#ch: lances family

[corruptedplaylist]

ch 17 update

highlight reel includes: garrison trio grocery shopping, keith and krolia meet for the first time (lots of angst), the author projects very heavily onto this chapter, sweet moment in the end where keith realizes he's loved, that little fucker

excerpt:

“This is my order,” he says, dumbly. He looks at Lance because of course it’s Lance. “You remember my order? We’ve been to that place, like, twice.” 

“Um, duh. It’s like, weirdly specific. How could I not?” Lance makes a tsk sound and suddenly avoids his gaze, picking at his shoelaces.

[maybe-moonchild]

CH 2 𓆣 James Potter x Slytherin Reader summary: you could have worse company... you could also have less annoying company... WC: 4.5k ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sixth year ended uneventfully. 

You had a few more run-ins with Kaston, most involving insults, the occasional tripping or knock of your books out of your hand. The typical pure-blood ideology bullshit was sent Lance’s way too when he was around. Keith only hexed him once. 

Classes went well enough after final examinations were completed and you received report of your grades. Packing  up your dorm for the summer resembled shoving things into your bags the day before boarding the Hogwarts Express. That was it. Your sixth year was done and you had three whole months spending time with your family, enjoying the weather and exchanging letters with your friends until you got to see them. 

Most importantly, you had three months of no magic. 

You almost felt guilty how relieved you felt not being around wizards each day. You didn’t feel like you were behind, always playing catch up on their way of life. 

Your new found peace ended with your Hogwarts letter calling for you to return at the end of August. Your parents seemed almost disappointed when you told them you wanted to go school shopping alone, your heart broke at the way their excitement fell, plastering on a smile and chalking it up to you just wanting to be mature. 

You let them think that. It seemed a lot easier to let them believe instead of the fact that returning to Diagon Alley with your muggle loved ones seemed like they would just be in danger. So they agreed, making sure you planned your trip with Lance and Keith so you wouldn’t be on your own. 

Flourish and Blotts was relatively busy, the once lazy feeling in the air associated with summer turning to an excited hum for the upcoming school year. You were still waiting on the arrival of your friends as you stood between the shelves. You hadn’t been able to refrain yourself from grabbing the most recent edition of The Daily Prophet and flipping through its pages.

Sometimes you wondered if the war was truly ever going to end.

It seemed as if you’d missed a summer of awful news; more disappearances of muggles and muggle borns, their families found killed in their homes. Hogwarts and magic had once been exciting, filling the gaps in your life with wonder the more you saw and learned. Along the years of whispered threats and hissed insults at your back, you felt like you’d been chased away from your prior love of the Wizarding World. 

You were too enthralled in reading to notice a group of boys chasing each other into the store. 

Sirius accused Peter of stealing his recently purchased sugar quill as they stomped through the store. James was too busy reading through the list of things he and Sirius were supposed to purchase today to keep Euphemia Potter from being cross. Remus hid his smirk behind the stick of the sugar quill hanging from his mouth. 

When James glanced up from his list, the sight of you between the shelves they had just passed made him do a double take. For some reason, he just stopped in his tracks. He was staring, he knew that he was but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. You looked more or less the same aside from having gotten some sun and your hair gaining a little length. 

It wasn’t like he was watching you in a weird way… just… watching. 

“You going to go over there or just keep staring,” Sirius whispered in his ear before blowing into it. James jumped slightly as Sirius whispered in his ear, a scowl instantly forming on his face as he playfully smacked the back of his head. 

Laughing at his own antics, Sirius leaned back, raising an eyebrow in question as he settled against one of the shelves. 

“You’ve never been the quiet type before,” Remus murmured as he read the back of a book, “Even with Lily, you’d be tripping over your own feet to talk to her.”

"What are you-" James began, but the words got caught in his throat as he glanced up and spotted you once again. “This is- This is nothing like with Evans! I was just looking!”

Sirius snorted, “More like drooling.”

James’s mouth dropped uncontrollably, snapping shut in the hope that he could look unbothered. 

"I was certainly not," he muttered under his breath, his confidence sounding more like false bravado.

“Want me to wipe your chin, Prongs?”

“Want me to smack you right in the store?”

Thank Merlin you were both far enough away and too engrossed in The Daily Profit to even look up. 

Remus continued browsing the spines of books. “And yet, you are stalling,” he teased, not even bothering to glance up.

James was instantly on the defensive, his eyes narrowing as he shot Remus a dirty look. "Just because I'm not rushing over there doesn't mean anything," James muttered. His eyes returned to the piece of paper in his hands. 

“Why don’t you go talk to her then?” Sirius smiled smugly, barely able to contain how humorous he found the sight. “Instead of standing here like an idiot.”

"Oh, he’s got it bad,” Remus hummed with feigned sympathy. . 

“Is this how you usually land girls then?” Peter, a better actor than all of them, cocked his head to the side, “by staring at them from across a store?”

Sirius was nearly doubled over as he tried to stifle his laughter to keep himself quiet. Leaning forward to rest his forehead against the wood, Remus clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder, the both of them chuckling. 

“You know, you’re a real git, you know that, right?” James hissed, his voice sounding more frustrated than menacing. He turned to glare around at the other Marauders, who seemed to be taking great pleasure in witnessing his predicament.

Scoffing, his face turned even redder, shoving the list back into his pocket. "I'll have you know I am a certified charmer." He tried to say this with confidence, but even Peter's words had chipped away at his normally impenetrable ego. 

Sirius just laughed harder behind his hand.

"I was simply... trying to decide on the best way to approach her.” James was trying to maintain some semblance of his usual charm.

"You're not even approaching her," Remus pointed out dryly, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed smile.

The other three boys shared a look, one that had Peter and Remus slipping away while Sirius hung an arm around James’s shoulder. 

“Listen mate, you’re getting too into your own head. Sure, she may not necessarily be the biggest fan of you and your ego, but she doesn’t hate you- in fact! Once in a while you make her laugh at your own expense.” Both of them moved in your direction, James finding himself nodding.

“So, remember you’re a gryffindor, quite being a big baby, and talk to her.”  As Sirius finished giving his advice, he was all too ecstatic to give him a shove.

James stumbled forward, catching himself just in time to avoid falling directly into you. He could hear the sound of Sirius' laughter in the distance, but he ignored it as he found himself face-to-face with you when you had startled. 

Both of your eyes were wide for different reasons, yours in surprise and his in… well also surprise but because he really hadn’t planned on having to catch himself on a shelf at the last second. At least he had crushed you. 

You visibly relaxed at the realization that it wasn’t a threat, just an idiot. 

One that you didn’t hate horribly. 

“Hi James,” you drew out skeptically, amused nonetheless. 

His strange behavior fell away to reveal his usual charismatic appeal as he gave you a roguish smile. James adjusted his arm gripping the bookshelf where it caught his fall to lean against it with his forearm. You were sure you had seen him like this many times before. 

Usually it involved the Hogwarts library, Lilly Evans and an attempt at flirting. 

“Hi.” As if he remembered that himself, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You frowned in thought, “Is it? I didn’t think it was all that unexpected given most students do their shopping on the weekend.” 

You were unaware that James was half listening to what you were saying, and half shooting a dirty look to the other Marauders when they peaked out from behind a bookshelf. You didn’t see it, too busy trying to make sense of James, something you gave up on long ago. 

“Have a good holiday then?” James asked abruptly, grinning as he turned his attention back to you. 

“I’d say so, spent time at home, a little bit of traveling with my family, relaxing,” you shrugged, “Nothing special. What about you? Heard Black moved in with you. Your poor mother.”

James let out a snort of laughter, a warm smile spreading across his face. You didn’t hesitate to feel as lively as he looked. 

"Yeah, she was not thrilled that we accidentally crashed our brooms into her garden multiple times, but she loves us both nonetheless," he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. Even though the conversation about the situation was lighthearted, you knew that Sirius leaving the house of Black was no small event. 

"As if I wasn't bad enough, they now get two of us.” He shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets as he leaned back casually against the bookshelf. The sight of the other Marauders watching them from a distance was not lost on him, but he chose to ignore it for the moment. “So eh, yeah. I guess it was a good summer, It was great having Sirius there with me. He could always crack a joke that would make even a dementor laugh.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.”

A group of Ravenclaw girls slipped by, greeting you both before erupting into a fit of giggles once they’d passed. You were at least grateful to know that you weren’t the object of their laughter. The thing about being in James Potter’s presence was that he always outshined you. That was fine by you as long as it kept any negative attention from hanging over your head. 

Clearly they were giggling about having successfully said hello to him.

“You finish your shopping then?” 

A movement behind him caught your attention as you opened your mouth, “No, just started actually. Waiting to meet with Lance and Keith at The Leaky Cauldron in twenty minutes.”

"I think I have a couple left as well," he said a little too enthusiastically, clearing his throat with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Why don't we, you know, shop together?"

You raised an eyebrow at the offer. Sure, maybe James had been a witness to your moment of weakness last year, but it wasn’t like the two of you had even exchanged letters this summer. But he looked so earnest about the offer, you felt like saying no would make him look like a kid who just watched you kick a puppy. 

So you smiled, albeit a bit unsurely, you smiled nonetheless. 

“Uh, sure.”

He instantly brightened, bright enough to hurt your eyes like you had stared directly into the sun. Luckily, you looked away quickly as you peaked behind him. 

“Will uh, your friends be joining us too?”

James whipped around to see Sirius, Peter, and even Remus sticking their heads out from behind a shelf. The sight was comical, looking straight out of a cartoon; even more so when they realized they’d been caught and jumped out of sight. 

You found it amusing to watch how he nearly cringed. “I suppose they will be,” he sighed. 

The five of you didn’t spend too much longer there, easily picking up the books you’d need for seventh year. You were pleasantly surprised to chat with Remus about books you had read over the summer, learning that he also enjoyed muggle literature. It made you more aware of how little you actually knew about The Marauders, aside from what was surface level. That was okay but you hadn’t expected to enjoy learning more. 

Given that you still had some time before heading to The Leaky Cauldron, you didn’t mind stopping at another store or two to pass the time.

Up until Sirius mentioned stopping at Quality Quidditch Supplies. James was ecstatic at the idea, quickly involving you in the plan given the three of you were the quidditch players of the group. The two boys were too engrossed in their conversation about what broom polish they preferred to notice your sudden discomfort. 

Sirius let out a loud exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you and James. "I could still outfly the two of you any day," he teased. “Come on, we’ll meet Remus and Peter at The Leaky Cauldron when we’re done.”

You opened your mouth, the words sticking apprehensively to the tip of your tongue. You urged yourself to say something, to even just feign disinterest and opt to head to Rosa Lee Teabag, just lie and say you really loved tea. 

Instead, your mouth closed and your shoulders sagged in defeat as you followed behind Sirius and James. 

You were quite familiar with Quality Quidditch Supplies, having frequented the store before each return to Hogwarts. The smell of boom polish was overwhelming when you opened the door, feeling like a sense of home. You couldn’t help but inhale deeply as the three of you stepped inside. 

You half-listened to James excitedly discuss the new broom he’d gotten over the summer. There was no doubt it was the newest model, his parent’s religiously sending him off to Hogwarts with the best model available given he was a star player. 

Normally, you would’ve been rolling your eyes; snorting out a sarcastic comment asking if that broom would be able to lift his massive head off the ground. You were just uncharacteristically quiet on the topic and it didn’t take long for it to be noticed. 

James glanced behind him, looking for evidence that something was wrong. Your mouth was twisted into a little frown, teeth worrying at your bottom lip as your fingers trailed along the broom handles in the displays. 

He wanted you to say something, anything. He couldn’t understand why you were so uncharacteristically quiet. Wasn't this your favorite subject? Quidditch had always been something you loved.

As Sirius announced that he would be going to look at new goggles, James hung behind when you stopped in front of a shelf. He reached over your head to pluck a jar of broom polish sitting over your head and pretended to be very interested in reading the label. 

“You alright then?” James asked, glancing over at you in hopes that he sounded flippant on the topic. 

You pretended not to hear him for a moment, humming in confusion so you could assess how closely he was watching you. 

“Oh. Yeah.” You shrugged, mirroring his attempt at looking casual by picking up a bottle of broom polish and inspecting it between your fingers. Neither of you were doing a good job considering the air seemed to feel thicker in the face of the awkwardness. 

You should just say it. 

Afterall, he’d been witness to your tears at the end of last school year following your humiliation at the hands of Elias Kaston. 

“I uh… quit… quidditch.”

From how big James’s eyes got and how quickly he whipped to look in your direction, you might’ve been speaking another language. You didn’t look up at him even though you could see how he was staring at you in complete shock. 

James couldn’t have heard you correctly, because there was no way that you just said what he thought you did.

"You... you quit?" His voice was obnoxiously loud. “You quit? Why? Why on earth would you quit quidditch?”

A few shoppers nearby turned in your direction, concerned at the sound. You turned to look at him and raised a hand, hoping to placate James and his knack for dramatics. “Okay, okay,” you hissed, “Keep it down, would you? It's not that big of a deal.”

If Sirius would have been in the vicinity, half of Diagon Alley would have known by now.

“Not that big of a deal? Really?”

“Which it’s not.”

“You’ve been playing since second year.”

“Yes, James. I am quite aware of that.”

“You were captain last year- you won the final match last year!”

You shrugged, the action far too tense to be as dismissive as you tried to be. “I just wasn’t feeling it this year, I don’t know.”

No one would believe that excuse, especially when you turned away, picking up a different bottle of broom polish. It gave you an excuse to avoid his scrutinizing eyes that made you practically itch as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

James’s lips pressed into a thin line, inhaling slowly through his nose and saying nothing. You didn’t need to. 

He stepped closer, speaking passionately in a much lower volume. “You’re a better player than Kaston.”

“It’s not because of Kaston,” you scoffed. James continued, speaking over your protests and speaking louder as your lies continued.

“You’re a better leader.”

“Doesn’t matter, it has nothing to do with that.”

“You had the potential to lead your team to another cup this year.”

“Well, I already won, wanted to give you a fair chance,” you shot back, feigning disinterest. His hand shot forward to pull your distraction away from you, holding it out of reach when you attempted to snatch it back. You had to look at him then, see the disappointment in his furrowed brows and parted mouth. 

“Are you really going to give that all up for an asshole like him?”

“I’m not doing it because of him!” It came out sharper than you had intended and you were immediately embarrassed; less so about the outburst itself and more because you felt stupid even bothering to deny it. James had been the one to see the effect your year as captain had on you last year when he found you in the kitchen, how defeated you were when you should have been celebrating. 

Being the captain of the Slytherin team last year had been a disaster and you couldn’t imagine doing it again. But the thought of remaining on the team while Kaston took your spot of power-

Who were you kidding? You wouldn’t have made it through the first round of tryouts.

You bit back something sharp that wanted to fall from your lips and impale him, just so you would maybe feel better. That would’ve been wrong; James was clearly still trying to help. So you forced yourself to look away and chewed on your bottom lip to give yourself a moment to take a breath.

 “I already told you last year,” you sighed, leaning back against the shelf and staring at your feet. “No one listened to me. There were times no one besides Keith showed up at practice. Do you know how many bludgers to the head I got last year? I stopped counting at 12.”

You opened your mouth before scrunching up your nose in the prospect of silence. 

There was the other, bigger, issue. 

You were going to spend the rest of seventh year keeping your head down. If it kept your family safe, then you would happily give up quidditch for your last year at school. Quitting hurt, you wouldn’t lie to yourself that you hadn’t shed many tears over the summer as your broom sat collecting dust in the corner of your bedroom. 

Getting over the loss of your beloved sport? You would get over it eventually. 

Getting over the loss of your family?

You would learn to be a spectator in the fan section. 

James’s frown only deepened when he seemed to understand the copious amount of reasons behind your decisions behind it. He knew from first hand experience you were a phenomenal player- you had beaten him several times last year. You were clever, quick witted, and had a sharp eye for spotting opportunities to go for goal; it wasn’t fair. 

Both of you stayed quiet for a moment, the sound of a bell chiming cutting through the weight of the situation. 

He expelled all of the air from his cheeks, nodding slowly like he was coming to understand everything- at least to understand the best he could. 

“Alright,” James finally said, his voice soft but determined. "How can I help?”

Out of everything you’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. 

“What?” you blurted out. Your confused scowl didn’t deter the intent look he wore. With a sigh, you ran a hand down your face. “James, you can’t do anything. It’s done. I turned it down. The only thing you can do is beat him this season.”

“No, I can do more than beat him on the field.” He stepped closer, ducking his head so he could keep your eye. 

James didn’t want to just beat Kaston this season. He was going to obliterate him. 

“Help me coach Gryffindor.”

You almost thought you’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, what now?” 

“Help me this year with coaching the Gryffindor team,” he reiterated without missing a beat. 

Oh, so you had heard him right. 

“What? No,” you hissed back in an attempt to keep your surprise from projecting itself, “I can’t just… help you coach…” It came out less like a statement and more like a question. 

“Why not?” James didn’t miss a beat. When you tried to turn away, his body moved to cut you off. “You know the Slytherin team better than anyone, and you're a damn good player. That's why you were captain in the first place, right?”

 You pointed a finger at his chest and he wrapped his hand around your wrist. There was nothing you could do to escape the urgency in his eyes, like he was pleading for you to consider what he was offering. 

“You want me to… what,” you asked tentatively, “Help you coach your team on everything I know about the Slytherins plays in hopes to beat them?”

To spill all of the secrets you’d learned the past six years? To work on plays with James, the captain of the Gryffindor team so that they would win? 

Once you said exactly what he meant, he nearly beamed with excitement. 

“Yes! You can help me figure out the best drills for the team, give me tips and advice, make sure the people I choose for the team are well suited for the positions I put them in. You can directly help take down Kaston on the field.”

You shook your head but he didn’t even falter. Not even the way you looked like him like he’d grown a third head made a dent in his glow. Burning, burning burning; he was glowing white hot like the sun and you were going to get burned. 

"What do you think? I think it's a positively brilliant idea- one of my best yet," he grinned. 

"I think that James Potter has officially lost his mind."

He just laughed, eyes never leaving your face as they scanned your expression. It was like when you watched him fall down the stairs, how he’d laughed and you’d wondered why you didn’t just throw yourself down them to see what was so funny. 

“It's not just about beating them. It's about humiliating them.” As he spoke, James' tone grew firmer, his eyes gleaming with determination as his hands moved to shake your shoulders. "Imagine it, we’ll wipe that smirk right off Kaston's face."

Your doubt was clear but there was a flicker of something else- a spark of temptation.

“James, no,” you said sternly. 

“Think about it.” “No, I will not-”

“Come on, just for a second; really think about it.”

“I am not entertaining this-” “No one even has to know you were involved! Think about how he would feel not being able to carry his team to victory after a muggleborn did it the year before.”

That made the rest of your protests die on your lips. James nearly grimaced, attempting to reel himself back in and not scare you off because you were considering it. Albeit reluctantly, you were at least thinking about the possibility. 

“Think about it…” His eyebrow raised cautiously. “Think about how he’s going to feel when he realizes he can’t do something you did.”

How pureblooded Kaston would feel when he couldn’t do something a mudblood did.

Fuck. 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you conceded. James somehow beamed even brighter, the feeling contagious as you laughed and he shook you enthusiastically again. 

You tried to make your face more serious. “I’m saying I’ll consider it. I’m not saying yes but… I’m not saying no.”

“Brilliant!” His grip on your shoulders loosened, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Yes! You won't regret this, I promise. We're gonna destroy them this year, I swear it."

“I said *maybe*. I need to think about it. So it’s just… it’s a maybe.”

Both of you stayed like that, biting down on smiles and standing closer than you realized. This close, you could make out the knick of a scar on his cheekbone, so faded that it had to be from his childhood. Words to describe his beauty easily escaped you. Those words were harder to retrieve with the way he was watching you. 

“I miss something,” Sirius said out of nowhere, appearing from behind a shelf with his bag of purchases and looking between you. Your trance was broken, both of you stepping apart. 

James recovered immediately with a crooked smile. 

"Yeah, mate, there's something going on," James responded, slinging an arm over your shoulders and guiding you towards the door. "Guess who just agreed to help... coach Gryffindor?"

“I did not agree.” 

After only a few steps out into the street, busy with witches and wizards as they shopped, you gave up on trying to dislodge yourself from under his arm. You chuckled to yourself, James doing the same when you nudged his ribs with your elbow. 

Sirius turned with a smirk as he led the group towards The Leaky Cauldron. "Just how friendly have the two of you been?” He asked, his tone mischievous.

“Shut it, Pads,” James replied. He got back at him by throwing his other arm over his friend's shoulder.

Sirius let out a yelp when he nearly spilled the quidditch supplies he carried. 

“I’ve just convinced our dear friend here to help us obliterate the snake house. Imagine, all three of us working together. We'll crush them so hard they won’t know what hit them."

You rolled your eyes, “Can I just remind everyone that I am still a part of said snake house. 

"Details, details," James grinned, dismissing that fact with a waive of his hand. 

quid pro quo masterlist main masterlist

[adarkandmagicalforest]

An Irritation Ch 6

pairing: Otto Hightower/Original Female Character (Aella Targaryen, twin to Daemon)

warnings: cockwarming but make it hurt/comfort, smut, mood swings, unsexy lashing out

next: Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

Aemma was a few months younger than Aella was, but it was difficult to tell - after the multiple pregnancies, both failed and not, had taken it's toll on the Queen, making her much slower and more strained than her sister by-law as she'd attempted to waddle away from the shocking seen. The princess though easily hurried after the Queen, the Hand only three steps behind her after he'd realized she hadn't kicked him away without reason.

"Aemma!" Aella called after the other woman once she realized with relief that she wasn't headed back to the dinner to immediately oust her to Viserys and the rest of the family.

But the Queen didn't acknowledge the call - she didn't say anything nor did she stop walking until they reached an open terrace where she immediately went to lean against the railing.

"Your Grace - " Otto attempted once they paused, his rasp touched with something tense.

Which became considerably worse when Aemma whirled on them, her eyes flashing as she threw her hand out at them in exasperation, her only word being, "No." 

"Sister, let me - " Aella 

"No." Aemma repeated firmly.

The Queen was a softer type of woman. She was not as Alysanne had been, who had given orders to men as confidently as Jaehaerys has, serving as a ruling Queen like that of the Conquerors. But it seemed as if Aemma had just been shocked into such a role, as her words now contained some hidden steel. It took several minutes for her to actually begin addressing them with more than just 'no.' And she began with Aella.

"You despise him." 

The princess wasn't sure what she could say to that. So she remained quiet.

But that seemed to suit Aemma fine, because she turned to the Hand then.

"And you. I've heard you rant about her and Daemon a hundred different times in a hundred different ways... Viserys says you once wanted them exiled to Dorne." 

Aella couldn't help it. She scoffed, glancing at Otto with her lips curled with bemusement. "Dorne?" She asked wryly.

The Queen immediately held a hand out, a wordless instruction to stop. Then, her eyes widened, and her small hand turned to a fist which she shook. "Daemon is going to kill him."

Aella swallowed. "He will not know." She replied.

"He will." Aemma said, making her guts churn uncomfortably. "If I tell Viserys he will tell Daemon, he will. And then - oh gods, he's going to kill you, Otto, and then he will force us to eat your body. I don't want to eat you - Aella I cannot eat him, what if he is gamy? I could not keep it down, and it would make me a cannibal! Oh - oh, but what if I do, what if the babe makes me begin to crave it, forcing me into a man-eating cannibal?!" The Queen exclaimed, looking more and more mortified the longer she spoke about this so called future she had just imagined.

"Perhaps we should discuss this at a - " Otto's words were stiff and disjointed, and he was standing as if a lance had been stuck down the back of his doublet. "At a later date." He completed the sentence dryly, his eyes looking between them with wariness.

"No, no, I cannot - " Aemma muttered in distress.

And then the sound of footsteps came, clicking against the stone of the terrace.

But to their luck, it was only little Rhaenyra, peering up at them from behind the loose curtains.

"What're you all doing out here?" She asked, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Nothing hatchling." Aella assured immediately, taking care to remain flippant. "We were just planning your nameday celebration." 

Rhaenyra's little blonde brows bobbed up her forehead before narrowing them, unimpressed at the lie. "I want a lemon cake the size of Cannibal then. Also, Father's wondering where you've gone." 

The Queen nodded her agreement and told her that they'd return promptly. It was only then did her niece left them did she look cautiously to the Aemma, whose alarm seemed to have subsided, at least for now. 

"Aemma?" She said slowly, now that the air had grown tenser with the other woman's silence.

"I'll say nothing." Her sister by-law finally said, reaching her hands down to press against her belly, round with child. "In fact - I never saw this. Any of it. I never saw either of you." She decided, turning to face the two of them with a decision in her expression. She rose one dainty hand, pointing it at them. "I'm going to the privy now - and when I return, none of us will ever speak of this again." 

"Yes, Your Grace." Otto replied, coarse and grave. He seemed to still be affected, he would not even look at her. He hadn't looked at her once since they had been seen.

Aella rubbed her palms together, attempting to stop the crawling chill from coming up over her arms. When her sister by-law looked at her, she found that couldn't quite speak yet, so she nodded instead, earnestly meeting Aemma's eye, hoping beyond reason that this would well and truly 'never be spoken of again'.

The two of them seemed to both be glued in place while Aemma left the terrace. They were there in silence, dead silence, as the flickering candles grew lower and the evening sky darker. Dinner would be done with soon.

And then, after several mountainous heartbeats rattled from within her ribcage, her dry lips parting as she forced herself to speak - speak anything. "Shall we continue where we left, Otto?" Was what came out.

The Hand though, did not appear in the mood for these words. In fact, this seemed to spark something in him, but not one for pleasure. He was incandescent now, and his very breath seemed to exude distaste.

She heard his steps but could not look at him. She only saw him vaguely, the shape of him and the color of his trousers.

"Have you lost your mind?" That voice demanded coldly.

Aella did not blanch. She did not. The princess took a half step forward, without thinking, to prove as such - but Otto took a large step away, as if revolted.

"Do you know what we have done?" He doubled down, low and deep. The evening was a spring one, but winter still whispered in the air. "What has just happened? Do you not understand the gravity that has taken its hold, what we both might face if Her Grace decides to speak of this?" With every word, he appeared to shake, though his words were quiet in his seething. But her throat had closed up, like a hand had reached up from her stomach and clenched down on it tight. So she stood there. His steps came back, but this time she wanted to back away.

"Our affair - this sin. This mistake could cost more than just your reputation, but my life could very well be forfeit! But a princess with the blood of the dragon could never hope to know such a thing, could she?" 

And then he turned away. He left her there. 

Her whole body seemed to be made of wood now. Wooden arms and wooden legs. A wooden head and wooden feet. If only she was on fire. She would be warmed then.

Aella was unsure of how long she was left alone - it must have only been minutes, because footsteps, short ones, from leather boots, came from her right. She could not see.

She thought maybe it would've been Viserys - he had been looking for them.

But it was not her brother's voice she heard.

"Was my Father horribly cruel to you, Princess?" Gwayne Hightower inquired, a hesitant smile in his voice.

Aella turned to look at him, reminding herself that she was not made of wood, no matter how her head felt on a dowel on her neck. 

"No more than usual, ser." She replied stiffly.

The knight bobbed his head shortly in a nod, straightening his back as he approached her boldly, stopping only a foot away from her. He wanted to touch her. He'd been eager to touch her from their first encounter, when he'd dropped to his knees and placed his tongue between her legs. "I'm sorry, anyway. He can be - well I'm sure you know. You've lived with him almost longer than I have."

"True." The princess said. She reached a cold hand up to her ivory hair. It felt too long. It clung to the back of her neck in a way that felt so uncomfortable. 

"So - What did he say?" Gwayne asked nosily, his voice nothing alike his Lord Fathers. He was boyish and arrogant and could be very obnoxious. She'd never be able to stand being married to him.

"How much he didn't want me to marry you." Aella half-lied softly. She needed - Daemon, Mother, Father - 

He touched her arm without leave, his hand encompassing her bicep lightly with his bare, warm hand. "Do not listen to him, Princess. I will marry who I decide. And if the King commands it, who is he to refuse your hand?" The lad then smirked - smirked? Could it be a smirk if his teeth were showing?

Gwayne's fingers gently squeezed her arm, one he meant to be comforting perhaps. It wasn't - but there was heat in his touch, and that was enough for her to slowly ask:

"Would you escort me back to my chambers, ser?"

/~/

The moment Otto stepped within the Tower, he knew he could not stay.

That most horrid flurry of emotions, violent and whirling and alarming had ruled him from the moment they had been caught until he'd seen the inside of his chamberdoor. It was once his boots touched the stone did the fury seemed to drop like a stone, as if expelled.

Lashing out at Aella had been - unworthy of him. 

He had been shaken after being caught. It had been lingering on the back of his mind, should they be seen it would have been a maid or serving girl. Easily paid or dismissed, he'd thought. But when it had been the Queen - 

Looking upon the encounter, Otto felt a deep rooted shame. Upon return to the memory he could now recognize Aella's increasing decline. She'd been merely uncomfortable at dinner, but once they had been seen? Every moment that passed drove her deeper and deeper within herself, her gaze stony and unseeing, just as she'd been when he'd found her resting on the Iron Throne. And he'd lashed out, snapped at her. She'd even stepped to him and he'd moved away... He'd called her a sin.

She enjoyed his fury most days. Aella would take pleasure in rising it up, toying and infuriating him with the simplest of smirks to her lips.

But this had not been that fury this had been wrong. He'd actions were poor and unseemly and they shamed him.

Otto turned back.

He went back to the terrace he'd left her in, not knowing if she would still be there. She was not. If she had been, he was certain he would not have been able to recover from the sight.

But it was empty, and the dining hall as well. 

So her chambers, he'd thought, swiftly turning away and ignoring the chirping of a maid whom he'd nearly bowed over with his quick turn. It had taken the good part of the day and evening to pull her from her reverie that day on the Throne. Her fires were burning low, she'd said. Then blood, she'd wanted. Otto had no idea of what to give her, how to soothe this strange melancholy that had cast itself over his lover. 

So he'd set the fires larger and he'd sat with her. For hours until the fires brought her back.

Aella's chambers were further away from the rest of the royal families - hers and Daemon's both. But with the strides he was taking, it did not take him long to reach her doors, not when the staff and maids, upon seeing the way he was storming through, were ducking out of his way. 

He didn't knock. It was unlocked.

The Hand took large steps inside and sent his eyes gazing across every surface, looking for that spot of pale hair and ivory skin. He found her - but Aella was not there alone. 

His son was seated there with her, touching her. Gwayne's lips were against her neck while his hands were pushed up her loosened silk shift, groping her pert breasts while she sat there still, her eyes closed. But Otto knew without knowing what was behind them. Because she was unnaturally placed. She was pale. She was doing nothing more than silently allowing his son to do as he wished. Her fire was not low, it was gone. He had extinguished her, he had wounded her and this was the result.

Otto's hand grasped the back of his son's neck harder than he'd intended. And he'd thrown him down on the floor harder too, than he'd meant to. 

Though the sound had been satisfying. 

"What - " He said dangerously to his boy, staring down at him as if he could vanish him from the very room with look alone. "Do you think you are doing?" 

"Father." Gwayne gasped, clearly shocked. His clothes were in a disarray and his pupils blown. "I was - "

"I will not hear of it." Otto stated, stepping over him to prevent him from getting up onto his feet. His son tried to back away, extremely unsettled, clearly looking for some words he could find that would prevent him from being punished. "You will go. Now. Leave this room or I will summon a white cloak myself to serve your discipline of taking such advantage of the princess' virtue." 

The color drained from Gwayne's face - his mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. He might've thought to claim her hand, or her virtue, it mattered not to his Lord Father. He would leave this room with nothing but his damaged senses if he had any of his own. So he slunked back - though he had, with his final motion, sent one last pleading look at the princess just as the door of her chambers closed behind him. 

Otto locked it. Tightly. 

And he returned to her.

"Why did you do that?" Aella's voice was dull. 

So he hurried. He removed his doublet swiftly and did what he could to remove his boots before he knelt before her. It was times such as these that he was reminded of how small she was. Often Aella took up such a large space in his mind, a larger than life figure whose every breath and action took hold of him and kept his attention hostage. But she was a small girl. She stood shorter than most, teetering between Queen Aemma and the Princess Rhaenyra in height, making her appear all the more delicate when compared to her brothers. And especially to himself.

In their encounters he was able to take her in his arms and pin her wherever pleased them, against a bed yes, but also against stone walls, pillars and just from the his own force keeping her up. But even then she had never seemed small. 

Not like now.

Otto was face to face with her even on his knee, which was helpful in this moment as he reached a gentle hand to cup her pale cheek, leaning down and pressing his forehead against hers, not allowing her to refuse.

"You're not answering me." Aella complained, squirming. He held her regardless.

"Because it is not worth answering." He replied. He knew what she needed in this moment was physicality. He'd thought it queer in the beginning, but he appreciated it all the more now. It made more sense to him as their encounters increased. When her mood swung low, heavy like a pendulum, she needed touch, sexual, intimate or sensual. The heat, the grounding sensation of another focused her attention, it brought her back down from wherever it had taken her.

"Damn all, Otto I needed - " The princess twisted in his grip, trying to push herself free, but he didn't allow it. 

"I know what you need." Otto promised her gently. His hand raked up from her cheek then up through her pale blonde hair, letting his fingers lightly scratch along her scalp until she shivered. "But first you must listen - no, Aella listen to me!" Her restarted squirming stopped once as she withered beneath his snap. 

His guilt resurfaced in earnest then, and it forced his hand.

Near all Targaryens were born with the purple eyes of Old Valyria. And Aellas, he found, were especially beautiful. A shade between violet and lilac, made more startling under the gleam of candlelight or when flashing with her own fire. But now, he found that as they looked upon him now, soft and vulnerable in a way he rarely ever saw in her -

They caused a strong wash of tenderness to bloom within him. And he was not able, or willing, to shake himself free of it. 

"I must offer you my deepest apologies." Otto said to her. Her lashes fluttered slightly and her eyes finally met his properly. A lovely purple to plain brown. He leaned closer, brushing the bridge of his long nose brushed along her smaller one. The tip of her nose was cool. There was no fire burning in her chambers. "It was wrong of me to say such things to you. The dire circumstances were ours both, and to suggest you were not affected by the same consequences was unfeeling and unfair to you. I apologize, sincerely, Aella." 

His princess swallowed. She did not prefer her intimacies to be spoken allowed, but that was no matter to him. He needed to speak aloud his regrets, and needed her to listen and understand it.

So it wasn't until Aella nodded shortly did he do as she needed.

Otto took her by her waist, lifting her into his arms as he took her place on her featherbed. He wasn't hard, and he was certain she wasn't wet, but he would do what he could. He pulled up her silks, reaching his hand between her thighs. She wasn't even damp, but he patiently began petting her anyway, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circles around her pussy.

In his arms, she rocked and lowered her forehead to rest against his shoulder. He kissed her when she did, first her cheek and then along her jaw while his hand slowly moved. Romantic touches, things she normally would never abide. But she let them now, as she held to him weakly. 

Soon, only once he felt his fingers moving more easily against her as she dampened from the attention, did his cock properly begin to stir, growing to half-mast, but enough for his purposes. He dragged his hand lower, grinding his palm against her until her breathing had hitched in his ear and he knew his princess was prepared enough.

"Up now, Aella." Otto commanded softly of her, his free hand lowering to his lap as he freed himself from his trousers, pumping it idly. His lover did, rising up further onto her knees, placing her weight onto his shoulders as she did, not yet wishing to remove herself from his neck. He did not mind it.

He positioned himself against her, the sensation of pleasure of the sensitive tip rubbing along her wet core enough to make him fully stand at attention for Aella who immediately began to sink herself upon him. She did so not not as prepared as she should have been, but she would not allow such a thing to hold her back. Every inch of himself was claimed, from every part of his cock to his flesh and bone and what remained to his thoughts as he was once again forced to fight against the rapture that was being inside of her - 'riding a dragon,' she'd once said to him with a wry smile, nude and glorious to behold. 

But now was the time for her physical comforts, not his own pleasure. But the half smothered, "Seven," that escaped him could not be helped. 

Only once Otto was kept tight and warmly inside of her, did Aella relax even slightly. Once inside of her she slackened, settling into his lap as her hands slowly moved up his head to then wrap around his shoulders in a closer embrace. 

His hands rose up as she clung to him, running them beneath he shift and along the delicate curve of her back, letting his own heat warm her as he stroked her, petted her. He'd seen her do much the same to the wild dragon she rode, the connection of dragon and rider ran deep, perhaps even deeper than he suspected. Targaryens were otherworldly - closer to Gods than man. This he'd resented, often, even during the time of Jaehaerys, back when the old King rode Vermithor. 

All of the greatest Targaryens rode dragons. First Aegon and the Black Dread, Visenya and Vhagar, Rhaenys and Meraxes. Every child knew this, the stories of the dragon riders who began it all. But Cannibal, vicious creature it was to all who could ever hope to approach, had been nested in Dragonstone even before the settling of the Conquerors. And he belonged to Aella. A wild dragon, older than the conquest.

And he liked to be petted. As she liked to be petted. 

Otto pressed his fingers deeper against her back, allowing his claws to roam up and down her back as she absorbed his warmth and affection.

He enjoyed her fighting. He enjoyed her arguments, her snips and digs and the way her voice became so silky when it dropped into High Valyrian. 

But her in his arms, vulnerable - this was a cherished thing.

Otto shifted. His cock, warm inside of her, was going to grow soft soon without more friction. So he rocked very slowly, just enough to keep himself hard while he warmed her. He did not count how long he held her. There was just her quiet, her flame not even flickering - and then, minutes, ten, twenty, however many later, did she speak.

"Do you believe me a sin, Otto?" She asked, only a hair above a whisper. Her head had risen up from his shoulder, parting only far away enough so she might meet his eye.

"You could never be a sin." He promised, his words deep and full of truth.

Aella's arms slackened slightly then from around his shoulders, and soon her hips were beginning to move on their own, slow and purposeful. 

Otto slipped his hand between them, pressing his fingers there against her pleasure, just firmly enough that her rosy lips parted.

Her rocking began growing steadier, sturdier as she held onto his body to arch herself in the way she liked best. But her grip was still uneasy, her fires not yet aflame, and her needs were still difficult to grasp at.

"Otto - I need," Aella muttered, her breathing deeper and more frustrated as she was now becoming wet, truly wet on his cock.

His arms wrapped around her, his hand reaching up and cradling the back of her head as he turned them, letting her lay back upon her bedding as he recaptured her lips. Their kisses were often full of clashing teeth and battles for dominance, but he would not accept that here. Here he tasted her, her kiss sweet and tart in equal measure as she accepted him, her legs drawing up and pulling against his hips. But the Hand paused in his capture and looked down upon his lover, his hand drawing down over her body, his eyes trailing over the motion until he was able to devour the sight of where her pussy kept him wetted and warm inside - and then her face, stunning especially when drawn in frustration and pleasure...

He could do nothing else but make love to her. 

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 9

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy starts to feel like a hostage but she comes to a decision.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Natasha and Jake were unwilling to let me spend a minute of my day alone. When they were at work, I was hanging out with Penny, and if they were being kept late at work or had something else to do, another member of the Daggers was glued to my side. Right now, I was sitting on Rooster and Jake’s couch, playing Call of Duty with Rooster.

“Get him, get him, get him!” Rooster shouted as I aimed up my shot,

“I got him!” The headshot announcement flashed across the top of the screen. “Hell yeah!” We fist bumped as the round ended,

“You’re pretty good at this, Daisy.” Rooster stood, stretching. We had spent the last hour playing round after round without moving and my back was starting to ache. “Want another beer?”

“Yes, please,” I kicked my feet up on the coffee table, checking my phone. I had a missed call from Harvey and I swiped away the notification. I couldn’t talk to him before I made my decision on what I was going to do about Rudolph Lance or else I’d spill the beans and kick myself for it. “Actually, I think I’m going to go home.”

“No can do, Hangman and Phoenix will skin me alive if I let you leave before they get off.” I groaned, their love for me was undeniable, but the suffocating feeling was growing stronger with every hour that passed since the FBI knocked on my front door.

“I’m tired,” I complained, Rooster misunderstood me, pointing down the hallway.

“Second door on the left, take a nap.” The refusal was on the tip of my tongue but then it dawned on me that this would be the perfect moment to get some alone time. I feigned a yawn,

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks for babysitting me, Roo,” He laughed, cracking open another beer.

“Listen, I realize we’re practically kidnapping you every day against your will and you’re trying to be a good sport about it but maybe once this whole situation is over, we can hangout and not have it be a hostage situation.”

Now I was laughing, a reaction that had been rare over the last few days. Rooster was a pretty good guy, I could see why he was friends with two of the most important people in my life. He could handle a serious situation but he didn’t take himself seriously, and he was a man who could see a need and meet it without being asked.

“If it means anything, you’re my favorite kidnapper so far, Roo.” It was true, he hadn’t given me any sad, pleading expressions, and had been prepared with a family sized bag of M&Ms and a twenty-four pack of beer. “Don’t tell Bob, I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Rooster laughed, “Now go, be alone for a few minutes.”

It was my first time in Jake’s room, I realized opening the door. He had been spending almost every night at my place instead and if he wasn’t in my bed, Natasha was. You get campus security called on you for a wellness check once in college and suddenly no one trusts you to be alone when things get hard. Ridiculous.

Jake’s room was neat and tidy, with green, plaid sheets on the bed, a cowboy hat on the dresser, and nothing on the walls. Men, I rolled my eyes at the lack of decorations. Maybe he’d let me buy a few things to hang up on the walls to make it a little more homey. I pushed out of my pajama pants and climbed into the right side of the bed out of habit, even though the left side had been my preferred side of the bed before meeting Jake, he had insisted on taking it because it was closer to the door.

The bed smelled like Jake’s cologne and it had me relaxing into the pillows, stretching out like a cat in the sun. I needed to figure out what I was going to do and the process of doing that had to start at the beginning. I pulled up the Wikipedia page on Rudolph Lance and read until I couldn’t see through the tears.

Rudolph Lance has admitted to ten murders and was convicted on January 13th 2002. His modus operandi (MO) was to stalk young couples, break into their homes, and torture them with a knife before ultimately shooting them in the head. While on trial, Lance pleaded guilty to the murders of ten people but did not provide details on his motive.

The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit released a statement during their search for the killer stating that they believed he was motivated by a sense of excitement surrounded by the torture itself, which is why he did not spend more time on the murder itself [citation needed].

I remembered every minute of that night. My therapist had said that some victims of trauma tend to either suppress memories or remember them vividly. I was sadly part of the second group. When Rudolph Lance broke into our house, Harvey had been upstairs, sound asleep with a Beethoven CD playing on loop, which had drowned out all of the noises our parents made that night.

I had been playing hide and seek with my dad and had chosen the closet of their bedroom, its slatted doors had given me a clear view of every cut and stab Lance had inflicted on my parents. He had focused on my mother, taking his time with each of the cuts to draw out the pain. I knew there was nothing I could do, I didn’t have a cell phone and Lance never left the room to give me a chance to escape and go for help. It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t save them.

The white carpet had been soaked red and when I ran to them, after hearing the front door shut, I found myself stained red. Our phone line had been cut, so I gathered Harvey in my arms, covered his eyes, and ran to our neighbors, banging on their door until Mr. Greene opened it with a shotgun in his hands.

The FBI questioning had been rough but the trial was even worse. The child advocate had done my hair in pigtails, which was a tad annoying as a twelve year old, and even though I could recall the entire event and clearly identify Rudolph Lance as my parent’s killer, the judge had decided that there was not enough physical evidence to move to a trial.

It had been the second worst day of my life. I was left with no answers and no resolution. Just a baby brother who didn’t understand that our parents weren’t coming back, a great uncle who didn’t know how to raise kids, and stories in my head begging to be put on paper.

If I agreed to speak with Lance, then I would get answers. The answers I had been chasing for over a decade and so would other families. He wanted to torture me, that’s what the FBI had said. I wasn’t naive enough to think that everything would go right and I would leave the prison with a smile on my face while a rainbow painted the sky. There was going to be a price to pay and whether I was willing to or not, I was the only one who could cash the check.

X

I was antsy to get back to Daisy. Maverick had been doing his best to accommodate the situation but he couldn’t just give me and Phoenix a month off of work to handle it. The squad had been a blessing, helping Phoenix and I watch over her. Phoenix hadn’t told us why she was so worried about Daisy being alone but I wasn’t complaining about being ordered not to leave Daisy’s side by her best friend.

“Hey, buddy.” Rooster greeted me, standing in the kitchen with a beer. I glanced around, not spotting Daisy anywhere but before I could panic, Rooster pointed down the hall. “She’s taking a nap but Hangman,” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Daisy’s dying for some time alone.” My knee jerk reaction was that that was not going to happen. But it made sense. Daisy was a homebody who enjoyed being left alone and we had been watching over her like hawks.

“I’ll talk to her,” He passed me his beer and I took a sip before passing it back. “How was she today?”

“She was fine, she’s a pro at Call of Duty, and she tried to make a run for it.” I froze, “But before you have a heart attack, remember that she’s currently asleep in your bed.” Right. That was a good point.

“Can you figure out dinner while I talk to her?”

“I’ve got your back, man.”

The sight of Daisy curled up in my bed was enough to make my chest feel lighter than it had in days. Her pajama pants were abandoned in the middle of the floor, which I folded and put on the desk. It felt good to have her in my space but it didn’t feel right. My room was far too spartan for her, she didn’t belong there, but I wanted her to.

My belt buckle hitting the floor woke up and she stretched out in bed, making a growly noise that made me smile.

“Hey, babe,” Daisy smiled, patting the space in bed beside her. “How was work?” The moment was so domestic it made my heart burst with happiness.

“It was good, there’s talk we’re going to be getting another big mission in a few months.” She nodded, blinking sleepily at me. “I heard you had fun with Rooster, baby.” I slid into bed beside her, bringing her in for a kiss. Daisy responded, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Roo’s a good hostage taker,” She snuggled her face into my neck. Hostage. That word left a bitter taste in my mouth, is that how she saw herself?

“Are we suffocating you, baby?” Daisy sighed, kissing my collar bone.

“I know it’s with love,” Love.

“Lots of love,” I promised, my hand settling on her bare waist. “But if you need space and you promise me you’re not going to do whatever Phoenix is worried about, all you have to do is ask.”

“A few hours of alone time won’t kill me,” Daisy began playing with the hairs at the nape of my neck, pulling her head back so that she could look at me. “She’s worried I’m going to isolate myself and lock you all out.” I tightened my grip on her and she rolled her eyes at me, “I’m not going anywhere, Jake.”

“Rooster said you tried to run for it earlier,” Daisy’s eyes narrowed.

“Maybe he’s not my favorite babysitter anymore.” I laughed, kissing her forehead. “But don’t worry. I’m not running from this or you,”

“Good.”

“I’m going to do it,” She whispered with a frown. “I’m going to talk to him.” Pride and terror filled me in equal measure. She was going to do a very brave thing, one that would wreak havoc on her emotions, but I would be there by her side. That’s what I had to focus on. She was going to be fine because me, Phoenix, and the rest of the squad were going to be by her side the whole time.

“I’ll go with you.” Daisy kissed me, nudging her knee between my legs. I slid my hand to her ass, relishing the feeling as she moaned into my mouth. The door burst open, sending us apart.

“Please have clothes on,” Rooster shouted, standing in the doorway with his hand over his eyes.

“Roo!”

“What the hell, man?”

“Dinner’s ready,” Daisy groaned, pulling the comforter over her head. Rooster, still covering his eyes, “Thought you’d want to know. How’s the alone time, Daisy?”

“Go away, Roo.” He grinned,

“Sounds like it’s going good.”

“Want me to kick his ass, baby?” I whispered through the blanket, kissing her head. Daisy laughed,

“Can we eat dinner in bed?”

“Whatever you want,”

“Can I join?”

“No!” We shouted together, Rooster laughing his way out of the room.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @cinderellasmissingshoes @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink

[localfanbaselurker]

I’m watching Voltron: Legendary Defender for the first time and here is what I have had to say per each season (this is 1-2) (3-4) (5-6) (7) (8)

Pre-Watch Knowledge

->big transformers type robot

->pretty alien girl that looks like princess yue from A:tLA

->they are the epitome of color-coded characters

->space??

->there was crazy people in the fanbase that sent cupcakes laced with something to the creators

->queer baiting (this one in particular got me)

->klance.

->^honestly I only knew that because people were comparing it to zukka and I wanted to check it out

->my friend really likes it

Post S1 thoughts-

->that cliffhanger was crazy imagine they weren’t renewed for a s2

-> i went on tumblr after and youre telling me they made that show IN TWO YEARS?? EIGHT SEASONS. IN TWO MF YEARS?? that is insane. props to the writers bro they fr must of known what they were doing.

->all of these characters already scream “doomed by the narrative”

->my fav characters are pidge and lance

->I definitely did NOT expect yue Allura to be British

->bonding moment.

->^like yeah okay i get it now

-> the healing pods are a very interesting concept. Like, what if you get some ailment that it doesn’t recognize?? Do you just die??

-> genuinely felt so bad for Not Yue. Allura. Allura when they had to remove her father’s memory thing. Like yeah I know the castle was corrupted or wtv but bro imagine. Your entire race is dead. your mom, who you previously knew alive is now most likely dead. You already had to go through losing your father once, and now you have to lose him again. Any sliver of hope you had of staying connected with him is gone, because the entirety of his essence is now gone. She’s stronger than me, I would have never given him up so easily. I admire that about her.

->I also made the horrible mistake of going on ao3 after

yk for gits and shiggles… and when I go to a new fandom I always search by hits to see the classics first yk

…

WHY are you guys so 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂… I genuinely shed a tear what. I was flabbergasted to say the least.

On that note the top 23 were about redguy/blueguy getting smoochy-smoochy with each other so I guess that should be a hint as to what you guys like

->the description of the show says the robot (voltron) is operated by “five teenagers” but that shiro guy has to be AT LEAST 25. He is pushing 30 you can’t convince me otherwise.

->for now it’s kinda giving atla except the war is intergalactic and lasted 10,000 years instead of 100.

->all the other characters seem to have a pretty clear background, but we haven’t yet heard about Keith’s backstory, so I want to know (I know now, this was my initial thought)

->shiros backstory/ptsd is very interesting, lots of angst possibilities i see

-> I had an inkling that pidge was…genderly different. (At first I thought she was transmasc)

Post S2

-> WHERE is my man. Where did he go.

-> Pookie please come back. Now. It’s not a suggestion.

->KEITH BACKSTORY I PREDICTED THEY WERE GONNA SHOW US YAY I LOVE BEING RIGHT

-> he’s galra! Soooo much whump opportunity

-> the whole “Allura doesn’t hate you she’s just a little upset to find out ur part of the race that killed off her entire peoples and family and okay maybe she does hate you” scene with keith and hunk is really giving that scene in atla: the southern raiders where zuko thinks katara hates him and sokka reassures him (badly) while he was just trying to get laid w suki.

->^ that’s gay

-> the aliens they met are going to be very important, aren’t they?

->^ oohhh so this is where the “langst” stuff comes from? he’s just kinda insecure i think, but it can’t possibly just be this episode that has that tag so high, unless flanderization is just really popular with you guys, but already suspect that unfortunately

->^Allura high key ate with this

->the “Blade of Marmora” people are definitely gonna be important later

-> the mall episode was soooo fun! fav s2 episode for sure!

->^gay. It’s literally giving “two bros chillin in a hot tub. five feet apart cus they’re not gay”

-> I know of 2 ships now. klance and allurance. I only see the former though, the latter seems more like a running gag/unrequited crush thing (for now i suppose)

-> Coran is an icon. I love that whimsical man. he’s beekeeping age per say.

-> I need pidge to find her brother and father man I feel so bad for her PLEASE DOBT TELL ME THEYRE DEAD ILL LITERALLY DIE.

-> pidge is sooooo cool i love her so much she’s literally the pookiest of the pookies

-> Who tf is gonna be the black paladin now. Keith sure as hell isn’t ready for that. maybe Allura?? Cus yk she kinda already leads them a little bit

These are thoughts I had compiled over a while now. I am on S5E3 as of now (07/03/24) but I wanted to document my thoughts either way. I will post on the tag “laura’s first vld”

[autisticlancemcclain]

Okay so I haven’t read lance angst in forever and decided to read some and I have just binge read all of the Beauty and the Beast klance au you just made and I absolutely ADORE it!!! It is so amazing and I love it so much!

It did make me curious what the whole ‘rescue’ scene is going to be, is the three people in the family who didn’t want Lance to marry the prince try to save him? Or is it going to go the totally different direction?

Cause I can imagine a scene where the village sees that Lance and Keith are actually going to work out and the family gets worried that Lance is going to try to get revenge on them/the whole village so they try to take Lance away from Keith. Or try to make it so Lance wouldn’t become King when they actually get married!

But anyways yeah I love this story, and how you’ve changed it up a bit so it’s different that the original Beauty and the Beast! Thanks for listening to my rant!

anon i am kissing you for asking. you are the love of my life and the wedding is this spring.

HERE WE GO:

important to remember: lance’s family, although not conventionally, care for him deeply. he struggles to conform to what the town expects and they are scared for him, so they struggle to make space for him in a way that makes him feel loved and included. he can’t keep up with his fathers or brothers on the farm, he gets along with animals better than people (and as such refuses to hunt them, despite his stellar aim), he has no friends because he is an Odd Person, he gets obsessive over small things, he cries all the time, he’s headstrong, he argues with everyone, he’s a klutz, just…so many things. he has skills and they know that but his skills aren’t helpful in the context of the farm. he is, however, helpful in that he can send back money from marrying the prince, and if he’s married to the prince, his family knows he’s safe and cared for in a way they maybe can’t provide for him.

with this in mind it’s obvious that there’s a lot of tension and complication between lance and his family, but lance KNOWS that they love him. take the first chapter with lance and marco, for example. it looks bad and it is bad, and lance is hurt, and marco refuses to help lance do what he desperately wants — go home. but marco isn’t doing it without guilt, and he’s also doing his best to make lance’s transition easier: “You’ve always wanted to live in a castle, right?”. despite the fact that his home life isn’t perfect, lance is in that castle missing his family. he wants his sisters and nieces and nephews and brothers. he wants his mom. they may not understand him but they love him and he knows that, and in that castle with, and i can’t say this enough, NO OTHER PEOPLE, he is going to miss shit like getting hugged, for fucks sake. lance is a touchy person and as close as he and hunk are doing to become hunk is a Literal Block Of Wood, and keith is going to be too closed off to provide any tactile affection for a While.

my plan is that after a few chapters of slowburn and building friendships, lance is going to get all morose and miserable. and keith, who is well beyond whipped at that point, is going to want to help. so one day lance is going to muster the courage to ask to have his family for a visit (“They’ll stay outside! I swear! They’ll have no chance of even seeing you, Keith, please, I missed bothering my brothers so much —”) and keith won’t even come close to denying him.

and because chekhov’s gun is the only thing i’ve got locked and loaded, obviously one of lances family members (probably one of the kids) is going to go wandering inside. and lance is going to try to stop it but it will be Too Late. they’re going to see keith and freak out, and since keith’s freak outs are very scary, it’s going to make the whole situation worse, and they’re going to drag lance back home kicking and screaming and when they come back with with the town and pitchforks.

the gaston of the story is going to be james, i think, and i’m gonna change the story a bit bc i’m gonna spend longer with lance back in town and he’s sullen and furious and desperate to convince everyone that keith is kind and soft and loving, really, and they have him all wrong. which of course does not help his case. but you all know how the rest of the story goes

but yeah!!!! i’m really very excited i love this story too, and changing it was inevitable but it’s been super fun to plan how i’m gonna adapt it!! i’m rly looking forward to writing all the sappy falling in love parts teehee

[gautierprotectionsquad]

The non english version based on the notes of the other poll (translations are not mine. Apologies for any inaccuracies)

Update: I realize after i made it i put the same Don Quixote quote twice but i cant edit polls so 4 and 9 are the same. oops

update 2: I accidentally put the first line of ch 1 instead of the first line of the prologue for Posthumous Memoirs. the correct quote is "Ao verme que primeiro roeu as frias carnes do meu cadáver dedico como saudosa lembrança estas memórias póstumas".

Translations and sources:

– Iliade by Homer. (“Sing, goddess, of the anger of Achilles, son of Peleus”)

Anna Karenina by Lev Tolstoy ("All happy families resemble one another; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.")

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. ("Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.")

Cervantes from Somewhere in La Mancha by Don Quixote, (“In a place whose name I do not care to remember")

The Aeneid. ("I sing of arms and men")

The Metamorphosis by Kafka ("As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.")

the Inferno by Dante ("When halfway through the journey of our life")

The Stranger by Albert Camus. (Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can’t be sure”.)

Miguel de Cervantes by Don Quixote (“Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing.”)

the Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas by Machado de Assis ("to the worm who first gnawed on the cold flesh of my corpse, I dedicate with fond remembrance these Posthumous Memoirs")

[journeytothewestresearch]

The Crow's Nest Chan Master of JTTW

I am reading back through Journey to the West (Xiyouji, 西遊記) and was reminded of a strange, seemingly throwaway character who appears at the end of chapter 19, the "Crow's Nest Chan Master" (Wuchao chanshi, 烏巢禪師). He is described as an accomplished cultivator who lives in a juniper tree nest on Pagoda Mountain (Futu shan, 浮屠山), just beyond the border of Tibet (Wusicang, 烏斯藏). Zhu Bajie claims the master once asked him to jointly practice austerities, but the pig-spirit passed on the opportunity. Flash back to the present, and the pilgrims pass into his domain. After a brief chat, the Crow's Nest Chan master orally passes on the Heart Sutra (Xin jing, 心經) to Tripitaka.

There are two things that interest me about the Chan Master. The first is his magical abilities. Sun Wukong is offended by the monk but fails to hit him with his staff:

Enraged, Pilgrim lifted his iron rod and thrust it upward violently, but garlands of blooming lotus flowers were seen together with a thousand-layered shield of auspicious clouds. Though Pilgrim might have the strength to overturn rivers and seas, he could not catch hold of even one strand of the crow's nest (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 391).

This reminds me of an event from Acts of the Buddha (Sk: Buddhacarita; Ch: Fo suoxing za, 佛所行讚, 2nd-century), an ancient biography of the Buddha:

The host of Mara hastening, as arranged, each one exerting his utmost force, taking each other’s place in turns, threatening every moment to destroy [the Buddha, but] … Their flying spears, lances, and javelins, stuck fast in space, refusing to descend; the angry thunderdrops and mighty hail, with these, were changed into five-colour’d lotus flowers…” (Beal, 1883, pp. 152 and 153).

This points to the Crow's Nest Chan Master having great holy powers.

The second thing that interests me is that he is based on a historical monk, Niaoke Daolin (鳥窠道林, lit: "Bird's Nest" Daolin; 741–824). Here is his full biography from the Records of the Transmission of the Lamp (Jingde chuandenglu, 景德傳燈錄, 1004 to 1007):

Chan master Niaoke Daolin ... was from Fuyang in Hangzhou and his family name was Pan. His mother, whose maiden name was Zhu, once dreamt of the rays of the sun entering her mouth, after which she conceived. When the baby was born a strange fragrance pervaded the room, so the name ‘Fragrant Light’ was given to the boy. He left the home life at the age of nine and received the full precepts at the Guoyuan Temple in Jing (Jingling, Hubei) when he was twenty-one years old. Later he went to the Ximing Monastery in Chang’an to study the Huayan Jing (Avatasaka Sūtra) and the Śāstra on the Arising of Faith (Śraddhotpada Śāstra, Aśvagosa) under the Dharma Teacher Fuli, who also introduced him to the Song of the Real and Unreal, and had him practise meditation. Once Niaoke asked Fuli, ‘Could you say how one meditates and how to exercise the heart?’ Teacher Fuli was silent for a long time, so then the master bowed three times and withdrew. It happened that at this time Tang Emperor Taizong had called the First Teacher in the Empire [Daoqin] of Jing Mountain to the Imperial Palace and Daolin went to pay him a formal visit, obtaining the True Dharma from him. Returning south the master first came to the Yongfu Temple on Mount Gu (Zhejiang), where there was a stūpa dedicated to the Pratyekabuddhas. At this time both monks and laymen were gathering there for a Dharma-talk. The master also entered the hall, carrying his walking stick, which emitted a clicking sound. There was a Dharma-teacher present from a temple called Lingying, whose name was Taoguang, and who asked the master, ‘Why make such a sound in this Dharma-meeting?’ ‘Without making a sound who would know that it was a Dharmameeting?’ replied the master. Later, on Qinwang Mountain, the master saw an old pine tree with lush foliage, its branches shaped like a lid, so he settled himself there, in the tree, which is why the people of that time called him Chan Master Niaoke (Bird’s Nest). Then magpies made their nest by the master’s side and became quite tame through the intimacy with a human – so he was also referred to as the Magpie Nest Monk. One day the master’s attendant Huitong suddenly wished to take his leave. ‘Where are you off to then?’ asked the master. ‘Huitong left the home life for the sake of the Dharma, but the venerable monk has not let fall one word of instruction, so now it’s a question of going here and there to study the Buddha-dharma,’ replied Huitong. ‘If it could be said that there is Buddha-dharma,’ said the master, ‘I also have a little here,’ whereupon he plucked a hair from the robe he was wearing and blew it away. Suddenly Huitong understood the deep meaning. During the Yuan reign period (806-820 CE) Bai Juyi was appointed governor of this commandery and so went to the mountain to pay the master a courtesy call. He asked the master, ‘Is not the Chan Master’s residing here very dangerous?’ ‘Is not your Excellency’s position even more so?’ countered the master. ‘Your humble student’s place is to keep the peace along the waterways and in the mountains. What danger is there in that?’ asked Bai Juyi. ‘When wood and fire meet there is ignition – the nature of thinking is endless,’ replied the master, ‘so how can there not be danger?’ ‘What is the essence of the Buddha-dharma?’ asked Bai. ‘To refrain from all evil and do all that is good,’ answered the master. ‘A three-year-old child already knows these words,’ said Bai. ‘Although a three-year-old can say them, an old man of eighty can’t put them into practice!’ countered the master. Bai then made obeisance. In the fourth year, during the tenth day of the second month of the reign period Changqing (824 CE), the master said to his attendant, ‘Now my time is up.’ And having spoken he sat on his cushion and passed away. He was eighty-four years old and had been a monk for sixty-three years. (Textual note: Some say the master’s name was Yuanxiu, but this is probably his posthumous name.) (Whitfiled, n.d., pp. 56-58).

Sources:

Beal, S. (Trans.). (1883). The Fo-sho-hing-tsan-king: A Life of Buddha by Asvaghosha Bodhisattva. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Retrieved from https://archive.org/details/foshohingtsankin00asva/mode/2up.

Whitfiled, R. S. (Trans.). (n.d.). Records of the Transmission of the Lamp: Volume 2 - The Early Masters. Hokun Trust. Retrieved from https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/Lamp2.pdf

Wu, C., & Yu, A. C. (2012). The Journey to the West (Vols. 1-4) (Rev. ed.). Chicago, Illinois: University of Chicago Press.

[bunnytalksf1]

Oliver Bearman has a seat in Formula One for 2025

Officially! I had in my notebook that the Silverstone weekend would be good to announce it at, and I was right (even though this is very low hanging fruit at this point, lol).

So let's talk driver market!

I'm now of the opinion that several drivers will lose their seat at the end of 2024. So, who's safe?

Lando Norris / Oscar Piastri - McLaren (Multi / exp. 2026)

Charles Leclerc / Lewis Hamilton - Ferrari (Multi / Heavily rumoured to be exp. 2026, but officially multi)

Fernando Alonso / Lance Stroll - Aston Martin (Multi / Nepotism)

Pierre Gasly - Alpine (Multi)

Yuki Tsunoda - RB (exp. 2025)

Max Verstappen / Sergio Perez - Red Bull (exp. 2028 / 2026)

Nico Hulkenberg - Sauber (Multi)

George Russell - Mercedes (exp. 2026)

Oliver Bearman - Haas (Multi, probably exp. 2026)

Alex Albon - Williams (Multi, probably exp. 2026 or 27)

Most teams will not want rookies or new drivers in 2026 for the new regs, where feedback is key, so they're trying to finalise contracts now for then, hence why so many drivers are locked down in multi-year contracts / until post 26.

This new signing means that every team has at least one of their spots filled. All three of the top teams has both of its seats filled, leaving very little mobility for the midfield drivers. Most of these contracts are multi year, and undisclosed.

The reason I have Perez in bold is because I think that there is a huge possibility of them breaking contract in 2025 if his performance continues to be lacklustre, or if RBR loses the constructors. Tsunoda could go to the main team, or Ricciardo if CH is insane.

Who's most at risk?

Ricciardo

Marko keeps making comments about how RB is a junior team, and the team certainly doesn't want to lose Lawson, who has shown considerable promise and provided insight on the sim. His contract expires in September unless Red Bull offer him a full-time seat in F1, and Audi have shown interest. I wouldn't put it past Williams to put a punt on him, either. It's within Red Bull's best interest to promote Lawson, and Tsunoda is alrady re-signed. There's very little interest in Ricciardo outside the RBR family, and he's still under a long term contract at RBR, preventing him from shopping elsewhere.

Sargeant

His performances just haven't been good enough, and Alex Albon as a benchmark is good, but he's no Max Verstappen. He's had a rough time of it with the chassis drama etc etc but the bottom line is that he's just not been good enough for F1. He has a hand to play at Haas, but with the team in talks with both Zhou and Ocon, I think it's unlikely he finds his feet in the sport. Williams definitely do not want to re-sign him unless he performs miracles the rest of the season.

Bottas

He's aging, and has been hindered by the car for the last little while. He's just not been on the radar. He could land at Audi, or Mercedes, but he's not the first choice for either of those teams - Mercedes want Antonelli, and Audi are reportedly talking to Ocon and Lawson, who both have age on their side.

Magnussen

Not been performing when compared to Hulkenberg, and with the stunts he's been pulling i.e penalties, I wouldn't expect him to land elsewhere. He's another driver that's pretty old now, and not the most marketable either.

So, what about the rookies?

Next year, we are going to have three (or more, depending on what red bull does) rookies on the grid.

Bearman - confirmed - Haas

A well deserved seat, especially after his performance in the Ferrari at Jeddah.

Antonelli - Mercedes or Williams - unconfirmed, but extremely likely

Not sure if the right choice would be to bring him up, considering his performance in F2 hasn't been great and there's a lot of talk about how he's being rushed that isn't unwarranted. Toto doesn't want to lose him, and Williams would get a discount on engine parts.

Lawson - RB, Williams or Audi - unconfirmed, but likely

Another seat that has been long since deserved. He should have been in the RB seat this season. Audi have shown an interest. Will be a late mover, since his contract doesn't release him to other teams until September, but I expect him to be big in the market if he is released, and if Mercedes sign Antonelli.

Aron - ?? - Unlikely

Paul Aron was a Mercedes junior until midway through last year. He's currently affiliated with no F1 team, and is leading the F2 championship right now as a rookie. There's been noise about him getting a seat, but even if he wins F2, its unlikely he'll go anywhere for 2025. He's still one to watch, though, and will likely be snapped up if he wins as a rookie.

Hadjar - RB - unlikely

The ideal scenario for Hadjar would be both Perez and Ricciardo losing their seats, and for Tsunoda to go to the main team, freeing a space for him to drive alongside Lawson. Or, if RB loses Lawson, he's the next redbull driver in line. He's driving car 11 in FP1 this weekend, and sits second in the F2 standings with two race wins.

Other drivers at risk, but less so, include:

Zhou

I think he'll likely end up in Haas, and he is a driver with a huge hand to play in age and sponsorship, where he is comparable to Perez. His performances aren't horrific either. That being said, depending on where Sainz, Lawson and Bottas go, he might end up out of a seat.

Sainz

Never thought I'd be writing his name, but here we are. We've gone from Red Bull and Mercedes taking an interest in the early season to this. His management team should be fird. IN all seriousness, this is a weird one. He could definitely end up seatless if he doesnt kerb his ego, as from rumours, the reason he lost out on RBR and Merc seats was that he wanted longer contracts, i.e. in line with George Russell, and a 2+1 for RBR (both teams offered a 1 year deal). Then there's been a long line of teams interested and NONE of them seem to satisfy him. Most likely destination now is probably Alpine, but even Alpine seem to be losing interest. He needs to sign a contract now.

Ocon

I think he'll land on his feet, and end up in Audi, Haas, Williams, or even Mercedes if Toto doesn't sign Antonelli, as a stopgap driver. He's a solid driver and has a lot to offer. Could end up seatless if a very specific set of things happens, but he has options.

Anyways. Enjoy the race weekend! :3

[chunkypossum]

Come Hel or High Lord: Ch 13

Chapter 13: Choices

Words: 6700

Reminder: This is a crossover between all SJM series. So spoilers for TOG, ACOTAR, and CC

Summary:

Aelin does what Aelin does. It doesn’t end well.

Snippet below the cut. Read on Ao3

The coolness of the night air reached his face and somehow, Rhys felt it, even though he didn’t have full control over his own body. Orcus was still puppeting his limbs but growing weaker and weaker, as if he was getting sleepy. Rhys almost laughed at the absurdity that monsters could even get tired. The stars winked at him through the small window overhead and Rhys was able to turn and face them, a small comfort in the growing darkness.  “They are out there somewhere. You’re family? Loved Ones? Your home? Come now Rhysand, we are no longer strangers, you can tell me everything” Orcus crooned, using his vocal chords to speak the words into existence. Rhys cringed inwardly.  “Fuck off.”  “Not interested. However, I am interested in learning more about you. When we return you to your home I will need to have learned a great deal about you.”  “I will never let you leave this place, even if I have to … die.”  Rhys almost choked on the word knowing that his death meant Feyre’s but if it would keep all of the rest of their world safe from the foul thing inside him, he would do it. He knew Feyre would be glad to do it as well. Nyx would be well taken care of. Even without his parents, Nyx would thrive.  “Tell me about your world, young one.” “No.” “Tell me what sweet things I will find there. Show. Me. Your. Memories.” The last word was accentuated by Rhysand’s grunts of pain as Orcus lanced through his mind, trying to find the information he sought. Rhys screamed louder and louder trying to hide away all of the pieces of himself he didn’t want seen. His powers, most of them, and his most precious people he safely locked away but the rest of it was fair game.  Orcus gorged on Rhysand’s memories like it was fine wine, getting drunk off Rhys' anguish. “So much power. But where is it? You clever child. Hiding it from me. But… you can’t hide everything can you? You’re still mine and I have such great plans for you, for us. You can’t hide it all forever.” Rhys screamed and cried out as the invasion of his mind continued. He was being ripped to pieces and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Soon, images of Cassin, Azriel, Mor and Amren flashed across his mind.  “No!” He slammed his memories closed but it was too late. As an image of Feyre holding his sweet Nyx faded from view, Orcus began to chuckle.  “Hmm.” He mused, “Will they be able to tell that daddy isn’t home do you think? Oh the fun we shall have together.”  

This is a cross over fic so a giant cast of characters and a big stupid storyline but Azris is my main bitch in this fic so ... Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77

[kayssweetdreams]

A "Perfect" Vacation Ch 28

"Leo?...What happened?" The blonde haired boy nearly chocked on his breath when he heard his mom, now snapped out of it, ask what was going on. "MOM!! You're OK!" He shouts, launching himself onto her and giving the biggest hug he could "Oh Leo. Of course I'm OK." Alice said, embracing her son.

The kids quickly embraced their families as well, while Aria and Lora went to help the inhabitants...of course, The Brand Family immediately noticed that their daughter was amiss. "Where's Yuri?" Ren asked, looking around for his purple haired sister. "If she's not here, then Prim has something to do with it." Emma said, worry in her voice. "Well, on the bright side, at least the cure worked. On the not so bright side, we don't have the cure anymore." Mei said, looking at the now empty vial in Balan's hands.

"Well, That's not an excuse to give up for, we can just make some more." Balan stated. "How? We don't even know HOW to remake that cure. Or even what was in it." Lora points out. "Well, Given our situation, and information is what we need. Nothing a little 'Persuasion' won't fix indeed." Lance says, a somewhat crazed smile appearing on his face. "Lance. Don't do anything too drastic, we need to make sure Prim doesn't know that we're free." Aria said. "Oh don't worry. Attention is not my speed. And besides...only ONE that knows the cure is what we need." The negative maestro says.

"O...K...Just be careful Lance." Rebecca says, obviously worried about what the maestro was going to do. That's when Lance slipped into the shadows, and in seconds, reappeared with a very nervous scientist...one that paled at both the maestros, and Jett. "H-How did you...B-But I thought that-!!!" He stuttered "Doesn't matter how I got out. What matters now is you making another vial of the cure to Prim's Pill." Cal said, staring down the jittery scientist. "B-B-But I-I-" he stated, only to be stared down by a angry Skarlett.

"Give. Us. The. Cure." She threatened, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "W-What I M-Meant to say was. T-The cure is E-Easy to make!" He stuttered. "It is?" Haoyu asked, an eyebrow raised "Y-Yes! The recipe is very simple, The petals from the rainbow flower, some water from the sea, Demon blood, and pineapple juice.!" The scientist explained, sweat pouring out of him. "Um...Demon blood?" Attilio asked, raising an eyebrow "Y-Yes...From them..." The scientist said, pointing towards Jett and Skarlett.

The blue haired boy raised an eyebrow "So THATS why Prim needed my blood..." He muttered, remembering the 'tests' that were done on him. "Y-Yes. His blood is the second key ingredient in the antidote." The panicked scientist said, hoping that he could finally leave. "How do we know you're telling the truth?" Lucy asked. "U-UH!! I WAS THERE WHEN I SAW THE CURE BEING MADE!!" The scientist screamed. The group looked at each other. They 'Had' the cure...But they didn't know if he was telling the truth

"Well then...You can help us make this cure..."

Mei, The Hualings Alice and Harold Craig belong to @sundove88

Rebecca, the Reynolds belong to @thehypercutstudios /@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane, the Postrados, Phil, John, Lila, Clem and Bianca belong to @lovelyteng

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

Lora belongs to @alex-frostwalker

Jett, Skarlett, Ivy, Piper and Lizz belongs to @jettthespeeddemon

[khaleesiofalicante]

tbh dani i dont give a fuck about the clave or alec or david or (th eone i never understood or care for) kincaid (like bro even gabriel killed his demon father all he had to do is out his dad or take a stance against him but he wants the damn glory and feels tied to his destone and no i am not willing to hear anything in support of this familywho somehow is still more powerful than lance), nor do i care about that bitch victoria( bc no matter her mental problems I HATE HER), or that asshole fucking hope he gets mauled kyle,

I only care about max and lance and david (and yes that is right i really dont give a shit about arthur either)

I think its obvious i am high on this chapter's feelings, idk i feel strongly for accountbaility where its due and revenge in general but esp for lance. Though i had hoped lance would burn idris or get revege by killing people , bc arthur got hurt i wasnt that mad like i was mad bc of teh reasoning behind it and bc i hate kyle but it was sort fo his fault did he think it wld be all lalala land if he goes to idris that littel shit anyways, BUT BUT GWEN ?!? DANI , wow wow i am speechless but in a mad kind of way. i dont accept this. nope no no no

how much is that family esp lance and david going to hurt, i just want a proper revenge for them at teh end, like people begging for thier/them for forgiveness sort of, i know they are never going to be apert of the shadowworld but i had hoped it alawys had shadow demons over them, i hate them that much

i also dont like that kincaid was so easily able to defeat lance and people celebrated it, I loved lance in this ch like wooo go off boy, and wow max being all powerfull and manipulating blood was sooooo cool, go be badass baby, also arthur should be grounded for a decade or so or even for life, i hated how kincaid downplayed lance and arthur relationship like idgaf whether arthur CHOSE you or not, lance is superior sorry kid.

I also HATED RAFE , but that is normal for me now, i havent liked him in lbaf for a long long while. i hope they lb family just cuts all of thier siblings and cousins off, like no contact and they fucking realize or feel how much that family suffered , like of wow you didnt have sun for 20 years big deal bro, there are places on earth which doeasnt have that for 6 mnths every year since eternity. they DESERVED THAT isaid what i said, i am just getting bored of rafe and his reasoning like oh NOW you decide to fight harder what does he want congratulations?!

the idris people and kincaid deserved the bad thinsg happening to them for me, like i feel it isnt enough, also madeline srsly you knew abt lance being david kid and possibly inheriting the demon blood, did you think it was a good idea to go to idris when pregnant with your husband like i think you vicariously consented to the liability and possibility of damage when you also knew david can do shadow demon shit.

so yeah i am beyond reason in this fic when it comes to hating idris and all living being there and only support lance and david and max ( yes i am deliberately leaving arthur his idiotic naviety that kincaid cares about him when it comes to him vs his own family or so called destiny he is irritating me , like sir he doesnt give a shit about what he said to you idk why he believed kincaid's promises.)

i just want someone to lecture them after locking them in a room preferably alec i have no hope for rafael in this fic he is beyond any hope for me and so is kincaid so

😘thank you for teh rollercoaster of the chapter bye. But i hope you give vengeance to lance and his family against idris. 👿

This was A RIDE lmao.

I love when y'all take it personally and get emotional (shows me I am doing my job 😎)

I can't promise you anything. But I can tell you that I believe in happy endings, but I don't think everyone gets one. A story where EVERYONE gets their happy ending doesn't make sense to me. Some people do and others do. As to who will get it and who won't is entirely up to (in this scenario, me lmao).

So we shall wait and see :)

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I know you're a voltron lover ny friend so which fox would be which paladin and why?

okay so i got this ask like as soon as i woke up and i was like HUH bc i forgot about last night :'))

after some consideration, of the monsters:

Kevin would be Shiro, Neil would be Keith, Nicky would be Lance, Andrew would be Hunk, and Aaron would be Pidge. (none of these assignments has anything to do with shipping purposes. like i'm not saying neil and nicky would be klance? i just wanna make that clear?)

Anyhow you can think otherwise, i don't mind! But to me, these just make sense.... I will explain myself below.

long, sort of insane ramble under the cut. you have been warned.

Kevin is the slightly older mentor to Neil (the shiro to neil's keith) who is very traumatized by his time with a Bunch of Evil Shits and has gray hair and had his hand (arm) ruined by the enemy! He learns and grows and tries to make his team the best it can be. He never wants to stop until the ravens (galra) are defeated! He's scared bc he's far from home but he's brave as hell anyway! Braver than he should have to be, he's just in his 20s. PLEASE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK (and also he's separated from his bf. ik kevjean isn't canon but let me make this connection anyway bc they're canon to me)

Neil is the hotheaded asshole who actually sorta wants to be friends with people but has the social skills of a raccoon who was shoved into a trash can and shaken around for, oh, ten years or so. He looks up to Kevin, wants to be like him, but knows he could NEVER fill his shoes! And he doesn't want to! He wants to help Kevin, not be Kevin. (getting the quote wrong for sure but the 'one of us should make it and i want it to be you' kinda mindset is so keith? keith literally almost died to KEEP EVERYONE SAFE!!!! LIKE NEIL'S STUPID MARTYR ASS)

Nicky is the sweet, funny one who cares deeply about everyone and who gets the least consideration from the rest no matter how he tries? (the man willingly moved away from his family (ERIK) to take care of people who don't give a shit about him (supposedly), like lance who was taken from his family to fight to save the world? like... come on.) he's unapologetic about who he is and tries to get along with everyone, for the most part. but he has no problem biting back one someone starts smth. (ie. his beef with Seth and Allison) He is misunderstood, bc while he's outgoing and friendly he also has another side that's just straight-up Traumatized. Like... he's not all jokes. He's just hiding behind them.

Andrew is is strong and is largely a Protector. People misunderstand him because of things outside of his control, by this I mean Andrew is 'evil and crazy,' but it's because of the drugs that he's on bc he was fiercely protective of his cousin. He cares about his people and wants to protect them. (Like Hunk is rightly scared and Andrew acts apathetic, but they do care. That's the important part.) I'm not saying Andrew has a secret heart of gold and he's a Sweet Lil Cinnamon Roll or all the shit people used to say about Hunk (bc let's be honest, making the fat brown character into a uwu baby is rage inducing) but he cares. OH ALSO THEY BOTH HAVE A FEAR OF HEIGHTS!!!! (or hunk did at the beginning anyhow!) Also this is unrelated but I think Andrew would enjoy having a bayard. It could turn into lots of different knives? sign him up : )

Aaron is green. (i was gonna leave it at that to be funny but that would be mean to aaron) So... Aaron is Andrew's everyone's annoying sibling who's actually really smart but also is a dumbass at the same time. He's got ulterior motives to be there. (Aaron plays exy to get his education, Pidge is part of voltron to find her dad and brother.) And Aaron is going into the medical field which is science related, thusly... assigned green paladin by Moi.

Anyway, it just fits. I could probably go into even more detail but I'd rather be dead than discuss this show at length bc I'm not a really voltron fan. I love the characters and the first three seasons. that's where it stops for me. the rest of the show makes me wanna die. lol i couldn't even tell you what happens after s3. i've blocked it all of that shit from my memory. :')

ahhh sorry for this novel. i just apparently had a lot of thoughts. i was gonna go and do the upperclassmen as well but... this is too long and they're not my Pookies so.

(ps: sorry this is so badly formatted. i didn't feel like making it look nice :'))

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

We Go Together - Ch. 3

Series Main List

A Jedi!Charles x TIE Fighter Pilot!Max Star Wars AU

Ch. 3 Warnings: Explicit NSFW 18+ Smut (first-time, slight dub-con, frottage); explicit language; hurt/comfort; head wound; discussion of war and death; forced drug addiction (by the Imperial Navy) and associated withdrawal; family separation; Charles tries his hand at teaching and probably needs help

He doesn’t know why he’s still here. The storm broke in the day’s early hours, and even though thick grey clouds still blanket the sky, there’s nothing holding him here. Except… he doesn’t bring himself to move from where he sits on the green, grassy expanse that overlooks the churning sea below. 

The grave of his fighter. And by all rights, it should be his grave, too. 

But instead, he sits just outside the dwelling of the man who saved him, and the strong onshore wind fills his lungs with brackish air. He’s never given a second thought to small, suffocating spaces, but there's just… something about being surrounded by so much open wilderness. Something that whispers along his skin, something that surrounds him and scratches at his soul.

But maybe that’s also Charles’ fault. The man has been nothing but overgenerous, whether in his portions of food or procurement of clothing that fits his broader frame. Nor in sharing his wild theories about TIE pilots’ conditioned mental and physical states… nor in his inquisitive looks with those bright green eyes.

He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen their equal. Not... not that he’s ever thought to look before. 

“I like it.” Charles interrupted gently, flashing a warm, appreciative smile. “It suits you, Max.” 

His frown deepens. He still doesn’t know what to make of that name, either. 

Max. 

At least it’s simple and direct. And, loathe as he is to admit it, Charles’s rationale behind the origin of it does make some sense. But does he dare actually consider using it? Perhaps it would be helpful to ward against any anti-Imperial sentiments as he works his way back to the nearest outpost. Or perhaps it could prove equally useful to root out traitors and rebels and bring them justice. 

A strange, uncomfortable feeling rots in his stomach at the thought. His jaw tenses with frustrated uncertainty as he stares harder out at the sea, watching waves crash into the jagged shoreline. Even with the worst of the supposed withdrawal behind him and the bandage removed from his head, he still doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. 

Why does he notice things that he previously hasn’t? Why does he have doubts that he’s never harbored before? Why is he so absent of that determined clinical drive and instead just content to sit here in the grass as the breeze ruffles his hair? 

His hand clenches at his side in a rush of unbidden muscle-memory reflex. A stab of irritation lances through him as he glares down at it and forces himself to stretch out his fingers, to roll out the tense line of his jaw. He winces at the ache in his muscles and joints as if… as if they’d been locked in tension for so long that they don’t know any other way to exist. 

Another sour wave rolls through his stomach and he swallows against a suddenly dry throat, darting his gaze back out over the midnight sea. 

Maybe… just maybe Charles is right…

But that thought conjures other disturbing, more concerning questions. If Charles is indeed telling the truth, then just how exactly did Charles acquire this knowledge? How can Charles possibly know what the Imperial Starfighter Corps did to him when he himself didn’t even have a clue? He closes his eyes and tries to focus on what he knows about Charles, to find some hint that might betray him. But the only thing that comes to mind is Charles’ unusual, bewitching accent. 

Now that he thinks about it, Charles' accent isn’t far from the elegant, rounded tones of Corulag. Indeed, wouldn’t Charles be the model Corulag Imperial Military Academy student all buttoned up in the severe uniform tunic with his unruly curls tamed by the boxy, standard-issue hat.

That would indeed explain how Charles knows so much. 

His jaw tenses again as a wave of anger rises within him. He may have been at Charles’ mercy since crash landing here - but that’s all going to change. He refuses to let this rotten deserter succeed in abandoning his duty. 

Maybe arriving at the Imperial Output with a worthless traitor as his prisoner will quickly help restore him to active flight status. That’s all he wants, really.  

He isn’t dead. He will keep flying. 

Staring out at the sea, he wills his ship to rise and ignores the disconcerting itch that grows along his skin in response.

Charles walks across the grass, curls catching in the strong onshore wind. It brings the smell of distant rain and ozone, promising another storm on approach. 

He hefts his satchel, adjusting the strap on his shoulder as he crests the hill towards his seaside dwelling. While living at the Jedi Temple - in the middle of a city planet - his youthful fantasy of living on the coast of a sea had been nothing more than a far-fetched dream. But if there is one insignificant upside to exile and extinction, then maybe his cozy, seaside abode is it. 

As he approaches the familiar dark outline, he sees the sharp figure of the pilot. Max sits in the grass with his knees bent, long arms resting atop the joints as he stares out at the rolling, dark blue waves. 

Max’s face betrays his thoughts about the sunken fighter, as does the confused conflict mixed with a strange determination that rolls off him through the Force. No doubt, if Max could recover his ship, he’d fly away just as quickly as he arrived, and the thought piques Charles' curiosity. 

Just how much does Max know about the Force? Does he know that such feats are indeed possible? Does he feel Charles' emotions buzzing along his skin with the same energy as he can feel Max’s? But even if he does, does he know what it means? 

Shoving a hand in his pocket, Charles strolls over towards Max, careful to keep his stride open and easy. Every Force-sensitive nerve ending in him lights up as he stops alongside Max. “I’m glad to see you outside,” he says, looking out over the churning water. “The fresh air is good for you.” 

“Even if it is,” Max sharply answers without looking at him. “I told you that I wasn’t staying.” 

Charles nods for a quiet moment before speaking. “Where will you go?” 

“The nearest Imperial Outpost, of course.” 

"That will still be easier to do with a name, Max." He glances down tentatively. "Have you given that some more thought?"

The pilot's face is disconcertingly neutral as he gives a perfunctory nod. "It is serviceable." 

It's a better answer than Charles has hoped for. A grin tugs at his lips. "I'm glad to hear that. Well, now that you have a name… you'll also need credits for a transport."

Max shakes his head tersely. “Any citizen of the Empire should do their duty to ensure that I can do mine.” 

Charles bites back the wry edge of his smirk. "That kind of loyalty isn't always easy to find here in the outer rim.” 

“Anyone who stands in my way is guilty of treason.” 

Charles blinks down at Max in a moment of consideration before dropping his gaze to the grass and shuffling his feet. He pulls a hand from his pocket, rubbing a non-existent itch on the tip of his nose. “We used to have a garrison here. Some years ago." He says gently. "With full ground and air support.” 

Max’s face visibly perks as he fixes his sharp eyes on Charles. In the muted, cloudy light, those crystal blue depths threaten to drown him and the Force whispers for him to dive in without remorse. A startling, primal connection to this man snaps in place, making Charles' blood run cold. It doesn't make sense - never before has the Force ever compelled him so strongly towards another person. But the longer he loses himself in Max's eyes - just as beautiful as the sea, and just as tempestuous - the more he realizes that the Force has brought Max into his life for a reason.

If only he understands what that reason is.

The silence stretches out, and with a sigh to calm his restless thoughts, Charles lowers to sit in the grass. He folds his legs underneath him as Max's hard gaze never waivers. It should probably be unnerving how much the pilot stares at him, but Charles has become accustomed to it. 

Max’s curious voice carries on the wind. “What did the inhabitants of this planet do to warrant a full garrison? That’s a lot of firepower.” 

Charles wets his upper lip, remembering those dark days all too well. “Rumor had it that they offered sanctuary to an exiled Jedi Knight.” 

Max’s face hardens. “If they were indeed harboring an enemy of the Empire, a posted garrison sounds merciful.” 

“Their ruthless hunt was anything but merciful.” 

Max hums quietly, turning away in a moment of consideration before speaking. “I guess the rumors must have been inaccurate since the garrison detached and this world continued to survive.” He blinks back over at Charles. “Did you hear why the garrison left?” 

Charles’ throat tightens. “Rumor was…" his voice trails off as he forces a hard swallow. “Rumor was that they found the Jedi Knight in question dead on another planet.” 

“Master, this doesn’t make sense - please.” Charles pleaded, looking at the taller woman as she stuffed a satchel with food and clothing. 

“I will not stay and endanger these people, Charles. And us traveling together will raise even more suspicion.” Her words were muffled by the clanking of metal tins filled with preserved fish as she packed her bag. “The Empire knows my name, and they know that I’m here. If they don’t know about you, then I would have it stay that way.” 

Charles drew a shaky breath, still trying to make sense of the situation. “Will… will you come back for me?” 

Her movements slowed as she turned to him with a hesitant, fond smile. “If the Force wills it, I shall return once it is safe to do so. But be honest with yourself, my dear Padawan - you’ve been ready to face the galaxy on your own for some time now.” 

He fought back the rising disappointment and accompanying restless sigh, unable to deny the truth of her words. 

Her smile filled out as she stepped closer. “I know that you’re disappointed, Charles. Any Padawan on the precipice of taking the Trials would feel the same. If it were my decision, you would already bear the title of Jedi Knight.” Her purple eyes sparkled with familiar, caring encouragement. “You’re more ready than you’ll ever know - and you're certainly a more diligent student and Padawan than I was at your age.” 

Charles’ cheeks flushed. “Thank you, master. That’s… high praise. Especially considering that I… I may never be a Knight now, and I… I don’t wish to fail you.” 

“And that’s how I know that you’ll stay true in the difficult days ahead.” She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Remember your training and keep the Force as your guide. Grow with it, learn from it, keep it as your ally - and you will not have failed me.” 

“Good.” Max’s voice jars Charles from the memory as the pilot nods sharply. “Traitors to the Empire don't deserve to live.” 

Charles’ eyes narrow, but he swallows his bitter tone. “Traitors who betray their allegiance should be held accountable, but I have never believed that of the Jedi Order.” 

Max stiffens, his face creasing with surprised displeasure. A thrill of satisfaction flares in Charles’ chest. If Max has indeed spent his entire life with the Empire’s dogma rammed down his throat, then he’s long overdue to learn the truth and gain some perspective. 

At length, Max’s gaze turns decisively murderous. “Then, I would have to call you a hypocrite.” 

Charles doesn’t see the pilot move, but the energy in the air tenses and shifts. Max’s solid weight crashes into him, knocking him over into the grass. The back of Charles’ head connects with the hard ground, a grunt punching from his chest as Max bears down on him. His thighs are bracketed on either side by the pilot’s knees as the broader man looms over him, a hand tight around his throat. 

“You talk about allegiance,” Max hisses. “But you’ve overplayed your hand, traitor.”

Charles stares up into Max's mesmerizing stormy gaze, shaking his head feebly against the pilot’s grip. “I am not a traitor, mate.” 

“I am not your mate.” Max squeezes a little harder, shifting to straddle Charles’ upper thighs and gaining leverage to better immobilize him. “I do not befriend fucking deserters.” 

“Deserter…?” Charles repeats, voice rough and eyes wide. “Of all the ridiculous nons-” His words choke off as Max jerks his head against the ground. 

“You know too much to fool me.” The words cut with ice, lancing shivers down Charles’ spine. “Or have you forgotten how you lectured me on the manipulations of the pilot corps? How you told me about the drugs in my air supply?” 

The strong hand around Charles’ throat disappears, darting up to tangle in Charles’ curls and wrench his head back. Charles gasps at the sudden motion, his bared throat flexing on display as unbidden arousal slams through him. Coupled with the warm weight of Max’s body on his thighs, over his groin - he struggles to breathe, to will his growing erection into submission. 

Max leans down low, hot breath gusting against Charles’ ear as he pulls on Charles’ curls. “Now I ask myself,” Max whispers low and dangerous. “How could you possibly know all of that - any of that - unless you have prior experience with it?” He screws his fingers tighter in Charles’ hair. “Now, tell me.” 

Charles groans, fighting for control. He’s impossibly hard now and mildly surprised that Max hasn't commented on it given the pilot's pressure on his hips. He can admit that he’s made a point not to look too closely at Max’s body since his arrival, but he can’t deny that Max is strikingly handsome with a body that would tempt even the most celibate. And while Jedis are forbidden from attachment and most chose celibacy to deter it, Charles has never made that distinction. But after so many years exiled on this planet, Charles hasn’t been so close to anyone in so long. Let alone someone so handsome who finds the erogenous zone of Charles’ hair. 

Oh, Force, he’s in trouble. He struggles to keep his hips from thrusting up, trying to find words through labored breaths. After all, hasn’t Max asked him a question…? 

Another strong tug makes Charles bite his lip to stifle a moan, tasting copper on his tongue. Max’s words rumble against the shell of his ear. “Answer me, deserter.”

The stern command demands complete surrender, and Charles' control breaks, bucking his hips up into the solid heat above him. His breath catches at the pleasurable sensation as a new discovery dawns on him. Again, he rolls his hips, dizzy to find Max's erection just as hard and hot against him. 

A growl tears from Max’s lips as his grip tightens. “Stop that… Charles-” His words dissolve into a moan as Charles thrusts their arousals together. 

Charles groans in return, heart galloping. Is he really going to do this? Would it really be so easy to turn the tide with such a distraction? 

Max abandons Charles’ hair, reaching for his arms and pinning each to the ground. The shift in leverage puts more downward force on Max's hips, leaving any less doubt about his arousal as he glares down at Charles, eyes dark with feral desire. “What-” Max grits through clenched teeth as Charles rolls their hips together again. “What are you doing to me?” 

Charles freezes, his heavy-lidded eyes flying open with surprise. “What do you… you can’t mean…” Charles pauses, licking his lips as he fights for clarity through the fog of arousal. “You mean to say that you’ve… never felt this?” He rolls his hips languidly, pressing their hard cocks together. “Or done this… with another person?” 

Anger flashes in the tempest of Max’s eyes as he jerks a hand back to Charles’ throat, hard against his raging pulse, and forces his head back to expose his neck. “You think you’re so clever?” Max hisses sharp words into his ear. “You talk about manipulation - yet here you are… manipulating my body in such ways.” 

“Oh, mate - I’m not clever and this is no manipulation.” Charles forces a hard swallow against the pressure of Max’s heavy hand. “Your body is made for so much more than just flying and hunting… and if the Empire took that from you, too, to make you a better weapon of war, then you have my condolences. Truly.” He moves his free hand to Max’s backside, exaggerating a groan as he grips the firm muscles, finding leverage to thrust against. He bares his throat further, gaze heavy with intent. “Truly, there’s little else so enjoyable… so pleasurable. It’s… what's life without pleasure, hmm?"

Charles builds a slow, grinding rhythm and watches Max’s resolve crumble. Fuck, it’s such a gorgeous sight. Max’s cheeks turn pink, his eyes dark and wild with obvious conflict about the sensations in his body as Charles holds him close. The Force sings between the tight press of their bodies, a blissful vitality hot with electric current. 

Maybe it’s wrong, but Charles throws the last bit of caution to the wind. It may have been more years than he wants to admit, but he still remembers how to move, how to sound, how to bite his lip and entice his partner. 

“Charles, don’t-” Max groans, his hold on Charles’ throat loosening. “... Don't!” He shifts atop Charles, resulting in the long, delicious drag of their cocks, and white-hot want rockets up Charles’ spine. 

“Oh, Force,” Charles moans, gripping Max’s backside harder. His mind spins as Max's hips thrust forward again, and the air sparks against his skin. “Oh, fuck… do it again.” 

“Fuck.” Max growls, radiating unhinged desperation and raging frustration. The intense energy rolls off him, threatening to suffocate Charles with each push and pull of their hips.

The pleasurable coils at the base of Charles' spine wind tighter, and… oh, fuck. This is it - he's going to come in his trousers like a teenager all over again - but has it ever felt this good? Max’s ragged breathing hitches, choking off a blissful cry in Charles' ear as his hips stutter and stall. Charles' own release surges through him, intoxicated by the blinding satisfaction that permeates every facet of Max's being.

His mind floats in delirium as he blinks up at Max, watching the pilot gasp for breath. Max's face contorts almost painfully as the overwhelming intensity of orgasm fades to afterglow. Charles’ heart breaks, wanting to wrap Max in the tightest hug and whisper every reassurance he knows against the pilot's skin.

Slowly, Charles licks his lips and sighs with heavy contentment. “Well, that… that was quite the unexpected detour, but most… certainly most welcome.” He drifts a lazy hand up the curvature of Max's spine. 

“I don’t… you just….” Max gasps for words as he slumps against Charles, still undone from the rush. A suffocating panic grows in the air, a distress that slices through the lazy sway of euphoria.

“Just breathe.” Charles coaxes, concern creasing his brow. “You’re alright.” 

“No!" Max hisses, still panting as if he’s drowning. “No, it… this-!” 

Charles’ heart pangs as Max’s distress grows. His instincts tug at him to reach out, to extend Max a wave of calming reassurance - but that feels like a manipulative betrayal. There's nothing that Max should fear about this, and he should be allowed to experience it all. 

But in his hesitation, Max slumps against him with closed eyes. His breathing evens out and the anxious energy radiating from him fades. As Charles bears the heavy weight on his chest, he isn't sure if the panic is a lasting side effect of the pilot corps' drugs or if he simply just hyperventilated in the first rush of powerful emotion.

Either way, he cards a comforting hand through Max’s soft hair and brushes a kiss to his brow. “Rest now, mate.” He breathes against Max’s overheated skin. “It’s alright.” 

[corruptedplaylist]

ch 16!

hello early update!!!! tw for keith having a panic attack!!!! highlight reel includes: lance resolving some of his family conflict, receiving consolation from his dad, surprise guest in keith's story, klance kiss

[demonscantgothere]

The Greatest Slavery by Helholden, Ch. 8: Projection

Celeborn is Sauron's prisoner. If Galadriel wants her husband returned to her alive, there are terms. Many years later, Sauron comes back for his daughter, Celebrían. Galadriel rides to Amon Lanc for her daughter, and an awkward family reunion ensues. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand, Celeborn/Galadriel. 37.3k | 5.3k chapter. A/N: As usual, mind the tags.

“She is inside,” he answered softly, his fingers twining with her hair. It was clear to Galadriel already that he would not keep his space or his distance from her, and that in and of itself was terrifying. “And of course, you may see her. Did you think I would keep her from you?”

It was a sting purposefully meant—for all the years she and Celeborn had strove to keep him out of Lothlórien, body and mind. He wanted to claim his superiority in that regard—that he would never do the same to her in return, knowing the pain it would cause.

“I do not know what I thought,” Galadriel lied, feeling the emotion in her words despite it as her eyes blurred gently from unshed tears—and so, he believed her, “but I missed her.”

He stared at her half in a daze, his hand reaching back up for her cheek to pass his thumb more fully along her bare skin. “Of course you did,” he agreed in a whisper. “A mother should miss her daughter. As would her father, too.”

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