#I long ago had this thought of like an interrupting at the altar kind of vibe

[softquietsteadylove]

I was wondering if you could do a toxic AU? One where like they're dating, but really bad for each other (like cheat on each other, make the other cry, or something just toxic) and they just can't let each other go. I know it would be kind if impossible because it's THEM, but because it's THEM, and they're obsessed with each other it kinda makes it possible😭

"She's here?!"

"Will you keep your voice down?" Gil attempted to shush Minerva, which of course only made her more upset.

She threw her purse to the ground. "Are you serious right now, Gilgamesh? First, you have some weird moment with Thena behind closed doors seconds before her wedding. Then, you stand and protest the marriage. And then you follow her after she runs off, and I have to find out she's in my home--our home?!"

"It's still my apartment, Minerva," he hissed at her, hand on his hip, solidly blocking the doorway to their bedroom. "You moved in with me, and Thena is my friend. What was I supposed to do, let her go back to that jackass's place alone?!"

"You don't bring the woman you're obsessed with into the apartment you share with your girlfriend!"

She was still in her wedding attire. So was he, suit still on, tie hanging around his neck loosely. "I am not obsessed with Thena."

But she dug her heels in, pointing up in his face. "You are. I should have listened when my friends told me what a red flag it was that you couldn't let go of her, even when she got engaged. I wanted to believe you when you said you weren't in love with her!"

"I never said that."

She reared back as if he'd struck her. "You what?"

"You never asked if I was in love with Thena, you asked if I was cheating on you with her," he clarified, even knowing what he'd get for it. "Which I didn't."

Her slap held nothing back, cracking against his cheek in the otherwise silent apartment.

It stung. "Okay, I deserve that."

"And more," Minerva choked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why the hell would you do this? Why did you agree to move in with me? I thought you were going to propose."

He kept his face passive. She didn't want any more lies, and he was tired of lying to her. "I figured 'why not?', that's why."

She stumbled back again. "Was-Was anything you've ever told me in our relationship true?"

"Yes."

"You fucking liar!"

"I'm not lying," he insisted. "I never lied. You asked if I'm obsessed with Thena, I'm not. You asked if I was cheating on you--if I would ever cheat on you with her, and I wouldn't! And Thena would never do that to you either."

"Maybe that's the worst part," she laughed coldly. "Why did she pretend to be my friend all this time?"

"She didn't pretend," he stated so straightforward he was starting to sound like Thena. "She doesn't pretend to like people, I told you. She wasn't lying when she told me she liked you, which you kept insisting was some mean, backhanded lie."

No, instead it was her boyfriend who was lying (according to her). Minerva swiped at her tears, dragging the mascara off her cheeks. "So, you're not cheating on me, you just brought the woman you've loved your entire life home after her failed wedding out of kindness."

Gil sighed. "That's right."

Minerva's tears began anew. Her petite shoulders folded in on themselves, her dark hair tumbling around her in long curls. "You love her."

She deserved this much--the real, whole truth. "Yes."

"You've always loved her," Minerva continued to ask questions he knew she wouldn't like the answers to. "The whole time?"

He stood up straight, dragging his tie off completely. He didn't really like orange, but Minerva insisted they match. "From the first day I met her when we were kids."

"Then why wouldn't you just go be with her?" Minerva demanded, even pointed to the bedroom door where her unseen enemy was lying in wait (according to her).

But he shrugged. He had asked himself these questions for a long time, the answers didn't have any pain left in them. "Because our lives went in different directions. Because we've always been best friends--too good to complicate it. We knew it wouldn't have worked when we were young so why try and break our own hearts?"

It seemed her tears were drying quickly the colder her eyes became. She crossed her arms at him. "So, you've always been in love with her. And you dated me anyway."

"Yes."

"But not everything you told me was a lie?" she scoffed. "And you expect me to believe that?"

"It doesn't matter if you believe it or not." She flinched again, and he did feel bad. He did care for this woman--they had been together for two years. "I never lied to you, Minerva. But don't ask me to choose between you and her."

Because he would choose her. He was choosing her over his girlfriend standing in front of him right now. "I see."

He crossed his arms as well, still planted in front of the door. "I'm not sending her to some hotel. Her brother and Phastos and Ben are probably helping get her stuff out of Eros' place as we speak. Once I know she's safe and has a place to go, you can come and get your stuff."

"That's it?" She was done--the line was cut, the bridge burned and floating down the river.

"Yeah," he also deflated. He didn't think what he was doing was noble by any means. And he deserved every horror story Minerva would tell about her nightmare ex who was always in love with his friend he had told her not to worry about.

Well, she wouldn't have had to if Thena had gotten married. If she had never told him that she couldn't go through with marrying Eros because she had always loved him. She was guilty of that, but he could bear that sin for the both of them.

"Fine," Minerva stated finally, drying the last of her tears.

"I can leave you the apartment, if you want," he added lamely. He really didn't want to.

"Don't offer me your pity," she spat back at him, and he admired her for it. "I don't need a homewrecker's space."

He was a homewrecker, that would stick with him. But he still couldn't bring himself to regret so long as he knew Thena was lying on his bed, crying.

"Go to hell," she hissed at him, picking her purse up and not even bothering to take anything on her way out. "You and your precious Thena."

"Watch it," he grumbled back at her. She could curse his name for generations to come, fine. But he wouldn't let her speak badly of Thena.

That was the last straw, and she slammed the door behind her as hard as she could.

Two years of his life, down the drain. It was a happy relationship, for the most part. She had always excitedly wanted to advance their relationship, take new steps together (like moving in). But looking around the empty apartment, he didn't care. She could come and take the furniture she had picked out that he didn't like, she could take all the stuff on the walls. She could take the stuff that wasn't hers if she wanted. What mattered wasn't out here.

Gil opened the door gently. Thena was sitting up on the bed, a towel around her shoulders and wearing the old shirt he had left out for her to wear. Her wedding dress was lying unceremoniously and disdainfully piled outside the bathroom. "I didn't like that dress either."

Her voice was hoarse as she looked at it. "His mother insisted."

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, "forget it. Forget her, and her asshole son--never think about them again."

Thena looked at him, turning those big green eyes on him that always made him forget the entire rest of the world around him. Her eyes filled with tears. "She deserves better."

She was talking about Minerva. But he brought her hand up to his lips, "I know."

"She deserves to hate us," she whispered, her lip trembling.

"Probably," he brushed off, focused on pulling her big, ugly, stupid engagement ring off her. She didn't like it anyway--it was just one garishly ugly stone on a tiny band. It was always getting caught on things, always getting turned around on her thin little finger. She hated the attention it drew.

The ring tumbled and rolled as Gil tossed it away.

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," he whispered, still kissing each of her fingers. Either way it was true; no, she shouldn't have said anything, but no, he didn't want her to say that now, either.

"We always said we shouldn't do this," she whispered back, crying freely as he weaved their fingers together.

"I know," he conceded as he finally leaned in to kiss her. It was the worst time to do it. They were both crying, it was the worst day of her life, and both of their lives were about to never be the same because of it.

But Thena kissed him back, and they kissed like they had always been doing it. "Why couldn't you tell me earlier not to marry him?"

He laughed, although there wasn't much genuine mirth in it. There wasn't much in her smile, either. "Why couldn't you tell me you loved me sooner?"

She laughed as well, just as sadly. She tilted her head as he swiped her tears away with his thumb. "We're both terrible. We got this wrong, right from the beginning, didn't we?"

"Yeah," he kissed her again, more softly, more sweetly. "But I won't anymore."

[celuere]

Hii Alba! I've been reading your works, and they're all amazing! ❤️

Can I request an Arlecchino x Reader who is Pierro's adopted daughter? Maybe when Arlecchino became a harbinger and reader (they're the same age ofc) was her first (and maybe her only) friend there? And they grew up to become closer and closer? You can decide for the rest hihihi thank you! 🥰

Why Anon ofc, I‘m at your beck and call!!! I actually think that’s such a neat concept of getting to know her, like meeting Arle freshly after crucabenas assassination she is of course not the most extroverted person and it takes some time for her to start to open up to you AAAAAA I‘M SO GONNA GET TO WRITING THIS AND TY FOR YOUR KIND WORDS🫶

The Hearth is now extinguished.

Pairing: Arlecchino x fem!Reader

Context: As Pierro’s adoptive daughter you‘ve known the Knave for quite a few years now and you grew… close to her to say the least… always finding excuses to accompany your father to every possible Harbinger Meeting, to maybe even share the same mission locations together… and a bed on occasions. But little did you know, you sadly weren’t as sneaky as your father taught you to be.

Content: mutual pining, unspoken feelings, doomed yuri (my fav kind), suggestive (mentions of arle and reader being intimate, other than that sfwangst, pre-Fontaine arc, reader has a vision, ANGST.

I really hope I hit the nail on the head with the plot, let me know if you like it anon!<333

A/N: […] stands vor Your name! I‘m not a big fan of using Y/N as it lowkey ruins the sentence for me😭 I‘ve also been working on the second part of the Teased story, expect it to be a long one!

You remember the day just as clear as todays morning sky at which you’ve been staring up at for the past minutes. A soft breeze hit your face, brushing the strands of hair out of your face. You were a little nervous to say the least. You were waiting for somebody. Waiting for her so you can finally confess.

Waiting for her as your mind once again went back to the day you first met…

Blizzards have been raging in Snezhnaya lately as you stood next to the Jester, hands tucked tightly into the warmth of your coat. As Pierro‘s daughter, adoptive daughter to be more specific, you had certain duties. One of them was accompanying your father to appoint the next Fatui Harbinger.

The news about Crucabenas sudden death by the hands of one of her own children reached the Fatui HQ in the capital of the City of eternal winter a good four days ago. A 17 year old girl. Killing a Fatui Harbinger. Seventeen. The same age as you. To be honest you were by no means defenseless, being adopted by the first Fatui Harbinger himself came with a few perks, one of them being trained to perfection in almost every weapon category. It wasn’t uncommon either for your father to send you of to an assassination all by yourself at the ripe of age of 14 and being a Cryo Visionholder ever since your tenth birthday… well let’s just say that most high ranking officials weren’t a match for you. But thinking about even scratching La Signora, who was standing and waiting behind you… or just as much as breathe in the wrong direction of Capitano on your left… it wouldn’t came to you in your wildest dreams

So who exactly was that girl?

You were interrupted in your thoughts as the big wooden doors opened. Revealing a rather… small girl… even with the clacking sounds of heels against the polished marble floors, you could tell that she was around half a head smaller than you.

But her height wasn’t what caught your attention. Nor was it her white hair that‘s illuminated by the moon light shining down on her through the windows of the dome above her head.

Red.

It was the deep crimson x‘s adorning her pitch black eyes that you caught yourself staring at, the words coming out of your father‘s mouth completely drowned out as she strode up to the altar. Her face expressionless, almost cold in fact. Your breath got caught in your throat as she took notice of your staring, a tint of pink starting to form on your cheeks, you shifted slightly behind your father.

She was beautiful… not beautiful like Rosalyn… another kind…

And for the rest of the entirety of the meeting you couldn’t help but study her. Study the pretty earrings grazing her earlobes. How she didn’t even move a single inch once she came to a stop in front of you and Pierro. The soft eyebags underneath her eyes, probably the result of her hard training. But to your disappointment she didn’t even as much as looked into your direction ever since you made eye contact at the very beginning.

Arlecchino. That was the new name bestowed upon her. She inherited the title as Knave along with the House of the Hearth. Quite a lot for a seventeen year old girl, who just wanted to kill the monster that was called „Mother“ at the orphanage. Of course you knew Crucabena. And you knew Clervie, her late daughter. You knew she was a terrible person, someone who didn’t deserve the title „Mother“, how she treated her daughter and the other kids under her care, someone who hopefully is rotting in the depths of hell at this very moment.So you couldn’t help but feel anything else other than utmost sympathy for the girl in front of you.

You wanted… no. You had to befriend her. No questions asked.

So you secretly beamed in excitement when Pierro asked you to show her around Zapolyarny Palace and explain how things are operating from here on now. Stepping forward you revealed your hand from beneath the warmth of your coat and waited for her to take it.

„[…]. It‘s a pleasure to finally meet you.“, you hesitated before a soft smile tucked at the corner of your lips as you waited for her to shake your hand. And to be fair, it took her a few moments. She stared down at your hand for a while, as if she was debating something in her head. Then you finally noticed the movement underneath her coat before she revealed her own hand. And from there on you were mesmerized by her.

Pitch black hands along with dark-grey lines tracing the back of her hand before disappearing beneath her sleeves.

„It is rude to stare.“, to your surprise, her voice was deeper than expected.

„I…“, you quickly cleared your throat before taking her hand into yours, „of course, my sincere apologies…“. Goodness, her hand was soft. And she was even more prettier from this up close.

You heard Signora trying to hide a laugh behind her hand, along with Capitano clearing his throat, probably doing the same.

Insufferable old bags.

But little did you know, this handshake marked the start of an inseparable bond between the two of you. Of course, talking to Arlecchino at the beginning was… dreadful to put it mildly. Short answers. Never laughing. Always monotone in her voice. But you were never a girl who gave up so easily, you were quite the opposite. So you stayed strong, using every excuse under the sun to participate in ever meeting alongside your father, no matter how long it would take as long as you got to sit at the same table as her. Fortunately your efforts weren’t in vain because around four months after Arlecchino got appointed as Harbinger, she started to slowly get more comfortable around you. It started with small things. And I mean SMALL things, such as keeping the seat next to her free for you to sit down, accompanying you to take a walk through the capital city whenever she had a spare hour in her schedule, always staying by your side whenever a bigger event rolled around. She still didn’t talk much but you were satisfied with the progress nonetheless.

And after even more months, you could actually have a conversation with her. Turned out she hates the taste too flavorful foods, preferring more plain meals such as… raw meat on a toast along with some ketchup. It gagged you a little the first time she ordered it at a small restaurant she seemed to frequent, but you kept your mouth shut. She‘s just started to open up to you, making a remark in her taste in foods would only set you back in the progress you‘ve already made with her. You even accepted when she offered you a bite. And it tasted… strange. Not awful but also not exceptionally good either.

„You don’t like it?“, she brought up the the toast to her mouth before taking another bite herself as she studied the expressions on your face.

„It‘s… unique… I still prefer salted bacon on a toast instead…“, you washed down the weird taste with a few gulps of your water. As you did so, Arlecchino bent over the table to you, hand reaching out to your face. Your heart set out multiple beats as the butterflies in your stomach flared up.

What does she think she is doing?!

„Arle what-”, her hand gently touched your hair as she interrupted you while taking her hand back, „There was a spider in your hair.“. The small eight-legged animal crawling over her fingers as something akin to fascination washes over the Harbinger‘s face. This is your first time ever seeing something other than an indifferent facial expression on her.

„Oh…“, you leaned in closer to take a look at it, „are you fond of spiders…? You don’t seem scared to me like most people are…“, you could barely make the black spider out on her cursed hands.

„I had a pet spider when I was six years old. They’re easy to take care of. I like them.“, she set the small thing down on the windowsill next to your table. That statement somehow fit her so well. You couldn’t put your finger on why that was the case, but you were always happy to find out more about her.

By the time her 19th birthday rolled around you already taught her how to to braid the hair she‘s been growing out ever since her appointment as Knave. Your fingers delicately combing through her silky strand as you were sat behind her in front of a mirror. You were 18 at that time.

„It’s been getting in my way a lot lately. But I don’t want to cut it off again. I… like it more this way.“, her own crimson eyes skimming over a report from one of her subordinates as she enjoyed -yes. enjoyed.- your fingers running through her hair. Oddly enough it seemed to calm her down, causing her to lean more into your hands. Of course the sudden movement didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you didn’t comment on it. Knowing her, she would brush it off anyways.

„Good thing that you have me…“, you smiled at her through the mirror before you binded her together and set back. „There. All done. Do you like you it?“, you stood up from the floor to get something from your accessory box.

As you searched for a certain hair clip, Arlecchino looked at herself in the mirror, moving her head to the side to have a look at your handwork. „It‘s… simple. I think it suits me well. Thank you, […].“, her eyes landed on you as you walked back to her, a unique accessory in your hand.

„I‘ve had this clip ever since I was a small girl…“, you sat down next to her, revealing the metal thingy in your hand. At the first look it didn’t even seem like a hair clip. The curled up wings on each side looked more like something that belonged into a museum. „Let me put it in your hair really quick…“, you moved back behind her and took the tail back into your hand.

„You… really don’t have to. I‘m fine with this, I wouldn’t want you to give up something as beautiful as this hair clip for me.“, …what was that feeling stirring up inside her stomach…? It wasn’t quite new to her. She often feels like this whenever she‘s around you but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint it either. To be honest, she feels a lot of things whenever she is with you. Not that she would ever admit that of course. It wasn’t like this with Clervie, it was more… romantic…? Either way it confused her.

„Nonsense. I‘ve never worn this one in my entire life. It will only continue to collect dust here…“, you fixed the clip on her ponytail. „And it suits you way better than me anyways.“, you grabbed a smaller mirror from your bed behind you and held it up so Arlecchino could have a better look at her ponytail in the bigger mirror in front of you. „Much better, isn’t it?“

And from this day on, she wore that specific hair clip you’ve given her. At all times. Everyday. You actually never saw her with anything else keeping her hair together. It was always those metal wings adorning her white-red hair.

Time flew by faster than would’ve liked but over the months, years you grew… closer? That‘s a mild way to put it. There was something unique between the two of you. The way you‘d look at each other. The way Arlecchino would always be the first one to ask you for a dance at a formal event, one hand gently holding onto your waist, the other one cupping your hand as she led the both of your over the dance floor as the orchestra switched to a more… slower song.

The funny thing is… remember how she used to be half a head smaller than you about three years ago? About that… growth spurt seemed to hit her a bit late as you now had to lean your head back into your neck to maintain eye contact with her.

„Isn‘t your neck slowly starting to get stiff…?“, she bit her lower lip, the x‘s in her eyes shimmering from the chandelier light shining down at you two. She wore a tailored black-red suit that night, and you couldn’t help yourself but look her up and down multiple time for the duration of the evening.

„Shut it… your not that much taller than me.“, that was a blatant lie. She could easily rest your chin on top of your head. You both knew that. „My, my… feisty today, aren’t we?“, she let you spin around before pulling you closer to her chest again. In her eyes you were the most beautiful person to ever exist right now. The ballgown complimenting your body perfectly, your hair put up nicely, probably by yourself, which suited your face so well, it actually was hard for her to believe that someone could be so… so incredibly beautiful as you were…

It’s not like she would ever openly admit that.

Of course you noticed her shameless staring on that very same evening. How her eyes landed on your lips multiple times, often not adverting her gaze for a longer period of time. How she licked over her own whenever she took in your dress. You knew she wanted so say something. But you didn’t pressure her, it‘s Arlecchino after all.

You also remember how she pressed you up against the door of your sleeping chambers later that night. Left hand slipping underneath your dress as the other one undid your hair. Tongues intertwined while the hand that’s been sneaking up underneath your skirt grabbed onto your ass like you were hers to take. Hers to touch. Hers to kiss. She didn’t even let you break up your kiss when your mixed saliva was dripping out of the corner of your lips. She kissed you like it‘s all she ever yearned for. As if your lips might be the cure to the curse flowing through the blood in her veins.

But even after that night, neither of you dared to speak up on the feelings you had for each other. You just continued sharing a bed from time to time. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as she made whine her name out in ecstasy. Her kisses tasting after something forbidden. Something addictive, it was getting unbearable for you to keep your mind at bay whenever she was near you in public. How your father didn’t notice it, you had no idea. But it was better this way.

The problem wasn’t Arlecchino‘s gender but rather her occupation. A Harbinger was strictly off of the table for you. That rule applied to every member of the Fatui. You didn’t even want to imagine how he would react.

But you weren’t surprised as Pierro was now standing before you. Not the woman, you‘ve been waiting for. His glare stirred up your anxiety, causing you to start fidgeting with your fingers.

„I… I can ex-", you immediately shut your mouth as your father raised his hand to silence you.

„That‘s enough. I thought I taught you better than this. The Knave? You are smarter than this, […]. I raised you to be smarter than this. I have observed the situation long enough to tell that you two have gotten emotionally attached to each other. Especially you.“, he put his hands behind back, shaking his head.

Silence. The wind now suddenly gone. It was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Something was about to happen and you hated this knowledge. Hated how it made your stomach sink. Hated how it made your legs heavy.

„Arlecchino will be transferred back to her homeland, Fontaine, to get a hold of the Hydro Gnosis. She is probably already on her way there. For the complete duration of her stay, you are strictly prohibited to even set foot at Fontaine‘s Borders. I’ve already put you on the blacklist for operations regarding the Nation of Justice. I think, I don’t have to explain to you that letters are off the table, too?“, a punch to your stomach would’ve hurt less than this. Hollow. That would explain best whatever you felt at this very moment. You didn’t even had the chance to tell her your feelings. That you never want to be apart from her again. That you want to grow old with her, no matter what.

„Too shocked to answer, I see…“, he put his hand onto your back. Guiding you back to the city, ignoring the tears starting to taint your pretty face. You hated him in that very moment. Hated Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated.

Hated.

„While we are at it, the son of one of Pantalone’s most successful business partners recently asked me about you. A nice man, indeed. Intelligent, promis-”

„No.“, you halted in your tracks. It took every fiber in your body to not smash something in his face. You were seething with anger. And he only added more fuel to it on purpose.

„Hm… too bad, daughter. Let me know once you changed your mind.“.

As you trotted back to HQ you were a shell of yourself. The letter you prepared for her in advance along with a ring was burning a hole through your pocket.

——————————————————

Some angst for the soul. I‘m sorry I just saw the opportunity right in front of me and took it guys, please don’t bother sending in your therapy bills🙏🏼 anon I hope you liked this one and let me know your thoughts on this!

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Here I am with summoning headcanons for the first ghouls told through Chain (my beloved). I'm pretty happy about this one, actually !

"Why d'you wear it ?"

Chain blinks slowly, lazily turning their head to look at Phantom, sprawled on the worn rug next to them.

The new kid is cute, they decide, a bit of a lightweight, so they stopped smoking a while ago. His cheeks are flushed purple, big stary eyes glazed over, a sweet little smile never leaving his lips.

Chain almost forgets they were asked a question, until Phantom tugs a bit more insistantly on the heavy chain looped around their waist. They hum.

"'s a lucky charm, stickbug."

Phantom tilts his head with a confused noise, wiggling closer until he can rest his head on Chain's chest. The water ghoul runs fingers adorned with bone tattoos on the skin of the young quint's arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"Y'know I was the first water ghoul summoned after the mess Nihil's ghouls were, right ?"

Phantom nods, tail swaying lightly.

"Well," Chain hums, "back then, summonings were messy. And now, with how much damage Nihil's ghouls had done, the Clergy was afraid. Everytime they summoned a ghoul, they found new reasons to be afraid."

Phantom shifts, reaching up to follow the glowing stripes under Chain's jaw with the tip of his fingers.

"Like what ?"

Chain sighs, thinking back to their very first pack.

"Most of them were ancient, powerful ghouls. 'Mega was the first...I mean, you've seen him. He's big. Sure, Earth and Air are taller, but there's that thing 'bout 'Mega, y'know ? Some kind of...aura or shit. Maybe it's the quintessence, dunno. Anyway, he spooked them real good, and Alpha didn't make it better."

Phantom wrinkles his nose.

"Uh oh. Alpha's spookier than Omega."

Chain can't help snorting at that.

"He's got a shit temper and an ego the size of a planet. Fought Omega the second he slid of the altar. Got messy real quick - that's were he got the scars on his cheek and on his stomach, and 'Mega has matching ones on his thigh, burn marks on his ribs too."

With a little gasp, Phantom pushes himself up on his elbows.

"Really ? But they're....really close."

Phantom's surprise is understandable. Omega and Alpha are pratically joined at the hips now, evolving around each other with an ease speaking of intimacy. Chain hums.

"Well, yeah. Suprisingly, once Omega made Alpha eat shit, it didn't take long for them to get along. I guess they just had a rocky start."

"Understatement."

That sets Chain off, somehow, and it takes a long while before they can speak again without being interrupted by their own giggles.

"And after that, Air and Earth were summoned. You've seen them. Fucking trees, the both of them. Looming above everyone. Air traumatized the poor summoners by screeching so loudly he made some eardrums burst. And Earth, well. Spat out blood and guts everywhere - not his fault they summoned him right after a successful hunt."

Rolling on top of them, Phantom pushes his forehead against Chain's, pawing at their shoulders absent-mindedly.

"And you ?"

Closing their eyes, they can still picture it perfectly. The dim candle-lit room, the smell of incens and fear, the anxious whispers, the rough stone of the altar under their naked skin. And that familiar clinking sound.

"Well, I was the last of Primo's original ghouls to be summoned. And by that point, the Clergy was rightfully pissing their pants. So, the second I crawled out of the pit, they threatened to chain me if I showed any sign of agression. I guess they didn't expect for me to find their shiny chain really cool."

Phantom blinks at them in disblief.

"You...thought the chain looked cool."

Shrugging, Chain ruffles the quint's hair with a huff.

"Y'sound awfully judgmental. Yes, I thought it looked cool. Hopped off the altar, took it from them, sniffed it a few time and decided it was mine. Been wearing it ever since - and got my name out of it."

They stare at each other for a second before dissolving in another fit of giggles. It feels good, Chain decides, spending time with the newer ghouls, telling them stories of before they were summoned and watching their incredulous reaction.

"You," Phantom pants in between chuckles, "are the least serious ghoul I've ever met."

"Part of my charm."

Phantom laughs again, and Chain doesn't realize they're purring until the quint joins in.

[indigowallbreaker]

35 from the Angst prompt for Edelgard with Ferdinand

This one got long so it's going under a readmore. I really REALLY like how it came out and it's my hope you like it just as much, anon!!

[prompt rules]

[more Beagles stories]

35: “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want pity.”

--

Garreg Mach Monastery was a place of worship and learning. Within its walls were classrooms, stables, a holy altar, sleeping quarters, a library-- and many other useful rooms besides.

It did not have a dungeon.

For that reason, or perhaps due to her many injuries, Edelgard was being held captive in the infirmary.

The other beds and their patients had been moved before she arrived. It was just Edelgard, her bed, Manuela's desk (empty; she'd checked), and a window someone had nailed haphazardly-- thought effectively-- shut. At least it was comfortable. The Church would have had every right to shove Edelgard into a sodden chamber in Abyss as consequence for starting and losing this war. She wondered if that was Rhea's mercy or Professor Byleth's influence. Neither had visited her since bringing her back to Garreg Mach almost a week ago.

In fact, Edelgard had very few visitors. Most notably Manuela came by a few times a day to deliver meals or check on Edelgard's health-- taking a direct hit from the Sword of the Creator did not leave the body unscathed, even if the Professor had held back at the last moment.

A week after her imprisonment, and two weeks after the fall of Enbarr, Ferdinand von Aegir appeared in the infirmary doorway. Edelgard arched a brow as he shut the door behind him and approached her bed. He looked determined, face stone as he stopped a few feet away. In school he had carried with him a kind of glow of confidence. Now, that glow was all but gone. Edelgard found she missed it.

"There is something I must ask you," Ferdinand declared. Edelgard waited, eyes trailing over him for any sign of a weapon. "I would appreciate if you answered honestly."

"That depends on the question." Edelgard's voice came out strained, she knew. Injuries and lack of a conversation partner had dulled her throat somewhat.

"I was in the room when Manuela gave the Professor a report about your physical examination." Edelgard frowned but did not interrupt. "She mentioned some old scars. Across your chest, arms, even your back."

"I am aware."

Ferdinand tensed. "Who did that to you?"

Edelgard looked away, taking the bite out of her reply. "Why the concern? Are you worried your father has more sins on his hands?"

"I am not thinking of him, I am thinking of you."

"Why is that?"

"Because Manuela says the scars are too uniform to be from an accident." Footsteps on hardwood as Ferdinand had moved closer. "She said they looked methodical. Almost as if..."

"As if I had been experimented on?" Edelgard looked up at Ferdinand. Upon reading his expression, however, she wished she hadn't. "Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want pity."

Ferdinand ignored this and sat at the edge of her bed, eyes narrowed as if trying to see the scars himself through her clothes. How long his hair had grown. It fell in waves to the middle of his back, looking slightly less kempt than his shorter hair back at school. She briefly wondered if this was just another way Ferdinand was trying to prove his superiority-- grow his longer hair than Edelgard's. The absurdity nearly sparked a smile across her face.

"Who did this to you?" He asked softly.

Edelgard lifted her chin, levity forgotten. "What does it matter? You must have read Hubert's letter. The Church has more important things to worry about than my childhood."

"I am not thinking of the Church," Ferdinand tone was firm. "I am thinking of you."

This time, the statement robbed Edelgard of any retort. She simply stared at this new Ferdinand. In school, and during their short acquaintance before, Edelgard would never have dreamed of having this conversation. Ferdinand was an annoyance at best and a roadblock for her plans at worst. Now here he sat, pity gone, replaced with the air of a man determined to solve a problem.

Edelgard had only explained this once, many years ago. There had been no need to tell anyone but Hubert about what Slither had done. Even Volkhard had been the one to tell her father after Edelgard had been deemed a success.

Squaring her shoulders, Edelgard spoke. "It is a long story." Ferdinand nodded. He held out his hand, palm up. Edelgard took it, trying to draw courage from his resolve to listen.

And so, Edelgard told Ferdinand of Slither, of their experiments, and of the plans laid long ago that had, ultimately, led to Edelgard being held captive in a monastery without a dungeon.

[karenarella22]

Second.

Hello everybody, hope you're doing great, this is a new chapter o my novel, we'll devolped the story a little bit more, and now we are entring Aeryne's world as well, this is short one but I hope you like it. There is graphic content in all of the chapters so read at your own risk.

***

-All available units go to the Church on Lane St., there are reports of neighbors asking for help...again-I hear on the radio as I take the second bite of the slice of pizza that a few minutes ago had become my lunch.

-This is Wolf, I'm a minute away from the scene- I wipe the corner of my lips hoping to clear any sign of my recent and very limited lunch, I put on my seat belt and drive to the blessed Church. I hope I haven't had my lunch interrupted by a couple of kids throwing eggs for the third time this month.

I walked over after leaving the car parked where it couldn't be dirty with rotten eggs.

Arriving at the doors of the Church, I managed to see the commotion of the neighbors around the priest who tries to keep the crowd calm, although at first glance he does not seem to be able to calm himself.

-Good morning everyone...- I approach the entrance of the place- What happened father?-

-Come... with me and you will see the misfortune daughter- look at the entrance of the place with visible obfuscation and begin to walk slowly and reluctantly towards whatever it is that is there inside.

The chapel of San Bernardino is a meeting point for the community that Father Marcos built years ago with the help of the neighbors. I follow in his footsteps discovering for the first time in a very long time the construction inside, high ceiling, black mahogany that covers the entire property with a mystical mantle typical of churches, the altar in front of the pews for the parishioners to pray.

I arrive at the internal courtyard of the property where the priest abruptly stops his march.

-This is as far as I get in daughter- I continue the indicated path until I locate the reason for such a commotion.

-Father get out of here, make sure no one enters or leaves the parish- I take out my cell phone from my pocket and dial my partner who is working on an armed robbery on the other side of the city, due to the lack of personnel in the station for the vacation season we have to divide the tasks so as not to overload ourselves with work, but this is almost the exception, the whole office is in charge of whatever this is until we find the murderer.

As the reinforcements arrive I begin to review the scene.

The victim has the characteristics of a man in his 40s, he is facing the north wall of the building, his knees are bent and he appears to be "praying". His body is covered in what looks like a white cotton robe that reaches a little below his calves; his hands are tied with a rope under his chin. No obvious alterations of any kind are seen considering he was brutally murdered with the chapel's cross nailed into his skull.

The most disconcerting thing about this, if there could be anything else, is the sentence written on the wall on the other side of the small inner courtyard in what appears to be blood.

"...I was created by DIVINE power..."

The writing sounds familiar to me from somewhere but I can't pinpoint exactly where, I keep collecting information trying to stay focused but the surrounding environment makes me very uncomfortable. The air feels thick, some pigeons fly to their nests above the bell tower moving from here to there. If we add to the scene the fact that I haven't set foot in the Church since my abrupt flight from town, this is not an ideal situation.

The cloudy weather, plus the setting in which I find myself, makes this moment worthy of a horror movie. I drown those thoughts in my head, despite having many problems with the creed that the Church preaches, I must keep my personal affairs aside since it is useless for me to concentrate on the hatred I have for it, to do my job well I have to concentrate on the victim.

The wound on this poor man's head is very deep and makes me think that the perpetrator is probably a man or woman with a lot of bodily strength.

From time to time I turn my vigilant gaze around, the place gives me chills reminding me the dark times of my past that come back to haunt me on daily basis.

I take a deep breath trying to forget the memories as I continue to catalog all the evidence with great care.

[askcannibalsaltbaker]

oh yeah i forgot about this

ANOTHER PRIEST SALTBAKER FIC AYOOO it's kinda lazy

The church was as dark as always, you had become a frequent visitor, frequent enough that the pastor and you were on a first name basis, and had been for a while already. As you came in through the front door, the priest was picking up the bible he had left at the altar, his last sermon of the day had finished a couple of minutes ago. It was late in the night after all, he didn’t expect company, and he definitely didn’t expect you of all people. Still, he welcomed you with open arms.

–“Oh, hello Y/N. What brings you here at these hours of the night? Please do not tell me you came here all by yourself…”

You didn’t know full well why you were there in the first place. You have been feeling quite down lately, having some thoughts, some ideas, not very good ones. That led you to think you were being possessed by a demon or something along those lines. Because you had never felt this bad before. Besides, he was comforting, you just wanted to be near someone you could trust.

–“Hi Gent… Look, I’m sorry for coming in this late, I really don’t mean to interrupt anything but… I think i need an exorcism”

The father’s eyes widened in surprise. Looking at you in confusion. –”May I ask what prompted this?”

You sighed before speaking –”I.. I’ve been dealing with certain feelings lately, father. I think.. Maybe a demon could be the reason why I've been feeling this bad. It’s… It’s never been like this before” You didn’t mean to tear up right there in front of the priest, you didn’t want him to see you like this but you couldn’t help it any longer

He walked closer to you, wiping a tear off your face, accidentally cupping your cheek in the process. God, how you missed this kind of touch. It almost made you cry harder, you really, really needed something like this. And you were especially happy it was coming from him. You leaned into his hand, your face trying to twist itself into a poor attempt of a smile. Said smile backfired on you as you just shed a couple more tears.

He didn’t say a word, he just pulled you in for a hug. He held you tight, so tight, as if he were trying to protect you from the supposed demon who was tormenting you. You reached for his blessume and lightly pulled on it in despair, bringing yourself closer to him, sobbing into his chest. He started humming to calm you down, in that low velvety tone his voice was always in. The vibrations from his chest shot directly into your ears, it was quite soothing, honestly. You could fall asleep right then and there if you weren’t crying so much. Eventually he stopped holding on so tight, his worried grasp turning into a softer one, with his arms just barely squeezing you anymore. He moved one of his hands from your back to your head, it now playing with your hair.

–“You should have come earlier, dear. I had no idea you felt this way.”

–“Is it really that bad…?” –You said, scared to hear the answer. He chuckled in response.

–“Dearest, you are not possessed. Believe me. You just seem stressed. I’m sorry I couldn't help you earlier.”

You were relieved to say the least –”It’s not just stress, I can handle that. It’s just- I guess… I miss love? I know it sounds silly-”

His eyes shot open, he pulled back from you. Honestly, he couldn’t believe someone like you felt this way. He had liked you for so long he just assumed you were already in a relationship. He laughed to himself, which confused you.

–”Hey I’m serious over here!” you also giggled, that smile of his was contagious.

–”Ah- I’m sorry dear! I just find it funny… I could have done something about this before if I had known!”

You stopped to think for a bit, wait does he- –”Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

–”... I know one must not tempt, especially not me but.. I couldn’t help it, not with you around. I feel about the same way you do, honestly… I also miss love, touch. All that.”

Your heart sank. You couldn’t bear to think someone else was going through this, you knew exactly how much it hurts. You stood on the tips of your toes as you grabbed his face with both your hands. 

–”Well, you don’t have to worry about that either now! because- I love you.”

That look on his face. It was one of relief, astonishment, but over all, pure bliss. He leaned his head on your hands, immediately getting warmer. Now he was the one on brink of crying.

–”Oh, oh good.” He held your hand with both of his, kissing it –”I love you too.”

[tintinwrites]

how could we be wrong? | Priest!Max Phillips x Reader

A/N: Thank you for doing business with the religious trauma hotline, my name’s Caitlin. I’m just calling to confirm your order of a priest kink.

Rating: 18+

Warning: Fem!Reader. Max is a priest. Unprotected P in V sex, in a church, over a pew, while another priest and a parishioner are in the confessional booth. Oral (F receiving). Religious things. Naughty words. A bit of corruption kink. There are so many sins in this that I can’t list them all bc idk what’s bad and what’s not now.

Word count: 4,105, apparently!!

Summary: You go to church to confess your sins, but end up only adding on some more things you’ll need to confess.

GIF credit: thewaythisis

Tags: Love y’all but I cannot CANNOT force my taglist to have a priest kink thrust upon them like this.

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

The oak door was heavy as you pulled on the brass handle, but the opening of it led you into a warm, quiet sanctuary.

You supposed there was a metaphor in there; you were out in the cold with a heavy weight, but just beyond that weight was warmth and salvation and peace.

Every pew was empty, bibles and hymnals tucked neatly in the compartments on the back as they waited for mass or for passersby who needed to pray. There were candles lit at the front of the sanctuary despite the lights on overhead, and you inwardly berated yourself for not knowing why they were lit.

You intended to go to the confessional booth to your right, but you paused halfway to it when you saw that there was another person in the sanctuary. They were facing away from you, dressed in all black, but they didn’t have snowy white hair like the priest who you’d seen the times you visited before.

Glancing at the confessional, you decided instead to approach the man.

Perhaps you just hadn’t seen him before and if he was the only priest in the building, going into an empty confessional would be a little silly.

“Father?” you asked cautiously, and the man immediately whipped around to show a face much younger than you were used to, his gaze quickly flickering over you.

“—yes, my...child?” The name was said hesitantly with a slight grimace and you wondered if you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry. I can come back later.” You turned to go, but a hand wrapped around your arm to pull you back.

“No, stay, I was just cleaning.” He held up the dust buster in his free hand, releasing you so he could put it on the altar table. “What do you need? I’m yours.”

He said that simple statement so smoothly as he turned to face you that it made your heart pick up speed just a bit, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, I...came to confess, but I’m not exactly anonymous anymore…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, slugger!” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders before you could protest, leading you to a pew and sitting down with you, his legs open wide as he relaxed into the wooden seat. “So, come on, what’s the secret, huh? What’d you come to confess?”

“I...I don’t know.” You knew what you came to confess, but you were taken aback by his behavior and how quickly he moved, and mostly just embarrassed to admit such things to a handsome man like him.

“Are you one of those freaks who just came to confess just in case?”

“What? That’s...no.” You were definitely surprised by a man of God talking about the parishioners who came to confess like that. “I just don’t know if I should confess these things outside of the confessional.”

He made a face and waved his hand as if to say it was no big deal. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was something charming about how carefree and flippant the man was, but you still hesitated for a second. “I don’t even know who you are, Father.”

“Max Phillips. I just started training here.”

Well, that explained his lack of the professionalism and seriousness you were used to. You opened your mouth to confess since he was a priest or would soon be one, but you shook your head and looked down shyly. “I don’t know…”

A finger under your chin gently nudged your head up until you were looking into Max’s eyes, your heart picking up speed again. “You’re safe with me. Go ahead.”

There was just something about him that made you feel all warm inside, and you nodded for so long it was almost stupid before you remembered that you were supposed to be confessing.

“I’ve been having a lot of impure thoughts lately. It just seems like everything is driving me crazy and then I…” You faltered as the real thing you wanted to confess to danced on the tip of your tongue.

Max had been looking at the way your dress hugged your tits as he listened, raising his eyes to your face when you stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very young to be a priest.” You started to turn away because talking about something like this to a man who looked like that was not stopping your thoughts from heading in the direction they tended to lately. “And you’re different. Shouldn’t we be in the confessional?”

“Hey, listen, how about we...make a deal? You confess, and I can tell you how I ended up here.” He just really wanted to know what had you so ashamed like this, what could possibly make you squirm like you were right then.

You considered it for a second before nodding, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been masturbating. I start thinking, and then I start feeling these sensations, and before I know it, I’m touching myself.”

He nodded along in understanding like the thought of you touching yourself didn’t make his pants a little tighter. “I see.”

“I know it’s wrong.” You dropped your head into your hands, but were only able to wallow for a few seconds. The priest grabbed onto your hands and grasped them in his supportively, making you look up at him.

“You wanna hear why I became a priest?” He smiled at your slight nod. “I was always a little bit of a...troublemaker. But I guess the last time was just the straw that broke the camel’s back for my parents…”

“What did you do?” you asked with concern; the way he sighed made it seem like he did something terrible, like hurt someone or do some kind of dangerous drug.

“See, there was this girl I liked. I invited her over to my house.” He knew exactly what he was doing with this story, noting every little hint of your untapped desire in the way you leaned closer and your blinking slowed. “When my parents walked in to find me with my head under her skirt, slowly thrusting my tongue in and out of her, I guess it was too much.”

His words dripped with sensuality and you would have fallen right off the pew were it not for your grip tightening on his hands. He was so beautiful. You pressed your thighs together and just stared at him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something or maybe even kiss him.

But then he leaned back and shrugged, going right back to his previous nonchalance. “So they sent me to seminary a few years ago and I was just accepted by this church.”

“Oh.” You nodded, trying to pretend that his story hadn’t affected you that much. It seemed like he was just telling a story and your horny brain had just read too much into it.

“You know sexuality isn’t bad, right? Rubbing one out is a biological response to release a little...tension.” He released your hands to break contact with you, noticing the way you fell forward just a little as he leaned against the back of the pew.

“The bible says—”

“The bible’s been translated a billion times and taken out of context a billion more. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with releasing a little tension.” He tilted his head, pursing his lips as he decided to push you a bit. “There’s nothing wrong with you being turned on by the idea of me putting my head under your dress right now.”

You were nodding along as you considered his words, but then your eyes nearly doubled in size at his comment. “I—I don’t—”

“Now lying is a sin.” He reached out to tap you on the nose which made you blink rapidly in confusion. “Look at how tense you are. You’ve been denying yourself, haven’t you?”

“Well...I didn’t think it was right…” You were uncomfortable; not because he was upsetting you, but because you had been denying yourself and you were so turned on by his words that you wanted to do the very thing you came to confess.

“Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?” He decided to be blunt. You seemed to enjoy it when he was.

“What? Me? Here?” Your reaction was almost comical, but his words still sent a jolt directly to your clit.

“Touch yourself. Yes, you. Right here.” He leaned forward to gently grasp your hand again, running his thumb along the back of it. “I’m a man of God. You’re safe with me if you need to release a little tension. I won’t tell a soul.”

“I…” You wet your lips, pressing your thighs even tighter together.

He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly guided your hand to the hem of your dress, pausing to see if you would stop him or protest. When you didn’t, he helped you pull the fabric up your thighs, glancing down when he saw a glimpse of bright fabric. “Blue lace, huh? I like it.”

All you did was stare into his eyes, letting him maneuver your hand underneath the practically sheer fabric. He pulled his hand out and just laid it on top of yours through the lace.

“Tell me your name.” He waited for you to stutter it out before repeating it, wrapping his lips around it sensually in a way no one ever had before. “I could moan that. Fuck, I’d like to hear you moan my name like a prayer.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes fluttered shut and you began stroking over your clit, giving into the sensation that was begging you to touch yourself.

Max just kept his hand on top of yours, letting them move together, his eye flickering between your face and what you were doing between your legs. “Isn’t that better? What are you thinking about?”

“Your tongue.” You were too turned on to care, letting out a little moan when you opened your eyes and saw the way he was staring at you.

“And I didn’t even tell you the whole story!” He laughed, bringing his free hand down to playfully slap your thigh. “I bet you’d like to know what I did when my parents and their friends walked in, huh? Go ahead, ask me.”

“What did...what did you do?” You tried your best to focus on him, now letting him control the movements of your hand through your panties.

He shifted a bit so he could lean in closer to you, his eyes roaming from your face, down your neck, over your breasts, until they landed between your legs. “I fucked my tongue into her until she came all over herself in front of everyone.”

The whine you let out was exactly what he wanted and he chuckled when you tried to move your hand faster than he was allowing.

“Patience is a virtue. Do you want to feel my tongue?” He raised an eyebrow when you didn’t answer him at first, making you grind your fingers against your clit a little harder. “It’s okay to say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped out and he smirked, pulling his hand away and taking hold of your wrist to make you stop touching yourself.

“Now, I know you learned patience. You’re such a stickler for rules, aren’t you?” He pulled your hand up to kiss your glistening fingers, letting his tongue poke out to kitten lick them every so often. “I want you to stand up for me. Take off your panties, go up and put them on the altar, then come back here. You’re gonna stand in front of me and take off your dress.”

Your chest was rising and falling slowly from your deep, steady breaths. You’d come to confess your sins, but it didn’t feel like a sin as you stood up and stepped out of your underwear.

You didn’t even realize how easily you were doing it until you’d approached the altar and set the bit of lace on it, turning around to make your way back to Max.

He was leaning back in the pew with his legs open wide, the bulge in his pants obvious when you came to practically stand between his knees.

You hesitated when your fingers came to the hem of your dress, realizing that you were going to be naked in front of this practical stranger in the middle of a church. It was both enticing and terrifying.

“Let me see. I’ve been staring at your tits since you walked in anyway.” He said it so casually it was somehow almost sexier than if he’d been flirtatious.

Hesitating for just a moment longer, you pulled your dress off before you could convince yourself not to, leaving yourself entirely bare. Max’s eyes darkened as he slowly looked over every visible inch of you.

You grew nervous when he didn’t say anything, shifting on your feet and biting your lip as you stared at the floor.

When he was still silent, you slowly looked up at him, fearing a look of disgust.

But you found him staring right at you with eyes full of lust and he slowly said, “I’d abandon the church for that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to something like that, just letting out a shaky breath as you felt yourself grow wetter.

“Sit down. Open your legs wide.” He stood up, waiting for you to take his place on the pew before he knelt between your legs. “Has anyone ever done this before?”

“No, Father. I only had sex once, when I was a teenager...and it wasn’t really good.” Your answer seemed to please him, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Call me Max,” he said simply, then leaned forward and started running his tongue along your folds.

Just feeling his tongue between your legs had you squirming and gasping, but he wasn’t paying attention to your clit yet. He’d dip his tongue right near it before skipping over it, pressing teasing little kisses against you.

Having never been eaten out before, you didn’t think to rush him or beg him; you were oversensitized from a lack of proper touch, so this was doing a lot for you.

He decided to be nice mostly for the purpose of rocking your world, and he started to flick at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

That had your hips lifting off the pew, a cry leaving your lips as he started tracing little circles over the sensitive area. “Oh, fuck, Max…”

He took hold of your thighs to pin you back down to the seat, pressing his tongue flat against you and dragging it slowly up over your clit. The movement had your jaw dropping open in pure ecstasy and the ensuing vibrations from his soft chuckle made you release a moan.

You’d never felt anything so amazing in your entire life even when you would give in and touch yourself, and you couldn’t believe how long you’d gone without feeling something this wonderful.

“Would you use your tongue inside me? Like the girl?” Your request earned you another slap to the thigh as Max pulled away, his lips shining.

“I gotta say, you know your manners!” He grinned, keeping his eyes on you as he leaned down and slowly began fucking into you with his tongue.

You were silent at first as the new sensation took over, before you let out a whine and started breathing a little shakily. “Oh, God!”

Max mumbled a reminder of what you could call him into your cunt, thrusting his tongue a little faster and nudging his nose against your clit.

He kept going at it until he felt your walls starting to flutter around his tongue and he pulled back, smirking at the almost hurt look on your face.

“You wanna see what good sex is like?” He cupped your face when you nodded, moving to kiss you passionately.

You kissed him back eagerly and stared at him dreamily as he pulled you to your feet, letting him turn you around. He guided you to bend over with your hands gripping the back of the pew, seeing that you were steady before he pulled back to admire your ass.

He ran a hand over the soft skin, undoing his pants with the other as he kept trailing down until he was stroking through your slit. “It hurt the first time, huh?”

“Yeah, and he...released his seed after a couple thrusts then left…” You admitted this with a bit of shame, pressing your fingers into the wood.

“Came. He came after a couple thrusts.” Your gentle way of putting it made him smirk, but he let out a moan when he pressed his tip to your wet folds. “This one’s not gonna hurt and you can bet your sweet ass that you’re gonna come first.”

“He came,” you repeated, eyes fluttering shut with a moan at the feeling of him starting to push into you; there was some pressure, but he was right about it not hurting like the other time.

“God, you’re tight…” He practically growled, going slow so you could adjust to the way he was stretching you open.

You folded your arms on the back of the pew and laid your head on them, breathing deeply as he pushed himself inside you as far as he could. He moved one hand to your right hip and the other stroked up your back.

“How’s that?” Your answer was a pitiful, little groan so he thrust his hips a little. “Come on. Use your words.”

“Good, but I feel like I want you to move…” It was so nice to feel full and you wanted friction to go with it.

“Then get back up.”

You forced yourself back up onto your hands and turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, watching your eyes darken as he pulled out before quickly thrusting back into you. It was hard enough that you let out a yelp and were rocked forward a bit, having to tighten your grip on the pew so you didn’t face plant on it.

“Oh, God!” You cried, arching back into him.

“Okay, fine, you can call me that and Max.” He rolled his eyes playfully as he found a steady pace against you, loving the way you practically bounced with each thrust.

You were too gone to even acknowledge what he said, and he really didn’t mind since that meant he was turning you on. He slid a hand underneath you so he could rub at your clit, angling his thrusts to stroke over your G spot.

He was trying to keep it together, but you were sexy, and so wet, and so fucking into it that he couldn’t help the noises you were pulling out of him; every whine, every moan, was worth being able to fuck into your tight, wet pussy in the middle of the fucking church.

He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock already since you were so wound up in general and worked up from his mouth, and like hell he was gonna deny you this time.

The thought of you squeezing down on his cock encouraged him to move faster, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoing through the sanctuary.

“Max! I’m—I’m—” Your orgasm was too powerful for you to even warn him about, only able to let out a cry as you clenched tight around him.

“Holy shit.” He hissed at the way your cunt gripped him like a fucking vice, the way he felt you squirt all over yourself and his dick.

He could feel it dripping down your thighs and his, spurring him on further as he easily thrust into you.

The sound of your wet cunt filling the room was even better and he let himself get completely lost in you, grunting and whining at how good you felt.

“Oh, God. Oh, God!” Maybe he was doing that part a bit on purpose, but he had no choice but to let his hips lose their rhythm as he just focused on seeking out his orgasm. “Fuck. Tell me where to come, now.”

You didn’t answer at first as you were still coming down from your orgasm. He quickly started rubbing your sensitive clit again to grab your attention and you gasped, “Inside me, please.”

He wanted to fall to his knees and fucking worship you for that, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades before he stood up to drive into you desperately. It only took a few more thrusts before he was shoving himself into you as deeply as he could, letting out a loud, long groan as he spilled his load into you.

The two of you stayed like that for a second, both panting, both with your eyes shut tightly.

But Max still wanted to fall to his knees in worship.

He regrettably pulled out of you and moved to kneel down, holding onto your ass to keep you still as he leaned in, immediately lapping the mixture of his and your cum from your cunt.

You let out a whimper so pretty that he could’ve gotten hard again if it was possible. He just focused on cleaning you up with his tongue, licking into your cunt until he was satisfied with his work.

He enjoyed a good eyeful of your pussy and ass and decided he wanted to inspect you more in the future, moving to his feet.

“Your sins are absolved.” His words were followed by a slap to your ass before he tucked himself back into his pants.

You moaned and stood up fully, turning to see that he was holding your dress out to you. Part of you wanted to ask if that was it, craving more despite how much he’d just offered you, but you stayed silent and put your dress back on.

You walked up to the altar when he just stared at you, grabbing your panties off and moving to step into them. There was a tap on your shoulder before you could and you turned to face Max, who was now holding a collection plate and grinning mischievously.

“We’re collecting if you want to help the church. I, for one, would love to put those on my face later and jack off.”

You gaped at him for a moment before slowly smiling and laughing softly, dropping the lace into the collection plate. “I should probably go…”

He nodded, but put his free hand on the side of your face and guided you into a deep kiss, licking into your mouth with remnants of cum on his tongue. It made you moan and he was honestly fucking surprised you didn’t have your own cult of people begging to have you.

“Come back. Just ask for me.” He smirked at your dazed nod and kissed you again before slapping your ass, nudging you up the aisle.

You walked to the door with a bit of a gap between your thighs, finding that the door didn’t seem as heavy as before. You glanced at him over your shoulder before walking out and letting the oak shut behind you.

Max just smirked to himself and chuckled, both satisfied and proud. He looked to the side of the room when he heard a creak, smile not faltering in the slightest even as an older, enraged-looking priest stepped out of the confessional booth. “Hey, pops.”

“Father Phillips, this is unacceptable.” He was red in the face from anger or perhaps something else.

“Is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Max’s jovial expression did twitch a little bit when the priest let out a growl, and he slowly slid back a step and took your underwear out of the collection plate. “She needed me, buddy! What was I supposed to do, let her walk around all wound up?”

“You weren’t supposed to fornicate with a parishioner in the middle of the fuck—” He immediately stopped his crass words when the other side of the confessional opened and out stepped a small, elderly woman.

Max had honestly forgotten she was in there, but raised his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the way she was eyeing him.

It was probably the wink he sent her that took him from probably exiled to definitely exiled, based on the way the head priest cried,

“Get out!”

[navegandoaciegas]

no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: catholic priest!Bucky, virgin!Bucky, desecrating thoughts and actions, explicit language, smut, consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss of virginity, slight innocence and religious kinks (nothing disturbing), oral sex, fingering, masturbation, sex in a public (and sacred) place.

Summary: As punishment for your sinful behavior, your parents send you to your aunt’s house in the middle of nowhere, in hope you’ll redeem yourself. The punishment quickly backfires when you take an interest in the local (and handsome) priest, and you manage to corrupt his pure soul.

A/N: I was in a priest!Bucky mood this morning and I wrote this for @saiyanprincessswanie​ writing challenge. I chose prompt 17 and the ‘opposites attract’ trope. I hope you like this!

Filth and happy ending ‘cause I’m a sap. Take me to church by Hozier inspired this.

This is not a dark story and both reader and Bucky are consenting adults. Fyi, catholic priests can’t marry, and they change their name when they are ordained. We’ll pretend James is the name he took as priest.

You look over your shoulder to check if anyone’s around and knock on the backdoor of the church, waiting for your lover to usher you inside. The sinful secrecy of it all, the rush of excitement, your love for all that’s forbidden: you’ve never felt more alive.

Being forced to spend the summer in the middle of nowhere is not the way you expected your senior year of college to end, but not all evil comes to harm, and in this quiet little town, you’ve become quite interested in the local priest. In your defence, boredom is the root of all evil, and in your case, evil happens to make you horny and prone to making bad decisions, and Father James is young and handsome, so it was only a matter of time before he gave in the temptation of the flesh and you found yourself fucked against the altar. 

Ordained or not, he’s only a man after all.

-

The confessional is dark and suffocating; behind the wooden screen, the priest is all ears.

Muscle memory kicks in when you do the sign of the cross and begin to speak. 

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” you recite the formula that’s been ingrained in your mind since you were old enough to need it, “My last confession was seven years ago.”

You mentally curse your parents for still having the authority to send you to Bumfuck Nowhere, Alabama, and your aunt for forcing you to attend church and confess your sins. 

It will be good for your soul, they said, New York is corrupting you.

You suppose it’s only fair that your good catholic parents would react so drastically; they wanted to surprise you in your new apartment and drove all the way from Rhode Island to New York, only to find your piano tutor buried balls deep inside of you. Lord knows what they’d do if they knew you’ve lost your purity long before that, with one of the good catholic girls in your private boarding school. Extramarital sex, with a woman at that! They’d probably have a meltdown, drag your to a cloistered convent and lock you there for life.   

You don’t wait for the priest to acknowledge you and start talking.

“You know Father, I found a handy dandy little list of all the sins you’re supposed to confess to and I checked them. I’ll read it to you. Let’s see.” you clear your throat, “So, I use artificial birth control, I broke a couple of promises, including the one to wait for marriage, I can be kind of blasphemous sometimes, but you see, I spent six months abroad in Italy last year and the kids there taught me all sorts of ways to disrespect the Lord, they have so many, and once those things get stuck in your brain... what can you do, they just stick in there, you don’t even want to say them but they become part of your vocabulary.” you continue uninterrupted, “Anyways, my parents caught me in the act with a man, so I guess we have ‘dishonoring family’ too. Underage drinking as a kid, a lot of that. Drugs sometimes, nothing major, ya know, I don’t do coke or nothing. Gossiping, impure thoughts, God-”

He interrupts you clearing his throat.

“Sorry. See? I don’t even do it on purpose. As I was saying, I love those. Lying... not a whole lot to be honest; to my parents, mostly. Haven’t prayed in a good 10 years. Masturbation, did I mention that? Watched porn a couple of times, ‘m not a big fan if I’m being honest, but to each their own. Oh, and premarital sex, a ton of that. Had an orgy once, not too fond of those either. Too many limbs.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, so you give him a moment to ponder his thoughts. He stays silent for a while, and when he speaks his voice is not at all what you expected it to be. He’s soft spoken yet commanding, and sounds surprisingly young.

“Anything else you can remember?”

“Well of course, the cherry on top, my own first class ticket to hell.” you say, not as cheerful as before, repeating the exact words you’ve been taught for years, “God gave me free will and I used it to commit homosexual acts, Father. Multiple times.” 

You let the words hang in the stuffy air of the confessional; you don’t know what to expect from the priest, to be honest. Last time you admitted to thinking of a girl to a religious figure, Sister Theresa told you you’d never have to act on your impulses, or you’d burn in hell for it. You were 12. 

“You think that’s worse than the rest?”

“Not me, no, I don’t.”

He hums thoughtfully. “What makes you do the things you do?” he asks, and you don’t feel any of the judgment you were expecting, only genuine curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me to repent for my sins?” you reply, equally as curious.

“Is absolution what you’re seeking?”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, Father, and I’m way past asking for permission.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My aunt forced me.”

It’s his turn to snort this time. “You don’t seem the type to follow orders blindly.”

You admit the guy’s got a point. “I guess… I don’t know. I felt the need to. It feels nice, talking to someone. I feel lonely a lot, and it’s easier to talk to strangers. And this is cheaper than therapy, so that’s a bonus. Really, I just need to vent.”

“Do you regret any of your choices?” he says, after a while.

“Not the ones I confessed to.” you admit, trying to discern the priest’s figure behind the screen. 

“What is it, then?”

“You know, you’re kinda chill for a priest from Alabama, I gotta give it to you.” you respond, dodging his question.

“Thanks, it’s probably because I’m from Brooklyn.”

“What the hell-” 

“Language.” 

“Sorry. Why would someone move from Brooklyn to this place?”

“Vocation.”

“I see.” 

It’s silent again, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You should come to the parish sometimes. We have meetings, we sing, we eat together, the children play football and the young adults talk about what it means to be a Catholic in the modern world. It may ease your mind about a lot of worries and misconceptions you might have.”

You contemplate on his words: it wouldn’t hurt, would it? It’s not like you’ve got a whole lot going on here; and you might as well find yourself a devoted man or woman to pass time. 

“I might.”, you finally respond, not willing to give him the satisfaction, and stand from the chair. “I’ll see you around, Father.”

“May God give you peace, miss.”

“Amen.”

-

“What took you so long?” James asks, grunting when you pull on his hair.

“My aunt asked me to make lunch for her husband, as if he couldn’t do it his damn self.” you respond, and suck on his bottom lip, “Missed me?”

“Always.”

You coo, “My eager boy.”

He’s sitting on his office chair and you’re straddling his lap, grinding your hips on him and feeling his arousal grow. You’re burning up, panties damp and a familiar coil in your core. You don’t know what excites you the most: being responsible for the corruption of such pure soul, the forbidden aspect of fucking a Catholic priest, or the possibility of someone walking in on you. Your walls flutter when you imagine the scandal that this affair would create.

You pull him closer, tugging on his white collar, and he breaks the kiss. His eyes are black and glossed over, lips swollen, cheeks red, but there’s something like worry in eyes.

“Do you love me?” he asks quietly, in the soft voice you adore.

“Of course I do, you know that.”

You fall on your knees and fumble with the zipper of his black pants.

“Would you love me if I didn’t have this collar?” he stops your hands with his, “Would you still love me if I wasn’t this?”, he gestures to his sacred attire.

You pause your actions and search his eyes. Where is this coming from?

“Yes, I’d love you anyways, I’ll always love you.”

A small, shy smile breaks on his face. He lifts you up and makes you sit on his desk.

“I- I w-want to try something,” he begins with a stutter, “I remember hearing some kids back when I was in school talk about it.”

You cock your head to the side, observing carefully as he sits back down on the chair and parts your legs. He lowers his head and begins peppering the inner skin of your thighs with open mouthed kisses. Oh-.

“James, you don’t have to do this.” you try to tell him, but he’s already moving your panties to the side.

He stares entranced between your legs; he’s never been this bold, never watched you there. “You’re so pretty, I want to kiss you here.” 

You feel a finger tease your entrance and dip in. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and when he licks a strip of your dripping cunt, you feel like you could burst. He delves in your glistening folds, tongue swirling around as if he was kissing your mouth, and your hips jerk forward when he crooks a couple of fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes the coil in your belly grow tighter. 

You throw your head back and your eyes fall on the cross behind you. You are very much past forgiveness at this point, you muse, and that makes this all the more exciting.

You’re writhing under his touch, completely at his mercy. You grab the back of his neck and bring his face upward so that his mouth comes in contact with your clit.

“Suck there.” you demand in a raspy voice, rocking your hips and fucking yourself on his fingers. “Good boy.” you praise when he closes his mouth around your bud and begins sucking and lapping on it. “Yes, oh my God, fuck, faster.”

James obeys and jerks the fingers inside of you, the vibration and his tongue enough to make the knot in your core unravel and pleasure release in jolts, shooting from your center to the rest of your body; you slap a hand on your mouth to suppress wanton moans as your hips twitch involuntarily and your toes curl. He rides you though your orgasm until you’re too sensitive to handle his face on you.

When you look down, you find him, face wet in your arousal, eyes half lidded.

“Did I do well?” he asks full of hope, still clinging to your legs and nuzzling your thigh.

“You did amazing, sweet boy.”

-

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

Hearing your sultry voice, he chokes on air behind the screen and clears his throat, trying to keep the same composure he always seems to loose when you’re around. 

“I got friendly with a man, you see, a man of church.” you begin in a teasing tone, “He kissed me, and I didn’t pull back. I let him roam his hands all over my body, Father, and then I corrupted him.”, You lick a couple of fingers and dip them in your mouth, then you release them with a popping sound and slowly slip them in your panties. You push a finger in your already wet core, smearing arousal around and teasing your clit, slow at first. “You should have seen how innocent he looked, Father. He said he’s never been touched like that. A virgin. I’ve never been with a virgin before.” you continue, almost moaning the last part as you slide three fingers in and out of you and tease your bud with your thumb, “He didn’t even know I could please him with my mouth, so I took him in and I sucked him off.” You’re panting, hand furiously circling your clit. You hear Bucky’s ragged breath behind the screen. “He moaned so loud, F-F-Father, he c-came so quick. And I swallowed it all, because you can’t let a single drop of seed g-go to w-waste, can you?” you whimper, feeling an orgasm build up.

You’re fueled by his suppressed grunts and the lewd sounds of him touching himself.

“I don’t come for absolution Father, because I’d do it all again.” you breathe at last, letting pleasure run through your every nerve, setting you ablaze. 

Behind the screen, Father James paints his hand and black shirt in white spurts, shame and pleasure fighting eachother in his mind.

-

You haven’t moved yet, legs parted, trying to catch your breath, and James is still clinging onto you.

You don’t know how it happened. 

It started with boredom, with a wish to fuck the pretty priest, but you’ve caught feelings now, and in three weeks you’ll have to get back to New York, where a job and a new apartment await you.

At least your aunt and your parents are happy about your redemption: you’ve been going to church everyday. They don’t need to know you’ve spent most time on your knees or on your back.  

But you don’t want to think about it now; you can’t let sadness take over and ruin these moments when James is only yours. Your love is on borrowed time, and you intend to make the most out of it.

“Do you want to fuck me, my love? You want me to come all over your pretty cock, yes? You want to fill me up with your cum?” you whisper in his ear, amused at the way he blushes.

“Please.” he whines, palming his cock through his briefs.

“Please what, sweet boy?”

“Please let me-” he interrupts himself.

“Let me what?”

He mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Can’t hear you.” you tease him, grabbing his chin and tilting his face up.

“Let me make love to you.”

You let out a chuckle and shake your head fondly. This man has had you bent over his desk, in the confessional, behind the altar, on the benches where the devoted Catholics of this town attend mass, and yet he can’t bring himself to talk crudely.

You pull on his hair so he stands, and you kiss him ravenously, letting your hands roam over his lean body, the taste of his lips permanently etched in the back of your mind. You don’t want to forget a thing, so you commit to mind each of his little noises, the way his tongue swirls around yours, the soft caresses of his hands.

Clothes discarded in a blur, the room is filled with your moan and his grunts. He pounds into you like a desperate man, clinging onto you with a bruising touch, holding you impossibly close as if you were about to slip through his fingers. And in a way, you are.

When James makes love to you the world disappears and there’s no judgement, no church. He’s not a priest, you’re not a sinner; he’s not pure, you’re not sick.

It’s just you and him, united in one body. Just a man and a woman being one in the flesh.

His thrusts become sloppier, his breathing labored. He brings a hand on your clit and presses on it. He comes inside of you, painting your walls, and the feeling of his swollen cock inside you and his cum filling you up are enough to trigger your release too, your walls clenching on him and milking every last drop.

You’re exhausted, panting in each other’s embrace. 

There’s no sin when you’re like this; you’re no longer the devil to his holy water. 

There’s only love.

-

James’ desk in his office is dark and wide, with mahogany panels on all three sides except the one he sits at. So when Ms. Lee, the adorable elderly lady that organizes the monthly fundraising events for charity, knocks on the door as you’re bouncing on James’ cock, all you have to do is crouch down and disappear under the table.

“Good evening, Father James.” She greets him cheerfully.

You hear the tapping of her heels until she plops down on the guests chair. 

“Good evening, Ms. Lee.” he responds in a strained voice, adjusting himself on the chair.

Ms. Lee speaks a lot. She’s talking James’ ear off, blabbering about the next charity event, and you think what better occasion than this one to be an indecent slut.

You slowly massage his thighs, bringing your hands from his knees to his groin, teasing him when you get close to his crotch and retracting. 

You watch as his cock swells in front of you, and you bite back a giggle. You hear him suck in a breath when you start pumping his length with both your hands.

“Are you alright, James? You’re looking a little worse for wear.” Ms. Lee asks him worriedly when she sees her priest red and sweaty.

James clears his throat and when he’s about to open his mouth, you lick a strip from base to his leaking tip, and the noise that escapes him is between a moan and a grunt.

“Y-yes, Ms. Lee, I’m fine. Just some food poisoning I think.” he manages to answer, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.  

“Poor thing.” she coos, and you take his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around, sucking on the frail skin of under the tip, “Anyways-” she begins again.

James tries to keep his composure, but you sense his distress, and you imagine it must be written all over his face. One hand massages his balls, the other aids your movements as you bob your head up and down, careful not to make a noise. His legs twitch under the table when you push his cock all the way down to your throat, and he makes a strangled noise.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re fine? You really don’t look like it.” Ms. Lee interjects again, interrupting her story.

“I’m fine ma’am, don’t worry about me.”, he says through gritted teeth, jaw clenched shut so hard he might break his teeth.

You give it all you’ve got until your jaw is aching and your knees are killing you. Your effort pays off when, with one last motion on your hands, James grunts and cums in your throat, hips jerking forward and legs shaking.

He comes so hard that you choke on his release.

“Did you hear it too?” she asks in alert.

“He-hear wh-what?” he stutters, pretending to cough to hide your noises.

“A choking sound?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that, just my cough.” he answers, red faced and spent.

“I guess…” she doesn’t sound convinced but lets it go anyways. She could never imagine her sweet priest is getting blown by a city whore under his desk, “I’ll get going then, but please get some rest Father, your holy duties can wait.”

They can indeed, you think, as James yanks you from underneath the table and bends you over the desk, fucking you until you’re crying.

-

“What makes you do the things you do?” he’s playing with your hair as he asks the question that’s been plaguing him for months, since that first time in the confessional.

You’re in a motel somewhere, two hours away from your town, laying on a bed like two lovers. In this room, you’re not a dirty little secret.

What excited you before, suffocates you now.

You thought you may only like the forbidden, but you find yourself at peace in his arms, that peace you’ve yearned for for 22 years, that peace you could never find, because people like you are born sick, that’s what you’ve been told your whole life.

“If I tell you, will you absolve me?” you ask, basking in his affection. 

James is so sweet, so caring. You wish this moment could last forever.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my love. I’ve sinned too much myself.”

“My bad.” you giggle.

Silence falls on you, and you hum in though, pondering your next words very carefully.

“I don’t do them for any reasons, other than they feel good. It feels good to drink, to smoke, to fuck you, to suck your cock.”, you say, and he blushes in embarrassment, “Or maybe I never got over my teenage phase and I just like doing all the things my parents always told me not to do, who knows. Trauma? Maybe. Spite? Quite possibly. I don’t even know at this point.”

He nods slowly. 

He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, see how perfect you are. In his heart, there’s only love for you, in his mind, no more conflict.

“I do them for you.” he answers, and you smile at him, “And for myself, I guess. I thought I had found my way, but maybe I was wrong.”

You turn to look at him, and bop his nose.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what choice you make. I’ll wait for you if you ask me to.”

But his choice has been made already. 

He doesn’t deserve his collar, but hopefully he deserves you.

-

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Please, reblog if you liked it and leave a comment. Feedback is always appreciated. 🤍

Priest bucky masterlist

[carat-archive]

under all this

➝ prompts: 

“I wish you could be kissed, Jane,” he said. “Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.” He flailed an arm toward the stars. — Maggie Stiefvater, The Dream Thieves 

13. “i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession (source)

➝ pairing: best friend!chanhee x gn!reader, former changmin x reader

➝ genre: fluff, minimal angst

➝ themes & tropes: best friends to lovers

➝ warnings: alcohol consumption

➝ word count: 1.3k

➝ notes: this is so self-indulgent it hurts, but anyways, here’s a drabble based off one of my favorite lines of dialogue from the raven cycle + a bonus prompt i found on tumblr. (this also made me realize i rarely write friends to lovers... should do that more often). special thanks to grace & husna (@masterninjacow​) for beta-reading this for me!

➝ scan credit: @hyunjae_gif / hyunjae-gif on twitter / tistory!

You think part of you will always love Ji Changmin. Another part of you knows the two of you were never meant to be.

You realize this when you see him at the altar, a look of pure adoration on his face as he gazes at his newlywed spouse. (He never looked at you like that.) 

It stirs up a cocktail of emotions, ranging from envy to relief. Eventually, you would have fallen out of love with him, and yet, you still wish it were you up there with Changmin, about to have your first dance as a married couple. 

Maybe you’re just lonely, you muse, downing your glass of champagne. 

Someone squeezes your hand beside you, drawing your attention away from the happy pair. Chanhee interlaces his fingers with yours, smiling softly in your direction. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder, leaning into his warmth. 

“Thanks for coming today, you didn’t have to,” you murmur, fingering the empty flute of champagne in your unoccupied hand. 

“I’m your best friend,” he states, a laugh spilling off his lips. “You know I would do anything for you.” He pries the glass from your hand, uncurling your fingers. “I’ll go get you another drink.” 

You do your best to mingle with the other guests without Chanhee by your side, encountering old friends and exchanging pleasantries until your cheeks begin to hurt from the effort of keeping the smile frozen on your face. After what seems like your fiftieth greeting, you begin to wander around the venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of Chanhee before you stumble backwards into a warm body. 

“Oh it’s you,” Changmin says, interrupting the stuttering start to your apology. He’s alone, you notice, his spouse likely making their own rounds around the room. 

Your words pour out on their own volition, accompanied by nervous laughter. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. Sorry for bumping into you just now. I guess I should watch where I’m going.” 

Changmin chuckles, taking a sip from his wine glass. “No worries. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been doing well! I moved back a few weeks ago and I started my new job recently. We should meet up soon, it would be nice to get the group back together,” you ramble, shifting your weight from side to side. 

“I see you and Chanhee finally figured things out,” he says, smiling above his wine glass, following your eyes as they dart around the room.

“What do you mean?” 

“You two have always been in love with each other, whether you realized it or not. It’s why we never could have worked out.” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. ”You would always put him first, and there was never room for three in your relationship.” 

Your mouth drops open in shock, but before you can formulate a response, an enthusiastic couple rushes up to Changmin, offering their congratulations. As he turns to face them, he calls out over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You need some air.

Pushing open the doors to the balcony, you step outside, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin. You wrap your arms around your sides, taking deep breaths as you gaze up at the stars.

Chanhee’s your best friend, your better half, the first person you talk to in the morning and the last one at night. He’s the only one who has seen the entirety of your soul and still somehow decided to stay by your side. If there were one person you had to spend the rest of your life with, it would be him. You can’t imagine a life without Choi Chanhee. 

But that doesn’t mean you like him like that, right?

The door creaks open behind you, but you don’t bother turning around. There’s only one person who would come looking for you here. As if to confirm your suspicions, Chanhee taps your elbow gently, extending your now-refilled champagne flute towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble sheepishly, leaning against the cool metal ledge of the balcony. You can’t help but notice the slight flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes seem to drink in the sight of you bathed in moonlight, like ill-fated Actaeon stumbling across the form of heavenly Artemis. 

Maybe your conversation with Changmin affected you more than you had thought. 

“Sorry I took so long,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I got caught up with some old friends.” 

“Understandable. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Chanhee hums in agreement, settling by your side, his elbow brushing yours. You ignore how the brief touch makes your skin tingle in excitement, as if you were a lovestruck teenager again. 

“What did Changmin want?” he asks.

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head towards you, taking in your distant expression. “You look pretty tense.” 

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” You take another sip of the champagne, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s just… I thought I was going to marry this guy someday, and here I am, avoiding everyone at his wedding while they’re celebrating.” You laugh bitterly, shoulders starting to slump downwards. “The thing is, it’s not that I’m not happy for him. I mean, I’ve been over him for a while. I just didn’t expect coming back to feel like this.” Gesturing vaguely, you let out a sigh before meeting Chanhee’s gaze. For the first time in a while, you realize that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Maybe I’m just not worthy of anybody’s love.” 

“That’s not true,” Chanhee replies, his face softening as he takes hold of your hand. “You’re worthy of mine.” 

You avert your eyes as you attempt to extract your hand from his grasp. “You’re only saying that as my best friend.” 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he pleads, drawing your attention back towards him. Dropping your hand, he rakes his hair back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in love with you. Maybe I’ve been in love with you all along, and never realized it until one day I looked at you and realized I didn’t want to call you just my best friend, but also my lover, my partner. Mine.” 

Chanhee takes a deep breath before meeting your eyes again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You deserve to be loved.”

He leans against the balcony, placing his hands by either side of your body until he’s close enough that you can feel the illusion of his touch on your skin. You’re more than aware of the metal ledge digging into your back, but it doesn’t bother you—not when Choi Chanhee stands in front of you, looking like he outshines all the stars in the night sky, breathtaking and brilliant. 

“Can I kiss you? Just once?” he begs, gently cradling your face in his hands. “Just once, under all this, to show you the kind of love you deserve. And then we will never speak of it again.”

“Just once,” you breathe out, nodding your head. Just once to see what it’s like, to get it out of your system, to crush the butterflies suddenly fluttering around in your stomach.

Chanhee’s lips are soft, hesitant—caressing yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him infinitesimally closer to you, your fingers threading through his hair. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, indulging in the sweet alcohol on his lips, even as you tell yourself that it’s just pretend. 

You can blame it on the champagne running through your veins all you want, but deep down, you know that once you’ve had your taste of Chanhee, you’ll never want to let him go. 

Chanhee pulls away, a bittersweet look in his eyes. As he tries to detangle himself from your embrace, you quickly press your lips to his again, leaving him stunned by the sudden action. 

“I love you,” you whisper, placing your forehead against his. “I think I’ve always loved you, I just didn’t know it yet.”

A dazzling smile spreads across Chanhee’s face as he kisses you back, his thumb stroking your cheek softly. 

“I love you too.”

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

With Cherries On Top

Chapter 11: The Wedding & The Confession

Summary/Author’s Note: You and Max made it to the alter. Everything is about to go perfectly according to plan--until a change of heart and impromptu confession calls the whole thing off. 

We are so close guys. It's gonna hurt before it gets better.

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count: 4.3k Rating/Warnings: R - language, angst, confessions, feelings, cliffhanger, did I mention angst? And the Grinch’s small heart...grew three sizes that day.

[Previous Chapter] [Masterlist]

--

Sometime in the middle of the night it had started snowing. Big, fluffy flakes slowly fell and twinkled in the early morning sunrise, making it a perfect day for an Alaskan wedding. You felt more like a hostage than a bride, however, as your family all but demanded you stayed in your room to maintain the element of surprise. They brought you breakfast, your dress, makeup bag, but as you sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed you wished they would bring you Max. 

He had almost said something the night before. Hadn’t he? It seemed every time he wanted to tell you something important, he got interrupted, or was too nervous to get the words out. Nervous? Max Phillips? No. There was no way. You were projecting your own complicated feelings onto Max in a desperate hope that he felt the same way about you that you did about him. But how did you feel about him? At this point, you weren’t even sure. 

Did you love him? No. Maybe? You definitely didn’t want him out of your life or back to the way things were. Things would never be the way they used to be. He was no longer the cold and unfeeling bastard that sat behind his desk and made your life hell. Perhaps when you both got back to New York he would revert back to his old ways. The clock would strike midnight and he would become the metaphorical fanged pumpkin, changing back into a bespoke-suit jackass. No way. You couldn’t see that either. 

You smoothed your hands down your dress and traced a finger along the beaded embroidery of the bodice. Max would love it. His large fingers tracing over the lace as the two of you danced--you shook your head, trying to shove down such silly images. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t a real marriage. And you were not the blushing bride or doting husband. This. Was. Pretend. 

Despite the temperature outside, you had chosen a dress that accentuated your tits. You’d bear the cold just to see the look on his face when you showed up to a winter wedding with bare shoulders and a sweetheart neckline. The thought made you laugh quietly to yourself, because no matter what had happened this week, Max was still Max. You were still you. And the two of you could figure this out and argue your way through it together. That’s how you did everything else. 

A knock at your door brought your attention to it as you stood up and gathered your skirts. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

You felt yourself stop breathing as Max’s voice came from the other side of the door and you hurried to it. When you tried to pull the handle, it stopped, only allowing the door open a few inches. You pulled again and it stayed firm. Max was keeping his hand on the door handle. 

“Your grandma would kill me if she knew I saw you before the wedding,” he chuckled but it was humorless.

“Max, come on--” you tried to argue.

“Listen, I needed to tell you something before the wedding.” His voice was stern and the way he kept a handle on what you assumed to be desperation, made you stop talking. “I haven’t seen you all morning and it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Me too,” you agreed quietly as you put your hand on the door where you imagined him to be and leaned your body against it. “Is this about last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me something. Before my grandma came in,” you bit your lip and swear he could hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

Max paused for a minute and you wished you could have seen his face. "No. It's--it's something else." 

“Are you okay?” you worried.

“I’m fine.” The door stayed firmly in place but he moved his fingers around the edge and you touched them gently. You heard him sigh softly and he moved his hand just enough to envelop your fingers with his. "Evan was right."

"Evan?"

"Don't make me say it again," he said flatly. "You should have been promoted a long time ago."

You laughed and shook your head. "Yeah, I know that Max--"

"But I denied all of the promotion offers on purpose." He said quickly and you felt like the other shoe had just dropped on your face. "I knew giving you what you deserved meant losing you as an assistant."

"You didn’t promote me so you could keep me as your secretary?” you asked, your voice going a little shrill towards the end as you thought off all you had done for him over the last five years. “You selfish, son of a--"

"I know. I know." He cut you off and you yanked on the door but he held it shut with ease. "But that doesn't matter now, because when you get back to New York, they're going to offer you a job with four years of back pay and I want you to take it."

"What job?" you snapped.

"Irrelevant."

"Max--"

"Tell me you'll take it. You deserve it and I need to know you'll tell them 'yes'."

"Max--"

"Tell me."

"Yes. Fine. Okay. I'll take the job." You knew your tone was overly exasperated but the sigh of relief he let out was enough to make your chest ache. 

"See you at the altar, sweetheart." He said quietly and you bit your lip. "Don't stand me up." His teasing tone was back in his voice and you just needed to touch him. Slap him. Hug him. You hadn’t decided which--maybe both. But you needed to make sure he really was okay and this wasn't just a facade to hide whatever he wasn't telling you. 

He let go of the door and you took a breath before pulling it open as fast as you could and stepping out into the hallway. But he was already gone. 

--

“All good to go?” you mother said, rubbing your arms for reassurance and a bit of warmth. 

“I kind of want to throw up,” you said with a force laugh as you adjusted your grip on the small bouquet in your hands--white roses and bluebells. Subtle, elegant, winter flowers. 

“You’ll be fine,” she said, giving you a quick kiss on both of your cheeks. “It wouldn’t be your wedding day if you didn’t feel like vomiting, dear.”

“And what happens if I do?” you asked with seriousness.

“Vomit?” she laughed. “Aim for the floor. And if you fall, smile and push your tits up.” That got you to laugh back and it made her smile. “The hard part is over, honey. It’s smooth sailing from here on out.”

“What if we get divorced?” you blurted out and her smile fell a bit before shaking her head.

“Honey, if I haven’t divorced your father then you and Max won’t have any trouble at all.” She licked her thumb and tucked a stray strand of hair back into place. “Don’t condemn something before it even starts. You have made it five years without staking the man, surely there is a reason you said yes when he asked you to marry him.”

Her words were rhetorical and even if they weren’t, it wasn’t like you could tell her the truth. 

“But what if--”

“Stop.” She gripped your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. “This is a happy thing. Don’t worry yourself with what-ifs.”

She gave you a quick once over and another hug, careful not to mess up your hair, before squeezing your hands. When she started to walk back towards the main area of the barn to give the signal that you were ready, you called out to her.

“Mom?” 

“Yes?” she stopped at the door and looked back at you kindly. 

“How does Max look?” you asked, not knowing what else to say.

She smiled and relaxed her shoulders a little. “Very, very handsome.”

You returned her smile and adjusted your grip on the flowers in your hands. "Thanks mom...for everything."

--

The music was quiet and you were thankful that everyone remained seated as you walked down the aisle that was already littered with white rose petals. You hated being the center of attention. And yet here you were, on what some would say was one of the biggest days of your life, had any of it been real. The snow fell quietly outside the windows on the pines, catching the glow of the twinkle lights that were still strung up from the party your mom had thrown. You focused on the one person that you wished you could be alone with right now. Max. If only you could make everyone disappear and the two of you could remain.

Your mother had been right, Max looked incredibly handsome. But when didn’t he? 

Your grandmother had done an excellent job tailoring the dark blue suit to fit his frame. When you realized it was your grandfather’s suit, it made your chest tight. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He had forgone the tie in favor of having the first few buttons undone on his soft, white undershirt, all tied together by the white flower pinned to his chest. He smiled at you, looking as relieved as you felt to finally see you after spending the night apart, but there was something else. Something in his soft brown eyes that let you know that the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach was also in his. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he mouthed quietly as you handed your flowers off to your mom in the first row and took Max’s outstretched hand.

“Hey,” you said back in the same tone as you took his hands in front of you and looked up at him. “I didn’t stand you up.”

“No, you sure didn’t,” he sighed quietly. 

The way he said that made your heart uneasy. Something was wrong. But as the local ordained minister, and more importantly, long time family friend, stood with the two of you and smiled at the crowd of seated people, you knew you couldn’t ask him here.

“Thank you everyone for coming,” the man in front of you said as he smiled and nodded to your parents. “This is exciting!”

You held Max’s hands and shifted your weight over to your other foot just wanting this to be over with already. He gripped your hands back and stepped a fraction of an inch closer to you. Maybe he expected you to faint? Fall over onto the floor? You weren’t entirely sure that you wouldn’t at this point. 

“We are gathered here today to give thanks and to celebrate one of life's greatest moments,” the officiant said with another large smile. “To give recognition to the beauty, honesty, and unselfish ways of true love in front of family and friends.”

The crowd gave a soft sigh of adoration and you glanced at your mother to see her gently dabbing her eyes with a cloth handkerchief, careful not to smudge any of her makeup. Fuck. Your own eyes burned and you shut them tightly. You would not cry. You refused to cry. This wasn’t real. But that made it so much worse. Because it was real for everyone but the two of you. Real for your mom, and your dad, and your grandmother…

Max shifted uncomfortably and brought your attention back to him. His face was set in a hard grimace and if you didn’t know any better, you would have said he looked a little green around the gills. If you fainted and Max puked, that would have been the least shocking thing about this wedding. 

The officiant continued. “For it is their family and friends who taught them to love. So, it is only right that family and friends are all…”

If they said that phrase one more time you were going to scream. But you wouldn’t have to. The words stopped abruptly and Max shut his eyes tightly and cursed under his breath. He let go of both of your hands and put one of them up in a stopping motion.

“Wait--”

“Yes?” the minister asked in surprise. 

“Max…” you warned in a whisper. 

“Can’t it wait?”

“No,” Max shook his head and rubbed his eyes with a defeated chuckle. “No, it can’t.” He gripped your fingers and kissed your knuckles for what felt like the last time. 

“Don’t do this,” you pleaded as you tried to grab his hands again but he carefully avoided your reach.

He turned to the crowd of people, holding his hands out in front of him on display and grinned. The grin made you sick to your stomach. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t the real him. The Max you had seen in the last week slowly faded away and left in his place was his carefully crafted salesman persona. “Hi everyone.”

“Hi.” A few members of the crowd responded in unison and you looked at your mother who was looking at Max with a slack jaw. 

“Thank you all so much for coming out,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking forward a bit on the balls of his feet. “I... have a bit of an announcement to make--a confession, actually.”

“What are you doing?” you hissed desperately, gripping the skirts of your dress as you took a step towards him. He ignored you. 

“As some of you know, I’m a vampire--” a few gasps came from the older members of your family and he nodded like he had been expecting that reaction. “Yeah, yeah, I know. And I’m a vampire without proper documentation apparently, so, I was about to be deported.”

“You son of a bitch,” your dad said from the first row.

“Dad!” you scolded. Looking up, you saw Mr. Yates standing in the back with a smirk and you wanted to slap it off of his face.

“It’s alright,” Max assured you, looking over his shoulder at you gently, ignoring your father. And you see in order for that not to happen I forced her to marry me.” 

“Max, stop it,” you pleaded, but he just gave you a small smile and continued.

“See, your girl here has always had this extraordinary work ethic.” Max clenched both of his fists in front of him for emphasis before turning his attention back to your parents in the front row. “Something I think she learned from you.”

“Max, please,” you tried even though you knew it was useless.  

“And for five years I watched her work harder than anyone else at our company. And I knew that if I threatened to destroy her career…” he put his hands back in his pockets and shrugged. “...she would, well, she would do just about anything.”

You felt the first tear slip down your cheek at his words. He sounded so cold, so indifferent to what he was saying, if it weren’t for the slight shakiness in his tone you would have thought that he had meant none of what happened this week. But you knew differently. He was saving you. Just you. You shut your eyes tightly and wished you could press rewind, go back and make things happen differently.

“So, I blackmailed her to come up here and to lie to you.” Max looked pointedly from your mother to your grandmother. “All of you.” 

“Oh, Max,” your grandma said, wringing her soft, wrinkled hands in her lap and looking away from him in hurt. 

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “And I thought it would be easy to watch her do it. But it wasn't. Turns out it's not easy to ruin someone's life--” he paused and looked back at you with those soft, amber colored eyes that you loved so much. “Once you find out how wonderful they are.”

You reached for him but he stepped down off of the stage and you let your arms fall back to your sides in defeat. He walked up to the first row of chairs and looked down at your mom.

“You have a beautiful family. Don't let this come between you.” He put his hand to his chest and finished in a serious tone. “This was my fault.”

“Max.” You raised your voice and he turned back to look at you. His lips trembled as he saw the silent tears slowly trailing down your cheeks. 

“Sweetheart, this was a business deal,” he said, matter-of-factly. “And you held up your end, but now the deal is off. I'm sorry.”

You picked up your dress so you didn’t trip and hurried down the steps but your father stood abruptly and stepped in your way. Max made a bee-line for the back of the barn and stopped in front of Mr. Yates. Max towered over him and grit his teeth and he pointed at him, almost poking the INS agent in the chest.

“And you, meet me at the dock,” Max snarled. “You're giving me a ride to the airport.”

“You got it,” the other man said with a nod.

Max pushed open the double doors forcefully, letting the cold air into the warmth of the makeshift altar. The snow still fell quietly as you watched him walk out in it, leaving you completely alone in a room full of the people who should have known you best. 

--

The door slammed shut behind you as you made it back to the house. Your father’s footsteps pounded the hardwood behind you as your family followed you into the living room. You gripped your dress, using the texture of the lace to ground you as your heart and mind raced in unison with what to do next. 

“What were you thinking!” your dad shouted. It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. 

“I don't,” you stopped and shook your head. “I don't know.” You felt like a child again. It was a pathetic excuse and you knew it. When you agreed to marry Max for the sake of him not being deported, you knew exactly what you were doing. The consequences just hadn’t been important. 

“You don’t know?” he barked and rolled his eyes. “That’s not an excuse--”

“And what’s your excuse, hmm?” you spat back at him, throwing your hands up in the air. “You were ready to throw us both to the wolves yesterday! At least Max--” you voice caught in your throat as you said his name. “At least Max tried to--”

“What are you talking about?” your mother looked between you and your father, clearly torn by being in the middle of the two of you. 

“Nothing.” “Nothing.”

You both said at once and she knew you were lying by she didn’t push it. Your grandmother came up to you slowly and put her hands on your arm, making you look down at her. 

“Honey, you lied to us,” she said gently and your eyes quickly welled up with tears at her forgiving nature. 

“I know,” you nodded, giving her hand a squeeze. “Let me get my head on straight, okay? I'll explain everything later. I'm sorry.” You pushed the edges of your skirts together and hurried up the stairs to your bedroom.

The door clicked behind you and you felt your shoulders drop in relief. It felt good to be alone. To have the silence to clear your head. The relief was short lived however as you looked around and realized that all of Max’s things were gone. The suit he had worn was hung neatly on a hanger and left on the armoire, a hurtful reminder of just how handsome he had looked up on that altar. 

“Max?” you said hopefully, hurrying to the bathroom just in case. 

His shoulder bag with his premade smoothies was gone, along with his toiletries and the large suitcase that had sat on his side of the bed. The emptiness of the once cozy shared space made an involuntary sob come from your throat as you put your hands to your mouth and tried to stop it. He left. He had really left. 

You looked to the bed and thought about the way he held you, kissed you, fucked you. Was he really going to throw it all away? Was Max fucking Phillips giving up what he wanted? You wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you weeks ago that this was how it would play out. Or perhaps he was being a coward. Perhaps it was easier for him to uproot his entire life to another country than to face how he really felt about you? Now that, that you believed. The thought made you roll your eyes. 

While looking at the bed, you noticed the brightly colored, handmade ‘baby maker’ quilt had been folded neatly at the foot of the bed. It served as a backdrop for the items that had been carefully placed on top--the wooden box with your grandfather’s cuff-links and a note.

With shaky hands, you unfolded it and started crying all over again. Fuck. 

You clutched the letter and were torn between ripping it to shreds and saving it for as long as you needed to. You had to reread the last line multiple times as each time you reached the nickname you both loathed because of its vulgarity and loved because it was so Max, your tears blurred your vision too much for it to be legible. He cared about you. He had to. But he was a coward. A coward and a fool! 

“Asshole!” you screeched as you threw the letter onto the bed and looked at the ring on your finger. “Fucking asshole!” The ruby in the gold setting seemed to be taunting you. 

“Honey?” your mom said as she opened your door. The sound made you jump and put a hand to your chest. “I didn’t mean to--I knocked, but…”

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” you waved her away, rubbing furiously at your eyes as she walked in and quietly shut the door behind her. 

“You know, people are gonna be talking about this forever,” she laughed softly, trying to make a joke, but when you didn’t smile, she stepped closer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I know. The scandal of the century.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, and you let out a breath filled with bitterness.

“Yeah, of course I am,” you started, crossing your arms under your breasts and looking at the letter on the bed. “No. I mean--I just feel...you know what the problem is?”

“Go on,” she nodded encouragingly as you clenched your fists at your sides.

“You see, the problem is that this man,” you pointed to the bed and grit your teeth. “This arrogant, selfish, bastard of a man...is a gigantic pain in my ass!” You pace to the window, lacing your fingers and resting your hands on your head so you can breathe. “First there's the whole leaving thing. I understand that. It's a sham wedding--it should have never happened…”

“But you do look lovely,” she offers and you nod your thanks before you stomp back over to the bed.

“But then he goes ahead and he leaves this note!” You pick up the piece of paper and shake it at her, your heart racing, your cheeks hot. You can practically feel the steam coming from your ears. “Because he doesn't have the decency, no, the humanity to do it to my face!”

“Well, he technically isn’t human, dear--”

“Five years! Five years I work for this...this terrorist--never once has he had a genuine thing to say, and then he goes ahead and he writes this crap! The audacity--”

“Honey--”

“None of that matters. None of that fucking matters. We had a deal!”

“Honey--”

“Sorry. I'm sorry. I just…” you let out a long, heavy, shuddering breath. “He just makes me a little crazy.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” She moved to stand in front of you and put your face in her gentle hands. She gave you a warm, motherly smile as she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “So, you're just gonna let him go?” 

She was right. God dammit, she was right. You were not about to let Max Fucking Phillips have the last word. You gave her a tight hug and grabbed your sneakers.

--

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[ohplagg]

The Yato-gami I know

Also read at AO3

Summary: 

“My name is Sakura,” she decides to try a much simpler approach “what’s yours?”

The man with his right hand still holding half of his face and with a skeptical look writes on the dirt.

夜卜

Ya…to?

AU where Tenjin never fired Tamanone.

NOTE: Adachitoka never bothered to come up with Tamanone's Tenjin given name so I'm following their example by also avoiding the issue and using Sakura instead

I want to once again give a big 'thank you' to @noragamibigbang for organizing this.

And an even bigger 'thank you' to my lovely partner (@mochakat) who came up with the idea and who also created a beautiful artwork that goes along with this!

It was a day like every other day; nothing new, nothing exiting, nothing special. Just everything really quiet and peaceful and boring.

Sakura, a beautiful young lady with long dark hair dressed in a miko, was starting to despise every second of it. Well not every second of it. Sakura couldn’t really complain much about her days being too peaceful, it definitely was an improvement from those days where her master had his rage moments and fired anyone who even dared to just breathe the wrong way in his presents.

She was lucky that Tsuyu was there that day to talk to master Tenjin out of the idea of firing her, she will forever owe her live to Tsuyu. Who knows what would have happened if she had been fired that day who knows how long ago? ...Was it a 1000 years ago? It’s been so long that Sakura had lost the track of time.

But peaceful days doesn’t mean they should also be boring and lately life had become extremely mundane. Ever since she was forbidden from working in the prayer altar she’s been sweeping fallen leaves from stone stairs that lead up to the tori, far enough that she can’t eavesdrop on the human prayers any more. According to Tenjin-sama “it’s his job to listen to the prayers, not hers” but Sakura knows there’s more to the reason even if he doesn’t say it.

“-hope Tenjin-sama grants that old lady’s prayer.” Sakura’s attention is caught by the gossiping some shrine maidens are having about some human prayer. Oh, how she misses listening to human prayers; learning about the near shore problems and how humans found solutions to their problems, the emotions they felt for one another, the human nature can be beautiful sometimes.

Sakura stops her sweeping as she listens carefully to the gossiping whispers “Yeah. Ever since that Yaboku god murdered that old lady’s son and his wife she comes here daily asking Tenjin-sama to bless her granddaughter academically since scholarships are the only way that child will have a way to pay her studies.”

How unfortunate, Sakura thinks to herself as she resumes her chore of sweeping leaves. If only that Yaboku god would cease to exist, the world would become a much happier place.

-

After an excruciating long and boring day Sakura is taking the last basket of fallen leaves to the trees and bushes at the back of the shrine for disposal. As she dumps it all in the pile of leaves she notice what looks like a head of dark hair among all the orange, gold and yellow autumn leaves.

A bear. Her heart drops and she’s suddenly hit with her fight and flight response. She knows in theory she shouldn’t be scared by things like this but survival instincts wait for no one when a bear is right there.

Without even a second thought she throws the hardest punch she can manage to where she’s guessing the nose would be.

“Ahrg!” someone replies to Sakura’s punch. Maybe she should have given it a second thought.

Sakura frantically apologizes as she tries to check the nose of the poor victim she just attacked. As she does so she notice that the person in front of her was a young looking man dressed in a yukata.

“Here, let me see.” She insists as she pushes the poor individual’s forehead back and tries to move his hands out of the way, but the man rejects her aid between whimpers and grunts as he tilts his head forward and hold the right side of his face with one hand

An awkward silence falls among the two as the young man attends to his bleeding nose, spitting blood from what seems to be a busted lip and probably a lost tooth all the while Sakura just stands there.

“That was a really hard hit, uh? I’m so sorry. I never do things like this, I don’t know what came over me. I really thought you were a bear, which is ridiculous because why would you be a bear? Bears are too busy right now seeking their shelter for winter, they wouldn’t be under a pile of leaves in the back of a shrine, of course not! But why were you under a pile of leaves in the back of the shrine? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just that it’s unusual- surprising! I meant surprising. Unusual sounds like it’s something bad- which is not! Totally not.” Sakura rants on in her best effort to strike a friendly conversation with the stranger. She sighs and stops her words as she notice that the young man isn’t appreciative of her effort.

“My name is Sakura,” she decides to try a much simpler approach “what’s yours?”

The man with his right hand still holding half of his face and with a skeptical look writes on the dirt.

夜卜

Ya…to?

-

Ever since the ‘I can’t believe it’s not a bear!’ incident Sakura had encountered Yato in several other occasions. Once he was hiding at the top of a tree, other times she found him sleeping in the garden shed and each and every time she tried her luck to befriend him.

He had made it clear several times to leave him alone, that he didn’t want anything to do with her or anyone for that matter, but she was bored out of her mind most of the time and he kept coming back so might as well enjoy the company right?

As the weeks passed by, Sakura found out that Yato was a shy curious individual that just hid behind a mean attitude. The first time she noticed this was when she was talking about her first days as Tenjin-sama’s shinki. As she was talking about it she could tell that she had Yato’s full attention even though he acted as he didn’t care.

Because of this she started to talk about anything and everything in an effort to bait him into participating in the conversation. Some topics were a dead ends but there were a few that she could tell had Yato curious to know more.

-

“But why flowers? Can’t they just say things straight as it is?” This wasn’t the first time that Yato had asked something that to many could be considered obvious.

“Sometimes words and actions aren’t enough to express one’s emotions and feelings. Flowers have different meanings that can help us express what we wouldn’t be able to with just words or actions.” Sakura explained.

“For example,” Sakura continued with her explination, “the emotion of love. You can tell someone you love them but there’s a big difference between the love you feel for a friend, the love you feel for a family member and the love you feel for your lover. Flowers help communicate what type of love you want to say.”

By now Yato had warmed up enough to the point that he was constantly asking questions about anything that she was talking about in the moment.

He asked her about human prayers, about dreams and wishes, about human festivals and ceremonies, about sports and game. He asked about the different types of human relationships, about human entertainment. If humans were involved, you could bet Yato would make a question. He kind of reminded her of a little kid that was just discovering the world for the first time.

“

“Okay, but what about-“ the conversation in the garden shed was interrupted by the sound of a firetruck siren.

“That’s the 3rd one this week.” Sakura sighs. “My master says that some gods have been causing suffering to humans to amuse themselves since the amount of dedicated believers have dropped and with it the amount of things for them to do, that’s why there has been an increase in tragedies in the last couple of years.” She explained.

“That’s awful.” Yato pointed out.

“I know! How heartless can one be to call the killing of humans a game? Those gods are horrible monsters. The world would be better without them.” Sakura expressed her frustration.

“Sorry,” Sakura apologized after a sour and tense pause, “I just-”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain” Yato suddenly interrupts as his voice crack in the process. “I feel the same way.”

-

“Anything interesting happened today, Mizuchi?” a young looking man with almond colored hair dressed in a dark Yukata asked as he cooked some miso soup.

“Nothing much, Father.” A little girl with short dark hair dressed in a white kimono sat by the table, waiting for said miso soup. “Bishamonten-sama has lost 2 more shinki to god’s greatest secret, Takemikazuchi-sama is still trying to get a blessed hafuri, and Ebisu-sama might reincarnate soon again.”

“What about our Yaboku dear?” the man asked over his shoulder.

“He’s been going to Tenjin-sama’s shrine quiet a lot lately. I think I’ve seen him talking to a shrine maiden a few times. She goes by the name of Sakura.”

“Is he now?” Father halts everything that he’s doing for a brief second.

Father has been aware for the longest time that his son spends his time in different shrines whenever he has free time. Even though Yaboku thinks his father doesn’t know, he knows but simply decides to turn a blind eye to it as long as his Yaboku stays obedient to him.

But it is quiet surprising that Yaboku has spent most of his time in Tenjin’s shrine, even more so now that its winter time. He usually spends winter time at Binbougami’s shrine.

“Mizuchi dear, could you tell Yaboku to come visit me next time you see him? I have something I need him to take care of.”

-

Yato visits Sakura. Sakura is busy setting up some extra lanterns and some other decorations in the stone stairway. Sakura explains that New Year’s is coming and along with it a lot of humans visit the shrine as well.

“Where are you going to be during all of this?” Yato asked sternly, something felt out of place for the child-like curious Yato that Sakura knew.

“Probably near Tenjin-sama, why?” Sakura wondered

“No reason.” Yato’s response was sharp in the tongue. “I have some business I have to attend to in Kyoto so I won’t be seeing you until after New Year’s, okay?” He asked but it felt like it didn’t matter what Sakura answered in returned.

Both Sakura and Yato briefly said their farewells and just like that Yato left. Sakura made a mental note to ask Yato once he returns and seems less on edge to ask him what happened that made him act so out of character.

-

It finally was New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s visiting the shrine. Families with their children and elderly. Some couples; young love, old love, friend groups, you name it. Sakura was loving every second. She loved being close by humans, there’s something about their joy that just feels amazing.

Sakura had been sent to the entrance on her master’s orders. And just when people were starting to pray. But she can’t complain much, at least now she is surrounded by humans and enjoying the happy chattering they have amongst themselves instead of being stuck next to her master hearing the same jokes he makes every year.

As she walked there was a sudden screams interrupts any and all gleeful chat. Everyone starts walking towards where the scream came from. On the road, just before entering the shrine perimeters. A man had fainted and looked like he had a seizure and judging by the reaction of his wife, it looked like she had just seen a ghost.

People gathered around the married couple trying to wonder what just had taken place, all the while some other called the emergency line.

As all of this was unfolding Sakura knew she had to rush to her master and tell him the incident that had just taken place, but as she was turning back she caught a glimpse of a familiar black hair head and a dark yukata.

Yato?

That didn’t make sense, he said he wouldn’t be in the city by this time around. Her curiosity got the best of her and she started following the man that had an extreme resemblance to the Yato-gami she knew.

“Stop!” Sakura yells as she’s lead to the back side of the shrine, where she met Yato the first time. She notice that she’s out of ear’s range of anyone so she decides to finally test out her theory.

“Yato, wait!” the male figure pauses. Frozen in place but with his back still facing her. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Sakura didn’t need an answer. The hesitation in that man’s actions told her enough.

Yato slowly turned around, looking like a kid full of guilt. Sakura noticed he was holding a katana-like weapon but this one looked odd, like it was made of water.

“I don’t understand. Why are you here? You said you wouldn’t be here!” She questioned him to no avail. Yato remained quiet, eyes glued to the floor unable to face her. “Why… why are you acting this way? And why do you have a weapon? Did you have something to do with that man?”

Sakura was furious and frustrated and upset. It didn’t help that Yato still wasn’t looking at her but rather was very focused on the dead and muddy grass under his sandals.

Sakura noticed Yato say something under his breath and as soon as he does his katana-like weapon transforms into a beautiful young girl with short dark hair.

‘He has a shinki’ Sakura realizes.

“Hello! So you are the famous Sakura!” the little girl gleefully greets Sakura, “I’m Hiiro! I’m sure Yaboku has told you all about me.”

“Ya…boku?” Sakura whispers in disbelief towards Yato as he looks like a deer in headlights, still unable to look at her. To say Sakura was confused was an understatement. With just one sentence she had more questions than what she could actually think of. “Yato. Who is this?” unable to put her thoughts into words, Sakura decided to focus on the first thing that confused her.

Yato tries to find his voice, tries to answer Sakura but the knot in his throat is too big that any time he opens his mouth to say something, anything, nothing comes out.

“Come on Yaboku, you didn’t tell her who I was? Some brother you are.” The girl that answers instead. “I’m Hiiro. I’m Yaboku’s shinki and sister!”

“Why does she keep calling you Yaboku?” Sakura carefully questions Yato, as if she’s walking on eggshells that could turn into glass shards any second. Sakura noticed that Yato looked beyond scared.

“He didn’t tell you? His name is Yaboku.” Hiiro once again answers in Yato’s stead. She turns to look at Yato, “don’t tell me you didn’t tell her.” Yato looks like he wants to run away even though he is frozen in place.

“You’re the yaboku?” Sakura seeks confirmation from the man himself even though she doesn’t need to hear anything else. “All this time I thought that- that you- and I thought that we-“ a rush of fury clouds Sakura’s thoughts leaving her speechless.

“I- I can explain!” Yato stumbles with his words, desperately trying to gain his voice back.

“So you used me to choose your victims? Did I lead you to your victims?” Sakura questions in disbelief.

“No!” Yato frantically tries to get a word in “Let me explain, I-“

“And you even lied to me about who you were! You deceived me!” by this time Sakura was yelling at the top of her lunges

“Yes- I mean no! Sakura you got to listen to me-“

“Don’t. Keep my name out of your filthy mouth. I can’t believe I ever considered you a friend.” Sakura emotionlessly says as she wraps her arms around herself and leaves.

Yato reaches a hand out towards the leaving figure of Sakura trying to call out to her but gives up shortly after seeing as there is nothing he could say to make her stay.

-

“Yaboku. You’ve been like this for months now. Its time you snap out of it.” Hiiro pushes Yato’s shoulder as he’s laying on his side looking out to the garden.

Hiiro would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised at Yaboku’s unusual behavior. They had gone out several times now on Father’s command but whenever they did Yaboku looked so miserable that she actually felt bad for him.

“How about we go to play? That always cheered you up!” Still no answer from his brother. “Sigh. What can I do to cheer you up? Would me calling you Yato like that Sakura girl did do any good?”

Hiiro noticed that as soon as she suggested the idea Yaboku’s face had a hit of emotion for the first time since that night.

“I’ll call you that if you want me to but you have to tell me, otherwise I won’t know. Hiiro tried once again to get Yaboku to say something.

It was close, she could feel it. Yaboku looked like he really wanted to say something but just like it had happened so many times now he got caught up in so much hesitation that he gave up in whatever idea he was about to share.

But this time she almost had it and she wouldn’t let it slip away. “Look, it’s obvious you miss this Sakura girl and I could tell that she genuinely cared about you so she probably misses you too so why don’t you go talk to her?”

Hiiro was right, all that time spent with Sakura was something both of them enjoyed and if he was missing her this much it was very possible that she was missing him back. But did he had any right to go back to her? After he lied to her so much? Yato didn’t deserved her forgiveness, didn’t deserve her time or her kindness.

But she deserves an explanation and an apology. Yato thought to himself.

And with that he got up and left.

-

It was a day near the end of spring. Sakura couldn’t really tell what day it was, every day had felt the same since that night. The only thing that made the day different from other days is that now she was sweeping the Sakura blossoms instead of shoveling snow.

At first Sakura was furious. She felt angry and betrayed. After a few weeks she felt just upset and used. After that she simply felt sad and lonely. With all the time Sakura had to think she understood that she was in no position to judge a god and she also understood that it was unfair of her to cut all communication with Yaboku-gami as if they had never known each other ever. She wished she could talk to him.

As Sakura is taking the last basket of fallen sakura blossoms to the trees and bushes at the back of the shrine for disposal she sees Yato standing by the same place she first met him. That time she confused him for a bear.

“What are you doing here?” Sakura kept her voice firm and emotionless even though she felt otherwise.

“I just came here to apologize for everything I’ve put you through” Yato starts as he hands Sakura some purple hyacinths.

Sakura takes them with a shocked and hesitant but pleased expression.

“I asked the flower shop lady and she said that purple hyacinths mean deep sorrow and regret. That if I wanted to make it clear how sorry I was these were the ones to give.” Yato explains and then continues, “I’m sorry for lying to you. For not being honest about everything. For being a coward. But most importantly for being Yaboku.”

It’s not every day that someone apologizes for their existence so Sakura waited for Yato to explain further before she said anything in return.

“I know I’m the worst of the worst. I kill innocents and I don’t show regret. I destroy and taint all the beautiful things in the world for my own selfish reasons. But I promise you that the me you knew, the Yato you knew, wasn’t an act.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Yaboku. But please forgive Yato, he is a little stupid and naïve and new to all this being a good god thing but I promise that he means well and he’s trying his best.”

Sakura takes a moment to consider his words. “So what Im understanding is that you want to be the Yato-gami I know?”

Yato only nods.

“Then I suppose I’ll accept Yato’s apology” Sakura pauses as Yato’s face lights up, “but only if he promise me that he’ll give it his all to become the Yato I know he can be.”

“With your guidance I think I can do that”

[witch-hazels-musings]

Trust

This story is a bit of my own ramblings and interpretation (Lumine, poor baby, I felt all this for you) of the chapter quest, “A New Star Approaches” -- while I am a sucker for the ‘rival to lovers’ trope… I really have a love hate relationship with Childe. His true character doesn’t show he has any kindness to the traveler, and, while other story missions with him seem to make him more appealing, I still can’t trust him. Anyway, here is another story. 

Summary: 

After fighting Childe in the Golden House, it’s revealed that Rex Lapis is still alive! And he’s none other than the Funeral Parlors own patron! Lumine’s trust is shattered, and she feels more alone than she did before. 

Genre: angst / hurt

Potential Spoilers?*

Lumine x Childe / Zhongli 

Lumine and Paimon rush through the doors of the Golden House, beads of sweat dropping to the floor. The large room is filled with piles of glittering mora, which Paimon can’t help but notice. After a quick reminder of why they were there in the first place, they can’t help but notice the surprising lack of millilith. A worry passes through Lumine as she spots the suspended body of Rex Lapis at the other end of the hall. With haste she runs toward the large dragon's body.

“Well, well …” Childe’s voice echos about the room. “I didn’t expect to see you both here. Shouldn’t you be bounding around Liyue looking for items for the ritual?’” His tone is dark, all the playfulness and gentleness he usually embodies replaced with annoyance. He ascended the stairs in front of the altar, stopping but a few feet in front of the two. 

“I must thank you for your hard work though. If you hadn’t spent all that time setting up the, ‘Rite of Parting,’” he spoke the words as if they tasted bad in his mouth, “I wouldn’t have been able to gather all the information I needed.”

Lumine couldn’t wrap her head around what she was hearing, what she was seeing. Childe had been the one to help them, he saved her from the Millilith… he was a Fatui sure, but he was different… wasn’t he? 

“You were planning on stealing the Gnosis from inside the Exuvia this whole time!?” Piamon shouted, her voice surrounding them in the grand hall. 

“It is my duty after all…” he started, “the Tsaritsa gets what she wants.” With a sigh he placed his hands on his hips. His exasperation was apparent. 

I can’t believe this, Lumine thought. The anger rising from her stomach into her throat. She had let her guard down, let this person close to her, and … trusted him. If he thought for one second he’d be able to take the Gnosis from this Archon, she was about to prove him wrong. 

“I won’t let you …” she hissed through clenched teeth. 

“Oh Comrad, I don’t need your blessing. If it were up to me we wouldn’t have gone through all the niceties in the first place.” His arms lifted into a shrug, a smile inching across his face. 

“If you think you can win against me, you’re delusional.” The anger Lumine felt had moved from the pit of her stomach into every nook and cranny. Her hands tightened over her sword, the blood in her veins pumping in preparation of the fight she rightfully deserved. She was going to make sure he felt the pain she was experiencing. She only further cemented her nerve as Childe’s laughter faded into the deep shadows of the Golden House. 

“Fighting talk,” he retorted, reaching for his weapons, “I love it!.”

And with that the silence of the Golden House was filled with the sounds of metal striking metal. 

With one final strike, Lumine sends Childe rolling across the broken floor of the once pristine building.   

“Wow, that was … unexpected.” He says through heavy breaths. “It’s been a long time since I had such a fantastic match like that.” 

“This method of yours isn’t the best way to make friends,” Paimon states, her own irritation peaking through. 

“Ha, well, yes. Anyway, it seems the Gnosis was never here in the first place.” 

Paimon and Lumine look at eachother, confused. “What do you mean,” Paimon chimes in. 

“It seems I was mistaken thinking you two would be involved in knowing anything about the Gnosis. Which tells me I might need to go back to the beginning, huh…” he says the last sentence under his breath, turning his head as if in deep thought.

“Are you … are you telling me Rex Lapis is alive!?” Lumine shouts, her heart still beating rapidly from the fight. 

“Hmm, we just might see.” He said with a tired smile before summoning a whirlwind of sigils. “I guess we'll just have to call upon the Geo Archon another way! How about … with an old rival?” In a flash Childe was gone, the sigils surrounding him slowly faded away into nothing. 

----

The sky began to clear and the rain, which only a few moments ago was pouring, had slowed to a soft drizzle. Members of the Adepti and Qixing stood at the dock looking out over the settling waves where they caught the last glimpses of the Jade Chamber dipping below the ocean. 

With the present danger now quelled, there was still one last thing on Lumine’s mind. Who is Rex Lapis, and where is he? While the Adepti and Qixing members discuss their next moves for the Rite of Parting, Lumine set’s off to find Zhongli. He must have some clues as to where Rex Lapis could be hiding. 

After receiving word from the receptionist at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor that Zhongli headed to Northland Bank a few minutes ago, Lumine and Paimon reluctantly head there. If only she had prepared herself for what she’d find. 

Upon entering Northland Bank, Lumine saw Signora, Childe, and Zhongli speaking together. 

“What…?” the words fell out of her mouth upon seeing the three of them. Maybe she was imagining things? What could Zhongli have to do with Signora!? She was a Harbingers, and the worst of them all! “What is happening …” she stuttered, anger building in her stomach again. 

Childe opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Signora. 

“You remember the agreement, Morax.” She stated, looking back at Zhongli. “Now, if you would be so kind,” she stretched out her hand, “the Gnosis please.” 

“What in the world are you talking about!?” Paimon shouted, causing the other patrons of the Northland Bank to stare. 

“The contract is now completed. That which thou seek is now bestowed upon you, as my promise is as solid as stone.” Zhongli’s words were void of emotion. His statements were matter of fact, as if he was simply explaining the reason why the sun rises in the morning. 

Lumine took an unsteady step forward. “I don’t understand …” 

“Are you saying you are Rex Lapis!?” Paimon took no time to voice her frustrations, and ask the question on their mind. “Why are you giving her the Gnosis!? She’s the bad guy!” 

Lumine could see them talking, she could tell they were explaining something important, but she couldn’t seem to hear them. It was as if someone had turned on a radio in her head, and instead of playing the sounds of Zhongli’s voice, it was static. The only thing that seemed to turn the radio station back to the right channel was when she saw the Gnosis in his hand. It’s warm glow illuminating his skin, a soft hum filling the room. 

Paimon was in shock, even more so as she watched the traveler make her way to the Geo Archon. 

“Lumine?” 

Lumine reached her hands out and wrapped them around Zhongli’s wrist. There weren’t very many people she would so easily touch. After losing her brother, unable to keep hold onto him as he was ripped from her hands, she found it difficult to cross that barrier. However, there was a desperation in her to make the connection.  

“Lumine…” Zhongli didn’t seem taken back by the sudden physical contact, instead his voice seemed remorseful. 

“Don’t … don’t give it to her.” Her voice was shaky, her hands trembled around his wrist. 

“There isn’t much you can do, Comrad…” Childe started, his arms crossed.

“Don’t give it to her!!” Lumine shouted, which caught everyone off guard. It wasn’t like her to express her feelings in such an animated way. Her eyes we fixated on the golden gaze of the once Archon of Geo. “Please, not again. I can’t see this again.” Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, her nose tickled from the sensation. 

Zhongli sighed, placing his free hand over the trembling ones wrapped around his wrist. His touch caused Lumine’s grip to soften. “A contract is a contract; I cannot break my promise.” 

With that Signora took the Gnosis, and made her way to the door, chuckling proudly to herself.

“Looks like you couldn’t protect another one, huh.” Her words were like venom, and stung Lumine in the heart. “Come, Childe.” 

“Fine, but I’ll meet you there.” He mumbled, turning around and walking up the stairs to the second floor. With both of them gone, only Zhongli, Paimon, and Lumine remained. Her hands still grasping onto Zhongli’s arm. 

“Lumine…” she could hear them call out to her, but she couldn’t respond. Her emotions trapped in her throat, blocking it up like a pipe filled with frozen water. Only the words in her head occupied her attention. I failed. I failed again. She felt a hand touch her shoulder which made her head snapped up.  Zhongli and Paimon were looking at her, worry plastered on their faces 

“Why…” she stammered, the blockage in her throat making it hard to speak, “I don’t understand why. I was … I was helping you. I did all that … and it meant nothing?” 

“It didn’t mean nothing…” Zhongli started. 

“It did. I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop them! Again! Why is it every time I can’t protect those around me?!” The shame building up inside of her. It was too much to bear, and there wasn’t anyone else to blame but her. 

“Lumine, you did everything you could…” Paimon’s voice was sweet, but right now it felt like a jab in her side. 

“Don’t.” Lumine backed away from them, tears spilling down her face. “Please, don’t…” she was so exhausted. Her body ached, her mind was cloudy, and after everything that had happened in the last several hours, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry.” Was all she could say before running through the doors of Northland Bank and down the bustling streets of Liyue. 

----

The next morning she awoke to the sounds of Liyue citizens going about their day. She didn’t remember making it back to her inn. 

The last thing she remembered was sitting at the edge of the dock staring at the calm waters of the sea until it reflected the darkness of the night sky.

Her eyes were raw. They hurt when she rubbed the sleep from them. She looked around her room noticing things were not how they normally were. It dawned on her that she wasn’t in the inn, but somewhere else.

Next to her was a warm tub of water and a clean rag. Who could have left this? As she dipped the rag in the warm water, the memories of yesterday began to flood back to her. The fight at the Golden House with Childe, the battle on the Jade Palace, Zhongli turning out to be the Geo Archon, and her failure to stop another Gnosis from getting into the hands of the Fatui. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” a voice called to her from the end of the bed. She turned to see Paimon floating with a small bag in her hands. “I brought you some of your favorite snack foods.” She said, drifting closer to Lumine’s side before resting on the bed herself. 

“Thanks.” Lumine looked out the window, “where are we?” she asked, looking back at Paimon. The only person she met in this world who seemed to always be there for her. She so badly wanted to trust that Paimon would be there with her to the end, but after the events yesterday, well she wasn’t really sure if that would be true either. 

“Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” she began, opening the bag to present the goodies she purchased. Of course there was something in there for herself. “Zhongli and I found you by the dock late last night ... he carried you to his room.” 

After how she treated him, how could he still show her so much compassion. “Is he here?” She asked. 

“He went out a bit ago, but should be back later. He told us we could stay until we were ready to leave.” A reassuring smile appeared on Paimon’s face. “Hungry?” she asked before offering one of the snacks. 

“Extremely.” Lumine replied, responding with a warm smile. “Thanks, Paimon.” 

“Of course! Now, let’s see what other cool things the funeral parlor has to offer.” 

“It’s a funeral parlor, Paimon. It’s accommodations are mostly for the dead…” Lumine chuckled. 

“You never know! I’ll be right back, you say here!” She added before disappearing into, well, where she goes. 

The sounds from outside were getting louder as the citizens of Liyue were becoming more active. Quietly, she made her way over to the window. Her body still aching from the battles of yesterday. As she looked down onto the streets, she wondered how they would feel if they knew what she knew. If they could imagine the pain of being alone while surrounded by so many friendly faces. Had they ever lost someone close to them; had they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? As she pondered on these items, she could feel the tears rolling down her face once more. 

In the silence of Zhongli’s room she cried, “I trusted you ....” she covered her face from the outside world, “Aether, where are you… I can’t do this without you.” She sobbed as softly as she could, not wanting to disturb the happy citizens below. 

Unbeknownst to her, the words she thought could only be heard by the passing wind were also caught on the ears of a certain Fatui harbinger. Childe leaned against the outside wall, hidden behind the decorative pillars on the second floor roof. His arms tightened around his chest as he listened to the sound of Lumine’s cries against the backdrop of laughing children and footsteps on cobblestone. 

[airashisakura]

Late submission for @fantasysasusaku SasuSaku Fantasy Week Day 6 - Soulmate/ Prophecy/ Reincarnation

Title: Embodiment of his Fate

Pairing: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke

A/N: A mythology from my country had inspired me to write this piece. This was supposed to be posted during the event, but it got unusually long and took a lot of time than I expected. Also this first AU written by me.

FFN AO3

****

Part I

Sasuke — the lone wanderer — didn’t expect again to see the embodiment of his fate in green and pink. Even the gods were sometimes astonished, and Sasuke, the god of catastrophe, felt his world shaking when a pair of tired yet cheerful eyes smiled at him.

“Sakura?” he asked, every syllable carrying disbelief. He bit his tongue as the forbidden name left his mouth, because the Sakura he knew and loved had died long ago.

The owner of shining jade eyes and rosy coloured hair nodded at him. “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

Her words echoed more than the thunderstorms he created. He had heard those words before rolling out from a certain pinkette's mouth. He recognised the ‌same words and her loving tone, but only in memories of a time long ago.

Was she the Sakura he knew? Was it an illusion borne out of his longing? Or was she a reincarnation?

****

Sasuke had always been alone — without any roots and attachments. He didn’t know his family or when and where he was born. He grew up in the darkness of the Ryuchi caves, his only companions being snakes. They were neither his friends nor his enemies, but he polished his basic instincts by observing and mimicking them.

Over time, Sasuke became an invincible warrior — one who rivaled Naruto. Over time, he earned the dignity of a God alongside Naruto.

Sasuke’s sole purpose was to destroy the imperfections and illusions, paving the way for beneficial change. His kind of destruction wasn’t arbitrary but constructive. He was thus seen both as good and evil and regarded as one who combines contradictory elements.

Naruto, unlike Sasuke, had a peaceful demeanor — being praised as God of Preservation — and nourished the world and its being. They worked in sync and ran the cycle of life — destroying the life which was futile and restoring a better life from the ashes.

Their ideologies were different, but they created a perfect balance. Naruto thrived on building bonds and made judgments with compassion, always forgiving and guiding misled souls. Sasuke, on the other hand, was more extreme — he always took an eye for an eye and a hand for a hand, but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t forgiving like Naruto either, and he claimed that his sense of judgement was always clearer. Sasuke despised Naruto’s philosophy. In his perspective, being enslaved to mere emotions would bring no good to the world.

Sasuke was pure consciousness, completely without pretension, never repetitive, always spontaneous, forever inventive, ceaselessly creative, and passionate about his actions.

One day, when Naruto and Sasuke were settling their arguments with a battle, Kakashi, a wise and mischievous messenger between Gods of Heaven and Kings of Earth, noticed how passionately Sasuke wielded his sword. The more Kakashi saw of Sasuke, the more he was in awe of him. His cunning mind bore a wish. He wanted to see how passionately this man could build bonds.

Kakashi knew Sasuke would be enraged if he approached him. Instead, he plotted a conspiracy. He went to The Creator himself — the one who created the world and appointed the protector and the destroyer. Hagoromo himself was amused by Kakashi’s proposal, but he watched Sasuke and saw the stillness surrounding him — the pain that Sasuke was unable to see himself. Hagoromo took pity and advised Kakashi to go to The Land of Fire.

Konohagakure, the capital of the Land of Fire, was prosperous and mighty, ruled by Queen Tsunade. The queen was strong willed and stubborn and feared no catastrophe. She had always been the one who harshly criticized Sasuke’s way of living and his actions.

Kakashi was a shrewd diplomat and knew he could never succeed in convincing the Queen to do what Hagoromo suggested, so he tricked her. He told her that The Creator himself wanted her beautiful kingdom to prosper more and had decided to present a gift to her. Tsunade was thrilled to know that, and the wise lady was unable to see behind Kakashi’s conspiracy.

A holy fire always burned at the heart of The Land of Fire. This fire was regarded pious because it had been burning since the beginning of civilization. The strongest of rains and harshest of winds were never able to extinguish the holy fire. The high raging flames were Tsunade’s pride and she believed no one, even The Gods themselves could demolish her Kingdom.

As promised, a beautiful adolescent girl emerged from that fire. As the girl descended from the altar, the mere touch of her soles made the earth more fertile, and her smile brought serenity.

People called her The New Goddess, and she was named Sakura. Her beauty was ethereal and her voice sweeter than honey. The shade of her eyes rivaled emerald and her hair was as graceful as cherry blossoms. Her laugh jingled with air as melodious as an angel's song. She possessed a heart brimming with compassion and love that melted even the coldest of hearts.

Tsunade, a fierce and strong tempered woman, developed a motherly instinct towards her. Sakura churned out love from the depths of the heart of the warrior queen. Tsunade found peace in Sakura’s presence and loved doing mundane things with her. Tsunade treated Sakura like her own daughter and doted on her.

As years passed by, Sakura bloomed, and she mastered everything Tsunade had taught her. Tsunade was elated and boasted that she would make her a warrior and queen like herself.

Tsunade didn’t trust many people around Sakura. She considered Sakura a precious entity and kept her hidden from the eyes of the unknown and evil. However, Kakashi was neither unknown nor evil, and thus he met Sakura routinely and helped her with her growing loneliness.

“What does freedom feel like?” she had asked Kakashi one day while her eyes drifted out from her windows, trying to see the boundaries of the Konoha.

Kakashi knew what she was talking about, but he remained silent, finding the best possible way to introduce her to the character for whom he had conspired everything.

“I want to see what’s outside those big gates.”

Sakura looked towards Kakashi, expecting an answer, and added, her voice fading, “And know more people.”

Tsunade had told her that she was destined to be the queen of this land, and so she couldn’t befriend anybody she wanted.

Kakashi silently mocked the situation. A goddess boon for a kingdom, bane for herself.

“Do you want to meet someone who can show you the real essence of freedom?”

Sakura nodded, her green eyes sparkling with eagerness.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkled at her innocence — how prophecy was working in the background, without her knowledge.

“There’s one problem though.” Kakashi rubbed his chin, squinting his eyes.

Sakura gave him a questioning look, and Kakashi said in a hushed, secretive voice, “He doesn’t like meeting anybody.”

“Huh? But why?” Sakura demanded, her voice two octaves higher than Kakashi’s.

Kakashi laughed at her innocence again.

“Oh! Tell me, where can I meet him? And would mother allow me?” she asked hopefully, fidgeting with the laces of her gown.

Kakashi’s relaxed face became serious. However, he knew how to outsmart the legendary Queen herself.

“Well, you have to go to Shikkotsu Forest.”

Sakura looked bewildered, as she had never heard of the place before.

“You don’t know where it is, do you?” Kakashi asked, and Sakura shook her head with a frown.

“Don’t worry. I’ll escort you there.” Kakashi smiled softly to her, but before Sakura could run down to tell Tsunade about her adventure, Kakashi interrupted. “However, don’t tell The Queen that you are going to meet someone. You know right? The Queen doesn’t like that.”

Sakura nodded again, saddened by the fact that she had to lie, but the thrill of the impending adventure washed away her guilt.

Kakashi then convinced Tsunade to follow his plan by pointing out that Katsuyu, the slug from Shikkotsu forest, had always served the Queen and for Sakura to succeed her throne in the future, she must know Katsuyu and Shikkotsu woods. Tsunade was convinced and, although unwillingly, gave her permission.

Dressed in the attire of a warrior and saddled upon a horse, she waved goodbye to her mother and the kingdom. The horse kicked the ground and started running at full speed, and Sakura wondered why she hadn’t thought of exploring outside the high walls of the palace before. She had always thought Konoha was a paradise, but as she crossed mile after mile, she realised the world outside Konoha was much more chaotic and beautiful.

Sometimes they slowed down, and the horses lazily strolled while she and Kakashi chatted. Kakashi would tell her about the magical slug Katsuyu and how she would be going to live in the wilderness. She also learned a little more about the man she was going to meet.

He is the embodiment of stillness and energy both, she had remembered Kakashi saying. His face carried a calm and stoic expression while inside he was chaotic and frightful. He remained still and unmoving when he reflected on his purpose, and yet he moved with a lightning speed when he executed his actions.

His stillness and energy both intrigued Sakura more. She had never felt so lively before, and as she reached closer to Shikkotsu forest, she couldn’t wait more to taste how it felt — how freedom looked like.

Almost a year passed, and Sakura had accepted Shikkotsu woods as her new home. Her silky hair grew longer and unruly, and she tied it up in a messy knot. The dresses she had brought with herself were old and torn, and she learned how to sew them. She spent hours after hours collecting food and grew more petite. What didn’t change was her radiant beauty and the mesmerizing smile that never left her lips.

She remembered her mother’s command clearly:

Learn healing magic from Katsuyu. When you become The Queen, it will benefit the people of the Kingdom.

Sakura never strayed from her routine with Katsuyu, gaining knowledge about the secrets of magical power that the slug possessed.

After that, she spent most of her time sitting on the wooden branches of a tree, looking towards the entrance of the forest. Sometimes she swung her legs in impatience, sometimes disappointment took over, and sometimes she mulled over her decision to leave the kingdom. She had waited for almost two years now and sadness took over her face when she realised the day wasn’t far when her mother would send an army to escort her back.

Although a goddess who could do wonders waited for a man and her destiny.

When Kakashi had informed him that a certain intruder had invaded Shikkostu woods, Sasuke had scoffed when he found a frail lady roaming through the forest.

“What possible harm could she cause?” he’d said.

Kakashi chuckled under his breath.

Unless cold-blooded God knew, she had the capability to destroy his ultimate defense of indifference.

Sasuke became curious and went to Shikkotsu forest to know what a princess was doing there. When he arrived, he found no trace of her and thought she had left. He was about to leave, when he heard a rustling sound behind him. He turned, sighing that the intruder hadn’t left. Before he could say anything, the same fragile lady had already released an arrow from the bow.

He hadn’t expected much, but even less had he expected to meet her in the middle of Shikkotsu forest with blood dripping out from his chest where her arrow had pierced him. A pair of perplexed green eyes pierced his onyx while he struggled to stand straight but failed and stumbled to the ground.

Sakura didn’t realise she had shot the man she had been waiting for instead of some intruder until she took a minute to tally the features that Kakashi had supplied her with. Chiseled jawline, one visible onyx eye and another hidden under his raven locks, a face that was sharp as blade, and an expression hard as rock. The visible anger in his eye and the scowl that marred his face was undeniably attractive.

Sakura rushed towards him, bracing him in her arms. She could feel his ragged breathing tickling on her shoulders as he mumbled, “Sakura?”

Her eyes widened, but before she could brace herself for the next blow, she spoke out, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sasuke.”

She was bewildered, and he was unconscious. She stayed still, contemplating the situation. They were meeting for the first time. They’d never known each other, and they didn't know each other’s name, yet how smoothly their names rolled out of each other tongues.

When Sasuke gained consciousness, he saw a mop of messy pink hair. Although he felt his blood boiling because never in his whole life had he been knocked unconscious, but the presence of the woman whose back he could see pacified him. He didn’t know how, but it did. His throat was dry and his lips felt chapped, and he coughed, notifying his intruder that he was awake.

Sakura turned towards her intruder, getting off from her place where she was crushing and mixing some herbs with a mortar and pestle. She offered him water and apologised for earlier. Sasuke’s sour expression told her that her apology wasn’t accepted. She sighed, berating herself for the mistake. She had shot the man she had been waiting for.

How was she supposed to fix this?

Her fingers trembled as she layered herbs on his wound. She could feel his heart beating, and it felt oddly familiar — like she was well versed with the rhythm.

“How do you know my name?” She broke the silence.

Sasuke gave her a confused look, and then it dawned upon him that he had never met her before. He was speechless, somewhat unable to explain and somewhat lost in her eyes. What was happening to him? Whenever he looked into those deep green abysses, he felt he was losing, and for the first time ever, it felt good.

One day while Sakura was nursing him, she shared with him the prophecy she’d been told, ignoring his gruff and uninterested look. Sasuke walked away from her, stating he had been alone since birth and intended to be that way. He tried to sneak out, but Sakura demanded that he should stay until he was healed. He didn’t want to comply because he never had to anyone, but somehow the concern in her face made him. It felt good — someone worried for him — someone taking care of him.

He later regretted his decision when Sakura became too comfortable with him.

He was on his side trying to get some sleep when Sakura asked him out of nowhere, “What does freedom feel like?”

He glared at her, irritated she had interrupted his sweet sleep.

Next when she was coaxing him to eat something, and Sasuke sat there looking outside at the falling rain without responding to her tantrums, Sakura huffed in anger, “Why don’t you at least talk?”

He couldn’t explain what he had felt when he saw her sleeping face under the moonlight. It felt like anesthesia — lulling his senses — sending him to a deeper state of peacefulness. All the years of fighting, slaying and punishing wrong-doers started to feel futile. He snuck out of the forest that night because he knew he would be destroyed if he stayed with her any longer.

Prophecy was working in the background, and something unexpected happened. He found himself again at Shikkotsu forest with, finding way back to Sakura.

“Welcome back.”

When he found Sakura smiling back at him — smiling for him — he felt he had made the right decision to return

He was fishing for lunch while Sakura sat beside him, gazing at the floating clouds. She asked, breaking the silence, “Does freedom feel like this? Being you and doing all you want.”

He turned towards her, and noticed a wistful smile playing on her lips and offered, “I will show you, if you come with me.”

Every god and demigod was astonished. They have never seen Sasuke, the lone wanderer, indulging in life, bonds, or attachments. Kakashi sipped wine while watching Sasuke fall passionately in love.

The news spread like fire, and it didn’t take much time to reach Tsunade’s ears. She was infuriated and commanded her army to drag Sakura back. Before Sakura could explain the unexplainable bond that had developed between them, Tsunade lashed out at her. She criticized both Sakura’s decision and the man who she had given her heart. Sakura was put under watch, locked up in a room as punishment for her actions.

Perhaps punishing her for the fate that she carried from the day when she was born.

The decision was hers — to be caged and become The Queen or to flee and embrace freedom.

She chose the latter. Chose the path that the prophecy had led her to. Chose the stranger who had tugged the strings of her heart.

In the darkness of night as the horse galloped, Sakura looked back for the last time, and the kingdom disappeared on the horizon with a new life waiting for her.

She had everything, yet she had felt empty. When she abandoned everything, she felt complete.

When Sakura stepped into their new abode, she found piles of snow and chilly winds blowing around. She had spent part of her life under warm sunshine and the royal ceiling. For a princess, it was difficult to adjust, but alongside all adversities, there was unadulterated love — love that had lifted the weight of expectations of royal duties from her shoulders. She felt like home, the feeling Konoha couldn’t give her.

Now she spent her days carelessly. Some days she would rest her head on his shoulder and look at the horizon as far as her eyes would allow. Some days they would travel, disguising themselves as commoners. And at those moments, she took liberty of her newfound freedom — forgetting she was a goddess — and mingled with people of unknown places.

And Sasuke let her be random and spontaneous — like him.

Perhaps this was the freedom she yearned for and had searched all over these years. Sasuke didn’t teach her how to live. Instead, his presence influenced her. She would sit silently and watch with awe when he stayed still and meditated or practiced with his sword.

The one who never knew the meaning of home had made a home at the top of The Three Wolves Mountain. Sasuke, who hadn’t known feelings, started feeling multitudes of emotions. Love and companionship were the words he had despised, but now he could understand why his counterpart, Naruto, bragged about them. Sakura made his existence meaningful, showing him beauty in the things he had often dismissed.

Her presence never became a chain for him, and she never overstepped her boundaries or meddled with Sasuke’s work. He still had a clear view of judgement, with a pinch of compassion that he had learned from her. He hadn’t shed his furious demeanor, but he reconsidered his motives before acting.

Sasuke as the world knew him had untamed passion, which led him to be extreme in behaviour. Sometimes he was an ascetic — abstaining from worldly pleasure. At others he was a hedonist — indulging every bit in marital bliss.

Living with Sakura brought him balance.

****

Part II

“Don’t you understand? You’re the future Queen. You can’t fall in love with someone who has nothing and is a lunatic murderer.”

Tsunade’s blood had been boiling with anger when she learned about the prophecy that had been crafted right under her nose. She had believed that her daughter was innocent, and it was just a filthy trick that Kakashi was playing on her until she had heard Sakura pleading.

“Please let me go.”

Honey-colored eyes filled with anger and hurt glanced towards Sakura.

Sakura spoke again, albeit afraid of Tsunade. After that, Tsunade didn't lock Sakura away. She wanted to test Sakura’s resolve — test her loyalty and love towards her and Konoha.

The next morning she was greeted with the news that the princess had eloped.

If she wanted to, she could have hunted her down, but Tsunade clearly remembered Sakura’s final words from their last conversation.

“I want to live with Sasuke… I don’t want to live here anymore.”

Although she allowed Sakura to become part of Sasuke’s life, she never accepted them, and she could never forget the sting of Sakura’s words. She hated Sasuke more for taking Sakura away from her.

After some years had passed, Tsunade decided to hold a festival in the honor of the good harvest that had sprouted from the Land of Fire. She invited every god and demigod, every lord across the nation, even the commoners and beggars. She wanted to share the happiness that she had lost after she had last seen her daughter. She couldn’t lie to herself that she still loved Sakura dearly, although she had disowned her from her heart and cared less about her whereabouts.

That’s the price Sakura would pay, she thought, because everyone was welcomed, except Sasuke and Sakura.

While Sakura and Sasuke were enjoying their routine of sitting together in silence, Sakura noticed a lot of traffic — the finest of chariots, all the lords, gods and goddesses going somewhere dressed immaculately.

Sasuke noticed she was distracted by the commotion. He knew exactly what was happening and where all of them were going, but he said nothing.

Sakura couldn’t hold back her curiosity and she asked, “What is this? Where is everyone going?”

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t need to go where they are going,” Sasuke replied, ignoring her.

Sakura knew the roads the others traveled led towards her old home. She became more restless, and she asked Sasuke again, “It seems like everyone is going to Konoha. Is something happening there?”

“Don’t bother yourself. We are fine here,” Sasuke replied curtly.

Seeing Sakura disappointed, he finally let out his biggest insecurity, “Are you unhappy here?”

“No, I’m happy here,” Sakura smiled, giving up on her curiosity.

The next day when she saw the same, she didn’t pester Sasuke again. Instead she stopped one of the chariots and asked them, “Where are you all going?”

They replied, “Don’t you know? There’s a big festival in Konoha, and your mother has invited all of us. Are you not coming?”

She felt totally lost when she came to know that she and her husband had not been invited. She felt disgraced and humiliated. She thought it wasn’t fair to her and Sasuke.

She was deeply bothered by this and decided, “I am going to my mother. Why did she do this?”

Sasuke said, “It doesn’t matter to me. Why are you getting worked up? We are fine here. Why should we go to the festival?”

Sakura was so insulted that she wasn’t invited that she didn’t want to listen to anything. Although she knew she had fled from the Kingdom without her mother's permission, she was sure Tsunade still loved her like she loved Tsunade.

She argued, “No, I have to go. There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe the invitation was lost. How can she not invite you and me? I am her daughter.”

Sasuke reasoned, “You left her for me. I don’t see anything unusual in not inviting you.”

Sakura stomped out of their abode infuriated, “My mother isn’t like that. I am sure she wouldn’t do this.”

Sasuke knew there was no point in arguing so he sent his most faithful snake Aoda as escort and pleaded with her not to provoke any incident.

When Sakura reached the huge gates of Konoha, she didn’t find any resistance, but the old familiar people were cold and inhospitable. She ordered Aoda to stay outside, and she walked towards the palace. She was trying to respond to the odd vibes that people were giving her by smiling at everyone while she made her way to her mother. The place and the people seemed to be changed, or was she changed? Perhaps Sasuke was right, but she was too stubborn to accept that. She ignored all the cold glares and mocking tones and went into the palace, still believing that there was some kind of a mistake.

“Mother,” Sakura greeted and bowed when she found Tsunade.

“Mother?” Tsunade spat back. Tsunade was furious. She never thought Sakura would have the audacity to show her face again and to call her mother.

“My daughter died the day when she turned her back on the Kingdom.”

Sakura was on the verge of crying out, because Tsunade made it clear that Sasuke’s words were the truth. She wanted to leave, but she didn’t. She wanted to know why Tsunade had always despised Sasuke. Why he himself, being a God, was not acknowledged by The Queen.

She asked Tsunade, holding back her tears, “How can you not invite Sasuke?”

Tsunade abused Sasuke in every possible way, and she added, “I will never have him step into my Kingdom.”

She could swallow her own pride and could take more insults, but she couldn’t stand more to her mother dishonoring Sasuke. Soon they were in the midst of a heated argument, and every passing moment made it clearer to Sakura that her mother was entirely incapable of appreciating the many excellent qualities that her husband possessed. She was consumed by rage against her mother and loathed her mentality.

The realization then came to her that this abuse was being heaped on Sasuke more only because he had wed her. She was the cause of dishonor to her husband. She was so crestfallen that her love had brought more hatred for Sasuke. Sasuke gave her love, yet she had brought him disgrace.

She was shaking with raw anger, tears welling out of her green eyes. She wanted others to acknowledge Sasuke like she did — pure and gentle behind his facade. She thought with her life she could show that to the world.

She didn’t want to be there, but neither did she want to go back to The Three Wolves Mountain. She walked towards the fire from where she was born. She didn’t want to live a life where her love bore hatred to Sasuke. Calling up a prayer, that in future birth, to be born in a house where Sasuke was respected, Sakura invoked divine powers and burned herself.

If she had to die and take birth again to restore his honor, she would die million times.

When Aoda came back and told him about what had happened in Konoha, Sasuke sat still for a certain period. He felt all the happiness, all the colors that Sakura brought with her fading — he felt his sanity leaving. How could he let Sakura go? How dare she do such a thing?

Sakura had given him love and a home — things that were unknown to him. How dare she leave for such an insignificant reason? She was his pride and honor, and he didn’t need any appreciation from others. How could she have misunderstood that? He didn’t need the pride which took her away from him. Thus he shed his sanity that was straining him to wreak havoc — he became fire. For the first time, he became disillusioned and decided to take revenge on the innocents.

Burning with incomparable rage, he used the mighty powers of his eyes and burned the whole kingdom using Amaterasu. They had provoked her to burn herself, hence he watched everyone and everything that had snatched his wife from him burn.

When the flames inside him and of Amaterasu had subsided, he realised how ungodly he had acted. He let his emotions rule over his actions, but hadn’t he given in to his emotions since he had met Sakura? Maybe he had always despised emotions, because he was afraid he would get drowned in them and could never manage to reach the shore again.

His work was to destroy the elements that couldn't be fixed. He was broken and his emotions were far from repairable. After the throes of romance, death and grief, he decided to destroy the emotions that had been born in him because of Sakura.

He had loved Sakura more than any and would never love after her.

He had allowed himself the luxury once and when it was over, he came out of it and went into an indifferent state again. He went into meditation for many years, deeply upset over the death of his wife, ignoring all his duties.

****

Every destruction acted as a progenitor. Within the barren and burned hectares of the Land of Fire, a small village was born after many years. The village was always covered in spring blossoms, and the people were merry, carefree, and had a profound belief in Gods and their power. They revered Sasuke most, considering him the progenitor of beginning that had given a chance to sow over barren land and produce bountifully. They were hard workers, but humble enough to believe in the grace of Gods.

Sasuke, unaware of the fact, still meditated, grieving for his wife. Still unaware that his beloved had already taken birth again...

Sakura was reborn as a human — the daughter of Kizashi, the leader of Haruno tribe and his wife, Mebuki. This time, Sakura, as she had wished, was born to a family where Sasuke was worshiped ardently.

Sakura, unaware of her past, the prophecy, and the tragedy grew into a beautiful woman. Many lords asked her for marriage, but she always denied them. She always had an innate feeling that someone already had taken her heart, but she didn’t know who.

When Kakashi came to know that the goddess had lost the memories of her previous birth, he appeared in front of her parents. Regretting the path he had taken last time, he confronted her parents about her previous birth, the prophecy, and the fate that linked Sasuke and their daughter.

Kizashi and Mebuki were overwhelmed with joy after knowing this. However, Sakura was skeptical about it and questioned Kakashi.

“Go to Shikkotsu Forest. The answers to all your questions lie there,” Kakashi advised.

Sakura, with her parents’ permission, went to Shikkotsu forest, and as she spent days under the canopy where she had found her freedom once, she learned from Katsuyu to whom her heart belonged.

The moment when she remembered all about her past, she grew restless. At once she left for The Three Wolves Mountain — Sasuke’s home — their home. When she reached there, she found Sasuke lost in meditation.

Years passed, but she waited for Sasuke to open his eyes and to look at her and realize that she was there — as promised.

But Sasuke was deeply lost.

Although a human this time, Sakura was still stubborn.

She sat there in spite of the bitter chilly winds that rattled her bones. She didn’t move an inch to gather food even though her stomach hurt from hunger. She didn’t blink her eyes in spite of how much they threatened to close because of exhaustion.

Perhaps love was invincible — the strongest force that again moved the coldest heart.

Sasuke opened his eyes after many uncountable years. Something that he couldn’t pinpoint had stirred him out of his deep state. He rose in fury. How could anyone dare do that? Wasn’t tricking him once enough?

He swore he would see the death of the person who had disturbed him. He walked outside to see a lady whose head and shoulders were covered with snow, shivering.

His brows knitted in irritation because no one had stepped in The Three Wolves Mountain except Sakura.

The lady straightened herself, feeling his presence. Sasuke wasn’t ready to listen to any of her justifications.

Because no had stepped in their abode except Sakura, and no one would.

****

Although he was elated to see her again, what Sakura has done was unforgivable. Sasuke was bewildered. All these years of abandoning his emotions fell away when he felt a surge of love and hatred, fear and longing, hurt and comfort coursed through him.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to live with regrets and guilt earlier,” Sakura confessed to him, filling up the details of the past.

He realised the diamond mark on her forehead was gone. She was still beautiful and the smile he had longed to see was still graceful. Undoubtedly, she was Sakura, his wife. She was no longer a goddess though. She had sacrificed her divine powers for him.

He was scared to lose her again. He didn’t want to believe in the prophecy that had once taken Sakura away from her, but he listened peacefully to everything.

“This time will be different. Trust me, I'm not leaving you anywhere,” Sakura smiled, and assured Sasuke.

Who was Sasuke to defy her plea? Their love was weaved in the form of prophecy which defied cycles of lifes and deaths. No matter how far they go, they are bound to be together at the end.

[gagmebucky]

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

The Ever Handsome and Always Charming Dean Winchester

Title: The Ever Handsome and Always Charming Dean Winchester

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: Everyone :)

Tags: fluff

Summary: Just a cute little something I wrote for a friend :) @thebridgekid <3 A perfectly simple Dean and Cas wedding!

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Cas looked around the church they were standing in while they waited for the man they were there to meet, one of the Fathers of the church. It had been a while since he had been in one, since he had been in a house built for his father, at least not since he had decided to take off and leave his creation to fend for themselves. Being back inside one was… odd, to say the least. He was still angry with his father for leaving, for abandoning them when they needed him the most, and all those years before he had taken off while the planet almost died several times over. 

     “Agents,” the Father they were waiting for walked up to them, “how can I help you this fine day?”

     “We were wondering if you could give us some information on a member of your church,” Dean spoke, easily slipping into his agent persona, “Mark Marsden. He went missing a few days ago and was last seen here. Just wondering if we can ask you a few questions.”

 ��   “Of course, Agents, if you'll follow me to my office we can speak there.”

     The Father led them through the church and through another set of large double doors, the room on the other side packed full and decorated to the nines.

     “I'll ask you to be quiet as we pass through,” the Father whispered to them, “one of our young couples is getting married. We’ll keep to the side and sneak into the back.”

     They both nodded, following the Father back to his office, but as they did Cas kept his eyes on the scene at the front of the church. He watched as they passed as everyone in their seats had their eyes glued to the couple at the front, many of them dabbing tears from their eyes as the Pastor spoke of their joining in the eyes of God. As they reached the front of the room where the Fathers office was hidden at the back, Cas remained outside the door while Dean went inside to ask the questions he needed to ask, and watched the remainder of the ceremony. He stood silently at the side and listened as the young man and woman recited their vows to one another, the longing he could see in their eyes as they did reminded him of green eyes staring back at him. 

     Dean finished up with the Father and left his office just in time to catch the end of the wedding, and just in time to see how intensely Cas was watching it all. The couple at the altar exchanged rings, and it didn't miss Dean's eyes when Cas clasped his hands together, very clearly rubbing his left ring finger as he did. And as the wedding came to a close, Dean's eyes were on Cas as the couple kissed to seal the deal. Cas had yet to take his eyes off of them, and the way Cas was staring at them when they kissed, there was something in his eyes that Dean had never seen before, a look that had him wondering if maybe…

     The couple pulled back from each other and the church erupted in cheers and whistles as they walked hand in hand down the aisle and outside, their guests following them out. It was enough to pull Dean out of his mind, so he pushed off his spot on the wall and walked over to nudge Cas with his elbow. 

     “Ready to go, man? We gotta go tell Sam what we found out.”

     Cas just nodded and followed Dean out of the church and back into the impala.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     They found themselves back in the church not too long after. They had gotten another small lead on their suspect from before, but they needed the Fathers help again, so here they were. Though this time the church was empty. The wedding party had long since filed out, surely to head to their reception, but Cas found himself being drawn to the altar at the front, standing at the bottom of the stairs just below it. He was only a few steps away from where the young couple had been standing not too long ago, professing their love for one another in the eyes of his father. 

     “Well, the good Father’s not here, no one is actually. We must have just missed everyone…” He stopped, finding Cas standing there, staring up at the flowery archway with that same strange look in his eyes from before, “Cas…?”

     “The idea of being joined with another being,” he began, eyes not moving from the archway in front of him, his voice almost a whisper, “to prove the strength of your bond, in front of the eyes of my Father... It's one that I never thought would matter to me but, after watching the wedding today I find myself feeling that perhaps it does matter to me.”

     “Cas,” Dean smiled to himself as he moved closer to Cas, standing beside him now, “are you, in your own weird way, asking me to marry you?”

     Cas still didn't turn to look at Dean, but let go a small smile himself, “I know my Father is not truly here, but wherever he is, he is always watching, listening. And our bond, Dean, is stronger than any bond ever formed or created in this universe. If any bond should be recognized by the eyes of God, it should be ours.”

     “So you are asking me to marry you,” Dean reached out and took Cas’s chin between his fingers, turning him to face him finally, “so why don't we do it right now then?”

     “Right now?” Cas quirked a brow at him.

     Dean shrugged, “You want to prove our bond in the eyes of God right? And like you said, he's always watching. So whether we do it here and now, or somewhere else, who cares?”

     “But there is no minister to officiate the joining.”

     “Do we really need one?” He asked, and Cas tilted his head in this typical Cas fashion that Dean loved so much. “The whole point of having a minister is because they are connected to God, right, but you're an Angel, one of God's children. I don't think it gets any closer to God then that.”

     “So right here, right now, just the two of us, you wanna get married?”

     “If you want to, Cas, then yes,” he nodded, his smile growing brighter and wider with every second, “we don't need anything big or fancy with hundreds of people we barely know. Just us, that's all we've ever needed.”

     Dean took another step closer to Cas, laying his head gently on his as he asked, “So, do you want to marry me, Cas?”

     Cas’s smile grew so impossibly wide he thought he might explode. Never had he ever thought he would be here, about to marry the love of his life. “Yes,” he breathed against Dean's lips, “I do want to marry you, Dean.”

     “Okay then, let's do this.” 

     He turned and held out his arm to Cas who took it instantly, and then he walked them up the few steps to stand at the top under the archway. Once they were there, he turned and took both of Cas's hands in his own and readied to make this Angel his in their own private little ceremony, just the two of them. Little did they both know, it wasn't as private as they had originally thought it was.

     Sam had entered the church not too long after Dean and Cas had. He saw the impala out front and knew they were both still there, and had walked in just in time to see the two of them walk up the steps together, and come to stand face to face under the archway. He had come to tell them that he had found a major break in the case and that they no longer needed the Fathers help. But when he found them up there together like that, holding hands and very obviously doing what he thought they were doing, he didn't have the heart to interrupt what he thought was a very long time coming. So he opted to stay quietly at the back of the room, and leaned against the wall to watch unnoticed by them.

     “So,” Cas spoke after a few moments of just staring at each other, “where do we start?”

     “Let's skip the, ‘we are gathered here today’, and jump straight to the vows.”

     Cas nodded eagerly, “I would like to go first, Dean.”

     Dean smiled at his eagerness and nodded in return, “Sure thing, Cas.”

     Cas squared himself and took a deep breath, holding Dean's hands a little tighter in his as he began, “Dean, I knew from the moment I laid a hand on your soul in hell that I was lost. I have been alive for millenia, and yet in all my many years, nothing has ever changed me the way you have in such a short time. The brightness of your soul, and the strength of our bond have made me into a better Angel then I ever thought I could be. You make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me finally feel loved and whole. I wouldn't be who I am right now without you, Dean. I love you.”

     Dean wasn’t one to cry at these kinds of things, not usually, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't a little choked up at Cas’s words. He knew that the Angel over the years had caused a monumental change in himself, but he never realized how much he had done the same for Cas.

     “Ok, my turn,” he cleared his throat before he spoke, holding tighter to Cas’s hands and feeling the tears welling in his eyes, but he didn't care, “in my life I have thought, many times, that I knew what true love felt like, but as soon as I saw you walking through those barn doors for the first time, I knew that all those other times I was so very wrong. The profound bond we share is something I have never felt, ever, in my entire life. And I don't think anyone, past, present, or future, will ever be lucky enough to feel the way we do, how strongly we do, through that bond. And I know it took me a long time to admit it, because we both know I'm a stubborn ass, but I have always known that I never want to be without you, Cas. I'm not the same when you're not around, I feel empty when you're gone, even if it's just for a few hours, I never want to be without you. And with you in my arms forever, I know I will be the happiest man on Earth. I love you, Cas.”

     Neither of them could resist any longer as the tears forced their way past their last defenses, streaming down their cheeks. “And now?” Cas forced past the lump in his throat.

     “And now,” Dean let go of Cas's hands for a second to wipe at his eyes, then to reach down into his pants pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. Cas’s eyes went wide as Dean opened it to reveal a beautiful silver ring, with a feathered line of black running through the center. “I've been carrying this around for a while now. I made it myself, but I wasn't sure if weddings or marriage was something that was for us, so I haven't said anything yet, but I was going to give this to you regardless of what we decided, at some point when I got the nerve up to give it to you,” he shook his head with a light chuckle and pulled himself out of his rambling, then held out his hand, “anyways, give me your left hand, Cas.”

     Dean’s shaking hands reached out to take Cas’s and clumsily slipped the ring on his finger. He admired it on Cas’s hand for a moment, before bringing his hand up to his mouth and pressing a light kiss to the ring. Cas smiled at the action, bringing his hand up to his face to admire the ring himself before something dawned on him that kind of upset him, “Dean, I do not have a ring for you.”

     “It's alright, Cas,” he shook his head, still smiling at his Angel, “I don't need one.”

     “But,” he frowned looking down at the ring on his finger, “this ring symbolizes that I am the other half of your bond, you have nothing to symbolize that you are the other half of mine.”

     “Okay, how ‘bout this then,” he took the ring off his right hand that he always wore, and gave it to Cas, “we’ll use this one as a placeholder for now, and then when we get back to the bunker you can make one like I did.”

     Cas smiled and accepted the ring, slipping it onto Dean’s left hand, copying Dean's action and placing a sweet kiss on it. “There, now everyone will know that you and I belong to each other.”

     “And now we have one more thing to do,” he took both of Cas's hands in his again and pulled him a little closer as he asked, “Castiel, do you take the ever handsome and always charming Dean Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

     “I do take you, Dean,” Cas took another step closer, now chest to chest with Dean, “and do you, Dean, take me to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

     “I definitely do, Cas. And now I pronounce us-”

     “Wait!”

     “What?” A small surge of panic shot through Dean.

     “Last names,” Cas stated so simply, and Dean let out a breath of relief and a slight chuckle, “I don't have one, what do we do?”

     “What do you want to do? It's your call.”

     Without any hesitation, Cas blurted out, “I want to take yours.”

     “I was hoping you would say that,” Dean whispered and leaned in to press their foreheads together, “in that case, I now pronounce us husbands, Mr Dean and Castiel Winchester,” Cas smiled at the use of his new full name, “and now I’m gunna kiss my very handsome groom.”

     “Please do.”

     Dean took no time in closing the small gap between them and pressing his lips firmly against Cas's, his husband. And as his lips moved in perfect sync against Cas’s he couldn’t think of anything else except finally, finally Cas was his husband, finally they were married, and finally he was Castiel Winchester. Forever his Angel.

     Sam had managed to remain quiet and unseen for the entire little ceremony. It was perfectly Dean and Cas, a secret wedding, just the two of them. And even though Sam wasn't supposed to be there, he was honoured that he was able to bear witness to the most perfect wedding he had ever seen. 

     He stood there long enough to watch them seal their joining with a kiss, and when it was obvious that they weren't going to be separating anytime soon, he decided to slowly back out of the room and let them have their time together. Besides, while they were distracted with each other, he had some work to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     They stayed in the church for a while, standing under the archway, kissing, holding each other, calling each other husband. Dean wasn't sure how long they had been standing there when things started to get a little intense. Their kisses turned heated and hands were starting to wander, so Dean pulled back from Cas who chased him with his lips, and was disappointed when Dean pulled back even further. “Cas, wait a second,” Dean laughed at the whine he let out while still trying desperately to get to his lips, “Cas, let's go back to the motel, we can lock Sam out and have a mini honeymoon.”

     Cas stopped trying to chase after Dean and pulled back to look at him. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him and all he could do was nod enthusiastically while practically dragging Dean towards the front doors of the church. “Yeah, let's do that!”

     “We should let Sam know that we are married now,” Cas added as they exited the church and made way for the car, “but after our mini honeymoon.”

     Dean stopped dead in the middle of the parking lot, causing Cas to jerk to a stop beside him and look at him with a furrowed brow. “Something tells me he already knows,” he groaned and ran a hand down his face.

     Cas turned away from Dean and looked over at the car, and yeah, Sam definitely knew. The impala was completely decked out from hood to trunk. There were white streamers and paper doves all over the hood and roof, the entire ground surrounding the car was littered with confetti, empty beer cans from the trunk had been strung to the bumper, and the back window was painted with the words ‘FINALLY hitched!”

     They slowly walked up to the car, not exactly sure what to do about it, or how to even get in. Dean eyed a piece of paper stuck under the windshield wipers, and just as he grabbed it the devil himself drove by in his own car. He honked wildly at them as he passed, waving his hand out the window, then sped off down the road and out of sight. 

     Dean just shook his head and groaned, “Oh god,” as he opened the note and read it out loud, “Honestly, it's about time guys! Seriously! I'm really happy you both finally did this. I stopped by the church to tell you guys that I had a new lead on the case but I ended up being just in time to see your private wedding, and now you have an official witness. Also, don't worry about the case, I got this one. I made you two a reservation at an actual hotel in town, the Royal Stay Hotel, in the honeymoon suite, you can check in any time. The reservation ends Monday afternoon, so enjoy your four days off! Have fun newlyweds! Love, sam."

     “That was very nice of him,” Cas looked up at Dean, trying to gauge his reaction and smiled when Dean did too.

     “Yeah, it was. We’ll call and thank him later, but right now I just want to get you to that hotel room and get this honeymoon started!”

     “Should we get going then?” Cas smirked at him, giving him the same wiggle of his eyebrows that Dean had given him before. Dean just laughed and opened the door for Cas to get in, then ran to the other side to hop in. 

     He put the car in reverse and turned to pull out of the lot, and got a look at the back seat, “Oh my god,” he sighed, but couldn't even help the laugh that escaped him, encompassing his whole body as Cas looked back too.

     Sam had not only taken the time to decorate the outside of the car, but also the inside. There was more confetti and streamers in the back seat, along with bottles of champagne, several cases of beer, and a very unnecessary amount of condoms scattered all over the back of the car. 

     It took them awhile to stop laughing at the state of the back seat, both had tears streaming down their faces before they were able to catch their breaths again. And after their fit of laughter, Dean leaned over the seat to put his hand around the back of Cas's neck and pulled him in close. “You know, he is right about one thing.

     “What's that?”

     Dean smiled, leaning in to rub his nose against his husband’s, “Finally.”

     “Finally,” Cas agreed, and moved in to kiss Dean soundly once more, before taking his hand while Dean drove out of the parking lot.

End

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A/N: Hope y’all enjoyed it, always more to come <3 And if you wanna be tagged for furture Destiel posts just let me know <3

[milfjensenackles]

good 4 u

1.7k words | read it on ao3

inspired by good 4 u by olivia rodrigo. cas confronts dean about kicking him about of the bunker. set during 9x06

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

Dean walked up and placed a candy bar on the counter in front of Castiel, who was working the register at his new job at the Gas-N-Sip. It was the first time Cas had seen him in months, ever since Dean unceremoniously kicked Castiel out of the bunker without explanation. Dean had his typical shit-eating grin on his face, which only served to frustrate Castiel further. Cas looked him up and down. He was sure his face gave away both the simultaneous relief and anger he felt at seeing Dean again.

“There’s a case nearby. Thought you might want to help out.”

Cas felt something akin to disappointment, but he couldn’t figure out why. He scanned the candy bar, and once Dean paid for it, he handed the chocolate back to him. “I can’t, Dean. I’m working. It was hard enough trying to find a job around here, I can’t lose this one.”

Dean winked at him and Cas couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. “I can wait until you’re off the clock. I’ll pick you up. What time?”

Cas let Dean know when and where to pick him up in a few short hours, and then he walked out the front door, already having eaten three-quarters of the chocolate bar he purchased moments ago. Cas watched him pull out of the parking lot through the window. He missed Dean desperately. All Cas wanted… All Cas dreamed about since leaving the bunker was Dean coming back for him like he did today. Except Dream Dean would ask Cas to come home with him. Dream Dean would ask Cas to stay.

The next customer in line tapped his hand on the counter to get Cas’ attention. “Hey buddy, I don’t got all day.”

Cas apologized before continuing his work mindlessly, imagining what it might be like to quit his job right now and leave to hunt with Dean every day, so that he might somehow prove his usefulness to the man he considered a best friend.

Dean picked Cas up at five o’ clock on the dot as promised. The case seemed simple for Dean’s standards, but Cas wasn’t going to point that out if it meant they could spend more time together.

Cas couldn’t help but stare at Dean as he impersonated yet another FBI agent at the scene of the crime. Castiel knew he had strong feelings for Dean. He’s known since he pulled Dean out of Hell. It wasn’t until he became human, though, that he learned of the true nature of these feelings. Dean laughed at something another police officer said, and Cas grinned too. Dean was beautiful. Cas wished he could tell Dean how beautiful he is. Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t ever feel the same for Castiel, though. Cas knew that. Why else would Dean kick him out of the bunker? Now that Cas didn’t have the ability to heal Dean and Sam or help them fight, Dean didn’t want him around. It made sense. Cas didn’t blame him.

After they finished gathering as much information as possible from the witnesses in town that evening, Dean stopped to grab a couple of burgers at a drive-thru and then took them back to a local motel. The drive over was silent. Once they finally pulled into the parking lot, Dean put the Impala in park and looked over at Cas.

“So we’ll stay here tonight, and then I can drive you back to work in the morning on my way out of town.”

Cas remained silent.

“Cas, buddy? Does that sound okay?”

Cas spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s fine.”

They walked into the room Dean booked earlier that day. Cas placed his single bag on the floor but remained near the door, hoping to avoid any more conversation until Dean fell asleep.

“Are you mad at me or somethin’?” Dean placed his wallet on the bedside table before moving closer to where Cas was standing. Cas took a small step back, increasing the space between them like Dean was a magnet and Cas was the opposing force.

“I don’t want your pity, Dean. Allowing you to pay for this hotel room is more than I should have let happen.” Cas clenched his fists against the side of his jeans, feeling sick at the idea of Dean staying here with him, pathetically human. Powerless. And yet he didn’t really want Dean to leave him again, either.

Dean started to take some wadded-up bills out of his wallet. “Cas… would you just- “

“No, Dean.”

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “If you’re doing so well, I’ll just leave you alone then. Fine.”

“You know what, Dean? I’m not doing well. I’m miserable. I don’t know how to be human. I had to learn how to brush my teeth from the homeless man I met on my way to the bunker who was kind enough to provide me with toothpaste. I don’t understand why you kicked me out and then decided to come rub it in my face when I was finally doing okay without you. Do you know how many nights I spent sleeping on the floor of the Gas-N-Sip, crying? Not understanding what it meant to feel emotion strong enough that it caused my eyes to water?” Cas gestured to his eyes, finally pausing for a moment, “You seem like you’re doing fine without me, but if you cared enough to ask you would know that I’m not. So good for you, I guess.”

Dean was staring at him, bewildered by the sudden outburst. Cas suddenly felt embarrassed and looked away in an attempt to hide the heat that was spreading across his face.

“Cas…” Dean attempted before he was cut off by Cas holding his hand up to stop him. Dean took another step toward Cas. Cas took another step back, until he was standing up against the door of the motel room.

“Dean, don’t. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just leave. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Cas reached for the doorknob but was stopped suddenly by a hand on top of his own. Dean was much closer than a moment before, his breath ghosting across the side of Castiel’s face and his other hand reaching up to press against Cas’ chest, holding him in place. “Cas, please,” Dean whispered, “Just let me explain.”

Cas shook his head, flicking his eyes down to Dean’s mouth before looking back into his eyes. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Dean’s lips parted immediately, eyes going wide. He leaned in slightly, waiting for permission, as though he wasn’t completely sure this was what Cas was asking him for. Cas removed his hand from the doorknob to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him in to finally close the distance between them.

Cas immediately melted into it, sliding one of his hands up Dean’s back and spreading his fingers through Dean’s thick hair that he’d always wanted to touch. Dean responded in kind, pressing Cas against the door like he couldn’t get their bodies close enough. Dean moved his hands under the trenchcoat, gripping Cas’ hips hard. He maneuvered them so that Cas’ back was to the rest of the room, pushing backwards until Cas’ knees hit the bed and they fell onto it together, Dean straddling Cas’ thighs and moving him up across the bedspread.

“Cas,” Dean breathed out against Cas’ lips, “I never wanted you to leave. I had to… I had to…”

“Dean, please. Just let me have this,” Cas begged, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Dean’s neck, “If you’re going to leave again, just give me this one thing.”

Dean pulled back like he’d been punched in the face. “Cas, what? I thought we were finally on the same page here.” Cas tried to interrupt again, but Dean placed his thumb along Cas’ bottom lip to quiet him. “Let me talk. I came here to see you. I don’t care about the case. I don’t care about anything else. It’s been killing me to know you’re out here all alone and I can’t do anything about it. So no, I’m not doing fine without you, Cas. I’m doing terrible.”

Dean moved his hand to gently cup Cas’ chin, and Cas leaned into it. Dean kissed Cas again, slowly this time, as though he wanted to savor the moment. Cas felt like he might cry, for an entirely different reason than when he was sleeping on a gas station floor. Cas felt… cherished. He pulled away from Dean again. “Dean, I… why did you ask me to leave, then?”

Dean flopped forward onto Cas, pressing his face into the mattress behind Cas’ shoulder and groaning. “Cas, believe me. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I would take it back if I could, but Sammy was gonna die. I prayed for help and the angel Ezekiel answered me. He possessed Sam, but if Ezekiel leaves Sam’s body, Sam won’t make it. Ezekiel told me you had to leave. I didn’t have a choice, Cas. I didn’t, and I’m so sorry.”

Cas sat up, pulling Dean with him, and looked into his eyes. “I understand, Dean. You did what you had to do for your brother. I would have done the same for either of you.”

Dean moved to hold Cas’ face in his hands. His eyes shone with what Cas understood to be relief and quite possibly… fondness. “I love you, Cas. I should’ve told you a long time ago. This isn’t a one-time thing for me. I love you so much.”

Cas was shocked by this confession, never expecting them to get this far. He always imagined his life with Dean at the center, possibly growing old together but expecting nothing from the other man. Now, the possibilities were endless. Dean, the man he had loved for so long, loved him in return. Cas would spend the rest of his short human life cherishing Dean like a man kneeling at an altar might cherish his god. Cas pressed their lips together, soft and sweet, before responding, “I love you, too, Dean.”