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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years ago

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Welcome To The Darkside: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 1 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series

A/N: I just posted a story I know but I’m in love with this idea right now and this is my favourite fic right now. It’s going to be a three or four part fic I think and your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Here is a piece of my heart right here.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, sort of Blood Kink I think, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 1 : Welcome to The Darkside

The gunshots around you frightened you more than anything in your life ever had. The merry, joyful ambience of the carnival was ruined in an instant. Screams around you provoked your panic-stricken form to gather your wits and run or hide. It wasn’t just you caught up in this dreadful situation, there was also someone you’d protect at any cost.

Picking your daughter up and setting her on your hip, you looked around for the way out. Who would have thought that open grounds were hard to get out of? Another wave of terror ran through you when the gunshots audibly neared and the crowd ran in random directions.

You decided to go along the way you recognised the games and shops at. You ran as fast as you could, checking on Grace in between to find her looking curiously all around but still more intent on eating her cotton candy than inspecting. You couldn’t be more thankful for kids' oblivion than at that moment in time.

A bomb explosion up ahead in your path made you halt in your tracks because you knew some of the attackers were scouting there. Turning back wasn’t an option, neither was crying and you were sure you closer to the exit this way. Another blast behind you took away the option of you retracing your path. You weren’t considering it but it gave you little comfort to have your options open.

As the shrieks and screeches grew tenfold, your best bet was to hide, the assaulters had already surrounded the field, the chaos around you informed you. Jumping through innumerable dead bodies, of kids and adults that ached your heart, and dodging bullets while laying low, you went inside a photo booth to hide.

This will not be in vain; you’d protect Grace no matter what.

The curtain to the photo booth provided cover from predatory eyes while the rest of the metal booth was quite safe against bullets you concluded hopefully.

You were just looking for a weapon to prepare for any adversity that might come your way, when the sound of crunching of pebbles made their way to your ears.

Failing to find a weapon in few seconds you opted to attack the intruder yourself when a voice reached your ears, “Mama?”

You puzzled your eyebrows and lowered your defences by just a bit when a toddler stumbled inside the booth, blonde haired and blue eyed. You were definitely not this girl’s mama but you grabbed the kid’s forearm and pulled her inside, shushing her gently and seating her beside Grace on the sitting bench inside. You were thankful Grace entertained her by offering her the pink cloud of sweetness.

You peeked outside but failed to find anyone else in 20 metre radii of you, nobody resembling the wandering kid nor looking for one. You did not know what you would do with another kid in your hands in this dire situation nor was it a wise decision to bring her inside and take her under your wing but you did not have it in you to leave an unsuspecting child, a mere four or three-year-old at that, during a calamity so extreme.

Your maternal instincts governed your thought process, imagining Grace to be in her shoes, all alone and discarded while a possible terrorist attack was happening. The kids’ corpses lying outside gave you no doubt that these children’s fate would be the same if found by the attackers.

A small tug in your dress made you look back and you found the azure eyed kid at your feet, offering you the street food you bought earlier while hugging your leg and observing you. Grace munched in the back silently, still happily eating and unaware.

You kneeled and whispered, “What’s your name, honey?” Maybe the girl understood the urgency, maybe she was just mimicking you but even she murmured in a low voice, “Sarah.”

You nodded, “Sweetie, I need you to sit there quietly and make no sounds, okay? We are playing a staying quiet game.” That was a stupid thing to ask of a kid but you hoped, you really, really hoped she would comply.

Her eyes widened in recognition of something as she eagerly asked, still in a hushed mumble, “Like I does for Dada in meekings?”

“Yes, you smart kiddo. Exactly that.” You replied with what you hoped was a convincing smile and ruffled her hair while nudging her towards her former seat. With kids, you knew a little encouragement went a long way to get them to do things. She whispered an ‘okay Mama’ and went about and sat.

You didn’t get to enjoy her obedience as the thud of pebbles crunching met your ears again. Your breath hitched; your intuition told you that this was not another kid confusing you for its parent.

Your eyes found a discarded piece of metal rod from the booth’s wrecked framework. You grabbed and hoped for the best, to save both the kids at your ability’s mercy.

Steve only saw red. The moment the first shot sounded in the air, he knew whom the assailants were, whom they were coming for. Going out tonight was a bad idea, a really reckless one indeed but when his daughter started bawling seeing the carnival’s lights from the car and wanted to get up and close, he couldn’t say no. He really tried to though, he really did.

It hadn’t been even a year since his wife died, but the father-daughter duo was getting by. He knew his wife took his daughter to the carnival and bought her things, toys and teddies, on every birthday of her own. It was a ritual his wife started, spending her birthday with her little offspring during the daylight and going out for a romantic dinner at the end of the day with her dear spouse. If only things could still be that way, could still stay the same.

When his wife turned out to be an elaborate spy all along, he was baffled. His professional side was, dare he say, impressed by the commitment to character but his personal side was beyond disappointed, disheartened in the worst way because his daughter was his most precious asset in this cruel world and that gift was given by such a treacherous person.

She begged and pled for mercy, to let Sarah have her mother and swore on her life that she quit her espionage journey when she actually fell in love but Steve didn’t trust a single syllable out of her filthy, deceiving mouth, not anymore.

He didn’t kill her though, because Sarah was his first priority no matter what. Her assassination was the work of his rival mob, ‘The Vice Kings’ led by the bastard Rumlow. It was an open invitation for war in the city, for them money came first and useless people had to die. They killed two birds with a single stone, git rid of a useless former member and successfully made a statement.

Then began the still happening rivalry between those Vices and his mob, ‘The Avenging Cartel’. The wound from his wife’s assassination was still fresh, he didn’t miss her as much as he had taken the hit to his pride. There had been a peaceful agreement until the brutal maiming of his spouse and now he was working more than ever, barely able to make time for his princess and that was his only regret, missing her childhood.

And now he felt more futile, his palette of emotions ranging from hues of ire to shades of dread. He couldn’t believe his entourage of trained professionals failed to monitor a two-year-old. He had just stepped aside to take a call, leaving her with his latest driver and three bodyguards. How could he be that clueless to not realise the imposters infiltrating his ranks, standing right there and selling away his location?

As soon as the sound of the first firearm shooting reached his ears, he leapt towards his daughter only to find her missing. His little minx thankfully escaped for one of her little adventures and successfully evaded these cheats, whom he shot right in the middle of the eyes when he glanced at the grenades packing in the coats’ undersides.

His moment of gratitude evaporated in mere seconds as he realised that the Vices now surrounded the entire area, their mission being his daughter’s abduction. If they wanted to kill both of them, they would have already, considering Steve’s distraction gave them quite too many openings. They wanted him to surrender, because mobs worked that way; only when one leader signed off his territories did it become the other party’s possession. If they just cut one head, another would grow in its place, a new leader would succeed the predecessor.

He sent emergency signals to both Barnes and Wilson, the only ones he could trust right now, summoning them with back-ups. The screams of the crowd did not ease him at all, piling on his burden and stress as he prayed for the first time ever, that by some miracle he would reach his daughter first in this field and she would safely be in his arms by the end of the night, not become a victim to what his enemies were planning.

He did have a tracker in her pendant but this realisation hit him later than he’d like to admit, the frustration clawing away his wits. The ground was now quite empty, piles of bodies scattered across the field abruptly where people became victims to the grenades, any person who failed to protect themselves, died. As he was pulling his phone out again, his eyes caught sight a flower bead. The same bead he and his daughter used to make a bracelet a month ago. She wore that everywhere, to day-care, while bathing, to birthdays.

The bracelet was obviously broken now but it was almost like a trail that led to his treasure, like in the Hansel and Gretel’s fairy-tale that Sarah loved. He followed with quiet steps, the beads far apart and some resting under the debris but they sure did lead him somewhere, and when he found the even the pendant in his path, he knew he had only the few beads to rely on.

Some thumps and crashes made him alert, his pistol ready, and when he neared carefully to a distorted metal framework of sorts, his eyes widened.

A young woman had a body in front of her lying on the ground. In a pool of scarlet it rested, still and unmoving while her breathing quickened, her eyes shining with tears that she tried too damn hard to confine to her eyes. He knew how hard the first kill always was, but one grows numb with increase in body count.

Brave women were his type and he would have been turned on by her courage, her hands stained red with whatever weapon she attacked with. Her soft facial features and her curves in the dress she wore were a show stopper for sure, and he would’ve been flirting with her if it was not for the brutal severity of the situation, his daughter missing and in possible danger.

His vigilant senses, courtesy of the epinephrin, picked up two things; the butterfly bead that rested in the door of the booth the woman stood at and the creep shadowing her from behind, ready to attack with a baseball bat he might have found in one of the other game shops.

Steve used his position behind the neighbouring booth to make a bull’s eye shot, the bullet going just an inch above the female’s shoulder and going across the creep’s head. The logo on the corpse’s leather jacket showed Steve he picked the right side to defend.

The sheer suddenness of the move caught the woman off guard as she dropped her weapon and twisted back to find the soulless eyes of her possible attacker staring at her. She quickly armed herself with her attacking rod once again and tried to trace the bullet back from its shooter, her eyes wide and calculating.

Steve decided it was time to interrogate, to find Sarah.

The graze of the bullet above your shoulder alarmed you and you stood dumbfounded only for an instant though. You were sure the bullet was meant for you but the thud of a body behind you, seemingly preparing to attack you proved you wrong.

Calming yourself, you still stood on the ball, because someone killing your attacker didn’t necessarily mean you were safe. With just a pull of the trigger, your fate could very easily be the same. You had to play this smart.

“Lower your weapon. I won’t repeat myself.” A husky voice called out, laced with seriousness which left no room for argument.

You did as he said, knowing that shabby rod was no match against the gun. He stepped out from his hiding position and gave away his location, steps slightly treading towards you. Your hands trembled, heart thumping a bit too loud while blood and sweat coated your frame.

When moonlight lightened his face, you saw his blonde luscious locks, slightly overgrown, a neatly trimmed beard darker than his hair and the cerulean blue eyes that were clear as crystal but shadowed with proficiency.

“Good, now did you see a kid around here? Blonde and blue eyes?”

His question didn’t surprise you, the gun barrel trained on you did. The previous man you had killed, that laid dead ahead of you had asked the same question. You did not know why they were after the toddler nor did you have the time to dwell on it. Time was of the essence now and he was expecting an answer.

The fact that he saved an unsuspecting lady was a plus point, but you also had to consider that he was threatening you all the same. But if that was his kid, it was understood, the resemblance between them was uncanny but that wasn’t enough proof. However, as your flickered to the man you killed, you noticed the logo on his jacket was the same as the one on your possible murderer’s jacket. It still wasn’t enough evidence but you had no choice, the man had a gun and you had two kids relying on you. At least he wasn’t on the bombing side.

“Yes, what is she to you?” You tried to be brave but you were sure he saw right through you.

“You don’t ask the questions here but this one I’ll answer. She is my daughter. Now, where is she?”

“How do I know you’re not lying? I can’t just and her over to you!”

“Her name is Sarah; she is my carbon copy. She is wearing a pink dress with white flowers; pink crocs and her hair is in a ponytail with a white scrunchy. She had two white clips in her hair beside the ponytail. Enough proof?”

No, you could be a creepy paedophile for all I know.

You were still contemplating when he spoke again, “She’s my daughter and I know she’s in that booth beside you. I appreciate you trying to protect her I think but she’ll respond to me calling her. Sarah?”

The little toddler poked her head out, her eyes brightening in recognition and you heaved a sigh of relief involuntarily. Your maternal instinct made you anxious for kids you barely even knew. She ran towards her father shouting ‘Dada’ and jumped into his arms while he hid his gun. You almost snorted at that, tons of dead bodies surrounding you and he was worried about the gun?

He propped her up, hugging her tightly, and with what you knew now, he was scared to death and rightfully so.

Grace poked her head out and ran towards you now, hugging you from behind your legs and silently peeking at the mysterious human. You held Grace’s hand now, intertwining your fingers and felt relief after long. Even though there was no knowing that the man would help you two but you gave yourself comfort you weren’t alone here, not anymore.

Sarah turned and met your eyes again and whispered lowly, “Oops Mama, I think the games over! Sowwy!”

Steve’s eyes widened at that and you laughed at her innocence, feeling light. You played along with the kid, “It’s alright.” You didn’t want to play ‘Mommy’ anymore after that thinking it would offend her father but even, he chuckled, his laugh beautiful and boisterous.

Suddenly men dressed in black and armed with weapons ran about, skidding and crossing you to survey the area out. You shielded Grace once again but the father ahead of you didn’t even flinch. Noticing your unease, he came closer and put a hand on you arm, “I’m Steve and don’t worry, these are my men, the good guys.”

You nodded, not agreeing with his idea of good and bad but since you hoped he did acknowledge that he owed you one, you hoped none of these men would attack you. You introduced yourself and he nodded.

With Sarah on his hip, he started following one of his men and you followed along hoping to get to the exit. He even asked to drop you home but you refused, just wanting to get to the parking and put all these guns out of your kid’s sight. He tsked over his shoulder and you knew he would insist again later but for now he listened intently to the man he addressed as Buck.

This Buck eyed you several times, not so discreetly, while Steve renounced the whole incident of some spies and whatnot. You closed your eyes, not wanting to eavesdrop and just wanting to relax but you could do neither right now. They were after Sarah; you had presumed right.

Sarah made grabby hands from over Steve’s shoulder while Grace slept soundly in your arms, maybe jealous of her. She pouted and then slowly began her lower lip began to tremble. A whine escaped her mouth as she started bawling. Steve stopped to shush her but she continued screeching, “I miss Mama!” and tried to get away from Steve and jump into your arms. Buck looked surprised while Steve’s eyes pleaded yours and you nodded and gave Grace to her and took Sarah in your arms, gently shushing her and patting her back. She drooled in the crook of your neck but that was nothing new and quietened down. You didn’t want to give Grace away but you couldn’t see another child so miserable, not when you had one of your own.

Steve and ‘Buck’ observed you, not saying anything so you broke the silence. “I’m sorry she confuses me with her mother, I hope she doesn’t get offended by this.”

“She’s no more.” Steve looked down and you cursed yourself for breaking the silence, make the situation more awkward and unbearable.

“I’m sorry.” Well that was better than joking about how Grace didn’t have a father either.

“Don’t be, she deserved what she got.” Steve mumbled and continued walking with ‘Buck’, lightly patting Grace and kissing her forehead.

The peck should have bothered you but you were too engrossed by his words to eavesdrop further or check on Grace. What did he mean she deserved it? You didn’t even want to think of the probability of him killing her. With all the soldiers that surrounded you, you suddenly realised he was capable of more than you thought and you felt stupid for feeling safe with him when you did. He was a leader of sorts, a person with unimaginable power and you had dived headfirst in the kind of things you should avoid at all costs. Even though you hadn't crossed him or weren't on his bad side, getting involved was a mistake.

You learnt this lesson the hard way soon enough.

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too-lit-for-fanfic · 3 years ago

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A Traitor In Our Midst

PART III OF III

PART I

PART II

PART III

And it’s done! What a wait! And for that we are very sorry. For a long time we just couldn’t finish this closing chapter in a way that felt right or akin to the characters and their little story so it has undergone several re-writes. This final part isn’t as long as those previous, or as technical, but we hope you enjoy! There’s fluff, so hopefully that makes up for it! Thank you everyone who has supported this little series! As always, constructive criticism is appreciated!

Summary: Cal Kestis x ex-Galactic Empire!OC, but can be treated like an x reader, ugly secrets from her past are resurfaced. In light of the truth Cal and crew no longer feel as if they can trust the newest member to the trio. Tempers flare, sacrifices are made, and the truth finally comes out.

Warnings: Torture is featured/referenced in this chapter so be warned. Angst, Blood, Violence, Swearing, Torture, Interrogation tactics, Emotional Manipulation, PTSD, Trauma

“...just to protect those who would never do the same for you?”

It had been two weeks since Aylin and BD had been trapped on the Star Destroyer, Cal and crew in the middle of negotiating with Saw Gerrera to organise a rescue mission, the stubborn man finally agreeing once it had been revealed BD had failed to return, the ship the duo had commandeered having been seized by the Empire. Cal, Cere and Greez huddled around the small monitor in the centre of the hull, deathly quiet as they listened to the conversation taking place between Second Sister and their former crewmate. On their rounds of the ship, BD had managed to return just in time to spot Trilla entering the prison cell, and now they waited anxiously, hidden under a series of shelves in the outward corridor. All three members of the crew looked positively sick, Cal in particular turning a ghastly pale as he held his breath, dreading the events to unfold.

“Oh isn't that just sweet.” Trilla’s shrill voice mocked lowly, eerily echoing down the corridor. “You really did care about them didn't you? Isn’t it a pity how they’ve left you here to die?”

“Fuck you.” Cal had to strain to hear Aylin’s response. She sounded weak, worryingly so, the venom in her words sounding as if it pained her to push it past her lips.

“You’re not denying it.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“That pretty red-head might have come to save you once, even I can tell you were very important to him-”

Cal involuntarily lurched at his mention, his muscles twitching so as to distance himself from the screen, an icy grip encasing his heart.

“Not anymore.”

Cal physically felt his heart whither in his chest, his knuckles turning white.

“Not anymore.” The sick woman almost sounded joyful. “All because you were born on the wrong side of the war. How ironic, an unforgiving Jedi.”

‘oh force...’ Cal withdrew, his heart plummeting to his stomach as the words echoed around his skull. Greez’s clawed hand landed on his elbow in comfort but the redhead payed him no mind. ‘please say something’ he silently begged, desperate to know that Aylin didn’t really think the same of him.

She never responded.

“I can’t watch this.” The red-head made an effort to move away from the screen, fully intent on hiding in the shadows of the cockpit. The entire conversation felt like a knife to his heart, and it only became worse when he realised anything could have been happening behind those closed doors, and he was powerless.

“And Cere, she wouldn’t even come to save me.” - A muffled ugly gasp - “Why are you protecting those who would sell you to the order for far less?”

Silence followed, and the trio held their breaths. A strangled cry abruptly cut-off, Cal very nearly almost throwing up as a strangled chocking gasp broke the silence, the sounds of boots scraping and struggling against a metallic surface drowning out the conversation.

A sickening thud.

Murmurs.

Screams.

Another bang.

“No- PLEASE!” Shrill blood-curdling screams assaulted their senses, Cal flinching away from the screen. The trio waited a moment, Cal’s hands covering his mouth, agape with horror - the begging screams didn’t stop.

“We have to do something!” Cal burst, a red hue overtaking his sickly complexion, flinching again at a particularly desperate yell.

“What do you suppose?” Cere bit back harshly, the stress and helplessness of the situation fraying all of their nerves.

“Something! - Anything!” Cal racked his brain for a solution, the echoing screams resonating from the monitor throwing his thoughts into a frenzy. “We need to get Trilla out of the room. We need to get her away from her!”

“And how are we-”

“BD!” Cal lurches towards the screen, shaking hands frantically typing a message to the small BD-unit. “If we can just get her into the main hull of the ship, it would be perfectly reasonable for the trooper who requested her presence to have moved to a different location in the ship.”

“Cal, think about this-”

His hand hovers over the ‘enter’ button on the holopad. His wide bloodshot eyes searing a hole directly into Cere’s skull.

“What is there to think about?” As if on queue, another scream wafted through the monitor. That solidified his resolve, hitting the key before Cere or Greez could even blink, BD immediately setting into motion.

The cell doors opened with a resounding hiss as BD finished inputting the code, the little droid rolling to the side to enter the cell. The sight that greeted the crew was worse than they could have possibly imagined. The young woman strapped to the table in the centre of the room resembled a corpse more so than the confident and head-strong blonde that had departed from their ship only two weeks prior. Her imperial jacket barely hung to her beaten and bloodied frame, the torn and tattered fabric had been roughly tugged from her torso, wound into a crumpled heap around her waist and elbows, bony shoulders jutting up through the ruins of a once white tank top, now stained crimson. With every breath her ribcage shuddered, ribs pressing against her beaten and sullied skin, protruding almost painfully with every twist and struggle, skin taught. Any part of her not covered in crimson was mottled in varying shades of black and purple, the angry discolouration winding around her ribs and disappearing behind the remnants of her undershirt.

Cal felt positively sick. Anger bloomed in his chest as despair gnawed at his stomach, bloodshot eyes transfixed on the image before him, the sound of blood rushing through his ears, and Aylin’s screams echoing through his mind drowning out the conversation taking place. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the table ledge with all the might his exhausted muscles would allow, his breath clogging his throat and chest as he forgets himself, his one and only concern the one person in the entire galaxy who he couldn't reach.

Trilla hovers over her diminished frame, elbow harshly dug into the blonde’s exposed ribs, gloved hand wrapped languidly around a blade buried to its hilt, fresh crimson pooling along Aylin’s collarbone, spilling onto the table and then onto the cement floor, glistening sickeningly in the overhead lighting. Noteful of BD’s presence, his frantic panicked beeps finally reaching her ears amongst the screams, Trilla leans back, still leant heavily on Aylin as her cold amber gaze lands on the small BB unit, anger and frustration etched across her face. A sickening thud echoes around the metallic room as the blonde’s head falls back pathetically, unaware of the cause of the interruption. She looked barely conscious, beginning to dance across the line of life to death, who’s arms were already open and willing to hold her in their cold embrace.

With all the languidity of a senator, Trilla leisurely pulls the blade from Aylin’s exposed shoulder, leisurely wiping the blood covered blade on her tattered jacket, a cruel smile adorning her features all the while. Aylin barely moves, eyes half lidded and body slack, the only indication of life the erratic yet shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Her head tilts to expose more of her hollowed features, Cal’s horrified gaze locking onto her own, the breath he had been holding escaping his lungs and his shoulders falling with the guilt that clawed its way up from his stomach, a tangible trepidation reverberating throughout the force. What little fat she had possessed had surely withered away, her cheekbones appearing almost sharp underneath her taught and sunken complexion, ivory skin now pale and shining a ghastly yellow under the blaring overhead lights, a stark contrast to the maroon-dried blood coating her temple and jaw. Her bloodshot and sunken eyes blearily gaze towards the ceiling, no sign of the life that had once illuminated their honeyed depths, the life that had spilled from her being in abundance no longer to be found.

Cal’s focus finally turns back to the conversation at hand, breaths shallow, BD beckoned from the room with an indignant “Droid.”, the tall figure of the second sister glowering at them from the entrance of the cell, evidently annoyed at the intrusion. With one final glance BD reluctantly turns to leave the room, following the second sister dutifully in their search for the non-existent trooper in the main hanger.

Cal collapses onto a sofa across the room from the monitor, the horrific image of Aylin strapped to a metal table, looking closer to death than life, and drenched in her own blood, permanently burnt into his retinas. A sight to haunt him for a lifetime.

“Fuck Saw, we’re getting them both, tomorrow.”

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With little convincing Greez had quickly succumbed to Cal’s persuasion, the two men - after much deliberation and heated debate - had also successfully convinced Cere of their plan. Truthfully, Cal had been conjuring ways to coordination a rescue ever since Aylin and BD had been captured on the Star Dreadnaught, and as he prepared for the events of the day, no doubt entered his mind that their two companions would be with the crew by the end of the day. Companion - Cal almost scoffed to himself - the two were far more than that: BD, in many ways, had become a best friend to Cal in the past few years, the companionable little droid with a taste for adventure never failing to offer a sense of comfort and joy, even in some of Cal’s darkest times, in many ways resembling a younger sibling Cal had never before had the pleasure of having. Aylin, on the other hand, in the time the pair had known one another, had somehow wormed her way into the isolated Jedi’s heart, always offering her support in his times of need, encouraging him with his training through her self-proclaimed ‘tough-love’, becoming a source of confident resolve and rationality - a sense of stability in the ever changing galaxy.

Cal remembered their many nights spent on some unknown planet, the pair sat beneath the many stars and moons of the galaxy, sharing tales long into the night. Cal had never had a relationship with anyone like the relationship he had formed with the stubborn blonde: heatedly sparring before patching one another’s wounds from the scuffle; longing glances spared with every tranquil moment, hidden behind excuses of exhaustion or a poorly constructed insult; grins and soft smiles shared over meal time or upon their own hidden adventures exploring new planets; a hand reaching out for the others in a busied market or times of comfort; an eye searching for the other in a crowded room; simply basking in one another's presence in the quiet hours of the morning, relishing every moment where they could just be. Cal knew he was a fool, a disgrace to the Jedi code he had spent his entire youth obeying like a holy script, he knew he was a fool the first time the enigmatic blonde had saved his life in her third month of joining the crew, standing over his tired and weary frame with a cocky smirk and a calloused hand outstretched, making some smart-arsed comment as she hauled him to his feet.

Attachments were forbidden, Jedi were trained from birth to let go of everything they were afraid to lose. And Cal? He was terrified to lose her - he had already broken his sacred vows, he had become attached, and he would be damned before he sacrificed one of the only things he was afraid to lose. He would never be a Jedi, yet perhaps that was okay, perhaps there was something more to this world that he had only realised upon stumbling across the Mantis and her crew.

He had never been that dutiful of a Padawan anyway.

The point seemed ever more poignant as his cerulean eyes stared conflictingly at the reflection in his mirror. No longer did he adorn the trusty combat trousers, baggy shirt, chest brace, not even his trusting poncho that seemed to make up his daily attire. Instead, a version of himself he had spent endless nights battling against stared back at him, the ironed and pressed midnight coloured uniform clinging to his lean frame. After a pit stop or two he had successfully acquired a knock-off Imperial General’s uniform, a notable fake with the lack of an aura emitting from the otherwise haunting apparel. Tugging harshly at the collar that bit into the skin of his neck, a habit he had seen Aylin recount numerous times in her preparation for the mission, his tired eyes trail over his figure, hoping to all of the stars and force wielders in the galaxy that his Master couldn’t see him now.

He clears his throat to relieve some of the tightness that had gathered in his chest before he leaves his sleeping quarters, rolling his stiff shoulders as he makes his way into the main hull, lightsaber already hidden beneath his newly acquired jacket.

“So,” The red-head steps before Greez and Cere - already equipped in her own better-fitting storm trooper armour - who had been typing away to BD on the small holopad in the main hull. “How do I look?”

The pair glance up at the young man, Greez’s beady little eyes widening considerably, a good natured grin enveloping his face.

“Kid-” Humour laced his tone, his dark eyes taking in the sight before him. “Let’s just hope you won’t be on that ship for too long.” In comparison to how Aylin’s uniform had fit her frame, Cal’s uniform may have well as swamped him, the thick fabric creasing at his waist, his belt fastened at the smallest capacity and yet somehow still too big, sitting notably lower on his waist than it should have, polished and barely scuffed boots a size too large, the one thing that actually fit being the pair of leather gloves over his shaking hands.

Everything just seemed slightly wrong, just a little bit askew, just a little bit... fake.

By all respects, Cal had certainly gone to the effort of impersonating an Imperial soldier, skin scrubbed clean of the dirt and grime of the galaxy, hair slicked back under a hat slightly too large for his head, he had even cracked into Aylin’s limited makeup supply and attempted to conceal the many scars he had gained through his years, as well as the stress-induced darkening bags under his eyes. The Empire wasn't him, and it was painfully obvious to all who spared him a second glance.

“Say all you want, old man.” Cal jibes light heatedly, beginning to head towards the cockpit. “Have you forgotten your own disguise?” The redhead sends a pointed look in the direction of the shell of a modified astromech droid, the humour in Greez’s eyes quickly dying as his gaze lands on his ingenious costume.

“If I have to come and rescue you all in that thing.” Greez stares uneasily at his heavy, small costume. “You owe me a spa day.”

----------

After commandeering a small transport shuttle from a neighbouring planet with a rather small Imperial presence, Cal and Cere bid farewell to Greez, who was to remain with the Mantis and communicate with them through BD and the data pad.

“Be careful.” Cere warns, arms wrapped around herself as she watches Greez fiddle with some mechanisms on the inside of the ship with dull eyes. “We won’t be able to come and rescue you if you get caught.”

He waves her concern off with dismissal.

Cal appears next to her, materialising from the bowls of the Mantis, smoothing his jacket out once again. The older woman turns to the young man, barely out of adolescence, and feels the corners of her mouth tug down. This could go wrong, this could go horribly, horrendously, atrociously wrong, and with Cal’s loosening grip on his emotions, his anxiety rolling from him in waves through the force, chances of failure were ever high. Cal was only young, having grown up during some of the darkest known times of the galaxy, his future destroyed by a war begun before his birth, and now he was to be thrust into the heart of the conflict, into the home of those responsible for all of his suffering. Cal was a victim, just like all those who had lived during the raising of the Empire, his body and mind more marred and scarred than most, but he was a survivor, scorning and mocking the Empire with every day lived. Cere hoped he continued to be a survivor, one of the few specks of light in an ever darkening galaxy, yet this rescue mission threatened to snuff his light out for good.

Her mind wondered at the cause of the young man’s anxiety as she watched his hands tremble as he straightened his leather belt, surveying the pasty sheen of his skin and the poorly-concealed bags under his flitting eyes. As harsh as she had been on Aylin when her past had been revealed, it was undeniable that the two women had held a close bond, and secretly, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself, Cere had missed the girl terribly, her own guilty conscious gnawing away at the edges of her conscious whenever she tried to rest. Last night had been particularly bad after the events that she had witnessed unfold on the small data pad yesterday afternoon, the image of her companion, beaten and bloody, a mere fragment of how she remembered the blonde girl on her departure. The image haunted her whenever her eyes had finally agreed to close - as obviously was the case with the redhead stood next to her, exhaustion palpable on his features underneath the mounting anxiety and adrenaline - the added guilt, knowing similar treatment would have faced Trilla due to her own selfishness, depriving her mind of rest, gnawing at her innards and haunting every fibre of her being.

She hoped desperately for her crew to return, all of them safe, once again, in their home, the Mantis.

“Cal,” She turns to the tall red-head, hands gripping her arms more firmly, “I know what your goal is, I know how badly you want to bring her home.” The red-head watches her with steady eyes, shoulders raising in defence. “I want them home too, but- but please remember yourself. I can’t loose all of you.”

The sounds of the local wildlife and fauna fill the steady silence as Cal mulled over her words, hand running over the saber tucked into his side.

“Don’t worry Cere,” Cal begins heading down the ramp, taking long purposeful strides towards the Imperial ship, Cere’s more tentative steps following in his wake. “I’m going to make it back, and I’m bringing everyone with me.”

Cal didn’t know where the certainty had come from, his voice didn’t waver and his steps didn’t falter. He would do this. He would bring his two best friends back home, and one day he would make the Empire pay.

----------

“We’re here.” Cere slips out of the pilot seat, allowing for Cal to take her place, grasping her blaster in a vice-like grip as she sits stiffly towards the back of the shuttle. She watches as Cal heads to the front of the ship, manning the controls for their landing, frown deepening behind her helmet as the star destroyer encroaches, fear clawing at her throat with every memory resurfaced from the devastation following Order 66.

“We head out the Western exit of the docking bay when we land.” Cal rattles off, flipping some switches as their small vessel is pulled towards the star destroyer. “BD should meet us somewhere in one of the closest corridors and we follow them to the cell, remember to stay behind me, if you don’t they’ll know something’s wrong straight away.”

Cere watches as Cal’s grip tightens around the steering controls, leather gloves straining taught over his knuckles, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his eyes stare unblinking towards the star destroyer.

“Are you ready?” Her voice is stern - shocking her with how it echoes back to her within the suffocating helmet - echoing around the small hull, yet Cal nearly doesn’t hear her, distracted with the storm brewing in his mind, consumed by a rising tidal wave of anxiety, determination and fear.

His eyes finally dart away from the destroyer, turning to glance at his companion over his shoulder, his blue irises red-rimmed and owlish in the overhead lights. The uncanny figure of a storm-trooper greats him, black visor reflecting his own distorted expression back to him from an impenetrable mask of white.

He nods lightly, determination sparking in his weary eyes, the collar of his jacket rubbing uncomfortably against his nape. There was no going back now, he couldn't go back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

----------

Cal squints as he exist the transport shuttle, the overbearing overhead lights bearing down on his frigid frame, the jelled hair peaking form underneath his hat shining with every tilt of his head. The first foot fall on the metal floor seems to resonate throughout the entire hanger, vibrations wracking the bones in his leg, tremors coursing throughout his body and echoing in his ears as several troopers’ heads turn towards the new arrival. His breath catches in his throat and the courage in his stomach withers as he takes another feigned purposeful stride away from the comfort and security of the shuttle, and in towards those waging a war on the galaxy. With every feigned purposeful step shockwaves scatter throughout his tense body, the tension in the air threatening to suffocate him, his heart hammering restlessly against his ribcage and lungs struggling for breath as if he had just ran through the last twelve parsecs. His cerulean eyes lock on his exit from the hanger, offering him a brief solace from the white masks that consumed every corner of his vision, Cere’s steady footsteps behind him offering a further sense of comfort.

By the time the pair finally exit the hanger Cal can practically feel the sweat that had broken out across his body, swiping his forehead to rid of any precipitation that had gathered. His shoulders and spine ached with the effort he had put into maintaining his posture - much in the way he had watched Aylin enter the hanger only several weeks prior - and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath. Although on the outside he may have appeared like ay other Imperial General, cold, unpleasant, perhaps even bored or apathetic to all events that seemed to have been happening around him, inside he had never felt so rattled, his mind a muddled mess, his blood coursing with fear and anxiety which only seemed to mount with every passing second. The panic within thinly veiled with calculated disgust.

Almost as soon as Cal and Cere enter an adjacent corridor to the main hanger, BD comes scuttling around the corner, the pair not recognising the droid in its new round body - Cere’s gloved fingers wrapping dangerously around the hilt of her blaster - until its excited little beeps reach their ears.

“Buddy!” Cal’s facade cracks, grinning down at the little droid as he fights the urge to reach down and give them a hug, worried incase someone should see. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

The little droid, on the other hand, is positively ecstatic, practically vibrating on the spot in both glee at being rescued and frustration that they couldn’t jump straight into Cal’s arms. Truth be told BD had deeply missed their old body during their time stranded on the Dreadnaught. Not waisting any time the little droid rolls behind Cal’s trouser clad legs, ramming into his calves in an attempt to nudge him in the direction of Aylin’s cell and whirring heatedly.

“I know, I know.” Cal steps forward, resolute stature returning to his pale features as he prepares to round another corner. “We’re all going home.”

----------

Within minutes that felt like an eternity the three rebels found themselves amongst the holding cells, BD finally taking the lead to guide them to Aylin’s cell, his happy chirps long silenced as the three grew nearer, all three dreading the sight to await them. Much like when they first arrived, Cal felt suffocated by the pristine atmosphere that seemed to cling to his clothes and hair, dirtying his skin and clogging his throat. It felt fake... the whites and slanted greys, the cleanliness and order, the peace and harmony. The presented image of purity and order, worked into the very steel framework itself, felt so wrong and dirty with the suffering taking place throughout the galaxy at the hands of those that inhabited the ship. Cal could feel the misery and terror that emanated from the dreadnaught itself, seeping into him through the walls and floors, mixed into a terrible concoction with the pride and honour from the officials that walked those very corridors.

It was beloathed, and yet prideful.

Uncomfortably, it reminded him of Aylin.

The red-head tugged at the collar of his jacket as BD came to an abrupt halt at a large durasteel cell door, his mind thrust back to the present. His breath catches in his throat as BD scuttles forward to open the cell door, gloved hand wrapping around the hidden saber at his hip, listening for any approaching footsteps down the corridor. Truthfully, he felt a nervous wreck, the beads of sweat forming along his brow and his greying pallor more so linked to his worry for Aylin than anything else. He could fight if they were caught, and chances are, with both himself and Cere combined, they could easily commandeer an escape shuttle, but he wasn’t certain if he could recover Aylin from the state he had seen her in on the small holopad. At the very moment he couldn’t be sure, and a part of him, a cowardly disdainful part of his conscience, feared opening the cell door to confirm his worry, feared being faced with the broken shell of a woman he couldn’t save. Another person he had failed, a person who had saved him more times than he could count.

Perhaps it was love - his worry at knowing the truth, his fear of seeing the situation first-hand. Cal was ashamed to think such a way.

The cell door hisses open, cool air caressing his feverish skin as he steps through the threshold, the overpowering scent of antiseptic hitting him full force, yet the familiar metallic stench of blood followed. His breath remains in his chest as he takes in the sight before him. Bright eyes widening as they flit about the empty room, landing uneasily on Aylin’s still figure. Cal holds his breath, silently begging her to move, for her head to tilt in his direction, for her closed eyes to open, begging her to do anything at all.

“Aylin?” The word echoes around the room, Cal’s voice shaky and cracking around the word, his mouth parched like the deserts of Tatooine. Somehow his palms become even more clammy, and he tosses his gloves to the side without a second thought, small crescents visible in the palms of his hands from how he had clenched them on their short journey. He takes a small step closer.

She doesn’t move.

Cere watches him carefully from behind her helmet as he calls Aylin’s name again and steps further into the room, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. BD, clearly unsure of what to do, hovers around Cere’s ankles, little camera flickering between Cal and Aylin, a barely audible humming even sting from the little droid. She turns to the closed cell door, blaster gripped tightly to her chest, wary of an intrusion.

Things had barely changed from the last time Cal had seen the room through BD’s holopad projection and he was thankful to note that it didn’t look as if Aylin had sustained any more injuries from the day prior, however, that was hard to determine with the crimson that coated her body, undoubtedly hiding wounds from view. Cal stops next to the metal table, peering down at her sullen features, her sunken maroon-bagged eyes closed to the world, chapped lips barely parted. The holopad had failed to pick up many of the finer details, and Cal was horrified to see the blossoms of purple and magenta that littered her face and neck, a particularly worrisome lashing of purple winding around her throat - Cal noting with disgust it’s resemblance to a handprint. Her blonde hair appeared dull and lifeless, slicked back from her face and coated in sweat and blood, a small lesion at her temple and brow trickling into her hairline, pooling in the rivets of her angular features. Blood - darker, older - had been smeared across her cheeks and jaw, cracking along the lines of her face and flaking from her skin, leaving it stained red underneath.

“What did they do to you?” Cal questions softly, not expecting an answer. Gingerly he places his hand on her shoulder, careful to avoid any hidden wounds.

His heart almost lurches from his chest when she flinches from his touch.

“Aylin!” He almost cheers, glee coating his voice as he leans closer, a smile cracking his features. Slowly, weakly, her eyes flutter open, familiar hazel eyes squinting up at him through all the blood and gore. She looked exhausted, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, her left eye only partially open. “Aylin, oh my force, it’s me. It’s Cal.” Lost in his own elation Cal fails to spot the weariness to her features, nor the way her gaze turns to the ceiling, vacant and unseeing. He reaches for the cuff around her wrist, but her hand jerks away from his touch. He pauses, forehead creasing. “Aylin, come on, its me, and Cere, we’re getting you home.”

Her eyes flicker to his for the briefest of moments, brightened under the harsh lighting. “Trilla,” Her voice is hoarse and weak, a husky whisper of what it once was, lined with guilt and exhaustion. She tilts her head away from the red-heads confused gaze, something awful gnawing at her stomach. “leave me alone.”

Silence consumes the room, Cal’s gaze landing on Cere who simply shrugs her shoulders in response. He reaches for her again, swiping a strand of hair from her face, hand retreating just as quickly when her eyes snap open in alarm.

“Aylin, its me, come on-”

“You’re not here.” She was trying to convince herself, not daring to allow her hopes to rise. She was in pain, she was beyond exhausted, and she was dangerously close to giving up, hoping for death as some sort of escape. “You’re not real.” She glances down to his hand that rests against her exposed forearm, mind barely registering the warm pads of his fingers pressing against her pulse. “Trilla, we’ve done this before. You’re a cruel woman.”

She glances away as pity overtakes his features, staring blankly at the ceiling, body slack against the tabletop. ‘We’ve done this before.’ Had Trilla done this before? How many times had versions of himself and the crew attempted to rescue her? How guarded had she had to be, not even trusting her own dreams for fear of revealing what she had tried to keep from those who sought to harm them. He was furious - the anger that had lapped up his throat all week rising like a tidal wave - and he would make them pay, but first he had to get everyone back.

“No, no, it’s us, it’s me. I promise it’s me.” He tries, attempting to scrub the makeup from his face, scars glossy under the harsh white light. He catches BD out of the corner of his eye. “Look!- We’ve got BD, we’re all going home.”

Finally she picks her head up, wincing at the effort. Her wide eyes land on the little droid across the room, mouth agape as the air leaves her lungs and her shoulder slump. Terror and disappointment gnaw away at her conscience, the familiar feeling of helplessness returning full force. “They found BD.” She mutters to herself, defeats palpable in her voice as she allows her head to fall back against the table, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

Cal, in a stressed panic, and unsure of what to do, reaches out through the force, attempting to project his memories, something no one else could possess. But, as he pressed forward a force stops him in his tracks, Aylin’s body tensing at a presence surrounding her mind. “I can show you, just let me- let me in.”

“No! No, no, no-” Cal had never seen so much fear in her eyes, and he withdraws, hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I won’t.” He quickly retreats as her panic rises, cuffs clanking against the table as she feebly squirms, force signature returning to his own aura, yet outstretched and welcoming, more than willing for Aylin to make the first move. He wracks his tired and frantic brain for a solution, her panic feeding into his own, not expecting her to have such doubts. They needed to be quick, he knew, but there was no way they could coax her out of the room in the state she was in. “I know you. I know things about you the Empire- that Trilla would never know. Do you remember that time on Hoth when I ripped a glove and almost caught frostbite, I’ve only still got ten fingers because you managed to skin that little creature. What about that time I accidentally singed some of your hair off with my saber when I tried to use it as a torch, I had to pay for you’re haircut afterwards and you got the most expensive treatment just to prove a point. I know you have two sugars in your tea but only every other day; I know you always insist on playing with your knives no matter how many times I ask you to stop; I know that you’re favourite game to play is blackjack because you can count cards and know how to cheat, like that time you scammed me for half a brownie.” He was getting emotional now, the stress and turmoil of the past few days causing unshed tears to gather, his knuckles turning white as he wrings his hands together. “I promise you it’s me.”

They’re in you head. Her conscience echoes, the blonde fighting back tears at her own failure. They know, they know everything. Trilla’s playing, she’s already got what she wants.

“You can’t be here.” He voice cracks and wavers, throat scratchy from misuse, her mounting emotions not helping. She wished he was here, with every fibre of her being she wished Cal actually stood before her, frown on his face and eyebrows knitted together in concern. It couldn’t be true. If he was truly here she might’ve cried, and if this was all another elaborate hallucination created by Trilla then she’d probably cry even harder. She so desperately wanted to go home.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to believe me, you don’t have to do anything.” Cal reaches again for the cuffs binding her hands to the table, one hand reaching for the saber at his hip. “But please let me help you.”

She doesn’t say anything as his hand wraps around her thin wrist, saber igniting and casting blue light across the room. Within seconds both cuffs are cut from her wrist, falling against the table with a thud. She rubs her wrists gingerly, wincing at the cuts she has sustained during her stay. Grasping her forearm in a delicate grip, other hand sliding behind her shoulder blade, Cal eases her up, wincing at every gasp that leaves her lips. A jaw in his muscle ticks with every sound from her mouth, pity and fury blooming in his chest.

“Agh-” She grimaces at the pain enveloping her side, ribs protesting against the movement, healing wounds reopening with every twist of her muscle.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Cal urges her on, arm sliding underneath her legs and behind her back, drawing her to his chest as he rises to his full height. Aylin’s head lolls against his shoulder, scared to hope any of this was real but revelling in the familiar warm comfort seeping from the redheads chest.

With a nod shared between `Cal and Cere they depart, deadly silent as they leave the cell, not a trace of their presence left behind. Cal glances down at the woman in his arms, beyond grateful to have her back within arms reach, satisfied with the knowledge no one would be able to harm her now. He had her and he wasn’t letting go.

Cere freezes in front of him, BD rolling into the back of her legs, and Cal’s heart stops in his chest. She urges him back, but as they’re retreating two troops round the corner, halting in surprise. Both troops helmets slowly turn towards the blonde nestled in Cal’s arms, and their blasters raise, shouting commands. Cal ducks as Cere fires, shielding Aylin as well as he could, BD taking refuge behind Cere’s legs.

Within moments the corridor plunges into silence again, two dead troops lain before the four rebels. Cere glances back to Cal, charging her blaster.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down.” And she runs, sprinting in the direction of the escape shuttles - just to the left of the hanger - with BD trailing behind, Cal sprinting to keep up. Rounding another corner he almost crashes into Cere who doubles back, the pair just managing to dodge out of the way of oncoming blaster fire as they disappear around another corner, the slap of their boots against the metal floor drowned out by the shouts of troops on their tail.

“We’re not far.’ Cere calls, throwing her helmet to the side as she gaps for breath, Cal only a few paces behind her. The pair, plus BD, emerge in a small hanger, smaller, more compact escape shuttles lined on either wall, a squad of five stormtroopers ready and waiting.

Cal’s eyes widen as he watches all five troops raise their weapons, heart plummeting to his stomach. There was nothing he could do, he just hoped they granted them death instead of subjecting them to the fate Aylin had been forced to endure. Cere reaches back deftly and grasps his saber from his belt, igniting the blade mere moments before the first blaster fires. She works in a blur, deflecting shot after shot, blue light cast across her features as she steps closer to the enemy, Cal and BD close behind. It wasn’t often the redhead was able to see Cere in combat, usually taking missions with the girl in his arms, and the skill she displayed, surely a product of the wisdom she had amassed over her years, was awe-inspiring. Every movement is precise, each twist and flick of her wrist purposeful, the weight of the saber in her hand appearing little more than a feather with the ease she displays. She deflects and a troop falls, killed by their own shot.

Slowly but surely the trio make their way towards the closest shuttle, Cal and BD baking away into the ship whilst Cere remains on the defensive, deflecting shot after shot, a bead of sweat running from her brow. Cal places Aylin down on a small cot in the corner of the cramped shuttle, instructing BD to stay behind whilst he collects Cere, running to the boarding ramp, the sounds of blaster shots once again reaching his ears.

“Cere!” He shouts, hanging out of the shuttles door, unable to do much without a weapon. “Cere!”

The older woman retreats slowly, continuing to deflect as she backs up the ramp, the red-head scuttling to the front of the shuttle and switching the engines on, awaiting the sound of the door hissing shut before doing anything drastic.

“Go!” Cere calls and he immediately sets into action, flicking a switch to his right and grasping the steering in both hands, sighing in relief as the shuttle lifts from the floor, paying no mind to the blaster shots that ricocheted off the steelwork around him. Cere appears, clambering into the co-pilots seat, saber grasped tightly in her hand as the ship lurches forward, charging full speed out of the small hanger, Cal frantically inputting the necessary codes for hyperspace, hands flitting about the dashboard in a blur.

With one final lurch the shuttle departs, the red head sighing and collapsing back into the pilots seat, chest rising and falling as he revels in the safety of hyperspace, stars dancing across his vision and illuminating his weary features, the stresses of the day lifting from his shoulders as he watches galaxies stream past. But the day was far from over, and in moments he’s clambering out of his seat, mind once again consumed by the blonde that hadn’t left his thoughts for an eternity.

Leaving Cere in control of their heading Cal retreats into the cramped hull, making a beeline for the blonde huddled atop a thin casket, BD dutifully waiting by her side, camera trained on her intensely, and rolling anxiously from side to side. Cere stares after him, wanting to offer her services, but ultimately deciding to remain in the cockpit, radioing Greez back on the Mantis, knowing that the redhead needed some time with Aylin, alone.

“I’m back.” Cal announces, sitting on the edge of the small cot, dropping a small medkit onto his lap the he had found in a compartment. His eyes land on the blonde’s pale face, eyes softening at the worry etched across her features, eyebrows knitted together in both pain and concern. He opens his mouth to speak, protruding a set of stims from the cluttered medkit. “I’m going to patch you up and then we’re going home. You’re safe, Trilla can’t get to you anymore.”

Aylin hums, head tilting to the side as she finally makes eye contact with the red head, looking as if she was only truly seeing him for the first time. Her eyes widen and her chapped lips part, a shaking hand reaching out to rest against his own, testing her own reality. Cal smiles softly as she watches him with curious eyes, shallow breaths parting her lips.

“Cal?”

“Yes,” his voice breaks as she finally looks at him, truly looks at him, hazel eyes brightening with every second, fighting back against heavy lids. “yes it’s Cal. We’re going home.”

A small smile fights its way onto her lips, although the joyous moment is broken abruptly, the smile quickly twisting into a grimace as her body finally begins to acknowledge the trauma it had endured, old and new wounds reopened in the frenzy to escape. Her eyes flicker, hand beginning to feel slack against his own. Cal pales, hurriedly uncapping the stim in his grasp.

“You stay awake, you hear?” He jabs the stim into her bicep, preparing the other one in his grasp. He had her, he couldn’t lose her now.

“It hurts.” Her voice is strained, a pathetic replica of her true nature.

“I know, I know it does. I’m going to make it stop, I just need you to stay here, stay with me.” Her eyes flutter again, and Cal is grasping at straws, digging through the medkit for something, anything that could work. The stims hadn't worked as he hoped and now he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey- hey! You keep those eyes open. Don’t you dare-” Fear grips him like a vice. His blood running cold as he leans closer, both hands grasping her shoulders, uncaring for the blood that caked them. He felt helpless, utterly, hopelessly helpless. It had been bad when he had been forced to endure being trapped behind a screen, but oh, this was so much worse. She was right here, he could touch her, talk to her, feel her weak heart beating underneath his very own fingertips, and yet he couldn't do anything. “Look at me. Look. At. Me. I want to see your eyes. Come on.”

Try as she might, her body was beginning to fail and with every passing moment the darkness that had clouded her peripheral for the past few days encroached, the lights in the hull dimming and dimming, until all she could see was Cal’s hazy face staring down at her, his hands clasping either side of her face. “Please.” She couldn’t, her walls finally falling and mind succumbing to the rest it so desperately needed.

“Cere-!”

He sounded desperate. He sounded scared. And for the briefest of moments, Aylin felt guilty.

And then the darkness consumed her.

----------

Cal drifts in and out of sleep, dozing comfortably with his head propped atop a familiar cot in a familiar ship, hand delicately grasping another's with his legs curled under the old chair he had stolen, the hazy figure of Aylin comforting him in his peripheral. It had been a few hours since himself, Cere and BD had returned to the Mantis, patching up Aylin to the best of their ability before tucking her away in her room, on course to the rebel base in order to take up Saw’s offer of medical assistance once word had reached him of their rescue mission. Although Cal had arrived back to the Mantis full of energy, spurred on by his panic and worry for the girl who had practically collapsed in his arms, the hours and hours of stress had worn him down, the young red-head finally agreeing to catch some rest, but refusing to allow Aylin to leave his sight.

In his half-conscious state, he fails to notice the way the blonde’s lips twitch and eyelids flutter, barely registering the way her fingers flex against his own as the darkness finally releases her, mind and body returning. Aylin stirs quietly, every muscle and joint aching, the soft fabric against her skin a welcome change from the metal table she had called home for force-knows how long. With every passing second her mind returns, cogs turning as the days events come back to her full force, the sight of Cal’s worried gaze seared into the back of her eyelids, her lips parting in a gasp and her body lurching up out of slumber. Her eyes snap open, crazed and panicked as they dart around the dimly lit room, a groan parting her lips as her ribs protest, the gaping wound at her side, now haphazardly wound in fresh bandages, protesting heavily agains the sudden movement.

Cal is startled awake, almost falling from his chair at Aylin’s abrupt movement hazy eyes fighting for clarity amongst his foggy thoughts. “Hey,” He mutters groggily, mind desperately fighting against the sleep that had consumed him only moment before, hands reaching out to grab Aylin’s shoulders. “hey, hey, hey. It’s me, Aylin it’s me.” Finally, the frantic woman’s eyes meet his own, her body relaxing into his touch as he gently guides her back down, the pads of his fingers digging into the exposed flesh of her shoulders. “It’s alright, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” She takes in a shuddering breath as Cal gently sweeps her messy bangs from her eyes, palm resting against her forehead a moment too long, simply savouring that she was here, she was back, she was safe.

Cal sits back in his chair once he makes sure she was okay and settled, fretting like a mother and readjusting her pillows and pulling the thin sheets back up to her chest, fingers smoothing out the white tank top she had been changed into. His cerulean eyes, still slightly blurry with sleep, never leave her figure.

“What happened?” Her voice was quiet, a mere murmer whisked away on the wind. She runs a hand along the bandages freshly wrapped around her shoulder, noting the wraps of gauze around each of her wrists.

“We got you. Cere and I, we went and got you. You were pretty beat up.” His voice cracks and he quickly clears his throat. Aylin pays it no mind, wide owlish eyes staring at him from underneath a pair of heavy lids. “We’ve fixed you up the best we could, Saw’s offered some rebel facilities if we need them.” The small room plunges into silence, neither of them glancing away, Cal’s thumb unknowingly rubbing circles into the back of Aylin’s hand. As an after thought he adds. “We’re at the other end of the galaxy, there’s no way they can find us here. You’re safe, you can get some rest.”

As if she had suddenly remembered, Aylin reveals her force signature, the walls that she had held around her mind - and that she had habitually rebuilt when she awakened - coming crumbling down. Cal watches her shoulders visibly relax as the final remnants of tension leave her body, allowing his own force signature to branch out, enticed yet apprehensive of the new presence.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She mutters, eyes falling from his gaze.

“I get it.” He smiles softly, thumb continuing to run soothing circles on the back of her hand. As much as he may have been hurt that she hadn’t told him, he couldn’t deny that he understood why, the events of the last two weeks evidence enough of the consequences. “We can talk about it later, you need some rest.”

Silence envelopes the room, the pair simply content with one another's presence. Cal rests his head on the palm of his hand, eyes beginning to close once again, happy that they had a second chance. Undoubtedly the pair had much to talk about, the crew had to figure out how to move forward, but at least they had that chance. For a long time Cal had feared he would never get that chance and now that he had it, he was not going to let it go to waste.

Things weren’t perfect, not by any stretch of the word, but the universe had given them the opportunity to try and make things right.

Suddenly, Aylin stirs again, wincing as she attempts to sit up, eyes wide and unblinking as they flit about the room. Cal’s hands shoot out again to stop her. “Where’s BD?” The urgency to her voice was hard to miss, resembling its older self. “Is he alright? Did you find him? I saw-”

“It’s okay, we’re all back. BD’ll be over the moon to know you’re awake, they’ve been peaking into your room every chance they get.” Cal coaxes her back down, more concerned with her reopening any of the wounds the crew had spent a painstaking amount of time trying to patch up than anything else. “And we managed to extract the information you both collected. It’s really going to make a difference.” He pauses, unsure of his next words, wondering how inappropriate they might be, unsure of how the blonde felt about him after her departure. “Thank you.”

Aylin smiles fondly at his worry, allowing him to secure her back in place, delighted that her earlier assumptions hadn’t been true, that Trilla wasn’t just playing some sick mind game, that BD was safe and sound, on the Mantis where they belonged. Then, the words fully register, and her forehead creases in confusion. “For what?”

Cal leans back in his chair, hands running through his disheveled hair, the bags under his eyes more visible with the guilt festering in his chest. “You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve let anyone go and collect the data, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have been in the same danger as you.” His bright eyes drift to the bandages wrapped around her shoulder, flitting across the many bruises visible just from her neck up. “But you did and I- thank you. Thank you for doing this and I know-” He was rambling now, his hands running through his hair as Aylin watches him, a small smile tugging at her chapped lips. “I know I acted like a bit of an ass before you left- and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hesitates again, reaching forward to intertwine their hands, seeking comfort in knowing she was here, that he hadn’t failed her as he had done his master all those years ago. “I heard some of the things Trilla said to you, and I’m sorry you ever thought I wouldn’t come to get you. It was all I could think about since they caught you. Truthfully I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t gotten you back.”

The room plunges into silence once again, uncomfortable and stifling, Cal feeling overwhelmed at the emotions that echoed around him through the force, not daring to reach out to the blonde before him, fearful of what he might discover, fearful of heartbreak. Aylin gazes at the red head from under heavy lashes, weary eyes begging to close. The poor boy looked as exhausted as she felt, deep dark bags under his eyes, skin as pale as snow causing his scars to look red and glossy, highlighting the greyness to his pallor, his hair a dishevelled mess atop his head, tufts sticking out in every direction from the endless amount of times he had ran his fingers through his hair, tugging harshly at the roots in frustration. He had changed since she last saw him, donning a pair of cargo trousers and a comfortable sweater she had suggested he buy form a marker stall once, the navy material bunched up to his elbows, creased and crinkled from the stresses of the day. As tired as he looked and as rough as she felt, she doubted she had ever before been so ecstatic to see him, to see that he cared, even despite the truth of her history. Warmth spread from everywhere he touched, his soft touches and gentle caresses a stark contrast to anything she had felt before; it was everything she had hoped it could be.

“I remember seeing you in that uniform.” Aylin whispers, daring to break the silence, exhausted yet hopeful eyes boring into Cal’s own. “I’m surprised they didn’t realise you weren't one of them sooner.”

He was taken aback at the abrupt shift in conversation, cerulean eyes boring into Aylin’s own hazel pair with curiosity, his mind reeling at the exhaustingly dazzling smile she sent his way.

“And why’s that?” He questions softly, thumb unknowingly continuing to rub gentle circles on the back of her hand.

“Your eyes.” Cal’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, beginning to wonder if she had been able to understand his words in her drugged state. “They’re too kind.”

A moments pause. Cal could feel the familiar bloom of heat along his cheeks spreading to his ears, he dreaded to think how flushed he must look.

“They didn’t match the uniform at all.”

“You’re obviously delirious,” he deflects jokingly, voice just as soft, warmth spreading through his cheeks and neck. “the uniform didn’t even fit-”

“The eyes are the window to the soul.” She mutters defiantly, determined even despite her dazed and exhausted state. “I’ve seen the eyes of some of the cruelest men and women in the galaxy. You’re too good for them Cal, you’re too good for us, you’re too good for me. I don’t know why you came to save me, but I can’t thank you enough. I never thought I would get to see your eyes again.”

Because I love you. He wanted to say, yet his mind wouldn’t let him, forcing partial truth from his lips.

“I was worried I’d never get to see you again.” Cal admits, leaning forward in his chair. “You have no idea how worried I was. You’ll be the death of me one day.”

His eyes study her face; the softness of her cheeks, the angularity of her jaw, the curve of her lips. His eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips and then back again, watching a small smile carve its way across her small lips. He felt like a boy again, unsure and uncertain, inexperienced and insecure. He had felt like this many times around the blonde, but this time, he wouldn’t shy away. She was a shining star in an ever darkening galaxy, and he’d be dead before he let her fall from his grasp again. Mustering all the courage in the galaxy, his lips part. “I was worried I’d never get to do this.”

Some part of him, the part that remembered his time with the Jedi before the end to it all, the end of an era, stirred fear in his heart; fear of attachments, fear of loss, fear of love. A life of solitude and harmony he had practiced like a mantra, and that in every step of the way, when it came to the blonde in front of him, he had failed, time and time again. He remembers how he had felt when she had been captured, the way his heart had seized and his world had stopped, how his life since than had been nothing but worry and hurt, nothing but pain for what could have been and what might never be, the pain of loving someone and not being able to do anything about it, not being able to protect those he cares for more than anything else in the galaxy.

He had never been that dutiful of a Padawan anyway.

He leans closer, impossibly so, watching the grin grow on Aylin’s face as her eyes flutter shut. His lips connect with her own, melding together in an innocent affair, a hand coming up to cradle the side of her jaw, the other tightening its grip on her hand. He presses forward, heart hammering out of his chest and blood rushing through his ears as she kisses back, her free hand coming up to tentatively grasp the back of his neck, drawing him down to her; the girl he had been so close to losing, the boy she had been so close to forgetting. It was brief and uncertain, testing new waters both had been too scared to explore, but every emotion they had kept bottled for so long came bubbling to the surface; the hurt, the pain, the helplessness, the love. In moments that felt like an eternity Cal pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, wide uncertain eyes locked with her own with haggard breaths falling from his lips.

“Took you long enough.” She grins from underneath the sheets, her own heart ready to explode from her chest.

“Get some rest.” He mutters behind a laugh, pulling back to sit back in his chair, arms crossing to prop his head on the corner of the bed, one hand outstretched to hold her own in his strong grip. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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rokutouxei · 4 years ago

Text

like flashes of starlight

genshin impact | G | 4331 | ao3 link in bio xiao / aether

summary: Xiao’s entire existence is rooted in Liyue, all thousands of years of his life, and when he begins to develop a fondness for a traveler whose journey takes him farther than he can ever imagine, he finds himself seeing his much smaller world, its time and space, a little differently.

Liyue Harbor will always be in a state of flux—always changing, always inviting the newness of the world into its docks. History will paint it in vibrant colors, its most beautiful traditions alongside the innovations of ever-changing cultures. But to Xiao, Liyue will always be the same.

His Liyue. His to protect. Rex Lapis’ Liyue.

The fittings may change, but the core is the same.

When he’d first met the traveler, a thought crossed his mind that slowly embedded itself deep into his consciousness. Xiao knew with one glance that Aether was not of Teyvat. The way he held himself; the way he wielded his elemental powers; the mere energy of him was not human, or demon, for that matter. Aether felt like something different, like the night sky, broad and all-encompassing to those on the ground.

Had Xiao’s apprehension not superseded his curiosity, he would have asked: what does Liyue look like, to an outsider like you?

As a fellow outsider, do you see it as I do?

Rex Lapis’ decree is simple. Protect Liyue. Vanquish demons. Restore order through slaughter. Purge evil through battle. Nothing more, nothing less. The five yakshas' existence, purpose, and meaning all lie within that framework of being the weaponry by which Liyue is guaranteed safety.

As the last remaining of the five, despite being also assisted by the many remaining adepti, Xiao holds his mission close to his heart.

When the threat of Osial befalls Liyue, both the mortal millelith and Qixing, and the mighty, illuminated adepti come to the rescue. It is not easy to put aside their differences, but in the end they come together to fight for their nation, standing on top of the Jade Chamber, overlooking the monstrous water dragon haunting them all from the past. All are willing to fight until their deaths. But there is another one, standing on the battlefield, that does not need to be there—and yet is there—and does not back down despite every opportunity he gets.

Aether.

Aether is not of Liyue. Aether doesn’t even look like he’s from anywhere in Teyvat, for that matter, the true fittings of an actual wanderer, as if he were from an entirely different world of his own. And yet he is here. Bruised and still injured from a previous battle—he had heard the floating girl that they had come from the Golden House, and a battle with a Fatui Harbinger had led to the summoning of Osial—Aether still stands with the rest of them, ignoring any weariness from previous battles.

“What can I do?” he offers, and the adepti share a look at each other as if gauging the situation. They know. It is not exactly easy to hide that Aether is not like other travelers, other adventurers. They lend him their power. Slowly, gauging how much he can handle of their energies. They convene on the ballista, fighting Fatui and avoiding the strikes of the fallen god, water blasting them painfully.

At some point during the battle, Aether and Xiao meet back-to-back as they dodge from an attack. The former glances at the adeptus with an unreadable smile.

Xiao has long been used to being the strongest one on the battlefield, the one most proficient at killing. But with Aether here by his side—blocking and returning a strike, a Fatui agent dropping to the ground—there is a feeling that fills him about having someone near his equal, if not even stronger, fight with him.

Excitement? Thrill?

The tiniest bit of lax, like he would be safe with him?

So when the ballista cracks open with a particularly hard strike, and Aether has no choice but to obey gravity, Xiao does not fight the instinct to leap between debris to catch him before he lands on the ground.

Only a quiet tsk comes out of him once Aether is safely in his arms, to which the other’s gasp of surprise melts into a brief, sheepish grin.

He'd imagined the traveler would ease his murderous workload—not add to it. And right now, Liyue might be lucky to have a willing outsider to help them out in such a time of crisis, but like this… Xiao wonders if the nation will be any safer with a savior as reckless as him.

Aether calls it an offering out of jest. Xiao seems exasperated every time, but he does not reject the plate of almond tofu that gets offered to him anyway. Besides, it tastes different when it’s the traveler that makes it.

It is unfair in a way that Xiao hears ahead if Aether might pass by the Wangshu Inn—related to commissions from Verr Goldet or Huai’an, or perhaps from a brief sighting of him from the mountains of Liyue. But he finds it no sort of nuisance, because that only gives him more time to prepare himself to meet the traveler.

The plates of almond tofu, like all offerings to archons and adepti, are made with a wish in mind. Like this, Aether subtly asks for a sliver of time, a moment with some company other than his floating companion. And the Xiao before Osial, before saving Liyue, well, he would have turned him down, would have thanked him for the plate and then disappeared into the night, but—

Here, he does not.

Instead, he guides Aether up to the rooftop of Wangshu Inn. Here, the history of Liyue unfolds behind Xiao’s eyes, a history he knows like the back of his hand. Jueyun Karst to the left. Dihua Marsh to the right. And should the night be quieter, and Xiao allows himself to stand on the lower floor, there are the broken ruins in Guili Plains, where the war he had fought still rings clear.

Wangshu Inn fills his mind deafeningly with memories, but when Aether is there, all goes quiet.

Sometimes, Aether talks to him. Speaks to him of developments in his journey, or about a notable yet stray monster that he had fought with. Other times, it is mundane stories of his adventuring with Paimon. But a lot of times, Xiao’s company seems to be enough, Aether looking out at the view with an indistinct expression on his face.

It is in moments like these that Xiao recognizes something in Aether that he’s only ever seen in a mirror.

A deep welling of sadness. One that has been sharpened and smoothened and shaped by time.

Is this why Aether smiles at him like he understands his loneliness?

“My sister,” he said once, voice nearly just a whisper, “I’ve never been without her this long.” And that was it. No other explanation. He does not expound on what it means. It feels too heavy to say anything more than that. So when Aether leans his head against his shoulder, awake but not quite in his head, Xiao lets him, letting his questions disappear in an exhaled breath.

Eventually, if the Archons allow them, Aether will know of his secrets in time. And Xiao will know of his secrets in time.

Right now, it does not feel like it is his to ask.

But he can stay, he can keep watch, so that he does.

It isn’t that Xiao does not understand what draws the citizens of Liyue—and other nations as well—to the yearly celebration of Lantern Rite, it’s just that such a loud and joyous eruption of fervor has always had a different connotation to him, the one who protects Liyue from the monsters hiding in their shadows.

While Aether explores the newly-decorated streets of Liyue with the enthusiasm of a young tourist, streamers of red and lanterns bathing the city in a beautiful gold, Xiao looks over the harbor feeling like a foreigner. He hates the Lantern Rite. And not only because of the general adepti dislike of mortal life. Of course, he will never be one to complain about his duty, but the pain… The Lantern Rite is flashy and joyful—exacerbating the usual haze of the residual hatred of defeated gods.

On those days, Xiao finds no rest.

(Not that any kind of rest has ever been truly restful, not in what seems like ten thousand years.)

No room to breathe. Only the briefest of moments between fighting tainted monsters that spawn from the ground, his spirit black and blue and choking from corruption.

His one fear is what would happen to Liyue if one day, he becomes unable to fight?

When the karma that weighs down on him becomes too much for him to bear?

He has to continue to believe in his battle, lest he forgets it.

He sees the lanterns and chants to himself, like forcing himself to believe it:

It is worth it.

A camp of hilichurls reek blackness, slowly creeping into the territory of Wangshu Inn. There are innocent people there. As silently as possible, as to not draw any more attention, he quickly clears them, granting no mercy. Their anger dissipates from their bodies and sinks into his skin.

It is worth it.

Their eyes all black now, growling and hissing, a group of vengeful, corrupted treasure hoarder spirits track a caravan carrying stocks of food and materials on its way to Liyue Harbor. They promise sickness and death to whatever they touch. Before the driver and the millelith even notice him creeping by, the spirits are dealt with. When he breathes in, he feels them calling him unforgivable.

It is worth it.

He’s never been partial to crowded areas, not with his constitution being as it is. He’d rather be as far away from other people as possible, as to not bring any more danger than he already must. All of this human experience of the Lantern Rite—peeking in between stalls, checking wares, tasting the festival food, creating lanterns—are for individuals like the traveler.

There is evil out there to be cleansed, he does not have time for “merriment.”

Which is why he does not understand why Aether does not understand.

Why they insist to “bring the Lantern Rite to him”, serve him food that reminds him of sweet, sweet dreams. What they get out of dragging him all the way to the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, if only to overlook the Mingxiao lantern, a quiet reminder of a battle fought what feels like eons ago. The closer they get to the festivities, the more Xiao feels out of place, the more he wants to run.

But he does not, because Aether is by his side. And on the walk to the harbor, he asks Xiao about the Lantern Rite, as if he hasn’t heard about it before. Forces Xiao to form the words with his own mouth. Filling in the blanks when he no longer knows what to say; when he’s forgotten what it truly is now, to the people he is protecting, what happens on the stage while he is on the sidelines.

That the Lantern Rite is a celebration of the new year, a thanksgiving for the previous year’s joys, and a prayer in anticipation for the coming year’s blessings. That the Lantern Rite is a commemoration of its long past, its commercial hub status getting adorned with its intricate history, traders and storytellers coming together to speak of old wars and adepti and long-fallen gods.

Lanterns as beacons in the night, guiding bygone heroes back to their homeland.

Aether could be fair and say it as well, but he gives Xiao a taste of his own medicine and lets it sink in on its own.

This celebration is for you too, Xiao.

And when the traveler is long gone, he and Paimon in the streets of Liyue no doubt looking in awe and wonder at the culmination of the Lantern Rite festivities, Xiao sits on top of the mountainside on the outskirts watching Liyue light up with brilliance.

And he tells himself:

It’s worth it.

This is worth it.

Perhaps on the next Lantern Rite, Xiao wouldn’t mind taking a walk in the city with him.

No one prays to adeptus Xiao.

Not in the same way other adepti have served the citizens of Liyue, at the very least. There are no prayers of good tidings and great harvest; no pilgrimages made up to abodes to seek wisdom.

This has never bothered Xiao in the slightest, not in his hundreds of years of service.

It is better off this way. He doesn’t have what other adepti like Mountain Shaper or Cloud Retainer can offer, no knowledge and insight that he finds worth sharing. Even half-adepti like Ganyu would perhaps have more to give to a longing pilgrim.

The only thing Xiao can give is his executioner’s blow.

That doesn’t stop him from hearing them cry. Wishes for death from the most desperate, like silent bells tolling in the dead of the night. Demands for violence that are whispered into the traitorous air, reaching his ears without fail. They don’t have to speak his name for him to feel their prayers.

They twist, turn, mutate into the most horrible of requests, the hatred and miasma from old fallen gods corrupting even the most innocent of pleas, Xiao’s spear materializing in his hand as if on instinct, to kill, to eradicate, to cleanse, to kill kill kill kill—

This is why Xiao does not like to sleep.

Slumber means dropping his guard, letting the swirl of the voices take over him until he’s at his most vulnerable. Sleep is only more cause for trouble.

The yaksha soon learns, however, that sometimes, it is worth the spare openness; his emotions remaining unsaid and yet seen, somehow, because Aether is Aether. Xiao wonders if, to the traveler, he is transparent. Aether does not even flinch when Xiao misses to restrain the growl that crawls up his throat in response to the clamor of pain. Instead, the golden-haired boy readjusts where he’s resting his head on Xiao’s shoulder, and reaches the small distance to place his hand on his. Rubs two, three gentle lines with his thumb on the back of the adeptus’ hand before he promptly falls back into slumber, a well-deserved afternoon nap after a long morning of commissions.

Xiao’s spear dematerializes without a sound.

And, equally quietly, loud in its silence, Xiao rests his head against Aether’s, and closes his eyes.

Anger is not an emotion Xiao would associate with Aether, and yet here they are, at the highest peak of Qingce Village in the late afternoon, after he had asked Xiao if he knew someplace quiet where they would not be interrupted.

“I don’t understand,” he says, sat down with his arms on his knees, his head on his arms, curled up in a ball. Xiao stands next to him with his arms crossed over his chest, listening patiently. “She didn’t want to. …I’d finally found her, and yet…” There lingers the quiet kind of anger, voice calm yet cold. On the inside, Aether is trembling with irritation and swaying with dismay. The backlash of betrayal. “We’ve been separated for more than five hundred years.”

I’ve never been without her this long.

For what seems like an eternity after that, Aether is quiet. Understandably so. This is none of Xiao’s concern, at least not in the sense where he would have the duty to step in, and yet the chaos of it is one he could only ascribe to be some sort of nightmare. Perhaps similar to the ones he gets often. He imagines Aether’s world turned cleanly upside down—those he had considered his greatest allies now potentially his worst enemies; and that he had thought was his enemy is under the hand of the one person he trusts the most in the entire universe.

It is heavy.

In the silence, Xiao recalls when there were still five yakshas around. How the mist of karmic pain that entangled around them for eons of dutiful slaughter had begun to choke them, turn them into twisted versions of themselves. He had seen each of them fall from being unable to tolerate the agony.

He worries the same might happen to Aether. He worries that when that happens, he will only be able to watch, the same way he did back then.

That he would have to be the last resort to slay him.

It is only when the sun is long out of the sky when Aether speaks again, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming, sobbing openly—“I want to go home.”

Xiao… places a comforting hand over Aether’s shoulder. He knows that Aether would have been ready to go in a heartbeat. That Teyvat and Khaenri’ah are nothing but a blip in the grand canvas of his journeys. And that, unlike him, all permanent miasma and choking with his feet sunk into the ground, unable to move, forever rooted in Teyvat, in Liyue, in his karma, Aether has and always will be like flashes of starlight, beautiful and faint and gone in a moment.

That he would be gone before Xiao learns how to miss him.

The only question the yaksha has is, when he finally goes, if he would take the rest of Xiao’s heart with him.

He would have pulled a classic “foolish mortals” had he known no better about Aether’s own expansive lifetime. Like this, then, perhaps they are the same in their foolishness. At least the citizens of Liyue know better than to acquaint with him, their guardian whose only strength is in pursuing death. They hear the mere word of him and they scutter in the opposite direction. It is better that way. It is safer that way.

But Aether does not, and now it is too late.

Xiao stays up late wondering how much of what has befallen Aether is from him. How much of it is his own karma, spread by their bond—whatever sense he may make out of it—and leading to the other’s pain? Aether complains of nightmares, of being in that domain and calling out for his sister, only to be pushed back, thrown off, like he had never been wanted in the first place.

So Xiao sets up for an apology for what he has done, the least he can do for spreading the black miasma that surrounds him into someone unrelated like Aether, but the latter only throws him a look of confusion that slowly evolves into a now-familiar, cryptic smile.

“Why would I want to sever it?” Aether asks, “I’ve never thought of that, Xiao.”

Xiao is quiet, too dumbfounded to say another word.

So instead, Aether puts his hands over his hips and says, “When I am in Liyue, you make me strong, Xiao, knowing you are out here protecting the land as well. I have no regrets about being close to you.”

Then stay, Xiao nearly says.

“What does Liyue look to you,” Xiao finally asks, though he intones it not quite like a question, like he’s still apprehensive about it. Aether turns back toward him, all gold eyes and hair, stars in the night sky.

“Beautiful,” the traveler answers immediately, as if he had long thought of it that way. “Rich in its history, steeped in tradition. And with guardians that look after it long after the people have forgotten them in time. It’s a stunning nation.”

Then stay.

“I know you keep yourself all wrapped in secrecy for the people, but—think about it, everything they do is in debt to you.”

“A debt that does not need to be repaid,” Xiao says. “I only follow through Rex Lapis’ original decree.”

“And that’s exactly why it’s so praiseworthy.” Aether nods to himself. “It’s a negative cycle where only you bear all the consequences. Had they known about you—should they still honor you the way they did then—they would see you as the hero that you are, Xiao. As the hero I see you as.”

Then stay.

Yanxiao avoids eye contact with Xiao but does not hesitate in giving Aether a judgmental look when he orders a plate of almond tofu for breakfast. What the cook doesn’t know is that it’s a reward for a restless night of nightmares, and an apology for a friendship that has always been wanted.

For the something more that cannot be claimed.

As they share the plate of sweet dreams, Xiao realizes, while looking at Aether enjoying a bite, that one day, like everything else that has happened in the past, he might be able to forgive himself—forgive Aether—for what they have done to each other. No grudge can last a thousand years. And should the thousand years pass—well, Aether would have been long gone, and Xiao knows better than to dig himself an even deeper grave for his sorrows.

Xiao has lived more than a thousand years in the loneliness, where there is only his spear and his darkness, but now, bathed in starlight, he feels lost and ill at ease. Perhaps, in a different life, things would not have ended this way, and there would have been compromises to be made, and there would have been promises to be kept. He considers the possibility of a universe where that occurs, if it would be better, if it would be worse.

The young-seeming adeptus searches his heart, only to find no answers.

The prowess of that one mortal Beidou is not one that has escaped Xiao, and once Aether informs him that she would be allowing him safe passage into the closed country of Inazuma, Xiao is certain the traveler would be alright. It doesn’t entirely ease his worries, however, so once the day of departure arrives, he slips into the nearby Guyun Stone Forest to observe the ship as it prepares to sail away.

His mind is so clouded he doesn’t hear Aether approaching him from behind.

“Xiao?”

The adeptus feels a pang in his chest in the other’s tone of surprise; on the other hand, a breeze of thankfulness fills his heart—perhaps he is less see-through than he’d once thought. He turns to the golden-eyed boy with his usual blank face, hoping his mask does not break.

Paimon speaks before he can. “Are you here to say goodbye, Xiao?”

“Hmph.” If he was, he would need more coaxing to admit it. “I wanted to see to it the ship wouldn’t sink before you’ve even left Liyuen premises.”

Aether smiles like he knows what that sentence really meant. Xiao wonders if Aether really understands, or he just likes to believe it is that way. “Thank you.”

He’d promised once, after all, that he would protect Aether, hear his call, for as long as he is in Liyue. Anywhere beyond there… is entirely out of his jurisdiction.

“You know,” Paimon begins, crossing her small arms over her chest, “Paimon thinks it would be great if Xiao came with us. Then I wouldn’t be worrying so much about you getting in weird stuff, Aether.”

Xiao gets interrupted before he can reply. “That wouldn’t be a nice thing to ask, Paimon,” he explains, patting the fairy’s head gently before turning to Xiao. “Liyue is Xiao’s home, he belongs here. I can’t take that away from him—and him away from Liyue. Don’t you think, Xiao?”

Home, huh?

Two pairs of gold eyes meet, and in the other, Xiao sees a longing that he wonders is what foolish mortals would call love.

“May your journeys allow you to reach your sister soon,” is, instead, what Xiao settles with, and Aether pulls out another one of his cryptic smiles. Like he hears the Thank you. Like he hears the Liyue—and I—will always be here. Like he understands the I hope you, too, reach and return to that place where you belong.

Like he knows this is a goodbye, but of a different sort.

Xiao is too far from where they are to be visible when the two get on the ship. They wave vaguely in his direction, his attention called back by a whisper of his name in a familiar voice, carried by the sea breeze. Xiao watches as the anchor gets hoisted, the sails opened, and the ship begins to make its way into the great sea. Once it is out of his sight, he has no way to find out if Aether will be alright.

At dusk, the stars are beginning to come out, perfect for wayfinding. Its deep blueness is all-encompassing, as if cradling Xiao in familiar darkness.

The adeptus raises his head to the wide sky. The god he has worshipped is dead. Only Archons know where his pleas will end up in. But even if he does not know who will hear his wishes, for Aether—he prays.

Time is a silly thing. At first, a day feels like a hundred years, and then, a hundred years pass by in what feels like mere days.

What felt like the entire world once is now but a passing memory.

Liyue Harbor will always be in a state of flux—always changing, always inviting the newness of the world into its harbors. History will paint it in vibrant colors, its most beautiful traditions alongside the innovations of ever-changing cultures. But to Xiao, Liyue will always be the same.

Once, there was a traveler that roamed the landscape of Liyue, changing it and influencing it wherever he went. Shifting its colors; turning it upside down; leaving his stardust on it.

Liyue will always be the same.

The same harbor.

The same rooftop on Wangshu inn.

The same cliffside in Qingce.

The places Xiao went to, trying to understand what Liyue looked like to one who had come from the heavens, looking down.

The traveler he wished on stars to.

Xiao still finds him everywhere, in things beautiful and faint and gone in a moment.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiaoaether #xiaoether #fic

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jadedxrealityw · 4 years ago

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-Rush- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Summary: After a failed relationship you and Draco lost contact only to be reconnected when you take a job at the Ministry Of Magic. Emotions begin to resurface as you both realize that even after all the time that has passed you still both are deeply in love with each other

Kody: The song this image is based off of. Lewis Capaldi - Rush ft. Jessie Reyez. I also changed the backstory for a couple of characters, mostly about what happened after the wizarding war.

Year: out of school

House: Gryffindor (out of school)

Possible Triggers/Warnings: fat angst, cursing, lowkey toxic Draco

♡~🐍~♡

high school sweethearts, that was what you were. What you used to be.

it was a normal day when Draco said he wanted to end things, going on a whole rant about how you weren’t safe with him and you deserved so much more than what a death eater could bring you. Despite all of your reassurances that you would take the risk his mind was made up.

his parents were pressuring him to give you up. His father repeating that no son of his would date some Gryffindor half blood, but you were much more than that to him. You shared his passions and interests, listened to him when he needed a ear to talk off about Alchemy or offered your shoulder to cry on.

it was the one thing he stood his ground for. You. One night while he was quietly, but with haste packing clothes into a small trunk because he was planning on apparating to your house and run away with you his aunt Bellatrix had caught him in the act.

she, in a very threatening tone told her nephew that the dark lord knew of his little Gryffindor girlfriend and if he wanted to see you unharmed he would be a good boy and listen to orders when he’s given them. His whole world came crashing down. He could take the chance and run with you anyway. He really wanted to.

but then you would never live a comfortable life. Being on the run constantly was not what he planned when he gave you a silver ring when you were both 15 with a promise he would replace it with a wedding band in the future. Now he would never get to see you walk down the aisle.

so he distanced himself from you as much as he could until the breakup, so it wouldn’t hurt as much. It still did.

‘The space between where our ends meet, Has grown too much for me to block it out’

you left his dorm that day in tears. His body almost leaped forward to chase after you, but his mind knew better. If losing you meant he could protect you from the dangers his life brought as a Malfoy, then by all means. He had to let you go. Doesn’t mean it was easy.

he never really saw you again after that. He chalked it up to his mind blocking you out if you ever were in his line of sight, like some sort of defense his brain put up to avoid any more hurt. Once the ‘final battle’ came around he decided that he wouldn’t let his father control his life anymore.

he aided the golden trio by tossing his wand to Harry once he fell out of Hagrid’s arms and with that it was over instantly. His mother and him were charged for war crimes, but Hermione and Harry ended up speaking on their behalves and all charges were dropped.

his father was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his days and for once Draco felt at peace with his father being so far away, no longer having the ability to control him. Harry almost immediately got a job at the ‘Ministry Of Magic’ as well as Hermione.

after a few months Harry had talked Draco up enough to his superiors to get him a position in the ‘Department of Magical Law Enforcement’ as a Auror. He felt strange working with Harry Potter after all the years of bullying, but they got along really well when they cooperated.

♡~🐍~♡

1 year later

“Hey, can we talk to you for a bit?” Draco looks up from his papers that lied on his desk. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter stood at the entrance of his office, looking visibly uncomfortable. He had a feeling this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

he set the pen down on the desk before gesturing to the seats in front of said desk. Hermione put on a sweet smile as she took a seat, Harry following. “So i’m sure you heard our department is hiring another Auror since were shoftstafed” Draco nods slowly. He actually heard about it yesterday before he left.

“Yeah so, we overheard a conversation this morning about who it was and we wanted o tell you in advance” Harry explained. Draco’s brow went up in slight confusion. Warn him? What in hell did that mean? “Warn me” he repeated and Hermione nods.

a sympathetic smile played on her soft complexion. “It’s Y/n. Y/n L/n” Draco’s body tensed up instantly. Of course the universe would punish him like this. Waving the love of his life in his face after he broke her heart. How spiteful. “Oh” he simply said, before leaning back into his chair.

all business professionalism drained from his body in an instant “Fuck” he cursed under his breath “You still care about her, don’t you?” Hermione questioned. He just nodded before letting out a deep sigh and standing up from his chair “I’m quitting”

both ex Gryffindors shot up from there seats “You can’t quit Draco, that’s a highly irrational reaction!” Hermione sputters as he collects his coat from the back of his black swivel chair. “You wouldn’t understand, Granger” he slipped his arms through both sleeves.

“Draco!-” Harry started, but didn’t get another word in as Draco opened his office door. As soon as the door swung open he felt a head collide with his chest. He could practically hear their heartbeat race in embarrassment “Oh Merlin, i apologize!” the voice. That voice laughed nervously.

‘I miss the tone of your heartbeat. It's such a warming and familiar sound’

the person backed away and he felt as if he could collapse right then and there. “Draco?” you said. ‘No, please don’t say my name’ he thought. A smile grew on your face “What a funny coincidence. seeing you here. How’ve you been?”

his eyes mapped your body, not in a sexual way. Just noting the small changes that occured over a year and a half. You kept your hair the same length, as well as your taste in clothing. Your face was a bit more matured, but still held it’s natural beauty.

the way you spoke to him made his heart twinge. It was so friendly. Of course it was friendly, but he still hated it. “I’ve been quite alright. You?” he questions. “I’m great, couldn’t be better really.” you shrug your shoulders. His heart tugged violently.

better. Couldn’t be better. In his mind when the word better came up he imagined being married to you already and living a comfortable, wealthy life. But no, he was here. He forced a half smile on his face “That’s good to hear. Now i must get going. I hope you're finding the power. To help you make it through the darker days”

he walked past her and as soon as he was out of sight, sped walked to the nearest bathrooms. He locked the door before leaning against it. He slowly slid down until he sat down on the tile floor. It was gross, but he didn’t care at the moment.

how was he going to work here with you around. It felt as if the air was being violently sucked from his lungs. Was this what Granger called a panic attack? or was his body finally giving up on him. He would be perfectly fine with whatever option at this stage.

as he stared up at the ceiling, a bitter laugh left his throat “For now, I wait by the hour. If you wanna take somebody's breath away”

♡~🐍~♡

It had been two weeks and Draco felt as if he was going to implode. You were so happy and cheerful and- and- joyful. he just couldn’t understand how you weren’t as broken up as he was or maybe he wanted someone to share his pain. How pathetic was that?

now here he was. At some boring gala the Ministry was holding. Something about celebrating a new generation or along those lines. Draco couldn’t be bothered to care about details. He took another sip of wine from his glass hoping to get buzzed enough to fly through this boring affair.

he looks up to see multiple pairs of eyes on him. Wait- not him. Behind him. He slowly turns around as it met with the most breathtaking sight he could ever see. You strolled through the entrance wearing a no strap long lace dress. He swore his heart skipped a couple beats.

you looked like a princess ready to be whisked away, but you weren’t his to whisk anymore were you? Draco’s jaw locked in place before he looked back down at the wine in his hand. He places it down on a nearby table. “Merlin, you look absolutely stunning Ms. L/n!”

Granger. “Are you alright?” a male voice asked. Potter. If Weasley showed up, he was going to have an aneurysm on the spot. Draco simply exhaled deeply “I suppose so. I don’t think my mind is processing the fact the she isn’t mine anymore though. So there’s that”

Harry looked at Draco, studying his facial expressions. It was strange to see him so emotional “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you two together?” he was treading on thin ice, he knew that. “Long enough for it to hurt this bad”

♡~🐍~♡

and with that. Draco walked away from the chosen one and spent a good twenty minutes talking to random superiors and wealthy couples. It was only when he came from the bathroom he heard your voice for the first time that night.

“Oh thank you!” you spoke in a enthusiastic voice. Draco stopped mid step and leaned against the wall. Now he was eavesdropping? How pathetic of him. “So Y/n, we heard you used to date Draco Malfoy. Is that true?” a unfamiliar voice asked.

he inhaled sharply. “Um yes, yes i did” you spoke. You sounded uncomfortable with that question. How dare they pry on your love life? They had no right “So what was he like? Did he cheat on you? Was he a bad boyfriend? I bet he was” his fist clenched at his side.

Draco wasn’t the nicest person. He knew that, but he showed you as much love and affection his body could produce. He loved you! Hell, he still loved you. You seem to sputter “Uh-” he couldn’t listen to this. He walked out of the small hallway, surprising you and the unfamiliar coworker.

he needed some fresh air. Now. He pushes through a couple of people with a cold stare. He walks down a couple steps of stairs and hes out the front doors. The cold crisp air hits his face and he felt as if he could breathe again. He reaches up and slicks his platinum hair back.

a repeated clicking noise could be heard behind him, getting closer. Shoes. No. Heels actually. “Draco” you spoke. He turns around quickly and watches as you step off the concrete and into the grass, holding your dress up from the ground.

why did he feel so angry? Could it be because you didn’t deny his claims? or something else? “Go away L/n” he spoke harshly. He could see your face turn to one of confusion before a stern look took over “No, your clearly upset so i’m not leaving”

still so stubborn. “Are you upset because they asked me about us? If you don’t want anyone to know i promise i won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation” you said, which only angered him more. How could you be so stupid?

“I don’t give a damn if anyone knows about us! You didn’t deny it Y/n! They said such horrible things about me and you just stood there like they were right! Are you fucking serious?! I loved you with everything i had and you act like as if i was the monster!” Draco’s voice boomed, you look positively frightened.

until you didn’t Then you looked angry “You broke up with me you stupid git! You left me alone and scared while the whole war was going on! So yeah Draco i’m fucking bitter! Screw you! What happened, you were so accepting of me when we first saw each other. You hoped i was well!”

you were right, he knew that, but he wasn’t done yelling. All of this thought were just rolling off of him in the worst way. You looked disappointed in him. It reminded him of the last time he spoke to you at Hogwarts, but with less crying and more anger.

“I hoped?! You want to know what i hope!? I hope you're lonely, hope you're lost 'cause I've been. I'd hate to think you're better off without me I know we tried to hold on. But where do you go. When love, it just ain't enough?” he spoke, anger leaving him and being replaced with dread and sorrow.

but he wasn’t done. “Now does it kill you when you think about me? Were you as close to giving up as I've been? I know we kept losing touch. Got lost in the rush...” he sighed deeply, trailing off at the end of his sentence. All his worst thoughts had spilled out of him like a tidal wave.

you looked shocked and hurt? Maybe he was reading your expression wrong. He couldn’t bare to look at your face. Gulping, he adjusted his tie and turned away to walk off in shame “I pray you don't hurt too much” he chose as his parting words.

“I don't come close to an angel”

he stopped. A shuffling sound of fabric heard as you made your way in front of him, jabbing a finger at his chest “You ain't never been no kind of saint” you narrowed your E/c eyes at him. He looked down at you in shame. You removed your finger and stepped back once.

a bitter laugh forced its way out of you. “But when we both came together. Hell to heaven, you were my escape. But fires don't burn forever and all these ashes crumble when we touch. We danced to death in the fire. What can we do now that the music's done, my love?”

his grey eyes went wide. My love? A small feeling of hope bloomed within his chest. You did still care about him. He was your only love and would always be, but you had both been forced apart. Draco was foolish for thinking you had ever lost feelings for the Malfoy.

now to give him a taste of his own medicine. “I hope you're lonely, hope you're lost 'cause I've been. I'd hate to think you're better off without me. I know we tried to hold on. But where do you go, When love, it just ain't enough? Now, does it kill you when you think about me?”

you threw your hands up in the air. He could spot tears in your eyes, making him start to choke up as well. That was always his weakness, you crying. “Were you as close to giving up as I've been? I know we kept losing touch. Got lost in the rush. I pray you don't hurt too much” you look down.

‘Well, we had it all and we let it fall, But I hope you find whatever you were looking for’

Draco stepped into you and reaches down to grab your hand “Y/n. During the war i packed a bag in the middle of the night. I was ready to leave my family and run away with you. I wanted nothing more then to pend the rest of my life with you” his thumb caressed the skin of your hand.

you look up from your heels and met his gaze with teary eyes “Why didn’t you?” you spoke. He smiled sadly, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “My aunt. Bellatrix caught me. The dark lord had found out about you somehow and if i wanted to keep you safe i had to let you go.”

“The day i broke up with you haunts me in my nightmares. I wanted so badly to reach out and grab you, but love- Y/n you weren’t safe with me.” tears finally escaped his eyes, running down his pale face. You used your hand to hit his chest “I told you i didn’t care Draco”

he nods, sniffling “I know darling, i should have stuck by your side no matter what, but even the thought of any harm coming to you was to much for me to bare” he let go of your hand. Now he was cradling your face. “I feel as though i am too late”

you reach into the top part of your dress and pull out the hidden part of a silver necklace you wore. The silver ring he gave you was at the end of the chain. He felt his heart explode. “You kept it? after all this time. Why?” he asked. You roll your eyes “because i still love you, you foolish boy!”

Draco was at a loss of words. Unable to speak, he grabbed your face and your lips collided with his in a passionate kiss. It was very sloppy, but showed how much you both missed each other. It made up the amount of time that had passed since you felt each other.

your the first to pull away from the heated exchange “You better not leave me again Draco” you spoke in a stern tone which made him smile “I wouldn’t dream of it my love. Now, let’s get out of here. There is so much more i want to do with you” his tone became playful as a smirk played on his face.

your face flushes slightly, but you nod slowly. He holds onto you as you both apparate away to merlin knows where. High school sweethearts, that was what you were. What you used to be. What you got to be again.

♡~🐍~♡

Kody: i- i cried writing this. What a pussy am i right. By the way my inbox is like being a wack ass hoe and not telling me when i get messages so like sorry if you’ve requested something and it hasn’t been posted. (I was also in a depressed state for a bit but whatevs) Anyways, peace!

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years ago

Text

THE BASTERDS’S ANGELS

Somewhere in a safe place in the French countryside, a group of armed men prepared themselves for the mission they were sent for: killing Nazis and sending fear through the ranks of the Wehrmacht based in France.

And until now, they managed to accomplish their work, as the German soldiers only knew them as The Basterds.

Led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine, those volunteers took pleasure in killing and terrifying their foes, as many of the Basterds were Jewish.

Looking at his men, Aldo smirked: he could not wait to hunt down new Nazis.

"I know that look. Looking for new scalps, darling?"

Smiling, he turned and saw the woman he cherished the most.

"You know me too well, honey."

"That's why we're husband and wife!"

"Ya damn right, Winona."

The woman named Winona was, indeed, Aldo's wife. Born in the Cherokee tribe, this woman was the embodiment of the Native American female warrior: athletic, wise, loyal, and brave.

Moreover, she was the only woman in this group. Some people would think that a woman had nothing to do in the U.S. Army.

But quoteth Donny, "She kills more nazis in one day than I kill in three days."

The Cherokee woman has already won the respect of her peers since the first day in France. Besides, she gained a gruesome reputation among the Nazis based in France. They called her "The Cherokee Amazon."

The Apache and the Cherokee: a match made in heaven who took their enemies in hell...

Aldo put his arm around her shoulders:

"Can ya believe it, honey? You and I, in France, killing fascists... How pleasant it is!"

"I agree."

"It's like our honeymoon!"

Winona laughed at this statement.

"Well, a very blood-thirsty honeymoon. But honestly, I would never imagine killing Nazis without you, Aldo!"

"Aw, sweetie! Ya know how to talk to me!" he grinned before kissing her.

A sweet moment interrupted by the booming voice of Donny Donowitz, aka "The Bear Jew."

"Aw, look at those lovebirds!"

"Damn ya, Donny! I was enjoying this moment!"

"We have noticed!" smirked Wicki.

Raine rolled his eyes but smirked. His men are the best among the best, especially when it comes to killing Nazis.

They all came from different backgrounds, had various faiths, but for sure, they were more than ready to wipe out the Third Reich.

Of course, among his men, there was Donny Donowitz, a sturdy chap from Boston and the other leader of the group. This man gained the nickname of "Bear Jew" after he bashed the skull of dozens of Nazis with his prized baseball bat.

Then, you have Wilhelm Wicki, who fled his native Austria after the Anchlüss. Probably one of the oldest members of this group, his remarkable marksmanship made him a feared sniper.

Sitting next to Wicki was Hugo Stiglitz, a former German soldier. He hated the regime to the core, and he managed to kill 13 Gestapo officers. The Basterds get him out of his jail, and now, Hugo became one of them. More silent than some of his teammates, he easily scared people around him.

Near them, a young man was quietly reading a book, enjoying this peaceful moment. This young man was Smithson Utivich, another Jewish-American soldier. Like his friends, he enrolled in this group to save the remaining European Jews from Nazism's clutches. Even if he was not the most impressive, he excelled at killing Nazis.

The one next to Utivich, who was taking a small rest, was Omar Ulmer, his best friend. A remarkable soldier, Private Ulmer often works along with Smithson and Donny during his missions. Fast and efficient, the Nazis did not stand a chance against him.

Not far from Omar, his friend Gerold Hirschberg was laughing with his comrades. Hirschberg was considered a loyal and cheerful friend by his fellow Basterds. However, his hot-tempered character made him the official trouble seeker of the group, as he often found himself in danger.

The other man talking with Hirshcberg was named Michael Zimmermann. He has the two roles of driver and explosives expert. The Germans muttered that he was a crazy man who escaped from an asylum. But the truth was that Michael only became mad when he saw a swastika. But for the Basterds, he was a pleasant companion and a joyful friend.

Sitting at his right, his best friend named Simon Sakowitz was tidying his medical stuff. Before the war, he was a brilliant medicine student, but he decided to put his studies on hiatus to enroll in the army. Simon was a skilled and efficient doctor in his group and also an appreciated friend.

Smoking a cigarette, Andy Kagan smirked while looking at his teammates. The young Mister Kagan came from a wealthy family and started a promising acting career in Hollywood until he decided to rescue his people in Europe. He was the spy of the group, a master of manipulation and charm.

Leaning against a tree, Archie Hicox looked at his allies with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. This British officer was the last addition to the group. In the beginning, the MI5 spy did not get along with the Basterds, as he saw them as a bunch of crazy rednecks while the others considered him as a snobbish man. But the more they worked together, the most they trusted each other, and mutual respect started to settle between them.

All those men were here in France for one reason: killing Nazis.

Something they excelled, as they did earlier, as they exterminated an entire patrol an hour ago.

Now, they enjoyed a moment of calm to relax before reaching another town.

Suddenly, Aldo gently stroke Winona's cheek and said:

"Get ready, my lady. We're gonna move!"

"At your orders, Mr. Raine!" smirked the woman as she started to pick up her belongings.

Smiling, the Lieutenant turned to his men and exclaimed:

"Get up, boys! We move!"

"Uh? What? What's going? Are we attacked?" asked Omar, startled.

"Nah, Omar. The Lieutenant just said we're moving. Get up now!" explained Donny.

"Where are we going?" asked Simon.

"Probably somewhere near Fontainebleau. At least, we have to get closer to Paris," replied Utivich.

"Exactly, Smitty! I hope I will have time to pay my debt off once we got there!" sighed Zimmermann as he finished packing up his stuff.

As he picked his backpack, Hirschberg noticed Hugo, who trimmed his knife in his bag. Smirking, the young Basterd came nearer to his comrade. A little game that Andy and Wicki had noticed.

"Oh my Lord! Here we go again! Will Hirschberg never learn his lessons?" sighed the Austrian.

"I wonder how it will end this time: will Hirschberg have a kicked butt or a broken nose?" smirked the American.

Meanwhile, Gerold was close to Hugo and said with an authoritative tone:

"C'mon, Stiglitz! Hurry up! We have to go!"

The German deserter turned and glared at his teammate:

"Lass mich in Ruhe, Hirschberg." (Leave me alone, Hirschberg).

"Why do I fear the worst?" sighed Simon as he pinched the bridge of the nose.

He counted how many times he healed the bruises on Hirschberg after the latter tried to pick up on someone stronger than him.

At the same time, Hirschberg teased Hugo while the latter tried to contain his anger. But his patience was running thin...

"Ich werde es dir nicht zwei mal sagen." (I won't tell you twice).

"Aw, come on! Don't look at me like that! I am trying to tell you that you're a bit slow!"

"Stop that, Gerold! You're going to regret it!" smirked Andy.

Indeed, Hugo was pissed off by Gerold. Fuming, he took his knife and put it on Hirschberg's throat.

"Leave me alone. Now!" growled the German man.

Gulping, the young Basterd raised his hands in defeat.

"O-OK, Stiglitz. I stop. Can you lower your knife, please?"

Growling, Hugo put his knife back in his vest while Gerold ran away.

"We told you that you're going to have trouble, Geri!" snickered Michael.

As for Wicki, he turned to Hugo and asked:

"War es notwendig, Hirschberg einen Schrecken einzujagen, Hugo?" (Was it necessary to scare Hirschberg, Hugo?)

"Er ist eine Nervensäge." (He is a pain in the ass.) snarled Hugo as he walked towards Donny and Omar.

Wilhelm rolled his eyes and muttered:

"Ich schwöre bei Gott, die würden mich wahnsinnig machen!" (I swear to God, they would drive me crazy!)

"C'MON, BOYS! WE HAVE A LONG ROAD!" yelled Aldo as he led the march along with Winona.

Soon, all the commando started their long road across the French countryside. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to make an encounter that would change their lives for a long time...

Meanwhile, Maddie and Ada wandered through the forest, looking for shelter.

A little earlier, they had almost been spotted by a German patrol, which had scared them.

Now, their priority was to find a safe place while they waited for help.

As they walked through the woods, Maddie saw a cave:

"Look, aunty! A shelter!"

"Well done, Maddie! Let's go!"

They rushed to the hiding place and checked that nothing was inside.

Once assured that they were alone, Ada ordered her niece:

"Listen to me, Maddie: you're going to stay here and make no noise, okay?"

"What about you? What are you going to do?" asked the little girl.

"I'll try to find something to eat. Keep quiet, do you understand?"

Maddie nodded. Smiling, Ada stroked her head:

"I'll be back soon, I promise!"

Then, she walked away while Maddie hid behind a rock.

The young girl hated being alone. Of course, she knew that it was necessary. But the truth was that she was scared.

She was afraid to be alone, at the mercy of the Germans. After all, what could a seven-year-old girl do when faced with armed soldiers?

And then, who knew what could happen to her aunt?

Well, the little girl knew that Ada was capable of defending herself. But if anything happened to her, she would not be able to survive.

Suddenly, she heard voices and footsteps approaching the cave. Covering her mouth and trying to be as hidden as possible, Maddie tried to figure out who had just arrived.

She kept her ears open and listened to the conversation:

"Great, guys! We can stop here!"

"Finally, it's about time! We must have been walking for hours, and my legs are killing me!"

"Stop complaining, Gerold!"

"Oh no! You're not going to start bickering again!"

Maddie was intrigued: these people seemed to be speaking in English. Well, at least she wasn't dealing with Nazis, which was good news.

But what were these people doing here?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear anyone enter the cave until a man's voice asked:

"What on earth are you doing here?"

Horrified, she looked up and saw a medium-sized man staring at her with a surprised look.

As for Omar, he did not expect to find a child alone in a place like this.

He called his boss:

"Lieutenant, come and see!"

"What?" asked Aldo, who arrived in his turn and saw the little girl.

"Look at that! It's quite funny!"

"What's going on?" asked Wicki.

For all answers, the two men came out of the cave, escorting Maddie. The little girl was looking at the rest of the group with a frightened look.

"It seems that our hideout already had an occupant!" declared Hicox.

"But who's crazy enough to leave a kid all alone in the wild?" exclaimed Michael.

"I don't know," muttered Andy.

Simon, in his role as a doctor, walked over to the girl:

"I need to check her out. Who knows, maybe she needs treatment?"

"Do your job, doc!"

Sakowitz kneeled in front of Maddie and asked her:

"Do you speak English?"

She hesitantly replied with a small voice:

"Y-Yes, doctor!"

"Aw, ain't she cute?" smiled Donny.

"Low your voice, Don. She is scared!" said Winona while looking at the young girl.

Meanwhile, Simon carefully examined Maddie. He realized that she might suffer from malnutrition.

"Oh God, look how thin she is!"

He turned to Aldo.

"Lieutenant, do we have some food to give her?"

"For sure! Omar, gimme some bread, would ya?"

"Right now, sir!" replied Ulmer as he threw a piece of bread.

Raine caught it and handed the bread to Maddie.

"Here, ya can have some!"

Hesitantly, the little girl took the bread and muttered:

"Thank you!"

"Cute and polite: you must be a lovely little person!" smirked Archie.

Maddie took a bite and ate slowly, enjoying the taste of the bread.

"Poor little thing! She must not have eaten for days!" declared Wicki.

Winona came nearer and asked:

"What's your name, little one?"

Once she finished her mouthful, the little girl replied:

"Maddie Mandelbaum!"

"Okay, Maddie. Now, tell me: what are you doing here, all alone?"

Looking around, Maddie replied:

"It's because I flee!"

"What do you flee?"

For an answer, Maddie picked her necklace and showed a silver Star of David.

That's all it took for the Basterds to understand what Maddie was trying to escape.

"I see... You're a Jew, right?"

The little girl nodded.

"I see... But what are you doing by yourself?"

"I'm not alone: my auntie went to get food."

"Well, okay. And what's your auntie's name?" asked Smithson.

A female voice answered:

"Why don't you ask me?"

Everyone turned to Ada, who was holding a bag over her shoulder.

The young woman looked suspiciously at this troop. Even though they were not wearing Wehrmacht uniforms, she did not want to take the risk of crossing paths with Gestapo soldiers.

"Well, I guess you're the famous aunt?" asked Omar.

"Indeed. I am Adela Mandelbaum. And you?"

"We are American... with a German deserter, an American-Austrian soldier, and a British officer," replied Andy.

Sighing with relief, Ada put down her bag.

"At least there's some good news in this mess!"

Maddie rushed to her aunt and said:

"Ce sont des gens bien, tata. Ils m’ont donné du pain!" (They're good people, Auntie. They gave me bread!)

Aldo walked over to Ada and introduced himself:

"Lieutenant Aldo Raine, nice to meet ya. So like this, you're the one who manages survival?"

"Yes, indeed."

"I see. And how long have ya been alone?"

"I don't know. I'm more concerned about escaping the Germans than counting the days."

Aldo nodded before replying:

"And I suppose you're hiding because you're Jewish, Imma right?"

Ada sighed.

"Exactly."

Donny spoke up:

"Lieutenant, we can't leave them alone. They'll get caught by the Krauts!"

"But they're civilians: we can't afford to have potential targets with us!" grumbled Hirschberg.

Hugo glared at him:

"Put yourself in the kid's shoes: would you like to be left at the mercy of those sickos? I don't think so."

Simon added:

"Besides, if they stay with us, they'll be safe. What do you think, Lieutenant?"

Raine massaged the back of his neck, doubtful.

"It's true that having two civilians with us can be a problem..."

He met his wife's gaze as she stared at him pleadingly. And if there was one person who could make Aldo Raine give in, it was Winona.

He sketched a smile:

"But as ya seem to me two brave women, it seems logical to me that ya stay with us!

This decision was greeted with enthusiasm by the rest of the team.

"I thank you for your help."

"No worries. After all, several of my guys are Jewish."

The young woman asked:

"Before I forget, Lieutenant Raine..."

"Yes, Miss?"

"What is your mission here?"

At these moments, she saw all the Basterds sketch a toothy grin. And the Lieutenant's answer did not hide their intentions:

"We parachuted into France for one mission and one mission only: to kill Nazis!"

Hugo asked:

"Doesn't that cause you problems?"

At these words, he saw a gleam in Ada's eye that he knew all too well. He could see the sorrow and hatred for the Nazis in her brown orbs.

And the determined tone of her voice confirmed his impression:

"On the contrary, it pleases me to hear that my people are being avenged. Hitler's foot soldiers stole my life and threatened my niece. I lost my family, and I don't know if they are alive or if those Gestapo goons shot them!"

She turned to Aldo and declared:

"Lieutenant, I know I look like a simple damsel in distress, but I want revenge. I want to make them pay for the evil they've done."

Impressed by this sudden determination, Aldo asked:

"What can ya do?"

"I'm an excellent shot, and I can fight."

"That's not so ladylike, coming from a young woman!"

Ada smiled:

"Who said I was ladylike?"

"My aunt is the best in the world... right after Mom!" pointed Maddie.

Aldo smirked and held out his hand.

"In that case, welcome to the team, Ada! Just so you know, if you join this commando, you owe me 100 Nazi scalps!"

Without hesitation, Ada grasped the outstretched hand and shook it in agreement.

"I will settle that debt, Lieutenant. And I will die trying if I have to!"

"That's what I like to hear!"

"But I want you to promise to look out for Maddie, no matter what!"

"PROMISED!" exclaimed the Basterds.

At that moment, Maddie's face lit up with an adorable smile that seemed to shine through the dim light of the Fontainebleau woods. Now she had nothing to fear from the Germans because now she had found guardian angels armed with guns and baseball bats.

As for Ada, it was a new life for her that began. She was not a prey anymore. Now, she was the predator.

The Germans better start running because she won't have mercy. And Ada Mandelbaum always kept her words...

Thanks for the reading!

Stay tuned for the next chapter!

@sergeant-donny-donowitz @marilynmonroefanfics @velvet-waltz @ocfairygodmother @redrosewritingsstuff @empress-writes @jokersqueenofchaos (whom I thank for the German translation) @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 @knives-out17 @multific @cherryplasmids @askthebasterds @nataschalena2

#inglourious basterds #fanfiction #the basterds's angels

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hyper-fixate · 4 years ago

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you wouldn’t believe the dream I just had about you and me

[The other night, during a 3 am feed, I saw a post about soulmate prompts (I found it!) and saw this one (paraphrased):

20. They recognize their soulmate because they’ve heard their laughter in their dreams.

And today, those immortal husbands wouldn’t let me leave it be. Title from Some Nights by Fun.]

updated with AO3 version.

------- Yusuf remembered when his older brother, Hamza, had gotten married to a shy dress maker from the village over. She looked beautiful. She had hand stitched a beautiful pattern across the skirt of her simple tunic, with looping branches and leaves. A tree, the joining of two families to make one. Yusuf had been intrigued by it, choosing to sit by his new sister’s knee and gently traced his fingers along it. Something in the soft blue-green thread intrigued him. He knew he would sketch it in the hearth this evening, as he lay watching the fire dwindle to embers. His mother tried to shoo him away, admonishing him for touching the precious dress with his sticky fingers but Karima gently placed her hand on the nape of his neck and smiled at him beneath her veil.

‘Are you happy to be married to my brother?’ Yusuf asked breathlessly. Only seven, but already his mind was filled with the glory of love. The romance he still saw in his parents eyes as they brushed gentle fingers against each other’s cheeks and arms. He knew his parent’s love story and it warmed him to know that they were blessed with so many long, happy years together. He fell asleep with the same fervent prayer on his lips: let me have a soulmate too.

‘Yes, little brother.’ Karima glanced at Hamza in a way that was so tender and loving, Yusuf blushed as though he had intruded on something intimate. ‘From the moment I heard his laugh, it was as if a great weight was lifted from me.’

‘Then I heard hers, and she snorts. Like a boar.’ Hamza had come over to them, grasping one of Karima’s hands in his and drawing it to his lips. She swatted at him with her free hand, but she did laugh. And it did end in a small snort, a joyous noise that seemed to escape her against her will.

‘How did you know, then,’ Yusuf considered his words carefully, ‘that it was dreams of your soulmate and not a boar?’

That drew a great laugh from Hamza. He laughed with his whole body, throwing his head back and even Karima giggled lightly.

‘Little brother, your mind is a treasure.’ Hamza gently ran his thumb over Karima’s knuckles and they exchanged that look again. ‘I must continue to check on our guests? Do you need anything?’

‘No, our little brother is taking good care of me.’ Karima said and Yusuf felt the tops of his ears heat at the easy nature in which she accepted him. Hamza kissed her hand again and, with a whispered endearment, left them. Karima looked down into Yusuf’s shining eyes.

‘Do you wish to know a secret?’ She looked at him conspiratorially, and he nodded. ‘You must not say anything.’ Yusuf held his finger over his lips, to mime his silence. ‘But a part of me was so glad that my soul was bound to one so handsome and I was instantly ashamed. To be gifted a soulmate so close and so easy to find and to be concerned with his looks?’ She sighed, leaning back into her chair. ‘But what has been the greatest blessing is getting to hear your brother’s laugh at all hours of the day, not just in my dreams.’

She had a hazy smile on her lips, one Yusuf knew well from watching his parents. He had tried to capture that smile in drawings. Tried to imagine it on his own face when he caught his reflection in still water. To imagine the contentment of knowing you had found the other half of your soul, that you were finally on the path you had been destined to tread. He swallowed painfully.

For Yusuf had a secret. A dark, terrible secret, that felt so heavy in his young heart.

Yusuf was not certain he had a soulmate.

He knew how it worked. That when your soulmate laughed, you would hear it that night in your dreams. His father, Ibrahim, had spoken of the joy he had, growing up and hearing his mother’s light laugh every night. How happy he’d been, knowing his future partner was so carefree and easy to laugh. How he’d felt his heart would explode when he’d heard that laugh, outloud, that fateful day in the market. How it had speared him through his heart. And Yusuf had sighed at the romanticism of it.

But Yusuf didn’t hear laughter in his dreams. Not really. Sometimes he thought he heard small huffs, little sighs of sound. But never laughter. Not the type that seemed to ring in his family home at all times of the day. When Ibrahim caught Mariam in his arms and swung her. When Hamza told stories of the men at the docks, trying to haggle for the wares. When Karima brought him sweets from the market.

When Hamza and Karima announced that there would be even more laughter to look forward to, their intertwined hands splayed over her flat stomach.

He was nearly thirteen when Yusuf woke suddenly, spilling the papers he had been sketching on before he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he knew what had woken him. A deep noise that sounded warm and joyful, but still so restrained. As he chased the dream, the noise seemed to slip through his memory and he couldn’t hold it. But a small giggle bubbled from his own lips.

It had been a laugh.

He had a soulmate.

A more painful thought occurred to him, then. His soulmate had had so very little opportunity to laugh that it had taken nearly thirteen years to hear it properly. He did not think discovering he had a soulmate would have made his heart heavier. But the ache in his chest when he realised that there was someone out there for him, but that this person did not have the joy Yusuf had? That cut him deeply. He scrambled out of bed and folded his body into the familiar shape of prayer. He swore, as solemnly as he could, to bring such joy to his partner that he would know that dreamy contentment Karima had shared with him all those years ago, on her wedding day. I will hear your laugh at all hours of the day, to make up for years worth of missed dreams.

Yusuf, like any good romantic, was also predisposed to fits of melancholy. He was not sure what he had done to upset Allah. He had had a good childhood, his silent existential crisis about not having a soulmate not withstanding. He had enjoyed his work with his father and brother, travelling by land and sea to trade their goods. Some part of him kept his feet moving. He seemed to know, deep down, that his quiet, solemn soulmate would not be found in the next village over. So he had travelled happily, easily charming those he met with a sharp wit and an easy wink. At every new market, new town, new inn, he wondered if this would be the moment he heard it. Heard the laugh that would begin his life anew.

Then that damned Frankish pope had called his holy war and everything had changed.

There was no laughter anywhere, not anymore. Not when Yusuf’s days were spent trudging through endless sands with this damned man. He’s not sure what made him offer his hand in peace after the last time they woke up. Honestly, it was more fatigue than any sort of mercy. He was covered in sand, his own blood, the Frank’s (Nicolo, his mind unhelpfully supplied) blood. There was bone and gore in his hair, caked under his nails and in his mouth. Surely anything would be better than this. Even walking with his once enemy who was trapped in this living hell with him.

It took many weeks for them to realise they shared a common language. It took them months to accept that whatever curse they both suffered had held and that perhaps, they should stop trying to kill one another and at least be civil.

Nicolo’s Greek was slow and halting, half remembered from when he was a boy and before he had been promised to the church. Yusuf’s years of travelling made languages easier for him and between Greek and exaggerated hand movements, he had begun to pick up bits and pieces of Nicolo’s mother tongue. Nicolo still tripped over Arabic hopelessly, but was a dedicated student. He asked constantly for the names of things and spent hours repeating them to himself, to try and imprint them on his tongue.

Yusuf watched his hopeless companion and decided that perhaps he had not angered Allah that badly. Though their meeting had been so violent, he had seen a kindness under the layers of doctrine and faith, an eagerness to learn and experience this new world. Nicolo was distractedly oiling his long sword whilst clumsily rolling the strange Arabic consonants and vowels around his tongue. He misprounounced every word.

His companion was amusing if nothing else. And a fairly good cook.

And that’s why you don’t tempt fate. Yusuf thought a moment later, as his musings were cut short by the sharp pain in his neck and he barely had time to see Nicolo jump to his feet as his world tilted sideways and went dark.

Yusuf awoke with a violent gasp. He sat up, his hands scrambling to his neck. His fingers found nothing but tacky blood. Nicolo was watching him, his eyes oddly bright in the dying light.

‘What happened?’ Yusuf asked, his voice rasping. He put his hands on his thighs, trying to ground himself. Nicolo moved back slowly, sitting down in front of Yusuf.

‘Bandits.’ Nicolo jutted his chin towards his right. Yusuf saw two bodies laying in pools of dark blood. ‘They shot you with an arrow.’ A small movement out of the corner of his eye drew Yusuf’s gaze back to Nicolo. He was holding an arrow bolt in his hand. ‘You did not wake up.’ Nicolo said, swallowing hard. ‘Not until I pulled out the arrow. I had thought-’ There was a half strangled sound from the Genoan. ‘I was wondering if your stubborn refusal to die was just at my hand.’ Nicolo said it so quietly, Yusuf’s tired brain took a moment to make sense of it.

It was easier to understand Nicolo’s tone in zeneize, his mother tongue. But Yusuf could hear fear in this man’s voice in any language. Anger and fear had been their first shared language, after all. Yusuf tore his eyes from the arrow, the arrow Nicolo had to tear from his neck, and back at his companion and saw the other man’s tunic was covered in blood.

‘Are you well?’ Yusuf reached out, his hand poised in the air between him. Nicolo didn’t move away, but stared at Yusuf’s hand as one would a snake about to strike. ‘Did they hurt you?’ Yusuf tried to make the return of his hand seem casual and not stilted, but the tension still hung in the air.

‘This is mostly yours.’ Nicolo said, waving to his chest. ‘It sprouted out of you like a fountain when I pulled this out.’ He rubbed a hand across his cheek, smearing more blood. He grimaced when his hands came away tacky. ‘How bad is it?’

‘For you? It’s an improvement.’ Yusuf said in perfect zeneize and in such a deadpan manner that it startled a laugh out of his companion.

Yusuf froze.

For a full moment, he wondered distantly if his heart had actually stopped and he was in the liminal space between their deaths and their gasping rebirth.

Nicolo laughed. Nicolo laughed.

And Yusuf knew that laugh.

He moved almost as a blur, reaching for Nicolo before the other man could react. Yusuf’s hands caught Nicolo’s face and the force of his movement knocked the paler man back, wedged uncomfortably, half on his knees and half on his pack. Nicolo squawked indignantly, trying to move away, his hands searching for a weapon on instinct. But it was too far away and the manner in which Yusuf had pinned him made it impossible to lever himself off his feet. Yusuf shushed him, softly, gently. Trying to convey that he meant no harm as one hand slid Nicolo’s hair away from his face and Yusuf searched those damned beautiful eyes for something.

‘What are you doing?’ Nicolo, extremely confused and uncomfortable, stumbled out in slightly mispronounced Arabic, following it with a small huff at the manic look on Yusuf’s face. And it speared Yusuf right through the heart.

He knew that sound too. And his heart flew and broke and started thumping in his chest as if it wished to escape his flesh. Something had to escape, so Yusuf threw his head back and laughed. Nicolo went still under him, his eyes blown wide.

‘Mio Dio.’ Nicolo gasped under him and Yusuf couldn’t help himself.

He laughed again.

(Prologue, of sorts)

‘And I kept my promise, I have tried every day to make him laugh. If only I’d known as a boy, so unsure of my dreams, how those small noises of joy would make my heart soar. How drawing a full bodied laugh from this quiet, thoughtful priest would make my blood boil in a very different way then when we met-’ Joe says

‘Yes, yes. We get it. You’re still disgustingly sweet.’ Andy sits down, her hands curled around a vodka bottle and offers it to Nile. Nile shakes her head. Andy takes a swig straight from the top.

‘Wait, so you didn’t laugh around each other for months?’ Nile looks slightly dazed.

Nicky shrugs. ‘We were too busy trying to kill each other.’

Joe laughs.

Nicolo’s point of view here.

#Joe x nicky #the old guard #immortal husbands #kaysanova #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #soulmate au #fanfic #I just can't stop thinking of all of joe's great big laughs and nicky's little small ones #I may have also changed the word fringe to hair #10 years in the uk and I still couldn't do it #but bangs just sounds silly #beans writes fanfic

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ariella884 · 5 years ago

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Voyager Book Club - February Favorite Fics

So I put forth a challenge of sorts to our Voyager Book Club. I asked everyone to pick ONE Voyager fic that they consider to be their favorite. Now, you can imagine, this is pretty freaking hard! There are so many incredible fics out there. I didn’t say it had to be the best written, or the most in character. I gave examples such as: the one you read over and over or your go-to fic, however you want to phrase it. It was pointed out that a favorite fic can change every hour based on your frame of mind and what you are in the mood to read at any one moment. I get it. Even so....I challenged everyone to only pick ONE. And they did it! Or most of them! I got around 20 different favorites picked! So here is the list of our Favorite Voyager Fics, why they were chosen and by whom. Happy Reading!!

Note: Click on the name of the fic for a link to it! Also, this list is in no particular order.

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@curator-on-ao3: ‘Fragile Things’ by @mia-cooper

“Fanfic is about exploring possibilities. That’s what put this fic over the top to be my favorite. In Fragile Things, MiaCooper examines multiple versions of one relationship, pulling different threads to see how things unravel or knit together. It’s thoughtful, it’s meta, it’s realistic as hell, it’s damn good writing — it’s MiaCooper and it’s excellent.”

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@ariella884(yep, that’s me!): ‘2013′ by PCBW (@pcbw)

“I had a hard time choosing my favorite (like most people here), mostly because as i was gathering them all from everyone else I kept seeing ones and going, ‘Oh! I love that one!’. I also didn’t want to have any duplicates so I had to change mine a couple times, that being said, 2013 is easily one of my top three (which of themselves is almost impossible to pick just one. I’m lucky that my other two were chosen already and I didn’t have to!). I love 2013 because it is a modern AU, without being a completely modern AU. No, that doesn’t make sense. But you get our Janeway and Chakotay, Starfleet officers and all, and you get them in the modern world. It’s incredible! We see the challenges they go through of being taken from everything they know and put into a world that is pretty much unknown to them. Add to that the personal differences they have to work out together. Splash in the normal challenges that we all go through when trying to live a life in this day and age (jobs, house, money, love, family, etc). This is just an incredibly beautiful story that I have read many times and will continue to read over and over. It’s also a long fic and those are my favorite because I like to get completely involved in stories!”

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@mia-cooper: ‘Deceiving’ by QuantumSilver

“Because it starts with a canon event that is absolutely devastating and shows just how devastated Janeway and Chakotay are by it (and Tuvok and Ayala as well, though they only make a brief appearance). It shows Janeway at her absolute best - every last inch the captain, going above and beyond for her crew not just physically but emotionally in spite of the absolutely gut-wrenching cost to her - and it really kicks off with one of my absolute favourite tropes: mutual pining to the Nth Fucking Degree.

It has Chakotay being every bit the commander, backing her up even though he's dying inside, and REFUSING to let her shut herself away even though he KNOWS she's going to want to murder him for pushing and pushing and pushing at her.

And then OH MY GOD, he's deliberately getting on her every last nerve just so he can wrench honesty from her because he knows if she doesn't tell him how badly he's hurt her, how she's absolutely bottomed out because of him, she will never open up to him or anyone else again.

AND THEY DRINK WHISKEY OMG GIVE ME KJ AND C UTTERLY MISERABLE AND DRINKING WHISKEY LIKE IT'S WATER AND PINING LIKE FUCK AND NOT SAYING A WORD BUT BLEEDING TO DEATH FROM THE HEART AND I WILL DIE HAPPY FOREVERRRRRRR

I'm sorry for yelling but this fic makes me want to rip off my clothes and run up and down the street screeching how everybody should read it and they are just BRUTAL with each other and they STILL do not understand, refuse to, CANNOT understand, that the other would not just die for them but MURDER WHOLE FUCKING ARMIES FOR THEM and it's tragic and devastating but then oH MY GOoOoOODDDDD

So that is my favourite fic and the one i read approximately every two months or more if i really hate my writing that day and want to torture myself with How It Should Be Done.”

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@bizships: ‘Fealty’ by MsDisdain

“My favorite story. I honestly don’t have to think about it. It’s one I always go back to.

I love the way the crew pledges their loyalty to her and the way subtle way they tell her that it’s okay that she’s happy too in that they effectively give her Chakotay for her birthday, by way of him “fighting” Tuvok(Starfleet) for her hand.”

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@arcadia1995: ‘The Space Between’ by lauawill ( @joyful-voyager)

“The Space Between is a story I return to time and time again when I'm feeling down. I like that it realistically portrays what might have happened between Janeway and Chakotay right after the returned home in Endgame. I like that no one in the J/C/7 triangle ends up being a bad guy. I like the hopeful ending and imaging what might have happened after the fade to black (lots of sex!!!)“

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@wishful-thinker-87 : ‘if you came this way’ by tree

“It’s always a go to for me, even though I don’t usually like AUs. The sex is intense and emotional. The characterization is pot on. And we get Phoebe being an awesome sister and some Chakotay/Molly bonding too. What’s not to love?!”

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BlackVelvet: ‘Bluffing the Crowd’ by @ralkana

“Even after years since i read this, just thinking about this story brings a warm fuzzy feeling to my heart and a huge silly grin to my face. I simply love it.”

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@purpledog47: ‘The Future is Ours’ by Dawn

“My favorite is most definitely Dawn’s ‘The Future is Ours. This is my one fic. It’s super long and it tells us what happened after Endgame and it has a little bit of everything in it: angst, romance, hurt/comfort, Q, babyfic, romance.”

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@amoderngirl: ‘Time and Distance’ by northernexposure

“If I am ever loosing the thread with J/C, I can always read this and I am immediately in love again.”

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@coffeeblack75: ‘Soft Light’ by northernexposure

“There are so many reasons why I love it that I can't even, haha. I'll start with: it was the first piece of fanfic smut I read, so I love it for that reason - my first time haha. More importantly, it is just beautifully, beautifully written - it's plotted beautifully, it flows beautifully and the pacing is spot on. The author has complete control over all of that & over the language, which is just used masterfully. There's so much subtley going on in this story too - the author doesn't spell everything out for us and instead draws us to the details that reveal what is important - the beginnings of these two getting to know each other. Gosh, it's so hard to articulate haha! But lines like this just make me shiver in delight for their beauty and what they reveal: "he was kissing her, with a lot more sweetness than was wise. Ah god, I could go on and on but perhaps I'll finish with my favourite bit, which is when C feels that first stab of lust & realises she might too & tests his theory by blowing softly on the back of her neck. This moment, omg, the moment is just so beautiful, so quiet, so pointed and private and intimate. You really feel that moment as if you are there. Ahhhhh :)

Also….there are two sequels to it that are equally as wonderful ;)

Oh and one more thing I adore about this story is the way that the C thinks he is lusting after KJ but it is quite obvious he loves her - even before they come together - but he hasn’t realized it yet. The way the author does this is just incredible - so deft! Everything for C is about taking care of KJ … it’s just beautiful.”

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@caladeniablue: ‘Lifeline’ by helenagray ( @picking-daisies-in-the-outfield)

“Why do I like that fic? An unfinished WIP at that (Started in 2013; last update in Jan 2019. No indication how many chapters to go.) The perfect serial story and that's part of the attraction for me.

The first chapter sets the scene: raw Janeway, alone, without the backup of her ship, her crew or Chakotay. Bare of essentials and with only her courage and intelligence and sheer determination to help her survive, and even she wonders how long those will last her.

And while we learn about Chakotay and how he seeks her while the crew has to move on, I am drawn to Janeway most of all.

The fic jumps back and forth across locations and in time from that first chapter to catch up with it again some 20 chapters later, but there is no jarring. The reader knows immediately what KJ is experiencing , but the past events that led to that situation are as important, and that's one of the many attractions of this story. No overlong flashbacks, no tedious info dump. It's all layered, making one wait for the next chapter and the next one, while knowing all the time where KJ has ended up.

The writing is gorgeous, which is a bonus. And it is pure J/C, distilled to its purest by separation. Perfect.”

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@keiraniels: ‘Bad Ensign’ (Series) by @curator-on-ao3

“Ok so I chose Curator’s ‘Bad Ensign’ because I come back to it often - - it’s such a freaking brilliant idea that I can 100% imagine being canon, and it inspired so many Voyager Bookclubbers to write Bad Ensign stories”

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@cnrothtrek: ‘War Torn’ by @curator-on-ao3

“Why? I had the pleasure of beta reading this story, and I am so glad that I did. It has a great plot, is well-written and perfectly paced, and is hard to put down. The way it pulls together two pieces of canon backstories for Miles O’Brien and Kathryn Janeway is genius. The characters feel so real and their voices can be clearly heard in the text. And the supporting characters of Captain Benjamin Maxwell, Will “Stompie” Kayden, and Molly Walsh are incredible. The story is intense, absorbing, and emotional. I just can’t say enough good things about it.”

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@theshortywrites: ‘The Dragonfly Oath’ by Koneia

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@emmikamikatze: ‘All the Good Things We Never Did’ by northernexposure

“This story brings me to tears, makes me smile and shiver and fear and worry. It's given me phrases that won't leave me, that keep repeating itself in my head even months (years) after first reading it. There's just the right amount of show trivia to make it a fanfiction, but little enough to make it a unique and original story. ne makes me fall in love with these characters all over again as if I didn't know them beforehand.

This story is special and precious and it speaks to me on so many levels I can hardly comprehend how genius it is. It's a literary masterpiece of fanfic if there ever was one.”

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@missmil: ‘Here I Stand’ by lauawill

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@manalyzer13: ‘Gravitation’ by northernexposure

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@grace-among-the-stars: ‘Filling the Void’ by Spiletta42

“Filling the Void is the one fic I always return to. It has my fave ships, JC, PT and D7. Minor characters play major parts and it is just funny. It makes me laugh every time.

JC’s relationship is really explored from all angles, this is not just your average, ‘the crew get them together fics’, it is so much more. It has sexual tension, smut, humour, sadness and is pure JC BLISS. It always cheers me up and I was so happy when Spiletta42 added it to Ao3 because this meant so many more people would find it.”

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Anonymous: ‘Bent, Not Broken’ by @killermanatee

“This is an incredible hurt/comfort Janeway/Chakotay fic. The story is painfully written from both characters' perspectives, showing how each is suffering in a different way from the traumatic event that has occurred. In the end, their love for each other will help them come together and they will both be able to heal with time, comfort, and support from one another. This is a beautifully told, emotionally heavy story of one couple's love overcoming tragedy. It is my favorite Janeway/Chakotay fic, and I recommend it to anyone who wants to read a heartbreaking yet fulfilling story.”

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@minakotenjou: ‘Mysterious and Curious’ by @h4t08

“It was so hard to choose - there are a lot of incredible fanfics out there. This was one of the first...shall we say spicier J/C fics I read and for some reason I still think of it often. It's great smut for sure, but I think it stuck with me because of how it all gets tied together at the end.”

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@leisylaura: ‘The Bitter End’ by @mia-cooper

“We have post endgame books but not one about the original timeline, I remember reading “The bitter end” and thinking “this is it, this is what happened”. I cried from beginning to end.”

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@killermanatee: ‘The Dying of the Light’ by @cnrothtrek

"This fic is such a gorgeous piece of art. I hadn't seen the TNG episode before reading it and when I did watch it I was very disappointed because this fic is just on such a completely different level. The storytelling is so delicate and intriguing, that combined with the poignant and elegant writing style, so that it was impossible to put my phone down. I can't recommend this fic highly enough."

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@cheile: ‘Marooned’ by Soliquilii9 (aka Running Horse)

“I love how she makes the story unfold in slow steady measures. Also, she filled in the gaps left by the writers in regards to his heritage by using information from her own Cherokee background and it is done naturally (not in an info dump type manner). “

__________

What do you think of our list of Voyager favorites? Do you have a favorite that isn’t on this list? Reply to this post with your favorite!! And if you haven’t read ALL of these fics yet, I strongly suggest you get started!! Have fun and enjoy!!

#voyager #star trek voyager #voyager fic #voyager book club #Voyager Favorite Fics

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cielrouge · 5 years ago

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2019 YA Reads by Authors of Color

96 Words for Love by Rachel Roy - While exploring her grandmother's past at an ashram in India with her cousin Anandi, Raya finds herself and, perhaps, true love in this modern retelling of the legend of Dushyanta and Shakuntala.

After the Fall by E.C. Myers - A year after the destruction of Beacon Academy, Team CFVY answers a distress call and are forced to relive their former battles, from both the fall of Beacon and from everything that came before.

All-American Muslim Girl by Nadine Jolie Courtney - Allie Abraham has it all going for her—she's a straight-A student, with good friends and a close-knit family, and she's dating cute, popular, and sweet Wells Henderson. Only one problem: Wells's father is Jack Henderson, America's most famous conservative shock jock...and Allie hasn't told Wells that her family is Muslim.

All the Things We Never Said by Yasmin Rahman - 16-year-old Mehreen Miah's anxiety and depression has taken over her life. So, she joins MementoMori, a website that matches people and allocates them a date and method of death. When Mehreen and her new friends change their minds, the website won't let them stop, and an increasingly sinister game begins.

The Athene Protocol by Shamim Sarif - Jessie Archer is a member of the Athena Protocol, an elite organization of female spies who enact vigilante justice around the world. But after Jessie goes her rogue, her former teammates have been ordered to bring her down. Jessie must face danger from all sides if she’s to complete her mission—and survive.

Barely Missing Anything by Matt Mendez - Three Mexican-Americans--Juan, JD, and Fabi--each try to overcome their individual struggles as they all grapple with how to make a better life for themselves when it seems like brown lives don't matter.

The Beast Player by Nahoko Uehashi - An epic YA fantasy about a girl with a special power to communicate with magical beasts and the warring kingdom only she can save.

The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh - In 19th century New Orleans where vampires hide in plain sight and a serial killer is on the loose, half-Asian Celine Rosseau, a dressmaker from Paris, becomes embroiled in a murder mystery, connected to the glamorous supernatural cohort, known as the Court of Lions, and catching the eye of their mysterious, charismatic leader, Sèbastien Saint Germain.

The Beauty of the Moment by Tanaz Bhathena - Saudi-Canadian Susan is the new girl. Malcolm is the bad boy. Susan’s parents are on the verge of divorce. Malcolm’s dad is a known adulterer. Susan hasn’t told anyone, but she wants to be an artist. Malcolm doesn’t know what he wants—until he meets her. Love is messy and families are messier, but in spite of their burdens, Susan and Malcolm fall for each other.

The Best Lies by Sarah Lyu - Remy Tsai was happy once. Remy had her boyfriend Jack, and Elise, her best friend—her soulmate. But now Jack is dead, and it was Elise who pulled the trigger. Was it self-defense? Or something deeper, darker than anything Remy could have imagined?

Black Enough: Stories of Being Young & Black in America edit. by Ibi Zoboi - A short story anthology about what it is like to be young and black, centering on the experiences of black teens and emphasizing that one person's experiences, reality, and personal identity are different than someone else.

The Boxer by Nikesh Shukla - When racial tensions are rising in the city, and when a Far Right march through Bristol turns violent, 17-year-old amateur boxer Sunny faces losing his new best friend Keir to radicalization.

Brief Chronicle of Another Stupid Heartbreak by Adi Alsaid - Teen relationship columnist Lu Charles navigates life in the wake of a devastating breakup, and her decision to chronicle the planned breakup of another couple, Cal and Iris, in the summer after they graduate from high school.

The Candle and the Flame by Nafiza Azad - Set in the city of Noor, along the Silk Road which has become a refuge for those of all faiths, Fatima becomes embroiled in a war between two clans of powerful djinn who threaten to destroy her peace in different ways, forcing her to make unlikely alliances to survive.

Caster by Elsie Chapman - In this Chinese-inspired, magical Fight Club, Earth is already at the brink of environmental disaster due to the magic overuse. And 16-year-old spell caster Aza Wu must navigate through an illegal, underground battle magic tournament, while evading local gangs and police scouts to save her family from ruin.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2) by Tomi Adeyemi - After battling the impossible, Zélie and Amari have finally succeeded in bringing magic back to the land of Orïsha. But with civil war looming on the horizon, Zélie finds herself at a breaking point: she must discover a way to bring the kingdom together or watch as Orïsha tears itself apart.

Circle of Shadows by Evelyn Skye - Love, spies, and adventure abound as apprentic warriors Sora and Daemon unravel a complex web of magic and secrets that might tear them—and the entire kingdom—apart forever.

Color Me In by Natasha Diaz - In this coming-of-age novel, biracal Neveah learns about the meaning of friendship, the joyful beginnings of romance, and the racism and religious intolerance that can both strain a family to the breaking point and strengthen its bonds.

Color Outside the Lines edited by Sangu Madanna - A groundbreaking YA anthology explores the complexity and beauty of interracial and LGBTQ+ relationships where differences are front and center.

Dealing in Dreams by Lilliam Rivera - 16-year-old Nalah leads the fiercest all-girl crew in Mega City, but when she sets her sights on giving this life up for a prestigious home in Mega Towers, she must decide if she's willing to do the unspeakable to get what she wants.

Dear Haiti, Love Alaine by Maika & Maritza Moulite - Told in epistolary style through letters, articles, emails, and diary entries, when a school presentation goes very wrong, Haitan-American Alaine Beauparlant finds herself suspended, shipped off to Haiti, and writing the report of a lifetime.

Descendant of the Crane by Joan He - In this Chinese-inspired fantasy, Princess Hesina of Yan is thrust into power when her beloved father is murdered, and she's determined to find his killer--whatever the cost.

Don’t Date Rosa Santos by Nina Moreno - Rosa Santos is cursed by the sea-at least, that's what they say. Dating her is bad news, especially if you're a boy with a boat. As her college decision looms, Rosa collides - literally - with Alex Aquino, the mysterious boy with tattoos of the ocean whose family owns the marina. With her heart, her family, and her future on the line, can Rosa break a curse and find her place beyond the horizon.

The Downstairs Girl by Stacey Lee - In 1890, Atlanta, 17-year-old Jo Kuan works as a lady's maid, but by night, Jo moonlights as newspaper advice columnist "Dear Miss Sweetie." When her efforts put Jo in the crosshairs of Atlanta's most notorious criminal, she must decide whether she, a girl used to living in the shadows, is ready to step into the light

A Dream So Dark by L.L. McKinney - Still reeling from her recent battle (and grounded until she graduates) Alice must cross the Veil to rescue her friends and stop the Black Knight once and for all in Wonderland.

Eclipse the Stars by Maura Milan - Criminal mastermind and unrivaled pilot Ia Ccha and her allies make unpredictable choices as they fight to keep darkness from eclipsing the skies.

The Everlasting Rose by Dhonielle Clayton - Camille, Edel, and Remy, aided by The Iron Ladies and backed by alternative newspaper The Spider's Web, race to outwit Sophia, find Princess Charlotte, and return her to Orléans.

Fake It Till You Break It by Jenn P. Nguyen - Neighbors Mia and Jake pretend to fake date to get their respective mothers off their back. All they have to do is pretend to date and then stage the worst breakup of all time. The only problem is, maybe Jake and Mia don’t hate each other as much as they once thought.

Far From Agrabah by Aisha Saeed - On an adventure in a fantastical kingdom, Aladdin and Jasmine get caught up in the magic therein. But soon sinister outside forces come into play, threatening to strand them there forever.

The Field Guide to the North American Teenager by Ben Philippe - When Norris, a Black French Canadian, starts his junior year at an Austin, Texas, high school, he views his fellow students as clichés from "a bad 90s teen movie."

Firestarter (Timekeeper #3) by Tara Sim - Colton, Daphne, and the others must choose between those striving to take down the world's clock towers so that time can run freely, and terrorists trying to bring back the lost god of time.

Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) by Kendare Blake - In this conclusion to the Three Dark Crowns series, three dark sisters will rise to fight as the secrets of Fennbirn’s history are laid bare. Allegiances will shift. Bonds will be tested, and some broken forever.

Five Midnights by Ann Davila Cardinal - If Lupe Dávila and Javier Utierre can survive each other’s company, together they can solve a series of grisly murders sweeping though Puerto Rico. But the clues lead them out of the real world and into the realm of myths and legends.

Forward Me Back to You by Mitali Perkins - Told in separate voices, Kat and Robin leave Boston on a church mission to help combat human trafficking in India while Kat recovers from a sexual assault and Robin seeks his birth mother.

Frankly in Love by David Yoon - Korean-American Frank Li Frank falls for Brit Means, who is smart, beautiful–and white. Fellow Limbo Joy Song is in a similar predicament, and so they make a pact: they’ll pretend to date each other. Frank thinks it’s the perfect plan, but in the end, Frank and Joy’s fake-dating maneuver leaves him wondering if he ever really understood love–or himself–at all.

Full Disclosure by Camryn Garrett - HIV-positive teen Simone Garcia-Hampton must navigate fear, disclosure, and radical self-acceptance when she falls in love--and lust--for the first time.

The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi - Paris, 1889: Treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier, Séverin Montagnet-Alarie gets the chance of a lifetime when the all-powerful society, the Order of Babel, seeks him out for help in exchange for a priceless treasure: his true inheritance.

The Girl King by Mimi Yu - Sisters Lu and Min become unwitting rivals in a war to claim the title of Emperor.

Girls of Storm and Shadow (Girls of Paper and Fire #2) by Natasha Ngan - After escaping the Hidden Palace, Lei and her warrior love Wren must travel the kingdom to gain support from the far-flung rebel clans.

The Grief Keeper by Alexandra Villasante - To have her family’s asylum request accepted, 17-year-old Marisol participates in a risky experiment to become a grief keeper, taking another’s grief into her own body to save a life.

His Hideous Heart edited by Dahlia Adler - 13 of YA’s most celebrated names reimagine Edgar Allan Poe’s most surprising, unsettling, and popular tales for a new generation.

A House of Rage and Sorrow (Celestial Trilogy #2) by Sangu Mandanna - As gods, beasts, and kingdoms choose sides, Alexi seeks out a weapon more devastating than even Titania. The House of Rey is at war. And the entire galaxy will bleed before the end.

How to Be Remy Cameron by Julian Winters - When Remy is assigned to write an essay describing himself, he goes on a journey to reconcile the labels that people have attached to him, and get to know the real Remy Cameron.

Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love edited by Elsie Chapman & Caroline Tung Richmond - Interconnected short stories that explore the intersection of family, culture, and food in the lives of thirteen teens.

I Hope You Get This Message by Farah Naz Rishi - When news stations start reporting that Earth has been contacted by a planet named Alma, the world is abuzz with rumors that the alien entity is giving mankind only few days to live. And with only seven days to face their truths and right their wrongs, Jesse, Cate, and Adeem’s paths collide even as their worlds are pulled apart.

I Love You So Mochi by Sarah Kuhn - Japanese-American fashionista Kimi Nakamura who journeys to Japan on a quest of self-discovery after her college plans fall apart; along the way, she reconnects with her estranged grandparents and finds romance with a handsome med student Akira who moonlights as a costumed mochi mascot.

I Wanna Be Where You Are by Kristina Forest - Chloe Pierce’s chasing her ballet dreams down the east coast— with two unwanted (but kinda cute) passengers in her car, butterflies in her stomach, and a really dope playlist.

I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver - Non-binary teen Ben De Backer is kicked out by their parents after coming out, but learns that sometimes from disaster one can build a happier new life,

If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann - Winnie dreams of someday inheriting the family diner—but it'll go away if they can't make money, and fast. Winnie has a solution—win a televised cooking competition and make bank.

In the Key of Nira Ghani by Natasha Deen - Guyanese-American Nira Ghani struggles with parental expectations and her love for jazz.

Internment by Samira Ahmed - Set in a near future in the United States where Muslim Americans are forced into an internment camp, 17-year-old Layla Amin must fight against Islamophobia, oppression, and complicit silence.

Inventing Victoria by Tonya Bolden - In 1880s Savannah, Dorcas Vashton offers Essie an offer she can't refuse, she becomes Victoria. Transformed by a fine wardrobe, a classic education, and the rules of etiquette, Victoria is soon welcomed in the upper echelons of black society in Washington, D. C. But when the life she desires is finally within her grasp, Victoria must decide how much of herself she is truly willing to surrender.

It’s a Whole Spiel: Love, Latkes & Other Jewish Stories edited by Katherine Locke & Laura Silverman - Get ready to fall in love, experience heartbreak, and discover the true meaning of identity in this poignant collection of short stories about Jewish teens.

Kick the Moon by Muhammad Khan - 15-year-old Ilyas finds a kindred spirit in Kelly Matthews during detention. But when Kelly catches the eye of one of the local bad boys, Imran, he decides to seduce her for a bet. Standing up to Imran puts Ilyas’ family at risk, but it’s time for him to be the superhero he draws in his comic-books, and go kick the moon.

A Kingdom for the Stage (For A Muse of Fire #2) by Heidi Heilig - The rebels are eager to use Le Trépas’s and necromancer Jetta’s combined magic against the invading colonists. Soon Jetta will face the choice between saving all of Chakrana or becoming like her father, and she isn’t sure which she’ll choose.

Kingdom of Souls by Rena Barron - Set in a West African-inspired fantasy kingdom, Arrah comes from a long line of powerful witchdoctors, yet fails at magic. When Arrah trade years off her life for magic to stop the Demon King from destroying the world—that is if it doesn't kill her first.

Kings, Queens, and Everything in Between by Tanya Boteju - 17-year-old, biracial, queer girl Nina Kumara-Clark is plunged into the delirious world of drag where she has the chance to explore questions of identity and love.

The Last 8 by Laura Pohl - Young Latina pilot Clover Martinez finds herself grounded and alone after a devastating alien attack, but soon finds hope in an unlikely group of survivors who aren't what they seem.

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki - Teenager Frederica Riley undergoes what might possibly be the most epically complicated breakup in lesbian history -- or at least it feels that way

The Light At the Bottom of the World by London Shah - Set in a future where the Earth is underwater, Leyla McQueen must navigate the treacherous abyss to find her missing father, but discovers a world drowning in lies.

Like A Love Story by Abdi Nazemian - It's 1989 in New York City, three teens, Reza, Judy, and Art cross paths. Judy has never imagined finding romance...until she falls for Reza and they start dating. But as Reza and Art grow closer, Reza struggles to find a way out of his deception that won't break Judy's heart--and destroy the most meaningful friendship he's ever known.

The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali by Sabina Khan - After she’s caught kissing her girlfriend by her conservative Muslim parents, Rukhsana Ali whisked off from Seattle to Bangladesh, where she must find the courage to fight for her love, but can she do so without losing everyone and everything in her life?

Love from A to Z by S.K. Ali - 18-year-old Muslims Adam and Zayneb meet in Doha, Qatar, during spring break and fall in love as both struggle to find a way to live their own truths.

Love Me or Miss Me by Dream Jordan - Kate's fantasy life of having the perfect family comes to an abrupt end when she is suddenly forced to return to the group home. Alone and vulnerable, Kate falls for the ever so gorgeous Percy who treats her well at first, but soon a cycle of controlling and abusive behavior begins. Will she be able to escape Percy's clutches?

The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas - As they cross the Great Wall to face the enemy beyond, Mulan and the princeling must find a way to unwind their past, unmask a traitor, and uncover the plans for the Rouran invasion . . . before it's too late.

A Match Made in Mehendi by Nandini Bajpai - 15-year-old Indian-American Simran “Simi” Sangha, who comes from a long line of matchmakers, decides to try to gain high school popularity using her family's matchmaking traditions to create a dating app.

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco - In a world ruled by goddesses that has been split in two—one half existing in perpetual scorching Day, the other in freezing Night—twins separated at birth Odessa and Haidee embark on a quest across the great divide and rule a reunited world.

No One Here is Lonely by Sarah Everett - After having her heart so broken, Eden resorts to having her memories erased instead.

Nocturna by Maya Motayne - In a Latinx-inspired kingdom of Castallan, face-changing thief Finn Voy and grief-stricken Prince Alfehr must race to vanquish a dark magic they have accidentally unleashed.

Not Your Backup by C.B. Lee (Sidekick Squad #3) - As the Resistance moves to challenge the corrupt League of Heroes, Emma Robledo realizes where her place is in this fight: at the front.

Oh My Gods by Alexandra Sheppard - Half-mortal teenager Helen Thomas goes to live with her father—who is Zeus, masquerading as a university professor—and must do her best to keep the family secret intact.

On the Come Up by Angie Thomas - When 16-year-old Bri, an aspiring rapper, pours her anger and frustration into her first song, she finds herself at the center of a controversy.

Once & Future by Amy Rose Capetta & Cori McCarthy - In this Arthurian retelling set in space, King Arthur is reincarnated as 17-year-old Ari, a female king whose quest is to stop a tyrannical corporate government, aided by a teenaged Merlin.

Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds - After falling for Kate, her unexpected death sends Jack back in time to the moment they first met, but he soon learns that his actions have unintended consequences.

Our Wayward Fate by Gloria Chao - 17-year-old teen outcast Ali Chu is simultaneously swept up in a whirlwind romance and down a rabbit hole of dark family secrets when another Taiwanese family moves to her small, predominantly white Midwestern town.

Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribar - When 17-year-old Jay Reguero learns his Filipino cousin and former best friend, Jun, was murdered as part of President Duterte's war on drugs, he flies to the Philippines to learn more.

Permanent Record by Mary H.K. Choi - Brooklyn bodega worker Pablo crosses paths & falls in love with multi-platinum recording artist Leanna Smart.

Rated by Melissa Grey - For the students at the prestigious Maplethorpe Academy, every single thing they do is reflected in their Ratings System. But when an act of vandalism sullies the front doors of the school, it sets off a chain reaction that will shake the lives of six special students -- and the world beyond.

Teen Titans: Raven by Kami Garcia - When a tragic accident takes the life of the only family she's ever known, 16-year-old Raven is sent to New Orleans to start over. She soon discovers that she can hear the thoughts of others around her...and another, more disturbing, voice in her head.

Rebel (Legend #4) by Marie Lu - Brothers Eden and Daniel Wing struggle to accept who they’ve each become since their time in the Republic, but a new danger creeps into the distance that’s grown between them. Eden soon finds himself drawn so far into Ross City’s dark side, even his legendary brother can’t save him. At least not on his own.

The Revolution of Birdie Randolph by Brandy Colbert - Dove “Birdie” Randolph maintains a close bond with her parents until first love and a family secret threatens to tear them apart.

The Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee - The never-before-told backstory of Avatar Kyoshi, from a girl of humble origins to the merciless pursuer of justice who is still feared and admired centuries after she became the Avatar.

A River of Royal Blood by Amanda Joy - A North African-inspired feminist fantasy in which two sisters, Eva and Isa must compete in a magical duel to the death for the right to inherit the queendom of Myre.

Rogue Heart (Rebel Seoul #2) by Axie Oh - Two years after the Battle of Neo Seoul, 18-year-old telepath Ama must use her telepathic abilities to infiltrate the base of the Alliance’s new war commander, Alex Kim, her first love who betrayed her. Will she be able to carry out her task? Or will she give up everything for Alex again—only to be betrayed once more?

Ruse (Want #2) by Cindy Pon - In near-future Shanghai where society is divided between the fabulously wealthy business elite and the masses they exploit, Jason Zhou must play a dangerous cat and mouse game with the ruthless CEO of an all powerful corporation which has an ever-growing choke hold on the polluted metropolis.

Soaring Earth by Margarita Engle - In this memoir, Young People’s Poet Laureate Margarita Engle recounts her teenage years during the turbulent 1960s between Cuba and America.

Shadow Frost by Coco Ma - When Asterin Faelenhart, Princess of Axaria and heir to the throne, discovers that she may hold the key to defeating the demon terrorizing her kingdom, she vows not to rest until the beast is slain.

Take the Mic: Fictional Stories About Everyday Resistance edited by Bethany C. Morrow - A YA anthology focused on a collection of fictional stories of everyday resistance.

The Shadow Glass (Bone Witch #3) by Rin Chupeco - Bone witch Tea's dark magic eats away at her, but she must save the one she loves most, even while her life—and the kingdoms—are on the brink of destruction.

Shatter the Sky by Rebecca Kim Wells - Maren, desperate to save her kidnapped girlfriend Kaia, plans to steal one of the emperor's dragons and storm the Aurati stronghold, but her success depends on becoming an apprentice to the mysterious dragon trainer, which proves to be a dangerous venture.

SLAY by Brittney Morris - Black video game developer Kiera Johnson battles a real-life troll intent on ruining the Black Panther-inspired video game she created, and the safe community it represents for black gamers.

Somewhere Only We Know by Maurene Goo - In Hong Kong, k-pop star Lucky who'd like to be anyone else meets charming con-boy Jack, looking for a big break to impress his paparazzo father. When sparks ignite, the two must decide if they can risk it all for each other.

Song of the Abyss (Towers of Wind #2) by Makiia Lucier - When menacing raiders attack her ship, navigator Reyna must use every resource at her disposal, including placing her trust in a handsome prince from a rival kingdom.

Song of the Crimson Flower by Julie C. Dao - After cruelly rejecting Bao, the poor physician's apprentice who loves her, Lan, a wealthy nobleman's daughter, regrets her actions. After learning that Bao’s soul has been trapped inside a flute by a witch, Lan vows to make amends and help break the spell.

Soul of the Sword (Shadow of the Fox #2) by Julie Kagawa - As the paths of Yumeko and the possessed Tatsumi cross once again, the entire empire will be thrown into chaos.

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim - 17-year-old Maia Tamarin poses as a boy to compete for the role of imperial tailor, and embarks on an impossible journey to sew three magic dresses, from the sun, the moon, and the stars, with help from the mysterious court magician, Edan.

Spin by Lamar Giles - When DJ ParSec, rising star of the local music scene, is found dead over her turntables, the two girls who found her, Kya and Fuse, are torn between grief for Paris and hatred for each other--but when the investigation stalls, they unite, determined to find out who murdered their friend.

The Stars the Blackness Between Them by Junauda Petraus - Audre from Trinidad and Mabel from Minneapolis, fall in love and create magic at the same time they learn one of them might not have long to live.

Stronger Than A Bronze Dragon by Mary Fan - In this steampunk fantasy set in Qing dynasty-inspired China, warrior girl Anlei teams up with a thief to save her village from shadow spirits, but after arriving at the Courts of Hell, a discovery challenges everything they know about who the real enemy is.

Symptoms of a Heartbreak by Sonia Charaipotra - The youngest doctor in America, Indian-American teen Saira makes her rounds―and falls head over heels in this romantic comedy.

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi - Sana Khan and Rachel Recht, on opposite sides of the social scale must work together to make a movie and try very hard not to fall in love.

The Things She’s Seen by Ambelin & Ezekiel Kwaymullina - As Beth Teller and her father unravel a mystery, they find a shocking and heartbreaking story lurking beneath the surface of a small town, and a friendship that lasts beyond one life and into another...

There’s Something About Sweetie (When Dimple Met Rishi #3) by Sandhya Menon - Told in two voices, disappointed-in-love Ashish Patel and self-proclaimed fat athlete Sweetie Nair begin to find their true selves while dating under contract.

This Time Will Be Different by Misa Sugiura - 17-year-old CJ Katsuyama’s mom decides to sell her family’s flower shop—to the family who swindled CJ’s grandparents during WWII Internment. Soon a rift threatens to splinter CJ’s family, friends, and their entire Northern California community; and for the first time, CJ has found something she wants to fight for.

A Thousand Fires by Shannon Price - In modern-day San Francisco where three gangs rule the city streets, half-Filipina teen Valerie Simons enters the Red Bridge Wars to seek vengeance for her younger brother's death, but soon finds herself torn between old love and new loyalty.

The Tiger at Midnight by Swati Teerdhala - In ancient India, soldier Kunal hunts the “Viper,” rebel girl Esha accused of killing his General, embarking on a dangerous cat and mouse game and where both must decide—loyalty to their old lives or to a love that's made them dream of new ones.

Truly, Madly, Royally by Debbie Riguad - When Prince Owen invites Zora Emerson to be his date at his big brother's big royal wedding, Zora is suddenly thrust into the spotlight, along with her family and friends.

The Universal Laws of Marco by Carmen Rodrigues - Told through the lens of a guy in love with the cosmos (and maybe two girls), this story explores the complicated histories that bring us together and tear us apart.

Virtually Yours by Sarvenz Tash - NYU freshman Mariam Vakilian tries out a virtual reality dating app, only to be matched up with the high school ex she's still not over. Mariam’s heart is telling her one thing, but the app is telling her another. So, which should she trust? Is all fair in modern love?

The Voice in My Head by Dana L. Davis - When a sequence of wrenching secrets detonates, Indigo must figure out how to come to terms with her twin sister Violet, her family…and the voice in her head.

War Girls by Tochi Onyebuchi - Set in a futuristic, Black Panther-inspired Nigeria, sisters Onyii and Ify, separated by a devastating civil war, must fight their way back to each other against all odds.

Watch Us Rise by Renee Watson & Ellen Hagan - Jasmine and Chelsea start a Women's Rights Club and soon go viral. But with such positive support, the club is also targeted by online trolls. When things escalate, the principal shuts the club down. Jasmine and Chelsea will risk everything for their voices—and those of other young women—to be heard.

What Makes You Beautiful by Bridget Liang - Encouraged and supported by his friends at school, Logan begins questioning his gender. Realizing they are not a gay boy, but a transgender girl, Logan asks for people to call them Veronica. As a girl, does Veronica stand a chance with straight boy Kyle?

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal - In a world inspired by ancient Arabia, 17-year-old huntress Zafira must disguise herself as a man to seek a lost artifact that could return magic to her cursed world.

We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia - Set at the Medio School for Girls, where young women are trained to become one of two wives assigned to high society men; with revolution brewing in the streets, star student Daniela Vargas fights to protect a destructive secret, sending her into the arms of the most dangerous person possible—the second wife of her husband-to-be.

The Weight of Our Sky by Hanna Alkaf - A music-loving teen with OCD does everything she can to find her way back to her mother during the historic race riots in 1969 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

When the Stars Lead to You by Ronni Davis - 18-year-old Devon longs for two things.The stars. And the boy she fell in love with last summer. Senior year, Ashton shows up on the first day of school. Can she forgive him and open her heart again? Or are they doomed to repeat history?

Wicked Fox by Kat Cho - After 18-year-old Miyoung Gu, a nine-tailed fox surviving in modern-day Seoul by eating the souls of evil men, kills a murderous goblin to save Jihoon, she is forced to choose between her immortal life and his.

With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo - With her daughter to care for and her abuela to help support, high school senior and aspiring chef Emoni Santiago has to make the tough decisions. But even with all the rules she has for her life — and all the rules everyone expects her to play by — once Emoni starts cooking, her only real choice is to let her talent break free.

You Must Be Layla by Yasmin Abdel-Magied - Layla's mind goes a million miles a minute, so does her mouth. Despite the setback of a high school suspension, Layla's determined to show everyone that she does deserve her scholarship and sets her sights on winning a big invention competition. But where to begin? Looking outside and in, Layla will need to come to terms with who she is and who she wants to be if she has any chance of succeeding.

#authors of color #book recommendations #yalit #women of color authors #AWW YISSS IT'S MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR AGAIN!!!

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Sammy @captainsammyangel ,

When I got my assignment, I was super thrilled because I ADORE the tale of the nutcracker. I struggled to figure out how to do it with the limited time I had because you're right, the plot isn't easy to work out, and I'm a slow writer so the fic couldn't be too long or it wouldn't have been ready in time. This might not be what you fully expect but, hopefully, it will fulfill all your requests.

If not, I propose combining our efforts and do together a Nutcracker AU for Christmas 2020. That way we could have plenty of time to figure things out and write it without a rush.

For this fic, you should know that Oliver and Felicity are a little older than in the show, they've been married for many years, and William is the biological son of both.

I hope that you had a great holiday and that 2020 brings you love, health, and prosperity.

Mare @green-arrows-of-karamel

PS: this wasn't beta'ed so all mistakes are mine and mine alone 😝

THE UNTOLD TRUTH OF THE NUTCRACKER

On the morning of December 25, the weak winter sun is barely visible on the horizon. Despite the early hour, in the Smoak household, there is already joyful activity going on. It cannot be another way since this day has a remarkable meaning for the family, more than for any other. It's Christmas Day but also the fourth night of Hanukkah, and there's one more reason, too.

The happy giggles of 4-year-old Mia reach her parents' bedroom. Felicity smiles, lying on the bed and using her husband's chest as a pillow. Oliver chuckles when the voice of their 14-year-old son, William, begs his sister to be quiet, to wait for mom and dad.

"I think Mia just found that Santa came last night," Oliver murmurs.

"Probably," Felicity chuckles.

"We should get up before she opens the presents. I don't think William can dissuade her not to for long."

Felicity smirks at Oliver's true words. William is great and has never-ending patience with her little sister. He couldn't be a better older brother. Nonetheless, William also spoils her rotten and Mia has excellent argumentative skills to which he can't —or won't— fight against. When William is in charge, what Mia wants, Mia gets. Only Felicity and Oliver are able to reign their daughter's whims.

"That would be on you, my love," Felicity teases, tilting her head up to look at her husband's face. "Our daughter inherited your stubbornness," she grins when Oliver narrows his eyes slightly, affronted. Diverting his comeback, Felicity moves to do something that will distract him for sure.

"And before we get up…"

Felicity leans up on an elbow and hovers her face close to Oliver's, their mouths almost touching. She has been married to Oliver over a decade and a half and, still, her heart beats faster when they are this close. The intense gaze of his eyes, full of love and desire, let her know that he feels the same. The closeness is almost unbearable.

"I forgot to tell you… Happy anniversary," she whispers before nibbling Oliver's lower lip.

It works like a charm. Whatever he was going to say to her is instantly forgotten. Oliver moans and puts a hand on the back of her nape as he deepens the kiss. He brushes his tongue against her lips, coaxing them to grant him access. When Felicity parts them, Oliver explores her mouth with ardor. The erotic dance of their tongues reminds Felicity of the way Oliver so often makes love to her, just the way he did a handful of minutes ago. A choreography that goes from languid, enthralling moves to an upbeat dancing, one that transports them both to the highest peak of ecstasy.

This morning, however, their journey to ultimate bliss for a second time comes to an abrupt end. A shrilly complaint coming from downstairs jolts them apart with a unison groan.

"Later?" Oliver asks in a low, husky voice. More than a question, it's a promise.

A promise that melts Felicity on the inside and heats up the blood in her veins. "Later," she vows.

After their morning ablutions, Oliver and Felicity go downstairs and find Mia with a tragic, but absolutely cute, expression on her face. Obviously, she's put out at her brother's refusal to let her open the presents. For his part, William sags on the couch relieved, as he watches mom and dad coming down the stairs.

"Good morning, mom! Merry Christmas, dad!" he says.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Mia yells and sprints toward them, her blonde curls bouncing at the upbeat pace of her small feet. Without missing a beat, she launches herself to Oliver's waiting arms. After wrapping her arm around his neck and her legs around his waist, holding herself tight to him, Mia twists in her father's embrace. She leans toward Felicity to hug her just as tight.

"Mommy, can I open the presents now, please, please, please, pleeeease?!"

"Of course, baby. Let's see what Santa brought you."

The girl squirms out of Oliver's arms and lets out an excited screech as she runs toward the tree. The shrill sound undeniably tells that Mia is her grandmother's grandkid. Only Donna and Mia can produce such a sound.

Half an hour later, the living room is littered with toys, new clothes, and other gifts in a sea of ripped wrapping papers. Apparently, everyone was on Santa's good list this year.

"There's one more," William announces mysteriously, straightening up from his crouch by the tree. He has a 3-for-4-inch box on his hand. "This is from me to Mia."

She gasps, her eyes bright with emotion. "Thanks, Will!"

Mia wastes the minimum time to hug her big brother before ripping the package open with an almost-indecent voracity.

"Aww, I love it!"

William smiles, pleased that he chose the gift well, looking at Mia. He misses the surprised glance shared by his parents. Neither Felicity nor Oliver dare to say what they're thinking. Felicity can see in her husband's eyes the same dumbstruck disbelief that she feels watching the plushy nutcracker that William gifted her sister.

It has to be a coincidence, Felicity thinks. Oliver shrugs almost imperceptibly as if he'd picked up her thoughts.

There's something the kids ignore about their dad, something about his previous life. He had hoped to tell them when they are older.

Both Felicity and Oliver have to shake their semi-panicked state away when Mia plops herself between them on the couch. "Daddy, can we eat choco-pancakes for breakfast?"

"Of course, kiddo. Why don't you and William go to the pantry and fetch what we need? I'll be right behind you."

"C'mon, Mia," William says, "I'll race you."

Mia sprints after his brother with her new nutcracker in hand and Felicity warns, "Not running in the house!"

"Sorry, mom!" the kids chant in unison. Their steps slow down for a couple of seconds before they run off again, giggling.

Felicity sighs and lets their misbehavior pass, having more pressing matters to worry about. She turns to look at Oliver, biting her lower lip. "Do you think—"

She pauses when her cell phone rings and, for a moment, hesitates to pick it up.

"It's your mom, answer it," Oliver prompts. "Talk to her while I'll go and make breakfast before the kids become the kitchen into a war zone. We'll talk later," he promises, his tone conveying the need for that conversation.

Nodding, Felicity agrees, "Okay."

Their talk comes much later than what Felicity expects, though. Neither it happens in the way she imagined. After talking with her mother on the phone and eating breakfast, the kids insisted on having a snowball fight outside. Later, Oliver was busy making dinner for today's triple celebration: Christmas, Hanukkah, and their anniversary.

Knowing that family and friends would be there soon, Felicity helped Mia to get ready. When the guests arrived, the afternoon went by in a blur, filled with joy and laughter. She loves her family and friends, to celebrate with them, but today she wished them to go home early. Her wish was not granted.

Finally, after lighting the Menorah and having dinner, the guests go home with their bellies full of delicious food that Oliver made. They trooped out the house, everyone getting in their respective cars and driving away. Felicity is glad that the party is over. Once they clean the mess left behind, she and Oliver can talk alone.

First, Oliver goes to tuck sleepy Mia in her bed while Felicity clears the table with William's help. Now that she's alone with her son, it seems a good moment to find out if there's a particular reason why William bought a nutcracker of all things for his baby sister. Yet, Felicity hesitates. She wants to avoid making him suspicious about the gift or her curiosity. William, having inherited her brain, is too clever for his own good sometimes… or Felicity should say, for her sake.

The universe throws a small favor her way. William brings the topic on his own.

"Mia really liked my gift," he says, the grin on his lips telling how proud he is for such a feat.

That's an understatement. Mia loved the doll. She didn't put it down all day long, not for even a second.

"She did. Good call in choosing that for her."

Felicity hopes that William doesn't pick up the half-lie. She can't deny that her heart swells with a warm feeling when her children strengthen their fraternal love with moments like that. But neither can she overlook how William's sweet gesture skirts too close on a family secret. Maybe it's time for her and Oliver to be honest with their eldest.

"Where did you buy it?" she asks with a nonchalance she doesn't feel.

"In a little store on Seventh Street. It sells hand-made toys. Mr. Drosselmeyer, the owner is a nice guy."

Frak! Felicity's stomach drops to the floor and her cheeks lose color. With Drosselmeyer involved, this is definitely not a coincidence. The dishes that Felicity is holding in her hands rattle as she trembles, just thinking about what this could mean for her and Oliver, for Mia and William.

"Mom, you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetie." Felicity puts her load in the dishwasher and turns to face her son with what she hopes is a convincing smile.

It's not.

William approaches her, with an inquisitive glance so like his father's. One that means he won't be distracted from what he wants to know. "What's up with you, mom? You've been odd all day."

"Have I?"

Oh, crap! And Felicity had thought she had fooled him like she did everybody else.

"Yes!" William emphasizes. "You and dad. Both have been weird today. Are you guys fighting?"

"What? No! Of course not."

"Then, what is it?"

Oliver chooses that moment to reappear in the kitchen. He's prattling about something cute Mia said but he trails off when looks at Felicity and William. His brow creases. "Something wrong?"

At the same time that Felicity utters a negative, William says, "Yes. I wanna know what's going on between you and mom."

"Between Felicity and I?" Oliver looks at her seeking an explanation but all that Felicity can do is trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Her husband shifts his gaze back to their son. "What do you mean?"

"Both of you have been acting strange today and I want to know why."

Oliver opens his mouth, then he closes it, lost for words. Felicity knows the conflict he's having because it's the same she feels squeezing her chest.

"I think it's time to tell him, Oliver," she croaks. "He's old enough."

William turns sharply to face Felicity, then Oliver. "Tell me what?" his voice is spiked with dread.

Oliver exchanges a glance with Felicity. His eyes are heavy with a mix of worry and wariness.

She can tell that he has doubts about telling the truth, but when she nods wordlessly, he heaves a resigned sigh.

"Tell me what?" William repeats, this time with less dread and more impatience.

"Let's have a seat, okay?"

William gives them a testy look but moves over the kitchen table and sinks into his usual seat. Oliver reaches out for Felicity's hand and both walk toward the table.

"You know that your dad and I first met this day many years ago, right?" Felicity starts as she sits down next to her husband.

"I know that. That's why you got married on this date too."

"Right," Oliver confirms.

"But we've always implied, to you and everyone else, that we met a year before we became husband and wife."

"You didn't." It's phrased as a statement but there's a hint of uncertainty in Williams's voice.

"The truth is, son, that we met many, many years before."

"Since I was about eight," Felicity clarifies.

William's brow furrows. "You've known each other for a longer time, so what? Why keep that as a secret?"

"Because no one would believe us if we told the truth about how we met."

"I don't understand."

"I think you need to hear the story from the beginning," Felicity says before launching herself to relate what happened so many winters ago.

She tells her son that by the end of the year when she was eight years old, just a few months after her father abandoned her and her mother, Felicity passed by a toy store nearby the shabby small apartment she shared with her mother. She was feeling down because she hadn't gotten a present for Hanukkah. By the Jewish tradition, only sometimes small children get gifts and, now she knew, also her mother had struggled with money to keep a roof over their heads.

Felicity had stared at the store's window, marveled by the toys in it. A particular item drew her attention above the rest. It was a wooden soldier nutcracker.

"An irony, really," she says, "since I'm allergic to nuts. I didn't know why but I couldn't stop watching the soldier."

"So what happened?"

"I met the toymaker and owner of the shop. He saw me outside and came to talk to me. Mr. Drosselmeyer was nice to me and told me I could take the wooden toy home."

The recognition of the name hit William hard, his eyes widen like saucers. "Mr. Drosselmeyer? Could be he the same that I—"

"Drosselmeyer?" Oliver interrupts William, nonplussed. "What does he got to do with you?"

"He sold the toy to William," Felicity explains.

"But why? He told us that the spell was broken." Oliver's face contorts with fury but, behind that, there's a deep concern. "Don't you think—" Oliver shifts his gaze from Felicity to William, his eyes darkening when his concern turns into bone-freezing dread. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know," Felicity answers quietly, squeezing her husband's hand. "We'll figure it out but, first, let's tell William everything."

"Yes, please, because I'm understanding nothing of what you're saying. Dad, you said spell… as in magic? Magic doesn't exist!"

"Yes, it does," Oliver affirms in a tone that rings with absolute truth.

Felicity reaches for her son's hand. "It really does, sweetie. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen with my own eyes how after I took the toy home it became of flesh and bones. I was sleeping when a bright light woke me up.

"There was a soldier— well, more like a prince," Felicity corrects herself, feeling as a secret smile finds its way to her lips. "There he was, standing where I had put the nutcracker. He was dressed exactly as the toy had been. I couldn't believe what I was seeing."

William watches her and Oliver as if they're crazy. An understandable reaction but it makes Felicity doubt if she and Oliver did the right thing in telling William the truth.

"I know it's hard to believe, William, but it is true. It did happen. All of the sudden, my bedroom became a battlefield when a platoon of mouse invaded it and Oliver fought them with the help of my other toys."

"I was almost defeated," Oliver grumbles.

"But you weren't. Although I must confess that my shoe hitting the Mouse King in the head was a lucky shot."

Oliver smiles as he lifts Felicity's hand to his lips. "Lucky or not, you save me." Then, he leans forward to kiss her.

"Could you not- ugh!"

Felicity and Oliver break the kiss and turn to look at their son, identical amused smirks forming on their lips. William becomes a little uncomfortable when they show a little too much of what he calls "unnecessary public display of affection".

"Anyway," Felicity continues, composing herself, "the Mouse King and his troops retreated but Oliver needed to follow them because now his home realm was in danger. I want to help so I went with him.

"To make the long story short, we traveled through different fantastic realms until we battled and defeated the Mouse King."

"Then when the adventure ended, I brought your mother back home."

"I was sad that he was leaving so he promised me that he would be back,"

"And I always keep my promises."

"But did you have to make your visits so far in between?" Felicity teases with no real criticism in her voice.

Oliver smirks. "You know I was only able to become human once every year for one day."

Felicity twists her lips. "True." Then she explains to William, "He came back every Christmas Day for over a decade. Each time, I went to his realm to have more adventures. Every year it was harder to say goodbye. I know we spent barely a day together every year but our short time in each other's company was enough for our friendship to grow.

"I don't know when was the year, the moment when my feelings for him changed. As I grew I loved him as a friend but I wanted more."

"I spent years, aching to see Felicity again and again, even if it was for a day at the time. All I did was think about her. Until seventeen years ago, when I plucked up the courage and kissed her… just before the clock struck midnight."

"I was sure that when I opened my eyes he would no longer be there. My heart broke. But when the clock chimes came and went and I could still feel him hugging me, hope flooded in me."

"I remember the screech you made when you opened your eyes and saw that I was there."

Felicity glares fiercely at Oliver. "I do not screech… ever."

Oliver's lips twitch slightly as if he's fighting a smile. "No, hon. You don't."

Felicity harrumphs, knowing that Oliver says that just to pacify her.

"You're actually telling the truth," a sliver of hope to be mistaken lingers in William's voice.

"It's crazy, impossible, yet true. Your father used to be a nutcracker."

"And what's that of Mr. Drosselmeyer telling you about the- them-magic?" William stutters, barely managing to get the words out.

"After that Christmas when your mother and I kissed, one day we ran into him on the street. As we spoke, he hinted at that he knew what would happen if I found love here. He told me that only a true love kiss could break the spell that had me trapped in the other realm. That now I could live happily ever after."

"So if everything turned out okay, why do I get the feeling that you are worried about me?" William asks, trying to show he's at ease, but Felicity knows him. She can tell that he's worried.

He's not the only one.

Oliver holds his gaze into William's and takes a deep breath before answering him, "The spell I broke had been tied to my family forever. My father and his father and grandfather before him also had their chance to become men of flesh and bone but I guess they never found true love here.

"The fact that Drosselmeyer has popped back into our lives makes me nervous. He told me that my children wouldn't be under the spell, but I don't know. I want you to have a happy, normal life, Will."

Father and son look at each other for a moment before Oliver prompts in a voice heavy with emotion, "Come here."

William is out of the chair in a second and in the security of his father's embrace the next.

When they pull apart, William says, "Now, I understand what Mr. Drosselmeyer told me. He said that the gift for Mia would mean a lot to her, that in the years to come it'll become the symbol of what love truly means and its great capacity to change destiny."

"Sounds like him," Oliver mutters.

"Maybe," Felicity approaches and speaks with hope flooding into her voice, "he just wanted to give us a sort of memento, something for our kids to know our true love story."

Oliver seems wary about it but says, "Maybe."

"We'll go tomorrow at his store and ask him, though."

"Good thinking."

"But now, let's pick up this mess and go to bed."

Standing outside of the house, a figure shrouded in a dark gray cloak looks at the family through the window. Hidden beneath his hood, the man smiles, reconciling the image of the woman inside with the girl with black piglets standing outside his store so many years ago. In his life as a toymaker, he had met many children but, when he met Felicity, he just knew she was the one who could save the nutcracker prince.

When their son had entered his store a few weeks ago, he couldn't resist the urge to suggest a soft nutcracker as the perfect gift for his sister. It was nothing but a reminder of the great things they had.

A love like theirs came only once in a hundred lifetimes.

Content after watching the love that they continue having as a family, Drosselmeyer walks away, slowly and with the weight of his years dragging him down. After a moment, his figure gets lost in the shadows.

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye Olicity

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changelingvixen · 4 years ago

Text

Some chess themed world stuff, IDK, incoherent and unfinished

“Tithes for the king! Tithes for the king! The Holy Duty calls!”

The crier was not the Bishop herself of course, this was just a sub-priest, one of the many strata beneath the Holy Lady herself, two steps from martyrdom for the royal family’s sake. No, the Bishop Herself was only seen on the holiest of days. This was just a tithe calling.

This was not the slums proper. This was the entrance to the slums where the merely poor lived, not the cursed or fallen. Every face was fully human, largely clean and sentient. The houses were crammed together, cheap stone falling apart, but the stench was merely rotten vegetables, smoke and muck, the normal scent of background life. These people were accepted, if not welcomed, in the eyes of the White Queen.

A young woman, face so full of innocence it struck the Knight in her chest for a moment, opened her mouth, made to step forward. Something about her demeanor – her softness – her beauty, brown eyes and hair and skin – made the Knight bite her lip, and instead pass her her own token, a White Rose. The woman’s eyes widened, and she gazed up at the Knight, who smiled.

“To the guard at 9,” she said. “He will bring you to me.”

A night with the Knight was worth nowhere near as much as with the king, in repayment, but on the other hand the pleasure was plentiful. It was no Holy Duty, but it was joyful, and there was still monetary compensation. The woman’s ragged dress would be replaced with a finer one and she would eat well for a year or two.

The compensation for offering one’s self as tithe in the Holy Duty was high, but only given, of course, if the tithe survived.

The Knight realised a moment later the woman would probably not have been chosen, anyway. The current vogue in theological circles was that the tithe should match the king’s own looks – or, at least, as more honest courtiers would say – his apparent complexion. Even that was fraught with its issues, for who else but the royal line had that pearlescent hair? Silver eyes, at least, were common enough, as was that strange angular cut of bone and jaw the Royal Line had possessed before its degeneration, and indeed, the three chosen tithes matched that physical profile well enough. They all had the same expression – determined, desperate, afraid. They always did.

If they survived they were Compelled never to speak of what the Holy Duty comprised. They had their lives and most of their limbs and wealth beyond imagining and besides, what good would it do them? If the king died without issue, they would all die, for the face of the White Queen herself would have turned from them for good.

The Knight knew what happened. The Knight had seen the times the king preferred animals to women and what came of them. These women were not the sort to survive. She turned her face from them.

The Queen was watching from her balcony, she knew. From the top of the panopticon she could see the whole city as she stood alone, her veil blowing like a pennant behind her. She could feel her eyes, even from here. Beautiful, bored, limpid. She would creep up behind the Knight after day-long banquets when the old speeches from the old retainers were over and whisper into her ear,

“Tell me your name, Knight. Be mine. Take me from here.”

And the Knight would smile without meaning at the Queen’s pale face, taut with lust and fear, and whisper, “I am the Knight, madam.”

“I will tell you mine,” the Queen would press. “I will make you mine. I will give you myself. None but he has touched me.” She flinched as she said it. The Knight knew the Queen was protected when her breeding days were allotted but even so, it was a horror. A Holy Duty and a hell.

“Sleep well, madam,” the Knight would say, her hands carefully behind her back, and bow, and leave. Her words were as familiar as the Rote Of The Light or The Chiding Of The Seven Bells, heard after every seventh course, the Pawn’s intonation solemn, the meaning long forgotten but the rite of its recitation inescapable, unimaginable to change. Perhaps it was the loss of meaning that was causing their decline, the Knight thought. But perhaps not.

She never knew if the Rook was listening. Sometimes he would flit out of sight in the corner of her eye. Who knew to whom the Rook paid allegiance? He alone in the Court spoke to his opposite, for who could punish or fathom a Rook? He would not find his entrails wound around the castle buttresses for speaking to the Black Rook – they had their own place, the Rooks, between the two lands, where they met and whispered and who knew what?

The Knight closed her eyes, thinking that, somewhere, there was a Black Knight, perhaps doing this self-same act, trailing the long passages of her castle, training in her martial arts, listening and waiting, the endless waiting for the war to begin again, when the Ladies Above spoke it so, when their game began again. Except the Black Knight’s kingdom wasn’t dying.

---

The library was quiet and heavy-aired, tall lonely pillars and endless dark bookcases sweeping into the domed ceilings. The velvet carpets were heavy with must. Neat square tables were empty, the chairs pushed up to the edges. The marble fountain, carved nymphs and flowers in diamond and moonstone, sprayed its dancing drops in silence. Dusty light hit motes in the air.

The Bishop locked the heavy stone door behind her to prevent another entering – as if they would. Still. Better to be safe. She tucked the key away in some inner pocket of her robe.

Welcome, said the spirit of the library to the Bishop. It has been so long. I am so lonely. I know a thousand lives, I know wisdom and lies beyond imagining, but I am alone. So hungry.

The air around the Bishop throbbed hot, warming her emaciated cheeks.

Beautiful, the spirit whispered. The Bishop gently pushed the air away. It fluttered like old pages, musty and papery.

“No,” she said. It didn’t recede, it edged under her robe, stroking her legs, edging from ankle to calf to knee and pausing.

A thousand thousand years. I need companionship.

The Bishop strode up to a shelf, running a languid bone-thin finger along a book’s spine. The spirit groaned softly. Everything else was absolutely still.

“People are afraid of that which they don’t know or believe they do know,” said the Bishop. She enjoyed a conversation, and it was true, the library had been closed for endless years. Time flowed differently in the presence of so many books. Perhaps, to the library, it had been a thousand years. Close to, frondy moss was growing through the ancient oak of the bookcases, curling around the section markers, glowing faintly.

If you run, I shall chase you, said the spirit. My corridors are labyrinths to you. I am the maze and the monster. Just a night, one day and one night with you. Do not leave me. I will allow you safe passage then. To what you seek. I could trap and keep you else. Hold you close to me forever. But where is the joy in that? Its tone was becoming desperate. Give me this honour and kindness. Soothe my pain. I have been alone for so long.

“I am a holy woman,” the Bishop said, her cheeks flushing as the warm air grasped at her again, twining around her limbs. “I belong to the White Queen, the Lady Above.”

Belong to me, for one day and one night, madam Bishop, the library breathed. Your Lady will forgive. I am so alone. You may have all my wisdom and my words. Any written tale. Tell me your desires and salve mine. Bathe in my fountain, lay yourself down for me. How I ache. I will write your answers upon your skin and bones if you give yourself to me.

“My Lady will guide me free,” said the Bishop, “If I need her to. I seek a treatise.”

The library was silent. The Bishop cocked her head. Somewhere, woodworm gnawed through a shelf, the sound scratchy in her ears.

The Bishop took a step forward.

---

The Knight knew a woman in the Old Market. She traded as a fortune teller but to those who knew, she was a true mystic.

The Old Market was crammed edge to edge with stalls of a thousand different kinds, reeking with the scents of greasy street food, sweat, incense, smoke and metal. Rickety houses and shops boughed over the street like branches; detritus crunched under her feet as people jostled and gossiped and pickpocketed each other. Things jibbered in cages. Scrappy children shrieked and shoved, clutching a penny for a sweet or a firelighter. The Knight strode through the masses, sloughing them in her wake, even with a hood over her face to disguise herself, bereft of chain mail and ruff and veil and sword. Traders shouted their wares – the usual, from the bizarre to the useless to the lifesaving. One briefly caught her eye, leering at her.

“Syrup of sight, pretty lady? Guaranteed to show you the truth in any man’s face. Just right for your master or your lover…”

She turned away.

“Afraid of the truth?” jeered the salesman, waving a bottle, but she wanted more than snake oil.

Behind a fraying, jewelled curtain at the quieter end of the street, the woman sat. Her garish handwritten sales sign promised love and magic and other lies, and young women dared each other to spend a coin and enter the tent, but the Knight knew, unlike most of the other magic on offer, this woman could be convinced to speak true.

“I seek guidance, madam,” she told the curtain, which twitched.

“Enter,” said the voice within, and the Knight pushed the curtain aside, ignoring the awed whispering of the young women behind her.

The hunched old woman straightened up on seeing the Knight, and with no apparent change, her face was younger. “Ah,” she said, smiling faintly. “Madam Knight.” She fingered the deck of cards before her. “You seek something?”

“Of course,” said the Knight. She seated herself on the rickety stool opposite the woman, and pulled a pouch of gold from her cloak, passing it over with respect. The woman did not open it but simply secreted it away under her bench. “The Black Knight. Who is she?”

The mystic showed no reaction to the question, despite its heresy. “You know her by her deeds. Soldier and handmaiden. Black guardian. Palfreywoman waiting in the wings. Your own face in the mirror, Knight. Yourself in reverse. What you see in the dark. Do you seek the truth or a comforting lie?”

The Knight knew the respect was returned in that she asked. For her customers she would mostly decide for them what they received. “The truth.”

The woman passed the cards through her hands, shuffling, turning. Her dark eyes stared into nothing. The Knight breathed in the scent of patchouli and blood. At length the mystic flipped them.

“The Bloody Shrike. The Liar’s Tongue. Distant Winds Calling. The Blade That Bites True, trine with the Dark Servant. And the Light Servant in combination. Why, I believe she wishes to meet you, too.” She raised her pits of eyes to the Knight. “She is a traitor and a killer, and she believes herself right. Perhaps you have a lot in common. I wonder what I would see if I drew for you.” She laughed thinly.

“Similar, perhaps,” said the Knight, mildly. She wondered herself, for a moment. “Have you ever drawn for your own amusement perhaps? Of the Court?”

The mystic laughed. “What makes you think I wish to know of any of you? What I need to know, I already do. I am just a conduit to fools and hunters. What good would it do me, to know of you?”

“None at all,” said the Knight, rising. “I thank you for your time.”

“Enjoy your night with the little maiden,” said the mystic. “Do not think of those who were taken.”

“I don’t,” said the Knight. She inclined her head, and pushed the curtain aside to leave.

---

“When,” said the Knight to the Rook, “Is Carnival in the city next?”

The Rook didn’t look up. “Here or there?” He nudged a piece across the playing mat and flipped the rotating board around. His opponent’s eyes narrowed as he reached for the dice. To even be allowed play a game of complexity and chance against the Rook was an honour, and the Rook seemed to genuinely enjoy games. The nobleman couldn’t hear the Knight’s question, or even see her presence. The Rook only ever played opponents on the other side of a one-way mirrored screen, the board rotating endlessly between turns. In his ascetic game chamber, the Rook and the Knight were alone. She watched the nobleman’s face with interest. He seemed intelligent, and although he probably wouldn’t win, perhaps there would be a challenge there for the Rook.

“For interest’s sake,” said the Knight, “Both.”

“Here, the seventh day of Golden Season. There, the nineteenth of Bronze.” The Rook never explained how he knew when Carnival was arriving, here or there. The Rook never explained very much at all.

The noble’s hand hovered over a piece, and drew back. He bit his lip. There were no particular stakes this time – the reward was the game and the honour of playing - but who liked to lose?

“Thank you,” said the Knight, and bowed, because whatever else he was, the Rook was powerful and nominally on her side, at least. His hooded eyes blinked slowly and he looked up at her at last. The guttering candle in its wall bracket threw strange shadows on his dark face.

“I serve only the world,” said the Rook, expressionlessly. “I shall watch your movements well.”

What strange investiture passed from Rook to Rook, she wondered. What secret service did he provide beyond the laying out of time and the seasons, advice, sentencing, learning, teaching? Was he closer to the White Lady than even the Bishop, or furthest of all?

The nobleman’s hand moved like a snake and the board spun. The Rook tilted his head, truly birdlike. The Knight did not enjoy games, although she thought she could see the Rook’s likely move. Only at the last moment did he change from her guess to a different, subtler play, and she wondered again what went through that mind. The board spun again. The noble frowned.

“Good day, Madam Knight,” said the Rook, and she bowed again, understanding, and left.

#chess themed bs

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hstott · 5 years ago

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Holst’s “The Planets” and WKM Characters

Here we go people! Prepare yourself to read a lot of nerdy comparisons :)

For this, I decided to focus on the main characters that don’t include the DA.

Mars, the Bringer of War- The Chef There were many characters that I considered for this role (The Detective, The Colonel, and especially Mark), but the person that exudes the most amount of hostility toward the DA is the Chef. His tone is very pugnacious, and he frequently chops up meat quite aggressively. I believe that the famous underlying cadence pattern in Mars sounds quite a bit like chopping. He doesn’t like anyone in his kitchen, and prepares to fight them if someone is there. He doesn’t trust anyone, so he has his Little Buddy. Like Mars, the Chef is very loud and forceful. He habitually curses people out, as well as just cursing frequently in general. The Chef hides important information about the Groundskeeper, and argues with the Detective frequently. He is prideful in his decision to hide the information, like the pride expressed in the movement. The Chef leaves shouting furiously, just like how Mars ends with the very loud sustained notes.

Venus, the Bringer of Peace- Damien Poor, sweet Damien. He just wanted to be with all of his friends again. The tender tone of Venus is quite thoughtful, like Damien is. Damien calms the DA when he sees them at first: calling them “old friend”, asking about their new office, and giving them gentle smiles. Venus is about affection and love, which can be shown platonically or otherwise. He helps the DA after they are punched, expressing great concern. One can also presume that he wants the best for his city, and that he cares about the peace. When he finds out that Mark is dead, he is immediately heartbroken. Although he then argues with the Colonel, he then later regrets it. The tone of Venus can be quite solemn and regretful. He fully trusts the DA, and typically trusts the Colonel. Progressing on with the story, Damien snaps more and more out of frustration from losing a loved one. He supports Celine, and tries to protect her, not wanting to see another close friend get hurt. He also settles the groundskeeper argument between the Detective and the Chef by stating that their arguing will get them nowhere. Venus is about trying to keep the peace. When the DA sees Damien and Celine after they die, Damien is truly angry, but then persuades the DA to trust them, promising to fix the situation at hand. When we see Damien/Dark at the end, he seems very angry. I believe that he is angry at Mark, for making him take his dear friend’s body, for forcing him to manipulate his companion, and trapping them in the mirror for all of eternity. After all, he just wanted his dear friends to be together, and he had that ripped away from him, so he then must go against his original morals, and hunt the one friend that he used to trust the most. He used to always say that “life is ours to choose”, but then went to being “forced” to become the villain. One could think that Damien goes from Venus, the Bringer of Peace, but then morphs into Mars, the Bringer of War. This is especially true within Mark’s video, “Damien”. He goes from trying his best to keep the peace, to becoming the villain that Mark so desperately wanted. But even then, he just wants to help his sister, and tries to make things right. Very interesting…

Mercury, the Winged Messenger- Benjamin the Butler I feel as this one may be quite obvious and literal. Every time we see the Butler, he always is quite sudden with his return, which corresponds to the liveliness of Mercury. I find it very interesting that near the beginning of Mercury, a bell is heard, not unlike one used to summon a butler. He also almost always brings something to the DA, whether it be champagne, seltzer with cocaine, or even “important” information. At first, Benjamin seems quite exuberant and lively. Then he begins to deteriorate as his master was murdered. He tries his best to help the DA throughout the investigation, until he must abandon the manor and take his leave.

Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity- The Colonel The Colonel has always been an eccentric, according to Damien. He is always quite courteous towards the DA, but not as much toward the Detective. The Colonel is very prideful. He is exuberant, even during the mystery of Mark’s death, joking around and being sarcastic. He tries his best to stay away from the investigation, going as far as to go swimming and golfing to avoid Damien and the Detective. He further tries to stay away from everyone but the DA. At the end, he fully believes that this is all a joke, and that he didn’t kill anyone, which he exclaims loudly over and over. In Wilford Motherloving Warfstache, Wilford still firmly believes that he is not a murderer. He is very happy to see “Dave”, and asks about “his wife”. He doesn’t seem to mind being kidnapped be the Detective, and continues to try to drink his cocktail. After he finally realizes just who has him, he is extremely happy to see Abe, and expresses melancholy for his friends. He also seems quite contempt with not knowing what is going on. He apologizes to Abe, even going in for a hug. When Abe freaks out about not remembering anything, Wilford comforts him and tries to bring joy to Abe’s life. He tries to help Abe have fun and forget about the murders. Jupiter is quite brash and joyful. There are repetitive motifs, not unlike how the Colonel has his sayings, such as “buoy” and “this is all a joke!”. Jupiter is also very majestic and resplendent, yet noble in nature. Wilford/the Colonel is a perfect comparison. In the second section of Jupiter, the tone seems very wistful, and almost melancholic, not unlike Wil when he sees the photographs of his friends in Abe’s office.

Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age- Abe The Detective This may be a strange title for Abe, but trust me. Abe is very melancholic in nature, spending quite a bit of time reflecting on his past partners. He seems to be stuck in the past, focusing on finding Wilford for presumably many years. Saturn is very heavy-hearted in tone. Saturn is also very patient and prideful. This expresses how Abe is very invested into his work, and is willing to spend a lot of time trying to solve his cases. He takes much pride in his duties. This is shown by his joy when he finally traps Wilford, from finding him in the club, handcuffing him in his car, and then tying him up in his office. In Saturn, there are brief moments of madness, which are focused around time, being projected as clock bells and chimes. Sound familiar? This is exactly like when Abe has his breakdown about not remembering things that he should. Eventually, this calms down, not unlike how Abe accepts the madness that Wilford describes, and starts getting his boogie on.

Uranus, the Magician- Mark Now, you may be wondering, “Shouldn’t Celine be the Magician?”, but on the contrary, she is not the only person that dealt with what may have been “magic”. Uranus deals with magic, and magic may constitute as curses. Mark had repeatedly tried to end his life, but was thwarted by the mystical powers of the house. When Mark invites the others to his poker night, he does it to try to get his revenge, and uses the house’s powers, as well as his curse, to execute it. To differentiate Uranus’ movement versus Neptune’s, one must consider the tone of the section itself. Uranus sounds brash and vengeful within the first few bars. Then the tone shifts to madness, with a hint of playfulness. Mark sounds quite like this as he is introducing the evening’s festivities as he waltzes down his staircase. After all, it isn’t about the poker, it’s about “you”, which includes the guests he is trying to get revenge on. Even joy is heard, as I would think Mark would have as his plan is being thought. As the movement progresses, the tone becomes brasher and more powerful, until it all collapses into quietness. I imagine this as Mark solidifying his actions by killing himself for what is the last time. The tone becomes somewhat solemn, but a deep, uneasy voice is heard lurking underneath the silence. This could connotate the shift of mood of the whole production as a whole, from the mystery of Mark’s death and disappearance of the body, to the DA seeing the true darkness that the house exerts.

Neptune, the Mystic- Celine We know very little about Celine herself; we only know that she is Damien’s twin sister, Mark’s ex-wife, the Colonel’s ex-lover, and that she dabbles with the mystic arts. Neptune represents the unknown, as well as mystery. Celine obviously has mystical powers, that end up joining with the house’s darkness when she has the DA travel their mind to see visions of what they should do. Celine grows more powerful as she uses the house, but then is taken into its darkness, along with Damien. Damien and her both disappear mysteriously. Neptune’s tone, especially with the twinkling bells, reminds one of the stars (like on Celine’s dress), and the unknown that comes with space. The portion with the angelic singing morphs into a very dissonant tone that grows more as time goes on. The music slowly fades away until one is left with nothing. The tone of Neptune is much more serious and steady, rather than the brashness and anger of Uranus’. Celine is very serious when she talks, and she doesn’t try emotionally reflect on what Mark’s death meant, she immediately tries to figure out what mystic forces are at this house. She takes control of the investigation, and everyone that she can persuade. She knows that there is more to this world than what most people know.

Sorry for the long post! Let me know what you think!

Tagging some people that I think might find this interesting:

@blackaquokat @abethedetective @clanwarrior-tumbly @raimeyl @theashofwkm @falseroar @thatonebubblebitch @miaiplier @markired @marksandrec @chelseareferenced

#wkm wilford #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #wilford warfstache #markiplier #wkm mark #who killed markiplier #wkm damien #wkm colonel #wkm detective #wkm celine #abe the detective #wkm butler #wkm william #wkm chef #darkiplier #mark egos #wkm #actor mark

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writinginthesparetime · 5 years ago

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A place far away pt5

pairing: actor!Park Haejin x student!reader

Warnings: famous!au ; college!au ; litte bit of swearing?

genre: fluff

previous: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 6

(If needed I will add more warnings and upload the genre tags in next chapters)

Summary:

So that’s how all started.

It was a rainy day in Seoul and I was the new girl in town. Precisely the new girl in college, just moved from europe to study abroad.

How could i ever imagine?

A/n: It’s a super long chapter, hopefully you’ll forgive me for taking this long!

————————————————

I woke up with the strongest headache I ever experienced. It felt like someone was hitting me with a cooking pan on my head.

I turned around hiding my face under the pillow with the hope to shut down all the sounds around me. The streets outside sounded like a war.

“Shit. Never again.” I whispered coughing. The movement made me nauseous, forcing me to get up and then run to the bathroom.

I got out a few moments later, tottering and pale.

“Y/n you look so bad.”

Nana was laying on the couch still in her pyjama, a wet cloth on her forehead and a hot water bag on her stomach.

“I see it’s a good morning to you too.” I said hinting a smile and sitting next to her. I started thinking again at the night before: we didn’t drink much, but for me it was enough. I got tipsy quickly.

I am not made to drink alcohol. That’s it.

“Y/n I don’t think I am able to offer you drinks tonight.”

“I could never accept. Not when I’m like this.” We both smiled.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered closing her eyes, still a smile on her face. “Tomorrow I’ll take you on this place, it’s a nice pub ten minutes away. They prepare the best martini cocktail.”

Just thinking about alcohol my stomach was upside down again. Nana giggled.

It took me six hours of sleep, some medicines, two litres of water and a hot shower to get out of drunkenness.

Incredible how, once I finished studying, It was already dinner time.

Nana knocked on my door just on time, as soon as my belly started complaining about the lack of food.

“I am hungry.”

“I had no doubts.”

Nana entered the room like a hurricane, throwing her hoodie on my bed and sitting on the only chair of the room, laying on the desk between my books.

“What about we order some pizza?” I proposed since just the idea of cooking made me tired. I didn’t ate all day because of my nausea and I started feeling a little bit hungry. Pizza felt like a good hangover food.

“Oh yeah.” She said throwing puns in the air.

“Pepperoni pizza?”

“Oh yeah.” She then looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “It’s your favourite pizza?”

“I’m a hoe for spicy.” I shrugged.

“I like you every day more and more.” Nana winked at me, then took her phone and called a number.

Half and hour later we were sitting on my carpet, with a maxi pizza between us.

“Your favourite ice cream?” I asked while eating. We didn’t stop asking each other those really silly questions.

“Vanilla, yours?”

“Mint and chocolate .” She almost chocked on her bite, hitting her chest.

“I take back everything I said to you early.”

“How.” I laughed. “Just for ice cream?”

“Just? You say JUST? What if we go eat ice cream and you order before me and some mint and chocolate gets on my precocious vanilla?”

“Then I’ll let you always order first.” I left the crust on the box. “I am full. And I don’t want to talk about favourite food ever again.”

“Ok so let’s talk about guys.” Nana shocked me, like any other day. I liked that she had this personality completely opposite of mine, but she was still able to make me feel comfortable, even about our diversity. “Or girls.”

“I am not interested.” I sipped my coke while rubbing my belly. Maybe I did ate too much.

“I don’t want to be another queer girl who says ‘you never know until you try’ but you will never know until you try.”

She was so confident talking about her sexuality, her life choices and her favourite dessert. Always smiling, Nana was ready to open up to me and reveal every shadow of herself, fearless and joyful.

Another thing I adore about her.

“I’ll let you know.”

“What do you like about a man?” she sipped her coke with a straw, looking me with eye big curious eyes.

“I don’t know, I had just a couple of crushes.”

“So you like everything?”

“Maybe.” I blushed.

“C’mon y/n, there must be something you find attractive. At least physically.” She was so curious I could tell by her pose: her upper body slightly closer to me, her head tilted and her eyes locked on mine. “Black hair or blonde? Blue eyes or dark eyes? Tall? Short? Fit?”

“I really don’t know ...” I moved next to the bed, laying on it. I looked up to the ceiling to focus. “I like tall guys.”

“That’s it?” I nodded. “Well, We still have 90% percent of the male population considering your height.” She looked at me like she was taking mental notes.

“I think I like guys with a pretty smile? Let’s say I don’t like serious guys, I like a man who smiles often. And he should be making me laugh often, so a pretty smile is important.”

“So we are talking about personality now. I’m listening y/n-nie.”

“Why so interested?” I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“We need to know each others, so if I eventually bump into a nice guy I want to know if he’s your type.”

“So you can arrange a date?” She nodded proudly.

“Nana!” I faked being offended, crossing my arms.

“If I tell you what I like in a partner, then will you open up?”

“That sounds fair.”

“I tend to gravitate to mysterious people, someone who doesn’t speak a lot. They make their self desired, they appear and disappear, you have to look for them, kinda run after.” I widened my eyes at her description.

“It sounds tiring.”

“But the best part is the chase.” Her eyes lightened.

“That’s a weird approaching to relationship.”

“Oh no no no.” She shook her hands. “Who talked about relationships? I am not ready for this.”

“But ... I thought that ... you talking about ... “

“That I want a love story?”

“Yeah?” I suddenly felt sorry.

“I am not interested for now.” She made a bitter sweet smile and started looking around.

“So ... I think I like funny guys, they have to make me laugh.” I started talking to interrupt the weird silence. “Of course they have to know when to act seriously and think. Maybe I’d like someone who can choose for me when I’m undecided, like they know the right thing for me.”

“That’s a good description.” Nana gave me her prettiest smile.

“So my ideal partner is the opposite of me.”

“Yeah, I got it. Especially the funny part.” She said seriously. I slapped lightly her shoulder and we both giggled.

“Thank you for yesterday, Nana.”

“You’re welcome.”

I closed the building’s door behind me, putting the key inside my purse. Nana was waiting for me a few step ahead.

“Really, thank you.” I repeated while fixing my hair. “I never had a girl talk about boys. It was fun.”

“We can do that again.” We started walking on the street, a cold September evening. But I felt this warm feeling on my chest. So that’s what a friendship looks like?

“You actually still have to tell me about that mysterious man.” I almost tripped.

“The mysterious man?” I stuttered.

“Yes. The man who offered you beer and got you drunk. The man who have beaten me on time.” She giggled.

“Ah.” I looked up, admiring the dark sky above. No stars for Seoul tonight. “I don’t think I’ll meet him again.”

“What do you mean?” She asked holding tight her coat. I looked her long legs walking fast against the cold breeze, high boots marking her steps.

“I’d actually prefer to know more why you forced me to wear my prettiest dress tonight.”

“Don’t change the subject.” She glanced at me. “What do you mean you don’t want to meet him again?”

“It’s not like I don’t want to.” I shrugged and we stopped at a street light, waiting to cross the road. Around us many people, of different ages, ready to enjoy the night out. “Seoul is so big.”

“Yes but you met three times already. He must lives around here.” She looked so impatient. I grabbed her arm and we crossed the road silently.

I didn’t like how every conversation lead to Hae-jin. Why Nana was so obsessed about him? She didn’t know his face, yet she sounded so enchanted about the whole story. And then the description of her ideal partner hit me.

“You have a crush on him.” I said bluntly. For once she was the one shocked.

“I believe you have.” Nana said quickly. “Yet I can’t deny he must be an interesting man.”

“Going back on my question, why are we so well dressed up for karaoke again? We are going to meet classmates.”

“Because Jackson will be there.” She smirked.

“Jackson who?Jackson from the makeup class? Jackson THAT JACKSON I talk to a few days ago? Nana what did you-“

“Nothing. Don’t worry. The fact is that he’s the only guy you ever talked to since you came to Seoul, if we exclude the mysterious man.”

“And so I have a crush on him?” I felt suddenly a burning feeling deep down, a mix between anger and embarrassment.

“Y/n-nie don’t worry, I just made sure he was actually coming.”

“But Nana I don’t know him. He is probably already thinking I’m into him.” I stopped her, while talking non sense. I hided my face with my hands, not even realising we were arrived at the karaoke.

“Well we’re here now.” She said smiling.

“He will think I dressed up for him.” Still desperate about the whole situation.

“Didn’t you?” She teased me, then she came closer, holding my shoulders and trying to hearten me.

“I’m here to protect you. If he became a weirdo we just leave.”

“Girls! Y/n!” We both turned to the building entrance. “We are waiting for you, but surely the guys already started without us.”

Jackson welcomed us with his most precious smile. He then lead us through the long hallway until the very last room. We could already hear singing voices and loud pop music.

Jackson offered to take our coats and put them inside the lockers for us. Nana undressed quickly and entered into the room, not without winking at me secretly.

“How are you?” Jackson asked me while I was giving him my coat. I was nervous, maybe already sweating.

“F-fine, you?”

I hated this.

I hated this whole situation.

Yesterday the idea of talking to him privately didn’t bother me. Now my palms were sweating and I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Good, I was looking for meeting you tonight.”

Ah.

I faked a smile and actually run inside the room before we could keep on talking.

The room was dark, just blue and pink lights to create a party vibe. The music was loud, but the voices singing the refrain of this song were even louder.

Nana quickly grabbed me from my uncomfortable feeling and lead me to a bright display.

“Let’s do a duet. Just pick one.” She screamed to overcome the music, yet her voice sounded like a whisper.

“I don’t know korean, and I don’t know Kpop.” I screamed too.

“Then I choose.” The display showed the longest list of songs ever and Nana typed some letters. I sighed as soon as I realised she picked ‘Ehy Jude’ by The Beatles. She noticed my relaxed face and smile.

And the the whole thing hit me. I had to sing in front of an audience, that now looked like a crowd.

Nana grabbed my hand and we were quickly facing the big tv display. With her free hand she gave me a microphone. She smiled, heartening me and giving me a tiny bit of courage.

The song started playing and we did too. First phrases sang with closed eyes, to avoid any possible eye contact.

But everyone was singing with us, voices mixing. Nana tightened her grip and kept on smiling for me.

At some point without even realising, we ended up jumping and laughing and being breathless.

The song was maybe too short and we received a round of applauses. A new couple started singing right after us.

“You’re finally relaxed.”

“I don’t think I ever saw y/n laughing so much.” Jackson surprised both of us.

“Jackson!” I squeaked.

“I am sorry.” He said while bowing. We giggled.

Instinctively, I looked for my phone to take a photo to remember the moment, but I quickly realised I was wearing a dress without pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Nana asked while tapping on rhythm.

“My phone. Maybe it’s on my coat.” I said after checking inside the purse too.

“Forgot something?” Even Jackson got curious.

“My phone.” I screamed.

“What?”

Nana forced me to get up and go. Always hiding a wink for me. So I had to get out, obviously followed by Jackson who held the door open for me.

“I forgot my phone in my coat.” I said hastily opening the locker. “Here it is.”

“Do you want to go outside a minute? To get some fresh air.” I held the phone tight on my chest.

“Outside?”

“Yes, I need to smoke.” I didn’t know what to do, so I nodded.

He quickly took my coat helping me to wear it, he then took his and wore it. Inside his right pocket, he grabbed a lighter and a pack of cigarets.

“Do you smoke y/n?” He asked while walking on the hallway.

“Not really.”

We exited the building and he lighted his cigarette. The whole movement made me stare at him.

Sexy.

And that’s the only thing I could think. Sexy.

Wow y/n. You literally just had an argument with Nana because she decided to kinda set up a date and that’s what you do?

Jackson lifted one eyebrow, blowing some smoke from an angle of the mouth.

Sexy.

“S-so ... have you b-been smoking for a while?” I stuttered looking around. I ended up watching a group of people waiting below a street light.

“Yes, for a while.” He repeated giggling. “Have you ever tried?”

“Not really.”

“Here.” Jackson got up just to hand me a cigarette and his blue lighter.

My gaze moved from the street light, now green, to my hands.

“I d-don’t need it, t-thanks.” I turned, almost shaking.

“Give it a try. Nothing bad will happen.” He shrugged, a smirk on his face.

I wanted to tell him that so many things could happen. Smoking leads to addiction, I could get hurt, and worst of all I could enjoy it.

“I’m fine, thanks.” I tried to hand it back. He kept smoking ignoring me. “Jackson ...”

He reached my hand just to hold them tight.

“I don’t want it back.” He said smirking.

I started panicking, feeling the pressure of doing something. I didn’t want to smoke, everything suddenly felt weird. Maybe I could give it to Nana, she definitely knew a smoker, or I could throw it in a bin on my way home. I was sweating, feeling Jackson’s gaze on me.

I looked up hearing steps coming closer, a group of people walking and chatting loudly.

“Y/n you’re so cute when you act naive.” Jackson laughed, finishing his cigarette.

“I ... don’t .... “ I was speechless, I wanted to leave.

The group of people divided in half, to avoid hurting me while walking, and I heard them talking clearly about work, projects, school.

And suddenly a fear hit me. The fear of always living like this: invisible in the crowd and uncomfortable.

“Hae-jin Oppa, tomorrow we need to go to the tailoring shop.”

This name made me turn right away. The answer to this phrase, soft and kind, confirmed my thoughts.

“Hae-jin?” I called. So quietly that I didn’t even heard myself. No one turned around and the group kept walking away. I made a little step ahead. “Hae-jin?”

I called again, this time louder. A few people turned, and so he did. His gaze first confused became quickly relief.

“Y/n?”

And suddenly I didn’t feel lonely again.

Hae-jin moved closer, distancing from who I thought were his collogues. A well dressed girl gave me a quick glance.

“Y/n, how are you? You look pale.” Hae-jin talked so softly, his voice like a caress, his only presence calmed me. “I am so embarrassed about how we left the other day.” His smile made me even forget I was actually angry at him.

Maybe not actually angry. But a feeling between disappointment and confusion.

“It’s my fault.” I said bowing.

“No, please, let me apologise.” Hae-jin bowed profoundly. My hands reached his shoulder.

“Please, you don’t need to ...”

“What’s this-“ Hae-jin looked at me confused while he was looking around suspicious. “Is t-this tobacco?”

A hot feeling hit me, my cheecks turning red. Embarrassed, I closed my hands into fists, but he noticed. Always with a gentle touch, he grabbed my hands and found the cigarette.

“Do you smoke y/n?” This question again, disappointing in his voice.

“N-no, actually...” I couldn’t end the sentence because I found myself pointing at Jackson who was turning off his cigarette by stepping on it. He looked up, his gaze stopping on me and then on Hae-jin.

It took me three seconds to understand what a mistake I made.

#park hae jin #park hae jin x y/n #park har jin x reader #park haejin #actor #college #student #chapter #fluff #story #imagine #reaction #kdrama #south korea #korean actor #original #kactor #y/n #writing in the spare time

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writingsbychelle · 6 years ago

Text

Beneath the Star-Speckled Sky

Summary: After defeating the Darkling, Nikolai invites his most trusted friends and advisers on a journey to strengthen Ravka’s alliances, or maybe it’s just an excuse to spend time with you?

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

Request: /

Warnings: /

Word Count: 2219

(A/N: So...I haven’t really written anything in a long while and this took me nearly two months to write. Sorry about that)

*****

You could feel the springs of the thin mattress underneath you digging into your back as you tried to keep your slow breathing consistent, deep breaths causing your chest to rise and fall as you pretended to be asleep, hoping Zoya would finally drift off herself.

Upon setting foot on the Hummingbird, the schooner you were currently on, you had hoped you could share a cabin with Genya or maybe Nadia, who both happened to fall into a deep sleep quite quickly but after Genya paired up with her boyfriend David, and Nadia choose to share a room with Tamar you had to settle for Zoya. It wasn’t like you didn’t like Zoya, you actually found yourself enjoying her snarky attitude but your skin was starting to itch with the need to jump out of your bed and run to the deck of the schooner. Outside you could hear the soft sloshing of the waves against the hull, the gentle rocking back and forth caused you to crave the sweet abyss of sleep to embrace you but still, you kept fighting the heaviness of your eyelids until quiet snoring finally echoed off the wooden walls.

Slowly you slid out from underneath your blankets, tiptoeing towards the door only to stop dead in your tracks when you stepped on a creaky floorboard. Holding your breath you tried to listen to any sounds that might indicate that Zoya had woken up but after continuing to hear her deep breathing you continued your way through the schooner and to the deck where the cold wind of the night bit into your skin, nearly making you turn around and crawl back into your warm bed. Before your sleepy mind got to make that decision for you, you spotted the familiar outline of the reason why you had forced yourself to stay awake in the first place. Step after step you made your way towards the cockpit of the ship. Once reaching your destination you tightly wrapped your arms around the man standing in front of the ship’s wheel, golden hair reflecting the pale moonlight as he placed his right hand over yours, interlacing your fingers with his above his teal frock coat. Pressing your face against his broad back you tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn, your eyes staying closed as you rested your cheek against the soft material of his coat, your body moving in sync with his breathing.

“Tired?” his smooth voice caused you to open your eyes once again only to see the teasing look on his face as he gazed over his shoulder.

Nodding your head you mumbled a quiet “mhm” before you tightened your arms around his waist once again, trying to take in as much of his warmth as possible.

“You know,” Nikolai hummed softly, “you don’t have to come here every single night, yes?”

“I’m very well aware. But it’s the only time we are actually alone for once.”

Wordlessly the young man lifted up his left arm, indicating for you make your way to his front, pressing your back against it, his muscular arms building a cage around you while his chin rested on your shoulder, his warmth engulfing you just like the smell of him that you knew so well from all those joyful nights spent together, his scent lingering on your pillow the next morning when you woke up to see him gone.

After a few moments of comfortable silence that passed between you, it was you who interrupted it first, “Who knew the notorious pirate Sturmhond could be so romantic?”

You shot a teasing smile over your shoulder to which Nikolai responded with a playful roll of his eyes.

“I’m a privateer, my dear, not a pirate,” he corrected you, turning his head to press a quick kiss against your cheek.

“So...where exactly are you taking us anyway? You haven’t said anything about our destination the entire time we’ve been away.”

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely, we’re going to Novyi Zem.”

Leaning your head back, you snuggled closer to your King, “Really? I’ve never been there before.”

“Oh, you’re going to love it. This time of the year it’s nice and warm, the people are always nice as long as you don’t offer them a bad deal for their jurda or their splendid firearms.”

You could almost hear the dreamy smile in Nikolai’s voice, causing you to slightly turn around to face the man you fell in love with.

“And there it is. Firearms, huh?” you asked with a teasing smirk on your lips.

“Yes, firearms. After everything that happened in the last few...years, basically, we’ll need everything we can get to defend our country.”

Humming to yourself you turned back around, training your eyes on the star-speckled sky above you as you tried to use your little knowledge to try and determine some sense of where the fuck you were.

“Let’s not talk about politics right now, we should probably do that while the others are around. You said something about nice and warm weather?”

“Oh yes, imagine the sun in a bright blue sky, the heat warming your skin, the birds chirping and the smell of jurda plants around you. You should probably also prepare to drink a lot since it’s getting quite hot around noon.”

“Really? It’s quite hard to think about the sun and sweating when I’m currently freezing my ass off,” you laughed, your body shivering involuntarily as if to make a point.

“And such a glorious ass it is,” Nikolai mumbled into your ear, before pressing a kiss against your neck and playfully letting one of his hands wander down and grab a handful of the part of your body you had been previously talking about, only for you to swat at his hand, letting out a cheerful laugh that echoed into the night.

The next morning, when you sat down at the small dining table in the cramped eating hall of the schooner you couldn’t help but notice the thoughtful look Zoya send you every time she looked in your direction, squinting her eyes as if she knew something you didn't, which wasn't a necessarily rare occurrence.

Placing your spoon of porridge down into the bowl again you turned to look at the Grisha you shared your cabin with, “Do I have something on my face or why do you keep looking at me like you’re not sure if you should strangle me or throw me over the rail?”

“Well...I was ready to not bring it up but since you insist. Where exactly did you sneak off to last night?” Zoya asked while leaning her head into her hands, her elbows resting on the dining table in front of her.

‘Alright, (Y/N)’, you thought to yourself, ‘Play dumb.’

“Uh, what?”

Maybe not that dumb’, you mentally scolded yourself.

“Oh, yeah, I heard you when you left our cabin last night. You’re not as lightfooted as you think you are, (Y/N),” Zoya smirked at you, the teasing twinkle in her eyes giving away just how much she was enjoying this right now.

Forcing yourself to chuckle at the Squaller’s words, “Right, that. I just felt a bit nauseous, that was all. And I didn’t think you’d appreciate me throwing up all over our cabin so I went outside to get some fresh air.”

Nadia squinted her eyes at you suspiciously, tilting her head to her right as she seized you up, “Somehow I’m not quite believing that.”

“Well,” you said while standing up, desperate to escape the inquisitory eyes of your friends and fellow Grisha, “It’s the truth, Nadia, I get seasick all the time, I just never told anyone about it.”

And with that, you took your bowl of rapidly cooling porridge and made your way back onto the deck, hoping the finish your breakfast in peace while the eyes of your friends followed you out the room, unspoken words hanging between them.

“We all know that this was a complete lie, right?” Genya asked into her cup before taking another sip of the hot and way too sweet tea.

Tamar nodded at the question, “She’s been travelling with Nikolai, Sturmhond whatever, for ever. If she’d get seasick there would be no way she would’ve voluntarily stepped aboard another ship.”

“So we can all agree on the fact that she’s hiding something from us. We just need to find out what,” Zoya concluded, determined to find out what you were doing outside of your cabin late at night.

That evening, when you were laying in your bed, the springs of the mattress poking your back once again, you found yourself in the same situation you had been all those nights before: waiting for Zoya to finally fall asleep just so you could sneak out to spend some time alone with your boyfriend. Despite being the King, Nikolai still volunteered to take the night shifts at the steering wheel, blaming it on the fact that he was a good navigator and that the night air helped him to sort out his thoughts when in reality he was holding you in his arms, pressing kisses against your skin while talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

You had been in a relationship with the blonde man for quite a while now but with the Darkling trying to gain power over Ravka and a literal civil war happening you had chosen to not tell anyone about the fact that Nikolai and you were dating.

Deep breaths from above you interrupted your thoughts, causing you to let out a sigh in relief, happy to be able to finally sneak on deck and spend time with the golden-haired King. Speeding up the stairs as quietly as possible you quickly found yourself with your back pressed against Nikolai’s chest, his arms wrapped around you and his face pressed into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your skin as he left feather light kisses up and down your neck. Just as you wanted to turn around to finally press your lips together you caught the flash of something reflecting the moonlight at the top of the staircase that led to the deck you were standing on causing you to stop in your motion. Following your gaze, Nikolai squinted his eyes at the shadows of the staircase, letting out a sigh in defeat once he spotted the same thing you had.

“I can’t believe it,” you mumbled, slightly irritated even though you knew it was only a matter of time someone was going to catch you and Nikolai. Especially when those someones were Genya and Zoya, together with Nadia, Tamar, Tolya and David.

“You can come out, we know you’re there,” Nikolai shouted, releasing you from his hold but keeping one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

Slowly and one by one your friends crept out of their hiding spot and made their way over to where you were standing, next to the steering wheel of the Hummingbird.

Locking her arms in front of her chest, Zoya raised her eyebrows at you before turning around to the others, “See? I told you there was something going on.”

“You just didn’t expect it’d be with Nikolai?” Nadia teased the raven-haired Squaller.

Mumbling some incomprehensible words before turning her back to you and walking back towards what you could only assume was the cabin you shared with her.

But before she made her way below decks, Zoya briefly turned around one more time, shouting, “You can stay with Nikolai so you won’t interrupt my sleep again”, over her shoulder with a teasing smirk just to disappear into the shadows.

Tamar raised an eyebrow at you, her eyes flickering to the hand Nikolai had placed on your waist, “So...How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, for quite a while now. We just figured we wouldn’t want to break any hearts by announcing our relationship,” Nikolai explained playfully, chuckling lightly as you swatted at his hand after he began to slowly move his fingers up and down your side, tickling you in the process.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Right underneath our noses,” Genya exclaimed, throwing her arms up before making her way over to you, wrapping an arm on your shoulder and throwing a knowing look in your direction. After all, she had known about your not so small crush on Nikolai ever since you first met her in the Little Palace.

“So...now that we know, I suggest we all head back to bed?” David yawned, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Good idea,” Nadia agreed, grabbing Tamar’s hand and dragging her back towards the stairs and the cabin they shared, the rest of your friends following the two Grisha, Genya throwing one last teasing wink over her shoulder before she pressed herself into the side of her boyfriend.

"Well, no need to hide anymore."

Turning towards Nikolai you opened your mouth to reply but before you got to say anything you felt a pair of slightly chapped lips against your own. Instinctively you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers at the nape of his neck as your lips melted together under the clear, star-speckled night sky.

*****

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