#Colorful jungle wall art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juniper-sunny · 4 months ago

Text

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 1

As a professional artist, you've made a career out of bringing works of art to life. The colors of Zaun are no exception, and your current commission is literally larger-than-life: a mural in the Undercity. But then you meet a young revolutionary named Silco who shows you a side of the underground that you've never seen before...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | WC: 3k

beta readers: @silcoitus @deny-the-issue

ao3 || Masterlist

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

There’s color everywhere in the Undercity. It’s not that hard to find, but most people don’t care to go looking for it. But you’ve always been able to appreciate it in all its forms: dandelions straining through cracks in the concrete, eclectic graffiti in hard-to-reach places, pale weak lighting streaming through broken glass and ironwork…

Anywhere you look, there’s always a feast for the eyes.

There are plenty of artists from the Undercity, and you proudly count yourself among their number. But not many of them manage to cultivate a steady clientele; fewer still manage to attract the attention of wealthy Topsiders. They’ve sustained you for years now, since the beginning of your professional career. Making the transition from tagging crumbling stone walls with graffiti to painting on smooth, delicate canvas was a huge learning curve, but you make great money from commissions. And there’s a seemingly never-ending supply of wealthy Piltover families who want family portraits, individual portraits, pet portraits, portraits of long dead ancestors, portraits of them participating in historical events that they weren’t present at…

Whatever opinions you have of your clients, you keep them to yourself. They probably have their own issues with you since you were born and raised in the Undercity. But you wouldn’t give up your upbringing for anything. Certainly not the hallowed halls of Piltover’s art schools, learning to paint only in the styles of long-dead “masters” who romanticize poverty as an abstract concept, something to be studied and observed at a distance.

Today, your work brings you to the periphery of the Undercity, where Piltover’s largest bridge ends at the aboveground levels of Zaun. You’re working on your biggest commission yet, literally: a mural high on the side of a whitewashed gray brick building in the Promenade, the emergent layer of the Undercity’s glass and iron jungle. Still close enough to the surface to be touched by the sun, illuminated in the early hours on days with good weather. Your artwork is going to encompass at least two-thirds of the wall, over a hundred times larger than most other wall art in this area of Zaun.

The location has you nostalgic for those bygone days of your childhood, but the fresh air and warm sun are miles above where you used to run around in the lowly gutters, competing with your friends for the best real estate and vandalizing each other’s work, showing off who can paint the fastest and most elaborate pieces before Enforcers come stomping around. That’s when you’d all scatter like rats, only to do it all over again the next day.

The mural you’re working on is large enough to warrant the use of a scissor lift, which you’re standing on right now. Its highest extension brings you standing higher than the wall, level with the roof’s ledge. When you lean back and stretch as far as you can, a cool breeze trails through your fingers. You can’t help but savor the beautiful day for a little while longer before getting started.

Just as you lean over a yellow paint can to open it, the sound of running footsteps makes you pause. You lean over the scissor lift’s railing to look down at the alleyway below. It’s narrow due to the close proximity of other buildings, pipes and glass tubes rising above rooftops and wrapping around windows like fungi. You squint hard, trying to make out the source of the noise.

It moves so fast you almost miss it. A blur runs over the irregular stonework on the ground, coalescing into a shadowy figure that dodges and jumps around the landscape with ease, darting and almost flying on a deliberate path. Maybe it’s an avian Vastayan?

This area doesn’t see a lot of foot traffic around this time of day; you deliberately chose your working hours so you wouldn’t be disturbed. Still, it’s not unusual to see or hear people nearby. But what really gets your attention is when the thing ducks around your scissor lift and peeks out, using your machine as cover to look back where it came from.

You don’t know why you’re watching, but something compels you to. Compels you to defy the first law of survival in the Undercity: mind your own damn business. Or else.

For a moment, it doesn’t move.

Then, it looks up. Catching you staring at it.

No, not “it”—a man. Human, dark-haired with brilliant blue eyes, staring back at you in defiance and uncertainty.

He turns and goes down to his knees, crawling to a nearby manhole cover and lifting it, then jumping in. His movements are swift and graceful, no doubt thoroughly practiced at using this specific escape route.

Footsteps fill the air again. You turn away to look down the other end of the alleyway where the man came from. These footfalls are slower and louder; whoever they belong to, they’re wearing heavy boots and don’t seem to care about being subtle.

A pair of Enforcers turn the corner, navigating the debris and unsteady ground much more clumsily than the stranger.

“He can’t have gone far! Damn gutter rat…” one of them swears angrily.

They’re about to pass right next to your scissor lift.

You hold your breath as you grab two of your paint cans at random and pry their lids off as quickly as you can…

Perch them carefully on the railing…

Take aim…

And then—

SPLAT!!!

Your aim is perfect: the cans drop like bombs, crashing into the Enforcers’ shoulders and clanking onto the ground, spinning wild arcs of paint all over their boots. They’re both drenched in paint from head to toe, prim and proper gold and blue outfits stained in long drips of light pink and pure white, bright enough to be seen even from the great height you’re standing at. Just as you hoped, they stop their pursuit to shake themselves like mangy dogs, trying to swipe the paint off of their sleeves. One of them takes off their hat and whips it frantically up and down, splattering the nearby walls and your scissor lift.

You school your face from a triumphant grin into a serious, mournful expression as you lower the lift to the ground. The loud hum of the machinery drowns out their furious cursing.

“I’m soooooo sorry officers, I didn’t see you there!” you apologize profusely as you climb down to approach them.

“Dammit, woman!” one of them shouts, brandishing a paint-splattered baton at you. “What the hell—”

“If you want to be reimbursed for your uniforms, just let Councilor Salo know and he’ll cover the costs,” you smoothly interrupt the Enforcer, unbothered by his outburst.

The namedrop makes them pause. You pull your business card and a golden engraved crest out of your pocket. One of the officers takes them both, not bothering to look at your card. Instead, he carefully examines the crest, a pure gold and tacky letter “S” in calligraphic script, set in a delicate filigree of a leafy bush laden with berries. The crest is given by the Councilor to his contractors to give them free entry to restricted areas in Piltover. You’ve only ever used it so far to gain access to his gated mansion, but right now it’s coming in handy too: having Salo as a patron basically tells people that they shouldn’t mess with you unless they want to piss off a councilor.

“It’s genuine,” the Enforcer mutters to his partner and hands the crest back to you. He clears his throat and addresses you in a calmer, more formal manner. “And it’s not a problem, ma’am. We won’t bother the Councilor with something so trivial. Have you seen a—”

You gasp melodramatically, exaggeratedly widening your eyes. “Your uniforms! You need to wash them right away! Or else they’ll stain permanently!”

They glance at each other impatiently. “It’s fine. We’re looking for a—”

“And your skin! Did you get any on you?? It’ll stain you too!!”

That gets their attention. One of them tucks his hat under his arm, rubbing a gloved hand furiously at his pink-and-white cheek. You shove the other Enforcer with all your might, pushing him away.

“Scrub your bodies with tomato juice and then soak in onion peels! That’ll get it all out! But hurry!!”

They finally break out into a run, out of Zaun and towards Piltover where they belong. You snicker to yourself and toss the crest in the air. It flips over and over, casting bright reflections that spin dizzily on the walls as it catches the light. Those Enforcers won’t actually have to do all that to get the paint out of their clothing, but it feels like a small victory against the cruel arm of law enforcement who cause even worse trouble whenever they visit the Undercity.

You catch a glimpse of something twinkling on the ground. It’s the eyes of the man, still watching you from underground.

As you suppress the instinct to wave hello at him, he pulls the manhole cover back into place, disappearing into the sewers.

The next day starts off like any other, and you’re looking forward to getting more work done. But as you climb your scissor lift, a jolt of fear zaps up your spine. Prickles on the back of your neck crawl upwards to settle at the top of your head. It’s an Undercity instinct, a warning that someone you can’t see is watching you.

And they’re looking down at you like a bird of prey.

You dart into the shadows, crouching low against the wall. You take deep breaths to settle your nerves. The high ground gives them an advantage against you. If they have a gun, it’s just a matter of them pointing and shooting—

But then, just barely, you’re able to catch a whiff of smoke. It smells of cheap nicotine, and you look up to see a ring of cigarette smoke uncurling lazily against the backdrop of a cloudless sky.

The cigarette smoke is as good as a signal fire. If they wanted to hurt you, they wouldn’t make themselves known like that. Still, whoever it is, they know where you work and were waiting for you. That makes you wary enough to grab your sharpest palette knife and hide it in your pocket. It’s not a conventional weapon, but there’s no way you’re going to confront a stranger unarmed when you ask them to leave you alone. Your grip around the knife’s handle is tight as you punch the button to extend the lift to its fullest height. It brings you level with the roof and the person waiting for you.

It’s the same man from yesterday, now close enough for you to notice that his narrowed, suspicious eyes aren’t blue but turquoise, clear as the ocean and just as deep. He’s pointy and whip-thin, leaning against the roof’s ledge with crossed arms, a cigarette squeezed between the clenched fingers of a tight fist.

“What kind of person works for a councilor but won’t turn in a wanted man?” he asks, curious. His voice is low and smoky, a smooth baritone intonation rolling over gravel. It’s a beautiful voice, tempting you into lowering your guard. If you closed your eyes, you could be fooled into believing that his voice belonged to a Topside radio host or a curator giving tours in a museum.

“Just wanted to help a fellow ‘gutter rat’,” you reply, shrugging.

“And why would you do that?” His fashion is typical for an average Zaunite: his dark shirt is made of rough and well-worn fabric, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal wiry but muscled forearms. On his left shoulder is a leather pad, studded with brass buttons and stitched with metal wires, all highly polished and shining brightly in the sun, reflections dancing off them like flares. His left wrist is wrapped in bandages while a leather bracelet threaded with silver coins adorns his right wrist.

“Why not?” you ask. “Isn’t life hard enough already? We should help each other out whenever we can.”

He doesn’t acknowledge your statement with a reply, but instead raises an incredulous eyebrow. You let the silence continue as the two of you mutually size each other up. His high cheekbones and long, narrow and shapely nose are framed by straight hair, black as coal. It looks so soft, parting in the exact middle of his forehead to end in drapes around his chin. His skin is pale with an ashy undertone, a symptom of living long-term in the deepest guts of the Undercity where its denizens rarely get to enjoy any sunshine at all. His lips are thin, the irregular cupid’s bow longer on his right side than the left.

This man’s face would be an interesting challenge to paint.

“Now that’s not an attitude you encounter every day in the Undercity,” he muses. His eyes are especially striking. They gaze at you with such intensity, it makes you self-conscious of your paint-stained attire, a loose workman’s jumpsuit that prioritizes utility and comfort over style. He doesn’t seem to pay any mind to your painting materials, which you’re suddenly realizing are lying out in the open… He could get a good price for them if he stole them from you. Yesterday’s prank was a spur-of-the-moment decision; losing some easily replaceable supplies was worth inconveniencing the officers, but you suddenly regret painting a target on your back.

That’s why you have to keep to yourself in the Undercity. If you help a stranger, they could stab you in the back instead of thanking you.

But the man seems more interested in staring through you, scrutinizing you with such focus that it could put yesterday’s Enforcers to shame.

“Well, it’s fun to mess with Enforcers, too,” you chuckle at the memory. Staring back with casual indifference, you quietly readjust your grip on your knife. Another rule of survival in the Undercity is to never break eye contact with someone trying to intimidate you unless you want to be seen as weak. If he wants to start a fight, you’ll be ready to finish it.

“That, I understand all too well.” The stiff line of his lips quirks upward in appreciation before settling again into wary neutrality. He finally breaks eye contact, turning away to take a pull on his cigarette. You let out a low breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Your eyes are drawn to the elegant, lazy movement of his hand as he puts out his cigarette, grinding it against the ledge. The wind carries away small brown flecks of ash in a sudden breeze.

His demeanor is stony, but not hostile. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking just from looking at his face. But he went out of his way to come here and find you, and that says a lot about his determination overriding his sense of caution. You didn’t get a good enough look at him yesterday to track him down, either to turn him in or demand a reward. He could have just as easily carried on with his own life on a path that never crossed yours again.

He must be really curious about you.

You don’t know why, but the feeling is mutual.

“You’re welcome for yesterday, by the way,” you smile at him, relaxing your hold on your knife. “Those Enforcers would’ve caught you if it weren’t for me. Although you’re so skinny you could literally slip through their fingers.”

His impressive façade cracks as he bares his chipped teeth, bristling and ready to attack. “I did not need your help. I was perfectly capable of escaping on my own.”

You thoughtfully stroke your chin. “Guess we’ll never know.”

He stands tall to his fullest height, towering over you, a dangerous challenge in his voice sharpening its edges into a threat. “What makes you think it would be a good idea to antagonize someone wanted by Enforcers?”

“Ooooh, the Enforcers want to lock up little ol’ you. You’re such a big baddie,” you tease. “If they had it their way, they’d have every single one of us locked up. You’re not special.”

He leans forward again, curling his hands over the ledge of the roof. “Perhaps I’ve done something especially terrible to warrant particular attention from Topside.”

“Let me guess,” you purse your lips as you examine him. “You pickpocketed some rich guy?”

He smiles slyly. “Worse than that.”

“Running an illegal Poro-fighting ring?”

“No.”

“Impersonating a councilor?”

“Not quite.”

You shake your head in bemusement. “What was it?”

“Seducing a Piltie noblewoman,” a mischievous twinkle shines in his eyes. “I all but rescued her from a cold and loveless marriage. Unfortunately, her husband didn’t seem to feel the same way.”

“Really?” you laugh again, more out of surprise than humor this time.

“No,” he winks. “I guess you’ll never know.”

“If I bump into those Enforcers again I’ll just ask them— not that I’d tell them where you are,” you add hastily. It was meant as a joke, but from the way he glares at you with humorless alarm it was clearly the wrong thing to say. “Besides, if you did seduce a Piltie lady, you’d be doing her a favor.”

He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “And what do you mean by that?”

You blush. It was something you thought when you first laid eyes on him properly, but it just slipped out while you were babbling— he’s handsome. “You’re probably better looking than her husband.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” his smile this time is accompanied by a soft exhale of amusement. He leans forward again, this time a slight slouch in his shoulders as he allows himself to relax. “I also owe you my gratitude for coming to my rescue. Thank you, madam.”

You wince at the word. He doesn’t look that much older than you, so there’s no need for him to address you so formally. “Please don’t call me that.”

“May I have your name then?” he asks politely.

You give it to him. He repeats it slowly, as if appreciating the shape of it. Something about the way he says it makes you want to step forward. The opportunity presents itself when he reaches his hand out for you to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Silco.”

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! <3

Chapter 2

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

198 notes · View notes

dejaonline · 1 year ago

Text

same space | shuriri x spoiled!black!fem!reader

Summary: you and shuri have a unique romantic history—the two of you have been bonded by an “arrangement”, but it’s been a good while since you’ve seen each other last. What happens when a routine drunk call + rescue reveals that it is no longer just the two of you.

Content includes: mentions of drugs and alcohol, swearing, semi-offensive insults.

Translations:

nkosazana- princess

umhle nkosazana yam- you look beautiful, my princess

Author’s note: ahh! Baby’s first fic! I am extremely nervous posting this, but i’m equally just as excited. I wanna say thank you to my baby boo @prettymrswright for all of her help and encouragement throughout the process. my tummy is achinggg (anxious girlies stand up!) but i cannot wait to hear what you guys think! thank ya’ll in advance for reading <3

Tagging some of my favsss: @prettymrswright @sapphicvqmpires @kisskourt @inmyheadimobsessed @pvnks0ul @vampzxi @quintessencewrites

Shuri took a deep breath, bracing herself for the chaos awaiting her just behind the heavy doors of the mansion. She could feel the music up through her arm as she pushed through the barrier.

She stepped inside and took in her surroundings. Glitter covered the marble floors, shimmering beneath the beams of light coming from one of the many disco balls hanging down from the high ceilings. A neon ‘Studio 54’ sign was mounted on the wall surrounded by vintage photographs and abstract art pieces.

To the left was a dimly-lit lounge with large, plush earth-toned couches and loveseats. People dressed in rhinestone covered jumpsuits and bell bottoms were socializing throughout the space, some smoking or sitting at the bar with decorated martini glasses.

The young royal ventured down a dark hallway to the right of her, following the sound of music emitting from the commodious ballroom. Colorful rays of light bounced off the walls and beneath Siri’s black boots, multi-colored tiles danced around to the beat.

The queen stood out amongst the sea of metallic gogo boots and fringe. Her slender frame was concealed beneath a black, oversized blazer and perfectly tailored pants to match. Her wandering eyes hid behind her favorite pair of black shades.

Shuri did her best to avoid getting sandwiched between a couple of inebriated bodies thrashing around her. She swiveled her head, attempting to locate you amongst the crowd until finally spotting you.

You were tucked away in a roped off section, attention focused on someone sitting dangerously close to you in the conversation pit. In the center sat a glass table, littered with empty liquor bottles, ashtrays, and assorted sizes of plastic bags. Your smooth, rich skin was covered in a sheer, floor length gown. Diamonds cascaded in detailed patterns across the fabric and tufts of feathers decorated the sleeves and hem, sweeping the silver open-toed platform heels on your feet. Your fresh braids lay parted down the center, hanging down to your lower back. You looked opulent and sexy in the iconic gown. The shimmer on your eyelids and glossy lips catching the light.

You sat with your legs crossed, one arm stretched out beside you and the other resting on your thigh while you sat back engaged in a conversation with a girl in a beaded mini dress. You watched her lips as she chatted about..stuff.

Your liquor induced arousal was immediately redirected once you caught sight of the slim figure looming behind the stranger.

“I hate to cut you off baby, but my ride is here.”

You eyed Shuri from head to toe, lingering on the bit of exposed chest behind her blazer. You leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on the girl's left cheek before standing to take Shuri’s awaiting hand.

She pressed her palm against the small of your back, steadying you.

“You okay to walk, nkosazana?”

You looked to Shuri with big, pleading eyes and she took the hint. She wrapped one of your arms around the back of her neck and scooped you up into her arms bridal style.

The two of you made your way back to the entrance. You were highly intoxicated and giggling in Shuri’s hold, your head pressed against her chest. You caught a whiff of her signature scent, the mix of sweetness and musk that you recognized as Tom Ford Vanille Fatale. You bought it for her a while back and it had been her favorite ever since.

Meanwhile, Shuri was playing it cool, trying not to make it obvious how happy she was to have you this close again. She cracked a smile at how easily tickled you became at her praise.

Although the noise level had significantly quieted down, Shuri whispered into you again.

“You look beautiful, my love.”

Another giggle escaped you and it was music to Shuri’s ears.

“Thank you, shuri bear”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that, y/n” Shuri huffed before letting you down, her still wrapped around you until the swaying ceased.

“Oh, by the way, this is Riri.”

Shuri softly tapped on the tinted window, prompting the stranger to roll it down.

Riri sat stone-faced and unamused. Her sharp jaw clenched in annoyance before she threw an uninterested two finger wave your way. She still had not looked in your direction, but your gaze locked in on her. She sat slouched in the front seat of Shuri’s Maserati Quattroporte, wearing a baggy denim jacket over a tight fitting white crop top with matching baggy jeans.

Your attention focused on the neat star design braided into the side of her head and the joint tucked behind her ear.

Even drunk, you could sense that she didn’t like you. Or at least she didn’t care much for you. She didn’t even know you, how could she not like you?

“You good, Cher?”

Riri’s low voice pulled you from your thoughts and you tightened up immediately, flipping your braids back and straightening out your dress. You wouldn’t let her see you sweat, but can admit you were impressed she caught the reference. You threw on a fake smile before bending down to reach her level.

‘You’re in my seat, Riri—“

Before she could respond Shuri snatched you away from the window.

“Hey watch the dress!” You shouted.

Shuri pulled you around to the driver’s side pushing you up against the side of the car. You yanked your arm out of her grip.

“The fuck was that for?”

Shuri stepped closer to you, the front of her body touching yours.

“Riri is my girlfriend, she’s not riding in the back.”

You stared blankly at Shuri as your thoughts began to race again.

Girlfriend? When did this happen? How did this happen?

It seemed Shuri could read your mind.

“We can talk about this later. Just sit in the back and be good for me, please? Riri likes to fight.”

Shuri opened the back door, helping you inside. She was about to close the door, but stopped to pop her head back inside the vehicle, taking your chin between her thumb and index finger.

“Play nice” she whispered

Your eyes followed Shuri as she hopped back into the front seat. The engine purred to life and the three of you were off.

You stared out the window at the star lit sky, watching the lavish residence disappear from view, thinking back to the last time you had seen Shuri.

Four months ago the two of you were inseparable. Showing up to parties together, showering each other with gifts, sneaking away to private islands. It may have seemed extravagant to others, but it was a lifestyle the two of you were accustomed to.

You enjoyed your time together, but both parties especially enjoyed the freedom that came with not committing.

It was no secret that you and Shuri had undeniable chemistry. She would do anything for you, go anywhere with you.

The reason you weren’t in Riri’s position was because you didn’t need to be. Girlfriend or not, Shuri was never really out of reach. Your history ran deep and you had been through a lot together. Somewhere down the line, friends became more and things became romantic.

You both saw other people, nothing serious. Shuri usually had a few girls on rotation. It didn’t really bother you because she would abandon whomever she was using to occupy her time with to be with you.

It was one of the things you loved most about her. She was kind and attentive, kept you in check, never let you get lazy or unfocused.

On top of that she really knew how to f—

“-uck is she back there daydreaming about?” Riri snapped.

“She does that a lot” Shuri laughed.

“You wanna hit this or not? Don’t got all night.”

Riri held the lit joint between her fingers, pointing it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You replied dryly

You took it from her, then began to examine the bubblegum pink rolling paper.

“You roll this, Riri?”

“Yeah. Problem?”

You didn’t miss the small smirk that crept upon her face as she awaited your response.

“You used my rolling papers.” You stated matter-of-factly.

Your voice came out more shrill than you intended.

Shuri cut her eyes to you through the rear view mirror. It was a look you had come to learn was a silent warning.

“You left them behind the last time you were over, nkosazana”

You looked back over to Riri, who had now cracked a full blown smile. She watched in amusement as you took a long drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

You blew a path directly at her with the remaining smoke, letting it drift around her chiseled face and creating the illusion of her sitting among the clouds.

Her gaze had yet to leave yours. She was studying you: the way your nose scrunched up in annoyance, how your plump lips seemed to always sit in a permanent pout, and fixating on the way your chest increasingly rose and fell.

Maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the fact that Riri was stunning. Her eyes were intense as they bore into you, it made you nervous. It also made you extremely horny.

The car finally rolled into Shuri’s garage. And although you felt a suffocating heaviness in the vehicle, neither you nor Riri moved. You both knew better than to touch your own door handle.

Shuri went for your door first. You stepped out and pushed right past her, leaving no room for conversation. The clicking of your heels echoed throughout the vast garage as you stormed off, hips swaying beneath your dress.

The couple silently watched your figure stride past the rows of parked vehicles and vanish behind the door, making your way inside the house.

Shuri sighed deeply, carefully contemplating her next move. She grabbed Riri’s hands and kissed her knuckles before guiding her inside.

Inside, you made a b-line straight for the kitchen. You swung open one of the cabinets just above your head, snatching a wine glass from inside before slamming it shut.

Shuri was leaned up against the wall, right next to the small space that housed her impressive wine collection. Her eyes traveled down to the glass in your hand and she rolled her eyes, turning to grab the handle.

She disappeared inside, a look of contemplation on her face as she scanned the rows of bottles. Finally, she reached for a 1973 Chateau Montelena Chardonnay. She sauntered toward you, sending you a cryptic smile before heading right for the same cabinet you were just abusing.

In her hand she held two more wine glasses.

“I taught you better than that, y/n.” She teased.

Shuri made her way into the living room and you followed behind.

Riri sat alone on one of the couches, her hand rested over her face.

Shuri stood before you two, looking as beautiful as ever, oozing with charm and sex appeal. She set two of the glasses down, prompting you to add yours to the mix. You jumped at the ‘pop’ of the cork, anxious to have the glass back in your grasp.

“I think we should play a game, get to know each other a little better.” Her accent was thick, but it was no match for the tension in the air.

“And why would we do that?” You questioned.

The last thing you were interested in doing was learning anything about Riri. You felt you had gathered enough information about her from the ride to Shuri’s place: her name and the fact that she has a nasty attitude. Which is rich coming from you.

“Because, princess,” Shuri paused as she filled each glass. “If I’m going to keep both of you in my life, I want you two to bond, learn to get along.” She passed one to Riri, then you, before picking up the last for herself.

Before she could take a sip, her kimoyo beads hummed to life, signaling that someone was trying to contact her.

“I’ll be right back” was all she said before rushing out of the room.

Silence once again fell upon the house. You sipping from your glass, Riri staring you down from across the room. She was the first to speak up.

“So, what escort service did she find your ass from?”

You choked on your drink, appalled at the accusation.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, Keebler elf?”

You were trying to keep your voices down, afraid Shuri would hear from wherever she ran off to.

Riri stood up from her seat, coming face to face with you.

“There’s no way someone would be desperate enough to cling onto someone with a whole ass girlfriend the way that you do without getting paid for it.”

You stood your ground, pushing your upper body up to meet Riri halfway, mere inches away from her face.

“And you’d have to be one dumb bitch to think that title has any meaning.”

“Y/N!”

Before you could register the end of that exchange, Shuri grabbed you up for the second time that night, dragging you down the corridor and into a guest room. She slammed the door behind her, shoulders raising and dropping as she breathed heavily.

Stupidly, you opened your mouth to defend yourself.

“Shuri, that’s not fair, she was being awful to me—“

“I do not care! That is my partner, you do not speak to her like that. You disrespect her, you disrespect me. You’re lucky she even allowed you to step foot in our home!”

Our home. Your throat tightened at the sound. You were starting to feel sick.

“I should have told you earlier, I’m sorry.”

Shuri kneeled in front of you, taking your hands into hers.

“I met Riri a while back, when I went on that trip to Massachusetts.”

“That was six months ago.” You were trying to keep up with the timeline of events that Shuri was explaining to you.

“Yes. We kept in touch, nothing serious.” She peered up at you, waiting for your reaction.

“Go on.”

She cleared her throat before continuing.

“Of course you know, I got this place here in New York to be closer to you. But then I had to return home for a while.”

Things were starting to add up. You remembered having to say goodbye to Shuri, how much you had missed her over the last 4 months.

“Riri came to help me in the lab and we grew to enjoy each other's company. Not in the way that I’m used to, this was real. We made things official and when all the chaos settled, I asked her to return to the city with me.”

You were speechless for a moment, taking in Shuri’s words. You didn’t find yourself being angry, you had no right. The two of you were never exclusive and until a few weeks ago, you didn’t even entertain the thought of it. It had never bothered you that Shuri preferred an open relationship, but hearing that she was serious about Riri struck you to your core.

“Does she know?” You whispered.

“About us?” You nodded in response.

“Yes, I told her up front. My love for you never ceases. No matter who I am with, no matter where I go. You may not have chosen me, my love, but I will always choose you.”

Classic Shuri, girl always had a way with words.

“So how does this work?”

“Riri doesn't care for monogamy, that is how this even works in the first place. We’ll have to set some boundaries, of course, but I believe that we can figure this out. You just have to trust me, okay?”

It was a lot to consider. To say that you and Riri were at odds was an understatement, and establishing mutual tolerance would take some work. But you saw how much this meant to Shuri.

“I missed you, Shuri” you said honestly. Fatigue began to overcome you, and Shuri knew she didn’t have much longer to converse with you.

You laid back onto the bed while Shuri removed your heels. She covered you with a blanket and bent down towards your face. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second.

“We’ll talk some more in the morning. Get some rest now. Did I already tell you how beautiful you look?”

“Yeah, but you can tell me again.”

A big smile broke across Shuri’s face. She placed soft kisses on your cheeks, one after another, and lingered as she made contact with your forehead.

“umhle nkosazana yam”

It was the last thing you heard before sleep carried you off.

#shuri x reader #shuri x riri #shuriri x reader #shuriri #shuri x you #shuri x y/n

339 notes · View notes

weirdmarioenemies · 5 months ago

Text

Name: Peg

Debut: DK: King of Swing

This post is not about Donkey Kong himself. Sorry! It is about the peg he is currently swinging from. But Peg on its own is not very eye-catching, is it? We need a guy like DK here, for the brand recognition. With his help, Peg is gonna be a star admired like James Dean or Mr. Bean! Hopefully after this post, you'll all want to Get Pegged!

So, here's Peg. Sorry for the blurriness, this was cropped from the Japanese cover of the game. Believe it or not, no press kits seem to have included crisp, HD promo art of Peg! Imagine the world if they did that. They could have made sticker sheets, and you could have put them on your wall, and pretended Donkey Kong was awkwardly clambering on it. Now imagine doing that while a silverfish happened to be climbing on the same wall! It would be so exciting...

Peg is a very funny thing to me. Donkey Kong is a gorilla. He climbs. It's in his nature. So it makes sense to give him his own game focused on climbing rather than platforming. But the thing is, he climbs trees and grabs onto branches and vines. And this game is about Pegs! Like rock climbing hand/footholds! I like this game a lot, don't get me wrong. But I get such a kick out of it being about Pegs.

And there are so many Pegs. So many that they come in different colors, to make them more fun to look at! Which of these would you most want to Grasp? I like the blue one. You may note that none of these are red, like the artwork is, but maybe that's because of the GBA's initial lack of a backlight.

It does not stop at different colors of pegs, however! There are peg boards! Pegs with levers, at the ends of which are other pegs! Cracked pegs that crumble away into nothingness... and that brings us to my personal favorite peg!

GHOST pegs! These pegs have perished! They are only found in a haunted shipwreck stage, so that narrows down how they could have died. I'm sure a lot of them drowned, while others were cannibalized by other, desperate pegs. Maybe some were pried open by sea stars who then digested the delectable Pegmeat from within. Many possibilities! Wait, I haven't said what these pegs do! If one is grabbed, it will manifest a hexagon of pegs around itself, while any other ghostly pegs disappear. It is a fun but honestly extremely easy gimmick with no real catch, unless you are just oh so scared by these ghost pegs. I'm not. Not that it's anything to be ashamed of! But I'm not.

I am not entirely sure how I feel about the overall art direction of DK: Jungle Climber, since I really like the more unique spritework of King of Swing. One thing's for sure, though! Pegs and Peg Boards have never looked more natural! Now THESE are pegs that someone made and put there. Don't worry about it!

#peg #dk king of swing #dk jungle climber #donkey kong #donkey kong entities #donkey kong objects #mario #mod chikako

82 notes · View notes

buttercupagere · 2 years ago

Text

design your dream playroom prompts 📐

some questions to think about if you’re designing your dream playroom :)

🖊️ how big is it? small-ish, like a walk-in closet? medium, like a bedroom? large, like a living room? maybe huge, like a castle? be as creative as you want! it doesn’t matter if it’s unrealistic.

🖊️ what color are the walls? are they all the same color? are they lots of different colors? are there any decals on them, or a mural?

🖊️ what’s decorating the walls? framed pictures? mirrors? is there a sensory wall?

🖊️ what does the floor look like? hardwood, tile, carpet, foam playmat? if there’s a rug, is it shag, fluffy, or something else? what color is it? are there sensory tiles?

🖊️ describe the lighting. is it bright or dim? how many light sources are there? can they change color? are there fairy lights? ceiling lights? lamps?

🖊️ are there any windows? how many? how big are they? do they have blinds or curtains? what can you see outside the window?

🖊️ what storage is there? a toy chest? shelves? little bins? folding boxes? is there a ceiling net for stuffies?

🖊️ does the room have any fun features? a sensory swing? a fort? a play kitchen? a dollhouse? a pirate ship? a jungle gym? a mobile? a rocking horse?

🖊️ what kind of toys are there? stuffies, dolls, blocks, racecars, playmobil, fidget toys?

🖊️ is there a table? what does it look like? what do you use it for? slime, arts and crafts, legos, snacks? are there chairs at the table, or mats on the floor?

🖊️ is it a magical playroom? are there talking animals? toys that come to life? fairies that hang around and sprinkle pixie dust? is there a portal to another world? or a crystal ball that can show the future?

if you want, you can draw this playroom. or build it in minecraft, or out of legos. someday maybe it can become real!

#age regression #agere #agere game #playroom #playtime #age regression journal #journal #agere journal

621 notes · View notes

moth-scrunk · 30 days ago

Text

Animation VS Rain - AVR "Twenty Dim Lights" Structure half intact, Dim lives a quiet life on the edge of the ocean. Their structure over many cycles had started to decay with the rough storms. The storms themselves shook the earth enough to almost take out some of their legs. Luckly by some miracle - perhaps even a blessing from what gods many remain, he was spared the misfortune of falling to ruin. Not at all near any real ecosystems but the sea, Dim lives without the hassle of being invaded or infested by pesty animals. Although a quiet structure, Dim makes a lot of noise by themselves. Playing the old music kept from their past interactions with their creators. Dim does sometimes get visitors, but to say they are pleased by the sudden new faces would be a lie. Faking a smile and understanding nod, Dim shoos them off before they can even think about settling down in his body.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tinted Choices Occurring" Structure entirely intact, Tint lives in a loud and chaotic environment. Slammed between a jungle and grand ocean, their body is constantly pecked at by Vultures and Scavs. To deal with such pests, Tint deploys the help of two unlikely helpers - Slug Cats, or as Tint has named them: Royal and Purr. Although small, these little hunters are enough to keep the animals away from the vital parts of his body. Tint doesn't care for the life around his structure, he only cares that it leaves. The Slug Cats they can tolerate and even live along side with, but the Vultures? He wishes they'd just fall out of the sky. The endless song of their calls haunts the walls of their structure. The sooner those two hunt them all off, the better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tiny Spinning Colors" The newest model of iterator, made just before the creators left to their great ascensions deep below the earth. Having no loose wires, the child iterator flies carelessly, not needing to worry about the harm done by their play. This iterator was made with the purpose other iterators share, but it seems something went wrong with them. What should be their mind finding a solution, is instead finding only joy in existing. "Why find a cure when the cure is right here already?" Spinning spends their day chatting with other iterators, acting as their shining light. Either leading them to new things to work on or distract themselves from the pains they share. Being heavy on the emotional support, they themselves have their own support systems as well. Living in the walls of their body is a family of Slug Cats, ones that care for Spinning as he does care for them. Providing a garden of food and protection from danger, the Slug Cats all visit him daily, bringing gifts of rocks and pearls, sometimes even bringing Spinning some fruit! How kind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Scugs

Purr (Purple) - Born by parents, raised well in the colder climates Royal (MT/King) - Born by parents, raised well in the colder climates Grass (Green) - Born by Iterator, gene spliced with a lizard Rays (Yellow) - Born by Iterator, gene spliced with a lizard Waves (Blue) - Born by Iterator, gene spliced with a lizard Coat (Red) - Born by Iterator, gene spliced with a lizard

[ SMALL NOTE ] I made these while I was sick. This art is purely for fun moreso than a series. However: My Art Asks are open for anyone who wants more of this Scug art! Just know my reply will be slow because again, I am sick </3

41 notes · View notes

pilot-boi · 6 months ago

Note

Imagine: Jaune is a semi-decent artist and spends his time drawing and painting, usually his friends. As a result, many of the denizens of the Ever After immediately recognize Team RWBY due to the colorful portraits of the Brave Knight's friends, and the tales he told of them.

Jaune healing arc in the Ever After because he gets really into therapy painting

Boy is still deeply sad and lonely, but he works through his trauma by turning it into something beautiful. It allows him to let go of his pain by understanding that sometimes letting go IS the right thing to do

It starts out just as Jaune desperately trying not to forget his family’s faces (and yes, I’m including RWBYNRO in family). He doodles them everywhere, describing them down to the minutest detail to anyone who will listen. It’s why he moves in with the Paper Pleasers to begin with

Art supplies he can literally pick off the trees

He draws his friends day in and day out. They start out terrible, of course. Stick figurey doodles of the people that mean more than life itself, and they’re so awful, such a terrible representation of his family that he crumples them and throws them across the hut that he’s slowly building

With the too slow increase in his art skills, Jaune focuses more on the colors

The exact shade of orange for Nora’s hair, sourced from flowers in the Jungle Acre. Metallic flecks of silver for Ruby’s eyes bartered from a merchant in the Garden Acre. Grasses mashed in a make-shift mortar and pestle for the green of Ren’s clothing

And so on

He tries not to think about how if the shade of the Nora flowers was a touch lighter it would match Penny’s hair perfectly. He tries not to stare at the green crystals glowing serenely next to the Ruby silver putty on the merchant’s table and how they look like Penny’s eyes. He tries not to wince when the green of Ren’s clothing is a touch too warm, too close to Penny’s dress

Eventually his walls are plastered with drawings and sketches of his friends. The likenesses are uncanny, he has nothing but time to hone his skills

But none of Penny

The first time he draws her is after Alyx and Lewis. It’s a horrible likeness, he can’t seem to get her face right no matter how he tries. She always seems to be looking at him, judging, pitying

But eventually, her eyes seem to turn caring, her smile less accusing

And Jaune heals

#rwby #jaune arc #penny polendina #mine #asks #anonymous #art therapy au

78 notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

Text

A promise kept

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 8

Prompt: Idiots to lovers

Rated: G

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; Mistaken identity; Fluff; Modern AU if you squint

CW: none

Notes: @house-of-the-moving-image and I came up with this while bouncing ideas for another drabble and fell instantly in love with the idea. Be sure to also check out the precious art they made!!!

The bars of the jungle gym creak but Steve doesn’t lift his face from his hunched knees.

“Hey, big boy, don't cry.”

“‘m not crying. Go away!”

This is ridiculous. He's almost eight, and eight-year-old boys don't cry. Not even if their only friend in the whole world just told them they're moving away to live with their uncle.

They don't even know each other’s names. Names don't matter when you're eight and you're both at the park and looking for someone to play with.

So Steve is big boy.

And his friend … well, Steve mostly calls him his dragon.

It's because of this game they have. Steve is a king and the other boy his dragon and the jungle gym their castle, and every day, they have a new adventure.

Except now, there won't be any more adventures.

“Oh? But how am I supposed to give you this?”

Steve lifts his head, goes a bit cross-eyed at the flower that's hovering right in front of his face.

“What would I want with that?” he snaps. “Flowers are for girls.”

His dragon chuckles as he joins him on his perch. The playground stretches out under them. Their kingdom.

“But this isn't just any flower. It's magical.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Magical?”

“Yup!” His friend's face breaks into a grin, two teeth short. “As long as you keep it, I'll always make my way back to you. It may take a while, but I'll find you eventually.”

“Promise?” Steve murmurs. There's a lump in his throat and it comes out small and quiet.

“I promise.” The other boy winks and tugs the flower behind his ear. “That I'll find you, and that I'll always be your dragon. And now, my king … how about one final adventure?”

The colors of the jungle gym are faded with age. Like the pressed flower in its frame on his bedroom wall.

“Oh hey, Steve!”

Steve looks up from the book in his lap to find a familiar someone next to their picnic blanket.

“Eddie, hi!” He smiles, even as his stomach drops. “I … what are you doing here?”

“Steve?” Will asks, ogling Eddie's tattoos and wild hair with large eyes. “Who's this?”

“Oh, erm …” Steve runs an awkward hand through his hair. “My friend Eddie. He just moved here. Eddie, this is Will and El, the kids I babysit?”

“Of course,” Eddie dips into a bow, which makes the twins giggle. “Steve has told me all about you.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” El asks. “Steve is reading the How to train your dragon books to us.”

“Fuck yeah, I love dragons!” Eddie cheers. Only he doesn’t sit on the blanket like a normal person - he perches himself on the steps of the jungle gym and hisses, pulling a silly face and mimicking claws with his hands. El whoops and claps while Will smiles shyly. Steve needs to swallow against the memories that threaten to crawl up his throat.

“Was it alright to invite Eddie?” El asks. They've finished reading for the day and she helped Steve get snow cones. “You said he's your friend, but you seem sad when you look at him.”

Steve sighs.

“It's okay,” he says, because how do you explain this to a seven-year-old?

How do you explain I only met him a few weeks ago but I really like him and it confuses me because it seems like I've known him forever because he reminds me so much of someone I used to know and I'm scared because it feels like I'm betraying that person even though I'm sure they've long forgotten about me?

Will is up on the jungle gym when they round the corner, beaming from ear to ear and talking animatedly with Eddie, who is gesturing up at him from the ground.

“El!” he calls out when he spots his sister. She smiles and clambers up to join him, handing over one of the dripping snow cones. “Eddie has the best ideas. He just told me about this game he used to play as a kid. Did you know the jungle gym could be a castle and we could be kings and dragons? What do you want to be? We could-”

“Steve?”

Someone touches his shoulder and he flinches back into his own body. Eddie’s voice is full of concern, and okay, that's probably because he just dropped their snow cones. They're forming rainbow-colored puddles in the grass.

“Stevie, c'mon, talk to me! You're freaking me out here!”

He snaps his head up.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eddie smiles. His eyes are large with worry. Large and brown and crinkling at the corners and so familiar and Steve's an idiot. “You just zoned out there, I thought-”

“It's you,” Steve mutters. His hands are shaking and his eyes are stinging and then the next thing he knows is that his arms are around Eddie’s neck and he's sobbing into his shoulder. “Holy fuck, it's really you! You're my dragon!”

“Wait, what?” Eddie pulls back, smile wide and incredulous. His fingers wipe away Steve’s tears, trace the shape of his cheekbones and jaw. “You're- Shit, really? I knew you looked familiar, but I thought there was no way-”

“I was feeling so bad!” Steve blurts, chest heaving with what might be sobs or laughter, and who cares really, when he found his dragon again? “I was so scared to fall for you because-”

“Oh?” Eddie’s grin isn't missing any teeth, but it's still just as brilliant. “Are you now?”

“Huh?”

Eddie chuckles. “Falling for me?”

Steve feels himself flush, even as he gives a shaky nod. Eddie’s eyes are soft as he pulls him in.

“It's okay, big boy. You don't have to be afraid of anything while I'm around.”

“This is really weird,” El whispers from somewhere above them as their lips meet. “I don't think they understand how being friends works.”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

296 notes · View notes

lostinlovingrevery · 16 days ago

Text

He's Definitely Obsessed With You: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Just Kiss Already

Plot: You and Logan are finally beginning to navigate your relationship and your new lives together. Logan is carrying dark secrets, and finally opens up to you.

A/N: Oh lordy I'm finally done with it. It turned out so fluffy in the beginning and angsty in the end. It'll get better! (Then worse)

Warnings: Mentions of war, past history of violence, anxiety, a bit of jealously, a bunch of fluff towards the beginning, angst near the end, mentions of a past assault (not logan or reader) Logan just needs a hug, so does reader. Also logan is probably not super accurate to his character..?

Word Count: 7470

Prev<- ❤️ ->Next

Years of aching for someone you weren’t sure cared about you the same you did for them was forgotten about the moment Logan came back into your life.

The comfort and safety you always felt in his presence resumed, the admiration of the man you grew to know for over a year in a jungle had only grown stronger as you watched him adjust to a new life and do it with grace. Perhaps it’s because he’s done it before, he knew the drill. Yet still, you found yourself falling for him all over again. You knew him as Logan Howlett, soldier. While you both shared a closeness, there was still a war, there was always an air between you that prevented anything further developing. The most that would happen between you would be conversations of the future, lingering touches, and side glances. Now you could know him as Logan Howlett, friend. Although that’s not necessarily what you’d call your relationship.

Things were unspoken between you.

You found yourself truly looking forward to going out now, because he was going to be there. Although you didn’t go to the wild parties that Rose likes. That wasn’t Logans style and honestly wasn’t yours either, albeit you did it to please Rose and told yourself that it was a good idea even if you ended up dreading the whole ordeal anyway. You and Logan found yourselves doing more…Domestic activities. Movies, festivals, dinners, lunches, the local bar, even the gym.

“You wanna go see the Exorcist tomorrow night?”

Logan turned his attention away from the drunken people very badly singing karaoke at the small stage the bar had. The karaoke machine was a new addition to the lively bar, adding more atmosphere to the place that was already unique in it’s burnt orange and brown color scheme, neon signs, and pop art littering the walls. You were sitting in a booth together, his arm draped loosely around you. He quirked his brow in questioning.

“The Exorcist?..” He asked, then smirked. “Ain’t that a movie about demons and all?”

“Yeeesss.” You respond with a singsong voice, meeting his eyes. He sipped his whiskey, not breaking eye contact from you.

“No.” He says after firmly setting his beer back on the table. He licked his lips of the droplets of whiskey left on them, and you couldn’t help but stare and think, ‘I could clean that up for you’

You think a lot of things about Logan now. You don’t plan to stop. At one point you would’ve felt guilty to think something of a friend. You and Logan could not be considered friends anymore.

“Why not?” You asked in a whine. “I wanna see it! It looks good! My friend Marie says it was cool!”

“It’s gonna scare you. Just like that last movie.” He says. “Then I gotta listen to you whine about it. You’re gonna call me and complain about being too scared to sleep. Then neither of us will get any sleep.”

“So?” You grin. “There’s an easy solution to that.”

“Is that so?”

“You just come stay with me after, and then I won’t be too scared. Your presence will scare off all the bad guys.”

Logan raised his brows up. “Yeah? Where am I gonna sleep then? Your couch?” He leans in, and you felt a deep crimson blush burning at your cheeks under his flirty stare. “Not very comfortable.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” You say, and you could feel your breath hitching at the idea. Logan smiled, but it wasn’t his usual sweet smile he gave you. This was something darker and more…lustful, that you were beginning to see more often when you two talked. Lately, all your conversations turn to something flirty, indiciating the rising tensions between you.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Rose interrupted.

“Alright! Here you go, me and Adam got refills for you guys.” She says, as her- and Adam, who was the leather daddy you seen her makeout with the night Logan came home. Apparently he’d made enough of an impression on her to keep him around. You and Logan separated, occurring to both of you just how close you’ve gotten in the booth. He never removed his arm from your shoulders though, his hand gently squeezing the shoulder it was resting on, as you gave him a side glance, noticing a hint of pink on his ears.

Things were very unspoken between you.

The way your relationship has developed since he returned was something you thought you would only dream of.

You got to see more of that playful, boyish charm Logan had that you saw hints of in Vietnam. The charm that made you always crave to see more. Not that you couldn’t love his broody self as well. Each had their own perks that made you smile, where you couldn’t help but think ��he’s so cute.’ The way he’d tease you, not in a mean way, more loving as he pokes fun at things such as your outfits, though you’d see the sliver of desire come across his eyes when you come in with those high-waisted jeans and low cut top, highlighting your figure for him in ways he didn’t get to see with your army scrubs. You watched him open up to the world. He’d gotten a great job at the local lumber mill, and even fixed his cabin up a bit, considering it was left empty for years while he was gone. He decorated, got new furniture and everything. Rose implied it was to impress you but you think he was simply just trying to…Make a home for himself after being gone for so long.

He was taking up hobbies like boxing, which you certainly enjoyed watching, as you’d go to the gym with him occasionally in attempts to committing to your own workout (news flash, you aren’t very successful). You weren’t exactly a fan of the fighting, you didn’t like seeing Logan getting punched, but lord the intense concentration on his face, how his brows crease as he scowls at his opponent, the way sweat covered his body head to toe after brawling for an hour. You may not have understood the appeal of fighting each other. A male thing, it must be. You watched the boys in Vietnam do the same thing, practicing boxing and wrestling and all, although that was probably more practice than a hobby.. You did understand the appeal of observing. At least, observing him.

You watched Logan as he quickly dodged and punched his opponent, effectively knocking him back. A few more swings and it was a knock out. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head as you still didn’t understand the whole appeal. Male ego? Still, there was a certain…attraction to seeing how powerful he really can be. You knew that he was actually holding back when he boxes. If he applied his real physical strength- the mutant aspect to his strength, the other side would be down in seconds. Instead, Logan used boxing as a way to focus on his own movements, teaching him to be quick on his feet and defensive.

Logan was watching you as you were distracted with your gym bag, taking a heavy drink of water from his bottle, he took in your outfit, the way it hugged your body and curves, you had worn a workout outfit before, shorts and tank top and it was driving him wild as he kept an eye on you while you were running on the treadmill. Seems like no matter what you do, or wear, you always drive him crazy.. Grabbing a towel, he patted his forehead and hands dry, as he walked to the otherside of the ring where you were, perched on a bench. He nodded to his opponent, a coworker from work, before climbing over the ropes and hopping to the ground. You always waited for him to finish up when you went to the gyn with him, and the both of you would go to lunch together after.

“Enjoy the show?” He grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“Enjoy the senseless punching each other? Totally.” You scoffed, but it was merely teasing. You were glad to see him enjoying himself. You stood up from the bench, going to grab your bag, but he picked it up for you instead, stepping close to grab it, his chest bumping your shoulder and you turned to look at him. Your eyes met and you felt that familiar electricity run between you both.

He looked down at you and the look he gave you felt like he wanted to eat you alive. It led to a warm feeling that sunk low in your belly. You noticed Logans nostrils flared and his eyes darkened.

“You sure you didn’t enjoy that sweetheart?” He says in a low voice, “Watching me?”

He lowered his head down towards you, and you felt like your heart was in your throat. You saw his eyes flick down to your lips. You swallowed but before you could say anything-

“Hey Logan, good job today man-”

Logans coworker and sparing opponent came up behind him, smacking him on the back and starting conversation, forcing Logan to step away from you, the heat of the moment evaporating. Although you saw him glance at your while his friend talked, and there seemed to be the lingering look of desire, excepting softer. Yearning.

You knew though it wasn’t always happy for Logan though. You knew of the nightmares he’d have, the fits of panic. There was things he didn’t tell you. You didn’t ask. You knew if and when he’s ready to talk, he will.

You found yourself happy with Logan, the way things are. You had felt such need for him for so long, and now that he was here- you surely thought you’d be desperate for his love and attention. Simply though, you enjoyed the time with him. Things didn’t feel…rushed. Maybe it was because in Vietnam, you constantly wondered if you would wake up to an attack, or a bomb, or something. You savored the small joys, like a warm Coke, or music on the radio, or just being able to laugh with Logan. Now though you’re able to enjoy those not just because you don’t have to worry about threats on your life, but because now you know that you and Logan had the rest of your lives to understand each other, for something to work out on it’s own time. It had be a couple years since he came back, and you both moved towards something steadily.

1975, Alberta, Canada

You were working your shift at the hospital. The hospital had just built a new wing- an emergency center, and you were one the lucky nurses to get transferred over. Apparently your history of being in Vietnam made them think you’d be a wonderful addition to an emergency wing where being quick on your feet, and attention to detail was important.

Of course they were right but you would have liked to had a choice in the matter.

Especially since they decided you were to be the charge nurse as well. Without asking.

Now you were bombarded with all sorts of new duties. Stuff that you didn’t even know existed in doing. Honestly, you believed that this was just the Chief of Staffs way of dumping stuff he didn’t want to deal with on you. You had medical forms to fill out, request forms to put in, and patients to worry about-

Huh, that felt like deja vu….

You were out in the main lobby, acting as triage for now. They were quick in putting you in charge of nurses, supply and drug lists, and various other adminstrative work, yet not quick in hiring more nurses to help you out. Anytime you complained, your boss would remind you,

“What an absolute honor it is for you to even have this job, with all the womens rights going on. Those ladies would kill to have a job like yours! I mean, i’m sure you wouldn’t be able to find a job THIS progressive at another hospital…”

What a dick.

“Hey honey,” You heard Rose behind you, and you turned in your chair and gave her a sneering smile.

“Well hello-” You greet sarcastically. “Hows life on the 3rd floor?”

“Whew! Someones bitter.” Rose chuckled. “It’s great, actually. I get breaks, lunches, and all I gotta do is assist the doctors with no extra responsibilities. No uh, administration work, or lack of staffing, or y’know, dealing with someone who shoved something up their ass.” She bragged.

You scoffed. “You got it completely wrong. I’m very happy here. Mind you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, you totally look happy.” Rose crosses her arms, an amused smile as she looked down at you in your seat. She looked up, and an even more amused look came across her face. “Although I think your day is about to get better.”

“What?” You blinked, before turning to see who she was talking about.

You would be embarrassed by how fast you smiled and got up from your chair, but honestly you could’ve cared less.

Logan had walked in, wearing those jeans you loved on him, a jacket resting over a flannel, and a white t-shirt. He does like his layers, but in snowy Canada- you needed it. He spotted you, and smiled as you both approached each other in the lobby- which was fairly empty, meeting in the middle.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“You going on lunch soon? Figured I take you out, since you’ve seem so stressed lately…” He smiles.

“Oh-” Your shoulders slacked. “That’s sweet, my lunch was an hour ago though…” You pursed your lips together, “Sorry.”

“Oh, well, how about a break then? I’ll…get you a candy bar or something.” He says, a small shrug of his shoulders, his smile fading into something more genuine and close. You perked up.

“Yeah, that actually sounds good, I can take a break. Wait for me outside, I’ll be right back.” You hold your hand up, turning to go back to your desk and say goodbye to Rose. She was watching you guys in amusement as you walked back to her, grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, and your pager off your desk, and shooting her a Don’t you dare say anything look. If you thought she was riding on you hard before Logan came back, she got ten times worse. She says the tension between you two was practically unbearable. You have no idea what she’s talking about. She gave you a knowing smile and you rolled your eyes, turning around and pulling your jacket on as you walked back towards the entrance, letting another nurse know you were going on break and to page you if anything is needed.

You met Logan outside, where he was currently banging on a vending machine with his hand. You smiled at the sight, this tall lumbering man, scowling at the machine.

“Yknow you need to give it money first?” You called out to him, and he lifted his head and smirked.

“Ate my quarters.” He says.

“Watch- and learn.” You wink. You reached into your jacket, pulling out a few quarters, sticking them into the coin slot, you pushed in the slot- but not fully, as you reached into the vending slot, able to pull it open just enough to grab the candy bar- and pull back the coin slot, your quarters still in place. You pulled the quarters out, and held up the candy bar in victory as you tilted your head, and beamed victoriously.

Logan chuckled warmly. “Ain’t that stealing bub?”

You mock gasped, “Me? No way.” You say, holding your hand out, you gave him the quarters.

“I was supposed to get you the candy bar yknow.”

“You did.” You say nonchalantly as you opened the wrapper, breaking off a piece to hand to him, before biting into the candy yourself, humming happily at the treat- much needed after the day you’ve been having. “Thank you-” You add as you chew. He shrugged, eating his piece of candy you shared with him. “So, anything exciting going on today?” You asked.

“No, just watched tv.” He says. “Started reading that book you suggested.”

Your eyes went wide and you smiled big, “Really? What you think?”

“Pretty good so far, I’m only on the first chapter though.” He shrugs. He glanced around, clearly thinking about something. “You wanna go to Reillys tonight?”

“Reilly’s? Sure, I’m in.” You nodded, taking another bite out of your candy bar. “You want me to see if Rose and Adam-”

“I always actually thinking just me and you.”

Your heart fluttered.

“I mean, I know we do stuff all the time but…” He shrugged. “Just…Something, so we can talk.”

“We’re talking right now…” You tease gently, rocking your body back and forth, but the blush on your cheeks told Logan you thoroughly agreed with the idea of going out, just the two of you.

“Different kind of talking.” He says. “The kind where you wear something pretty, and I buy you a drink.”

You couldn’t hide your giddiness at his words, letting out a small breath as your blush ran deeper, you looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice…” You say tilting your head.

He looked relieved for a moment, before returning to his usual demeanor, as he leaned over you, looking down at you like he was going to eat you alive. “So it’s a da-”

Your pager went off, and you groaned. “Sorry.”

“They can’t survive 5 minutes without you, huh?” He grumbles.

“Apparently not.” You turned your pager off. “I gotta go, but thanks for the candy bar Lo-” you hold up the empty wrapper, you reached for his hand, wrapping your hand around his, and squeezing it. He squeezed it back. “So tonight?”

“I’ll pick you up at 7. Sound good?”

“Great.”

You began to let go, but he lifted your hand up, kissing the back of it as you watched him, his eyes making contact with yours, before finally he let go. You bit your lip, trying to hide your fluster, quickly turning away to go back into the hospital, as you felt butterflies go through your body. As you tried to go back to work, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you wanted to wear tonight.

The day went by slow as hell- mainly because you couldn’t stop watching the clock. You got off at 4, giving you nearly 3 hours to get home and get ready to go out.

The entire time you wondered if this was the start for you and Logan. After 5 years, becoming such close friends, sharing intimate moments, and shared connections in a similar past- you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Logan was the person for you. You denied that idea a long time, purely just a person who cared deeply for the people you found closest to you. Now though, you couldn’t deny the rapid flutter of your heart. You thought back of all the ‘close call’ moments you had with Logan. Moments where you nearly kissed, admitted your feelings- usually moments that got interrupted by something or other. You always took that to mean that maybe it just wasn’t your time yet, but you felt a charge with Logan today. The way he came all the way down to see you at work, to ask you out tonight when he could’ve just called you when you got off, because he knew your hours- surely he had been thinking about you as well.

When you got home, you tried your best to keep your cool. You didn’t tell Rose initially- but your nerves started to get to you. What if you were overthinking it? What if you dress up to nice and give off the wrong impression? Rose though, could read you- the way you were nervously pacing around the house as you anxiously cleaned real quick before you got ready.

“What is going on with you?” She asks, following you to your room, as you pulled open your closet and started searching your outfits.

“I- Nothing!” You say, but you start blushing, and cover you face. “Okay, I think Logan asked me out tonight, and he said something about wearing something pretty but I don’t know I uh…” You bit your lip. “I’m wondering if I took it wrong.”

“Okay, hold up- time out. Logan asked you out?!” Her voice pitched up as she stepped into the room.

“I don’t know! He said he wanted me and him to go out to Reillys- just me and him, to “talk”, and then when I pointed out we do that all the time and he said the kind of talking where I where something pretty and he buys me a drink.” You explain, all in one breath as anxiety wracked you. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, it was Logan, one of your best friends, you didn’t need to be nervous over him but you were.

Rose stared at you like you were insane. “Okay, first, breathe.” She says holding her hands up. “Second of all. It’s a date.”

You sigh as you took in a breath. “I don’t know what to wear it’s- been awhile.”

“Oh, I know.” Rose looked you up and down. “Could’ve had some practice while he was still gone but noooo.”

“Rose-” You whined.

“Alright calm down- Lets start with whatchu got in that closet of yours.”

You and Rose spent the next hour trying to put together the perfect outfit. She convinced you to wear a black, satin slip dress, something that complimented your figure perfectly- while still remaining neutral enough- seeing as they were all the rage and often seen worn in bars anyway. She helped you with your hair and makeup, complimenting your features while keeping a more natural look. Rose herself was all about the wild makeup- flashy colors, paint as much as you could, but since this was a possible “first date”, she agreed something more natural and light was appropriate. You picked your colors that complimented your skin tone well, and did your hair in your favorite style. You thought you looked pretty nice- but nerves still crept at you.

You were no strange for looking nice, but you really haven’t been on a date in years. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how flirt- considering you and Logan been flirting for over a year since your reunion. You wondered if this was what it was between you and Logan, would things be different? How is this going to impact your relationship?

Rose noticed your sudden lackluster demeanor, her hand going to your back.

“He’s gonna love this.” She smiles warmly at you. “The man is TOTALLY obsessed with you already. This is gonna send him through the roof! Lookatchu!” she coos.

You giggled, shaking your head. “Thank you.”

“I’m just so glad to see my girl finally growing up.” Rose says, with fake emotion in her voice as she pretends to wipe a tear from her eye, it made you laugh more- helping you ease your nerves.

You opened your mouth to retort her comment, but the landline started ringing. Wondering if it was Logan, you quickly went to answer it.

“Hello?”

You heard a man asking for your name.

“This is she?” You respond, a little confused.

He said your name again. “It’s Frank.”

“Frank?- Frank Jones?” You say in surprise, as the doctor, a man you considered your mentor years ago from Vietnam, came to your picture. “Wow, it’s been awhile, how are you?”

“Uh..Fine. Listen, you okay?”

“Yeah…” You say slowly. “Why?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just checking on you.” He says. “Did you ever end up going to med school?”

“Well, no I just hadn’t really-”

“That’s fine. Listen, be careful, okay?”

“Frank, what are you-?”

“I know you and Logan Howlett are friends.” His voice suddenly toward low, and warning.

You blinked, as you looked at the phone in confusion. Your brows creased, as you felt something weird turn in your stomach.

“You…Know Logan?”

“I can’t stay on long. I’m just calling to check on you. You need to be careful, especially around Howlett. Don’t get involved in anything.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone as you heard the beeps, turn into a flat line, before you hung up the landline. Rose looked at you in questioning.

“That was…weird.” You muttered.

“Who was that?”

“A doctor I worked under in Vietnam.” You look at her. “He was really cryptic though, and he knew me and Logan were friends, I don’t think I ever told him about Logan. He told me I needed to be careful.”

Rose raised a brow, then crossed her arms. “Okay, I was excited, now I’m scared.” She says. “Why would this guy conveniently call you when you’re about to go on a date with him?”

You shrugged, chewing on your lip. Since Logan had come back, you knew he was carrying something, a weight on his shoulders. He never told you what though. All you knew was him being apart of a operative CIA team and he left it. Anytime you two talked about Vietnam, or anything regarding it- he’d get this haunted look on his face, like he was going to be sick. So, you never forced him to talk about it. Sometimes it would just come up, it being an impactful part of your life- something you still try to find meaning in today, understand what it did to you and your future. There was a time you never wanted to think about it, but then there’s times it’s all you wanted to think about. Logan though, seemed to never want to go back to it. Whatever he’s done, whatever he’s seen, it was enough for him to want to forget.

You wondered if Frank Jones knew something about it. Was it bad enough that he had to warn you? You never felt unsafe with Logan. He has been nothing but respectful and safe- not just to you, but the people around you. Rose has stated multiple times that just having Logan nearby has made her feel more comfortable as well.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked, putting a hand on your shoulder, you looked at her, and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll..talk to Logan about it later. Or maybe try to find Franks number, call him back or something tomorrow.” You say. She nods.

“Maybe I should go with you…” She says. You saw the worry on her face. Rose was never the type to be fearful or shy away from anything. You smiled.

“It’s fine.” You say. “I’m just going to enjoy the evening, right?”

Rose forced a smile, but you could tell she now seemed hesitant to let you go off alone. Before you could say anything else, you both heard knocking your door.

“That’s probably him-” You say, as you attempt to shrug off the weirdness of that phone call. You went down stairs, immediately stopping at a mirror to check your hair and makeup- Rose following you, before you went to the front door and opened it.

You were a bit taken away by how nicely dressed Logan was. So, this is a date

He was wearing a clean white button up dress shirt, tucked into dark blue jeans, and his typical leather jacket over the shirt. His hair was slicked back, and he looked a mixture of nervous- and excited to see you. You noticed one arm behind his back.

Any worries you had originally went to the back of your head as you took in his handsome figure. It was that you never seen Logan dressed nice- but he was dressing nice for you.

Logan seemed to have the same reaction to you, his eyes trailing over your body, and you see his jaw tense up.

“You…You look beautiful.” He says softly. A deep blush came across your cheeks, and you took a deep breath to regain your composure.

“Thank you,” you say politely. “You don’t look so bad yourself?” You smiled, giving him a knowing look. He chuckled, looking down at himself, almost as if he was embarrassed.

“I got you these.” He says, dropping his arm from behind him, and pulling out a bouquet of flowers. “I…Thought you’d like em.”

They were Peonies- your favorite flower. You remembered months ago walking past the local flower shop with him, and you had gushed over how beautiful they were. Honestly, they made you think of him- the way they start as all closed, before slowly opening up as they become exposed to warmth, the sun, and water. It's what you think of Logan, the way he was always closed up in himself, only to finally begin to open up, as you watched him blossom from the quiet and reserved soldier, to a man finally accepting a life full of joy and possibly…love.

You were surprised, he remembered, and even went out of his way to bring you a bouquet.

“Lo- they’re-” You laughed softly taking them. “They’re beautiful! Thank you!” He nodded in acknowledgement, you turned back to the house, “Let me put them in some water and we can go-”

“Here girly, I got them, you go on.” Rose came to the rescue, grabbing the bouquet. “Hi Logan.”

“Hey Rose,” Logan nodded politely to her, sticking his hands in his pockets casually. “How are you?”

“Fine.” She smiles. “Go on you two, go on your date.” She urges. Still blushing- a warm heat spread across your face, you turned back to Logan. “I won’t wait up!-” You heard Rose call out as you shut the door behind you. He smirked, taking his hand out of his pocket, and reaching for yours.

“Ready?”

When you arrived at the bar, you both agreed for opting to the small table towards the back, allowing you a little privacy in your conversations in the bar, which was packed as usual on a Saturday night. Logan was a complete gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pushing it in as you sat.

“What would you like to drink?” He asks,

You gave him your order, and he left to go up to the counter to get them. You sat at your table and waited, you took in the atmosphere, adjusting your dress a few times and playing with your hair. Your eyes turned to the counter, where you saw Logan standing, palms pressed to the counter- clearly waiting for your drinks, but something you noticed.

His head was turned, talking to someone. A lady who looked to be around your age, with dark hair that went past her shoulders. She was absolutely beautiful, and she was looking at Logan in a way that twisted your stomach.

It was no secret that Logan turned heads, and before it never really go to you- perhaps because you knew you were just friends at the time, that you didn’t have a right to be jealous (although it had struck your mind). Logan had never entertained anyone though, and no one has ever approached Logan while you guys were out together- although you definitely seen the stares. You honestly had never considered other women flirting with him- or him flirting with other women, because you yourself had not flirted with anyone- except him.

Maybe this time it was because you two were actually moving forward. Although you couldn’t say that with certainty. You just did not like the eyes she was making towards Logan. You couldn’t see his face, and his body language was fairly neutral, but you felt a small irritation in the fact that he was even talking to her.

Get a grip, it’s a bar, people talk.

You saw her laugh, flipping her hair a bit, and her hand went to his forearm

Oh for gods sake.

The bartender brought the drinks, and he grabbed them, a polite nod to her before turning back to you. You felt a small relief that he wasn’t sticking around to talk to her- whoever she was.

“Here you go.” He handed you your drink, then moved to sit next to you. You smiled up at him, before turning to sip on the straw, before glancing at him again.

“Who was that girl you were talking to?”

Real smooth.

“Hm?” He looked up at you as he took a drink from his whiskey, he leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I don’t know. Some new person in town.”

You forced a smile and nodded, and Logan seemed to sense your slight tension- a noticeable change when just a few moments ago you were happy and joking around. He leaned forward towards the table again, and he grabbed your hand, holding it on the table as he looked at you.

“So, how was the rest of your day?”

You relaxed at his warm tone, the way he started a new conversation. You answered his question, and you both fell into a deep conversation- the way you normally do. Not just about your days, but you would turn towards anything. Recently, it was the politics happening in the States, where mutants were being treated as if they were some sort of criminals. Some folks in government were trying to bring back the bill over mutant regulation, the same bill that had been shot down over a year ago. It bothered you- and worried you greatly that mutants were still getting flack in a time of great social change. Canada hadn’t seemed to address any issue of mutants, possibly because there’s no actual “problem” to address, and maybe it made you a little more thankful that you moved to this country. Something in you though, your heart tugged at the thought of those people getting mistreated.

Logan though, always knew the right thing to say- to put your mind at ease.

During the night, Logan complimented you, not just your physical looks, but the type of person you were. He always had a hand on you, usually holding your hand, but sometimes he’d reach out- a soft smile on his face as he’d cup your cheek. His thumb rubbing softly against your skin, making your eyes want to flutter shut.

There was a new energy charging between you, as you both began to feel open to something newer between you, something more romantic.

You never noticed the dark haired woman again, even as she sat at the bar counter- staring and watching you both continue on your night.

After, you and Logan strolled through the town, admiring the night life and people watching. Logan, normally keeping an arm around your shoulder, had one around your waist, keeping you close to him. You laughed, and you flirted, you teased each other. You felt warmth in you, the way he kept you so close- almost protectively.

It was getting late, and you both knew that it was getting close to the end of the night, but there was something burning in you. The phone call from earlier had creeped its way back into your head. You didn’t want to ruin the mood, especially since Logan had dropped his arm from your waist, to grab your hand. You needed to ask though, because you knew if you didn’t and you never found out what it was about it’ll probably come back and haunt you later.

“Hey, Lo?”

“Hm?”

You stopped, and he stopped with you. You were standing on an empty street, one of the smaller neighborhoods of the town, not too far from yours. It was quiet, peaceful, one of the times you could really appreciate moving to this small town- all because of him. You purse your lips together, unsure how to tell him what happened.

“Something wrong bub?” He asked, looking at your concerned face. He brought a hand to your chin, examining you as if he was trying to read your mind.

“Something weird happened, before you came to pick me up.” You begin. “I got a phone call from an old colleague, someone who was in Vietnam. Doctor Frank Jones. Do you know him?”

Logans brows creased, and shook his head. “Not familiar with any doctors. Just you.” He smiled. You nodded, eyes darting away from him, feeling regretful now that you even brought it up.

“Well he knew you.” You say. “Or…I don’t know maybe he doesn’t…”

His smile dropped and he stepped closer, dropping his hand from your chin. “What did he say?”

“He said he knew that we were hanging out, together I guess. He…Told me to be careful. Around you. Then he hung up.”

Logan frowned, his brows creasing together. You saw his jaw tense up, as he looked up from you, looking around the empty neighborhood.

“Do you know why he would say that?” You asked softly. Logan looked back at you.

For a moment, he looked angry his lips pulled tight as his eyes narrowed- but then his expression softened, and he looked just plain upset. “I….” He swallowed. “I’m not fully sure. I suppose I can guess though.”

“You can..guess?” You asked.

“Look…I…If he was in Vietnam then maybe he knew about me. About the team I was apart of.” He says. “I didn’t want to tell you this. I…I didn’t want you to look at me differently. To be scared of me.”

“Lo.” You put a hand on his chest. “I could never be scared of you. You being secretive from me though…That scares me.”

He brought his hand to yours, squeezing it gently, before pulling it away. “After you left, me and Victor got into some trouble. He went after some girl in one of those villages. He got stopped by the commanding officer- not the one you knew, we had a new guy come in. Victor killed him.”

You gasped. “What- are you serious?”

“It gets worse.” He says. Guilt flashed across his face. “I…Tried to defend him. He was my brother, the only family I got. We’d been serving together for years and I just- thought it’s what I needed to do but… They sentenced us with a death squad. Well, you can guess what happened.”

You stared at Logan with wide eyes, unbelieving of what he was telling you. He never said anything once, about any of this happening in the letters you communicated back and forth and that…hurt you more than anything. You knew Victor was a bit of a wild card, the man hit on you more times than you care to remember- Logan usually coming to your rescue for that. For him to do something to hurt someone innocent- and then to kill a commanding officer? You didn’t know what to think, as you looked back up at Logan.

He was clearly struggling as he talked about this. Now you knew why he never wanted to talk about it, why he went silent- with the look in his eyes like he was seeing ghosts. It wasn’t just Vietnam that happened, but that. He opened his mouth, taking in a breath as he spoke his next sentence.

“Obviously it means that they figured out we were mutants, and couldn’t die.” He continues. “We got approached by this man, some kind scientist in the military. He was working on this project- and figured that me and Victor were perfect. He saw our strength, our- mutation. Thought it would be helpful.”

“The operative team you were on.” You say. He nodded.

“Team X. At first it was just stuff around Vietnam, then we branched out to other countries. Just classified missions, breaking into communist parties, getting intel- sometimes we’d take out a few bad guys but then it just got worse and worse and…The team was becoming brutal. The things they were doing. I couldn’t do it.”

You reached for his hand, and he looked down at where you were holding him. Then he looked back up at you.

“I thought maybe I was doing something good.” He says quietly. “Helping the country, ending wars. I hadn’t known anything other than violence until you showed up. You made me want to be better and…I just became worse.”

“Lo-” You stepped closer. “No- No, it’s….” You searched for your words. “You’re not a bad man Lo. You just…Got dealt bad cards. You left, you knew these things were wrong. That’s important. You keep going everyday trying to be better and do better- I know you do, I see it.”

“That doctor, whoever called you. I didn’t know him. He was right though. You should be careful.” He says gently. “I wondered if I should have even come back when I left the team. I knew you were here, that you had been waiting for me and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I’m not scared of you Lo.” You say softly. “I know you would never hurt me.”

“I came back for you.” He says softly. You looked into his eyes, and he looked away, shame on his face- as you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. You leaned forward, softly pressing your lips against his. You gave him room to pull away, but he returned the kiss back.

Despite everything he just told you, you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry- not at him for not telling you anything, and not for the things he told you he committed. You knew it was something he had been clearly carrying around, a deep guilt he held inside himself- guilt being an emotion that you knew yourself all too well, a feeling that any soldier feels when they come home and you weren’t even a soldier. Guilt may have been his cross to bear, even if his intentions were good, honorable even- and it led to bad things. You knew that it was going to take time, for him to work through this and while you couldn’t heal him or fix him, you could support him- hold his hand and push him to keep going. It was just yet another casualty of war, a man, led to believe he was doing the right thing- only to realize it was all the wrong thing after all.

You had spent years wondering about your own actions, you wanted to help people, that’s why you signed up. Though you wondered; did you just become another number, another reason for the fighting to keep going? Did your participation support the violence when all you wanted to do was stop it?

There was only thing you knew. It was all in the past.

The war had been over for 2 years.

It was time to move on. You didn’t know how you deal with the moral dilemma of knowing the things you done, how do you make up for it?

You did know that you were glad that you and Logan both made it. Standing there tonight. Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic conversation- but as Logan pressed his lips to yours, eager and almost demanding, his hands grabbing your hips and pushing you against him- you could feel it. The relief he felt as if he just admitted his sins to his god. You knew Logan Howlett was a good man, that all he wanted to be was a good man.

Maybe that’s all that was important in the end.

You parted from you kiss, lost for words- and your breath, and he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry.” He says, his grip on your hips tight, as if he was afraid to let go.

“You should be.” You say. “That kiss was overdue.” He let out a small laugh, knowing that it’s not what he meant- but he could be sorry for that too. You brought your hands up to cup his face, your fingers softly scratching at his beard, making his eyes flutter shut. “We’ll work through this. Okay?” You say softly. “You don’t have to bear this alone anymore.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He mutters softly.

“On the contrary, I been waiting for this for awhile. You owe me.”

He smirked. “That so?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He says softly, pulling you closer against him. You wanted to kiss him again, but you could tell what he really needed, was a hug. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning into him- hugging him tightly, and he responded with the same, burying his face into your neck.

You’ll be alright.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #imma be honest with yall for as much as i wrote i don't know how i feel bout this #i just started writing and writing and going with a gut instinct and it turned a bit angsty which i really wasn't planning that much buuuut #this is a fic related to the after effects of war so???#also if anyone reads this the smut happens next chapter #;)

33 notes · View notes

sassenach77yle · 8 months ago

Text

What are ye laughing at, a nighean?” Her father loomed out of the night, smelling of horses. “Everything,” she said, scooching over to make room for him to sit beside her. It was true. Everything seemed suddenly bright, the candlelight from the windows of the Big House, the fireflies in the grass, the glow of Roger’s face when he told her his desire. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on hers; it fizzed in her blood.

Jamie reached up and fielded a passing firefly, holding it for a moment cupped in the dark hollow of his hand, where it flashed on and off, the cool light seeping through his fingers. Far off, she heard a brief snatch of her mother’s voice, coming through an open window;

Claire was singing “Clementine.” Now the boys—and Roger—were howling at the moon, though it was no more than a pale sickle on the horizon. She felt her father’s body shake with silent laughter, too.

“It reminds me of Disneyland,” she said on impulse.

“Oh, aye? Where’s that?” “It’s an amusement park—for children,” she added, knowing that while there were such things as amusement parks in places like London and Paris, these were purely adult places. No one ever thought of entertaining children now, beyond their own games and the occasional toy. “Daddy and Mama took me there every summer,” she said, slipping back without effort to the hot, bright days and warm California nights.

“The trees all had little sparkling lights in them—the fireflies reminded me.” Jamie spread his palm; the firefly, suddenly free, pulsed to itself once or twice, then spread its wings with a tiny whir and lifted into the air, floating up and away.

“Dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daugh-ter, Clementine . . .”

“What was it like, then?” he asked curiously. “Oh . . . it was wonderful.” She smiled to herself, seeing the brilliant lights of Main Street, the music and mirrors and beautiful, beribboned horses of King Arthur’s Carrousel. “There were . . . rides, we called them. A boat, where you could float through the jungle on a river, and see crocodiles and hippopotamuses and headhunters . . .” “Headhunters?” he said, intrigued. “Not real ones,” she assured him. “It’s all make-believe—but it’s . . . well, it’s a world to itself. When you’re there, the real world sort of disappears; nothing bad can happen there.

They call it ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’—and for a little while, it really seems that way.”

“Light she was, and like a fairy, and her shoes were number nine, Herring boxes without topses, sandals were for Clementine.”“And you’d hear music everywhere, all the time,” she said, smiling. “Bands—groups of musicians playing instruments, horns and drums and things—would march up and down the streets, and play in pavilions. . . .” “Aye, that happens in amusement parks. Or it did, the once I was in one.” She could hear a smile in his voice, as well. “Mm-hm. And there are cartoon characters—I told you about cartoons—walking around. You can go up and shake hands with Mickey Mouse, or—” “With what?” “Mickey Mouse.” She laughed. “A big mouse, life-size—human-size, I mean. He wears gloves.” “A giant rat?” he said, sounding slightly stunned. “And they take the weans to play with it?” “Not a rat, a mouse,” she corrected him. “And it’s really a person dressed up like a mouse.” “Oh, aye?” he said, not sounding terribly reassured. “Yes. And an enormous carrousel with painted horses, and a railroad train that goes through the Rainbow Caverns, where there are big jewels sticking out of the walls, and colored streams with red and blue water . . . and orange-juice bars. Oh, orange-juice bars!” She moaned softly in ecstatic remembrance of the cold, tart, overwhelming sweetness. “It was nice, then?” he said softly.

“Thou art lost and gone forever, Dreadful sor-ry . . . Clementine.”

“Yes,” she said, sighed, and was silent for a moment. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder, and wrapped her hand around his arm, big and solid. “You know what?” she said, and he made a small interrogatory noise in reply.

It was nice—it was great—but what I really, really loved about it was that when we were there, it was just the three of us, and everything was perfect. Mama wasn’t worrying about her patients, Daddy wasn’t working on a paper—they weren’t ever silent or angry with each other. Both of them laughed—we all laughed, all the time . . . while we were there.” He made no reply, but tilted his head so it rested against hers. She sighed again, deeply.

“Jemmy won’t get to go to Disneyland—but he’ll have that. A family that laughs—and millions of little lights in the trees.”

A breath of snow and ashes

Season 7 episode 2 “The Happiest Place on Earth”

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #outlander starz #outlander series #jamie fraser #outlander fanart #samheughan #jamie&claire #jamie and claire #claire fraser #sophie skelton #brianna fraser #brianna mackenzie #jamie&bree #outlander books #outlander book #outlander season 7 #outlander 7x02

66 notes · View notes

sixosix · 2 years ago

Text

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness.

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

259 notes · View notes