#in the night of death hope sees a star tattoo

[koiiiji]

fantasy AU series! lookism & windbreaker boys

tw ; supernatural, suggestive, kinda obsessive/yan(?), ooc! everybody

starring ; seongeun, taejin, vinny

author’s note ; okay it seemed that u kinda liked fantasy au, so here u go, with part two!!! i have more ideas so, let me know if u up to read more fantasy au! ps Joker will be in next part bc i was too tired to finish him lol

author's note 2 ; yes, i like obsessed men! like bruh if he is not possessively obsessed what he even doing?? (this all just joke, i don't support such actions irl)

Seo Seongeun

Dragon

the ground underneath him was burnt and black when you found him. the coal-black bones scattered around on the ground should have warned you against approaching him, but huge, black dragon before you was wounded. mighty wings muscles were bleeding, body was full of scratches, arrow and spears sticks out of his shoulder and back.

as a forest nymph, you have not met any other magical creatures except those that lived in the forests. usually your company was made up of your sisters - the same nymphs as you (except that some of them was the same forest nymphs, some was a water nymphs, some of your sisters liked the light of the moon and stars more than the warm rays of the sun). therefore, when you quietly slipped out of the bushes, intending to feed an unexpected guest, your sisters whispered in horror, asking you to go back, fearing what this stranger might do.

of course, you wouldn't have climbed up to him while he was conscious, so after making sure he was asleep, you quietly crept up to him. you had only a couple of steps left, and you could have touched him, when suddenly his golden eyes flew open, and with a loud roar he rushed at you. luckily for you, he didn't make more than one sharp lunge, howling in pain and leaning back again, breathing heavily and hissing. scared to death, your little flock disappeared into the forests, not wanting to stay there any longer. what your sisters didn't notice is that you did leave a small gift for the beast. that night, you made your way back to the burned-to-the-ground clearing, hoping to see the mighty dragon again, but found only a boy who didn't look much older than you. two horns protruded from a shock of black hair, and a clawed paw covered with scales up to the elbows held onto his shoulder, trying to stop the blood. the scaly tail darted irritably across the ground, while the night-black wings were folded behind its back. they didn't seem to have changed in size compared to his dragon form, and were just as huge, quietly able to shelter an adult. the skin that was not covered with scales was completely clogged with tattoos - intricate patterns, drawings and inscriptions decorated the abdomen, chest, legs, forearms and even the neck.

enchanted, you leaned forward, carelessly stepping on a dry twig, giving away your hiding place. golden eyes met exactly with your gaze, and with a squeak you had to quickly disappear into the forest. Samuel, on the other hand just hummed and turned back to his wounds, when he noticed that an apple, a small handful of wild berries and nuts had been left at a distance from him.

after a week of such small gifts, and on the tenth attempt, after he almost bit off your hands, Samuel gave up and let you wash his wounds while your sisters sat in the bushes and giggled quietly watching him hiss in pain, but tries to hide it when you touch his wounds. for the first 10 minutes he condescendingly endured the giggles, but by standing up and growling in their direction in warning, he scared away the annoying nymphs and lay back down, holding out his black leathery wing in front of you. looking at you expectantly with his golden eyes, he hissed, “what are you staring at? do what you came here for,” - he said, falling back onto his stomach. receiving a well-deserved light slap on the head with a wet rag. you both simply giggled and you continued to clean his wounds.

after a while, when his wounds began to heal, Samuel began to follow you through the forest. at first it was just short walks, just to show him around, places where he could find food, water and healthy herbs. not that he was interested - he was a dragon after all, and berries, nuts and herbs were of little interest to him. what really brought him pleasure was your wide, crystal clear eyes. you didn’t see him as a half-blooded dragon and he generally doubted that you understood his true position, but how easily you trusted him, how easily you put your back in front of him was naively sweet of you. your walks dragged on until Samuel found out where you lived, and each time he walked you straight to the door, without accepting any objections. “you know that here nothing poses a danger to me? this forest is the home for nymphs, and you are our big, toothy guest,” - chuckling, you playfully pushed him in the shoulder with your fist, making your way forward, gliding between the mighty tree trunks.

one night, as the forest was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, you and your sisters had long retreated to their homes, and the nocturnal creatures were beginning their nightly symphony, a beautiful, peaceful night, that doesn’t portend anything bad. although, a suspicious pair of golden eyes watched your home from a distance.

quiet as a shadow, Samuel approached your home. silently, he slipped through the window, carefully folding his wings behind his back, not to make too much noise. he found you asleep in bed, your delicate body curled up under a thin blanket. for a moment, he just looked at you, admiring, when the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, flooding your room with a beautiful cold light, it seemed that his heart skipped a beat. soundlessly, he slid onto the bed next to you. a hot scaly arm wrapped around your waist, a tail slipped between your legs, pulling you closer. groaning, you woke up almost immediately, the unfamiliar heat, on usually cool forest nights, felt strange. turning, you found Samuel, his golden eyes glowing ominously in the darkness. more dragon features were visible now—his scales glimmering faintly, his horns more pronounced, his presence more intimidating. before you could speak, he tightened his grip, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "don't move." your heart raced with fear and confusion. you had only wanted to help him, to heal his wounds, but now you found yourself trapped by his dragon nature. “Samuel, what are you doing? you can’t be here” - you protested, your voice trembling. “silent,” - he growled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. his clawed fingers traced possessive patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Samuel, please,” - you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. “this isn’t right. i only wanted to help you.” he hissed on you once again, his eyes glowing brighter.

and before that night turned into a waking nightmare, you realized that the dragon's essence was terribly greedy and possessive. whatever they consider theirs, they will appropriate for themselves. and you were not lucky enough to meet someone like Samuel, someone who had trust issues, but oh, how sweetly you fussed over his wounds, how naively you trusted a stranger, showed him the surroundings and the places where you live… you brought this on yourself - later he will hiss quietly in your ear, running his tongue along your neck and biting your earlobe.

Cheon Tejin

Dragon

dragons wasn’t something unfamiliar in your world, but among heavenly places that was blessed with mother nature, where your elven people lived it was unprecedented. beautiful gardens, water meadows with a variety of flowers, the purest streams, ponds and rivers, white stone palaces, mighty forests with fir trees, it seem to reach the purest blue sky - all this was desecrated when the barbarians from the south appeared in that one night. everything that was dear to you was burned down to the ground. turned to ashes and smoke.

the serene elven kingdom, once a haven of peace and beauty, was now a landscape of chaos and destruction. the night sky, usually adorned with twinkling stars and the gentle glow of the moon, was now lit by the sinister, fiery glow of flames consuming the elegant wooden structures and ancient trees. melodic chimes of the elven bells, which once signaled celebrations and peaceful gatherings, now rang with a desperate urgency, an alarm echoing through the kingdom to warn of the impending doom. the air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke, and the heat of the flames was intense, licking at the buildings with a voracious appetite. dragons with their massive wingspans and scales glistening in the firelight, soared overhead, their roars reverberating through the air, adding to the cacophony of terror. they swooped down with terrifying precision, their fiery breath reducing everything in their path to ash.

watching this hell unfold from your tower, your heart was torn with helplessness. screams of your people seemed to rend your soul, each cry of agony and terror slicing through you. the cacophony of destruction and death was overwhelming, distracting you from the noise approaching your door. you were snapped out of your trance by the sounds of persistent knocks, growing louder and more frantic, threatening to tear the door off its hinges. without thinking twice, you rushed to the sheath, your long, flowing robes trailing behind you, as you unsheathed your blade - a beautiful, delicate piece of elven craftsmanship, a gift from your father. the elegant weapon, etched with intricate designs and gleaming in the firelight, was a symbol of your heritage and strength. you had taken fencing lessons from the head of the royal guard, never imagining that one day you would need this knowledge in a real battle. as the door shuddered under the relentless pounding, you steeled yourself, gripping the hilt of your sword tightly. the door burst open with a deafening crash, and in its place stood a man.

there were particles of something dragon in him, the scales still glittered here and there, the vertical pupil in his eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight of the weapon in your hands. he wast armed, only some kind of wooden stick in his clawed hand was looking threateningly in your direction, but he hesitated. the tattooed tear under his eye narrowed as he examined you searchingly, walking deeper into your room, causing you to retreat. his toned, dark abs were spattered with blood, and his entire posture screamed that your sword posed no danger to him, as he lazily looked around the chambers. and you decided that this was your chance. a fatal mistake to think that the enemy has lost his vigilance. rushing forward, you were about to strike, when he himself put his hand under the sword and… it didn’t even cut him. the man grabbed the blade, looking at you boredly. yanking the sword, you tried to pull it out, but the guy was stronger. a new wave of fear, resentment and hopelessness rolled up to your throat and eyes when you let go of the sword and started to run, when strong hands pulled you back, pressing you to a hot body, and delivering a stunning blow to your head.

you woke up in a different place, something vaguely reminiscent of the throne room when it was a beautiful place filled with freshness and flowers. now, the ceilings of this place were melted, revealing a sky full of black smoke clouds and blood-red shadows from fires. chaos reigned all around - wild screams, squeals, and roars, mixed with the clinking of jewelry and treasure, flowing into the endless noise of fire taking lives. your ears were ringing unpleasantly, your eyes blurred, and your brain seemed unable to function normally. forest elves were not used to such hot temperatures, such barbaric screams, and such an oppressive atmosphere. groaning, you managed to lift yourself up on your arms to look around, when someone suddenly grabbed you by the face, unpleasantly squeezing your cheeks. "she came to her senses," - said a voice behind you, its tone dripping with malice. the speaker was same tall, imposing figure with a tear tattooed under his eye. before you could react, you were dragged to your feet and forced to turn around. there, sitting proudly on your father's throne, was a tall, blond man. almost nothing about him betrayed the fact that he was dragonborn - only vertical pupils and fierce eyes, dangerously shining in the light of the red night. his presence was stunning, it was immediately clear that he was their leader, their king.

Cheon Taejin's gaze locked onto you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "welcome to your new home," - he said, his voice a deep, resonant growl that sent shivers down your spine. fear gripped your heart as you struggled against the hold someone had behind you.

looking behind you, Taejin grinned and mockingly ordered, “Isu, can’t you see that the princess is uncomfortable? let her go.” immediately, your hands were released, and you stumbled closer to the throne, your small pieces of jewelry jingled neatly in your hair, their delicate sound a stark contrast to the oppressive, chaotic atmosphere of the throne room. gathering what little courage you had left, you straightened your posture and tried to summon your royal bearing. "you think you can just take what you want, but - " he cut you off with a dark chuckle, standing up and towering over you, stepping closer. "but what? you threaten me? in my own domain, from now on? look around you, princess. your kingdom is mine, and so are you."

you wanted to threaten him, to stand strong, but the oppressive heat, his harsh, hot hands on your shoulders and chaotic atmosphere overwhelmed you. your vision blurred, your strength fading. the air was too hot, the barbaric screams too much for your senses. Taejin leaned forward, his grin never faltering. "you’re alone, princess," - he said softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "and you’re in no position to make threats." the overwhelming heat and the reality of your situation were too much to bear. the room spun around you, and your body gave in to the oppressive environment. With a soft groan, you felt your legs buckle beneath you, and you passed out, collapsing in Taejin’s hands.

Vinny Hong

Royal Guard

Vinny Hong was a man forged in the fires of countless battles. hailing from a destitute family, he had joined the army out of necessity, not loyalty. his prowess on the battlefield earned him many monikers, a titles feared by enemies and respected by comrades. despite his high rank, Vinny harbored a deep-seated resentment towards the nobility, viewing them as detached and indifferent to the suffering of the common people.

his achievements on the battlefield were not ignored, and very soon he took a high position as the head of the royal guard and your main bodyguard. as a princess, your days were filled with constant lessons in literature, history and music, receptions and meetings, and only at night, right before falling into a deep sleep, did you manage to dream about life outside the walls of the palace.

when your first meeting was appointed, he intended to despise you, as he did all nobles. Vinny assumed you would be spoiled and oblivious to the struggles of those beneath your station. however, from the moment he first laid eyes on you, his convictions began to waver. you were unlike any royal he had ever encountered. you possessed an innate kindness and humility that disarmed him. you treated everyone, regardless of their status, with genuine warmth and respect, and Vinny tried to maintained his cold, professional demeanor, determined to remain indifferent, yet he found himself drawn to your gentle spirit and the light you brought into the lives of those around you. over time, simple attraction gave way to sympathy, which Vinny refused to admit.

but even sympathy soon twisted into something darker. the minutes, hours, days, months spent next to you were intoxicating. an obsessive thought settled in his head - no one around knew you better than him, no one around could protect you better than him. he was by your side 24/7, without leaving his post. Vinny’s fascination grew into a possessive obsession. he used his position as your personal bodyguard to justify his actions, denying their wrongness, convincing himself that his vigilance was for your protection. each stolen glance, each lingering look, fueled a fire within him that he could not extinguish. his heart trembled with emotions he had long buried, emotions he did not want to feel. he hated you for making him feel this way, for making him fall in love with you. yet, he couldn’t bring himself to truly despise you. his love was a paradox, a torment that gnawed at his soul.

he found himself loitering near your quarters in the morning. light, translucent white silks on the window flowing in the light summer breeze, creating an intimate look across the wall. you stood with your back to the open windows, maids were fussing around you, helping you prepare for the new day. it took his breath away when from your bare shoulders his gaze slid lower, along the spine, lower back, reaching the very bottom, he forced himself to look away. the softness of your curves, the tenderness of your skin, all this was so alluring and unattainable for him. and that was just the beginning.

next he discovered that he stayed longer than necessary when escorting you to the bath. of course, your maids almost pulled you out of his presence, helping you undress and escorting you to the prepared bath, but Vinnie knew how much you value moments alone with yourself after a long day, so you often called the maids off, promising to take care of yourself. the least you knew was that through the partitions of intricate, carved, wooden patterns there was a beautiful view. your bodyguard, like a predator in the shadows, watched as drops of water rolled down your face, neck, collarbones, straight down into the valley between your breasts. he heard every little moan, sigh, when you once again rubbed your neck, or stretched your legs higher, trying to relieve tension. Vinny's thoughts dark and possessive, wanting to claim what he knew he could never have.

his inner turmoil grew as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. he began to resent his own weakness, the way his heart defied his mind. he was a warrior, feared and respected, yet here he was, enslaved by his own forbidden desires. he tried to hate you for the power you unwittingly held over him, for the way you made him feel so powerless.

one moonlit night, as the palace lay silent, Vinny made a decision. he couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you while he could prevent it. so he left his chambers, and went to the main palace, recalling the night guard and taking up the post, deciding to guard his princess himself. he stood vigil outside your door, as he watched you sleep through the crack of the door, your serene face bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight. his heart ached with a longing he couldn't satisfy, his mind tormented by the sight of you delicate form. he knew his actions were driven by something deeper than duty, yet he justified them as necessary for your safety. he felt a dark satisfaction in knowing that he was the one guarding you, that he was the one closest to you. he knew his actions were wrong, yet he couldn't deny the dark pleasure they brought him. the sight of your delicate, milky skin, the soft curves of your body, haunted his thoughts and dreams. he told himself it was all for your protection, that his vigilance was born of duty. but deep down, he knew the truth. he was a man possessed, enslaved by his own desires, forever bound to the woman he could never truly have.

in that moment, under the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, Vinny made a vow to himself. he would always be your watchdog, your support and protection, if it meant he could at least watch over you. his love for you was his burden to bear, his silent torment. and though he knew his feelings were forbidden and unworthy, he could not bring himself to stop. he would protect you, love you from afar, and remain forever in the shadows, your silent guardian.

fun facts ; sammy can’t have final human form. it’s either full dragon or half human. he have magic to turn, but due to the fact that his parents was different species he can’t hide his horns, tail, and wings, as all other dragonborns can do (ahemJakeKim) so he feels incomplete and that's why he developed an inferiority complex. also, i referred him from Drogon from GoT and Taejin from Smaug.

each story is different verses! for example gun & goo was inspired by kami sama hajimemashita, sammy’s dragon form referred from game of thrones, taejin story took huge inspiration from Tolkien verse, well with Vinny it was enough with that one art.

[lesvii]

The Dinner

Valeria Garza x F! Reader

Valeria Garza fic… yeah this is the diner by Billie eilish😶‍🌫️… anyways hope u enjoy

Tw: toxic val, brief mention of smut (just touchy).

You’ve been living in a small apartment, big enough for two people. Waking up at 6am coming home at 2am. You’ve work two shifts at least to keep the rent going. Working in a coffee shop near by, at night on bar 5 min away from your place. Today was a calm evening, you sighed as you walked back to you place, fist clenched. You knew Las Almas wasn’t so “calm” at least at night… you knew you had to be careful, looking backward once in a while, just to be sure no one was following you. But that feeling of someone watching you didn’t wash away.

Don’t be afraid of me.

I’m what you need.

You’ve arrived at you place at 2:30 A.M. as you took your work shoes off and change to some comfortable pink fluffy slippers. You turned the TV on, exhausted as you stroll to the kitchen opening cabinets to see what quick meal you can make. Until something catches your eye.

“We been notified that a near squad militar unity had capture a cartel suspect, just a quick reminder on how Las Almas is quite a dangerous place—“

The TV when quiet for a second when you served yourself a bowl of fruit and yogurt as you sat on the couch near the TV. The lady on the screen looked nervous, quite astonished as she talked to someone behind camaras.

“I— um- we’ve been informed that the suspect we’ve mention has scaped the military quarters, we suggest you to no go outside past midnight, keep your doors locked, and don’t answer the door if you don’t know who they are”

“The characteristics we have been informed is a Tall woman, tan skin, tattoos in both arms, dark short hair, we repeat—“

I saw you on the screens.

I know were meant to be.

It got cut off by you changing the channel, but sadly this was all over the news, you groan as you finish your dinner.

A thunder straddle you as you jumped from the couch, you looked outside the living room window as a thunderstorm was covering Las Almas when a huge thump made you turn around in shock, you walked slowly as you tried to gather yourself, a cold breeze hit your body from behind as you turn to see the door was open.

“Fuck.. that scared the shit out of me”. You mumble as you came to close the door, this time with a lock, probably the wind made that.

You stood in silence as you decide to go upstairs to your room, wash off the stress, you took a shower, put on a set of black silky shorts and a top, quickly hoped to bed, closing your eyes, you drift to your dreams quickly.

A black shadow stare at the corner of the room, your breathing becomes heavier as you can see the woman described walking towards your bed, a knife at her hand, looking at you like a prey, the next meal she’s gonna have before disappearing into the darkness again.

You’re starring in my dreams.

In magazines.

Your looking right at me.

You scream, waking up cold sweating as you try and regulate your breathing back again, you groan as you rest you face in your hands. That’s why you don’t like to watch TV so often, too many deaths and negative propaganda. You sighed as going back to sleep wasn’t an option, finally your body stopped shaking. Nothing but a mare nightmare right?.

You sat up on bed as you turn to face your nightstand where your clock was at 3:33 A.M.

The devils hour.

What a coincidence you thought as a shiver down your back was known.

I’m here around the clock.

I’m waiting on your block.

You heard a weird creek on your stairs, strangely the same as when you set your foot cause by a weight, they are wooden stairs after all, they do made noices, you think. You stay silent for a second as you decided to be brave enough to get out off the comfort and safety of your bed, as if no monsters could ever get you there. You slowly open you bedroom door, as you peak your head a little to watch, not being at peace you decided to go downstairs quietly.

Step by step, slowly but calculating your way down to your living room, your breathing a bit on edge, you hear a noice coming from your kitchen, scared shitless you turn to see where the noice is coming from, but fear not, for your surprise was just a loose branch clicking the kitchen window, you decided to peak on the window.

“Care to have some company, chula?”

A husky voice straddled you to the point you were too scared to look back, you froze in the middle of the kitchen, as your worst fear came true.

But please don’t call the cops.

They’ll make me stop.

I just wanna talk.

You left out a trembling sighed as you turn around to face the femenine husky voice. You shook your head as you open your mouth to speak but for a moment nothing c,w trough.

“I— I don’t want any problems just take whatever you want and go-“.

Your voice practically trembling, fighting the urge to not look weak. She makes a low giggle, as she takes a step towards you.

“Really?, anything I want, careful for what you which for florecita”.

She grins taking a final step towards you, as she examines your face, the moonlight hitting your face in the most perfect angles. You stare right into her eyes, there’s something about them… something about the way they look at you, with desire, lust, possession.

“You know… I was planing to knock the fuck out of whatever perro was living here…”

Valeria makes a pause examining your apartment surroundings.

“But— I didn’t knew there was a pretty little thing living here, now you’ve just changed my mind?”.

She said as she caressed a strand of hair that was messy from the commotion.

“How about I bring you back to my place?, you can have anything with me, just name it.”

Bet I could change your life.

You could be my wife.

You stare at her confused of who she was, what was she doing here?, and now she was telling you she was going to take you away. What’s this a kidnapping of some sort?. You started to panic but something kept you grounded, the way her hands were now resting over your hips pulling you closer to the heat of the older woman’s body. You looked down to her hands as you looked away in shyness.

“Aww, no chula don’t go all shy on me now..”

Valeria said, making little circles with her fingers massaging your hips. You sighed at the touch, she leaned over as she dominantly kissed you, bitting your lower lip, her hand traveling down to your pajamas shorts. As things started to get more heated you pushed her away, as you try to make a run for it.

Bad decision

She was right after you, in a split second she cashes you like a lion stalking his pray, ready to make the last kill. She pushes you right into the corner of the living room.

Could get into a fight

I’ll say your right

And I’ll kiss you good night.

“And I thought we were getting along?, you don’t wanna get me mad princess..”

Your breathing accelerates, adrenaline pumping into your veins. As she Hoover over you, you manage to set a punch as she straddles back.

“get away from me !”

I waited on the corner till I saw the sitter leave.

Was easy getting over.

And I landed on my feet.

You scream hoping someone would come for your rescue, Valeria backing up from you finally when you see her walking to the kitchen, confused you stare at her not knowing what to do.

I came in through the kitchen.

Looking for something to eat.

As she comes back to you she grins, you hear some commotion outside, honking in general.

“My rides here… but you can call me if you change you mind sweetheart.”

She finally said as she caressed my lips, final look as she went through the front door and disappeared in the darkness.

I left a calling card so they.

Would know that it was me.

[neonoddeye]

Heart-Stealer | Law x Gn! Reader

A/N: I will be utilizing my all-time favorite trope for this: the “there’s only one bed” trope! Yes, it’s cheesy. No, I do not care. As a side note, I wrote this for an OC I made, but I’m rewriting it bc I know no one would read it if I left it as is.

CONTENT INCLUDES: …sharing a bed (it’s sfw, just cuddling)

“Are you sure this is okay, Law?” You ask with a crack in your voice. “I can always bug the staff for a new room…”

“It’s fine, y/n-ya”, Law replies, “I’d rather us stick together here.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh, moving your gaze up nervously towards the top of the elevator. Maybe if you hadn’t decided to accompany your captain on a trip at the last possible second, the single-bed hotel room issue would’ve been solved. Alas, the two pirates have a long night ahead of them.

I hope Law doesn’t hear my heart pounding against my chest right now…

It was a very nice hotel room; whether Law actually legally rented it or threatened a few lives for it, you didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, either, as you admire the luxury that lies before you. Nice going, captain, you remarks to yourself. Life has been new and exciting since you joined the heart pirates recently; you’d even go as far as to say it’s the best decision you’ve made in life so far. The only downside is that you’ve properly fallen for the sadistic captain, the surgeon of death, the literal heart stealer. It feels like an unspoken rule to not fall for your pirate captain, especially if he’s notorious and stands above most typical pirates. It’s not like you were trying to catch feelings for Law; he’s an anomaly in the way he makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to move under his gaze as if he’d bound you with sea prism stone. You didn’t realize you had been lost in thought for a little too long until the man of interest interrupts your thoughts.

“You should take a shower first, y/n-ya,” he offers, placing himself on a smooth, leather swivel chair with a book already in hand.

You perk up upon hearing his voice cut the painful silence, sweet honey in your ears. “‘Kay”, you give Law a small smile before collecting your things.

The shower was, to no surprise, heavenly after having to shower in a metal box underwater for some weeks. After taking off your clothing and jewelry, you allow the deliciously hot water and its steam to envelop you and wash the day’s worries away. After stepping out, you change into a black tank top and plaid sleep shorts and gather your toiletries to finish your nightly routine. Placing yourself at a vanity, you turn to Law behind you.

“Shower’s all yours,” you smile, trying not to linger your gaze too long as Law swings his lengthy figure off the desk and carefully places his book down. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you try not to imagine the intimacy of having such a gorgeous man sleep next to you, even if not in a sexual context. To have him close, feel his presence intoxicate you and lull you to sleep like a drug: it’s something you’ve wished upon a star for.

Moments pass as you dry your hair until the bathroom door slides open. revealing Law in just a pair of sweatpants, his signature hat nowhere to be seen, replaced by a wet mop of jet-black hair. For a fleeting moment, you admire the mosaic of tattoos adorning his tanned skin before whipping your head back to focus on your nightly routine, finally placing the hair dryer down beside yourself. You blink a few times, noticing a rosy shade of pink dusting your pale cheeks and eyes wide enough to hold mini hearts. Soon after, you see Law approach you from behind in the mirror, his chest almost grazing your head as he reaches over to unplug the hair dryer, gingerly gathering it to use himself. The faint scent of hotel soap, mild tangerine and white tea float above you and dizzy your already jumbled senses as he walks back to the bathroom. You sit there in mild shock at the tiny gesture, thinking that Law seemed to linger there for a moment longer than needed. No matter what he did, Law was your own personal siren; your one true opponent in a world you once thought you conquered.

After some internal pep talk, you walk over to the bed, propping yourself up on two pillows as you nestle under thin, white blankets with a book in hand. You immediately feel the bed sink, signaling that Law has done the same, presumably with a book covering medicine.

“Uh… what are you reading?” Law cuts into the tension.

“It’s a book on the geography of the new world,” you respond, your nose still in said book (though you’re not entirely paying attention to it, as talking to Law is much more enthralling). “A pirate on the Oro Jackson wrote it. Not an easy find.”

“I can imagine it wasn’t easy. You’re into geography?” Law pries his gaze off his book.

“Not particularly. I just thought the book seemed interesting. Besides, the knowledge could help us.”

“Thanks for the research, but I think we’re good. I trust Bepo as a navigator.” Law gives a ghost of a smile at the last remark, either at the thought of his best friend or the sentiment of you helping him.

“What about you? Another doctor book?” you inquire, scanning the cover of the book in Law’s hands.

“Yeah. This one’s about medicinal herbs, I’m thinking about finding some on the islands we’ll come across.”

“You’re very dedicated to your work,” you compliment your crush with a glimmer in your eyes. Law’s commitment is truly admirable; you adore how intelligent he is.

“I guess,” Law shrugs. He yawns, placing the book on the nightstand beside him. “Mind if I turn the light off? We need to wake up early.”

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, the beating of your heart becoming a little too loud for your liking as the reality of your situation sets in.

Does he feel even a bit the same way that I do right now?

Law reaches over to turn off the lamp next to him, leaving the light of the full moon to creep through sheer curtains, beautifully illuminating his sharp features. Law lies on his back, decorated arms crossed at his stomach, and you mirror him, even if it’s not the way you typically lie down to sleep. Silence passes, both parties secretly not sleeping a wink.

“Does it ever bother you?” You start, letting your words reverberate into the unfamiliar pitch black room. “It seems like the entire world is watching you. You were already a monster rookie to begin with, and now you’re a damn warlord.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then you hear Law stir a bit. “You could say the same about yourself. You joined my crew, after all.” 

You smirk, turning your head to the side. Though you can’t see him too well, your heart swells at the thought of your face being so close to his. You silently thank the gods that you’re able to see such a handsome man this close, even with his heavy eyes and messy hair.

“I don’t think about it much. I guess it’s because I’ve been scrutinized all my life that it doesn’t bother me. I did this to myself, after all.”

“I assume you have your own reasons for being a warlord, but I won’t pry,” you respond softly.

“You’ll find out eventually. We have to face it all pretty soon,” Law sighs. “It’ll be a lot to handle.” Whatever baggage he has, you can tell it claws at him, even now.

“We’re pirates, Law, we handle tough situations all the time. I’m… happy to go through it for your sake. I mean, for the sake of the crew.” Way to cover that up at the end.

Law smiles, genuinely, at your last remark, though the darkness covers it and he turns his head to the side so you won’t see. He conceals his feelings most of the time, but when he’s truly thankful, it shows. And for you, he is eternally grateful for.

~

The moonlight of the night before is long forgotten as the morning sun engulfs the hotel room, filling your senses just enough to pull you out of slumber. To your surprise, you’re no longer at one edge of the bed, but in the middle, wrapped in Law’s arms as if you never woke up from your dream. Your eyes widen completely, breath hitching in your throat as you feel Law stir awake and see the same shock in his eyes as soon as they open. You both scramble away from each other, mumbled apologies escaping raspy morning voices as you gather yourselves. 

“I uh,” you start, “did not intend on that. I swear.” Shit, he definitely felt my heartbeat.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Law shakes his head awake, trying to understand why it felt so wrong to pry himself away from your warmth. He looks over to see you slightly shivering, clearly at a loss from warmth as well.

He hesitates before his next proposal. “Come here, you’re cold,” he says, extending his arm out. You pause as well, not believing your ears, before slowly bringing yourself back into Law’s chest, his arms gingerly wrapping back around you. You’re both stiff for a few moments, the rhythms of two hearts like taiko drums in the otherwise silent room.

“Is this okay, y/n-ya?” Law whispers into your hair, still stiff against you.

You smile weakly into his skin. “Yeah, it is. Don’t do this for me, though.”

“I’m not.”

Your heart leaps at the confession of Law actually wanting to be this close to you, and your shoulders finally relax into his touch as you allow yourself to relish in his warmth. He follows suit, pulling you a little closer and closing his eyes in serenity. Silence follows again as you both become overwhelmed in the feeling of touch, limbs entangled and gentle grazes of hands on skin sending you both to heaven. It doesn’t take long until you both accidentally succumb to sleep once again, and miss the free breakfast Law had intended to wake up on time for. The extra time together more than makes up for it, though.

[cryoculus]

— imagine being loved by me! ⟢

pairing: xiao | alatus x reader

summary: the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

word count: 7.1k words

tags: modern au, tattoo artist!xiao, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, relationship study, non-explicit smut

warnings: emotionally stunted xiao but i fink everyone knows that already, mentions of needles, there's smut but it isn't detailed

notes: this blog's been dead for Months but i thought i'd revive it with this fic that my beloved @delvalentine commissioned me to make! i love u to DEATH, v, i hope i did your requests justice :')

header art cr: yuca7302 on twt

01.

“Ow, fuck! Can you be more careful?!”

“I am careful. You just have a shitty pain tolerance.”

“Wow, that’s not something you should say to your first willing client,” you huff, trying not to pull away as Xiao repeatedly punctures the skin of your forearm with pen ink and a not-so-sterile sewing needle. “My family could sue you if I die from a blood infection, you know.”

Xiao rolls his eyes. “Something this small won’t kill anyone. Plus, you came here on your own volition, so stop complaining.”

“Are you saying you’re just going to let me die of sepsis if everything goes to shit?”

“Pretty much.”

You didn’t know what to expect when your best friend of several years asked if you wanted a tattoo of your favorite constellation. It’s been a running joke between the both of you that the two moles on your forearm looked a lot like two-thirds of Orion’s belt, and that maybe, in another life, you would’ve been born with all three of its stars on your skin. 

You should’ve known that Xiao likes to blow your expectations out of the water—whether he intends to do so or not.

It’s sundown when he finishes embedding black pen ink beneath your slightly inflamed skin. Xiao doesn’t comment when you repeatedly complain about how much that fucking hurt, and that you’re never agreeing to do it again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes occasionally flit up to the starry sky before shifting to your new ‘tattoo’ as he walks you home.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget that night. How you admired the amateur handiwork in the soft glow of your nightlight while thinking about the boy who gave you a star fashioned with his own fingers where others would’ve given flowers instead.

But then you remember Xiao is nothing but your best friend, and it’s a little…weird to be thinking about him like that. 

Must be the sepsis fucking with my head, you muse before flicking off your nightlight, and the room is plunged into pitch black darkness. 

02. 

You’re eighteen when you realize Xiao is completely serious about this tattooing business.

It comes as a not-so-pleasant surprise to you one day when your high school’s guidance counselor approaches you while you’re hurrying over to your next class—asking if you’ve seen Xiao around these days because apparently, your best friend hasn’t been attending his classes for a better part of the semester. 

Of course, you receive the news with a scowl. While you don’t exactly see him all that much at school because of how different your schedules are, you never expected to find out he’s been playing hooky all this time. 

You don’t particularly like sticking your nose into other people’s business—especially not Xiao’s, since you know how he likes to keep to himself better than most. But for some reason, you aren’t able to resist, and end up calling him after excusing yourself from your two-hour Biology lecture. 

Once your classes are done, you head over to a nearby tattoo parlor whose address Xiao texted to you right after you squeezed his whereabouts out of him during that phone call. It’s located in one of the more run-down parts of town that your parents would’ve detested Xiao for inviting you to. But whatever prejudice you might’ve had about the denizens of this district all go up in smoke once you meet the owner herself.

“You should’a seen Xiao practicing with our machines a few months ago!” Beidou, as Xiao had sheepishly introduced earlier, barks out a laugh before slinging an arm around your best friend’s shoulders. “Said there’s someone he wanted to give permanent tatts to. I’m guessing you’re the guest of honor?”

“Beidou,” Xiao groans. “It’s not a big deal. I already practiced on her before.”

You don’t completely catch it when Beidou makes an inappropriate joke as a response to what Xiao just said—eyes trained on the fading dot on your forearm. It’s been two years since Xiao gave you your first ‘tattoo’, and even if the receding ink makes it look like one of Orion’s stars are starting to die out, it’s still there.

“Okay,” you say in the middle of their bickering, startling both Xiao and Beidou in the process. “I’ll let him ink me if he wants to.”

Xiao stares at you with brows furrowed. “You sure?”

No, you’re not sure because as much as you want to support Xiao in what seems to be a budding passion of his, you’re certain that your father is going to kill you when he sees a full-blown tattoo on any part of your body. You barely got away with the artificial mole that Xiao did for you a few years back.

“Positive.” You back your words up with an indignant huff before sifting through the pre-made designs on Beidou’s catalog. “You just have to put it somewhere not everyone can see, I guess.”

Beidou snorts out another jarring laugh when Xiao clicks his tongue to alleviate the embarrassment that’s painting his face just a touch of red. 

Earlier in the day, you intended to scold your best friend for not taking his studies seriously, but ended up going home that day with a new piece inked onto the skin of your left hip: a little spruce twig that you last remember seeing in your old hometown—years before you even met Xiao. 

There’s no particular meaning behind it, apart from a hint of sentimentality and rebelliousness. It’s your first actual tattoo, and one of your best friends gave it to you, free of charge. Even if it hurts ten times more than Xiao’s novice needle method from two years ago, you end up loving it more than you thought. One time, you stare at Xiao’s intricate handiwork in the mirror for so long that you nearly run late for your first class of the day. 

(Another thing that makes this particular piece memorable is the process itself.

Xiao is a person who’s always been startlingly precise in everything he decides to put his head into. When you learned that he wanted to become a tattoo artist, you instantly felt like there’s no other path more perfect for him than this.

Yet you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers sometimes trembled as he gave you your first piece—with you lying chest-down on Beidou’s tattoo chair in nothing but your shirt and underwear. It shouldn’t have been strange. Xiao has seen you dressed down like this dozens of times before. 

But when all’s said and done, he refused to meet your eyes, and you don’t have the slightest clue why.)

03.

You just can’t stop staring when you see Xiao’s half-sleeve for the first time.

It’s meant to be a phoenix, he said, but you can’t really see it because the patterns are too abstract to make sense of. Still, the azure ink sits nicely on top of his built bicep, and you have to tell yourself that you’re just trying to find the stupid phoenix as an excuse to keep ogling him.

Thankfully, your weird fascination lasts for only about a week until you’re back to shitting on him like you always do. 

By some miracle, Xiao manages to graduate high school despite being on probation from his excessive absences. He’s actually smart if he makes the effort to hit the books, but you’re not sure if he’s planning on going to college with how comfortable he is with being one of Beidou’s most in-demand tattoo artists. 

You ask him about his future plans at a party being thrown by the previous captain of the football team in his parents’ lavish penthouse somewhere uptown. It took a great deal to force Xiao into tagging along with you as your plus one, and you’re going to make good on his acquiescence by interrogating him about things he normally skirts around.

“I told you, I didn’t take any entrance exams,” he grumbles against the rim of his red cup. “I’m managing just fine working for Beidou, so I don’t see any reason to go to college.”

You’re about to argue that Beidou’s tattoo parlor won’t be open forever, and that he needs to think about broadening his career options until a bunch of girls with linked arms shuffle closer to where you and Xiao were lounging on the couch. You don’t talk to them a lot, but everyone in your grade knows the infamous Pyro Trio.

“Hey, Xiaooo,” Hu Tao drawls with a smirk, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the branches of a cherry blossom tattooed on the delicate skin of her arm. Behind her, Xiangling and Xinyan snicker like it’s some sort of inside joke. 

You intend to shift your gaze elsewhere. Clearly, you’re not the person these girls want to speak with. But the sight of the ink on Hu Tao’s skin makes the back of your neck prickle with misplaced irritation. Xiao must’ve been the one who did her piece, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Though he’s this year’s most notable absentee, rumors about Xiao’s handiwork haven’t gone unnoticed among the students in your (now) alma mater. 

That doesn’t mean you have to like the idea of your best friend inking other people that aren't you, though.

You decide to excuse yourself from Xiao’s company—given that Hu Tao is giving him plenty of attention already as is. Your best friend utters something you don’t quite catch as you walk away, and you don’t bother turning around to ask him to repeat himself.

(As you stuff your face with shot after shot, you force yourself to just keep dancing to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring to the speakers. You didn’t give two shits about the fact that Hu Tao keeps feeling up the stupid phoenix tattoo on Xiao’s arm. Nor did you care about the fact that your best friend—who’s normally evasive when it comes to casual contact—seems like he doesn’t mind at all.)

The night ends with Xiao begrudgingly getting behind the wheel of your car, since you’re obviously in no state to be driving anyone home. When he announces that he’ll bring you back to your apartment, you slur out a drunken protest—asking if he can take you to the tattoo parlor instead.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Why?”

You huff, curling in on yourself on the passenger seat. “The cherry blossoms you gave Hu Tao were ugly as shit. You can do a better piece on me. Y’know, as practice.” 

Both of you know that you’re bluffing. Xiao’s pieces are one of the most intricate you’ve ever seen, even if he is a rookie tattoo artist, and that you don’t have a lot of points of reference to compare to. But instead of taking offense at your mindless jab at his work, Xiao slots the keys into the ignition with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. You mentioned wanting spider lilies a while back,” he says before propping his arm against the car seat as he backed up on the street. It’s the perfect angle to moon over his not-so-phoenix tattoo, and if you were any more intoxicated, you would’ve reached out and squeezed his arm. 

“Where do you want it?”

You know he meant to ask where you wanted him to put your prospective tattoo, but the question sends your mind straight into the gutter. Thankfully, you still have some semblance of coherence lingering in your drunk thoughts, and you answer with:

“Right hip. Opposite end of the spruce twig.”

When Xiao heaves another sigh and steps on the gas pedal, you don’t think much of it—still convinced it’s completely normal to expose such intimate parts of yourself to your best friend so he can tattoo a fucking flower just above the swell of your thigh.

04.

“You have been watching way too much anime.”

“Come on! At least I’m not having you tattoo the names of my shitty ex-boyfriends on my ass, right? Just give me my modified Tanjiro hanafuda and Fullmetal Alchemist flamel!”

“...Is this your way of coping with taking up a nursing course? Is it that stressful?”

You whine as you hold your phone closer to your ear, already picturing the look of disbelief in Xiao’s face when you asked when he’s free to give you your next tattoos. You still go to college in the same city, but it’s been weeks since you last saw him. 

“You have no idea,” you groan. “It’s like my first year, and I’m already burned out! How is that even possible?”

Your best friend grunts on the other line. “Maybe if you stopped being such a perfectionist, then maybe you’ll learn to be more content. Less stress on your part, too.”

“Ah, no can do. I never do anything that isn’t perfect,” you chuckle. “

“Yeah, I saw you score at the top of your class during your, uh… what was it again? Biochem exam?” 

For someone who doesn’t exactly give a damn about anything outside tattooing and other similar forms of artistry, you find it endearing to know Xiao actually remembers all the things you rant about in the wee hours of the morning. You don’t hate biochem, but if you have to draw another chemical configuration, you might just pop a vein. 

“Okay, let’s say I agree to tattoo those weird doodles you sent,” Xiao propositions, “do you even have any free days? You usually study on weekends, right? I don’t think you’re free to drop by the shop even if you wanted to.”

Fuck. He’s right. You still have a few major exams coming up in the next two weeks. If you wait that long until you get your silly weeaboo tattoos from Xiao, you would’ve already gotten over your momentary hyperfixation on the TV shows that were salvaging your sanity in the middle of the semester. It wouldn’t feel as thrilling to get them anymore.

“I’m free…” You trail off, eyes darting to the digital clock by your desk then to the course notes you have opened on your laptop. You haven’t studied as much as you wanted to for your upcoming anatomy test, but…

“Right now, actually. Can you pick me up?”

You can hear him frowning. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but I don’t wanna drive when I have plastic wrap all over my body.” 

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not all over your—”

“Jesus, get the hint, Xiao. I miss my best friend, and I want to have a quiet evening cruise on his motorcycle before he gets me inked again!” 

Xiao falls silent, and this time, you’re having some difficulty picturing what expression he’s wearing on his face. You like to think you’ve startled your un-startle-able best friend, but that’s pushing your influence too much. 

“Okay,” he says, more agreeable than you thought he’d be. “I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

05. 

When you introduce your first serious boyfriend in a while to Xiao, you’re a bit annoyed with how prickly he’s being. 

Sure, it’s wired into his system to be the snarky asshole everyone knows and loves, but if there’s anyone else who knows about the tragedy that is your love life better than yourself, it’s Xiao. When you finally land a decent guy to settle down with, you at least expect him to be a bit more supportive.  

“Actually, we came here ‘cause we planned on getting matching tattoos,” your boyfriend, Yin, explains with a dimpled smile. “Isn’t that right?”

You stifle a soft laugh, a bit embarrassed to agree, but too in love with your boyfriend to protest. 

A few years ago, you distinctly remember drunkenly rambling to Xiao about how stupid it is to get couple tattoos especially when relationships these days are built on flimsy foundations. 

If you break up, what then? You have a physical reminder of that person on your body for eternity? No fucking thanks!

“Sorry, we’re closed right now, as you can see,” Xiao grunts before jabbing his thumb at the sign he just turned at the door. “You can try some other time, though.”

At the time, you were pissed at Xiao for denying your little request. He always agreed to ink you during ungodly hours of the day, but now he’s playing the ‘shop’s closed’ card just because he doesn’t like your boyfriend?

But then, you end up grateful for his attitude exactly a month later. 

“Fucking cheated on me with some bitch from his Physics lecture,” you sniffle on Xiao’s ratty sofa as he makes you some tea in his kitchen. “I can’t believe I nearly tattooed our anniversary on my wrist! I would’ve had to fucking amputate it in the end.”

Xiao sighs before placing a piping hot cup of honey lemon in front of you on his coffee table—crossing his legs together. He doesn’t tell you I told you so, like others probably would if they were in his shoes. Your best friend just stares at you with withering understanding, no matter how stupid the choice that got you here in the first place turned out to be.

That’s one of the many things you loved about him. 

“You were supposed to have ‘XV’ inked together, right?” he asks. 

You huff before tossing some of the soiled tissues you used into the bin. “Yeah. We made it official on September 15th.”

“Well, if you still want the tattoo, you could just give it a different meaning.”

Scowling, you stare at Xiao as if he just grew a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?” Is he really suggesting for you to get the same tattoo that he denied you and your ex a month ago?

Xiao shrugs noncommittally before taking a sip from the tea he prepared for you. “It’s been fifteen years since we became best friends. That’s worth commemorating, at least. Unless you suddenly don’t give a shit about that, too?”

Your jaw hangs agape at the sudden reminder. October 15th. When you were four, you accidentally spilled orange juice all over Xiao’s teletubbies backpack, and when he forgave you on the spot, you crowned him as your first bestie. 

That was fifteen years ago. Holy shit.

He startles when you abruptly shoot back to your feet, earning yourself a perplexed stare from Xiao who just wants you to sit down and drink your damn tea—

“Is Beidou’s shop open?” you ask. “I want her to do our matching tatts.”

Xiao grimaces. “Our?”

You nod brusquely, tugging at his arm. “Yeah, I’m allowed to have matching tattoos with you, ‘cause you’ll never walk out of my life, right, Xiao?”

He’s always been a stubborn little shit, so you don’t really expect Xiao to relent as quickly as he does. You nearly stumble to the carpeted floor when he lets you pull him up—faces hovering so close to each other, you nearly choke on your own breath.

It doesn’t help that Xiao has definitely…put in a few inches of height. Back then, you used to tease him a lot for being taller than him, but now?

“Never,” he whispers so softly, you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren't as close to him as you are. “Now drink your stupid honey lemon tea so we can head to the shop.” 

About two and a half hours later, you’re sitting on the vacant seats in the shop’s waiting lounge—a familiar sting still sizzling beneath your ribcage from where you had your first matching piece with Xiao permanently inked. You made him swear to have his own ‘XV’ tattoo made on the same place, and he makes good on his promise when he emerges from the workroom, wearing nothing but his dark-washed jeans.

Unlike yourself, you rarely see Xiao in various states of undress. The most skin you could get out of him on most days is the lean muscle of his tattooed biceps, and sometimes those are enough to have you staring dumbly at him for several minutes.

Now, though?

You learn that he has several tattoos on his torso—spread across his skin like patchwork. It makes you wonder if he did some of them himself, or if he had Beidou work on them for him. Still, despite the plethora of new ink stains to gawk at, his weird phoenix tattoo remains as your personal favorite.

Along with the newest piece he got not five minutes earlier—the tattoo he shares with you.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles, letting you marvel at the perfect roman numerals just below the jut of his ribs. “It’s a good thing Beidou gave it to us free of charge, you know.”

You giggle. “All of my tatts so far have been free of charge.”

“That’s only because you’re special to me,” Xiao sighs before freezing up in the next moment—like he didn’t mean to let that slip aloud.

You smirk. “Mm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck off.”

06. 

Much to Xiao’s disappointment, your shitty taste in men doesn’t exactly end with Yin.

About three months after getting the tattoo to commemorate your fifteen years of best friendship, you meet Kaeya. He’s an exchange student, and you know better than to form any sort of attachment to someone who isn’t going to be in the same continent as you by next year. 

But you let him in anyway. 

You allow Kaeya to get to know you in ways that not even Xiao is familiar with. The smooth-talking foreigner likes to kiss every single one of your tattoos—lamenting the fact that they’re all inked in spots hidden from view. You laugh every time he brings it up, saying your parents are going to kill you and Xiao if they saw any of the pieces your best friend did for you over the last six years. 

“That best friend of yours…” Kaeya muses once he’s done bringing you to paradise and back, smoking a cigarette that makes you wrinkle your nose with distaste. He would’ve been perfect, if only he wasn’t such a chronic chainsmoker. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

You nearly fall off the bed at his bold declaration.

“W-What the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer. Xiao? In love? With you? 

Kaeya shrugs. “I dunno, sweetheart. If I was a tattoo artist, I wouldn’t let anyone freeload my craft as many times as you did—even if you are my best friend. Unless I was down fucking bad for you, of course.”

Xiao doesn’t like Kaeya, but the reasoning behind it is a bit different from why he doesn’t like your ex. He knew Yin wasn’t a good match for you. Kaeya, though? The two of you had inarguable chemistry. The only problem was he was a free spirit that didn’t like to be tied down by commitments—something you clearly struggle with. 

When you reassured Xiao that Kaeya is nothing but a way to scratch a passing itch, he merely scoffed and told you to do whatever you wanted.

Could his dismissiveness be because…he’s in love with you? 

That can’t be right. You’re the one who knows Xiao best. If he hypothetically does catch feelings for someone—much less, you—you’ll surely be the first to notice, right?

Right?

Kaeya chuckles before tracing the XV tattoo along your ribcage with a cold finger—almost like he’s teasing. You roll your eyes before crawling back on top of your midnight lover, kissing him just to shut him up. 

When you drop by Beidou's the next day, Xiao is nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She gapes. “Our boy’s starting his own shop downtown! He had the soft launch and everything a week ago. I was wondering where you were.”

“Uh…” 

You’re not sure how to break the news that Xiao has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you got together with Kaeya. But finding out that he put up his own tattoo parlor without even telling you? 

If Kaeya turns out to be right, and your best friend really was in love with you, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like it. 

Deciding to play along with whatever game he’s playing, you make an appointment to get a new piece inked under a fake name. Xiao accepts it right away and schedules you for an early evening slot. You make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late just to get a rise out of him. 

When he sees you at the entrance to his shop, you almost let yourself feel smug about the unadulterated surprise on his face. Almost. You’re still pissed off that he didn’t invite you to one of the most important milestones of his life.

He fulfills your request in silence—the French word for green inked unassumingly on the underside of your shoulder blades. Xiao doesn’t say a word about his evasiveness, nor does he address the fact that you, his literal best friend, are standing in the shop he’s kept a secret for god knows how long. 

When he still refuses to talk, you slam your payment on top of a nearby table—intent on storming out of the building even if he hasn’t wrapped your newest piece in a protective layer of plastic yet. Xiao barks that he doesn’t want your fucking money, and you end up throwing your hands in the air, asking:

“Then what the hell do you want?”

You expected him to blow up in a fitful of rage. He’s never been good at anger management, you knew this well. But instead, he crosses the distance separating the two of you and crushes your mouths together.

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, desperately against your lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Kaeya calls you multiple times that night—even leaves a text message asking where you are and if you’re free. You aren’t able to answer any of them though. Not when you’re busy being railed into the next life by your best friend of fifteen—going sixteen—years in the same bed that Kaeya just had his way with you a week ago. 

When Xiao’s lips graze each and every tattoo he personally inked onto your pliant body, it’s leagues different from when Kaeya does it. It’s like your best friend is leaving a trail of fire sizzling beneath your skin everywhere his mouth trails along your hypersensitive flesh. 

Even the way he makes you fall apart from a blistering orgasm is ten times more intense than every session you had with Kaeya and Yin combined.

There’s no affection nor is there adoration in Xiao’s gaze as he fucks into you—golden eyes fueled by something carnal and zealous, but you knew better than to call that love. 

When morning comes, Xiao isn’t here with you, and you don’t know which emotion to feel. 

Kaeya, at least, has the decency to leave a note whenever he has to depart early. But all that your best friend leaves you with is a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a glaring realization that you did not want to make when you’re crying all alone in your apartment at the crack of dawn.

Kaeya was wrong. Xiao isn’t in love with you.

You’re in love with Xiao, and you immediately know you’re in deep fucking shit because of it.

07.

It’s two weeks into your mission of complete radio silence when Xiao finally breaks.

You’re in the middle of a pharmacology lecture when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You knew it wasn’t Kaeya because he’d already packed his things last week and headed back to his home country. The bastard even asked you for a quick farewell fuck, but you turned him down right away and gave him a kiss goodbye instead.

When you find out it’s a text message from the same person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time, you’re all too quick to parse through its contents.

Xiao: I'm sorry. Can we talk?

That’s how you wind up standing right outside of his new tattoo parlor. 

You haven’t been able to take a good look at it the last time you were here—too frustrated with your best friend to really make sense of your surroundings. But he’s put up his new shop in a pretty good part of town. You wonder how Xiao managed to afford it all. 

Then again, he’s been working at Beidou’s shop for years. You knew he had a decent number of regulars, as well as potential clients that are highly interested in his work. 

For once, you let yourself be proud of him. Even if he didn’t put your name on the guest list for his soft launch.

Xiao looks a little sheepish when he lets you inside and flips the sign on the front door to give the two of you some privacy. You aren’t faring any better. The last time you saw him, he was balls-deep inside of you—fucking you like you’re the most despicable woman in the world.

“So there’s this…collage piece I wanted to try,” he starts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

Of course when Xiao invites you over to talk, you shouldn’t have expected any actual talking to take place. That’s just not his style. He’d rather make up for whatever mistakes he made by inking another stupid tattoo on your body, but honestly? You’ll take whatever you can get.

When you saw his sketch of a Statue of David peppered with four-leaf clovers, you couldn’t even dream of parsing the meaning behind the piece. The only thing that makes you relent is an old memory of you and Xiao hunting for four-leaf clovers in your mother’s garden—even putting the effort to plant whatever you could find in a pot in hopes that they would grow bigger.

It takes him hours to complete the entire thing. This one is probably the most realistic piece he’s done for you, and you can’t help but watch the intense concentration on his face through the mirror on the wall as he inks it a few inches above the last tattoo he did for you. 

You’ve never really realized how…breathtaking he looks like this.

His fringe falling across his pretty gold eyes, the comfortable set of his jaw as he focuses on his work, and the soft slope of his cupid’s bow despite how harsh the words that come out of his mouth can be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You really are in love with this guy.

When he’s finally satisfied with his work, Xiao puts down his machine before wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. He already looks so fucking good while he’s working. How is it fair for him to look even more gorgeous right after the entire process?

“Come on, let’s wrap it up,” he says before stretching his limbs. The action makes the cropped shirt he’s wearing ride up his torso a little, and you’re teased with a glimpse of the tattoo he matches with you.

Your heart nearly leaps to your throat, and if it weren’t for the dull sting of your newest tattoo, you would’ve been entranced by the sight of him entirely.

“Sure,” you say, even if your heart is begging for you to just be honest with him. To let him know how you’ve felt all this time because frankly, you can’t keep carrying the weight of your own feelings for much longer.

But then you remember how…apathetic Xiao looked like the night he dared to tell you he wanted you. There was no love to be found in his animalistic gaze, and you fear that he’ll turn you even further away at the slightest hint of more-than-friendly affection from your end. 

You can live with this. His fleeting yet heated touches. His deep, piercing stares. 

You’ll do anything to preserve what you have with him now—even if that means sacrificing everything else you could still dream of.

08.

Sometimes, you think Xiao is making you hope on purpose.

Sure, your friendship was more or less salvaged after offering your Statue of David tattoo as a quiet apology. You’re back to teasing him for all the most minuscule things, and Xiao is back to being your voice of reason in no time.

These days, though, you don’t really have much time to hang out with him like you usually do. You’re in the last year of your nursing degree, and your shifts at the hospital on top of your regular academic workload render you much too exhausted to catch up with any of your friends. Xiao included.

But there comes a night when he visits you in your apartment when you’re busy studying for a tricky surgery exam—a bucket full of fried chicken, and a bottle of sparkling water in hand. What kind of fiend would turn away an unannounced blessing like that ? 

You munch through the midnight snack Xiao brought for you all while forcing him to do your flashcards with you. He knows the drill, anyways. Though he’s been out of school for years, Xiao is still familiar enough with your study habits to be of substantial help during these trying times.

While you’re in the middle of differentiating the different types of sutures, though, he proposes an idea.

“It’s been a while since I inked you with a sewing needle and pen ink, isn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, taking a swig of your carbonated drink as your gaze flickers to the pseudo-Orion’s belt on your right forearm. The third star has all but faded from view over the years.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

Xiao rummages through his knapsack for a few seconds before bringing out what seems to be a small sewing kit, and a jar labeled ‘Indian ink’. You gulp in equal parts dread and anticipation.

“I figured out how to make the tatts stay longer,” he says, a gentle smile settling over his face. “You want me to give you a new one? I can even revive good old Orion, too.”

You sigh. Who are you to turn the love of your life down anyway?

Xiao gets to work while you’re lying sideways on your bed, flinching every now and again because he decided to outline the spitting image of the flower vase sitting on top of your nightstand along the curve of your waist. 

Unlike your first experience with manual needling, your pain tolerance is much better. The only reason you’re squirming every time Xiao embeds the ink into your skin is because you’re fucking ticklish. All those years of being intimately acquainted with Beidou’s tattoo machine were all the sensory training you needed, it seems. 

When Xiao is done with this piece, he pulls you into an upright position, making you hold out your arm so he could resurrect the first tattoo he ever gave you. You roll your eyes, but let him do as he pleases anyway.

At this point, you’ll let him do anything with you.

It’s nearly three in the morning when you’re putting away the dishes and glasses you and Xiao used for the night. He’s kind enough to throw out the trash while you clean up in the kitchen, and when he meets you back in the living room to exchange farewells, you don’t really want him to go.

“You have morning classes tomorrow, right?” he murmurs as he pulls you into a firm embrace, careful not to press down too hard on your new tattoo. “Take care. Don’t burn yourself out too much. All your hard work will be for nothing if you end up keeling over before graduation.”

You can’t help it. The soft timbre of his voice coupled with the fond look in his eyes tears all your defenses asunder. As you look up to meet Xiao’s uncharacteristically doting gaze, your chest twists more and more as you keep yourself from lunging in for a kiss.

“You’re such a pessimist, it’s almost funny how caring you sound,” you chuckle. “Go on, now. Shoo. It’s late.”

Before you can push him out of the door, however, Xiao catches you by surprise when he leans down to peck your lips. You stay frozen in place even as he pulls away—smiling so prettily, you can hardly believe this guy is your perpetually pissed off best friend.

“Good night.” 

Unlike the last time he left you all alone in your apartment, you’re filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t quite name. It’s far from the emptiness that made a home in your heart when you thought you were in love with someone who didn’t love you back. But you’re not about to call it happiness either.

Whatever this strange feeling is, you let it sit in your chest for a while longer, and it lingers even when the memory of Xiao’s lips stops prickling against the skin of your own.

09.

On the day of your graduation, Xiao asks you to drop by his shop after the rites have concluded. You tell him that he’s self-centered as fuck, and that this is your day, so if he wants to use your body as a practice canvas again, he’s going to have to wait tomorrow.

You don’t tell him that you’re sulking because he didn’t even show up to congratulate you for surviving four gruesome years of nursing. But you suppose that someone who never went to college in the first place wouldn’t be the best at sympathizing with this particular milestone in your life.

He shows you his latest sketch when you make it to his shop the next morning—and you can’t contain the look of disbelief that colors your features when you realize what it is.

“A bouquet that’ll never wilt,” he chuckles, one finger expertly pointing out the flowers he’s drawn on the neat page. “Orchids and hydrangeas: your favorite. Violets: you press a bunch of these in books every summertime. Pink baby’s breath ‘cause you wouldn’t stop gushing about them at your sister’s wedding.”

You aren’t able to stifle the flattered giggle that spills from your lips. “Can’t believe you actually remember all that. What’s the lily of the valley doing there though?”

“Oh, this?” Xiao hums with one brow raised. “Your mom had lots of them in her old garden. Those are my favorite.”

“And, pray tell, why is your favorite flower going to be permanently tattooed on my body?”

Xiao doesn’t humor you with a verbal answer right away. Instead, he wheels his revolving seat closer to you so that he’s close enough to press your foreheads together. Your breath hitches when his mouth curves into a loving smile you’re starting to get used to seeing.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Now, are you going to tell me where you want me to ink your eternal bouquet or not?”

10.

You’re a complete sap when it comes to weddings. Everyone knows this.

It’s for that reason that none of your guests are surprised when you end up crying in the middle of exchanging vows with your fiancé. Xiao sighs before taking out a handkerchief from his front pocket, dabbing at the tears streaming down your face. For someone who comes on so tough to other people, you’re awfully sentimental.

“Sorry, sorry—” you sniffle, thanking every single god out there for the invention of waterproof mascara. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

The rest of the session proceeds swiftly. You get to kiss your best friend of more than two decades and call him your husband in front of some friends and family. The matrimonial rites were held in a private resort at the base of a mountain. Both you and Xiao wanted to preserve the intimacy of your wedding as much as you could. After all, you didn’t need all that flashy and grandiose wedding prep to prove to the world just how much you want to spend the rest of your life with Xiao. 

Your thoughts stay the same even as he lays you down in the king-sized bed of the cabin you had to yourselves. He sighs in between kisses as he strips you off your wedding garbs. You’re surprised he’s taking his time with you. Xiao has been eye-fucking you since you started walking down the aisle. It was so bad that even Beidou made a few off-hand remarks about the sexual tension during the reception. 

“I was thinking,” you breathe as he grinds his hips against yours, “of getting another tattoo. My last one.” 

Xiao lifts his head for a moment, one brow arched. “You’re married to a tattoo artist, and you think the tattoo you’re getting after the wedding is your last one? You’re dreaming, princess.”

“Fine. Point taken.” You roll your eyes. “But anyway, I want a dragon tattoo riiiight…here.”

Your husband watches with rapt attention as you guide his hand to the spot you’re talking about—just below the collection of your favorite flowers inked above your waist is a blank stretch of skin. Xiao’s lips twitch into a fond smile as his calloused fingers graze your flesh.

“Still against having showy tatts?” he asks before pressing a soft kiss on the spot you pointed at. 

“Mhmm. You see, my dad doesn’t care if I’m married and have my own life. If he sees that I have tattoos, he’s still going to murder me,” you chuckle. “So yeah, tatts are staying under my clothes until he grows old enough and forgets that he hates seeing ink on other people’s skin.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

When Xiao ravishes you for the first time as your husband, your chest overflows with love for him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their best friends by their sides for as long as you did, yet you ended up tying the knot with yours. Although the entire process was more than twenty years in the making, you suppose there’s no point in rushing anything.

After all, Xiao is as permanent in your life just as much as the ink stains on your body.

“Look,” you chuckle once Xiao is done cleaning up in the bathroom and settles down right next to you on the bed, “Kaeya sent us a postcard. He says congrats on overcoming the emotional constipation.”

“Throw that thing away,” your husband grumbles, pulling you away from the pile of postcards on the nightstand. “Why are you even keeping touch with him still?”

“So I can use him as an excuse to get you jealous, and have you fuck me rough?”

“Oh, princess. If you wanted it rough…” he starts with a sigh, rolling his neck with a smirk. You gulp, wondering if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time around.

“All you had to do was ask.”

⟢ end notes: it's been a while since i wrote for genshin, so i hope you liked it! thank you sm for reading ^^

[royalsunshinehotel]

Little Star (Monkey Man, 2024)

Author’s Note: I watched Monkey Man twice this past weekend! Here’s a scene between the woman in the Green Dress, and the dog. This fic is dark and sad, but has a hopeful twist. Tara is pronounced Taara here, and it’s the hindi word for Star. Stay tuned for information about my patreon (soon)!

Blood. Blood everywhere, and it was a beautiful thing, and the thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. How far had she fallen from the girl she was, to look at all this destruction in what was left of the kitchen, and see only beauty? 

Sita instinctively picked up the hem of her silky green dress, so it wouldn’t drag on the red tile of the kitchen, as if it mattered now, as if Queenie’s blood hadn’t spattered all over her face when she’d caved her skull in. 

She shuffled forward, slowly, steadily, so as not to slip on her stupid shoes. She’d never minded high heels, she liked the idea of being tall enough to look someone in the eyes, but not now. Not anymore. 

He’d really done it, hadn’t he? A month ago, when he’d taken his first shot at Rana Singh, she knew by the look in his eyes it was only a matter of time. And it was. 

Bobby. 

Another shaky step brought her further to the fucking exit of this cursed place, and she laughed to herself thinking of how she would never come back here. 

She giggled thinking about how hard Queenie had hid the ground, and the dull crunch that her hand made when he’d stolen her thumb. 

It wasn’t funny. Nothing about it would ever be funny, but it sent her forward. There was no other way to go. 

There was a split second, stepping over all of the blood and death, where Sita almost slipped. A moment, where her breath caught and she thought a moment ahead, to when she would have hit the ground. Knowing herself the way she did, she likely would have stayed there. 

But she didn’t. She didn’t. She caught herself, as she always did, and almost winced at the loud clack of her heels on the fatigued pavement. 

The night air was cool, descending like a blanket. When was the last time she’d been outside? She wondered. 

Diwali was in full swing, she could hear it from blocks away. There was a chance she could run into the night and never be seen again. It wasn’t as if her jailers were able to come find her from the afterlife. It wasn’t as if she had any money that could be stolen from her. Anyone who had cared for her was in the wind, or dead, including the man on the top floor with a finger in his pocket. 

Last time she stood in this alley, Sita told him not to keep feeding the dog. That she’d only keep coming back, with hope. Hope breeds misery, and she wouldn’t wish that on such a sweet creature. 

He’d known her tattoo was a koyal, and he’d seen right through the rest of her too. She couldn’t do the same, and she’d hated him for it. 

How could someone wear their softness so openly, and be completely opaque at the same time. She had to hate him, and he’d let her, with complete understanding. But she couldn’t now, could she. . . Why not?

Who was left to tell her she wasn’t ladylike enough, or enough for that matter? In the many evenings from that one night, she’d heard him whistle. Sita copied the tone.

She had been kind once, maybe with everyone dead or gone, she could be again. 

Several heartbeats passed, and she found herself wondering if the dog was alright. She thought the worst, as that’s what the truth probably was. 

The little dog had been trampled to death, maybe some drunk men had decided to torture and kill the poor thing, maybe the sweet creature was in heaven now…Her large eyes began to well, and she tried whatever she could to shove it down. 

Perhaps after all this time, Sita was still a fool. 

And then, tap tap tap tap of little paws on the pavement. 

In the alley, Sita turned slowly, met by a pair of bright, brown eyes, and a warmth spread in her chest, like a paintbrush in water. The dog looked alright, more robust than the last time she’d seen her, and sat perfectly still, waiting. 

She couldn’t help but coo at the good girl. 

“Come here, my little star,” The puppy inched closer, body wiggling in the way babies do, “we can’t stop to eat now, but we will.” 

The dog - Tara, she decided - tapped her cold, wet nose against Sita’s hand, and the woman reached down to pick her up. She was mostly bone, with more muscle and fat than other dogs she’d seen - Bobby would take the credit for that, in her mind. 

By the size of the dog's feet, Tara would be large, and with Sita at her side, she would, in fact, grow up. 

“What have you got?” She asked the puppy,  meeting her big brown eyes, Sita took the burlap scrap, to reveal a gun. A very, very old, heavy gun - loaded. With a note, in bold, curved, letters: 

TIME TO REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE

[bloodylullaby]

Grief

Pairing: Noah X Reader

Word Count: 712

Author's Note: I am having a tough time today, so I wrote this short story. I hope you enjoy ❤️

While it's commonly thought that grief becomes less burdensome over time, for some, the pain only intensifies. Today marks three years since you lost a close friend, a friend whose soul brightened not just your life but also the lives of others through their everyday actions and words. Every day, you carry their license in your wallet just so you still have a piece of them with you, have their name tattooed on you, and constantly keep their memory alive. Most days, it does seem like the grief has become more manageable, but when it comes to the anniversary of their death date, that is when time stops, and the pain becomes too much. 

This year, the anniversary caught you off guard; amidst the hustle and bustle of a hectic week, you had yet to consciously keep track of the date. The day began strangely, a heightened sensitivity nagging at you without apparent cause. It felt like everything was out of sync until you stumbled upon your sibling's social media post and suddenly realized the day's significance. That was when time stood still, and the tears began to spill. Thankfully, your job let you go home early when you told them about the situation. 

One significant source of solace in your life is Noah. He remembered the date and understood its significance. With thoughtful planning, he ensured that you felt safe and that the household responsibilities were taken care of, allowing you the space to rot in bed and tend to your emotions for the day. He was surprised that you got up and went to work, but he didn’t want to say anything due to not wanting to see you hurt and in pain. So, as he watched you head out for the day, he got ready and went to the store to buy you a few things. 

On his little shopping trip, he went all out; nothing was off-limits when it came to you. His first stop was the greenhouse, where he selected a new plant and the perfect pot to complement it. Next, he headed to the grocery store, stocking up on your favorite snacks and drinks, anticipating that you might need them to snack on your feelings throughout the night. Finally, he stopped by your favorite place to stop by and got you a gift card, knowing how much you appreciate retail therapy during tough times. 

Halfway through your day, you finally realized the date. After your boss granted you an early release, you called Noah to let him know you were heading home, the reminder of the day's significance heavy in your voice. Noah offered nothing but reassurance and comfort during the call. Once you hung up, you found yourself sitting in your car, tears streaming down your face, grappling with guilt and questioning whether you were a bad friend for forgetting.

As soon as Noah heard your car pull in, he was already prepared to provide comfort. As you walked through the door, he opened his arms wide, and you practically collapsed into them, sobbing with the weight of your emotions. Pouring out your feelings to him, Noah gently rocks you, planting kisses on your head and soothingly rubbing your back to calm you down. He shares his own personal tips for coping with grief, drawing from his own experiences of loss. 

Once the flow of tears subsides, you gaze up at Noah with gratitude, expressing your heartfelt thanks for the love and support he has shown. "I love you more than the moon and the stars," he whispers tenderly as he runs his fingers through your hair. When you finally feel ready to leave his embrace, he guides you to the bedroom, where he has arranged all the thoughtful gifts on the bed, a tangible reminder of his care and thoughtfulness. Noah stays by your side so you don’t feel alone.

As the day slowly fades into the evening, Noah remains steadfastly by your side, a reassuring presence in the midst of your grief. Together, you find solace in each other's company, finding strength in love and shared moments of quiet understanding. In Noah's embrace, you feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, knowing that no matter the challenges, you will face them together.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Playlist

enjoy <3

Life Is A Highway - Rascal Flatts Life is a highway and I'm gonna ride it - all night long

Family Line - Conan Gray I watch the fathers with their little girls and wonder what I did to did to deserve this

Midnight Rain - Taylor Swift They wanted a son, I was making my own name Chasing that fame - they stayed the same All of me changed like midnight rain

Lift Off - Labrinth 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, gone You see my rocket ship Head up in the clouds when my space shift lit ignite Hit me from the ground, I'm about to lift off 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Baby, I'm a star, watch a girl go lift off

Man! I Feel Like A Woman! - Shaina Twain The best thing about bein' a woman Is the prerogative to have a little fun Color my hair, do what I dare Man, I feel like a woman

History - One Direction Minibars, expensive cars, hotel rooms and new tattoos The good champagne and private planes But they don't mean anything... ...We can make it you know it, you know You and me got a whole lot of history

It Girl - Aliyah's Interlude I-T-G-I-R-L, you know I am that girl

You're Gonna Go Far - Noah Kahan And we'll all be here forever, you're gonna go far

Sign of the Times - Harry Styles Just stop your crying, it's the sign of the times Welcome to the final show I hope you're wearing your best clothes

This is just a little filler until Christmas! Right now, I'm at about 6k words and still have a lot to go, so I'm hoping that I do reach 10k for this special chapter!

I hope you are all doing well! Much love <3

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog @treehouse-mouse

[beansidhebumbling]

Once again begging for a bit of bitter rhysta bonding over feyssian being a bit too obvious

Liar, Liar

Idk pals. Blame @ae-neon for this. Warning for blood play I guess. Jesus.

They were dancing.

Again.

Familiar tattooed hands moved over her sister's lithe frame. Cassian seemed to forget she knew his tricks, the gentle tracing of the lower back, the hidden kisses to clasped hands. He'd used them on her too. In a time long gone now. Before Nyx, before the dissolution of the Night.

His hands dipped lower, skirting the bare skin of Feyre's lower back. Nesta looked away, focused now on the thin stem of her cocktail glass.

Lovers deserved privacy after all.

Even her husband.

Even her sister.

***

In this nook she liked to pretend he danced for her. That this was merely one of the games they'd played as newleyweds.

Foreplay.

A small part of her, not her heart, maybe her ring finger, the closest to the shackle held out hope he still loved her.

Hope that died with each secret letter she found, with each charged stare she bore witness to, with each dance she observed.

Hope was for heros and children.

***

The seductive beat moved through her pulse as the smooth vodka barely bit at her throat. This was the top shelf stuff. A rarer find after the treaty. He was clearly in a mood tonight. Sat in the corner as usual, the two regular voyeurs to the budding romance and erosion of two marriages.

She glanced at the slumped form of the former Lord of Night and new monarch of the Velarien Territories. The broken lands of a broken male.

'You can sit up, you know. She can't sense you.'

He glared purple-eyed venom at her. She nearly missed the time when that might have scared her. At least things seemed simple then.

'I don't understand what she sees in him. Three months we've been following them to their dancing'

His voice caught on the shards of jealousy that lined his throat.

'And I have to watch her love him. Him. He took everything.'

'You lose what you don't mind, your Highness.'

She relished in hurting him. Something about how his too-perfect face shuttered and stars sparked from his fingertips. Joy was a scarce commodity and his suffering a deep well of it.

'Don't sound too smug, love. It's your mate she's fucking.'

'I cannot lose what I've never had. You fae and your Cauldron. I have never heeded the divine ruling of crockery.'

His laugh, piercing and chilling, cracked her glass splintering it in her grasp. The smell of honey and iron tickled her nose as blood seeped from her clenched fist.

'Liar, liar Lady Death. I still remember you on the battlefields. You've always been quick to save the bastard.'

With agility she thought him too drunk for he moved closer and cradled her stained hand within his own, droplets of scarlet staining his indigo silk shirt.

'Not brother anymore then?'

Nesta smiled sweetly, words coated in honey and arsenic.

'Not sister anymore then?'

He mimicked, raising an eyebrow as she flinched sharply, his eyes glittering, the Ptsym constellation visible in his pupil.

'Don't talk about Feyre like that.'

She muttered.

Rhysand slowly prised open her palm, magicking away the shards until all that remained of his mirth was a deep oozing cut.

His lips, plush and sharp, dipped to kiss her wrist, licking the blood as he went, laving his tongue over pale skin and working slowly towards the wound.

Tingling electricity erupted, shooting from her head to her core. To swap blood was an act reserved for mates not whatever they were.

Enemies.

Less.

More.

Her head flung back hitting hard on the mahogany lined wall as he reached the cut and sucked deeply, silver flames catching on the seams of his mouth.

Rhysand raised his head, hair tossed and eyes wild. He grinned a feral bloody creation, his canines fully elongated before murmuring,

'I'm not very interested in talking at all. Sister."

[spockandthings]

Dr_Lecteur's Dreamling Masterlist

In the spirit of the upcoming Dreamling Week, and on @arialerendeair wonderful suggestion, here's a masterlist of all my non-bingo Dreamling fics!!

If you want to see my 2023 Dreamling Bingo fills go right here (and on AO3)

Beautiful moment in time that comes and floats away / And when I open my eyes / I hope to see your face | 2.5k ; Teen ; Angst, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse

·

Beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I think it's finally, finally safe for me to fall | 1.5k ; Mature ; Tattooed Hob Gadling, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining

·

Beautiful stranger catching my stare // It's fate we collided right then back there | 2.8k ; Teen ; Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Non-sexual intimacy

·

It's what my heart just yearns to say | 451 ; Mature ; Established Relationship, Body Dysmorphia, Body Worship, Implied Sexual Content

·

I look at you and I see my past and future | 500 ; Gen ; Soft ramblings, Fluff without plot, Established Relationship [podfic]

·

The wonders (and curse) of self-conditioning - A study of Pavlovian Reflexes | In progress ; Explicit ; Human AU, NSFW VA!Morpheus, Angst and Fluff and Crack, Pining, Sexual Content [see more CWs in fic tags]

·

Aconitum lycoctonum vulparia || Aconite tue-loup | 12k ; Mature ; Werewolf!Hob, Canon Compliant, Mutual Pining, Angst, Brief mentions of Child Abuse, Blood and Gore [see more CWs in fic tags]

·

I'm only whatever you make me | In progress ; Teen ; Canon Divergence, Death meets Hob instead of Dream, Slow Build

·

Of dotted stars and tenderness | 730 ; Mature ; Established Relationship, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Lingerie

·

The journey together is half the fun | 2.1k ; Teen ; Fantasy AU, Dragon!Dream, Getting Together, Strangers to Friends to Lovers

·

The darkest night never felt so bright but with you by my side | 687 ; Gen ; Established Relationship, Post TKO (Morpheus lives), Domestic Fluff without plot

·

Bite Sized - A Dreamling Week Collection | 2.2k ; Mature ; Collection of mini fics written for Dreamling Week 2024

Here goes! Some of these are old, it's crazy to see how much my writing has changed and evolved!!

[xhoneygirlxx]

warnings: angst, no happy ending. heartbreak/end of a relationship. Eddie and Reader are 20+

minors plz go away, this account is 18+ only.

this is inspired by Nothings New by Rio Romeo, the same song that’s been stuck on repeat for the past couple of weeks. I hope you all enjoy this <3

*if you see spelling errors/bad writing, pretend it didn’t happen

—

You both knew it was coming, a thought in the back of your mind that constantly ate away at you until it finally came true. There’s a moment in life when you just know it’s not going to work out anymore, that no matter how much you love a person it all comes down to a spark and when that spark is gone, so is the relationship.

It’s like a sandcastle right on the shoreline, you wait with bated breath as the water inches closer and closer to your creation and there’s nothing you can do about it because you’ve built it on a bad foundation. It’s like a balloon, it can only fly so long before the helium seeps out, one day it’s high up in the sky and the next day it clings to the ground where it will stay before it eventually deflates.

You nor Eddie set out to end like this, no one gets into a relationship in the hopes it ends but somehow, you ended up right where you hoped you wouldn’t.

I love you’s weren’t shared as much anymore, sweet kisses turned into chaste pecks on the cheek, and the closeness you both craved was now despised. A long fall from the pedestal your relationship was once held upon, now it was just an obligation that felt torturous to even continue.

The dinner on the table is perfect, the kind you would find photographed in some kind of home and lifestyle magazine, but the two people consuming it are anything but. A date night that was supposed to be fun and exciting felt like a job, a requirement that both of you had signed on for that you just couldn’t get out of.

Eddie looks handsome as always, a sleek button up adorning his torso and unruly curls are tamed down by the products in the bathroom that both of you share. He cuts his steak with tattooed hands, the same silver rings he wore in high school decorate his digits as well as the one you bought him all those years ago when you first got together. You look at the thick black band, the engraved lettering of your initials that go across it, and you wonder if he only wears it out of habit- something he only wears on his right ring finger because he would feel unbalanced without it.

Despite the crowd that sits at neighboring tables, it’s quiet, and not the peaceful kind of silence most people would imagine. It’s the kind that happens after a car accident when dust and debris settle to ground, the sulfur from the airbags fill the air, and the ringing in your ears are too loud to hear through anything else.

You poke at your plate mindlessly as you continue to look at him, trying to piece together where it all went wrong and why the two of you have let it go this far. A bitter taste fills your mouth, one that can’t be washed down by the red wine that sits in your untouched glass, making a ball form in your throat.

As you look at the man across from you, you don’t see the person you’ve grown tired of but rather the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. Wide eyes and dimpled smile, rosy cheeks and shaky hands. Memories of shy banter and longing stares fill your head. Two young kids so full of love and adoration for one another now sit silently as they ignore one another’s presence.

Your heart squeezes, painfully twisting in a devastating way as it prepares for what’s going to happen. A tear escapes from your waterline and you don’t fight it. As much as you don’t want to be the dramatic girlfriend in the middle of a fancy restaurant you allow yourself to cry, mourning the death of a love story that started with two star cross teenagers that lost their way.

Although he isn’t looking at you Eddie can sense it, the beginning of the goodbye he’s tried desperately to avoid. He sets his fork and knife down, swallowing his food down as best as he can while his throat begins to choke up in unshed tears.

There’s a pause in his movements, a delay from looking into the eyes of the one he promised to love until his dying day. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, reaching his hand out across the table in search of your own. Fingers interlace, palms touching for the first time in a long time and for once you both feel it, the spark you used to feel when everything was fresh and new- only it doesn’t linger, it slowly blows out and fades away into the cold night air.

Big chocolate eyes meet yours, the tears that brim in his tear ducts match your own, the shared sadness for the future you will no longer share.

“This is it?” Eddie’s voice is small, like he’s straining in the hopes the sobs won’t break out.

You can’t stop it, the wobble of your pouted lip and the river that falls from your eyes. There’s no words you can say, none that will capture the amount of pain this brings to you, so instead you just nod your head.

Eddie isn’t any better, eyes closing with the hopes that this will all go away when he opens them once more. When he opens them back up he doesn’t find a different outcome but instead the blur of the fat tears that cloud his vision.

“You know I love you, right? I always have and always will love you Eddie, but this isn’t good for us anymore.” It’s like you’re pleading, begging for all of the misery to end for not just yourself but him too.

The subtle nod of his head tells you all you need to know, he agrees just as much as you that this isn’t going to work anymore, that this is killing him as much as it is you and if it continues this way it’ll only be a matter of time before this slow and painful death creeps up on you.

“I love you too, always have.” Eddie makes sure to look you in the eyes when he says it, like he wants you to know that everything that’s happened was never intentional.

You give his hand a squeeze, an acknowledgment to his statement, he squeezes right back.

This was the end, in the middle of a fancy restaurant where families, couples, and friends laugh and talk over warm meals, you and Eddie slowly cut the string that’s been keeping you tethered together for more than five years.

—

—

[sleeplessdreamer14]

the sparrow and the butterfly

fandom: overwatch

relationship: (familial) genji shimada & sibling! reader

headcanons: years after your family falls apart, you’re given a chance to put it back together

contains: familial fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, heavy plot

a/n: this is more of a fanfic I came up with like a month ago that I’m telling in the ‘you’ perspective. I might make a part 2 for hanzo if this gets enough notes.

˚˖𖤓˖˚ childhood

as the two younger siblings of the family, you and Genji were quite close

although he wasn’t initially thrilled at the idea of being a middle child, he quickly became enamored with you

you’re kind of his favorite

and you were a pretty good motivator for him to be a bit more respectful, to set a good standard for you

you had caught him sneaking out a few times, and promised not to tell on the condition he bought you lunch the next day

Genji’s not gonna let anyone slander your name btw

some of your dearest memories were made up on the roof of Shimada castle where you guys would watch fireworks together

Genji hoped that despite being born into the yakuza, you could live your life yourself when you grew up

ִ ࣪ ☾⋆ separation

anyway, as you got older, the two of you confided in each other that neither of you wanted any part in the family’s criminal empire

this became a major problem upon the untimely death of your father and responsibilities fell to you and your brothers

you still remember how sick you felt when you could overhear your brothers fighting until everything suddenly went quiet

once torn between your longing for a different life and your duty to your family, you fled that same night and left no trace

as much as you wanted to, you knew that looking back even once would making leaving even harder than it already was

so you’ve lost your family, your home, everything

words cannot describe how scary and lonely those first couple of years were for you

but after you spent enough time mourning, you got back on your feet, took time to make peace with your loss, and built a new life for yourself

after spending a couple years on your own, you embraced your newfound freedom to make your own choices and be entirely and unapologetically yourself

this involved getting a tattoo of a butterfly on your back, a sparrow on your right arm, and an arrow on your left (among other things)

you also collected about half a dozen aliases over the years

overall, you were proud of who you had become, only wishing that your family could see you

‎‧₊˚✧ meanwhile

when Angela brought Genji back, one of his first thoughts was ‘where is (name)?’

he worried that Hanzo might have killed you too which only worsened his mental health

it felt as though the sun had disappeared from the sky

once he was able to eat again, if he ever went somewhere you would have liked, he would get a second order in tribute to you and place it in front of his own

it took a long time, but he actually told Angela and Cassidy about you

whenever he saw fireworks, he took it as a good omen that you were out there somewhere, not only living, but thriving

since he was revived, he dreaded the thought that one day he might see you again and you would no longer recognize him as your brother

˚₊⋅𓅫 reunion 𐀔 ⋅₊˚

not long after the downfall of overwatch and your family’s empire, the stars aligned and lead you to your brother

Genji could not have been ready to see you again

whether he feared never seeing you again or your reaction to his new body more was anyone’s guess

and then you embraced him and sunk in that you didn’t love him any differently than you did before

that was the most vulnerable and safe he had felt in a very long time

finding no trace of disgust or malice in your eyes as you looked at him gave Genji hope

you later explained how you each spent the last several years

Genji was heartbroken to realize you were essentially alone since that tragic night, but at the same time was so proud of how well you did on your own

when you two eventually parted ways, you made sure to stay in contact this time

Zenyatta was pleased to finally meet you and mentioned that Genji spoke of you often

upon seeing your sparrow tattoo, Genji removed his mask to quickly wipe away his tears

‎‧₊˚ 𐀔 butterflies traditionally symbolize hope, faith, and change ‎𐀔 ˚₊‧

[lonelyredfox]

Thorn and Fox - Pride lore

I have too much lore on the drawing and no one to vent it to so I’m going to post it here.

I think Fox would describe Thorn as his sun. They’re the one who brighten up his day, who make everything more bearable. Fox seems to carry the whole planet on his shoulders and Thorn is always there trying to help him in whatever way they can. The little golden sun (tragus?) piercing in Thorn’s ear was a gift from Fox. They don’t have many credits, so Fox saves up for many months before he can buy it (and spends all the credits he has.) He wanted them to know that they’re his source of warmth, his comfort and one of the few things in his life that still give him hope. When he gave it to them, he said that their love shines brighter than any sun could. Thorn never takes it out, only to clean it occasionally.

Fox is Thorn’s moon. He’s the brightest source of light during their darkest times. He’s the one who takes care of the whole Guard. Who protects their shinies from senators and the other evils on Coruscant, that no amount of training could have prepared them for. One night Thorn tells Fox exactly that. Fox replies that the moon can only shine because it reflects the light of the sun. If Thorn cried, no one had to know. They decide that they want to gift Fox something as well. It has to be something subtle that won’t be noticed and won’t get in the way (Piercings don’t matter because the Guard isn’t ever allowed to take their helmets of outside of their barracks). He gets him a (tragus??) piercing as well. A silver one that looks like it has thorns surrounding it. Fox is over the moon (HA!).

While buying the piercing for Fox (which also cost a significant amount of credits) Thorn finds the little fox earring. They can’t afford it, but the salesperson finds them so sweet that they gift it to them. (It’s the middle of the war and the shop is one of the few that still allowed clones. The owner is a nice Trandoshan. The piercings were objectively not expensive at all. The Guard didn’t really get leave and that’s the only time when the troopers are given money, hence why they all have to throw their credits together to buy a single bottle of alcohol. Also, Stone, Thire, Hound and the Corrie CMO (Break?) somehow found out about the gifts the two were giving to each other so they all secretly put some credits into the stash.) The little Fox will always remind Thorn of him. When Fox sees it he hugs them and doesn’t let go for a long while.

After the war and without the barrier the helmet provided Fox gets increasingly insecure about his scars. Thorn makes sure to remind him everyday that they’re just a sign that he survived and that he saved others. Thorn is not as confident with their scars at they let on but Fox makes sure they know how beautiful they still are

Fox calls Thorn tran (sun) or tranyc (lit. star-burned but translated with ‘sunny’). The first time he called them that Thorn’s smile was so bright it complemented the name perfectly.

Thorns tattoos are the wings that are also painted on his helmet.

The Guard crest was already there for a few months while the Mythosaur in Fox’s tattoo was added shortly before the end of the war when the Guard collectively agreed that Fox was more mandokarla than anyone else. The smoke between the symbols represents the shadows they had to walk through and the generally shady atmosphere in the Core. (The skull in between stands for the death they escaped.)

The ten-ten (his CC number) was tattooed on him by someone Palpatine hired. He wanted to make sure Fox would never forget his place. Fox despised the tattoo with every fibre of his being. He saw it as a symbol of all his failures for a long time but learned to live with it. When he had the option the get rid of it, he declines.

(please have mercy on my writing, English isn't my first language)

[writing-in-lesbian]

A Heiress in love. Pt. 6

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female Reader Tags: angst, fluff, Translations: Hainofi = princess // Strik sis [Strisis] = little sister // Ai hod yu in = I love you // Ste yuj = Stay strong // Yu laik ai kru = You are my people // Oso laik wonkru = We are one clan // Ai hod you in seintaim = I love you too // Em pleni = enough // Ai laik Heda = I’m the commander // Jomp em op en you jump ai op // Attack her and you attack me. Chapter synopsis: As the enemies get closer, our new appointed commander embarks on a much personal journey.

A/N: This story keeps sending me into new research topics! I hope I’m doing them justice. Also since there aren’t a lot of trigedeslang transistors, everything in italics and underlined would be trigedeslang. Again, I’m partying ways from some canon events in the 100 in order for this to work. Work is not beta’d so all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 6 - The prince, the princess and death.

Tuesday 03:30 a.m.

That’s what you think the time it’s based on the stars illuminating the sky. You observe Wanda sleeping peacefully close to the table where you left her, having you decided to meditate a little.

Your soul is restless, for some reason, you can’t stop thinking about the impending war and the consequences it might have, you make a mental note to send Henry a message tomorrow night, the device for communications being at your chambers, just to ask him how’s everything on their side.

The night is silent.

It should feel peaceful but it’s thick with anticipations of something you quite don’t understand. A lot has happened in a few days, and the constant changing of things does nothing to calm your mind. You think of your family, especially your mother, How many battles and wars has she seen already in her life? She deserves a quiet life, For years she was just surviving, making amends with death but then your mom quite literally fell from the sky and well, they both deserve a quiet life already. Haven’t they suffered enough?

Your mind travels to the redhead close to you and how you went from wishing to know her to being betrothed. Funny how sometimes the universe chooses to give us what we wanted. You notice her slim figure and, think how much harder all of this is being for her, and, not for the first time, you wish you could do more, be more, for those you love and care about.

Wondering as well about your other guests, they will probably leave tomorrow sometime during the day, hoping Pietro or Natasha could stay a little bit more, for Wanda’s sake. Taking your eyes off Wanda you look at the sky and the moon, shining bright above you, making her best effort to bring solace to your query mind.

Raven told you once that your mind thought 800 thoughts per millisecond, never shutting up and it would be a good thing for Lexa to start training you on how to effectively lessen them. You should have paid more attention to your lessons, maybe if your mother had been the one to show you instead of Octavia, you would have studied more, ‘cause you definitely want that state of mind right now.

In a few hours, your party will leave for Tondc, despite the political air it has, that’s where you’ll go to get your tattoo done, right at Becca’s bunker. You’re still amazed at how a lot of things changed when it comes to the Commander rituals, thanks to your mother and her rules.

Closing your eyes again, you try to concentrate, inhaling and exhaling slowly, one, two, three times, but before you can reach the fourth inhalation you hear Wanda whining. Your instinct and need to protect her takes over you and you go to her side immediately. Later when you are questioned, you will recall seeing the red wisps coming from her hands but claim you didn’t notice until it was too late.

You touch her shoulder trying to wake her up and receive a blast of red magic, that, upon impact does feel a little weird, but is enough to send you flying and crashing against one of the bigger rocks on the wall. You have to thank Raven for teaching you to cover your head when being sent flying and crashing from explosions. That summer you spent with her and she used you as a dummy test (to the displeasure of your mothers), is proving to be effective now.

Still, the hard impact is enough to leave you unconscious. … … … … … … … … …

You awake (or regain consciousness) to the sound of screaming. Trying as quick as you can, you force your body to get up, opening your eyes but the air is strong, making it harder for you to see, so you instantly close them again.

Putting your hand covering your eyes you walk towards what you think is the table, squinting your way out.

“Wanda?” You scream but your voice can’t be heard.

The noises are too loud.

You somehow see the smoke rising from the way the Tower is. Feeling your stomach drop, you turn and try to look for Wanda but all you see is fire where the table used to be, you still make your way back to it.

“Wanda, where are you?” But the clouds are covering the moon and there’s a lot of fog, making it impossible to see beyond a certain range, you’re not sure if it’s from the smoke or the chill air, but is starting to get into your lungs. Covering your mouth you reach the table.

Nothing.

BOOM

The loud explosions close to you are enough to destroy the rock walls and send you to the floor looking for cover. Eyes closed, not making a move, you hide behind the hidden part of the table, covering your mouth, trying not to make a sound with your coughs. Inhaling, and exhaling, you calm your state but are still stiff as a rock, you’re not sure where the explosions are coming from or if someone is near.

“Wanda, where are you?” You try again, thinking as hard as you can this time, remembering how it seemed to work a few hours ago, hoping it gets to her again.

Silence.

Eery silence.

Not even the wind makes a noise.

Opening one eye you can’t see any fire or smoke. In fact, everything seems exactly as it was before the explosions, the moon and the stars shining bright above you.

Carefully, you start getting up from your crouching position, sword at the ready. What the hell is going on? Your (e/c) eyes scan the area, looking for a sign of Wanda, at this point, for someone, anybody to appear.

“Welcome… Strisis” you remember well that voice.

It lulled you to sleep many times, but it’s impossible for you to hear it again right now. Turning carefully, one foot at a time, forcing your body to move, refusing to opening your eyes. Counting one to three in your head, you slowly bring light to your vision.

Truth is, it’s not impossible as it seems.

He’s standing there in all his glory, just like you used to remember him. Clad in all black, his blue eyes contrasting his sandy blonde hair, but his hair is well stylish and not as sweaty as normal, due to all the training he’d done. He’s sporting a small smile, the same one he reserved just for you.

“Aden” a whisper you’re not sure it came from your lips.

Tentatively you take a step, he’s the same height you remember him, except this time, you are taller than him. Although you’re not as tall as your mother, you somehow reached Clarke’s height, still, Aden, as you see him now, is shorter than you.

“I have been waiting for you” yet he doesn’t move nor make any intent to come closer. You look at your surroundings, but nothing seems different than when you entered this place.

“How… what… is it really you?” You refuse to believe what’s in front of you. The reality of having him here could mean just one thing.

“I am” he still doesn’t move.

“I don’t understand… am I?”

“Your betrothed holds a lot of power”

You frown at the mention of Wanda. Where is she anyway?

“No need to worry Sistris, despite unconsciously trying, she cannot enter where we are”

“What?” The fog in your brain is going away slowly. You recall the night, meditating, Wanda whining…

And the red sparks.

“We’re in my mind?”

“Not quite Y/N, we are in something similar to the City of Lights. I’m guessing this was a result of her”

“Wanda?”

“Is that her name? I always wondered. Mother used to call her the Lady with magic hands, not the best phrase is you ask, no wonder mom almost choked on her water”

His laugh is remarkable and something you wished to hear more often when he was alive. Wait, your mothers knew Wanda had magic? Is that why they accepted Stark’s offer? But, if they know she has magic, and certainly all her clan know, why would ask for your union? You don’t hold anything compared to Wanda’s abilities, so what can you bring to the table?

“A lot more of what you think sistris"

Continuing to ignore him, for your own sake, a lot of things haven’t made a lot of sense so trying to search for it, under the circumstances will just bring you a massive headache.

“You said we’re in the City of Lights but is not my mind”

“I said, we are in something similar. This is still part of your mind. Lady Maximoff can’t enter this space, more than anyone, you should know and it’s not because of the chaos”

Despite your best efforts, you feel a headache coming. Is that possible? Feeling a headache while inside your head?

“Sunrise is coming sistris”

“Wait, Aden… don’t go” The fear of losing him again makes you act on instinct, recalling the sensation you felt all those years ago, closing the distance an embracing him.

He smells like pine and wood, combined with some citric notes, a little bit different from what you remember. Back in the day, you always mumbled he smelled like rain, Madi taunted him saying you meant it was wet dirt, but to you, it was something fresh.

“I’m here”

Despite the height difference now, you feel his strong arms circling you and comforting you in a way only older brothers can.

You don’t want to let him go and refuse to close your eyes in case he disappears. What if he’s a fragment of your imagination?

“I’m real”

He takes your face and cradles it with his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Let us walk” he grabs your hand while you both walk, using his hand as an anchor to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Upon close inspection, you see now the lake where he used to take you and Madi.

“War is coming sistris, and nothing can prevent it, not even chaos itself”

This information is not a surprise to you. Maybe you knew it all along, feared it but hoped for a peaceful resolution. That feeling of emptiness you had and the restlessness you felt prior was a way of rejecting the truth.

“Mother has taught you well. You’re better than I was. No wonder the spirit of the prior commanders is calling and choosing you”

“Aden” the rest of your sentence dies there, hanging in the air because you well know that, if he would still be alive, the commander would have chosen him and you would have been a simple heiress, waiting for her turn to the throne.

Your only reward was avenging his death when you were of age. To be fair, it was a clean duel, Ontari should have known it was coming.

“I never had the flame but I feel them now. And they are all anxious for what’s to come. You have a powerful ally Y/N and your future wife can be the decisive key to win or lose, it will depend on you”

You let go of his hand and stay rooted in place. Wanda have a part in this?

“We are no wiser nor gods to decide someone's destiny”

“And yet here you are telling me I’m the one who will scale the balance”

“I’m just a messenger”

“You’re one of the judges aren’t you?”

“I’m not sistris. I’m here on your request”

What request? What the hell is happening? One sec you’re trying to meditate and the next you’re in some kind of extremely weird dream, talking to your deceased brother like it was a casual walk at your favorite lake.

And now Wanda has come into the equation.

At her mention or more of your thoughts on her, you see red fog covering some bushes at the other side of the lake.

Aden follows your sight.

“Chaos awaits. It destroys and creates, it can never be tamed or understood but it can be beautiful if loved”

“Why do you keep referring to the chaos?”

“Sistris…” his face is filled with genuine curiosity, frowning his eyebrows exactly like your mother. And not for the first time you’re considering, that in fact, you’re the adopted one of the family.

“What Aden?” Yet you don’t look at him.

“Your betrothed has chaos magic”

He’s expecting a reaction from you but it honestly doesn’t affect you the type of magic Wanda has, why everybody is making a huge deal out of this is beyond your mind. The red fog in the meantime seems to get bigger and bigger.

“Y/N” a whisper comes from the bushes.

Your eyes are still glued to the color red, and for a flicker of a second, a silhouette starts forming only to vanish right after. Curios.

“Sunrise is coming and we cannot be late” That makes you turn to him.

You’re back at the ceremonial place but it seems darker, the stars are far gone and the moon seems to hide behind clouds

“Y/N” the voice seems familiar, you hear it so close to you but yet so far.

Aden walks closer to you when he sees the same red fog getting closer and circling the ceremonial place.

“Curios” Aden’s voice seems now like a whisper.

He places his hand on your shoulders, the act making you face him. His face is serious, a carbon copy of your mother.

“There are things I’m not allowed to tell. The knowledge we possess is not carved on stone and there are things that escape my mind as soon as I want to say them”

“Will I see you again?”

“You will know the answer to that”

Feeling a pull, you notice the red fog is close just to you, it plays around your hand. Aden sees it as well.

“Curios indeed” and you feel his strong arms once again around you and you take the opportunity to absorb his scent, to feel secure in his strength.

“I feel the pain in your heart. Mother loves you, don’t doubt it”

Sometimes we just need encouragement to fuel the fire inside of us. Until this point, you never thought simple words could do that.

“Ste yuj sistris” he says almost in a whisper, kissing your forehead. “Yu laik ai kru, Oso laik wonkru. Trust us, trust the commander in you, and tell your betrothed I said that to her as well”

Opening your eyes you see him still in front of you but the red fog is pulling you towards it. You see Aden moving his lips but can’t hear what he says.

“Aden?”

Trying to walk to him your way is stopped by the fog.

“ADEN” you yell and feel the tears falling from your eyes, just like that night many years ago. “ADEN”

“Curios indeed. Ai hod yu in heinofi” his silhouette seems like it’s vanishing from your line of vision, combined with a tinted red from the fog around your body, feeling warm and not unwelcome at all.

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re completely covered in the red fog… and all goes dark. … … … … … … … … …

You can hear noises but they are too loud for you to comprehend what’s happening. Your mind feels foggy and you feel tired, the pain in your head has become a migraine. You can feel the pressure on one side.

Feeling hands on your shoulders, slowly but surely the noises around you have started to get clear and you can identify voices, Madi, Octavia and Natasha are yelling and you feel pretty sure if you were to open your eyes, you can bet they’re doing some type of training.

“Y/N, please wake up”

“I told you to stay away from her!”

“Don’t you dare touch her if you want to keep your hand”

“Aden… don’t go” it scales as a whisper from your lips.

For a moment, you stop hearing Madi and Octavia and all you can feel are the hands on your shoulders, they feel warm and strong. You want to open your eyes but they feel heavy.

Hearing some rustling around you and the warmth from the hands is replaced by another pair, cold and callused, they feel foreign.

“Y/N… what did you say” Madi’s voice seems close now.

Getting up seems difficult. Groaning, you open your eyes, making your body sit up first. There’s a warm sensation on your forehead so you might as well open your eyes. Bringing your hand to the sour of pain you feel the thick and slick liquid. Blood indeed.

“Y/N you’re okay?” Her voice is worried and you detect a flinch of fear in it.

You look at her and see that Octavia has her sword out and is pointing it toward Wanda, Natasha in front of her, protecting her and you feel jealous. Why in the name of Gaia happen?

Madi is the one next to you, kneeling to see if you’re okay. Taking away her hand from touching your forehead, you seek impulse with your hands on the floor and stand up. Madi assisting you quickly. You look at her and nod, indicating you’re well enough to stand on your own, but she refuses to let you go.

“I’m okay”

Yet your words don’t seem to calm any of the situation in place and when you try to go and comfort her, Madi stops you. Seeing this, Wanda tries to go to you instead but is stopped by Natasha, who sees Octavia take one step towards her.

“Care to explain to me what’s happening? None of you should be here” trying your best calming voice.

“I could ask the same Heinofi” It’s been a while since you heard Octavia this exhaled and furious.

Nothing of this makes sense. With all the pain in your head, you find another solution and think as hard as you can, to instruct Wanda, if she can hear you and is ok, to tilt her head. Suddenly you feel a pair of eyes on you, effectively meeting her eye, Wanda’s frown is in place but she tilts her head, slightly but the move is there.

“Madi?” As stern as you can you utter the words.

She hesitates for a moment, probably because she never heard you using that tone or because you know your mother will arrive soon, if not sooner with all this apparent commotion.

“I was setting with Octavia the last supplies you’ll need to use at TonDC, when we heard a loud noise coming from here. When we arrived you were crashed in the rocks bleeding from your head and Wanda was standing a few meters away, her hands clasped around her magic”

“Y/N I wasn’t” but Wanda’s interrupted by Natasha’s hand on her hand. Now you’re the one feeling like seeing red.

“Octavia got the sword out and that’s when Natasha arrived”

“Glad I came when I did, two against one didn’t seem fair”

Now that makes sense. If you were blasted by Wanda’s magic that could explain why you kept seeing red fog but, didn’t Aden say Wanda couldn’t enter your mind? Then how you could see the red, characteristic of Wanda’s magic? Was she trying to enter your mind to see if you were okay, or she was unconsciously doing it?

“Octavia, please take away your sword from my betrothed”

“Can’t do Henofi”

“Octavia. I’m not asking”

That makes Octavia turn to look at you if barely, her eyes never leaving the pair of your guests. Madi’s hold on your body is doing nothing to keep you calm.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand”

“Octavia, em pleni!” And is the stern in your voice what makes Octavia fully look at you and Madi to loosen her grip on you.

“You vowed to protect and obey me”

“I vowed to protect the commander” Out of the corner of your eye you see Wanda taking a few steps out of Natasha’s reach, her eyes although guarded have a flicker of fear in them.

“Ai laik Heda, you like it or not,” you say between teeth. Masking your pain and foggy mind.

Funny things happen when the most calm and peaceful people raise their voices and utter strength into them. Madi lets you go but Octavia has difficulty relinquishing her guard and stance. You see the anger behind her eyes and finally, she puts her sword back in her scabbard.

“Yu laik ai kru” You speak these words towards Wanda specifically but mean to extend them towards Natasha and her clan as well.

Madi and Octavia look at you.

“Oso laik wonkru” you speak to them.

Hearing you speak trigedeslang is so foreign, since you barely use it, They’re more used to hearing from other people but not you, it makes them realize what the words you spoke convey.

“You are my people. We are one clan” you say for the sake of Wanda and Natasha and to make your stance very clear.

“War is imminent”

“Sistris”

“No Madi, it is. Aden told me”

“Aden?” Madi looks at you.

You can’t even if you tried, explain everything that happened inside your head (or outside) you’re still not sure where that place was or if you’ll go again.

“What happened was an accident. I startled Wanda. We cannot be divided. Ai laik Heda ”

The air feels heavy, and the implications of what you said, especially to Octavia, linger in the air. They never have seen you like this, Madi has a newfound respect for you if her kneeling in front of you indicates it. Octavia scans you, her scowl present but kneels.

“Jomp em op en you jump ai op”

“You are right daughter” You turn to see your mothers enter. Lexa was clad in her red stash and riding attire. Clarke is wearing a green cloak, you didn’t think she will travel with you.

“Octavia, Madi, rise"

“War is imminent. Aden has spoken to us”

What?

“Come Y/N, your ascension ceremony should take place today at noon”

Clarke looks at you and her eyes carry so much weight and sorrow.

“Mom?”

She just opens her hands, the flame is nested between the metal box you dreaded to see. What you don’t take into consideration is that there are two little boxes, meaning Wanda will get chipped too.

“Y/N, a flame-keeper has not been in our clans for so many years. Times are changing and for us, it changes as well in our traditions”

“Interesting use of words, Lexa. Remind me to learn to be as political and coherent as you” Stark's voice comes out of nowhere and suddenly you see a red suit floating. It’s close to the floor but you might have imagined it, you certainly will be confused after the blast.

“Natasha, be a dear and take the second box. You have been appointed to be the flame keeper, isn’t that exciting?”

So that’s a no on Wanda chipped but wait. Natasha?'

“With due respect Heda, I will use my right to duel and challenge Duchness Romanoff for the place of the flame keeper”

You all turn to see Octavia slicing her hand in a way that allows the hand to bleed minimally. Before anyone can say anything Natasha’s raspy voice accepts it.

“Lexa?” You hear your mom speak.

And then all goes silent, the calmness you felt before is there and you don’t have to look to see that Wanda has taken your hand and has interlaced your fingers… nor do you see the red magic coming from her hands and taking you once again into darkness.

-/-/-/-/-/

Tag List: @spongebobtentacles @wandamaximoff727 @cristin-rjd @aawake-atnight @msromanoffswife @juno-verse @wandastan-2 @wannabe-fic-reader @cd-4848

[articus-icecream]

I got a little idea for maybe a hurt/comfort holydemon fanfic!

In this one, Gregor escapes from the cult (Somehow), and has a bit of PTSD/Trauma from that place (I feel like he might've had it rough when he was in the mansion), and Moloch's trying to comfort him?

Maybe you can also add something called a "Conscience" into the parts where Gregor has memories of the cult? (The Consciences are mind-messing shadow demons that haunt their victims after they meet the stars, it comes from a HC of mine. Sorta like Death from Puss In Boots TLW, but instead of being death itself, they're just there to haunt certain victims).

Sorry if the Conscience bit seemed a little too specific, you don't have to add them if ya don't want to! But yeah, the main idea for this fic is Gregor has a few painful memories from the cult and Moloch tries comforting him.

OOOHHH DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR NOTHIN' THAT IS A GREAT IDEA- *EXPLODES*/VPOS

TWs: PTSD, mentions of bruises, blood and stabbing, nightmares (pls tell me if i missed anything else!)

A/N: I'm going to make this as an AU where Moloch agreed to stay out of trouble as long as he got to stay at Gregor's house. I hope you don't mind! ^^ Also I apologize if this is out of character-

--------

"You're fine."

It had been a while since the priest escaped that wretched house on the hill, coming home all bruised up and bloody from getting stabbed.

He had been in that cursed mansion for weeks, causing trouble for Moloch who has been taking care of the place as best he could. And when the priest returned, he has not been the same ever since. He is way more paranoid and anxious, praying a lot more in the church. Moloch noticed some strange tattoos on the priest’s arms whenever they were exposed.

Moloch also noticed that Gregor would stare into nothing, his breathing getting heavier as his body trembled. He’d mumble and stutter quietly under his breath, Moloch sometimes hearing a verse from the bible or a simple ‘you’re not real’.

Gregor would also get intense nightmares at night, screaming loudly as he woke up wich woke up the demon in the next room, making him cranky for the rest of the day.

And tonight was no different, the priest woke up screaming then cried into his hands as silently as he could. But the demon had enough of this, getting up from his bed and making his way to Gregor's room.

The floorboards creaked softly under the demon’s hooves, signaling the priest from the other side. The demon held up his fist, hesitating. Is he really going to do this? He doesn’t care about the mortal that much. Does he? Moloch sighed before knocking on the door.

After hearing no answer Moloch knocked again, this time getting a frail ‘come in’ by the man from the other side. Moloch turned the doorknob and went inside.

The demon saw Gregor sitting against his headboard, trying to stop his crying. Moloch slowly approached his bed, sitting on the edge.

“I-I’m sorry for waking you up..” the priest says meekly, wiping his tears away. “You don’t h-have to check up on me. You can l-leave.” He adds, trying to sound collected.

Moloch sighs, leaning close to the priest. Gregor noticed, leaning back in surprise. “W-what are you doing?” He stuttered out, getting nervous.

The demon then wrapped his arms around the priest, holding him lightly. The old man’s eyes widened, blinking to fight the tears back. He then wraps his arms around the demon tightly, letting out sniffles.

Moloch felt very awkward, patting him on his back softly. The demon never comforted anyone before in his entire existence, and he feels…scared? Scared. Why is he feeling scared? Why-

Moloch’s train of thought got interrupted by a sob Gregor let out, the priest gripping the demon tighter. “I…I-I can still see them…” he muttered out, tears falling down from his eyes.

“See who?” Moloch asked in a confused voice, looking down at the priest.

“T-them…” the priest replied, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to see them.” He states, shaking violently as he cried out more.

“Who is them?!” Moloch asked in clear irritation, grabbing the priest’s face and making him look up at him. But that irritation soon got washed over by guilt once moloch saw Gregor’s face.

The old man’s face was wet from the tears and snot, his cheeks all flushed up and his eyes were red and puffy. Moloch had never seen him like this, never seen him so vulnerable. That Father is usually stoic, collected and calm. But now…he’s not. He’s hurt. He’s hurt badly.

Subconsciously and silently, Moloch hugged Gregor tighter, putting his head on his shoulder. Gregor buried his face into the demon’s rough shoulder, muffling his sobs.

Moloch carefully and gently stroke the priest’s head, ignoring the wetness on his shoulder. The demon felt his chest get strained, his breath getting shallower as the priest continued to cry.

“…You’re okay.” Moloch said in a gentle tone, stroking Gregor’s head gently. The priest quieted down, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “You’re fine.” The demon added, closing his eyes.

He could feel the priest relax in his arms, the tears stopping. They both then laid down on the bed, Moloch continuing to hold Gregor. The demon noticed that the priest had fallen asleep, feeling his own eyelids get heavy.

He patted Gregor’s head gently one last time before yawning.

“You’re fine.” Moloch says before closing his eyes abd drifting to sleep.

[sleepingsun501]

Same Heart, Same Blood

Character(s): Fives, Rex, Kix, Hevy's ghost

Summary: Fives' near-death experience after getting shot.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Character death, near-death experience, talking to dead people, coma, organ transplantation mention. (Lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2k

Ao3 link

A/N: This goes along with my work Set to Stun, so if you haven't read that, I highly recommend you do!! This is all based on a late-night headcanon discussion, my being sick, and very little editing, so I hope it's not too rough. I also apologize for any medical inaccuracies. But hey, Star Wars medicine! Special thank you to @rexxdjarin for talking me through the organ transplant HC, and to @writingbylee for letting me use her bacta HCs!! You're both awesome!!

Same Heart, Same Blood

He was floating, oddly disconnected from his body but still trapped within its confines. His hearing was irritatingly muffled, and he could not tell up from down or left from right anymore. He was simply there.

Through the cottony filter, he could hear what sounded like Rex, but he could not tell what he was saying. The brash voice of General Skywalker was there, too, but it was quickly fading, replaced by another brother’s voice.

“Six… minu… nee… mo… him… ow…” said the distorted voice. “ves… kno…in…ther… Fi… ang… on.”

He barely felt a pinch in his neck before an ethereal coolness enveloped him, taking him deeper into the welcoming darkness. He let himself drift, unable to do anything to stop it, and was content that he had done all he could.

***

Fives opened his eyes but saw nothing. The inky blackness was all-consuming, but it did not cause him any alarm. There was no need for panic. The deep dark space was calm, tranquil, and welcoming in an odd way. He was no longer in any pain, and there was no danger, no war, and nothing left to fight for. Peace at last.

Was this where death had brought him?

Before he was done registering the question, he saw a wisp of the most beautiful blue glide in a ribbony trail past his vision. Another quickly followed on his other side, splitting through the dark like hyperspace trails. More and more streaked across his line of sight from all around him, and he tracked their movement until he realized they were leading him away from wherever he was.

Fives took an automatic step, not realizing he had been standing on anything at all, and joined the swirling colors in their dance to wherever they were headed. He could not tell how long he walked, for there seemed to be no concept of time at all, but the wisps soon blended and faded into a warm, misty glow. He had no name for the color of the space, but he could see movement in the distance beyond—a figure drawing closer.

“Hello?” he asked. His voice sounded like his own, but it was also more like an echo in his head.

The figure took shape and became more solid the closer it got, and Fives wondered why his heart was not beating through his chest. He knew them—the tattoo on his jaw was unmistakable.

“Hello, Vod.”

“Hevy!” Fives breathed, reaching out for his long-dead brother.

Hevy’s semi-corporeal form reached back, locking a hand around Fives’ neck and bringing their foreheads together. “You did good, Vod, but it’s not your time yet.”

“What?” Fives asked, feeling like he should have been shedding enough tears to fill Kamino’s oceans. The wisps around them started moving faster, becoming brighter, until they were whiter than Fives’ could bear to look at directly. “You’re dead. So, am… am I?”

Hevy released him and gave him a gentle, familiar smile. “There are many things you still need to do.”

“Hevy, I-I don’t u-understand,” Fives stuttered, but the hand on the back of his neck gripped him more firmly.

“You will. Just listen for the echo.” Hevy removed his hand and suddenly began to fade into the bright wisps around them.

“Echo?” It was only then that Fives felt a surge of panic. Echo was dead. But why had Hevy come to him instead? “Hevy, wait! Where’s Echo?!”

Fives felt a hard tug behind his navel, pulling him into the bright light. “Where’s Echo?!” he kept calling. “Hevy!”

***

Beep… beep… beep…

Beep… beep… beep…

Beep… beep… beep…

It was a sharp, repetitive sound ringing in his ears every few moments. It was downright annoying. It was too bright now, pain shooting through his head.

Pain.

Once part of him had registered it, he became aware of it all at once. Every muscle, every limb, every inch of him down to his toes ached. He felt like he had been hit head-on by the Resolute jumping to lightspeed. His throat was dry, his lips hurt, his bones ached, and his lungs felt raw. He squeezed his eyes shut harder against the bright light, and even that hurt.

“…aking up,” said an urgent voice somewhere in the distance. “Contac… Rex…”

Fives groaned, realizing there was some kind of obstruction in his throat. He coughed against it, and it was quickly, albeit painfully, removed. As he slowly came around, blinking his crusty eyes furiously, he realized it was Kix hovering over him.

“Welcome back, brother,” Kix nearly laughed, smiling down at him. “Hang on, this will make you feel better.” He picked up a line and injected a generous amount of myobacta into it. “Thought we lost you there for a while, Vod.”

Fives tried to form the words he wanted to say, but he ended up in a hoarse coughing fit instead. Even as the bacta spread through his body, everything still ached.

“Easy, easy,” Kix soothed, elevating him into a reclined sitting position and adjusting the overhead light so it was not directly in Fives’ eyes. “You’ve been out for a few weeks, and you’ve got a new heart. It’s gonna take some time for you to fully recover. Just try to relax for me. I promise you’ll be all right.”

A new heart? Fives wondered. He lifted a weak hand to move the medical gown aside and looked down at his chest. There was a long, new scar over his sternum and a blotchy burn scar that was still sealed under a bacta patch on his left pec. No wonder everything hurts.

His thoughts were still disconnected and sluggish, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known since he was a shiny that the bodies of fallen brothers were often recovered after battles, and their organs were harvested and put into stasis in case another clone needed a replacement organ. It had always made him feel like the Kaminoans had done that purposefully, just to reinforce how expendable they were. He had tried to own it all the same, recalling telling the cadets on Kamino they all had the “same heart, same blood.” It was one of his more poetically symbolic moments, and he remembered Echo saying it would make a good tattoo.

Even though the dark truth was hard to admit, and it made him angry that such a thing as harvesting organs from fallen clones would be necessary, he also knew it had probably saved hundreds, maybe thousands, of other clones’ lives over the years—now including his own.

“Hey, you listening to me?” Kix asked.

Fives nodded weakly, thankful that Kix had moved the unforgivingly bright light. He had to wonder what had happened to him, though, to warrant receiving another brother’s heart. Kix’s bedside manner was also never this good unless someone had really been through hell, but he did not have long to dwell on the thought before the door burst open.

Rex came surging through the door as if he had sprinted the length of the Military Complex parade deck at full speed without stopping. He looked a little worse for wear, sporting an expression that was somewhere between elation and relief, and a new pale scar on the side of his head.

“Fives!” he all but laughed. “You’re awake!”

Fives nodded again. Why did everyone keep saying that? He had never fallen asleep that he could remember. He was with Hevy, and before that…

It all came flooding back in a rush. He remembered the plot, warning Rex and the general, picking up his pistol and screaming in a panic, aiming it at the red-clad Corries sent to take him away. He had been shot. Commander Fox had shot him directly in the heart. He remembered the searing, burning pain as his heart had ceased to exist in his chest, reduced to carbon and ash from the plasma.

“Fives? Hey, talk to me,” Rex said, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“He needs to rest up a bit. Here, drink a little of this if you can,” Kix said, bringing a straw to Fives’ chapped lips. When Fives did as he was told and made a scrunchy, disgusted face at the bitter taste, Kix chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the reaction I expected. He’ll be fine, Captain.”

***

Hours later, Rex had still not left Fives’ side, explaining at length what had happened. They had figured it out after all.

“You made me and Kix dig further into your warning, and we found out the truth about the chips in our heads,” Rex explained, pointing to the healing scar just past his right temple. “We uncovered a whole plot by the chancellor to destroy the Jedi Order, and we would’ve been his tools if you hadn’t tipped us off. The Jedi managed to remove him from power, and he was promptly executed.”

Fives had slowly regained his voice, but he still sounded like he had been screaming over blaster fire on the battlefield for too long. “Still can’t believe I got shot,” he snickered hoarsely. “Can’t say I blame Fox for doing his job, though.”

Rex’s lips pressed into a tight line and twitched at the corners into a tense smile. “It wasn’t his fault, Fives. He doesn't remember doing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“That was Palpatine, too. He’d been manipulating Fox’s chip like a test dummy for years. It caused him to have memory blackouts. Cody found records of it in a journal Palpatine kept while they were sorting through the intel after he was executed,” Rex explained.

Fives grimaced. Even fresh out of a coma, his blood boiled because of all the injustices and inhumanities every clone had endured, all for Palpatine's war. They were human, and they deserved to be treated like humans from the beginning, given rights and choices—not manipulated like programmed droids. “That’s fucked up.”

The captain nodded, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands. “Actually, Fox said he wants to come visit you—as long as it’s all right with you. Says he wants to apologize and hopes you can forgive him. He’s been pretty beaten up over it.”

“Nothing to forgive. He can come anytime and I’ll tell him myself,” Fives said with a genuine smile. He could not help the wave of grief that swept over him, though. None of this should have happened to any of them. “I just wanted to do my duty, what was right.” Fives’ said sorrowfully. His already hoarse voice cracked. “For Tup, too. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

Rex nodded solemnly in agreement. “But you saved us all, and Tup’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain. With Palpatine dead, peace talks have started all over the galaxy with fracturing Seppie worlds. The CIS is falling apart, but there are a few holdouts that keep fighting. I’m headed to Anaxes with Cody tomorrow. They are proving difficult to counter. It’s like they know our moves before we make them.”

Fives gave a cheeky smile, one that still showed all of the inner fire he still possessed. “I wish I could be there with you, sir.”

Rex squeezed Fives’ atrophied bicep reassuringly. “Don’t worry, there will be plenty of fights left for you once you’re better. Kix might actually skin me alive if I try to sneak you out.” He stood and gathered his bucket, chuckling with his vod before making for the door.

Tell him. Fives thought. He should know. “Rex?” he asked, causing the captain to pause. “I… I know this sounds crazy, but while I was out, I saw Hevy.”

“Your batchmate? The one who died on Rishi Station?”

“Yeah, him. He told me that it wasn’t my time yet, and… he told me to listen for the echo. That’s when I realized… wherever I was, wherever Hevy came from, Echo wasn’t there.”

Rex looked skeptical, furrowing his brow and eyeing Fives curiously. He had his suspicions about an afterlife, but after spending enough time around the Jedi, he had long decided nothing was too farfetched. “You think Echo may still be alive?”

“I don’t expect you to believe me. I’m not sure I entirely believe it myself,” Fives sighed, shaking his head. “But I just have a gut feeling, you know? Just do me a favor and… listen for him, I guess.”

The captain offered him a confident smirk and a nod. “I’ll keep my ears open.”

[typically-untypical]

A Tattoo For You

AU: Tattoo Shop

CW: Mention of Family Member Death

WC: 1,237

Date: 12/12/2023

The tattoo chair felt more intimidating than Logan expected, but he knew it had less to do with the pain and more to do with the permanence and going against his parents’ expectations. It was amazing how even as a full grown adult he was desperate for his parents approval, something he knew he wasn't likely to get with this particular stunt. However, Logan couldn't help but smile nervously at the man in front of him, his husband of five years. Janus was covered in tattoos, a canvas of artwork that Logan loved to explore. He had helped Logan come to terms with his conflicting feelings around the adornments and Logan had been happy to cherish each piece of ink as if it were special. Including the little octopus Janus had gotten for losing a dare.

Logan's parents had never approved of tattoos. His grandmother was covered in them. She had been a wild child in her youth and she had truly loved and experienced life. Logan's mother had thought the tattoos were tacky, and his father had insisted that tattoos were a great way to destroy one's future. Logan's grandmother had insisted her tattoos were how she had escaped being eaten by a cannibal. 

She had always been strange.

He missed her. He missed her view on life, the way she approached the world, and he missed her guidance.

"She would laugh at your choice in tattoo, and I think she'd really appreciate it," Janus whispered, beginning his preparations. He risked giving Logan's leg a gentle squeeze while his gloves were still off.

"You don't think it's a bit abstract?" It wasn't that Logan needed anyone else to understand why the tattoo was important, but there was part of him that was still worried others would look at him with disgust. He was still fighting his parent's programming even to this day. 

"Even if it is abstract, this tattoo design is very you and she would appreciate that." Janus slid his gloves on after washing his hands, double checking the stencil placement.

Logan also looked down at it, despite being upside down, he could see it clearly. It was a realistic drawing of the opportunity rover and the words "it's getting dark". Logan knew those weren't the actual last words of the opportunity rover, but it was one of the last things his grandmother had said to him before she passed away.

The shadows of the night had taken over the city, and Logan followed his grandmother's gaze to the window. "It's getting dark, jelly baby. I think it's time for you to go home." 

Logan hesitated, not wanting to leave his grandma's side. Something felt important, poignant even. Her house was on his way home from his summer job, and he had taken to stopping by every day before heading to an empty space. His parents were constantly busy, never having time for dinner or a chat after their day, so it was nice to see a familiar face and have a warm meal. Honestly, it was just nice to be by her side. "I don't want to go," Logan whispered, quoting the titular and heart breaking line from his favorite TV show. His grandma just smiled at him.

"My jelly baby, we all have to go at some point." She stood slowly, walking over to him and giving him a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, but you need to get home before it's too dark out."

He collapsed into her warmth, holding her closely. "Love you, TS." He pulled back, kissing her head before finally letting go. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

When Logan saw her the next day, it wasn't really her. Sitting in her lounge chair was the body she left behind, the person she was had disappeared. Logan had lost his grandmother on the same day the opportunity rover had gone out of commission. He wasn't a particularly sentimental person, but he hoped there was a heaven, or that his grandmother had found some kind of peace in the end. On the nights when sleep eluded him, he hoped she was out exploring the stars with Oppy, but that was a hope only he and his husband knew about.

"You're handling this tattoo a lot better than most of my clients." Janus pulled him out of his thoughts, no doubts seeing the tears that were streaming down Logan's face. 

"Pain is something I can tolerate," Logan responded, but took in a shuddering breath nonetheless. "However, can we take a quick break?" He had lost track of time and wasn't sure how long Janus had been tattooing him. It must have been a while because the color of the sky had shifted. The reds and oranges of morning were now fading into the lighter blues of day. 

Janus had put down the tattoo gun and taken off his gloves, holding out his hand for Logan. He took it immediately. "You are finally letting me tattoo you, and it's something rather sentimental," Janus let his voice trail off, still holding Logan's hand and squeezing it tightly. There wasn't much either could say about this tattoo, it meant the world to Logan but it was also dangerous territory. He wasn't sure he would ever fully heal from the death of his nan but no matter what, Janus was there by his side. "I love you, Logan." His voice was strong in a way Logan desperately needed and Logan pulled Janus in closer.

"I love you too," he whispered, bringing Janus' hand up to his lips. "Thank you for waiting for me to be ready, for not pushing the idea of me having a tattoo."

"It should always be a choice, and I know you, you think everything through with careful consideration. I also knew when you finally got your tattoo, it would be the most important one I've ever done." The rising sun illuminated Janus, his back shining in a halo of gold. Without Janus, Logan was sure he would still be stuck in his grief but he had his husband, he had his dream job, he had a life his nan would be proud of. 

Logan smiled, giving Janus another quick squeeze of his hand before slowly pulling back. 

He was ready again.

"More important than Remus' transition tattoo."

Janus went to wash his hands and put on a fresh pair of gloves. "More important than Remus' transition tattoo, just don't tell him that. I think he'd be offended." They both knew that Remus wouldn't care he would just act offended. All three of them knew how important this tattoo was to Logan.

Looking down at the half finished ink, Logan flexed his hand. His grandma had been his world, and she had never gotten the chance to meet Janus. He hoped she understood that he took her advice and chose his partner well. He had been meticulous. He had had so many walls that he genuinely believed no one would ever break them down.

Allowing his eyes to slide up to his husband who was carefully putting on his new gloves, making sure everything was sanitized, Logan knew. This man who had carefully deconstructed every safeguard Logan had put around his heart... 

His nan would have approved.

She would have liked Janus and having him be the one to do her dedication tattoo.

She would have liked that too.

@tsspromptmonth