady beat of it. And all that was left against his skin was a cold, howling gush of wind.

There was nothing he could hold onto anyway. He would outlast them all. He would outlast you, by a hundred years, maybe even more, maybe even a thousand.

He would remember those eyes though, he knew he would. And it would hurt to remember them, in the deepest darkness he summoned. Two eyes staring right into his souls. Two eyes he could have fallen for, in another life, one that could end with yours…

He saw your lower lip trembling a little as you looked up at him, the way your eyes dropped to look at your wrist, where his fingers had been. And then he was afraid of his own shadows all over again, the same he was as a child.

Were you rubbing that spot on your wrist because of his touch, or because of the power it had given you for a moment?

You didn’t look up at him as you reached for his arm, hand clinging to his torn, dirty, stained kefta. You were pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do this, to lean against him, to hold onto his arm, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. It didn’t matter. You missed the effect he had on you too much for that.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

He was grateful that you weren’t looking at him. He could let tears form in his dark eyes then, although he couldn’t let them run down his cheeks, couldn’t let them free. Appearing, that was already a lot…

You couldn’t feel his amplifying powers through his kefta. It required skin-on-skin contact. And yet, you were still there, pressing yourself against him, holding tight, as if to a lifeline.

When he wrapped his arm around your frame, pulling you closer, holding you tight, he was shaking a little. It was okay, he didn’t mind, and neither did you. It felt too good to mind.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

When he reached for your hand, when he pressed his lips to your head, he didn’t mind that you would feel what he was. The power hidden in his bones, that promised him an eternity, but only spent alone.

And you didn’t mind it either. You weren’t scared of it. You didn’t crave for it. It felt more like a burden than anything else.

You were right about that.

And he shouldn’t have done any of this, shouldn’t have let himself slip so far. He should have run, the way he always did, the way his mother had taught him to, the way he had learnt by himself. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would be gone with the first signs of dawn…

Still, he remained, for once.

Just for the night, while the world still lingered in darkness, maybe he could have that. Maybe he could have you, for just a few hours, before letting you run away, like he always did.

Maybe, for just a few dark hours, it could be enough.

****************

Taglist : @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black

[blazesartbloglmao]

"Tell me about it"

“Tell me about it,” Techno says later that night, when the fire is low but not quite out and Philza has gone to bed early.

Techno had been reading from one of his many books, hooves delicately turning yellowed pages. Tommy sat with a blanket thrown over his lap, furiously typing messages to Tubbo and Ranboo. They were snowed in at Snowchester, and Michael apparently thought it was some kind of miracle of sorts because Ranboo had been forced to stay in the house a lot with him.

“Tell you about what?” Tommy asks, looking up from his battered communicator. He frowns. “Exile?”

“No. Tell me about your home. L’manberg. Tell me about when it was good.”

Tommy scowls, then softens his face out and raises an eyebrow, casting an odd look in Techno’s direction. Two parts suspicion, one part confusion. “Why?”

“Because it was important to you,” Techno says simply. “I won’t get it, but I’d like to hear about it. All I heard about was a dictator who threw the founders out of the land and all I saw was a Butcher Army on my front lawn. So tell me about it. Tell me about before.”

A nervous sort of energy has entered Tommy’s chest now. He’s not sure why it’s there, only that it feels a bit like a worm has found it’s way from his stomach to his lungs and is now furiously doing the macarena as best as it’s wriggly little body can, even though it has no hands or feet.

It’s also that he’s never tried to explain L’manberg to anyone. Either you were there or you weren’t. Tubbo always got it. Eret certainly did, when they chatted over their fabric projects. Fundy didn’t like to talk about it, but he had brightened when he saw the friendship bracelet Tommy had hung onto. And Wilbur? Wilbur built the damn thing. Even if he refuses to talk about it. Ever.

He knows Tubbo had tried to tell Ranboo about it, the good bits so Ranboo could maybe understand a bit more. Like the time they’d climbed all the trees surrounding the van to try and find the one with grapes in them and then had subsequently pissed off a stray cat that was living in the area. Or when Tommy had sung to the plants in the rain, carefully tending his old carrot patch the way he now tends his small wheat farm and the flowers that dot his front lawn. He suspects Eret has done something similar with Foolish. The golden-skinned totem always has a habit these days of knowing about certain events that played out, though he speaks as if he read it somewhere, not that he’d experienced it.

But Tommy’s never had that practice. Perhaps if he had—like Tubbo, like Eret—he would’ve known exactly what to say to get Techno to understand better. To get him to at least like the idea it had been at first, before the bitter end it’d faced.

He summons all his memories he has of his home, days spent in sunlight; picking berries and petting wild cows. Looking for mischief with Tubbo. Helping Eret with chores. Playing with Fundy and teaching him how to scam. Learning all of Wilbur’s tricks—from the best ways to brew potions to how to confuse the people he was scamming—and soaking up his brother’s praise when he gave it, collecting each soft smile the older man had offered, each ruffle of his hair.

so im a day late but in my defense, i was busy feeling like i was close to death and it only occurred to me later at night yesterday that i could draw something from my own damn fic instead of scrambling to find something in my tired little brain. that's why we're here now lmao.

i wrote a fic back in 2021 about c!tommy and c!technoblade coming together to discuss their differences and try to mend their relationship. because, as i put it succinctly at the time in my partner in crime's dms "if the streamers arent up to the task, im certainly capable of writing a fucking fix-it fic in about a week or 2!"

idk what was in the water back then, i churned out fics like every 2 weeks it felt like and it was insane. now i struggle to finish a oneshot lmao

anyways, that fic does have artwork i drew for it but i wasn't really happy with it as i felt like it didn't capture any of the warmth the fic itself contains. enter this piece that i started impulsively last night and finished today before leaving to go to a plant sale. i did not watch cc!technoblade very long and i got into watching him when i was into dsmp (which i think ive mentioned before) but i am so so glad and grateful for the time he gave us.

if you'd like to read Notos, you can do so here. ive long since stopped lookin at the statistics because the numbers freak me out lmao. if you'd like to see the speedpaint that goes with this, you can click here!

i hope you all enjoy :)

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 34

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, injuries, amputation of leg, Rhaegar POV

Words: 5480

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

“Open the gate!!!” Shouted the men atop of the fortress. Rain pelted their helmets and the wild wind threatened to knock them off the battlements.

Nearly painfully slow, the portcullis that groaned in reply was pulled up so the men waiting on the ground could hurry in. Tired, battered, and many suffering from illness brought on by the cold, the men huddled inside.

Tattered banners featuring stags and other sigils of the houses that made up Rhaegar’s army are dropped to the floor in relief.

Rhaegar gazed up at the dark gray sky above his head that washed them with it’s despotic rain. He welcomed it and closed his eyes in a sense of relief. Not considering themselves safe by any means, at least they had respite from their most recent failure. Spirits dampened, everyone needed time to mend and breathe.

Storm’s End lived up to its name, as did the Stormlands. When escaping from near the Kingswoods, they were met by scouts lurking in the trees in an attempt to pick off any survivors. The Silver Prince’s army, though lowered in number, were still plenty to eliminate the rest of Aerys’ men that were there. It was a disheartening battle though, and it was clear to Rhaegar they needed to hoof it to Storm’s End. His men couldn’t afford another attack. If another were to arise, it would most likely end him; something Rhaegar did not want to see come true.

Having been waiting for their lord’s arrival, the occupants of Storm’s End great house of Baratheon, leapt into action; taking the wounded to be cared for, feeding the hungry and directing men to where they can sleep.

Rhaegar was helped off of his horse and he watched the stable hands take his mare away to the stalls where the other horses were being tended to.

Even behind the fortress, the tall trees of the Stormlands towered over the walls and pierced the sky. Branches thick with plush pine needles sway and creak but do not bend to the will of the storm. They are of this land and are made of sturdier material. As far as the eye could see, a field of rich trees that offered protection.

In the distance, Rhaegar could hear Lord Robert Baratheon handing out orders to those who were just standing around.

When Rhaegar turns to look at his comrade instead he comes face to face with eyes like the storm above and the glossiest black hair he had ever seen.

Lyanna Stark.

Well, she was Lady Lyanna Baratheon now. Had been for quite some time.

The sight of her was still unnerving and nearly threw Rhaegar off of his weary feet.

She stood in front of him at a distance, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she acted the part of Lady of Storm’s End. Her northern cloak of warm furs enveloped her as they were suitable for this weather as well. Face pale with cheeks pink from the whipping winds, it’s like time hadn’t touched her. His Winter Rose. Yet the immediate love he had felt for her when they had first met did not flicker back to life. That wick was already spent and extinguished.

Her proud face is tilted up. “Your Grace. Welcome to Storm’s End.”

An uncanny feeling arose in him, unable to recall how he used to be around her. Parting his lips and unsure of what to say, Rhaegar is saved by Robert who sprints to his wife the moment he spots her.

“There’s my wife!” Face that had once been lined with exhaustion blooms and brightens when he scoops her up in his arms. Alarmed, Lyanna remains stiff in his arms; glancing at Rhaegar. Robert sets down Lyanna and cups her face, forcing her to return his loving gaze. “How I have missed you, dear Lyanna.”

“I’m glad you’re home safely.” A forced smile urges her mouth to turn up. It didn’t reach those gray pools of her eyes though, that was clear to Rhaegar. When Lyanna was truly happy, her eyes would scrunch up as she smiled until they were the shape of half moons. He had dreamed of her smiling moon eyes, branded into his mind. Hadn’t it been so long ago that he had been in love with this woman? Now he could hardly bring back the memory of that warm feeling she gave him.

“Your Grace. . .” A young man apprehensively approaches Rhaegar, his brown eyes quickly glancing at the scar on his face before moving to the dirt covered ground. He pursed his lips before starting again “You must be awfully tired. Please, allow me to show you to your chambers. There is a hot bath being prepared for you.”

Robert gently moves Lyanna to his side. “Yes, go and rest now. We’ll have time to strategize later. For now, catch your breath.”

He didn’t wish to rest. That was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to keep fighting. Aerys had dealt him a hard blow that he had to recover from quickly. Wars may not be won in a day, but there was still much he could do.

The closeness of Storm’s End to the Kingswood was another concerning factor in which Rhaegar couldn’t ignore. Even though he had been admiring the tall trees that surrounded them, a voice in his head also whispered how there could be enemies hiding and waiting like they had been on their journey.

Half tempted to burn it all down, Rhaegar knew that that was something Aerys would think of. He hated the moments when he found himself thinking the exact same way his father did.

Following his gaze, Robert walks over to him. Rain had made his mane of black hair smooth down close to his scalp with his dark beard catching beads of raindrops. Atop of the battlements, figures of men could be made out with bows at the ready and waiting.

“What are the defense protocols you have for invaders?” Rhaegar asks him. He couldn’t rest without being assured that there were proper defenses set in place.

Robert chuckles a little. “You forget that Storm’s End was able to destroy the Vulture King’s army not once, but twice.”

There was little Robert’s words could do to soothe Rhaegar. The young boy who had been waiting on the prince seemed unsure of what to do as Rhaegar sighed. “I will rest. Once I see Oberyn and Arthur.”

Seeing Arthur lifted a weight from Rhaegar’s chest. There next to Arthur’s bed was a dozing Oberyn, his shirt off to reveal the massive wrap stuck to his left side from where the wildfire had eaten away his skin and nearly making it to his core. His complexion was pale, black hair tied back into a low ponytail and out of his face. The castle’s maester was checking on Arthur’s stump of a leg for any signs of infection.

A squire announces Rhaegar’s presence quietly but it was enough to stir Oberyn, eyes fluttering open lazily. Grunting when repositioning himself, the maester scolds him for disturbing his wound. Oberyn waves off the graying man to sit up. “Your Grace.”

“How are you feeling?” Rhaegar pulls his eyes away from the maester wrapping Arthur’s stump. His prodding made Arthur grumble in his sleep. A feverish sleep that caused a light sheen of sweat that made his dark hair look limp.

“Better off than Ser Arthur.” Oberyn’s personal squire immediately rushes to his side with a flagon of what Rhaegar presumed was filled to the brim with rich wine that the Dornishman loved so much. “I was worried he wouldn’t survive the journey.”

He took the container from his squire and tossed his head back. It made Rhaegar’s own dry mouth parched but he didn’t care to remedy it. Instead guilt swelled in him at the sight of Arthur’s sick body.

The maester informed him quietly that while there was no infection, Arthur had developed a fever from traveling in such torrential weather. It weakened his body and the maester warned if his stump was not cleaned regularly, he would succumb to even more disease.

Outside the rain pelted the glass of the sickroom, offering a soothing sound that accompanied Arthur’s labored breathing.

“He will live though?”

Nodding, the maester moved aside for Rhaegar to inspect his comrade. “He will live. Although he may never be able to fight again. Not with his misshapen leg.”

Oberyn glared at the older man. “We’ll see about that. If I know Arthur, then he won’t let one missing leg slow him down. What do you maesters know. I will send a letter to my brother to request our own physician.”

Taking offense, the maester appeared to want to say something in retaliation until Rhaegar shot him a look. Oberyn was only saying such things out of frustration and weariness although Rhaegar didn’t doubt that come the morning he would send out his missive to Dorne. More than likely, the physician of Sunspear wouldn’t arrive before the week’s end. The journey from Dorne to the Stormlands had always proved to be a troublesome one.

Backing down with a grimace, the maester bows and leaves the room; having done all he could for the Sword of the Morning. Oberyn tells his squire to leave him be for the time being so that now only Oberyn and the Silver Prince were left.

“I’m surprised Ser Connington isn’t lingering behind you.” Oberyn scoffs and takes another sip from his flagon. He winces, slightly holding onto his side. “He’s like your red shadow.”

“Even Griff needs rest.” Rhaegar pulls over a chair and sits down. Even though he had been riding his horse day and night, this type of comfort was enough to send him to sleep. The most simple of comforts that Rhaegar didn’t know he missed. There was pressure building behind his eyes and unconsciously he grabs at his belt where his vial of milk of the poppy used to reside. He had forgotten that he had given the last of it to Arthur. A bit frustrated, he sighs and closes his eyes. “More than half of our men were decimated by the wildfire. I don’t know how we’re going to regroup.”

“Damn those spineless lords for betraying you. They deserved to have their heads severed.” grumbles Oberyn who glances again at Arthur. His face softens a bit. “He will fight again. I’ve known him since he was a young man. Arthur won’t let this stop him.”

“That is if the Mad King doesn’t blast Storm’s End with wildfire.”

“It was the closest fortress. We couldn’t afford to run back to Dorne. I don’t think our wounded men would have survived. Besides, Aerys couldn’t possibly have more wildfire ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not an easy task making wildfire. Procuring it can take weeks, if not months. Not to mention it’s incredibly dangerous too. Even making it proves to be volatile. The spells used for making wildfire are presently not as effectual as they once were, due to the extinction of the dragons and the effect this has on the strength of magic” He muses, eyes glazed and far off. “And there’s only so much you can store safely.”

Arthur’s groan distracts the men from their conversation. His brows furrow like he was in pain.

Rhaegar stands to grab a cool cloth and places it on Arthur’s burning forehead. It offered him relief and he relaxes back into his dreams. “The both of you are lucky that you’re alive.”

Oberyn chuckled, wincing once again due to the motion upsetting his side. Rhaegar noticed a small circle of blood blossoming against the white bandage. The color grew deeper as more blood spread. “It would take a lot more than wildfire to kill a Dornishman.”

A tired smile is slow on Rhaegar’s face. “How silly of me to think otherwise.”

Stretching out his arm, Oberyn hands him his flagon of wine; it felt like it was half empty. “Take this and get some rest. I will watch over Ser Arthur. Besides, I have much to write. I need to inform Doran of what has happened and our needs for ships. Even though wildfire can spread across water, like I said, it will take the Alchemist Guild some time to acquire more. We need to strike in that waiting period.”

“You’re already thinking ahead.”

“Of course. Dorne promised you the Iron Throne. Our word is better than any Lannister’s.” His dark eyes burn intensely. “Do not owe that man anymore than you need to.”

The domineering face of his former father-in-law surfaced in Rhaegar’s mind. Cold Tywin Lannister who didn’t shed a tear at the demise of his daughter. While he needed all the funds he could get, Oberyn was right. He would be no better than Aerys who nearly drained Casterly Rock’s funds when the two were on speaking terms. The crown was still in debt to Tywin Lannister. Rhaegar didn’t want to be in the same position when he became king. He didn’t want to rely on Casterly Rock like Aerys did. That was part of the downfall between Aerys and Tywin.

His fingers held the metal handle of the flagon, it was warm from Oberyn’s own fingers. He should sleep. The haunting sounds of war just kept replaying.

Instead of asking for the squire to lead him to his own chambers, Rhaegar asks the young man to show him where the rest of his wounded men were.

Lyanna’s gloved hand ghosts over the area of her abdomen. Covered heavily in her layers of clothes and her fur coat, she could still sense the life that was growing inside her. Her lips press tightly together recalling seeing Rhaegar after more than a year of no contact. His last letter to her had been right before the war had started. Right before her life had turned upside down. A small part of her had hoped that Rhaegar would save her from her fate. That above all odds that they would live the rest of their lives together. Hopes and dreams were fickle things. His last letter to her had broken her heart. He loved his wife, the late (y/n) Lannister and lamented on hurting her. She had found out about the affections he once held for Lyanna which were no more. Rhaegar officially broke ties with her the moment she opened the letter.

She never resented (y/n), a girl she had never met. By law, Rhaegar was her husband, even before they met Rhaegar had promised his hand to (y/n) at such a young age. He was never meant to be her’s. He had always been (y/n)’s. When the news of the girl’s passing reached Lyanna, she felt no triumph, only regret and sadness for Rhaegar. There was no way she could possibly imagine what he was going through; the grief and pain that plagued him was still evident even now. The glow that had once been around him was gone. Also gone was his long silver hair, chopped short due to when he saved Robert from an attack. Since then Robert had only praise to sing about Rhaegar. It was odd seeing the two get along so well. Not too long ago, Rhaegar had claimed his affection for her and a resentment toward Robert Baratheon. Situations certainly have changed. Especially for her family.

Poor Ned. Alone in Winterfell considering that their younger brother Benjen had volunteered to go to the Wall to join the Black Brothers. A noble venture, but that meant Ned didn’t have any of his original family there to mourn with him. Barely a month had passed since the cruel murder of Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark. Their bodies had yet to be returned; or what was left of their remains.

Lyanna felt another wave of nausea hit her. Placing her back against the stone wall of the corridor she had been passing through, she takes a deep breath in an attempt to push down the sick feeling that was quickly rising up. Robert’s child had caused her to throw up several times already.

No one knew yet of the heir of Storm’s End that had now hijacked her body. There was so much going on already, a baby was the last thing she wanted. Lyanna was physically and emotionally tired. Seeing Rhaegar being chummy with her philandering husband had made everything worse.

The swirling sensation in her stomach subsided enough to where she could hold herself up once more.

She wandered over to a narrow window that viewed the courtyard below. Men were still scattered across the yard, milling about and preparing for upcoming battles. There was never any rest during a war. Even if they were here for respite, they had to prepare and gather more forces.

Ned had found time to write her a few weeks ago. He wanted more than anything to return to battle to support Rhaegar. The northern army could possibly save the campaign. Odds seemed bleak for Rhaegar at the moment unless he did manage to gather a sizable fleet. With Tywin Lannister as a benefactor it wouldn’t be too hard. The only issue was time. No one ever had enough time and putting together a naval power to siege Blackwater Bay would take a while. Ships had to be built and due to the wild storms that often destroyed nearby vessels, they couldn’t be built in the Stormlands. Ned didn’t have time for battle. He had to work on inserting himself as the new Lord of Winterfell. Plans had been made for Ned to wed Catelyn Tully, Brandon’s former betrothed. Before he even dared to go out and fight, he had to have an heir in case anything were to happen.

A familiar red head bobbed into view, stopping every so often to give orders. Jon Connington. The man never seemed to rest. He was considered Rhaegar’s right hand man and Jon took the role very seriously. Dedicating every waking hour to the Silver Prince.

Even feeling alone herself, she was happy that Rhaegar had good men around him who he could trust.

Scuffing of boots alerted Lyanna to someone approaching. She turns and there’s Rhaegar. The scar that ran like a river across his face darkened his already fraught expression.

“I thought you would be resting after your journey.” Lyanna says, hoping to at least get a few words out of him. Though his love for her was gone, she at least wanted to maintain some kind of relationship.

He looked exhausted, on the verge of falling over. “I’ll rest when I make sure my men are taken care of.” The angles of his cheeks were even more pronounced due to a drop in his weight. His black scaled armor nearly made him blend into the shadows of the hall.

His demeanor made her heart ache. So broken down with soot and blood caked to him.

Lyanna was prepared to insist that their maesters were working hard to ensure the health of those who had come in need of it, but her nausea seized her. One hand on the windowsill kept her stable as she leaned over and vomited. Clanking of armor followed as Rhaegar moved to hold back her long hair.

“Perhaps it is you who should be resting, my lady. Are you alright?”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she shakes her head. “No. I’m not alright. I’m pregnant.”

She felt his hand halt in it’s soothing ministrations on her back. “That’s wonderful news, Lyanna. Congratulations. Have you told Robert yet?”

“I haven’t told anyone. You’re the first and I don’t want you sharing this.” Fixing her gaze on him, she holds down his lilac eyes with sternness.

Obviously confused, Rhaegar releases her cascading hair. “Why haven’t you told anyone? You're pregnant with Robert’s heir.”

Quite unladylike, Lyanna lets out a derisive snort. “Probably not his first. Oh don’t look so surprised. Even you know of Robert’s predilections. I knew marrying him would not prevent Robert from taking on lovers. No matter how much he claims he loves me, he loves women more. I can’t be happy about this. Not with my father and brother dead and Ned struggling in his new role. If anyone else finds out about my pregnancy, they will refuse to let me go to the north to be with Ned.”

Tears were in her eyes and blinding her, bottom lip shivering as Lyanna suppressed a sob. Her life was in ruin.

Compassion had not died in Rhaegar as he gently held one of her hands. “I’m so sorry, Lyanna. About your father and brother. About everything that has transpired. Keeping this child a secret is not the answer though.”

“I know.” Her voice wavered. “I know but I just can’t bring myself to tell anyone. There was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to support Ned and fight in your army. Now there will be even more reason to keep me cooped up here.”

Even in her ears, her woes sounded pathetic but Lyanna couldn’t help the way she felt. Rhaegar had lost both his wife and child and was in the middle of fighting his father for the Iron Throne. He had a lot more on his plate than she.

Still, Rhaegar soothed her by running his finger along her knuckles. For a moment there is a lull of silence before Rhaegar sighs. “If you inform Robert of your pregnancy, I promise to try and convince him to let you go to the north. It’ll be safer for you there anyway. The Stormlands are too close to King’s Landing, I’m sure he’ll let you go.”

She clung to Rhaegar’s promise and with a small nod, she dropped his hand. “Alright. Alright.”

Making sure she was truly okay to continue her walk, Rhaegar begins on his path once more before Lyanna calls out to him.

“I’m really sorry. . . About (y/n). . . a-and her baby. . .”

Such a sad smile Rhaegar had. “We were going to name him Jaehaerys. (y/n) loved that name.”

It was hard for Varys to rid his mind of the image of Brandon’s wide, fearful eyes. Neck veins bulged as he was being strangled while watching his father’s own demise. The reddening of his face as he lost air, clawing of his fingers around the rope that gripped his neck so tightly. Gods, he couldn’t get the smell of burning flesh out of his system either. The day of Brandon and Rickard’s murder stuck with Varys as a reminder of the danger he was in when playing the game of thrones. One wrong move and that could easily be him. With Aerys’ patience and sanity running thin, he walked on a razor’s edge. He was unpredictable and an unpredictable king was a terrifying thing. Through his birds, Varys knew that the people of King’s Landing were talking in hushed tones; worried about the extreme use of wildfire against Rhaegar’s army. Such a reckless and fickle element, the wildfire could have easily spread to the capital and killed everyone. It was thanks to Rhaegar’s actions that the spread of the green flames had stopped in it’s tracks. That wouldn’t do for Aerys. If he found out about the positive talk on his turncloak son, no doubt the king would gather those individuals and kill them. Well, his people were already dying by the dozens. Many were starving, he had been witness to it whenever he dared to go outside. The gates to the Red Keep were now lined with the poor and starving, screaming at anyone who got near them. The use of wildfire had damaged the roads and lands that led to King’s Landing. Supplies could not be delivered to them nor any goods that the capital depended on. Food from the bountiful Reach dwindled in a blink of an eye. Even those of a higher pedigree were experiencing difficulties and often went to the king’s small council to plead for more food.

Aerys turned a deaf ear to the cries of his people, instead becoming obsessed with striking down his first born son; the son which Rhaella had struggled to conceive after so many miscarriages and stillborns.

The wildfire assault had not been approved by the small council. Actually, Aerys worked behind their backs to make sure that his plans would be successful. An outraged Grand Maester Pycelle had accosted Aerys on such a terrible act and it nearly cost him his head. He considered wildfire a damning element concocted by those who were close to the Stranger as arts such as those could only be obtained in a dark manner.

There was nothing that could be said to the king that would make him think otherwise. He believed the wildfire would help cleanse the land. An even more morbid plot that Aerys had told them about was the plan to set all of King’s Landing aflame if Rhaegar ever got to the gates. All of the members of the small council were growing more concerned by the second. There was no reasoning with King Aerys. Even looking into his eyes one would learn that his mind wasn’t all there. Many days, Aerys refused to come down from the Iron Throne, even if he was receiving many cuts from the old blades it was composed of. He would not surrender the throne to anyone. Not even for a second.

He was employing Varys’ skill more and more these days. Especially in regards to the missing knight Ser Barristan Selmy who had up and vanished. Whispers around the castle laid claim that it was Selmy who may have kidnapped the king’s youngest children.

Of course Varys knew better. In fact it was he who had orchestrated the kidnapping of the Targaryen siblings. Varys knew that many people thought him cold and conniving, but it was far from the truth. For a long time, he had worried about the young Viserys and infant Daenerys. Even before Rhaella’s passing, Varys worried about what Aerys had planned for his family on Dragonstone. Not wanting to underestimate the king’s madness, Varys thought it best to send the children away. He took it upon himself to go to Dragonstone and enlist the help of Ser Willem Darry who was all too ready to take the task. The older knight had voiced his own worries as well and had made a promise to the dying Rhaella that he would protect her children even if it meant going against Aerys. That task had been an easy one.

However, he hadn’t heard anything of Ser Selmy. The last news he received from his many little birds around the world was that Selmy had indeed left Volantis and was on a ship back to Westeros. That had been two weeks ago and no one had any clue where he was now. No mice or birds had seen Selmy in a while.

And how would he get into contact with Rhaegar now that their go-between had been murdered. Brandon Stark had been overly brave in making himself the messenger between the Spider and the Silver Prince. He didn’t know the status of Rhaegar’s army and if it still held numbers. Scouts that had been placed in the Kingswoods had reported that his men were seen fleeing in the direction of the Stormlands. Other than that, the information was mum.

He had been speaking with one of his little birds when a knight approached him, causing the young child to flee immediately.

“The king wants to see you.”

Varys never liked hearing that. It meant having to sit through the king’s ramblings and attempt to make sense of it. Continuing to pretend to serve him was wearing down on him. He must see his plans through, to the very end. Much like another foreigner he had encountered.

Young Thalina had known what her duty was to the realm and even knowing her fate was death, she did what she had to do with a gentle smile on her face. Varys never knew how much he would look up to the girl.

She had more courage than Varys could ever have. For he still feared his own death. Every time he came face to face with Aerys, he worried that that would be the last breath he took.

Even making his way to the Great Hall, beads of sweat began to collect on the back of his neck, staining the satin collar around his neck. Aerys had already killed a handful of his most loyal vassals. His fears weren’t irrational. The other members of the small council also worried when their time would come.

Despite the Great Hall having large windows that allowed the sun’s rays to illuminate the hall, the vicinity around the Iron Throne was suspended in a dark gloom that threatened to reach out to the rest of the hall. Atop of the mountain of melded swords was Aerys. His body leaned forward in an attempt to keep the sharp tips of the swords from biting into his skin. From where he stood, Varys could see the slight twitching of the king’s bony hands. His golden crown was loose on his head, the dragons sculpted into it were like a sad reminder of the glory that the Targaryens once possessed.

What alarmed Varys was the absence of the Kingsguard. All who stood sentry was Gerold Hightower.

Currently one of the pyromancers held an audience with the king. The situation was already fraught when Varys arrived. “Y-Your Grace. . . Please, we can make the amount of wildfire you ask for but it will take us time.”

“We don’t have time!” Aerys spat nearly rising from his seat. “I want it done by the week’s end!”

Trembling slightly, the pyromancer shook his head knowing that if he did not please the king’s temper that his head could be on the chopping block. “Y-Yes Your Grace. . .”

“Get him out of here. He’s got work to do along with the other mages in the Alchemist Guild.” With stern, milky eyes, Aerys instructs Ser Gerold to escort the poor pyromancer out of the Great Hall while Varys takes his place in front of the Iron Throne. Not wasting time on pleasantries, Aerys asks “What news do you have on Barristan Selmy?”

Varys wished he had that knowledge just for himself. Alas, there was nothing to report on; not something Aerys wanted to hear. His tempers were already short. Varys had to make sure to spend as little time as he could there. “I regret to inform Your Grace that there has been no sign of Barristan Selmy. We can only hope that he shows up soon or we hear news of his death.”

The Mad King snarls. “It seems even my Spider is incompetent. A knight of the Kingsguard does not just up and vanish overnight! Especially not one like Selmy. And my children?”

Luckily Varys had come up with a lie that would be good enough to satisfy Aerys at least for the time being. “One of my informants in Pentos has sighted two young children with silver hair. They match the description of Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys.”

“Anything on who took them? Don’t think I haven’t heard what people are saying. Some speculate that Selmy took them. Is there any merit to the rumor?”

Varys doubted if Selmy did return to King’s Landing that he would receive a warm welcome. True that he lied to Aerys about the reason for him being gone, nothing mattered now. Not with the king’s sanity spiraling at a dangerous level.

“It could not be determined, Your Grace. But we have a location and I have my mice keeping tabs until they have a culprit.”

“I want to send someone out to Pentos to have a look themselves.” seethes Aerys, drilling his glare at the eunuch. “And I want you to find a competent assassin to get rid of Rhaegar.”

Chancing eye contact with the Mad King, Varys pressed his lips together. “I will talk it over with the small council-”

“No. I don’t want you telling any of those fools. I want a finish to this damn war. That brat. . . I don’t want to waste anymore effort on him. I want this ended. Do you hear me, Varys?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He leans forward a few more inches. "Don't fail me Varys. Otherwise you will meet the same fate as Rickard Stark and his boy."

“Yes, Your Grace.” He felt like a damn parrot but what else could he do if he wanted to keep his head for a little bit longer?

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Tide That Turned Everything: Chapter I - Separated, Hurting, Broken

Summary: Aleksander is alive but he paid a price for surviving. Because of his actions Grisha are hunted and executed. They find a place where they can be safe. There you meet with Alina, Mal and Prince Nikolai. They plan to bring the country back together and destroy the Fold. In the meantime Aleksander gathers his own army. The question is, on which side will you be?

A/N: Here is another fic about General Kirigan and Reader! It's the third part in series about Reader being a Tidemaker. It concentrates of the events in season two of the show. I hope you will like it! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". But I've almost finished reading the books! The only one that remains is the "Rule of Wolves". But this story still only focuses on the TV show. Also, English still isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Kirigan is searching for you and nothing will stop him from finding you. Nikolai tries to save his country. Alina tries to gather Morozova's amplifiers. And you? You try to mend your broken heart. Which may be difficult with everyone not trusting you and news you hear from David.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov/Mal Oretsev

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, David Kostyk, Genya Safin, Fruzsi, Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, Nadia Zhabin, Mal Oretsev, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Adrik Zhabin

Word Count: 4428

merzost – magic, abomination, unnatural creation, something from nothing moi tsarevich – my prince, son of tsar milaya – sweet girl There is a slight plot from third episode of the second season and also a bit more from the fourth episode. Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683705/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089584620/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683695/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089684424/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559821/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683637/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559895/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

Aleksander and his followers have set up a base in a house of an aristocrat family. Yes, he has survived. But paid a price for it. He created creatures of shadows with merzost, but because of that his health is falling. He's coughing, often with black substance, has headaches and has scars on his face that can't be healed. His condition deeply worries him. But something troubles him even more.

One day another group of recruits arrives. Aleksander immediately goes to greet them and looks at their faces. He's happy to see David and tells him that. Then, he returns to looking around. However, he doesn't see what he wants.

'Was [Y/N] with you?' he asks David, who's retreating with Genya. They stop. The Durast shakes his head with sorrow.

'I haven't seen her since the day we left the Little Palace after…' he doesn't finish. But Aleksander knows what he wanted to say. He nods. He walks to Fruzsi, another Tidemaker.

'Ask everyone who has arrived whether they have seen [Y/N] [L/N] during the last weeks,' he orders her. Fruzsi is surprised by this, but nods. She comes to his room an hour later.

'And?' he asks, expectant, hoping.

'No one has seen her,' Fruzsi answers. Aleksander's shoulders slump. He sighs, and runs a hand through his face.

'Tell the search parties to look specifically for her,' he orders. 'I want her found. As soon as possible.'

'I know she's close to you,' Fruzsi says, frowning. 'But shouldn't we focus on-'

'She's not close to me,' Aleksander interrupts her. 'She's everything to me.'

Fruzsi is surprised, guessing what he means. He turns away from her.

'With all due respect, sir…' she says slowly, '… why her?'

Aleksander turns to her. There's something in his eyes Fruzsi has never seen.

'Why anyone else when she exists?' he asks. The Tidemaker lingers only for a moment longer. But her place is quickly taken by someone else…

'Fedyor!' Aleksander says, happy and relieved. The Heartrender smiles and bows his head to his general. Kirigan walks to him and the two shake hands. The Darkling notices the tiredness and sadness in his friend's eyes.

'Ivan…' he says, his smile falling.

'Is alive,' Fedyor says. 'That's why it took me so long to get here. He's wounded and scarred. Healers are putting him back together at the moment.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Aleksander says. 'He… he did well in the Fold.'

Fedyor nods. He bites his lip, hesitating.

'Any news of [Y/N]?' he asks. Sorrow fills Kirigan's eyes. He shakes his head.

'Not yet,' he answers and sighs heavily. He walks to his armchair and falls on it. He runs a hand through his face.

'I need her, Fedyor,' he says. 'Every time I turn my face, I expect to find her there. And I find nothing. It physically hurts. I've never known I'd meet a girl like her.'

'[Y/N] is one of a kind,' Fedyor agrees. Aleksander shakes his head.

'It's more than that,' he says and smiles softly. 'When I told her about my past, what I did, what I fear… she looked my demons in the eye and… smiled. She fell for the very thing I thought she'd fear.'

'I haven't met a kinder heart,' Fedyor says with a smile.

'Kind,' Aleksander says. 'Compassionate. Understanding. Gentle. That's who she is. That's why I fell for her. And I failed her. When she needed me the most, when they were throwing Grisha out of the Little Palace, I wasn't there. I even insisted she stayed there. She should have gone with you, like she wanted. But now she may be dead. And it's my fault.'

'She's not dead,' Fedyor says strongly. Kirigan looks at him with doubt.

'How can you be so sure?' he asks.

'Everyone knows she's important to you,' Fedyor answers. 'I think that if they had managed to kill her, they would have made every Grisha aware of it.'

He has a point, Aleksander must admit it. Hope reignites with him once more. Fedyor smiles.

'Fear not, General,' he says. 'She might look like a fragile flower, but her stem is made of steel.'

Aleksander can't help but smile. He nods. Fedyor's eyes suddenly light up.

'What about the gift you gave her for her last birthday?' he asks. Aleksander instinctively touches a ring on his finger. He sighs deeply.

'The problem is, I gave it to her so she would call on me if she needed help,' he says. 'Until she says my name while touching the necklace, I can't use my matching ring to track her. Believe me I… tried.'

'Well, we have David now,' Fedyor says. 'Maybe he could think of something.'

'He'd need something that belongs to her,' Aleksander explains, remembering how the Durast made the ring and necklace.

'And we don't have anything,' Fedyor sighs. Kirigan shakes his head.

'We will get her back, General,' the Heartrender assures him.

'I know,' Aleksander says and a look in his eyes darkens. 'I promised her. That the world can't keep us apart. And that there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her by my side. I fully intent to keep that promise, Fedyor. No matter what.'

*

In the meantime, Alina and Mal have teamed up with a privateer, who's just turned out to be Prince Nikolai Lantsov. Together, they hunted the Sea Whip for Alina. She now has two amplifiers. She tried to destroy the Fold, but failed. After that, they head for the Spinning Wheel, a place where apparently Grisha have found a safe heaven – the Spinning Wheel. There, Alina reunites with Nadia… and Zoya. But the conversation with Zoya goes well, to Alina's surprise. They are now allies. After they walk their ways, Nadia joins Alina's side, uncertain.

'Someone else is in here you might be interested in,' she says.

'Who?' Alina asks, frowning. Nadia simply grabs her arm and drags her somewhere. A few corridors later the Sun Summoner sees a familiar back.

'[Y/N]!' she exclaims happily and runs forward, freeing herself of Nadia's hold. You turn around, surprised. You huff, when Alina falls into your arms. You hug her back slowly.

'Saints, I'm so glad you're okay!' she says, pulling away. You force a smile.

'Thank you,' you say. 'I'm happy you're alive as well. After I heard what had happened in the Fold…'

'I made it,' Alina says, smiling, and looks over your shoulder. 'Thanks to Mal.'

You turn your head and see a young man, looking both familiar and unfamiliar. He notices you and his frown tells you he has the same situation with you.

'Mal, look who's here!' Alina calls him, waving at him with enthusiasm. The man joins you, looking at you with interest.

'I hope you remember our dear friend from Keremzin, [Y/N] [L/N],' Alina says, looking between you two. Mal's eyes spark with recognition. He smiles broadly.

'How could I not?' he says and chuckles. 'You almost cracked my skull open once!'

'You definitely deserved it!' you laugh and go in for a hug. You hold each other tightly, then pull away. In a moment Mal's brows cease with worry.

'No offense, but you look awful,' he says. You smile wryly. You're well aware of the dark circles under your eyes, puffy eyes, pale face and so on.

'Well, I sleep with my one eye open,' you say. 'I'm not exactly welcome here.'

'Why?' Alina asks, frowning. You give her a look.

'I was one of Kirigan's most loyal Grisha,' you explain. 'No one here trusts me.'

'But you didn't know what he's planning,' Alina says vehemently. The corners of your lips lift slightly.

'How can you be so sure?' you ask.

'Yes, how can we?' a voice asks. You turn your head and see a young man in a uniform. You bow your head.

'Moi tsarevich,' you greet Nikolai. He stops by Alina and Mal's side.

'So?' he asks, eyeing you. 'How can we be sure we can trust you?'

'Nikolai!' Alina scolds him. You look tsarevich in the eyes.

'I didn't know Kirigan had planned to expand the Fold,' you declare. 'In fact, we haven't been close for a long time.'

'Why?' Nikolai asks, frowning. You smile wryly at him.

'I've been asking myself this question for months,' you answer. Nikolai eyes you again.

'I trust [Y/N],' Alina says strongly. Nikolai looks at her and they exchange a look. Finally, he nods and smiles at you.

'Alina's friends are mine friends,' he says and takes your hand in his, then kisses it. 'Pleasure to meet you, Miss [L/N]. And I'm sorry for the suspicion.'

'Charmed,' you say, smiling slightly. 'And it's perfectly alright. I understand.'

'Come, we have a lot to catch up,' Alina says, taking your arm and you start walking. Soon enough she tells you what happened to her. She tells you how Baghra warned her about Aleksander. How she escaped. How she met with Mal. How they found the Stag. But then Kirigan found them. He killed the Stag and joined Alina with its bones. He tried to harness her powers for himself. He used them to expand the Fold. But there Mal and three rouges from Ketterdam saved her. She and Mal escaped to Novyi Zem. There they met Nikolai.

'And that's about it,' Alina finishes her story a moment later.

'You've certainly been busy,' you comment. Your friend sighs. There's sadness in her eyes.

'I still can't believe I let him fooled me,' she says. 'I… I honestly thought we share some sort of connection, you know?'

'Yeah,' you answer quietly, now sad as well. But Alina quickly becomes angry.

'I still can't believe how cruel he really was,' she says with venom. 'All those people he murdered… because he wanted more power. How could someone be so cold-hearted?'

'Behind every cold-hearted person there is a kind heart which has been treated with coldness for a while,' you say quietly. Alina looks at you with surprise. But you don't say anything more.

'What about you?' your friend asks. 'How did you escape from the Little Palace?'

'I didn't,' you answer after a moment. Alina frowns at you. She looks you up and down, no doubt wondering how you can be here if you hadn't escaped from the Little Palace. You avoid her eyes.

'When the First Army raided the Little Palace, I focused on getting everyone else out,' you start. 'Especially the children. So, when I was about to evacuate myself… it was too late. I was caught.'

'[Y/N]…' Alina says, horrified. You force a smile and shake your head.

'It wasn't really for a long time,' you say. 'I escaped.'

'How?' Alina asks. You're silent for a moment. You try not to think about the time you were a captive. About what they did to you…

Darkling's whore… Filthy witch… Stupid serving girl…

'They were careless,' you answer. 'Thought they broke me. I used it against them. Then I found out about this place. Others weren't exactly thrilled to see me but they took me in. I guess my sorry state made them pity me.'

'[Y/N]… what had they done to you so they thought they broke you?' Alina asks with worry.

'Hurt me,' you answer after a moment and force a smile at her. 'You should rest. You've had a tiring journey.'

'But-' Alina starts, frowning.

'I'll see you later,' you say, hug her briefly, then walk away. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You don't look back. You don't think about what you told Alina. You don't think about it so much, you bump into someone.

'Sorry!' you apologise. The person turns out to be Zoya. She looks you over.

'How are you looking worse and worse every day?' she asks. You smile wryly.

'It's my hidden talent,' you answer and attempt to walk past her. But she grabs your arm. You look up at her. There's seriousness in her eyes.

'You're not alone,' she says, confusing you. 'Kirigan had us all fooled. I know it's hard for you, you were his personal servant and then his trusted Grisha. I know you must have certain attachment to him but… you have to let it go. He murdered innocents. And would do it again.'

'You… "Attachment"?' you repeat with disbelief. 'Zoya, I… He was the first person who saw I'm more than just a plain serving girl. Every time I struggled, he was there to help me. He saved me every time I was in danger. Do you remember Tsybeia? Even before it turned out I'm a Grisha he was always kind to me and protected me. And now… everyone tells me what he did, who he is. But I can't just forget about all the good stuff he did.'

Zoya looks at you. Suddenly, her eyes go wide. You stiffen. You know she realised your secret.

'And you love him,' she guesses and crosses her arms. 'Tell me, if he handed you a bloodied hand, would you take it, only because it was his?'

You stare at her. Tears well up in your eyes. You smile sadly, a bit brokenly.

'I honestly have no idea, Zoya,' you whisper and turn. You walk away, trying to blink away the tears. And you definitely don't think how much you miss Aleksander. Nor how much you wish he was alive.

*

The night falls. It is a relief to you, because you finally are away from the judging eyes, hurtful whispers. But the sleep never comes easily. Your thoughts are always a mess. Today as well.

You lay down in bed and try very hard to fall asleep. Your thoughts drift to everything that happened that day. You sigh and hesitantly grab the necklace on your neck. Pain clenches your heart.

Aleksander…

Suddenly you find yourself in Kirigan's chambers in the Little Palace. Everything is just like you remember. You look down at yourself and see the clothes you were wearing as Aleksander's personal servant.

'I did miss the sight of that band on your arm,' you hear. Your heart stops. Oh, how you longed to hear that voice. You turn around and see Aleksander leaning on his table. He looks just like he did when you last saw him.

'Yet I still preferred to see you in your kefta,' he says, slowly walking towards you. 'It suited you. It was meant to be yours.'

'Sometimes I wish I've never discovered my powers,' you admit. 'Then I would just admire you from afar. I wouldn't feel this pain now.'

'Do you really?" Aleksander asks. You think for a moment. You smile sadly and shake your head.

'Not really, no,' you answer. 'Because it was worth it. Being with you was the happiest time of my life. Even though you insisted on hiding it from everyone.'

Aleksander stops in front of you. He hands his head.

'Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?' he asks. You're quiet for a moment.

'I don't know,' you answer honestly. Aleksander nods, understanding. He looks up and reaches toward your face, but hesitates. His hand hangs in the air.

'I hate seeing you sad,' he says.

'Then come back to me,' you say, tears filling your eyes. 'I just want to see you. Hold you. Hug you. Touch you. Kiss you. Cuddle with you. Love you. Then I'll stop being sad.'

Aleksander looks at you with pain. He hates to see you like this.

'I want this too, milaya,' he says. 'So much.'

'I waited for you,' you say. 'Like I promised I would. Part of me still does. Even though it's impossible for you to return to me.'

'[Y/N]…' Aleksander whispers. He slowly reaches out to you again. When you don't flinch away, he cups your cheek. The moment he does, your clothes change into your kefta from the winter fete. He smiles softly.

'I didn't even tell you that you looked magnificent that night,' he says quietly. 'Beautiful. And your performance… You were extraordinary.'

You smile. You waited so long to hear those words. You lean into his touch.

'It's hard without you,' you say.

'I know the feeling,' Aleksander says quietly. You touch his hand that is on your cheek. You turn your head and kiss it.

'Everyone is sad to be gone from the Little Palace,' you say. 'They say their lost their home. But I lost mine before the First Army attacked us.'

'Because I was your home,' Aleksander says quietly. You nod. Kirigan presses his forehead to yours. He closes his eyes.

'I wish I was kissing you instead of missing you,' he whispers, his voice shaking from pain. You close your eyes, fighting with tears. You fail, obviously. You can feel them falling down your cheeks.

'Did you think of me?' you dare to ask. 'When you were in the Fold?'

'Yes,' Aleksander answers, clenching his jaw. 'I wanted you to be by my side. And then I wanted to come back to you.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you ask. 'About your plans about Alina and the Fold? The real ones.'

'Because you have a compassionate heart,' Aleksander answers after a moment. 'You'd disagree with my plan. Maybe leave me.'

'You don't know that,' you say, shaking your head.

'Wouldn't you?' Aleksander challenges you. You're silent.

'I don't know what would I do,' you say and look him in the eyes. 'You robbed me of that choice.'

Kirigan looks down. Maybe he's actually ashamed a bit.

'But I know I wouldn't leave you,' you add. Aleksander's head shoots up. You cup his face.

'I promised you to be with you for better and for worse,' you say. 'No matter what would happen, I would be with you.'

'And then maybe you would die in the Fold,' Aleksander says flatly. 'This one time I wouldn't have been able to save you.'

'Maybe I would have saved myself,' you suggest with a small smile. Kirigan sighs and shakes his head.

'Sometimes I really can't with you,' he says. You grin at him. But then your smile falls.

'Kiss me?' you plead. You don't have to ask twice. Aleksander cups your face and kisses you.

'We shall be together again, my darling, I promise,' he whispers.

'I want this more than anything,' you whisper back. 'So much.'

'Be patient, [Y/N],' Aleksander pleads. 'For me. Please.'

'I'm waiting,' you whisper. 'I'll be always waiting for you.'

Kirigan opens his eyes. He's met with the wall of his room in the residence. He sighs heavily and sits up. His finger caresses the ring on his finger. Then, he lifts it to his lips.

'Please, [Y/N],' he whispers. 'Call for me. Call for me and I'll come for you. I swear. I will always come for you.'

*

You, Tamar (a Heartrender) and Nadia watch Alina training her new abilities. She thrusts light at her target… but even though it's impressive, it doesn't even reach it.

'Absolute rubbish,' she grunts. Nadia scoffs and gives Tamar a look.

'It's the second amplifier,' the Heartrender explains. She walks to pick up a mannequin. You three follow her.

'With the Stag, summoning came like breath,' Alina says. 'This is like… reining chaos. Crossing the Fold was a disaster.'

'Hey, we'll get you there,' Nadia comforts her. 'If it helps, I could hit you with a switch and call you "stupid girl".'

'It may come to that,' Alina sighs. 'How is it I'm overwhelmed by the second amplifier and at the same time feeling the lack of a third?'

'Well, for now, let's focus on what we can fix,' Nadia says.

'Your aim, for starters,' you suggest. Alina gives you a look and scoffs. You all go back.

'As leader of the Second Army, I need more,' she says. Ah, yes. You had a dinner with the Lantsov family (you were so not happy they've arrived). During that Nikolai announced he and Alina are engaged (yeah, because you didn't see how she and Mal look at each other) and that from now on she's the leader of the Second Army. Not everyone was happy about it (ekhm, Zoya).

'I need to learn the Cut,' Alina says, turning to you. You stiffen.

'That was Kirigan's way, to lead with fear,' Nadia protests. 'You can lead with your heart. The Second Army will be better for it.'

'You make a good point,' Tamar agrees. 'But I wouldn't completely reject fear. Can't tell you how many have taken one look at my girls and… reconsidered. I don't know how the Cut works, that's a top-shelf Etherialki move, but I do know how to direct power. It's all about intention. I like to picture the face of the person I want to crush. Try it.'

Alina positions herself and exhales. She closes her eyes. Soon light surrounds her. A moment later she grunts angrily, waves her hands and light shots forward. You all look at the effect with wide eyes.

'Well, it's not the Cut, but… it's effective,' Tamar laughs. Nadia suddenly straightens up.

'Wait a moment,' she says. 'We do have here someone who's managed the Cut.'

She and Alina look at you. Tamar looks at you, impressed. You gulp.

'Once,' you say. 'I did it once. And I have no idea how. I… didn't exactly plan it.'

'Well, what did you think about then?' Tamar asks and you stiffen. 'What did you feel?'

You see in your mind Aleksander and Alina talking together, laughing. You remember the pain and hurt you felt. You were so overwhelmed you just had to let it go. And slashed the dummy.

'Anger,' you finally answer. 'I felt anger. The kind that was killing me.'

Before anyone can ask you more, you hear footsteps. You turn and see Adrik, Nadia's brother.

'I know, not to be disturbed, but they need you in the war room,' he says to Alina. She nods and looks at others. Tamar and Nadia turn and start walking. Alina grabs her jacket and follows them. But then she notices you're not following.

'[Y/N]?' she asks. You shake your head.

'My presence will not be welcomed there,' you say and smile. 'Go without me.'

Alina hesitates, but eventually nods and leaves. Adrik is behind her. You turn to look at the dummy the Sun Summoner hit. It has a hole coming from the arm to the stomach. Almost like the Cut.

You leave a few minutes later. You take a few turns, heading toward your room, when…

'David,' you say, surprised. David with his hands spread is being led by Tolya (a Heartrender and Tamar's twin) somewhere. They stop, hearing your voice. The Durast's eyes go wide.

'[Y/N],' he says and goes pale. 'Oh, Saints, you're here…'

'Why are you…?' you start but then remember. David was the one who made the collar for Alina. They don't trust him here.

'Come,' Tolya says and continues to take David away. You're left there, stunned and shocked. You can't believe your dear friend is here. And that he is a prisoner, while you walk free…

Later you come across Alina on the corridor. She smiles at you. You look at her, troubled.

'I need to ask you a favour,' you say.

'Anything,' Alina says at once. You gulp.

'I need to see David,' you say. Alina blinks.

'And you need me for…?' she asks. You sigh.

'For getting through the door,' you say. 'Alina, just because you trust me, doesn't mean others do. Please. I need to know if he's okay.'

Alina nods and walks with you to Nikolai. The prince isn't happy but he grants you your request. A moment later you enter David's cell. Alone.

'[Y/N],' he says, straightening up at the sight of you. You smile.

'How are you, David?' you ask.

'I'm… fine, thank you,' he answers. You frown. He's terribly stiff.

'And not exactly thrilled to see me,' you point out. David sighs.

'Forgive me,' he asks. 'Of course, I'm happy to see you. But if he finds out you're here…'

'Who?' you ask, blinking. David stares at you. He stares at you with disbelief, when he sees you're not fooling around.

'You… you don't know?' he asks.

'About?' you ask, confused. David shifts, uncomfortable. He doesn't know if he should say it. But you won't let it go, he just knows it.

'Kirigan is alive,' he finally says quietly. You stumble back and hit a table with your back. You stare at David, shocked.

'No,' you say, your lip trembling. 'You're lying. He can't be.'

'I would never lie to you about this,' David says softly. You stare at him. And see no deception in his eyes. He's telling the truth.

You bring hands to your mouth and let out a sob. You close your eyes and cry. You cry for the first time since the raid. These are tears of anger, sadness, pain, sorrow… and joy.

'How?' you whisper, looking at David again. 'How did he survive?'

'He created something in the Fold,' he answers, wincing. 'Creatures made of shadow. I guess they helped him. But he… he paid a big price for it.'

'What price?' you demand.

'He's troubled by coughs, headaches, pain,' David answers. 'I… I fear only merzost could cure him.'

Your heart aches. You don't know how you feel about all that.

'[Y/N]… that necklace I gave you… where is it?' David asks. Your heart speeds up.

'I don't know,' you lie. 'I lost it when the Little Palace was attacked.'

'Are you sure?' David asks. 'Because if even by accident you call him… he will come here at once for you.'

'Me?' you ask, raising your eyebrows. The Durast looks at you. He hesitates again.

'The priority for him and his Grisha is finding you,' he finally says. 'He… Every day with no news about you is making him more agitated. He insists that he needs you by his side. He more or less admitted that there was something going on between you two.'

You're quiet. You shake your head.

'I'm not the one he needs,' you deny and leave. You stop a few turns later. Your hand reaches to the hidden necklace under your kefta. You stop your hand mid-air. You shake your head and resume walking. You must let go of Aleksander. For your sake. And for others'.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49965037/chapters/126151432

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: December 22/23

Happy Friday everyone!! I hope you all are having a fantastic day, and I hope you guys will enjoy the fics that are on my radar this week to start off your Christmas weekend!! :D

RECENT MFLs

All I Want for Christmas (is Proof) by Raina_at (E, 6,471 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Fluff, Porn Without Plot, Christmas Party, Gay Club, Costume Party, Mistletoe, First Time, Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Crack and Humour, Blow Jobs, Undercover for a Case) – John has been ridiculously in love with Sherlock for a while now, but he doesn't want to rock the boat if his interest isn't returned. Their newest case might be the catalyst they need to finally figure out whether they're on the same page. Or: Sherlock and John go undercover at a Christmas party in a gay club. In costume. Things... escalate.

The Way Home by Calais_Reno (M, 7,702 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Christmas, Post-PTSD, Injury Recovery, Meeting the Parents, Coming Home, Past Drug Addiction, Developing Relationship, Moving in Together, Falling in Love, POV Sherlock Third Person) – It's Christmas Eve, and Sherlock's landlord has evicted him due to a little misunderstanding about a very small explosion that really only burned the curtains. Mrs Hudson isn't willing to let him move into 221B until after the holiday. He's left with only one alternative: go home. Spend Christmas with his family. On the train, he meets someone who might just be having an even worse holiday. Part 32 of Just Johnlock

A Case of You by Silvergirl (M, 8,165+ w., 4/8 Ch. || WiP || TEH Fix-It, Alcoholism, POV John, Anger Management, No Mary, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock is marrying an American, and at the rehearsal dinner, best man John makes a drunken love confession he doesn’t remember the next day. Badly hungover, John can't find anyone to tell him what the hell happened to the wedding, where the grooms are, or how he can put it right so that Sherlock can be happy. But what if he's dead wrong about what will make Sherlock happy?

Murder Most Exquisite by PinkGloom (E, 38,343+ w., 17/22 Ch. || WiP || 1920s Egyptian Archeologist AU || Mystery, Murder, Anger Issues, Asshole Sherlock, Reincarnation, Minor Character Deaths, Alternating POV) – Retired Army Doctor John Watson works at Holmes Antiquities in Cairo. The Holmes brothers pay a visit and while they are there, mummies are unearthed. Murder, smut and a dash of adventure! (Was written with the Indian Jones trilogy, The Mummy and the amazing novels written by Elizabeth Peters in mind)

Distortion by holmesian_love (NR, 51,585 w., 23 Ch. || Post S4, Faked Suicide / Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Examination, PTSD, Psychological Horror, Blood, Spiders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Parentlock with Rosie, Angry John, Confusion) – John Watson is persuaded to move back into Baker Street with Rosie. The friendship -though delicate - is mending slowly after everything they've been through. That is, until strange events start happening to John which begin to disrupt the happy life they have been creating. Is there a medical explanation, or is something more sinister at play? Will they discover the cause before it tears them apart for good?

[whoblewboobear]

Hiiii!!! 📓

Hellooo hiii~ and OUGHHH Thank u 🥰 

So I pretty much rapid fire throw all my lil fic blurbs that I’ll probably never write on here but one of them that hasn’t entirely gotten its own spotlight is Porter’s backstory/character study. It’s mainly in bits and pieces but I’ve thought about it ALOT. I’ve rattled man around my brain for so long to figure out WHY he’s like that. Sooo I’m gonna scream about what I think his deal is for a lil bit~ A lot a bit actually lmao so it’s going under a read more 🤧✌️

~ The minute Porter was born his parents chose war over him. Handed him off to his grandparents the moment they’d both be able to go straight back into battle to defend the sunstone clan. He was left with his Paternal grandparents where they pretty much raised him like a soldier. He was homeschooled and along side his regular lessons like Common and Math, a lot of history lessons came from his grandfather who was a big war guy. He loaded Porter up on so many texts about wars that have passed, tactics each army used, etc. This is where Porter’s love for history comes in. 

He also learned cooking from his grandma and a little bit of sewing because she believed martial classes should always have their own form of mending in their back pocket. “There wont always be a caster around to do the small stuff.” Porter disagrees heavily in present day. He can sew and it’s a skill he kept up with but he almost exclusively dates casters that don’t mind using a quick mending on some of his things. 

(Jace sees this, realizes this, and then punches Porter so hard in the arm when he finds him sewing a pair of his pants bc “you ask me to mend your clothes all the time! You can sew?!” Jace doesn’t mind but he does give Porter shit about it from now on. But enough about Jace. For once this ain’t about him 😗✌️) 

Porter was definitely way closer to his grandma. She taught him everything she knew about divinity. Very very devout woman. She 100% believed in Ankarna as a goddess of Justice because she thought what the clan was doing WAS justice. With Porter’s grandfather, he makes it very clear during sparring and fighting practice that their goddess is weak and needs to be changed for the better and that Porter could be the one to do it. He has that drilled into him from such an early age too. Like imagine little 12 year old Porter being told “you’ll be the next champion, you will take back what we deserve.” It’s a lot of pressure. The war ended some years ago, but his parents died for this cause. He owes it to them to at least try. 

His clan is mostly in hiding. Somewhere high up in the mountains of chaos. I like to imagine that it’s the Cliffbreakers and a few other giantkin that found a home there. It’s prominent enough but secluded enough that adventurers pass through every now and then to trade or get in a long rest for the night. Porter loves sneaking out and watching them. He’s never seen so many different kinds of interesting and well traveled people before. By the time he’s 16 he’s a little tired of his training. There hasn’t been a war in quite sometime. Adventuring is where the battle is. 

One night the rogue of a visiting party has spied him watching the last few nights and offers for Porter to join. So he does and he likes the conversation and their stories. Their bard sing folk songs that are so new and different from the ones his grandmother used to sing him to sleep with. This is new and exciting and when the party offers for him to join he jumps at the chance. He leaves a letter, steals his dad’s old war hammer, and heads off with them just as dawn is breaking. 

He stays with that party into his late teens. He’s maybe 19 by the time the party raises concerns with their cleric’s closeness to Porter. Truly a fucking scumbag that was pursuing him when they definitely shouldn’t have been. Porter doesn’t see the issue, he’s confused why everyone is fighting about it or why the first person he’s ever been interested in, maybe even loved is being ousted from the group. They sit him down and explain the nuance but he’s a little too young and a little too angry to understand. So he leaves. 

Porter cycles through about 6 other adventuring parties, being messy the entire time too bc he absolutely does date at least one person from every new party he joins. He doesn’t mean to it just sorta happens 🤭 he’s partial to mages. He’s so fascinated by the concept of magic. Sure he’s still in touch with his faith and the little magic he can do because of it is nice but it’s not raw unadulterated power. 

By the time he’s maybe 36 he’s with a been with a sorcerer woman for about 3 years, he’s happy. He loves her, they had a small wedding when they stopped in a quaint and homey woodland town. She helps a lot with his temper when the rage is a little too much. One day she comes to him and says it might be time for them to stop adventuring. He’s confused until she places her hand on her stomach and says they’re having a baby. He’s scared but overjoyed. He loves kids. He used to babysit here and there with his grandma back home. So they do it. They break off from the party and settle in a town not too farm from Elmville.

Porter takes small quests here and there to keep them afloat. It’s not much and it’s not particularly interesting but he’s happy at home. Until he isn’t. After his wife has their baby girl, they’re constantly fighting. Fighting to the point of hurting each other. It isn’t pretty and they try to keep it from their little girl but god the older she gets the more she notices and that’s when Porter and his wife sit down and discuss separating. She tells him he can get settled before they discuss co-parenting and he agrees. He moves to Elmville, finds that the big adventuring high school in town is looking for a barbarian teacher. He feels qualified enough. Maybe it’s the arrogance and the ego talking but he feels like he can do it. So he applies and honestly, it’s such a weird interview. It’s so bizarre. Arthur is so strange but he hires Porter on the spot. With his teaching money he can finally afford an apartment. About a month or so of him getting settled his ex wife calls and says a letter from his grandmother came to the house. Porter made trips back to the mountains every few years but it became a lot less after his grandfather died. It was all a little too difficult for him to be back there. 

When he gets the letter, it’s from the doctor that lives in his childhood community saying that Porter’s grandmother is sick. Not on deaths door sick but sick enough that she needs someone to look after her. It’s not even a question in his mind to move her in with him. He takes care of her and he works, and eventually he starts co-parenting. His life is alright.

Sometime around late freshman year or the summer after his grandmother takes a turn for the worst and passes. It’s a bit much and it’s not fair and his heart hurts so fucking much. And somewhere in his grief he hatches a plan. To become a god and fulfill his role as champion long enough to kill god and take her place. He’ll burn the world to the ground if he has to. To make his family and his ancestors proud.