1 - 20 of 44 Works by LittleLostStar
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It occurs a few times per day all over the world, at least per the official records. Two people meet, and their palms begin to glow with an eerie white-gold light. They are each others’ Anathema, and if they touch, the world will immediately and irrevocably end.
Yuuri has dreamed about and dreaded meeting his Anathema in equal measure his whole life. He never imagined he’d fall in love with him.
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It was just as well, then; the South Pole was a lonely place, and his quest fell on him and him alone. It seemed only right that the last part of his journey would be the hardest, but he was so close. Just a few more miles, just a few more nights, just a single horrifying task to accomplish, and then he could finally go home again.
Bring me the heart of the last waterbender. The tallest order imaginable, and yet he would do it. He would do anything, if it meant restoring his honour and setting things back to the way they used to be.
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When a mission to the South Pole goes awry, Prince Zuko awakens in the home of a healer named Katara and finds his heart is damaged and his bending has vanished. His quest to find the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe is his destiny-- the one chance to regain his honour and return home. But as time passes and Zuko's heart heals, it becomes clear that Katara is protecting an ancient secret of her own, and that both of their destinies are entwined in ways never before thought possible. -
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Ava Silva is a bartender who has no idea how to pole dance, but she's determined to learn how to celebrate the things her body has always wanted to do.
Beatrice Young is a former ballerina who can't bear to truly be herself onstage, even when that stage is a strip club where she earns only meager tips despite her talent.
Life at the Cat's Cradle Cabaret will never be the same.
~There’s something intoxicating about this matter of dance—she always suspected as much, and it’s immensely rewarding to find out she’s right—and as the song continues Ava realizes she’s feinting towards something like bravery. She spent so many years imagining herself in motion, fantasizing shamelessly about the lines and curves she could make, the graceful and emotional and shocking and evocative things she could say with her body.
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let’s count the ways (we could make this last forever) by LittleLostStar
Fandoms: Warrior Nun (TV)
20 Feb 2023
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A short Beatrice-centric fic based on the released pages of the bed-sharing scene.
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There are five cracks in the ceiling of their bedroom, and at this point Beatrice has moved from counting them to memorizing them, her eyes tracing as they spread like little rivers across the plasterwork. Part of her thinks she should really talk to the owner about it, but another part of her knows it’s not worth the attention.
(Plus, if they fixed the cracks in the ceiling, there wouldn’t be anything to look at other than Ava, and that would almost certainly drive Beatrice completely over the edge into madness.)
Beatrice lies awake most mornings just like this, watching the cracks in the ceiling (one, two, three, four, five). She tries her very best not to think, so instead she counts.
There are two pairs of pajamas she likes to wear, and a third set Ava stole during the first week and refuses to return.
There are thirteen vertical stripes on the topsheet, at least nine of which are on Ava’s side of the bed, because she hogs every blanket in her orbit. And Beatrice can’t really blame her; Ava’s feet are freezing, and it’s always a shock when their limbs happen to touch through the night. -
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Beatrice doesn’t believe in tarot—of course she doesn’t, she’s a nun—but, seeing as this is one of her rare fun-oriented outings, she goes in for a reading anyway. It’s not like she’s having a crisis of faith or anything. That would just be silly.
Ava Silva has been bumming her way around Europe, after a life-saving procedure left her more aimless than free. She’s got a knack for reading people—including cute nuns with repressed sapphism radiating from every orifice—but the last thing she expects is for that nun to come back the next day. Or the day after that.
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The portal spits Ava back out a few weeks after Beatrice lets her go.
Or:
One time Beatrice gave Ava a back rub, and one time Ava came back from oblivion to make sure she returned the favour.
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Beatrice only buys things when they’re in season, so it isn’t until the first nip of October that she brings home a pomegranate; and as Ava helps put away the groceries she can’t help but drift towards them. Spending twelve years unable to feel has made her a glutton for novelty, even to this day; the chance to feel something new is still a shining golden treasure. Her sensory-hungry hands are immediately drawn to the pomegranate’s taut flesh, the healthy weight of it in her palm, the way something gives just a little under the surface when she applies the slightest pressure.
“How do you eat these?” Ava asks, her mouth already watering for some reason. “Is the skin good? Can I just go full apple, or is this another rambutan situation?”
Beatrice laughs, her joy like pealing bells on a Saint’s day. “Not quite, but there is a bit of a trick to them. Would you like me to show you?”
Ava nods. “Yes, please,” she says, voice low. She can’t help herself when Beatrice shows her things.~
Avatrice smut due to sensual fruit prep, because our girls can't keep their hands off one another. -
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“I’m in love with Beatrice.” The words have been dancing on the tip of Ava’s tongue for weeks now, clamoring to be said, and even when spoken in a hushed tone they still feel like a primal scream.
“Yes,” Hans nods, “good. Now: the sky is blue, grass is green and—ow!” he flashes a grin as Ava gives him a gentle shove. “Listen, I figured while we were stating the obvious, might as well get a few more out of the way!”
Ava buries her face in her hands, skin hot all over. It’s a miracle—probably literally—that the Halo isn’t glowing right now, because her heart is beating so fast that she feels like she might begin floating at any moment.
“What am I going to do?” she moans into her clammy palms. “Bea is…well, you know how she is.”
Hans makes an affirmative noise. “Tough nut to crack, that one,” he agrees. “With that being said, you do realize she’s in love with you too, right? Because it’s, like…maybe the one thing about Beatrice that isn’t subtle.”~~
Or: Ava decides to go for it.
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“What’s the catch?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re rich enough to bribe God, so…what happens if I want to quit? What happens if we don’t get along?”
Aleksander dabs at his lips with his napkin and sits back with a visible huff.
“Alina, listen,” he sighs, “the fact is, I’ve got way too much money and I’d like to spend some of it on you. If you want."~~
A super indulgent good-times-only Darklina sugar daddy AU.
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Good Handiwork, or: The Queen Takes Shape by LittleLostStar
Fandoms: Shadow and Bone (TV)
16 Jul 2021
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Alina Starkov has been sleeping over at her best friend Mal's house for years, and Mr. Morozova has always been extremely nice to her. Tonight, he's going to teach her a brand new lesson.
~“I always suspected my kid was too chicken to ask you out,” Aleksander sighs. “It’s a shame, really. I’ve always considered you…” he trails off as his fingertips hit the hem of her shorts, and the air suddenly seems like molasses. Alina watches as his Adam’s Apple bobs in slow motion, and she leans towards him a bit—just a fraction of an inch, barely noticeable, except that it pushes his fingers under the fabric. It’s an invitation to continue that doesn’t even register as such until his hand moves again, creeping even further upwards. A needy whimper escapes her throat as his fingers graze the crease of her thigh.
“What do you know how to do with your hands?” Aleksander says softly. -
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The shadow made her an offer: stay in the castle with him, and the regiment would survive the harsh winter that had trapped them all in the ice-sheeted valley below.
Alina paused. When the monster spoke, he seemed to gather himself together a bit more, pulling a simulacrum of a man out of the smoky gloom so subtly that it almost seemed like a trick of the light—shadows playing on shadows.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
It was dizzying to look at the monster, especially as the wind whipped her lantern flame and cast flickering shadows throughout the room; he—Alina was fairly sure it was a he—seemed to be made of darkness itself, a shifting mass of smoke that coalesced rather than dissipated.
“I have no reason to lie,” he said, his voice crackling like flames in a hearth.
Alina furrowed her brow. “You have plenty of reasons to lie. What could you possibly want from me?”
She must have been mad from hunger, because she swore the monster looked flustered, inasmuch as featureless smoke could look like anything.~~~
A Darklina smoke monster Beauty and the Beast AU.
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we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained by LittleLostStar for AlwaysEverlark
Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
08 Feb 2021
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The first time she walked into his club, she was looking for a job. Kylo took one look at her—the stubborn pout of her lip, the determined glint in her eyes, the ruddy glow of her face where the sun had kissed it—and swallowed a lump in his throat that was shaped like the words you’re too good for this place.
They needed a singer. Kira Johnson could hold a tune, knew the old standards, and had a knockout pair of tits to boot. A few slinky ballgowns and a touch of lipstick, and she’d more than do the trick of distracting suckers long enough to part them from their money.
The club solely needed to break even; anything they made on top of the Syndicate’s cut was gravy, and Kylo Ren had been lining his pockets with his own take for long enough that he could see Kira for the lump of clay that she was: rough-hewn, misshapen, but soft and supple and sure to curve under his touch.
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Canon-divergent AU. Just before he skates at the Hot Springs On Ice, Yuuri receives a photo of his drunken GPF banquet antics; consumed with humiliation over a night he can’t remember, he loses the competition. Victor goes back to Russia with Yurio, and Yakov comes to train Yuuri in Japan. One night, frustrated and miserable, Yuuri posts some personally relevant song lyrics on Instagram—and wakes up the next morning to find that Victor has posted lyrics that seem to be a reply.
With the world watching their every move, Victor and Yuuri begin trading lyrics in a secret conversation; from playful rivalry to intense seduction, through Savage Garden and San Fermin, their virtual affair unfolds, hidden in plain sight. But the Grand Prix approaches, bringing with it newfound opportunities for Yuuri’s career, and his new life hinges on two things: winning the gold, and staying away from Victor.
CHAPTER 22: He tilts his head, eyes lidded, hands over his heart as he skates through his step sequence. For you, Victor.
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When Hux asks Rey to come with him to his fancy work party, she doesn’t think much of it. She’s done this plenty of times before: go daintily on your date’s arm, charm the heck out of their coworkers, have a few watered-down drinks, and go for Taco Bell on the way home. Hux is a teacher, and Rey knows two things about teachers: one, they have a thing for matchmaking, and two, they drink like absolute monsters. So with Rey to act as a buffer between Hux and any well-intentioned female colleagues and the guarantee of at least two drink tickets, it’s set to be, at the very least, a decently fun night. Hux even describes it as “magical”, which is downright adorable, if a little strange.
But then he rings her doorbell, and Rey pulls open the door only to see an explosion of grey feathers.
“What the fuck?!” she shrieks, clawing at her face. The down settles to reveal Hux, his hands spread wide and face frozen in an expression that screams ‘TA-DAH!’, silent but deafening. At her feet, a pigeon scampers into the bushes that flank the walkway with a panicked-sounding chortle.
“I said it would be a magical night,” Hux manages, his smile momentarily wavering.
“And you meant, um, magic magic?” -
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Rey is a black widow. Ben is her new husband. Things aren't quite going to plan.
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Being the perfect trophy wife is hard work; it’s a lot of long hours, cramped shoulders, and burns from the oven. There’s nothing wrong with any of it, of course; in fact, Rey relishes in the ability to control her environment so precisely. She wants nothing more than to be kept safe and secure, and she’s happy to provide for the man who puts a ring on her finger and vows to cherish her until death do them part. It’s not her fault that the men can’t ever seem to hold up their end of the bargain.
~Now complete.
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a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves by LittleLostStar for QueenOfCarrotFlowers
Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
17 Oct 2020
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A tree has never fallen in love, but Ben thinks it might feel like falling in real life: the lurch, the sudden sway, the inevitable combination of dread and joy as one life falls away and another cobbles itself together from the ashes and dust.
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Ben was born a blackthorn tree, and he wants to be felled by Rey. That's just about it.
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Five times Rey and Ben almost get it right, and the one time they finally nail it.
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TWO: The first time Ben kisses Rey, he almost gets it right.They're fourteen and sitting in one of the band practice rooms, side by side at the piano, their breaths thick in the stuffy windowless space. Ben has been playing piano since he was five years old, and is an exceptional musician; Rey has been playing for about five months, and is officially hopeless at it, but she has developed an equally hopeless addiction to watching Ben when he plays the piano Rey really has been trying, but everything that isn’t directly Ben-related goes in one ear and out the other. Her chronic inattentiveness is a symptom of a larger disease that has transformed Rey into a sweaty, stammering, anxious mess, suddenly unable to be in the presence of her best friend without getting lost in the depths of his dark brown eyes or lulled to incoherence by the brand new bass tone of his voice, which causes every offhand comment come out in a growl that makes her toes literally curl.
Crush doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s going through; it’s more like Rey’s gone completely insane.
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and i've been meaning to tell you, i think your house is haunted by LittleLostStar
Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
08 Aug 2020
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Rey and Ben each arrive at a beachside house, one to repair and the other to destroy, each seeking salvation hung on memories of joy that might have been imagined.
Or: Rey and Ben are each others' ghosts, and there's only one bed.
~~~The first thing Rey did after she lost her mind was to buy a mattress. While initially seeming like an impulse buy, it kicked off a series of increasingly bewildering decisions that have ultimately led her to this moment; and as she lugs it up the stairs now, she finds herself smiling just a little.
There is no such place as home, for her. She's always known that.
But there's something about this house. -
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Scorned by the same ex, Zuko and Katara enact some satisfying revenge.
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“So my question—more of an olive branch, really—is this.” She holds up a set of keys.
Zuko cocks his good eyebrow. “...keys?”
“Keys to Jet’s place, more specifically.”
He feels his heart rate increase. “He still has my good cocktail set,” he blurts.
Katara’s smile widens. “Wanna go get it back?”
“Obviously, but why come all the way downtown to ask me?”
She twirls the keys around her finger. “We both know that Jet’s apartment is, like, half the reason we wanted to hang out around him. I live across the hall and I still fell for it.”
Zuko exhales. “It’s so beautiful.”
“And we both know that it’s a den of iniquity and lies, and also happens to be his pride and joy. And I can’t really lie...I kinda want to trash the place.” -
hearts wrapped in blankets, laying low by LittleLostStar for louciferish
Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
19 Jan 2020
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Victor kept a wish in a ring box, and its name was Yuuri.
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“What do you mean, you’re a wish?” Victor whispered, blinking into the unfamiliar dark of his hotel room. “Like a genie in a lamp?”
Something like that, Yuuri replied.
It was terribly strange; the wish lay in Victor’s hand, an inanimate lump of clay. Without the light, it was difficult to know what Yuuri was even supposed to be; there was the approximation of a head with a beak on the end, and a slightly plump body with a pair of uneven leaf-shaped wings carved into each side. There was no warmth to imply a heartbeat encased within Yuuri’s plain exterior, and the ring box didn’t come with instructions or explanations. And yet Victor couldn’t deny that there was a voice in his mind, a concrete sense of presence, which manifested as a rather pleasant buzzing feeling that made him bite back a shy smile.
“What could I wish for?” he murmured in the direction of where Yuuri’s ear might be.
Think of any one thing you want, Yuuri replied, and I can give it to you.