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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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The Moon Spirit - three

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: Fenrys being cute, badass reader but like a shit ton of angst, allusions to sexual assualt (Fenrys canon stuff), mentions of weapons? idk if that counts

word count: 4.4k

a/n: so this took a while but it’s finally done, please comment it genuienly keeps me going cause it’s super easy to get unmotivated, hope you enjoy <3

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After he left you, Fenrys begrudgingly found himself back at the palace, bowed on one knee in front of Maeve. She looked cruelly beautiful as always but there was something more sinister sparkling in her eyes today, remaining quiet as he stood back to his full height, meeting her gaze with wavering confidence.

“Who have you been with?” she finally broke the silence and he cursed himself for thinking he could ever get away with that.

“I just walked a young girl home, she was new, and I was afraid someone may take advantage of her if she was alone,” he spoke truthfully, allowing Maeve to push into his mind as she searched for a hidden lie.

He watched as she drew in a sharp breath, something like fear flickering across her face before her tightly drawn lips spread into a wide smile.

“Come here,” she commanded, and he went to stand in front of her, close enough to smell her sickening perfume and to see the flawless texture of her skin. “Do you love this girl?”

He shook his head, no, and she ran a hand down his face in a motherlike way. “Good, you will be recruiting her.” His eyes widened and he had to put his energy into not flinching away.

“What?” he spoke with an incredulous tone and Maeve glared at his lack of respect making him bow his head. “Sorry your majesty, I’m just slightly confused. She was just a young girl and didn’t seem to have any former training.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge, you men are too foolish. That was a powerful girl, and I would rather she remained on my side than any other.” He frowned, powerful? She had seemed kind, lost and strong enough to hold her own – but not powerful.

“I need you to see her again, convince her to join.” Fenrys physically felt the command go through him and he stood taller again, nodding gruffly as she waved her hand in dismissal.

Your first few days of work had been harder than expected, and you had gone home with aching muscles from lifting books and sore cheeks from plastering on smiles. Albert had made your days easier, drinking hot tea with you as you slowly revealed more and more about your past to him, his kind, old eyes lulling you into a comforting state.

But you didn’t receive rest when you got home. Ploughing through books on spirits and practicing using the limited magic you had found until the early hours of the morning, getting barely two hours of sleep a night unplagued by nightmares. By your fifth day Albert had handed you a pot of cosmetic product to hide the circles forming, commenting on scaring the customers away as you stuck your tongue out at him but smearing some on regardless.

On the second Saturday after your arrival you had a day off and used it to venture into the market, your empty shelves no longer sustaining you, let alone Amaris. Your basket soon filled with colourful fruits and vegetables, and you were browsing the fish section when a shadow fell over you.

“Let me take that for you,” you turned to see Fenrys standing over you with that same easy smile, his head tilted slightly. You rolled your eyes, trying to block out the feelings expanding in your chest at just the sight of him.

“And here I thought I had lost you,” you muttered, and he laughed, taking your basket from you, and paying for the wrapped salmon you had just been passed. “You don’t need to do stuff like that,” you told him, and he took your arm as he led you out of the market.

“Can’t help myself, I see a pretty girl in need and boom, I have to help.” He joked and you laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, the damsel in distress disease, I’ve heard that’s a nasty one to cure,” he smiled down at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not really, all I need is a kiss,” he tugged you closer and you squealed, shoving him away as he laughed.

“As I said, nasty.” He dramatically put a hand to his heart, throwing his head back in distress.

“You wound me darling,” he complained, and you laughed, hating how much you genuinely enjoyed his company. You reached your apartment in no time, and he stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to your door.

“So no invitation of tea, a glass of wine, a home cooked meal?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes,

“I’m afraid I reserve that for people I like,” he raised his eyebrows, hopping up the steps two at a time.

“Even if I have genuine cause to talk to you?” he asked and the sincerity in his eyes made a shot of fear run through you. He couldn’t know, could he?

“What is it?” you asked, and he smiled softly, a little pain shining through his loving eyes.

“The queen has a proposition to make.” His voice quietened and you straightened your posture, your entire demeanour switching in a second.

“Come in.” you opened the door and stepped in, allowing him to duck as he followed.

The first thing he noticed was how barren your apartment was, a simple kitchen, connected to a room with a pale blue sofa and worn coffee table. Your shelves were bare, and he sneaked a look into your room as he passed the open door, your mattress on the floor covered by only a thin blanket and a few cushions, one incredibly expensive looking gold dress on the floor, stained dark red. But before he could venture further in he heard you cooing in an impossibly soft voice.

He turned the corner and blanched at the sight he saw, “What the?”

You turned from were you were feeding small bits of salmon to a pure white bundle of fluff that hissed as soon as it saw him. “Amaris, be polite!” you scalded, and he surveyed the cat with a wary look, untrusting of the small creature.

“You have a cat.” He stated, suddenly completely unsure of his taste in women.

“No he’s actually a spider,” you deadpanned and Fenrys pouted.

“But I thought you’d be a dog person,” he complained, and you laughed, moving to throw open the curtains in the room before you started putting away the food you had bought, boiling a pot of water over your stove.

“I just like animals, why does it matter?” you asked, and he threw his arms up before transforming into his wolf form. You gasped and Amaris meowed loudly, scampering to hide behind your legs.

“You’re a wolf.” You stated and he turned back with a smile.

“No I’m a spider,” you flipped him off as you turned to put the rest of your food away.

“I prefer you as a wolf, they’re one of my favourite animals,” you told him and he smiled, sticking his tongue out childishly at Amaris who just sauntered of to doze on a pillow.

“So, what does the queen want?” you asked, pouring the hot water into a pot you had prepared, and he sat down on your worn-down sofa, cringing as it creaked under his weight. You followed suit soon after putting the pot and two mugs down, curling your feet underneath yourself as you looked at him.

“Well, she has told me that you’re actually extremely powerful and because of this she wants to recruit you. She wants you to join the Cadre.” He spoke surely and confidently but his eyes shone with wariness.

“Okay first of all, I’m not at all powerful, secondly how would she even know if I was, which I’m not! And third, what is The Cadre?” he laughed slightly and moved forward to pour himself a cup of tea.

“Well you clearly are because she recognised you and always knows these things, trust me. She’s never wrong about this. And The Cadre is a group I’m in, elite soldiers sworn to protect Maeve.” He explained and you shook your head.

“Fenrys I barely know basic self-defence, I’m not a soldier. And I don’t want to be sworn to royalty.” Your hands were shaking slightly at the thought of being sworn to another tyrant, “Plus in all honesty I only found out I was Fae on Monday, so I’m not exactly well versed in this shit.”

“How did you not know before?” he asked – frowning.

“The country I… come from, there was no magic. The king wiped all magic out years ago.”

“Why?” It was an understandable question but still made you panic, he couldn’t know.

“I don’t know, all I know is he did, so those alike me – with magic but born into a magicless world – never got to know.” You were good at concealing emotions, that much Fenrys could see. You seemed to have iron walls built into the clouds around your heart, protecting it as fiercely as you would Amaris.

“Well, Maeve wants to meet with you soon, so let me know when you decide gorgeous,” he stood, and you smiled at him gratefully for not prying further.

“I’m really sorry Fenrys I just don’t think it’s a good idea. As I said I’m not a soldier.” He nodded but his eyes still conveyed a sense of worry.

“Well keep in mind you would get to train with me, probably shirtless.” He joked as you opened the door for him, grinning when you laughed loudly, shoving him through the door.

“Bye Fenrys,” you said, eyes sparkling as he waved, whistling his way down the street comically.

You closed the door as your smile fell, a weight settling on your chest as you already knew why he looked so wary – Kings and Queens didn’t understand the word no.

You practically ran to the library the next day, opting to bring Amaris with you as he peeked out of the small handbag you had found stuffed into the back of your closet. When you flew into the library you instantly sought out Albert, who took one look at your flushed, shining appearance and abandoned the pile of books he was putting away, motioning for you to sit down.

You sat quickly, huffing out a breath as Amaris crawled out of his makeshift home and started exploring the new territory of the small backroom reserved for staff only.

“What bothers you child?” Albert’s voice was steady as always and his dry, warm hands grasped yours gently as your eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I just – I needed to talk to someone,” you stuttered out, your breath coming in harsher pants as he shushed you.

“Take a minute and allow yourself to breathe first dear,” he commanded, and you pressed a hand to your heart as you tried to slow its pounding. “Start from the beginning, tell me what’s wrong.”

“The man I loved, his- his name was Dorian, Dorian Havilliard.” You said quietly and Albert let out a small chuckle.

“I presumed as much, I visited Adarlan once, and an old man never forgets the face of a princess.” You looked at him through blurry eyes, confused.

“You knew?” he smiled sadly at you.

“I was 90% certain, but I would never have pressured you to reveal secrets like that.” He passed you a tissue, “But I sense that’s not all that weighs heavy on you?”

You shook your head, “Queen Maeve has made clear that she wishes me to join the Cadre.”

Albert’s face changed with the clear shock, and you bowed your head, shamefully.

“And what did you say?” he asked slowly.

“No, of course! I don’t have any desire to be another monarch’s puppet.” You stated and he shushed you again.

“You need to remember that people always listen.” He scolded, repeating one of the first things he had told you when you started working. “I agree that you should be cautious, but perhaps gaining the queens protection would be beneficial. Plus you would become an extremely skilled swordsman.”

“I am not a man, nor do I wish to be.” You said through gritted teeth, “And I vowed that I would become skilled on my own and go back to Dorian.”

“Yes but if you join, you will be more skilled than ever before,” Albert reasoned and you shook your head, tears welling up again.

“I thought you’d be on my side for this, you are the one who told me to be careful around powerful people.” You felt unjustly betrayed as he spoke and his shoulders slumped slightly, sighing before grasping your hands lightly again.

“I am dear, and I urge you to do what you think is best. But I am simply reminding you that if you truly want to beat this king you are being offered power on a silver platter right now, and perhaps it would be foolish to deny yourself it.” You let his words run around your head as you worked overtime trying to figure out a plan.

“Say I joined – what do I need to do to ensure I don’t become another puppet?” you asked, and he smiled at you.

“First of all, she will offer a blood oath and you must refuse it with everything you have in you – she came to you remember you hold the power. On that note you must summon all those queenly powers of yours and ensure when you speak to her, she is meeting you and she is trying to win you over. Never the other way around.” You nodded, pocketing the information in your head. “When in the palace you are always being watched, always being listened to, so keep your wits about you. But I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”

You laughed under your breath, “It’ll be just like going home,” you commented, and he smiled.

“Sadly yes, now take this money. Go but a new dress and tomorrow you will take a carriage, you can’t walk there.” You thanked him softly, placing the gold in the purse you held, “You’re a kind girl, that is what makes you strong and that’s what will make you a good queen. Don’t let them take your heart.”

Your throat tightened and you nodded due to the lack of trust you held for your voice, standing, and collecting your bag in one hand and Amaris in the other. Albert stood to take you to the door with a smile, and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“You can have tomorrow off work as well, however I feel our work together is already coming to an end.” You smiled softly, allowing him to pet Amaris’ head softly before he kissed your cheek gently, ushering you out the door.

“Have a good night Albert,” you said, turning to see him watching you with sorrowful eyes.

“Remember what I told you dear, don’t let them take your heart.” Your smile was sad as you spoke,

“I won’t.” You both heard the lie but, neither of you decided to correct it. Not tonight.

Of all the things Fenrys expected to see the next morning, you were the one he hoped for. But as he looked around at the powerful men surrounding the room he felt white-hot panic seize him as he realised what you were about to do. You hadn’t even looked at him when you walked in, keeping your eyes trained solely on Maeve, not even dropping them as you dropped in a low curtsy.

He was even more shocked by the blood red dress you adorned, the v-neck deep and skirts long with a slit up either leg, high enough to reveal the halter you wore with a silver dagger and a ruby encrusted hilt secured into place. Every man, woman and mouse watched as you walked through the room – head high and shoulders back, revealing enough to entrance everyone in the room but covering enough to keep them wanting more and he felt his anger grow as he watched you.

You waited with a soft, but condescending, smile on your face, allowing Maeve to regrasp some power by speaking first – every movement so calculated and precise. As he watched you he saw the power and understood the fear and lust building in the room.

“So I guess you heard my offer.” Maeve finally said, drawling low with relaxed posture.

“I did.” Your statement was short, to the point but you saw it grate Maeve’s nerves and smiled as sweet as spun sugar, “Your majesty.”

“And?” he watched as Maeve grew more agitated and was surprised she hadn’t killed you yet, usually not standing for even an ounce of insubordination.

“I am willing to accept on one condition – I’m not taking a blood oath.” He had to fight jumping in the air with glee as you spoke, so afraid you were going to get tangled in the mess he was in. Maeve’s face grew dark, but you held your ground, never letting your eyes stray lest she see your weakness.

“Well that’s simply not viable,” she stated, glaring you into the ground but you just smiled again, nodding with a polite laugh.

“I see, well this was a lovely meeting, gentlemen.” You raised your hand politely as you moved to leave, your eyes finally flittering over him and the rest of the cadre. You bowed once again to Maeve, making to leave when Maeve raised her hand.

“We are not finished.” She stated.

“Well I’m terribly sorry your majesty but I’ve made my terms extremely clear, and since you refuse to budge - I believe we are done.” Your voice was still sweet, but he watched your face change slightly, every bit a queen looking down upon her people. He couldn’t help but wonder were you learned to speak this way, but Maeve simply laughed.

“Yet here you are,” she spoke with a mocking tone, and you smiled with your teeth this time.

“Need I remind you that you sought me out, if I have terms it should be in your best interest to meet them if you wish me to join your miniature army.” Fenrys heard Lorcan snarl lowly next to him but gripped his arm in warning.

“Oh your training is impressive princess, but I’m afraid it will be of no use.” Your face didn’t budge as Maeve spoke, but Fenrys watched as something flickered through your eyes, “You see, I learn of misdemeanours in other courts very easily and I wish to show you what I learned of Adarlan.”

“There’s nothing you could show me that I won’t have seen before,” you said, and he watched the two of you laugh like you were mingling at a party instead of standing of in a court.

“Oh I’m afraid this is relatively new, you might reconsider your terms after this,” you stood straight as Maeve walked down the steps and moved to whisper something the rest of them couldn’t hear in your ear, her hand pressed lightly to the base of your neck.

She pulled away after a few minutes and he took in your now shaking hands, eyes filled with tears you clearly refused to let fall. You took in a steadying breath before speaking, “You’re lying.”

“Oh I wish I was princess, but I can only show the truth and it appears your prince had moved on rather quickly, what use is there going back to a country where you can no longer rule.” She stroked your hair condescendingly and you chewed the inside of your lip as it quivered. “But here, here – under my control – you have power of your own. Men will no longer hold onto you like a prized pony, you will become something they fear, you will be my perfect princess, the daughter I never got to have.”

Fenrys inhaled sharply, he knew Maeve never planned to relent the throne, especially not to a woman from another country. She looked at you like you were a doll, something for her to reshape and change. You must have seen it to, but through your blurry eyes everything had changed.

“Okay,” your voice was smaller than before, and he wanted to tear Maeve limb from limb for having broken you down so harshly with just a few words. She smiled cruelly at you as she cut a small line along her forearm and you bowed your head in pain, before falling to your knees – graceful even as pain consumed your entire being. You brought your lips to her wound and drank as she repeated the words that he remembered all too well.

When you rose your lips were sparkling red, and your eyes were glistening with tears still unshed – but you raised your head like a queen and Maeve smiled.

“I believe you have already met Fenrys, he will be training you as the training you have received is not proficient, I’ll have all your belongings brought to a room here.” Maeve waved her hand to some guards, but you stopped her.

“I only need Amaris brought here; the rest can burn.” You muttered.

“And for your new wardrobe?” She asked and you smiled looking down, wiping your mouth slowly.

“Make it red.” You finally met Fenrys eyes, and he stepped forward, desperate to drag you far, far away.

“Shall I escort her to her new room?” he asked Maeve and she flitted her eyes to him, then to the hand he had pressed to your back.

“Yes and then afterword’s come find me,” she smiled cruelly at him, and he felt you stiffen under his hand, but he just nodded and began to lead you out of the room.

He led you through the corridors and up the stairs in silence, angry at you for accepting and at himself for not putting up more of a fight. When he reached the room he presumed would be yours he opened the door for you, following you in as you sat on the bed, your usual lightness replaced by the weight on your shoulders.

He watched you bow your head and came to sit beside you, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise; this was my choice.” You said and he reached an arm around your shoulders, but you quickly shrugged him off.

“I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t, if you and the queen are…” you trailed off and Fenrys bowed his head in shame.

“It’s not like that, she, she makes me,” he muttered, and you inhaled sharply, turning to him with those watery eyes.

“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” you whispered, instantly looping your arms around him neck and holding him tight. “She’s a monster.”

Fenrys huffed a laugh, pulling away, “You’re telling me.”

He reached a hand for your face slowly, wiping under your eyes where a tear had escaped, “how did she change your mind?” he asked, dark eyes searching your face for clues as your bottom lip quivered in pain.

“She showed me home,” was all you said, and his shoulders dropped. He would leave it for now, you were young and clearly not ready to speak – and now, they had all the time in the world to speak.

“Sleep tight, training starts at seven tomorrow,” he stood and kissed your head lightly and you nodded, words getting caught in your throat. He left quietly, walking away as quickly as he could to avoid hearing the soft sobs that erupted as soon as he closed the door.

You could barely contain your tears until you got to your room, repeating rule thirteen over and over in your head, crying in public is only appropriate at funerals and weddings. But as soon as Fenrys left your room you sobbed into your hands, wailing, and crying like a child throwing a tantrum as you let out the emotions, the screams that have been locked inside of you for so long.

You had done everything for Dorian, changed every part of yourself and become the perfect princess, girlfriend, fiancé – and he, mere weeks after you had to run, was already moving onto a new girl.

As hard as you tried you couldn’t get rid of the image of him and the blonde girl out of your head. How he kissed her softly, his hand on her lower back where it always used to rest on yours. The smile when he pulled away, the way he laughed with her, the way Chaol smiled at his brother when he was happy. You had been forgotten, replaced, almost instantly, the warmth you used to feel when you thought of home, of your princes’ arms replaced by a tight chest and a cold feeling encompassing your heart.

“I’m sorry Albert,” you whispered into the air as you stood looking out on your balcony, gripping tightly to the rail as you feared your legs would give out, “She already took it.”

You were interrupted by a quiet knock on your door, wiping your eyes as you opened it – taking Amaris from the tall guards’ hands as a flurry of women pushed in, filling your drawers with clothes and cosmetics, candles and hair pins, books and plants, a million supplies for Amaris and then some. You smiled politely at them as they left without saying a word, in and out extremely quickly as you stared at a knot in the floor.

Another knock sounded soon after and you turned your head to see one of the Cadre staring in with piercing green eyes. You motioned for him to come in and stood, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he took in your messy, tear-stained expression.

“You’re the first female member of the Cadre, ever.” He stated and you blinked slowly.

“Lucky me,” your tone was sarcastic, voice rough from the crying but the man smiled.

“I’m Rowan, it’s good to meet you.” He reached out a hand and you met it, allowing him to kiss the back gently.

“(Y/n)” you returned, with a slight curtsey.

“I look forward to fighting with you (y/n),” he stated, releasing your hand and turning to leave, stopping right before he reached the door, “Oh, and don’t lose that dagger, you’ll find a shocking number of men dislike powerful women.”

“First I’m hearing of this,” you deadpanned, and he chuckled.

“Goodluck kid.”

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian x reader #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #tog #rowan whitethorn

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

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Shattering (KTH x Reader)☁️🔞💜🐾

🌹Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

🌹Genre: ANGST, romance, smut, god AU, Idk what to call this, hybrid AU

🌹Warnings: heavy angst, death is a major theme, mentions of suicide and death by freezing, listen there is smut but it’s not as kinky as it usual is, just sweet and heartbreaking lovemaking y’all, Wintergod!Taehyung, Winterspirit!Reader, Wolf hybrid!Taehyung, Bunny Hybrid!Reader, major character death, please love this okay I needed to get all that angst out of my system, somewhat of a happy ending? I don't know you tell me lol

🌹Summary: Every day he would warn you. He’d try and keep an eye on you, his favorite spirit, curious as ever- until one day, he looses sight. And you understand why you were warned. Oh dear rabbit, what did you do?

Humans are amazingly interesting to you.

Sometimes, they'd look at you in wonder, they would call out for you, bending down to seem less intimidating, or would try and beckon you with food- yet the voice of your master would always continue to remind you never to get too close to them.

'Humans and beings like us don't mix well, little rabbit.'

So you'd simply watch from afar, or play hide and seek with the children running around the snow covered meadows and in between the trees of the forest you lived in.

Taehyung was worried every time a new day would start. Even though he had a lot of spirits under his command, and other matters to keep watch over, he couldn't help but feel enchanted by you. His heart had you locked inside, never to open again and free your soul within- and you didn't seem to mind that at all, making matters just more complicated for him. He was no god- he was merely a hand of those who ruled over the times and seasons. He was just as much a puppet as you were, yet they prayed to him like he was in control of all live.

Humans would leave presents and wishes at his shrine, every year around the same time. He sometimes felt a bit of guilt seeing all those things delicately placed for him, while he had you at his side, innocently asking him what they brought him this time. It was another charming attitude of yours; you seemed to felt no jealousy at all. In hierarchy, you were low- so low in fact, that everything around you could easily become your end. While he was graced with with a presence so heavenly that he was invisible for the human eye, you were always seen as the snow white rabbit jumping around the white covered grounds. He saw your actual form instead; a young lady as if drawn by the hands of a painter in the 18th century, with pale skin and snowy white bunny ears- your tail just as expressive and adorable as in your animal form. Everything about you made him feel attached, and he didn't mind at all.

The only thing that did in fact bother him however, was your dangerous curiosity. He knew that one day his scolding voice he'd managed to place inside your head would not be enough anymore to hold yourself back from stepping over the line he'd once drawn in the snow- a line for you to never cross. He knew that one day you would, that one day your life would end, either way. Spirits were never intended to continue living for long, anyways. It was a fact he was very well aware of, yet somehow he couldn't bear the mere possibility of your death. Even if it was inevitable.

As he laid there with you, warm and cozy in your burrow underneath the largest tree of the forest you both called your home, he started to let his mind wander, while his fingers traced along your delicate spine. Your skin was so soft, he swore nothing could truly rival the feel of it under his hands. As his palm laid itself over your ribs, you sighed, moving a bit so snuggle closer to him.

He knew he had made a mistake, a heavy weighing one if he was being honest with himself. His life would continue centuries, while yours could very well be taken tomorrow, or today; yet when he'd seen you last night, skin seemingly glowing underneath the moonlight, as your hair shone like stars, he'd given into his deepest desire to claim you for himself.

It wasn't uncommon for small gods like him to feed on small spirits like you, but this was more than simple craving, this was more than pure need. What he felt for you was desire in its purest form, love in its painful ways, and a soft and warm song of happiness and fulfillment inside his head. You drowned out his thoughts and quenched his thirst for adoration; the way you had sighed so blissfully at his touch made him feel like he needed to relive the moment again already. You'd noticed this as well by now- his length rising in need as your eyes opened, sparkling orbs finding his gaze as he moved, tiny rays of the early sunlight peeking into the cave you'd made and shown him proudly the day you'd finished it. He remembers how uninterested he pretended to be, even though he had felt so proud of you that day.

And he notices how he's never voiced that out until now, as he moves to lean over you, his hands holding yours as he looks down on you. "I've never told you how well you did with this home, little rabbit." He humms, his lips finding yours as you can't seem to hide the grin growing on yours. "You did so good." He mumbles, as his kisses move from your lips to your ear, so they can make their way down your neck. "Yet my pride forbade me to voice my thoughts back then. I hope you forgive me." He speaks, and you smile at him, eyes filled with nothing but happiness as he copies your expression.

"I would forgive you anything." You say, and he feels his heart swell inside his chest.

He humms against your pulse point, before he chuckles. "Those are dangerous words, darling." He sighs against your skin, as you squirm underneath him. "What if I was to snap your neck, little rabbit?" He growls, his hybrid features moving as he grazes his sharp canines against your collarbone- a place he'd already bitten and marked the night before, purple bruises and other marks already blossoming beautifully on your skin. Yet you only mewl at him, eyes closing as you stay relaxed underneath him.

"I'd happily die under the hand belonging to the being that holds my heart." You say, and his eyes widen a bit at your statement. "What a way to go, knowing my last breath belongs to you." You say, and he stops a bit, before he snaps his mind out of your words.

"Foolish little rabbit." He mumbles, hands now more desperate, more aggressive, less careful as he seems to be frustrated. "You make it sound like you love me, darling." He chuckles, and you suddenly open your eyes, hands grasping his biceps as he halts his movements, gaze meeting yours.

"I do." You say, voice quiet and wavering, as if you're scared to say them too loud. "Please don't say that you don't, even if it's the truth." You suddenly seem sad, making him grow uneasy as he searches for any way inside his head to make it better. "Please lie to me. Please say that you do- just once." You whisper, and his large hands hold your face, his eyes wide open as he speaks his words.

"I cannot lie, and you know this." He answers, and you smile painfully, not meeting his eyes as you look to the side, nodding. "I don't love you, little rabbit." He speaks, making you choke up before he leans down, kissing your closed eyelid, before he moves to the other. "I adore you." He humms, as he kisses the bridge of your nose carefully. "I cherish every second with you." Another kiss, placed on your cheek. "I'll worship you like those humans worship me, little rabbit." And another kiss, placed upon your lips as your eyes open, watery and glistening as he smiles. "Love is nothing compared to what I feel for you, my dear." He humms, and carefully brushes the tears off of your face as they fall. He he doesn't think about the weight of his words in that moment, and simply lets himself be washed away by the waves of emotions drowning you both in this small space, hand underneath your thigh as he positions himself properly, to enter you smoothly, thoughts flying away like crows after a hunter's warning shot into the trees. It's not for pleasure, it's not to quench any thirst he has- its simply to feel close, to cherish your body, to make a memory he can remember once you're gone.

And as he listens to your blissful sounds, he fights his own tears, knowing deep down that your fate was already decided. This was no fight-

because the loosing part had already been decided. And he knew it would be him.

He watches you from afar as you play with the children of a wandering couple, who seem just as enchanted by your form as he is. In these moments, he can't help but think what would've been if you were both born human- fighting problems so wonderfully mundane and normal, working and coming home to find you smiling at him, asking him what he'd done during the day. He wished your fate would've been reversed- but then again, he's glad that it is how it is. He's happy that you're going to spend your time happy, at his side, with love never fading away. He's feeling comforted by the fact that it's going to be him carrying the burden of living on without your presence at his side. He's sure he can take the pain- he would never want you to carry those bone crushing feelings on your shoulders. He's happy.

It feels strange, the way you suddenly stop in your tracks as you try to run after the kids, turning around to spot him, as you run towards his opening arms; a gesture he hadn't even noticed doing. It was beginning to become normal to him, as you fall into his arms, body fondly buried into his robes, as he places a kiss onto your head, right between where your ears sit. He feels like you're soulmates never meant to be, and he knows that this is only temporary. Yet he's feeling the need to be selfish, as he looks down on you.

You smile at him, unknowing how it makes his heart race and pulse quicken.

Oh how he loves you.

It's not the sound of it that makes him worried.

It's the lack of your body at his side, that instantly has him worried.

He walks around the forest, asking every spirit around him if they have seen you; but no one can quite answer him, as he grows frustrated. His steps quicken as he searches for you, unknowing if the sound he'd heard had just been a warning shot as usual. He can't help but feel as if today was different.

He asks Hoseok, a fellow spirit of yours, but the bear hybrid can only shake his head, as he tells him he has not seen you today either. It's when he hears the soft weeping of the sparrows that he becomes scared to look around the tree he is standing behind. But his legs lead him forward, as he spots your form, the sparrows tearfully placing flowers around you; and he knows that you have been taken away.

They look at him, their child-like forms noticing him, but for a change none of them decide to put their attention on the small god. He knows why it is, knows that your place in hierarchy had maybe been as low as they can be, but your kind heart and soft character made you be loved by almost everyone around you.

He swallowed hard as he felt his eyes sting, slowly walking towards your form, snow softly falling onto your now unmoving limbs, your skin as pale as it can be. Snowdrops grow around you as he kneels down at your side, the sparrow's bodies still getting shaken by their hiccups as they hold each other, mourning your passing. He can't look down yet, chooses to look into the sky as he tries to keep his composure. He's not supposed to cry, he's not even supposed to kneel at your side like this, cold and wetness from the ground seeping into his knees as they begin to sting from the bite of temperature. But it only helps him, in away, gives him a bit of a distraction before he looks downwards.

But he's unprepared for what he sees on your face; the serene smile, a look that tells him you had not been scared in your last moments of life. You had accepted death, and for some reason, this just pains him even more. He doesn't know why this feels so much worse now. If he could only spot a tiny speck of pain or regret, a bit of fear or a hint of regret, he could channel all his emotions into anger and make it storm so harshly everyone would never return into those woods ever again. But knowing that you were happy and content with your end gives him nothing instead.

His eyes widen once he feels the sparrows on either of his side, carefully hugging his body as he does not understand what is happening. They swallow tearfully, needing to calm down for a moment until one of them looks up at him.

"She said even if you decline and fight it, we should comfort you." One of them whispers.

The other nods. "She said even gods need a hug sometimes."

And as a sob escapes him, he can't do nothing more than pull your body onto his lap, holding your head to his shoulder, as if to warm you up in his embrace. He knows he has to let go, but he wants to be selfish for a moment. He wants to keep you just a bit longer, before he has to move on.

He doesn't know if he can.

"I never said it back." Is what he presses out between gritted teeth, tears blurring his vision. "But I love you."

He watches the kids play with the sparrows, as he passes them, their smiling faces greeting him.

He smiles too.

He walks around aimlessly, never straying too far away from the cave you'd build years ago. He doesn't need to sleep, but he still keeps it cozy and clean. He feels like he needs to prepare it for you if you were to miraculously return to him, even though he knows its just a wish he makes every day to keep his mind relaxed.

He spots a body not too far away from him, as he kneels down. Its a young man, never passed his early twenties, as he spots the blue lips and pale skin. His soul is long gone, and he usually does not feel anything towards these people. But maybe you had colored his soul differently, because slight sadness creeps over him as he starts to silently place his hand onto the young man's head, brushing away his hair in a soft breeze of wind. He had probably underestimated the stormy night, since it was early morning right now. What a sad way to go, he thinks.

The sparrows and a fox spirit look over his shoulders, as he begins to mumble. "Make it pretty, yeah? Give him a good end." He speaks, as he looks across the body, the almost see through soul of the young man watching him as he smiles, nodding, as if to thank him. Taehyung simply nods back, as he stands up, walking away from the scene, as he tells the crows on the trees to help the villagers find the boy.

Something in the air is shifting as he feels his skin tingle. He watches from the cave as the moon glows onto a figure emerging from the frozen lake, a new wintergod being born as he leans against the tree, a smile gracing his lips as the new god greets him. It's the young man who'd frozen to death all those years ago. He walks towards taehyung as he kneels down, bowing respectfully. "Does it.. does it need to happen?" He asks, and The older god smiles, chuckling as he immediately thinks that this would be something you'd say as well. He got his hybrid features, the young man in front of him- those soft bunny ears bringing back memories that no longer pain him. He nods.

"It's how the world works, friend." He says, and the rabbit in front of him looks saddened by his words. He places a hand ontop of his head, as he looks up at him. "Don't feel sad- there's nothing to be sad about." He explains. "I'm ready." He speaks, and the young god in front if him nods, though he bites his lip, as if to keep his emotions at bay. Taehyung knows that he's going to be a good hearted god. The upcoming winters will lack moody storms and heavy snowfalls for the next years without his own swings of emotions every now and then.

He smiles brightly suddenly, as another figure emerges from the lake behind the new god, who turns around as well. Taehyung heavily gets up, bones heavy as he stumbles on weak legs, chuckling as your arms catch him. He chuckles, head burying into your chest before he laughs out, smile genuine and young as he starts to crumble. His skin breaks off, falling down like fresh snow as the sparrows, the spirits, and the new god watch him embrace you closely, his last strength fading as he looks up at you.

"I love you." He mumbles, before he kisses you tearfully, making you chuckle. "I love you, I love you-" He repeats between every peck, as you laugh, fading together with him.

"I know." You say.

And together, you leave nothing behind but fresh snow, a new generation, and a field full of snowdrops.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #taehyung x you #kim taehyung imagine #hybrid imagine #hybrid kim taehyung

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karaboutmyart · 3 years

Text

rain

a frodo/sam drabble

hope you enjoy this!! I wanted to write something soft :)) this is my first ever time writing this pairing, so I hope its accurate IDK I tried my best <33

word count : 1,516

The blackening sky had grown over them, until naught but the moon was covered, which cast little light through the shadow of the clouds. Samwise had savored this light as he would savor a freshly picked apple in the autumn, yet even the sweetest flavor would not stay forever-- soon, the silver light of the moon had vanished as well, and he was left with nothing. The darkness seemed to shroud every corner, this night around, as it had begun to grow each day they came closer to the land of Mordor, the land of evil. He knew that soon his hope would diminish with this light, but right now, he would not let that be the case. Especially as he looked to his companion, Frodo, and saw his tired, pained expression in the blackness of night.

He turned this expression over in his head, mirroring it with his own frown, watching as Frodo bowed his head and clutched the ring around his neck-- acting as if he was keeping something hidden, a secret that only he could know. Yet Sam knew what this secret was-- yes, the ring was taking hold of him, slowly, and soon his master would submit to its taunts, its whispers, its chides. He kept his eyes upon Frodo, softening his frown, before creeping forward. Perhaps this secret was his own, but he would not let him give up, nor submit to the tenebrosity of his own self doubt; a darkness so thick that one could not see his own hand, even just mere inches from the cornea.

Sam gently brushed his fingers along Frodo's arm, causing the other to pull his head up and come eye to eye with him. The circles beneath his eyes were darker, swollen and red from obvious lack of sleep, and his face was pale. Sickly, he looked, his cheekbones visible and his jaw quivering ever so slightly upon the sight of Sam. The gardener slowly, and carefully, pulled his hand away, each finger leaving his master's arm with such caution, as if the other would break apart upon the separation of one another.

"Mister Frodo? How do you feel?" Sam murmured, visible lines of concern creasing his face. There was a small silence between them for the moment afterwards, rather than the sounds of a stream nearby. The darkness swayed.

"You should not worry about me, Samwise," Frodo responded back, his eyes softening along with the hand clasped around the Ring. He drew himself back, taking a small, trembling breath. He began again. "I am fine, after all. You should get some rest. We have a long journey tomorrow." There was no break in his voice, but Sam could see the hurt in his eyes. He was just as tired, and deserved just as much rest as he-- if not, more, and Sam let out a quicker, sterner breath.

"But you need rest too, Mister Frodo! Pardon my frustration, sir, but you've not slept for days-- and you've hardly eaten, at all. I've noticed it since we split from the fellowship, even before that. I can't help it. I worry about you, and there isn't anything I can do to cease that worry," he said, a small snap in the night.

Another pause. He was afraid Frodo would rear back and get angry with him, would yell, but the other merely turned to gaze at the dark clouds above them in the sky, a gentle autumn thunder rolling across the warm land. His lip quivered more, as if he would cry, but instead he let out a small chuckle. "I know there isn't stopping you from worrying over me, Sam," he murmured, "And I'm grateful to have you with me." He turned, returning his stare upon Sam, his hand reaching out to gently grab the other's. His fingers were cold as ice. But Sam did not let go.

Sam could feel a small flustered feeling build up beneath his chest, fluttering there like moths. He kept his eyes steady upon Frodo, and returned the handheld, looking down to their hands, wrapped together in a tender and loving sense. Yes, he could not deny what he felt with the other-- a sense of worry, of course, but also something deeper, something that lingered far longer than he could know. He thought of the promise he made to Gandalf, and knew that he didn't even need to promise this; he would have gone with Frodo to the end anyways.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo murmured, causing Samwise to look up and into his blue eyes, shining briefly beneath the temporary moonlight as the clouds continued to roll over, a gentle thunder accompanying his words, "The Ring is loud. Everyday, those whispers are tempting me to bring in straight into Mordor, and give into the Enemy. To give up. To put the Ring on and give it all away." He reached forward, and grabbed Sam's other hand. "But your voice is louder, Sam. You silence those words that the Enemy has to say. I do not know how far I will make it… but I know I would not have made it this far without you." His voice had wavered at the end, cracking with emotion. Sam immediately squeezed his hands, gently, staring upon his face.

"Oh, don't cry, Mister Frodo. I would have gone with you, anyhow. Because I love you, and I could not bear to see you so alone, and in such a state."

Their eyes had drifted to each other's lips, for a fleeting moment, and when Frodo had caught that, his hands relaxed beneath Sam's. He drew his face forward, hovering just in front of the other's. His breath had been quick, and his heart fluttered so fast behind his chest, that Sam could not help but notice that weight that seemed to lay upon his shoulders, the burden of the Ring written behind his face, underneath the softness, the fondness for his companion. They kept close, until Sam parted, drawing away with a flushed face and surprised expression.

The weight seemed to increase, sending a small panic through Sam's chest. He watched as Frodo's face fell for a small moment, before returning to it's typical, exhausted state. "Why did you pull away, my dear Sam?" He asked-- he did not sound hurt, only curious, full of understanding.

"I just… I'm worried, is all. About-- about kissing you. I don't want you to be disappointed, and it'll make it uncomfortable between us. You already have so much burden, Mister Frodo. And kissing you will only add to something to worry about," Sam rambled, his ears growing awfully warm as these words left his mouth. He already felt foolish, as if he had just embarrassed himself-- and perhaps he had, knowing that Frodo probably thought he was crazy, now.

Frodo raised both brows, and a small, amused smile settled upon his lips. "Oh, Sam," he chuckled, fondly, "My dearest Sam. You have nothing to worry about. I promise that much." He placed his hand on Sam's again, and drew his face back to the position before, just in front of his companion's. "You are my closest friend, and something even more in my heart. I am comfortable with you, always."

Sam could only relax at that, a small, soft smile spreading across his lips. He drew his face forward as well, eyes fluttering closed. Their lips brushed, a small hesitation following, before Frodo had surged forward and planted his lips upon Sam's. He held his lips there for quite some time, locked against the other's in a comfortable manner. One hand had felt around Sam's neck, sending a small shiver through the gardener. After a long moment, both had drawn away from each other, staring into each other's eyes. The sky had remained dark, deep clouds rumbling with thunder, but both seemed to not care.

Frodo smiled, but it was sad, and his eyes clouded over with thought. He slowly let go of Sam, but his hands found the other's, and they pressed closer to each other, knowing that it would rain soon, and they would need the touch for warmth. Yet Frodo remained quiet, and it had panicked Sam even further, wondering if he had been true about his feelings.

"Are you alright, Frodo?" Sam asked, as they huddled close to each other. It had soon begun to rain, big drops falling from the dark sky, until quickening into something lighter, yet harder, and soon both hobbits were drenched. Frodo gently tugged Sam, beckoning him towards a more sheltered area against the mountain. When they had gotten there, he turned to Sam, holding both of his hands, eyes sad, and full of love.

"I'm fine, Sam," he muttered, taking a small breath, "It's only… your lips."

There was a pause, as a calm thunder shook the cliffside, and rain fell gently around them, pitter-pattering in a way that showered the earth. It felt soft upon Sam's face, cooling the heat that began to pulse through him, upon Frodo's next words:

"They taste like home."

#my writing #lord of the rings #lotr frodo #lotr sam #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #frosam #samfro #writing #soft #drabble #lotr drabble

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a-purple-lizard · 3 years

Note

Can you do a scenario of Dark Raiden x Ashrah but unlike in the past where good raiden was trying to redeem her soul, the demoness is trying to redeem his soul.

Also I imagine she’d be the only one who can truly understand him since she used to believe that you must do whatever it takes no matter the cost.

Idk I’ve been obsessing over the potential of their dynamic lately!

Also I hope you had a great Valentine’s❤️💕❤️💕

Hopeless Redemption

Ashrah x dark Raiden

Oooo okay! One of my favorite ships!

“Please ashrah, heed my warnings!” The god pleaded to the white cloaked demon. “The path you are on will lead to destruction!”

Here ashrah stood atop the very same temple like they had before, many years ago. The tyrant god was in front of her, glowing red eyes boring into her soulless eyes. “Raiden, please heed my warning.” She began. “This is a dark path you tread.”

“What do you know? You lick the boots of the elder gods and get everything. I have to beg, on my knees, to everyone just to get a chance!” She growled, taking a step forward. “Everything I have, I’ve had to work for, I won’t let you talk me into giving it all up!”

“Silence demon, what would you know? You don’t know the burden of a realm apon your shoulders, you know not the loss I feel.” He said coldly, turning away to gaze into the night sky. “I won’t let anybody destroy what I’ve tried so hard to protect.”

“You are better than this, I know you are!” He pleaded, grabbing her hand. “I can save your soul if only you let me-“

“Raiden, you were once a pure soul, full of love and devotion for earthrealm.” She boldly claimed, approaching the god. “You have become obsessed, it is killing you and the ones you love, if you would only take my advice-“

“Don’t you DARE touch me, thunder god!” She screeched, pulling away. Her beautiful form started to tear ever so slightly, revealing the monster underneath. “I know what I have to do to achieve my goals. Who are you to judge?”

“Back demon! I have no interest in your deception.” He suddenly growled out, his form letting out bolts of electricity in warning. “Why would a lowly demon think it has the right to pass judgment onto me!?”

“I do not judge, I only wish to put you on the right path.” He pleaded, attempting to approach her. Unnatural growls and twitches erupted from the demon. The thunder god didn’t let it stop him. “I know you mean well, but these things you are doing- they will kill your soul!”

“I am not here to pass judgment, I just want to make things right.” Ashrah approached the god despite the sparks. “You are full of love, for earthrealm and it’s people. But, the things you are doing- the wars, the death, they will corrupt your soul!”

Ashrah said nothing, she only turned away, staring out at the night sky. Raiden softly spoke. “I do not feel your pain, but I understand it. I know what it’s like to love something so much to the point that it causes harm, but you must understand, at one point, a line must be drawn!”

The god said nothing, he only looked out into the night sky. Ashrah broke the silence, “I know what it’s like, to love something so much that you bring pain to others because of it. You feel… devoted to it and lost without it. You would do anything to protect it. But when will it end? When will enough be enough?”

“A line is drawn in the blood of my last enemy!” The demon snapped, turing around to face him. “Then, and only then, will I stop.”

“It will be enough when earthrealm is safe!” He growled coldly, glaring down at the demoness who hid behind her white veil. “When that day comes, all will be at peace.”

“And when will that be? When quan chi is dead? When shinnok is dead? Shao Kahn? Me?” He demanded, tone matching hers. “Are you really foolish enough to believe that it will ever end? It only ends when you decide to allow it!”

“When will that day come? A day? Ten days? A thousand years?” She asked, lifting her veil to gaze at him sternly. “The bloodshed will never end, not until you put a stop to it. If you kill every last threat to earthrealm, there will still be one left.”

“It’s not that simple!” Her skin broke loose as she ripped her way out of her human form, revealing a grotesque demon. Raiden didn’t blink. “I can’t just stop!”

“You know gods damn well that the only way earthrealm will be safe is if I destroy every last threat!” He charged at her, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her into the wall. Ashrah didn’t even blink. “I can’t stop until all of them are dead! I am saving earthrealm!”

“Can’t stop? Or too afraid to stop?” He demanded, gaze becoming more stern. “Admit it, you don’t want to stop because you’re afraid you won’t survive without your methods.”

“You can choose to end the bloodshed whenever you want!” She seethed, her human husk becoming damaged from his hands around her throat. “You just don’t want to, because it’s easier this way. For you, only for you.”

Ashrah shook in rage, “don’t you DARE assume that I have any control!” She roared. “Everything I’ve done had to have been done! What other options are there!?”

“Then please, demoness, “ he sneered, “what am I supposed to do to protect earthrealm? This is the way! There are no alternative options!”

“You could choose peace.” He offered gently, watching her demon form freeze at the word.

“A wise man once told me, you could choose peace.” Her bruised voice offered, the god flinched, his grip loosening.

“You are good, deep inside I know you want peace too.” His soft voice was like fresh honey drizzled onto her very being. “Your soul yearns for it. It needs it.”

“You were a good man, you still are deep inside.” She wrapped her hands around his fist. “You soul requires it, peace, its existence depends on it.”

Ashrah said nothing, her demon form wavered, melting back into its human disguise. A gasp escaped her throat as a pair of arms wrapped around her.

Raiden released her from his grip, allowing her to slide down against the wall. The lightning around him subsided, his gaze was on the ground. He grunted in surprise as a pair of lips were place on his.

“I love you… Please, Ashrah, see the light…” he pleaded, his gentle eyes full of sorrow.

“I… I think I love you. I know I care about you more than myself. Isn’t that love?” She mumbled into his mouth. “I don’t know much about love, but I do know that when you love somebody, you want what’s best for them. I want you to return to the light once again.”

The demon let out a cry of confusion, slipping away from the gods grip. She stared helplessly at him, a flurry of emotion raged in her eyes. She couldn’t take it. Without any warning, a portal appeared below her, sucking her into the netherrealm.

The god broke away from the kiss, backing away. His face was unreadable. All he did was shake his head before a bolt of lightning consumed him, leaving nothing left.

Raiden was left there alone at the abandoned temple. He stared out at the stars and wondered, how long would it take for another to appear?

Ashrah stood alone, her expression was one of sadness and regret. Staring up at the stars, she wondered, how long would it take for another to blink out?

#mortal kombat #raiden #mk raiden #lord raiden #ashrah #Raiden x Ashrah #Ashrah x Raiden

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meridiansdominoes · 4 years

Text

Showers of Starlight

Incoming blyla incoming blyla incoming blyla

This issssss the sequel to ‘Catch the Rain’ that was posted a few weeks ago! @thatfunkyopossum HAPPY BIRTHDAY UR MY FAVORITE <3

(this is like, 6k words?? Is that okay to post in this weird tumblr format?? It’s gonna be mad long... well idk,,, but here it is anyway on ao3 too in case you don’t want to destroy ur dash with a long post heh

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758554

Aayla finds her Commander standing out on the little balcony, dressed in civilian clothes and staring out into the city. Night turns Coruscant into an endless sea of luminescence. Air lanes become lines of shooting stars pressing onward in the darkness. Skyscrapers around them glow with the light of thousands of residents inside, creating trails of brilliance that ascend up towards the black sky.

By the time Aayla arrives at the complex that serves as the temporary housing for her officers while they’re on leave, the sun has disappeared from the sky, and she’s mentally exhausted. A full report to the Jedi Council takes effort and energy that she has to fight to produce, but she is required to give her debriefing before she can get some rest herself. She’s relieved that it’s over now, but there are still a few things to take care of. Her men need to be fully settled, otherwise Aayla won’t be able to sleep well tonight. She knows that Bly will take care of things, but she needs to verify their wellbeing for herself for her own peace of mind. Here on Coruscant they’re finally safe, and she has to remind herself of that somehow.

Though visiting Bly to check on the men isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If anything the thought makes some of her exhaustion leave her as she steps into the lift that will take her up to her Commander’s quarters. The journey upwards is smooth and quick. When the doors open on the correct floor, Aayla steps out and immediately finds one of her officers in the hallway, clad only in his blacks.

“General!” Captain Brine says in surprise, blue eyes widening. He snaps off a quick salute automatically. The effect is dampened slightly by the pillow he has tucked under his other arm. “What are you—oh. Looking for the Commander?”

Aayla nods. “Are you well, Captain?”

Brine shrugs.

“Well enough, sir. It’s a bit odd to not be on the ship, but the rooms are nice. Though the pillows leave a lot to be desired. I had to go find myself a new one.”

Aayla huffs out a tiny laugh.

“I’ll take your word for it, Brine. Could you direct me to Bly’s room?”

“The last one on the left, sir,” Brine answers without hesitation. He meets her gaze carefully, something unreadable flashing across his face. “He’ll try to keep working instead of getting some rest like he should. Maybe you can help him where I can’t.”

Aayla blinks at her Captain, but before she can fully make sense of the words Brine is already retreating towards his own room. He closes his door behind him, leaving Aayla alone in the hallway. She sighs and makes her way to the end of the hall until she stands in front of the very last door on the left.

It isn’t locked. The door slides open when she knocks lightly on the durasteel. She steps inside. The rooms that Brine had described as ‘nice’ are small and spartan in design. Nice is not the word Aayla would have used, but they’re a step up from the barracks to her men. There are three tiny spaces all hooked together—a small reception area, a tiny unused kitchen, and an even tinier bedroom. Aayla can see through the entire apartment.

Bly is nowhere in sight, although his armor is neatly stacked on the table in the little kitchen. Aayla hesitates for a moment, confused, until she notices the transperisteel door flung open against the far wall. Cream colored floor-length curtains hide the actual doorway from view. She makes her way through the apartment and pushes the curtains aside.

Coruscant is far too polluted for its inhabitants to see the stars that stretch above them through the smog. For some residents, the brilliant night is the closest they will ever get to seeing space around them. It is beautiful, in its own way. From the balcony of Bly’s window it seems as if he is poised on the edge of a glittering nebula, watching the colors swirl in hypnotic patterns and glitter quietly in the dark.

Bly is framed by the ambient light of the city. Aayla allows herself to just watch him for a nanosecond. She can’t see his face, but the light plays off of his tan skin in such a flattering way that she can’t avert her gaze. There’s a datapad in one of his hands. She raps lightly on the wall to alert him to her presence. He turns a little too fast, free hand jerking down to his side for a weapon that isn’t there right now. Once he’s seen her, he stiffens a little bit into a loose attention. One eyebrow raises slowly.

“General?”

Aayla doesn’t respond immediately, mostly because her brain stalls as she finally takes full stock of what he’s wearing.

He’s dressed in a loose white shirt with a low neckline that reveals his collarbone and the hint of a gold tattoo over his chest that disappears under the fabric. Her eyes pause on the smooth skin of his neck before she forces herself to drop her gaze—but that just makes things worse, because without the usual armor smoothing out the lines of his body she can see every muscle in his arms. His biceps are... impressive. She spends a moment just... drinking it in, because who knows if she’ll ever get to see this ever again. The tight black pants completing his outfit certainly don’t help her concentration.

Bly coughs suddenly. She glances back up to look him in the eyes. Now that she’s already thinking about such details, it’s hard to stop. The splashes of gold against the slant of his cheekbones is distinctly alluring. Aayla struggles to pull her thoughts out of the downward spiral and grimaces inwardly. She’s left him standing there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She quirks one lek in a hasty greeting.

“At ease, Commander. I just wanted to ask you if the last of the reports have come in yet.” Aayla steps out onto the balcony to join him. She does, in fact, have the self-control necessary to keep her gaze from roving across his exposed skin this time, as tempting as it is.

Bly’s body language loosens. He leans against the railing again and taps at his datapad, scrolling through a list of reports. She can see tiny pinpricks of light reflected from the city skyline in his eyes. Aayla settles herself against the railing next to him as well, content to wait as he runs through his mental checklists.

She reaches out with the Force and grounds herself against his presence. It’s always bright and soothing and mellow to her in a way that she’s never felt before, not even among Jedi. She’s drawn to it. Today his mind is smooth, pulsing gently with peace and relief to finally be on leave. It’s rare that she gets to feel him in that state of mind. Bly is always concerned about something—about the men, about a campaign, about hyperspace routes, about shipping documents… about her.

Perhaps he thinks he is subtle, but Aayla sees far more than he realizes.

She notices when his gaze lingers on her, when he hesitates with his mouth hanging open as if he wants to speak before closing it and marching stiffly away. She notices when he bristles with anger and places himself between her and the foolish males that do not see the lightsaber in favor of inspecting her curves. She notices the fleeting smiles that cross his face when he thinks that she isn’t looking.

She wonders if he’s ever noticed the similar expressions that cross her own face.

There has been an odd tension in the Force lately. It’s a steady buzz, just present enough to nag at her as if ordering her to pay attention to something. It doubles whenever she speaks with her commander. Aayla thinks that she understands why now. Perhaps. Tonight is as good a night as any to either confirm or dispute her theory… if she is brave enough. If she is wise about how she approaches the subject.

It’s a risk, but it’s one that she’s willing to take. Determination floods her veins.

Bly sighs and looks up from the datapad with a nod of approval.

“I’ve got every report, sir. We’re good to go. I’ve even got the ship’s maintenance schedule here.” He grins wryly. “If only it were like this every time. The crew have sent all the records to me quicker than usual so that they can be off duty faster.”

Aayla chuckles.

“It would spare you a large amount of stress, at the very least,” she comments in amusement. Bly rolls his eyes.

“Force forbid,” he mutters. There’s something so easy about standing next to him, about the civilian clothing, about the casual conversation. Aayla feels a strange pang of jealousy. How easy would all of this be if they weren’t soldiers, if she were not a Jedi? She’s never doubted her purpose before, but Bly is the catalyst for many such thoughts.

Bly lifts his free hand to rub at his face. She glimpses a line of gold curling up his arm, disappearing into his sleeve. She reaches out to touch it without even thinking, brushing her fingers along the line and marvelling at how his something that should feel metallic and cold under her hand is warm and soft instead. She traces the tattoo higher, stopping just before she reaches the barrier of his sleeve. Part of her wants to follow it further. The thought abruptly makes her mouth go dry.

“It suits you,” Aayla tells him honestly. He freezes up. For an instant, she feels muscles bunching under his skin. She pulls her hand away quickly, afraid that she’s crossed a line, and reaches out with the Force to check if she’s offended him in any way. Perhaps the tattoo is in memory of a lost brother, or a hard battle that he hadn’t wanted to remember right now—

When she brushes Bly’s mind she finds it full of static. His thoughts are racing almost too fast for her to make sense of them. After a moment he seizes them and wrestles them into submission. He swallows once and nods at her politely.

“Thank you, sir,” he says. Calm, controlled. If she hadn’t glimpsed his thoughts she wouldn’t have known any better. But she does know, and the realization makes amusement and perhaps a hint of mischief course through her. If this is how he reacts to a simple compliment, she can’t imagine how he would be if she were to—

Force. Enough of that.

“Have the men gotten settled?” she asks quietly, retreating away from his mind for the time being. He straightens at the question, shoulders drawing back.

“Yes, sir. They’re alright.” Then he winces. “They’re… excited. We haven’t gotten a good amount of leave in a while. I was thinking of drafting an apology letter to Fox tonight, just in case.”

Aayla laughs.

“They deserve to have their fun,” she comments, leaning against the railing and staring out at the skyline in front of them. “We’ve had a busy few months.”

Bly drags in a deep breath and exhales slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “They were getting tired. This will be good for them.”

“And for us,” Aayla adds. He hesitates, unsure of how to respond. She takes the opportunity to lean over him and pluck the datapad from his hand. A protest rises on his lips, but she shoots him a look, and he bites his tongue. “You deserve rest just as much as the rest of your men do, Commander.”

He nods in reluctant agreement, resting one elbow against the railing and slumping a little. He isn’t completely relaxed, but it’s more than he had been a few moments ago. Improvement.

Silence settles over them. It isn’t uncomfortable—on the contrary, it’s peaceful. A light breeze stirs through the air. Aayla glances up at her Commander, squaring her shoulders a bit. There is an opportunity here, a chance to act. She takes it.

“What would you like to do after the war, Bly?”

He blinks at her, taken aback. To be fair, she’s never asked him something like this before. During the heat and smoke and fire of a campaign she’d never felt as if it were an appropriate question to solicit. She watches him consider it. He glances down, picking at the loose white shirt as if suddenly unsure of himself.

“I’m not sure, sir,” he answers slowly. “I was created to be a soldier. I can’t really imagine myself doing anything else with my life. What… what would you like to do?”

Aayla hums.

“I suppose I will continue to be a Jedi. Though it will undoubtedly be strange. We’ve taken the roles of Generals so easily. Many will struggle to leave it behind.”

His expression flickers as something unreadable passes across his face.

“Will you?”

She falters.

Aayla will struggle. She already knows that, as surely as she knows that the sun will rise in the morning. Perhaps a few years ago that would have concerned her, but today she accepts it and wonders, not for the first time, if she even will want to leave it behind. Not for the power, not for the thrill of command, but for the men. For Bly.

The Council would be appalled to hear that. Quinlan Vos would be thrilled.

“I will not leave my men behind, even if the title of General is removed from me,” she tells Bly firmly. It’s so easy to be honest with him. It’s part of the reason why they work so well together. She sees something in Bly ease a little at her words.

“That’s good, sir,” he says. Without warning he tenses again, taking a shallow breath. “I don’t necessarily know what I want to do after the war, but I do know that it wouldn’t be worth my time if you weren’t there as well.”

Her heart stutters in her chest. He turns his face back to the skyline, as if immediately berating himself for the comment. Aayla resists the urge to reach out with the Force and find the true meaning of those words, to understand everything left unspoken there.

“In that case, I would welcome your company,” she responds quietly. Bly shifts his weight just a little. Some of the strain eases from his shoulders at her acceptance. His words hadn’t been an offer, not exactly, but it had been a bold statement—especially for Bly, who understands his priorities and selflessly resists the feelings that he so clearly wants to act upon. Aayla senses conflict in him, a constant battle between remaining stoic and throwing all caution to the wind.

It would be a lie to say that she did not feel the same thing.

There is a chain of command. There is a Jedi Code. There are rules, both dictated and not, that must be followed. In all her life she has never found herself wishing that it were not so until now.

Bly pulls away from the railing of the balcony, taking a step back. His tattoos gleam like liquid gold across his arms as he moves into a different light.

“I… I’ll get some rest then, General. You should too,” he suggests carefully. Too carefully. She is consistently impressed by his restraint. If it weren’t for his careful self-control she would have fallen a long time ago, but he balances her out perfectly in that as well as everything else. She doesn’t want him to leave yet.

She catches his arm as he tries to turn away with her own hand. Both of them freeze. Aayla looks down at her hand and is suddenly fascinated by the way the blue of her skin contrasts with the warm brown of his.

“Bly. Stay with me?”

She doesn’t have much right to ask that of him. It’s his room, after all. But Aayla doesn’t imagine the little tremor that runs through his body as he pulls his arm away. She lifts her head to meet his gaze and is stunned by the storm of conflict in his eyes.

“General… I don’t think…”

“Stay,” Aayla repeats softly. She ever-so-gently brushes at the edge of his mind again to make sure she isn’t pressuring him. She won’t force him into something he genuinely doesn’t want to do.

Bly’s mind is always so welcoming to her. She doesn’t even think that he’s aware of how readily it opens to her, of how easily it shares its secrets with her. For that reason she chooses to keep her distance for the most part, because she refuses to take advantage of him in that way. If she must reach for his thoughts, she keeps the connection as shallow as possible.

On occasions she’s seen his mind flare brilliantly when she’s nearby until he stuffs the light away under a grey shield of professionalism. She catches glimpses of it when he’s not being careful—when they’ve won a campaign and the men are celebrating in a fever, adrenaline and relief and the thrill of success spinning through the air. When she tells him that her recklessness had indeed been part of the plan and he only responds with an eye-roll and a fond chuckle. When he changes an entire battle strategy because she makes a single offhand comment about how she’s worried about destroying a beautiful forest.

Never once has she felt his mind grow heavy and dark with the sick lust that so many other men succumb to when she approaches. When desire does escape from the deeper recesses of Bly’s mind it is only visible for an instant as a bright flash of heat before he shuts it down without mercy. His respect for her is tangible even without a glance at his thoughts.

Right now, his mind is hesitant. She can sense that he wants to stay, but he is afraid as well. He’s worried for what he might do if he does remain, for what she might think, for what the men might say.

If only he could see into her mind. Aayla thinks a bit wryly that he wouldn’t be as afraid if he could feel her own thoughts on the matter.

“I would like it if you stayed,” she reiterates, just so that he understands that this isn’t an order, isn’t something that he’s required to accept. “Though you are welcome to get some rest if you wish.”

It’s a dangerous game that they’re playing. The attraction, the want, is mutual, otherwise it wouldn’t be as potent as it is. Aayla is tired of ignoring the bantha in the room. War takes and razes and tears down everything in its path. For once she wants to take something for herself.

Bly clenches his jaw and nods once.

“I’ll stay,” he acquiesces quietly. In the distance, faint police sirens become audible. Aayla can’t help a tiny smirk at the way Bly’s expression turns pained.

“There are millions of life-forms living nearby, Bly, I’m sure the men are fine. They probably don’t have anything to do with it,” she teases. He rolls his eyes.

“If I don’t get some sort of complaint in the morning I’ll be extremely surprised,” he grumbles. The grumpy amusement on his face is so utterly endearing that she steps forward without even thinking about it.

“Bly…”

His name comes out of her mouth with more warmth than she’d intended. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Aayla.”

She shivers. Her name rolls off of his tongue in the most delightful way. She draws a little closer to him, just enough to be intruding in his personal space. When he finally opens his eyes to look at her again she can see his defenses crashing down, crumbling as she reaches out to trace her fingers along the gold across his cheek.

He swallows hard as if bracing himself and reaches out a hand. His fingers brush against one of her lekku tentatively. She makes a soft noise of encouragement, and his touch grows a little more firm, sliding up to rest just at the junction of her skull. Aayla sighs. She leans forward and rests her forehead against his.

That makes him pause. His eyes go wide, as if he’s only just realizing what he’s doing. He jerks away from her so fast that she briefly loses her balance. The absence of his touch, as fleeting as it had been, makes her chest ache.

“Aayla, I—General. General, Force, this isn’t—I can’t. You have your—the Code, and the regs—”

Aayla exhales.

“And what if I wanted to choose, just for a moment, that they did not exist, Commander?” she asks him. “The time for hesitation is over. I will not sit in silence and wait until the war takes even you from me.”

Bly’s expression contorts. The edges of his Force presence go jagged.

“It isn’t that simple,” he forces out. “We could pretend all we want, but that wouldn’t change the rules.”

“Some would say that the rules are outdated,” Aayla counters. She feels a sharp flash of frustration. It’s tempting to let it stew and grow, but she does her best to let it go.

“That doesn’t matter, sir. We couldn’t ever… if anyone ever noticed, you would be stripped of both your rank and your title as a Jedi Master. I won’t be responsible for that.”

She mulls over his determined words with a sad fondness. He would give up everything he ever wanted just to keep her safe.

“Fortunately, you are not responsible for that,” she replies smoothly. “I am quite capable of making my own decisions. If I were to be expelled from the Jedi Order it would be because I chose that path.”

He stares her down, horrified. Then he narrows his eyes and sets his jaw.

“I would rather have you with me—with us, with the battalion—as a General and nothing more, than not have you at all.”

Aayla’s frustration comes back, stronger this time. She frowns at him.

“As I told you before, I will not leave my men behind, even if the title of General is removed from me. Nor will I leave my men behind if the title of Jedi is stripped from me. This is a risk that I am willing to take.”

Bly grimaces and tips his head back, sighing at the sky.

“Sir, regardless, I’m not—I’m not worth that risk. I’m a clone. This isn’t just inappropriate, it’s unfair to you, and I can’t—”

“That is not what I believe,” Aayla interrupts sharply. She feels just a jolt of anger, of outrage that he’s been conditioned to think like that. The emotion is difficult to banish. “You are worth far more to me than you could ever realize.”

He twitches and looks away fast. The rise and fall of his chest comes quicker now. His mind undulates with uncertainty and fear. The uncertainty is understandable, but the fear—that, she doesn’t understand. She steps close to him again and watches him tense, glancing at her as if worried of what she’ll do.

“What are you afraid of?” she asks in genuine surprise. She is just as new to this as he is, after all, and she wants answers. Bly lets out a stuttering breath.

“I don’t know,” he rasps. The words ring with honesty. An idea flits on the edge of Aayla’s mind. She reaches up to touch his temple. Despite everything, he leans into the touch.

“Let me see,” she requests. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares into her eyes. Ever so slowly, he dips his head in a small nod. Aayla closes her eyes.

When she reaches for his mind, his thoughts all but pull her inside. In an instant she’s deeper into his psyche than she’d originally meant to go. All of his emotions roll over her like a wave. She tries to pull away from them, but it’s too late, and she gets thrown into a whirlwind of sensation—

It’s overwhelming. The first thing to hit her is a tide of devotion so fierce that it feels like a firestorm against her own mind. A distinct longing is next, waxing and waning in strength as he struggles to keep it in check. Then there is a devastating clash of loyalty and restraint and desire and helplessness that makes her head spin.

In the center of it all, she sees herself.

It isn’t what she expects at all; isn’t even close to how she imagines herself in her own mind. She stands against an infinite stretch of darkness, lighting the way with her lightsaber outstretched as a brilliant blue beacon. She can sense Bly’s instinctual inclination to follow regardless of where she will lead—even if it means death, even if it means something worse. Through Bly’s eyes she is glorious and powerful and ethereal. Except then there is a sharp contrast, because she fights with all the vigor of a warrior but then she turns to look at him and everything goes soft and suddenly he is overcome by admiration and fondness and a hesitant, tentative love—

Aayla reels back. She struggles to stay above the sea of affection and desire and passion that follows after her doggedly, as if it can’t continue to exist without showing her everything now that she’s stumbled across it. She is jolted to reality. Both of her hands are curled tenderly around Bly’s skull. His eyes are squeezed shut.

She trails her gaze over his face. Aayla is flustered and panting. She had known that he feels something for her, but she’d never realized to what extent. His self-control is even more impressive now that she’s caught a glimpse of what he truly thinks.

“Bly—you—?”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately lowers them in shame.

That won’t do at all. Determination swells in her heart along with a strange sensation of desperation, because she’d known, but she’d never truly understood. He’d kept the full extent of his feelings carefully locked away, and when parts of it had escaped they had only implied a mere fraction of what was really going on inside his head.

She wants—needs—him to understand that it goes both ways.

When she enters his mind again, she lets Bly’s emotions wash around her instead of hitting her full force. She sinks deep, catching glimpses of memories and snippets of sound—

A battlefield shouldn’t be alluring, but with fire swirling around her and sparks drifting past them, she’s more glorious than anything else he could ever imagine.

He wishes that he could express the sensation that he feels whenever she looks at him like that, how his heart seems to swell three sizes and continue expanding until it’s all but bursting out of his chest.

Blue. Blue. Blue. He can’t get the color out of his head, can’t stop his eyes from trailing over her skin and noting all of her visible scars, can’t focus right even though he knows that he needs to concentrate.

She makes a bad call. Not even the best Generals are without fault. Brothers die. For all that he admires her she is still flawed, but somehow that doesn’t detract from how badly he wants her, from how much he cares. She is imperfect and scarred but he loves her all the more for it, for how she fights to become better with every breath she takes.

It’s raining. She looks happy. She looks at peace. Her eyes are bright. She’s beautiful. He wants to reach out and touch her. He aches because he can’t.

Nothing will ever come out of his feelings but he will content himself with the fleeting sensations of joy he finds when she presses her spine to his in the middle of a battle and fights with absolute certainty that he’ll be there to guard her back.

Jedi aren’t immortal and that has never been more obvious now. She is sick and miserable and tired. He convinces her to leave the bridge under his command for the day and go get some rest. When he drops by her room to update her on the Separatist’s movements she is sprawled out on her bunk, mouth hanging open and drooling. It is possible the most unflattering view of her that he’s ever seen. He hardly cares. He sits next to her anyway, a grin springing to his lips as she stirs and blinks up at him, surprised at his presence. There’s nowhere else that he’d rather be.

He hadn’t been created to love. Sometimes he wishes that he had been.

There. Hidden in that thought Aayla finds hints of darkness. She catches a hold of the trail of insecurity she had originally intended to follow and chases after it.

Chain of command aside, Jedi code aside, anything he feels for her is foolish. Bly is not unique, not special despite his rank. Even if there were no restrictions he has millions of brothers who all look the same, so why would she pay any attention to him at all?

He is Kaminoan property. There is no place for love in his purpose. He barely even understands the concept even though he knows the word. He couldn’t possibly offer her what she wants, isn’t worthy to even try. He’s just a clone, nothing more.

It hurts her to feel how deeply those thoughts are woven into his mind. She tugs at them carefully and feels him lurch. Somewhere in the real world she feels hands clutching at her shoulders, but she can’t focus on that right now.

She won’t be able to replace the thoughts, can’t destroy them as much as she would like to. Instead she presses her own thoughts over his, carefully so that he can sense every detail.

Gold is enthralling to her now. Her eyes get stuck on it automatically. She can only think of armor and tattoos and eyes and tan skin—and a steady presence beside her that she wouldn’t trade for the galaxy.

They are alone and desperate and fighting. Aayla pushes herself to move faster, to fight harder, to continue even though her limbs are shaking because she won’t let him die, not today. It would hurt more than anything to replace a battalion but it would tear her into pieces and leave her incapacitated to lose Bly.

It’s raining. She coaxes him to step into the open and tilt his head upwards. His Force presence goes still and calm as he stares up into the clouds above them. Raindrops settle in his hair like tiny glass orbs and scatter across the tattoos on his cheeks. She wants to reach out, she wants, she wants. She senses that he does too, but then he pulls away and she marvels at his control even though her chest contracts in disappointment.

He stands against a hailfire of blaster bolts, unshaken, grounding her along with the rest of his brothers, pistols blazing. She draws strength from his courage and pushes forward. She trusts him with her life. She knows with unshakable certainty that Bly will have her back.

It’s late. The hangar is empty except for them, seated on top of a LAAT with the hangar bay doors thrown wide open to show wide-open space above them. When she turns her head over to look at Bly she sees a wide-eyed awe on his face. He marvels at how different the stars look from here than on Kamino. His joy is tangible. Aayla only has eyes for him. She feels warm and happy and light in a way that she’s never felt before.

He smiles at her fondly and she feels faint suddenly, as if the single breathtaking, handsome, devoted expression is enough to stop her heart.

Love is dangerous because she is a Jedi. But she looks at him and decides that she doesn’t care.

Aayla lets him feel and see and understand every inch of her yearning, every ounce of her awe. His entire mind quakes under her touch. She feels the knot of darkness shiver and unravel a bit. She can’t get rid of it just yet. That will take time. She dares to hope that she’ll get the chance to try soon.

She comes back to herself. Bly’s hands are trembling on her shoulders. When she makes a soft noise of concern he wrenches them off of her and presses his fists against his sides.

“Aayla,” he groans, and he sounds absolutely wrecked. Like he’s seconds from falling apart. His eyes are bright and wide. They’re practically glowing in the dim lighting.

“I want you,” she tells him firmly, forcing every bit of blunt honesty into her voice as she can. She brushes her thumbs across his cheekbones and then lets her hands drop. “This is worth the risk to me, Bly. But it is up to you.”

She puts the choice in his hands and half expects him to turn away, to mull over everything he’s felt, to hesitate again.

He does not.

Instead, he makes a strangled sound, leans in, and presses his lips to hers.

It’s the last thing she’s expecting. She nearly stumbles as a result. His panic spikes into the Force until she grabs his shoulders and kisses him back.

The Force surges in a flare of heat and electricity around them. Bly exhales shakily against her. The brush of their lips is light and tentative. Aayla gathers herself, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and deepening the kiss. Their mouths slant together. One of Bly’s hands finds her lekku again and strokes it gently. Her knees go weak underneath her at the pleasant sensation, at the feel of his mouth against hers.

When they break apart, Bly is gasping like he’s dying and can hardly believe his own audacity. Aayla feels heat crawling up her neck. She can’t stop panting either, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

She’d hoped to get this far, to help him see that he’s worth it, that this is a risk that she’s willing to take, but she hadn’t expected any of that. This is unfamiliar to both of them.

“I—I didn’t—I—” Bly stammers out, and Aayla just blinks at him, because she isn’t doing much better.

Neither of them say anything for a long moment. Aayla can’t tear her gaze away from his face. He’s still so afraid, but she can see his mind weighing all of the options, struggling to make a final decision.

The pinprick of cold on her forearm makes her jerk. It’s followed by another on her lek, and then another on her forehead.

It’s raining.

Bly sucks in a sharp breath.

It rains once in a blue moon on Coruscant. It isn’t unheard of, but it isn’t common either. Aayla remembers a memory from a forest planet months ago, etched into both of their minds with striking clarity and sentiment. Slowly, Bly tilts his head back until he’s looking up into the sky.

She had shown him that. It sends a thrill down her spine to watch him remember, to feel his Force presence go from raging indecision to solidifying into careful determination.

The raindrops are growing bigger. She can hear them clattering against the balcony around her. A droplet splatters against her nose. She reaches out to brush the water away and goes still when Bly reaches for her hand, threading their fingers together as if he’s afraid that she’s going to change her mind.

“It’s worth the risk,” he whispers, like a prayer. She smiles at him. After a heartbeat, he returns it. “I want... I want you too.”

His words make Aayla feel giddy, like she’s soaring, light as a feather and free as the wind. The rain comes down around them. It would only take a few steps to enter the room and dry off but neither of them move.

She wants to kiss him again. The relief and elation she feels as she realizes that she actually can now is heady. His lips are still parted ever so slightly. When she leans in again, he meets her halfway.

It doesn’t matter that they’re going to get drenched. It doesn’t matter that there’s a chain of command or a Jedi code. It doesn’t matter that there’s a war going on and sometimes it’s safer to not get attached.

She focuses on Bly and finds peace in the rhythm of the rain. It’s worth the risk.

#fanfic #blyla #clone wars #Aayla Secura #commander bly #oh i'm so weak for them #wow jaymes congrats i'm addicted and it's your fault XD #writing

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a-bear-at-hogwarts · 4 years

Text

Mc Interview

Tagged by @phyl-the-gryffinclaw and @ravenclaw-craftsgirl !! Ty ^-^

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What’s your Name? ➔ “Like... my full name? Well I dinnae use it often but m’middle name’s Ursa Minor. Dahlia ‘Ursa minor’ Goldman. M’told my father picked it out.”

Are you single? ➔ For a second the blank expression wavers, her eyes going a little wide as she just blinks. “I... I don’t think that’s relevant? But I guess...” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Since fifth year or so, no.”

Are you happy? ➔ “Happy or no, it’s not that important. I’m alive aren’t I?”

Are you angry? ➔ She seems to withdraw a little, sitting back as though to move herself further away. Arms fold over her chest. “...yeah. I’ve got a lid on it though.”

Are your parents still married? ➔ “Well. M’dad’s been dead for years now so I’d hazard a guess at no. Not like she ever remarried but...”

- NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “Scotland. Family owned parcel of land, home birth.”

hair color ➔ “Really? Brown.”

eye color ➔ “Also brown. Green in... some lights I guess but it’s just brown.”

birthday ➔ “I dinnae get why this is such a big deal for folks but it’s the 22nd of December.”

mood ➔ She gestures to her face, which frankly doesn’t clarify anything. “Take a guess.”

gender ➔ “M’a girl.”

summer or winter ➔ “Ehhh... gotta pick winter here. Feelin drowsy all the time sucks sure, but the glittering and cold is just real nice. Summer’s just way too hot for me, always feel like crap.”

morning or afternoon ➔ “Morning. Early, EARLY morning. Before everyone else is awake yet, it’s nice feelin like the only person in the world. Just you and the sunrise...”

- EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ She presses her lips together, shifting a little; it’s a small tell but she seems uncomfortable. “I... don’t know. I think so. But I-” She cuts off, shaking her head. “Next question. Please.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “No. Attraction maybe, but appearance is deceiving. You can’t trust even the people you hold dearest, let alone a perfect stranger and I... I still don’t know if you can love without trust.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ “We both did. M’first lover wasn’t meant to last forever, we were both just kinda usin’ one another t’figure out what way was up when it came to loving. Eventually we just figured it wasn’t goin anywhere anymore and talked it out. Mad’s still close... aye, Mads. Maddy. I dinnae call her Madeline she’s no keen on it.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ She blinks again, brow furrowing. “Well I... no in terms of romantic love, no.”

are you afraid of commitments ➔ She seems uncomfortable again. Her ankles cross, leaning back again and folding her arms tighter. “Look. Trust’s hard aight? Lets just... move on.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Now at least she unwinds a little, taking a breath as a fond look flitters across her eyes. “Used to be I wouldn’t be able to tell ye the last time I hugged someone. I’m getting better with it. Sammy hugged me just the other day, Lau too... Jason still pretends to trick me into it by doin something reckless and waiting for me to scoop him up. They’ve been good for me.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ Now for the first time, a tint of colour crawls across her face as she fiddles with her fingers. “Well I uh... yeah actually. I thought they were just kinda... watching me train? But the kids kept gettin tongue tied and runnin off when I asked about it, all red faced. Took me a wee while to realise what was up with that.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ She breathes a quiet sigh, toying with her fingers again. “Aye. Aye I have. No I dinnae want to go into that, next question.”

- SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Ah Merlin... Lust hurts less, in the short run? Easier to deal with, get rid of if needs be, doesn’t control you nearly as much if you’re no an idiot...”

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade. I’m no keen on tea I’ve a caffeine allergy.”

cats or dogs ➔ “Yes”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I dinnae think I have anyone I could call a best friend? I let anyone in and they’d count most likely, I’m nae exactly the social type...”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I like a night in. Gotta plan for a night out, gotta have someone watching my back or I feel on edge all the time. Nice night in with one person, just talkin or watching something... nice, peaceful.”

day or night ➔ She wrinkles her nose, brow furrowing as she turns it over. “... I think I’d have to say night. Wouldn’t always have said so but now... aye. Night.”

- FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ She snorts briefly, shaking her head. “Sorry but- aye. Aye once or twice, not often but I’ve made foolish decisions. M’good at gettin away with it at least.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Ach... aye. Forgot it was winter and slid on stairs at some point of most winters I’ve weathered. Almost a tradition at this point.”

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Aye... aye I’d say so. Ironically usually I want like that when I need something to stop hurting.” A grim smile spreads across her face for a moment, before she shrugs. “Tad dramatic sorry, but aye, yeah.”

wanted to disappear ➔ The discomfort is back with a vengeance. Her jaw tenses and she seems to withdraw completely, an invisible wall rising that shuts her off completely. “Not your concern. Move on.”

- FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes. Harder to lie with than your smile... admittedly from experience.”

shorter or taller ➔ She looks almost sheepish for a moment. “Admittedly... I’d like to be taller. I’m 6′5 last I checked, but I’m no actually that tall for my lot. Can thank my dad for that, he was 5′2 to the day he died.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ “Like... on myself?” Receiving no answer she assumes this is the case. “Intelligence. Pretty garners attention, I’m no too keen on that.”

hook-up or relationship ➔ Her brows furrow again as she considers it. “I think... now? I’d pick my current relationship over anything else like it.”

- FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ She’s tense now. It’s noticeable in every visible line of her body, though she takes a breath and tries to pull it out. “That’s a... complicated question. Most part aye. Sometimes... sometimes things fall apart in a big way. But that’s our business, no yours.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ The sharp bark of laughter seems to have been drawn unwillingly, bitter. Like boiling steam forced out by pressure. ”Ye could say that. Couldn’t we all?”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “Merlin, no. I... I used to sneak out. That’s not worked out for me. Dinnae have to anymore, ma’s... busy.”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “No. Mam’s too protective to ever consider it.”

- FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No? They wildnae be my friend if I did, and I dinnae hate many folk anyways.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Aye. I’m not that sociable in the first place, the folks with me today understand an worked through that. Took time, and I’ll admit I got... real attached. They’ve been good for me too. Sammy, Lau, Jason ‘specially when it come to m’touch sensitivity. Talbott listens when I just need to talk, Corbyn understands a lot of the stuff I can’t explain well, Diego’s fun to goof with I just... I’m real lucky y’know?”

who is your best friend ➔ “Really couldn’t say, but I guess Talbott’s my closest confidant? Or Chiara... Rowan’s always gonna have a special place in my heart though. They read me years ago when I was still more closed off than a gringotts bank, and they took those steps that made all this... possible.”

who knows everything about you ➔ The ghost of a smile crosses her face. “Nobody. Not a soul in this world.”

-----

aaa idk who to tag but this was super fun!! if you wanna do it consider yourself tagged!!

#Dahlia goldman

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bytheangell · 5 years

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Idk if you're still taking prompts but like what about Lorenzo telling Magnus how Alec begged him to help Magnus. How his boyfriend broke down crying to the High Warlock to help save him.

things we do for love(read on AO3)

Magnus reaches for the door handle instinctively, the already heavy pit in his stomach growing when he forces himself to retract it, reminding himself he has to knock now.

Distinctly aware of the sound of moving furniture inside, he waits nearly an entire minute before the sound of footsteps finally approach the door and it swings open.

“Why, Mr. Bane, what an unexpected surprise,” Lorenzo greets. “Do come in - pardon the mess, I’m in the midst of a little redecorating.”

The regret over coming here at all is immediate. The are portraits on the wall that aren’t his - not just Lorenzo’s portraits, but portraits of Lorenzo, hanging in a space that used to hold a piece gifted to him from Ragnor two centuries ago. A quick scan of the room shows almost all of his furniture and decorative pieces gone.

It’s like he never existed here at all, and Magnus feels sick to his stomach.

“Like what I’ve done with the place? It was in dire need of some sprucing up.”

Magnus hates it. It’s gaudy, tacky, and every last inch of it screams of someone trying much too hard to look impressive.

“It suits you,” Magnus manages, the most civil he can bring himself to be.

“If you came here to beg for it back, I’m sorry to say–” Lorenzo starts, but that’s as far as he gets before Magnus cuts him off, eager to keep his dignity about this aspect of his visit at the very least. “I’m not. I already told you - it’s just a place. And it’s yours now, a deal’s a deal.” The words feel hollow. They’re ones he repeated more than once since they made the agreement, words he says over and over again to Alec, to Cat, to Lorenzo, and most often to himself. Magnus hasn’t believed them a single time but it must sound convincing because Lorenzo nods.

“Then why are you here?” Lorenzo’s eyes narrow, immediately suspicious.

“What did you take from Alexander?” Magnus doesn’t bother to beat around the bush before asking.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

And, to Lorenzo’s credit, Magnus sees what appears to be genuine confusion register across his features. Not that he believes it, but it’s convincing.

“Oh, come off it. You didn’t come back to help me out of the kindness of your heart; you’d just as soon watch me die on that hospital bed. So, what did you ask him for in return?” Magnus’ hands are balled up at his sides to keep them from shaking, clenching and unclenching, useless. If he had magic Lorenzo would already be pinned to the nearest wall until he answers… then again, if he had magic they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

“I didn’t ask for anything-”

“You aren’t a goddamn Seelie, Rey,” Magnus snaps. “So quit talking circles around it. What did Alec offer you? What did you get out of helping me.” He’s mostly upset at himself, frustrated that he didn’t think to ask this before agreeing to the action back at the Institute. Alec denied trading anything for it and Magnus dropped it with him because he didn’t want a fight with his boyfriend, not now, not over this. But he’s not going to be so quick to let it go with Lorenzo.

“I might as well be, because I’m not lying about this. He didn’t come to make a trade - he came to make demands, and when that didn’t work-” Lorenzo smirks. “He was ever-so-quick to point out that you’re no longer a threat to me. So what did I have to lose in keeping you alive?” The smug look on Lorenzo’s face is infuriating, but he’s finally giving him the answer he wants and so Magnus contains the worst of the rage he feels flare up as Lorenzo continues. “Let’s just say the two of you have more in common than I thought. The poor boy begged me to take it back, to undo the deal we made. He broke down and cried,” Lorenzo pauses, eyeing Magnus. “Right where you stand now. ”

Magnus looks down at his feet, picturing the room around him, imagining Alec standing across from Lorenzo just like this with tears in his eyes and pleading words on his tongue. His heart aches at the thought.

He despises everything about it, but it explains the way Alec avoided his gaze earlier when he asked about it, insisting nothing happened. It startled Magnus enough to see Alec beg him to take Lorenzo’s help, he can barely imagine Alec with all his stoic strength breaking down in front of Lorenzo Rey, of all people. He hates himself for putting Alec in that position. Up until this moment he could imagine Alec storming in all fire and rage, bow drawn. The stark contrast of the reality Lorenzo describes is almost too much for him to consider.

“Sobbing over a dying, helpless warlock… what a peculiar Shadowhunter you found yourself.“ Magnus thinks he sees a momentary softening in Lorenzo’s expression, a flicker of sympathy, but it’s gone just as quickly. “It was all quite touching. I’m not heartless, contrary to popular belief. Plus, your boyfriend made it very clear he wasn’t going to stop until I agreed, and I’m a very busy man these days. I understand your concern, though - I’m certain he would’ve agreed to anything to save your life.”

“So why didn’t you ask for anything?” Magnus has to ask, because it doesn’t sit right with him. He of all people can appreciate the power of Alec’s sad, hurt expressions, but not when it comes from the man who took his entire life from him.

“…because sometimes having someone as powerful as the Head of the New York Institute owe you a favor is a better trade than any physical object.” Lorenzo says the words as simply as if he’s discussing the benefits of whole milk over fat free.

And there it is. Magnus has no way of telling if Lorenzo is lying to him - maybe he actually did come back because he felt guilty, and for no other reason. Maybe he was hoping for a moment like this where he could use Alec’s words to him against Magnus. Or maybe he wants to keep Alec’s debt to him in his back pocket for as long as possible, a trump card to pull in a desperate moment.

Whatever the reasoning, Magnus knows that Alec is telling him the truth. There was no trade. And instead of trusting him, all Magnus did was bring himself here to feel even worse about his current situation and the struggle he continues to put those foolish enough to love him through. He was probably better off not knowing the specifics about Alec’s visit but there’s no taking it back now. He came here for answers and he got them.

“Are we done here, Bane?” Lorenzo prompts, and Magnus comes back to himself, remembering where he is and what he’s doing here as he shakes himself from the spiral of this thoughts.

“Yes,” he says, turning to leave this place for what he hopes is the final time. Magnus doesn’t look back. “I have a dinner to get ready for.”

#magnus bane #lorenzo rey #malec #shadowhunters #shfanficnexus #background malec #thanks for the extra pain because i re-watched the alec and lorenzo scene for this #so much sadness #skylar102 #ask rune

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