#crack canon quartet

[raayllum]

like i Never fucking Lose

[thrandilf]

Ten years post canon AU Claudiez fic as a gift for @raayllum! Happy so late birthday it's now Halloween!

-

Blood for vitality, horns for mending bone, pelt for camouflage, hooves for swiftness, a heart for-

Claudia shook her head and rubbed her eyes as she looked at the newest addition to King Ezran’s menagerie. The Xadian stag ate right from Ezran’s hand as he chatted with it, stroking its ears and beaming with joy. Those ears could be used to muffle the sound of a caster’s footsteps.

Again, she tried to clear her head while keeping a smile plastered on her face. Ezran glanced over to her, waving her closer. “He’s so cute, isn’t he?” Ezran paused. “Well, majestic may be more dignified, but something can be both, right?”

[raayllum]

Terry doesn't want to fall in love again, really.

Claudia... Claudia had been funny and sweet and loyal. So, so loyal. Claudia was... complicated, an ache that still hurt sometimes when he thought about it. Terry knew leaving had been the right thing for him to do—both times, the ashamed disdain lingering in her eyes as they both realized just how truly fucked up her thoughts and feelings about elves in general really were—but difficult. Equally difficult.

It was hard to look the truth in the eye. That everything they'd done, everything he'd done for her (the blood on his hands both directly and indirectly) had been wrong and awful. That love had led them astray. And then, the even uglier truth that love wasn't enough to save them—that the person you'd done all that for, would do all that for, wasn't the person you were even meant to be with.

Corvus is the opposite of complicated. Corvus is simple—in a sweet, steady way.

He's quiet, but not secretive. He's direct, even with his fancy vocabulary. He's rarely angry—or perhaps Terry just rarely makes him angry—and more exasperated than snappish. He plays music on his cello that leaves Terry humming along in the moment, or for days afterwards as the tune plays in his mind. He loves trees, thoughtfully listening and sometimes even smiling as they compare facts for how the trees here this close to the Del Bar border are different to the ones in his childhood.

"Eventually I had to leave the Uncharted Forest," Terry shrugs one night by the fire. It's Corvus' house, even if Terry crashes here more nights than at the inn in town. He doesn't think either of them are entirely sure why. "I loved it, but—it just felt so messy, you know?"

Corvus stretches out beside him on the rug. "I can understand that."

They don't talk about the big things, Terry has found. Not yet. Not about the war and being on opposite sides of it, not the fact that Corvus was a soldier brought into court politics and family drama, or that Terry is a civilian who committed borderline war crimes. Not their exes, who are siblings, and who they thought they'd be with together forever, and now... they're not.

It should make his skin crawl, Terry thinks. He and Claudia also hadn't talked about a lot, because she'd never volunteered the full story and he hadn't pushed or thought he'd needed to (A friend of yours? Not anymore) even when it turns out he definitely needed to. But it doesn't feel like Corvus is hiding or twisting or justifying things with his silence or his words.

Merely that sometimes the vines of your life get all tangled, and you need time to, well, figure out how you want to untangle him.

Corvus' fingers graze his. Terry slides his hand forward to grasp at them, heart beating fast and then slow when Corvus squeezes.

"Y'know, when I was a child," Corvus says softly, looking at their joined hands. His thumb runs back and forth across Terry's knuckles. "My father taught me how to fall out of trees safely, so it wouldn't hurt. Did you ever learn that?"

His eyes are a warm, deep brown when Terry looks into them. He brushes his green hair out of his eyes to see more clearly, and smiles. "I think I'm starting to."

Corvus / Terry

Resistance

[twistedappletree]

lan jingyi: would you guys still love me if i was a worm?

lan sizhui: i’d make you a little worm home to sleep in and take you to classes every morning

jin ling: if it means you can never talk again, maybe.

ouyang zizhen: i would kiss you to see if it breaks the spell!

lan jingyi:

lan sizhui:

jin ling:

ouyang zizhen: jingyi, are you okay?? your nose is bleeding

[its-leethee]

Sorpeli fanart inspired by @jelzorz's absolutely gorgeous fic (and extended 'verse) The Fruit; because this ship and this fic deserve more attention:

"There's plenty more, they won't miss out." Soren grins at her, handsome and easy and lopsided, the sun like gold in his hair. He's been taller than her for years, but it's still a shock sometimes. "Here." He tugs her hood down before she can argue and sets the flowers in her hair, petals soft against the silver of her circlet. "Pretty."

[jelzorz]

the snake: ch4

“So even he wants to die,” says Callum drily.

Soren fights a scowl. They've all been on edge these past few days, but Callum, more than anyone, has been looking for reasons to be hostile. This morning's council meeting is as cold as the winter chill and Soren’s mind is stuck, caught on the sound of iron bars clanging and his father begging for death. In theory, this should be easier now: Viren wants to die, so why not simply let him? And yet—

“He is not of sound mind,” says Opeli crisply, as tired of Callum’s ire as everyone else. “We don't let people die because they want to unless there are valid reasons to allow it. That is not how the law here operates.”

“Is being a war criminal not a valid reason?”

part iv of Viren comes home and Soren has to deal with it

Here on ao3

[starified-lizzy]

Yeah I don’t know.

I saw the OG meme/image (under Cut) and went “yeah, that’s them.”

[its-leethee]

@jelzorz

I think people sometimes misunderstand why we come up with such elaborate justifications for shipping two characters together. I don't justify my ships because I feel that I need to; I justify my ships because squinting at the published canon with furrowed brow and asking myself "okay, how exactly would this work?" is my idea of a good time.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Dec 5th

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1. Hello do you know any fics where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan travel to the past and meet their past selves? @lianetteeee

💖 vinegar jug by dandelion_san (G, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Humor, Awkward Crushes, Jealousy) Only Lan Wangji time travels and it's been incomplete since 2020 however it's really funny 😭

How did I end up with this Frozen Heart? by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (T, 53k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, YP!WWX, twin prides of yunmeng are horrified at the relationship between their future selves, YP!WWX has short hair, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, wangxian get together early, Songfic, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing)

How to get anxiety from time trave and not mess up (by fall out boy) by SerlinaBlack (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Fluff, Family Fluff, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, Slightly, Canon JC, he isn't there much, like two lines mentioned at tops, but JC fans might jot like it)

🔒 ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX, JC & WWX, WWX & WQ, LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Future Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Truth, Honesty, Guilt, Crack and Angst, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc)

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, Voyeurism)

花无百日红; the flower that withers by yiqie (M, 29k, wangxian, Time Travel Fix-It of Sorts, Case Fic, Spells & Enchantments, Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness)

Wei Wuxian’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good First Meeting With His Future by Enigmatree (T, 3k, wangxian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses, YLLZ WWX, POV Outsider)

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions) link in #11 LWJ/WWX and LZ/WY meeting

Though I'm Gone (Still Think Of Me) by sami (M, 7k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LWJ & Madam Lan, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, WWX/WWX (kinda), honestly what did you expect, Chaos Gremlin WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Asexual JC, yunmeng bros reconciliation) Also, for 1, you can try Sami’s contribution to the fabulous fix-it time travel series The Same Moon Shines, a later episode “Though I’m Still Gone (Think of Me) even if you must (oh, the ‘torture’ to have to read a great work to get to this point!) to have it all make sense

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2. Hi, this is for itmf. Do you guys have any recs that’s based on this scene. Anything angsty or with miscommunication. Thanks in advance !

You are not enough by deliciousblizzardshark (M, 2k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, POV LWJ, Episode 21, drama queen LWJ, bitchy LWJ, resting murder face LWJ, Unreliable Narrator, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Constipation, LWJ thinking with his sword) my fic is a retelling of that episode from LWJ’s point of view.

Futile Devices by beautiful_crimes (G, 3k, WangXian, Fix-It, Episode Fix-it, Making Up, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Swearing, Friends to Lovers, kind of?, Mutual Pining, spoilers for later epsiodes)

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3. Hello. Thank You for all your recommendations. This blog has been Godsend.

This is an ITMF request: I was wondering if there were any WangXian versions of the Taiwanese BL drama We Best Love? @shenmiao98

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4. Itmf wwx finding/adopting a baby (or kid) during the sunshot campaign & how that my effect things (his actions, people's perception of him) was the kid orphaned or abandoned? Lost parents due to elements/resources/bandits/animals/monsters? Were parents refugees? Part of razed village or sect? Etc.

🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together, And Time is But a Paper Moon [PODFIC] by sami, Winterstar1412, [Podfic] Cold read of And Time Is But A Paper Moon by kisahawklin) (many translations and 2 podfics available) this has WWX and LWJ adopting A-Yuan during the war, but they aren't able to spend much time with him during the war so the way he changes people's perceptions of WWX mostly comes up after the war

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5. Hi, thank you all for your great help! ❤️ I'm here again with a long ask lol

ITMF for fics where Wei Wuxian is a bit (or a lot) more angry at the cultivation world. At their bigotry and cruelty, corruption and ignorance to the suffering of innocents. Where he really reacts to everything that happened to him and his, admits to himself how hurt he really was and still is, how he does not deserve it. Speaks or screams about it cleanly, exposes their flaws with words and actions.

Maybe he says "go to hell" and leaves to live heal on a faraway island with lemurs and bunnies, leaving the cultivation world to rip itself apart with political conflicts or just rot like a swamp.

Maybe he takes revenge, either with calm head or in saint anger-induced agression, though i would prefer him as still the Wei Ying we know and love (like, more bitter, and on the same level of violence as the MDZS itself is, but no sudden OOC with him becoming a tyrant, or commiting genocide just for it's sake, etc.)

I don't mind there being or not being any good people among the sects, but if he gets someone nice and kind to snuggle at the end or stand by his side, it would be awesome.

Can also be an ending where Wei Ying remains bitter, angry and depressed and does not let these feelings go, though please mention that there is an open/unhappy ending. Thank you!! ✨️🥰 @shellennium

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

If only you knew by 10thNoNamePerson (E, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC & WWX Reconciliation, dive into wwx mental health, And LWJ being there for him since the beginning, Suicidal Thoughts, Angry WWX, Supportive LWJ)

even wildflowers wilt. by cop_ulate (Not Rated, 1k, Angry WWX, Guanyin Temple Scene, Canon Universe, Canon Compliant, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Golden Core Transfer) Please note that the last one does not have a happy ending.

Cradle by Dragonesque (T, 196k, WIP, Canon Divergenc, Adopted children, Yiling Wei Sect, BAMF WWX) has one of the greatest diss scenes I've ever seen. Yiling!wei sect, he dolls himself up all badass and crashes a conference to yell at the cultivation clans

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6. Hello! I am in the mood for a fic that goes differently from the cave scene

the cave scene being after LWJ took WWX and WWX is out of his mind, LWJ confesses and then fights the elders

Are there any that start here and change up the rest? Like for example maybe WWX actually heard the confession, or LWJ realizes WWX is not in his right mind, and then maybe takes him away / protects him / etc

A Measure Of Time by NebulusCharlie (Not Rated, 309k, WangXian, Revenge, Darkji, jiang bashing Protective LWJ, protective wwx, happy ending but things are gonna get bad first, Time Travel Fix It, good uncle qiren, Murder Babies, Heavy on the angst in the middle but i swear it gets better, Canon Typical Violence, Rewrite of the story, Kidfic, Hugs, Good Parental Figures, Found Family, bad Qingheng-Jun, Heavenly Trials, destroying the Yin Iron pieces)

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7. I'm in the mood for ...

so i finally read 'Life without regrets' and now have the urge to read a fic where Lan Xichen gets told off for his part in everything that went wrong - like how he completely blindly trusts JGY, even over his own brother - that he was definitely told by Wangji what the burial mounds are really like but just ignored it / didn't brlieve it / believes JGY when he says it's war criminals - and so on

probably too much to ask but i would love if the setting was somewhere after WWX rescues the Wens - but this is not a must!

(disclaimer: i love Xichen and equally enjoy reading fics where he is tge kindes, most trustworthy human being ever - but not this time 😅)

Mourning Dove by jaemyun (Not Rated, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, WWX is dead at first, dark LWJ, rogue cultivator LWJ)

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, POV LXC, Post-Canon, Yunmeng brothers)

🔒💖 When has silence saved anyone? by Vrishchika (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, post-canon, LXC  critical, family feels, angry LWJ & LSZ, LXC gets scolded)

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8. hi do you have any fics where wwx compliments lwj's physical attractiveness a lot? his body and muscles, his face, etc. @ashxi-wx

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

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9. Hey! So I've come to realize that I have quite the masochistic streak when it comes to reading WangXian, so the angst is chef's kiss these days.

This goes for the ITMF fics, so I re-read "Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole)" by piecrust, and oh, the burn was so good!!! I mean, I did want to bang Lan Wangji's head on a wall a couple dozen times throughout the fic, but I liked it. No, I loved it rather.

So please do me the biggest favour and give me fic recs where Lan Wangji is a complete asshole to Wei Wuxian but also like he has to realize that he's being really really mean for no damn reason and over-compensate because please let the man grovel. I liked how piecrust portrayed the characters, so yeah. I don't mind if it is Canon or AU, I just need some fics to relinquish the sudden thirst for these types of fics.

Thank you in advance. @poetic-writes

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip, LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX confesses early on, But canon still happens, LWJ starts confessing after, but the tables have turned, Angst with a Happy Ending, LWJ rejects WWX, Then gets rejected by WWX after, “Get Lost”, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

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10. heyy so I've been looking for some friends with benefits fics! I'd prefer modern but canon is all right too

Threadfic by SpearmintMimi If you don't mind threadfics this one is really good and one of my favs

Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you’re fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

be still, my foolish heart by mirrorofprinces (E, 6k, WangXian, Modern, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Misunderstandings, One innocent rabbit who did nothing wrong, based on a reddit post, Getting Together)

got your way with me by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 51k, wangxian, modern, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, in which brain cells are barely used, WWX is always the last to know, wangxian/others very briefly, otherwise it’s OTP all the way, LWJ FUCKS)

the moon lives in the lining of your skin by sarahyyy (M, 9k, wangxian, Modern, College/University, Friends With Benefits, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Pining, Love Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Roommates)

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11. I'm in the Mood for fanfics where WWX is someone special. Like he has special ability/powers or he's just someone really unique. Thanks!

🔒care by everbrighter (T, 35k, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, modern w/ magic, resurrection, family bonding, getting to know each other, past character death, pining)

Pure Imagination by Witch_Nova221 (T, 119k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, JYL/JZX, LSZ LWJ & WWX, WIP, modern w magic, Romance, Toys, Toy maker, Magic, Found Family, Family Feels, Family Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitals, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s))

🧡 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, Ridiculously Long Notes, History, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions)

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Devotion of Love by SaiaiSaiko (M, 47k, WangXian, 3Zun, WWX Lives, NMJ Lives, MXY Lives, Servant WWX, WWX in MXY's Body, Sentient Burial Mounds, Healer WWX, BAMF WWX, LWJ and WWX Adopt LSZ, POV Alternating, Canon-Typical Violence, Petty LWJ, Petty WWX, Canonical Self-Harm, LWJ Plays Inquiry, WWX answers Inquiry, Golden Core Reveal, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Good Sibling JC, Franken-canon, in the sense it's canon from donghua manhua drama and novel mixed and matched as I like, Good Person JGY, Domestic Fluff) maybe? Wei Wuxian has all the skills of making spiritual tools and this deep Connection to the Burial Mounds.

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12. Is there wangxian fics where they were using double end dildos? Trans4trans wangxian or cis4cis wangxian are welcomed.

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13. ITMF! Given how yzy resents wwx because of his mother I wonder how she'd be if jfm actually had an affair only yzy was the other woman. Recommendation for such fics please (canon or modern au anythings fine) @aristocraticteacup

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14. Hi!! This is for the itmf!!

I recently read Watch Me Ignite It by Tawaen and I was wondering if you knew of anything similar? Or in the same vein as YLLZ!WWX being sect leader/WWX taking over the Wen sect. Thanks!! @namjoonsc-cuptits

Heliocentric by Coolio101 (T, 8k, WangXian, in which WWX is born as part of the Wen Sect, Mutual Pining, LWJ and JC are friends….kind of, Wen Sect WWX, Fix-It, LWJ has zero chill and is always 2 sec away from throwing hands, but that’s basically canon, also WRH is still an asshole, so if you were expecting redemption fic this might not be for you, Canon Divergence) features Wen Ying who was Wen Ruohan's son. Wen Ying becomes sect leader after killing his father, so hopefully, this is close to what they're looking for.

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15. Hi, thank you so much for all the work you do! I'm in the mood for fics where any or all the Jiang family pay for what they did to WY. Not just with political consequences, but also corporal punishments or even execution, if possible. Thank you so much! @boxedbutterfly

Train Rides Change Everything by Seriana (E, 508k, WangXian, NHS/WX, JC/NMJ, JYL/LXC, A/B/O, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Abusive Jiang Family, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slut Shaming,bFluff and Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Feelings,bAbusive YZY, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Beta JC, Omega JYL, Modern, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Beta NHS, WC Being an Asshole, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Forced Marriage, First Time, Forced Bitching, Alpha WX, Minor Character Death, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, drug overdose, Sexual Tension, Omega JC) It's a bit of a beast but ooo the pay off is worth it imo

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

Reclamation by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (M, 6k, Major Character Death, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence, Angst, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WQ is understandably angry, WQ gets some revengeas a treat)

Symmetryby Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, One-Sided JC/WWX, One-Sided JC/LSZ, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by WWX, WWX still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 34k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn’t a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 260k, HuaLIan, WangXian, WIP, TGCF Crossover, Jiang Family Bashing, Madam Lan Lives, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Overprotective Hualian as parents, WWX is good at feelings, WWX knows self preservation and self love, WWX NHS and JZX are friends, JC Bashing, No Golden Core Transfer, Canon Divergence, Ghosts and Gods are wrapped around WWX's fingers, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, WWX is kinda sickly, WWX is not named Wuxian, HuaLian Adopt WWX, WWX has selective mutism, PM is the uncle that teaches you how to flirt, Grandfather JW, MNQ is the grandmother then?, SQX is the aunt/uncle that spoils WWX, all of them spoils him actually, Creepy JFM, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, HUA YING DOES NOT GET RAPED!, Can't say the same for some unwanted...people, DLDR, This starts of mild and fluffy though) If the requester doesn't mind a crossover with TGCF, then Hua Xianle also works.

~*~

16. Itmf canon era wedding fics. Wedding fics with proper wedding with traditions and wedding rituals and the 100s of relatives. I ask the relatives because my country's tradition is fairly similar to Chinese traditions and well, different relatives with different roles for the wedding rituals is kind of a given thing. So hope for a wedding fic like that please!

I'm not sure if these are quite what the requester was looking for but maybe: With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for) by yiqie (M, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wedding fic, Psychological Trauma, Empathy)

A Lifetime of It (Please, and Thank You) by misscam (M, 5k, WangXian, Wedding, a mix of series and novel, Humor, Fluff, Angst, some naughtiness, Switching)

~*~

17. In that same vein, I would love stories recs similar to Aftermath by KouriArashi. Where Jiang Yanli kills to protect her family, quietly and unassuming, in the background, if possible. @marietsy40-blog

A Bell That Tells Us to Rise and Fight by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (T, 120k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Needs A Hug, Women Being Awesome, BAMF Women, Minor Character Death)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[talk-danmei-to-me]

♡ Welcome to the #Danmei Fanfic Nightclub! ♡

A place where rather than going to the club, we bring the club to us and write fanfic. Every Friday.

At the Danmei Fanfic Nightclub, writers are treated like DJs, you can go into their ask box, request a fic based upon their menu and get a drabble in return. In the spirit of a Friday free for all, you can drop an ask at any time.

Please be aware some writers may take longer to respond than others and that timezones may affect how quickly your prompt is filled. Some of us love a walk of shame fanfic 😉

Writer's menus below the cut. Happy reading!

@talk-danmei-to-me

Ships: Ranwan, Ximang, Chengxian

Fic Requests: Smut, AUs, Angst

Will not write: I'll write pretty much anything apart from female versions of characters and any kind of being domestic with babies within omegaverse. Omegaverse itself is fine though. I like the world building.

Ask me about: Kingmaker, Body in the Abyss, Heart in Paradise, The Space Between

@petitechocopie

Pairings: WangXian, RanWan, HuaLian, TianWang, YanShen, XuanXian

Fic Requests: School Day AUs, General AUs, Smut, Slice of Life, Angst, Fluff

Will Not Write: BingQiu (I never read SVSS)

@sunbunnyyy

Ships: wangxian, nieyao, nielan, 3zun, zhuiling

fic requests: anything really!

will not write: character bashing (?) classical mpreg. i don’t really have hard limits at this point that might change later.

@sleepyssnail

Ships: Any Svsss, Mdzs or Guardian pairing

Fic Requests: AUs, hurt/comfort, fluff, humor, canon divergence, inquire for more!

Will not write: - smut (may change in the future, but not right now), kinks, non con, or dehumanization

@isolapyrena

Ships: I'll have a go at any 2ha, Yuwu, SVSSS or TGCF but my favourite characters for having their own new stories are Mei Hanxue, Liu Qingge and Feng Xin and I have no problem in solving romantic lost causes with threesomes.

Fic Requests: anything within reason. I like fix its best.

Will not write: - Anything tasteless. Not intentionally anyway.

@yiling-laozu-is-loml

Ships: I'll happily write: Wangxian, Mingxian, Xixian, Hanxian (wrh/wwx), Sangxian, Songxiao, Xisang (lxc/nhs), Huaxian (hc/wwx), Hexian (hx/wwx), Junlian

Can write: platonic dynamics like junior trio/quartet, Wen siblings + Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian, Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian, etc, feel free to ask and maybe I CAN write them. Other than that, any bottomxian m/m ships are those I am more inclined to write compared to others (romantic) including Chengxian

Won't write: f/m ships like romantic Wen Qing/Wei Wuxian, Mianmian/Wei Wuxian, etc, polyamorous couples, Wei Wuxian/cql original character

Fic Requests: Humour, banter, AUs, Angst, Major Character Death/last moments/mourning, fluff, parent-child relationship (not necessarily parent...like wwx and juniors type), idiots in love, canon compliant (no cql sorry, only novel/donghua canon)

Will not write: smut (unless i feel confident enough and in that case, switchxian or topxian), infidelity, animal death, miscarriage/child death, polyamory, F/M...i think thats it. Oh and anything with cql elements or jiang clan/jiang cheng positive (unless its chengxian)

@etherealiity

Ships: Ranwan, Bingqiu, Bingjiu, Jiuyuan, Tianjiu, Moshang, Wangxian, xiyao, 3zun, xuexiao, xueyao, sangcheng, cezhou, TYK, wenzhou

Fic Requests: Canonverse, AUs, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, comedy, horror

Will not write: - anything like bathroom kinks (watersports, scat play, etc.) or mpreg

Ask me about: trembling before the machinery of other skeletons

@scholomancefan

Pairings: Any Svsss pairing

Fic Requests: comedy, angst, smut

Will not write: fluff unless it's kidfic

@fiftysevenacademics

Ships: Wangxian

Tropes: Fluff, Angst, Crack

Will not write: Smut, High School AUs

@marloviandevil

Ships: HuaXuan, HeHuaLian, PeiFengQing, and any variation of the aforementioned ships involving either all of them or just two of them. No seriously.

Fic Requests: Smut, overall silliness, crack, fluff, fix-it, idiots in love, uncanny ghost kings, ABO. kinks (bondage, praise, worship, waxplay)

Will not write: Horror, whump, hurt without comfort, character death.

Ask me about: Feel free to ask me about the pool noodle ships, if you're brave enough.

@fixation-central

Ships: i'm writing for everything mxtx

Fic requests: i'm peddling angst, hurt no comfort, fluff, and hurt/comfort!!

Will not write: no smut currently

[blurredcolour]

Lavender's Blue, Lavender's Green

[One-shot]

Lewis Nixon x Enlisted!Female Reader

After you wind up injured in a freak accident, your relationship with Captain Nixon is forever altered.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Minor Reader Injury, Detailed Descriptions of Pain, Language, Alcohol Consumption, Weapons, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Oblique References to Nixon's Alcoholism and Infidelity, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral sex - m/f receiving, unprotected vaginal sex] - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Some liberties were taken in describing reader's family life/personal history for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 8358

-------------------------

The floorboards creaked beneath your jump boots as you followed O’Keefe into the backroom of the half-destroyed café in Thalem. You could hear the strains of a string quartet rising from the square below, and the conversation between Luz and Nixon a few rooms over. O’Keefe had shown up as a replacement during Easy’s second stay in Mourmelon-le-Grand, wide-eyed and eager to get his hands dirty. The rest of you had just been glad to make it out of Haguenau alive.

But there was something about the naïve boy that reminded you of your little brother back home, the youngest of four siblings born after you, last to join the party, the most eager to experience life when the rest of you were all jaded by the loss of your mother during his birth. Add in the fact that you too had been a replacement once, joined Easy in Aldbourne for Operation Market Garden – one of twenty-seven women selected as the first female paratroopers to join the 506th – and you had felt a certain protectiveness over the kid. Which was why you found yourself watching over him now, even in this relatively harmless town.

Another groan of wood had your eyes flicking to the floor, something about the pitch of the slats not sitting right with you, but before you could open your mouth to warn him, there was an ominous ‘crack’ beneath O’Keefe. He let out a horrific shriek as the boards beneath him began to give way and you lunged forward, snapping out your left hand to grab onto any part of him you could. Seizing him by the back of the collar of his ODs, you landed flat on your stomach with a grunt with O’Keefe dangling through the newly created hole in the floor. Your helmet tumbled from your head, bouncing off his and crashing onto the tiles below.

Your arm was aching under the strain of his body weight but as you tried to spread some of the load onto your second hand, you realized the butt of your rifle was jammed between the floor and your body, pinning your right arm against you by the strap over your shoulder. The sound of multiple sets of boots running into the room was quickly followed by several pairs of hands pressing against your calves, bracing you to keep you from following O’Keefe through the hole.

“I gotta let you go, Patty.” You grit out. “It’s not far, ok?” You assured him, able to see through the ragged gap in the wood that he was dangling only a few feet from the floor below.

His response was not what you were hoping for. “Don’t let me fall!” He cried out, looking up to you with wide, calf-like eyes. “Please don’t let me go!” He began to clutch at your arm, flailing his legs as though he wanted to climb back up.

His body swung like a pendulum, bouncing and jerking before ultimately wrenching your strained shoulder from its socket and careless words born of pain from your lips.

“Augh! Jesus Christ, you fucking meatball! It’s only two feet! Let go!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut against the blinding pain, your grip failing as your arm started to go numb.

He continued to whimper nonsensically and thrash about as heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs followed by a set of lighter ones.

“Let go of her you fucking meatball!” You heard Perconte snap at O’Keefe from below and cracked your stinging eyes open to see that Bull had seized the boy around the waist, the thrashing finally stilling before the weight of him was released from your limb as, at last, he let go of your arm.

Relief tingled through you, though did nothing to lessen the raw ache in your shoulder. Afraid to move, afraid to inhale more than tiny sips of air lest you fan the flames of pain, you laid perfectly still with your arm outstretched toward the ground below.

“What a fucking meatball.” You heard Luz giggle from behind you as he stepped forward. “Let’s get you up.” His voice grew closer as he leaned forward.

Mortifying as it was, laying there in denial was not going to make the agony end. Taking a shaky breath, you asked quietly. “George, can you go find Doc, please?” You were hoping not to arouse the suspicions of Webster, Liebgott, and Nixon who were somewhere in the room still. At least one pair of hands was still firmly gripping your calves.

“Uh, the meatball is fine, I mean Bull might tear him a new one but…” He trailed off as you turned your head slowly to look up at him, brow furrowing as lances of pain pierced your neck and shoulder. It felt as though someone were pouring boiling water down the sleeve of your uniform.

“For me, please.” You clarified, perspiration dotting your skin under the strain of masking your discomfort.

The room fell silent, whatever Liebgott and Webster had been bickering about forgotten as Luz shoved his way past them and shot out of the room. You felt the pressure against your calves ease up before Nixon was kneeling on the floor next to you, features etched with concern. “Where are you hurt?”

“Left shoulder.” You exhaled, swallowing at the way his eyes ricocheted over your prone form.

“Think you can get up for me?” He asked, his voice enticingly soft, making your heart skip a few beats as you felt suddenly willing to try anything he might ask of you so long as he kept speaking like that.

“Maybe?”

The smile he awarded you with filled your stomach with bubbling effervescence. “Good, let’s get this out of the way first.” He carefully extracted your M1 from beneath your hip before sliding it off your good shoulder, handing it off to one of the other men in the room.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he started to lift your torso from the floor, punching the air from your lungs painfully. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek viciously you did everything you could not cry out in pain. You were not the first woman in Easy to get hurt – Esther had been hit by shrapnel from a tree in Bastogne and Pearl had been shot during Dike’s disastrous assault on Foy. Both had been awarded a purple heart. You were just a girl who’d tried to hold too much weight – there would be no medal for you, so it would be best not to make a scene.

“Shit you must be in so much pain, I’m sorry.” Nixon grumbled, seemingly at a loss as to how to get your arm out of that hole and you into a more comfortable position.

Roe’s voice downstairs broke through the haze of pain, and you clenched your teeth, willing yourself to hold on a little longer as you heard him hurry up the stairs.

“You two, out.” He said firmly to Liebgott and Webster who left without comment before his hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you backwards. “Bend ya knees for me, that’s it, good job.” He spoke calmly as he worked with Nixon to lift you up into a kneeling position well away from the hole in the floor.

As your left arm drooped, your right hand quickly moved to support it in more or less the position it had been when O’Keefe’s movements had pulled it out of place. A millimetre of movement in any direction had you whimpering pathetically in the back of your throat despite your best efforts to keep the sound sealed behind your lips.

“What’s going on?” Roe asked as he knelt in front of you, taking in the way you were supporting your arm before he started to undo your ODs and then your wool shirt beneath.

“It’s my shoulder, Doc.”

He nodded as he carefully pulled open the collar to take a look, his fingers skimming along the skin of your shoulder and the strap of your undershirt. As they honed in on the hollow where your joint ought to be, you let out a yelp and nearly keeled over backward at the searing pain, grateful as Nixon pressed a hand to your lower back to keep you upright.

“Yeah it is. It’s out of joint.” Roe confirmed the sneaking suspicion you’d had.

There had been something agonizingly familiar about the whole thing, taking you back to a hot summer day when you were ten years old, riding your father’s new horse despite his explicit instructions to wait for him to be done in the field before you tried to mount it. The horse’s black coat had shone almost purple in the sunlight of the afternoon, warm to the touch as the barely broken-in animal had suffered no more than one lap around the paddock before bucking you from its back.

The force with which you had struck the ground had dislocated your left shoulder that day, and the drive into town to see the doctor had been a torturous thirty minutes during which every jolt and bump had sent pain shooting through your body. But as soon as the doctor had put it back in place, the relief had been almost immediate.

“You can put it back, right?” You asked hoping to avoid transport somewhere like this.

“Yeah, I can.” Doc smiled softly and started digging through his satchel. “Let’s get ya some morphine first, alrigh’?”

“Wait, don’t, I’ll be useless.” You said sharply. “It’s just going to hurt when you put it back in, right?”

Roe looked to you with wide eyes, hands stilling before his expression hardened a little. “It’s gonna hurt like hell when I put it back in.” He clarified firmly and you felt Nixon’s hand twitch against your back.

“And then after that I’ll be fine.” You insisted bravely.

Nixon sighed your name, and you turned your head too fast, barely stifling a cry of pain behind trembling lips.

“Maybe you should just let Doc give you the morphine.” He said gently.

“No.” You replied stubbornly despite the fact that he was a ranking officer, turning your face back to Roe more carefully this time. “Just get it over with, please.”

Roe sighed heavily at you, muttering bitterly in French. You caught a word that sounded an awful lot like ‘mule’, but before you could question him about it, he set one hand on your bicep and the other on your forearm. A noise of pain snuck past your lips unbidden, and you clamped your free hand over your mouth as he shot you a knowing look.

“Yer gonna yowl like a goddamn alley cat, take tha morphine.”

You glared up at him stubbornly until he started to move again, bending your arm at the elbow before slowly pushing your bicep in to press along at your ribs. You let out a sob of agony against your palm, aware that the murmur of conversation downstairs had faded away, but helpless to quell your involuntary reactions to Roe’s manipulations of your limb.

You felt Nixon shift at your side, watched his knee slot between yours before he carefully cupped the back of your head to guide your face to press against his neck. Your hand fell to your lap as you burrowed into the collar of his ODs, cheek pressed against his skin, the fabric of his uniform doing a much better job of muffling the sounds of pain spilling from you. His hand sought yours between your bodies, clasping your forearm, and you gripped his tightly in return as Roe turned your left arm out from your body at a ninety-degree angle before pulling downward on your bicep.

A tremendous wail wrenched from your throat with enough force that you anticipated the taste of blood before an audible ‘clunk’ sounded from your left shoulder, resonating through your torso as your joint slid home. The tension melted from your body in an instant as the pain left you, replaced by nothing more than a dull discomfort, slumping against Nixon to take a few deep breaths. Long enough to note the hint of cedar in his aftershave before you remembered yourself.

You had found Captain Nixon handsome from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him, but as he was a married officer with an English mistress you’d also gone above and beyond to steer clear of that mess. Unfortunately, it had done little to dull your body’s natural response to his presence.

Straightening quickly, you frowned to see you’d left wet patches of tear drops on his collar, releasing his hand as though it burned you to try and brush them off.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He assured you warmly and you swallowed thickly, shuffling back a little to turn to Roe.

“Thanks Doc.” You frowned to see him pulling out a sling.

“Jus’ for a few days, can’t have it slippin’ back out.” Roe muttered and unceremoniously wrapped it under your left elbow before tying it behind your neck. “I’ll let Cap’n Speirs know yer on ligh’ duties, he’ll probably send ya up ta Major Winters as a runnah.”

You let out a sigh of relief as hopefully that meant no aid station, no getting separated from the company and lost in some replacement depot. Looking down you frowned at how open the collars of your shirt and OD jacket were and began trying to reassemble yourself one-handed.

“Here.” Nixon offered softly and carefully buttoned you back up to where you usually wore your uniform before he pushed himself to his feet, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you up as well. “Ok?” He asked and you nodded, trying not to notice the way the warmth of his body seeped through your clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” You said quietly and he nodded warmly in reply.

Grabbing his things, he gestured for you to lead the way out of the room, following close behind. As you reached the main floor, Luz held out your helmet which you took with a nod of thanks, putting it on your head before retrieving your rifle from Liebgott. You could hear Perconte continuing to give O’Keefe shit outside and you frowned deeply, making a beeline for the sound of his voice.

“Hey! I’m fucking fine, knock it off.” You barked tersely before you were beckoned over by Captain Speirs.

The sound of an explosion further up the road had your eyes fluttering open, the ruined village of Thalem dissolving into the sun-drenched back of a transport truck parked on the autobahn in Bavaria just outside the SS resort town of Berchtesgaden that 2nd Battalion was supposed to be taking. You’d been sitting here for at least twenty minutes now, the road blocked by a no-doubt man made rockslide that so far had proven impervious to everything the mortar boys had thrown at it.

Just what had pulled your thoughts back to that afternoon several weeks past you couldn’t say, though it was not the first time you had found your mind wandering there during a lull in activity. In fact, it had become harder and harder to find a time when you were not thinking about Nixon, much to your chagrin. It was not good for your health, even though his impending divorce had become very public knowledge nearly two months ago.

A palpable tension had been born between the two of you that day in Thalem, something you were certain others could sense as you’d spent two weeks at Battalion HQ, running into him more often than ever before. Averted gazes, stiffened postures, cleared throats – neither of you quite knew how to behave around each other anymore when interaction had been so natural and inconsequential before. Something had been changed that day in the café and there was no going back to the way it had been previously.

Shifting higher on the wooden bench you noted a couple of the guys in your platoon were dozing in the truck with you but everyone else seemed to have emptied out to watch impatiently as though the pressure of the entire battalion’s eyes might send the rocks cascading the rest of the way down the mountainside. The scuff of jump boots on pavement pulled your attention to the rear of the vehicle and you smiled to see O’Keefe approaching.

“Hey Patty, got tired of watching the blast boys?” You smirked and offered him a hand to pull him up, swallowing at his hesitation. “Come on, I’m fine I told you.” You chided gently.

He took it carefully and allowed you to help him into the truck and that’s when you noticed his helmet tucked under his arm, filled with wildflowers of all sorts of colours. Your breath hitched in your throat as the sight smacked of summertime at home, a dart of nostalgia and longing piercing through the layers of armor you had carefully layered over your heart to make it through this war.

His eyes followed yours and he beamed as he plonked down on the bench beside you. “There’s tons of ‘em just growing alongside the road. I thought you might like some.”

Looking to him softly you took his proffered helmet, setting it in your lap as you looked them all over, picking up a particularly vibrant purple one. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” You murmured distantly, practically transported by something so simple as wildflowers.

“Do you think that one is lavender?”

A snort from the back of the truck announced Liebgott’s return and you glanced over to see him leaning against the grill of the transport parked behind yours.

“Lavender grows in France, not Bavaria.” Webster corrected O’Keefe, tucking his notebook into his pocket before hopping up to sit on the bench across from the pair of you.

“Isn’t there that song about lavender, though? Lavender’s purple, billy billy?” Perconte squeezed in beside O’Keefe, crowding his personal space.

Ignoring their usual antics, you smiled softly to yourself, hands began to move from muscle memory as plucking the longest stemmed flower you could find before carefully winding the purple flower around it, repeating the process over and over as you started to sing.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green”

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s the song!” O’Keefe declared brightly.

“Shut the fuck up, meatball.” Perconte hissed through gritted teeth, elbowing him sharply so you would keep singing.

“When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so”

Unaware that your voice was carrying across the rockface of the mountainside, you were lost in the chain of flowers you were weaving from O’Keefe’s helmet, the verses coming back to you easily after years of singing them to your younger siblings.

“Call up your men, dilly dilly, put them to work Some to the plow, dilly dilly, some to the fork Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corn While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm”

A hush fell over the valley, even the mortar team ceasing their attempts to break through. It was not the first time they’d heard you sing, you knew all the verses to ‘Blood on the Risers’ and happily shouted them along with the rest of the Company, but it was the first time you’d sung in such a feminine way before. You’d found the most expedient way to integrate into Easy was to be one of the boys, yet here you were, reminding each and every one of them that you were a woman.

“Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm’s way

I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing When I am queen, dilly dilly, you’ll be my king Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so”

As you finished the song, you curled the chain of blooms into a circle and wove it closed with several stems before turning to place it on O’Keefe’s head, blinking as it slipped down over his eyes. A chorus of harsh laughter at his expense broke out around you and you huffed in annoyance.

“Oh shoot, Patty, I put too many flowers in there, sorry about that. I’ll make you a new one.” You gently pried it off his head, setting the large crown aside before setting to work on a smaller one as the sound of a jeep could be heard coming up the road.

You’d barely put the finishing touches on the smaller crown of flowers when Speirs was ordering everyone to form up into their platoons and O’Keefe had to vanish. Mortifyingly, you found yourself standing on the pavement with both circlets clasped carefully in your hand, somehow loathe to leave them in the transport truck to be trampled but also aware that you couldn’t just carry them with you.

“Captain Nixon can look after those for you, Corporal.” Major Winters voice cut through the din of soldiers tramping back and forth to collect their gear and get ready. You turned to see him grinning at you from where he stood leaning against his jeep.

Nixon, for his part, was staring at you with an unreadable look on his face – Confusion? Bewilderment? Shock? Whatever it was it made you want to duck your head shyly, an impulse which you fought hard against as you hustled over to hold out your handmade treasures.

“Thank you very much, sir.” You murmured quietly, swallowing as he hesitated a moment before taking them gingerly, as if they were made of spun glass, while Major Winters watched on with a broad grin. “Sirs.” You saluted and hurried back to your platoon, not wanting to be the cause of any further delay, but still unable to put your finger on just what Nixon’s expression had been.

As it turned out you had quite a bit of time to puzzle it over. After securing the town without incident and cheering on the select few who made it up to the Eagle’s Nest, you ended up on a patrol under Major Winters where he discovered the ruins of Herman Goering’s hunting lodge. Left on guard duty overnight with Patty, you let him ramble on about all the things he wanted to see and do now that the war in Germany was practically over while you quietly tried to decipher the enigma that was Nixon.

Straightening from your lean against the stucco wall as you heard the sound of an engine approaching down the rather rough road, you swallowed painfully to see the man himself, posture quite relaxed as he cradled an open bottle of champagne.

“What is this place?” He asked as he climbed from the vehicle, dressed only in the wool shirt and pants of his uniform.

“Herman Goering’s house, we discovered it yesterday. Had it on double guard ever since.” Major Winters replied.

You nodded in greeting as they walked past you, though Nixon’s sunglasses made it even more impossible to interpret his mood than that last time you’d seen him.

“I can vouch for that, sir.” O’Keefe interjected quickly and you tried not to wince at his endearing awkwardness.

“Oh, anxious to get off duty, O’Keefe?” Winters taunted him.

“No, there’s just so much to see and do, sir.” The boy replied honestly, and you heard Nixon scoff under his breath as Winters unlocked the door.

“Heya meatball.” Nixon grinned in greeting as he followed Winters through the door and down the stairs and that time you really did wince.

O’Keefe looked at you hopefully and you motioned with your head for him follow them, knowing full well his curiosity must be eating him alive. Listening to the wind rustling in the trees, you sighed quietly, soaking in the peace of the moment before Winters made his way back up the stairs with O’Keefe, the boy yanking you into a hug.

“Victory in Europe! The Germans surrendered!” He crowed and you stared at him, stunned speechless for a moment before you hugged him back.

Major Winters chuckled behind him before nodding to you in confirmation, making you realize the bewildered expression that must have been on your face. You pulled back to slap O’Keefe on the shoulder with a grin.

“Gotta go get the others, there is so much booze down there!” He was vibrating with excitement.

Glancing over your shoulder towards the stairs you raised your eyebrows curiously.

“Go take a look, Corporal.” Winters nodded encouragingly before climbing into his jeep with O’Keefe and pulling out.

Hitching your rifle higher on your shoulder you carefully made your way down the stairs, mind still swirling with the news, fingertips buzzing with an odd energy you weren’t quite certain what to do with. As you stepped through the open gate into the expansive wine cellar, stocked from floor to ceiling, your eyes widened, trying to take it all in.

“What’s your favorite drink?” Nixon’s question interrupted your moment of shock, and you looked over to where he stood amid countless bottles of a richly colored red wine.

“Gin.” You replied walking further into the space, sliding your helmet from your head as he made a thoughtful noise in reply before beginning to hunt through row on row of bottles. You unshouldered your rifle to set the butt on the floor, leaning the barrel against a stack of crates before setting your helmet on top of them.

Gnawing on your lip you turned back to admire the intensity with which Nixon approached his task before a small cry of triumph escaped his lips and he pulled a green bottle from the corner, holding it out to you as he approached like the conquering hero. You could not stop the grin that tugged at your lips as you took it from him, looking over the unfamiliar label.

“Genever, from Holland. The precursor to gin. It should do.” He nodded with a self-satisfied smile.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon.” You replied warmly, doubting you’d need a whole bottle to yourself but still appreciating the gesture as you slid it into the jacket pocket of your ODs.

“Can you do me a favor?” He tilted his head.

“Sir?” You stood a little straighter.

“Call me Lewis.” He requested softly, his rich brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light of the cellar.

Swallowing roughly, your heart began to beat a little faster at the intimacy of his request as your mind flitted back to his earlier arrival.

“Only if you’ll do something in return?” You asked slowly.

“What’s that?” He leaned in, the sweetness of champagne still lingering on his breath.

“Can you stop calling O’Keefe ‘meatball’?” You tensed in anticipation of his reaction, your heart plummeting through the concrete floor when he recoiled as if you’d struck him. Guilt bloomed bitterly in your chest, a new crop to go alongside the one you had planted that day in Thalem. “Every time someone says it, I’m reminded of the worst thing I ever said to him.” You rushed to explain your request, cautiously optimistic as his gaze slowly returned to your face. “It…wasn’t his fault he panicked. I never should have spoken to him that way.”

Nixon’s brows furrowed a moment in consideration of your request. “You really care for the kid, don’t you.” He sounded resigned and you found yourself blinking at him stupidly as he made his way back over to continue perusing the shelves.

Slowly, your brain began to process the slump of his shoulders, the forced nonchalance as he examined various labels and added choice bottles to a wooden crate at his feet.

Could he possibly be… No, that seemed utterly improbable… and yet…

All that aside, it seemed as though it could not hurt to clarify your relationship with O’Keefe. “Reminds me of my kid brother, sir.”

Nixon raised his head slowly, turning back to look at you. “Like a brother…” He said thoughtfully and you bobbed your head in agreement. “Well, I suppose I can stop in that case then.” He smirked and you exhaled with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at you expectantly.

“Thank you very much, Lewis.” You amended, pressing your lips together as they hummed in pleasure at forming his name.

Lewis’s lips stretched into a lopsided grin as he eyed you warmly for a few moments before turning back to the task at hand, filling the crate and adding it to a growing stack by the entrance before grabbing another one to repeat the process. Shaking your head, you perched a hip onto one of the tables behind you, eyes scanning the room, reflecting on its previous owner, surprised at the sudden tightness in your throat as you remembered the fresh news of the German surrender. Clearly it was going to take some time to sink in, and frequent reminders, but the tears that were threatening to well in your eyes needed to be quashed until you could find a quiet place to unleash them as silently as possible.

Partly out of a desire to simply say his name again, and largely out of a need to distract yourself from the rising tide of your own emotions, you called out to him softly again. “Hey Lewis?”

“Hmmm?” He replied and you found yourself taking far too much pleasure in how quickly he turned back to you.

“I, uh, I was sorry to hear about your dog.” You said meaningfully, that tightness in your throat returning with a vengeance when an unveiled look of fragility overtook his features.

For the first time in nearly a month you were utterly convinced of how Lewis was feeling and more than anything you thought the man was in dire need of a hug. Before your brain even registered you were moving, your feet propelled you across the floor to wrap around arms around him, pulling him close. Almost immediately his arms slid around you tightly in return, one hand clinging to your shoulder as the other pressed some unknown bottle into your lower back, his face burrowing into your neck.

Tightening your embrace, you held him warmly, almost a mirror image of how he had held you in Thalem. You were completely oblivious to the traitorous tears that had snuck down your cheeks until Lewis was pulling back, setting the bottle of liquor aside to cradle your jaw and swipe at them with his thumbs.

“It’s a hell of a dog, but not worth you crying over.” He teased gently and you rolled your eyes, mostly in frustration at yourself, shaking your head as you sniffed.

“Is this…really all over?” You whispered in disbelief, and he pressed his forehead to yours gently as he nodded.

“We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harms way.” He uttered and you let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying your face into his shoulder as he pulled you tightly against him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, unable to stop the flood of tears now that they had snuck past your defences, each shake of your frame somehow causing Lewis to hold you tighter as though he might prevent you from crumbling to pieces. The bottle of genever pressed between your bodies almost painfully, digging into your hip, giving you something tangible to focus on as you reined in your shuddering breaths, lifting your head slowly.

“God, I got your uniform all wet again.” You said, voice thick with the aftereffects of your breakdown and he shook his head as you wiped at his collar with your sleeve.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He repeated his assurance from the café with a smirk, and you gave him a watery laugh, wiping at your face roughly.

“Trooper, is that a bottle of Dutch-gin in your pocket or…” He grinned deviously and your jaw dropped before you smacked his shoulder playfully as a peal of laughter escaped your lips.

You shuffled back to put a proper amount of space between your bodies though you noted his one hand remained splayed upon your back. The one that had previously been at nape of your neck dropped to retrieve the bottle from your pocket. “If anyone is in need of a celebratory drink, it’s definitely you.” He murmured gently.

He tilted it towards you, and you reached forward to tug at the red ribbon as he held the bottle steady, breaking the wax seal over the cork. You let the debris fall to the ground before unsealing the cork with a promising ‘pop.’ You scoffed in playful protest as Lewis helped himself to first sip before setting the genever in your outstretched hand. Taking a swig, you blinked at the complexity of it compared to the dry gin you were accustomed to in England or back home. It burned its way down your throat into your empty stomach, igniting a warm glow from within.

A few rogue droplets had been left on your lips, but before you had the chance to swipe your tongue out to collect them, Lewis’s fingertips were tracing along the sensitive flesh. Your breath caught in your throat at the way his eyes were focused on your mouth as he worked at gathering every bit of liquid whilst also tracing the fullness of your lips before lifting his fingertips to suck them clean. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, Lewis’s proximity, and the way his eyes were now boring into yours, you swallowed tightly as his hand pressed tighter to your back, pulling you closer once more. His lips had barely brushed against yours when a host of voices sounded at the top of the staircase.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He swore against your mouth before you darted back out of his grip, chest heaving as you shoved the cork into the bottle of genever and returned it to your pocket forcefully. You quickly began to look for something to be doing with yourself.

“I’ll start loading these into the jeep, Captain?” You asked, voice tight as a bow string and all he managed in response was a dazed nod as you quickly scooped up one of the crates filled with his choice of bottles, nodding to the newest crop of arrivals on your way up the staircase.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you set the crate into the back of the jeep Winters had left for you and O’Keefe during guard duty, trying to take deep breaths of fresh air to clear your head. Christ that had been close…close to being caught…close to kissing Lewis…You sunk your teeth into your lower lip trying to smother the broad grin that threatened to unfurl on your features. There were far too many people about now to be grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Fishing your canteen from your webbing, you took a deep sip of water before smoothing your hands over your uniform and, feeling somewhat collected, returned to the cellar to move more crates.

Lewis seemed to have regained control of his senses, not that you dared to look at him, but his directions rang out through the cellar to load most of the wine into the trucks that men has just arrived with for the enjoyment of the officers while you continued carting his personal stash up the stairs until the jeep was full to bursting. All in all, he claimed five truckloads for himself and the officers of 2nd battalion. You rode backwards in the jeep, doing your best to stabilize the crates over the rough track back into town, doing your utmost to ignore his proximity in the vehicle.

A very warm welcome awaited your return to the lavish hotel where the officers were billeted, and many hands made short work of unloading all those trucks so they might make another trip for the rest of the men. By the time you’d made your way to Lewis’s room with the last of his crates, there was barely space to move for all the alcohol stashed within. No more than a small walking path from the door to the bed, if you were being honest.

“This is the last of it, sir.” You said as you looked around for a spot to put it and he looked to you sharply.

“We talked about this…” He teased, shuffling forward to grab it from you, hoisting it over to another corner of the room but you barely heard him as your eyes fell onto the two flower crowns sitting on the window ledge beside the bed.

“You kept them?” You breathed in amazement.

He looked to you before following your gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was told to look after them for you.”

Picking your way across the floor carefully, you knelt on the bed with your boots hanging off the edge behind you, smiling softly to see they were a little dried out but truly no worse for wear. “You did an excellent job of it, Lewis.” You barely whispered his name aware the door was still open.

Setting your rifle on the floor at the foot of the bed, you put your helmet on the ledge before picking up the larger crown, rolling onto your hip and then onto your butt on the mattress in time to see him closing the door. “I’d bet money this fits you.” You smiled softly.

“Save your money, I already know.” He grinned, ducking down beneath the circlet of flowers before straightening with it perched atop his dark hair.

Your eyes widened in delight. “It fits perfectly.” Your fingers gently straightened it, unable to ignore the softness of his chocolate strands at they brushed against your fingers.

Lewis’s gaze flicked to your lips briefly before looking back to your eyes and you took a slow breath before trailing your hands down to frame his face, enjoying the slight scratch of his stubble against your palms. “Lewis…” You exhaled, and he surged forward to seal his lips against yours firmly.

He settled onto his knees before you, hands gripping your waist as you parted your legs and dropped a hand to his back to urge him closer. Needing no further invitation, he scooted forward, pressing against you as his tongue licked its way into your mouth. You weren’t quite sure who started it, but your fingers were a flurry of activity, pulling at the buttons of each others’ uniforms. All he managed to reveal was the wool shirt you wore underneath, your webbing dangling limply from your shoulders, while you found his bare chest. Growing impatient, Lewis tugged your shirt and undershirt free of your pants and ODs until he was able to slide his hand against the soft skin of your abdomen, making your lips fall back from his with a whimper.

“Damn it why are you wearing so many clothes…” He growled and you pressed your face against his hair to smother your laugh, knocking the flower crown askew.

“Some of us were on duty today.” You muttered back, nipping at the shell of his ear before pushing his shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands skate along his back.

Leaning forward, he pushed you back into the mattress, nipping and sucking his way along your jaw before he methodically began to remove your layers of clothing and webbing, starting with a ruthless tugging on your boot laces, until you were left in your army issue brassiere and underwear. To say that they left a lot to be desired in terms of style was an understatement, but the reverence in his gaze as his eyes raked over his hard-won reward soothed your ego somewhat. Plucking the crown from his head, you tossed it gently onto the windowsill before hugging his hips with your knees and rolling him onto his back intent on returning the favour, your dog tags jangling against his in a metallic collision.

As you tried to slide down to reach the laces of his boots, however, he grunted in denial, hauling you in for a hungry kiss as he pulled your pelvis snug against his, making you inhale sharply through your nose at the feel of his hard length against you. “Gotta get your pants off, Lew.” You tried to speak but he kept interrupting you with brushes of his lips or darts of his tongue into your mouth. Huffing slightly, you rocked forward against him firmly, making yourself shudder, but you managed to get his attention as his head fell back, eyes staring up at you half-lidded, jaw slack in a silent moan. “Gonna start with your boots and then I’m gonna get your pants off.”

“And then you’ll do that again…” He breathed and you nodded licking your lips as he released your hips.

You were admittedly not nearly as efficient as him, fingers made clumsy with want, but through persistence you prevailed in removing his boots, pants, and boxers, adding them to the scattered heap of clothing on the small patch of floor. Skimming your hands up his bare legs you revelled in the way he trembled slightly, sitting up to watch you impatiently as you made your way up from the floor. Halting your progress a moment, you ducked your head to lick a warm, wet stripe along the needy length of his cock where it stood proud against his lower abdomen, drawing a shaky cry of your name from his lips that convinced you to linger between his thighs a little longer.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you swirled your tongue around the tip before slowly sliding his length into your mouth, watching his cheeks flush and eyes flutter close as he wrenched at the bedding violently.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” He panted, his abdominal muscles flexing erratically.

Smile curling around him, you dragged your lips up his length only to sink your mouth back down onto him, covering the last bit you couldn’t manage with your fist, allowing your saliva to run freely.

“Christ you’re good at that.” There was the edge of a whine to his voice and suddenly he was pulling your mouth from him, chest heaving. “Keep that up and this’ll be over before it begins…” He muttered and sat up, gripping your hips to guide you onto the bed properly.

His lips latched onto nipple through the thin cotton of your bra before you could open your mouth to apologize, making your hips buck up against his stomach greedily as your fingers delved into his hair. Pulling the cup down he laved his tongue along the sensitive peak, before shifting his attentions to its partner, your soft sighs of pleasure filling the room. Sliding his hands to your back, he guided you up to sit before making quick work of the hook and eye closure between your shoulder blades, tossing your bra aside onto a crate of liquor before pressing you back down into the mattress with a kiss to your sternum, just above where your dog tags rested against your bare skin.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them over your hips and down your legs before they too were unceremoniously tossed aside. “Goddamn sweetheart you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your knee before he hooked it over his shoulder as he came to rest on his stomach between your legs.

“Lew I…” You started to protest, embarrassed about the fact that you hadn’t seen a shower in a few days, but the words died on your lips as his fingers ran through your slick folds.

“You’re so wet, did I make you this wet?” He murmured in awe, and you nodded slowly, his answering grin almost blinding in its intensity. “Well, best not let it go to waste.” Lewis winked before sealing his mouth over your core, sucking the very breath from your lungs as his tongue delved hungrily to find your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Throwing your arm over your mouth, you smothered a harsh curse of delight into the crook of your elbow as he slung his forearm across your hips to pin them down so he might better intensify the level of pleasure he was dealing you as his tongue plunged into your heat. His nose took over the stimulation of your clit, while the stubble on his cheeks and jaw made your inner thighs tremble. The sounds he was making between your legs were positively lewd and only heightened the swirling headiness that wrapped around you. You clung to his hair as he began to suck on your clit, making you see stars behind your clenched eyelids, every exhale an eager moan or keen smothered against your skin.

Lewis’s hand slid up along your side to cup your breast, his fingers shifting to pinch and roll at your nipple, vaulting you over the edge as you rambled his name over and over. The tension of ecstasy slowly ebbed from your body, and he lifted his head with a broad grin, swiping at his upper lip with his thumb before sucking it clean. “Someday I’m gonna do that somewhere so remote you can scream at the top of your lungs.” He nuzzled your hair, pressing his lips to your ear as you laughed breathlessly.

“You sound so certain…” You teased, but he merely raised an eyebrow in response, his palm cupping your still-sensitive core, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“I am, yes. Certain that I can make you cum with my hands, my mouth, my cock. Certain that I’d like the opportunity to do so again and again…” You forced your eyes open to look over his features slowly.

“Yeah?” You exhaled, not quite sure what you had been expecting when you fell into bed with him, just knowing it was what you had wanted above all else in that moment.

“Yeah, sweetheart, until you’re sick of me.” He kissed you gently, the salty tang of your release still on his lips.

Gripping the back of his head, you returned the kiss hungrily, shifting your hips to rock up against his length, swallowing his ragged moan as you finally fulfilled your promise to repeat that motion. “Show me.” You whispered, aching to feel him inside you.

Lewis exhaled hotly against your lips before shifting his hips back, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before he rocked forward to slowly sink into you. He sealed his mouth over yours almost painfully as you whimpered hungrily, his own rumble of pleasure reverberating through your chest. His head fell to rest against your collarbone, his breath caressing your skin once he was fully seated inside you, unmoving.

“Lew…” You whimpered softly, digging your fingers into his shoulders, writhing against him slightly.

“I know, sweetheart just…fuck you’ll be my undoing…” He whispered before he kissed you fiercely, pulling his hips back only to thrust forward once more, earning a moan of delight from you.

Your bodies began the push and pull of carnal pleasure, moving in tandem as though this were your hundredth coupling rather than your first. Grasping your knee, Lewis hiked it higher on his hip, angling his thrusts deeper into your willing body, making you toss your head to the side as you clenched your jaw against the desire to wail in delight.

“Wish I could…hear you so fucking badly…” He grit out before grasping your chin and turning your face back so he could press his mouth to yours as he rut against you firmly, his pubic bone grinding against your clit deliciously.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, the vicious undertow nearly obliterating your ability to think as Lewis quickly pulled out from your convulsing warmth to release across your abdomen with an agonized groan that was admittedly less than concealed before he collapsed onto the bed at your side. The pair of you lay there, speechless, covered in a sheen of sweat, chests heaving with frantic breaths before he shifted to feather soft kisses along the side of your face, reaching for a weathered scrap of green cloth that served as an army handkerchief to wipe your skin clean.

The ferocious growl your stomach emitted in the relative silence of the room had you tense as Lewis cracked up. “Sweetheart when was the last time you ate?”

“Oh, Christ I don’t know…” You muttered, covering your face with both hands in mortification.

Laughing richly, he kissed your knuckles before forcing himself up. “Alright, ok. Food. I’m going to find you some food. And then I’m going to spend the rest of this night right here in this bed with you, so don’t you go anywhere.” He looked down at you with playful seriousness as he stepped into the pants of your ODs, ruining the effect. “Shit.” He muttered.

Giggling into your palm, you shook your head before sighing as you pulled the blankets over your bare skin, feeling the chill of the mountain air now that he’d taken his body heat away from you. “Hey Lew?”

He looked to you quickly, nearly dressed – in his own clothes this time. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled warmly, the stretch of your lips only widened by the grin of glee he directed at you before climbing back into bed to kiss you warmly. Your poor, empty digestive system growled insistently, and he huffed against your lips.

“Alright, fine…I’ll be back with food.” Lewis kissed your cheek before sliding into his jump boots and stepping out with his laces untied in search of sustenance for you both, fully intent on not making another public appearance until the next morning.

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @fuckoffthanos

[raayllum]

unexpected season win for the sorpeli shippers let me tell you

[bignarfworld]

Since some of you guys we're having a ball with the "Shintaro makes the kagepro music canon" i decided to give more examples of songs that he made and what inspired him

Hibiya tells him about his experience in a time loop himself, Shintaro really sympathized with him and made Kagerou Daze based on what Hibiya told him

Konoha's State of the World is based on the few things Haruka could remember while trapped in the daze and looking at things through Konoha's eyes (Shintaro misses Konoha too, not as much as Hibiya but he still does)

Jinzou Enemy is one of the hardest ones he had to do, but he felt like he needed to make it, he wants to put into words and tell Takane what he did to her in one of the routes (Route XX) because he earnestly believes she deserves to know his failures. So he writes a song in Ene's perspective and how she ended

Children Record is the one he had a blast doing because he has immense respect for the Mekakushi Dan and he wanted to make something in homage to the gang

After a heart to heart with Marry where he tells her he misses his father sometimes and Marry reciprocates by telling him how much she misses her mother, he writes Gunjou Rain and ACTUALLY sings and plays it to her with a guitar on a day where she's feeling really down and longs for Shion (and it's raining). She BAWLED her eyes out not just from the raw emotion but also because it was INSANELY GOOD and it's one of the few moments where Shintaro grows some balls and goes his way to comfort one of his friends. He taught Seto the lyrics and he sings it as a lullaby for Marry once in a while

At some point he kinda opens up a bit about his music to his closer friends (namely Ayano, Takane, Haruka and Seto) and they're all in shock at how absurdly talented Shintaro is as a composer, singer, lyricist, producer and etc. and they're mesmerized with how much heart he puts into each song as his way of showing affection to the people close to him. He makes Additional Memory alongside Ayano (she came up with the lyrics)

Shissou Word was made as a gift for Kido, but he never let her saw it because he thought the other members of the mekadan would find him weird for, you know, writing songs out of their past. Yuukei Quartet makes up his mind and he ends up playing to her eventually (she loved it)

Remind Blue kinda comes out after he puts together what he knows from the mekadan's members backstories into a song

Summertime Record is where he puts his entire heart and soul and sweat into a song, he wanted to write a song that sounded like a happy ending to the mekadan AND Haruka in specific. He loves the guy, he's one of his best friends, and he wanted to write something that made him feel comtemplated and praise him for enduring so much. It's the last song he goes his way to actually sing to someone else (in this case Haruka), Shintaro couldn't help but tear up through the whole song, but it was the "Remember, it's all over. Our secret base, our adventure..."/The story of getting lost in that day part that made his voice crack while singing, barely holding it together while singing to him and not crying

Just like i said in the previous one: the thing with Shintaro is that he sucks with trying to be direct with his emotions so he makes music to express how much he apreciates his friends even if he's blunt and and asshole sometimes (once Shintaro Kisaragi, always Shintaro Kisaragi)

[raayllum]

"No guts, no glory."

That had been the mindset of most of the Earthblood elves growing up around him, not far from the Drakeriders. His people had been farmers more than hunters, but it made Terry wonder sometimes, with their ability to ask plants for their aid, why they didn't forgo meat entirely.

But then, the Drakeriders probably wouldn't have liked that very much.

"The army has a similar saying," Corvus reveals to him one night, as they lie in bed. Corvus snorts. "Or at least Amaya does." Rain falls outside their tiny home, staining the window, but the hearth is warm.

It's simple out here, by the border. Lots of trees and very little politics, though he sometimes still gets stares for being an elf. The rain will be good for their garden.

Terry takes his hand, interlocking their fingers. "And you?" he prods. He thinks of how many times he'd seen blood stain Claudia's fingers, guts spilling from the body of whatever recent thing she'd killed. How many times he'd helped her. The sick, twisted noise of surprise when he'd killed the Skywing mage—

Corvus folds his fingers over his, locking in tight. Corvus had left the court and castle behind, just as Terry had left the bloodshed. The magic. His boyfriend leans up and kisses him on the forehead, Terry sighing under the gentle tenderness.

"Who needs glory?" Corvus murmurs, before kissing him.

The fire crackles in the hearth; the rain falls. Life goes blissfully, quietly, on.

Corvus / Terry

No Guts, No Glory

[peachessndreamss]

Private Bennett's Lover - Part 1

Summery : When Tom sneaks into a party he's not been invited too he meets the wife of the Vice Admiral of the Fleet and starts on a path that can only end in heartbreak.

Characters : Tom Bennett x Married!Female OC Mrs Randall

Warnings : Canon typical language

Word count : 5K

A/N : I cannot tell you how long I've been working on this and how unfinished it still is. But I wanted to share at least some of it, ideally this will be a three part series so watch this space! Much Love to @a-fall-of-stars who knew this story when all I had was an idea and a screenshot of a gif set

Series Masterlist l peachessndreamss Masterlist

Through the tiny crack in the barely open office door it couldn’t have been more obvious that Tom Bennett was completely and utterly out of his comfort zone, and Tom was the sort of person who prided himself on being able to be comfortable just about anywhere. But the view this evening had sweat gathering at his hairline and under his collar and had created an uncomfortable burning sensation in his throat, but he didn’t dare try to clear it for fear of being caught. 

When Private Bennett had seen the line of large and shiny cars rolling past the barracks towards The Big House his interest had been piqued and when a fellow private explained the Vice Admiral enjoyed throwing lavish parties in the house, despite there being a war on, Tom felt his feet itching and his mind ticking and before he knew it he was crossing the dark expanse of the lawns toward The Big House and slipping inside through a window with a broken lock. 

Once inside he’d crept through the darkened passages toward the sounds of music, clinking glasses and the rumble of polite conversation. The house was, by a mile, the grandest home Tom had ever been in. The carpet on the floor was so thick he’d felt his shoes sink into it as he walked, every wall was hung with paintings, endless landscapes and portraits watched Tom as he moved between the shadows, being drawn toward the party that was taking place in the ballroom. 

Tom found an open door along a quiet corridor that led into the Vice Admiral’s study, the room was richly furnished, the walls covered with bookshelves and the space dominated by a desk Tom was fairly certain was bigger than his childhood bedroom. 

Tom cracked the second door to the study which opened to the house's main hallway and gave him a view of the party while remaining unnoticed by anyone else. He watched for more than half an hour as the party carried on, the champagne was flowing freely as the guests talked in small groups or dipped in and out of the ballroom. Tom could only see a small portion of the ballroom but was able to catch sight of couples dancing to the music of a quartet. 

Tom had been to a fair number of parties and dances in his life but this was something else, like something from another world or a bygone era. In the village, only a mile away, he knew people would be going to bed hungry and in the barracks just over the crest of the hill, young men were waiting for orders that might end their lives but in The Big House none of that was real and the only thing that mattered was a full glass of champagne. 

Tom could feel his skin starting to prickle with anger when the door behind him creaked open and the room was briefly filled with light. He whipped around, his eyes wide and his mouth dry, his heart thundering as he stared like a cornered animal, finding himself no longer alone. 

Mrs Randall had expected to find her husband's, the Vice Admiral of the Fleet’s, office empty. In truth, she was hoping to find it empty, she wanted to find a quiet and dark space in which to gather herself and take a much needed rest from the party taking place in her home. 

However the study wasn’t empty and an icy chill ran down her spine as her eyes met those of the stranger’s. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a horse whisper. 

She stared at the man, too frightened to take her eyes away from his face. If she screamed she knew she’d have help before the stranger would have a chance to cross the room to do her any harm but the thought of screaming was far from her mind as she saw her own fear reflected on his face. 

When he didn’t reply she straightened her back a little and spoke in the voice she’d been trained to use on badly behaved staff members.  

“Why are you in my study?” she demanded. 

Tom couldn’t help his face breaking into a grin when he’d seen the woman stand up a little straighter and use a harsher voice on him. He realised he wasn’t in immediate danger of being discovered by anyone that scared him so he decided to fall back on his charm to ensure he got out of the house with minimal trouble. 

“Jus’ wanted to see ‘ow the other ‘alf live,” he replied with a shrug, playing up his northern accent which was in complete contrast to her own voice. 

She scoffed quietly before she moved further into the room and flicked on a small desk lamp. 

“Have you come from the barracks?” she asked. 

The electric light was dim but golden and the room suddenly glowed, the light bouncing off the brass fixtures and the highly polished dark wood furniture. The man stood on the edge of the pool of light but it still caught his features, revealing a sharp chin and soft lips. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief and his golden hair glinted in the light. 

“How did you get in here?” she asked when he remained silent. 

He shrugged again and moved his head from side to side, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on the woman. 

“Broken lock,” he admitted before pausing briefly, “window on the east side, three from the kitchen door,”. 

She nodded, the two of them still not taking their eyes from each other. They were like two nervous animals, not willing to look away out of fear and out of interest. Tom let his eyes flick up and down her body.  

The long gown she’d worn was nothing like he'd ever seen before. He'd seen his fair share of girls in and out of their best frocks at the dances he used to attend back home but she was something else. He might have mistaken her for royalty, there was a small jewelled tiara on her head after all. Other jewels sparkled at her neck and wrists and the fabric of her dress caught and reflected the light right back at him. 

“Well, thank you for letting me know,” she replied softly, “But perhaps it's best you go back now."

Tom's eyebrow quirked upwards, surprised by her quickly she'd gotten control of herself and retained a cool head and calm demeanour. 

Tom would have guessed that before she’d been married she’d never been alone with a man, and could probably count on one hand the amount of times since, if she were scared you gave no outward indication. 

“Or I could stay a while, we could ‘ave a chat?” He offered with an upward quirk of his lips. 

She gave a quiet laugh and a small shake of her head before stepping further into the room, closer to where Tom was standing by the main study doors. She could hear the music from the ballroom and the soft, lilting laughter of feminine voices. 

"And what would we talk about?” she asked. 

He shrugged again. 

“Perhaps we should start with introductions? Name and that?” 

She smiled and gave him her first name before adding “Mrs Randall, the Vice Admiral's wife,”  she stepped forward offering her hand out to him to shake. 

Tom nodded and took the proffered hand, instead of shaking it he brought it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to it. 

“Private Tom Bennett,” he said, “Pleasure to meet you,” his lips still almost brushing the soft, warm back of her hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you Private Bennett,” she replied, pulling her hand out of his grip. The place his lips had touched her skin felt burnt, like if she looked at it, she’d still see the shape of his kiss marking the skin. 

“Please Mrs Randall, call me Tom,” he smirked, “All my friends do."

“Then please, let us both use our first names, like friends,” she replied.

“Not “my lady” or anything like that?” He teased with a smile. 

“Certainly not, I'm not a Lady." She said with a firm shake of her head. The movement caused the diamonds sitting in her hair to flash and sparkle as they caught the soft light. 

Tom ran his tongue over his bottom lip and he took in her appearance again. At a glance she would have easily been mistaken for royalty and wouldn't have looked out of place in Buckingham Palace. 

“So, how come you're hiding in the study rather than out there?” He asked. 

“I needed a moment alone,” she replied, touching her cool hand to her flushed cheeks and forehead, “There’s only some much champagne and small talk I can take." 

“Well please accept my apologies. For both disturbing your peace and for the hard times you find yourself suffering through,” he replied dryly with a roll of his eyes, watching as her whole body stiffened and her eyes narrowed on him. 

“Apology noted,” her voice was icy. 

Tom chuckled and shook his head, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and a lighter. 

“May I?” He asked. 

“Only if you share,” she replied, the ice appearing to have melted from her tone, she stepped closer again to take a cigarette from the packet he held out. 

She placed the unlit cigarette into her mouth and Tom flicked the lighter on, touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette while she breathed in. Her husband considered women smoking to be offensive and unbecoming, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

She took a drag as Tom lit his own cigarette. Her husband smoked cigars in his study so the smell would go unnoticed and there was an ashtray at hand.

“I've seen you, you know,” she said, flicking ash in the general direction of the ashtray, “The assault course you boys run, it runs along the garden wall and from my dressing room I can see everything." 

Tom opened his mouth to speak but she continued, looking between the burning tip of the cigarette and the man in front of her. 

“You know some Privates bring girls for the village round there? There's a little shady spot just a few meters back from the path I've seen them disappearing into,” her eyes fixed on him, “I wonder what they get up to back there?” 

Tom swallowed and flicked the ash off the end of his own cigarette. 

“Wouldn't know,” he said with a shrug, “But I heard there's a lot of poison ivy in the bushes, next time I see someone scratching, I'll ask." 

“And ‘ow are you so certain you've seen me out there?” He asked after a beat of silence, “Surely us lot all look the same to you?” 

She shrugged and took a drag, smoke curling out of her mouth and disappearing into the air above the two of them. “Some of you are more memorable than others.” 

Tom grinned before crushing his finished cigarette in the ashtray. He lifted the heavy piece of glass and offered it to her. She crushed her own cigarette beside his. From outside the study the sound of her name being called reached her ears. 

She recognised her husband's voice and felt her heart rate increase. She took hold of Tom by the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him deeper into the room, flicking off the desk lamp and plunging the room into darkness again. Her husband's voice grew louder as he moved nearer the door, he seemed to stop right outside to speak to someone before moving off again and in the direction of the kitchens. Of course that was where he thought he'd find his wife, it's certainly where he believed her and the rest of her sex belonged. 

She suddenly became aware of how close she and Tom were, how his breath was ghosting past the shell of her ear as the two of them stood silent and still in the darkness. 

“I take it he wasn’t your choice of, um, dancing partner?” Tom whispered. 

She looked into his piercing blue eyes, it could have been a perfectly innocent question, if it weren’t for the crushing weight of the true answer. She felt her body chill and a familiar mask of cold indifference fell over her features. She straightened up again, pulling her body away from his. 

So little of her life had been of her choosing. As a child her father had ruled her life with an iron fist, and like iron he had never once bent or broken once his mind was set on something. From her schooling, her summers and her friends, her father had controlled every single day of her life until he'd handed her over to a husband of his choosing at the altar. 

A man 25 years her senior who had effortlessly replaced her father as the single most influential person in her life. From the wine they drank with dinner, to her allowance for clothing to how often she could drive the car, every choice was made for her by the Vice Admiral, as if she were simply a sailor in his navy.  

“Not always,” she replied, her voice haughty than it had been before, “but I make do,”. 

Tom quirked an eyebrow toward his hair line before stepping back with a grin and sitting himself on the edge of the large mahogany desk, the old wood didn’t bend or groan under his weight like the cheap furniture in the barracks. A thought flickered across his mind that his desk probably cost more than his family home. 

“How long have you been married?” he asked, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of himself and crossing them at his ankles. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she replied coldly, before crossing her arms over her chest and hugging her crossed limbs against her body. 

“Come on now, I thought we were friends? We’re on a first name basis after all.". 

She narrowed her eyes at him, she was usually an exceptionally private person, after having grown up with very few friends she’d never learned to gossip or grown accustomed to sharing her thoughts and feelings with a close knit group and as an only child she hadn’t even had a sibling to confide in. But tonight, as if gripped by madness she found herself answering, her usual withdrawn nature opened up by this handsome stranger. 

“18 months,” she told him. 

“Not quite the fairy tale you were expecting?” He asked. 

“I never expected a fairy tale,” she snapped, drawing her arms even tighter to her body, her hands gripping the opposite elbow. 

“You’re dressed like one,” Tom said, letting his eyes travel up and down her body. 

She scoffed, feeling her skin prickle under his brazen gaze, she knew she was attractive enough and with the right outfit and a touch of rouge she was pretty but 18 months in a loveless marriage had shown her nothing of desire or need but she felt sure there was something of those foreign, base instincts in his blue eyes. Desperately needing something, anything to do with her body she leaned past him to pick up the packet of cigarettes he'd placed beside him on the desk. She took another one and lit it. 

“You'd find me quite dowdy if you went out there and saw some of the other wives,” she took a long drag on the cigarette, falling back on the self deprication she’d learned pleased her father and husband, “out there you'd never know there was a war on,”. 

“I was thinking the same about in here,” he said, glancing at the opulent surroundings. 

“Well, it’s you who wanted to see how the other half lived after all,” she replied, the corners of her mouth peeking up as she fought to keep her icy demeanour. 

“And I think I might have seen enough,” Tom said with a smirk as he stood, gathering his cigarette packet and giving it a small shake, the cigarettes inside bumped onto the side of the packet and each other, “and you're about to finish me fags,”. 

“You'll forgive me, I'm sure." she replied, letting her arms fall down to her sides again. 

“I'm sure,” Tom agreed as he stood, taking a small step to stand in front of her. 

He reached down, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, brushing his lips over the back of her hand in a soft caress. 

“Til the next time,” he said, his voice soft and low, “My lady,” he added with a wink before slipping past her and out the door she'd entered in. 

The scent of her lingered like a fog around Tom as he slipped, unseen through the corridors and passages back to the broken window and out in the cold night air. From either side no one would ever know the window was broken and he found himself hoping Mrs Randall wouldn’t be rushing to get it fixed. 

He made his way back across the lawns toward his barracks. Tom had been stationed at this stone frigate for 3 months and each and every day he had hoped to get orders from the Vice Admiral they would be going out to sea, to one of the great grey warships he could see from the back of the barracks, sitting in the harbour mouth. 

There was no moon in the sky that night and Tom had to make his way back to his quarters by starlight, he hoped the extra darkness would mean less of a chance to be caught out of bed quite so late. 

Luck was not on Tom’s side that night and the moment his foot crossed the threshold of his quarters a bright beam of light shone directly into his face, Tom squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his forearm up to shield his eyes from the burning beam. 

“Well, well, well Private Bennett,” a cold voice spoke from the darkness, “now, where might you have been?” 

Tom lied of course, claiming he’d been in the village having a drink in the local pub, while his Lieutenant Commander didn’t believe him for a moment and he couldn't prove Tom was lying or offer another more plausible explanation for the private being out of bed so late.

Tom’s punishment was being confined to the stone frigate for the next month, he would not be allowed to enjoy any shore leave, which meant no trips to the local village and no chance to chat to the local girls. He would instead be given menial tasks to complete, usually something pointless that no one else wanted to do. 

The first weekend of his punishment he was called to the Lieutenant Commander’s office. Tom held a deep dislike for the pinched faced, grey coloured man sitting behind the desk

“They need some help up at The Big House,” the  Lieutenant Commander started without preamble, “I seem to recall you being fairly useful with your hands, so I thought you could go up there and, well make yourself useful,” his clipped accent made the hair on the back of Tom’s neck stand up. 

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and opened his mouth to speak but the Lieutenant Commander continued as if Tom wasn’t even in the room. 

“Report up at The Big House today and tomorrow for your tasks. Ask for Bill,”

“Yes, Sir,” Tom said before saluting and leaving the room. 

He took his time making his way up to The Big House, stopping by his bunk first to collect a fresh pack of cigarettes before making his way slowly toward the house. The day was bright and Tom was enjoying the sun on his face as he walked over the immaculately kept lawn. He wondered as he walked if he'd be fixing the very window lock he’d used to break in a few days before, thinking of the window led him to thinking about the lady of the house and he hoped he might run into her again. 

He wanted to know what she looked like when she wasn’t wearing jewels and silks. He wanted to see if he could make her laugh, he wanted to know if she made a habit of sharing cigarettes with strangers or hiding from her husband.

At the back door of the house Tom asked a kitchen girl where he might find Bill and was directed to one of the low outbuildings that made up a small courtyard at the back of the house. Bill was a grizzled old man with a voice like tires crunching over gravel and one hand missing. 

Bill wasted no time in telling Tom he’d lost the hand during the Great War and how the navy had taken care of him since, not that Tom had asked. 

Tom was quickly put to work in a large, empty room on the west side of the house. The room’s ceiling was at least 12 feet high and had floor to ceiling windows that gave a sweeping view of the green valley and glittering open sea beyond. On the water, small boats dashed back and forth across the mouth of the harbour and large grey warships sat further out to sea. Beyond the warship the sea and sky merged into one at the horizon. 

After enjoying the view for a moment Tom set to the list of tasks he’d been given, the work was mindless and menial, oiling locks, cleaning and buffing brass work and a few minor repairs. 

Tom was winding the grandfather clock at the far end of the room when the double doors at the other end opened, the doors moved almost silently on the hinges he’d oiled but the sudden movement made him look up and he couldn’t stop his face breaking into a grin when he saw who stood between the now open doors. 

“We must stop meeting like this." 

He watched with rye amusement as Mrs Randall fought the smile that played on the corners of her lips. 

“Shall I bother asking you why you’re in my ballroom?” she asked, “Or how you got in here?” 

“’m being punished,” Tom replied with a shrug as he closed the door on the grandfather clock that was now ticking merrily, “And I used the back door. You can ask your handy man if you want.”

“And what are you being punished for?”

“Caught out of bed after ligh’s out,”

She laughed quietly, the old floorboards creaking under her feet as she made her way further into the room, letting her feet carry her towards one of the large windows. As she gazed through the glass Tom allowed himself a moment to look at her. The dress she wore today was far more practical and ordinary but the dark green colour suited her, she wore shoes with small heels that tapped on the floor as she walked and no diamonds to be seen. 

“I hope you feel it was worth it,” she replied, stopping at the window that gave the most central view of the valley below. She crossed her arms over her chest, curling her palms over the opposite elbow, Tom recognised the gesture from the previous night they’d met. 

“I’ve had worse evenings.” Tom replied with a shrug and grin. 

“I should apologise,” she started, turning toward Tom, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, “I spoke out of turn the other night and I don’t want you to think I’m… ungrateful for the position I find myself in." 

He shrugged before taking a tentative step toward her, not wanting to scare her into bolting from the room. There was something intoxicating to Tom about being alone with his woman, she should have been as unattainable to him as the moon was but she was right here, in the same room as him, barely 6 feet away. 

“We don’t 'ave to like the hand we’re dealt,” Tom said, the softness in his voice surprising even him, “but you can make it up to me with an invite to your next party,” he added with a grin and a wink. 

Tom was thrilled when she gave a small chuckle, the sound making the hair on Tom’s forearms prickle and stand to attention. She dropped her arms away from her middle, looking a little more relaxed than she had the moment before. 

“Somehow I think my insisting you receive an invitation to the Admirals next do might raise more than a few questions and cause even more trouble,” she replied. 

Oh, what’s life without a little bit of trouble?” Tom teased stepping closer again. 

“I take it you’re no stranger to trouble then Tom?”. 

“No, I’m just a bloody nuisance,” he grinned. 

Mrs Randall chuckled again, her eyes moving slowly and shyly over Tom’s face, taking in his features in the bright light of day. In the dark of the study he’d been handsome but in the sunlight filled ballroom he was beautiful, the type of face that Michaelangelo would have immortalised in marble. 

“I can believe that,”

Tom leaned casually against a small section of wall that separated two of the windows, the wallpaper was a creamy colour with swirling patterns picked out in pastel shades of gold. He half expected her to reprimand him for leaning his dirty shoulder on her wall but she didn’t comment, just kept her eyes on him. 

“What does the lady of the ‘ouse do at the weekend then?” he asked. 

“I’m balancing the books today,” she replied, “it’s dull work and I’m dreadful at it,”. 

“What no garden party to attend? No invite to Buckin’am Palace?” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, her lips turned up into a smile that made her eyes sparkle. 

“Just me and the accounts today, Buckingham Palace is next weekend,” she replied with a teasing lilt in her voice. 

“‘S’pect those books might be better company than that lot at Buckin’am Palace anyway,”. 

“They certainly talk less, but they still manage to give me a headache either way,”. 

From behind them the grandfather clock Tom had service chimed 4pm, reminding the pair of them of the world outside the peaceful room they found themselves in. 

“I must be going,” Mrs Randle said reluctantly, “It’s been a pleasure to see you again Tom,”. 

“Pleasures all mine,” he replied with a wink and was thrilled to see her cheeks staining bright red as she turned toward the still open double doors of the ballroom. 

He stared after her for a few seconds once she disappeared from his view and he felt a familiar tingling of anticipation. When it came to women he enjoyed the chase almost as much as he enjoyed his prize at the end but there was something different about this and about her and while Tom had no idea what that might be it excited him all the same. He found it very difficult to return to the list of tasks he still had to complete but forced himself to continue, if for no other reason than to ensure he’d get to return next week. 

After excusing herself, Mrs Randle headed to the privacy of her study to continue her mind numbing task of ensuring the household ledgers balanced. The windows of her study offered a panoramic view of the west lawns and the gently sloping valley beyond. In the distance she could see the small houses of the village, smoke curled out of the chimneys and she could just make out a few sailors making their way back to barracks after their Saturday trip to the pub. 

After an hour or so of looking over the accounts the numbers in the books seemed to start to wriggle about on the page and no matter how carefully she totted up the totals she couldn’t make the books balance. After rubbing out another incorrect total she finally admitted defeat and slammed the heavy, leather bound book closed and stood up.

She’d already decided to ask the housekeeper to go over the accounts and didn’t see any point in torturing herself with the fruitless task any longer. She knew it would be alright as long as the books were balanced by the end of the month when the Vice Admiral got his hands on them. 

She took hold of the book and headed toward the staff quarters; there was a concealed door in the library that took her down a short flight of steps and along a cool, dark corridor to the housekeeper's office. 

The sound of excited young voices could be heard from the staff dining room and she slowed to listen to the conversation. There was a pang of jealousy and longing as the voices of two of the young housemaids chattered and giggled behind the door. 

“Did y’see him? He was up in the ballroom?” one voice rushed. 

“He’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,” another voice continued with the longing sigh. 

“I saw him wink at Mrs Randall! Twice! Can you believe the cheek of him?!” the first voice said incredulously. 

“I hope he comes back, I heard Bill saying he wasn’t allowed off the frigate for 3 weeks,” the second voice said in the same dreamy tone. 

There was another round of giggling before she stepped away from the door and carried on toward the housekeepers office. Mrs Randall had no problem believing Tom Bennett would be exceptionally successful with the female members of staff, he’s already proved himself to be fairly successful with herself after all. 

She knocked briskly on the housekeeper's door, the large book still clutched to her chest with her other arm and her mind full of Tom Bennett. 

[its-leethee]

back to the garden

for my fellow claudiez enjoyers *blows a kiss*