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deepperplexity · 2 years ago

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Prompt: 18. Snowstorm

Pairing: Brandon x Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: Delaford Estate

Continuation of: Prompt .1 Home For Christmas

A/N: So, I’ve gotten some requests/wishes for Brandon smut, the continuation of prompt 1 of this RICKMAS, and for more tender and gentle Brandon - well, I’m here to make all those wishes come true! 🥰

Tags/TW’s: Explicit Smut, Adoration, Desperation, Care, Devotion, Love

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.1k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

‘I know of something far prettier, that I would adore making a mess of, in due time,’ he had said over two weeks ago. The welcoming of his homecoming had lasted the entire evening and when the time to retire had finally come about he had seemed so utterly drained you had only wished to snuggle him. Christopher had fallen asleep in just a few seconds so you had known your choice to offer him warmth and comfort had been the right one no matter how your body had burned to be touched by him.

There had been something else burning you that night though. Being a gentle soul, easily afflicted by ailments from the time you were sick as a young child, the time spent out in the cold when greeting him had sent you into a high fever. You were unable to remember the first week of your husband being back home but each time you had come to he had been by your side. Worry in his eyes and soothing voice.

Now it had been three days since you had been fully restored and the fever gone. You felt more than fine yet your husband had been most stern about you resting and not doing anything that required any energy. That, unfortunately, extended to lovemaking as well. It was driving you bonkers that all he offered were small kisses and long hugs. It had been months, months since you had laid with him and having him home but not willing was infuriating.

Now it was Sunday, one week left until Christmas Day and you could not take it anymore. Much like the howling wind outside you felt as if you would kick up a storm if he did not see sense soon. Your entire body was desperate for his touch, your mind in shambles — made worse by the absolute beauty he was. You adored his kindness and care, the way he worried and always held your well-being as an absolute priority. But now, by god, you wished to whack him atop his pretty head with the candlestick on your nightstand to get him to see reason.

His hair was sleep tossed and his eyes soft as he watched you the very second he awoke. “Good morning, love,” he whispered but you huffed at him. “My love, what is the matter?” he asked, alarmed by the way you turned your face away from him. “It is not a good morning. In fact, it is the most terrible morning when one wakes up next to the most beautiful man one has ever laid eyes upon, which one is married to as well, yet the man is untouchable,” you sulked out, being so tensed up with need you couldn’t help the sour mood.

Christopher moved about in bed while you laid with your back towards him. His hand travelled up your bare arm most gently before he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. The warmth of his body reached you as he came closer. “Love, you were not well,” he said quietly. “But I am more than well now, yet my husband is withholding himself from me so adamantly.” “Love, you must understand, I do not wish to cause you any harm.” “You are harming me now, denying me what I wish for the most… How can you not see that I need you?” you asked, nearly in a pleading voice still tinted by the sour need coursing through your entire body — as if he were in your very blood.

He kissed your shoulder again, tenderly, while his hand journeyed to your own where he entwined his fingers with yours while you watched the snow begin to stick to the window on the other side of the room. “Do you promise you are fully well, darling?” he asked, his voice an octave lower than before. “Yes, I’m well, Christopher. Please… I need you as much as my next breath,” you confessed while your body warmed under his hold and the pebbling of little kisses ha lavished your shoulder and neck with.

“All I wish, is to care for you,” he said while moving slowly to lay atop you. “All I want in life, is your joy and love,” he continued while he situated himself between your legs. His gorgeous face hovered above yours and you felt your body begin to burn under the intense but adoring manner he viewed you. “You have all of that,” you said softly, your breathing turning harsher. “Then what’s left is your pleasure, my love,” he hummed in that baritone voice of his. “It’s all yours,” you whispered while reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders while he leaned forward.

Your lips met and the world was gone. There was only you and him. There was nothing else in existence at that very moment when he laid between your thighs and you felt him grow hard against your pelvis.

He kissed you with ardency, tender care and warmth. His hand travelled down along the side of your naked body until he reached your thigh where he grabbed a hold gently. Your mingling tongues danced as he began to slowly grind against you, the ridge of his cock stroking between your folds only to nudge your clit towards the end, each and every time. It had you spiralling into a moaning mess beneath him in no amount of time.

“I adore you,” he hummed against your lips. “With every ounce of me there is,” he continued as he travelled down to your neck while squeezing your thigh to part your legs further. “Darling, please,” you moaned as he gave your nipple a soft lick before travelling to the other where he sucked it in between his teeth before offering it the same treatment.

Your hands reached up to grab at the sides of the pillow as he travelled further down, kissing his way to your wanting core with nothing but pure love in his tender touches. “I will ever only wish to please you,” he said as he nestled down between your thighs. Your chest was heaving, your heart hammering and there was nothing but lust and love in it for him. “I have no other purpose in life, my love,” he said before his tongue stroked over your clit. The little bundle of nerves already so sensitive and needy for his attention after such a long time of him being absent.

He latched on, gently, and suckled at the tiny bud while he move to give his fingers access. While his tongue kept lavishing your most sensitive spot he gently pushed his finger inside you. You gasped, your back arched and he pushed his digit all the way in. “Hmmm,” he groaned, the vibrations of his mouth making you gasp out. “Oh, god,” you whimpered while he stroked your insides in a teasingly slow manner while his tongue kept licking and circling your clit in a way that only allowed your pleasure to build, not to find the release you so desperately craved.

“You are everything,” he said while pushing a second digit inside of you. You threw your head back before lifting it only to find him looking up along your body with the most gorgeous look in his eyes. The warmest, purest of happiness radiating from him while he smiled so utterly fondly at you — all while his fingers worked their way in and out of you at a maddening pace. “Please, please, I need-, haaa-!” you choked out as he curled his fingers to reach that elusive spot deep inside of you that had you in utter shambles.

“So beautiful,” he whispered while he began to kiss your thigh. You were being driven to the brink of madness from the tender, soft, slow torture of pleasure you had wished for so desperately. Your entire body was tensing, every muscle and nerve cording themselves under his ministrations.

“Christopher, I beg you, please,” you whimpered as he upped the pace and rose up. The view of him, half sitting on his knees between your thighs as he pleasured you and began to stroke himself leisurely was indescribable. He was so beautiful, so lust-inducing that there was no way on god’s green earth that you’d ever be able to have enough of him. He was everything to you, and no matter how he tortured you with slow and tender loving that you adored so viciously you would never have your fill of him.

“I want all your pleasure, I crave it, my love. All this time, these days of having you close but never close enough, such torture to my soul,” he groaned while his hand gripped his cock harder. It was erotic beyond words. To see him pleasure himself while doing the same to you. But you needed more, you needed him.

As if he could feel how close you were, how your desperation had sky-rocketed, he leaned forward and withdrew his fingers from you. You moaned and ached at the emptiness while he lined himself up between your thighs. His eyes never left yours.

As his lips kissed yours, he gently pushed himself inside your slick cunt. Your hands shot up, gripping at his neck to pull him closer while he sank to the base into you with a restrained groan. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you whimpered as he kissed your cheek and laid down atop you without adding any true weight. “As I love you,” he said on a deep exhale by your ear.

He began to pump into you at a slow and steady pace, appearing to draw out the pleasure from your body with each perfect stroke. Your legs wrapped around him as you met him thrust for thrust. Your panted breaths mingled with his and a sheen of sweat began to mist your body as you did all you could to not cry out how desperate you were for him to make you come.

“More,” he groaned, “not yet,” he gritted while you felt his entire body go rigid. You were wobbling on the edge too, holding back with all your might, waiting for him to tell you to let go. You were clinging to your sanity as he picked up the pace with a near snarl escaping his lips that were pressed against your neck. The tip of his nose dug into your skin and you had nearly resorted to begging when he slammed into you so harshly you cried out from the bliss claiming you.

“Yes,” he groaned while slamming into you again, and again, his cock pulsing and your insides clenching as you whimpered and crumbled beneath him. Your entire body shook while pleasure beyond comprehension washed over you in crashing waves as he filled you with his cum.

You saw stars when he stilled and kissed your neck softly. “Love,” he panted, “are you alright?” he asked, as he always did. “I’m wonderful,” you said in a sated tone, feeling the last trembles subside while he softened inside you. The way he squeezed you a little tighter had your heart fluttering and you leaned your own head up to bury your face in the crook of his neck as both of you found your equilibrium again.

You hadn’t even taken notice of the way the wind had picked up outside, or how the snow now covered all the windows — sticking to the glass like paper to glue. The weather was raging beyond the walls of the Delaford Estate and you couldn’t have cared less. No storm out there could ever match the one in your heart when your husband leaned up and looked down on you with such adoration and care in his bright eyes.

“Appears that we shall remain indoors today, love,” he said and you giggled. “I can think of a few things we can do to keep ourselves… warm,” you whispered, a small blush creeping over your dear husband's cheeks from the way you looked at him with unabashed hunger. “You are insatiable,” he murmured with a soft smile before he kissed the tip of your nose. “A bath first, and then we shall see what other compromising positions I can have you in.” It was your turn to blush, but your heart leapt at his words.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: Granted, this had very little of the prompt in it but I hope you enjoyed it? 👀👉👈💚

Taglist:

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2022]

#rickmas2022 #rickmas #colonel brandon #brandon #brandon fic #rickmanaic #alan rickman #brandon x reader #christmas fic #writing #fanfiction #fandom #deepperplexity fic #deepperplexity #plex #smut

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bifilthatonthatseson · 3 years ago

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Jiang Cheng time loop AU, Chapter Three

AO3 link

Jiang Cheng wakes up and vomits over the side of the bed. He can still feel the way his blade had slid through his brother’s chest. He can see A-Jie’s face, heartbroken and betrayed, looking at him as if - as if -

As if he had just murdered their brother.

He retches again. Lan Wangji’s blade had come as a surprise, but a relief.

But he had no choice. “A-Jie, I had to!” he says out loud, his roughened voice falling pathetically flat in the empty room. He had to avenge her. If she’d known, she would have understood. “He killed you!”

The words choke and die in his throat. He can’t see anything but Jiang Yanli’s face: how she'd looked at him, watching them both die. He's wrong. She would never have understood. She didn't understand, staring at him like her whole world was breaking and he had been the one who’d smashed it to bits. She had wept in front of him and begged Jiang Cheng to save Wei Wuxian, even when he had killed her husband. She would never, ever, have understood Jiang Cheng killing him.

He can’t do that again. He won’t survive it. He is a shame to his ancestors, because avenging his sister’s killer brought him no relief, only despair. Even more so than knowing Lan Wangji will kill him for it, he will not survive driving a sword through his brother’s heart a second time.

The fact that he did it - that he could do it, even once -

Not for the first time, Jiang Cheng wonders if he is in hell. Maybe he died the first time this day happened when Wei Wuxian lost control of his corpses, or he had a massive qi deviation in his sleep after he went home. Maybe someone snuck into his room and murdered him unawares - an enemy, or one of his own disciples after he proved such an utter failure of a sect leader that his own brother killed his disciples while he stood by and did nothing.

If this were hell, though, then why hasn’t he relived the fall of Lotus Pier? If he must live through his worst nightmares, doomed to never make any real difference, why not the night his whole sect died? Why not the day he was captured and tortured and lost his golden core?

He shudders and reflexively puts a hand to his lower dantian. His golden core spins in his chest, strong and steady, just as it has been since Baoshan Sanren restored it.

Apparently he is just doomed to relive the day he becomes the last of the Jiang. Leaving him utterly, completely alone.

Jiang Cheng stares at the ceiling and thinks about hell, and when his first disciple comes and knocks on the door he takes Sandu to his own throat.

He wakes up what feels like seconds later. His throat still throbs, phantom-like. He puts a hand to his neck and is mildly surprised when it doesn't come back bloody.

No way out by suicide, then. He ought to have known. When has he ever been allowed to take the easy way out? He didn’t even get a moment of rest.

He can’t kill Wei Wuxian again. He can’t reason with him. He can’t leave A-Jie unprotected. The impossibilities thrum against his skull and skitter down through his veins, pounding with the beat of his heart.

By the time Jiang Xinyi knocks on the door, Jiang Cheng is fully dressed and armed. She stops just inside the threshold, startled. Jiang Cheng has not dressed in his travel robes, the dark patterned ones he has worn on every previous iteration of this day, with the special talismans in the hems to ward off road dust. Instead, he wears the most formal version of Jiang training robes: rich, subtly patterned purple for the Sect Leader, wrapped tight on his lower arms to avoid being tangled in anyone’s weapons.

“We aren’t going to Nightless City,” he announces, anticipating the question behind his head disciple’s raised eyebrow.

“We’re not…” Jiang Xinyi stops, then shakes her head. “Why?”

Sometimes Jiang Cheng really regrets that the Jiang have never embraced unquestioning obedience the way other sects have. “We don’t need to go puff up the Jin’s sense of importance by watching them gloat over some dead Wen,” he says. She actually frowns at him. He doesn’t blame her. The Wen are only an afterthought to this ceremony, for all Jin Guangshan’s posturing. The real purpose is Wei Wuxian, and everyone knows it. It’s political suicide for the Jiang sect not to attend.

Jiang Cheng straightens his back, sets his jaw, and glares for good measure. “We aren’t going,” he repeats. “I’ll announce it at breakfast. In the meantime, pick someone to travel to Lanling and stand watch over my sister. I want her protected while Sect Leader Jin and his best disciples are elsewhere.” He sweeps past Jiang Xinyi, determinedly fixing his gaze above her head. If he doesn’t see her skepticism, he can pretend it isn’t there.

As promised, he relates the change of plans to his disciples over the morning meal. They mutter or exclaim aloud, according to their personalities, but none of them explicitly object. That’s something, at least. He might be imagining it, but he thinks some of them even look relieved.

Stripped of the need to travel anywhere, the day passes in agonizing slowness. Jiang Cheng stalks the halls and piers, unable to sit still. He double-checks the wards and the weapons stores; he goes over the outer defenses with a fine-tooth comb. At noon, he orders the gates closed and tells all commoners to return to their homes. The disciples, infected by his restlessness, train, pick fights, or talk in too-loud voices.

By the time night falls, Jiang Cheng all but vibrates with suppressed tension. He takes dinner in his office, unable to bear the weight of so many eyes. Several hours later, that’s where the messenger finds him.

“Sect Leader!” A terrified voice accompanies the pounding at his office door. Jiang Cheng rises and crosses to open it with a grim sense of inevitability. A junior disciple nearly falls into the room when Jiang Cheng wrenches the door open. “The gates - Sect Leader, at the gates -”

He rushes past the gasping messenger without bothering to ask any questions. It’s obvious anyway, once he reaches the usually wide-open gates of Lotus Pier and leaps to the top of the viewing platform on the inner side of the wall.

An army stretches before them, cultivators in every color swelling its ranks. At its front are Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, and Jin Guangshan. Minor sect leaders cluster behind them, subtly jostling for position. Each seems to want a good view, but not at the cost of being too obviously in the front.

“Honored Sect Leaders. What brings you all to Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. He does not actually need an answer.

Jin Guangshan steps forward importantly.

“Tell Wei Wuxian to come forth!”

“He isn’t here,” Jiang Cheng snaps, and even after everything that has happened, it hurts to say. He swallows hard against the resentful fury that rises to choke him. Behind him, he can sense his disciples gathering, running in from all directions as the gate messenger spreads the word of the army’s approach. He hand-signals behind his back for them to form ranks and keep quiet. “Wei Wuxian was cast out from Yunmeng Jiang and took refuge in the Burial Mounds. Every one of you knows this is so.”

Jin Guangshan shakes his head, a look of fake sorrow on his face, but to Jiang Cheng’s surprise it is Nie Mingue who speaks.

“He is your brother. You could no more truly cast him out than you could cut out your own heart,” Nie Mingue rumbled. “You cannot protect him by pretending otherwise now.”

Fuck. If Nie Mingjue has come willingly, the others will not falter. They might be convinced that Jin Guangshan is acting out of his own interests, but never Nie Mingjue. As if to drive the point home, Lan Xichen steps up next.

“Sect Leader Jiang. We are all tired of war. But we cannot allow Wei Wuxian to kill without check, to murder without consequence. Do you understand?”

“What has my former disciple done?” Jiang Cheng sneers. “I suppose I am allowed to ask before being charged as an accomplice?”

“Listen to him! He pretends he doesn’t know!”

Jiang Cheng can’t tell who said it, but he would put good money on Sect Leader Yao. A general chorus of agreement rises.

“I don’t know, as it happens,” he lies. Or perhaps it isn’t a lie. He can’t think of any reason why his absence at the pledge conference would change Wei Wuxian’s behavior, but he can’t actually prove that it didn’t. “Perhaps one of you who has seen him can enlighten me.”

A-Jie, he thinks suddenly. What has happened to his sister? The disciple Jiang Xinyi sent had never reported back. For a moment panic grips him so hard he nearly falls. But surely, Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao would not be standing there wasting time talking about Wei Wuxian if they were about to report his sister’s death?

“Wei Wuxian appeared at the pledge conference, right after we swore to stamp out the threat represented by the Stygian Tiger Amulet,” Lan Xichen says, apparently willing to play along. “He attacked all of us without warning. Several dozen of our disciples are dead.”

Several dozen? That does surprise Jiang Cheng. All the previous times, Wei Wuxian had killed hundreds. Bitterly, he wonders what it is about his own presence that makes Wei Wuxian worse.

“And yet you have all decided to come here, rather than seek your revenge,” he says.

“The Yiling Patriarch fled the battle after killing many,” says Lan Xichen. “He was wounded, but not dead.” His face looks pinched and drawn. Jiang Cheng wonders why. He’s lost some disciples, but not many, if everything he says is true. Of course, Lan Xichen has no way of knowing that he has been spared greater disaster. On a hunch, Jiang Cheng looks around. He does not see Lan Wangji anywhere.

“Where is your brother, Sect Leader Lan?” Jiang Cheng finds himself asking. Zewu-Jun’s face goes rigid. Apparently even his placid nature has its limits.

“If you know to ask that, I cannot believe you do not know where Wei Wuxian has gone,” Lan Xichen replies. So Lan Wangji has done something. That makes more sense. Whatever his brother’s faults, cowardice is not one of them. The thought that he would retreat from battle regardless of its odds is sheer lunacy. Lan Wangji must have physically dragged him away.

“Believe what you like,” says Jiang Cheng. “I tell you the truth - Wei Wuxian is not here. He has not entered Lotus Pier since his banishment. I have no knowledge of his crimes, nor are they my responsibility. You are wasting your time here.”

“Sect Leader Jiang. You must know we cannot accept this,” says Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangshan shoots him an angry look, but Jin Guangyao pretends not to see, drawing himself up in a line with his sworn brothers. “You did not appear at the pledge conference today. You clearly did not wish to act against a man you were once as close as brothers with, even after he killed your own brother-in-law and my beloved brother. Your word on this is, I am sorry to say, not enough.”

Nie Mingjue looks aggrieved to have to agree with Jin Guangyao, but he speaks up anyway. “If you continue to shield him, you will bear the full weight of his crimes.”

Jiang Cheng laughs. He can’t help it. He laughs and he can feel his disciples staring, but he can’t stop. Is this how Wei Wuxian had felt? “He isn’t here,” he says, when at last he can speak again. “He isn’t here, and we weren’t there. But that isn’t enough, is it?”

The gathered crowd does not answer him. Jiang Cheng’s laughter stills. He looks to his disciples. They look afraid, as they should. But they nod at him, fierce and loyal to the end.

“I do not have Wei Wuxian. I cannot produce him for you,” Jiang Cheng says, his most bitter truth spoken one last, useless time.

“Then you leave us no choice,” says Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng’s disciples fight bravely. His archers keep any one group from approaching the gates in force. He has wards that no one expects him to have, reinforced all this long day as he tested his stronghold’s weak points. But in the end, they are still too few, too broken in the aftermath of massacre and war. Jiang Cheng holds the wall for nearly an hour as the gathered sects batter at his outer defenses, but there is only one way this can end.

Jiang Xinyi appears at his side in time to deflect a rain of arrows. When he turns a fierce, interrogative look at her, she nods. “It’s done,” she confirms.

A strange sense of calm settles over Jiang Cheng. He had sent his head disciple to evacuate the civilians and children as soon as the fighting had begun in earnest. His sect’s great treasures are hidden beneath wards keyed to the Jiang bloodline. He has held long enough. He reaches into his sleeve and removes the talisman he is never without: the one that will set off a chain reaction of explosives throughout Lotus Pier. He will call a retreat, lure his enemies in, and set them all off at once.

Lotus Pier will not fall into the hands of invaders again.

“Is this the famed justice of Chifeng-zun?” carols a voice from above, carrying impossibly above the fighting. “Is this the nobleness of the Lan? The generosity of the Jin?” Jiang Cheng’s whole body flashes hot, then freezes, shivers wracking his entire frame. Impossible. Impossible, impossible -

In a lurching, uneven wave, the army comes to a standstill as their sect leaders call a halt. Everyone looks around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice.

Wei Wuxian stands on a roof outside of Lotus Pier, twirling his flute in his hand. Jiang Cheng swallows. He looks a wreck. His mouth is a blood-red slash in his deathly pale face, making him look more than half a ghost himself. He can smell the old blood tang of resentful energy from here - can feel the way the air twists around Wei Wuxian, sucking at the life force of the living. There is an unholy light in his eyes that is high and cold and mad.

But he is here. Jiang Cheng shakes and shakes and knows it for relief.

“You accuse my former shidi of harboring me, but it seems you all were mistaken,” says Wei Wuxian. “Do you dare to call yourself righteous? Attacking one group of innocents is not enough for you, so you must go for a second?”

Everyone is shouting now, but no individual voices can be picked out except for Wei Wuxian’s. He has a bleeding wound on his left shoulder, held together by a suspicious white band of fabric. There is no sign of Lan Wangji other than the bandage on his shoulder. Wei Wuxian’s voice carries effortlessly over the raised voices of the crowd.

“Luckily,” he says, “there are plenty of ghosts here for me to play with.”

Wei Wuxian raises his flute. Jiang Cheng knows a moment of pure horror. He won’t - he can’t -

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees his parents’ ghosts or corpses rise. He has given them their last rites, burned paper money for them, buried their bodies with appropriate honors. Surely they won’t rise. Surely Wei Wuxian won’t -

All around him, ghosts and fierce corpses come back to a horrible semblance of life, all of them dressed in Wen red.

Jiang Cheng’s breath rushes back out. At least he will not have to endure that.

Wei Wuxian sends his spirits after the gathered armies. It isn’t a fair fight. No one likes fighting things that can take a sword to the chest and keep coming. Many cultivators break and run.

“Are we going, Sect Leader?” Jiang Cheng startles. He turns to meet the gaze of the disciple who had spoken, who looks back at him, equal parts scared and eager. “Are we going to help da-shixiong?”

Everyone seems to have forgotten about Yunmeng Jiang in the face of Wei Wuxian’s appearance. The gates are completely clear for at least a hundred feet. Everyone’s backs are even towards them, as they focus with single-minded purpose on killing the Yiling Patriarch.

Wei Wuxian’s appearance, clearly from behind the enemy lines, has cleared Jiang Cheng of suspicion for harboring him. Going to help him now would undo any good that has done them. If he died now, his mind whispers, A-Jie couldn’t blame you.

He flinches at the thought, bile rising in his throat. The face that flashes before his eyes so vividly that he can no longer see the battlefield is for once not A-Jie, but Wei Wuxian, who had worn that terrible smile on his face as Jiang Cheng killed him. As if he were grateful.

He gives the order.

His disciples swarm out of the gate. The gathered cultivators, who had all turned to face Wei Wuxian, are caught completely by surprise.

But they are too late. Jiang Cheng only just manages to glimpse Wei Wuxian’s face, stunned and disbelieving as the Yunmeng Jiang disciples come to his defense. Then his face goes bloodless, then grey. He opens his mouth and screams, resentful energy pouring out of his mouth, his eyes, his ears.

The Stygian Tiger Seal explodes, and Jiang Cheng falls into blackness.

#monday update time!#jiang cheng #jiang cheng timeloop au #my fic #the emotional progress is slow but he's gonna do it #tw:suicide

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years ago

Note

Watching Nia straight up nuzzle Brainy in the premiere sent my soul to a very good place, so if you’re still taking prompts and wanted to maybe write a little bit of fluff involving Nia’s favorite form of affection being nuzzles and forehead touches that would be really sweet.

- Yes, of course! Nuzzling and forehead touches are the best! Thank you for the prompt! x

The last few weeks without Kara had been tough, no question about it.

Nia had been feeling the strain both at CatCo and out on the streets as Dreamer. She’d had to take on not just Kara Danver’s workload, but Supergirl’s as well. Tonight was J’onn and M’gann’s turn to take patrol, which was just as well, because when Nia finally got her key to fit through the apartment door lock, she nearly collapsed through to the other side.

It took her about two seconds to pinpoint Brainy fast asleep on the living room couch.

Despite her own exhaustion, Nia couldn't help but smile at the sight.

There were two kinds of sleep Nia often attributed to her boyfriend. The first kind was the one she was most familiar with - where Brainy was resting more out of obligation than necessity, running numerous background tasks whilst laid at Nia’s side. He'd also made mention that it gave his body a break from the strenuous activities of daily life.

The second kind was rarer - the bone-dead, exhausted kind of sleep reserved for when he’d run himself totally ragged. On occasions like that, Brainy would often deviate from his normal sleep position, his posture relaxing into the bed enough that he might curl on his side, allowing Nia to snuggle up against him or vice versa. Nia liked those times very much, especially with how infrequent they could so often be.

Recently, though, with all the work they’d both been putting into covering for Kara, searching for her signature in the Phantom Zone, they’d hardly had time for sleep at all.

In fact, the last time Nia had seen Brainy asleep like that was weeks ago - the night he’d been rescued from Leviathan’s ship.

Well, at least, it had been, until just now.

She knew that Brainy had been pushing himself more than he cared to admit. Not to say that Nia could say she’d been doing any better. She knew for a fact that Alex and Lena had been working through most nights as well. No one wanted to give up hope, and no one wanted to see what kind of nightmares their minds had in store for them should they try to close their eyes. She didn’t have to be a Dreamer to know that, but hey, it helped.

Every second Brainy wasn’t partnering with Nia for patrol, he was holed up at the Tower, running every calculation under the sun to figure out a way to get Kara back. A human might’ve fallen asleep at their desk, giving themselves at least a few moments of peace, but Brainy wasn’t wired like that. He could keep himself going for days, even weeks if he needed to.

But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t without consequence.

Alex had called Nia earlier that afternoon to let her know that she’d sent Brainy home. After god knows how long without any sleep to his name, his body had finally decided to shut down without his consent. He hadn’t exactly passed out, Alex had said, but when he’d nearly collapsed just trying to stand from his desk, she’d ordered him to go get some rest with zero room for argument.

Maybe she wasn’t technically his superior anymore, but Brainy was far too intelligent not to listen to a worried Alex Danvers.

Still, Nia understood the reason why Brainy was so unwilling to stop working, and she was half expecting to meet him at meltdown mode by the time she got home from work. Although he’d made some progress with Lena, he was still struggling with his emotions, battling between an empty hole in his chest and a slew of untameable negativity threatening to devour him whole. Over the last few weeks, the only thing he’d truly been able to fall back on was his own intellect, fully restored since he’d re-connected to the Big Brain. Not being able to work, to use that intellect towards something, must have felt like losing the last tether he had left.

Which was why Nia was so relieved to see that Brainy had managed to find some semblance of peace. His hands were clasped in a loose triangular formation across his chest, his breath easing out through half parted lips. He’d propped his head up practically with a throw pillow, almost as though he’d set himself up with the intention of continuing his background calculations. But, if the shadows beneath his eyes was any indication, that ship had sailed a long time ago.

He had one leg arched up on the sofa, his linked fingers rising and falling with every gentle heave of his chest.

He looked so peaceful when he slept, so unburdened by everything that had been holding him down. Nia wondered what he might be dreaming about – if he was dreaming anything at all.

She kicked off her shoes, slinging her bag onto the countertop before making her way over to the living room. She stopped short at the sofa’s arm, stood directly over him, Brainy’s face tipped up towards her.

Nia bit her lip, running her finger’s idly along the smooth skin where Brainy’s inhibitors used to be. When Brainy huffed out a soft sigh at the contact, relaxing further into his pillow, she grinned, bending over to press her forehead against his. His face was comfortably warm; Nia relished in the feel of him, closing her eyes.

When she finally lifted her head, she found a pair of sleep-dazed brown eyes watching her curiously.

“Hey, sleepy head,” she murmured, tucking a wayward strand of blond hair behind Brainy’s ear. She glanced to the small space at Brainy’s side, smirking mischievously. “Move over?”

Wordlessly, Brainy obliged, shuffling enough that Nia had the room to sidle into the spot next to him, snuggling up against his shoulder before finding her favourite spot at the crook of his neck. She kissed his throat playfully, grinning when Brainy wrapped his arm around her in response, holding her close.

“What time is it?” Brainy asked around a yawn, his voice thick from disuse.

“Wow, you really are tired, huh?” Nia asked, resting her chin against Brainy’s shoulder. She smiled sympathetically. “Alex told me about what happened.”

Brainy bristled immediately. “Regardless of what she told you, I did not pass out.”

“Maybe not,” Nia reasoned. “But, you exhausted yourself. Everyone needs to take a break, Brainy, it’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

The tension Brainy suddenly carried in his jaw told her he wasn’t going to believe her that easily.

Nia sighed, rolling her eyes. “Besides,” she continued, tucking her hand beneath the hem of Brainy’s shirt. “I need a break, too, and you’re my favourite spot.” She felt along his abdomen, tracing her fingers around the warm protrusion of his life projector. When the tightness in Brainy’s jaw released all at once and he breathed out, closing his eyes, Nia smiled, pressing her face back into the comfort of his throat, snuggling close. She shrugged, closing her eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

She felt Brainy’s nose brush gently against her hair, a puff of warm breath dancing across her scalp. “I would want to be nowhere else,” he murmured.

#supergirl #brainia #supergirl fanfiction #brainiac 5 #nia nal #dreamdox #querl dox #brainy #my writing #my prompts

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stargirlrchive · 4 years ago

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Hi! Can I ask for angsty Specer Reid with reader working as a medic? They dont see each other lately, mostly because his gf avoiding him, because they are both stressed of work so every discussion end with fight so in the end reader is insecure of herself and not sure if she is good enough for him. She starts overwork herself more to improve her skills and satisfaction,forgetting about proper sleep and meals. And during their next fight she just pass out in front of him making him extremaly 1/2

“2/2 extremaly guilty and frustrated because being occupied by his own work and life he doesnt even notice struggles of someone who he dearly love and care for. Sorry for such long and detailed request! I hope it doesnt bother you! Thank you so much nad have a great day!”

Busy Schedules - Spencer Reid

masterlist ; request are open

author’s note: hi omg this request came really easy! i really hope this lived up to your expectations @ anon <3 and i hope you all enjoy it! im already working on another request so yay ❤️ i had said 3 fics this summer and this is my fourth one <3 cute!

disclaimer: a bit angsty!! and also talking about like reader not taking care of themselves all that great, like forgetting to eat && reader passes out so if that’s something that upsets you, please do not read it!! GIF NOT MINE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 1,976

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you had last seen your boyfriend, but before the argument that had transpired a few hours ago, you knew that it had been several days since the two of you last spoke. Both of your work schedules took up a large portion of your life and during the beginning of knowing Spencer that was a huge wedge in the two of you actually starting a relationship. But you two later on found out that it didn’t matter how long it took for you two to have time together, because when you did it was like magnets linking together. There was a domestic routine to your very busy lives when you were alone, like adding the final puzzle piece, everything just clicked.

Or it had been, the last few months having a decrease in employees and you having to pick up extra shifts at the hospital, had left you next to no time for yourself. And the time you did have off, Spencer was always away on a case. The last couple of times you were irritable from work, and just missing your boyfriend and it ended with the two of you arguing, it never failed.

You’d end up crying from frustration and exhaustion and Spencer would find himself nursing a bottle of beer with Morgan. Something he never did before, and it was quickly becoming a bit of a habit for him.

Your head was pounding as you woke up, it was eleven pm and your throat felt insanely dry. You looked for a cup of water, but of course there was none. You were never good at looking after yourself. Spencer always told you that and you felt tears well up in your eyes, you missed him so much. The crying mixed with the headache worsened everything you were feeling and you began to feel dizzy. If you were being honest you couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper meal, you had been surviving off granola bars and black coffee. That with working nearly 100 hours a week, it was definitely starting to take a toll on you.

You sat up and realized what had woken you up, there was knocking on your main door. You trudged slowly to your front door, still feeling dizzy as you tried to focus on the figure through the peephole. Even with your vision being blurry you could tell it was Spencer.

You quickly opened the door, which you shouldn’t have feeling the way you were. You felt all your blood rush down and felt a cold shiver run down you. You really needed to get something solid into your system. But with Spencer’s demeanor you could tell you wouldn’t be eating anything for some time, he was tense, eyes burning and you wanted to scream at him. It wasn’t even your fault the two of you were angry.

But you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it, you were so exhausted. You let him in and he brushed past you, pacing through your living room. “Spencer I’m really tired, can we just do this tomorrow? I don’t feel good.”

You knew he didn’t even hear you, he was in his head and from the smell of beer on him you could tell he had been drinking. He wasn’t drunk, but you knew he was a lightweight, so anything he drank would have him more there than here.

You walked towards him, mainly to get him to stop because his pacing was making you feel that the room you were in was spinning. But he moved from you just before you reached him and it caused you to stumble forward, barely catching yourself against the rest of the couch. You had to close your eyes to try and stabilize yourself. “Can you stop trying to push me away?”

“Well you do it, why can’t I?”

He was being childish, you both knew it. “Spencer I’m not doing that, if you feel that way trust me when I say it’s not intentional.”

You muttered something under your breath, you probably shouldn’t have but it slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. “That’s not fair! I deserve days off with my friends as well!”

“I never said you didn’t, Reid.”

He knew you were angry, you only ever used his last name when you were, but he was angry too and he was glaring at you. “Well then it’s not fair for you to say that I decided to hang out with my friend over you.”

“Did you not? I think it’s been over a month since we’ve seen each other, you see them everyday and we both finally had a night off together and you decided to go out with them, people you see everyday! I feel like I’m not even part of your life anymore.”

Your breathing was labored and rough, you could feel yourself coming in and out of consciousness and could barely focus on the words leaving Spencer’s mouth before everything went black.

Spencer himself did not register what was leaving his mouth as he saw your body going limp, any bit of anger or alcohol leaving his system that very second. He instinctively caught you before your head hit the floor and he was frantically calling out your name. He hated how pale your skin went and how your lips weren’t as red as they normally were. You looked frail and he laid your head on the floor to go look for a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol, when he was looking around your apartment he noticed that the only dirty dishes in your dishwasher were coffee cups and there were scattered granola bar wrappers and nothing else. He sighed through his nose as he realized that’s all you’ve been eating. Much like him, people always said he never took care of himself but he was so good at taking care of you. And he knew you weren’t. He was frustrated at the thought of you two arguing during the little time you had for each other so he decided to go out with Derek and Emily instead. But he quickly realized he shouldn’t have, he really hadn’t seen you in a month, two days, thirteen hours and 54 minutes. And that turned into an argument. He wanted to slip into your apartment while you were asleep, lay down with you and cook you breakfast and have the two of you slip back into your routine. He knew all the frustration and anger was from not seeing each other and now you were passed out on your living room floor and he felt so guilty.

Guilty for not going over after a case, when he really could’ve, guilty for not checking in more. He was your boyfriend and he could’ve been doing more. You were still laying on the floor and he lifted your head onto his lap, brushing the alcohol filled cotton ball under your nose and letting a watery laugh leave his chest as he saw the color come back to you. He was so relieved he was able to wake you up, and since you didn’t hit your head he knew you didn’t need more medical attention. Plus he knew you’d hate it. “Honey, c’mon let me help you into bed.”

“My head feels so heavy.” It was a tiny whimper and Spencer felt his heart ache at how confused your voice was. His hand brushed softly against your cheek, you were colder than he liked for you to be, you sent him a smile, your eyes still closed.

You began to get up and Spencer helped you towards your bedroom, bringing you a cup full of water after he had laid you in bed. He let you slip back into bed as you sunk into the comforters around you. His fingers were lightly brushing through your hair, your face was scrunched up in discomfort and he knew if you didn’t get anything into your system, you’d wake up feeling worse.

He slipped out of your bedroom and walked into your kitchen, he found eggs and bread and decided that this would do. Toasting the bread and spreading butter on it as he waited for the egg to finish cooking. His thoughts causing him to spiral, he still felt so guilty.

As quickly as he could he had everything cooked and was once again walking back towards your bedroom. Your arms were spread out and your hair was in your face, your color fully restored. He left the food on the cabinet by your bed and slipped into bed with you once more, pulling you onto him. Your arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his chest and your face tucked into neck. You stilled in his arms and then quickly pushed yourself away, “Spencer?”

“Who else?” He laughed quietly, but the worry began to set in him to see your confused expression. “Are you okay? Do you remember anything?”

You looked sad and just slumped back into bed, staying close to him but not wrapping yourself around him, “Yes, but I thought it was just a bad dream.”

He took your arms and wrapped them around himself, bringing you in as close as he could as he pressed kisses to your forehead, which you had only just noticed was pounding. “You scared me out there.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Spencer laughed and began to rub small circles on your back, “What have I told you about making sure you eat breakfast and lunch? What if I wasn’t around and you would’ve hit your head, or you would’ve passed out while driving?”

Spencer’s chest had begun to rise and fall heavily with the prospect of something far worse happening to you if he hadn’t been around, the guilt eating him up.

You grumbled out quietly, “I was going to eat something after letting you in, but you looked upset and I knew we needed to talk.”

You both stayed silent and when you looked up at him, his eyes were already trained on you, he let you speak first. “I am really sorry, I know you deserve to go out with your friends and I obviously know spending time with them outside of work is different than when you’re at work. I was just really tired, the shift was long and I missed you. And I took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

There were tears streaming down your eyes and you wiped them away quickly, “It’s hard having the jobs that we do.”

“I’m sorry too, I think I was still upset about what happened a few days ago and I didn’t want to spend the time that we did have arguing and I opted for going out instead of being here. But I’m still mad at you.”

You laid your head on his chest so you were no longer looking at each other, “You can’t be living off granola bars and coffee.”

“I just forget! I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I know, but for both of our sakes, I need you to sit up and eat.”

You perked you at his words and sat up quickly, causing the room to start spinning again. “Take it easy.”

Before he could reach for the plate you pulled him to you, pressing a few kisses to his lips, “You know I love you right?”

He mumbled quietly against your lips before pressing a kiss to your nose, “I love you too.” He continued to cover your face in soft kisses, only stopping to rub his nose against yours gently, “I missed you.”

“I did too.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips before grabbing the plate, he didn’t let you move from your place until you finished everything.

taglist: @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @theboywhocriedlupin @awfulmoons @lumos-barnes @fortisfiliae @finnofamerica @beskarjedi @aperrywilliams @ta-ka-shi-ma @spenceluvbot @la-vie-en-amour1 (let me know if you’d like to be added <3)

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #derek morgan

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years ago

Text

The new Shadowhunter Academy (Fan Fic) - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 (Have you ever?) is out! 😍

Can't post the full Chapter here, because there are sexy times 🔞😅😅😅 but you can read it on AO3 (Link here)

It's part of my To never being parted series.

****

When Dru blinked her eyes open, she was staring at the white ceiling of one of the Academy’s dorm rooms. Not hers though.

She rolled to her side and was greeted by the sight of her brother, facing her as he was lying on the other twin bed. Somehow, it made her feel like she had taken Livvy’s rightful spot and she fought the sudden urge to jump out of the bed to restore the natural order of things.

His sharp features were relaxed and his thick eyelashes looked extravagantly long over his cheekbones when his eyes were shut. He was sleeping soundlessly, save for his soft breathing. Or was it someone else’s? She saw it then, the tanned muscular arm thrown over Ty.

She sat bolt upright and caught the outline of Kit’s figure spooning her brother, blond curls peeking out. There was barely enough space for the two of them on the small bed but they didn’t seem to mind.

If she had felt like an intruder before, this was a thousand times worse. She felt like a peeping tom.

As she put one foot down, the floorboard creaked and Kit stirred, his arm securing itself tighter around Ty. He let out a soft moan, a sigh of contentment. Dru froze. Should I get out of here, and risk waking them or should I get back to bed, pretending I’m asleep until they wake up? Dru asked herself.

She glanced toward the nightstand, where her phone was resting face down. She grabbed it to check the time, and saw two text message notifications flashing on the screen. One was from Julian, the other from Mark.

There were five missed calls and a voice mail from Jaime, from the previous evening. Of course, there was no service in the club and he must have tried to reach her for their daily goodnight call.

Nothing from Ash. It pained her more than she cared to admit.

She checked Julian’s message first.

She smiled fondly as she scrolled up to Mark’s message next.

Dru didn’t know if she wanted to laugh, cry or bury herself underneath her blanket in shame.

She chose option three and lay flat on the mattress, pulling the duvet to cover her entire body, red face included. Once she and her awkwardness were properly concealed in the dark interior of her makeshift tent, she brought her phone to her ear and listened to Jaime’s voicemail.

****

Kit awoke to the blissful warmth of Ty’s body against his, to Ty’s scent, to Ty’s hair tickling his face.

He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of being surrounded by all these things he loved and yearned for when they were apart.

He was fully awake, every part of him, when he felt his boyfriend stirring against him, bringing their bodies closer still.

“Morning,” he whispered in Ty’s ear.

“Morning,” his boyfriend mumbled in a sleepy voice, as he rubbed his eyes.

Acting on impulse, Kit rolled on top of Ty, pinning him under his weight.

“Hey, baby. I think we have some unfinished business, you and me.”

Ty blinked. “What?”

“Yesterday, in the empty classroom. You were about to do something, when we were interrupted. Well, now it’s the two of us and I want you to finish what you started.”

Ty’s gray eyes widened. He had probably caught his drift, but Kit decided to clarify anyway.

“You heard me. I want your magnificent cock. Inside of me. Now.”

Ty’s lips parted in shock. His gaze flickered to the side then, at the same time Kit heard a whimpering noise to his right.

He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, whose origin he could trace to a small mound hidden under the covers of the second twin bed in the room. Dru. He had completely forgotten about Dru.

OH. MY. GOD.

“Holy Shit.”

He didn’t think. He lifted off Ty’s body, flipped over, and landed with a loud crash on the floor between the beds, his feet entangled in the blanket.

“Kit, are you okay?” Ty said, as his head peeked from the mattress.

“You mean apart from the fact that I am so mortified I could die?” Kit lifted his shirt up to cover his red face, then thought better of it and pulled it further down to cover the bulge straining against his boxer shorts.

“It’s okay,” said a muffled voice coming from the other bed. “Let’s pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

****

Tagging @amchara

Link to full Chapter here.

#the wicked powers #the dark artifices #drusilla blackthorn #dru blackthorn #kit herondale #tiberius blackthorn #kit herongraystairs #ty blackthorn #kitty blackstairs #cassandraclare #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #kitty tda

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roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

no great revelation (6/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,797

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VI.

—

It was somewhat gratifying to know that Jamie wasn’t the only one who was absolute shit at meditation.

“This is pointless,” said Dani with her eyes closed.

“You’re telling me,” Jamie muttered, her eyes also shut.

They were both seated on the massive bed, cross-legged and facing one another. Jamie had ordered the ship’s computer to dim the lights, so that the room was dusky, the ship’s computer even going so far as to project pinpricks of light onto the high ceiling like a map of stars. Back when Jamie had been a padawan, the Jedi Masters used to do something similar back on Tython to encourage that e’er-elusive quest for inner peace. Jamie used to take the opportunity to take a quick nap while she pretended to meditate, but she couldn’t do that now because she was trying to set a good example or whatever.

“Have you tried slowing down your breathing?” Jamie asked, keeping her eyes closed and straightening her shoulders a bit.

“This is just how I breathe.”

“Yeah, but have you tried slowing it down?”

“When I do that it just feels like I’m slowly drowning.”

“Okay, then what about relaxing your body one part at a time?”

“One -? What?”

“You know. Think about relaxing just the muscles of your face, and then move on to your shoulders, and so on.”

Dani huffed, and Jamie heard her shifting her weight on the bed before going still. All was silent but for the pattern of their breathing and Jamie’s heartbeat accompanying it like a percussion instrument. Sitting still. Being still. Thinking and doing nothing. In short, the most difficult activity for Jamie to attempt ever in her life. She would rather be back on Peter Quint’s flagship, dodging blaster fire.

Okay, maybe not that far. But honestly sitting still for long periods of time really was her own personal hell.

The air whispered with a hint of cold, like standing in a room with a window open, the tendril of an icy draught threading its way inside. Jamie shrugged against it, but kept her eyes closed. It was only when the whisper of cold lifted to a prickle, when the sound of Dani’s breathing grew too shallow, that Jamie’s eyes flew open.

Dani was still seated on the bed, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, every exhalation through her nose a plume of white steam, shivering as if she were on the surface of an ice planet instead of in the warm safety of the luxury cruiser.

Immediately Jamie grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Woah. Woah woah woah. Not that way.”

Dani jerked as though she had just been shaken away from a deep sleep. Her eyes were on the edge of wild as she looked around the room, her breathing heavy and sharp and slowing when she remembered where exactly she was.

“Oh,” she said with a guilty glance towards Jamie. “Did I - Did I do it again?”

With a stroke of her thumb across the back of Dani’s cold hand, Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“I know,” Jamie murmured. “I know. Don’t worry. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on Tython, and we can get you a much better teacher than me.”

Dani swallowed and nodded, but her expression was unsure, reluctant even.

“You’ll like Hannah and Owen,” Jamie insisted. “If anyone can teach you, they can.”

“It’s not that. It’s just -” Dani turned her face away and exhaled. She chewed at her lower lip. “What if I’m caught? What if The Order doesn’t care that I was - that I’m not -”

Frowning, Jamie asked, “Not what?”

“Good,” said Dani.

“What like -?” Jamie grinned. “Not good at the Force? ‘Cause they’d throw me out on my ass with nary a care if that were the case.”

“No, that’s not what I -” Dani’s teeth were clenched, the muscles bunched up between the line of her neck and her jawline. “I killed people. I killed a Jedi. There’s already an investigation into his murder. And I can’t even channel the Force on my own without slipping into the Dark.”

Jamie shook her head while she listened. “You weren’t yourself. And once we find a cure for whatever is going on with you, then you can be trained properly.”

“What if we can’t?” Dani whispered. “What if there’s nothing to be done? What if I’ll always have this - this angry, empty, lonely thing haunting me?”

Jamie rocked Dani’s hand beneath her own gently. “We’ll find a way. We just need to take it one day at a time.”

Every muscle in Dani’s body seemed to be held taut. The tightness of her jaw. The flex of her hands. The bunching of her shoulders and the muscles all along her spine. Her hand was still cold under Jamie’s grasp, though the wintry edge had been blunted from the air around her. Jamie offered her an encouraging smile, but did not receive one in return.

“We should get some sleep,” Jamie sighed, pulling away. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow -”

But Dani was scrambling to her knees and she was gripping Jamie’s hand tightly in her own before Jamie could fully let go. Her fingers trembled and her eyes were overbright, fixed and unblinking upon Jamie’s, holding her fast. “Not yet,” she said quickly. “Not - I want to feel it again. Please. I want to feel good. I want - I want to feel you.”

Jamie could already feel the thrum beneath her skin, the Force like a tether between them, on the brink, but there. As if Dani were reaching out then waiting for permission to drag her in.

For the last four years, Jamie had been telling herself to keep her head down. Don't get involved. Mind her own bloody business. Don't do what she did back in ExplorCorps and paint a great big fuckoff target on her own back. And for four years, she had done exactly that. Telos IV and the AgriCorps were a fresh start, a good life, a simple, boring life. All it had taken to completely upend that life was a week of Dani Clayton.

Jamie nodded. Because it made relief sweep over Dani's face. Because it made Dani smile at her with that big smile that crinkled her eyes and creased her cheeks. Because it meant that connection snapped taut like a wire, drew them together into something more than the sum of their parts, more than this crude matter. Because it did indeed feel good.

Each brief contact of the Force between them had remained discrete in the past. Stolen moments in which Jamie tried to coax Dani towards the Light on her own. Now, Dani gripped her hand to keep the connection alive, a current like static, like the movement between the inchoate and the flourishing, and it extended to the horizon. Dani's eyes dropped to her mouth and Jamie should've known this was coming, shouldn't have been as surprised as she was when Dani leaned forward to kiss her.

Bad idea, Jamie’s pesky little inner voice kept saying over and over like a mantra. Bad idea. This is a bad idea. A very very bad -

She should have pulled away, called this off, cut the line. Except Dani was warm and solid and groaning low into Jamie’s mouth, a sound that coiled heat in the pit of Jamie’s stomach. She cupped Dani’s cheek with one hand, allowed herself to welter for a lingering moment in the softness of Dani's mouth, in the texture of her jaw, before she pulled them apart just enough to breathe, their foreheads still pressed together.

"I want -" Dani murmured urgently, so close Jamie could taste the words on her lips. Her free hand had grasped Jamie's collar, rumpling the starched white fabric in her fist. "Can I -?"

"Yeah," Jamie breathed, throwing any vestigial scrap of self-preservation out the airlock.

Dani kissed her again with a grateful sigh. Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed quite like this. With singular focus. As if there was nothing else in the world for Dani to do but kiss her and pour everything of herself into it.

"Kept thinking about this," Dani mumbled against her lips.

"Explains why you're so shit at meditation."

Dani huffed out a laugh and pressed her smile to Jamie's. She pulled at Jamie's collar shifting forward on her knees so she could lean over Jamie and turn the kiss from giddy glee to hungry in an instant. Jamie took off Dani's headband and threw it onto the bedside table beside the lightsabre so she could rake her hands through Dani's hair. With a tilt of her head, Dani opened her mouth and Jamie would've been appalled at her own weak whimper if she'd been in any state to care. She couldn’t. Not when Dani was kissing her like this. Not when Dani was pushing Jamie onto the bed and straddling her hips. Not when Dani was tugging the buttons of Jamie’s shirt free with trembling fingers.

They didn’t break contact even when Dani paused to gasp at Jamie’s thigh pressing up between her legs. Always some section of skin was touching, so that the link remained, buzzing around in the back of Jamie’s head like an amplifier. Every movement, every sound an echo caught on a feedback loop, building to something impossible to miss. Jamie could feel the way Dani’s blood stirred in her veins, the way Dani was grinding down against her thigh, the way Dani was tugging the shirt down her shoulders and casting it aside, as though the sensations were her own, but muted — a phantom feeling.

When she had imagined this — and over the last few days on the luxury cruiser, Jamie had in great detail imagined this — it had always been a slow, coltish thing. All start and stop, lazy hesitance and careful exploration. In her mind, Dani was keen but skittish, wanting but indecisive. Something to do perhaps with the long glances sent in Jamie’s direction, or the distrustful ventures into the Force. When it came to this however, Dani was uncertain about nothing.

Dani made excited little sounds against Jamie’s exposed neck when Jamie began to fumble with the button that fastened her pants. Jamie tugged at the zipper and Dani lifted herself up just enough so that Jamie could slip her hand down. Tugging lightly at Dani’s hair to get her to tilt her head back, Jamie sought out Dani’s pulsepoint with her mouth just as her fingers sought out slick heat.

There were too many clothes between them, far too many, but neither of them could bring themselves to pause for long enough to fix that. The pants shoved partway down Dani’s thighs gave Jamie little room to manoeuvre, but she had two fingers inside of Dani, and Dani was sitting upright to rock her hips at a better angle, eyes lidded, lips parted on a stuttered sigh.

“That’s -” Dani’s breath hitched. “Yes - Right there - Please -”

Jamie had to bite back a groan of her own when Dani bucked against her hand and made a high desperate sound, clenched and shivering, and the moment going on as it echoed back and forth, mirrored and caught between them. Feeling this good, this alive, this conjoined, then chasing after it with a fervor as Dani leaned down at the same time Jamie pushed herself up to kiss her hard.

“Keep going,” Dani panted against Jamie’s mouth, then gave a feeble cry when Jamie did exactly that — curled her fingers and ground her palm up until Dani was shuddering again, until she was spent.

Dani’s forehead dropped to Jamie’s shoulder to catch her breath. Jamie placed her free hand against Dani’s back, holding her close. She twitched the fingers still inside Dani, just an experimental press, and received a sharp inhalation.

“Too much?” Jamie asked softly.

“A little. Do it again.”

There was no building up to anything with it, just an extension of what had come before, flickers of pleasure that sparked at the edges of her vision, until Dani reached down to slide Jamie’s fingers out and lift them to her mouth.

“Fuck,” Jamie hissed as Dani licked her sticky fingers clean then nipped at her fingertips.

Dani glanced down Jamie’s chest, one hand drifting inquisitively over the high-waisted hem of her black slacks. “Is it all right, if I -?”

Jamie was already nodding before Dani could finish the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

When Dani pulled away to quickly shed her own clothes, Jamie felt the loss of that link like a light suddenly going out. She blinked and skimmed her fingertips along the curve of Dani’s elbow just to re-establish that contact until Dani had finished, until Dani was tugging the slacks down Jamie’s legs, smoothing her hands up Jamie’s bare thighs and watching her with hunger in her eyes.

Jamie settled back on her elbows, biting her lip, gaze fixed upon Dani as she lowered her head and parted Jamie with her tongue. She wanted to watch — eyes glued to the way Dani’s mouth moved against her, the way Dani urged her knees wider — but Jamie could not help how her eyes rolled back and she sank back onto the mattress with an embarrassingly loud sound despite how she tried to trap it behind her teeth.

She twined her hands in Dani’s soft hair and guided her head, shivering when Dani moaned against her in return. Maybe it was the sequence of events, being the one to make Dani completely fall apart while feeling the echo of that pleasure, but soon Jamie’s hips were jerking out of rhythm and she was raking her nails down the back of Dani’s neck and shoulders — anywhere she could reach — desperate and hurtling over the edge. Even after she had finished, breathlessly staring up at the star-studded ceiling, Dani toyed at Jamie with the tip of her tongue, just softly, just enough to keep her suspended like a bridge held aloft by the tightness of a rope.

And as Dani crawled back up her body to curl up against her, Jamie could think only that — of all the bad decisions in her life, this one would surely have the most dire consequences. She just didn’t know what those might be, and she was afraid of ever finding out.

—

There wasn’t much to pack, if anything. The majority of belongings they had begun with on this trip had been abandoned back on the Czerka flagship. Jamie was still lamenting the loss of her favourite pair of overalls and band shirt combination — wrecked at the courtesy of none other than Peter fucking Quint himself — as she pocketed her handheld mining laser. Behind her, Dani was fussing with her headband, trying to tease her hair into just the right shape all without the aid of a mirror.

“Does this look okay?” she asked, hands still tucking stray strands back.

A little flatter than usual, but all Jamie said was, “You look great. Better than me. Not that that’s hard.”

Dani smiled, lowering her hands only to approach Jamie and fix her starched white collar. “I think you look wonderful.”

Jamie made a face. “These clothes make me feel like I’m a conductor for a galactic circus.”

“You look very rakish. Like you’re about to strike some shady business deal.”

“Oh, well, if I’m rakish, then that’s all right.”

Dani’s smile ticked up at one corner and she leaned forward to kiss her. Jamie remembered waking up to a similar scene not long ago. A morning spent in much slower exploration than the previous evening until they were finger-mussed and kiss-bruised and had to go seeking a much-needed shower, during which Dani had ignored the mirrors in favour of pressing Jamie up against a tiled wall and putting her hands between her legs.

Now Dani put a hand to the small of Jamie’s back and pressed lightly, just enough to brush their hips together. Jamie opened her mouth as Dani’s tongue swept against hers.

A low chime from the ceiling. “Excuse me,” said the ship’s computer. “But we have arrived.”

Jamie pulled away. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, but her gaze was fixed on Jamie’s mouth, as though she wanted nothing more than to lean back in and pick up where they’d left off this morning.

Jamie patted her arm and reached around to remove Dani’s hand from her waist. “Later.”

“Promise?”

With a soft huff of laughter, Jamie answered with another lingering kiss. A coil of heat wound tight in her stomach, and she stepped back before it could take root. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Only reluctantly did Dani let herself be led from the luxury cruiser by the hand. The ship lowered the gangway for them with a jettison of atmo as it repressurised. The muggy air of Tython bore with it the old familiar smell of dense vegetation, even here on the planet’s major space station. As the station was revealed and all its bustling people and droids, Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand. Jamie looked up to find Dani nervously chewing her lower lip and staring out at the people, many of them wearing robes of various cut and colour, though their occupation was clear.

Squeezing her hand back before letting it go, Jamie opened her mouth to give an encouraging word, but before she could speak there came a low chime from the speaker ports.

“How would you like me to wait for your return?” the ship’s computer asked.

“Oh, uh -” said Jamie. “How much is it to dock here?”

“One hundred and thirty-five credits per day.”

“A hundred and thirty-five?” Jamie repeated, incredulous.

��Do you not have enough credits to afford this?”

Scowling, Jamie fired back, “Are you always this much of a tit?”

“Query irresolvable,” the ship’s computer responded. “I have no anatomy, because I have no body. I do, however, have a stockpile of credits from Czerka Corporation in a private account tied to this vessel and accessible only by this vessel.”

Jamie shot the speaker ports a puzzled glance. “And how long could you remain docked using this private account?”

“Approximately two hundred and three years.”

Jamie’s eyes widened as she did some quick maths in her head.

“Would you like me to dock here for two hundred and three years?”

“What?” Jamie shook her head. “No! Just - stay here until we get back. And don’t let anyone else aboard.”

“Affirmative, Bollocks.”

Muttering expletives under her breath, Jamie continued down the gangway.

“So, you’re rich now?” Dani asked.

“Only if I survive the next week,” Jamie said. “I’m going to worry about that later. C’mon. I see Owen over there.”

Dani’s head jerked up and she glanced around with wide eyes. Jamie smiled and shook her head, walking along with Dani trailing in her wake. Owen stood near the station entrance, wearing blue robes dusted with flour handprints, and a sheathed lightsabre at his hip. His moustache twitched in a smile when he noticed her approach and he stepped forward to squeeze Jamie in a hug that picked her up a good half meter off the ground.

“Oooof,” said Jamie as he set her back down, hands remaining on her shoulders.

“Look at you,” Owen said. “What do they feed you on Telos? Raw air and nothing else?”

She swatted his hands from her shoulders. “Fuck off. And why do you look like you’ve just escaped a bakery?”

“I’ve taken an interest in cooking while you’ve been away.”

“Thought you were supposed to be a healer, mate.”

“Food,” said Owen very seriously, “is healing. And I’ll not have you - oh no. Jamie. You didn’t.”

He was staring over her shoulder at something behind her. Jamie turned, only to find Dani standing there awkwardly toying with her own fingers as she witnessed their reunion, her mismatched eyes wary. Owen’s face went from confused, to aghast, then to hard and guarded.

“I can explain -” Jamie started to say.

Owen pointed — not at Dani but at the sleek luxury cruiser they’d just disembarked. “You told us you were done with smuggling for good.”

"It's not like that!" Jamie insisted.

“You wait ‘till Hannah hears about this, young lady,” he said with faux gravitas, wagging a finger under her nose.

“Oh, come off it!”

Grinning, Owen stepped forward to Dani with his hand outstretched. “You must be Miss Clayton. I trust you’ve been making sure Jamie hasn’t been getting into any trouble?”

With a breathy laugh, Dani hesitated to take his hand before finally shaking it as if expecting to be struck by sudden lightning. “To the contrary.”

He narrowed his eyes towards Jamie. “That doesn’t sound right. Has she been ill?”

“Oi!” Jamie snapped.

Owen chuckled, letting go of Dani’s hand and making shooing motions at the two of them. “Off we hop, then. I have the landspeeder parked outside and dinner in the oven.”

“Is that a euphemism?” asked Jamie.

Owen made no gesture, but Jamie felt a light repreminanding flick of the Force at the back of her head. “Don’t be naughty, now. We have a guest.”

Rubbing at the back of her head, Jamie followed him to the landspeeder. She offered Dani a brief encouraging smile, receiving something tremulous in return.

“He seems nice,” Dani said in a low voice.

“I am,” said Owen without turning around. “Thank you.”

Leaning closer to Dani, Jamie whispered, “And he’s got big ears.”

“I do, yes. Who wants the front seat?”

Jamie let Dani take it, so she herself could sprawl across the whole back seat and lean her head over the side of the landspeeder, the wind ruffling her unruly curls. In the front seat, Owen did his best to put Dani at ease while he drove, occupying her with polite talk of her home planet, Alderaan, how it compared to Tython, etc. Jamie only piped up when she heard her own name spoken, usually to correct one of Owen’s tall tales about her, which made Dani’s mouth curve in a smile that Jamie wanted to kiss away.

They had landed on the planet at dusk, and by the time they arrived at Hannah’s apartment in the outer fringes of the Temple complex it was dark. Hannah was sitting on a couch and scrolling through a dry holo feed depicting ancient texts, when Owen ushered them through the front door and into the lounge. In robes of rich burgundy hues against her dark skin, she was a picture of elegance just as Jamie remembered. Immediately she swiped the holo feed away and rose to her feet, crossing the room to pull Jamie into a warm hug and greet Dani with an outstretched hand.

“Do you want drinks?” Hannah asked. “Only I believe Owen had a specific wine he wanted to pair with tonight’s dinner.”

“Did you turn off the oven at -?” Owen started to ask but Hannah simply patted his darkly stubbled cheek.

“Of course I did, silly man. What do you take me for?” Hannah chided.

He grinned but made no move to lean into the gesture or otherwise react, and soon Hannah dropped her hand. Owen disappeared into the kitchen while Hannah urged Dani and Jamie to sit. Jamie sat on the couch, and when Dani sat beside her it was so close their thighs pressed together. Hannah’s dark eyes flicked down to note this, but she simply smiled and inquired about their trip.

With a hand towel tossed over one shoulder, Owen emerged from the kitchen not long later with a platter of savoury pastries, which he set on a table for easy access. Jamie swiped one up with an eager hand.

“Not bad,” she said to Owen, mid-chew. “I can feel my latest scar healing up already.”

“Shush you,” Owen said, swatting at her knees with the hand towel. Jamie snickered and reached for another pastry.

Meanwhile Hannah had sat on a lone armchair and turned her attention to Dani. “Jamie mentioned she had a Force Sensitive friend with a peculiar - ah - predicament, so to speak. She brought you to the right place.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Dani said with a flighty motion of her hand, “Force Sensitive.”

Hannah tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s not me that uses the Force. It’s -” she pointed to her eye, the one that burned a constant gold these days, “- whatever this is.”

“And what makes you think you have nothing to do with it?” Hannah asked.

“Well,” Dani fumbled for a response. She was perched at the very edge of the couch, knees tucked together as if expecting a scolding from a teacher. “Peter said -”

“Peter?” Hannah rounded on Jamie with a flinty expression. “Don’t tell me you’re still getting yourself tied up with the likes of Peter bloody Quint.”

“I’m not!” Jamie said, trying to sound indignant but doing a very poor job of it since her mouth was full of pastry. She chewed quickly and swallowed so she could better defend herself. “Besides, he’s dead now!”

“Oh, that is a shame,” Owen sighed dreamily. “I would’ve liked to have seen it myself.”

“Who was the lucky bastard who killed him?” Hannah asked.

From the couch, Dani cleared her throat uncomfortably, then lifted her hand in a miserable little wave. Both Owen and Hannah exchanged surprised glances.

“It was an accident,” Dani said in a small voice.

“Well, brava,” said Owen.

Dani closed her eyes. “Please, don’t. I - uh -” she drew in a trembling breath and forged on, “I don’t know exactly what Jamie told you, but he wasn’t the only one.”

“Ah,” said Hannah shortly. “Yes, she did mention something about that. The dead Consular out by Vurdon Ka. Edmund, was it?”

Dani’s only reply was to nod and stare down at her socks; they’d all removed their shoes at the front door and set them into the cloak closet.

“Can’t imagine the investigation will come poking around here,” Owen added. “They’ll think you’ve run off to the Outer Rim to hide.”

Hannah hummed. “Yes, well, best we keep Miss Clayton inside for the duration of her visit, anyway.”

Dani stared at them in utter bewilderment. “But don’t you - Shouldn’t you be reporting me to the authorities?”

Owen tipped his head towards Jamie. “If this one vouches for you, then I believe you.”

Placing her hand over her heart, Jamie said, “That’s so romantic. You going soft on me?”

He knocked his foot against her ankle. “You wish.”

“If what you say is true,” said Hannah, ignoring their antics, “and you’re being inhabited by some Sith entity, then I rather think it our duty to help you, not put you down like a rabid dog.”

Owen cleared his throat. “About the Sith entity thing. Can we go back to that?”

"Quint said something about a -" Jamie trailed off, then turned to Dani. "What did he call it? The glowy box?"

"A holocron," Dani said.

Both Hannah and Owen turned to look at them with such sudden sharpness that Jamie nearly took a step back in surprise.

"A holocron," Hannah repeated. “You’re sure?”

"What colour was it?" Owen asked Dani before she could answer Hannah’s question. "Was it blue? Please say it was blue. I'll even take green."

Dani blinked, taken aback, and glanced nervously between them and Jamie before she answered, "It was red."

Hannah drew in a sharp breath and Owen grimaced as though he'd just been shot in the leg.

“Where is it now?” Hannah asked.

"Gone," Jamie said with a shake of her head. "In bits and pieces back on Quint's flagship."

"Not all of it."

The three of them — Hannah, Owen, and Jamie — all turned their attention to Dani, who was wringing her hands together in her lap. Then she reached into the sewn up makeshift pocket of her cloak and pulled out a single shard of black gold metal.

"I kept one of the pieces," Dani explained, holding it out towards them. "In case — I don't know — in case Peter tried to put it back together again."

“May I?” Hannah held out her hand.

Dani passed it over to her. Carefully, Hannah inspected it. Thin, triangular and gleaming darkly in the light. Jamie thought she could almost hear a faint whisper when she looked at it for too long, a cold fingertip brushing against the back of her neck, travelling down the length of her spine.

“There is part of an inscription here in the old Sith Tongue,” Hannah said, and she spoke a series of guttural words that seemed to darken the very air around her before translating them. “I sleep. I wake. I walk.”

“Mmm,” said Owen. “Hate that.”

“I’m so glad you two know what the hell is going on,” Jamie said dryly.

Shooting Jamie an exasperated look, Hannah handed the shard back to Dani. “Thank you, dear. What you have there is a piece of a very rare storage device made with the Force. Undoubtedly Sith in origin, and very ancient, too. Jedi use them as well. Holocrons contain information. Secrets. Wisdom. Power.”

Dani turned the metallic triangle over between the fingers as if trying to read the same inscription, or to glean something more. “And what did this one hold?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Hannah said with a soft smile. “Whatever that holocron once held is long gone now.”

Dani clenched the triangle in one fist. “But what if we had all the pieces?”

“Perhaps that would accomplish something. I doubt it.” Then Hannah added wryly, “You might be able to make a very fine lamp.”

In the other armchair, Owen snorted. Without looking in his direction, Jamie aimed a kick at his leg, which he easily dodged.

“That can’t be everything,” Dani said, knuckles going white, voice going shaky. “You have to know something more. There has to be more.”

Hannah shrugged. “I’ll look through the archives tonight. Maybe then we will have more answers.”

“That’s -”

"Tomorrow," said Hannah firmly yet kindly. She stood and urged Dani to her feet as well.

"But -" Dani started to say.

Hannah put a warm hand on Dani shoulder and steered her towards the dining room. "Tomorrow," she repeated. "We cannot solve the galaxy's problems in an evening."

—

After dinner, they retired to the lounge over a glass of wine. Hannah took Dani aside, where they murmured away together in a corner, while Jamie and Owen sat in armchairs across a polished stone firepit that had been dug into the ground. Dani wandered off to bed not long after with a lingering glance in Jamie’s direction, then Hannah left for the comforts of her archives, murmuring that same phrase in the old Sith Tongue as she went.

I sleep. I wake. I walk.

Jamie shivered in spite of herself. Owen watched her knowingly over the rim of his glass.

“How are you really?”

“You know me. Bold as brass,” Jamie muttered.

He glanced down the hallway, where Dani had gone and not emerged after the sound of a door shutting. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to be careful, so I won’t.”

Jamie grimaced. “Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t. Besides,” she reached out to nudge his elbow so that it slipped off the armrest of the couch. “I can always count on you to patch me up again.”

His answering smile was strained. “I can only do so much with lightsabre wounds.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Owen took a sip of his wine and hummed, the note echoing slightly around the glass bowl. “I defer to Hannah in matters of balance in the Force,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can do anything for your friend without more information. And even then — I’m saying this might be a lost cause, Jamie.”

Jamie gripped the stem of her wineglass and rolled her head back to sigh at the ceiling. “If I had two credits for every time someone told me that, I’d have twelve credits.”

“You could buy yourself a decent stimpack with that,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

She let her head loll forward again and leaned her cheek upon her fist. “I know what you’re going to say.”

Owen smiled sadly at her and then he said it anyway, “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

“I don’t want to hear it, mate.”

He leaned forward, setting aside his wineglass on a side table, and said in a soft yet serious tone, “You cannot let your judgement be clouded by personal attachments.”

She laughed, a short bitter huff of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” With a gesture around the room, she said, “Awfully cosy here in Hannah’s place, innit? Was that your spare cloak and set of boots in the closet I saw?”

If Owen was put off his stride in any way, he did not show it, nor did he falter. “As a member of The Order, it is your duty to help everyone you can. And in that regard, you have always been the best of us.”

Jaw tight, Jamie glared into the firepit, a flicker of flame sending up sparks. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“No,” he murmured, his gaze dark and warm and unyielding. “But you act like one. If strength and power were what made a Jedi, then we would all be Sith. You are not defined by how much of the Force you can control. It’s what you do that matters.”

Jamie eyes burned from staring at the fire for too long. She cleared her throat, lifted her wineglass and drained its contents.

“Thanks for the drink and for the food,” she said, setting the wineglass aside and pushing herself to her feet. “And for the shit pep talk.”

Owen did not stand or attempt to bring her back when Jamie turned and walked down the same hallway Dani had vanished down about an hour ago. He let her go with a soft, “Good night,” that Jamie caught just on the edges of her hearing, and which made her fists clench.

At the end of the hall, Hannah had given them each their own rooms across from one another. Jamie stopped in front of Dani’s door. There was a soft light shining beneath the gap at the base, indicating that either Dani was still awake, or she was too afraid to sleep alone with the lights off. Jamie lifted her hand to knock, but stopped before she could touch the door. Instead she ran her hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. Then with a shake of her head, she turned around and went into her own room.

It was the first night in nearly two weeks that Jamie slept alone. She tossed and turned, looking back towards her own shut door, seeing the echo of that pale sliver of light across the hall. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she shut her eyes and struggled in search of sleep.

—

“I did a bit more research last night,” said Hannah as a greeting over breakfast.

“Oh, aye?” Jamie mumbled to the contents of her teacup.

Late morning sunlight washed through the tall windows of Hannah’s apartment, and Jamie was combating a pervasive grogginess with her third cup of the morning. Sleep last night had been a futile effort. Sitting across the table from her, Dani looked no better off; her eyes were circled with dark rings and her hair lacked its usual polished care. She had already been out in the kitchen for some time when Jamie had finally emerged from her room to find Dani helping Owen prepare breakfast and set the table. Both she and Owen had greeted Jamie with varying degrees of enthusiasm — Dani with a small private grin, Owen with a boisterous call of ‘Good Morning!’ that could’ve woken the dead.

Now they were all seated at the dining table. Owen had prepared a spread of food that would have given the ship’s computer a run for its millions of credits. He and Dani had tucked in, while Jamie and Hannah nursed their cups of tea in lieu of food.

“That inscription,” said Hannah. “I sleep. I wake. I walk. IT was specific enough to give me a small lead.”

Jamie lowered her cup, while across the table from her Dani did the same with her knife and fork, suddenly alert.

“So, what did the holocron have in it?” Jamie asked.

“Not what. Who.” Hannah pointed around her cup towards Dani, who had gone stock-still. “The echo of a soul. An ancient Sith Lord, whose sunken tomb is said to lie beneath the waters of a planet lost to time after the Hundred-Year Darkness. I could find nothing more than this, and at first I thought it a mere legend. Here. These images were taken from The Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban.”

Hannah tapped at a link on her wrist, bringing up a holographic display which she set to the middle of the table so the rest of them could see. A collage of pictures from various sources. Old texts written on parchment or carved into stone. Weathered statues emerging from bodies of water in dark caves, and vast frescos painted upon plastered walls depicting a woman. All of them somehow defaced. Sections of writing blotted or chiselled away. The heads of every statue, every painting smashed or blighted as though taken to by a hammer.

“Spooky,” Owen muttered.

“What’s wrong with her face?” asked Jamie.

“It seems even other Sith feared her. Or envied her. Or hated her. Who knows? But her very name and image have been desecrated beyond repair, condemned to damnatio memoriae,” Hannah highlighted a section of writing that had been left unscarred. “They call her only: The Lady.”

Jamie stared at one of the statues, and even though it lacked all discernible features she could not shake herself of the horrible feeling that it was watching her back. “A Sith feared by other Sith? Well, that’s not terrifying at all.”

“All Sith eventually turn on each other in the end,” Owen scoffed. “This was probably just the work of some ambitious apprentice. You know how they are.”

“That’s very possible,” agreed Hannah.

“So instead of knowledge,” Jamie said slowly, “the holocron was holding a piece of her soul? Why?”

“A piece? No.” Hannah shook her head. “More like a shadow. A reflection of what once was whole. And for what purpose, I cannot say. Did she even make it herself? Or was it made of her unwillingly? Perhaps to preserve her own life. Or even to trap her, to interrogate her. All of these are plausible.”

Owen hummed a contemplative note, nodding to himself, then he abruptly said, “More tea?”

Hannah held out her cup. “Please. Thank you, dear.”

Meanwhile, Dani had spoken not a word. Her gaze was glued to one of the holo images, the one of a fresco depicting The Lady, faceless, with her hands on the shoulders of a young child with gold-graven eyes.

Jamie nudged her foot under the table, and Dani started, blinking at her.

“Sorry,” Dani breathed.

“S’alright,” Jamie said. She nodded towards the holo images. “This sound familiar at all?”

Dani licked her lips and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s her.” Hands clenched and trembling around her cutlery, she said, “I’m sorry, but can you please turn that off?”

Without question, Hannah killed the feed, and Dani breathed a sigh of relief. Owen topped up Dani’s teacup as well, and she smiled gratefully at him. He winked and set down the teapot.

“As fascinating as Sith history is,” said Owen dryly. “What does it have to do with Alderaan? Why target children of House Thul?”

Hannah looked to be deep in thought, sipping at her tea with a furrow to her brow, while Dani shrugged.

Meanwhile, Jamie groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know," she said, "but I know someone who does. Do you have a transceiver?"

“Oh! Yeah. Give me a tick.” Owen pushed back his chair and went off in search of a transceiver. He returned a moment later holding a blade-thin screen, tapping at it to pull up the right application before he handed it to Jamie and sat back down in his seat. “Here.”

“Cheers.” Jamie took the screen and typed in the relevant frequency and hit a green button.

It rang. And rang. And just as Jamie was about to kill the feed, the screen flickered and a familiar face appeared.

Rebecca smiled. "Well, that was fast. Miss me already?"

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

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imagineclaireandjamie · 4 years ago

Text

Shielded. Chapter SEVEN. Catastrophe.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: Prompt: Young at heart.

Morning/afternoon/evening all - sorry there wasn’t an update on Sunday, I’ve been moving house so it’s all a little messy at the moment. After next week, though, Shielded should return to normal <3 (for those who’ve asked, this isn’t posted on AO3, it may be at some point but at the moment I don't have enough time to post in both places, so sorry) MBD.

There should have been something endearing about being butted daily by a bouncing cloud, but the ewe Claire had taken care of for Jamie seemed to be having more fun than it should. For the third time that week she found herself chasing the bleating thing around the house as it continued to knock pictures, magazines, books, remotes and anything else not glued down over and off every single surface. Nothing was safe.

“OI!” She yelled, hoping her ‘mum voice’ would subdue the raging beast (it didn’t). “Watch the…”

Too late, she thought, as it went careering into the side of the wall. Luckily the house was made of stronger stuff, and her erstwhile companion simply shook herself and trotted off down the hallway.

‘Headstrong’ was the word she’d used in her earlier call to Jamie. He had laughed, covering his mouth so that she couldn’t hear him, as she’d relayed the story of her morning but had made a mental note that perhaps having a lamb in the house had not been the smartest move. Usually timid, sheep could pose bigger issues the more...content...they became with human contact though he hadn’t thought her large enough to pose as much of an issue as she did.

By the end of the week she (the ewe) had fully established herself as head of the house and Claire had succumbed to allowing her free rein.

Peace had been restored for which everyone was grateful.

“Clearly she feels more secure in the house wi’out the other sheep to boss her about.” Jamie said over dinner on Friday - a night he had, thankfully, managed to get home at a reasonable hour.

“Yes, so it seems.” Claire added, without humour.

Keeping his eye on her, he tried to playfully nudge her under the table and it wasn’t long before a slight pink blush coloured her cheeks and she began laughing too.

“Nothing that’s worth having in this life comes easy,” he quipped, winking as best as he was able, “including the raising of sheep, sassenach…”

There was a moment of silence as Claire cocked her head to the side. “Nope,” she said, a glint of humour behind her eyes, “you’re going to have to explain that one.”

“One what?”

“Sass-a-what now?”

“OH!” For a moment he seemed abashed, his eyes glancing away from hers as he tried to find an effective (and non-insulting) way to explain his comment. He had been thinking of how to address her. It was clear she was finding it difficult to adapt to her new name (more so than her surroundings, though, he was pleased to note). “Well, it’s a bit of a...slur...really. But I didna mean it that way. Only I didna want to keep calling ye ‘lass’ all the time, and it seemed to suit you.”

“...so, what does it mean, technically speaking?”

“Literally it means ‘foreigner’, but it’s usually only used to describe the English.”

“Fitting then?” The sweet smile on her face betrayed her and he knew she wasn’t angry at the assessment.

There was a certain automatic understanding; he was right, she was struggling to connect with her new identity and he’d clearly picked up on the hesitation she had in answering to her new name. She felt like a foreigner in her own body so it seemed natural that her nickname should be linked with such a phrase. And, even though it was meant to be derogatory, she had immediately felt a kinship with it.

“Do you have any Scottish slurs for a cantankerous lamb?”

Having been ill-prepared for the immediacy of her humour, Jamie choked on his drink as he tried to contain his shocked laughter. “Being a notorious farming community, I’m sure there must be something but usually when the animals are misbehaving we just use Gaelic curse words.”

“Maybe you should be the first to coin one - it can be your legacy.”

Raising his eyebrows, he took a sip of his tea and made an indistinct low noise in the back of his throat. Settling back into a comfortable silence, he watched her take a bite of a biscuit, his interest piqued as she dunked it carelessly into her hot drink. Although she was mostly still an enigma, he was starting to get a sense of her. Certainly she’d been raised well, in a middle class household. From her dress to her manner and the way she spoke and carried herself, he guessed she’d been privately educated.

But there was also something incredibly earthy about her, an aura of something more down-to-earth than that and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

The dreams hadn’t stopped, he’d had one free night but he was niggled persistently by something just beyond his reach and he would wake (usually before his alarm) breathless and needy, sweat often rolling down his back. The cold showers had become a regular occurrence and he felt a little embarrassed when he looked at her - even though, hopefully, she had no knowledge of the inner workings of his mind.

He’d been told on a number of occasions that his face gave nothing away and he couldn’t have been more grateful for that now.

“If you think much harder, Jamie, your brain might fall out of your ears.” She joked, pushing the plate of biscuits across to him as the orphaned ewe bleated loudly in the background. She found that the noise made her giggle and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she watched him dismantle the jammy dodger. “Though that may be preferable to dealing with that furry bully.”

“She’s just a lass with spirit, that’s all.” He returned, watching as she dipped her head, the shorter parts of her hair falling from the bobble she had it tied loosely in to hide away her face.

“Lord knows we need a few more of those in our lives.”

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

As the atmosphere in the room changed, Jamie pushed the half empty plate back across the table, his little finger sliding ever so softly against hers before pulling back. He saw the second her confidence dipped and wanted to calmly reassure her without openly baring her insecurities.

“So,” she said, shaking off her downturned mood relatively quickly, “she probably needs more skilled hands than mine to continue raising her?”

“After the weekend my pal Rupert will come and take her, he has an older ewe he thinks might be able to take her on. But dinna think too much of it, she likes you, she feels comfortable wi’ you that she’s able to-”

“Run me ragged?”

“Aye.”

“It does feel like one of those high school experiments made to put you off becoming parents.” She was stood now, looking into the back utility room at her newest friend, who’d given up making noise to, instead, lie sleepily on the small smattering of hay Claire had placed down for her to munch on.

“She’s probably a wee bit more intense than an egg?”

That image made her snort. “Did you have to take care of an *egg* like a baby?”

“Oh aye, I drew a face on it.”

“It!? No wonder they only gave you poultry produce with that attitude.”

With contentment settling between them once more, Jamie allowed the weight of the last few minutes to fall from his shoulders. He felt proud that he’d been able to turn it around with a humorous quip borne from his own experiences. At the same time, he could see that she too felt relieved.

As the lamb stood sleepily and began to suckle gently on Claire’s outstretched fingers, a delicate moment passed between her and the little ewe.

“See, I told you she liked you.”

As he got into bed that evening, Jamie tried to recall the look of pure pleasure on her face as she’d noticed the bond that she had cultivated. Having been a city dweller for most of her life, she’d spoken to him over dinner about the pet cat her uncle had owned when she was very young but she’d hardly had much chance to engage with animals before or after that point. He’d suggested that he didn’t have to send the ewe away with Rupert but that’d both agreed it would still be better in the long run and he sensed she wanted to keep hold of the good memories she’d made (albeit few and far between) before she grew any bigger and caused anymore damage.

“Sleep well, sassenach,” he whispered, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips as the image of her nursing the ewe was replaced by Claire with a small red-haired child - the vision appearing unbidden as he fell softly to sleep.

#Anon #ask #;mod mbd #shielded #jamie x claire

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karasunovolleygays · 5 years ago

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UshiIwa Fic Recs

(that nobody asked for)

Hello! It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome you all to UshiIwa hell! I’ve been malingering here for years, but with new developments in canon, it looks like I am no longer stuck on Gilligan’s Island (me plus the six other sad bastards i’m stranded with).

As a long time sufferer of this ship, I would like to introduce you to some of my favorite UshiIwa stories, including a few of my own bc tag smol. :’)

Rating: G/T

I Lose Control by voices_in_my_head Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, OMC (Coach) Summary: "He looks to the bench, where Iwaizumi’s eyes dance from player to player." Words: 1,538 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: this is an interesting study of how Ushijima would deal with an injury at a crucial moment when everyone is counting on him, plus a dose of priority.

Cordially Uninvited by Karasuno Volleygays (that’s me) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Possible Current Manga Spoilers, Established Relationship, Paparazzi Summary: Paparazzi haunting notable people has always been a problem, but Hajime and Wakatoshi opt to clear the air on their own terms. Words: 1,279 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I thought it would be interesting to see how Ushijima would deal with celebrity and subsequently strangers poking their noses in his personal business.

Three Doors Down by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, More Fluff, pretty bara men bonding over dogs Summary: When Ushijima inherited a property that had seen better days, he found himself spending a lot of time and effort in a new part of town restoring the house to its former glory. However, he didn't expect a litter of puppies in a yard a few houses over to revive his spirit, as well.

He certainly didn't anticipate their owner stirring something to life within him, either, but that was a development he didn't need much coaxing to get used to. Words: 13,145 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: I have no excuses for how fluffy this is.

you're good, too quickly admitted by pyrality Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Coffeeshop AU, College AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting Summary: Iwaizumi sits back in the chair, "Oikawa thinks I could do better."

Ushijima swallows, eyes still on his laptop screen, "And what do you think?"

"I think I'd like to go out to lunch with you sometime."

He looks up at the other boy, feeling warm at the sight of Iwaizumi's crooked, barely there smile, a challenging twinkle in his eye.

"Oh," Ushijima manages before he recomposes himself, "I'd like that.” Words: 2,731 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: UshiIwa dating to spite Oikawa is too good to turn down.

Alight by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Time Skips, Rivals to Lovers Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime can't believe his soulmate is the guy who just wiped the floor with his team, but there is no denying the fact that he is irrevocably linked to Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 4,504 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you’re interested in them getting to know each other through their failures and vulnerable moments, this is probably your jam.

Baby It's Cold Outside by RarePairGremlin Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Winter, Cuddling, light grinding, hints to smut but nothing is described, jaw kiss, Kissing, Fluff, Established Relationship Summary: The childish grin spread over his lips again as he faced them, his gaze roaming up them slowly as an idea formed. Ushijima, ever prepared, was fully dressed in thick socks a pair of blue sweats, which they had tucked into their socks like the crime against fashion they are, and a thick hoodie. He knew for a fact, since he’s stolen it enough times, that the hoodie was fuzzy and soft on the inside. Beside them lay a steaming cup of tea, the bag still steeping inside as they liked their tea strong, and the aforementioned throw lay comfortably across their lap. A perfect image of warm and cozy.

It would be a shame if someone was to disturb that now wouldn’t it? Words: 1,471 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly what it says on the tin, plus a bonus NB Ushijima!

the ghost in your room by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Unrequited Love, Unrequited IwaOi, oikawa is a bit of a dick Summary: Hajime finds a way to get over Oikawa Words: 1,173 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s an oddly pleasurable mixture of fluff and a punch in the throat.

Good Graces by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Arguments, Mending Fences Summary: Hajime is pissed at Wakatoshi for something he admits he did until he finds out the real reason he did it. Then he feels like a jackass. Hopefully, his live-in boyfriend is up for a good old fashioned groveling session. Words: 2,059 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: Making your otp mad at each other is hard and it hurts, but the communication afterward is so important.

lit the very fuse by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Getting Together, Unrequited Love, Christmas Eve, Mostly Fluff, ushiwaka is a soft boy, you can never convince me otherwise Summary: Hajime isn't sure what he and Ushijima are to each other, but he knows he's still stuck on Oikawa. Words: 2,609 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you like FWB to Lovers, step right up and scream into the void with me.

Once An Enemy. by BGee93 Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Aged-Up Character(s), Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Volleyball, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, volleyball mentioned not played, Getting to Know Each Other, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Coffee Shops, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Aobajousai, Shiratorizawa, boyfriend sweater, Confusion, Cliche, cliches, Awkward RomanceAwkward Meetings, meme team - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Romance, very slow burn, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Bonding, Forced Bonding Summary: 'It took several minutes to catch his breath again and to stop hissing through his teeth at the areas that throbbed, until they were just a dull ache. Once Iwaizumi felt he was able to move again he slid his hands up the strangers chest, ignoring the ripple and twitches his touch caused since the situation was already awkward enough without Iwaizumi appreciating the well toned muscle under his fingertips, as he pushed himself up till he was able to look at the persons face. There was more lighting on the bottom floor, as it was closer to the illuminating street lamps outside, so he was able to make out exactly who the man was within mere seconds despite the face still being quite shadowed. And the identity shocked him into stilling every joint, muscle and fiber of his being.

Oh hell no.' Words: 20,130 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was written for me as a gift in an exchange a while back. Have I stopped screaming about it? Not bloody likely.

Rating: M

Focus (On Me) by Verbrennung Tags: Underage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ushijima is a 1st year, lots of staring, and looming, and crowding, Seijou!Ushijima, rated for ~makin' out~ Summary: Nobody had foreseen future Super Ace Ushijima Wakatoshi transferring from Shiratorizawa to Aoba Johsai for high school. Everyone's curious to know why, and as Iwaizumi discovers, some of his reasons are... unexpected.

An AU in which everything is mostly the same except Ushijima is a first year at Aoba Johsai and has a huge, looming crush on Iwaizumi. Words: 12,454 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This should probably be rated T instead, but whatever. If you ever wanted to know how much of an awkward bastard both of them are when they’re into someone, this is your jam.

Point Blank by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Future Fic, Brief (but pertinent) Mention of Homophobia, Slow Burn, Financial shenanigans, Scary Men with Guns, Minor Character Death Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime accepted a position at a company that was going places, and he knew he had a bright future ahead of him if he just kept his head down and worked hard — a future his family desperately needed him to achieve. He didn't count on an old rival working in the same building, nor Ushijima Wakatoshi's surprisingly cordial demeanor, yet he managed to make an unlikely friend and an even more unlikely roommate.

But when Iwaizumi climbed up the company ladder and into some of the more shadowy recesses of the corporate realm, he knew they would both get more than they bargained for, and the only person he knew he could trust was Ushijima. Words: 44,981 Chapters: 12/12 My notes: This was my first UshiIwa and I still think about it a lot. Imagining these guys in regular jobs is strange, but kind of endearing when you get a feel for how they live their lives after volleyball.

Rating: E

Flare by fish_wifey Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, From dislike to like, Tension, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial Summary: Ushijima's forwardness makes Iwaizumi edgy, but after they figure their shit out, it's Iwaizumi who brings Ushijima on edge. Words: 7,687 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: Enemies to lovers speed run ahoy!

Tangled Webs by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Black Widow AU, Assassin Iwaizumi, Crime boss Ushijima, alcohol use, Drugging, dubcon elements, Angst Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a seasoned killer, with wit sharp enough to cut and reflexes to match. He's never missed a kill. That is, of course, until he meets his new mark — Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Can Ushijima offer Iwaizumi what he truly desires, on top of a night of heated passion that can only end one way? Words: 4,120 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was some fucked up stuff, but sweet baby jesus it was a wild ride to write.

Unraveled by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Bondage, Knife Play, Edging, Rough Sex, Flogging, Breathplay, Toys, Dubious Morality Summary: After his liberation from his past life, Iwaizumi adjusts to life with Ushijima. But something is missing, and Ushijima picks the strangest (and most erotic) way to give it to him. Words: 5,145 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s cute that I thought the first fic in this series was fucked up. This one was clearly more so, but noragerts.

Poly/Multiship ft. UshiIwa

4 AM by ApparentlyAda Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, this is so stupid, I'm Sorry, Oikawa and Ushijima talk about dogs, Iwaizumi is Oikawa and Ushiwaka Trash #1 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: "Ushiwaka."

"Yes?"

"What if one day you woke up as a chicken?"

"What if one day you shut the fuck up?", interrupts Hajime groggily.

(Or, simply put, the awful(ly amazing) conversations these three dorks have during sleepless nights) Words: 1,064 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I hope you like banter and Oikawa roastage haha

Bridge the Gap by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Divorce, Past Child Abuse, Lawyer! Oikawa, Police officer iwaizumi, Flower Shop Owner Ushijima, child kageyama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Meet the Family, chap 6 is the familys ongoing mission to keep kags hydrated, chap 7 is meet the parents edition, Internalized Homophobia, just a touch of it really Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru and Ushijijma Wakatoshi love each other more than anything, but sometimes that’s not enough, especially in a world that doesn’t love them back. Tiny cracks begin to widen, ever so slowly, until the gaps they leave seem insurmountable.

They find their answers with each other, and surprisingly enough, with the little boy loitering outside their window.

—-

Or, a story of disconnects and the love it takes to bridge them. Words: 121,443 Chapters: 18/18 My notes: It’s long with a lot of heavy themes, but if you look at the tags and think you can get through them, it’s so worth it.

a taste of heaven by beatboxbmo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Polyamory, Birthday baking, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s) Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: tooru comes home early on his birthday to see his two boyfriends asleep on the couch. they baked him a surprise. Words: 2,141 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly as warm and gooey as it sounds.

Three's A Crowd by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Romance, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Miscommunication, Dating, First Kiss, a mess, These Boys are a MESS, Chatlogs, Light Angst, Polyamory, OT3 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi loves Oikawa.

Oikawa loves Iwaizumi.

Neither of them will say anything.

Then, suddenly, Ushijima is there.

And things get very complicated. Words: 32,385 Chapters: 9/10 My notes: Normally I don’t put WIPs on rec lists, but this one is close to completion and it’s so, so worth it. Boys are dumb and you should appreciate them.

adolescence and all its glory by pageleaf Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Wooing, Future Fic, College/University, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Fluff, Flirting, Established Iwaoi, eventual OT3, Threesome - M/M/M, Manga Spoilers Summary: Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he should have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.

Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 20,024 Chapters: 2/2 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Accidental rivals to lovers? Enjoy the sound of me screaming into the abyss, and the abyss screams back.

Close For Comfort by Leryline Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, NSFW, ushioi - Freeform, really sinful but great, Angst, it has a happy ending i promise, iwaoi - Freeform, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Threesome, Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Cheating, but look it's integral to the plot ok, ROMANC E AHGHGNJD it's so gay, turning a oneshot into a multi-chap out of spite: a novel by me, also: don't cheat on people irl my dudes it's not cool. not cool.like legit please DO NOT Summary: Oikawa Tōru has always seen his future with Iwaizumi Hajime - solely, utterly, completely. After all, Iwaizumi is his pillar, the only person he needs in the world.

...right?

[or: Ushijima Wakatoshi comes in and fucks everything up, as usual, but Oikawa has never given in easily, and neither has Iwaizumi, for that matter.] Words:61041 Chapters: 15/15 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: If infidelity makes you uncomfortable, even if it has a happy ending all around, I would pass on this one. The smuts, however, are top shelf.

Privacy by plumtrees Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, House Party, Alternate Universe - College/University, Future Fic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Riding, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Partner Swapping Summary: Iwaizumi reaches for the knob by his hip, easily twisting it open and getting them both inside. They stumble in with their lips still sealed over each other’s, silent giggles passing between mouths as Oikawa hurries to flatten his hand against the door to shut it and crowd Iwaizumi against the surface, other hand winding around his waist to pull him close, keep him there—

But then an alarmed noise rips from Iwaizumi’s throat, the hand steady on his shoulder suddenly pushing him away Iwaizumi’s looking behind him, expression a mix of shock and mild horror and Oikawa follows a split second later, just in time for a moan to resonate past the muffled music being carried over from downstairs.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima greets, only the slightest tremor to his voice as Shirabu sinks down on his cock. “Tendou didn’t mention you’d be here.” English Words: 9,736 Chapters: 1/1 Relationship: UshiShiraIwaOi My notes: Good lord this is spicy. This is ‘swinging’ in its truest form.

Show Me You Own Me by preciousghouls Rating: E Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, Rimming, Barebacking, BDSM, Daddy Kink, on oikawa's part, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Bottom!Iwaizumi, bottom!Oikawa, top!oikawa, top!ushijima, switch hitter oikawa, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, i have sinned, sleeping drug in five lines, Consensual, Begging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Petplay, Collars, Cuffs, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Butt Plugs, domestic AU, Crossdressing Summary: It's Oikawa's idea, of course. But Iwaizumi finds himself loving the way Ushijima has Oikawa wrapped around his fingers, and before long they're both moaning at the hands of Ushijima.

aka the kinkiest shit I've ever written in my life. Words: 20,819 Chapters: 4/4 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Sometimes wanting to be dommed by ushiwaka is a communal mood, ya know?

Tumblr Fics

(mostly not rated/tagged; proceed with caution and at your own discretion)

Untitled by notsuchasecret

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by deathbelle

Comfortable by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Morning Kisses by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Meet My Nephew by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

#ushiiwa #iwaushi #ushiiwaoi #ushijima wakatoshi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#hq chapter 395 #hq manga spoilers #manga spoilers #fic recs #haikyuu fic recs

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fitjourneydaily · 11 months ago

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DentaFend: Understanding Sleep Quality: The Key to Adequate Rest and Healthy Sleep Patterns

Sleep is an essential aspect of our overall well-being, impacting our physical health, mental clarity, and emotional stability. Yet, in today's fast-paced society, many individuals struggle with achieving quality sleep and maintaining healthy sleep patterns. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the various factors that influence sleep quality and explore the importance of adequate rest. Additionally, we will discuss the correlation between sleep patterns and nighttime glucose levels, shedding light on the impact of sleep on our metabolic health. 1. Understanding Sleep Quality: Sleep quality refers to the degree to which an individual's sleep is restorative, refreshing, and uninterrupted. It is not only the duration of sleep that matters but also the depth and efficiency of each sleep cycle. Several factors contribute to sleep quality, including sleep environment, sleep duration, sleep disorders, and lifestyle choices. 1.1 The Role of Sleep Environment: Creating an optimal sleep environment is crucial for achieving quality sleep. Keep your bedroom cool, quiet, and dark, ensuring comfortable bedding and a supportive mattress. Minimize external disruptions, such as electronic devices or excessive noise, that could interfere with your sleep. 1.2 The Importance of Sleep Duration: While individual sleep needs vary, adults generally require 7-9 hours of sleep per night for optimal functioning. However, it's not just about the quantity of sleep but also its quality. Consistently obtaining the recommended amount of sleep is pivotal in maintaining overall health and well-being. 1.3 Identifying and Addressing Sleep Disorders: Sleep disorders, such as sleep apnea, insomnia, and restless leg syndrome, significantly impact sleep quality. If you suspect a sleep disorder, seek professional medical evaluation and treatment options to improve your sleep patterns. 1.4 Lifestyle Choices and Sleep Quality: Certain lifestyle habits can either promote or hinder sleep quality. Regular exercise, a balanced diet, and stress management techniques, such as meditation or deep breathing exercises, can all positively influence the quality of your sleep. Conversely, excessive caffeine or alcohol intake, irregular sleep schedules, and screen time before bed may negatively affect sleep quality. 2. The Importance of Adequate Rest: Adequate rest goes beyond simply achieving the recommended sleep duration. It involves allowing your body and mind to fully recover and rejuvenate during sleep, ensuring you wake up feeling refreshed and energized. 2.1 Nurturing REM Sleep: Rapid Eye Movement (REM) sleep is a crucial stage of the sleep cycle associated with enhanced cognitive function and memory consolidation. To optimize REM sleep, establish a consistent sleep schedule and engage in relaxation techniques before bed. 2.2 Creating a Pre-Sleep Routine: Developing a pre-sleep routine signals to your body that it's time to wind down, preparing it for restorative sleep. Consider activities such as reading a book, listening to calming music, or taking a warm bath to encourage relaxation before bed. 2.3 Prioritizing Sleep Hygiene: Maintaining good sleep hygiene practices contributes to quality rest. These include avoiding heavy meals close to bedtime, limiting screen time, creating a dark and quiet sleep environment, and establishing a consistent sleep-wake schedule. 3. Sleep Patterns and Nighttime Glucose Levels: Emerging research has unveiled a notable connection between sleep patterns and nighttime glucose levels, shedding light on the metabolic implications of poor sleep quality. 3.1 Impact of Sleep Deprivation on Glucose Regulation: Lack of adequate sleep has been linked to impaired glucose metabolism, contributing to insulin resistance and an increased risk of developing type 2 diabetes. Disrupted sleep patterns can disrupt the body's natural glucose regulation processes, leading to elevated nighttime glucose levels. 3.2 Role of Melatonin in Glucose Regulation: Melatonin, a hormone produced during sleep, influences glucose metabolism. Disruptions in sleep patterns can disturb melatonin production, affecting the body's ability to regulate glucose effectively. 3.3 The Vicious Cycle of Poor Sleep and Elevated Glucose: Poor sleep quality and elevated nighttime glucose levels can create a vicious cycle. Elevated glucose levels can disrupt sleep patterns, leading to further sleep deprivation and glucose irregularities. Breaking this cycle is vital for overall metabolic health. Conclusion: Understanding the importance of sleep quality, adequate rest, and maintaining healthy sleep patterns is essential for our overall well-being. By prioritizing sleep hygiene, creating an optimal sleep environment, and addressing sleep disorders, we can significantly improve our sleep quality. Furthermore, recognizing the correlation between sleep patterns and nighttime glucose levels emphasizes the critical role of sleep in maintaining metabolic health. Let's strive to nurture our sleep habits and prioritize holistic well-being through quality rest. Revitalize your oral health with DentaFend's Essential Nutrient Formula. Discover the power of this one key nutrient, scientifically proven to combat gum disease and rebuild your teeth. Our specialized formula is designed for those seeking to enhance their dental health naturally and effectively. Whether you're dealing with sensitive gums or looking to strengthen your teeth, DentaFend offers a nutrient-rich solution that targets the root cause of oral health issues. Embrace a future of strong, healthy teeth and gums with DentaFend. Experience the transformative effects of our unique nutrient blend on your oral wellness. Learn more about how DentaFend can revolutionize your dental care routine. Visit the DentaFend Essential Nutrient Formula Product Page. Transform your blood sugar management with Vivotonic, the Advanced Blood Sugar Support Formula. Tailored for those striving to maintain healthy glucose levels, Vivotonic is your ideal partner in your wellness journey. Our expertly crafted formula provides a harmonious blend of natural ingredients known for supporting blood sugar regulation, enhancing your body's ability to manage glucose efficiently. Whether you're pre-diabetic, diabetic, or simply mindful about maintaining balanced blood sugar levels, Vivotonic offers the nutritional support you need. Embrace the path to stable glucose levels and improved overall health with Vivotonic. Discover how our specialized formula can aid in your blood sugar control efforts. Visit the Vivotonic Blood Sugar Support Formula Product Page. Read the full article

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k-llama-llama · 5 years ago

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Security

BTS AU: 8th member

Sumi x BTS

An incident on an airplane leaves BTS frustrated and distressed.

Check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive content. This post was available a month ago for those on my patreon.

Requests are OPEN.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

"Woah, this plane is fancy." Yoongi gasped as he stepped into his little pod.

Sumi smirked from hers, setting her bag at her feet. "I think this chair turns into a bed, too."

"We've made it, guys." Hoseok laughed.

They were getting ready to fly to the US for the Grammys, and Sumi had fully equipped herself for the ride ahead. She was wearing a white crop top and leggings, with an oversize Gucci sweater she'd stolen from Tae. Her bag was stocked with face masks, an eye mask, some snacks, and a cozy blanket so she could get some sleep.

"Noona, do you want to watch a movie?" Jungkook asked. His pod was right across the aisle from hers, and he'd already flipped his chair into a bed.

She gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Kookie. I need to get some sleep."

"That's okay. Are you going to turn your chair into a bed."

"Yeah, I think so." She answered, gesturing to the passengers still coming down the aisle. "Once everyone is boarded."

It only took another twenty minutes until the bulk of the passengers had boarded, with all of the members keeping their gazes down to avoid attracting attention. When she felt like most people had walked past, she leaned over to try and figure out how to transform her bed.

Someone bumped into her, a hand landing on her bottom.

She looked up in surprise.

"Sorry, sorry." A man wearing a face mask bowed apologetically. "I stumbled, I'm so sorry."

Sumi gave a little smile. "It's okay."

He bowed again and hurried away, towards the economy seating. Sumi shrugged, before reaching across to pull on Jungkook's sleeve. "How do I make the bed."

He put his bottle of water down. "Like this." He showed her, and in no time Sumi had her very own little bed.

She sat up until the plane took off, and once the seatbelt sign went off she settled in to get comfy. Her hair went up in a bun, her sweater came off, and she put her Mika pillow under her head. She grabbed the blanket and snuggled down, pulling her sleeping mask over her face and her mask up to cover her nose.

"You look like a demon." She heard Hoseok's voice from above her. She lifted the mask slightly, seeing him peering over the top of her pod. Someone walked by, and she waited for them to leave before she spoke.

"I'm trying to protect everyone from my sleeping face." She answered.

"We appreciate it." He laughed. "You brought face masks, right? Can I borrow some?"

"Yeah, they're in my bag." She went to sit up.

"Not now." He shook his head. "After my nap, I think."

"Hmmm, okay." She settled back down, pulling her mask over her eyes as someone else walked by the bed. "You can just come and grab them."

"I will. Get some sleep, Soo." He patted her hair.

It was about six hours into the flight when the lights finally went off. Sumi had woken up a few times throughout her nap, once for food, and was finally able to fall asleep as the lights went off and people quieted down. There was only the flight attendants walking back and forth, and she snuggled happily into her pillow, the blanket shifting around as she rolled.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she became aware of someone standing next to her pod. A hand settled on her bare waist, leaning over her.

She just determinedly closed her eyes. Figured that Hobi wouldn't be able to just grab her bag, he'd have to wake her up to do it.

Except then his other hand came to rest on her boob.

"Yah!" She sat up, whispering harshly, yanking her mask off and preparing to smack Hoseok with it.

But it wasn't Hoseok.

"Who are-"

The man smacked a hand over her mouth.

She screamed, but it was muffled against his hand. The cabin was dark and she didn't see any flight attendants. She kicked frantically, her foot bashing the pod in front of her.

"Sumi, what are you-" Yoongi stood up. "Who the hell are you?"

He made no effort to be quiet, as he shoved the guy away, coming to stand in the aisle.

"What's happening?" Lights started coming on.

The guy reached up from his spot on the floor, his hand grasping at Sumi's leg.

"YAH!" It was Jungkook's hand that grabbed his wrist and threw him away. "What are you doing?"

"Soo, what did he do?" Namjoon was standing in aisle, not touching the man, but clearly blocking his exit.

"He was...he was..." She shook her head, pulling the blanket up over her chest.

"He was touching her." Yoongi said simply. "Can we get security or something?"

"Soo, are you okay?" Tae reached for her hand.

She nodded, taking his hand. "I...I think I'm..."

"She's shaking." Tae said, moving to sit next to her on the bed. "Soo..."

She turned her face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." He rubbed her shoulder, aware of the fact that she was using him to hide her tears.

"Is there a problem here?" A male flight attendants voice broke through as he came to stand at the edge of their little gathering.

"Yeah, this guy just assaulted our friend." Yoongi snapped. "Can we get him detained please?"

"I didn't do anything wrong." The man protested. "I just...fell."

"With your hand over her mouth?" Jungkook glared at him.

"She's crying, you idiot!" Jimin shouted. "Are you kidding? Where's our manager?"

"Let's get you back to your seat." The male flight attendant hauled the man to his feet, leading him back through the aisles.

"Back to his..." Hoseok watched as the took the man away. "Are you serious?"

"Excuse me," Namjoon turned to the other flight attendant. "We're going to find our manager, and then we'll need that man's information."

"Sir, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, we-"

"A misunderstanding?" Taehyung said as loudly as he dared, fully conscious of the fact that Sumi was still sniffling into his chest.

"Are you sure she didn't..." The flight attendant floundered for words. "Encourage it in some way?"

"Are you serious?" All of the boys shouted in protest.

"I didn't encourage it!" Sumi mumbled.

"We know you didn't, Soo." Tae patted her cheek. "Joon."

Namjoon was no longer trying to play nice. "We'll get his information, and then we'll get yours. Because we're pressing charges."

"Surely you don't need."

"Keep arguing with him." Yoongi snorted. "We'll get you fired! Do you want to-"

"Oppa." Sumi reached out a hand to him. "It isn't worth it."

He stopped talking, but he looked like he definitely wanted to say more.

"Manager-nim!" Jimin exclaimed as their manager appeared, quickly explaining the situation. Their manager ushered the flight attendant away, promising to get the information they needed.

"You going to be okay, Soo?" Hoseok pulled on the top of her bun. "They'll figure everything out."

She pulled back from Tae's chest, wiping her eyes. "Sorry, I'm overreacting."

"You aren't." Namjoon promised. "I can't believe they handled it like that. As if you would actually-"

Tae clicked him tongue in warning, and Namjoon stopped. "Anyways, we'll figure it out."

"Do you want to try and get some more sleep?" Jimin asked.

Sumi shrugged. "I doubt I'll be able, but I should try. We have a big day tomorrow."

"I just don't get it." Yoongi shook his head. "Did he just like...jump on you...or..."

Sumi shook her head. "I thought it was Hobi at first. I should've been more careful."

"You were sleeping, you weren't supposed to be anything." Tae reminded her. "Just, try and relax, okay. If you can't sleep, just watch a movie and take your mind off it."

"We'll watch a movie together, Noona." Jungkook offered. "And we can do face masks."

She nodded, trying to force a smile on her face. She didn't like crying in general, but there was nothing she hated more than Jungkook seeing her cry.

The other boys migrated back to their seats, all of them on edge. The manager returned at one point to whisper something to Namjoon, who gave a satisfied nod.

Jungkook picked a Disney movie, and pressed play on his and Sumi's screens at the same time. Sumi hugged her pillow as she watched, while Jungkook kept an eye on her. Eventually, her eyes started to drift shut, until she fell asleep just before Moana restored Te Fiti.

She didn't wake up again until the announcement came on that the plane was landing. She wearily rubbed sleep from her eyes, trying to wake herself up. She glanced across the aisle, seeing Jungkook still watching TV.

"Kookie?" She mumbled, sitting up. "Did you get any sleep?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't tired."

"Soo, they're going to take that guy off the plane first, okay? And then we get off." Namjoon leaned forward to tell her.

There was a slight commotion down the aisle, and Jungkook was instantly on his feet. Disregarding the lack of space, he smushed himself into Sumi's pod, completely blocking her from the aisle. She peeked out from around his shoulder as the man was led past, two flight attendants following him.

"See, he's gone." Jungkook told her with a smile.

Sumi gave him a tiny smile. "Now it's grammy time."

"Are you kidding me?" They heard Namjoon's voice. "They aren't going to do anything?"

"What are you talking about?" Hoseok asked, looking over to wear Namjoon was discussing with their manager.

Their manager sighed. "The company has elected not to press charges. They said it's probably not worth dealing with American legal stuff."

"They're doing nothing?" Sumi gasped.

"Call them again." Yoongi insisted. "You can't seriously just except-"

"It's been decided." Namjoon stated, though he looked anything but happy about it. "Let's just, try not to let this ruin our trip."

Sumi sniffled, but started packing her things. When they deboarded the plane, she pulled her mask over her face, trying to hide her emotions.

Jungkook, and the rest of the boys for that matter, were not doing as good of a job. The Maknae linked arms with her, and didn't let go even as they collected their luggage and moved past the fans. Tae kept shooting her worried glances, and Yoongi was just staring angrily at the ground. Jin even snapped at their manager, and was only pulled away by Hobi. Only Jimin and Namjoon mustered the energy to give more than a polite wave to fans, while Sumi just looked down, blinking back tears.

"Don't cry, Noona." Jungkook said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and using his bag to block her face. "That guy isn't worth it."

"This was supposed to be an awesome trip, and I've already -"

"You didn't do anything wrong." He insisted. "Please, Noona? I hate seeing you sad."

She gave a tiny smile, though he couldn't see it due to her mask. "Sorry."

"Just this once, I'll allow it." He patted her shoulder. "Can we get burgers tonight?"

"You can, I need to fit into my dress tomorrow."

"Burgers are the ultimate cheer-up food." Jungkook insisted. "You're eating at least one."

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isabilightwood · 4 years ago

Text

The Problem with Authority - Chapter 1

CQL!Verse, Wangxian and Yanqing, canon divergence with Qin Su sacrifice summoning JYL after Jin Rusong’s death. JYL teams up with NHS to fix things, starting with bringing back WWX. Wen Qing is alive because I said so, and LWJ gets in the way of plotting because he’s a romantic.

See my self reblog for the AO3 link/additional tags and warnings

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The problem with authority is that if you leave it lying around, others will take it. — Yoon Ha Lee, Ninefox Gambit

Qin Su was tired of the constant hovering.

Every time she set foot outside her own rooms, she was beset by disciples and the wives of subordinates, telling her over and over how very sorry they were.

It was all bullshit.

Fake, social climbing schemers, who were more concerned with the fact that Jin Guangshan’s legitimate grandson was once again the sect heir, than sorry for the death of her son. Her A-Song.

They expected her to sob constantly, to wail and tear her hair from her scalp. That they could comfort Qin Su by repeating the same trite, cloying words day-by-day. Earn a little status out of tragedy. If Qin Su had to listen to one more apology, she was going to be sick all other the offending madam’s embroidery hoop.

It was true that she still couldn’t go a day without crumbling into tears. But mostly, she was numb. Exhausted, in more ways than one. She wanted to go to sleep, and wake with her son tucked safely into bed, or not wake up at all.

The private treasury was the only place where she could be certain she would not be disturbed. Even in her own bedroom, it would only be so long before a maid was sent to find her. Only she and her husband could open the hidden entrance to the vault. Only in the treasury, could she be alone, to find something to distract herself, however briefly, from the avalanche of her grief.

There were still many items that had been claimed by her deceased father-in-law after the war that had not been cataloged. Priceless relics and weapons and irreplaceable texts alike sat neglected in trunks. Jin Guangshan had cared only for possession, occasionally touting one item or another out to show off. Ten months after A-Yao’s succession, shelves continued to sit empty. Neither she nor A-Yao had found the time, busy keeping everything running smoothly, as he made bids for projects he called progress with the gleam in his eyes that had first made her chase after him. Back when he seemed flattered by her attention, interested in her as more than a friend or colleague.

Qin Su herself managed the internal minutiae of the Sect and oversaw disciple training. The latter would traditionally fall to the Head Disciple, but they had lost one after another. The woman who had been intended to aid Jin Zixuan had resigned over some disagreement before his death. Her replacement, a second or third cousin to the main Jin Clan, married out to the leader of the Fengyang Hua Sect, a growing sect that bordered Gusu and Lanling. Their replacement died at Nightless City, along with the next dozen or so disciples in line. And so Qin Su was free to manage the training as she wished.

Or had been, until she was asked to take a step back from training, for fear her grief would destabilize her qi. It was true that she had been unable to focus. However, stewing in the unending reminders that she would never hold A-Song in her arms again was no help. Attending to her duties as a hostess only made it worse.

Sorting the looted relics was mindless work, that required none of the focus she had lacked for the forty-one days since A-Song’s death. But it was something to occupy her hands, and some small part of her thoughts.

She began with the books that day, sorting into titles that were common and could be sold, those that needed to be repaired, and those to dangerous to be held anywhere but the treasury. Qin Su moved to start a new pile, for useful, rare texts that should be copied, on a table, and a disorganized pile of notes and notebooks caught her eye.

It was the disorganization that stood out. A-Yao never left anything out like that. He must have been called away, but if he returned and saw it, that would trigger his own flood of tears. Qin Su had heard him sobbing, late into the night, from the next room over. But each morning, he greeted his work with his habitual dedication, no matter how puffy his eyes, or how little he’d slept. A-Yao would never forgive himself if his work was delayed by his composure crumbling over a small thing out of place.

She picked up the papers, intending only to organize them into an even stack, and place them evenly between the notebooks. But their subject caught her attention.

A circular array was drawn on each paper. Identical, to her unpracticed eyes, with varied notes printed in precise calligraphy in different locations on each page.

Qin Su had always focused on the sword, leaving talismans to those with innovative minds yet weaker cores, like her husband. Yet this array made her look twice.

Sacrifice Summon was written at the top of the first page, the one with the least writing. The soul of the caster is permanently exchanged for that of a chosen spirit or ghost, fully resurrecting the deceased. It was a complex design, meant to drawn in the blood of the caster.

Voices, from the other side of the portal. A-Yao must have wanted to show an item from the vault to a guest. Her heartbeat sped up, her hands shaking as she dropped the papers back onto the table.

The last thing Qin Su wanted was to have to greet her husband’s guests, while he smiled his disappointment in her for shirking her duties.

She raised the tablecloth and ducked beneath, knocking one of the papers off the table as she did so. Catching it, she pulled it to her chest, dropping the cloth back into place just in time. It was dark in the small space, and stuffy. Her heart hammered hard enough Qin Su felt certain it must be audible throughout the room. But her presence was not discovered, and so Qin Su did not have to answer as to why Jin-furen was hiding from her own husband.

“The remainder of the He Clan has been dealt with.” Su Minshan reported. His voice was easily identifiable from the obsequiousness with which he always treated her husband. She’d asked A-Yao what he saw in him once, and he’d flashed his dimples at her and said, unfaltering loyalty is a trait I cannot afford to lose. So Qin Su tolerated Su Minshan, though he made her skin crawl. And made certain never to be caught alone with him. “Xue Yang tracked them down to the last man.”

Why he kept Xue Yang around, on the other hand, was a mystery.

“Good, that’s good,” A-Yao said. Never shy of heaping praise on his subordinates, he would be smiling up at the other man. “Tell me, what did Xue Yang bring back with him?”

“A few urchins, from town. He said they were his payment for leaving the bodies alone.” Su Minshan scoffed, disgusted.

It didn’t sound like Xue Yang had brought the children to become disciples.

There was the slap of a forehead hitting a palm. A-Yao’s voice was slightly muffled as he gave an exasperated sigh. “I told him he could experiment with animals or dead bodies or not at all. Especially not children.” There was the slightest break in his voice at the word children. “Xue Yang has outlived his usefulness. Have him disposed of and left somewhere remote.”

The command was delivered coldly, casually. He sounded nothing like the warm, if more distant than Qin Su had initially expected, husband she knew.

“Yes, Zongzhu.” A pair of disciples said, their footsteps receding as they took their leave.

“Your research is not completed, is it?” Su Minshan asked, once they were gone.

“I have better means now. My dear younger brother is eager to please, and will not dismember the test animals for kicks and giggles.” A-Yao spoke as though this was an ongoing discussion, yet Qin Su, his wife, had never heard a whisper of research on animals before that day. Only of field testing of the Yiling Patriarch’s inventions. “Or decide to run tests on townspeople and dismember them, too.”

Just what had her husband been allowing Xue Yang to do? It seemed impossible that flighty little Mo Xuanyu could achieve it, whatever it was.

“Another headache eliminated, then.” Su Minshan said. “That’s nearly all the most dangerous ones out of the way.”

There was a weighted pause before A-Yao replied, incongruously. “I did love my son, you know.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise.” Su Minshan rushed to assure him. “I am deeply sorry this step was necessary.”

Step? What was he implying about A-Song?

“If only that woman had told you the truth earlier.” Su Minshan snarled. “Keeping it a secret while her daughter courted her own half-brother? What a selfish bitch.”

What? Qin Su clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a choked gasp.

“Now, Minshan, please. You remember what my father was like. We were all of us his victims. A-Su, me, and both of our mothers.” For the first time, Qin Su understood what Lianfang-zun’s detractors meant when they said he dripped insincerity. “Ultimately, A-Song’s death can be placed at his feet.”

But A-Song was murdered after Jin Guangshan died, she thought stupidly. Utterly frozen in place, the short, harsh pants of her breath the only sign she had not just been dropped into hell. The two men spoke for a few more minutes, but Qin Su didn’t hear a word.

It was some time after they left that Qin Su moved, her stiff joints causing her to fall onto her side on the edge of the tablecloth.

How was she ever supposed to face the court, knowing what she did now? Look her half-brother in the face without screaming?

The honorable thing would be to expose him, and to then take her own life to restore her own honor.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to her father, to her older siblings. Half-siblings, now, she supposed, with a crazed giggle. The only real siblings, the only real father Qin Su would ever have. It would be better if they never knew what had happened to their mother. To her.

But she couldn’t carry on as she had, either.

The forgotten paper crinkled in her hands. The Sacrifice Summon. Exchanging her life for another’s.

Was that the solution she was searching for? Could she?

Qin Su remembered her husband’s - her brother’s voice saying especially not children. Only breaths before declaring his own son’s death necessary.

Her A-Song was lost forever.

There was, however, another child under Lianfang-zun’s care. Another mother whose son was not lost, but who had nevertheless lost the chance to see him grow. If Qin Su exchanged her life for that woman’s, perhaps her soul would pass on quickly enough to find A-Song in another life.

Jiang Yanli would see Jin Ling grow up safely, ensure Lianfang-zun did not keep the power he had married his own sister and murdered his own son to secure.

That would be best for everyone.

Qin Su shakily extracted herself from beneath the table, returning to the one room she could be certain Lianfang-zun would never enter.

Now she knew why.

Locking the door to her room, Qin Su emptied what little was in her stomach into the chamber pot. When she was through, she began to draw the array.

The first thing Jiang Yanli noticed was the silence. She had been on the battlefield at Nightless City, pushed A-Xian aside, and a sword went through her heart —

She had been dead. She was certain.

Oh, A-Xian. What did you do?

Slowly, Jiang Yanli sat up. She was sprawled on the floor of a well-appointed lady’s bedroom. In Koi Tower, by the color scheme, but its occupant had uncommon taste. Rather than gilded everything, there were accents of gold on the drapery and to emphasize ink paintings of the ocean and a palace she did not recognize.

There was also the matter of the array of blood that surrounded her. Demonic cultivation, which only supported her certainty that A-Xian was involved. But where was he? And if she was in Koi Tower, where was her son?

Yunmeng, something inside her whispered. Though she could not explain why, she knew it was true.

Checking herself for cuts, she found a gash across the palm of her hand. But it was already sealing, far faster than Jiang Yanli had healed from so much as a paper cut before her death.

She wasn’t an expert in raising the dead like her brother, but Jiang Yanli was fairly certain fierce corpses did not work that way. At the very least, she should have been bleeding black. Yet her blood was as red as ever.

Getting to her feet, she started to inspect the room for clues. On the way to the desk, she passed a mirror. Her gaze skipped past a mirror. And snapped back.

It was not Jiang Yanli’s face that looked back.

This woman’s face was rounder and softer than her own. Pretty, with a natural pink in her cheeks where Jiang Yanli’s had always had to be painted on, due to the frequency with which she lost her breath and grew dizzy. There, too, was a hint of the agelessness that came with a fully developed golden core. With a feeling of foreboding, Jiang Yanli felt along her meridians until she reached her core. No longer a weak, underdeveloped thing due to her inability to practice the heavily physical Jiang techniques, it shone bright and strong.

That was a point against this being A-Xian’s doing. He wouldn’t have stolen her a body, when he could simply bring back her own.

Why am I alive? Asked a voice in her head.

That would have been a reasonable question. Only it wasn’t Jiang Yanli thinking it.

Maybe resurrection came with the ability to understand spirits. The results were entirely untested, so it was possible. Yet the voice seemed certain it was alive. If her current state was due to demonic cultivation, she might as well do what A-Xian would: experiment.

“I could ask you the same question.” Jiang Yanli told the voice.

Jiang Yanli? It worked! But why am I in your head?

“Are you the one who brought me back?” She tilted her head back, trying to place the way the voice made her head feel. Almost like the moment at the start of meditation when she began to forget her body to focus on her spirit, but with a disconnect keeping her grounded.

Yes. And then, I can hear your thoughts, the voice said, you don’t need to speak out loud.

That was disconcerting. Is this your body? She thought at the voice.

Yes. The voice said. Stop calling me that. I’m Qin Su.

Strangely, it was a relief to have a name. It made Qin Su feel more real than anything else in this surreal afterlife. So it would be more accurate to say I’m in your head. Am I possessing you?

It was supposed to be an exchange. My soul for yours.

Well clearly, it hadn’t worked that way.

Responding to her unformed question, the woman continued. The array is on the desk.

This… It was obviously A-Xian’s work, copied out by a more careful hand. But it looked incomplete, a half-developed first draft or his scattered notes on an older text that he could always piece back together perfectly, but left out crucial details for anyone else. Utterly unlike the labeled, if nearly illegible, minutiae on his complete work. Jiang Yanli would never have cast an array with so little information. Especially not one of A-Xian’s.

I didn’t know the Yiling Patriarch. And I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

No, she supposed not. Anyone casting this array would have to be desperate.

Everything fell apart and I just… used what I had on hand. There was the impression of a shrug, like her mind contorting itself into a new shape. My impulse decisions always have terrible consequences. That’s how I ended up pregnant and marrying the last person in the world I should have. Qin Su gave a short, harsh burst of hysterical laughter, startling Jiang Yanli into making the same noise aloud.

Telling whoever this abusive asshole was that her husband had died only a week ago, and she was certainly not performing any marital duties could wait until she figured out what Qin Su had done.

There are other pages with more notes in the treasury.

Jiang Yanli sprang to her feet. I’ll need to see them immediately.

She slid open the doors, and came face to face with a maid carrying cleaning supplies. Jiang Yanli quickly shut the doors behind her, so the maid could not catch a glimpse of the blood still staining the floor.

“Oh! Jin-furen.” The maid bowed deeply. “This one apologizes for assuming you would be out.”

It was something of a shock to be addressed by a title that had, from her perspective, belonged to her mother-in-law only yesterday. Jin-furen?

Ah, yes. I’ve been Jin-furen since Jin Guangshan… passed… ten months ago. The word “passed” came with a flash of embarrassment, telling Jiang Yanli enough for her to extrapolate the cause of death.

Jin Guangyao must be Jin-zongzhu then. Strange, he hadn’t seemed the abusive type.

Not abuse. Worse. Qin Su gagged in her mind, making Jiang Yanli do the same.

“Are you all right, Jin-furen?” The maid asked, hovering closer.

At least the gagging gave her an excuse not to allow anyone inside. “I’ll be fine. But please wait to clean until tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. Would you have some soup sent on a tray for my dinner?”

“Of course, Jin-furen.” The maid backed away, bowed, and hurried off.

Jiang Yanli turned to inspect the door, placing her hands on her hips. With Qin Su’s Golden Core, she could likely cast a locking spell. If she knew how, that was. She had always relied on A-Xian’s talismans, many of which he developed specifically for her. Unfortunately, she had none on hand.

That’s easy. Qin Su said. Draw the characters for lock, then modify it with…

It took Jiang Yanli a few tries to draw properly on her new core, but she was able to lock the door against casual entry. No cultivator with a sword would be kept out for long, but they would have to be willing to trespass in Jin-furen’s bedchamber.

The thin flush of victory faded the second she stepped through the treasury portal. Suibian lay on a shelf, visible from the door. A-Xian had not carried his sword for a long time. But he would never have handed it over to the Jin Clan, unless it was directly into Jiang Yanli’s arms. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Qin Su. Why is my A-Xian’s sword in the treasury? Jiang Yanli demanded. The answering silence was deafening. “Qin Su! Tell me why!”

He… died. At Nightless City. Not long after you did. Qin Su’s voice was hesitant, as though confused why she cared.

“No!” She let out a choked sob, clasping a hand over her mouth. A-Xian wasn’t — he couldn’t be —

Didn’t he kill you? I was told —

“No! Never!” A-Xian would never have hurt her. I tried to save him.

Silence, for a moment, other than Jiang Yanli’s own ragged breaths. Then, I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot of things I believed were lies today. Perhaps what they said about him was too.

They were. A-Xian was bright, and good, and cared too much. He had never been what they thought. Jiang Yanli had not needed to ask to know A-Xuan’s death was a horrible mistake, likely the result of stepping in between his cruel, vindictive cousin and her brother at the wrong moment. If he had meant to kill Jin Zixun, A-Xian had had good reason.

I think anyone who had the misfortune of meeting Jin Zixun considered killing him. Qin Su said wryly.

Jiang Yanli had had those thoughts. She gave a watery giggle that was answered in her head. It was sweet of Qin Su to try to comfort her when she could feel that she was still reeling for her own reasons. The least Jiang Yanli could do in return was get her some answers.

On the table.

She found the stack of diagrams easily, along with a tattered notebook that appeared to contain A-Xian’s original work. Jiang Yanli flipped through that, knowing that unless had both gotten a hold of one of the few people that could read his note-taking scrawl — her, Lan Wangji, and perhaps Wen Qing, who had taken their turns as A-Xian’s sounding board in succession — and convinced them to help details would likely have been missed.

You can read that? Qin Su was incredulous.

Years of practice, she replied. Before Lan Wangji, Jiang Yanli had been the only person who took A-Xian’s inventions seriously, the only person willing to sit and listen while he bounced from idea to idea, eventually solving the problem himself.

The average person would not think it necessary to puzzle out the text under a sketch of Lan Wangji holding a child, assuming it was a caption. When it was, in fact, an absolutely crucial detail. A detail that had made A-Xian conclude the Sacrifice Summon Array should never be used.

There were perhaps a dozen variations on the array. Most worked in a similar way to what Qin Su had intended, summoning a spirit to take the caster’s place. The earliest could not target a specific soul, but A-Xian had worked that out. Luckily, Qin Su had used one of those arrays, allowing Jiang Yanli to be summoned, rather than causing the closest vengeful spirits to battle for her body. The very last caused the caster’s body to be torn apart, and replaced with a copy of the spirit’s own.

But every version had two things in common: a call for revenge, and the destruction of the caster’s soul.

In her mind, Qin Su went perfectly still.

Jiang Yanli had a theory as to why Qin Su’s soul had not been consumed by the array. It had started the job, pulling Jiang Yanli in, but Qin Su had not asked for revenge, and so the array spat most of her back out. What the consequences were, for either of their spirits, she could not begin to guess.

There was a distinctive air of panic to Qin Su’s continued silence.

Qin Su, Jiang Yanli prodded, if this had worked the way it’s written, your soul would have been consumed by it. What could have been worth this?

I didn’t know about that. I didn’t want that.

It didn’t happen. You’re still here. She attempted to reassure Qin Su, wishing there was a way to mentally pat someone on the head. That had always helped calm both her brothers.

I’m still here. Whatever the fuck that means. Qin Su giggled nervously. That wasn’t very ladylike.

I think it’s forgivable, under the circumstances. Jiang Yanli raised a sleeve to cover her smile.

You don’t know the half of it. Qin Su sighed. I didn’t think things like this happened, outside of stories.

Jiang Yanli waited for her to go on, gritting her teeth in response to a wave of bitterness.

Only a few hours ago, I found out my so-called husband is my half-brother and he murdered our son. And now here we are.

Oh. Jiang Yanli could not so much as think of a reassuring response. What the fuck is correct.

“A-Su,” Jin Guangyao said from behind her, before Qin Su could say anything more. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #my fic

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