La Mort De La Sirène (Angel Of Music, Harry Hook X Fem!OCReader) - Chapter Six

New to your blog, I was wondering if you have a Merlin fic rec list that's just your favorites. I unfortunately missed the Merlin fandom back when the show was airing so I always feel like I'm just missing the greatest stuff from other people

Hello friend! Welcome to my humble abode of a blog (which resembles more of a Merlin waste disposal). Like you, I missed the show when it was airing, but honestly when you stay as long in this fandom as I have, you will constantly be exposed to wonderful creative energies that give their all. It's a timeless fandom, one of the very few, and no matter when you enter it you will always feel fulfilled. :)

So, favourite fics! Gosh, how can I fit 2K+ bookmarks in one ask. When it comes to this fandom, I admit: I have no life. I've read a real huge number of fics throughout the years, but with that comes the issue of forgetting. I try to bookmark as much as I can to remind myself, but sometimes it's inevitable for fics to get lost in a sea of bookmarks. So to make things easier, I'll write you some canon fics that immediately come to my mind for how unforgettable they were.

No order; each one has its own chamber in my heart.

Short fic recs (1K-50K)

1. Our broken pieces by @aramblingjay. 10K, T, Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort.

Am I purposefully putting this one on top this time so that everyone who stumbles across this ask could check it out? Yes. Yes I am. Is it my personal mission for the fandom to give this fic the love and kudos it deserves? You bet it's a big overbearing yes. And yes I want you to cry and feel your heart twist with agony because of how beautiful it is. My eyes never shed tears for a fic before this one, and never will after it. There is something in the way the author broke Arthur that just resonated in my innards. And the way Merlin was there for him, not a placebo "I'm here" but there, in all actuality, doing so with every fiber of his love, made it something else. I like to believe that this fic was crafted so perfectly in a parallel universe, and sent to us as a blessing we never knew we needed.

2. Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives by Fulgance. 21K, T, Canon AU, Magic Reveal.

This is probably the umpteenth time for me to recommend this fic, but I won't stop. I can't stop. This fic ruined me so slowly, and healed me even slower. All my Merlin friends do not believe why this would be one of my favourite fics of all time with what Arthur did, but honestly, it's the fact that the writer wrote it so convincingly that makes me crumble internally. It isn't easy to write angry Arthur, and it's even harder to write him grief-stricken, but here, the author blended both elements so perfectly. It's impossible to forget this fic. It's worth your every second.

3. Linger On Your Pale Blue Eyes by supercalvin. 18K, T, Canon Era, Touch-Starved.

Will this fic linger in your heart? It sure as hell never leaves mine. Every once in a while, I have to go back to this fic and read it like a morning paper. Some fics sustain you.. this is definitely one of them. Most of @supercalvin's fics are of sustaining material. They are made with such depth and broad understanding to the characters that you should take notes. There's this one line that everytime I cross this fic I instantly remember and I go to the nearest pillow to just AAA a little bit. When you reach it, I'm sure you'll recognise it, and I'll be waiting for you to come AAA with me.

4. Dower the Stars by RurouniHime. 40K, E, Golden Age, Pining Arthur, BAMF Merlin.

I don't think anything levels the levels of intimacy in this fic. It is one of the best Arthur characterizations I've ever read. His boundless love and pining for Merlin— oh my heart. Also, the world building and amount of research that must have been done for this fic is astounding. I was this close from following the author's footsteps and, idk, writing an entire research paper about Arthurian lore or something. The moment I read it I immediately wanted to contact the author and just tell them WHY ARE YOU BLESSING US WITH ALL THIS INSTEAD OF PUBLISHING IT?? It was amazing. I reread it a month ago for the third (fourth?) time and found myself gasping and aweing as if I never read it before. It keeps being an experience every time, one so worthwhile.

5. To the point of fear by Imagined. 10K, T, Canon AU, POV Mordred, Magic Reveal.

I found this fic through this gifset by the very talented @theedorksinlove, and let me tell you, my thumb almost fell off searching so quickly for it. And it didn't disappoint. It didn't do anything but make my heart cry for the beauty of these two characters that I keep loving over and over from the introspections of such creative souls in our fandom. This was a window to their relationship, so tender and to the point. If anything, it makes you love them to the point of obsession.

6. Chain of Secrets by @remuscariad. 4K, G, Canon AU, Magic Reveal, Hurt/Comfort.

Earthshatteringly-poetic isn't a made-up word powerful enough to describe the beauty of prose here. There are fics that you open and immediately know that you're sold: this was one of them. Its summary alone dropped my jaw down to my neighbour's floor. The dialogue is so meticulously crafted it feels like reading a piece from a past era. Genuinely beautiful.

7. Half of my soul by marvelxpendragon. 2K, G, Post-Canon AU, King Arthur/Court Sorcerer Merlin.

This fic is half of my soul, as the poets say. So what if I reject the canonic ending and resort to pain myself with fics like this instead? I sometimes feel we, as a fandom, try to up the angst of the finale so that we forget how painful it was by bringing even MORE pain. But it's pain that I delight in, because it's pain that MAKES SENSE. Yes give me MCD but with a freaking beautiful life like the one this author gave us. Make me believe it was all worth something. Make me believe they lived.

8. whisper to the flame by @missfaber. 16K, E, Canon AU, Wounded Arthur, Hurt/Comfort.

*clears throat* *prepares for a mental scream*TELL ME HOW YOU LIGHT YOUR FIRESSSSS *clears throat once more and pretends I'm okay*

So, as the author wrote, this is indeed a love letter to the two characters we love more than anything. More than anything, I loved the fact that the author gave Arthur agency to think and act and be a king, even when he was still a prince. Even in most fics where Arthur already knows, this isn't common. So whenever I find a fic that has Smart!Arthur and a lovesick one at that, I would vouch my life and soul for it. Also Protective!Knights is the best thing in the world, ok? I would die for this discourse for real.

9. As a Sea Shell by bathilda bagshot (wellthengameover). 12K, T, Canon AU, Slow Burn.

Okay, so this fic is only bookmarked "Agony until 7 AM", and with that, a rush of drowning memories always come crushing my soul. I lost sleep and SANITY over this fic. I was thrown from a cliff and kept hanging in the air without a respite until the very END. I read it a couple weeks after the finale and it broke me even FURTHER. I was promised growing old together, and it was a big LIE. And yet I love it so, so dearly.

Honourary biased mention:

10. My heart is readily yours by yours truly. 11K, T, Canon AU, Protective Arthur, Hurt/Comfort.

Sometimes I don't believe I had it in me to write this. Like.. what, dearest self, the hell were you thinking. With tyismso, I somehow balanced fluff and angst— a solid magic reveal fic. But this one? I only knew ✨pain✨

.. and I don't regret a thing.

[Long fic recs]

memeception

tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is on spotify tgwdlm is-

This is how all politicians behave, it’s just now people saw what they were saying. Keep up the fight!

God Give Me Courage to Show You... (Angel of Music, Harry Hook x Fem!OCReader) - Chapter Three

Hi guys! I hope you guys this chapter, it’s a bit slow had to do some catch up and story building! Nonetheless I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be put on the taglist!

Summary: Azalea reflects on the night she first saw Harry in the market as well as the night on the cliff after Harry’s memories are returned. All while, Azalea and Harry begin to become friends again, growing closer. The scales are tipping though, bound to fall one way or another.

Warning(s): Language, angst(?), Sexual Tension (?)

Word Count: 3423

A week and five days ago

Azalea ran through the shadows of the Isle away from the Market, away from him. She could not believe it, after all this time, after her couple harmless trips down to the Market and Barrier Plaza, there he stood. It had been 11 years, a month, and 8 days since she had last seen him, standing in her meadow, but she recognized him right away. His ocean blue eyes, with the slightest hint of green hidden in them, were all it took. She knew those eyes like the back of her hand, they have plagued her dreams all these years. The dark red jacket and gleaming silver hook were only additional facts that confirmed her thoughts. It was Harry…. Her Harry. The boy from her field, her only friend, the one who still owned a piece of her heart. The one who did not know she existed, or at least did not remember. She slowed down her stride, stopping in front of the rusted black iron gate that led into the cemetery. Checking her surroundings she found the coast to be clear, her father always warned her to be certain she was not being followed. Looking over shoulder needed to become second nature, if she were to continue being allowed out. After years of begging, becoming skilled in sword fighting, and learning how to harness her voice to perfection, did her father finally grant Azalea to take nightly trips down to the center of the Isle. They were only trial runs of course, her father giving her a strict 30 minute window. After 18 years of solitude, she took 30 minutes in a heartbeat. Meandering through the multitude of tombstones, Azalea reached the second iron gate, the lock and chains still in place. Azalea knelt down, sticking her black gloved hand down the side of her left black leather boot, retrieving the brass key, the head shaped like a skull. A literal skeleton key… Placing her roses down as she stuck her arms through the gate bars, she picked up the black lock on the other side. Unlocking the gate, Azalea unraveled the chains just enough for her to maneuver her wide hips through. Once through the gate she rechained and locked it, turning to march through the crunchy grass to the small house. Azalea’s eyes roamed over the meadow, Harry’s frozen figure replaying in her mind. Her fingers began to itch, the desire to commit her memory of the pirate to a piece of paper arising within. Opening the front door to the house Azalea looked around at the dusty bare room, not a sign of life in sight besides the lonely broken wooden chair in the far corner straight ahead and the rusting white refrigerator on the wall to her left. Her boots clicked against the dirt covered concrete floor as she approached the fridge. Azalea placed the dead roses on top of the fridge before placing her hands on the left side of the dated appliance. Planting both of her feet firmly on the ground as she pushed the fridge to the side, revealing a set of stone stairs underneath. Letting out of a huff of air, Azalea grabbed the roses and descended down the steps. At the bottom of the staircase, a large red button awaited her, pushing the button Azalea waited until she heard the sound of the metal fridge moving back into place overtop the hidden stairs. She then headed down the candle lit hallway, exiting out into the great stone cavern she called home. Massive candelabras were placed all around the cavern, hundreds of candles lit. A soft warm glow welcomed Azalea home as did the empty living room.

Looking up she saw two distinct figures perched in the music room on the upper level, she turned to the side and trudged up the small hand carved stone steps. Passing her father’s desk and her parents bedroom she neared the soft sound of keys played on the organ. Her father sat at his organ, perfecting a piece of his music, no doubt, and her mother lounged over the black chaise, a small crisp green colored book cradled in her thin hands. Azalea smiled softly, she knew her parents were trying to play busy but she knew for the past half an hour they had been fretting and worrying about her. The Opera Ghost and his bride were still warming up to the idea of their child wandering about the heinous Isle, alone and at night. They simply wished to protect her and her gift, but as their daughter so promptly pointed out they were not going to be around forever unfortunately, and if they were doomed to an eternity on this Isle then she needed to learn how to protect and fend for herself. “Hi Papa” Azalea leaned down to kiss her father’s unmasked face, a normal occurrence in their home, it had been a rule her mother had enforced since the beginning of their marriage, no masks at home. Azalea grew up seeing her father’s deformity and it never frightened her, she found the solid white emotionless mask to hold more terror within it. Her father smiled in return, trying to mask his undeniable worry, the sight of his child unharmed was helping. “Any incidents?” Erik questioned, pretending to fret over his sheets of music. Pausing for a moment, Harry’s matured face popping into her mind, his strong jaw, pink lips, and half crazed eyes that had stared back at her intensely. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of her hugging him, but they soon faded, her eyes watering in the process. She could never be his friend, be a part of his world, not on the Isle. Azalea cleared her throat, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, before noticing both of her parents expecting eyes on her. “Oh sorry, no incidents Papa…” she trailed off looking down to her gloved hands, “I did bring home the best roses I could find though, let me go find a vase for them.” Azalea quickly left for the next room over on the upper level, the kitchen. Upon entering, Azalea let out a sigh, her chest heavy with grief. Christine’s knowing eyes followed her daughter as she left for the kitchen, she knew there was something her daughter was emitting from her night trip, she just hoped it was nothing bad.

Moments later Azalea retired to room, on the lower level on the other side of the living room. She finally felt some sort of relief once the large wooden door was closed and her white mask and gloves were removed, now sitting on her small white desk. She hung up her black jacket back in her wardrobe and removed the small black pins holding her inherited wild curls back. Azalea could barely focus on anything as she changed into her faded ivory nightgown, Harry’s face circling on endless loops in her mind. Of course over the years, she had thought of him everyday, dreamt of him continuously, always wondering how he was, if he was okay, what he looked like. She had gone even as far as begging her father a couple times a year to check on him, her father reluctantly agreed with his own agenda in mind. Her father was a man of pristine caution, examining every detail, hence why he always thought it was a good idea to make sure no signs of Harry’s memory resurfacing ever presented themselves. When her father would get back from his “check ups”, Azalea hounded him endlessly but his reports were always rather dull, “He’s fine”, “Part of a pirate crew now with the daughter of Ursula and son of Gaston”, “Carries an unnecessary hook around with him, rumor is he tried to have a crocodile bit his hand off. I told you that boy was bad news Christine”. Christine only ever rolled her eyes at her husband's antics, along with Azalea. Christine too, loved the updates on the boy, now pirate. She wanted to make sure the Isle had not swallowed him whole. Azalea pulled out her worn black chair, sitting down in front of her desk. Her fingers tingled as she pulled out her small set of charcoal pencils and the stack of paper her father brought her home one evening, whenever he could find the scarce materials. It had been so long since she had drawn anything, inspiration only ever hit after a particular vivid dream of a boy in a meadow. Azalea knew the spark of inspiration she found within could only have been caused by her muse, the pirate who seemed to have captured the ocean within his eyes.

A knock came at her door a little later in the night, before Christine’s head of curls popped through the opening crack of the door. “Mom, why are you still up?” Azalea quickly piled up her collection of drawings and hid them under a book. Her mother swiftly entered the room closing the door behind her layered white frame. Christine dismissed her daughter’s question, eyeing the charcoal pencil in her hand and the easily transferable charcoal coating her daughter’s hands a dark grey. “You’re drawing?” “Inspiration hit” Azalea let out an uneasy laugh, her mother only nodded, her right eyebrow lifting slightly as she moved to sit on Azalea’s circular red bed. “What really happened tonight?” the question struck Azalea cold and still. She looked over to her left at her mother, a “don’t even try to lie” clearly embedded on her face. Exhaling deeply Azalea admitted her defeat, “I saw him”. A small relieved sigh escaped Christine’s mouth, she had automatically assumed the worst possible scenario, but her eyes soon widened at the realization of her daughter’s words. Azalea continued, “hence the inspiration” she uncovered the multiple pages of sketches she had done, all parts of Harry etched on them. Christine leaned over to see the desk and the pages of sketches scattered across it. Christine was used to her daughter drawing Harry, her creative outlet stemming from her husband, but he had always been a boy in the illustrations. These sketches were different though, this was no boy. “He’s quite good looking now” Christine noted examining a sketch of Harry’s matured face, eliciting a quiet laugh from her daughter. Her heart ached for Azalea, the only friend she ever had and quite possibly her daughter’s true love, a part Christine chose to emit from her and her daughter’s conversations about Harry, was never within her grasp. “I’m doing him no justice…” Azalea turned in her chair eyeing her mother questioningly. Christine nodded knowing what she insinuated, “I’m all ears.” Azalea’s nose scrunched up at her mother’s remark before she opened her mouth, hypnotic “Ahhh’s” falling from her lips. Fog whirled before Christine’s eyes before she saw looked to what could only be the rundown Market her husband and daughter talked about. A murky layer seemed to hang over the image before it cleared around a single statue. The statue moved closer and became clearer, proving to be an unnaturally still person. Christine smirked slightly, knowing the person was under her daughter’s all too familiar hypnotic spell. She could now see the person, the teenager who was practically a man. He was tall and lean with layers of muscle bulking him up. He had a sharp jawline and bright blue eyes only being accented even more by the thick black eyeliner smudged over his eyelids. The blackened red leather jacket contrasted boldly against his peachy skin and the infamous shining silver hook in his left hand completed the ensemble. The teenager was clearly the son of Hook, but he had his own personal flair thrown in the mix. Christine examined the boy once over, noting the crazy edge in his eyes and the overall way he held himself, the image feeling familiar. Christine remembered the first time she saw her husband in the hallway hidden behind the dressing room mirror at the Opera House, the same crazed look in his eyes and overall glorious demeanor… The image began to blur and then slip away, returning Christine to her daughter’s bed in her stone cavern hideaway. “So, what do you think?” Azalea questioned, biting her lip anxiously. Christine smiled, a laugh bubbling in her throat. “My dear, I think we are more alike than you know”.

Present Day

Leaning against the rough tree bark, Azalea overlooked the dark ocean, a happy smile on her face as she awaited for her friend to show. For the past five days, Azalea and Harry had met at the cliff, spending half an hour each night trying to cram the last 11 years into it. The night of their reunion, Azalea had sat with Harry and explained how everything he had remembered was true, the conversation had started out shy and hesitant, and a hint of an accusatory tone.

“And why did you have to erase my memory?” Harry had not meant for his tone to be harsh, but Azalea seemed to pay no attention to it as she traced the black lace trim on the edge of her cloak. “Harry I was seven years old, my father told me that people would harm you, I’m sorry but of course I listened.” Harry sighed watching the apologetic girl, her reasoning was valid, but that did not mean he had to like it. The silence that followed was stiff and awkward, neither of them knowing how to further the conversation. They always knew what to say to each other as children, but they were no longer the same children from the meadow. Azalea knew they had only reunited moments before and if they were going to possibly be friends again, they would have to work at it. She focused intensely on Harry next to her, the idea of telling her parents of this recent development did not even enter her head. “So you have a pirate crew?” Azalea chirped up suddenly looking over at Harry excitedly. As children Harry had always talked about becoming Captain of his own crew, Azalea would be his first mate and as soon as they figured out a way off this Isle they would head straight for Neverland. “Aye I’m the first mate” Harry smirked in return. “Not the captain?” she pondered, eyebrows furrowing together. “Nay Uma is, she’s-” Azalea cut him off, “the girl from the Cotillion fiasco? Have to say the whole tentacle thing was pretty cool!” Azalea laughed pushing her plethora of curls back, only for them to fall back in her face. She let out a huff of frustration, causing a strand of curls to blow upwards. Harry watched intently, the innocent action somehow captivating his attention. Wait a minute! “Lassie you didn’t strike as one to agree with the overthrowing of the monarchy” Harry knocked his shoulder with hers jokingly. Azalea turned to her right side, issuing Harry a glare. “I’m not”, Harry groaned throwing his head back, “BUT I have my own issues with Auradon’s previous rulers.” Harry’s head chirped up at her statement, this had to be interesting… “Oh don’t leave me hangin’ on that Lass, spill!” Azalea bit back a giggle at Harry’s dramatic enunciation, before turning in the dirt to face Harry. She cleared her throat, a somber expression fell onto her features. “My father is no Prince Charming trust me, he nearly burned down half of Paris, he was a villain. But after mom came back, breaking off her engagement with the Vicounte, he was on a path to becoming better. Better wasn’t good enough though…” Azalea gritted her teeth. “The Beast, the king granted a second chance after a woman’s love saved him, banished a man finally getting his second chance because a woman’s love saved him. It’s a bit hypocritical.” Azalea’s words struck a nerve with Harry. The Beast and the Phantom were very similar, in some regards, and yet the Phantom had been sent to the Isle as the Beast was fitted for his crown. Harry understood Azalea’s frustration… Harry placed his hand on top of hers, a crackle of electricity sparking between their hands. The two of them shared a soft uncertain smile, transitioning back to their game of catch up.

“Yoohoo Lassie” Azalea sprang up from her spot on the tree, unsheathing her sword and turning to point it at the intruder of her thoughts. Harry stood behind her, arms up surrendering, a look of amusement on his face. “Put that thing back before you poke my eye out” Harry laughed. “Oh it’s you” Azalea breathed out, sheathing her sword back on her left hip. “Were you expecting someone else? Another Scottish suitor? Don’t tell me, you were friends with me older sister too.” Azalea rolled her eyes at Harry, the back of her mind hanging on the phrase “Another Scottish suitor”. “Hi” She greeted, an uncontrollable grin spreading across her face, she simply could not help it, having Harry back, even for just five days was a gift. She had dreamed of this moment for 11 years and it has finally come true. She simply felt euphoric around him as if she was flying… Harry and Azalea’s innocent childhood friendship seemed to grow and intensify as they did, an underlying magnetic and forceful attraction hidden in their recent encounters and meetings. The Pirate and the Siren were tipping on the scale already, bound to feed into their repressed feelings. “Hiya” Harry snapped back back, a chaotic grin spreading across his face. Oh, her the pirate was slightly unhinged… Azalea giggled untying her mask and retying it carefully around her dark red belt, so the mask hung around her waist. Harry had still not grown accustomed to the beauty that was hidden underneath the mask, her personality and body were of course beautiful too, but something about every time she unmasked herself left him breathless. “Did you bring what I asked for?” she questioned stepping forward to Harry. Harry smirked removing his black tricorn hat, blue fabric still tied around his forehead, and pulled out a long strip of faded black fabric from inside. “Not sure why you are sending me clothes shopping lass?” Azalea snatched the black fabric from Harry’s outstretched hand, snickering lightly. “If we want my father to believe I’m still going down to the Market, I need to bring things home.” Azalea informed waving the faded fabric in front of Harry. She tucked the fabric into the pocket of her leather jacket before returning her attention back to Harry. Her eyes were filled with excitement, her hair wild and free in the breezy night air, a soft glow painted on her face, a wide toothy grin on her face, Hades she never stopped smiling at him, Harry really liked it. Harry smirked at the girl moving to circle behind her, his heavy boots crunching against the dried leaves and dead twigs. “Lying looks good on you Lassie”. Harry stood behind her still figure, his hook reaching forward to tugback a large section of her curls exposing her pale neck, left ear, and a small white pearl earring. “And you know what they say”, Harry paused leaning down to her ear, his top lip ghostly touching her ear, “bad girls have all the fun”. His warm breath fanned across Azalea’s exposed cold skin, goosebumps erupting in a trail down her body. Blood rushed to Azalea’s cheeks, turning them warm and red instantly. Tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth, Azalea spun around carefully, Harry still leaning in dangerously close. Standing on her tippy toes, Azalea brought her self closer, their noses touching lightly. Harry’s breath quietly hitched as he tried to regain his flirtatious composure, blue eyes watching her brown ones strongly. “I’ll keep that in mind” Azalea whispered, her sweet breath making Harry’s jaw clench slightly. Azalea held her position for a moment longer, driving Harry mad with her stillness, before she dropped back down onto the heels of her feet, stepping back a foot. Harry stared at her cheekily smiling face, his mouth opening a gap. Harry the insufferable flirt was flustered… She stuck her tongue out at him a giggle escaping her lips. A smirk worked its way back onto Harry’s face, as he watched the mocking Siren in front of him. “Fuckin’ Tease”Harry muttered before chuckling as Azalea’s head fell back in laughter. “Well someone has to put you in your place, Pirate.”

Taglist:

@ietss

@stevenrogerscarter

Something interesting I’ve learned - although I don’t know if this has a name in any other language, but in Korean this position is called “manner legs”. It refers to people stretching their legs to sink down to a smaller height so people working or filming with them could either work on their hair and makeup or appear to be their same height.

Ya'll ever wanna cry because the sky is so gorgeous?

❤️Ribbons and Heartsongs by jeyhawk

❤️Ribbons and Heartsongs

by jeyhawk

E, 37k, wangxian

Summary:  High Fantasy/Science Fiction AU.

The cot looked like a death trap. It was held together by a bunch of leather straps connected to a metal frame. Even with a mattress put on top it looked like a torture device.

“If I die in the night, I will come back to haunt you,” Wei Wuxian said, eyeing it.

“It is not for you,” Lan Wangji said.

“What? I’m a prisoner. Of course I’m taking the cot.”

“You are a guest and you are taking the bed.”

“I’m not taking the bed. Come on, I can’t let you sleep on that. If you die everyone will blame me.”

“I will not die.”

My comments:  Beautiful story: kind of a mesh between space/fantasy/urban fantasy AUs. Wei Wuxian is an Army deserter (they’d non-consensually made him into a werewolf and then mind-controlled him for 2 years for a bit of additional fuckery) and has been on the run for 3 years when a vortex opens in front of him. Wei Wuxian jumps in, because he is the kind of man who takes leaps. He exits into a circle of mages, one of whom is quietly thrumming with a heartsong that is making his wolf go absolutely bananas.

So he settles into this new world, where magic is real and no one’s heard about the Federation. (Well, he settles in after they let him out of their dungeon.) He’s Lan Wangji’s charge, which is just fine by him. He keeps his wolf side secret, and just learns about this new place and the new people and gets to know his beautiful and intriguing roommate well enough to read micro-expressions.

There’s a mystery, and some danger, and Wei Wuxian gets to divest Lan Wangji of his virginity (which is absolutely gorgeous), after which the mystery situation comes to a head and somehow Wei Wuxian gets sent back across the… universe, alternate dimensions, he really doesn’t know… to the bleak reality he’d only just escaped.

Excerpt: “I like watching you [get ready in the morning],” Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji cut him a look that seemed more surprised than angry. “Why?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, making the covers slip down his chest. “You look more human in the morning.”

Lan Wangji blinked at that. “I’m always human.”

“I know.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows drew together slightly. Wei Wuxian struggled for a way to explain himself.

“You’re less perfect in the morning. Sometimes your hair is even tangled.”

Lan Wangji’s hands flew to his hair.

“Not now,” Wei Wuxian said impatiently. “Just sometimes.”

Lan Wangji stared at him, then it seemed to occur to him that Wei Wuxian was barely dressed because his gaze dropped to his chest for a moment before being wrenched away.

“You’re weird,” he said, seemingly with as much dignity as he could muster, which was more dignity than Wei Wuxian had mustered in his entire life.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian said, unconcerned.

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed into perfect crescents, the way they did when he was smiling internally, and Wei Wuxian congratulated himself on a morning well spent. It was worth every bit of discomfort waking at 5-hour brought him if he could make Lan Wangji almost-smile.

fantasy au, urban fantasy au, science fiction au, space au, werewolf au, dimension travel, case fic, loss of virginity, marriage proposal, pining, sharing a bed, anal sex, werewolf wei wuxian, favorite, werewolf mates, biting, (wwx is the one who bites), top wei wuxian, bottom lan wangji, cultivator lan wangji, ex-Army wei wuxian

(You may wish to REBLOG as a signal boost for the author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)