#why would a Commander bring his general flowers?

[tragedy-for-sale]

Favorite Liar pt. II

“-Why wasn’t somebody with him?!” Commander Cody’s voice boomed throughout the medical wing, “Where was the medical droid?!” It wasn’t often that the commander lost his temper, but he’d come into Obi-Wan’s room, flowers in hand, and when he saw his Jedi on the floor- How long had he been there?! Why hadn’t someone found him sooner?! He’s a Jedi, he should be treated better than this- It wasn’t often the commander lost his cool, but when he found Obi-Wan barely holding onto his breath-

Part I here

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Cody had arrived at the temple, flowers hidden in his helmet that he held tightly beside him as he walked. He had rehearsed what he was going to say all morning. He was going to apologize, he was going to say he was sorry, he was going to tell Obi-Wan he loved him, that he never should have yelled, that he hadn’t seen Obi-Wan in so long and it sucked- Cody was coming to apologize, but he walked in and found Obi-Wan lying lifeless on the ground and Cody couldn’t breath. His breath had gone with Obi-Wan’s, his heart stopped as he felt desperately for a pulse.

Cody dropped to his knees, pulling Obi-Wan close, “No, I just got you back, no, no,” He muttered as he felt for a pulse instead of for his breath, ‘Sometimes, when you’re sleeping, I have to check your pulse because your breath is so slow-’ Cody shook his head at the memory, his heart was slow, but Obi-Wan was still alive. He flickered with relief and his heart got the better of him, Cody pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cold cheek, “My love, be okay, please be okay,” He whispered, giving Obi-Wan another kiss before picking him up and setting him in the bed. Cody looked down at him once more, moving a strand of hair out of Obi-Wan’s face, Cody lingered there a moment, even bruised and swollen, Obi-Wan was more beautiful than the life a star provides. All the gentleness of Cody’s love washed away as he turned around, rage came crashing down, “Who was watching General Kenobi?” He boomed thunderous, voice dark and dangerous, ready to kill.

Medic droids came filing in, surrounding Obi-Wan. Immense exhaustion was all Cody was drawing out of them, it was as if they seemed reluctant to tell Cody anything, he fantasized about pulling his blaster out, he meant business. He was going to fight for his love, and they were going to corporate. Cody knew his duty as a soldier was to com another Jedi- Anakin, but Cody wasn’t ready to hide all his emotion away, he wasn’t ready for Skywalker to come in and take over care, Obi-Wan was his, and Cody would take care of him until his dying breath. “-His wounds will heal with time, he just needs rest-” The droid rambled on, something about a bacta tank, about an NG tube, something about giving him time. Cody nodded, his anger had subsided and as the droids left, his love came running back.

He came back into the room and closed the door, walking over to the bed, smiling upon the sight of Obi-Wan, giving Cody his best smile. “You sure know how to make me worry,” Cody spoke quietly, he wanted to run into Obi-Wan’s arm and shower him in kisses until he couldn’t breath.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan resigned, scared of a fight, “I was trying to make it to the chair, I was certain I would make it…” Obi-Wan’s voice trailed off, it hurt to speak, he didn’t want to. He wanted Cody, he wanted to tell Cody that he was sorry, that he never should have done it; Obi-Wan had rehearsed it in his mind a thousand times, he was going to apologize, he was going to tell Cody that he loved him, that he had been such a fool. He was going to apologize but as Cody leaned in for a kiss, all his worries flickered away, he pulled Cody into a hug, “I’ve barely seen you,” Obi-Wan whispered, “I miss you.”

Cody held him tightly, hiding his face in the side of Obi-Wan’s neck, so sweet was his love, his love, no one else’s, Obi-Wan was his and he’d been a fool to push him away. “I came back, Obi, I was coming here to you, I was coming home-” Cody rambled, “Obi, I was coming home to you-” Cody had felt a grief far greater than the word when he heard Obi-Wan had died and he hadn’t the chance to fight for him, that he hadn’t had a chance to trade his life for his, but it had been a lie, the worst lie, but Obi-Wan was back and Cody couldn’t stay angry, for he loved Obi-Wan too much. A liar he may be, but Cody’s favorite liar he was.

“-Anakin must be coming soon,” Obi-Wan spoke, Cody knew how much pain it must cost for Obi-Wan to speak. Cody pulled back, sneaking one last kiss as he stood straight, falling back into rank, Commander; General.

“Yes, I had the droids notify the council of your incident, I am certain they told General Skywalker.” Cody confirmed. He had held onto his worry long enough, now he had to give into duty. “As soon as the droids were wrapping up, I had ‘em notify them.” Cody added as Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes as he sensed Anakin’s and Ahsoka’s movement throughout the temple. The two might’ve talked about frivolous things as they waited for the two to arrive. Neither one would risk getting too close. For as soon as Obi-Wan entertained the idea of embracing his love, he remembered their duty, their oath, and he was duty-bound. But when he looked at Cody, his life was his, why couldn’t he hold him whenever he wanted?

“-Master!” Anakin came running towards him, Ahsoka closely following. Ahsoka climbed onto the bed, giving Obi-Wan a hug, “We had no idea, I’m so sorry, had we known-” Anakin gritted his teeth, why did his anger have to ruin everything? Why couldn’t he just be better? “I’m sorry, Master, I was so angry, I should’ve been understanding,” Anakin held his arms open for a hug.

Obi-Wan smiled as he held the two of them, “Anakin, Ahsoka, I am sorry, I cannot find words to express how sorry I am for hurting the two of you.” He spoke softly, terrified to say the wrong thing. Ahsoka shook her head as she held him tighter. They just got him back, Anakin just started to smile again, he just started to joke again. They couldn’t lose Obi-Wan again.

“I don't care about that anymore-" Ahsoka cried as she hugged Obi-Wan tightly. Even when angry at Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Anakin only ever missed him, their anger fell to exhaustion the moment they saw him. Obi-Wan held his two padawans tightly, he'd missed them so much.

They laughed and joked to pass the time, Cody had passed by them to wait in the hall. He had to deliver a private message to General Kenobi when he discovered him on the floor, yes, no need to clarify beyond that.

Anakin heard Cody shuffle, he'd turned to look. Anakin wouldn't have thought anything of it, Cody probably had a message he needed to deliver to Obi-Wan, yes, that was why he was at the temple. Anakin wouldn't have thought anything of Cody's lingering, up until Anakin scanned the room, that is. For he'd found something curious. His stare lingered, the commander’s helmet on the ground, white lilies tucked inside. Anakin turned, he’d had enough of all this deception surrounding Obi-Wan. “Commander,” Anakin’s voice boomed thunderous, Cody's head turned as he stiffened to attention. Anakin tilted his head ever slightly, a deep, crimson darkness shining in his eyes, a clever grin on his face and malice in his tone,

"Why were you here?"

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

#how would Cody know Obi-Wan's favorite flower? #why would a Commander bring his general flowers? #why indeed #codywan #star wars #clone wars #tcw #sw #commander cody #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #obi-wan kenobi #what does Anakin do you ask? #I'm certain one would like to know #what Anakin did to poor Cody #just for being in love

[ghostbutaliveidk]

HOUSE PET 1

Pairings - Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian x reader

Warnings - NONCON. Slapping. Degradation. Humiliation. Dacryphilia.

Summary - refer to the masterlist

Next part - HOUSE PET 2

The whole village was quivering with fear as soon as the news reached, even though there were not many chances that the High King, Shadowsinger and their General would visit it. Your village was an insignificant one, sitting on the very edge of the sprint court. The inspection of the Spring Court would probably start and end in the High Lord's estates.

So, you didn't expect to face any problems as you went to your little garden at the outskirts of the village, touching the woods and attended to the flowers.

You got on your knees beside a large plant of blood-red roses, touching the petals and grinning. It looked beautiful.

And then the colour seemed to fade.

The sun was shining, till it wasn't. Your back straightened as a sudden chill covered the field and the world darkened just a bit.

You looked around, a bit of fear making you stand and get ready to run.

Who was there?

You fisted your dress and lifted it just a little, preparing to run as you looked into the woods beside your field, into the darkness that had suddenly covered it and now seemed to seep out of it.

You took a step back, watching as the darkness became... something more, turning into smoke tendrils, and all of them seemed to be coming for...you.

Gulping down the panic, you turned and ran, your feet slamming into the ground. You ran and ran through the field. The village was too far away. You should have yelled for help, but running took all of your attention.

And then you made the worst mistake.

You looked over your shoulder.

Three male. Three winged males, covered with so much darkness, you could barely see them.

You knew who they were. You had heard the brutal stories of how the High Lord of the Night Court had managed to bring every court to their knees with his General and Shadowsinger and now ruled as the High King with an iron fist. They were brutal, vicious and cruel. They took what they wanted. Everyone was afraid of them. Their names were only ever whispered.

And now they are here.

Your foot hit a stone and you fell onto your knees. Tiny stones dug into your palms, tearing at them. You froze as you heard them land. No. No. No. No.

You took in tiny, shaky breaths, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Is this how you bow in front of your High King?" A manly, deep voice purred. You almost crumbled as you heard it. Would they kill you? "Adorable, I have to say."

You got on your feet, feeling shaky all over. You gathered your wits and slowly turned, curtsying deeply. "Y-Your Majesty." You kept yourself bowed, keeping your eyes on the ground, trembling as you felt their eyes running all over you. Your baby pink dress was a bit ripped, and your hair was a bit of a mess. Your hands still hurt.

"Lower," he commanded.

You lowered yourself even further.

"Lower."

You did, almost falling on the floor, your body trembling with the effort of holding you so low. Your legs hurt, but you willed your body to cooperate.

"The poor thing is trembling, Rhys," A smooth, mocking voice said, almost chuckling.

"Let her," the third voice, deep and dark, said. "She looks pretty trembling. Why don't you go lower?"

You tried, as expected, fell. You instantly got back on your feet and curtsied again. The three men chuckled. It made you want to curl up into a ball.

"Adorable," The High King said. "At ease, little flower. Don't want you to wither away just yet." You straightened. "Come here."

The command could not be ignored. You did as you were told, taking steps towards the three most powerful men in the world, your hands fisting at your dress, trembling with fear, You kept your eyes glued to the ground.

Scarred fingers cupped your jaw, turning your head up. You still kept your eyes down, looking at the blue stones adorning his black armour. He was a giant. He towered over you, making you feel tiny. Tendrils of darkness were wrapped around him, like a second armour. His wings stretched far and wide. You knew his name. Azriel.

"She is a pretty little thing," he said. "We're keeping her, Rhys."

Keep you? Your heart filled with dread. No. No. No. No-

"She does look like she'll be fun. A scared little thing," the other man said. He had red stones on his armour. Syphons. He was as big as Azriel, with giant wings. You didn't dare look at his face. You kept your head ducked. You knew who it was. Cassian.

The Shadowsinger turned you around, tugging you to his hard body. You gasped at the sudden contact, the warmth of his body pressing into you. The shadows around him wrapped around you, suddenly carrying weight. You whimpered in fear, hands trying to push the shadows away but they turned into nothing as soon as you touched them. And then they were tighter around you.

Azriel's one scarred hand cupped your chest, covering both of your breasts because of how large it was.

"No. No-" You tugged at his fingers with your hands, trying to push his hand away. He chuckled into your ear.

"She is fun," he said. "And soft." he slapped your breasts. You cried out in pain, jerking wildly. Azriel chuckled again, grabbing the neckline of the dress and ripping it, making you stand there with your breasts out and the rest of your dress barely hanging onto you.

You grabbed the shreds of your dress, pressing it back onto your breasts, softly whimpering, trying to get out of Azriel's grip again. "P-Please, let me go-"

The High King walked towards you, clad in clothes as dark as his soul. His wings were gone. He stood with his hands tucked behind his back, towering over you. He tilted his head down till his face was near yours. You hesitantly looked at his face, tears streaming down your face. "P-Please don't hurt me-"

His lips twisted in a smirk. "You look pretty when you cry." His giant hand wiped the tears off your face. "Open your mouth."

You did what you were told, trying to keep the sobs in. The High King chuckled watching your struggle. "Oh, you poor little innocent thing. So scared, hm? I can smell it." His thumb brushed your bottom lip. "Stick your tongue out."

"Please-"

He slapped your face, lightly, but it still left a sting. "Stick your fucking tongue out like a good girl or the next slap won't be as merciful."

You gulped down more sobs and stuck your tongue out.

The High King's General laughed, stepping beside the king. "She looks like a dumb whore, drooling over herself." He grabbed your hands, ripping them away from your breasts. He tugged at a nipple harshly, making you cry harder but you did not dare put your tongue back in. "Are you dumb little baby?" He grabbed your hair and made you nod as you drooled more on yourself. "We have to take her."

"Then let's take her," The High king said and your blood ran cold. He crouched till he was looking you right in the eyes. Those violent, vibrant eyes twinkled with amusement. "I have wanted a House Pet for a while. That neck looks too empty."

. . .

Next chapter - HOUSE PET 2

#rhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #dark fic #tw noncon #tw humiliation #tw degradation #degrading k1nk

[nahoney22]

Oneshot request. Fives with a female reader who's a wallflower that doesn't get noticed, and is kind of awkward and shy. Some dialogue prompts to go with it "Sarad, it means flower." and "You were the first person to notice me, really notice me." Can include some mild angst. SFW and no y/n please!

Let’s see what we can do nonny. Hope this was okay ♥️

After Hours

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Fives X F!Reader

word count: 3.1k

You would never believe that the only person to notice you, a shy and shielded worker, was an Arc Trooper who was as loud as anything but with a heart of liquid gold. Maybe he can make work-life just a little more bearable?

warnings: none. Fluff, mild angst. Reader is introverted and often feels isolated. Mentions of soup being a choking hazard. SFW and no mention of y/n. It’s a little rushed and not proofread towards the end.

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Being a part of the engineering squad for the GAR was always a dream of yours. Sure, it was not exactly highly paid nor was it extravagant in any way, (your family liked to remind you that you could be better off doing something else) but you take pride in your work.

After all, how often can you casually bring up in conversation that you just repaired a Republic Gunship in just a day?

So here you are at work again, a never ending cycle that despite the pride you have - it was hard. It wasn’t so hard in the fact that you didn’t know what you were doing because you did, but because you were too quiet for your own good.

It’s not like you could help it. As a young child you were always berated by your teachers for not talking in class yet always presenting excellent work. Yet there was that burden at work that you felt lonely. You would always drag yourself to sit alone at tables in the Mess Halls and instead of going out and schmoozing with your colleagues at the end of a long shift, you would retreat to your own barracks and settle yourself down for the night.

You were known and always given the gratification for your work from your leaders yet despite them knowing who you were, they did not know who you are.

Often when you worked you would be lost in your own thoughts. So when you were underneath an Eta-2 that belonged to the General of the 501st, you were none the wiser when you heard something being called out.

For a peculiar moment you thought nothing of it and that it was a Clone Commander calling out some kind of order you didn’t know. But as you feel something kick at your feet, you realise that it was your name being said. It felt very odd for someone, anyone to be saying it which was why you probably had such a delayed reaction.

You pull out from under the starfighter and flip your visor up to see a Clone peering over you, hands tucked behind their back. He wore the same colours as the 501st and judging by the kama and double pauldron you knew he was a Arc Trooper. “Uh, can I help you Trooper?”

You remain looking up at him and he suddenly stills as you speak. He came over to you for a reason and now suddenly everything he was going to say blew right into the air. He’s looking at you, eyes a little tense but there was something endearing to him about the splotches of oil on your face as you watch him with a curious gaze.

“No.”

Oh. You had thought that maybe he had to relay a message from General Skywalker about his ship but instead, this Clone, one you had not spoken to but at closer inspection had seen before was here for no reason.

You stay still on the Creeper, the board you used to easily navigate under ships or any other vehicle and awkwardly twist the screwdriver you had in your hand around. You were growing a little nervous and as you glanced just past his legs you saw two other clones standing by some crates, watching you both.

“Are you pranking me?”

Your words sounded a little sad and the Clone hated that. It sent a horrible panic through his body and he quickly shook his head and apologised. “N-no ma’am! I… I came over because I saw you on your own and was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the Mess Hall for something to eat?”

You blink up at him, dropping the screwdriver on your chest. Why was this happening? You two had never spoken and suddenly he wants to eat lunch with you? Unfortunately for you both, his niceness is not being taken into account and so you declined. You slipped the visor back down and slid back under the ship to continue the work.

He watches you practically slip away and he is half tempted to try and catch your attention but he knows better than to prod and poke.

You hear him retreat and you feel a heavy burden on your shoulders. Your mind is racing with what to do but when you had made your mind up to crawl back out and call out to him, he and his friends had disappeared.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

As the next few days dragged on, that wave of loneliness hit more than ever. You had not particularly noticed it before but ever since that Clone spoke to you, knew your name, and had even asked for your company it had been infesting in your mind like a bad smell.

Someone had actually made an effort with you and you threw it away. Quite rudely in fact. You didn’t give him a reason as to why you declined and you had that horrible feeling that a grudge was now being held on you.

For those few days, you had kept an eye out for the Arc Trooper. You wish you had learned of his name and even been brave enough to ask someone or anyone where he could be but instead you had to do the annoying task of just keeping an eye out. Supposedly you were grateful for the armour being more stand out as living on Kamino was quite difficult when it comes to hunting down Clones.

A klaxon blares out from within the landing docks which means that lunch will now be being served. You throw your oiled and singed rags away and make way quickly to one of the refreshers to wash your hands and face. You grimace at first at your disheveled state and begin to wash away the labours of that morning. You even went ahead and smoothed your hair out more than usual because you were hoping that you may see that Clone. But you had a feeling you had blown your chances of even having a friend… or someone.

Once in the Mess Hall you’re keeping an eye out but over the sea of white plastoid armour, you assumed that the 501st must have been deployed elsewhere. Your shoulders sag in disappointment and plop some greyish unappetising soup into a bowl for you.

You’re looking for somewhere to sit and you spot your fellow colleagues all sitting at a table together and there is plenty of room for you. You’re mind is screaming at you, begging that you walk over and ask to sit with them but your heart had a different idea as your legs carried you to a table on your own. The same sad table you sat at every day. Alone.

You curse at yourself for your shy and awkward self because you swore one of your colleagues had smiled at you, even shifting to the side as a prompt for you to sit by them. But, no.

Playing with your food was always a bad habit of yours and one your parents had told you off for. So with them in your mind, you take a spoonful of soup and place it in your mouth.

In the corner of your eye however, you see a blurred figure. As you turn your head, you eyes widen and ever so gracefully you begin to choke on your food.

The Clone from before stood before you, tray in hand whilst you began spluttering into a napkin.

“Kriff, you alright Sarad?” He comes over to you swiftly, placing a hand on your back and patting it. You’re nodding quickly, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you try your damndest not to cough. It was almost the same when you’re in an exam hall with a dry and tickling throat and you’re doing your best not to cough too much to draw attention.

“Y-yes, sorry.” You stutter once your airway is clear, hand on your chest in slight relief that you almost died to some dull tasting soup.

You quickly stand and the Clone thinks you’re about to make a run for it but you turn to him, hands crossed stiffly across your chest before saying, “I’m sorry about the other day.”

He’s surprised and it’s shown on his face but then he shows you the most handsome smile you had ever seen on a human before. You try to ignore that feeling that just erupted in your heart and focus on what he was saying to you.

“I see no need for the apologies but I am feeling brave today and I wanted to ask if I could instead sit with you? Rather than you sit with me?” He’s charming in the way he talks and it makes you feel warm. This time, you weren’t going to ruin your chances so you nodded, smiling softly.

“I’d like that.”

Judging by the smile that widened even more, he was relieved you had said yes and took a seat across from you and didn't take any interest in the food on his tray.

You realise that you’re stumped for any conversation starters but you were smart enough to know that you should perhaps ask his name.

“So uh, what’s your name?”

“Fives.” He sticks his hand out to you and although he sees the slight reluctance on your features, your hand glosses over his glove and gives it a gentle shake.

“I’d tell you mine but it looks like you already know.” You say, taking a sip of your water as your swore you still had something lodged in your throat. Or maybe it’s because you were struggling to talk to Fives.

He smirks with a nod. “I do. I asked around.” He said it so casually that it didn’t somewhat appear at all creepy.

You grow warm. “Can I ask why?” You ask sheepishly and watch as he leans forward, arms resting on the table.

His gaze is trained on you and it’s almost as if he’s reading you like some ancient text. He had seen you around before and of course, he was attracted. But he often saw how lonely you had looked. Fives was curious, curious to know who you really are.

“I want to know if you’ll let me sit with you?Myself and my brothers have often seen you alone.” He sees you frown a little but he knew that he was only speaking the truth.

“Nice to see my loneliness is obvious.” You mutter but you weren’t bitter at him because it was true.

Fives gives you a reassuring smile and he’s half tempted to reach out and give your hand a comforting squeeze but he refrains for now. “Well, I’m hoping to change that! Tell me something about yourself, Sarad?”

Sarad. You swore he said that to you before but you weren't so sure but you definitely heard it this time. You knew that he knew it wasn’t your name so it was obviously some kind of nickname. You were about to question him about it until that deafening klaxon rang out again.

“Maybe another time?” You look up to him, seeing that he had small disappointment on his features that the conversation had to be cut short and it made you feel good. Like, really good. Someone disappointed to not speak to you?

You don’t realise you were staring until you felt something tapping at your foot. Your cheeks burn all the way up to the tips of your ear as you realise it was him gently prodding at your feet under the table like a pair of young teenagers. “Y-yeah, of course.”

Fives watches you leave, bidding you goodbye and once out of eyeline he silently fist bumps the air in celebration.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Since then, you have seen Fives more often than not. He always had something to say whether it be about the weather here on Kamino which is typically always the same or even about his knowledge on starfighters.

You always found yourself laughing at something he would say, blush when he would pay you such a casual compliment that he thinks wasn’t a big deal. Ever since, you have really come out of your shell. Conversations breezed easily with him but then realisation of possibly liking him scared you.

And he liked you too, a lot.

He was a Clone, a man made for a war you are currently fighting in. It couldn’t work and it pained you. Soon, he will have to go and you will never know when you will see him again. Over the last few days he’s been a safe space for you. Work has been tough? He would listen. You just wanted someone to sit with? He would be by your side. And now he could leave any second. You were scared to be by yourself again and before you could hurt yourself anymore, you had to make a drastic choice.

So, you did the foolish thing of distancing yourself again.

He noticed in an instant when you would make an excuse to go elsewhere and he would follow you like a lost loth-cat, asking what he did wrong. Of course you would say nothing and that you were just busy with work but he had his doubts.

He knows you’re working late tonight as you did every night but after the gruelling two days of missing you he had to get you alone again. So he waited and waited until he finally saw you packing up your things. It’s after hours and all Clones have a curfew but he did not give a single Kriff if he got into trouble. He could leave soon and he had to know if he pushed things too far or made you uncomfortable.

You dust your hands off your pants and wipe the sweat off your brow when you turn to see Fives.

Stilling, your eyes widen when you see him just in his Blacks. He’s toned, clearly, and absolutely beautiful in the dark moonlight of the hangar with the occasional flash of lighting piercing his silhouette. “Can we talk?”

He’s walking to you when he sees you chew on your lower lip, an anxious wave flowing through your blood. “You shouldn’t be here, you could get in trouble.” You try to speak as normally as you can but the waver in your tone blows your cover.

“Screw getting in trouble. I don’t care. I had to see you, sweetheart.” He ignores your way of trying to brush him away. As his body was getting closer and closer and with the nickname he gave you, you tried to hide your face by looking down and hoping your hair would cover how warm you suddenly got.

He stops in front of you, arms folded over his chest and it took all your willpower not to gaze at his arms. If it wasn’t his charm that had you hooked, lined and sinker then his physique was no better. “Are you ignoring me? Have I upset you?”

You take a moment to collect yourself and take a deep breath. Wearing your heart on your sleeve was something you never had to worry about until now. He came along and made you feel every emotion you had not felt in the year you had worked for the Republic. Now is the time to pluck up your courage and speak your mind freely. “No Fives, you haven’t upset me. Quite the opposite.”

His face twists in confusion but ushers you gently to continue.

With enough built up courage, you take a deep breath. “I really, really like you and it scares me.”

Fives eyes widened in pure joy for a mere second but then vanished soon after. “Scared? Why, Sarad?” He takes a step closer, his hands coming up and placing delicately on either side of your arms so your attention is trained on him.

“I’ve never,” you sigh glumly, feeling like a fool for what you’re about to admit, “I’ve never been this close to anyone who isn’t family. I know you’re a Clone and connections like this are not allowed which is why I had to distance myself. I could not cope with the idea of me liking you for it to just go nowhere, y’know?”

The Clone watches you intently as you talk, his fingers ever so gently caressing over your arms but you weren’t finished, “You were the first person to notice me, really notice me. And now you could leave in the next few hours and I could be none the wiser. I’m used to being on my own but since you’ve come into my life I’m so scared that this courage you’ve built in me like a building will just be knocked down.”

By now you’re crying and you don’t care. People didn’t understand what it’s like to hug walls and watch everyone talk with each other apart from you. It was hard for you to engage in conversations in fear of saying something awkward and embarrassing so you avoided it. You hated the feeling of going back to that. “I don’t want to be alone again.”

He’s closed you in against the ship you were working on, head tilted and eyes glazed with something you hadn’t seen before. “Oh princess, you don’t know how much I like you do you?”

You’re a little surprised by both the nickname and confession but mainly the confession. “You do?”

“Of course! I don’t start trying to make conversations with people I don’t like, do I? I wanted to learn so much from you and to just adore you and I have… I do.” He admits and he’s proud to admit it.

“I’ve seen your confidence grow and it’ll never leave you now. I’ve seen you even speak to your colleagues now! It’s little but it’s something.” He sighs in happiness, cupping your cheek with his right hand whilst the other settles down to your waist. “I don’t care what the Republic says about us. I want you, Sarad.” He whispered and his face is so close to yours you can feel him breathing. Warm and beautiful.

You gave in and had to ask, “What does Sarad even mean?” You say sniffling yet you were smiling.

“Sarad,” he says softly, “it means flower.”

Then he’s kissing you.

His lips are like silk and his hold on you is so gentle yet so firm that you could faint in his arms and he’d catch you in an instant. The moan that escapes you is surprising yet also welcomed as you find yourself kissing him back, fingers twirling the hairs at the back of his head.

There was something so alluring about kissing the Arc Trooper in the currently abandoned Hangar, after hours in the full moon light. Rain was pittering and pattering against the ground that drowned out the breathless sighs that echoed around you both.

When he pulls back, you’re both grinning as he takes your face into his grasp and places a kiss to the tip of your nose, “Sarad, my little wallflower.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Masterlist

tags: @padawancat97 @twistedstitcher27 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @jennamelinda12 @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka a @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats s @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @sadspring @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @salaminus s @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @in-the-crosshairs @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @mylifeinthetardisforever r @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @fiveshelmet @buddee @s1st3r

#nahoney22 writes #arc trooper fives #fives clone wars #clone trooper fives #fives x you #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #fives one shot #the bad batch #star wars #clone wars

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Ashes Burn (Chapter 3) Dark!Aemond x AFAB Reader

🔷Summary: Aemond takes your town and you become his.

🔷Author's note: I don't mess around with the dark aemond tag. Watch your step please.

🔷Wordcount: 6052

Warnings below the cut but mind your step!

RATING: EXPLICIT, 18+ MDNI!!!!!

Warnings: Death, gore, got sexism, got violence, dubcon, thigh riding, slight smut, degrading, blood. violence and trauma. Read at your own risk, dead dove do not eat or something among those lines.

STORY BEGINS HERE

That very same evening, your father is to yield the castle to Aemond. You are present and dressed properly for the occasion, happy to see your father out of his chains. At least, the chains are not present, but that does not mean he’s a free man. No one in your family is free anymore.

The dress your servants have selected is an emerald green one with black details of roses and thorns. It is quite the revealing gown, and you know that is why Aemond approved of it. He can't take his good eye off you, as it constantly wanders to you, one way or another, as a moth drawn to the flame.

The ceremony occurs on a big square in the village. There are flower decorations that have quickly been gathered by your servants to make some effort. Perhaps for the fallen, perhaps to show Aemond they can be loyal, and they do not need to be killed yet. Maybe both.

It is sickening in a way, seeing so many flowers rooted safely from their grounds to honor such a horrible man. The faces of those who he fed to his dragon are still on your mind. They haunt you, in a way.

Blood still can be seen between the tiles on the ground. It would be a while to clean it, if it ever would be clean again.

The food is good and delicious but you as a Prince's pet are allowed only to eat what Aemond has approved of. You wistfully look at the delicious cake that his commanders and generals eat.

You can't help but stare and wonder, your tummy rambling. You would love a piece of cake too. It looks delicious even from a distance. The prince catches your glance and follows it, scowling more and more every single moment. ‘’What is it, my pet?’’

There is plenty of cake for everyone. You know so. And you are starving. So, you force yourself to become a little braver and a little bolder. A little more vocal too. ‘’I would like a piece too.’’ You declare.

His lips slowly press together in a disapproving way. It tells you all you need to know. Your shoulders hang, the sting of rejection cuts deep. ‘’That cake is for my men.’’ Aemond says and his voice tells you enough.

You notice there is some disgust and perhaps even jealousy there. Quickly you turn your eyes away from other men as Aemond's brows become threatened, worried, jealous.

You don't know why he thinks you'd be even interested in anyone at this moment. Your heart is being tested. Because it bleeds in ways you never imagined.

Not for yourself.

Not even for your own family and friends.

Just for the innocent people that died at his hands. 

But you are a coward.

You are worried he might kill even more if you won't comply. So you do. Even if it hurts you and goes against your nature.

The cake looks tastier every passing moment. ‘’I am aware. I just thought...perhaps you can make them share?’’ You suggest your voice soft, trying to play him. ‘’I liked the cupcakes you arranged-’’

Despite his laugh and despite the chuckle, you see a dark dangerous glimmer in his good eye. He is warning you. ‘’Let them have their cake, little lamb. Be glad it's not you on that table that's being shared.’’ You understand what Aemond means.

You should be glad and grateful for his protection and his claim. This does not erase the pain of being his trophy but his claim makes sure that none of those so called ‘heroes’ bother you. 

His slender hands grab your hips before firmly sitting you down on his lap, his arms strangling your stomach, pushing you almost inside him. He brings his lips to your ear when his hands feel up your dress. You feel ashamed he does this in front of your friends and servants and try to stop him. He only grabs you tighter at that, enjoying this game. ‘’A lamb fights the dragon.’’ He murmurs, grinning madly. ‘’You can resist and fight all you like. Just don't cry when I put you in your place for your treason.’’ You recall his punishment. How you were whipped before after he stripped and bended you on the table.

How you almost came when he fucked you with his fingers. 

You must avoid that at all costs.

‘’My Prince. I meant no offense. It was a silly question.’’ You stutter, a little foolish, staring at your hands. Aemond sinks back in the chair that serves as his throne.

He stares a little too long at your nippels watching them harden under his icy touch. You hear his lips smack. ‘’It was. You'll learn soon to stop asking silly questions. I have little patience for stupid girls.’’ You are worried.

You are known to ask silly questions a lot. And worse, if you can't ask him things how will you know what to do? It is risking punishment by asking or by doing the wrong thing by accident.

To one of your servants he nods. You know her by the name of Darla. She is from the Crown lands and has been with your family for some time. She makes a small curtsy for the prince before bowing her head and addressing him. ‘’Your highness. Is there something I can do for you?’’ She asks terrified. You can tell by her trembling hands.

You bet she is worried Aemond might touch and claim her too.

Aemond grabs the goblet he drinks from and dryly turns it upside down, watching as a single drop of red wine splashes on the tiles below.

You watch, as it spreads in a familiar bloody color. However hard you try, your eyes are as clued to the spot. ‘’Get me more wine. And fetch me a piece of a cake. I am hungry.’’ You hear Aemond's voice far away and your breathing increases.

Moments pass yet it feels like years. Aemond is handed a piece of cake on a silver plate and his goblet is hastily filled with wine. He puts you back on his lap and your trance is broken as you once again find yourself on his lap.

Aemond cuts the cake in small pieces and you watch as he brings the pieces to his mouth, taking proper gentle bites. He is a prince after all. He can be so charming...

When he wants to be. And that is exactly what makes him so dangerous.

The prince eats the cake while your stomach rumbles.

‘’It's good.’’ He grins. You notice his eye shimmers with pure sadism at your hunger. Perhaps it's your pain that turns him on. Perhaps it's the power he has over you. One of the two, makes the prince lusty.

Aemond takes another bite and while you don't doubt it's delicious you doubt it's so good that he can moan. ‘’Mhm…’’ there it is again, that foreign strange sound. 

You stare at your hands, at a loss for words and actions. You doubt there is much you can do.

‘’Look at me when I eat.’’ The prince barks suddenly at you. You nod hastily and look at the prince while he eats the cake.

Your stomach roars a little louder causing him to chuckle. When he has finished the cake, you are hungry. Aemond holds the plate in front of you, careful to avoid losing crumbs. ‘’You may have the crumbs.’’ The way he speaks remembers you of your losses. You have lost your title and are nothing more than his pet now. 

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks again as you stare at the plate. Ashamed. You reach out to a big crumb of cake on the plate. You need to convince yourself to allow this. You are hungry. Who cares about you eating a crumb?

That is until Aemond grins and smacks your fingers the moment they touch the crumbs. You cry out, quickly removing your fingers hurt written in your eyes. He chuckles. ‘’I didn't say you could use your fingers. There is another body part of yours that I want you to become agile and mobile with.’’ You tilt your head in confusion. 

He stares at your lips. ‘’Your tongue. You will lick up all the crumbs. After that, you can clean my plate for me. And after that, we'll see.’’ You would have preferred silverware.

Aemond takes big gulps of his cup quickly emptying it for a second or a tirth time that night.

There is one reason why he wants you to become more agile. He wants you to use your tongue to pleasure him. You have no experience doing such a thing but take his advice. Any practice that might save you discomfort and pain is welcome.

And you know better than to keep him waiting. You lower your head and as a pig, you start to collect and lick his crumbs off the plate. Aemond groans in pleasure when you softly gasp as he touches your back.

He grabs hold of your hair, dragging you closer. And then, he tilts it slightly so he may reach your lips. And before you can push him away he softly kisses your neck, sucking deeply, harshly marking you by biting down the sensitive skin as you whimper at his mercy.

Aemonds breath quickens alone at that sound and your eyes search for help among the crowd of drinking spectators and soldiers. Not one soul comes to your aid.

No servant or soldier.

No enemy or friend.

The worst part is, you see people judge you for his actions. Your stepmother is disgusted judging by the look in her eyes.  Her daughters look on as well yet you aren't sure if they would hate or pity you for what happens.

You are too afraid to look at Diandra. You know she'd be furious, letting yourself be touched by the animal that is Aemond Targaryen.

And your father?

You can't look at him either.

You lower your eyes. He leans in closer before wiping your lips clean and the corners of your mouth. ‘’Good little pet. I hope you enjoyed your cake.’’

A response is wise, you know that.

‘’It was delicious, my prince. Although I would have preferred a bigger portion.’’ It does not matter what you intended to say, he takes it as an insult.

The prince glares at you, forcing his nails into your skin to punish you so no one can see. ‘’Do not make me punish you, little ungrateful thing. Not the way I had you punished this very afternoon. You finally stopped bleeding. Do not make me rip open your pretty skin again.’’ He laughs at the end of his sentence, and you close your eyes, reliving his punishment.

You don't want that. You scold yourself and tell yourself to be quiet unless spoken to for now on.

A familiar face walks up to you and Aemond. It's the Dornish commander Diandra tried to kill. ‘’Prince Aemond. A word?’’ His voice is gentle and kind yet strict. 

You know Aemond does not want you around for this conversation.  ‘’You can speak freely within her presence. I will break her will fully tonight.’’ There is only so much you can bear.

New tears fall as you take a shaky breath. ‘’I shall wait for you, my prince.’’ You announce when freeing yourself from his grip and his lap.

A rough smack on your behind causes you to yelp out loud and for the prince to iron his grip. He whispers in your ear. ‘’You don't decide when you leave, little pet. Not anymore. I want you here. I want you to warm my lap. I want to count your tears and hear you whimper.’’

You try to find comfort. He relaxes, letting you be more free on his lap. ‘’That's better. Apologize to the commander for wasting his time and my own.’’ He tells you with a tug at a fistful of your hair.

You cry out, quickly blurting an apology. ‘’I am so sorry.’’ You say.

Aemond and the Dornish commander ignore you both, making you feel even more worthless. ‘’What did you want?’’ Aemond asks. He does not sound annoyed. Just curious.

The Dornish commander folds his hands in front of him, barely glancing at you when you softly sniffle at Aemond's lap.

The hands of the prince run down your knees, touching you when listening patiently to the words of the commander. ‘’We found an orphanage. We found traitors and rebels among the children, hiding behind a wardrobe.’’

Despite it being his duty you can tell he does not want to tell Aemond this. The prince's head goes up and down in understanding as he becomes very quiet.

‘’How many traitors and how many orphans are we speaking of?’’ Your blood becomes cold as you recall the faces of many innocent children who already endured the seven hells themselves. You know the orphanage. Your father was the patron.

You don't know how many traitors there are. Or how many children call it their home. But you know that every child that dies is one too many. ‘’Around 50 traitors and twice as many orphans. Children from all ages.’’

You need to help them. And you know how. Aemond is not a stupid man. His worst fear is likely running out of supplies. So if you offer to handle that, the reason to spare the children grows. ‘’Perhaps we can do something for them? We can invite the children inside the castle. We will use the supplies of my house, my prince. You should not let this bother you.’’ You tell him.

Aemond only cocks his head at you. He leans back his fingers dancing on the armrests of the chair. ‘’You speak out of turn, little pet. Stand up.’’ You gulp.

Your own father watches as you stand up, together with his men and other people you have known all your life. They all watch as you tremble and cry, whimper and beg. Your begs go unanswered.

You feel the smack a few moments later, on your behind. And the hiss of his voice. ‘’Sit back down.’’ That is enough to make you obey.

The commander leaves at the point of disgust. You don't know what will happen to the children now and are worried for the smirk that grows on Aemond’s lips, becoming bigger every moment that passes by.

Aemond lifts your chin. ‘’I will deal with them accordingly. You don't decide a thing anymore. From the way you dress, to the way you will fall asleep.’’ He tells you coldly. ‘’And no one will care. You are a bastard. A dirty bastard. You have nothing. Why shouldn't I take you? Hm? Who possibly could defend you? No one. You're all mine.’’ He growls.  ‘’I killed your brother, your father is in chains and no one,’’ Your gaze drops for a mere moment, intimidated and hurt by his words. So he punishes you by pinching your skin until you gasp.  ‘’No one will save you from me.’’ To prove his point, he leans in a little closer before locking eyes with you and licking your cheek.

You whimper.

You notice a familiar face in the crowd subtly approaching. He pretends to fill cups and to collect plates of drinking officers and soldiers alike. But you see the hatred in his eyes burning like a wildfire.

He is a soldier, a guard your father trusted. You know him by the name of Daros. He has always been very protective of your family and you can imagine he is up to no good.

It would be satisfying watching Daros kill Aemond. Until his soldiers kill Daros in return. You can count. You have done the math. Daros can not outwit and outrun the soldiers that Aemond has.

You worry your face might betray what you know about Daros and quickly stare at your hands as Aemond puts you a little firmer on his lap, rubbing your naked arms and wiping away some remaining salvia on your cheeks. 

Aemond stares you down and nods to his cup that is standing close by on a table. You stand up for him and reach for the cup, handing it faithfully to him with your head lowered. He chuckles at your display of submission and fear, enjoying every little moment of it. ‘’Pet, you should be careful with your body. It is a weapon you don't know how to wield yet.’’  You don't know what he means yet you nod.

He inspects the cup, holding it upside down. ‘’Pet, the cup is empty.’’ He tells you. Panicked, you glance around for a pitcher or a servant. And your eyes light up when you look at your home. Perhaps, perhaps he lets you go and you can fill a pitcher inside and run far far away.

The servant girl that helped earlier has wisely fled and you doubt she's coming back. You hope she escaped.

‘’I shall fetch a pitcher-’’ Before you set a foot his guards are alarmed and he has grabbed you by your hair, painfully dragging you back to him, forcing you on your knees like a disobedient dog.

You stare at his boots, the same boots you were forced to kiss earlier and can't help but tear up, gulping. Aemond still holds your hair as a leash. You hear him chuckle as he tugs, wrapping your hair around his hand, causing it to tangle painfully.

He makes a disapproving little sound. ‘’No, little pet. No breaks for you. You'll stay. You'll stay right here and warm my lap for me. You have plenty of pretty useless kitchen sluts who can fetch me wine.’’ They are no sluts. They are women. You doubt he knows the difference. 

Dramatically, Aemond sits down and forces you back on his lap. Daros has approached silently and is busy with attending the soldiers closest to Aemond now. His own personal guard.

Your breath quickens and you pray to the gods that Aemond does not notice. That he can't read you that well. Because if he does it might fail. And Daros could die.

You must avoid looking at both at all costs. Aemond is luckily used to that so you avoid looking at him. But he is no idiot. ‘’So tense, my little pet. Are you worried about tonight?’’ He whispers, kissing your earshell as you shudder on his knee. ‘’I have been picturing you on your back since I met you. You, the sheep being conquered by the dragon.’’

Images are formed in your head as Aemond keeps kissing you, images of you wearing nothing with him atop of you.

You squirm until you feel something move over your wet sex. The prince moves his leg, stimulating you with a sly grin on his lips. You endure it, shocked at the nerve of him to do this in front of everyone...

And shocked that you like it.

You don't want to like it however. You should hate everything this man does with you. Aemond grins as he repeats the process, lazily fucking you on his thigh. ‘’If you do your best, I might keep you alive.’’ He murmurs, as your pleasure is building.

You are speechless and light in your head, overwhelmed by many emotions. ‘’I will do my best.’’ And that's all you can do. That is the worst part of it all. You can do your best and be the best pet there is, and he'd still kill you. Part of you knows it. Part of you has always known it.

The prince seems pleased as you softly press your lips together to avoid a whimper as he fucks a little rougher. ‘’I hope your best is good enough, then.’’ You hesitantly touch his leg, feeling the warmth of his body.

You want to ride him back.

You want to touch him back.

Not to reward him. But to dull your own pain with pleasure.

You have experience with touching yourself but that does not even come close to the hype and excitement it gives your body when someone else touches you.

You roll your hips to his leg, lost in the moment...Until he sharply stops you and you are left with nothing. ‘’No. You had enough.’’ He decides, suddenly with a twisted grin on his lips. You can't help but glare at him. He chuckles amused. ‘’Pleasure is something you have to earn, little pet. I won't make you come out of the goodness of my heart. If you want to come and be a good girl and soak my cock, fingers or whatever else I may fuck you with, you best behave.’’

At that point, Daros comes over and fakes a subtle bow. ‘’My prince.’’ He begins. ‘’I have orders from Ser Criston Cole to escort you to the traitors.’’ He says. One look into his eyes and you can tell he is lying.

Aemond simply leans back in the chair, rubbing your wet needy sex lazily. ‘’Can't you see I'm busy, you-’’ His eye widens as he realizes something. ‘’Didn't I see you on the battlefield?’’

You freeze unintended. The rubbing stops. You wish him to continue it. You subtly try to grab his fingers but he only needs to glare at you to make you behave.

Daros first reaction is stupid as well. It's the worst thing he could have said. ‘’I- You're mistaken.’’ A clear lie.

Aemond huffs at that stupid little lie and you worry for Daros’s life. ‘’Am I? I do miss one eye, that is true. Perhaps that is why my other eye tries very hard to capture as many details as possible. Like you, standing on the tower of the wall as a coward when I sliced her brother up.’’ You recall that moment all too well.

The shameful color that spreads on Daros cheeks proves that Aemond is right. ‘’Let her go. She is innocent.’’ He protests softly. 

You aren’t sure why he cares about you in general.

Aemond laughs, a haunting hollow sound. ‘’Not for long, I promise you.’’ You know what he means. He means to take away your innocence.

That is taking it too far by Daros standards. He has never been one to deal with injustice in the right healthy way. Anger gets the better of him, risking both of your lives.  ‘’You fucking bastard! You think you're entitled to everything. Our people, our food, our lady. What did she do to you? What did she do?’’ He demands an answer.

Instead of giving one, Aemond pushes you on the ground by his feet.  ‘’Kneel.’’ He barks at you as his guards restrain Daros. You obey.

‘’Deeper.’’.

You go deeper; hurting your kneecaps on the cold stone tiles.

‘’Kiss my boots.’’ You nod, a single tear rolls down your cheeks as you obey his command leaving two kisses on his boots. He grins. 

‘’Please spare him.’’ You beg. ‘’He's part of the household, he can't die.’’ You hope he will have mercy.

Until you see that Aemond has stopped smirking and glares at Daros jealousy clearly written across his face. ‘’Do you love him pet?’’ He spits out. 

You gawk, unsure where this is coming from. You don’t understand why Aemond would care, nor why it is brought up. You look at Daros and see something unfamiliar in his eyes. A gentle spark of hope that can enlight in a fire of bravery any moment with the right words. A fire that will kill you both.

He is in love with you.

But you are not in love with him.

You are worried Aemond would kill him.

So you admit to the truth, no matter how heartless it makes you seem. ‘’No, my Prince. I desire no man but you.’’

He is relieved at that although he won't admit it ever. ‘’But you do love her, hm? That is why you really interfered. You wish her ass was on your lap, hm?’’ He grins at Davos. ‘’I can have her do the most delicious things to herself and me. Things you likely dreamt of for years.’’ 

‘’So what if I do? It won't change things.’’ ‘’I knew she was forbidden fruit. She should not be punished for my crimes. I am the one who tried to lure you-’’

Aemond interrupts him by punching him in the gut, burying his fist deeply, so deeply you worry for Daros spitting out the lunch he had. You gasp shocked at this brutal display. Daros is thrown on his knee and Aemond changes the assault to kicking his face, stomach and other parts of his body. Daros only response is a sickening little whimper and a heartbreaking grunt.

You are grabbed too by another guard, held when Aemond makes his way to the masses of people that have gathered here today. You hope it will be peaceful. He has what he wants. He should show mercy.

But you know this man too well by now.

Your father is brought forward in chains. Your stepmother is treated respectfully as are her daughters. They remain dressed and well. Unlike you who is touched by prince Aemond a lot. But he too has not yet removed your gown.

Your father barely looks at you when he is marched forward by Aemonds guards. You feel horrible as Aemond grabs you as his prized trophy and puts you by his side presenting you smirking to your father. ‘’You made a lovely girl. I will make good use of her when we warm your bed.’’ Your stomach turns at the little possessive squeeze he gives your behind.

His men laugh, you don't know why. It is not funny. ‘’You are a despicable disgusting man, Aemond of house Targaryen.’’ Your father answers, his eyes never leaving Aemond’s. ‘’Killing a man by stabbing him in the back, and taking a woman as your spoils of war. You have no shame nor honor in that body of yours.’’

Aemond is insulted. ‘’This is war in case you failed to notice. You choose the wrong side.’’ It can't be that simple. It never is that simple. War is like a coin. It has multiple sides.

Your father spits at his feet and Aemond barely avoids it. ‘’So behead me for it and be done with it.’’ He growls out, done with playing Aemonds games.

Aemond is shocked.

He seems taken back, and embarrassed. But that changes quickly into anger and fury. Instead of hitting your father, he grabs you. You already wail before he has laid a finger on you. ‘’Pet. I have a fun little task for you.’’ He mutters in your ear as you shake.

You know what he wants.

‘’Please grant me the privilege of a bedroom if you must-’’ your stutters are interrupted.

He chuckles amused that your mind went there. ‘’Sh, filthy minded pet. We shall do nothing of the sort here. I have something else in mind than fucking that little warm wet cunny of yours.’’

Your father is forced to kneel. He is to be executed. ‘’Please, good people. Consider bending the knee to this tyrant. If you don't, He will likely kill you all. We must pray to the gods that justice can be found one day. And to the women in this town, I regret that I failed you.’’ 

Aemond waits for more words but none come. So he folds his hands on his back and gives his men the order. ‘’Surround her well.’’

You understand that's you. You turn and watch as the guards form a circle around Aemond and your father and you. You hear the sound of steel being pulled and Aemond presents you with the same sword you were forced to lick. The sword that killed your brother. 

And…

He hands it to you.

Your first impulse is to run him through. But he wears armor. He has guards around him and it would accomplish nothing. Vhagar looms from the opposite side of the square, and you know if she were to see Aemond die, she would roast everyone in this town alive.

So what does he want you to do? Is this meant as a cruel test?

Another thought makes itself into your head. A thought so dark and cruel that you gasp audibly. ‘’What am I to do with this?’’ You ask your voice soft.

He only smirks, confirming your worst fears.

You stare at your father, still on his knees. You hear the sound of something clattering against the floor and understand you must have dropped the sword by accident. He can't mean that.

To kill your own father...

He can't be that cruel....

Can he?

Your hand is forced open and a sword is pushed back in. Aemond's sword. ‘’I want you to make  that little disgusting piggy that sits at our feed scream.’’ He whispers. ‘’I want your hands and gown bloodied.’’ He adds rasping with clear arousal.

‘’I-I can't.’’ You protest straight away. ‘’I'd be a Kinslayer. I'd be cursed! And furthermore...I am a lady. And do you want your enemies to hear that you had me execute him rather than yourself?’’ All lies you don't care for. All lies to hopefully distract him. You don’t want your father to die. You already lost so much today.

Aemond sighs, disappointed you don’t like his idea.

‘’You have the choice. You can kill him, or I will kill all of these people gathered here.’’ He can't mean that. You have to hope for your faith in humankind that he can't be that cruel. 

But you saw it before at the gates.

He is truly that cruel. He didn't stop the battle when he could. He didn't play fair when he could. He did not show mercy. He showed fire. And he showed blood.

You understand you have a choice. Save your father, or save the town. Your father speaks up, his voice touched by emotions. He knows what you will pick. And funny, so did you. You knew the moment you were presented the choice, there was no real choice. Not really. Not when your father has spent his life protecting Dolkburg.  ‘’Y/N.’’ Your father mutters.

So you must kill him. No matter how much it will hurt your soul. No matter that you become a orphan. ‘’Daddy I am so sorry.’’ New tears roll down your cheeks. 

He shakes his head firmly, but yet he cries nonetheless. Every tear is a blow to your heart. ‘’Don't be. Do what you must child. No one will blame you for this. Do what you must to survive. To make the people of Dolkburg survive.’’

You can only nod. Speaking hurts. Thinking hurts. Living hurts.

‘’I think we will meet again soon, child.’’ When Aemond tires of you. Or when you maybe get pregnant. That is when he will get rid of you.

You turn to face Aemond, sobbing. He gleefully grins, looking back and forth between your father and you. ‘’Well, pet? Have you made your choice?’’ Where is the fair choice? Where is the good choice?

‘’Yes.’’ You nod but you can't stop your hands from shaking. You place the blade on your father’s neck, the way you saw him do with many criminals that dared to oppose him. And now he is executed on the orders of the worst criminal of all. A war criminal.

You want to execute him, in a clean manner. But Aemond coughs sharply, startling you. ‘’Ah, no. I don’t want a quick clean execution. You will hit his pressure points and make him bleed out.’’ A horrible slow and torturous death.

You never heard of ‘pressure points’. Aside from feeling grief stricken you also now feel dumb.‘’How shall I kill him?’’ You ask Aemond as you take in your father's closed eyes and his peaceful almost corpse-like appearance.  As if he has already departed this world.

Aemond’s fingers point to the wrists, the neck, the heart, and the gut area. ‘’Just do what feels right, little pet. He is your canvas, the sword is your brush. His blood is your paint. Make me a masterpiece.’’

At his command, you start by the throat and drive the sword all the way in, causing the flesh to part as a whale opening its mouth.Blood streams out of your fathers throat and there is a small comfort that he dies fast.

Your father drowns in his own blood in front of you spitting and swallowing it as you fall to your own knees, your hands covered in blood. Aemond laughs. ‘’You are all dismissed. Have some fun. Get drunk. As long as you are in the right state tomorrow.’’ He tells his guards. They take off running into the village, likely looking for any innocent bystander to grab.

Eventually, you watch as your servant girls are bothered by the soldiers, first gently but when they dont respond they are hit, bruised, and dragged off inside. You quickly turn to Aemond horrified as he ignores what his men do. ‘’No! No! make them stop.’’

He does not move a muscle.

‘’No, I won't. They deserve a nice reward. What's a better reward than a woman?’’ He asks. You are insulted that he thinks they deserve anything and especially a woman. A woman is not a reward.

‘’They are not their rewards. They are  good. Stop this. Please…’’ You see Aemond only turn his head away from the scene, careless.

Finally, he too snaps. ‘’I won't give you what you want. You are my pet, I decide for you. You can whine and beg and cry all you like but in the end I am the prince and you the dirty bastard.’’

‘’Be thankful I will fuck you tonight. If I had not, you'd be just like them. Tell me pet, do you prefer me or them in your innocent little untouched cunny?’’ When you remain silent he squeezes you to make you talk.

You look at his boots.

‘’You.’’ You confess softly in tears. You would prefer one man over six any day. Prince Aemond is cruel but he is a prince. You hope he has some consideration and decorum for your statue as maiden.

He laughs pleased.

‘’Such a good girl when needs be. Yes. You would hm? What scares you most?’’

There is no point in lying about it. ‘’The pain.’’ Yet you do so anyway. 

‘’No. Pain does not scare you. You would not enjoy defying me the way that you do if it did.’’ He is too observant.

You sigh. ‘’That I'll...like it. That I'll enjoy what you'll do to me.’’

‘’Having a woman in my bed is one thing, little pet. But I live to bend and shape her into submission. I want my women deranged and hungry for me. I want them to be mindless little objects for me to fuck my seed out on. Do you understand?’’ Seven gods..

‘’What you describe is so horrible. Don't you want for your women to ..to touch and love you back? Is that not the point of sharing one's bed? To feel loved?’’

‘’Spoken like a true maiden. You'll say different things once you experienced what it is like to have a man inside of you.’’

Aemond’s attention turns to Daros who is still held by one of the guards that Aemond did not dismiss yet. ‘’So. You dreamt of touching what belongs to me, hm? Even tried to kill me too.’’ He says.

Daros spits as a answer. 

Aemond punches him on his nose, likely breaking it by the sound and look of it. Daros hisses in pain. You watch as Aemond turns around to you. ‘’Pet. I think it is time you and me have some fun.’’ You can’t help but be aroused by his words. You hate it.

His glare hardens as he looks back at Davos, grinning when blood drips from his nose. ‘’And this little traitor, this little shit. He will watch me do what he wanted to do to you for years.’’

----

a/n: hes so mean and for what he already won. Oh well.

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #Smut #dubcon #violence #blood #thighriding #smut #murder #gore #classicalgotviolence #dark!aemond!

[tcwmatchmakingau]

One Call Away - Pt. 1

Summary: Thorn wants Fox to find love, and he’s counting on Daria to make it happen. An unstoppable force is about to meet an immovable object.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Daria Trace (OC)

Rating: G (later chapters will get spicy 👀)

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2886

Written to: The Archer by Taylor Swift

Massive shoutout to @deejadabbles not only for taking the first/last look but also encouraging me so much. Wouldn’t have made it without her 🥰

Matchmaking for the clones was nothing like matchmaking for the smarmy elites of Coruscant. The most noticeable difference was the way they showed their gratitude after a successful match. Daria had received expensive bottles of whiskey, opera tickets and even furs from clients. The gifts were accompanied by generic messages clearly written by their aides, and while Daria wouldn’t say no to good whiskey or a fun night at the theatre, the gifts were perfunctory in nature.

The clones, however, showed their appreciation with their hearts. Daria had received flowers clearly stolen from someone’s greenhouse that perfectly matched her lavender hair, gift cards for iced coffee, all manner of fidgets to keep her occupied, and her favorite, new photos of them with their new partners.

Commander Thorn in particular was immensely grateful for his new girlfriend, but when he’d come by bearing a gift he’d also had a request.

“I’m always happy to see you Thorn, but I’m curious as to why you have a knife in my office,” Daria said, eyeing the blade Thorn was twirling around.

“You like to keep your hands busy, right? So you can learn to spin this, and eventually how to throw it,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “Your hands will never be bored again.”

“A bold claim,” she said, following the knife’s movements. There was something alluring about such a dangerous plaything in motion, and she found her fingers twitching in anticipation. “Ok, I’ll try it.”

“That’s my girl!” He brought the knife to an abrupt stop offering it to her handle first.

Daria took the knife and began slowly moving it through her fingers. Thorn watched her work out the best way, as her hand was much smaller than his, and bare. After one minute, the knife was flipping through her fingers quickly and smoothly.

“Kriff, this is really fun,” she confessed quietly. She couldn’t play with it around other people, unless she was hoping to intimidate them, but when she was alone it would definitely be in heavy rotation amongst her other toys. “Thank you, Thorn.”

“You’re welcome, and now for the part where I beg for assistance.”

Daria stopped the knife, placing it on her desk with a decisive click.

“She does not wish to receive heart-shaped jewelry, so go back to the drawing board on that one,” Daria said after a moment of scrutiny.

“Wha-, how did you-?” Thorn stammered. Daria’s uncanny ability to snatch up threads of thought still left him speechless every time. But he was a man on a mission, and recovered quickly. “Consider the jewelry scrapped. I need to bring someone to you. He needs your help.”

Daria’s dark brown eyes lit up instantly. A smile played around her full lips, as she grabbed her datapad.

“You’ve got my attention,” she said with a raised brow.

“Excellent. It’s my ori’vod, Fox,” Thorn said, his face growing serious.

“Marshal Commander ‘Fall in line or fuck off’ Fox?” Daria asked.

Thorn nodded, “That’s the one. He practically lives in his office still, and he needs someone to get him out. Someone that makes him want to take his days off. Someone who he can’t intimidate. Who won’t take his shit.”

“You want me to find someone who’s not intimidated by the most intimidating authority figure on the planet? Possibly in the quadrant?”

“You’re Daria Trace. You found someone that made Wolffe smile. Not a ‘last thing you see before you die’ smile, but an ‘I’m so in love’ smile,” Thorn said, his bright eyes soft and hopeful.

“While everything you just said is true,” Daria conceded. “Commander Wolffe wanted my help. I feel like Commander Fox will toss me in a holding cell, if I so much as suggest he needs my assistance finding a date.”

“But he does,” Thorn insisted. “Just meet him. If he’s hopeless, he’s hopeless. If he’s not, promise me you’ll find someone for him.”

Daria adored the clones, but the way they wielded those big brown eyes was brutal. It was nearly impossible to deny them anything in one’s power.

“Bring him in,” she said finally, caving to Thorn’s masterful tooka eyes.

“Wizard! I knew you’d be up for it,” He cheered. “This means the world to me, Daria. He deserves to live his life.”

“You all do,” she assured him. “I promise I’ll do all I can. Now put on your helmet and get out of my office.”

Thorn shot her a winning smile, and left with a pep in his step. The door had barely closed behind him before Daria was researching Fox on the holonet while she twirled her new vibroblade.

***

Fox never thought he would miss the rules that led all of his vode to keep their relationships under wraps, but then Right to Love set up shop. He now had a battalion of love struck shock troopers, who couldn’t stop going on and on about their new partners, and their matchmakers.

Everywhere he went it was:

“Tarsi changed my life.”

“I owe Yen everything.”

“Daria is a miracle worker.”

Daria Fucking Trace. She was Thorn’s favorite, and he’d been bugging Fox to come and meet her ever since his first date with his now girlfriend. Every three to five business days, he’d be back at it again. Fox loved seeing his brothers happy, and thriving. Especially Thorn, even though he was testing Fox’s patience.

Fox had made the mistake of saying Thorn’s lunch looked tasty, and he’d eagerly explained his girlfriend made it for him, and Fox could have homemade lunches with love notes too, if he would just meet Daria.

“Look, Fox, I know you’re very attached to your nocturnal, work is my life persona, but we’re free men now,” Thorn said before biting into his lunch, humming with joy at the taste. “We deserve to be happy. Especially you, vod.”

“Free or not, we still have a job to do. One of us has to stay focused, so the rest can go off with pretty nat borns,” Fox countered, sipping on an iced caf.

“You should be out with pretty nat borns too. Why are you punishing yourself?”

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m just too busy for a relationship. Someone has to keep this place in order. As Marshal Commander,” Fox began.

“As Marshal Commander,” Thorn mocked with an exaggerated voice. “Just go with me to meet her. If it doesn’t work, I’ll kriff off. But if she can find you a nice young woman or man to get the stick out of your ass…”

“Will you leave me the kriff alone if I say yes?” Fox demanded.

“Yes! For a time.”

“And I won’t have to hear about Daria Trace for the next 30 rotations minimum?”

“Sure thing…but you’ll go?” Thorn looked so excited, even Fox felt himself melting a little. His soft spot for Thorn would never harden it seemed.

“Fine. Set it up.”

“YES!” Thorn cheered before taking a victorious bite of his lunch, grinning as he chewed.

***

Daria waltzed to the lobby promptly at 1259 hours, and found Blizzard obsessively straightening his desk.

“What are you doing, Blizz?” She asked with barely concealed amusement.

“The Commander Fox is coming here. I just want everything to be perfect.” He leaned closer and offered in a conspiratorial whisper, “He’s so kriffing cool. Total badass. I’m equally terrified and in awe.”

“Is that so?” Daria asked with a grin.

Blizzard nodded, and opened his mouth to say more, but at 1300 hours on the dot the door was opening to admit Commander Thorn with Commander Fox in tow.

Thorn always brought wonderful energy into any space, and Daria found his presence comforting if a bit wild.

Fox’s energy was an entirely different story. Contained, but utterly commanding with the fiercest protective intent. She couldn’t focus on anything else no matter how she tried, but the part that surprised her was the blissful feeling of being utterly secure. Safe. Relaxed.

Her constant desire to fidget was quelled. Her fingers rested in her pockets. Her weight held in place rather than shifting. Her heart was steady, calm.

Is this what other people feel like all of the time? Daria thought, offering a dazzling smile to the pair of commanders.

Thorn, never being one for ceremony, scooped Daria up into a bear hug, squishing her against his armored chest until she wheezed in protest.

“I’m happy to see you too,” she coughed out, as he placed her back on her feet.

“I forget how tiny and soft you are,” Thorn said as though he was amused.

“Scientists and therapists under 5’7” aren’t known for breeding kids of the blaster-toting, knife-gifting variety,” Daria said, lifting one expertly arched brow.

“It’s ok, Daria, we can’t all be perfect,” Thorn said, pulling his helmet off, and shaking his curls free. “This is Commander Fox. Fox, this is Daria Trace. The miracle matchmaker.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling people about me?” Daria asked, her face warming up instantly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m sure my exploits were greatly exaggerated. Especially coming from my dear little brother,” Fox said, his tone bored, and drier than Tatooine.

Oh this will be fun. Daria thought.

“Well, I’ll let you do your thing, and find Fox a wife or a husband. He’s not picky,” Thorn said with a smirk. “He can’t be with that face.”

The modulator did nothing to hide the sigh of sheer exhaustion from Fox.

“You have the same…clone humor. I should have expected nothing less from you,” Daria said with a soft laugh.

“Don’t indulge him,” Fox said tilting his head at her disapprovingly.

“Sorry. Follow me,” Daria said, with a laugh.

Fox followed the matchmaker down the hall. Everything about her said she’d never followed a rule in her life. From her mismatched earrings to the way she walked like there was music playing only she could hear. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes, the way her rich voice wrapped around the word Commander like the concept of authority amused her. It was completely unsurprising that Thorn was fond of her.

Reaching her office, Fox scanned the room quickly. A wall devoted to her successful matches no doubt, as he saw several of his brothers’ faces, including Thorn and Wolffe. There were a number of small toys scattered across Daria’s desk. Fox counted 10. Some brightly colored, some durasteel, and before she could stash it in a drawer…

“Is that a vibroblade?” he asked, folding his arms, as he took a seat at her desk.

“Gift from Thorn,” she said, closing the drawer where she kept the weapon turned fidget toy.

“Don’t cut yourself with it,” Fox said. “It’ll be a mountain of paperwork when you have to explain to a doctor how a matchmaker got stabbed with a vibroblade.”

“Don’t lose sleep over it, Commander,” Daria said, whipping the knife out of the drawer and spinning it quickly through her fingers while keeping her eyes on his visor.

“How long have you been practicing that?”

“Every free moment for 3 rotations,” she confessed.

Fox shook his head. That tracked.

“You didn’t come all the way here to discuss my knife skills. You need a date.”

“I’m only doing this to get Thorn off of my ass,” Fox said, folding his arms, and sitting back in the chair across from Daria.

“Ah so you’d like to hang out in my office, kill an hour, and then go back and pretend I’m a fake?” Daria asked, with a raised brow.

“Something like that.”

Daria laughed, and Fox noted the sound was pleasant, infectious. “Nope. My professional reputation is as sparkling as your service record, Commander.”

“Please. This is guess work at best,” He argued.

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“How?” He asked.

“Talk to me.”

“That’s what I’m doing now.”

Daria released a sigh, and fixed him with a look. “I mean about something real like why Thorn is so invested in your love life.”

“Because he’s a nosy little brother. As an only child, you wouldn’t know about that,” He said, relaxing his arms, as he made himself comfortable. He was disappointed when his revelation was met with a satisfied little grin instead of surprise.

“I hope you found something more interesting than that in my background check,” She said, placing her elbows on the desk, and resting her chin on her crossed fingers.

“Perhaps. I’d never show all of my cards right away, Trace,” He said with a light shrug. “And neither would you.”

You wanna play hardball, let’s play. She thought.

“Ok, you think I'm a fraud; I think you’re afraid.”

The lightest shift in energy in the room told Daria she’d struck a nerve.

“What makes you think that?” He asked, keeping his voice professional and even.

“A very long list of things that I couldn’t get through with 2 full rotations devoted to you, so let’s split my lunch, Thorn’ll think we did the whole thing, and you can go back to pretending you’re happy.” Reaching into her bottom desk drawer, Daria pulled out her lunch, and set about portioning out half for Fox.

“Here,” She said, passing him half of her pasta, and half of a large pastry.

He’d been on the verge of declining and walking out, but he was absolutely starving, and it looked so delicious. Especially the pastry. His sweet tooth wouldn’t let him say no. He accepted the food, and watched as Daria got comfortable in her chair, one leg tucked beneath her, as she started eating.

There was a light hiss, as Fox unsealed and removed his helmet. He was acutely aware of the matchmaker’s gaze, as she took in his features. He could hear her mentally noting the differences between him and his brothers. The scar on his nose, his curls held back by a red headband, the dark circles under his eyes.

He shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, and resisted humming in pleasure. Of course it’s delicious. Perfect. He thought, annoyed.

“Good?” She asked, swallowing her current bite, and looking hopeful.

“Yeah,” He confessed. “I don’t really make time to cook.”

“I’d be more surprised if you did.”

They continued to eat in a surprisingly companionable silence until Fox bit into the pastry. Fuck, ok. He thought.

“I’m not pretending I’m happy,” he blurted out before taking another bite of the fluffy treat.

“I didn’t peg you for a liar, Commander.”

“I’m not lying,” He shot back, brow furrowed.

“You were bred for war, told you’d see the stars, and got stuck in this corrupt skughole,” Daria said, twirling noodles onto her fork. “Your life is your own now, but you insist on clinging to what you know because it’s safe, simple, comforting.”

“You don’t have a sense of duty, clearly,” Fox said with a roll of his eyes.

“No, I do. I just also believe that my life is mine, and feeling fulfilled is important. That can look different for different people,” she replied. “Do you feel fulfilled?”

He stared down at his food for a moment. “You’re irritating, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard it a few times.”

After another long moment, Fox confessed, “Maybe coming home to someone wouldn’t be terrible, but they’d have to understand the job comes first. My hours aren’t normal, and I don’t dance.”

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Daria said, scooping up her datapad and making some notes while she munched on half of the pastry. “Do you like animals?”

“No.”

“This is going to take forever, if you keep lying to me,” she said without missing a beat as she marked yes.

“How do you do that? It’s exhausting,” Fox snapped, shoving the last bite of pastry into his mouth.

“It’s always been like that,” Daria looked up then, and fixed him in her gaze. “You have a sweet tooth. It’s bad.”

“So find me a baker.”

“It’s not that easy.”

After another hour of getting raked over the coals by the matchmaker, Daria escorted Fox back to the lobby.

“I’ll call you,” she said with a mysterious little smile. “Bye, Thorn.”

“Bye, Daria. Thank you,” Thorn called as she made her way back down the hallway.

Fox watched her go before slipping out of the front door and taking a deep breath once it had closed behind him.

“She’s amazing, right?” Thorn asked, joining him.

Fox pulled on his helmet. “She’s as obnoxious as you without the shared DNA to make it tolerable.”

“Whatever, you love me,” Thorn said, as he donned his own helmet. “Let’s go get food. I’m starving.”

“I already ate. Go take your girlfriend to a food stand, and I’ll see you in a little while,” Fox ordered.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Thorn replied, taking off towards the train.

Alone with his thoughts, Fox wandered back towards the barracks.

Daria Fucking Trace was an absolute menace. There was no doubt about it.

***

No less than 15 minutes after Fox’s departure, Daria was twirling her blade, and flipping through profiles. No one currently in the system would suit the salty Commander, but she was determined to find someone who could make that man smile. He might have been hard on the outside, but those soft insides deserved someone who would cherish him.

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #Coruscant Guard #Original Clone Characters #commander fox x oc #tcw commander fox #tcw commander thorn #oc: daria trace #oc: blizzard #star wars oc #seven writes

[pacificwaternymph]

I thought of the most adorable Empires S1 Flower Husbands pirate AU ever!!

Scott is the son of a nobleman. As a child, he had a friend by the name of Jimmy, whom he was absolutely enamored with. The two of them had to meet in secret, since Jimmy was a commoner and the son of a sailor, and Scott's father definitely wouldn't approve of their friendship.

When they were little, they had a pretend "wedding," as children sometimes do. Scott stole one of his mother's rings that he knew she wouldn't miss, a simple silver band with a ruby cut into the shape of a poppy, and gave it to Jimmy. In return, Jimmy gave Scott a necklace he made out of an old fishing line and a few pieces of sea glass he picked up along the beach.

Tragically, Jimmy died very young, when he accompanied his father on a trip, and they were hit by a bad storm, sinking the ship and killing everyone on board.

Or, at least, that's what everyone thought.

Fast forward a decade or two, and Scott is now a relatively high ranking officer in the navy. However, he isn't exactly respected by his peers, since many believe he only got the position because of the power his father has.

He's tasked with taking down the elusive pirate known as the Codfather, a nuisance that has been dealing heavy blows to commerce and to the navy itself. He's especially tricky to catch because it's rumored that his ship is protected by sirens.

Scott has every intention of bringing the pirate to "justice," but the Codfather catches wind of this and gets the drop on them by attacking first, taking Scott prisoner.

On the pirate ship, even as a prisoner, Scott is treated better by the pirates than many of his own crew and commanding officers. There's a baseline level of respect that he's not expecting since this is, you know, a pirate ship.

No one is openly cruel or malicious in their actions, and he's not just shoved in a cell and left to rot, but allowed to wander the ship (with supervision) during the day, chat with the crew, even help out with some of their chores.

Even the pirates recognize that most others would not be as generous as they've been with him.

And, the captain is... strange. He's polite and courteous, easily flustered but charming when he wants to be, and honestly kind of shy. Not to mention, he's absolutely gorgeous. Before Scott knows it, he's falling, and he's falling hard.

In the end, it's not a hard decision. The captain offers him a chance to defect, to be part of the crew, and Scott practically leaps at the chance.

About a week into Scott joining the crew, he notices the captain wearing a... suspiciously familiar ring. He hears someone call out a greeting, not using the captain's title but by using his name.

Jimmy.

Scott pulls out the necklace Jimmy gave him as a child, and the two have a dawning realization of "oh... OH"

So that's fun.

Scott asks what happened, since last he heard Jimmy drowned with the rest of his father's crew, and Jimmy admits he nearly did, but, the queen of the sirens, then princess, Lizzie, intervened on his behalf and saved his life. Which is why his ship is now protected by sirens. Lizzie is also married to Jimmy's second in command, Joel.

So then they fall in love get together Scott is now Jimmy's boyfriend and a boost to his reputation (not many pirate captains can say they successfully convinced a noble and high ranking naval officer to defect by seducing him)

(Jimmy is embarrassed by the rumors circulating between the two of them because he absolutely did not seduce Scott. Meanwhile Scott thinks it's hilarious and really plays it up when they're negotiating with other pirates and corrupt navy officials)

So that's the basics. Literally everything I wrote here is just a setup for a cute AU featuring absolute power couple Jimmy and Scott, full of shenanigans, mischief, and tooth rotting fluff.

#listen i really like childhood friends turned enemies turned lovers #empires smp #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #ldshadowlady #pirate au

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 22nd

Day 22: Sex Pollen // Orgasm Delay/Denial // Strap Ons

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Sex pollen, dub con, fingering, spanking, biting, rough sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The water surrounding you adds to the harsh sound of slapping skin. Moaning and grunting echoing off the chamber walls with the subtle hissing and spitting of the torches that line the walls and illuminate the large pool that you are submerged in to your waists. 

Tovar grunts, his cock spearing into your aching cunt over and over again, fist curled into your hair and yanking your head back while he growls against your throat. Your cry is weak, breathless while you rock up to the balls of your feet, trying to ease the way that you take him, but the arm that pins your back against his chest doesn’t allow for you to move.  Unwilling to the tight cunt that he is pounding himself into slip out of his hold. 

****

“We should not be doing this.” You look around the halls, searching for the guards that always seem to lurk in the shadows that the torches do not banish. 

He scoffs, shaking his head at your utter lack of gumption and continues to push open doors and poke his head in. “We deserve it. Better than a bucket of water.” 

There had been rumors, whispers of a bathing room that was for the general’s and commander’s use. Only allowed to those soldiers that they had chosen to bring with them. Said to be giant pools of hot water and steam. Perfumed soaps and flower petals that would relax your stress and make you feel like you are floating. Everyone who has supposedly been in those baths has worn a secret little smile and been sworn to silence. Pero was determined to have that. 

Still - you could get in trouble. After all, you weren’t here for trading like you had told them. They hadn’t believed you, but your true purpose here was to steal the secrets of the black powder. To achieve riches beyond your wildest dreams and you had spent a lifetime dreaming.  

His body freezes with his head inside one heavy door and he straightens, pushing it open wider as he looks over his shoulder. “Come.” His smirk is smug and self satisfied. Like when he has discovered an easy mark or a wench that will take his cock for free. 

Curiosity gets the best of you. It always has. It was what dragged you across the perilous trek to the far East and now shuffles your feet forward into the chamber as Pero closes the door behind you so that none will be any wiser of two thieves in their precious bathing room. 

It’s hot inside. The steam seeps into your bones and you can feel the slickness starting to coat  your skin. The scent of spices and flowers float around you and it smells wonderful. Torches line the walls, illuminating the space. 

The waters are clear, still and calm in the large pool that takes up most of the room. There is a low bench along the one edge, filled with cakes of soap, vials of oils and bowls of petals. Ready to spread into the water and rub into skin. 

Groaning at the sight of a pool of water that isn’t frigid or the rushing waters of a river to clean up in. This is opulent and your fingers itch to start shedding layers of your armor and clothing, even though you are in front of Tovar. 

“Are you going to get in?” There is a challenge in his voice, making you turn to find his brow raised in question and there is that smirk that makes you want to slap his face. Or kiss him. Although you would never admit to the second one. 

“Why would I give you a free show?” You huff, rolling your eyes on principle alone, even though it’s not like he hasn’t seen your body before. He has helped patch you up through injuries, 

“It is not like I am not baring my cock.” He grunts, reaching for the best that carries his dagger and his sword to strip from his lean waist. You snort, rolling your eyes at the idea that that might be some sort of treat for you. 

He grunts again, ignoring you as he starts to strip off his clothes. Unashamed of his nudity as he pulls his pants down and the flaccid cock that hangs between his legs swings free as his kicks off the pants and  boots that he is wearing after his belt and leathers hit the ground. 

The Spaniard that you have traveled with for the past eight months is not a small man by any means. Broad and leaner than he probably should be from the rations that you had to cut down and then cut down again as you made your way here. He is still big. Especially with the size of the cock that is not hard in the least. 

You huff, out maneuvered and you start to pull off your own clothes. Ignoring the want to look over at his body as he continues to strip down to his bare skin. Skin that is littered with scars and marks from the rough life that you lead and the skirmishes that he has survived. 

You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t let it bother you. Hearing the sounds of splashing water and a groan that makes your stomach flip and tense from how sexy it sounds. Preferring to concentrate on the routine of disrobing and trying not to let his gaze affect you. The heat makes your nipples tighten, peak into tight little buds and you know that Tovar is watching you very carefully. 

When you turn towards him, Tovar is examining the oils and soaps that are lining the bench, making you wonder if you had imagined everything. Disappointment curling through you ridiculously enough. Making you quickly slip down the stairs and enter the hot water with a groan. 

Tovar is opening vials, smelling them one by one and either scowling at the scent or contemplating them. Unable to tell what they contain since all the writing is in Chinese and neither one of you can read the language. 

The largest bottle he opens and hums, nodding to himself and turning it upside to dumping the entire contents of the water as you gasp. 

“Tovar!” You shake your head and look towards the door that he had barred for privacy. “They will know someone used it!” 

He shrugs, replacing the bottle on the bench and leans down to inhale the scent in the water with a groan. “I do not care. It smells - it smells intoxicating.”  

You shake your head as you wade deeper into the water and lower your body down to where your breasts are below the water line. The smell is unique, filling your nose and the combination of that and the warm water makes you feel deliciously relaxed. 

Not a word is spoken between you, just the sound of the water as the two of you float around in the pool that is large enough for twenty. Closing your eyes and leaning back so that you are floating on the surface, suddenly unconcerned with him seeing your breasts. 

The gentle sounds of the water in your ears covers the sounds of heavy breathing, the groan that comes out of his mouth as you absorb the heat and scent of the perfumed water. 

It’s subtle, the way that your breasts tighten, the heat that pools between your legs. Not noticing the need that always seems to be stamped out by the more pressing desires of your body for food, drink or rest. The hollow ache in your core to be filled, to scratch the itch that is rarely seen to. 

Not until you sense him right next to you, his hand engulfing your breast in his palm and your body flails for a singular moment while your feet slip beneath the water to scramble for purchase on the stone bottom. 

“Tovar! What-” 

“Fuck.” His eyes are black pools, glittering in the light from the torch and he pants as he squeezes your breast, his other hand shooting out to grab your waist and drag you against him almost faster than you can react. The hardness of his cock digs into your belly like a poker, an iron rod between you and a whimper escapes you even as your eyes widen. 

“Your tits.” He growls, chest heaving and looking down between you to see the skin pressed against his own. His hand trapped against it, unwilling to let go. “Your cunt - you tease me, chica.” His cock pushes against your hip, twitching. 

He’s never touched you. Never alluded that he would want to touch you. Tovar was a man who growled and hissed at you, spat sarcastic comments to you and yet you had never heard him demean you. He had never laughed about your cunt keeping him warm while he was gathered around the campfire with the others that had traveled in your party. He had chuckled and told them that they stood better chances of fucking each other than you allowing them into your bedroll. 

This is surprising, thrilling. The bold way that he speaks sears into your veins and makes your cunt clench at the arousal dripping from his words. Your back arches slightly and pushes your tit  into his hold. 

You feel it even more. The aching need, your mouth watering and your cunt dripping from the idea of having his cock in your mouth or your cunt. One moment where the two of you stare at each other - waiting for the other to move. 

Crashing together, it’s a struggle for who is in charge. Teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip and his hands turn bruising on your skin. You can’t think of anything but him. Can’t do more than pull and scratch at him, desperate to have him as close as possible. Your hand making his entire body tremble when you grab his dick and roughly start to pump him when he shoves your thighs apart with his own. 

“Need your cunt.” He hisses, the pure need in his voice making your cunt bottom out and you moan his name. “You’re gonna take me.” 

There is not a doubt you will. Not with the way that he is manhandling your body, batting your hand away from his impressive length and spinning you around in the bathing pool to bend you over the edge. 

You cry out when his hands cracks against your ass, pain and pleasure twisting together in your core in a knot so tight that you might cum from that slap alone. Feeling his hands roughly pull your cheeks apart and you know he is staring at the holes that are tensing and fluttering furiously. 

“Mierda.” He hisses, your fingers clawing at the stone while you try to push back against him, desperately seeking something, anything from him. You will take his fingers, his cock, whatever he will give you. 

“T-Tovar.” Whining his name, tears prick in your eyes, feeling like you can barely breathe from the want of his length plunged into you. You feel as greedy as any whore in a brothel when fresh coin is to be had.

There are no other words, just animalistic sounds from both of you while Tovar moves behind you, the water lapping against the side of the pool and splashing over the edge. His fingers leave your ass, nails scratching against your scalp while he grips his cock and moves forward so he can line up to sink into your cunt. 

It steals your breath. The force of his cock driving up into you makes your entire body light up. Filled beyond your limit, you gasp and reach back to claw at whatever part of him you can reach. The rumble in his chest is loud and matching the groan that is pushed from between your teeth as you take him. 

He’s fucking thick. Hard and pulsing inside you. Not even giving you a moment to adjust to his invasion before he starts to move. Quick, hard thrusts that quickly start to border on desperate while he fucks into you with harsh abandon. 

It’s perfect and not enough. Scrubbing wonderfully against your walls and his cock batters against your womb with startling accuracy, every push forward making your cunt weep and squeeze him harder. 

Your scalp burns, head yanked back while he pulls you upright, his other arm locking around you and his nose dragging along your neck while his hips slap against your ass. All of this should make you push him away but you want more. Groaning when the angle changes and he is spearing up into you and hitting pure nirvana deep inside your cunt. 

With a harsh curse in Spanish, you feel him push deep, making you wince as he stiffens. The molten heat of his release floods your passage and makes you gasp out in disappointment that he is done so soon. So close to pleasure yourself. 

Tovar doesn’t relax against your back, doesn’t pant and groan as he starts to soften inside you. Instead he pulls back and starts to hammer into you again, making you cry out. “¿Qué es esta magia?” What is this magic? He groans, continuing to work his still throbbing cock in and out of your begging cunt. 

Whimpering, you close your eyes as you pant out his name. So close to cumming and you know that when you do, he will still be moving inside you. He lets go of your hair and his hands cup both of your breasts. “Fuck.” You moan. “Tovar- you need to- I’m so c-close.” 

“Good.” He hisses against your ear. “Because I am not done with this little cunt.” 

****

William lifts a brow as you slowly sit down, chewing on the inside of your lip to keep from making a face as you lower yourself to the hard wooden bench of the mess hall. He chews his bread thoughtfully and looks over at Tovar with a question on his lips. 

Neither one of you talk, too tired to talk, worn out and starving from the way you had fucked like rabbits for hours. You had stayed in the bath until you were wrinkled and water logged, then barely made it back to your room before you had to have each other again. You had passed out sometime in the early hours of the morning, his hard cock still buried inside your cunt. 

“You look like you had a rough night.” William grins, making Tovar cut his eyes over at him. 

“Amigo….” he grunts, in no mood for jokes and teasing. 

William shrugs and goes back to eating while you pull the bowl in the middle of the table towards you to scoop out some of the food. “I heard the officers talking this morning.” He tells you both, leaning in and sending a glance towards the table at the front of the room. “Apparently they had an incident.” 

Your eyes slide over to Tovar’s before you look down at your meal, carefully filling your plate. “They have a lot of things happening here.” You scoff as if it is no concern of yours. 

William chuckles and shakes his head. “Apparently there was a breach of the officer’s baths last night.” He confides in a low tone, not wanting to be overheard by anyone else that might be listening in. “The poor bastards apparently dumped an entire bottle of what Lin Mae told me was sex pollen into the water. They are having to drain the bath because of how strong it is.” 

“What is a sex pollen?” Tovar grunts, his normal irritation covering the intense curiosity in his eyes as he reaches for a piece of bread to shove in his mouth. 

Shifting in his seat, the Irishman blushes and coughs. “It’s, uh, it’s a liquid they have that will - uh, encourage sex.” Your own brows lift in question at his sudden flustering and you don’t miss the way that his eyes slide over to the blue clad figure of the leader of the Crane Corps. “Only a drop of the liquid is needed but they spilled all of it in the water.” 

Your eyes widen and you choke on your food, coughing and sputtering, trying to get the bits of the food out of the wrong passage until you feel a harsh thumping on your back as Tovar leans forward to beat the food out of your throat. 

“Then it is good they found it out now, eh?” Tovar grunts as he sits down and tucks back into his food with fervor. His eyes meet yours for a second before he looks back down at his food, hunching over it as he normally does. 

You stay silent, taking a sip of your water before you start eating again. No wonder you felt like you had to fuck, you had been exposed to sex pollen. Shaking your head, you wonder what other secrets this Wall holds. 

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar imagine #The Great Wall - Pero Tovar #tovar x reader #tovar x you #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine #pedro pascal

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Funeral/Cemetery

I got different suggestions for that one, so I went ahead and did something completely else!

Asshole move, I know, but...let's hope nobody hates me all too much.

Characters: Námo & Haleth, Haleth/Caranthir

Words: 1 591

Warnings: Haleth is dead, Caranthir is sad, Erestor is lonely.

(Fic under the cut)

“This is a smidgen exaggerated, isn’t it?” Haleth asked, swirling imaginary wine in a beautifully wrought, entirely immaterial chalice, and nudged the tall, motionless creature by her side in affectionate comradery.

She was gazing at a lone figure, hunched over by grief, standing mutely in front of a stone, silent tears running like streaks of acid across wrath-reddened cheeks.

“These gestures are important to the Children—the First Ones, I mean,” Námo replied in his grave, echoing voice.

The Lord of Mandos could still not really understand how he had ended up in this unique position, but he had to admit that he almost enjoyed the companionship of the stubborn, irreverent soul who had decided to benevolently haunt him.

Like many another haughty, self-assured being, Námo had had to learn that Haleth of the Haladin was not one to be easily displaced or kept back against her will, and so all his exhortations and encouragements—ranging from discreet hints to outright threats—had not yet had any noticeable effect on her.

“By virtue of my life, my sacrifice, and my enduring love,” she had claimed confidently, “I demand the grace of being allowed to meet my beloved at least once more. Do you not empathise with the earnest longings of a wife and mother?”

Women, Námo thought now, not unkindly but definitely bewildered—they truly were something to behold. Lúthien, Andreth, Haleth of the Haladin—he had met his fair share of headstrong female Children, and he never grew weary of their unexpected and outrageous ideas.

“Morifinwë Carnistir is hardly one in whose name I had ever foreseen to be petitioned,” he hummed now as they watched that very Elf through a wavering screen of mist. “Good for him, I guess.”

Námo was generally not in the habit of feeling pity for those who had defied his words and commands, but—having experienced Haleth’s prodigious pig-headedness as well as her sparkling humour and her gruff kindness himself—he could appreciate how terrible it must have been to lose her.

“Oh, Moryo,” she sighed as she witnessed the unwaveringly stone-faced expression of wordless misery on that ever-fair face she had so loved. “Why do you return to that place when you know that I am no longer there?”

It broke her heart to see him thus, fossilised in his grief and robbed of his prodigious sense of purpose, laying down flowers by a moss-covered stone.

The blossoms, she knew, were even more short-lived than she had been, and there would be nobody but him to clean their remains away and replace them with new ones.

“Why bring imminent death to a monument to an irreversible one?” she breathed, reaching out a tendril of her essence as if to breach the fragile barrier between the realm of the living and her temporary abode. “Go and see about that son you’ve sent away.”

Námo did not interrupt her; thinking of his sister’s teachings, he just sat and listened, accepting the burden and instinctive sting of guilt for a loss he had neither caused nor could remedy.

A flash of knowledge entered his mind then, and he gave a muted sigh.

“He’ll die, won’t he?” she said without turning to the guardian of all souls. “He will do something stupid—as he’s wont to do—and he’ll perish. Will he suffer greatly?”

Hesitating for a moment—a rarity where Námo was concerned—he finally decided that she was strong enough to hear the truth.

“Yes,” he replied gently. “They all will as they all must. Rejoice though, Haleth of the Haladin, for soon he shall be by your side once more. May you give him the peace and closure he has been seeking for so long.”

When he had spoken his doom, Námo had been acutely aware of all that the exiles would sacrifice, destroy, and lose, but he had never considered what they would find.

Seeing the devastating, soul-crushing distress and desolation in Morifinwë’s fair face now, he wondered if this—having known plenty and pleasure only to have it run through their fingers like sand—was not the worst punishment, far beyond being severed from their kin, people, and the Blessed Realm.

“My son,” she then said. “Show me the blessed child I’ve carried in my feeble body, protected by the flimsy defence of brittle ribs and friable flesh.”

“As you wish,” Námo whispered, swirling a pale, long-fingered hand in the darkness of his own making and conjuring up the wavering image of a young Peredhel.

A lonely boy, he thought, as he glanced upon that serious, solemn mien and the irrepressibly proud bearing of one who had never been taught to laugh freely.

Those who had left these shores in anger and dismay, mere children following the folly of yet another clueless orphan, had at least had the support and solace of their siblings and cousins.

This one, going by the name of Erestor, had nobody but himself.

“This,” Haleth whispered, aggrieved, “is our fault. Neither Moryo nor I were exceedingly outgoing, and making friends was always exceedingly hard.”

“He has lost much when he lost the both of you,” Námo murmured, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Take this as a token of my gratitude for your friendship, you wrothful, wilful child—your son will do great things. In time, he will find friendship and even love beyond the misery that has tinged your every happy moment.”

Had she possessed eyes to weep, Haleth might well have shed enough tears to bring Lord Ulmo to the Halls of Mandos.

Looking through the wondrous screen of mist and illusion once more, her whole essence shivered at the unchanged, immobile, petrified picture of hardened, weaponised grief.

“He has been so tender,” she whispered, as much to herself as to her companion. “Moryo was an excellent storyteller, an exceptional mathematician, and a marvel with thread and needle—surely, you can appreciate that talent in a spouse. I wish that I could have saved him.”

Suppressing both a sardonic chuckle and an aggrieved moan, Námo inclined his veiled head to her.

“You may take a sword and use it to cut your wood and meat, calling it a domestic comfort and a cherished item of intimate bliss and protection, but that does not change the fact that it is a weapon still. Long before you or any of your forefathers were born, he has been forged into a weapon, and all the love on either side of the ocean could not change that.”

“Will it ever be so?” she asked mournfully.

“No,” he admitted, casting his mind into a vague, ever-shifting future. “No, I believe not. For now, however, there is nought either one of us can do for him—Morifinwë must walk the bitter path he was set upon until he returns to our grace.”

She nodded, for she understood that there were things beyond her imagination and knowledge—Haleth, wise and rational, had come to make her peace with that fact a long time ago.

“What about the boy? Will he resent us forever?”

Again, Námo took his time—weighing the dolour of the past against the hope of the future—before laying an astonishingly heavy, solid hand on her incorporeal shoulder.

“Your life was short and ruled by terror and war,” he then said kindly. “Many things you have never learned, and it’s not for me to tell you about them, but—and you may hold that against them or praise them for it once you meet them—a few of the kinspeople of your beloved have shared a similarly deplorable fate.”

Haleth was exuding confusion and irritated frustration at those cryptic words of semi-prophecy.

“Your son shall,” Námo explained, toeing the line of what was permitted or even recommended to share with her, “very soon indeed, find people who share the resentful longing for heroes and criminals of a past they cannot shake. If he has but a fraction of your inner strength and obstinacy, he will learn to untangle his puerile disappointment from deeper, more complicated feelings and, with luck, even draw the right conclusions from the losses he has endured.”

Still, she could not truly make sense of the words that pierced her like bright blades and left her soul aching and bleeding with yearning.

“He is not the only Peredhel, Haleth,” Námo whispered into her ear. “And he is certainly not the only one to have loved and lost cherished role models and parents who forthwith are painted as villains by a people who need to look ahead lest the mistakes of the past devour all of them alive.”

“Does he—does he even remember us?”

“Nobody will ever forget you—for better or for worse—my dear little one,” Námo laughed, earnest amusement dancing in his weightless voice. “Not he, not the Valar, not the generations to come.”

The wavering image of Morifinwë Carnistir—Caranthir the Dark—faded into the abyss once more, and Haleth gave a choked sob of boundless anguish.

“I would say that it has begun, but…it shall end.” Wrapping his cloak around her shivering form, flickering like a dying candle, Námo held her close. “They will arrive soon—the first of the seven—for something in their soul tells them that they are being called back.”

An idea crossed his mind then. “Come,” he said, “let’s visit my wife. I want to tell you of Gondolin, and of the marvellous succour that may yet arise from the ashes of a doomed city.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Námo #Halenthir #Haleth #Caranthir #Funeral/Cemetery

[bonefall]

Is there any plans to rewrite some of the Super Editions as well as the main arcs of the series? Or would be that something that's too big of an ambition with everything else?

Yep! Super Editions are a lot "looser" than the way I approach the main series. Where major conflicts and most big deaths are preserved in the main series arcs, I'm more willing to shift POVs and insert themes that weren't there before.

For example; Bluestar's Prophecy (Canon) vs Bluestar's Flowers (BF Rewrite)

Like the original, Bluestar does receive a prophecy about how she has a destiny... but this time, her fate is actually that she will never have power. She is destined to give birth to a hero of great prophecy, who will depose the horrible tyrant of ThunderClan, Thistlestar

In this version, she breaks the thread of fate itself by giving up her kits to RiverClan. Mosskit, the chosen one, dies in this process which severs predestination completely. See how the plotline is preserved, but deeply altered?

Because Thistle Law and Fire Alone are so important to the Bonefall Rewrite narrative, Bluestar's Flowers is about the development of the two ideologies. This is shown through the addition of her brand new friend group, the Forget-Me-Nots, the first friend group to have members from each Clan (plus an outsider) in years.

I add to and alter the super editions as I see fit, even gutting them completely when I think it serves the themes of the rewrite.

Yellowfang's Secret is replaced by Brokenstar's Cataclysm, covering his life and eventual rise to power, ending during the WindClan Massacre.

Ripplestar's Rot is a completely new story, jumping into an interesting point in time in Clan history a generation after SkyClan's Exile.

Short list of the other reduxes I am planning:

Stormpaw’s Demon (Crookedstar's Promise) About how Crookedstar's family is haunted by Mapleshade, and how he overcomes this haunting as opposed to him making a promise I consider a bit pointless tbh

Bluestar’s Flowers (Bluestar's Prophecy) Above: the development of Fire Alone through her friendships, and how she defies fate itself.

Brokenstar’s Cataclysm (Yellowfang's Secret) On Brokenstar's life, his emotions and relationships, and the escalating Mothermouth Moorland war between ShadowClan and WindClan.

Firestar’s Quietus (Firestar's Quest) The resurrection of SkyClan, with the spirit of Brokenstar replacing Sandstorm.

Cloudtail’s Vow (Graystripe's Vow) Cloudtail should have been the one to confront the Impostor so he's getting the nostalgia-trip back home this time around as he remembers his life.

Sol’s Game (SkyClan and the Stranger) Since Sol is now a god, he proposes a game to a cat named Cinders; Three Sacrifices and he receives terrific power. Cinders, now going by the name Harry, decides between stealing a final kitten as a sacrifice or becoming part of SkyClan.

Hollyleaf’s Century (Hollyleaf's Story) Sol brings Hollyleaf back in time to the ancient Lake cats, where she rules as a tyrant, eventually causing the cataclysm that causes the ancient culture to leave the Lake.

Squirrelflight’s Horror (Squirrelflight's Hope) Basically the same but this time Bramblestar's reputation takes a massive hit for his actions, and the cats of ThunderClan are more politically consistent. Establishes that he is not a good leader and this is why they didn't catch the Impostor sooner.

Darkstar's Commandment (New!) Following Mapleshade's Vengeance, Darkstar establishes the Queen's Rights to never allow such a senseless tragedy to ever happen again. Oakstar starts the Crusade Era in an attempt to please StarClan (it does not work)

Ripplestar's Rot (New!) He leads a rebellion to make room to bring SkyClan back to the Forest, eventually attacking the Clans at a gathering and getting a tree dropped on him by StarClan. SkyClan's revenge manifests as Brokenstar, generations later.

Additionally I have vague, wobbly ideas for a SE to contain the Bramble/Jessy kit drama in AVoS since that arc is MASSIVELY POV-shifted and cut out Alderheart as a protagonist completely. That one would be called something like Sparkpelt's or Alderheart's Family. bramblestar's divorce

OH and Pinestar's Choice becomes Pinestar's Crusade, to reflect the trauma of his father's legacy weighing down on him.

#Bluestar's Flowers #Bonefall Rewrite

[maiuoart]

Headcannon time

HC all about Swapfell Red and the Mutt man, perhaps with the extra family content.

Papyrus; Mutt, Russ, Russell

Papyrus has only given his name back when he was a young tyke and didn't understand the ability it would give others to know his name. As an adult, he doesn't speak of it, though still responds to it silently. (Most beings who knew his name are either dead, or used another name to the point that they forgot completely of what he used to go by. Only Sans, Undyne, and Queen Toriel know of it.)

Close friends he trusts, he gives his nickname 'Russ'. He's taken up a habit of using a more human name, since Monsters see him more as one due to his own imagery. Yes, double S's, because he's chosen the 'Human' name of Russell.

The nickname 'Mutt' comes from his brother Sans, more in a means of playfully bantering with him that came from childhood, though people have taken it as a negative meaning. Sans and Papyrus use that to their advantage; He plays the lazy, undeserving, drunken and drugged-out brother, whose so low on his luck that he has to undignifyingly rely on his baby brother.

It's such a habit to call himself 'Mutt', play the role of a womanizer, that most others think he's part of a Wolf Pack. Russ isn't, but he enjoys hearing and getting others to believe he is. And if he's caught? Well, his fleeing powers come in such good use! Even better if he can get two Clans against the other... Better yet if he can earn Favors from them, however- Something he's done quite a few times before.

He recalls who has given him life, his name, his powers; though his 'Creator' has thankfully lost his mind, memory, and parts of his Soul. There's reasons why he stays away from the Snowy part of town, and it isn't because of the terrible snow storms. Not like the cold bothers him, anyways.

He enjoys Human company the most. It's more along the lines of what was first an addiction, slowly morphed to understanding, then a spark of what he'd never thought he'd have; Life. But even though that feeling ended in pain, causing a small habit of drug taking again to form; Russ still finds solace in beings who he looks more apart of compared to others. He bleeds like the humans, perhaps he was one back in the days?

He knows where the Blood-red Echo's come from. It pains him how the White and Pink Echo flowers are made... He's just glad he was able to keep His Human from becoming those when she was here.

He might look lazy; Look like someone you'd REALLY not want following you... But honestly, probably the best thing to have happen to you.

Russ is notorious to be someone who can hide easily; No one but the Judge has seen how he works. Not even Sans.

Queen Toriel had wanted to make him her right hand man; But he declined it for his own personal reasons... Instead, taking up another type of job- Earning the nickname 'Watch Dog'.

Sans; General, Commander, Tyrant, Regal

Sans has one of the worst tempers in the Underground; Most beings can't believe he hasn't turned yet like the last General did with all the power he has gained over the years.

He will only stand down if personally told by Queen Toriel, otherwise he is head strong, high strung, and will always be victoriously vicious in whatever he's doing.

Doesn't care for many other beings; Has been called all the names in the book but most Civilians call him 'Tyrant', though it's for their own good with the rules he has placed.

The only ones he has looked up to have died; Both physically, like his adopted father and the King, and Mentally, like his brother and his adopted sister. (It will only be after a few years out of the Underground will he see his brother as, once again, someone he can rely and count on and finds something to help his sister regain her consciousness from LVL-overdrive.)

Teenage Monsters enrage him to no end; It brings back terrible memories and annoyances that his own brother had pulled back in the day. However, he does find some twisted joy in scaring the shit out of these ones.

Young Monsters, he tends to ignore if they are being cared for. But under the guise of the Queens Rules; He allows himself to show no mercy to those who need a helping claw, though there have been some he's been far too late to save...

Knows that everyone who tries to befriend him only want his protection. Only friends of his brothers, he tends to be slightly less toxic to... However, there is one Monster he wouldn't mind befriending...

Though he can be toxic, extremely narcissistic, & ego driven; He does have a calmer side to him... It's shown when he drinks. Sans favorite thing to do after a specifically long and exhausting day is to get wine from Gillby's and, perhaps, bring home some healing waters to relax in.

Bribes normally don't work on Sans; But if it's for a good cause...

Sans has always gone by; 'Sans the Malevolent', and because he doesn't have a last name as far as both brothers are aware; Most of those under him call him 'General/Commander Malevolent', etc...

Sans is the voice for both him and his brother; However, he does look and read his brother for expressions and other telling tales that only he can translate due to their sibling bond.

Extremely well tuned in body language, more than his brother is.

Has pure hatred for so many things... It's easier to list what he actually likes.

#mai rambles #swapfell #swapfell papyrus #swapfell red #mai talks #swapfell sans #SFR #SFR HC #Headcannons #Just a personal taste of wtf is going on in my brain. #These boys are taking over again in my brain

[mandrakebrew]

Valentine's Day Surprise

Pairing: Sk.ull Fa.ce x Dr Palmer Words: 560 Rating: General Content Warning: oc x canon

Summary: Palmer gets sk.ull fa.ce a gift for their 3rd valentine's day together, leading to an embarrassing moment for him

It was nearly Valentine’s day. Dr. Palmer hadn’t celebrated it in some time. Partly due to the fact they weren’t even sure if Skull Face celebrated. He never mentioned it. This would be the third time the date had passed by on the calendar since they were together. Maybe this was the year they’d surprise him. Their commander always turned down food, including sweets, so chocolate was a no-go.

As if the stars had aligned, as they ponder what to get, they pass by a flower shop.

“XO,” Major Zero stops Skull Face as they meet in the hallway.

“Yes, Major?”

“Did you know that someone left flowers for you in the break room?”

Skull Face blinks, “What?”

As the Major said, a bouquet sat on a table. Made up of red camellias and red amaryllis. Tied together with a black ribbon and a note that said “To the XO.” Skull Face saw a group of people had gathered inside talking about it. Wonderful. He thought about just exiting before anyone could notice him, but the Major had followed behind him.

One member of the group suggested checking the security cameras to find out who left them before the major shut that down. “We’re not checking the cameras unless there is a security risk, and this certainly does not count.”

“Why didn’t I get any flowers?” Anderson asks to nobody in particular.

Eventually, Ocelot turned to the Skull Face, “So who is it?”

“How should I know?” He shot back.

Ocelot shrugged. Worth a shot.

“So, it’s a secret admirer?” Dr. Clark suggested.

Skull Face’s cheeks wouldn’t stop burning. He was going to kill the doctor for this.

Once he got away from the break room, flowers in hand, he actually began to look at them. He touched the petals with his hand. Delicate and beautiful. Who gets a man like him flowers? Why did they get him flowers?

Ah, right. It was Valentine’s day. He’d never celebrated, and Palmer never brought it up. This must be a prank, then. An attempt to embarrass him. He still couldn’t bring himself to toss the flowers in the garbage.

Palmer was finishing up paperwork, finishing early after coming into work early. A novel concept, they thought. They look up when they hear the door to their office open. Normally Skull Face knocks beforehand.

“Very funny,” He tells them.

“What?”

“You know what you did.” He rests his hands on the back of the chair across from their desk and stares them down.

“I don’t understand. Did you not like the flowers?”

He pauses at that. If this was meant as a joke, they would be teasing him now.

“Why did you leave flowers for me? Where they could be seen?”

“Because I wanted people to know that someone... Admires you like that.”

Finally relaxing, he moves around and actually sits in the chair. “And if someone saw you leaving them?”

“I came in early. I was careful. You know you’re not the only one who can be sneaky.”

Leaning back in the chair, he thinks back. There were no other gifts in the break room from what he saw. Perhaps he should be proud.

“You never said if you liked them, by the way,” Palmer prodded.

He actually smiles “I do. Thank you.”

The doctor returns his smile. Happy Valentine’s Day, Commander.

A/N: In flower language, red camellias mean “you are a flame in my heart” and red amaryllis means “pride, passion, beauty”

#mine #my writing #ship: phantom lovers

[painted-bees]

Omg...I gotta answer this as a post because it'll probably exceed the character limit for an ask box reply...

Raf:

Already answered the candy one hehe!

🥤 [PARTY CUP] How does your OC feel about drama? Do they start any themselves?

Raf is drama averse, oh my god. He gets so, so exhausted by his own thoughts and feelings, he doesn't need any outside contributions to the turbulence in his head. Bringing drama to him is a really fast way to get him to passively avoid you completely. But also...he mist certainly does start drama himself by over reacting to things based on paranoid misinterpretations. And he really, really hates when it happens. Again, it's just so exhausting. He's gotten much better at postponing his reactions until he's gotten a second opinion, or finds himself in a better headspace to dissect the events that upset him--but he'll never be a saint about it, he gets caught off guard and slips up like anyone would. Just--sometimes it appears to someone on the outside like he can be set off over nothing.

🍁 [MAPLE LEAF] What is your OC's favourite season? Why and what do they do during it?

Raf likes autumn..! Not too warm, very colorful...rain. He's a cozy homebody. He will listen to the rain his his window and fall asleep to it--and if he's got a Margie under arm, all the better. Cozy.

🍟 [CHIPS/FRIES] How much junk food/sometimes food does your OC eat? Has it affected their health?

...Raf's a stoner lmaoooo he eats...more junk food than he should, let's be honest. But he does also try to work it off and generally manages to avoid overindulgence...most of the time.

🍑 [PEACH] How do they show their kindness? How kind are they truly?

Raf's internal dialogue is...very cruel. But in a "cornered animal" kind of way that lashes out defensively. It seems to believe that everyone has an ulterior motive, that people only interact with him in order to gain something for themselves, often to some unknown detriment to himself. That no one is ever just nice for the sake of kindness and empathy.

And, Raf knows this voice is misguided, wrong, and harmful to listen to. It is a voice that arose to protect himself from the people who raised him. People who are no longer in his life. Though the voice is loud and seems to have the most direct sway over his moods and emotions, he has gone out of his way to develop coping mechanisms and counter measures against it--he assumes that all people are good and empathetic until he receives objective, observable proof to the contrary, or someone he trusts tells him that his bad feelings about someone are perfectly well founded for xyz reasons.

Raf just wants to treat people the way he wished he was treated growing up. That's what drives him to work on himself and not fall into the trap of jaded cynicism and self-preserving cruelty. Raf is an immeasurabley kind person. Kindness is a choice he painfully makes every single day against the violent thrashings of the injured and terrified animal that occupies his headspace.

🏵️ [ROSETTE] What flower symbolises your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

I suppose jonquils...a desire for affection to be provided in return.

🍪 [BISCUIT/COOKIE] Does your OC prefer things simple or extravagant?

Simple, always. But comfortable.

🥃 [MATE] What does your OC look for in a friend? What do they find is a turn-off?

Raf really...requires someone who is honest, patient, and gentle. But he can...mostly...work with all sorts. However, he will chafe pretty severely with very assertive commanding, pushy folk. Anyone who stubbornly can't take no for an answer, or tries to find work-arounds/pushes boundaries is gonna get very cold shouldered by Raf.

🧈 [BUTTER] How soft is your OC? In what sense are they soft?

Soft like an abalone... an appealing but solid protective shell with a very soft mushy, sensitive, delicious delicacy of an interior. Uh...metaphorically speaking.

🧇 [WAFFLE] Using shape language, how would you redesign your OC?

I feel silly for having no idea what this question is asking lmao

🍹 [TROPICAL BEVERAGE] If your OC could go anywhere, where would it be?

Cottage on a quiet little sparsely populated Island is pretty much the ideal, tbh.

🍔 [BURGER] What would your OC put on their burger?

Cheese, pickles, onion, tomato, ketchup, mustard, and maybe some fancy mayo sauce, idk. The works.

🌻 [SUNFLOWER] Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place?

Like--typically? Rocking idly in the hammock on the deck around the cortes island cottage, listening to the distant ocean waves at sunset, watching a small orb weaver spin its web among the weaving grape vines overhead. Breeze rustling the leaves of the forest trees that boarder the property.

🌵 [CACTUS] How physically resilient is your OC?

He has a pretty high pain tolerance and good cardio..??? :U he shoulders silently through some pretty insane migraines and such. But like...he's not like...a tank or anything when it comes to blunt trauma. Don't hit the boy 😭

🍧 [SHAVED ICE] What's your OC's favourite flavour of edible thing (e.g., strawberry)?

Savory. Soy sauce...beef bouillon...caramelized onions...that kinda thing.

🍮 [CUSTARD] Expensive restaurants or cheap store-brand microwave meals?

Vascillating wildly between expensive restaurant and a big mac from McDonalds.

Margie!:

🍼 [BABY BOTTLE] What's your OC's first memory?

being three years old and reaching over the edge of a chair to grab a fistful of cat hair off the back of a long haired cat named Boots...so that she can shove it into her mouth. And her mom saying "no....noooo."

🍷 [WINE] Where on the 'wine aunt scale' is your OC?

Margie does not have the sassy observational chill of a wine aunt...Margie is absolutely "chaotic gay cousin" energy.

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

Significantly. Most people write her off as dorky-ditzy, directionless, lazy, and immature for her age. But--Raf describes her as being possibley the smartest, most hard working person he knows. And she has sculpted her whole life around a single, intensely passionate goal of just...making music as often and for as long as she possibly can. As for maturity, there's a lot more thought behind the decisions and actions she pursues than meets the eye...she just knows how to enjoy things in the moment and takes things as they come. Very Buddhist in her approach to most things...though she herself has no interest in learning about Buddhism and wouldn't describe any aspect of herself that way lmao

🍍 [PINEAPPLE] Pineapple on pizza or not?

Pineapple yes! Favorite!!!!

🏵️ [ROSETTE] What flower symbolises your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

Xeranthemum; cheerfulness under adversity.

🍪 [BISCUIT/COOKIE] Does your OC prefer things simple or extravagant?

She has extravagant taste as part of her nature but necessity has humbled it significantly lmao

🧈 [BUTTER] How soft is your OC? In what sense are they soft?

so soft, buttery soft. "cry for other people's sadness" soft.

🧇 [WAFFLE] Using shape language, how would you redesign your OC?

I still don't know what this means 😭

🍔 [BURGER] What would your OC put on their burger?

ketchup, pickles, onion, that's IT!! Anything else is an abomination.

🌻 [SUNFLOWER] Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place?

oh, lots of places...many places...every day, there is a place.

🍐 [PEAR] What is their current social standing? If they could change it, would they, and to what?

Margie is uuuh.....before she finds work at Hi-Note, she's mostly unemployed and homeless. Low social standing. She would like to change it so that she has enough money to afford university, and a place to live, and money so she can eat all the food she likes while having enough left over to treat her friends.

🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

Her pursuit of music. She wants to do music stuff...every day. She will not compromise, this is her life.

🌲 [EVERGREEN] What does your OC's dream treehouse look like? What tree is it built upon?

Have you ever played Donkey Kong Country? You know that level with the boardwalks and beavers in the trees? That. Tree Top Town, immaculate vibes.

🌱 [SEEDLING] What new passions/hates is your OC discovering?

Margie is discovering a love for psychology, thanks to Raf. She's discovering how much she really hates the public school system and how messed up a lot of parenting techniques, etc are... thanks to Raf.

🍮 [CUSTARD] Expensive restaurants or cheap store-brand microwave meals?

Expensive restaurant, any day!!! She loves fast food n stuff as an affordable treat but her true love is for the fancy expensive shit she could never afford...

Cortes:

Answered candy and mushroom already hehe

🍓 [STRAWBERRY] How do they feel about 'cute' things?

●__●♡

🍊 [ORANGE] Does your OC have a prophecy surrounding them? If they don't, what would it be?

She does not, but if she did it would probably be something crypticly describing catastrophic floods and the ending of civilizations.

🌰 [CHESTNUT] What food group does your OC mostly eat (e.g., grains, fruits)?

lmao meat [fish]

🍕 [PIZZA SLICE] How good is your OC at sharing? How do they share something if there's not enough supply?

She will share. But only with Magritte and Raf. In the context of sharing, no one else exists 😂

🏵️ [ROSETTE] What flower symbolises your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

Zinnias, I suppose...

Already answered butter ehehe

🥯 [BAGEL] What does/has your OC have/had an unhealthy obsession over? What caused this obsession? How do they deal with it? Do they seek help?

Nothing Cortes does is unhealthy to Cortes, there is nothing to deal with and she requires no help.

but lord help you if you try to take away her blorbos.

🥞 [PANCAKES] What's the most your OC can eat in one sitting? At what point do they get sick?

She can devour inconceivable units. We best not think too deeply.

🍔 [BURGER] What would your OC put on their burger?

Cheese, pickles, onion, beet, ketchup, mustard, mayo, egg, soy sauce, french fries, tuna fish, ranch dressing, ice cream, sour warheads, and a sprig of rosemary.

🌻 [SUNFLOWER] Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place?

Among humanity has been captivating her well thus far ●__●

🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

entropy.

🍸 [COCKTAIL] When was the first time your OC had an alcoholic beverage? What did they think of it?

I do not think she managed to make it past the smell.

🌱 [SEEDLING] What new passions/hates is your OC discovering?

No new hates, but emotion and empathy are absolutely enchanting.

🌸 [CHERRY BLOSSOM] Does your OC believe in legends/myths?

She believes in what is true; all and nothing

🍮 [CUSTARD] Expensive restaurants or cheap store-brand microwave meals?

She finds no distinction between the two and enjoys both in equal measures!

Lawrence lmao

🌽 [CORN] How good are they at hiding and finding their way?

Absolute mastery of this.

🍪 [BISCUIT/COOKIE] Does your OC prefer things simple or extravagant?

Which ever one is unavailable at the time.

🥐 [CROISSANT] Where is your OC from? How do they feel about their homeland? Where are they now?

He keeps much of this close to his chest...secrets.

but he is with the trio, now. For better or worse.

🧈 [BUTTER] How soft is your OC? In what sense are they soft?

so soft, just a big soft fluffy boiiiiiii

🥨 [PRETZEL] How complicated is your OC's backstory? Who does it entwine with?

He will not impart this tale upon us.

🌻 [SUNFLOWER] Where would your OC get lost in the moment/beauty of the place?

There is a strange mound in the forest, at the root of an enormous tree--into which he frequently disappears.

🌲 [EVERGREEN] What does your OC's dream treehouse look like? What tree is it built upon?

Aloofly, he fails to acknowledge this question

🍮 [CUSTARD] Expensive restaurants or cheap store-brand microwave meals?

oh...what he wouldn't do for some proper sashimi...

#oh my god this took me like...an hour lmao ESHIII #thankku hahaha #Hi-Note #rafael #magritte #cortes

[orangepanic]

(Asking politely) directors commentary on The Uniform Bet?

In response to this ask (I'm slowly working through my asks y'all, thanks for your patience!)

Thank you for asking! This is a fic I rarely get questions about so I'm delighted.

I wrote The Uniform Bet as a gift for my friend @chiefbeifongcanrailme. She's maybe the #1 Lin Beifong fan ever, so right away I knew Lin was going to be the center of the fic. I also knew I wanted it to be fairly NSFW because, well, Lin deserves it. But I couldn't really settle on a ship. Lin and Commander Bumi? Lin and Mako? Lin and General Iroh? All worthy relationships that don't get much attention. Then I remembered my audience, and her brilliant fic, Chaos, in which Lin is hot and everyone wants to bang her. And I thought, why re-invent the wheel?

After that, the pieces fell into place mostly on their own. While I don't have quite as much of the "the Gaang were all one big happy family and they all married each other" headcanons as some folks, I do like the idea that Lin and Bumi have known one another a long time. I love them as a 40-year friends-to-lovers arc that starts with them each thinking it's a joke until it's somehow not a joke anymore, and pretty much always write them that way. They're dynamic ships itself.

Of all the characters in this fic, I obviously know General Iroh the best. Because I've largely made him up. And while I love him to death, his style is the exact opposite of Bumi and Lin's sarcastic teasing. Even in a good mood he's too serious. So right off the bat in the first chapter I had Lin and Bumi yukking it up and Iroh having none of it. The rest of the plot sort of fell in around this dynamic. So, what situation would Bumi and Lin let roll off their shoulders that Iroh would take too seriously and pout about?

Going alone to a wedding.

I headcanon Iroh as the romantic. He wants to date someone. Badly. He wants to throw flowers at their face and shower them with kisses and love them forever and ever and ever like the dork that he is. A wedding he's alone at is like a knife in his heart. Lin and Bumi, however, would I think care a lot less about the context. Neither married. A wedding wouldn't mean as much as not having a specific person in a specific relationship. This quickly became Lin and Bumi thinking thoughts about a relationship with each other while Iroh makes lonely sad faces at the world. Which brings us to Mako. Guess who else would be alone at a S4 wedding? This is too easy.

And that was largely it. Combining the principles of a) Lin is hot and everyone knows that, b) Lin and Bumi are thinking thots but won't say them, c) Iroh is sad and annoyed, d) Mako is single and oblivious led me to both the idea of the bet between Lin and Bumi about which pathetic single firebender they could get a date for first as well as Iroh's counter-plan to get the two of them off his back. Mako, who had zero to do with the set up, is mostly along for the ride here. Lin wants to walk with him? Hot. Lin wants to get fucked against the wall of her hotel room? He's not complaining. Share Lin with Bumi? Weird, but he could get used to it. He's a nice guy, and it's better than not getting laid at all.

But because it's me my hand slipped and Iroh wound up with a love match of his own at the end. Completely unintended side plot.

Ask me for a Director's Cut commentary of any fic.

#linumi #linko #fanfic #director's cut

[rainbows-fanfics]

All'inzio (Chapter 23)

Summary: A  soldier-in-training, Valerie hopes to join the Valencian Army to avenge  her father’s death under the wing of General Rooke. But when she happens  to catch the attention of Commander Kane, her plans take a different  turn.

Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101, where Kane meets his Queen.

Pairing: Kane/Queen

–

Note: The title translates to “at the beginning”.

–

“You’re doing wonderful. Not one more movement.” 

‘Queen’s brown eyes watched as Kane worked the strokes into the canvas, his gaze coming to her figure each time his hand left the surface. She was resting comfortably on a red blanket in one of her dresses, surrounded by an arrangement of her favorite flowers. She wore makeup for this occasion, carefully-applied lipstick as well as golden eye shadow. She had been posing for a couple hours now, with a few breaks he allowed in between.

She slightly bowed her head, feeling a cramp in her neck. She refused to complain. It was an honor to be the muse of his next artwork - she asked him if he could paint her. He made enough time for this in his schedule. She shouldn’t sound too impatient. Works of his must take careful time to accomplish.

“...How long will this take?” She asked. 

“It’s almost finished, I assure.” 

She adjusted herself a litte. He didn’t mind if she moved a couple inches - though it was integral she didn’t move her arm that held her mask. She exhaled slowly as she thought of conversation. Now that it was nearly finished, perhaps he was feeling comfortable enough to pick up their discussion from last time…

She attempted to bring the subject up casually. “Did your father have you paint many women in your time?” 

He noticed her tone. “Mostly the wives of rich men. They paid handsomely for my pieces.” 

“-Any as beautiful as me?” She grinned flirtatiously. He relaxed his shoulders. As she hoped. 

“None could simply compare to you, mio caro. You are my masterpiece.” 

His words made her heart flutter. But she couldn’t get distracted. She soon cleared her throat. “Did he inspire you to paint?” 

He kept quiet, much to her dismay. She waited a minute before trying again. “He was an artist as well, wasn’t he? I imagine you were raised with such talent.” 

He was still silent. He seemed to be focused more on the artwork than her. She didn’t let this discourage her. “Did he make any paintings? Or did he-” 

She was interrupted when he set down his brushes and palette roughly. He stopped everything altogether as he shifted himself on the stool. He rubbed a bare finger on his temple. He took off his gloves earlier and wasn’t wearing his usual uniform - he wore a black apron tied tightly around his form. Even she couldn’t help admiring the way it hugged his chest, despite the way he exhaled in frustration. He soon forced a chuckle, which made her heart swell nervously. 

“--I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But...please, stop asking.” He held his hands together. “I would rather not talk about him.” 

“Your father?” He nodded impatiently. “But, why? You spoke with my mother...I want to get to know your family just as well.” 

“You’ve already met who you needed to.” He replied firmly. “I promise there’s no good reason to meet him.” 

She thought more about it. He sensed what was going to happen and busied himself again, collecting more paint and adding the finishing touches. He knew her determination for answers at times. She tested that early on when they first met - demanding such when he questioned her. Regardless, she wanted to make it clear their conversation wasn’t over just yet. 

“Did you two have a fight?” 

He tapped his finger on the wooden handle once or twice. Through clenched teeth, he answered. “Something like that.” 

She pried no more; that was the best she was going to get out of him. He finished his work in silence and barely looked at her. She realized she owed him an apology. She’d been pestering him with questions about his father for a week now - hoping to get information out of him in some way. She did it sparingly not to raise any concern, until now. And even then, she didn’t learn anything new. She soon sighed in regret. 

“I'm sorry, Kane...if you wish not to talk about him, then I’ll respect that.” 

“Thank you. I apologize if I seemed harsh.” He sat back in his seat and admired his work. “I believe it’s finished.” 

He motioned for her to finally stand. She obliged thankfully, stretching her arms and legs while cracking her back. She strolled over to observe what she'd been waiting for in these hours...and her jaw fell open. 

It was more gorgeous than she could have ever imagined. He captured her image so well, even if half of it was obscured by a mask. She was lying peacefully on the blanket with her hand delicately laid over the petals of the flowers. He got the colors and folds of her dress just right, even adding highlights that complimented everything in the picture.

She almost believed she didn't look this good in person.

"My god.." She said in astonishment. "It's wonderful!" 

"I think it's my best work to date."

"Why do you say that?"

'It's you." He replied as if it was obvious. "You are the perfect muse...even nature can't match the beauty."

Her cheeks heated at his words. "Really?"

"Truly." He stood and untied the apron. "Give it the rest of the day to dry, and it is yours to do with as you please." 

She wasted no time embracing him, clutching his form tightly. "I can't thank you enough for this…"

"Easy." He held her back. "We should play a game of chess tonight."

"Of course."

Their lips interlocked for a minute or two until they pulled away. He cupped her chin to position her gaze to his. They stared into each other’s eyes before he left. 'Queen' was left gawking at the portrait in his absence, feeling mesmerized and delighted. She must've observed it for several minutes before she snapped back to reality.

So Kane wasn't upset with her...but he didn't give any answers. She should respect his words and drop the subject entirely...but she couldn't shake the question at hand. What could have transpired between Kane and Gazpaccio to make things the way they were? He was tense every time she brought him up and refused to answer anything.

She rubbed her chin in thought. She might know a way without having to ask him again.

-----

Kane excused himself from monitoring Bishop and Queen that day. He tended to be busy nowadays - constantly working for several hours in secluded rooms and workshops. She wasn’t allowed to follow him at times. But it didn’t bother her. She expected him to leave right away, clenching her gloves as she watched him go through the door. She waited several minutes to make sure he disappeared down the hallway. She couldn’t afford for him to overhear her next conversation.

After a few seconds, she turned her head to the other figure in the room. "Bishop? Are you busy?"

A startled noise came as a tall figure hit his head on a shelf. 'Queen' stood and bit her lip in guilt. He glared in her direction before looking back to the table, where he was mixing some solutions he'd been messing with for several minutes now. He always resorted to his work after their lessons ended. A gesture intended to let her know she had to leave.

"As busy as I usually am." He replied patiently. She made sure the door was firmly shut.

"I promise I won't bother. I just have a few more questions for you."

She approached him with a hand behind her back, the other carefully holding her mask. She leaned forward to observe until he motioned her away. He was doing something with chemicals and the space was necessary. She must make this brief and not waste any more of his time.

"Do you...ah…" She started, unsure how to ask him exactly. "Would you happen to know anything about Kane's father?"

He looked up after experimentally dripping some substance in a tube. He waited in anticipation for a reaction. Nothing happened. He sighed and wrote something down. 'Queen' was about to repeat herself until he answered her question.

"I don't know anything about my grandfather."

"What? How is that possible?"

"I am the youngest child, so to speak." He turned to address her. "Therefore, I never met him. Deacon and Rooke might know more. Phule especially would."

"So, they know him?"

"Likely. I was born in our new home where our grandfather did not live. But the rest of my kinsmen were."

She held a thoughtful finger to her mask. "Are you telling the truth?"

She had to ask. He had a habit of being dishonest with her. She assumed it was because she was nosy and there was plenty the tinkerer insisted on concealing from her, for the sake of ‘confidentiality’ . He sounded annoyed that she brought this up with this particular subject. It eased her suspicions.

"Of course I am."

"Thank you. That's all I needed to know."

He shooed her away with his hand. She wasn't even offended by the gesture. She left the room as soon as she could, determined to make her next move in learning about Gazpaccio. She’ll have to pay a visit with Kane’s other sons, in hope to gain any more information about this.

----

The War Marshal was currently on the Valencian docks outside, helping with loading his ship. It was an extremely heavy warship that exceeded the size of most Armada vessels. There were various amounts of cargo, ammunition, and gunpowder it carried. They were handled by large Armada soldiers and dragoons. It would take time for everything to be loaded on so he could depart tomorrow. He was currently overseeing his men handling the crates and boxes, carrying anything that they couldn't. He made sure nothing was missing from the list held in his brother’s hands. 

Deacon watched intently from beside him. They were almost done. "How long will you be gone for?" 

"I have a lot to do. All this time away has been… distracting ." The larger man confessed. "You'll oversee the training for me, right?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine. I'm confident I'll do a good job."

"Great." He noticed a figure approaching and lifted his masked head. "Speaking of..."

They watched as a woman approached the docks. She was not at all dressed for the occasion, having to hold the ends of her gown up and be mindful of the rocks and dirt outside. She was careful of her footing on the floorboards and greeted the soldiers moving around her. She excused herself until she reached the two Elites - who looked confused as to why she was there. Regardless, she was welcomed as they customarily tipped their hats. 

"'Queen.'" The spymaster greeted. "What a surprise to see you here." 

She observed the massive warship sitting several yards away. "What are you two doing?"

"Rooke is preparing to deliver shipments to our bases." The man replied easily. "He sets sail tomorrow."

"You mean... that's your ship?"

She pointed timidly at the huge structure. It was gigantic in size, its build making the dock look puny. It was equipped with large cannons and sharp figureheads that could easily pierce any galleon. It matched the colors of his own armor - a dark red and black, covered in equally dark grays. Her eyes got swept up in all the movement, watching large boxes being transported on. She couldn’t imagine sailing something that big. She would’ve ended up on one of these, if she had gone through her training for the navy...

"'Certainly is." The General confirmed proudly. "I always have to be prepared, lest we run into pirates or some other rogues on the sea." 

"...I see." She tore her gaze away. As much as she’d love to ask more, she had to stay focused. "Do you two have time to spare, at the moment? I have something I'd like to ask of you both."

They exchanged glances. Deacon read through the list and muttered something about being good on supplies and time. She brought them to the side, away from the nearby ears of soldiers and dragoons. As soon as they were out of earshot, she asked the question she’d had little answers to thus far: 

“Do you guys know anything about Gazpaccio?”

Rooke rubbed his chin at the question. “You mean-”

“-- Not a good subject.” Deacon butted in, staring at her intensely. “You mustn't ask about it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Kane doesn’t like to talk about it. And he wouldn’t appreciate us doing it, either.” He passed a glance at Rooke, who audibly shut his jaw. “You should drop it for now.” 

“Can you at least tell me why it is this way? I don’t have to know anything about him ...just, why does Kane's father seem to be a bad subject?” 

“Is it really forbidden?” The general turned to his brother. “We imprisoned him so long ago…don’t you think-” 

Her jaw fell open. “Imprison !?” 

The spymaster passed an irritated glance to his twin, who looked away in shame. “-Yes, he is currently locked away. Which should tell you why we can’t talk about it.” 

“I didn’t know Kane still cared. I mean, if it’s still bothering him after all this time...” The large man muttered.

 “Why would you put him behind bars? What did he do?” She asked frantically. “I didn't think it was anything this bad--” 

He held a gloved hand to stop her rambling. “You better not get any more curious, because we’re not going to tell you.”

“Alright, then.” She’d have to play some cards to get any meaningful answers. “Deacon, you can keep a secret, right? You don’t have to tell Kane EVERYTHING?” 

“It's my job. I’ll have to tell him you even asked.” 

“Consider... not doing that, then?” She chewed on her lip, thinking on the spot. “And helping me instead?” 

“Suppose I do you the favor. What would I get out of this?” He leaned forward on his cane in interest.

“I would be in debt to you.” 

He thought of how useful ‘Queen’ was to him. He came up with a few interesting prospects, but none worthy enough to spill something like this. The pleading look in her eyes begged him to consider otherwise. He’d never heard of anyone being this curious about Kane’s past. Even the women who gossiped and wished to court him did not care about the Supreme Commander’s missing story. They admired who he was now, a strong and powerful commander who everyone respected and feared. No one cared to learn anything more about him. And despite all this time...Valerie was still here.

He leaned back and cleared his throat, tapping his cane firmly on the ground. 

“He was arrested for crimes he’d committed. The toy-making businesses weren’t without shady practices. He’d been in stiff competition and did unlawful things to make some money, while knowing it was illegal. Kane deemed it necessary to turn him in for these actions, and we did exactly that.” 

“How could you bring yourself to put your own grandfather behind bars? Wasn’t that hard?” She asked weakly. 

“Not exactly.” Rooke shrugged. “Gazpaccio took care of us when we were little, but we were only children when we moved on. By the time we arrested him, we’d already been separated for years.” 

“--And that’s all we’re telling you.” The spymaster finished. 

‘Queen’ hid the troubled look on her face with her mask. So, Kane’s father was in prison? By his own request? How could his children lock away their own family so carelessly like that? Were they this disconnected with their own grandfather? She sensed something more about this situation, but decided not to press any further. She’s fortunate he promised not to blab about this as it is. 

“Thank you. I think that answers my questions.” 

“I won’t tell Kane, but I advise you not to dig any further. I can tell you he would be upset if you did.” 

She wondered when he’d ever been angry with her. It must’ve been when she was a cadet, and demanded to know about the test he was running...it was the only time she ever heard him infuriated, beyond the instance she had her nose broken. Would he ever get that upset again? She couldn't picture it, after knowing him as an honorable man after all this time. She hummed in thought and bid goodbye, her mind swarming with this new information. 

Knowing Gazpaccio was arrested only made her more curious. What illegal actions warranted such a thing? How could toy-making somehow be an illicit business? She felt agitated that Deacon wasn’t willing to tell her more. Maybe if she caught Rooke on his own, she would’ve learned what she wanted...she huffed as she approached Kane’s mansion and threw open the doors. She stormed up the stairs and plopped down on the floor in frustration.

She held her head in her hands. Why was this bothering her so much? Was it that he was keeping this from her? Sure, she wasn’t owed any of it, but it felt unfair. If only this family of his wasn’t so peculiar...she wished she could just meet Gazpaccio and learn everything about him, so she could get to know Kane a little better. That's all she wanted from the start. He's been relatively quiet about his past, the entire time she'd known him.

‘I know he’s hiding things,’ She thought to herself. ‘I wish I knew more about him...and his family…’ 

As she groaned loudly, a sudden voice caught her by surprise. 

“Are you alright?” 

She snapped her head upwards, only to find a colorful man looking down at her. She grabbed her mask to conceal the frustrated look on her face. The last person she expected was Phule, but at least that made sense. He was always around when it was most unwanted. She sighed and weakly motioned her hand in the air. 

“I'm fine...just feeling a little annoyed…”

“I’ll say.” He replied in a deep tone. “You’re sitting in front of my door.” 

She realized set herself down in front of his room. She stood to her feet and muttered an apology, wiping the dirt off from her dress. He moved past her to open the door. As she stared at his back, a realization suddenly struck. Phule is... also an Elite! One of Kane’s sons! He was the oldest, wasn’t he? And Bishop said something about him knowing Gazpaccio the best..!

Before he could close the door, she moved her hand on it to stop him. This took more strength than she expected it to. He jumped at the noise and looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Phule ! Wait a moment.” She moved herself into the doorway. He gave her an impatient scowl. “Would you - uh - mind telling me about Gazpaccio..?” 

“My grandfather?” He replied in confusion. “What on Earth for?” 

“Well, no one seems to want - or can - tell me…And I was wondering if you could ?” 

He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. “Now, why would I do that? Kane gets furious about this sort of thing.” 

“I know he'd be upset, but he doesn’t have to know! I just want to learn a little more about his family. It's harmless, isn’t it?”

Something changed in the jester’s expression as it dawned on him. Things have been boring as of late, and Kane getting outraged is the exact type of amusement he’d been begging for. It would even be from his own girlfriend..! That sounded like a show he’d enjoy. He relished the drama in his family, especially the conflict between relatives and even the annoyance of his own brothers...he grinned wickedly at this picture. Oh, how fun it would be for Kane to find a reason to finally kick this girl onto the streets…!

It was almost too tempting with the way she held her hands together and begged. 

“You're my last hope. All I ask to know is what he was like. What happened between him and Kane...Hell, Deacon said he was imprisoned, but I don’t have a clue as to where! If I could just visit him-” 

“You’d like to see him?” His heart raced in exhilaration. This sounded exciting! She nodded sadly.

“I do. You can’t do that, can you? I imagine only Deacon knows-”

“Oh, I know where he is. And I can take you there.” He leaned on the doorway coyly, twisting his marotte in his hand. “But you have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” 

She appeared hesitant. “Is it forbidden to see Gazpaccio?” 

“Visitors are highly frowned upon. Especially by my father. But, I know a way we can get there without anyone knowing..! You just have to trust me.” 

She frowned, mulling this idea over. He grew impatient with her reluctance to agree. “I guess we can do that...if you take me to him, then I don’t have to ask anymore questions…” 

“All the more reason to do it.” He looked around to ensure they were alone before ushering her in his room. “Come..!” 

She was surprised to be invited into his room and followed his hand. He slammed the door shut behind her. His decor was as she expected - there were lots of playing cards, instruments, and colorful things laying around. His bed was messy and the floor was littered with crumbled paper and items. She stepped over them to sit in one of the chairs in front of a lone table. It had an unfinished game of solitaire currently sitting on it.

He followed after and sat across the table, giving a smile she found hard to recognize. Something about this felt... wrong . Especially with how Deacon told her to drop it. But she couldn’t shake the opportunity to meet Gazpaccio. She figured she could learn more about Kane’s eldest son while she was at it. She'd been looking for an excuse to spend more time with him. He leaned forward and animated himself theatrically with his hands.

“My grandfather is imprisoned in a lone tower on an island lived in exclusively by the Tortellini family. Now…the Tortellinis are big fans of gambling. They’re famous for it, actually! On a certain day of each month, they gather everyone in the family to partake in a card game...and it leaves the island mostly uninhabited.” 

She was interested in his words. 

“Since there will be no guards around Gazpaccio’s tower, we can easily slip in-and-out, given how long their game takes. And they’re a big family. So you should have plenty of time to get to know my grandfather, and ask him all your silly little questions. Do you follow what I'm saying?” 

“Yes, we sneak in while they’re playing their game, I meet Gazpaccio, and then we leave.” She repeated. 

“Smart girl! It’s a simple plan, but easy to mess up if you don’t know what you’re doing.” His voice deepened again as he looked at her seriously. “You follow me, you listen to me, and you do as I say. Got it? Otherwise the both of us will get in trouble. And you don’t want that. Believe me.” 

“I understand.” 

“Their game happens to be next Tuesday. I want you to meet with me at the docks, by yourself, early that morning. I won’t wait if you’re late, so you better be quick.” 

She clenched her hands. “Next Tuesday morning, by the docks...Got it.” 

“ Bene, bene. And don’t waste my time. It’s going to take a lot of work to get you there.” He cleared the cards from his game. “Make sure every second is worth it.” 

“Phule, may I ask why you're doing all of this for me? We haven’t talked much beyond your work. I appreciate what you’re doing. I just wonder why you’d do all of this for me.” 

He smiled. It wasn’t genuine. It was in amusement at how naive ‘Queen’ truly was. Even though Kane taught her all about deceiving people, she had a hard time recognizing it from others. Then again, he'd been doing this longer than her. He wanted everything to go wrong. He hoped for it, actually. All he had to do was watch his own back and make sure he didn’t get roped in with her trouble. He wanted to watch the fire that was inevitably going to burn from this. And she had no clue what was bound to happen, despite all the warnings sent her way.

“Because I care about you,” He spoke dramatically. “I want you to know more about my father. And I know how quiet he can be about himself. That’s why you want to do this, isn’t it? So you can learn what Kane was like back then?” 

“Yes, exactly…” 

“-And I want to help you.” He forced himself not to laugh. She’ll hate learning everything Kane’s done and change her opinion of him completely! He wouldn’t be surprised if they broke up after this entire thing. "I want to keep him happy, just as you do."

She looked at him meaningfully. "Thank you..." 

He chuckled darkly.

#pirate101 #p101 #pirate101 kane #pirate101 queen #kane x queen #all'inzio #pirate101 phule #gazpaccio #pirate101 deacon #pirate101 rooke #fanfiction #fanfic

[the-hinky-panda]

Mariposa: Zapatos

Pairing: Colonel Carrillo x Reader (but this is post Mariposa, after Carrillo has been killed)

Rating: PG

Summary: Trujillo tries to deal with his own grief by remembering the good times.

Author’s Note: This is kind of pseudo-epilogue for Mariposa.

Trujillo hasn’t been in your apartment in two months.

He remembers when it used to be a weekly thing, stopping in to pick up intel, a file, or just have a drink with you and Carrillo. He had been to the apartment after your attack, letting himself in to water your plants, clean out your refrigerator from the expired food from your stay in the hospital, and making sure you had fresh food for when you were released. He brought homemade dishes from his family and some other families from Search Bloc that were aware of your existence but not identity. There had been flowers and other meals sitting outside your door from parents and students that he tended to as well.

This is what the survivors do, he tells himself. This is what picking up the pieces looks like. This is what moving forward is supposed to be.

This may be what surviving looks like, but all he feels is numb.

He shouldn’t have survived that night. He should have gone down with Carrillo, his friend, his brother, his Colonel. He shouldn’t have walked away that night and he’s angry that he did. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still here to continue the fight, continue the search for Escobar. He knows, from the few times he’s spoken to you in the hospital, that you are feeling the same way. The only way to get over the grief is to bring Escobar to justice. An eye for an eye; a life for a life. And true camaraderie is the understanding that it doesn’t matter who it is, just as long as it happens.

So when you’re finally home, and finally allow him to come into the apartment, the first thing he does is trip over your shoes. They’re high top canvas sneakers in dingy white that are left haphazardly strewn in the entrance way of your home. Two things hit him at once: a memory and an immense wave of anger.

“Posa!” Carrillo’s angry voice carried through the apartment causing you to jump and Trujillo to look for cover.

You looked down at your feet, bare and toenails painted a neon orange. “Oops,” you muttered in his direction with a nervous grin.

Within seconds one of your sandals was thrown into the kitchen. Two seconds later, the second one was thrown, bouncing off the cabinets and hitting your calf. Carrillo immediately follows behind and pointed at the sandals.

“Posa, zapatos!” He said it like a command to a stubborn cadet.

“I know, I know,” you replied, grabbing the shoes and slipping them on your feet.

“Aquí hay escorpiones…” (There are scorpions here…)

“I know…very dangerous scorpions,” you added. “And I need to wear my shoes so they don’t sting me.”

Carrillo’s eyes were still lit with fire. “If you know that, why don’t you wear your shoes? What do you do when I’m not here?”

“Apparently, I don’t wear my shoes and surprisingly enough, I don’t get stung by a rogue scorpion.” You gave Carrillo a self-satisfied grin despite the look of absolute fury he was still wearing. “And what do you know? Four years in Colombia and never stung”

Trujillo loved these moments, loved being witness to the absolute, pure love you two have with each other. Carrillo’s anger was no match for your sweet personality. You at once acknowledge his anger and categorize it for what it was: concern. Which was why, in the face of his anger, you slipped your sandals on your feet and gave him a kind smile.

“Are we happy now, Coronel?”

It was amazing watching the anger receding from Carrillo’s face in the light of your complete and unabashed confidence.

“I suppose,” he muttered and kissed you on the cheek.

Trujillo bends down and picks up your sneakers, holding them in his hand and reminding himself that you’re alive, you’re walking around the apartment. You’re here. If this were a normal day, he would throw one of the shoes in your general direction and shout “Zapatos, Posa!” in his best imitation of Carrillo. And you two would laugh.

But this is not a normal day. You’re limping around the apartment, trying to reorient yourself from weeks of being in the hospital. You’re trying to find your belongings that he’s moved in his efforts of being a good steward of his friend and her things. So instead of throwing shoes and shouting at you, he merely brings them to you and sets them down on the floor as you stand next to the refrigerator and look at the food offerings. He touches your arm so you know he’s there and when your attention is on him, he points to your shoes.

“Zapatos,” he said quietly. “Posa.”

And you quietly slip them on your feet and swipe at the tears in your eyes.

#colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #trujillo #narcos fic #Mariposa Series #hinky writes

[quinttyz]

It’s been a while since Tempest heard from Aloth.

That was a lie. A big stretch. It’s been like what…almost two years since the last letter from him? Hope was dwindling day by day, every morning bringing a sad greeting from an empty desk. It used to look so messy but so full of life. Empty ink bottles scattered all over the table, worn out nibs from writing too much, dozens upon dozens of parchment paper, waiting to be written upon and sent to him with words of full of worry, news, general life;

and poorly hidden affections.

Tempest would keep his letters close to her in her personal quarters in Brighthollow. She even dedicated a small wooden lockbox to safeguard it, as if rare jewels from the Vailian Republics. But that would be an unjustified comparison. She values Aloth’s letters more than the rarest minerals found in Eora.

She’d think about why he stopped replying everyday. Whenever Caed Nua receives guests dying to meet the Watcher that saved the Dyrwood, they’d always notice how she would return their praises with a grateful, humble smile but a tinge of sadness can always be seen in her eyes. They don’t ask about it though. Something about the way Tempest holds her ground keeps people away at an arm’s length. Close enough to talk to, but still so far away to actually connect with.

At night she’d place the box of letters next to her in bed. A poor substitute for her beloved but there were some perks to being a Watcher after all. If Tempest concentrates really hard, she can feel Aloth’s essence contained in his replies. Whenever she gazes at his neat handwriting, she could almost see him writing on a desk somewhere, thinking about what he would write back to her.

In her room though, it’s not only Aloth’s essence that she could feel. Radiating from Steadfast was a piece of Adaryc’s soul. She hung it up above her desk as a tribute to the Iron Flail’s commander whom she has grown close to since the White March. Whenever she felt lonely from Aloth’s absence, Adaryc’s soul was there to fill the empty space. It was so warm and bright, but it was so gentle and careful too, like the first rays of a sunrise that softly kiss you good morning through the window, or from the farewell of a setting sun being swallowed by the waves.

Adaryc slowly replaced the lack of Aloth’s letters on her desk as the weeks passed by in Caed Nua. It was a welcome change for Tempest. She would write back to him eagerly and he in return would send his replies with pressed flowers with fragrant scents that would immediately fill her room whenever she would break the seal and read his letters.

In his writings Tempest could feel Adaryc’s essence too. And it comforted her during lonely nights. But she felt guilty. The amount of letters Adaryc would send soon outnumbered Aloth’s. So much so that she could almost feel his presence in her room, a silent guardian that kept watch over her until she fell asleep.

At last she couldn’t bear the overwhelming solitude anymore. She decided to send one more letter to Aloth in hopes of him reaching out to her once more, if her letter would even reach to him at all;

Dearest Aloth,

These last two years have been a burden on my shoulders. Your deafening silence has left me awake almost every night. Has something happened to you? Shall I send aid? The thought of you being in danger has burrowed a deep hole in my mind. I hope everything is going well for you wherever you are in this world. Know that you always have a seat in Caed Nua and a place in my heart. If when we do meet again, I have something to tell you. I can’t simply write it in here for I fear that it won’t have its desired impact but just know-

I hope you know that I think about you when I see the moon silently rise in the sky.

I miss you. Please write back when you can.

Yours the whole way and will always be,

Tempest

She folded the paper, sealed it with wax, and set it aside. She stood up to go to her bed but for some reason, she sat back down and started writing a letter again. Not for Aloth this time but for someone else-

Adaryc,

Our letters have been my main source of entertainment these past few months. Your stories about your downtime with your soldiers have left me stifling my laughter in the library. The diplomats studying there even gave me confused looks as I excused myself out of embarrassment for disturbing them!

Thank you always for the pressed flowers you send along with your replies. I love flowers but the gods must not like me so for I do not have any sort of talent at all when it comes to growing actual ones. Usually I end up killing them! I do want to see the purple ones you always favored in person which brings me to my threat request-

Would it be possible for you to visit Caed Nua and see me? I would rather hear your reports about Stalwart’s growth in person rather than read reports about it.

Please think about it! It’s been a long time since we’ve last talked to each other over a drink or two.

Yours,

Tempest Withers

P.S. Bring the purple flowers you always send over to me! I do like how they brighten up my personal quarters. Things have been so sad lately and they help lift up the mood too!

She slightly grins as she seals the letter to Adaryc. The excitement for his reply has her feeling giddy and happy for the first time in a long while. But how bittersweet it was to place Adaryc’s letter next to Aloth’s.

She’d wait for the two mens’ answers. Her friend would most likely reply to her jest but she wasn’t so sure with her beloved. She lied down on her bed and sighed, covering her face with both hands.

She could still feel both Adaryc and Aloth’s essences in her room through Steadfast and Aloth’s letters, though sadly…the latter’s is slowly fading away.

But Tempest would wait for him. She always would.

#quinttyz writes #ayo….this drabble really became long LMAO #this is like…the opening to my adaryc x watcher series lmao !! the reason why adaryc came to caed nua hehe #and the two slowly and poignantly developing feelings for each other #OUGJ i actually wanna draw them writing letters to each otber #THE IDEA IS JUST..SO ROMANTIC #pillars of eternity #pillars of eternity fanfiction #pillars of eternity fanfic #aloth corfiser fanfic #aloth corfiser #aloth pillars of eternity #pillars of eternity aloth #aloth x watcher #adaryc cendamyr #adaryc cendamyr fanfic #adaryc cendamyr x watcher #pillars of eternity the watcher #the watcher #oc: jinx/tempest withers #aloth x watcher fanfic