#it's not surprising she takes the first opportunity to throw herself in war again come bfa

[weekendpassrevoked]

Easy's Songbird - Chapter 17

authors note: i love u big brother liebgott.

Fort Benning, Georgia, March 21st, 1943

When Joe woke up the next day, it wasn't to the usual sound of the early morning reveille or Sobel's screaming. It was to the soft sounds of quiet breathing and birds chirping.

That and a crippling headache.

Groaning, he turned over, uneager to wake after drinking so much. The memories of last night's celebration flooded back in fragments—Isabella's surprising performance of "Bei Mir Bist Du Schön," Sink's unexpected recognition of Project Blitz, and the subsequent drinking that had left half of Easy Company stumbling back to the barracks in various states of inebriation.

He found himself faced with a curled-up Isabella, shivering as she tried to maintain her warmth on the edge of his bunk. After the celebration, the barracks had been in chaos—men passing around liquor, swapping stories, and generally making too much noise for anyone to sleep. Somehow, likely due to Luz's influence, the party had continued long after they'd left the bar.

Isabella had perched on the edge of Joe's bunk during the mayhem, with him drinking bottle after bottle while she recounted stories of performances back home, trying to hide from all the chaos. Somewhere during the night, they must have dozed off mid-conversation. He felt a pang of guilt, carefully taking the blanket and gently placing it over her.

'Silly Birdie'

As they both lay there, he had the opportunity to truly take a good look at her. Her makeup from the night before was slightly smudged, the pink lipstick long gone but a faint trace of eyeshadow still visible. Her victory roll had come completely undone, dark waves of hair cascading down her shoulders in a tangled mess.

It's here that Joe realized that not only was Isabella truly the youngest out of all of them, barely considered an adult, but she was also beautiful.

Liebgott blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut again, groaning as the full weight of his hangover slammed into him. 'Christ.'

His head was pounding, his mouth felt like sandpaper, and now he was dealing with… this.

He didn't know why he was suddenly so aware of all that—of her. Maybe it was the quiet, the rare stillness in the barracks that left him too much room to think. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, she wasn't arguing with him or cracking jokes.

She just looked… young.

That realization settled uncomfortably in his chest.

Joe had never really stopped to look at her before—not like this. To him, she was just one of them, another soldier, someone who gave as good as she got when it came to banter. She wore the same damn uniform, went through the same hell, and somehow, that had always made it easy to forget just how young she really was.

But now? Lying there, curled up and shivering slightly under his blanket?

She looked like a damn kid.

Freckles dusted her cheeks like stars, her nose, her hands—the kind that came from years spent under the sun, probably working on that farm she always talked about. She had beauty marks everywhere, even on her eyelids, little details he had never noticed. And her face, usually pulled into some mixture of determination or dry amusement, was completely relaxed for once.

Joe swallowed hard, a strange feeling creeping up his spine.

She shouldn't be here.

Not in this war, not in these barracks, not throwing herself into the same hell the rest of them were barely crawling through.

It was the first time it really hit him—Isabella wasn't just the youngest in Easy Company. She was practically still a kid, stuck in a world that had no right to have her in it.

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face.

Shit.

For all the teasing, all the back-and-forths, all the times he'd messed with her, it had never really clicked until now.

She wasn't just some tough, sharp-witted pain in his ass. She was his kid sister.

Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Joe rubbed his temples, groaning again.

'This is what you get for drinking too much, dumbass.'

She slowly opened her eyes, sleep heavy, and stared at him silently. Joe felt his neck warm at the fact he got caught.

'Creep…'

They stared at each other for what felt like ages until Isabella finally spoke up, voice softly whispering so as to not wake the other men.

"Mornin' Lieb."

Joe cleared his throat, looking away quickly like he hadn't just been caught staring at her like a weirdo.

"Uh. Morning, Birdie," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

She yawned, shifting slightly under the blanket, blinking at him with half-lidded, groggy eyes. "You good?"

"Yeah." ‘Liar.; "Headache."

She smirked sleepily. "Self-inflicted, huh?"

He scoffed, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "Yeah, yeah. Like you weren't part of the problem."

She chuckled, stretching her arms before tucking herself back under the blanket. "I didn't make you drink, Joe."

He grumbled under his breath, but there was no real heat behind it.

They fell into silence for a moment, the barracks still heavy with sleep.

Then Isabella turned her head slightly, watching him again. "You were starin' at me."

Joe groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Jesus Christ, can you just let that go?"

She grinned, still groggy but clearly enjoying this way too much. "Were you havin' some kinda deep, emotional revelation about me, Lieb?"

He rolled his eyes, turning onto his side so he didn't have to look at her smug face. "You wish."

She let out a soft laugh, nestling deeper into the blankets. "Well, whatever it was, don't think too hard about it. You'll hurt yourself."

Joe huffed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

They lay there in silence for a moment longer before Isabella sighed, closing her eyes again.

"…We got the day off, right?"

"Yeah," Joe muttered.

"Good," she mumbled sleepily. "'Cause I ain't movin'."

Joe smirked. "Lazy."

"Mm. Drunk," she retorted.

He snorted, shaking his head. "Get some sleep, Birdie."

She hummed in response, already drifting off again.

Joe let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling for a few more seconds before shutting his eyes too.

Yeah. She was definitely his kid sister.

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Joe blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning as he stretched out, only to realize that at some point between waking up earlier and now, he had completely sprawled out across the bunk. Meanwhile, Isabella had remained curled up in the same damn spot, barely taking up any room at all.

He smirked, rubbing a hand down his face.

'Sleeps like a damn house cat.'

Shifting carefully, he glanced around the barracks. Most of the guys were already gone, likely nursing their own hangovers outside or finding ways to kill time. The quiet was rare, almost too peaceful for a place filled with paratroopers.

Joe turned his head slightly, looking at Isabella. She was still out cold, her face buried into the thin pillow, dark hair a mess against the blanket. Her breathing was slow, steady, completely at ease.

It was… kinda nice.

Not that he'd ever admit that out loud.

Joe sighed, sitting up and rubbing his temples, the last remnants of his headache still lingering. As he did, Isabella shifted slightly, a quiet mumble escaping her lips.

He carefully shook her shoulder, not wanting to scare her awake.

Isabella groaned softly, burrowing further into the blanket instead of waking up.

Joe smirked, shaking his head. 'Birdie sleeps like she's got nowhere to be.'

He tried again, giving her shoulder another gentle shake. "C'mon, Vega, rise and shine."

She let out a muffled whine. "Five more minutes…"

Joe chuckled. "Yeah, 'cause the army is real generous with those."

That got her eyes to crack open, just barely. She blinked up at him, groggy and squinting at the morning light filtering through the cracks in the barracks.

"…Mornin'," she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

Joe smirked. "Afternoon, more like."

She frowned, barely lifting her head. "Shit. Really?"

"Yeah, most of the guys already cleared out."

She groaned dramatically, flopping back into the pillow. "Let me die."

Joe snorted. "Tempting, but nah. C'mon, Birdie, let's go. We gotta be at least somewhat functional today."

She let out another quiet noise of protest but finally, finally, started untangling herself from the blanket, moving sluggishly as she sat up.

"I'm hungry." she sighed.

"Yeah? Join the club."

She snorted as she climbed down the bunk ladder slowly, still waking up. As she reached her bunk, she quickly took out her green coveralls, eager to change out of her dress uniform.

Joe watched her intently as she wrangled up her unruly hair, lazily brushing her fingers through to flatten it as she puts it up in a ponytail. Her hair, which had been styled so carefully for last night's celebration, was now a tangled mess that reached well past her shoulders. She gently wiped her face with a handkerchief, cleaning off the remains of her makeup. As she finished, he quickly turned around to let her dress privately. They're silent until she finishes changing and tying up her boots.

"Have you ever thought about trimming your hair?"

Isabella froze, not anticipating the sudden question.

"Not really, why?"

He hummed, curious.

"It don't bother you when it's hot out?"

Chuckling, she stood from the bed. "Lieb, I'm from Florida. The heat doesn't do anything to me."

Joe hummed, unconvinced. "I can trim it for you if you want."

She looks at him, confused. "What the hell do you mean?"

Joe grins, wide and proud. "I used to be a barber!"

"People used to let you get near their heads with a sharp instrument?"

Joe clutched his chest dramatically. "Birdie, sweetheart, that hurts. I'll have you know, I was damn good at it."

Isabella raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You were a barber? Like, an actual barber?"

Joe smirked, nodding. "Yes ma'am!"

She huffed a laugh. "Well. That explains why your hair always looks better than everyone else's."

He winked. "Glad someone finally noticed."

Isabella shook her head, amused, before running a hand through her messy ponytail. Looking back at herself in the small mirror near her footlocker, she had to admit the previous night's styling had not survived the celebration and drinking. Her victory roll was completely gone, and what remained was a tangled mess that would be a pain to sort out once she let it out of the ponytail.

"Well…I guess a trim wouldn't hurt." she paused. "How much?"

Joe's smirk widened, leaning against the bunk with exaggerated confidence. "For you, Birdie? First one's free."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "That's suspicious."

Joe scoffed. "What? C'mon, Vega, I'll do a good job!"

"Fine! But if you mess up my hair I will take my revenge."

He winked. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

As they stepped outside, the afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the camp, a rare moment of peace in their otherwise chaotic routine. The air was still, save for the distant sounds of men laughing, talking, and the occasional clang of equipment.

Joe glanced at Isabella, who was lazily stretching her arms above her head, still waking up from her extended morning. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

She groans, annoyed. "Jesus Christ. First Luz and now you?"

He raises his hands in defense. "Hey, that's on you not me."

Breakfast, or brunch as Luz so kindly points out when they sit down at the table, consisted of runny eggs, slightly burnt toast, and what might've once been bacon but now looked suspiciously like shoe leather.

Isabella sighed, poking at her plate with mild disdain. "Y'know, I think I'd rather take my chances with starvation."

Luz, already halfway through his meal, grinned. "What, and miss out on this fine cuisine? You're too picky, Birdie."

She gave him a deadpan look. "Luz, that bacon could break a tooth."

Joe smirked, tearing a piece of bread in half. "Yeah, well, it's still better than whatever the hell they tried to feed us last week."

Malarkey nodded sagely. "I still have nightmares about that mystery stew."

Skip shuddered. "That wasn't stew. That was punishment."

Isabella chuckled, finally giving in and taking a bite of toast. "Fine. Y'all got a point."

Joe smirked slightly, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Isabella absentmindedly go through her usual motions—things he'd never really paid attention to before. The way she tilted her head just a bit with every bite, how she made an effort to keep her elbows off the table even when the rest of them ate like cavemen, and most curiously, the way she positioned her feet under the chair.

She kept them flat on the ground at first, but every so often, she'd shift—pressing her toes forward so that the backs of her feet were propped up against the chair legs, like she was using them as a brace. It wasn't a conscious thing; she did it naturally, almost rhythmically, like it was just how she sat.

Joe wasn't sure why, but it was kinda funny.

"Something you wanna say, Lieb?" Isabella asked, raising an eyebrow when she caught him watching her.

Joe shrugged, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "Didn't realize we had royalty at the table."

She blinked. "What?"

He gestured toward her elbows. "You eat like you're sittin' in a damn tea parlor."

Isabella frowned, glancing at her arms, then scoffed. "It's called manners, Joseph."

Luz, hearing that, immediately burst out laughing. "Oh, manners—Birdie, you do realize you sit like you're tryna push off for takeoff, right?"

She stares, confused. "Huh?"

Joe smirked, nodding toward her feet. "That."

She followed his gaze, realizing the position of her feet pressed against the chair legs.

"…Oh," she muttered, like she'd never really thought about it before.

Malarkey grinned. "You waitin' to launch yourself across the damn mess hall or what?"

She groaned, rolling her eyes. "It's comfortable!"

Joe chuckled. "Sure it is, Birdie."

She shot him a glare as she took another bite of toast. "I hate you guys."

Luz patted her shoulder. "Sure."

She smacked his hand away.

Joe shook his head, smirking. But still, as they finished their meal, he caught her shifting her feet against the chair again—like even after all the teasing, it was just second nature.

And somehow, that little habit just made her seem even more like a kid he had to look out for.

Liebgott wasn't an only child, not by a mile, and although he had hated her vehemently at first, something about her distinctly reminded him of the way he and his siblings acted back home.

"So, Birdie," Luz said, leaning forward with a curious glint in his eye, "that performance last night was something else. Where'd you learn to sing like that?"

Isabella ducked her head slightly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Just something I've always done, I guess. Back home with the band and all."

"You should've seen Speirs' face," Malarkey added with a grin. "I think you actually got the man to show emotion."

Joe noticed Isabella's blush deepen at the mention of Speirs, and he narrowed his eyes slightly. That was... interesting.

"Let's not forget Colonel Sink's speech," Skip chimed in. "Project Blitz's shining star and all that."

Isabella rolled her eyes, though Joe could see she was pleased. "Yeah, yeah. Don't you guys have anything better to talk about?"

When they finish their food, they sit there, eager to share and enjoy the meager free time they had been gifted. Isabella teaches them a traditional Colombian game where they place their hands out and they have to guess when their opponent is going to move their own hands from under theirs to slap them.

Joe watched the game unfold with a smirk, arms crossed as he leaned back against the table. Luz, ever the enthusiastic idiot, had eagerly volunteered to go first, thinking he had quick enough reflexes to beat Isabella at her own game.

He was wrong.

"Damn it, Birdie!" Luz whined, yanking his hands back after yet another sharp slap to his palms. His hands were practically glowing red at this point, and Isabella? She was grinning like she had just won the damn war.

"You gotta predict the movement, Luz," she teased, wiggling her fingers at him. "Can't just rely on speed."

Luz groaned, shaking out his hands. "Alright, someone else take over before I lose all feeling in my fingers."

Malarkey, laughing the entire time, raised his hands. "Alright, I'll take a crack at it."

Joe shook his head. "You idiots are just lettin' her win at this point."

Isabella smirked at him. "Oh? You wanna try, Lieb?"

He scoffed. "Not a chance. I like my hands in one piece."

She laughed. "Smart man."

Malarkey, meanwhile, had his hands out and ready, trying to anticipate Isabella's movements. They locked eyes, both grinning, the rest of the guys watching eagerly.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded.

One beat.

Two.

SLAP.

Malarkey yelped, jerking his hands back as Isabella laughed, triumphant.

"Damn it!" he cursed, shaking out his hands as the others howled with laughter.

Joe shook his head, smirking. "Yeah, I'm definitely sittin' this one out."

Isabella winked at him. "Smartest thing you've said all day."

Liebgott groaned, but he couldn't help but chuckle. This—this moment, the way she laughed so freely, the way the guys let loose, the teasing and the fun—it reminded him too much of home. Of his own siblings, of days spent messing around before life had gotten serious.

He hated it.

And yet, he also kind of loved it.

Because if he had to be stuck in this war, at least he wasn't doing it alone. And at least Isabella, for all the hell she'd been through, could still laugh like that.

Even if it made his damn heart ache.

The four of them happily trek back to the barracks, bellies full and hands red. When they get inside, Joe insists that it was the perfect time for her haircut.

Isabella huffs, annoyed. "Do you even have scissors, Lieb?"

"Nope, but I'm sure we can find some."

After 30 minutes, Isabella manages to scrounge up a pair after she ran to the infirmary and back when she had tired of asking around. Joe follows her to the bathroom, making sure no one is inside before she heads in.

He carefully wet her hair in the sink, combing through the dark strands with his fingers to get rid of any tangles. Isabella sat on the small stool they had dragged in from the barracks, arms crossed, watching him through the mirror with mild suspicion.

As he combs through, he realizes that she truly does have a ridiculous amount of hair. It's thick with a crazy amount of volume thanks to how curly it is and reminds him of a lion's mane.

"So how much are we thinking?"

She stares at the wall, contemplating.

"Well, it's up to my chest now, so how about a little bit under my shoulders?"

He snorts. She had asked for a trim and wanted about 6-7 inches off her hair.

'Incredible'

"You sure you know what you're doin'?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joe scoffed. "Birdie, I was a barber before I got roped into all this. You better hope I know what I'm doin'."

She huffed, shifting slightly. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't get too excited with those scissors."

Joe smirked as he carefully sectioned off her hair. "No promises."

She shot him a glare in the mirror, and he snickered. "Relax, Vega. I ain't gonna mess up your precious hair."

She rolled her eyes but let him work, the sound of scissors snipping through damp strands filling the quiet space.

Joe was surprisingly gentle, his movements steady and sure. His hands were rough from years of work, from training, but when it came to cutting hair, he moved like he had done this a thousand times before.

As he worked, Isabella felt the weight of her hair slowly lighten, strands falling softly onto the floor around her.

After a moment, Joe spoke, his voice more casual. "You ever think about cuttin' it real short?"

She grins, proud. "I've had it short about three times already. I got lice when I was in kindergarten so my mom chopped it all off, and then in the fourth grade we had a bad heat wave so I did it again, and then in sixth grade after my first communion."

Joe raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Damn, Birdie. You've been through phases."

She laughed, shrugging. "Nah, I just had a mom who didn't tolerate nonsense. Lice? Gone. Heat wave? Gone. She wasn't about to deal with me complainin' all summer."

Joe chuckled as he carefully evened out the last few strands. "Smart lady."

"She is." Isabella smiled at the thought. "She always said hair grows back, so what's the big deal? She had cut her own hair short a bunch of times, so she didn't care."

Joe tilted his head. "And yet, here you are, actin' like me trimmin' it is some life-or-death situation."

She huffed. "That's different. I actually like my hair now."

He snorted. "Alright, alright, fair."

As he carefully snipped away, he gently angled her head making sure not to pull on her hair too hard when he needed to untangle.

"You have real pretty hair, you know?"

He sees her flush, her ears red. "Really? I kinda've always thought it looks like a rats nest."

He smiles gently. "Nah. You just gotta take care of it a bit more. It's a beautiful color."

Joe catches a peek of her smiling in the mirror, happy at the compliment.

They sit in silence, the only sound the soft snipping of the scissors and the hair hitting the floor.

Joe kept his focus on his work, but he didn't miss the way Isabella smiled to herself in the mirror. It was small, barely there, but real.

He smirked. "Don't get used to me bein' nice, Birdie. It's a one-time deal."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sure it is."

As he continues cutting, he realizes after a while that she's unusually quiet after a while and as he glances at the mirror he sees why.

'She's asleep...'

Joe paused mid-snip, staring at her reflection in disbelief.

'You've gotta be kidding me.'

Isabella was out cold, her head tilted slightly forward, arms loosely folded in her lap. Her breathing was slow and steady, and if the faintest hint of a snore wasn't proof enough, the way she had completely stopped reacting to his movements definitely was.

Joe scoffed, shaking his head with an amused smirk. "Unbelievable."

She had managed to fall asleep while he was literally cutting her hair.

How the hell did someone do that?

He set the scissors down for a second, watching as she stayed completely still, not even stirring. 'Jesus, she really was exhausted, huh?'

Not that he blamed her. The last few days had been non-stop, and for all the tough talk, Isabella was running on fumes just like the rest of them.

Still, falling asleep in the middle of a haircut? That was a new one.

Joe exhaled through his nose, debating whether to wake her up, but… eh. She was still sitting upright, and he was almost done anyway.

'Guess I just gotta be careful not to give her a bald spot', he thought, shaking his head as he picked up the scissors again.

He worked a little slower now, keeping his movements as steady as possible so he wouldn't jostle her awake. The snipping of the scissors was the only sound in the room, mixing with the soft rhythm of her breathing.

He caught sight of her reflection again—completely relaxed, not a single trace of stress or exhaustion pulling at her features for once.

'Damn kid.'

Joe sighed, finishing up the last few strands before dusting the loose hairs off her shoulders and ruffling her hair to dry it as much as possible. "Alright, Birdie, you're all set."

She stirs gently, softly, like many of the things she did. As she looks at herself in the mirror, she smiles widely, excited.

"Oh Lieb…it's perfect!"

Joe blinked, caught off guard for just a second by the sheer giddiness in her voice. He had expected his usual round of "Not bad, barber boy" or maybe even a sarcastic "You didn't screw it up, congrats"—but this? This was pure, genuine excitement.

His smirk softened just slightly. "Yeah, yeah. Told ya I knew what I was doin'."

Isabella turned her head side to side, running her fingers through her freshly trimmed hair. "I love it," she murmured, still grinning. "It's so much lighter."

Joe chuckled. "That's usually how it works when you chop half of it off."

She playfully swatted at his arm, eyes still glued to the mirror. "Not half, drama queen."

He shrugged. "Six inches is practically a whole person's worth of hair, Birdie."

She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling, practically glowing as she examined his work.

Joe watched her for a second longer, something warm settling in his chest. It was rare to see that kind of joy on her face. Rare to see her so relaxed, so at ease.

It made him glad he had done this.

Even if she had passed the hell out in the middle of it.

"You look beautiful, Birdie."

Isabella blinked, her wide smile faltering just slightly as she turned to look at him.

Joe hadn't really thought about the words before they left his mouth, but now that they were out there, hanging between them, he suddenly felt a little…awkward.

She stared at him, eyes searching his face, her ears tinged pink. "…Really?"

Joe huffed, crossing his arms as he looked away. "Yeah, well I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

Isabella blinked at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wasn't sure how to respond. Compliments weren't exactly rare among the guys—Luz flirted with anything that moved, and the teasing was endless—but this? This was different.

Joe hadn't said it with any exaggeration, no smirk or sarcasm, no joke to undercut the sincerity. He had just said it. Like it was a fact. Like it was obvious.

She felt warmth creep up her neck, unsure of what to do with the unexpected but not unwelcome words.

"…Thanks, Joe," she murmured, offering him a small, genuine smile.

He shrugged, still not looking at her. "Yeah, yeah."

Silence stretched between them for a second before Isabella, unable to resist, smirked. "Didn't know you had it in you, barber boy."

Joe groaned, tilting his head back. "Jesus Christ, there it is."

She laughed, nudging his shoulder. "What? You get all sentimental on me, and I'm not supposed to say anything?"

He rolled his eyes. "See, this is why I don't give out compliments."

"Oh no, don't backtrack now! You called me beautiful, Joseph." She grinned. "And I'm never lettin' you forget it."

Joe groaned again, shaking his head as he started cleaning up. "I regret everything."

Isabella practically skipped after him as he started leaving, still grinning. "Say it again~"

"Not a chance."

"You love me."

"Nope."

She cackled as she caught up to him, bumping his shoulder. "You're a softie, Joe. I knew it."

Joe sighed dramatically, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Next time, I'm givin' you a buzz cut."

"Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He shook his head, but despite his very vocal protests, he couldn't fight the small smile tugging at his lips.

Damn Birdie.

She was beautiful.

But there was no way in hell he was ever saying it again.

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taglist: @malarkgirlypop, @darling-heffron

[waterfire1848]

au where Azula is still a firebending prodigy but Sokka is a waterbending prodigy 👀

they meet in battle and that’s the first time Azula is like ok holy shit i’m being singlehandedly challenged at my level

Hello, @vanilladrizzlequeen !!!

1. Sokka was born under a full moon, the signal of a powerful waterbender. At two, while he was throwing a tantrum for lack of food, he froze his father’s feet to the ground and Kya had to stop him from freezing anything else. Sokka grew up learning how to conceal his power along side Katara (who is still a good Waterbender but doesn’t have as much raw power as Sokka). By the time the war starts, Sokka had labeled himself a nonbender for security and only when fighting with Suki does he finally refer to himself as a bender after years of hiding his abilities.

2. When Sokka and Azula first meet is in Omashu. Sokka charges after her when she tries to attack Aang and keeps her fighting on the monument of Ozai. They fight and are pretty evenly matched. Azula is beyond surprised to meet someone on her skill level, also finding it kind of hot that he’s actually a challenge despite his joking manner. During the whole fight he’s deflecting her attacks but also sending out puns as well. Azula is very frustrated by him but can’t help find it kind of cute.

3. Azula finds herself caring more about getting another fight with Sokka than capturing the Avatar. She keeps trying to cut Sokka off from his group so she can just fight him and talk to him more. With more fights she also finds that he’s a strategic genius like her. Sokka would be lying if he said he didn’t find the fire princess kind of attractive and powerful. (Katara: She tried to roast you alive! Sokka: I can’t help it! She’s hot! That’s not my fault! Katara: 🤦‍♀️)

4. In Ba Sing Se, when Ty Lee chi blocks Sokka and Toph, Azula takes the opportunity to talk with Sokka without fighting. She says she’s impressed with his skill and wants him to return to the Fire Nation with her because she could use a powerful sparing partner and could learn from him (and she has a huge crush on him). Much to her shock, he agrees. Azula, Mai, Ty Lee and Zuko return to BSS with Sokka coming along. On the ship, the two begin to connect more as people and less as prodigies.

5. Sokka is not an Ozai fan. Azula doesn’t really push him to change his mind but she does argue that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. (Of course flirt-sparing occurs). When the DOBS happens and Zuko flees, Ozai takes his anger out on Azula for lying to him which is when Sokka steps in and helps her escape. They get to the edge of the city before Azula says she can’t go any further and has to return. Sokka doesn’t want her to go back because Ozai will hurt her again and says she should come with him and join the Gaang. Realizing she can’t return, Azula agrees.

[mayhemproduces]

The three circle up, and look as if they’re about to square up for a three way test of strength, but Dyln strikes first, catching VENY with a kick right to the gut, but that’s answered by Adam Cole blasting Dyln with a kick of his own, and nailing Dyln across the back with a big clubbing blow! Dyln drops to his knees, and Cole picks him back up, whipping Dyln into the corner, before charging in and nailing Dyln with a big back elbow. Cole moves out of the way and VENY comes charging in with a boot, nailing Dyln across the face, before Cole lifts Dyln up and just yeets him overhead, sending Dyln flying across the ring, causing him to land hard on the mat! Dyln rolls to the corner, and Cole looks to go after him, but apparently VENY has had enough of this temporary alliance, landing a kick to Cole’s hamstring. It’s clear the hit surprised Cole a bit, because he jumped a bit and turned around, clutching at his hamstring as he gave VENY a look like “Oh, really?” 

Cole clutches at the back of his hamstring again, and this time squares up to VENY, and blasts her with a chop to the chest. VENY doesn’t go down, instead she clutches her chest and gives a little war cry, before grabbing Adam and laying into him with several stiff forearms, before trying to punctuate it with a Rolling Elbow, but Cole blocks it and spins VENY around again, before whipping her into the corner Dyln was currently picking himself up in. VENY and Dyln collide, and Cole comes charging in, before crashing into both VENY and Dyln with a corner body splash, before pulling them both out of the corner, hitting the ropes, looking for a double clothesline, but VENY and Dyln get out of it by both landing a kick to each of Cole’s knees, dropping Cole to his knees by kicking his legs out from underneath him, before both rear back and blast Cole with a pair of Superkicks! Cole is stunned, and takes the opportunity to roll out of the ring after having his jaw rearranged, as Dyln switches up on VENY quickly, grabbing her and sending her into the ropes, leapfroging her on the rebound and then connecting with a big dropkick on the rebound, taking VENY down! 

Dyln then turns and hits the ropes, breaks into a Handspring, and uses that to launch into a Moonsault where he crashes down on VENY, before going for the first cover of the match! To go to Darkness Falls!

1…. Kickout!

A very quick kickout from VENY, it would take a lot more than that to topple a former MPW World Champion. Dyln stayed on her though, trying to pick her back up for a Crash Thunder Buster, but VENY manages to kick Dyln off of her, before kipping up to her feet. Dyln tries to charge VENY again, but VENY ducks him and sends Dyln over the ropes, where Dyln lands on the apron. VENY leaps up and catches Dyln on the back of the head with an Enziguri, before VENY hits the ropes, charges, leaps over the top rope and catches Dyln with a Huricanrana, throwing Dyln off the apron, and right into Adam Cole! Cole goes down, and VENY gets herself back up on the apron, she suddenly has a Dyln Blaine flying at her, as Dyln leaps off the guardrail, and takes out VENY with a big flying cross body!

Dyln goes underneath the ring, and starts looking for weapons to make this match even more interesting, grabbing a couple of chairs, and a door, and sliding them into the ring. Before Dyln can do anything with them, though, Cole sneaks from behind and drives Dyln Blaine into the ring post! Cole gets into the ring and starts setting up two chairs, bridging a door across the two of them to create a makeshift table. Cole then gets back out of the ring, and grabs Dyln, tossing him back into the ring and following him inside, before blasting Dyln with a chop to the chest that backs Dyln into the corner. Cole taunts him, before Cole grabs Dyln Blaine, as Cole himself climbs up onto the top rope, and begins to lift Dyln up with him. Cole hoists Dyln up onto his shoulder, looking for a top rope Brainbuster through the door, but it’s not to be as Dyln manages to wiggle off Cole’s grasp, land on the mat, and leap up, catching Adam Cole with a leaping enziguri to the back of the head! Cole is stunned on the top rope, just as VENY gets back to her feet on the apron, jumps up onto the ropes, uses the ropes to springboard, and then THROWS Cole FROM THE TOP ROPE, THROUGH THE DOOR WITH A FRANKENSTEINER! Cole explodes through the door, and Dyln Blaine makes the cover, trying to move on to Darkness Falls!

1….2…. Kickout!

Cole out at two, saving his chances! Dyln pulls himself back to his knees, but VENY catches him with a kick right to the back of the head, surprising him and knocking him back down. VENY picks Dyln back up, and sends him into the ropes, but on the rebound, Dyln leaps up and tries to catch VENY with a Huricanrana, but VENY manages to cartwheel through the momentum and land on her feet, before charging Dyln and nailing him with a rolling elbow. Dyln’s knocked back into the corner, and VENY charges, crashing into Dyln with a corner clothesline, before VENY snapmares Dyln out of the corner, charges, and nails him with a dropkick right to the back of the head! Dyln clutches the back of his head as he rolls to the side, trying to pick himself back up in the corner as VENY charges. VENY launches herself into Dyln with a shoulder to the gut, before VENY lets her momentum carry her out onto the apron, where she grasps the top rope as Dyln stumbles out of the corner. VENY tries for a springboard clothesline, but Dyln moves out of the way, and as VENY lands on her feet, Dyln surprises and BLASTS her with a Cyclone Kick, nearly taking VENY’s head off! VENY collapses to the mat, and Dyln hooks her leg for the cover! 

1….2… Kickout!

VENY out at two there. Dyln sits up, looking around to see where Adam Cole went, but he gets his answer as half of a broken door suddenly slams down on the back of his head. Dyln tries to cover up as Cole lifts the door up again, and slams it back down on Dyln’s head once again. Adam then tosses the door aside, and just elects to pick Dyln up, lift him up high, and then drive Dyln down with a Last Shot! Cole drops down into the cover!

1….2…. Kickout!

Dyln survives, kicking out at two, keeping his Darkness Falls Ace in the Hole hopes alive for the time being. Cole pulls himself back up to his knees, and grabs Dyln again, determined to secure his spot in the Ace in the Hole ladder match. Adam Cole picked Dyln back up, before suddenly turning Dyln’s world upside down, getting him in position for a Tombstone Piledriver. Before Cole can drop him, through, VENY nails Cole with a kick to the knee, kicking Cole’s legs out from under him, forcing him to drop Dyln with the Tombstone! Then, with Cole’s head framed by Dyln’s legs, VENY nails Cole with a superkick right to the face, causing Cole to fall forward right onto Dyln! VENY hits the ropes, and follows it up with a senton, crashing down on both Dyln and Cole, and as she rolls off, she’s got Adam Cole pinning Dyln Blaine!

1…2… Kickout!

VENY almost forced Cole to eliminate Blaine, but it wasn’t to be as Dyln gets his shoulder up. Cole rolls off of him and once again rolls out of the ring, leaving VENY alone with Dyln for the time being. VENY, opting to get a little hardcore, picks up a chair, and as Dyln gets back to his feet, slams the chair right across Dyln’s back, dropping Dyln back down to his knees! The sickening sound of steel on flesh sends Dyln into the corner, where he rests against the turnbuckles, before VENY tries to grab him again, trying to get Dyln in position for an Emerald Flowsion. Dyln hangs onto the top turnbuckle, trying to resist VENY’s grasp, but as VENY continues to yank, Dyln accidentally pulls the top turnbuckle pad right off, exposing the metal turnbuckle. VENY tries to pick Dyln up, but Dyln manages to slip out the back, and shoves VENY forward, trying to send VENY right into the exposed turnbuckle, but VENY stops herself short. Dyln charges in, and VENY leaps up, wrapping her legs around his body, and catching Dyln in a Sunset Flip, shoulders down!

1….2…-

ADAM COLE, LOWERS THE BOOM TO THE BACK OF VENY’S HEAD! Pin broken up, VENY out cold, Cole into the cover!

1….2…3!

Adam Cole has punched his ticket to the Ace in the Hole ladder match!

[thasdorah]

the one person alleria loves the most in the universe is arator. her love is unconditional, and whatever he grew up to be *cough* paladin *cough* that makes no difference at all, she loves him and she'd do anything for him, including terrible things. she is devoted always, and loves with everything she has, but it is all the more obvious when it comes to her son — and it hurts me, personally, that there is so little indication he also cares for her greatly. he does clearly care for his parents, but when it comes to specific relationships, he always leans towards his father (a lot of what he says is about his parents, both, but whenever it's something specific it's about turalyon. 'i'm looking for my father' in tbc, 'for many years i sought to follow the footsteps of my father, turalyon' in legion) and i just think it's kind of sad that she loves him sm and there's no indication he cares for her as much as he cares for his dad

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Something else I haven't seen before. What would the MC's parent from each background think of the ROs? Who would they approve of and who wouldn't they? I guess in the case of orphan MC, what would E's parents think? Since they kinda maybe vaguely adopted orphan MC?

Hmm, interesting! Since I did the opposite, I should have seen this one coming haha

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

Storm's comments:

E: "Rose has had that expectation for some time. This is preferable to the alternative. I know you will be in good hands. Rose raised them well."

R: Your father doesn't mince his words, a clear disdain evident, "Valleford. See that you don't take after your father, or there will be less than pleasantries next time we meet."

L: "Scio. I assume your father...?" Storm's lips pull in a small frown as L gives a small nod of confirmation, "I understand if you cannot forgive me. Your father is a significant asset to the Hospian war effort. If I find him, I will kill him."

V: "You've seen enough at your age," Storm says quietly, looking into the hollow glint in V's eyes, "I'm sorry. Those were battles that should have ended with my generation, not yours."

P: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, "I assume your father is well? He does not speak of his second child often, but you seem more spirited than the other. That will make the greater difference when it matters."

M: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, though there's little sentimentality in his voice, "I assume your father is well? He expresses confidence in your upbringing, but I can't say I share the sentiment. You lack something fundamental. Something to drive you to achieve more than what's expected of you."

Ra: Storm's eyes lock onto Raven with a harsh intensity, "Your eyes are filled with blood and you conceal weapons. Tell me your intentions or I will kill you right now."

S: "I admit I am unfamiliar with Orden. The conflict never reached that country, but I understand there are many hardships there already," Storm says, looking the brightly grinning student up and down before his lips pull back in small contentment, "You come out better than most. You have impressive strength."

F: Storm holds a frown as he takes in the vivid green hair, "Many allowed Frenza to claim their distance due to their significant contribution to Triaina's independence, but it doesn't absolve you of everything," he says in warning, "Don't step over the boundaries you've been afforded, or the military will have no choice but to respond."

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

Scurra's dialogue:

E: Scurra makes a grimace as he recognizes E, "Damnit, you've gone and done it now," he grumbles as he pulls out his wallet and hands a fold of bills to E, "Give that to your mom, will you? She's worse than a debt collector with bets..."

R: "Valleford! There's a name I haven't heard in a while. I knew they had a black sheep in the family, but I guess they couldn't take away the infamous good looks," Scurra chuckles, his eyes lightening reminiscently, "They've put me in a good bit of trouble on more than one occasion. I guess I should consider it a family curse now that MC is involved with you."

L: "Oh, I know those eyes," Scurra says wistfully, "Coming to find the world is a bigger place than you imagined, aren't you? It's even more expansive than that, too. I had that same look when I traveled overseas. I hope MC is being a good guide for you," he looks to you, and gives a knowing wink.

V: Scurra gives a meandering hum as he looks at V, "I've been all around, but I've only seen natural hair color like that a handful of times. They all had your same stare, too." He closes his eyes thoughtfully, "None as young as you though. I hope you're the last I have to see with those eyes. They're a bad omen."

P: "A fiery one, aren't you! Has no one ever told you not to say bad words in public?" Scurra laughs, "You should stop while you can. You're so transparent with your feelings that I almost mistook you for a window, so there's no point to pulling a tough act."

M: A small, genuine smile rises on Scurra's lips as he inspects M, "How interesting. You're so similar to your twin, but you're definitely the better actor. As I think about it, you remind me of MC's mother in many ways..."

Ra: "What are you doing here?" Scurra frowns, staring harshly at Raven. A silence passes and eventually he looks away, messaging his jaw, "Oops, guess I was mistaken. You looked a little like someone I know."

S: "You've got Orden written all over you, don't you?" Scurra says cheerily, "It's been a while since I've visited, but I have to say it gave me the most enjoyment. You all certainly know how to keep it lively."

F: "Your family has always been so hauty!" Scurra covers his mouth to suppress a chuckle, "But I think it would be a mistake to talk down to everyone you meet. I happen to be on great terms with your mother. If I took the opportunity, you two would have been siblings!"

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

Xero's insight:

E: He smiles warmly to E, "It's good to see you again. I'm afraid there was little I could do for you: your mother has already found out about your relationship. I expect she'll make it as embarrassing for you as possible, if I know her well. I hope you're mentally prepared."

R: Xero studies R with a faint curiosity, "I'm afraid your father and I are on less than speaking terms due to some...past difficulties, but I understand you are more than simply your father's child. You may be villianized for your differing viewpoint, but aren't we all? I don't find it is so bad," Xero gives R a knowing small."

L: Xero's eyes widen upon seeing L, then falls into a soft smile, "To think history would repeat so aptly. To see you two now reminds me of my own school days," Xero closes his eyes and releases a light sigh, the smile still present, "I pray you'll also find the same happiness I did, and that it lasts longer."

V: Xero's grip tightens on an file in his hands as he sees V, his voice meticulous, "You are...Wolfe, correct? I'll admit the what I've heard and read of you is...less than appealing, but," he casts his gaze between you and the ex-Jagd member, a faint smile growing on his lips as V steps cautiously between you. "You seem to have a strong sense of duty. I hope you will be a good pillar for MC."

P: He looks disaprovingly, "In my field, words are paired with intention. To speak is to lay bare your thoughts. Why would you neglect your intent by forcing a negative connotation where it doesn't belong?"

M: He seems slightly more on edge than with P, "I don't believe I should offer my approval to someone unwilling to determine a focus. It's a testament to your negligence."

Ra: Xero crosses their arms, his face skeptical,"Marriage? Your lack of detailed forethought and hyperfixation gives me the impression of an unhealthy mind. As it stands now, I will refuse to give you my blessing."

S: "I'm afraid I'm ignorant to everything Orden related," Xero says sheepishly, "I am happy to learn all that I can, though. Perhaps you would like to bring your family at some point? I would be happy to host them here." Xero smiles warmly, clearly unknowing of the chaotic rabblerousing he's invited into his home.

F: "Ah, the royal line," Xero says in recognition of F, "Your own mother was a classmate of mine as well. To think one of her children would grow so closely with mine. Please give her my regards, would you? She has always kept herself closer than others, so I was happy when she took an interest in my friend. He's a lucky man."

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

Mr. Razor's thoughts (if he was alive)

E: He bows his head gratefully, "Thank you for taking care of MC all this time. Your selflessness has saved me a lot of worry, and I doubt I'll have any more leaving them in your hands."

R: Razor's eyes bore a hole through R, "To defy your father was a considerable risk. And not knowing what the academy had planned for you, you still allowed yourself to be incarcerated for an indeterminate amount of time," Razor taps his fingers to his chin, a smile spreading over his lips, "I enjoy those that stick to their principles, but what say we work on your jailbreaking?"

L: "Your father's quite an important man. He's lucky I was never contracted to kill him," Razor says matter-of-factly. A chilling air of silence deafens the room until Razor holds up his palms, "Just kidding. I've never killed anyone. They all died mysteriously."

V: "How's Jagd doing?" Razor narrows his eyes keenly on V, "I'm surprised they were able to bounce back after what I did to them. I guess they filled the empty spaces with whoever was able...or moldable."

P: Razor smiles sadly, "It must be difficult to be given another person's expectations and do well with them. You're like a fish trying to climb a tree. But I enjoy how far up you've climbed despite that. Would you like a reward? I know, how about...your father's weakness?"

M: Razor seems disinterested, "You're not worth the words, Crater. You're nothing more than what your father made you to be: a simple shadow to live vicariously through."

Ra: Razor's eyes have an approving glint, "The one that slipped through the cracks. How very odd. MC's mother was quite odd too. It's an endearing quality, isn't it? Yes, I think you'll make a perfect companion for MC. You've already been looking over them all this time, haven't you?"

S: "Earnestness is one of the first qualities people tend to throw away when faced with hardship. It is impressive to see how you've progressed through your poverty and discrimination so aptly. Perhaps you have a hope that things will get better?" Razor's mouth spreads in a wicked smile, "I do enjoy seeing how people struggle for such a small glimmer of light. I think I'll offer my aid."

F: "Ah, it's always cute to see people play at royalty," Razor smiles at F's exasperated face, "Why do you seem so angry? Do you actually believe your position has meaning? I'll assure you it doesn't," Razor casts a darkening stare towards the royal, "To me, you're no harder to kill than a beggar on the street. The power you attempt to flaunt means nothing, because in the end it does nothing to elevate you beyond a simple street urchin."

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

End

Thank ya for the ask!

[manonblaqkbeak]

Family Time

good morning/afternoon/evening/night. hope you’re all doing well and staying safe!!!! i have a rowaelin fic that i wanted to post before rowaelin month started since im focusing on those prompts atm

i cant wait to see what everyone has in store for rowaelin month, im very much looking forward to it!

enjoy! :)

1835 words

The day that Aelin had been looking forward to was finally here.

She and Rowan were going to spend a week in their spot in the forest. A week was longer than usual, but it was much needed. Not only had she and Rowan been working extremely hard to the point where they weren't going to bed until the middle of the night, his family was arriving to Orynth to visit for a few weeks in a week and a half.

And not just a few members of his family, almost the entire Whitethorn family was coming, with the exception of a few—namely Sellene, who would be gifting them with personal letters and presents, and those that were too old or just didn't feel like making such a long journey.

Aelin was looking forward to it, to meeting those she hadn't, to hearing others perspectives on Rowan's childhood. Her mate, however...not so much. Rowan was looking forward to catching up with the cousins that he liked, but not so much for the meddlesome ones. He warned her that whatever secrets that people were hiding wouldn't be secrets anymore, that the nosy ones liked to make a game to see who could learn the most secrets.

Aelin admitted that could be a problem, but in his letter, Enda claimed that everyone would be on their best behaviour.

Rowan wasn't entirely convinced. And not just because of that, he was worried that the conversation of when Aelin and Rowan were going to have children was going to be brought up as Rowan had written that they were forbidden from doing so.

Months ago, only several weeks after the war, after a meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen, Aelin and Rowan came to the decision to wait for a while to have children after Lord Gunnar had brought up the topic of heirs. Aelin could still remember the silence, at her speechlessness of how suddenly it was mentioned. How Rowan had turned to Lord Gunnar and demanded not just to him, but to everyone around them, that it was a private matter between the Queen and himself, and that it was not up for public discussion.

It wasn't a very long conversation—they both wanted to have a family, but Aelin wasn't ready. She was having nightmares from her time with Maeve and Cairn, and throwing pregnancy in the mix just screamed disastrous.

Rowan took her hands in his large warm ones and promised that he would wait for as long as she wanted. Whether it was one year, five years, or one hundred, he would wait until she was ready and willing.

Aelin had never loved him more.

Since then, Rowan was taking a contraceptive tonic. It hadn't taken very long for it to spread around the castle, but neither Aelin or Rowan would let others opinions change their minds.

And it wasn't like they were completely without family. They had their friends and Fleetfoot, with the canine joining them on their week long getaway.

Aelin and Rowan helped the servants set up the Royal tent and the square wooden table where they would be eating and playing chess and card games. There were a few books that Aelin was very much looking forward to reading, too.

Aelin was excited for this week away, to forgo her corsets, dresses, pants and breast-bands. She was determined to stay in Rowan's shirts and her slippers the entire time.

So the moment that everything was set up, the trays of sweet and savoury foods on the table, and the servants and guards were gone, Aelin stripped down to nothing, swaying her hips the way that Rowan liked when she spotted him drinking her in and slipped on one of his shirts and put on her well loved slippers.

Grabbing the picnic blanket from one of the chests, Aelin turned to see Fleetfoot sniffing hungrily at the trays of food, moving closer with each second that passed. Just as she was about to inhale the food, Rowan took the pup out of her misery and feed her a handful of sliced fermented sausage.

Aelin smiled at the sight. Rowan might grumble about the mess Fleetfoot made and how she kept slobbering on his pillow but Aelin knew he loved her—even when she ate his socks.

Aelin set up the blanket and pillows against a thick oak tree, ready for her week of relaxation.

X X X X X X

Aelin's stomach was near to bursting. She hadn't intended to eat that much food, since there was a leg of lamb and chopped root vegetables roasting in the cauldron above the fire, but everything was just too good to have just the once. She ate and ate until there was nothing but crumbs left.

She didn't regret it, however.

She was close to sleeping as Rowan ran a free hand through her scalp as he used the other to read. Her head was on his lap, the sun was warm, and from the happy yips that were coming from the woods, Fleetfoot was having a fun time running around.

Aelin glanced at her husband, his face relaxed as he read his book. And she had no idea why, but she found herself saying: “What would you look like with a beard?”

Rowan blinked, the only surprise he'd show at the question. “Like an old man,” he answered after a moment.

“You are an old man.”

He flicked her ear, and then went back to running his fingers through her scalp. “I grew a beard, once, when I was young. I looked like my father.”

“So you looked very handsome, then.” Rowan had taken up sketching in the quiet moments. He had drawn his parents and they were a very attractive couple. Rowan inherited his fathers hair, eyes, nose and sharp jawline, but got his mother's lips, cheekbones and eyebrows.

They had died long ago, but Aelin would have liked to have met them. Rowan said that they would have liked her, eventually, as he believed that they wouldn't have known what to do with her at first.

Aelin gave Rowan a big smile as the question formed in her mind. And since Rowan knew her so well, he said, “No.”

“You don't even know what I was going to say!” She protested, but it was a lie.

“I am not growing a beard.”

“Please, for me? Just a little one?”

“No.”

“How about some stubble?”

He sighed, exasperated, knowing that there was no point in arguing. “Fine. I'll grow some stubble and that's it.”

“Mm-hmm. Whatever you say, buzzard.”

He sighed again, but there was a small smile on his lips. He returned to his book, and telling her what it was about when Aelin asked. It made her heart swell that her warrior found time to read, as he admitted to her months ago that he never really had the opportunity when he was sworn to Maeve.

Not wanting to ruin today with thoughts of her, Aelin grabbed her own book by her pillow and read, luxuriating in Rowan's warmth and love and in the company of a good book.

X X X X X X

Aelin was losing, but she made sure that the irritation that was coursing through her didn't show on her face. Playing chess with an experience strategist was an absurd idea, but she was determined not to quit.

Rowan had been wanting for her to make her move. Had been waiting for fifteen minutes. Fleetfoot was by her feet, but she was just waiting for the roast lamb to be done.

Five minutes later, Aelin finally made her move. Her eyes flicked up towards Rowan, but his face was stone. He made his move in a blink of an eye. “Checkmate.”

Fire coated her throat as Aelin screeched in frustration, which just made Rowan laugh. Fleetfoot howled and ran off.

Aelin grumbled under her breath as she put away the chess board (for now, they would definitely be playing again once Aelin had more food in her stomach) while Rowan put their dinner on the plates, smiling all the while. Behind him, his mate vowed that she would beat him one day at chess. His smile widened.

Rowan knew that if he said he could beat her even with a blind-fold on, she would go on about how big his head was.

Fleetfoot came back, getting in the way of his feet as he put his and Aelin's dinner down. He gave Fleetfoot the plate reserved for her, using his powers to cool it down, not missing Aelin's soft smile as he did so.

They ate dinner in companionable silence, with Rowan's thoughts on his cousins. He was sure that he wasn't going to get a single thing done while they were visiting. Or if he did, he knew that some of his cousins would want to intrude.

Thinking about it more, he knew that they were going to intrude. Enda had written in-between the lines that there were some cousins that didn't really believe that Rowan was King-Consort and would only believe it once they saw him in action.

That they would actually believe once they saw him in his crown.

And even then, he was sure that there'd be at least one or two that still wouldn't believe it.

Rowan would let them think whatever they wanted about him, it wouldn't matter to him.

Maybe he should have just invited Enda and his mate—but Aelin was looking forward to meeting his family, so he would just deal with it.

It would only be a couple of weeks, possibly three. At best, four, since it was a long journey. He could last.

Rowan could do it, he would just have to block them out if they became too much. He had done that in the past.

“If you keep furrowing your brows like that, they'll replace your eyes,” Aelin said, slathering a fresh slice of bread with butter and running it through the left over gravy on her plate.

Rowan grunted but tried to relax his forehead. It took him a minute longer than it should have.

Later on, they went for a late night swim. Which was slowly turning into something more, up until Fleetfoot jumped into the water with them, saturating them further.

It was the best first day that Aelin could have asked for, and was very much looking forward to the rest of the week.

X X X X X X

Aelin woke up to one of her favourite sights. Rowan shirtless, sleeping on his stomach, his tattooed arm curled around Fleetfoot who slept between them all night. The hounds golden head half on Rowan's pillow, her paws stretching towards Aelin, her furry face soft in sleep.

Smiling, Aelin shuffled closer, and wrapped her own arms around the pup, her fingers just touching Rowan.

Joyful, Aelin fell back asleep, a smile still on her face.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

38. Set it up, break it up

For everyone who's been supportive of these| fluff |making out |harry set draco up with someone Only to realise he liked draco all along |

" when was your first time ?" Seamus smugly asked Draco as he drank his butter beer from across the room sprawled over the bean bag

" I will prefer not to answer the question. It is highly confidential and that information shall only be revealed to Someone I'm with. So dear Seamus you can enjoy asking this question to other, while I would refuse to answer " Draco sophisticatedly replied, tilting his head to put on more emphasis upon his words.

" Merlin, you could've just said I'm not answering that. No need to go all Shakespearian " Ron rolled his eyes at Draco.

Harry chuckled as he joined Draco over the couch, putting his legs over Draco's laps, not that either of them ever minded that physical touch " that's Draco for you. He'll never give a direct answer. I can bet, if he were in an English Muggle class, he'd top "

" I topped nonetheless " Draco rolled his eyes, his hands automatically falling into a pattern of softly stroke the bottom of Harry's leg, a habit he's grown attached to.

" really? From what I remember I got 7 owls while you got only 6. It's just as if I was infact better than you " Harry smirked

" whatever Harry. I was the headboy " Draco rolled his eyes at harry, yet again but then again he liked these small bickerings with him. Blaise eyed them from the corner of the room, enjoying it himself, not Daring to say anything.

" and I was given the opportunity, I just denied "

" as if "

" whatever helps you sleep at night darling" Harry teased as he pinched Draco's cheeks softly

" don't " Draco growled as he swatted Harry's hand away

" one angry kitten aren't you " Harry chuckled, picking up his can of butter beer and drinking it.

" don't call me that " Draco sneered, not in a furious way, just slightly threatening way.

" anywaysss " Seamus echoed, breaking off their not so private conversation " when was your first time harry ?"

" Ron, you might wanna cover your ears for this one " Harry chuckled. Ron gave him a look but refused to do so " it was after war, when I got back with Ginny, in the time we were going out for a short time "

" what about in 6th year ?" Dean asked snuggling closer to Seamus on the bean bag

" we couldn't really ever get to it. I mean for one neither of us were ready, and we were just kids. Although when we did it after we got back together, we realised almost instantly it wasn't something we enjoyed, not that part, just with opposite sex kind of thing. Well mostly her, no offense. Or it could've been we weren't just attracted to each other that way " Harry explained

" really ? I always thought you guys would work out you know " Dean said. Harry looked at Dean amused but didn't say anything.

" I never thought you guys would end up together really. Never seemed as if so " Seamus added

" interest me in why ?" Harry asked

" it just, I always knew you were sort of bi even before you started going with Ginny. It was Evident really sometimes. And with Ginny herself, she didn't seem like a person to be with a guy. I mean coming from I figured my sexuality really early on, I just sometimes knew it.. besides after the first time you guys broke up, it seemed almost impossible for it work later on " Seamus explained. Everyone including Draco thought about what he had said and nobody could even deny that it was a lie.

" what's your dating track anyway right now Harry ?" Blaise asked standing over the chair behind Ron.

" oh it's not that bad. I do go out on a few dates. I went on a date last week infact and believe me that guy was really good, dashing, almost ced- well Cedric diggory Kinda hot but right in the middle of the date, I feel something going up my leg. I almost choked on my Tuna fish and he goes, do you like it ? I was more shocked than anything else. It was weird if anything "

" so what next ?"

" I didn't call him back. I think somewhere along the date, he might've said he had feet fetish.. he would much rather make love to my feets than me and it was just plainly weird "

" people have all different sorts of fetishes " Ron frowned

" yeah, I respect them but feet fetishes just creeps me out " Harry almost shivered at the thought of it.

And everyone soon fell into talking about weirdest kinks and fetishes, something they all were rather amused to be in conversation about, except, Harry.

Draco stopped stroking Harry's leg for a moment to softly clutch on them to seek his attention.

" it's alright Harry.. you can't change anything.. besides I think he lived a good life" Draco softly said.

" I still can't forget though. It's almost as if I can still see it happening in front of my eyes " Harry Whispered back.

" I know. He was a brave guy though. You can't do anything anymore. I'm sure- he'd want you to get over it too " Draco whispered. Harry bit his lip softly before nodding. To provide comfort, Draco again started stroking Harry's legs.

" feels nice" Harry smiled at Draco, who simply smiled back.

" talking off that, what say about going on a date with someone ?" Harry asked Draco but had inevitably grabbed attention from a few others in the room.

Draco raised his eyebrows in strange surprise " really ?"

" I met some guy at the animal shop across the street. He seemed like someone you could date " Harry replied

" why me, why not you ?" Draco defensively asked

" well, he's not my type but he's yours and he did seem to notice you with me a couple of days ago, so I thought maybe you could talk to him and see if you'd like to go out with him " Harry suggested.

Draco frowned at harry before clearing his throat " I'll pay that animal shop a visit then "

" great " Harry grinned

" I'm gonna use the loo " Draco sighed and got up abruptly

" unbelievable " Blaise announced. Harry looked around the room to receive strange looks " what are you all staring at me for ?" Harry asked confused

But nobody responded except that most of them groaned, leaving Harry more confused. Draco returned a few minutes, chatted a bit and then left claiming he had to feed his cat.

As a few weeks goes on by, Harry discovered that draco did started going with the guy he had told him about and was infact in a happy place to be with him. And it was all fun and games until Harry was offended that Draco no longer gave him that much time anymore or the fact that he kept cancelling on him over and over or that he longer was interested in watching movies with harry but sure had fun plans with his so called boyfriend or the guy he's dating, he cared no less. By which he meant, he did cared. To say his friends were tired of Harry ranting on about Draco cancelling on him that one time Ron even put up muffalito charm on him. It was splendid how things were going, in a sarcastic way of course until Draco decided it was time for him to make everyone meet his boyfriend, and harry wanted to burn himself on flames.

" I frankly don't understand why the expensive dinner, I mean, couldn't he had just invited us to his place or his so called boyfriend's place " Harry vented air quoting boyfriend

" Harry you were the one who set him up in the first place, stop being mad at him and jealous not to mention " Hermione rolled her eyes eating the chips off the packet

" jealous, I'm not jealous " Harry defensively said

" sure " Ron rolled his eyes.

" look Harry, you're clearly jealous that he isn't spending as much as time with you and its bothering you, so just talk to him about it " Hermione suggested shrugging her shoulder

" look, I don't know what's cooking in both of your brains but I'm-not-jealous " harry slammed the cloth over the counter and went inside his bedroom

" I miss the time when he wasn't such a dramatic ass " Ron taunted

" I can hear you " Harry yelled from inside the room, hearing faint whispers from Ron and Hermione in the living room..

And the truth infact was that Harry was jealous, which he Only discovered over the dinner when Draco was practically almost all over him that harry wanted to tell him to just sit in his lap, didn't of course. And to make it worse, he was jealous of how good they actually looked, which resulted in harry losing his appetite and almost groaning every five minutes. Hermione had to kick him under the table to behave a couple of times.

Spending the night in his thoughts, Harry came across things he wished he had known earlier or things he never felt but whatever it was, he felt frustrated in himself to set Draco up and he had no idea what to do next, so he decided to take advice from the only man he knew the best was at.

" Harry ? What a pleasant surprise. Ron's not at home though " Blaise said as he opened the door for him

" I actually came here to talk to you " Harry sighed as he went in. Blaise frowned in surprise before walking behind Harry himself

" well what can I interest you in, a joke, a mimickery,-"

" an advice actually " Harry groaned as he slumped down on the couch.

" oh- Ron's better at that-"

" he isn't, he told me to talk to you " Harry replied. Blaise walked into the kitchen, opening the window to the living room to converse through the kitchen.

" did he ? What can I help you with then ?" Blaise asked as he poured water for Harry and walking in to give it to him.

" I think, that I might have feelings for Draco" Harry replied

" you are officially the last person to know that " Blaise chuckled as he walked back into the kitchen and fetched something to eat.

" what ? You guys knew that ?" Harry sat uptight

" of course " Blaise scrunched his eyebrows as an obvious face

" why didn't you guys tell me ?" Harry asked agitated with his friends

" because these are the things we're not supposed to tell you, you're the one supposed to tell us, you dimwit " Blaise rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air.

" well you could've at least warned me " Harry groaned

" how could you not have known !! When did you even figure It out anyways?" Blaise asked as he shut the cabinet for the last time, bringing a packet of cookies and chips with him and slumping down in front of Harry.

" I think I've known for a bit since he started going out, but last night i was pretty confirmed that I was jealous " Harry Told him

" well I'd like to say you are that ruined your chances but guessing you came for advice, you came here to know how to fix it and I'll tell you, I do not have even the slightest idea how to fix your shit soup "

" what ?" Harry emphasised

" Harry, you yourself set him up with someone almost exactly like you. If Draco even Liked you at some point, now he knows that you don't like him and he's probably moved on and supposedly happy in his newfound relationship "

" Blaise, If I wanted to listen to how I fucked it up I wouldn't had come to you. I need to know how can I fix this " harry sarcastically responded raising his eyebrows

" look the easiest way is to simply confess or move on. I can't help you harry even if I wanted to. Draco seems happy " Blaise told him emphatically.

Harry was disappointed but knew Blaise was right, there was possibly nothing he could've done to make it right, at least not something that would sabotage their relationship.

It took harry a couple more days to become normal with the fact that draco was dating and finally paving his way to move on, which was definitely hard. And harry could've assumed he was doing good until Draco invited him for a picnic, claiming they haven't gotten out individually in a while. Normally harry would've been very ecstatic about it but considering the phase he was going through it was hard but didn't deny his sweet offer.

" took you a bit long- and your boyfriend's here too " harry pressed his lips in a thin line when he saw them coming together.

"it was just us but his plans got cancelled last moment so he tagged alone.. i hope you don't mind " Draco plead guilty

Harry sighed before giving him a firm smile and nodding " it's going to be one hell of a day "

Halfway through the picnic, harry Would've assumed he would be the thrid wheel but it was infact quite opposite, his boyfriend, jake was infact the third wheel who basically had no idea about draco's life which surprised harry a little more than it should have.

" you- jake, you alright ?" Harry asked looking over draco's shoulder at his boyfriend who looked puzzled

" what? I'm fine, just thinking " he gave them a firm smile.. draco leaned a bit into jake as if to give him the feeling he was still here but jake rejected it, much to draco's surprise.

" what you thinking about ?" Harry asked furrowing his eyebrows.

" what exactly I'm doing here?-"

" shit- I'm sorry for making you feel as if I'm intruding-"

" no, it's not that. It's just so clear that you both are so meant to be together, yet here I am on a picnic with two people who are supposed to be together but are not because of me-"

" that's not true " draco interjected

" is it not ? " Jake asked more firmly than before, not forgetting to give a smile so as to not sound harsh.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

" even if it is true for me, I don't think Draco feels that way . Besides you guys are dating, I don't want to be the reason for your break up" harry replied sympathetically

" you're not harry. I just- I can see it, maybe you two are blind but I'm not.. Enjoy yourselves " jake said as he abruptly stood up

" jake don't be like that " draco too stood up

Jake sighed taking draco's hands in his own " I'll stay if you admit you don't have any feelings for him, if you've never wanted to be with him, if you've felt anything closer to what you feel for him about Me. Admit it freely and I'll stay"

But draco couldn't say anything..

" thought so. I'd be fine by the way. I don't think I've seen two people belonging to each more than you two " and jake departed.

Draco stood there a few minutes watching him walk away, his shoulder slouched as if not believing that he'd just been dumped.

" draco-"

" you're a jerk " draco turned around

" what ?" Harry asked confused

" you're an insolent jerk " draco picked up from dry leaves from the ground and hitting harry with that.

" what the fuck did I do ?" Harry shielded himself as draco threw more and more leaves and grasses

" you fucking moron, you were Flirting with me " draco huffed stopping for a moment

" I wasn't flirting " harry whined. Draco gave him a look before picking up more leaves and throwing it at him

" okay, okay. I was but hey it's your fault to go along with it " harry stumbled back over the ground

" well it's not my fault if you're bloody good at it "

" is it my fault that you enjoyed and I'm not the only victim here, you were flirting too " harry looked up at Draco from the ground

" I wasn't flirting " draco narrowed his eyes. Harry hooked his leg around that of draco, making him trip over and fall over harry, who he instantly rolled over, pinning draco to ground.

" were you not ?" Harry breathed

" it doesn't matter-"

" you were flirting back" harry commanded

" okay, fine I was but you had no right- hmph" draco moaned softly as harry kissed him over the lips, kissing until the need for oxygen finally had made sense again.

" now tell me, how long have you wanted this?" Harry huffed.

Draco rolled his eyes, still pink from all the kissing " I haven't wanted this "

" okay " harry frowned as he leaned down, his lips lightly brushing over that of draco's " you sure ?" Harry asked not moving an inch closer or further

Draco's breath choked down, desperately wanting to lean forward to kiss him again but didn't to avoid giving harry the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

" you don't want me to kiss you again then? That's right yeah " harry whispered as he bit Draco's lower lip, earning a soft moan and his body involuntarily pressed against harry's

" seems otherwise " harry whispered.

" merlin " draco moaned. Smirking harry pulled away looking at Draco from a distance.

Sucking his cheeks, draco immediately pulled harry to him and kissed him again, this time in more desperation and rush.

" guess who's got the upper hand now " draco moaned as he freed his hands and put them in his hair.

" you" harry chuckled, Thoroughly enjoying kissing draco himself.

" jerk " draco chuckled

" you're the jerk " harry chuckled

" and you broke his heart " harry whispered against his lips smiling

" eh, he always knew it anyways " draco shrugged

" you really are a jerk then " harry smiled as he pulled away a bit, admiring draco.

" and you're the jerk who just broke my relationship and has basically manipulated me into kissing you " draco raised an eyebrow amusingly

" I don't regret it " harry regret

" me either " draco smiled and leaned in again.

Requests open

Day 37- you're my home, draco | Day 39- cuddle me in

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[dracowars]

hideaway | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x nonjedi!reader

word count: 2,3k

summary: where y/n wants to surprise anakin but is in for a big surprise herself

a/n: anakin owns my whole heart. hope you enjoy it~

warnings: none

universe: star wars

The smell of freshly roasted vegetables and meat fills your nostrils as you turn the stove up a notch, humming to yourself. You are by no means a five star chef, but your cooking skills are still very good. After all, your mother always made sure that you learn from her amazing skills in the kitchen. In the end what matters is how it tastes and until now you have never failed.

You keep checking the time on the clock on the wall, waiting for it to point at a certain time. You can't wait until he finally comes home. You've been counting the days and hours, even minutes until Anakin arrives back from his mission with Obi-Wan on Naboo. Anakin wasn't allowed to tell you anything about the mission of course, so you can only hope that it was a peaceful mission. Not only do you not want him to get injured, but then your planned surprise meal after his return would also be superfluous.

According to your calculation, it should take another half an hour for their spaceship to land on Coruscant, plus the time it takes Anakin to get to his apartment, where you currently are. The mission was scheduled for five days and you spent the entire time in his apartment. He gave you a spare key months ago because he noticed how much you always miss him every time he is not on the planet. In fact, it actually helped. Everything here makes it feel like he is only in the next room and not on a whole different planet and thus makes your fear for him less.

You've thought and talked about moving in together before, but there is one tiny little problem with that: nobody knows about your and Anakin Skywalker's relationship. Since he is a Jedi, a great and powerful one at that, he has to follow the Jedi Code. A Code that governs the behavior of its followers which, in this case, forbids Jedis from forming attachments. While they do not ban romantic feelings in general, Jedi's are not meant to get married or built up a family. Their only task is to bring peace to the galaxy.

And if the Jedi Order finds out about this relationship, it won't end well for neither of you. Until now you've always been able to hide it well, even if there were occasional moments when it almost got blown up. Somehow you always managed to keep it a secret though and you are very happy about that.

You stir the vegetables one more time and then throw yourself onto the large leather couch while you wait. And wait and wait. No matter how long you close your eyes and just breathe in the pleasent smell around you, time still doesn't go by faster.

You just want to hug him again, kiss him again and just be with him. It may have only been five days, but you still feel like you haven't seen him in months when it wasn't even a whole week. You have been a couple for two years now, have known each other for five of them and loved each other for four, and yet you love him like you did on the first day. There is just something special about him that makes your heart flutter every single time.

The way he looks at you, the way his eyes light up when he smiles - god, his whole apperance in general - you can't help but fall in love with him all over again. Anakin Skywalker is the love of your life and you can't imagine him to not be part of your life anymore.

While being indulged in your thoughts you don't even hear the steps approaching the front door at first and the electronic door opening a few seconds later. You jump up from the sofa immediately and are just about to go in the hallway leading directly to the door full of anticipation when you suddenly hear a different voice than Anakin's, which causes you to stiffly pause in your movement.

"I will send report about our successful mission to the Jedi Council instantly", you hear the male voice say, realizing that it is no other than Obi-Wan. Your eyes widen in shock. If Obi-Wan finds you here, in the middle of Anakin's apartment, it's over.

Looking back and forth, you search for a suitable hiding spot. You notice the cupboard at the end of the entrance area that would provide perfect protection, which you can only get to by walking past the hallway while risking to be seen. Since you can't think of anything better in this hurry, you sneak to the hallway as quietly as possible.

You look around the corner carefully just to see both men, still dressed in their full gear, standing in front of the entrance, Obi-Wan holding a holoprojector in his left hand and seemingly struggling with making it work the way he wants. Your gaze wanders to Anakin, who is standing in front of his master and trys to help him with the device. You can't help but stare at him for a few seconds. He looks breathtaking and you can feel your heart skip a beat.

And suddenly it feels like your heart completely stops at the exact moment where Anakins turns around and directly looks at you. The confusion is clearly written on his beautiful face, - which, to your surprise, doesn't have any bad injuries this time - but if you only knew how much he would love to just run to you and take you his his arms tightly, lifting you off the floor. But since Obi-Wan is still in the room, that turns out to be difficult.

With a slight head movement you indicate to the cupboard, Anakin understanding your intention immediately. Just as Obi-Wan looks up, Anakin steps in his way so that there is no possibility for him to spot you. "Let me see the holoprojector, master", Anakin tells him, reaching out for it, distracting him from what you are doing in the background.

You tiptoe across the hallway and climb into the cupboard without making any sound the very moment Anakin got the projector working. The closet is pretty narrow and you even keep your breathing quiet.

"I think I don't tell you this enough but you actually did very good out there. I'm proud of you, Anakin", Obi-Wan tells his Padawan as they walk past you and internally you feel how happy Anakin is about those words. "But was it really necessary to blow up the escaping droids?", Obi-Wan adds with serious tone but lets out a laugh soon after that.

You take in a deep breath which suddenly makes you realize that there still is something you haven't even thought about before: the food. It's still boiling on the stove, spreading a delicious smell through the rooms. How is Anakin supposed to explain that, when he didn't even know about it himself?

"Anakin. You should have listend to me when you- What is this burnt smell?", Obi-Wan interrupts himself while speaking, smelling the same odour as you did moments before. Seconds later you can hear their steps moving away as they run into the kitchen. "What is happening here?! Why is there food cooking?", Obi-Wan shouts but you can't hear more as the sound of steaming water drowns out their conversation. Anakin must have thrown the pan in the sink or otherwise you can't explain where the noise is supposed to be coming from.

"It was probably the.. the cleaning lady! Yes, the cleaning lady must have forgotten it by mistake", Anakin trys to talk his way out of the situation after the noise has quiet down. "Since when do you have a cleaner?", his master asks suspiciously. "Not very long. Since the last.. month?", Anakin explains - or tries to - not really convincingly.

Silence. There is an unbearable silence before Obi-Wan starts laughing out loud all of a sudden. "You should definetely find another one if she almost burns your appartment down. However, I could use one too..", he advises his Padawan and you can hear him coming back, lowering your breath again instantly.

"I better go now and send off the report to the Council. Master Yoda wanted to talk to me later anyway. You still have a bit of cleaning to do and..", Obi-Wan pauses in the middle of his sentence, making your breath hitch. "You should really get that lady out of your closet before she suffocates."

Your whole body stiffens at his words and the door to your hiding place opens. "Hello there", Obi-Wan looks at you expectantly. "Y/N, isn't it?" You nod carefully and look to the ground in shame after climbing out of the closet.

"It's- It's not what it looks like, master", Anakin stutters out and pulls you behind him, protecting you from whatever is coming towards you next. "Well, what does it look like?", Obi-Wan counters and crosses his arms.

You touch Anakin's arm lightly, searching for support, and look past him to Obi-Wan, who is watching you both closely. "I'm waiting", Obi-Wan sighs and puts his arms on his hips. "I don't have all day, you know."

You take all your courage and take a step forward. "It's my fault. I wanted.. I just wanted to surprise Anakin and welcome him back home", you explain with a low voice, not daring to look at Obi-Wan directly. "That still doesn't explain why you are in his appartment in the first place", he says with raised eyebrows and you look back at Anakin.

Anakin looks like he's contemplating about what to do next and then takes your hand in his as he made his decision, standing next to you now. "Master. I'm in love with Y/N and she loves me. We.. secretly dated and got together. I wanted to tell you. I always wanted to tell you, but there just wasn't the right opportunity and-"

"And you thought it would be better to not tell me about this at all? Ever?", Obi-Wan finishs Anakin's sentence. "Where do you think you are going with this? You know the Jedi Code, Anakin. You broke the rules."

"This stupid code is totally outdated and unnecessary anyway! We never meant to fall in love with each other, sometimes it just happens. We knew the day would come when someone finds out about us. We know that it.. has no future. But you can't just turn off your feelings. It is not possible", you rant and feel Anakin's hold on your hand tighten. "Please don't tell the Jedi Council and please don't throw Anakin out. You can punish me, but not him. He dedicated all his life to the Jedi Code and.. I don't want his life to get destroyed because of me."

You feel yourself get pulled to the side harshly. "What are you even saying, Y/N?! Stop that nonsense!", Anakin whisper-yells at you. "I can't live with the thought that I will destroy your future, Ani. I could never be happy agai-"

"Who said I would tell anyone?", Obi-Wan interrupts you two, making both of you look at him in confusion. "Listen, I don't support Anakin's or your actions but what happend, happend, we can't change that and I'm actually kind of happy that Anakin found someone who stays by his side."

Your mouth opens wide in shock and you look at him with pure disbelieve. "You.. what?", Anakin bursts out, seeming equally shocked and confused. "Why shouldn't I be happy for my Padawan, who is like a brother to me, when he finds the right woman, maybe his soulmate?", Obi-Wan tells you and the corners of his mouth rise. "I won't tell anyone about it, but you have to be really careful. If Master Windu oder Master Yoda find out about your relationship, I won't be able to help you. It will be over. You can be glad that it's just me who found out."

Without thinking twice, you happily hug Obi-Wan and Anakin does the same. "Thank you, Obi-Wan", Anakin smiles and lays an arm around your waist as soon as you move away from Obi-Wan. "I'll correct what I said earlier: You both still have a lot to clean up. Enjoy yourselves", Obi-Wan giggles and turns around to go back to the elevator.

Before he leaves though, he turns around one last time. "And for your information: I already felt that she is in here before we even got into the apartment. Good evening", Obi-Wan bows down slightly and leaves.

Silence spreads again, but this time a pleasant one. "What did just happen?", Anakin asks and shakes his head to get a clear thought, brushing through his hair with his mechanical hand. "I have no idea but I think we got away with it", you answer and turn to look at him, both of his hands now on each side of your waist.

"I missed you so much, Anakin", you smile and take in every feature of his beautiful structured face. Your hand comes up to his cheek and you softly stroke over his skin with your thumb. "I missed you more", he whispers and turns his face to lightly kiss the inside of your hand, which makes you giggle. He slowly leans in and finally connects your lips again. His scent flows around you and your hand clings to his brown locks.

When he breaks the sensual kiss, he leans his forehead against yours and smiles at you gently. You can feel his hands sneak around your hip as he suddenly lifts you off the floor and spins you around a few times, making you both laugh. After he puts you onto the ground again, he pecks your lips one more time before retreating completely, only keeping your hands connected.

"So, you wanted to surprise me with food?", he teases with that stupid smile on his face that you love so much. Feeling offended, you hit his arm playfully. In response, he chuckles and just pulls you behind him into the kitchen, where you clean up the mess you made before settling yourself up on the couch, cuddling for the rest of the day.

[robininthelabyrinth]

How about a canon divergence where wen qing doesn't bump into wwx but instead bumps into nhs and nmj. Would it be a tragedy or a fixit? Would nhs temper nmj's hatred for wens? Would nmj act honorably at seeing the old men and women and children doing hard labor or would he only see the clan he hates?

1

It was Nie Huaisang’s fault, probably. Someone tripped over someone else’s feet, and then he apologized and she apologized and then they both apologized, and then there was the whole “you go first, no you go first” dance and anyway eventually Nie Mingjue stormed over to yell at his younger brother for wasting time. He took one look at the ash-faced girl, caught her by the shoulder and said, “Aren’t you that Wen Qing? I used to see you at discussion conferences – what are you doing here?”

The whites of her eyes showed in her terror, and he scowled fiercely. “I don’t slay unarmed women or children outside of combat,” he said. “The question was literal – what are you doing here? The Jin sect said they resettled the remnants of the sects somewhere they wouldn’t make trouble.”

Wen Qing pressed her lips together, then couldn’t help herself and snarled, “If you call hard labor camps where everyone dies ‘resettled’ – they took away my baby brother! They took me to another city, I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t have a choice and when I returned…my brother’s as soft as yours – they’re going to kill him!”

Nie Mingjue’s scowl deepened, and his eyes flickered over to Nie Huaisang, the words ‘hard labor’ clearly ringing through his mind and struggling with his deep and abiding hatred for the Wen sect, the memories of Nie Huaisang being snatched away from him and sent to an indoctrination camp to be used as live bait. The very reminder of it made his face black in anger. 

Nie Huaisang looked between the two of them and covered his face with a fan. “Dage,” he said, and his voice helped break through the haze of anger. “Maybe we should – check?”

It’s not like we trust the Jins, given the way they want to be the next Wens, he meant, and maybe there’s a little bit of Isn’t our sect’s guiding principle to stamp out evil wherever it’s encountered, human or not?

2

“Sect Leader Nie, I demand an explanation!” Jin Guangshan shouted. “You cannot barge into my territory, threaten my sect’s disciples, take away the prisoners won at war –”

“I’m not so blind as to tell the difference between captivity and torture unto death,” Nie Mingjue snarled in return, not even slightly moved. “Not only did I take the prisoners from Qiongqi Path, I demand you turn over every other one you have, no matter where –”

“Those were legitimately captured prisoners of war! We took them instead of spoils –”

“If the allocation of every penny matters so much to you, you may have the spoils seized by my Nie sect in exchange,” Nie Mingjue said, flicking his sleeve disdainfully. It couldn’t be more obvious what his implication was: that the Jin sect, despite all its riches, cared more for money than for honor.

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s most unlike you to get up in arms defending Wens, Sect Leader Nie; wasn’t it just yesterday that you called them all Wen-dogs and sought their utter destruction?”

Nie Mingjue sneered at him, but he continued, oily smile spreading on his face like a stain, “It couldn’t be that Sect Leader Nie has changed his implacable mind so quickly – perhaps it is the pressure of war on a man so young…you should take care for your health, make sure you’re not being unduly confused. People in your family die so very young, after all.”

“Enough nonsense,” Nie Mingjue said, eyes very nearly red in anger. “If my mind is so unclear, why did you choose to follow me during battle? When Wen Ruohan threatened, you dithered and delayed, and when there was no other choice but war, my blade was strong enough for you to hide behind, but when we have peace you rush to the front to claim a position that shouldn’t even exist – no one should be Chief Cultivator, Sect Leader Jin, no sect placing themselves and their own interests above another’s! But if the alternative is you, perhaps I should strive for it after all!”

3

“Is your brother actually going to try to be Chief Cultivator?” Wen Ning asked Nie Huaisang shyly; he was the only Wen currently inside the Unclean Realm, on account of needing heal his injuries. The remainder were all living in a small valley not far away where Nie sect cultivators kept a close watch.

Nie Mingjue hated injustice above all else, even Wens, but only by the smallest margin; in their new homes they were given food and water and medicine, but not freedom. Too many cultivators, male or female, had hidden themselves among the helpless to launch sneak attacks and assassinations; even children could carry a knife and swear to avenge their fallen parents.

Those like Wen Qing were watched most of all – she led one of the Supervision Offices that everyone had so hated, and she did nothing to stop them; she was indifferent to evil, and to Nie Mingjue that was very nearly the same as evil. It was only that the war had been officially ended that held back his hand; if they had still been at war, he would have executed her without so much as blinking an eye.

Still, Wen Qing had told Wen Ning that she was pleased with their current situation. A true prisoner of war camp, however strict, meant that they would be kept safe from all those who sought personal revenge, and Wen Ning couldn’t help but agree that the trade was worthwhile. The Jin had all but sold opportunities to those who wanted to get in a kick at their fallen bodies, just to say they’d been involved in the Sunshot Campaign; the Nie sect had those types of people, too, glaring and hateful, but the Sect Leader’s military discipline made them too afraid to do anything more than raise angry voices – and what were angry voices, compared to angry hands?

After all, if they’d come even a few shichen later – if Nie Mingjue hadn’t already known where the Wens were being kept, due to his position as sect leader, and been able to fly there on his sword at full speed – it would have been too late for him. Wen Ning didn’t even recall exactly what had happened, but two of them had been beating him and the chief inspector hadn’t stopped them, only told them to be sure to throw his body over the cliff when they were done with him…

“No, of course not,” Nie Huaisang said, pretending to be busy by his side. He had no skill at medicine, but it was a way to spend his time that his brother approved of and wouldn’t interrupt, so he came as often as he could. “He hates the idea, thinks it’s rotten to the core – like we’re all a bunch of sheep, needing a shepherd. No, he’s just saying it to annoy and distract Jin Guangshan. Besides, imagine if they made the position inheritable; that would make me the next one, and wouldn’t that be terrible for everyone?”

4

“The children young enough not to remember may join the Nie sect as guest disciples, if they wish,” Nie Mingjue said, his tone brooking no argument. “The adults will remain as they are.”

Wen Qing crossed her arms. “There aren’t many cultivators left among us, and it’s fine for all of those - they’d be happy to take up a life farming,” she said. “But those of us who are already on the path of cultivation should not be stymied –”

“You mean your brother, Wen Ning.” Nie Mingjue had some natural sympathy for her position, due to having his own weak-willed younger brother, but not very much. “No. In the end, he’s a Wen; we will not raise snakes to bite us later.”

“What wrong can you put on my brother’s shoulders beyond his surname?” she challenged. “What evil does he have?”

“Indifference to evil –”

“He was hardly indifferent!” she snapped, pushed beyond her limits. “I told him to do nothing, me, and yet he wouldn’t listen, time and time again. He kept Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng hidden after the destruction of the Lotus Pier, smuggled the latter out, even carried him out on his own back, and if that wasn’t enough, he collected what he could of the Jiang masters’ ashes for them – later, when Wei Wuxian asked me for help, he even –!”

She suddenly seemed to realize she’d said too much and shut her mouth.

Nie Mingjue looked at her thoughtfully. “You’ve already said this much,” he said. “There’s no point in stopping now. What did Wei Wuxian ask you to do?”

5

“Shh, don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Nie Huaisang said, gesturing for Wen Ning to join him in the closet where he was hiding.

Wen Ning, still a little uncomfortable in his new Nie robes, confusedly obeyed, even though he was still sweating from saber practice – he’d had to start over, alongside the children, but to his surprise he’d found that the straightforward brutality of the saber suited some secret resentful part hidden inside of him that wanted nothing more than to chop up everything he saw. “W-what’s going on? Why are we h-hiding? We’re in the Unclean Realm. What can harm us here?”

“Feelings,” Nie Huaisang said. “They’re the worst. My poor brother has to sit out there and listen to it directly, too – the burdens of being Sect Leader. I’m glad it’s not me.”

Wen Ning blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Are Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi still fighting?”

“No, they’ve moved on to crying.”

“They were crying while they were fighting.”

“Yes, well, now they’ve moved to the just crying stage. There’s been lots of hugging, too; they stop for half a breath and then set each other off again, it’s awful. Can’t they be all manly and stoic like we Nie?”

Wen Ning gave Nie Huaisang a doubtful look.

“Well, me excluded, of course,” Nie Huaisang said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “And anyway, even I only like crying when it’s going to get me something. Or out of something!”

Wen Ning suddenly felt as if he understood much more about his new Sect Leader’s endless frustrations with his younger brother. “But why are you hiding?” he asked.  

“I have a reputation of avoiding work to maintain,” Nie Huaisang said, totally puzzlingly, but a few moments later there was a knock at the closet door.

“Huaisang, I know you’re in there. Get out of there and have an emergency,” Sect Leader Nie said. “Anything, as long as it requires my personal attention, and have it happen as soon as their sister, the young madam Jin, arrives – that’ll just set them all off again, especially as she’s pregnant.” A pause. “Do you think I can order Wen Qing to handle this as part of the terms of her parole?”

[ikeromantic]

Right

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction occurring at the midpoint of Ch. 9. Approx. 1800 words of angsty goodness.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Traitor

Mitsuhide’s days were long and the sleepless nights were longer. Though Yoshiaki depended on him to put together the details of this final strike against Nobunaga, the shogun did not trust him. There were eyes on him, always. And people listening. Nowhere was private. He dare not send any missives to his people in Kyoto lest he reveal them to Yoshiaki.

There was no room in this plot for even the slightest slip in his character. Traitor and villain, trickster kitsune. Of course, this meant there was no time to rest. Mitsuhide worked on his own to see this plot to its conclusion. His tired body protested, and his wounds pained him almost constantly. A choir of spilled blood, bruised flesh, and aching bones. But he had only to make it through one more day and night. Then all would be settled.

The knowledge lent Mitsuhide a sense of peace as he went about his work. Today he sat hidden in the shadows on a nearby building, watching the entrance to Honno-ji. The Oda would arrive soon, he knew. He had only to mark their presence and then it was back to Ashikaga to make the final plans. Mitsuhide allowed himself to rest back against the building, still and watchful. A lesser man might have fallen to sleep - and even one with the kitsune warlord’s will might be forgiven for closing his eyes during the wait. But he did not.

It did not take long for his attention to be rewarded. A small troop of men in plain clothing arrived first - clearly warriors - swords at their hip, their movements predatory. Those four were followed by three more. Two men, dressed as merchants. As if ever a merchant held his head so high or looked out at the world with such confidence. 

Nobunaga would never pass as a mere merchant, no matter his clothing, Mitsuhide thought. He could not let go the arrogance in his carnelian eyes. And the man beside him, though slouched as if he was old, could never be mistaken for other than a warlord. His amber-eyed gaze swept the courtyard, evaluating threats. His hand hovered near his hip as if ready to draw a sword that was not there.

“And this is why neither of you make good spies,” Mitsuhide chuckled to himself. One had to understand what could and couldn’t be changed about themselves to fit a role . . . that line of thought died in a gasp of surprise.

Mitsuhide’s hands went to his mouth, clamping down hard against lips that begged to call out to the last member of the Oda party. Her hair shone in the morning sunlight. Her clear-eyed gaze was bright, though today she wore no smile. He watched her lift a hand to tuck a strand of hair back into her bun. His eyes tracked her every movement, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks with each blink. 

Her beauty was a physical hurt. She pulled him as a magnet does iron filings. All he could think was why - why was she here? His little mouse was supposed to be safe in Azuchi. How had Kyubei let this happen? Mitsuhide’s heart thumped against his ribs in sudden panic. He had to protect her but - his mission - hot emotions tangled his cold logic, threatening to burn his plans to ash. 

Somehow, he held himself still until his little one passed into Honno-ji with the Oda. Then he fled. The rational part of his mind told him he must report to Ashikaga. Surely the shogun was watching and new from other sources that Mitsuhide’s prediction was correct. Delay would bring suspicion. But his heart pulled him another way. He had to secure her safety. His little one. Beloved little mouse. He could not risk harm to her, not for this. Not for anything. 

Mitsuhide found an abandoned home in a nearby neighborhood. It was partially burned, but the courtyard was green and overgrown with flowers. There was a mossy stone bench in the lee of a collapsed wall. He sat there and put his head in his hands. 

His eyes felt hot and damp, but he refused to let them shed a single tear. He was the kitsune warlord, not some common love-drunk fool. There would be a way to keep her safe. He only needed to find it.

It took him several hours to plan out the various paths this could now take and to consider how best to prevent the turns that put his little one in danger. Then he set off into town to track down his contacts. It was time to take all risks, he thought. The time for caution had passed.

The sun was nearly set when he was done. There was little left that he could do, beyond returning to Yoshiaki. If the shogun had him followed, Mitsuhide was certain he could pass off his meetings and notes as part of his plot to take down Nobunaga. And if not, well. It wouldn’t matter after tonight.

He passed through the market on his way back to the Ashikaga estate, but his trek was interrupted. 

“Alright. I’ll be right here.” His little one’s voice, carrying over the marketplace chatter like distant bells. 

Mitsuhide’s eyes sought for her, his feet already moving toward the sound. And then he saw her. As beautiful as a goddess, she stood beside a shop watching the retreating form a monk. She held a cloth bag on one arm, the tops of vegetables sticking out from the top. 

Knowing her, she planned to cook for their little group tonight. Smart. The monks couldn’t be trusted - and even if they could, how easy it would be for a spy to slip some poison into the Oda dishes . . . he felt a little surge of pride. 

His little mouse leaned back against the building. She wore a tired smile. Mitsuhide knew he should continue on, but she was alone right now. It gave him the perfect opportunity to touch her kiss her hold her - no - to warn her. To get her to leave this place before she could be caught up in the violence Yoshiaki’s allies would rain down on the Oda forces.

He slipped around and into the alleyway. Quiet steps, unseen - then from the shadows, he reached for her. “You foolish little mouse -” Touching her skin was like handling fire. Warmth that threatened to consume him. 

Mitsuhide pulled her into a nearby storehouse, out of sight. “How clueless can you be,” he began. His emotions were threatening to get the better of him again. Anger with her for coming here, with himself for leaving her alone, regret, desire, grief, all churned in his heart. A bitter mix that still could not outweigh the sweetness he felt being near to her again. He inhaled her scent, and the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.

“I finally found you!” Her wide eyes were windows to her soul. A bright space so full of love that he might have had to look away, had she not thrown her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. “I missed you so much!”

His body hummed in response and for a breath, he wanted just this. To hold her. But he refused to give in. With every ounce of self control he could muster, Mitsuhide pushed her away. He met her gaze with all his feelings locked tight behind his traitor’s mask. “What do you think you’re doing in Kyoto?”

She smiled up at him. “I came after you.”

It took him a minute to respond. He had to swallow back all the words he wanted to say. Well, three of them anyhow. “. . . Did the Oda forces not reveal to you who I have sold my loyalty to?”

“Yeah, and I gotta say I don’t love your new boss.” Her light was undimmed by his dispassionate response.

He raised one perfect eyebrow. “Yet you followed me regardless?”

“Yes I did.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly, shoulders squared. “Probably for that same reason!”

Inside, Mitsuhide began to panic. This was not the conversation he should be having. She must be convinced to leave. He grunted. “Then it was my mistake trying to teach a mouse how to think. You’ve learned nothing, foolish creature.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care if I’m a foolish little mouse as long as I’m your foolish little mouse.” She poked a finger toward him to make her point, but he could see her eyes were wet with held tears. “And just like a mouse, n-not even the sight of a trap will s-stop me when I see what I want . . . Mitsuhide.”

The mask began to crack. “Did I not tell you to be good for me? Why? Why couldn’t you have - have just stayed behind?” His voice rasped painfully on the words, breath trembling. And then the dam broke. He pulled her to him, crushing his little one to his chest, arms wrapped around her. Holding her as a drowning man clung to a branch. 

All the words he wanted to say threatened to spill from his lips. An ocean of endearments and the promises of his heart. But a voice rescued him from this peril. The monk, calling from just outside. He pushed her away again, holding to her by the shoulders. “You must leave Kyoto. Now.” And then he let go, fleeing through the back door. 

Mitsuhide heard her call out to him, but he could not listen. Another word from her and his will might break. He’d come so close . . . so close to throwing it all away for her. Leave Nobunaga to his fate and let the world burn, if only he could hold her. Tell her the truths written across his heart. 

Only his ideals kept him moving away from his beloved little mouse. If she knew what she risked in pursuing him, she would not have come, he thought. His pure sweet girl could never accept the consequences of him abandoning this quest. The death and war and hardships that would follow allowing a man like Ashikaga to continue in his ambitions. 

With luck, she would heed his warning. But he knew her better than that. She would stay and see this through because she . . . she loved him. She loved him and she believed staying by his side was the right thing to do. No matter the danger to herself. 

They would both do what they believed was right. And so he could only do his best to see that she lived through tonight. Mitsuhide’s bloody path was laid out before him. There would be no turning away from it. Not for any of them.

Next: Loyalty

[ambientstars]

Praise - part 3 (Whittaker!master x reader)

Gif credit: unknown

Warnings: angst, alcohol, eventually nsfw (tied up, blindfolded, praise kink, waxplay), but mostly a bunch of softness you’re welcome

Note: SURPRISE!! I didn’t plan on making a third part to this, but literally one person asked and that all it took for me to write it. This will be the final part because I don’t think I can take it any further. Kind of a longer one this time (2k more than usual) because ya girl tried to put some more storyline into it. Anyway, enjoy my loves!

———

“How do I look?”

You stood facing the mirror, smoothing out your outfit and taking in your reflection.

“You could be wearing a paper bag and I’d still eat you up,” The Master stood behind you, hands on your waist, her fingers digging into you almost painfully. “But I must say you look delicious in this.”

You frowned, confused. “I’m not a snack, you know?”

She laughed, moving hair from your shoulder and placed a wet kiss on the side of your neck. “No, darling, you are the whole meal.”

You turned, amusement clear on your face. “Are you hungry or something? Do you want to go and get some space food instead?”

The Master snorted, stepping away from you and picking up her jacket. “Let’s just go.”

Today was the anniversary of your renewed relationship with The Master. It marked one year of being by her side, of calling her yours and of being the happiest you’d ever been in your life.

And boy, what a year it had been. It started off just like it had before, full of passion, heated desire for one another and spending most days close to each other, taking every opportunity to touch, kiss and caress the other every chance they got.

Except this time, it didn’t fizzle out, it didn’t turn sour and it didn’t become toxic. Your relationship became stronger every day, your trust for each other grew to new heights and you considered it to be healthier than it ever was before.

Tonight you were going out to celebrate, to the club you reunited with The Master at. She had said it would be a nice full circle moment and you had to agree, for if you hadn’t gone there in the first place, you wouldn’t have seen her again and began a new journey with her.

——

The club was just as packed as it always was, each area full of aliens of all kinds, the line to get in twisting around the building.

The Master walked right up to the entrance of the club, ignoring the queue entirely. You hurried along with your hand in hers, trying to keep up with her quick pace despite her high heels.

The bouncer at the door nodded at the timelord in recognition and opened the door without a single word, allowing you both in immediately.

Sometimes it slipped your mind that you see a different side of The Master, others viewing her as dangerous and evil, not to be messed with and granting her whatever it is that she demanded for the sake of their lives.

She led you straight to the bar, pushing past the crowds and stopping at the VIP spot of the bar where orders were taken first before anyone else waiting. She ordered your favourite drink without you having to tell her and it made your stomach flutter that she actually did listen and learn about what makes you click and your favourite things.

The drinks were on the house just like they always were. The Master never paid for anything, ever and it was a hard press to even think of a time you’d seen her with real money in her possession.

“What’s got you so tense, darling?” The Master slipped a hand around your waist and pulled you in close, which admittedly did help to relieve the odd tension in your shoulders. “Relax, enjoy yourself. There’s no danger here. Not with me around.”

You didn’t need to look at her face to know a self satisfacted smirk was painted right across it. “Something just feels off.”

She took the glass from your hand and released her gentle hold on you, effectively removing the protected feeling it gave you. “Why don’t you go and dance for a while? Burn off some of that tension.”

You finally looked at her, your cheeks heating up just at the sight of her under the colourful lights. “I don’t know… I’m not really feeling it.”

Placing your glass on top of the bar, she held your chin between her finger and thumb, and brought her face inches from yourself. “I’m not asking. I want to watch you dance. Now be a good girl and give me a show.”

After a quick peck on the lips, she moved away from you and seated herself at an empty table with a perfect view of the dance floor.

You did as you were told, making your way over to the dance floor and taking a deep breath, trying to push away the bad feeling in your stomach and allowing yourself to enjoy the music playing loudly throughout the building.

You performed as best as you could for The Master, your eyes closed, your hips swaying and your hands roaming your body like you were exploring it for the first time. Eventually your muscles relaxed and you could let yourself move freely with the music, a soft smile gracing your face towards the end of the song.

The sinking feeling in your stomach returned, however, when you opened your eyes expecting to see The Master watching you with a proud look and instead catching the eye of The Doctor who stood only a few meters away from you.

He was with someone, a redhead woman, who stood closely by his side, smiling up at him.

She was beautiful, from what you could tell at this distance with flashing lights in your eyes, her frame petite and clothing that seemed more casual than your own, almost like she didn’t expect to be brought here and instead dressed for a different kind of outing - which didn’t seem entirely impossible given The Doctor’s habit of landing in wrong places at the wrong time more often than not.

You held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, your face no doubt mirroring his own expression of shock, confusion and hurt.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to The Doctor since you left him a year ago, abandoning him yet again without saying goodbye. You often wondered how he was, hoping you’d bump into him one day if only to know that he was still alive and well, your guilt eating you up inside, but now that it was happening, it felt like a metaphorical house of emotion was crushing you, not at all feeling the way you thought it would when you eventually saw him again.

In your stupor you hadn’t noticed The Master come to stand beside you, also looking in The Doctor’s direction, but eyeing up his new companion instead. “See? I told you that you’d be replaced in no time.”

The Master loved a good I told you so moment and this one hurt, like salt in a wound. She was right, of course she was. She knew from the very beginning that your spot would be filled by someone else almost as if you never existed and deep down you knew it too, but a small part of you hoped that it wouldn’t be so soon, that you meant more to him than just someone occupying an empty space in his life and replacing you as soon as you left.

You broke the eye contact with the timelord you once viewed as your best friend and turned to walk in the direction of the restroom. The Master was hot on your heels, throwing an unreadable look towards The Doctor as she also turned.

You fought back tears as you reached the door, flinging it open and pushing past everyone inside to get to the sink, ignoring the grumbles and annoyed comments thrown your way for the intrusion. You leaned against the basin, breathing deeply to try and keep the sobs at bay, your throat tightening.

From beside you, you heard The Master tell everyone inside to leave and give you both some privacy or else face the consequences. Of course they all listened immediately and hurried out until it was just you and her left in the room.

“What’s all this for?” She came to stand beside you, leaning back against the sink next to the one you occupied. “You’re actually sad? Need I remind you, you left him?”

You sniffled and shook your head, willing yourself to calm down. Again, The Master was right. You had been the one to leave him, not the other way around. You had no right to be so upset to see him with someone else when you came here with your own someone - someone he’d been at war with since post childhood, someone he thought would kill you in cold blood, someone who was the last person he wanted to see you run away with.

“I just didn’t think he’d find someone else so quickly.” You released a shaky breath and quickly wiped away a stray tear that had managed to escape. “Just hurts to know I’m so replaceable, that’s all.”

The Master laughed lightly from beside you despite you not having told a joke, her body twisting to face you. She turned you also, holding your shoulders in her hands and forcing you to face her.

“Darling, look at me.”

You did as you were told once again, bringing your watery eyes up to meet hers, the hazel colouring of them appearing darker under the dim and almost useless lighting of the small room.

“First things first, you are not replaceable. And secondly, the man is an idiot.” She rolled her eyes, genuine disbelief on her face. “He brought someone new into his life so fast because he didn’t know what he had standing right in front of him. He doesn’t define your worth, no matter how you felt for him.”

“And you do?”

She smiled softly, moving a hand to rest on the side of your face to gently stroke your pink cheek. “No, my love. Only you do, no one else.”

A warmth came over you, a deep and genuine love for The Master filling your chest. It wasn’t lost on you that during your year together, she had become softer, kinder and more loving. It seemed as if she was a different person from who she was in your first attempt at this relationship, more willing to show vulnerability and voicing her feelings out loud.

Although this was only ever shown to you. To everyone else she was still the heartless monster who killed for fun, none of them understanding how she managed to find someone to love her despite her evil ways. You had to admit that you understood their point of view, but to you, she wasn’t those things.

The door suddenly swung open and in walked the redhead who had taken your spot in The Doctor’s life. She smiled politely and grabbed some tissue from the stall furthest away from you, using it to blot away a wet patch on her tshirt.

“My friend is such an idiot sometimes,” she began talking as if you’d known each other forever. Or at all.

At that The Master made a face at you that said see? He really is.

“Spilt his drink down me while he was distracted by something. Not sure what he was looking at or what he was drinking, but it will come out, right? Do alien drinks stain? I guess I could— I’m sorry, have I interrupted something?”

You hadn’t noticed that by now both you and The Master were staring at the girl with unwelcome looks, your eyes having since dried up and The Masters hand that had fallen to your arm tightening.

“Your friend, what’s his name?”

The redhead gave a look of confusion towards The Master, but remained polite. “The Doctor. Maybe you know him? He’s quite well known.”

Your lover sniggered, stepping away from you and moving towards the other woman. “Indeed.”

You prayed silently that she would be nice, it wasn’t your replacement’s fault you were in this situation. She seemed nice enough and knowing The Doctor as well as you did, he probably hadn’t even told her you existed, that you held her place before her, that he had just been left alone without so much as a word about it.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

The Master’s tone seemed genuine, kind even. You didn’t understand what her motive was, but you sent out yet another prayer that it wasn’t sinister given that your last prayer was seemingly heard and granted.

It took very little time to convince the other woman to allow The Master to buy her a drink, the excuse of let me make up for his mistake passed by your ears and you knew that although it was said directly to the redhead, it was also meant for you.

Your hand stayed firmly planted in The Master’s, a new drink held in your other. You sipped on it slowly, feeling tired at the wide range of emotions you had experienced in such a short amount of time and hearing The Master make small talk with the other woman who also had a new drink in hand.

From the corner of your eye you saw The Doctor standing on his own, just like he had been the first time he’d been left on the dance floor all that time ago, bewildered at what he was seeing.

It suddenly clicked in your mind what The Master was doing, why she had invited the redhead for a drink at the bar. She wanted The Doctor to see that she had yet again taken his friend from him, allowing him to see that they would rather spend time with her than with him and sending out a message that no matter how many times he replaced his companions, she would be there each time to steal them away and give them something better.

The Master was smart and carefully calculated, her plan working perfectly, The Doctor’s fists bunched up and his brows knitting together into a displeased frown.

The redhead eventually felt bad for leaving ‘her friend’ behind and said her goodbyes, making her way back over to the man who still looked lost and angered.

As you sipped on the neon green liquid in the glass you held, you turned your attention back to The Master. She was already looking at you, a brow raised as she waited for you to say something.

“That was painful.”

“I know,” she moved a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear. “But I had to send a message. No one hurts my girl.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a surge of emotions yet again came crashing down on you like a tsunami. Tears brimmed your eyes once more and had The Master not pulled you in for a loving kiss, your bottom lip would’ve begun to wobble.

“My good girl.” She kissed you over and over again, placing her drink on the bar so that she could wrap her arms around your waist and pull you onto her lap, making you straddle her on the bar stool that miraculously took your combined weight without a problem.

You continued to make out in front of everyone, your arms around her neck and her hands grabbing at your body in a desperate need to feel more of you. It wasn’t long before you unconsciously began to wiggle in her lap, grinding down on her thighs in search of a little friction.

“Take me home.”

The Master smiled against your lips, opening her eyes to search yours for confirmation that you actually meant what you said.

But of course you did. You wanted nothing more than to be in the comfort of your own home in the TARDIS and to spend the rest of the night in a blissfully heightened state with your lover on your anniversary.

——

“Bath?”

Stepping into the TARDIS, you shrugged off The Master’s jacket that she had placed over your shoulders to keep away the chill on the short walk from the club to the timeship that she had disguised as a house not even a few minutes away, insisting that it was too cold for you not to wear it because humans feel temperature differently to timelords and you’d freeze to death if you didn’t.

You hummed happily at the thought of soaking yourself in hot soapy water. “I’d love that.”

You both made your way to the bathroom and you began to strip down as The Master ran the water into the tub, joining you in removing her clothes once she had added the bubbles to the running water.

She reached out for you and held you in her arms, both of you naked and falling into a quiet moment where no words had to be spoken to know what each other were thinking and feeling.

Once the bathtub had filled up with enough water, you both slipped in, moaning in unison at the muscle relaxing temperature. You spent a while washing each other and unwinding in each other’s embrace, The Master’s hand slowly rubbing circles between your legs until you shook and came undone for the first time that night.

When the water began to turn cold, you stepped out and dried off, carefully rubbing each other down with soft fluffy towels until you were dry enough to make your way to the bedroom without creating a trail of water droplets behind you, the air drying you off completely by the time you got there.

You laid on the bed patiently, ready and waiting for The Master to join you.

She pulled a pretty patterned tie from the drawer and smiled at you when she came to meet you at the bed, your submissiveness never failing to bring her happiness.

She leaned down to kiss you softly, crawling on top of you in the process. “Arms up, love.”

You obeyed without question, lifting your arms above your head.The Master tied them up, looping the tie between the bars of the bed frame so that you couldn’t bring your arms back down.

“Is this okay?” She brought her kisses down to your neck, wet and warm, and torturously slow.

You moaned out a yes, your stomach twitching at her touch that was moving lower, your toes curling in anticipation.

She kissed down your body, making sure to hit all the sensitive spots that only she knew about, her hands skimming down the curves of your waist towards your legs.

She lifted a leg and rested it on her shoulder as she brought her head between them. She kissed lazily down from the inside of your knee to where you desperately needed her between your thighs, your hips raising on their own accord.

“I’m sorry tonight didn’t go as planned, but I’m going to make it up to you, darling.” The Master used a finger to slide into your wet heat, her tongue quickly following, earning a strangled moan in response. “I promise.”

It was rare for The Master to apologise for anything even for something that was her own fault, so for her to apologise for something out of her control was new territory for the both of you.

You wanted to tell her not to be so silly, not to apologise for something that wasn’t her fault, but whimpers and gasps filled your throat, not allowing any words to be spoken.

You also wanted to hold onto her, your hand tangled in her hair, keeping her where she was and encouraging her to keep going, but with your hands tied to the bed, the best you could do was tug desperately on the fabric restricting them and pray that it will eventually break and set your arms free.

The white hot coil in the pit of your stomach began to wind up tighter and tighter, and you knew that with The Master’s mouth working you so expertly to the edge, it wouldn’t be long at all before you fell apart.

And you were right, crying out at the blinding pleasure, setting a new record for yourself at how fast you had tipped over the edge.

The Master sat up and reached over to untie your hands, slipping the tie from between the bars and allowing your arms to flop down either side of you.

“Can you keep going?��

You nodded breathlessly, your eyes falling closed in an attempt to concentrate on bringing your breathing back to a normal rhythm.

“Keep your eyes closed.” The soft tie was placed over your eyes and tied behind your head after she had encouraged you to lift it up for a moment. “Good girl. Now tell if it gets too much and I’ll stop, alright?”

“Alright.” Your voice came as a whisper, raw and forced.

The sound of sparking hit your ears and your head turned in its direction, unable to make out what it was just by the sound of it.

The Master laughed softly, her arm smoothing over your arm reassuringly after seeing your reaction. “Relax, I just lit a candle.”

You took a deep breath and allowed your body to fall limp into the mattress beneath you, revelling in the feeling of The Master’s slow kisses that she was now placing along your stomach.

“Another deep breath, love.”

You drew in another and as soon as your lungs were filled with air, a sharp searing heat hit your sternum, right where The Master had placed a kiss seconds before.

You released the breath quickly with a whimper, your mouth agape in shock. “What was that?”

“Wax.” The Master spoke nonchalantly. “Want me to stop?”

You thought it over for a moment. Did you want her to stop? This was certainly new and sure you’d spoken about it previously, but you hadn’t been expecting it and no, you decided, you didn’t want her to stop.

This was akin to spanking, pain at first that fizzled into pleasure. The heat of the melted wax that was poured onto your skin lasted mere seconds before cooling into something warm and tingly, setting your nerves on edge and bringing a heightened sense of gratification.

“No, keep going.”

You knew that she was smiling, pleased with your willingness to experiment and the trust you had in her to keep going and not bring you any unnecessary pain.

And keep going she did, dripping hot wax across your body, watching how you reacted to the heat in more sensitive areas compared to the more desensitised parts of your body that saw the light of day more often.

Each time the wax settled onto your skin, it hurt less and less, stinging pleasantly and morphing into a heavenly warmth. The Master kept up the practice of kissing right where she planned to pour, giving you a heads up every time, something you were grateful for.

With your sense of sight taken away from you, your other senses intensified, making each touch, each whisper of encouragement all the more rewarding.

The Master eventually stopped despite your moans and begging for more, supposedly because the candle had burned down and run out of wax, but she continued to show you attention in other ways.

She remained close, her hands roaming your body lovingly, worshipping you with her kisses and her words. She allowed you to rut against her thigh, leaving a wet spot on her skin as she sucked on your neck below your ear, your arms encircled her shoulders and keeping her in place so that you didn’t lose your rhythm against her if she moved.

“So good for me, darling,” her whispered words in your ear felt like a song from an angel, supporting you on your journey to otherworldly bliss. “My good girl.”

After a little while longer and a few more orgasms, you were completely spent, your body aching deliciously, your eyes feeling heavy after a long evening.

The Master held you close as you drifted off to sleep, tracing sloppy figures of eight onto your exposed back and breathing in the subtle scent of lavender from the soap she had washed you with.

Taglist: @queerconfusionthings @another-doctor-who-blog @crazylittlereader2474

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Just saw that I hit 200 followers! I didn’t expect that even in my wildest dreams, so thank you so much for those of you who follow me, like/retweet my posts!! 🥰

Thanks aside, enjoy this chapter! I ended up not making it as angst as I intended it to be, so lucky you!

In which she makes a friend, Part Eight

Cassian’s headache was going to kill him.

The past week had been exhausting. Azriel had left only a day ago, leaving Cassian with more work and more troubled thoughts regarding the advance of the rebels.

At least now he had something to occupy his time during his sleepless nights, preferring to work instead of simply staring at his bedroom’s wall until the first rays of sunrise appeared.

Cassian was also worried about Kaelin. The young Illyrian had dismissed Nesta’s worried look, simply stating that his hair had been bothering him and that a few bruises were common. He had only been unfortunate enough to receive most of the blows on his face.

Both Cassian and Azriel had confirmed Kaelin’s words, but he had caught Nesta whispering with the young Illyrian when they thought nobody was looking, and Cassian was starting to get worried that Kaelin was hiding something.

Nesta also occupied his thoughts. Now more than ever.

Although she had actually sided with Azriel, both messing with him non stop — Azriel’s dark humour having surprisingly matched perfectly with Nesta’s ironic one — Cassian would see how she sometimes appeared to be lost in thought, becoming a little quieter once in a while, no doubt with her mind busy with Kaelin.

Cassian had to discover what was happening. He had to make sure that Nesta’s rare and easy smiles — even the way her stormy blue eyes softened more than less nowadays — would not disappear. She deserved all the happiness in the world. As did Kaelin.

But first, he had to rid himself of the nasty headache that had been bothering him all day.

“Now I know why Azriel rubs his temple so often” Cassian thought as he made his way for the healers tents, rubbing his own temple in a vain attempt to ease the pounding inside his head.

As he walked further into the tent, the smell of different herbs assaulted him, and Cassian took a deep breath, an expecting scent he could not name laying a blanket of calmness over him, easing his pain.

“Somebody give me some salt! An evil spirit has arrived!” Cassian heard a familiar grumpy voice shout.

“I missed you too Esmée” he said, stopping near the table where the matron of the healers appeared to be making a complicate looking potion.

“Bah, missed me! You missed coming here and charming my healers to give you extra bandages to wrap your fists, that’s what happened” Esmée replied, snorting.

“You usually need to wrap your hands or else they’ll get hurt even more. Am I wrong ladies?” Cassian playfully said, winking at one of the healers, who blushed.

“Hurt hands!! As if!” Esmée indignantly exclaimed “You are one vain warrior who does it for the aesthetics in four out of five cases!”

“And stop flirting with my healers! You’re distracting them!” she added, hitting him on the head with the small wooden stick she used to grind the herbs.

Cassian gave a surprised yelp, earning giggles from the healers.

“Great, now I’ll have a pump in the morning along with a headache” he thought, massaging his head.

“Esmée” Cassian charmingly tried, giving the old female his best puppy eyes “Uyara of the healers”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere kunumim” she huffed, but Cassian could see her eyes shining with secret delight.

Uyara meant Lady, owner and even dominant in the Illyrian tong. And Cassian may use flattery, but he was no liar while doing it. Esmée was the best healer the Illyrians had. She knew secrets long lost, passed only from matron to matron of camp. And her abilities were just as legendary. She truly was the Lady of the Healers.

“This time I did not come here to ask for bandages” Cassian said “I was wondering if you had any herbs for headaches. Mine is killing me”

Esmée surprised Cassian by raising her hands and cupping his cheeks, bringing his face down so she could inspect it.

“You have dark shadows under your eyes. Your eyes are tired, and you are a little anaemic” the old healer’s voice got unusually soft, maternal concern lacing it “You work too much. Have you been having trouble sleeping kunumim?”

Cassian felt his chest tighten a bit at Esmée’s words.

It had been a long time since someone had noticed how tired he felt beneath his happy facade. Since someone had cared to stop and really look at him.

Cassian loved his family. But even around them he felt the need to keep up the appearances.

He had to be the funny one. The one always there to make sure everyone was happy and comfortable.

Cassian sometimes wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and complain.

Wanted someone to hug him and let him slip his mask off.

Wanted someone who loved him enough to hear his troubles.

But Cassian could not afford to be selfish right now.

He had a camp to take care of.

“I’m fine Uyara” smiling weakly, Cassian gently took her hands off his face, squeezing them in reassurance.

Esmée clicked her tong in annoyance, her mean and grumpy attitude back in an instant, as if she was not worried at all about him.

“Lucky for you,” Esmée said, motioning for him to follow her to the back of the tent “we have recently made some painkiller tonics”

Her next words, however, got lost when Cassian smelled that calming scent again.

Closer now, he could clearly smell lavender and vanilla, a familiar scent.

And that’s when he saw her.

Nesta, an apron tied over her dark green dress, her sleeves pushed back — Cassian caught himself staring at her bare forearms and resisting the urge to run his fingertips softly against her milky skin — and brows knotted in concentration while she filled some vials.

“Nesta, grab two of those vials and pack them for this headstrong Commander”

At Esmée’s words, Nesta raised her head and looked in their direction, stormy blue eyes widening slightly when she spotted Cassian beside the healer.

“So this is where she disappears to everyday after lunch”

Nesta quickly recomposed herself, effortlessly filling the small glass flasks and placing them in a little pouch, Cassian not taking his eyes off of her for a single moment.

Esmée huffed in approval, but when Nesta tried to hand it to her, the healer refused it.

“You also need to rest. You think I did not see you dozing off? Or the way you were blinking heavily while mixing the herbs?”

Cassian’s attention peaked at that, and he noticed the shadows underneath Nesta’s eyes. They were faint, fainter than his, but they were still there.

“I’m fine Esmée” Nesta strongly argued, not backing off.

“You’re off duties until you’ve had some sleep and that’s final” the matron replied “What’s the problem with you two and not sleeping? It’s not as if you don’t have a bed”

And before they even knew what had happened, Esmée had ripped the apron from around Nesta’s waist, threw her coat and banned them from the tent.

“If that overexcited pitanga appears I’ll let him know that you already left with the Commander” with this last warning, Esmée left them outside, both a little lost.

Nesta was the first one to recompose herself. She wore her coat and started walking back to the cabin, not waiting to see if Cassian was following her.

Which he obviously was, effortlessly catching up to her given his long strides.

“You seem to be very fond of walking” he tried, casting her a side glance.

“I have no wings” she snorted “How else am I supposed to get anywhere then?

“Is that an invitation to fly with me Ness?” Cassian said, half joking and half expectant of her answer.

He would not lie and say the opportunity to hold her close to him did not tempt him. And he would not lie further by saying he had not been dying to show her how beautiful Illyria could be from above.

“No” she swiftly cut his offer down, staring straight ahead.

“It’ll be fun” he tried again.

“What’s so fun about making someone sick?” Nesta snapped, and Cassian remembered the last time she had flown.

How Rhysand had purposely flew faster than she could possibly stomach, no doubt a petty move from his side.

“I would fly very slowly” he tentatively said “And not even that high”

Cassian only received silence in answer, but he could tell from the way Nesta was pursing her lips that she was tempted to say yes.

“It is faster this way” Cassian added.

“Fine,” Nesta finally answered, a hint of annoyance in her voice “but one smart trick from you and you’ll wake up with burnt eyebrows tomorrow”

“I wouldn’t dare and try to make Your Highness uncomfortable”

They stopped walking, Cassian hesitating to take the first step and embrace Nesta.

The same could not be said about her, however, who boldly got close to him.

“So? Are we going or not?”

“Eager aren’t we sweetheart” Cassian gathered her on his arms, Nesta lacing her own around his shoulders “If I knew you were so desperate to hold me I would have brought this ideia up sooner”

Before she could throw a barbed reply his way, Cassian opened his wings and shot to the sky, feeling Nesta tighten her hold and bury her head on his shoulder.

Siphons flashing, Cassian pulled a shield over them, the air that high up being colder, specially when autumn was nearing its end.

He may or may not have taken the opportunity to discreetly take a better look at Nesta.

At the way the few strands of her hair had escaped her braid, tickling his cheek as they were blew by the wind.

At the way she got braver and raised her head a little, her blue eyes the colour of the cloud free sky and sparkling with wonder.

“It’s beautiful” and Nesta’s voice was so soft, so full of wonder, that Cassian imagined if that was how she had been before the war. When she was human and all she wanted was to keep Elain happy and travel the world.

“It is”

But he was not looking at the view.

Was not looking at how the sun sparkled against the shiny peeks of the mountains, how the vast green forest beneath them looked like a gigantic carpet laid over Illyria.

Cassian was looking at the female on his arms, savouring every precious second of the moment and thanking the gods he had promised to fly slowly, just so he could hold Nesta longer.

Letting her go once they were back on the ground was one of the hardest things he had ever done, missing her warmth and her jasmine and vanilla scent as if he was missing one of his own limbs.

He hoped he affected her the same way she affected him.

Hoped she felt even a minuscule fragment of what he felt for her.

Hoped he had not misunderstood the way she too seemed to regret letting him go.

~•~

Cassian didn’t even have to take the medicine for his headache, that annoying pounding having disappeared mid flight.

Nesta Archeron, he decided, was the best medicine he could have.

And it seemed that luck was finally on his side, for when they had arrived and Cassian asked her if she’d like to eat something, Nesta surprisingly said yes, going as far as to put the kettle on the stove to boil some water for tea.

Feeling bashful and enjoying his luck, Cassian attempted to make some small talk with Nesta, asking her about her day, what she liked about learning to be a healer, what she thought about Esmée.

He had been scared she’d shut him out, but she answered his questions with no problem, asking him some in return.

Cassian’s day had started awful but seemed to be walking towards being the best he’d ever had, specially when he appeared in living room after a warm bath and spotted Nesta, once again sitting comfortably on the couch — one of her new books laid on her lap — hair in a simple braid and wearing that mouth watering leggings, combined with a white tunic that drew attention to her eyes.

The fireplace was, as usual, empty.

Cassian could not understand how Nesta managed to make do with only fur blankets, specially now that winter was fast approaching.

“The fireplace.... why don’t you like to light it?”

That caught Nesta’s attention, and he saw how she flinched.

Dangerous. It was a dangerous ground that he was walking on.

They had only talked about futilities so far. But to ask her something so personal, something he suspected was related to the war and her traumas...

He didn’t want to see her back to the dark and empty place she used to go when she had first arrived, eyes faraway and empty.

“You don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable, but I’m... worried” Cassian flapped his wings a little, an evident sign of his anxiousness “Winter in Illyria is ruthless”

“It was no different from when I was human” Nesta snapped, but her voice had a slight tremble to it.

“It is. And you...we won’t be able to go through it if we don’t have a fire burning” he walked towards the sofa, daring to sit down beside Nesta, but holding himself back from touching her hand, which clutched the hardcover of the book “Even the wards and walls here are not enough to keep the cold away. Winter at Illyria won’t be like winter in the human land. Or in Velaris”

Nesta only stared and stared at the fireplace, as if it would light up any minute. After some time, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“The sound that the fire makes...when it burns...it reminds me of bones” she shuddered “Of bones breaking”

Her father’s neck.

Maybe even his wings.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t known and last solstice she had stayed all night, without complaining about the noise. Without asking to diminish the fire or even make it soundless — Cassian knew that Rhysand, Amren or even Mor would be able to do it. But she had not asked to. Had not wanted to appear weak. To most probably not worry Feyre.

Nesta had been suffering all this time.

Alone.

“I... I have no magic. At least not any apart from the killing power every Illyrian has. So I’m not able to make the fire soundless”

“But you could do it” he added softly “If you lit the fire with your powers... I think you’d be able to turn the sound of the wood snapping off. The fire would be yours to tame. To control”

“You think it would work?” she asked, and Cassian felt a sliver of hope in her tone.

Control. It was all about control. And if Nesta felt like she was in control of the situation, she would be able to support a burning fireplace, sound or not.

“I think you are able to do whatever you wish to, but the first step is to try”

“Grab the wood then” Nesta said.

And Cassian did. He piled the wood neatly, and Nesta moved to stand in front of the fireplace, standing her hands in front of her.

“Just like we practiced” Cassian softly said, moving behind her, his front only a couple of inches from her back “Reach deep within you for it, and then redirect it to the wood”

He could picture Nesta knotting her eyebrows in concentration, and her silver flames soon appeared on her hands.

“Good, now project them towards the fire” Cassian’s voice took the tone he usually used during training, a way to ground her.

Nesta’s flames got brighter and with a little push of arms they flew towards the wood, burning it.

It started small, but soon the fire was roaring, the crack crack of wood filling the air.

“Now turn it off Nesta”

“I-I can’t” she said, her whole body starting to tremble “I don’t know how”

“You can. And you will” he placed a hand on her lower back, like he had once done a lifetime ago in a war tent “You’re the one in control. The flames obey you and no else”

Nesta’s breath was coming in pants now, but the cracking of the fire gradually began to get quieter.

“Just like that Ness” he encouraged, daring to get a little closer, until his front almost touched her back “You’re doing amazing xe nhia”

With a grunt, the sound of the burning wood died out completely, and Nesta staggered back into Cassian’s chest, the flames around her fists also disappearing.

He held her against him, filled with awe and proud of her for meeting her fear head on.

Nesta straightened herself, turning to face Cassian, her blue-gray eyes shining with some hidden emotion.

“Thank you” she whispered, and Cassian swore he had never heard more precious words.

“It was all you” he shrugged “You don’t have to thank me sweetheart”

“I wouldn’t have tried it if it weren’t for you” she stubbornly replied “So accept my thanks and stop being so headstrong”

“Me? Headstrong?” Cassian chuckled, his arms tightening around her “Aren’t you talking about yourself Nessie?”

Nesta snorted, placing her hands on his chest and Cassian prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.

Being so close to Nesta did things to his heart.

And to other parts of him.

“Go make dinner you stupid bat” she said, pushing him away “Kaelin should be arriving, and I bet he’ll be starving after training”

As if on cue, the door opened and the Illyrian walked in.

“Hey...” Kaelin greeted weakly, and Cassian noticed fresh bruises on the kid’s face, the older ones barely healed.

“Kaelin!” Nesta exclaimed, practically running towards the young Illyrian “What happened?”

“Oh this is nothing” he shrugged, wincing slightly “Just lost at an one on one spar today”

“Kaelin...” Nesta tried to touch him, but the kid swiftly backed off, avoiding her.

Cassian saw the look of hurt flashing on Nesta’s face before she concealed it beneath a mask of coolness.

“I’ll just wash up and then help with dinner” saying that, Kaelin quickly left the room.

It seemed that Cassian’s luck could only go so far, for his worries about Kaelin seemed to have doubled.

•

Fixed tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae

{Please let me know if you’d like to added to my Fixed Tag list}

[theloneliestshipper]

I don't always do collaborations but when I do it's an utterly self-indulgent crossover of two Star Wars properties that have absolutely no reason to overlap and a potential audience of about five people. Also I do it with @nyelung.

AO3 Link

And never kick the ball! Rated T

“... Hutts don’t have feet!” The final words of Baroness Deathmark echo through the arena. Having heard the introduction a few dozen times or more in the last year alone, Boba could say it with her if he were in the mood. He’s not.

They’ve changed the arena up for the season. There’s only so many ways that the Nar Shaddaa Huttball arena can be changed but apparently they went all out this time and rearranged a significant portion of the walkways and traps. He can make out something that looks suspiciously like a series of trapdoors surrounding the mag-ball’s centre spot, undoubtedly hiding some nasty surprises. Well, since Fennec managed to draw Djarin in as the team captain he’s not too worried that one of their team will find out what’s beneath those trapdoors the hard way.

Two minutes into the game Boba is scowling inside his helmet - not an unusual occurrence if the Quesh Rotworms were to be asked. He came aboard as a coach last year, when there were children’s teams on Tatooine who could play better so they had seen it a lot.

“It’s nice that for once it’s not our players getting maimed,” Fennec comments. “It was getting hard to find new ones.

Huttball is one of the most brutal semi-legal sports in the galaxy and even though all players are fully armoured - part of the reason why the sport is so popular in the Mandalorian sector - and killing during the game has been forbidden since the Cold War, injuries or even crippledom aren’t uncommon because the players are also armed to the teeth. That’s what the Frogdog wearing the number seven just found out the hard way when Djarin and Aelto perfectly executed a manoeuvre to take the ball from him.

Baroness Deathmark on the other hand should avoid dark alleys tonight since the ban on killing did not apply to the way she verbally tore Frogdog Seven apart with her remarks. The handsigns he throws in the direction of the commentator box are basically a promise to hunt her down and kill her slowly and painfully. At least that’s what they mean in Mandalorian space and that’s what has Boba scowling. Why promise the commentator utterly brutal torture when it was Djarin and Aelto who maimed him?

It’s not his problem, Boba reminds himself and concentrates on giving Djarin reports on the Frogdog team’s movements. If Baroness Deathmark earns another deathmark to her name, it’s nothing he has to worry about.

In the end, Boba doesn’t have to feel too bad about the Rotworm’s performance even though they took quite the beating and lost by two points against the Frogdogs. Baroness Deathmark’s final comment is just as cutting as the spikes Tika fell on in the second half. They’re still stitching all the muscles and tendons back together in the med-area but Tika will probably never play again.

Still, just one player permanently out of commission and eight points scored versus ten lost is much better than the Rotworms have managed in decades. Overall Boba is quite content. “Do you think they serve Spotchka here?”

Fennec raises one brow. “Do you mean: Do they serve affordable Spotchka here that’s not actually engine grease? No idea, let’s find out.”

___

The commentator booth is quiet now. Leia takes a second to let her head fall back and to roll the stiffness out of her neck. When she turns her chair around, the event producer Lando Calrissian is standing in the doorway, his headset still on. “Nice work today,” he says, covering the mic with his hand. “You really live up to your name.”

“Let them try it,” Leia scoffs as she picks up her satchel and jacket. “If I had a credit for every huttballer who threatened to kill me I could retire yesterday. And anyway, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t blatantly obvious to every being in the stands.”

“Still, I’d watch your back while you’re on Nar Shaddaa. And listen, my buddy Han is in town this weekend. Why don’t you let me set you up?”

“I’m busy next weekend.”

“Sure you are. Where are you going now? Home to your tooka and the latest episode of Sith Mansions?”

“For your information I’m going to a cantina. To meet someone.”

The fact that she doesn’t yet know who she’s going to meet doesn’t seem important. She might be a farm girl from Anchorhead, but she’s never had any trouble getting someone to pay for her drinks. Maybe she’ll get really lucky and it’ll even be someone who isn’t a spicer, slicer, smuggler or assassin. That would be a nice change of pace.

The Slippery Slope cantina is crowded with fans. Some of the Frogdog and Rotworm players are there for their contract-mandated mingling. As usual the Mandalorian players keep their distinctive helmets on for the personal holos their fans will want and to protect their privacy.

She passes by a knot of fans in Frogdog colors, several different languages conversing in varying tones of outrage. She hears “the Baroness” and smiles to herself as she finds a seat at the bar. She doesn’t need a helmet to keep people from recognizing her face. It’s her voice they know...and sometimes despise.

There’s a man two seats down wearing Mandalorian armor, but it’s not painted with team colors. He’s a fan, maybe. His helmet is resting out of sight beneath the bar while he nurses a glass of Spotchka. Spotchka sounds pretty good, actually.

He glances in her direction, but there’s no shift in body language, no smile. Shame. He’s a good-looking man and probably has a very nice smile. Leia signals the bartender and nods in his direction. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

That catches his attention, if briefly. He lifts his glass in a silent salute, one eyebrow slightly raised. Still no offer. Maybe he’s partnered. She lets her eyes drift down over his armor, applying what she’s learned from interviews with the Mandalorian huttball players. It looks like beskar to her.

The bartender delivers her Spotchka and her attention strays from the Mandalorian to any other likely candidates at the bar. Everyone is talking about the match.

“She’s dead,” a heated voice rises behind her, but not addressed to her. “Who does she think she is? That play was bullshit. You know it, I know it. There was nothing he could have done.”

Leia doesn’t have to turn around to know that the person speaking is wearing Frogdog yellow. They can whine about it all they want, but their player had at least two opportunities to pass before the Rotworms took him out.

Some players want all the glory. That’s not her fault.

“She had no right to tear into him like that. No wonder everyone hates her.”

“It’s her fucking job.” The unexpected defense comes from the Mandalorian sitting two seats down. He’s turned his chair to face the yellow-clad group, and there’s an unmistakable challenge in his low tone. “If your player did his, you wouldn’t have lost him two minutes in.”

The man who was speaking turned a startling shade of purple. Almost Rotworm purple. “Who asked you?”

“It’s a public place. If you want to have a private conversation I suggest you go home.” It’s not a suggestion. The Mandalorian makes that clear by standing up.

“You can go to hell! You and that fucking bitch-”

“Did someone say my name?” Suddenly there’s a woman standing between them, and Leia recognizes her instantly. Fennec Shand. Her iconic steely gaze is now fixed on the outraged fan. “You want to go home.”

In spite of the clamor around them there’s a silence and stillness that makes the threat implicit. The fan bares his teeth in a snarl before turning to go. Some of his friends leave with him and the rest drift away.

Fennec’s head tips toward the bartender. “Her drink is on me.” She winks at Leia before walking away. Maybe she’s more recognizable than she thought.

“Well. That was exciting,” she says, more to herself, but the Mandalorian nods as he reclaims his seat.

“You know Fennec?”

“Just by reputation.” She takes a quick sip of her paid-for drink. “That’s definitely the first time a huttball coach has bought me a drink.”

“Your lucky night.” The corner of his mouth curves up just enough to make Leia feel validated. A very nice smile indeed.

“And she’s a legend, obviously. It’s a shame she’s stuck holding up the Rotworms by herself.”

His smile hardens, just a little. “Is it?”

“There’s gotta be a dozen better teams who would be delighted to have her. And the Rotworms might be better than they were a year ago, but their offense is still half-awake at best and I heard her defense coach only got the job because his daddy rules Mandalore.”

“You believe everything you hear?”

“No, but I kind of have to keep my ear to the ground. Like you said, it’s my fucking job.”

“You’re Baroness Deathmark.” He says it with disbelief. “That’s why-” He directs a look of annoyance at the place where Fennec Shand vanished into the crowd.

“My friends call me ‘Leia.’” She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I don’t think I got your name.”

For a moment the Mandalorian hesitates. Then there’s a shift in his posture, a slight relaxing of his shoulders and Leia’s willing to bet that that twitch in his face could become an actual playful smile. “Why don’t you tell me? Since it’s your job to know everything.”

It’s a challenge that makes her sit up. He’s someone connected, then. A promoter or a staff member. That explains how he knows Fennec. “Okay,” she says, intrigued. This could be fun. “Where did you grow up?”

“Kamino. What about you?”

She’s never heard of it. No help there. “Tatooine. My local team was the Anchorhead Womp Rats.”

“Did you play?”

“I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions,” she reminds him. “Did you play?”

“Yes. For the Skullhunters of Mandalore.”

“Fenn Shysa’s team?”

His head tilts to one side. “How do you know Fenn?”

“Everyone knows Fenn. Are you single?”

“You think that will help you figure it out?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Maybe I just want to know.”

“Yes. I’m single. You?”

“Yes.” She pauses to take a sip of Spotchka. “I wanted to play, but Uncle Owen wouldn’t let me. Too violent. I tried telling him that it wasn’t like the old days where entire teams could be massacred in a match, but for some reason he didn’t find that convincing.”

He nods in agreement. “It used to be a rite of passage in Mando culture. Now it’s just sports.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic for someone hanging out with Fennec Shand.” For a short moment Leia entertains the question whether he resents the no-killing-part or Huttball itself.

He shrugs. “There’s better sports.”

She hates to admit it, but she’s stumped. He knows the game but doesn’t particularly seem to like it. He can handle himself in a confrontation but it’s not as if the legendary Fennec Shand needs a bodyguard. Is it possible that someone actually hired a Mandalorian to take out Baroness Deathmark? But no, his surprise about her identity had been genuine. “Okay, final question. Why are you here?”

“Don’t quote me on this… nah, forget it.”

Oh, so it’s a story. “Come on. Entertain a lady.”

It’s clear that he’s tempted, calculating loss of face versus the chance to win her over for wherever this flirtation is going. Leia’s got a few suggestions already lined up in her mind. With an inaudible sigh he comes to a decision. “Dad kept nagging me to make connections beyond bounty hunting and Huttball is a lucrative enough business. It could be worse.”

Now there’s a hint. “So your father is…?”

“Some might say he rules Mandalore.” He gives her a quick smirk before finishing off his drink.

It all adds up quickly in her head, his history as a player on Mandalore, his knowledge of the game and his connection to Fennec Shand. She sets her glass down hastily in case she needs to make a very quick exit.

“You asked for my name,” he says, drawing it out with the ruthlessness of a professional Huttball defensive coach. “It’s Boba Fett. And for the record, that’s not how I got the job.”

As he speaks he stands and removes his helmet from the shelf under the bar and Leia recognizes it immediately. For one thing, it has the Rotworm logo painted on the side. She couldn’t say a word now even if she tried, but when Boba Fett turns to face her, it’s with a smile.

“I’m sure you have more opinions on what my team did wrong. Maybe you’d like to tell them to me over dinner.”

“I do,” she manages. “Especially about your team’s inability to follow through.” Feeling a little bit daring, Leia leans in to make her intentions perfectly clear. “What about dinner at my place?”

[gabenathreversebang]

GabeNath Reverse Bang 2020 Masterpost

Lady in Blue

When Gabriel akumatizes Audrey again, it goes awry and backfires on him. When he, Ladybug and Chat Noir are compromised, Nathalie decides it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Changing Hearts and Changing Tides

The Agreste boys and their plus one, Nathalie, have decided to spend the week in a cabin by the coast. While Gabriel tries to mend his fractured relationship with Adrien, Nathalie is more or less there to keep the peace, but she soon finds herself out of her depth. With emotions shifting as frequently as the tide can the trio band together and take strides towards the future, or will they be swept out to sea and left hanging?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Your Sword and Shield

The last time the Graham de Vanilys showed up to the Agreste mansion, they proved they are not to be trusted. Nathalie should have known Amelie would go to treacherous lengths to get under her skin. After a tense confrontation and the shocking reveal of a new villain, Nathalie must step into a new role to protect the one she loves.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

A Moment of Reflection

After a particularly upsetting defeat, Gabriel is feeling like it might be time to throw in the butterfly brooch and move on. Nathalie tries to encourage him to continue but even she has some reservations about the idea. The two have a heart to heart over some brandy and learn things about each other.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

well, of course i’ve tried lavender

K O E L N @archekoeln you think, i didn’t know mayura was the type to resort to something like this? but you’re wrong, because now you’re being carried like a sack of potatoes above paris and, 3/11

K O E L N @archekoeln well, the view’s nice and all but you’re also in the arms of a villain??? 4/11

K O E L N @archekoeln you also think, how is she so strong??? because you know you aren’t as light as a feather (haha i’m funny) and her arms are skinny af, but you know, magic i guess 5/11

or

An online thread about Mayura sparks something in Gabriel. And as her boss (and friend, and villainous partner, and her something), isn’t it his job to… to do what exactly? Well, even he doesn’t know.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Superheroes, in daily life, usually remained hidden. Men and women, bestowed with god-like powers, living among those whose only powers remained in their knowledge and talents. One of these heroes was Mayura, a peacock-themed superheroine with the power to create new life. As more laborers were going on strike, Mayura’s efforts to keep the economy from deflating were more crucial than ever. Because of her, livelihoods were kept intact for the destitute. For the corporate overlords, however, she was the bane of their luxurious existence. But what does this mean to Gabriel Agreste?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Broken Arrow

Ordinary innkeeper Nathalie is plagued with visions of a captive Gabriel, begging for help. She sets out to recruit his son Adrien, the Demigod of Love, to aid her in freeing Gabriel from Emilie, the goddess of beauty. But Nathalie doesn’t know the secret that Adrien keeps from her that may tear them all apart.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Gabriel’s Inferno

Nothing seemed to predict how it all would end, and yet it had to have been obvious. It had been weeks since Mayura’s last appearance and he didn’t even let her go out to fight in person, but a broken miraculous doesn’t get carried away by precautions once it’s activated. With Nathalie balancing between life and death, Gabriel will have the opportunity to fix things or lose himself forever in a hellish battle that will overcome all nightmares.

Fanfic (English), archived Fanfic (Spanish), archived Art, archived

If I Could Turn Back Time

Gabriel and Nathalie obtain the rabbit miraculous and travel into the paths of time as Velveteen and Mayura, with the goal of preventing the chain of events that would lead to Emilie’s death. But on their way to Tibet, they encounter surprising visions of possible futures that leave them questioning what is possible and what they really want.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

This is Hallowe’en

With All Hallow’s Eve hanging over their heads, the Agreste household gets wrapped into celebrating Samhain. With Gabriel and Adrien following Nathalie’s knowledgeable path, they can not fail, probably. This moderately functional family will honor Emilie Agreste in the best ways they can.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Malleable Fates

A red thread starts materializing around Gabriel’s finger nearly two decades after he’s already found his soulmate. As he and Nathalie devise a faultless plan to finally win Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous and bring back his wife, Gabriel fights the onslaught of confusing feelings brought about the mysterious reappearance of his soulmate string - including the sneaking suspicion that his soulmate maybe isn’t who she used to be.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

The Splintered Soul Staring Back At Me

In the aftermath of the battle and a brief hospital stay, Nathalie is safe at home. Her recovery has been a bit stagnant, but she’s been granted leave from work and the miraculous is finally fixed. Things can only go up from here, right?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

With the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wing

It only took one little thing, the barest of moments, for Duusu to feel their love, and decide that they had to do something about it. Which was how Duusu ended up roping Nooroo into trying everything under the sun to match up their two stubborn holders.

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The Orders He Defies

After her husband’s death, Nathalie Sancoeur fell into deep despair. Determined to bring him back, she set her goal on obtaining the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous, using the power of her own one. All her attempts for the last year, however, were futile. Should she remain careful? Or should she let it all burn, as her assistant Gabriel suggests she should? And is the goal even worth its price?

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Royal Pain

Nathalie liked to think that she would make a pretty good king. If she had been born as the opposite sex, anyways. But as the facts were, Princess Nathalie Sancoeur had a duty thrust upon her that she would rather have not, all things considered: to be married to a foreign prince, in order to bring good fortune to her family and kingdom, and bolster their strength should the rapidly-cooling relations with one of the neighboring countries turn into a full-blown war. It was enough to make her gag every time she thought of it.

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Dancing on Broken Glass

It was Lila that almost reduced Paris to rubble.It was that conflict that caused an irreversible change to two miraculous holders.It was that change that brought them together.

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Anagnorisis

«Define Hubris»

Gabriel never considered how much a Deus Ex Machina would cost.

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Worth

It’s been seventeen years since Nathalie and Gabriel sat in the cramped studio working hard to get the brand off the ground, and now he can’t help but reflect on those long-forgotten years.

Before Emilie. Before Adrien. Before the money and fame.

As he looks at her across his desk… he wonders if it was all worth it.

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A Witch’s Desire

Gabriel Agreste was a peculiar man, who was known around town both as a famous fashion designer and a powerful witch who was able to read and control minds, though he never used that second power unless there was a real emergency. Heck, he barely even used the first. But after losing his wife, Gabriel becomes desperate to do anything he can to bring her back, even that means using his powers for evil, or tracking down a mysterious powerful witch who had disappeared many years ago, with the power to bring the dead back to life.

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Not a Minute of Peace

Even though the akuma wants to shackle them, the Collector and Catalyst have more freedom than Gabriel and Nathalie ever had. They may be criminals turned into prey, but they enjoy the hunt. There is only one thing they are running from.

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Revision

Nathalie made the wish.

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The Woman With The Golden Feathers

The annual Bourgeois masquerade comes at the right time for Gabriel. In a moment of personal uncertainty after his discreet divorce, he will find the possible answer in a mysterious lady with golden feathers.

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Time and Time Again

The stress of being a young designer trying to make it in the fashion industry is taking its toll, and Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s marriage is slowly unraveling.

They’ve stood the tests of life since their first year of university, but when everything comes crashing down, Gabriel finds himself stuck reliving the day it happened. Failing and falling, time and time again with every passing ‘day’. Why is he here? How can he stop it? The answer lies in a choice as to what matters more: his career or the woman who has stood by him through it all.

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Clarity

A year after Hawkmoth’s surrender, Gabriel asks Nathalie to join him to gaze at the stars. While she waits for him, she contemplates the empty space left by the removal of the portrait from the foyer hall. Growth ensues for them both as they learn to just be by each other’s side.

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C’est la Vie; C’est le Ballet

After the death of his wife, upstart choreographer Gabriel Agreste is looking for a new star for his ballet, Miraculous. Hard to please and willing to do whatever it takes for the sake of the show, none of the auditionees fit his artistic vision…

…except Nathalie, a former prima ballerina turned ballet instructor. She’s stoic and very dedicated to her craft, but there’s a reason she stopped performing four years ago and it has dangerous potential.

Through the trials and triumphs and betrayals that run hand in hand with the world of ballet, Gabriel and Nathalie begin to find something more in each other’s company, and perhaps the seeds of new beginnings.

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I’m Praying (There’s Saving)

It was to be Gabriel’s first party on Olympus, but little did he know it would also be the last. Not only for him, but for everyone. In the blink of an eye everything changed, sending the god of nature and his newborn son to take refuge with the Queen of the Dead. They thought they were safe, but even the depths of the underworld couldn’t escape the King’s wrath forever.

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