#its such a small thing now but it just opened up years of repressed rage in me.

[eldritchqueerture]

.

[faejilly]

so, like a million years ago (aka over a year, time is a lie, shh, I refuse to double check exact dates) @awaylaughing prompted me for words! LOOK! WORDS!

Camellia (my destiny is in your hands) + Mass Effect (dealer's choice on all else) [OG prompt list]

This is, uh, perhaps more legacy than destiny, but it makes sense in my head. Hopefully it translates? Opening of ME2, F!Shepard, Joker, & Kaidan (with a little bit of Shenko for the tragedy of it all).

All Shepard could hear was her own breath, ragged and stuttering and too sharp in her throat.

For the first time in her life, she hated space, hated the bright lights that blinded her, the fact that the stars were too far away to matter, that her ship was exploding, her people were dying, the enemy was fleeing, its job done, the rest of them too small to matter, and she couldn't hear any of it.

Her heart beat so hard her ears throbbed in time, her breath too fast to match, too small, too shallow, yet she could still hear it beneath the whine of overlapping alarms. Her eyes burned with the flash of almost every alert possible simultaneously lighting up the edges of her vision, her HUD desperate to show her what she needed to know, desperate for her to fix it, help it, help them, fix them, fix everything, but still too dim to show clearly against the flares of lasers and oxygen burning burning burning.

Joker was swearing, the edge of pain clear in his voice, a hiss and a spark just audible beneath the rasp of his voice, and she was reasonably sure he'd just broken through a wall panel to access the system directly. As if he could refuse everything that had just happened, as if he could pilot an escape pod to come get her, as if his will was strong enough to turn around something without an engine or steering.

She almost laughed, felt it catch in her chest. If anyone could, it would be Joker.

“Shepard?” It was Alenko, his voice off-rhythm, unsteady, somehow both too fast and too slow, too low and too loud and yet so hard to hear over the silence around her. “Shepard, can you report? Status,” his voice caught, a swallow she could feel, could hear, “Shepard, please, damn it, Shepard.”

Her comms were still on.

Everyone could hear her breathing, Alenko had heard that almost laugh. Impossible though it seemed, that slight tremor of a breath wasn’t too faint for him, not with the way he always listened, always paid attention.

Especially to her, just as she’d always done the same for him.

She could hear Alenko’s breathing now, steady, let it steady her own, let herself pretend for just one inhale, one exhale, that there was something someone could do.

Something that Alenko could do, her Lieutenant, her XO, the best marine she’d ever worked with, that beautiful studied calm of his backing her up. He’d crossed every t, dotted every i, noticed every misstep around him, just so he could help someone take the next one and keep going…

He’d kept her going.

He’d keep them going.

He was the only one who could.

“Suit malfunction.”

Her voice sounded… normal.

Fucking N training.

She hated Anderson for a moment, almost as much as she hated space. Got her killed, the two of them, and trained her so well along the way that she couldn’t even panic about it, not when it would hurt someone else.

Kaidan.

She had to clench her jaw, close her eyes.

I’m sorry.

She opened her eyes.

“That final attack spread us all in different directions.” Her trajectory was almost exactly the opposite of Joker’s pod. Even if he could manage to steer the damn thing out of sheer fucking spite, he’d never be able to catch up.

Fucking physics. Newton was a bitch, and she’d tell him so herself when she met him.

Soon, now.

“Weaver,” Alenko’s voice was hollow in a way she’d never wanted to hear, especially not between the two of them, not when he was saying her name.

She just barely managed to mute her mic before she made a noise she couldn’t repress, rage and sorrow and cold, something that hurt her ears even more than the still whining alerts, something she couldn’t let him hear, not now, not like this, not as the last thing he’d ever–

She bit her tongue so hard she could taste copper and turned off the alerts so her mic wouldn’t pick them up, ignored the way the O2 sensor flashed as if it wanted to refuse her command.

“Get them home, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, ma’am.” His voice was solid this time, solemn, and she hated to think what it had cost him to put everything else away. “Understood.”

“Thank you, Kaidan,” she whispered. She thought she heard his breath again, just for an instant, something warm and alive and oh so far away, but then she cut her comm lines completely. She couldn’t bear to hear him say good-bye, would not allow him to hear what was going to happen next, what was already happening, the cold and the weight and the effort it took to inhale, the tremble in her arms, the battle she was about to lose to keep herself still, to stop herself from desperately scrabbling at the edges of her suit to try and find some way to fix everything that was broken.

Alenko would save as many of her people as could be saved, she had no doubts.

She just wasn’t one of them.

Good-bye, Kaidan.

[cloudninetonine]

A past that still haunts me

A/N: Hey guys, it's me (ya boi) I'm back with my still current hyper fixation Genshin Impact and a vent fic because I've been really stressed and well, it's hard living in my house :) It's a hurt/comfort fic because they always get to me and I needed to make something for myself

I am willing to do aftermath where the boys confront the abuser or do scenario but with different characters

Synopsis: You’re not a damsel in distress, you never have been and you never will be, but, well, sometimes you need a hero to rely on and that’s okay

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli and Childe

Warnings: Hints to past abuse, confrontation of abuser, violence, mentions of blood, threats, foul language

It had meant to be like any other menial day of an adventurer: sign in with Katheryne, complete your commissions, sign out with Katheryne with your payments - done and dusted.

But that wasn’t how it went, no, far from it - archons, so damn far from it.

“Thank you once again, (Name)” Katheryne’s smile was kind like usual, holding that familiar feeling of gratitude as she handed over your remission within a marked package, hand returning to the desk’s polished surface once you had taken it graciously, sending her a beaming grin back. “The Guild really appreciates your work ethic when it comes to the Ruin machines, it’s hard to come across adventurers who want to handle them anymore”

You sent her a shrug as you placed away the box “Can’t blame them really, they’re a hard bunch to handle- I was terrified of them when I first started too, but I had my vision to help me out, a lot of these folk only use there pure determination to eradicate them, gotta admire that!”

She laughed along with you politely “Have a good evening, (Name), I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

“Of course you will!” You backpedalled away from the guild reception, throwing the woman a polite double fingered salute as you did “Ad astra abyssoque as they say, my fair lady!”

She parrotted back her usual phrase before disappearing into the building, you walking further down the path of the city for your final activity for that day.

Of course, you didn’t reach that far, after all, it wasn’t that menial day you had expected, that you had wanted. Life was cruel sometimes, so incredibly cruel for no justified reason just for the sake of it all and you wished, archons, you wished you could rewind the clock and stop yourself from bumping into the body, to save yourself from all the repressed trauma bursting forth like a flurry of butterflies, well, more like moths, disgusting, ungodly, monster moths that aimed straight for the face.

“Sorry!” You yelped, too preoccupied with gathering your pocketwatch you had dropped in the stumble to see who it had been, after all, you were on a schedule and you didn’t want to be-

“(Name)?”

...late.

All of a sudden, time didn’t seem to exist, or maybe it was moving way too slowly from that horrid spike of adrenaline that shot into your bloodstream as soon as the voice registered.

You hoped to the Archons that it wasn’t, that it couldn’t, but did the gods hear your prayers?

“Oh Archons, it is you! It’s been such a long time!”

Of course, they did, they just didn’t care to listen. Ignoring the cries of your people were in fashion to them these days.

They stood there with a smile so excited it almost seemed to tear their face in half, with eyes sparkling with recognition after so many years away from them, they opened their arms welcoming you into their embrace like it was something just so normal for the two of you like you would come bounding to them like a lost puppy who had finally found their master.

The fear of your abuser dwarfed in comparison the pure feral rage and loathing to think that they even deserved to be breathing in the same space as you.

People were looking, of course, they were looking, you knew what they were doing, being bright and jovial, bringing others attention towards you both so that whatever scene you caused would be your fault like you were the bad guy. It was old tactics, of course, you wouldn’t dare do anything when you were younger, you’d just push through it, but this wasn’t old times, this wasn’t younger you, scared, smaller you afraid them, this was you now, a warrior, unwavering in battle, a person who smiled in the face of danger, who laughed at the pitiful fights that 2- no- 4 abyss mages brought to you!

To hell what other people thought, you’d stomp their head into the cobblestone if they had so much as poked you.

“Come here and give me a-”

You took a step back, mustering the deadliest face you could, but you wavered, it was only natural, no matter how much you could try to hype yourself up, this person was your first true experience of real-life nightmares, the first person to bring you true pain, no matter how many ruin guards, hunters, millachurls, mages- anything you faced, nothing could prepare you to face your first fear:

The fear of your older sibling.

“If you fucking touch me I’ll stab you-” The growl cracked nearing the end, you were always an angry crier but you were not about to fall back to this- this monster. “In front of all these people, I won’t hesitate”

Their face dropped followed by your stomach, though, the food you had for lunch sure did feel its way up your gullet.

“What’s with your language? We haven’t seen each other in four years and this is how you treat me? Your older sibling?” They laughed in disbelief because onlookers would think they were shocked, I mean, how could you speak to family like that? But they didn’t know, they didn’t know the words they had told you, the insults, the threats, those tight grabs, those beatings- they didn’t know, so they obviously didn’t know that the shock came from the fact that you had stood up to them.

You licked your lips to get rid of the dryness, but the problem you faced was that your mouth had dried out along with them, as did your throat.

Don’t let them turn this on you, don’t let them get the upper hand, you were better than them, so much better.

“You’re not my fucking sibling” You spat, feeling the air vibrate around you, a sudden shine from your cloak hinted you to the cause “You haven’t been for a long time, don’t fucking try that shit with me”

There it was, that familiar enraged spark, that look of hatred on their face, the thing that warned you about what you said had been the right thing to set them off, that they were just as easily triggered by the smallest act of rebellion just like when you were kids.

Of course, they hadn’t changed.

Evil never did.

They took a step forward but you didn’t back off, just hardened your resolve as they leaned in menacingly, as though their stupid little intimidation tactic still worked after all these years.

You told yourself it didn’t but you knew deep down that wasn’t completely true.

“Don’t speak to me like that, (Name)” Facade gone, they showed you what they really were, what they were really like after all, “Don’t you ever speak to me like that, you show me fucking respect”

Respect?

RESPECT!?

Oh Archons, you were angry, no, seething from the thought that they ever deserved respect.

That pathetic piece of shit, that gruelling pleb, mere gum on the bottom of your damn shoe-

You’d kill them, right here, right now.

You felt the familiar materialisation begin to form in your hand when another voice called out, a familiar loving one that nearly made your throat swell from relief.

“(Name)?”

Diluc

He could sense the tension. Of course, he could sense the tension, Diluc had faced this tension so many times before, he was practically the one that owned such a vibe anytime Kaeya even breathed near him for a second longer than necessary.

But being the one to witness it, to see you, the usual awkward, goofy sweetheart stare at another with such overbearing malice made him uneasy, caused his stomach to churn in ways he didn’t like, set him off in a way that was only reserved for the most chilling on moments.

Diluc wondered what exactly this stranger had done to warrant such a reaction from you.

“(Name)?” The redhead called, glancing around the many citizens of Mondstadt that watched the exchange with intrigue, guard and worry, eyes focused on the scene of this foreign stranger and fuming you, hand poised by your side with weapon particles dancing on your palm.

When Diluc finally made it over, his form seemed to curl protectively around you, hand landing on the small of your back delicately while keeping face with the person, eyes narrowed dangerously but still holding an air of civilness.

A true gentleman, even when you were close to merking some rando.

“Is there a problem?”

The stranger straightened immediately, backing up a few steps with their hands up in defence, sending Diluc a charming smile that the man could see through crystal clear.

“No problem, no problem at all” They glanced back at you, seemingly friendly despite his partner’s obvious ill intent that radiated off you in waves “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

Diluc saw you tense up once again, the buzz from your Vision rising in volume with your obvious anger as you tightened your first, ready to just screw your weapon and go for the throat.

“If that is the case” The noble’s hand softly pressed against your back, gently but coaxing, knowing that conflict in the middle of the town centre would just bring the knights to meddle in affairs that they had no business attending “Then we shall be going”

“There’s no need to leave, after all, my sibling and I were just chatting”

He paused, shouldering a questioning glance your way but at the sight of your unruly expression, he pushed down his enquiries and once again began coaxing you away from the scene. Angel’s Share had already been open for a while, meaning the usual folk would already be settled in, but the storage room was sure to be a good place to chat and to calm you down, all he needed to do was get you away.

“We already had plans” The side glance had the stranger- your sibling, biting their tongue, brows furrowing in a known annoyance as the two of you began your way towards the pub, you still vibrating in anger. “Good day to you”

The two of you had made it a few feet when they called out once again “Don’t worry, (Name), I’ll see you again real soon”

Diluc’s arm tightened around you faster than you could react, tugging you away quickly “Diluc-”

“No, (Name)”

“Stay out-”

“Not here” Sharing a look, he softened at the shine in your eyes. “You’ll just attract the knights' attention”

You didn’t care, no, not one bit. If the knights had dared to interfere at that moment, they too would have been caught up in your blinded revenge, thrown aside or slashed down without single care just to finally eradicate the bane of your existence and you didn’t care about what consequences you brought about, you just didn’t and you made sure to tell Diluc that, as soon as you had the privacy of Angel’s Share’s storeroom, pacing up and down while he stood off to the side against the wall, watching silently.

“You had no right to get in my way!” You snapped, voice shaking from the pure emotions you were releasing “I finally had my chance, I was finally going to do it! They deserve to end by my hand, by my decision, after the years of torture they put me through! They deserved it! And you got in my way! How could you get in my way! I-”

Pushing off the wall, he slowly advanced towards you, carefully, hands out like he was approaching a wounded animal.

“I understand you’re upset-”

“I’m not upset!” You cried at him, stopping mid-step before dropping your head and tightly, grabbing your hair in your hands “I’m not upset! I’m angry! I’m so fucking angry! And I deserve to be fucking angry! I-”

The sob ripped through your throat despite you trying to hold it back, tears finally gathering in your eyes and rapidly falling down your cheeks “You should have let me kill them! I should have had the chance to rid the world of their evil! It’s not fair! It’s not- it’s not fair, I-”

You didn’t bother to fight him when his arms finally wrapped around you, just fell against him as you wept. The pent up rage, fear and sadness from years of repression taking its toll as you cried, your partner whispering sweet words as he raked his hand through your hair gently and leaned his head against yours.

“I’m sorry” His hand held your cheek fondly, ruby red staring back into your own eyes with a softness that made you melt “I didn’t know this meant so much to you, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll always listen”

With another choked sob, you leaned into his hold “Please just hold me for now”

And he did just that.

Kaeya

The captain had promised to meet you at his office, a simple task really but with the lingering presence of Jean and the words ‘There’s so much work that needs to be done’ leaving her lips he bolted, hoping to catch you by the Guild and drag you to Angel Share for your date. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her, it was just he had already promised you this night and Eula could have always taken his place with paperwork, her threat of “vengeance” as she liked to call it could wait for another day.

It was also due to the fact he had no intentions of filing any paperwork for as long as he could avoid it, but that was his secret to be kept.

Being the perspective man he was, he could tell straight away he had walked into something tense, surveying the surrounding people of Mondstadt who looked on in concern, the unbridled rage upon your face, the obviously intimidating lean that the stranger held over you- something was wrong and he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“(Name)?” You glanced for a single moment before your furious glare had returned to the stranger, another flag waving right in his face as he approached, “My dear? Who might this be?”

Before you could snap, lip curling in disgust, the stranger stood back to their full height, switching quickly with a fake charming smile that practically mirrored his own, holding out their hand towards him “(S/N) (Last), (Name)’s older sibling. it’s nice to meet you”

Kaeya’s smile widened and despite the glare from you that was now focused on him, he shook your sibling's hand in-kind “Kaeya Alberich, (Name)’s partner-”

He made sure to tighten his grip with his last words “And Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius”

Successfully, as he always was, Kaeya held back the smug, mocking grin that itched to climb onto his face when the neck of your sibling bobbed nervously, forehead reflecting the afternoon light as sweat gathered on their brow.

The man hadn’t obviously threatened them, surely, Kaeya was smarter than that, but then again, he could still present himself as a threat, a good one and well, his title was a menacing one when it came to the right moment. ‘Try anything and not only do I have the authority to kick your arse but the power to put you in a place many didn’t dare even step’ shortened into an innocent sentence with only 8 words.

“Cavalry Captain? That’s quite impressive” They laughed off, tugging away their hand awkwardly when Kaeya continued to keep a firm grip, his present eye focused solely on your siblings face. They glanced over to you “Quite an achievement for you, aye (Name)?”

You growled, “I’ll show you an achievement-”

Kaeya’s arm had wrapped around your waist not a second later, tugging you tighter to his side as the two of you turned, the man throwing your sibling a smile over his shoulder.

“As nice as it was to meet you, (S/B), we must be going”

And then without another word Kaeya dragged you away, heading in the direction of your home instead of Angel Share tavern, feeling your pure, unfiltered anger the whole way along with the citizens as they parted ways, rushing off from your rage.

It was only when you had returned to the sanctuary of your abode did you snap, jerking away from your boyfriend with angered strides and beginning your seething lecture towards him, moving up and down through the living room while he ventured off into the kitchen, grabbing 2 glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How dare you Kaeya! How fucking dare you! Do you have any idea what you were doing back there!? What was even happening back there!? So much for being the most observant man in Mondstadt because you seemed pretty dense to me the whole fucking time!” Your hands raked through your hair as you yelled, trying so hard to hold back the tears “I didn’t need your damn help, Kaeya! Nor did I fucking want it! Know to stay out of someone's business when it isn’t wanted!”

Logically you knew what he had done, you were smart like that and you knew Kaeya long enough to know what he was doing but your rage, fear and sadness blocked out everything in that moment, made you blind to reality, made you only think irrationally and Kaeya didn’t blame you for that. He could never blame you for that.

Though, it did hurt him to see you in this state.

“Wine?”

You gawked at him for a moment, staring at him with shock and confusion as he held out a wine glass towards you, another held in his other hand and a sweet smile plastered on his face, before your moment morphed into rage, grabbing the drink from his hand and tossing it towards the wall, the red wine splattering over the wallpaper and glass shards falling to the floor.

“Well, that was a waste-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Kaeya!?” You cried, not even bothering to hold back anymore as the tears fell and your voice cracked, hand pointing accusingly in his face “Is this some kind of joke to you!? Huh!? Am I a fool in your eyes!? Some sort of blubbering idiot!? Why must you- why do you-”

The second glass was placed on the dresser by you both, Kaeya’s hand coming to hold your cheek fondly while the other came to grab your hand that dangled in the air, still poised at him “I don’t think you're either of those, my dear, in fact, I think you’re one of the brightest in the whole of Teyvat, nevermind Mondstadt”

You hiccuped “Then why-”

Brushing away the wetness from your cheek, he brought your hand to his mouth to place a fond kiss on your palm “Because you mustn’t cry, (Name), don’t waste your tears on someone like them”

“I’m not crying, I’m-”

He shushed you gently and you finally relaxed, falling into his embrace with a heavy heart “-I’m not, I swear-”

Within the familiarity of your home, you wept in his arms, exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions and the scenes that had transpired that day, ready to just curl into yourself and try to block the flooding memories of history. Although, having Kaeya at that moment helped more than he could ever know, having him to rely on made it all so much easier to cope with that day.

“Tell me what ails you and I’ll listen” Brushing back some hair, he pressed a kiss to your head.

“Can..can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course, my dear”

Zhongli

He had sensed the incoming danger like it had been revealed in some sort of premonition. Maybe it had been a skill he had acquired after his long, eventful life, maybe it was his connection to Liyue and his citizens, but for some reason, as he sat before Iron Tongue Tian as the man recalled his tales of ancient Liyue like usual, Zhongli knew that the crowd that was forming around Wamin Restaurant had something that he need urgently attend, especially when even Tian paused his story to glance around the corner of the restaurant building to see the commotion.

When the archon had finally borne witness to the scene, he paused within the crowd, surveying the surroundings carefully. You were the centre of attention, along with another stranger, both glaring at one another with anger and disgust, though your own anger seemed to double compared to the other’s, seeing as your weapon was slowly materialising in your grip. Zhongli could also see Guild Master Lan making her way down the steps leading to the Guild reception, a worried expression on her face glancing between you and the approaching Millelith.

Zhongli made his decision, politely pushing through the crowd until he had finally made it by your side, hand being placed gently on your arm “(Name)?”

Both you and the stranger glanced at him, but he paid no mind to them, only held eye contact with you when Lan appeared by your other side, glaring at the stranger with a hardened gaze.

“Are you harassing my guild member?”

Before the stranger could respond, the Millelith had also popped in, glancing between you and them “Is there a problem?”

Zhongli had taken up your view when Lan began her take, she had borne witness for much longer than he had of course and he was certain that you were in no state to talk to the guards. Your eyes were glazed with hatred, pupils pinpricks in a sea of (E/C) and your hands were shaking, balled into fists.

If anything, he needed to try and calm you down first.

“Get the hell out of my way, Zhongli” Your teeth ground together, words shaking with anger “Don’t push yourself into my business”

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do that” He tried brushing your cheek but you jerked away, glaring at his hand before glaring back at him, in no mood to be coddled “I don’t want you to do something you’d regret”

“Trust me, I won’t regret this one bit”

Zhongli held his tongue for the question that almost rolled out, knowing now wasn’t the time for inquiries when the stranger’s voice rang out, condescending and snarky as they addressed you.

“Still need people to protect you, aye (Name)? Of course, you’re still the same pathetic bitch from years ago”

You were lucky for your reputation around Liyue, for the picture of the kind and caring adventurer that had swept through the town from your years of living here because had it not been for that, you pushing aside your boyfriend and materialising your weapon to aim it at your sibling’s throat would have had you in cuffs that instant.

Lan grabbed you, tugging you away as you screamed “I’ll show you pathetic you fucker! Let me go!”

The Millelith didn’t wait to drag your sibling away, much to their cries of dismay, one sending Lan a nod while you continued to fight against her, crying out in frustration.

“Kid, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down!? No! Get the hell off me!”

Zhongli watched as you finally broke away, huffing and puffing up a storm before glancing amongst the crowd, staring at their worried and concerned faces, your own eyes tearing up before you looked away pushing past the crowd to find somewhere to be alone.

When Lan went to call out for you, Zhongli raised his hand, the two sharing a look before the archon made his way after you, his longer legs keeping a steady pace to which he could catch up to you, just beyond the bridge that led into Liyue Harbour. There were no people where you stood, just the lush green plants and great mountains of nature, a perfect place for you to let out your frustration without the prying eyes of the citizens.

“(Name)-”

“Leave me alone!” You cried, curling into yourself with your back turned to him “I don’t want you here, Zhongli! Nor did I want you back there! I didn’t need your or anyone else's help!”

You knew he was here from a place of concern, and deep down you begged that your words didn’t harm him in any way, but currently, you didn’t care, you didn’t want to care, you just wanted to be numb, numb to the flashbacks of your horrid past and numb to the feelings that were dragged along with them.

“My love, please, return with me to our home, I will brew some calming tea-”

“Tea? Tea!? Does it look like I want any fucking tea?! I couldn’t care any less about some fucking tea, Zhongli!” Spinning around on your heels, you scowled at him, not bothering to hide your rushing tears “Don’t you get it!? I want to be left alone, I-”

Two gloved hands gently encased your face, your angered expression morphing into one of shock as your partner stared down at you with glowing eyes filled with a deep-rooted love, affection, worry and so much more that you couldn’t put into mere mortal words. At that moment, everything felt as if it had melted away, only you and him were in this world, nothing else, just the two of you.

And you felt as though your heart had been lifted from the pressures of this life.

“I do not think it is best for you to be left alone” His baritone voice was always so calming, so serene and in your sane moment, you finally felt its effects “I wish to stay with you, so please, let me stay”

With a whimper, you grabbed onto his forearms and leaned your face into his hands, tears continuing to fall as your eyes fluttered shut “Okay…”

“They have hurt you deeply, haven’t they?”

Hesitantly, you nodded.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me the details?”

“I-...” Sharing eye contact once again, you whispered “Can- can you just...hold me for now? Please”

Moving his hands from your face, he engulfed you in his arms, leaning his head against yours “Of course”

Childe

The Harbinger had just left the Northland Bank, hell, he was just about to make his way down the spiral staircase but when hearing the commotion, he paused, something in his gut telling him to check just before and he was glad he did.

Glancing over the elevated walkway, he felt a fiery pit roar in the depths of his stomach, eyes narrowing dangerously at the scene; you were snarling in some other person’s face, their own face nothing short of disgust and a crowd that only seemed to grow by the minute.

Who the hell did this person think they were? Did they even know who you were? To stand so close to you, with a look of threat on their face like you weren’t about to kick their arse? Like he wasn’t about to kick their arse? How did this insignificant speck of dross not know your connections with him, the 11th Harbinger? Or did he know and was just trying his luck?

“Seems like someone has a death wish” And a death wish they had indeed.

Ignoring the perplexed glance from his subordinate stationed outside the building's entrance, Childe made his way down the steps, murderous look stitched on the whole way to the circle of civilians, the mass parting ways for the man that was Tartaglia and continuing to watch the moment in silence.

“Who the hell are you-” You both turned towards him, you in shock while the stranger stared in confusion until Childe’s hand wrapped around their collar, tugging them closer to look down at them with a deep-rooted disgust “-And why the hell are you harassing my partner?”

They fought against him, obviously, they did, but the surprise came when you saddled up next to him, grabbing his arm “Stay out of this, Tartaglia”

What? It hadn't been your request, no, you were always one to finish your whole fights you weren't "A damsel in distress after all!" no, you were so much more, so much greater but that look on your face, murderous and downright cruel- he just couldn't believe his ears.

Childe stared at you in shock while the stranger struggled, throwing him a dirty look in their attempts “Yeah, this is between my sibling and I”

Childe straightened in surprise, feeling embarrassment flood his system. Had he seriously just grabbed and threatened his lover’s family member? Oh, Archons, his judgement had been clouded by anger at the look of the scene, I mean, why would your sibling look at you that way-

“But it’s really no surprise that you still need to be babied, (Name), how shameful”

His eyes widened but not a moment later had you tackled your sibling, the crowd crying out in alarm as you threw back your fist and crushed their nose under the weight of your punch. “I’ll show you fucking shameful, bastard!”

There was shouting and a glance showed the oncoming Millelith marching towards the circle.

Being Fatui always did garner the attention of the guards nowadays, especially for him, who had tried to lure out the attention of their Archon by summoning an ancient god that nearly drowned the entirety of the harbour, so it was no surprise that they seemed to hurry in the pursuit when they noticed his appearance at the scene. However, lucky for him, your reputation as a great adventurer preceded you and throughout Liyue you were seen as a trusted and well-liked individual, meaning whatever trouble you got in, containing his meddling or not, was usually waved away due to the trust of the people.

So, without another thought, Childe tugged you off of your bloodied sibling and held you close, even as you thrashed violently, shouting at him to let you go.

“What is going on here?” A guard called, slamming the hilt of his polearm into the ground as he surveyed the area, eyes landing on the sibling before following the small trail of blood to you, still fighting against your boyfriend with threats falling from your lips “Was there a reason for this brawl? Who started it?”

As your sibling raised themselves on their forearms, they scowled and opened their mouth to respond, only for Childe to put in. “It was them, sir, they were the one that started it, (Name) was merely acting in self-defence”

The Millelith scowled at him, raising a brow and once again looking you over “Is that so?”

He addressed the crowd soon after “Is this what happened?”

And as expected, they all glanced over the sibling, then to you and piped up in agreement. It paid to be a hero, it seemed, the whole harbour returning the favour of years of helping out the community.

“If that’s the case, please come with us” The sibling cried out, anger and fear laced into their voice, trying to argue for their innocence only for the guards to grab them, hauling them away to archons know where while Childe did the same with you, slowly dragging you away from the scene and back into the bank, you screaming and cursing the whole way until you had made it to his office, finally managing to push him off and storming to the opposite side of the room practically seething.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Tartaglia!?” You cried, throwing out your arms in exaggeration “I didn’t need your fucking help! And why the fuck would you pull me off them!? I had them right where I wanted them and you fucking did that! Are you a moron!?”

“You had a sibling” He breathed, watching as you began to pace, muttering in an angered state “And you didn’t tell me”

“-after all these years I finally had the chance to end their pathetic excuse of a life and you just got in my fucking way! I’d waited too long for this moment and you fucking ruined it! How dare you, how fucking dare you-”

“(Name), why didn’t you tell me you had a sibling!?” He cried, walking up to you and grabbing your wrist to stop you “I was ready to kill them right there! And why are you talking about them like this!? They’re your family aren’t they-”

“They are not my fucking family!”

The scream echoed through the room, chilling Childe to the core as you ripped your arm from his grasp, running your hands through your hair before gripping it so tightly it felt close to being ripped from your head. But you didn’t care, no, you couldn’t, you were so angry and you needed something to keep you grounded, to keep yourself from losing yourself and getting lost in those haunting past memories.

The Harbinger felt his chest squeeze painfully as the tears fell down your face, red rimming your eyes and cheeks wet as you sobbed, chest heaving from trying to breathe “Family takes care of you! Family thinks of you in the highest light possible! They love you for who you are and they love you no matter what! That bastard hurt me, made me feel worthless and they refuse to believe they could do no wrong and I hate them! They are the bane of my existence! They are not my fucking family! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I-”

Arms were around you instantly, Childe’s face pressed into your hair as you wept, grasping onto the lapels of his suit and shoving your face into his chest to muffle your cries.

“I’m sorry” He whispered, his own eyes shining slightly “I’m sorry, I was being insensitive. Please, don’t cry”

“No, I’m not crying, I promised myself I wouldn’t-” You hiccuped “I wouldn’t waste any more tears on them-”

Then you broke off into more wails, your boyfriend holding you close and letting you continue to cry in his arms, warm and comforting until you were finally reduced to whimpers, leaning into him heavily as the remaining adrenaline in your body began to wear thin when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Will...will you tell me about it?”

You sniffed “Later...just hold me for now, please, Ajax...”

His arms tightened protectively “Anything for you, my love”

[airashisakura]

My last entry for @ssskmonth | Prompts used Festivals and Family

Kin

Summary: When Sasuke struggles with letting go of pain from his past, Sakura and Sarada remind him that he doesn't have to do this alone.

Rating: Mature

_

“Anata?”

Sasuke stopped dusting off the shelves and looked over in Sakura’s direction. He frowned though, seeing Sakura perched on a stool dangerously, trying to clean the cobwebs of their apartment.

“I was asking…” Sakura scrunched her face in displeasure. She hadn't realized when she had left with Sasuke on his journey that it could bring this much work.

A week ago, when they unlocked the door of their apartment, back after a year with their three-month-old daughter, they had realized making their home habitable again wasn't going to be easy. The exhaustion of their journey back to Konoha hadn’t left their souls, but the Uchiha couple prioritized cleaning over resting.

Sasuke walked over to her and steadied her wobbling stool.

“What?”

Sleep deprivation had left him cranky. He had hoped that Sarada's wailing would cease after they had moved from roads to Konoha. Although he was glad that she was more safe under a roof, it hadn’t stopped her from crying the whole night.

Sakura caught the irritation laced in his voice, and considered whether she should say what she was about to.

“Obon is in two days..." She spoke cautiously, busy with her work. "I was asking if you want to…” She trailed off again, not sure how to phrase this.

“Obon?” Sasuke looked up in her direction. He was about to ask her again, when he realized. “Obon.”

Sakura turned, facing him, and asked nervously, “Should we?”

In all these years, he had never celebrated Obon. When he was a child, he remembered his mother strictly following rituals, preparing to welcome the spirits of their clan's ancestors.

He realized that although he always carried his long gone family in his heart, he never had given any damn about the festival.

“Aah,” he agreed.

Sakura's face lit up with a wide grin, but that died off when they heard Sarada crying at the top of her lungs.

While Sasuke rushed to attend Sarada, Sakura wrestled with more dust and ended up coughing.

Although Sarada’s shrill cries bore holes in his eardrum, all the chaos of his new-formed family had settled down all the internal chaos that he had carried for years.

_

Sasuke stirred out of his slumber engulfed with warmth . Sakura's body was pressed against his back, her arm snuggly thrown around him. Sarada had been quiet after days, and he felt fully rested, refreshed after a sleep devoid of nightmares too.

The light filtering from the curtain told him it was still early, and Sakura's breaths on his neck made him want to wake her up and kiss her numb. He had lost count of the number of days he had felt her bare skin on his, slowly and passionately driving her crazy. The days and nights after Sarada’s birth went by changing diapers and trying to understand the meaning between different kinds of cries, which he hadn't quite mastered yet.

Sasuke was tempted even further when Sakura pressed her lips on his neck and murmured 'morning,' her pert nipples brushing against his muscular back. Sasuke suppressed a gasp, his twitching member, and the urge to reciprocate his wife's desire. He gently pried away from his wife's leg, and regretted it when Sakura retracted herself from him.

"Anata?" Sakura sat up with a myriad of emotions on her face — confusion, hurt and rejection.

Sasuke didn't want to make her feel like that.

"I… I'm going to visit my parents' grave."

Sakura nodded and smiled, her features relaxing.

Sasuke never thought that gulping down the guilt of neglecting his dead family could be that easy.

_

Sasuke sauntered through the path that led to his parents' grave. The place was cold and distant like his heart had been for many years. Neglected even, he mused.

He stopped when he found the stone that bore his parents' name. Uchiha Mikoto and Uchiha Fugaku — names engraved with such beauty that was ironic considering the way they had died. A surge of rage and emotions pumped through his veins in a way that he was too familiar with — it had made him a person of sins that he was still redeeming for.

He stood there unable to repress the painful memories that had seeped from his past like a poison. His surroundings reverberated with the screams and blood that painted his nightmares.

Years of redemption had seemingly healed his wounds, but the sharpness of the past always cut, and the wounds bleed as they always had.

Unable to anchor himself, he looked anywhere but his parents' name. His eyes darted across the ungrazed grass, wild flowers, and puddles formed by summer rain. Stubborn weeds creeping over his parents grave, like the past that was attached to him.

His eyes caught something. And there it is, he mused again. A small pink wildflower intertwined with weeds, facing the sun. A gentle breeze that made its petals gleam in the sunlight reminded him of Sakura's unwavering love. The love that had waited for him through his sins and redemption — love that assured him every day that he no longer was in the darkness alone — love that gave him Sarada.

He crouched down, sighing. The summer heat was getting unbearable, and beads of sweat rolled down from his forehead. This reminded he should get going. Sometimes Sarada got all fussy, and it was hard for Sakura to manage her alone. Although his heart was heavy when his eyes glided over the name of his parents again, he smiled thinking about his new family.

Sasuke traced his finger on kanji of his mother's name, dirt gathering on his finger tip. He picked up the rag that he had brought with him and scrubbed the dirt and mud from the stones. With every swipe of the rag, the images of lifeless bodies of his parents became clearer in his mind. His fingers twitched, but he did his work diligently. The dirt from his parents' name was gone now, like the blood from the wooden floor that had pooled out from his parents' bodies.

Shaking his thoughts off, he held his shirt sleeve with his teeth and rolled it upwards. He went on plucking the weeds, wishing if it was this easy to pluck away memories of his past. There was a hopeful part of him — a little part — thought that with time, the pain of his lost family would wash away, but maybe hope wasn't a thing for Uchiha Sasuke.

He bid adieu to his dead parents, and got up to leave. As he walked away, he looked back over his shoulder to get a peek of the pink flower that remained. The pink flower that had grown in his life — accepting him and his past.

_

As he reached the threshold of his house, he stiffened when he couldn’t feel the familiar chakras he was accustomed to.

He looked around and found Sakura had almost finished cleaning their house. Bookshelves no longer had cobwebs, the white sheets had been removed from the furniture, and the floor was polished.

“Sakura?”

He was answered by the empty hallways and a note. It was a note from Sakura that said she was going out for grocery shopping.

He ran fingers through his hair, sighing, and walked towards the kitchen. He decided to cook a proper lunch. They had been surviving on simple food after they had returned, courtesy of Sarada's fussiness. It amazed him sometimes how their child managed to command all their attention.

Sakura always jokingly complained that it was something Sarada definitely had inherited from him. Sakura boasted that she was a quiet infant, and her parents always backed her up. Sometimes he felt a tinge of jealousy at that.

He opened the fridge and grabbed the leftover rations that they had, and he remembered Naruto grumbling about something similar. He knew he shouldn't find that soothing, but he realized in that aspect he wasn't alone.

In fact, he wasn't alone at all anymore.

Sasuke delved into cooking, but as time ticked on, he got impatient. He decided to go out and look for them. Something made him scared that he couldn't pinpoint.

As he was going to turn the stove off, he heard the click of the door knob. He heard Sakura calling him and responded.

Relief washed through him as Sakura approached him. He had been worrying over nothing. Perhaps his heart was still as fragile as his younger self's. Too afraid to lose, yet too afraid to accept his weakness.

Sakura kept the bag of groceries, grinning widely at him before she complimented the smell of the food. He was captivated by her green eyes, but his daughter seemed to have his attention now. Sarada happily clapped her hands on seeing him and wiggled in her baby sling to reach for him.

Sasuke bent down, and Sarada reached for his cheeks and patted them with her small hands, grinning toothlessly. This was Sarada's way to embrace, Sakura had told him once. Sasuke kissed her little palm before straightening himself.

"When did you return? We were sort of feeling alone, so we decided to make a quick trip to the market. "Ne, Sarada-chan?" Sakura cooed, rubbing her nose on Sarada's head, and Sarada giggled, agreeing with her.

"But someone had more fun than she expected." Sakura tickled Sarada, and she joined her in fits of laughter.

A smile slipped past his lips, and all the heaviness that had settled in his heart from that morning began to dissipate.

"She seemed to be in a good mood," Sasuke commented, looking for something from the bag.

"Yes." Sakura hummed, sifting her fingers through Sarada's hair.

His eyes lingered on them, before he started grating ginger.

"Umm, Anata? Isn't that too much?" Sakura pointed out.

Sasuke nodded, but he added it to the pan and said, "Father always liked it this way."

Sakura blinked. She didn't know how to respond. Sasuke rarely talked about his parents, so she stood there just nodding.

The space between them stilled, with only sounds of food sizzling on the pan and Sarada's squeals.

"Father used to love the spice of ginger, so Mother used to cook like this," Sasuke explained.

"I see," Sakura replied, excitement spiking in her voice.

"Mother also added less Mirin than required," Sasuke went on, and Sakura listened raptly, watching him while he cooked Gyudon.

Sakura didn't miss the melancholy in his eyes when Sasuke said that Gyudon was his father's favourite, and it stirred Sakura's heart

Sakura knew the things which are gone always hurt, but she knew too it took time to heal them. So when Sasuke told her bits of his family, she was glad that Sasuke talked about them without any resentment — sharing his lost happiness with her. She wanted to thank him, so Sakura tiptoed, her arms wrapping around Sarada, and she pecked on Sasuke's cheek.

It was unexpected, and Sasuke stared wide-eyed at the contents in the pan, while the tips of his ears turned red.

"I'll remember this when I cook next time," Sakura blushed.

Sasuke nodded, smirking.

Sarada wiggled in her sling to reach for Sasuke again while Sakura giggled and commented on how restless she was growing.

The house, the people, and the meal he had once shared together with his parents were long gone for him, but now he saw himself in Sarada who was trying to get her father's attention like he used to. He realized time had its own way to fix things.

_

Sasuke watched the sky, summer clouds lazily drifting and strings of smoke whirling between them. The smell of smoke from the neighborhood mingled with the evening breeze, and he felt nostalgic.

His clan breathed fire, and where there was fire, there was smoke. He remembered tasting the bitterness of smoke that lingered on his tongue when his lungs had flamed out a great fireball in childhood. He’d been excited to share his experience, and Itachi had confirmed with his too gentle smile that he had felt the same way

It was a memory that had been long forgotten. Years and years of using katon jutsus and chasing his older brother for revenge had made him ignorant to these feelings that he had held precious in his childhood.

The orangish hue of the setting sun told him it was time.

It was the first day of Obon. He looked around and saw the lantern that was tied at the entrance of their house swinging with the wind along with a windchime.

The lantern will guide them home, Sakura had said when she had tied them.

He knew that too. His mother had told him during childhood while Itachi had set up the bonfire for mukaebi. He had complained that bonfires are for winters, not for summers. His mother had laughed and had corrected him.

Sasuke, this bonfire and lanterns are for the spirits of our ancestors to guide their paths back home.

He had shrugged back then, because he thought he wouldn't have to bother about this in future.

Sasuke set the twigs, and lit them using a small fireball jutsu.

He sat there, remembering that Obon during his childhood had never been so solemn. Lots of people visited during that time. He hadn’t remembered any of them, though Itachi remembered some of them. Sasuke had challenged Itachi: Just you see, nii-san, next time, I'm going to remember everyone's name. Itachi had chuckled and had flicked his forehead.

The next time hadn't ever come. Before he could add more people to his growing list of people he knew, Itachi had wiped out everyone. And then Sasuke was alone.

He realized after all these years how much he had missed his older brother. He always wanted to bury the feeling because it came with the realization that Itachi was dead because of him. Itachi was dead because of Konoha.

Itachi was dead because he wanted his otouto to live.

"Anata?"

Sasuke lifted his eyes from the flames to Sakura, who looked worried. He looked back to flames.

"Are you okay?"

Sasuke nodded. He knew they had spent enough time together for Sakura to know he wasn't alright. His eyes were fixated on flames, so he didn't notice the way Sakura's eyes softened when she sat beside him.

He didn't want to ask her, but he found himself talking anyway. "Do you think Itachi can find his way?"

For the second time in the day, Sakura blinked in confusion.

Sasuke clarified again, "He doesn't even have a grave."

For a second, Sakura felt like she couldn't breathe. She had never seen Sasuke so vulnerable before.

"This place… Konoha…" He gritted his teeth. "I- I don't know how to call Konoha my home after what they did to my clan… to Itachi."

"I can't," He said, his voice louder and filled with accusation.

But as soon as these two words left his mouth, his eyes widened in the realization of what he had done. He shut his eyes and apologized to Sakura.

He felt Sakura's palm on his left cheek. It reminded him of his daughter's gentle touch — that they were his home.

Sakura smiled when his mismatched eyes met her green, and spoke softly, "Hate it till you can love it back, Sasuke-kun."

_

Sasuke swallowed the soft moan that fell out of Sakura's plump lips before he moved down on her neck, leaving a trail of kisses. When their house turned silent from Sarada's cries, they both sought comfort in their bed, limbs tangled innocently. Sasuke was comfortable enough now to delve into his wife's gentle touches. Gentle touches soon turned greedy when he kissed her the way he had wanted to that morning. It wasn't too long before their clothes were scattered across the polished wood of the floor.

He nipped her neck, eliciting a whimper and a delicious clench of her walls around his pulsing cock. He groaned and pushed deeper into her wet velvety cunt. The air from the ceiling fan cooled their sweating bodies, but the heat where they were intimately joined made both their spines tingle.

Sasuke leaned down to capture her lips again, and Sakura reciprocated wantonly meeting with his thrust. They gasped for air when they parted, saliva smeared across the corners of their lips. Sasuke held his gaze with hers, which was always soft, assuring, and accepting. Like a wanderer on a cold night regarded the flames that kept him warm, Sasuke tried to emanate his gratitude for her through his mismatched eyes.

He inched deeper, relishing the warmth of her skin. Sakura's lips parted in a silent cry when he hit the spot that he knew made Sakura come undone. Their rhythm became more erratic, and the heaving and slapping of wet skin was driving Sasuke to his own finish.

Sasuke angled his hips and thrust roughly. Sakura shuddered, her nails digging deep in his bare shoulder. He closed his eyes, focussing on the pleasure unknoting in his belly, he pushed roughly again, and felt—

Sarada's whimpers reached their ears. His eyes snapped open reflexively like he was waking in the midst of a nightmare, and Sakura's grip loosened on him. Sakura winced as he reluctantly pulled out of her. He wasn't sure if it was because Sarada's cries intensified, or if it was because they’d been interrupted.

She smiled weakly and slid out of bed. Sasuke huffed and dropped onto the bed, watching Sakura hurriedly putting his shirt to cover her curves.

When he made his way towards them, Sakura was pacing along the room, cradling Sarada in her arms trying to calm her down.

"I fed her, changed her diapers, and still she is crying," Sakura said, expression etched with worry and irritation. Sarada shrieked louder, and Sakura's patience was waning thin.

Sasuke stretched his arm towards her, and Sakura handed the baby over. When he took her in his arm, rocked her and carefully nuzzled his nose on her forehead, she stopped crying. Somehow, it felt strange yet so good that someone needed him.

He was sure Sakura was red with envy and embarrassment when she mumbled something and walked away. He couldn't help himself but let out a chuckle, and Sakura turned and laughed too.

_

Konoha's streets were overflowing with families, people enjoying and dancing around the yagura stage to the beats of Taiko drums on the second day of Obon.

"Ino and I always loved dancing to this rhythm."

Sasuke didn't remember anything from his genin days. Maybe Sakura had told him back then, but he never paid attention to it like the other things he had missed while chasing blindly after revenge. This festival, this tradition, and Sakura were always there, and he had always been a piece out of the puzzle.

But Sarada with all her charm had made him fit in the puzzle. And now he and Sakura sat on the engawa, basking in the comfortable silence that they shared while the sound of Taiko drums reverberated with his heart beats.

Sakura held Sarada close to her body. He smiled, eyes falling on the Uchiha fan on her little back.

"I sprained my ankle the previous year. It was all stupid Ino's fault."

Sakura went on telling him about her Obon experiences while his eyes lingered on the swell of her chest, the bindings tugged down for Sarada to suckle. Sarada fed herself without any complaints, her little fingers clutching on folds of the beautiful green yukata Sakura was wearing.

The beautiful cherry blossom print on her green yukata accentuated her beauty, but it was the Uchiha crest that she sewed on her yukata in the afternoon that accentuated her beauty.

Sasuke's eyes trailed upwards to her exposed skin, and he noticed the hitch in her breath when his eyes stayed on the purplish mark he had given her the night before. They locked eyes, trapping her green with his mismatched ones.

Sakura blushed furiously under his gaze. Sasuke smirked and asked, "Want to go to the festival?"

_

The sound of heavy breathing disturbed the silence, as both of them came down from their high, basking in the afterglow. A sheen of sweat covered them like velvet, limbs entangled and limp. Sakura's yukata lay crumpled between their bodies, tugged upwards and sideways unceremoniously.

Sasuke had committed to memory the way her pink hair seamlessly smudged with the green of her yukata when he had pushed inside her from behind, losing himself to pleasure. His fingers lightly traced her pink nipples, and Sakura gasped.

She turned her head back, and Sasuke pulled her closer to his body, his palm now resting over her beating heart. Sakura smiled, and Sasuke realized there were so many colours that adorned his life now — the red of her lips, the pink of her hair, the green of her eyes, and that mirthful smile.

His heart skipped a beat when he felt Sakura's heart dancing under his palm, synchronising with his. Their lips found their way to each other, the uchiwa on the Sakura's garment silently observing their love.

_

A wisp of smoke rose into the air while twigs in the bonfire crumbled down to ashes. Sasuke sat in front of the extinguished bonfire, looking above at the dark sky.

The moon hid behind the clouds and stars twinkled, trying hard to compensate for the overcast skies. A breeze touching his skin gave him a familiar feeling. He had spent more time under open skies wandering than under a roof with a family. However, tonight he felt the same heaviness that he had carried for a long time.

After they had dinner, Sakura had reminded him that it was the last day of Obon. Reluctantly, he had lit the okokuri-bi — the bonfire that sent the spirits back to their resting place. Maybe he didn't want to part with his dead family. Maybe holding on to the illusion where his father, mother and brother were with him was easier.

The breeze swept the hair that covered his eyes, his mismatched orbs growing wet. It wasn’t because of anger anymore, though. It just hurt. He clutched at his chest, fingers digging into his shirt, trying to soothe the pain that was there. An invisible pain that he only owned — that Sakura and Sarada couldn't replace.

"Sara-chan, did you like it?"

Sasuke snapped out of his thoughts as Sakura approached him. Sarada fiddled with a toy that Sakura bought recently for her. Sarada cooed in excitement, and Sakura giggled.

When she reached closer to him, Sakura stretched out her hand towards him. Words were not their way, and Sakura smiled gently, coaxing him to take her hand.

And Sasuke did.

Because there were things Sakura and Sarada couldn't replace, but he could relive and recreate memories with them. Severing bonds would never ease his pain, he knew now; instead, new bonds would help him embrace the old ones.

They were there for him — he wasn't alone, and he didn't need to do this on his own.

_

FFN | AO3

Obon is a Japanese custom to honor the spirits of one's ancestors. This custom involves a family reunion holiday during which people return to ancestral family places and visit and clean their ancestors' graves when the spirits of ancestors are supposed to revisit the household altars. It has been celebrated in Japan for more than 500 years and traditionally includes a dance, known as Bon Odori.

Credits: Inspired from Warm by @catflorist . For those who haven't read, please read this wonderful piece.

Thanks to @fm-white for telling me more about rituals of Obon.

Thanks for @fictionalquacker's headcanon that Fugaku loves beef, which helped me making an assumption that it could be Gyudon. Also thanks to lovely @birkastan2018 for giving some tips about cooking Gyudon 💪. A big thanks to @theredconversegirl for naming my fic 🥺. Believe me, I would be forever grateful to you for this❤️

Thanks to @something-like-air for beta-ing this. 🤗

Last but not the least, @thatsakurastan :") with her constant support and nagging, I was able to complete and post this fic. You deserve big slabs of chocolate!🍫🍫🍫

[bbytetsu]

SIGNS

pairing: osamu miya x gn! reader

word count: ~3k

author’s note: angst. warnings for slight swearing, very slight suggestiveness. best read to signs by bloc party.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you’re reminded of how deeply you’ve fallen in love.

as you exit the subway station, you’re greeted by the familiar intersection splitting off into narrow streets, each lined by streetlights. the outskirts of osaka are humble, with their greige painted walls and steep, weathered roofs. but the ordinary things here—the 7/11, the spinning barber pole, the cat lingering by the red mailbox—are like landmarks to you, noticed and loved by your crescent eyes. scanning your surroundings, you turn left towards his apartment and continue straight.

5 minutes away from his place.  

you amble past the 7/11 store. traces of nikuman waft in the cold air, inviting you in. you catch yourself smiling as you see the regular obasan, red-rimmed glasses perched on her leathery skin, bantering with the store owner—they’re definitely flirting, you think. through the wide windows, you watch the local high school boys’ volleyball team scatter throughout the rainbow aisles. some squat just below your field of vision, others pore through magazines by the register.

3 minutes away from his place.

you take a left. on your right, you pass the family-owned barber shop he visits. its endlessly spinning barber pole is a welcome dash of color amidst the neutral hues of the neighborhood. across from the shop stands the house with the red mailbox. the family’s calico cat idles dangerously close to the road and licks it paws before wandering off.

1 minute away from his place.

you pass the empty bike rack, and the gated residence comes into sight at the end of the street.

it’s all the same, but suddenly it’s not.

small fluffs of white begin to obscure your vision. you glance up at the sky, and your eyes widen—it’s snowing. juxtaposed against the osaka skyline, it’s almost as if the city lights are disintegrating, their embers falling around you in the form of bright snowflakes. you watch the snow in a trance, and before you know it, winter has draped a sheer white veil over the street, dusted over naked trees with its snowy kiss.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you feel as if your love for him has overflowed and trickled out from your chest. and now it surrounds you in the form of snow. falling so softly, so wonderfully dizzyingly.

----------

“i’m here, ‘samu,” you call out in a singsong voice as you twist your spare key in the lock. pushing open the door, you’re stunned to find his place completely dark. you step into the apartment and wrangle your boots off of your feet.

“’samu? you here?” with your eyes trained on the floor for any potential tripping hazards, you tread through the dim foyer.

“yeah, i’m here.” his familiar voice rings out, partially relieving your confusion. you look up to search for his figure.

“why’s it so- oh my god, what’s all this?” you nearly trip into the kitchen. you gasp at the sight of candles casting golden highlights across the dinner table. slivers of mahogany peek in between plates of nigiri, bowls of miso, and other tableware. in the center of the table, a glass vase holds two crimson roses, petals coated with glassy dewdrops.

you try to collect your thoughts. “i thought we were just meeting here,” you pause to think. “wait, did our dinner reservation get canceled? did you call me earlier? i might’ve missed it...” you fumble for your phone in your coat pocket.

he grins a slightly lopsided grin. “ya still haven’t caught on? i didn’t actually make a reservation, i was just tryna surprise ya… seeing as ya like surprises and all that. plus,” he clears his throat. “why would we go out to dinner when i can make it myself? i hear their wasabi isn’t even freshly made.”

you’re silent as tears well up in your eyes.

“hey, you’re not about to cry, are ya?” he’s unsure whether to poke fun of you or embrace you in a warm hug.

“i just can’t believe you did this all yourself,” you whisper, still fixated on the feast in front of you. even to your untrained eyes, you can tell that each each piece was handled with precision, delicacy, but above all, love. the air between you feels thick and honeyed, suffused with all the feelings brimming in your chest.

“i mean, i do this for a living.” you glance up at him. he shrugs, but you notice the tender twinkle in his eye.

“i know, but it’s still amazing. i don’t even know what to say,” you confess.

“ya don’t have to say anythin’,” he murmurs. “just let me enjoy the quiet for once.”

“huh?” your eyebrows furrow, but your lips curl into a faint smile. “okay, i take it back. you better be prepared to listen to me all night.”

he cocks his eyebrow. “why? is there something ya wanna do all night?”

“‘SAMU! don’t twist my words,” you lunge towards him. he recoils.  

“oi, relax!!”

just as you’re about land a solid smack on his ass, he maneuvers behind you and folds his strong arms around you in a back hug. laughing, you squirm in his embrace, but he doesn’t budge.

“gotcha,” he huffs into your ear. he loosens his grip around you, allowing you to wriggle your arms above and over his. you intertwine your fingers with his, and the two of you sway from side to side like in a slow dance. he pulls your body closer to his chest.

“happy anniversary,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that speaking any louder will disrupt the romantic atmosphere he’s so diligently crafted.

of course, you know that nothing could ruin this moment.

“mhm. happy anniversary to us.”

with his eyes closed, he breathes in your scent. the two of you are quiet—there is no need for words. the way your limbs melt into each other, no beginning or end to either of you, is enough for the both of you.

he loves you. you love him.

he’s thankful that sushi doesn’t need to be served hot. he’d hold you here for an eternity if he could.

----------

it’s funny how things change throughout the years.

you sit motionless, with both of your elbows pressed against the cold mahogany of the table. when you first sat down, the sun had just begun to creep below the skyline, wispy streaks of reds and yellows blazing in its wake. now, the sun was long gone, and your only companion was the moon, whom you know all too well these days. round and low in the dark sky, it casts shadows across the empty dinner table.

the apartment is silent besides the quiet ticking of the kitchen clock.

tick, tock. as if it’s a bomb waiting to explode. as if it’s mocking you for waiting so long. as if it’s counting down the time you have left with him.

you lean your forehead against your hands, clasped in a silent prayer. with your eyes closed, you allow any and all emotions to wash over you.

how could you forget our anniversary? does our relationship even matter to you? do i even matter to you? why am i always your second choice?  how did things end up this way?

the muffled jangle of keys outside the door interrupts your thoughts, and the lock clicks as it turns open. hours ago, you would have perked up at the sound, but now it’s been much too late. you remain motionless. after shaking his shoes off, he walks into the dim kitchen to find you sitting at the dinner table, your forehead still pressed against your clasped hands.

“you forgot,” you whisper, refusing to look at him.

“i know, y/n. i’m so-”

you cut him off. “you could’ve called. or texted.”

“i’m so sor-”

“save it. i’ve been sitting here for the last… i don’t even know how many hours. and i’ve just been thinking about what to say.”

he’s quiet. how many more mistakes will it take for you to realize he no longer loves you like he used to? you shudder at the thought, but are unable to ignore it any longer. you’ve opened pandora’s box, unleashing thick smoke that swallows you whole. it clouds your every thought and contaminates your memories with him; it stings your eyes and steals the breath from your lungs.

you begin to shake, and he watches as your breaths shorten into small, erratic gasps. his chest tightens at the sight. kneeling down onto the ground to level himself with with your seated figure, he stretches his arms towards you. but to his shock, you flinch at his touch.

“don’t!” you gasp. “don’t come near me. i don’t want that-” you’re unable to finish your sentence, sudden gasps curbing whatever words were to come next.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” his voice is low, his mouth sours with dread.

“i know. but it’s not the first time that you’ve done something like this. remember my birthday?” you choke out, burying your face in your palms.

he grimaces at the mention. “i do. but ya said ya wouldn’t bring that up again. i thought we agreed to move past that.”

“well, yeah we did. but the thing is, it’s become a pattern.”

he stands up and hovers by your seated figure. “me forgetting? it’s happened two or three times. i wouldn’t say that’s a pattern. but listen, i know i was in the wrong and and that’s why i wanna say i’m sorry. i really am.”

you look up at him with puffy, bleary eyes. red tinges your waterline. “you just don’t get it, do you?”

“whaddya mean?” his mind scrambles. get what? he replays your interactions in a frantic attempt to uncover whatever deeper meaning he was missing.

“it’s not just you missing our anniversary, or you missing my birthday. it’s so much bigger than that. all of this,” you wave your hand. “is just a symptom of the bigger problem.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i wasn’t aware we had a bigger problem.”  

his lack of awareness shocks you. how can you be so unobservant, so oblivious? all the sorrow and rage that you’ve repressed begins to bubble and overflow, like a pot of boiling water with its lid on for too long. you ball your fists as hot, stinging tears run down your cheeks. “you wanna know what it is, ‘samu?” you straighten your back and turn towards him. “it’s the fact that you no longer have room in your life for me! admit it, onigiri miya is more important to you than i am!”

“what’s onigiri miya gotta do with all this?” he retorts. his voice is grating. “i know i’ve been busy with work, but ya couldn’t possibly think that. you’ve always supported me and my dream of running my own damn restaurant, but now it’s the problem with us? the fact that i have a dream?”

“no, the fact that your dream doesn’t include me,” your voice quivers. “there’s no space for me in your future, ‘samu.”

“oh come on, ya know that’s not true. i’ve just been busy keeping up with it, especially with how business is growing.”

anger flares within you. how dare he dismiss your concerns as if they’re not legitimate? as if you’re nothing more than a small child whining for candy?

“but think about it!” you shoot up from your chair and look him in the eye. “when you envision yourself in 5 years, what do you think about? you think about onigiri miya, you think about how business is booming, critics are raving about your cooking. you’re raking in so much cash you’ve opened a new restaurant and you’re standing there in front of the new place, and maybe you’re cutting the ribbon for the grand opening. but am i there? am i standing next to you anywhere in your dream? do you think about us, where we’re going to be in five years? no, no you don’t. i’m not anywhere in the picture and you know it.”  

even in the dark, you can see his jaw clench. the rest of his features grow rigid with frustration.

he, too, has reached his boiling point.

“how can ya possibly say that?” he seethes, his tone unforgiving like steel slicing through palpable air. “i told ya already, y/n. i’m sorry. i fucked up. i missed our anniversary. i even missed your birthday. but that is not the reason we won’t work out, i won’t let that be the reason. ya know i love ya. i do. but ya wanna pit yourself against my job... don’t ya think that’s a little unfair? for fuck’s sake, not even my job, but my dream? ya know how it’s been a dream of mine since forever to open my own shop. ya know how hard it’s been, how i shed blood, sweat, and tears to open it, much less to keep it going. of all people, ya know how hard it was for me to find something i wanted alone, something that was different than ‘tsumu’s. something that would let me be my own person. and now i’ve finally found it ya wanna take it away? all because ya need attention?”

his words leave a metallic aftertaste, and he watches your features twist in pain as you confirm your growing suspicions.

he’s outgrown me.

“i- i’m sorry. i know that you’re not trying to take anything away from me,” he confesses. he wants so desperately to take back his mangled words, but it’s too late. he’s dropped a lit match onto your bed of oil, setting flame to what he once knew.  

you stand up shakily and face him: the man who taught you what it meant to love. the man who taught you what it meant to hurt.

“you’re right, i’m not. but you know what?” your voice cracks before growing raspier. “thanks for telling me that. because when i imagined my future, i always imagined a future in which you were by my side. i thought we’d move in together someday, maybe even get a dog, maybe even get married, maybe even have—oh, i don’t know—kids, and move into a house! help them with their math homework! take them to the aquarium, go on family picnics! make onigiri on sundays! but, i guess i’ve been a fucking fool, haven’t i?”  

he looks at you with wide, dinner plate eyes.

you choke back sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the wet tears trailing down your cheeks. your heart weighs heavier than lead, and you turn on your heels.

“i- y/n, wait, where are ya going?” he reaches for you, the tips of his fingers brushing against your arm as you shoulder past him.  

“outside. to think.”

as he realizes you have every intention of leaving the apartment, he trips into the hallway after you.

“wait, it’s fuckin’ freezing outside-”

“ii’ll be fine.” you forcefully grab the woolen coat off the coat rack and swing it over your shoulders.

“y/n. please, we can work this out.” you’ve never heard him like this—quiet, but painfully desperate.

too late.

“i need to think.”

you step through the doorway, not daring to look back.

----------

you trudge through the half melted snow that coats the street. as your eyes burn with tears, the faraway osaka city lights blur in your vision like a kaleidoscope. shivering, you dig your bare hands further into your pockets and clench onto the fabric—an attempt to preserve whatever heat there is, but more so as an expression of your anger.

your legs seem to move by themselves, and you grit your teeth to keep yourself from crying. how did things end up like this?

1 minute away from his place.

you hurry past the empty bike rack and the brick walls guarding the houses. the greige walls have never looked grayer.

3 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the house with the red mailbox, its obnoxious color like a warning that’s much too late. the calico cat has abandoned you and is nowhere to be seen. the spinning barber pole taunts you with its endless dance.

5 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the 7/11. there’s no one in the store except for the regular obasan, whose wrinkles are drawn taut in a frown. you watch as she fires words at the shopowner, her one hand pointing at him animatedly and the other resting on her hip. they’re definitely arguing, you think.

you finally reach the open intersection in front of the subway station. leaning against a streetlight, you survey the neighborhood defeatedly, trying to find beauty in the surroundings you once regarded with so much affection. trying to find a sign. water seeps off of branches and falls onto the pavement like teardrops. the steep-roofed houses huddle together in the cold, their walls practically rubbing against each other.

it’s all the same, but it’s somehow different.

you look down at your feet, slush coating the edges of your shoes. it pains you to see that the the snow is no longer bright or pure, but translucent. tinted an ugly brown. with footprints littered across its surface.

on the winter day marking your fourth year together, the snow you loved so much has melted into slush, revealing nothing but barren soil beneath.

it’s over between us.

[synthient]

(Yes I wrote this in one sitting in notes app last night. No I will not be continuing it)

Yugi blinks, and wakes up somewhere new.

Which is par for the course lately, except this time he wakes up on an airplane.

"whAAAAAUH???"

"The flight attendant just asked if you'd prefer pretzels or chex mix, my pharaoh," the man seated next to him says helpfully. Yugi turns and finds himself face to face with That Weird Guy From The Museum Who Was Crying Over A Mummy.

"HUH???!??"

The flight attendant coughs. "I'll come back later."

"What--you--whuh--" Weird Museum Guy blinks serenely, while cloud banks roll by in the window behind his head and a soothing voice reads their altitude over the intercom. "Did you kidnap me?"

Weird Guy's brow furrows. "I did no such thing, my pharaoh. When I revealed your destiny to you, you came quite willingly."

"Why do you keep calling me your pharaoh?"

"It is as I explained," Weird Guy says, as if a small child won't stop asking him why people in Australia don't fall off the earth and his patience is wearing thin. "You are the soul of the Nameless Pharaoh, for whom my family has waited for 3000 years. It is my duty to restore to you your name and to lead you to your final rest."

Yugi's mouth hangs open. This isn't happening. This cannot be happening. Yeah, the blackouts were weird! Yeah, maybe he should have seen a doctor or something! But it's not like they lasted that long, and was it really worth making his friends think he was crazy, now that he finally had friends? And--and if sometimes he blacked out in life-threatening situations and woke up to find everything resolved, better to not look that gift horse in the mouth. So why not keep quiet? What's the worst that could happen?

"Flight 517 is on schedule and will be touching down in Cairo in 15 hours," says the pilot over the intercom. "Enjoy the rest of your flight."

"I am not!--" The woman in the seat in front of him cranes her neck around and pushes her eye mask up, glaring. Yugi blushes and lowers his voice. "I'm not a pharaoh! I'm not 3000 years old! I'm a high school student! Look, here's my student ID!" He scrabbles for his wallet and shoves the ID in Weird Guy's face.

W.G. looks solemnly at the ID. At Yugi. Back to the ID.

"Curious. In the absence of your true memories, some part of you seems to believe that you are actually a Japanese schoolboy, and that this form is not simply an empty vessel for your soul. Perhaps a repressed part of your consciousness is reluctant to carry out your duties? It is time to cast that childish hesitance aside, my pharaoh."

Okay. Okay. The guy from the museum is crazy. Yugi probably could have guessed that from the whole I'm not crying, this mummy is just channeling its tears through me thing. But--

"People will notice I'm gone! My grandpa! My--" Yugi's hands curl around the puzzle. "My friends!"

"You have no need for 'friends,' my pharaoh. They will only weigh you down and distract you from your destiny. True strength will be found in casting them aside."

Yugi is speechless with rage. His hands shake, his vision goes white--

***

Yugi is in his maze. He blinks, and he is--a moment of reaching for the word--on an 'airplane.'

Shadi Shin, Gaurdian of the Tombkeeper Clan, is looking at him strangely. Yugi has become used to this. People often look at him strangely.

"So," he says, continuing where they left off. "First we inquire with the Council of Antiquities about these...'god cards'?"

"Yes, my pharaoh," Shadi says with some relief. "The head of the council is a member of my clan. When she hears of your true identity, I'm sure she will be glad to assist you. And once the Three Gods are in your possession, it should be easy to recover the seven--"

Shadi speaks, and Yugi drinks it in like a flower after months without rain. Duty. Purpose. A path laid out before him, with no room for doubt or fear.

He feels some guilt, for leaving Grandpa and his friends so suddenly. But he had also felt guilt for deceiving them; for being the object of kindness that wasn't truly meant for him.

Deep down--no matter how hard he'd tried to convince himself otherwise--he'd always known that he wasn't really Yugi Muto.

Right?

[starshiningsirius]

The most sweetest thing(Yandere Trey x reader)

Thank you to @swirly-writes for sending me yandere prompt from which I gained my inspiration

BAKERY BOIS BIRTHDAY! NO DENIAL IN SAYING HE'S MY FAVORITE IN HEARTSBYUL!😍🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂

A new bakery opened up in town, it's popularity sky risen in a short amount of time. It was known for its sweets that taste like another food entirely. An astounding feet something that no one could understand how he did it, almost like magic.

Said baker and owner named Trey Clover was deemed a master at what he did. His smiles toward customers who would enter where his pearly white teeth would show had any girl fall for him instantly. He wouldn't pay them any mind though, he was only focused on making his bakery a success that was until he met someone that changed his goal.

It wasn't as crowded in the morning when he first opens the shop. No one would come in until about three hours later. That is until one day she did.

Her name was Y/n who was beautiful in looks standards but with an expression of apathy on her face you'd think she was nothing more than a doll. Trey had heard her enter with the bell above the door alerting him and immediately went to the counter to serve her.

At first he was surprised seeing such a beautiful young lady enter his shop, he couldn't even deny the blush that was visible on his face. Something about her seemed off though as he examined her for a quick second he noticed how empty she looked. He didn't know why but it did make him a bit curious.

When he caught himself staring for awhile he cleared his throat a little and put on his best smile.

"Hello, Ms. Is there something I can get you?"

"A slice of cake."

"And what would you like it to taste like?"

"Nothing the way it is would be just fine."

This answer actually surprised him seeing as people come here for desserts that taste like whole other foods. No one ever asks for the things he makes himself without the help of his magic.

His bewildered expression didn't go unnoticed by the female in front of him as she thought about how easily his expression changed with her order. She assumed he didn't get orders like hers often.

"Ah, coming right up Ms."

He wouldn't admit it but he was actually giddy for once like he wanted to be famous for his sweets in general, he did run a bakery after all. He served it to her and she ate it inside the small cafe like place.

He actually pretended to clean the counters while she indulged herself with the blank expression she came in with. He couldn't deny the anxiety pounding in his heart when he saw the fork come up to her lips as she took a bite.

That's when he saw it. A small smile grace her angelic features. He was sure it was real and rare at that, but he couldn't believe nor get it out of his head. From that day forward she started to come in around opening time and Trey would anticipate meeting with her. She would order different sweets all tasting how Trey would make it and bringing a smile to her face that Trey would long to see. Energizing him every morning and keeping him eager to see the sun rise on the next day.

After about the first five meetings with him she gave him her name, Y/n L/n. As nice as it sounded to roll off his tongue hearing her repeat his name was far more appealing. They would now exchange more conversations with one another in the mornings that was barren and empty with no other customers. She would wait for Trey to make a sweet she had asked for that he didn't have in stock already which left some time to conversate.

She actually brought up how he didn't mention her emotional detachment not once.

"Everyone has their reasons for who they are I wouldn't want you to have to explain yourself just for the sake of my curiosity."

"Th -thank you." That's the first time he heard her stutter before, he found it cute.

"To be honest I really like your sweets, they are divine, and I can't help but feel happy when I eat them." Her words offered Trey to chuckle a little seeing a small smile on Y/n's face he could feel his heart beat faster.

So he responded with,

"Keep smiling like that. It makes my heart happy."

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳

Of course not all good things come to an end. Trey had gotten closer with Y/n and knew she was not the apathetic girl he first saw, he was able to decipher her feelings a lot better. She was shy, kind, polite, and virtually loved his sweets. With how she was raised by a high classed family that undermines women expressing themselves he could understand the general picture of why she had an apathetic look on her face half the time.

It did anger him to some extent but at the same time if he had seen her smile so often it wouldn't be so precious as when he had first met her. The fact that she likes his desserts for what they are also stood out to him as what made her different. There were so many things Trey could list in his head that would entail why he had fallen for the lovely lady that entered his shop every morning.

At this point he was head over heels for her awaiting to bake any treat the girl asked for the very next day. Until she didn't come one morning and that had him worried.

'What could possibly be holding her from coming here? She never misses a day.'

Questions and inquiries ran through Trey's head, running a hand through his green hair throughout the morning up until he heard the bell ring. It caught his attention except it wasn't her, it was just a normal group of customers that came a few hours after the store opened. He hadn't realized how long he had been standing there.

It was going to be a long day.

. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳🥳🥳

Finally the day was almost done, at least in Trey's head he praised being able to close the store. His mind was still running rampant on not seeing the sweet angel that would bless his morning with a ray of sunshine and motivate him to move on with the day.

He sighed with exhaustion seeing as everyone always ordered their dessert to taste different which meant no breaks on using his magic.

As he pushed up his glasses the little bell above the door leading in rang again. He took a breath and plastered on a fake smile to hide his exhaustion. It was a couple that came in, he couldn't hide his shock though when he saw the female paired with a man.

She didn't look happy as she did the previous morning with anticipation to try his sweets. Instead she had the expressionless face that she usually had except it looked more sad. Trey had gotten better at reading her emotions often over the course of their encounters. She was wearing an expensive dress which contrasted with her casual clothing. Of course Trey thought she looked stunning, but the look on her face wasn't making it very complete.

He didn't realize he was staring for a while as the couple had already stopped at the counter. The man cleared cleared his throat obnoxiously and Trey could already tell he was someone already unfavorable to him.

"What would you like sir?"

When he ordered Trey had to try hard not to let his smile falter, clenching his fists behind the counter in agitation. He took a quick glance over at Y/n who had avoided his gaze and looked as though she was repressing a frown for an empty look instead. It was like she was pretending not to know him which he couldn't deny did sting quite a bit. Trey being the calculating person he is went along with the charade as he deduced it had to do something with the man next to her.

"And for you Ms.?" As soon as the man had finished he glanced over at Y/n and secretly winked at her.

"Ah, for her just a dark coffee is fine. You've look like you've been gaining more weight recently which is unbecoming of you my dear fiancee. So make it taste like a salad please."

Trey couldn't help but looked toward Y/n who looked like she wanted to speak but shut her mouth immediately after opening. It definitely rubbed him the wrong way, not only was this guy arrogant and rude, he blatantly insulted his angel on her weight of all things when she looked as though she hadn't gained anything. Not only that but he was going to be married to her! The world was unfair and hell had frozen over with such a man like that Trey could only imagine how miserable Y/n already was by the look on her face. She always loved his sweets and only ordered that when she came, and he would always adore the smile adorned on her face that would shine light brighter than a sunrise in the Afterglow Savanna.. He decided to at least try and speak up for her.

"Excuse me sir but that doesn't look like what your fiancee wanted to order." The venom in his voice when he mentioned her partnership with the man was clear as day.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion sir, I choose what's best for my future wife she is one of a kind in her looks and I want to keep it that way." Trey's entire body flinched seething with rage as he stayed in his place and smile visibly twitched into a frown.

He did learn to keep his mouth shut and have patience, if serving under the former dorm leader back in his NRC school years taught him anything it was that first and foremost losing your cool wouldn't do any good.

He apologized maintaining a cool facade before going to the kitchen. Where he could quietly say a few profanities to himself. As he did almost finished the order with all that was left being to change the taste with his magic, he considered changing the flavor the man had ordered on her coffee.

With a wave of his pen it tasted just like the cakes she'd ask for on the usual mornings. Serving their food to them both he kept his golden eyes on her reaction when she tasted it.

Her eyes did in fact widen with shock not expecting sweetness to touch her tongue afterall. It caught the attention of the young man who had asked her what was wrong. She quickly fixed the look on her face to go back to expressionless.

"Nothing it just amazes, the amount of talent this baker has. It really does taste different." Her words were enough to send his heart up in the air like fireworks.

He could see the light coming back in her eyes again. It gave him life he cherished it and begun to crave it.

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳

Over the next couple of days the same routine occurred. She'd come in with her husband to be and he'd ask for different things. All at different times of the day though, that part wasn't consistent. Trey believed he was hoping for Y/n to gain more interest in eating healthier even though Y/n told him when she came to the bakery it was her first time eating sweets.

He did notice over the pass few days even with him secretly changing the taste to something sweet her eyes were getting duller. She no longer smiled like she once did before.

So once he heard yelling outside his shop before closing time after yet another day, he took a peek through the glass windows near the entrance. It was Y/n and that man with not a single soul to be seen. Except her eyes were beyond what is considered life like.

It was emotionless and still empty would be a better definition. The man was yelling at her, he couldn't hear why but it didn't matter. She heard a few brief words about her not wanting to marry him and the situation was easily pieced together in Trey's mind.

He saw the man's rage and his own was overflowing. Not to mention when he came inside and he finally saw her. Still in a beautiful dress, but with a bruise on her cheek. He was about a second from killing the man across from him.

Trey was a gentleman meaning he'd never hit a lady even if they cheated or whatever the case. He didn't have to do any of that because she denied his marriage. More than likely she was quiet and shy when she told the man.

Lucky for Trey he was just given even more of a reason to kill him. Pretending everything to be fine when he ordered. As Trey went in the kitchen yet again he changed up his usual ingredients for a few more deadlier ones.

It didn't take long for the one of the two to fall asleep peacefully and the other to have a face full of cake taking his last bite of anything he'll ever eat again. Might as well make good use of all NRC has taught him afterall.

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 .

"Oh, I see your up." A pleased smile came on to his face as he walked into the upstairs room of the bakery.

She sat up from the bed she was resting in still feeling her mind hazy and the bruise on her cheek aching.

"Trey? What happened where's Dylan and-" She was already wide awake and asking for information on what had occurred.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down I talked to him and he said he'll cut off the marriage. Okay? I managed to convince him since he loves to come here to eat so much I gave him a recipe he wouldn't forget. 'He was going to make millions off of it', so he said. He had no need for your families riches anymore."

"Wha? But that doesn't make much sense." She was trying hard to process the information but the headache she had made it hard.

"Hey it's okay, it's okay. I know it's a lot to process you passed out from the shock so I kept you here overnight." He said trying to take her mind off the situation.

"I know this isn't the best time but here I know how much you wanted another slice." Before he could hand it to her she hugged him tightly to where he almost fell and dropped the cake while he was at it.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you Trey! Your the most sweetest person to do something like this just for me." She even had tears in her eyes. She really didn't like Dylan apparently. That made him happy at the very least.

"Don't mention it, I'm just happy to see your okay. Why don't you stay here for the day all the shock must have drained you. Not to mention that bruise has got to heal. You can have sweets anytime of the day you want." His heart was hammering in his chest and his face had turned up the heat like an oven. This reaction was far more than he expected but he wasn't unhappy about it.

He saw the sparkles of life in her eyes when he mentioned sweets. Chuckling to himself he handed her the slice of cake.

Seeing her take a bite of it always did bring him hapiness. He would have to give her a sedative toward dinner time and reexplain the all the false information again since her and her former husband to be was considered missing. They were supposed to come into the bakery but Trey feigned innocence when the authorities asked if they had come in. It would be fine though. He made a whole bunch of different treats with drug inducing forgetfulness just for her.

All he cared about now was protecting her smile. He admired her smile from afar seeing it as the most sweetest thing he'd never get tired of.

Masterlist

[giowritess]

Dull — Michael Corleone

masterlist. | michael corleone.

Pairing: Michael Corleone x fem!OC Tatiana van Doren

Plot: Tatiana and Michael have always been pushing each other’s buttons. One day, when confronting him about a deal that went south, their relationship takes a different path.

Warnings: cursing, sexual themes — choking, vaginal fingering, intercourse, unprotected sex, edging. 

Word-count: 2,555

Kinktober: prompts — • 4. begging • 10. against the wall • 11. hatesex • 12. fingering • 13. edging • 32. choking

Author’s note: Wassup people!!! Sorry for taking so long to write something. I finally wrote something about one of my all-time favorite characters, who doesn’t have a big fandom but should. If you don’t know what The Godfather is about, all you need to know is that they’re gangsters and this man is perfect. This lovely piece I wrote alongside the most precious being on universe that’s @pacinorose! I love you so much and I can’t thank you enough for entering my life. I haven’t written smut in four years and this is my first attempt at it. This is also my 1st official post for kinktober. About the banner/gif: @littlefreya​‘s inspired me to do one. The gif edition is mine, but I don’t know who the gif itself belongs to (let me know if you do). I really ope you all enjoy it! Also, not beta’d. xoxo 

     Tatiana van Doren was not a force to mess up with. The van Doren family and the Corleones had always been on each other’s bad side. Their mutual hatred transpassed the invisible strings of time and, all that despise, disdain and hostility towards each other carried on through generations and generations. It definitely hadn’t missed out on Tatiana van Doren and Michael Corleone, the oldest children to take over the two businesses.

      Interaction between the two of them was always hard. The only exceptions were when both had to attend any kind of social gatherings, where they had to maintain politeness and grace. Usually, they were always at each other’s throats like cat and rat, always pushing each other’s buttons to nothing but pure and inexplicable rage. Michael always made Tatiana turn into an angry beast who wouldn’t keep quiet, and she did the same thing to him. He couldn't even recognize himself when he was around her. Michael always tried his best to suppress his emotions and stay indifferent, but with her, he just couldn’t do that. He brought out the worse in her, and she did the same to him.

      So, that meant that business between them was nearly impossible. They'd joined forces against a common enemy and that involved mastering a hazardous business deal which included exchanging weapons imported from the docks. Of course, it hadn’t been easy to find something both agreed on.

      “Miss van Do-”, Michael’s secretary started to speak, standing in a flash from his chair in a futile attempt to try and stop her.

      Tatiana was on a warpath as she blasted through his office door and almost took it off its hinges. She didn’t give a damn about discretion and was ready to take out the revolver from her thigh holster and shoot any bastard that dared to stand in her way.

      Michael’s eyes were wide from the action as he snapped his head up from his work. His eyes soon narrowed when he saw exactly who had interrupted him and caused such a scene. Her dark, doe-eyes no longer had that sparkle full of mischief and teasing. Instead, they held complete and utter anger as she pierced holes into him, her chest weaving up and down in an erratic rhythm.

      “I tried to stop her, Mr Corleone. I’m sorr-,” his secretary started. Michael interrupted him putting his hand up, a gesture for him to be quiet before he silently dismissed him and he left both alone.

      Michael took a deep breath and finally brought his eyes back to the brunette girl. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her day-to-day teasing and uncontrollable annoying mouth, that just wouldn’t close without spurting snarky comments about how he conducted his work.

      “Do you not listen, princess?” he asked with a calm voice,  his brow arching in question. He clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth might crunch under the tension of his frustration, .

      Tatiana’s face completely fell in disbelief at his audacity, and her eyes soared into his so intensely the Corleone almost took a step back. Him calling her like that made her blood boil, and he knew that.

      “I’m sorry? I don’t fucking listen?!” the words started to violently fall from her lips, like bullets hitting their targets. “I told you not to move the contraband under a fucking full moon! We agreed on that! And what do you go and do?!” she asked, prodding her index finger towards him as she spoke. Her eyes were wild with fury as she looked at him.

      While she did her small angry speech, Michael couldn’t help but notice how well that floral-print summer dress hugged her body, leaving little to the imagination. To his imagination, that would happily fill in the gaps late at night, both when he couldn’t sleep and when he’d dream of her. Of course, his dark desires were well hidden as he kept a stern look and averted his eyes back to his desk. He moved his hand to align a piece of paper that fell as he stood up to confront the intruder in his office, shrugging her comment off with an emotionless glance.

      This only pissed her off more.

      “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” she continued, striding in front of him so she'd force him to make eye contact. She was fuming. “My men could’ve been caught because of you. Because you’re so fucking dull.”

      Her fast breathing matched his clenched body, and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver run right through her while he looked down into her eyes. He seemed to be staring right through her. They'd never been so close before and, by how he was staring at her, she couldn’t help but feel like a prey, about to be devoured by its predator.

      “You’re a dull fucking bastard,” she mumbled, not even a bit intimidated by him.

      He inhaled so quickly and sharply before he brought his hand up to her throat, she had no time to register what had happened. Tatiana winced as she felt the impact of her back hitting the wall, her eyes immediately locking onto his. She wasn’t surprised by his action. Instead, it surprised her with the effect it was having on her. Her body was tingling everywhere, sending shivers through her spine and sending a fire straight down to her core. The feeling of Michael’s strong hand clenched around her throat, not hurting but still strong enough to keep her in place, was doing more to her than she wanted to admit. That she would like to admit. He could squeeze the life out of her if he wanted to — the predator could easily devour his prey. But by the look on his eyes, she knew those weren’t his plans.

      She gathered her posture back up, that mischievous glint that he so much hated returning to her eyes. Even though she wanted to be devoured by him, she couldn’t help the words coming out of her mouth.

      “What are you going to do, Michael? Kill me,” she asked, her voice slower than usual, “or fuck me?” she rolled out the last words with the pop of her tongue, sounding almost like a purr.

      Unsurprisingly, he slammed his lips down to hers, pressing her further against the wall, his hand still strong on her throat. Then, he pulled away abruptly as his hand loosened its grip around her neck, uncertainty making its way to his mind. As Tatiana slowly opened her eyes, he thought that she was the most beautiful woman on Earth at that moment, without the ice wall she had built around herself. He knew that doing what she did, she had to protect herself, but she was even prettier when she didn’t need to hear that mask. And she definitely didn’t have to wear it around him. Michael could see straight through her without any effort.

      Tatiana could see his jaw clenching as she brought her hand to his neck, slowly dancing her fingertips over his skin. As they reached his face, her eyes repeatedly travelled from his lips to his eyes, which were following every single one of her movements with attention. His chocolate eyes softened at the look of longing in hers, but then it was gone as fast as it came as she smirked up at him. Her fingers finally reached his lips, tracing a line in them before moving her hand to the back of his neck and entwining in his soft hair as she stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his, pulling him closer by the neck. It was slow and sensual, giving each other to explore that uncharted path that they had been longing to discover for a long time now. His hand left her throat and travelled down her back, while the other found the back of her neck. Their kiss got needier and hungrier by the second, the mutual desire finally coming to light after being repressed and ignored for so long. They kissed until both couldn’t breathe, pulling away and kissing again, letting their tongues dance together in a harmony they could only find in each other.

      She could feel herself getting flushed, her skin hot, as if she could make fireworks explode every single time that sinful mouth of his made contact with her skin. He was kissing a path down her neck and her collarbone, quickly pulling down and exposing her breasts, begging for his attention. The shape of his erection pressed against her felt like hard marble, and it only made her even wetter than she already was, feeling her panties soaked.

      A moan left her lips as his hot mouth sucked on her breast, and Michael felt his cock twitch in pain at that heavenly sound. He hadn’t even touched her where she needed him the most, but she was already a panting mess from his kisses alone. He knew he was going to leave marks on her body as he sucked, kissed and bit every piece of skin available to his reach.

      Her heart skipped some beats as he started kneading on her thigh, her whole body tensing with expectation and anticipation as his hand went up slowly. She knew he was doing that on purpose — he wanted to torture her, and it was working. Michael finally found the hem of her underwear and stole the air out of her lungs when one of his fingers dipped down her cunt, meeting no restrain.

      “So wet for me,” he whispered in her ear, watching carefully every reaction that crossed her beautiful face.

      “Fuck,” she muttered.

      Tatiana had to cling to his white shirt as his finger swiftly entered her, moans and sighs leaving her mouth as they pleased. Her eyes fluttered closed as he started moving up and down, his finger soon joined by another, while his other hand remained on the side of her head.

      But his torture wasn’t going to end. When her heart started beating faster and her breathing got unstable, he slowed down, only to speed up again when her breathing went back to normal. Over and over and over again, lever letting her chase her high. He could see the eagerness and irritation on her face. The fact that she was entirely at his mercy and under his control only made him harder, if that was even possible.

      “Michael…” she moaned. He could hear the exasperation in her voice.

      “Yes, princess? he replied in a mocking tone, never stopping his movements.

      He knew how impatient she was growing.

      “I… I want you,” she admitted, making a smirk appear on the corner of his lips.

      God, how ironic it was for the roles to be inverted.

      “You’re gonna have to be more specific, darling,” he said, his hot breath against her neck.

       “I want you,” she repeated, this time staring into his eyes. Her voice was nothing but a desperate plea. “Your cock, buried deep inside me. Please," she muttered, almost whining. "Please, fuck me. Please!”

      Her raspy voice full of desire and need turned a switch inside of him. Having her beg for him was exactly what he wanted, and now he just couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted her too, badly, and he couldn’t wait to be inside her. Pulling his fingers out, he held her by her thighs as he picked her up and placed her on his desk, throwing its contents to the floor and not giving a fuck about it.

      Tatiana watched impatiently as he unbuckled his belt and finally released his cock, painfully hard. She couldn’t help but lick her lips as she wondered how it would feel on her mouth, against her tongue.

      And then he thrust into her, and she felt like her brain had short-circuited and stopped working. Was she even alive? Was she breathing?

      "Like this?" he asked, but she couldn’t even reply. "You like it when I fuck you like a whore?" his voice was almost aggressive, his hands holding tight on her hips where he knew would be purple tomorrow.

      A breathy "yes" left her lips, followed by a series of moans that only made him even closer, feeling the way her velvet walls enveloped him with perfection.

      "I bet,” she started to say, but a loud moan interrupted her, “you've… you’ve dreamed..." it was hard for her to finish her sentence, getting harder and harder to form coherent thoughts, "of this."

      Even with his cock thrusting in and out of her and hitting every right angle, making her roll her eyes with bliss and see stars, she still managed to be snarky.

      “All the fucking time," he growled back, and one of his hands found its way to her throat, squeezing lightly, testing the waters. His other hand was busy, rubbing circles in her clit that made her feel as if she was going to explode.

      He knew he was in good waters when his name left her ajar lips in a scream, Tatiana shutting her eyes closed, overwhelmed with the pleasure building up inside of her. Quite satisfied with himself, he applied a lot more pressure around her neck, and he felt her getting tighter around him.

      "Fucking you on my desk until you couldn't speak was all I wanted when you wouldn't shut up," he said, punctuating his last words with some particularly hard thrusts.

      "Michael," she moaned, almost begged, and his name on her voice could've made him come alone. It could easily turn into one of his favourite sounds, and he could get used to hearing it all day long.

      Well, he had fulfilled his goal — she was nothing but a moaning mess under him right now. She couldn’t form a sentence even if she wanted to, her brain simply wasn’t working. The only word that came out of her lips in-between moans and sighs at that moment, the only word she knew, was “Michael”, chanting his name like a prayer as if he was a god meant for her to praise.

      He admired her as she threw her head back in complete bliss, her eyes clenched tightly and her mouth agape as the pleasure overtook her. Her hands were gripping the edges of his mahogany desk so firmly that her knuckles were turning white. No one could say this was the mighty, feared Tatiana van Doren, cheeks red and flushed, out of breath and eyes out of focus, her breasts exposed, spread out on his desk while he impaled her with his cock, each time sending her over the edge and into oblivion. To him, she had never looked prettier.

      Michael was completely enthralled by her, mesmerized by the way she moved, her face, her expressions, the way she grasped his cock and made him see stars. It was as if she’d cast a spell on him, making him feel like no one had ever done before. Now that he finally had had a taste of her and her ferocity, he couldn’t let her go anymore. He couldn’t even understand how he’d gone so long without her, but now he knew he definitely couldn’t keep on without her.

      Who would have imagined all it’d take to tame a beast was another beast?

[rhysismydaddy]

Dirty Daydreams (Nessian Fluff)

Cassian groaned against her neck, the sound snapping something deep inside of her. She reached up to pull his head up, needing to see him. Golden eyes, the eyes she loved so much, met hers and she smiled up at him. 

Calloused hands gripped her hips, pushing into her and making her back arch-

Nesta’s eyes shot open, gulping down air and almost falling out of the bed as she violently tore herself from the dream. She threw a pillow at the wall in frustration, barely resisting the urge to scream her head off. 

That damn bastard was really trying to get himself killed. 

She shut her eyes, but images of his tan skin, wide smile, and sinful lips kept badgering her, so she threw the covers back and stormed across the room to lock her door. 

Then she glanced at the open window. 

After locking it--and giving the night sky a foul gesture for good measure--she crawled back into bed and sighed, begging the gods for just one good night sleep.

Just one.

Ever since he’d arrived in the House of Wind four days ago, Cassian had been plaguing her dreams. And daydreams. 

She knew what he was doing.

Rhysand had told her certain people could get into your mind, and apparently Cassian was one of those people. The prick thought it was funny to use whatever demonic skills he possessed to send dirty images to her brain at all points during the day and night. 

Seriously. 

Yesterday they’d been ignoring each other in the library when she’d imagined throwing her book down, going to where he’d sat at the desk, and kissing him senseless. 

The day before that, she’d been absolutely convinced she was in bed with him, watching the morning sunlight dance across his chest. Not listening to him talk about the army’s preparations for winter. 

It was driving her absolutely insane, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of asking him to stop. She would never let him know he’d gotten under her skin.

So far, she thought she’d remained perfectly unbothered, even though she had homicidal thoughts every time he asked if she was okay, voice teasing and knowing. 

Just one night, she pleaded. 

Nesta closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine steel gates around her mind. Steel strong enough to keep even the most resilient winged beasts out. 

The next morning, Nesta cursed those damn gates. 

Apparently, there was a hole in them or something because Cassian had wormed his way into her mind enough to torment her all night long. 

She’d awoken at dawn, body aching with lust, ready to light him on fire. 

Nesta threw on a dressing gown and stomped down to breakfast, trying to school her face into neutrality despite the violence coursing through her blood. 

It didn’t matter, because as soon as she walked into the dining room, Cassian’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent. 

Damn. 

She’d forgotten about that.

“Sexy dreams, Nesta?”

I’m going to stab him with a knife. 

She sat across from him at the table and grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate. “Nope.”

His curly hair fell in his face as he tilted his head to the side. “Interesting. You smell nice.” 

Make that a rusty knife. 

“Well, as usual, you smell like a rotten fish. I don’t know how I ever put up with it.” 

Cassian smiled like he always did when she insulted him, as if he knew it was all a lie. “You’re in a wonderful mood today.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes and scooped some fruit onto her plate. 

She was stabbing a piece of melon, watching him somehow shove more food in his fat mouth than anyone she’d ever seen, when she thought about how easy it would be to crawl across the table into his lap.

She’d press her mouth to his, pull his hair, drive him crazy like he did her. Cassian would give her that bright smile she loved, happy he’d finally won their little game, and wrap his arms around her, mouth finding its way to her neck-

A thud sounded through the room as Nesta’s head fell back against her chair. 

Cassian laughed. “What in the world were you thinking about over there?”

“That’s it!” she yelled, not able to keep her cool any longer. “You are so fucking annoying! Get out of my head!”

She slammed her fist down into the table, making all the plates shake. 

His dark eyebrows pinched together in fake confusion. “What?”

“Get out of my head! Stop sending me these delusional, disgusting thoughts, or I’m going to gut you, I swear-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? You think I’m...” Realization spread over his face, and his eyes lit up as he smiled happily. “Nesta, baby, I’m not a Daemati. Rhys and Feyre are the only ones I know.”

Everything inside her came crashing to a halt. Her rage turned towards confusion, mind and body not wanting to accept what she’d just heard. 

What?

He wasn’t... he couldn’t... what? 

Her face caught fire as a blush worked its way over her entire body, and Nesta dug her fingers into her thighs as a horrible, repugnant understanding formed. No one had been messing with her. 

Except herself. 

Every single dream and thought she’d had... they’d been hers. 

“So what, exactly, were you daydreaming about?” Cassian asked, smile so bright, so satisfied it almost blinded her. 

Nesta finally gave in to her impulses and shot out of her chair so fast it flipped over. She didn’t care, though; she was already half-way out of the room. 

She had to get away from him. She was many things, but she’d never allow herself to break down in front of him. 

She sprinted down the hallway to her room, humiliation pushing at her to go faster, faster, faster. 

A dark shape over her head caught her attention, then Cassian was slamming to a landing in front of her, wings spread wide to block the entire hallway. “Stop running from me.” 

Sliding to a halt in her silk slippers, she realized she’d never be able to outrun him. 

Stupid, stupid wings.

Nesta looked for any other way out of this conversation, attention snagging on the open window. 

If she could just-

“You try to jump out of that window, Nesta, and I swear I’ll wring your pretty little neck.”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to look like that’s exactly what she’d been planning. 

“Now. Tell me what you’ve been dreaming about.”

Nope. Never. “Window it is, then.”

He growled at her, and she had to repress a laugh. 

The smile fell off her face as he just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Waiting. 

“Why does it matter, Cassian?”

He looked at her incredulously, beautiful eyes holding a mixture of anger, happiness, frustration, and an emotion she didn’t want to consider. 

“Why does it matter?” he shouted at her, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I swear, Nesta, you’re so dense sometimes. It matters because I’ve been trying to get you to fall in love with me for almost a year, and you’re finally letting it happen. Now what the hell were the dreams like?”

She should respond, should do something besides gape at him, jaw swinging in the breeze. 

He’d been trying to... he... “You love me?” 

Her voice was so small and quiet, but he heard her perfectly. 

Hands on his hips, he rolled his eyes and said, “I tell you I love you at least once a day, dumbass.” 

True, but- “That’s different. You’re always teasing me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I never tease you about that. But stop trying to change the subject, Nesta. Tell me about the dreams.”

A dog with a bone. 

“Um.” Her face was a thousand degrees of embarrassment as she gave in and said, “They aren’t all sex dreams, so don’t even start. Sometimes we just dance, or go on dates, or wake up together, or kiss- stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked, biting a lip to keep the smile at bay. 

“Like a kid of Yuelemas.” She pushed against his shoulder and stomped by him. “This doesn’t change anything. Just because my brain’s demented doesn’t mean things are different between us. I still hate you.”

They both knew it was a lie. 

Cassian, prick he was, called her on it. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

She was almost to her room, the blessed solitary confinement mere feet away.

“I can prove that you don’t.”

Nesta snorted, unable to help it. “Cassian, you’re so full of shit. You cannot possibly-”

He grabbed her wrist and turned her back around, and before she could so much as blink, he was kissing her. 

Nesta stood, unmoving, as her brain tried desperately to catch up.

All her dreams, all her fantasies, couldn’t compare to this. Nothing could. 

Cassian’s lips were soft and persistent against hers, hands rough as they grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. 

He whispered her name, and she finally snapped back into her body and realized what was happening. 

She pushed out the thoughts of doubt and embarrassment and nervousness and just did what she wanted for once. 

Her arms wound around his neck, and she pulled herself up closer to him, kissing him deeper. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she lost her mind at how he tasted.

Caramel, salt, wind, Cassian. 

He tugged on her lip with his teeth, smiled, and pulled back. 

“See? You don’t hate me, baby,” he laughed, pressing kisses to her forehead, temple, cheek, chin, everywhere. 

She’d never seen him this happy. Never felt this amount of joy in herself, either. 

Laughter bubbled out of her. “Okay. Fine. I don’t hate you.”

“You love me.”

He was a cocky bastard, wasn’t he? But... she thought back on all the times he’d been there for her, putting up with her when no one else wanted to. 

All the dreams she’d had of them just being together came crashing together, and she realized she wanted that. Wanted that life with him. 

Nesta pulled on his hair to stop the assault of kisses, looking into his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

Cassian picked her up and spun her around, both of them laughing like maniacs. “And it only took a year of flying all the way up here to bug you.”

Once she was set back on her feet, she leaned into him, trying to memorize the feel of his body against hers. “Take me on a date tonight.”

“It’ll be just like your dream,” he smirked, kissing the tip of her nose. “Dancing and drinking and good food.”

She knew where he was going, but she didn’t even care as he teased, “Then whatever you dreamed about that had you smelling like that this morning.”

“You’re a presumptuous little asshole. I don’t think I’ll sleep with you. Ever.” 

A finger on her chin brought her face up to his. “Liar,” he whispered, their lips not an inch apart. 

“Maybe.”

“Say it again,” he murmured onto her jaw, fingers moving to play in her hair.

Nesta rolled her eyes, cupped his face with her hands, and finally told him the words she’d repressed since she first saw him. “I love you, Cassian.”

______________________________________________________________

Ending’s cheesy as shit, sorry. Not really. 

@musicmaam @b00kworm @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @a-bit-of-a-cactus 

[snarkywrites]

Saturn in Aquarius: New Terrain

Saturn enters the sign of Aquarius on March 21st. This can bring a lot of gloom and doom to some people, but this is generally an exciting period of time as we see the end of one chapter with Saturn in Capricorn and get ready for the innovation that this Aquarius transit offers to bring us all. The month of March has been riddled with a lot of challenges, but this is something that we have come to expect, especially with the Saturn and Pluto conjunction from earlier this year still leaving some of the residue after the transit alleviated. With Saturn entering Aquarius, we can expect a drastic change with energy since there won’t be as many planets in the sign of Capricorn, slowing down the potency of its power. In Aquarius we can expect changes in philosophies from many people, a higher dedication from those in power and a need for us all to connect. The last time Saturn was in Aquarius, we saw the birth, expansion and the impact that the internet has had on us all. Technology is such a major aspect of our lives that because of recent events, we have seen how corporations have been forced to embrace sending employees to work from home, entrepreneurs are being pushed to incorporate technology into their small businesses more and educational systems have also been pushed into distance schooling. A major shift at the 29th Degree of Saturn in the sign of Capricorn, showing a mirror of what is to come for the next three months, and then Saturn will go back from Aquarius into Capricorn. By 2021, we will have a clearer picture of what we will be expecting and how the innovations of Saturn in Aquarius will shift the entire collective for the next 30 years when it returns to this sign.

Aries – The last few years you have been focused on establishing your place in the world; concentrating on top goals and trying to spark the energy within to tackle any challenges. Saturn in Capricorn was a test, not only for your sign, but for all Cardinals. You may have learned a lot about yourself, how you present yourself to the world and what the world views you as. If you had trouble managing your temper, this transit was going to teach you how to be more in control and diplomatic. To second guess showing your rage and to carry yourself more maturely were more focal points. Capricorn is a sign of self-control, putting the reigns on your impulsive sign. With the shift into Aquarius, your focus will be on putting into practice what was learned during Saturn in Capricorn. These tools can help you achieve greatness if you practice patience. Most likely, you will be accustomed to taking on roles that demand for you to be in positions of power with grace. Interpersonal relationships now take on a greater meaning to help you climb higher and reach for more. Continue to dream and believing in yourself but know that depending on how well your connections are with the collective will determine how much further you can advance.

Taurus – While Saturn in Capricorn focused on how you broadened your stances as well as promoted the exploration of philosophies, you are now going to be given a taste of what you will deal with for the next three years beginning 2021. This brief transit will be eye opening for you, especially as it will shift your attention to the future. Saturn in Aquarius will be applying some pressures on your sign, to become more comfortable in the spotlight, to get ready to take action and to set a good foundation for what you want to achieve in the future. This transit is a rebuilding for your character, and it will show you sides of yourself you did not know of until now. Don’t panic, embrace this. It will be a very tough road ahead, but this will be a very satisfying transit and one that you will look back on in the future. For now, when everything feels overwhelming, make sure to take that step back and analyze what plans need to be made and restructured in order to keep on going. Success is within your reach, so get ready for the impossible.

Gemini – You experienced intensity during Saturn in Capricorn which pushed you to the limits, making it almost too much to bear. But now things will be changing for more pleasant waters as you dip your toes into Saturn in Aquarius. You will be more thankful for this change because it takes off some of the pressures you had faced in the last thee years. It will be a surprise to have this upcoming shift in sign, because things will be more aligned with what your sign represents. This Saturn in Aquarius transit will be more on the spiritual level as you embrace new methods of thinking and will dive into learning more about the collective. As Saturn moves into an air sign, you will be more willing to embrace what it has to offer and learn from it. Your view of the world will change, as Saturn continues to rise up towards the highest point in your chart. Get ready for a new experience, that will teach you more about yourself

Cancer – Saturn in Capricorn taught you about sacrifices and understanding the meaning of relationships. This transit was a learning experience as you dealt with coping with your selfishness and ability to compromise with partnerships. This does not only affect your romantic partnerships, but your friendships as well. The ugly sides might have crept through as you noticed some disheartening sides to you, but you learned. In Capricorn, you focused on the dynamic you had with others. When Saturn moves into the sign of Aquarius later this month, you will see the impact that the lessons in Capricorn have taught you. It will be a moment of self-discovery, of shedding old ways and learning to handle the psychological aspects of yourself that you might have been repressing. Saturn in Aquarius will force you to break some chains, make things uncomfortable as you dive deeper in your mind to seek answers. It is a radical period for you, but you will learn to navigate through it. A shift in mentality will be focused on your stability, how you see yourself and your place in the world.

Leo – This transit will be an eye opener for you since you will now be on some unexpected terrain. With Saturn in Capricorn, you learned what it meant to work hard in order to move forward. For the last three years, you were put to the test and experienced some highs and lows because you may have felt as if your efforts were in vain. But you are close to the finish line. Saturn in Capricorn taught you endurance and to practice (a lot of) patience. It was a way to explore parts of yourself that you did not want to confront. In Capricorn, the struggle might have felt endless and each test was harder than the last. Now, with Saturn entering Aquarius, you will feel some of that weight lifted (for three months) before it retrogrades back in Capricorn. With this new shift in sign, you will understand your dynamic with others and the value in relationships and partnerships. It can be a period of reflection and more frustration as you decide who to keep in your personal space and who to isolate. Here you will flirt back and forth with the idea of asserting your independence but at the same time practice a form of codependency. Nevertheless, you will find your footing and push on forward to understanding yet another piece of you.

Virgo – You have been feeling the pressure of this upcoming transit just looming. For years, it might have felt as if every moment of potential happiness just withered and faded. But you Saturn in Capricorn has taught you that the show must go on, even when life moves too fast for you to keep up. You have embraced practicing being in hermit mode, opting to stay away from the drama and learn more about yourself and keeping close to your loved ones. You may have even ended a few close connections and relationships in order to “find yourself” but now you will be accustomed to the energy that Saturn in Aquarius will bring to your life starting this upcoming week for its three month stint and then later this year before we look toward 2021. Virgos will be able to handle this energy (surprisingly) because Saturn in Aquarius will ask “what can you do for me today?” As the sign that enjoys tasks and service, you will be more than willing to take on the challenges that will be presented in your day to day life. This is comfortable energy for you, especially since it will reshape how you approach your daily routines and it might even prompt you to begin (or make more of an effort) to take care of yourself physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Libra – Saturn in Capricorn may have brought some nightmare moments to a few of you as you struggled with establishing some foundations to expand your roots while dealing with the pressures of the world. This transit might have shaken you to your core, but it forced you to evolve, to become stronger and to cope with the changes that were to come. During this three-year transit, you learned how to steer through waters that you were not familiar with. While Saturn in Capricorn will be gifting you a coat of armor, you will be using this to further expand during the Saturn in Aquarius transit. Since Saturn will be in a fellow air sign, you might be more receptive to the transition. It may or may not feel seamless at first, as we pull further and further away from the Earth sign’s domain and acclimate to the air sign’s energy. Here you will learn about what matters to you and what you should not be taking for granted. It might also feel as if you are going through a slump, but this is just the grounding needed in order to prepare for what comes next. Your coat of armor will be strengthened, and you will endure when this transit officially begins in 2021.

Scorpio – While you faced challenges in the last two years under Saturn in Capricorn with communication. You have made peace with some old issues with siblings or distant relatives thanks to this Jupiter transit which may have alleviated any tensions. Now with Saturn entering the sign of Aquarius, you will deal with your roots and foundation. Saturn in Aquarius might feel like the rug is being pulled from under you, as you find a way to regain your footing. The transit begins this week, for three months and then it will retrograde back into the sign of Capricorn. You will see what aspects of your life need to be stabilized and it might even all begin with home. Aquarius promises to make you rethink how you view your comfort zones and what changes you can make or that Saturn will decide to make for you. A lot of patience will be needed with this transit, as it will be a learning period for you. After this transit, you will look back and think on how the old you has transformed into a formidable leader.

Sagittarius – You might feel like the veteran now with these Saturn transits since Saturn in Sagittarius was a bit of a doozy not only for you, but for the collective. We experienced a new era in politics and how it related to humanity through Saturn’s transit in your sign. In Capricorn, you felt the relief, but the pressures of stabilizing the material and how it related to you. Now, with Saturn in Aquarius, you will go back to the philosophical moments that your sign brought. It will be a comfortable transit, riddled with its own challenges but you will be mentally stimulated by what it has to offer. Your perception of the world and how it will impact you comes to play. You will also become more aware of the impact that your words might have as well as the strength of your connections with others. You might even want to partake in making changes for the collective or become a disruptive force with your pen. Take heed and be wise now. Saturn will teach you the patience needed when it comes to expression, which can cause conflict and frustrations with others. Remember to take things one day at a time, to keep going strong and to think before you speak.

Capricorn – An awakening with the shift from Saturn in Capricorn to Aquarius. The mountain of responsibilities and challenges begins to slowly dissipate as you await the verdict on everything that you have dealt with so far. The next three months will be a bit of a Spring Break for you as you sort and put yourself back together. The puzzle pieces that have been left at your disposal will now scream out for you to put them back in place. You have learned a lot; you have dealt with the trials and have found the key to everything. Your period of reflection begins now, as you shed the skin of the past and look forward to a new chapter in your life. Saturn in Aquarius will make you focus on solidifying your foundations, on reclaiming your power and bringing order to what you foresee in the future. It all begins now with the struggles you will face with finances and how you relate to the material. Put your game face on, especially during the Saturn and Mars conjunction in Aquarius happening later this month.

Aquarius – Saturn is finally in your sign, bringing a moment of transformation that will begin for the next three months. Saturn officially enters Aquarius December 2020, so use this period as a learning guide for what you will be expecting early next year. The last couple of years might have felt like a dream state where you were waiting for something to finally wake you up. You have felt the calm before the storm for years now, struggling with any internal battles, waiting for the resolution to your problems as you seek others for guidance in understanding what was happening and where you were going. As an Aquarius, you were probably more concerned with your place in the world and the connection, the dwindling connections between you and the outside world probably created pressures. Saturn in your sign will break down aspects of yourself and rebuild them into stronger versions. This transit will be tough, because it is happening in your sign but the rewards after it will be worth it. It is a period of hard work, reflection and changes. Life lessons learned during this period will help you grow more in the future. Now is the beginning of your moment of empowerment because after this transit is officially over (three years from now) you will be more powerful and shine brighter than before.

Pisces – Pisces placements can pretty much handle most transits that deal with the subconscious and Saturn in Aquarius will be something you might be able to understand. Saturn in Aquarius brings you back to your moments you felt most vulnerable and makes you evaluate your sentiments regarding them. This shift will be an eye-opening experience, but for the brief period Saturn is in Aquarius you will learn what to expect beginning in December 17th, 2020. All the lessons that have been learned throughout the years will be pivotal for this transit. It will make you more in tune with who you are and will awaken some of those moments that you have felt weak and powerless. Nevertheless, you are used to finding your inner strength and emerging more powerful from the darker times. While Saturn in Capricorn taught you how to cooperate with the collective, to come together as a team, this brief transit will show you what it can feel like to be alone but to find your greatest ally in the darkness, which is you.

[skinks]

I had a REALLY intense beatles phase in my late teens and i had the hots for paul mccartney and one time i found this story where this woman said she met paul at a party in 65 and he took her home and they talked until the sun came up and then he got a call telling him to come to the studio and he started to say he had to leave and she was like "not before you fuck me" and he laughed and then he DID and he left her alone in his house after and she stole his underwear (1/2)

(which she kept for decades until her husband threw them into their muddy front yard one day in a fit of jealousy) and a teapot and it always made me absolutely FERAL with jealous horny rage and like?? just this incredulous feeling of How On Earth Did That Really Happen and anyway bill hader’s dumpster mattress one night stand story is my new version of that (2/2)

The fucking journey this just took me on, holy shit. Did she at least get to keep the teapot?

I love that you had an intense teenage horny phase for a Beatle, I had one for Bob Dylan and I remember watching one of his electric era tour documentaries and being HORRIBLY jealous of the 60s girls hanging around outside his hotel... anyway that’s besides the point

I UNDERSTAND!!!!! THE MATTRESS STORY HAUNTS ME.... Bhader knows what he’s doing, he can try to couch it in as much self-deprecating oh-I’m-just-an-awkward-nerd fronting as he likes but he KNOWS what he’s doing and that woman knew it too. You ever notice how it’s the most competent ones who don’t feel the need to loudly prove themselves by being anything other than humble?? What did he SAY in that club! “It was going well,” he says, what does that MEAN, BILL, what did he fuckjfdkjcnnfkcning do that convinced this woman to leave the club, go to her place, lift a bed onto a car, go to HIS place and move furniture when she was literally moving to a new city the next day all so sHE COULD FUCK HIMMMM HOW IS HIS GAME THAT GOOD I FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER IN AN EDGAR ALLEN POE STORY BEING SLOWLY DRIVEN MAD BY THIS UNANSWERED MYSTERY

Ok sorry, I’m back. This is making me want to read a fic where (before they get together) Eddie watches an old interview of Richie telling the mattress story and he’s a seething ball of jealousy too. Then Richie comes out, he and Eddie sort their shit and get together, and one day Eddie laughingly comments that he had no reason to be jealous after all since Richie was obviously making the story up.

Richie looks at him weirdly. “I didn’t make up—that story did actually happen, Eds, I only changed it so people thought I went home with a chick.”

They are lying in bed. Eddie’s eye starts twitching. “Pardon?”

“Yeah?” Richie stretches, draping his right arm over his own head to scratch his left ear. Eddie will not be distracted by his chest right now, what the fuck. Richie squints at the ceiling. “I think his name was... Marco, or something. At least, that’s the name he gave to quote unquote Chris.”

“Marco, okay. Huh.”

“I wanted to be Lance or something cool, but my friend said I inhabited Chris better, I dunno. I didn’t even tell him why I needed a fake name, he was just like, big into method.”

“Yeah, mhmm.” Eddie sits up, nodding. He can’t stop nodding. His head feels like a champagne cork fizzing at the top of his spine. “So you, you uh—you were such a fucking player in your plaid and your baggy jeans that, that, that were the only things you even owned back then, Rich—don’t try to deny, it I’ve seen the pictures—that you convinced some guy who was moving town the next fucking day—”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot upwards. It makes his eyes look rounder, more delighted. “Convinced? Eddie—”

Eddie can’t stop, twisting the sheets in his hands til his knuckles go white. “Yes, convinced, you convinced him to go pick up some dirty mattress right off the street with a complete stranger even though you always make such a big deal about how awkward and nervous and repressed you were, you still, you still—”

“I was probably on molly or something at the time, man.” Richie’s beaming up at him. He pokes Eddie in the arm. Eddie feels how tense the muscle is, and fights to relax. “I’m kidding, at worst it was just a little tipsy driving. A little Wacky Races. Just call me Dick Bastardly.” Richie grins at his own dumbass joke, poking Eddie some more. “And it wasn’t just the mattress by the way, it was the whole bed. That’s a key detail. Headboard and everything.”

“The headboard?!” Eddie tries not to yell, but it comes out louder than he means to anyway. More of a shriek, embarrassingly. He lurches around in place to glare at their own flat bar of wood behind them. He holds onto that thing! It supports him, even when Richie’s fucking him into the wall!

Betrayal is neverending today, apparently. Eddie turns his glare onto Richie, who is laughing. “Stop laughing!”

“Your face,” Richie gasps. He covers his own face, then changes tack and yanks Eddie down over him to cackle into his flaming-hot throat. “What’s the problem! You’re acting like this is the same fucking bed, oh my god, you think I haven’t at least changed my mattress since I lived like a—like a Beavis and Butthead parody in Westwood, fifteen years ago?”

Eddie squirms miserably. Not even Richie’s broad nakedness against his can salvage this, he’s well and truly destroyed their sweet afterglow with his stupid overreaction. Feels like being fifteen again, ruining clubhouse hangouts with his snappy sulking as soon as Richie mentioned some girl at school. “No! No, obviously fucking not, just. I dunno.”

He doesn’t really deserve the gentle tease in Richie’s voice. “What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know!”

And that’s the part he hates most.

“Okay, okay. I think I do. Jesus, you’re actually jealous,” Richie breathes. He bites his lip, the way he does when he’s so happy about something he’s making a real effort not to talk over it. He’s still a little sweaty and pink from their Friday night activities, bedraggled hair and no glasses. The expression always scrunches his left eye into a full squint, something Eddie finds so helplessly appealing he can’t imagine what it’s like to watch that interview and not feel jealous.

Eddie grunts, shrugs as best he can under Richie’s heavy hug. Fucking Marco.

Richie’s hand is firm on the back of his neck. There’s pressure from his thumb at one point of Eddie’s jaw, the soft part between ear and bone that has him gulping open for Richie’s low murmur, “Eddie baby, don’t be jealous.” Their mouths meet and Eddie sighs into the slick warmth of it, feeling grateful and abashed and idiotic all at once.

They separate with a little snick of spit. Richie lids his eyes open just a touch, looking drowsy with affection. Eddie lowers his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and speaks to his collarbone. “I just—I hate it when you act like people are just doing you a favor for, for liking your shit or fucking going home with you when clearly it was—you’re fucking hot, Rich, and, and sexy when you’re not trying to be, and you were hot back then too, but you still act like it was a miracle anyone wanted to even touch you when I—I always would’ve picked the stupid dirty bed up off the street too. For you. And I wouldn’t’ve moved town the day after. So.”

Richie doesn’t speak for a moment. There is a cloud above their shared, clean bed, implicit with shared memory of all the times they dirtied each other’s sheets with grass stains and grubby feet, chip crumbs and even tears, just once, just before Eddie really did move town and forgot all the things he cared about so much more than he ever cared about getting sick.

He would never leave again though, is his point. Richie always seems to know what he means before Eddie does. He tries to think it loud enough, brings his hand up blindly to Richie’s face and strokes back his hair, not because Richie is a mind reader, but because he knows what it means that Eddie has never wanted to touch someone else like this.

Eddie’s spine then, curving under Richie’s knuckles like brushing a shiver along a set of wind chimes. His hand lands on Eddie’s tailbone, an X marks the spot that still throbs with loosened heat and pleasure from his orgasm. Lying on your front is bad for your posture.

I’m not lying on my front, Eddie thinks, with a little of the vicious defiance he doles out to that cloying voice sometimes, the one that tries to ruin quiet moments with its fretting. I’m lying on Richie’s. He’s good for my posture. He’s gonna snap my spine back into place and this time I’ll let him touch me.

Richie presses their temples together, small-voiced. “I guess... I find most of the flattery shit hard to believe. I didn’t like myself or the stuff I was making, so I’d automatically assume they were lying, y’know? If I agree it implies I believe them, which makes me feel like some giant, arrogant dick—don’t say it.” He pats Eddie on the ass. “But, on the other hand, if I think I’m somehow important enough for people to lie to, that’s kind of an arrogant dick move too.”

Eddie pushes up to eyeball him. “Even with sex? That’s so fucking dumb.”

This second ass-pat is harder, more of a stinging smack. Richie’s guarded look coils into a grin again at Eddie’s bared-teeth hiss. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“Well, I mean, what do you think it meant that fucking Marco—” Richie snorts at the projectile venom burning acidic holes through Eddie’s voice, “—was clearly willing to catch fleas or goddamn tetanus just to fuck you? What about me? You think I’m pretending it’s good just to encourage your weird, unnecessary inferiority thing? ”

“No, you’re right,” Richie laughs. His snorts have bubbled into full-blown giggles now as he squints down at the mess between their stomachs. “That’s pretty hard evidence you’re providing there, Eds.”

Getting harder too, rubbed up against the soft crease of Richie’s hip. Eddie can feel the lingering red throb of heat on his ass, like closing his eyes and still catching the gold-coin flash of the sun branded on the inside of his eyelids. Richie digs his blunt nails into the stung tenderness of his skin and gently pulls Eddie’s asscheeks open. He feels Richie’s quickened breathing against his wet mouth, and wonders how to ask for another spank in a way that isn’t gonna make him want to enter witness protection afterwards.

“I can’t believe you were jealous, you’re the last guy in the world who needs to be jealous,” Richie moans. Eddie feels the vibration of it on his tongue, now sucking on the knot of Richie’s adam’s apple. “Wait, can you really get tetanus from abandoned street beds?”

“Ugh!” Eddie bites him there and pulls off slowly, sucking so the stubbled skin of Richie’s strong throat is released from his mouth’s suction with a wet pop. Richie’s hips flex against him. “I almost wish this was the same fucking bed just so I had something to throw out into the yard!”

“O-ooh, how telenovela of you, I like it.”

Oh Christ, Eddie has to put some kinda stop to this before Richie starts speaking Spanish. He needs to last. He needs to beat Marco. “I’ll throw you out with it,” he says, too breathy and honest for anywhere else but here. “Trashmouth. Sweetheart.”

Richie’s face is flushed, eyes dark and desperate. He grips at Eddie’s ribs so hard Eddie feels them bending. “Dumpster diver.”

Eddie rolls his hips down, plants his palms on either side of Richie, shoves them under the pillows. He braces his elbows hard into Richie’s shoulders and grinds their sweaty foreheads together, but whatever aggression there is within him is softened by his catapulting heartbeat, harmonising with his own laughter. With Richie’s, always.

“Nah, ‘fraid the only thing left to remember that half-night stand with Marco is, well.” Richie looks down between them again, eyes almost crossed. “It’s me. My dick, more specifically.”

Eddie can feel as much. Another wave of possessiveness froths through him, crackling in the pockets of his joints, feels like cartoon steam whistling out his ears. “It better not be half-standing because it remembers anything about fucking Marco,” he snarls.

Richie raises his hands in a down boy gesture. It shifts his arms and shoulders in the way that sometimes makes Eddie wish he were a door, just so Richie could ram him open, and so he pins Richie’s wrists to the bed instead.

“Please don’t throw my dick out into the yard, babe,” Richie says.

“Gonna give you something to remember this fucking bed by,” Eddie says, and slides down Richie’s body to do just that.

[sidespromptblog]

The End For Him... For Them

Summary: They say that chasing after someone for years can be exhausting and mentally draining, but Logan has been the one giving the chase for centuries with no end in sight as his companion the chaser sees no problem to their game going on and on for however long they exist.

But Logan does, he doesn't want this life anymore.

So the truth comes out in surprising ways.

Warnings: Logan needs a hug, Logan is willing to let Remus kill him, Flashbacks, and Logan gives up.

Word Count: 4300

AO3 LINK

In the beginning, there were two gods created for the earth. 

One of the wild. 

He was the god of all of the creatures that roamed the earth, both feral and tamable creatures alike found shelter with the god. He was protective of those under his care, willing to slay anything and anyone that overstepped their boundaries, or for any perceived slights against him or his wards. He controlled the rate at which trees, vines, and grass took over the dead that died on his lands. He was responsible for the decay that would bring about new life, and he was said to be just as untamable as the creatures in his dominion. It was said that no other being alive or dead would be able to match him, that his savagery would be unparalleled by all of the pantheon, and that he would spend his days alone with nothing more than his creations to keep him from the brink of madness itself. 

Then there came to be a new god on earth. 

A god of the sky, of the sun, the stars, the moon, and the clouds.

For eons they wrestled with one another, the god of the wild trying to catch the stars and moon, trying to protect his creatures from the harmful rays and heat of the sun, and to lay claim to the sky. Since their very creation, they were made to oppose one another, as opposites in almost every way. The god of the wild holding his dominion over all of the earth, and the ground that had come with it.  As well as the god of the sky, and everything that came with his claim. They were equals, as the power of one was just as equal as the power of the other. 

They were meant to chase each other for all of eternity, one never allowed to catch up with the other.

Until...

“Please Remus,” Logan openly begs without a hint of shame to his voice, and just the sound of it, the mere idea of Logan begging him for anything is enough to make that primal thing in his chest writhe and thrash. It hurts... it hurts in a way that he’s never had to know before. It hurts to hear Logan begging like this, just as it hurts him to see the resignation in Logan’s eyes. With the knowledge that Logan isn’t going to fight back, and it hurts so much worse when the other man bares his neck to him. He has to clamp down his jaw at the sight of the tears that slowly make their way down Logan’s face. “Whatever you do...just make it quick... Please.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Logan wasn’t supposed to give up, and just let this happen. 

They… they were supposed to chase after each other for eternity, or for as long as their lives would allow them to. 

Something between a growl and a whine builds up in his throat the longer that he stares down at the other, for the life of him… he couldn’t recall just how long the two of them had been there. With Remus having seized Logan’s wrists firmly pinning him to the ground, and leaving him with no way to escape. Before his nails had scraped against Logan’s skin, leaving little shallow cuts wherever he had touched the other man. 

But now…

His touch was softer than the actual ground that he had Logan laying on, his claws just barely grazing the flesh that they had once been so savagely ready to tear into.

With little to no effort, Logan could easily slip away. Just as he had done for the past hundred years, leading the chase on once again. But this time… Logan didn’t move, he didn’t kick his feet out to get Remus off balance, and he didn’t surge up to try and escape. He just… laid there, with his throat open and awaiting whatever Remus would do to it, as if Remus could do such a thing. 

The whine that he had been repressing slipped out, “Don’t,” Remus softly warned, leaning his head so very close to Logan’s throat as he rested his forehead against the pulse point that had lept like a jackrabbit the moment his canines had gotten close. Logan was scared, there was no denying that. “Please don’t.” He whispered again, unable to stop himself from giving the other’s neck a soft nudge, as if he were no more than a mother wolf trying to get her cub out of the den. “Don’t do this to me, you…” Remus’ throat seized for a moment as every feeling he had been tussling with for over a century slammed into him all at once. “You know I can’t do it…”

Move! He silently begged the other, wishing that he would do anything other than just stay there awaiting a death that Remus couldn’t give him. Move please! Just go!

“You’ve been wanting this Remus, since the very beginning of our creations.” Came Logan’s gentle words, as the other man’s hand easily slipped out from under Remus’ claws. Not to escape… but to gingerly clasp the back of the other’s neck, rubbing the rigid tendons and muscles with his thumb. As if that could possibly make Remus kill him any faster. “I am giving it to you… so take it.” 

The very thought of doing so is enough to make Remus sick. 

He doesn’t want it, not like this… or ever really. This had been their game for who knew how long, Remus would chase him throwing wild threats and Logan… he would evade and throw back his own clever words. Words which would make Remus’ heart drum wildly in his chest, as the thrill of the chase was on once again. 

“I’m going to catch you!” Remus roars as his feet scrape the ground, his shoulder aching from where Logan had ducked under him at the last minute and led him to collide with a stone wall. “And when I catch you, I’m going to tear open your pretty throat and bathe in your blood you mistake of man and science! You can’t escape forever!” He had already shaken off the earthy dust, his injuries, and aches no more than meaningless drivel in the back of his mind. 

Ahead of him Logan laughs, a carefree and honestly… a beautiful sound if he had ever heard one. 

“You may try,” The other man bares his teeth in a sharp smile that is full of way too many teeth, Remus adores the sight of it. He’s going to wear it as a necklace someday he just knows it. “But if need be, I can give you a few months to catch up, old man. Having a little trouble… rising to the occasion?” And with his roar of rage and with that laugh… Logan is off, his steps infinitely faster than even the quickest movement that Remus could ever make. 

He has a feeling though, that Logan only slowed down for his benefit. Not that he’d ever admit to such a thing.

“Why?” He asks, shaking himself from the decades-old memory that had seized him in that moment. “Why this? Why now Logan? After so long… why?” 

There’s a sad smile on Logan’s face, the kind of smile that isn’t suited for the Logan of his memories… of that sharp wit that he had come to know and love. It makes him want to seize the other’s neck, and just shake and shake until something either pops loose or Logan starts acting like himself again. He doesn’t like the sadness in those eyes, just as he doesn’t like the way that the other’s thumb is still rubbing the muscles of his neck as if that by some miracle would make his questions go away. He doesn’t know what the burning sensation in his stomach is, but just like this moment right here… 

He doesn’t like it. 

Logan’s hand falls flat against the base of his skull, his fingers threading through his long braided hair his fingertips running over every bead that had been incorporated into it. There’s a look there that he doesn’t understand… it’s warm. “Remus…” Logan says his name like its the last thing he’ll ever say, “I am so very tired… I...I…” If he had been panicked before, he was now horrified as tears welled up in the other’s eyes, just barely clinging to his bottom lashes. “I don’t want to fight you anymore, I’m exhausted of this chase, no matter how you may be enjoying it. I want more from my existence than this… I…” The man that Remus had come to know since his creation swallowed thickly, “I am in lo-.”

“Shut up!” He snarls baring his teeth harshly against the other’s neck, his hands pressing quickly and efficiently over Logan’s mouth before he can so much as utter another word. “Shut up!”

“Do you ever get tired of chasing me?” Logan had asked one day, his legs dangling over the lip of the cave that Remus had found himself licking his wounds in. The view of the ocean was amazing, which was partially why he had come here, to begin with. “I mean… you never catch me. So… why do you keep going on and doing it? Doesn’t it get boring knowing how it will end? I’m always faster, so… why haven’t you given up?”

A rough snort is Logan’s answer, tying his latest scrape up with reeds and a healing salve Remus can’t help but to glare balefully up at the feet he can see swinging over the edge. He knows that without a doubt, Logan would be up and out of the way before Remus could even throw himself at those ankles. Either way… his feet hurt too much from the constant running, so it's not like he’d be able to get too far if he did give a chase to the irritatingly deep sky god. He hates how right he is about this, and he hates how much the other’s words make sense in this moment. But either way…

He has his own answer. 

“It’s not the outcome,” He gruffly answers, as he sparks a small little campfire into existence with the snap of his fingers. “It’s how you get away each time that makes me come back, each time… there’s something new with you. Some new trick that you��ve learned or had hidden up your sleeve, it… makes you interesting.” He confesses a warm bubble of something lingering in his chest. “If you weren’t interesting I wouldn’t give a chase… or I’d just kill you and be done with it. Find some other god to chase, or settle down in the wild again.” 

He’s not entirely sure if he means it or not. A part of him says it just so that Logan will get the hell out of his cave so that he can eat and sleep, and then again… another part of him wants to answer the other god’s question as much as he can. 

There is never a lot of time for the two of them to talk when Logan’s being chased, and this is probably the first time in decades that they’ve just sat down and not tried to kill each other. 

But even so…

“Are you done?” Remus can’t help but snap, the swinging of those legs distracting every time that he tries to settle down. “I am busy when I’m not chasing you everywhere. You know… things to do and people to decay.” 

Logan doesn’t answer him for a long time, and for a moment Remus is absolutely certain that the other god is either just ignoring him or has replaced his legs with a decoy so that Remus makes a fool out of himself. It’s only when he hears Logan sigh, and the other’s legs shift out of view that he knows that Logan finally got the memo. However, he hasn’t left yet, evidenced by the small wrapped up package that’s dropped down mere seconds later, just smelling it he can tell that its a mixture of clean nonpoisonous berries meant for him to eat. He doesn’t want to admit it… but it puzzles him, as he cautiously makes his way forward and snatches up the offered gift. 

On the roof of the seaside cave, he hears Logan’s feathery light footsteps walking away as slow as can possibly be. “Remus,” And there’s a pause on the top of the cave. “Take your time healing… I’ll still be here when you’re done. Sleep well.” 

And just like that, he’s gone. 

Remus likes to say that he doesn’t remember about that day and the gift that Logan gave him, but in all honesty… he very much does. 

 Remus’ sharp canines sink into the unscathed slope of Logan’s throat just the tiniest bit, and in an instant, without even giving himself even a second to think about it or the blood that he can just barely taste on his tongue… he jerks his head back. There, the first mark he’s ever made on the sky god with his fangs alone is a series of shallow cuts, with beads of dark red rising to the surface before sluggishly dripping down his collarbone and disappearing into the fabric of his deep blue and silver top. They’re relatively small by comparison of what they could have been had he actually bitten down, so small to the point where it honestly barely even counts as an injury. It’s certainly nothing compared to the accidental injuries that Remus had done to himself while chasing after the god underneath of him. 

But it’s a wound nonetheless.

His blood doesn’t even smell like blood, it smells like the ozone after a lightning storm. Of fresh rain on an open field when the mice and moles finally come up from their burrows to have a good drink. It smells like everything and nothing all at the same time, so much from just a shallow and small wound.  

But... 

The sheer amount of horror and guilt that abruptly slams into him at the sight, smell, and taste of it is almost devastating as he lifelessly slumps against the other god’s chest.

A low keening howl leaves his throat feeling more like shards of glass, “No,” He whines, butting the top of his head against the underside of Logan’s jaw in a desperate bid to lick the wound to stop the blood flow. “No, nononono…” The god of the wild mumbles as his hands slide from Logan’s mouth, to the sides of his head in order to wrench the other’s head back more for a good look at the tiny cut. 

It’s so small, and otherwise inconsequential. But coming from him....

“No!"

“Remus…”

There’s no telling what it could do to Logan. How it would affect him. Or if he'd even die from the slightest wound that he got from him. 

“Remus.”

He could actually die. 

“No!”  

“Rem-” 

"What do you think happens to us if we die?" Logan curiously asked as he patiently tapped his foot in front of Remus waiting for the god to regain his senses before their chase continued as per usual. Once again it was one of those times in between their chases when Logan always had so many questions about him, it was his most intriguing and yet most annoying quality all at the same time. "Do you think we'd get remade into our domain? Like I'd turn into a cluster of stars, if you actually managed to kill me. Or would I just cease to be?" 

Remus groaned as he rubbed his aching head from where he had impulsively bull-rushed Logan head first, closing his eyes he saw stars of a different kind. 

A smile curled onto Logan's lips as he leaned down just a little in order to be face to face with the god of the wild. "Would you howl and cry for me at night? Would you howl at my moon and stars?" Remus fought back the urge to snap at Logan's nose, as the other's smile turned melancholy. "I'd mourn you. In your waterfalls, in the earth after a storm, and in the cries that your animals would make. I'd mourn you, even if you wouldn't do the same for me…" 

There was that look again. 

That deep far away look that Remus had never been able to pin down before, it was a look that had oftentimes left him feeling very perplexed about the god in front of him. It was a look that told him, had Logan not been created to be the sky god… he would have been someone incredibly smart for who he was. He might have been the kind of guy who didn’t have anything to do with the stars and everything involving the sky.

Like an astronomer. 

"Damn you," He openly cursed, as he surged up, just to have Logan step away as soon as he did. "Don’t.” He openly and rather darkly warns, in Logan’s eyes there is clearly no love lost between them, but in Remus’ eyes its another matter entirely. “You don't know a single thing about how I'd mourn." His mouth ran off before his mind could truly catch up to him, as he stubbornly and rather sluggishly brought himself back up to his feet. "I'd fucking mourn." But just not in the way that Logan would ever expect him to. 

The whole earth would be silent for the stars if they never were to shine again, Remus would ensure it. 

Without Logan… meaning would have no meaning. 

There is no warning for what happens next. 

As Logan surges up, clasping Remus’ head between his hands and slams their mouths together cutting off the panicked flow of disjointed words that the other god had been babbling at the bite on his neck. It is anything but pleasant given that it’s his first time, and even more so considering that Remus’ first instinct is to snarl at the pressure on his mouth, his clawed fingers curling almost possessively down the curve of his neck and around his shoulders leaving a trail of white lines where they touch. Regardless of how Remus reacts afterward, Logan at least has the satisfaction in knowing that the other god is no longer panicking himself into a stupor. Or more importantly...  

He’ll no longer feel bad about ending the sky god’s existence now. 

Except… as inexperienced as both he and Remus are… the kissing doesn’t stop, not that Logan is complaining about that. It’s animalistic, what with the way that Remus’ tongue drags over Logan’s lips, as if trying to taste every little bit of him, with the way that his sharp canines nip and bite at his lips and jawline something much more satisfying happening, and with the way that Logan isn’t even being pinned under the god of the wild. What with the way that his arms have securely looped under the sky god’s body bringing him firmly against Remus’ chest, and in turn his warmth. 

They had never touched like this before, for Remus it was a surprise to feel just how cold Logan was to touch. It was like trying to touch a cold gust of wind, or even worse… touching the chilled body of a dead creature that had been dead for days. There wasn’t a spot of warmth to be felt on the other god’s body, unlike Remus, who felt absolutely blisteringly warm with the heat of the earth’s core. In all honesty…

It was the first time that Logan had felt warmth like this, and not have it chased away with his own internal temperature. 

He couldn’t help but to melt under that warmth, as his eyes closed blissfully and his head tipped back, even more, exposing even more of his unmarked neck to the other god. It didn’t matter if he would die right then or not at all, not if Remus kept holding him like this with a grip so strong that it was practically guaranteed that he wouldn’t fall. Despite everything that he had thought in the past, or even just assumed of the other, his grip and his warmth… it didn’t hurt. It was like feeling the sun’s rays through the shade of the trees, with the promise that he wouldn’t get burned by it. It felt comfortable and it felt… safe. Safer than any of the close calls he’d ever had with Remus, and safer than when he’d just been pinned under the other god mere moments ago. 

Speaking of which though…

“Don’t stop,” He whispered the moment that Remus’ lips moved from his mouth down to his neck, “If you hate me… then kill me right here and now with as much swiftness and painlessness that you possess. Please.” He asked.. no, begged again of the other. There was no being transparent about it now, and there was no sugarcoating things now that he had already done the impossible and kissed the god of the wild. 

His opposite in just about every way imaginable. 

But even so… that didn’t stop the deep savage growl from curling up from Remus’ chest and right into his throat, so that it vibrated against Logan’s own. His teeth that had scraped against Logan’s throat with each brutal kiss, were now bared once again, the pearly whites glinting dangerously against the setting sun of what would be their crossroads. And just as quickly as it had come, the bright and brilliant hope that had burned in Logan’s chest was almost instantly smothered with the dark snarl of Remus’ teeth that swiftly and rather remorselessly wrapped itself about the sky god’s esophagus. There was no mistaking what it meant, and there was no mistaking the end either. 

Remus had promised that he would tear open his throat, he had sworn multiple times that he would do such a thing. There was no use crying about it, and there was no use lamenting about it either. He too had promised that he would give Remus exactly what he wanted out of their confrontations.

And he would. 

But even with all of that, Logan still couldn’t bear to look. As he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears as he allowed himself to go limp once again. He would be ready when it would happen, and he would not cry. 

He would not cry.

He. Would. Not. 

“I am in love with you.” He whispered, allowing himself this one small moment of weakness, as the tears that had been clinging to his bottom eyelashes finally fell. “I love you, as the moon loves the ocean…” 

Forever. 

A low guttural growl rumbled through Remus’ throat, “I said shut up.” He mumbled, as he sat up practically dragging Logan up with him so that he remained firmly squished against his chest. Logan could feel the pounding of the other’s heart against his own, it was racing practically galloping behind that ribcage of his in the way that could only describe one emotion. Horror. “I said that I couldn’t do it before,” Remus said against his neck, nestling and nuzzling his face against the lines where his teeth had accidentally sunk in. “You think that I’m going to do it when I already feel the same?” 

In that moment, all of time itself seemed to slow down.     

Never in a million years would he have thought that those words would Remus’ mouth, sure the other was always headstrong about his feelings and his innate need to hunt him down for whatever reason. But never would Logan have assumed that Remus would be actually willing to admit it out loud, maybe as more of an understood thing if the other god didn’t kill him, but never an openly and shamelessly admitted confession such as this. It went against practically everything that he knew about Remus in general, but then again… how much was that really, if he had honestly thought that the other god would kill him? 

“Really?” He nervously asked, still not daring to believe it just yet, not after so long. Not that Remus would ever hold it against him. “No tricks, like with your brother and the snake incident?”

“No tricks.” Remus openly promises.

He sees it, for the first time. That pale yellow dusting of blush, the color of sunsets and the stars passing over Logan’s freckled cheeks. He sees the hope that was always missing in the vacant stares that the other god would sometimes give him whenever he had his questions, and it fills him with a deep warmth that could never be matched by the actual temperature of his body. It’s relief he knows, its the one emotion he knows enough about, given that he’s felt it every time that Logan has successfully evaded his attacks and threats. It’s no less overwhelming than it was before than it is now, but he counts that as a plus.

It means that he cares.    

Logan swallows thickly, “Good.” The sky god says rather bravely.

And this time, without hesitating their lips crash together once again. Only this time Remus rolled onto his back, allowing the sky god to pin him down to the earth as his cold lips explore his. All while keeping his hands rather firmly on the other’s hips, now touching him as much as he had wanted to in the past. There’s nothing to stop either of them now, not as they fully fall into one another.  

Just as it was always meant to be.

[darlingpetao3]

The Conference (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: As his personal assistant, you accompany Harrison to a Science and Technology conference in Star City. You’re great at your job, though sometimes it can be difficult seeing as you’re attracted to your boss, no matter how much you try to repress your feelings. But when a series of mishaps occur while at the conference, you can’t help but fall harder for Harrison. Does he feel the same way? The world certainly starts to believe so...

A/N: Okay, so this seriously might just be one of my favourite things I’ve done in a long time. I had so much I wanted to do with this story, so it’s ended up with a word count of 5,631. I’m imagining this taking place on Earth-2 before Harry met Team Flash. I really hope you all enjoy this!

Tag List: @blogforhoes​

It’s been a few years since Star City has held its world-renowned Science and Technology Association Rendezvous conference (you think someone had to stretch to make the conference coincide with the theme of the city), but that time has returned. In fact, that’s where you’re headed now from the airport - to the hotel where the conference is to be held, luggage in tow.

Your fingers fly across your phone as you handle a few more work emails in the town car you’re sharing with your boss. You try not to look anywhere else because you feel the eyes of Harrison Wells watching you. Yes, working as the world’s-greatest-mind’s personal assistant can be intimidating, but that’s not the reason you’re mentally jittery.

It didn’t necessarily start out this way - having a deadly liability of a crush on the man - but it happened regardless. Spending the amount of time you do with Harrison Wells was bound to show his true nature. Not the front he puts up for his other employees, or the other one he hides behind while speaking to adoring and captivated crowds. You know the real Harrison Wells, even though you’re positive he would deny it until the end of his days.

“You should put that away,” he says eventually, making you look up now. “Enjoy yourself a bit while you’re here.”

“But then I wouldn’t be doing my job,” you counter, “a job you pay me to do.”

“Do you want me to pay you not to do your job?”

Why does this sound vaguely like flirting? You need to not imagine these kinds of things because that road will only lead to getting fired.

You sigh. “Okay, I promise not to work so much this weekend. But if for some reason your schedule gets screwed up, or you aren’t informed on some major deal, it’s not my fault.”

Harrison hums. “Duly noted.”

The car soon pulls up to the lobby doors of the Starling Grand Hotel. The driver helps you both with your luggage and point you in the direction of the front desk. On your short trek into the hotel, there are a series of camera flashes and shouts of “Harrison!” and “Doctor Wells, over here!”

The pair of you keep walking, but the man of the hour gives a polite wave. You think you’d be used to working for a celebrity of technology, but it has never gone away. At least you manage to keep it professional on the outside.

Once at the reception desk, you tell the hotel employee your name to confirm your reservation, only to receive a strange look from the person.

“I’m sorry, we had a system failure the other day, and I must inform you that your reservation has been reduced to one room for the two nights.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, feeling a ferocious fire igniting in your blood. Definitely because Harrison does not deserve to be reduced to anything and not because you’d now be sharing a room with Harrison Wells, supreme crush number one.

“We apologize, truly, but there are no other rooms available at this time, what with the conference happening this weekend.”

Um, DUH, that’s why we’re here!

“But we’ve included a few extra favours on us in your room as a-”

“-I’m sorry, but do you know who this is?” You gesture to your boss behind you, who appears calm, cool, and collected through this whole debacle. “THIS IS HARRISON FREAKING WELLS!” you shout. “He deserves his own freaking room!”

Harrison’s hand finds your shoulder.

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, really.” Harrison takes the room key from the employee, offering her a kind and apologetic smile. “Thank you.”

He guides you away from the desk to the elevators with a hand on your back all the way there. While you’d think an action such as this from your boss would cause a fiery hole to rupture through your entire body, it actually calms you instead. It’s like his touch has extinguished the flame of rage you had felt mere moments ago.

Neither of you utters a word until the elevator doors close. The corner of Harrison’s lip tugs upwards slightly.

“Go on,” you tell him, “say it.”

“You’re very passionate.”

“I just believe a man of your stature should have his own damn hotel room. At the very least.”

“So, it has nothing to do with sharing a hotel room with your direct superior?” he teases. You pull out your phone to scroll on as a distraction.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I never have, nor do I ever plan to be ridiculous.”

The elevator dings once you reach your floor. Harrison motions with a hand to allow you to leave first. You hike up the strap of your bag on your shoulder and head out to find your shared room.

It’ll be fine, it’s fine — All fine.

Alright, 1545, here we are.

You unlock the door with the key card, hearing the click. But as you push the door open, you drop your bag, and subsequently, your jaw.

Not fine, not fine, not fine.

Harrison tries to move past you, but accidentally trips on the handle of your bag and topples over, hitting his stomach to the floor with an “oof”!

He squints ahead.

“Is that… one bed?” he wonders aloud.

“Yup.”

Harrison gets up, immediately looking from the bed to you. He probably senses your unease, but you seriously hope he doesn’t catch on as to why. Sleeping in the same bed as the man you work for and have a huge thing for? You’d fantasized about such a situation before, just not like this and not so abruptly.

“I’ll go talk to the front desk,” he assures you. “If there’s nothing we can do, we’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, you know what?” you say at last. “We’re adults here, right? It will only be a big deal if we make it that way. It’s just sleep.”

Harrison nods slowly, his Adam’s apple bobs. “You make a fair point.”

“Besides, you don’t have much time before your keynote address tonight. It would be best to start getting settled and ready here.”

His smile at your practicality makes your heart flutter.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says. You toss your bag into the chair in the corner.

“I don’t know either, Sir. Dibs on the right side.”

***

It took a little while to figure out who would use the bathroom to get ready first, and of course there were moments of awkwardness. You never knew how ga-ga you would get when you watched Harrison pop out his shirt collar, tie his tie, and straighten his cuffs.

Those small actions shouldn’t make you want to jump him then and there, and yet here you are with these feelings a PA shouldn’t have for their boss.

You decide to wear your slimming black dress for tonight’s keynote address. And no, it’s not because Harrison loves black, you tell yourself. It’s because it’s classy and sophisticated, and you’ll blend right into the background.

When you step out of the bathroom, all ready to face the crowds, Harrison looks up and immediately drops his phone at the sight of you.

“Are you… all set?” you ask him. Harrison retrieves his phone and straightens himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am… You look-”

“-And you.”

There’s a beat of more awkwardness. You tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“Right, so, shall we…?” you say.

“Yup, yes, let’s,” he agrees.

You never expected to essentially be Harrison’s bodyguard as well this weekend. Nearly every person you meet along the way to the auditorium wants to talk to him, ask him a question, want a piece of him. Yeah, well, get in line. You quite literally need to hold them back so that he’ll get to the stage on time. It would not look good if this man was late to the kick-off of the whole conference weekend.

But alas, the two of you make it with a few minutes to spare. On stage right, you make sure his suit has no wrinkles, no stains, hair is perfect — all in a day's work.

“My speech…” Harrison mumbles, patting his chest and checking his pockets. “I had it… here? Where…”

He’s so cute when he gets like this, you dare to let the thought flicker in your mind. You whip out the piece of paper and show it to him. The man of the hour exhales in relief.

“What would I-?”

“-Do without me?” You grin, loving whenever he brings this up, and hand him the speech. Your fingers brush momentarily, and you clear your throat instead of the squeak-whine that wanted to come out. What is with me today? “Now go on, get out there and give those people a keynote to remember.”

Harrison lingers a moment before shaking the paper gently in his grasp. His eyes twinkle with thanks before stepping out into the spotlight. You inch as close as you can to the side of the stage and watch behind the curtain. Applause erupts from the auditorium - an ocean of onlookers, cameras, and lights.

And there’s that smile.

It’s times like these that you can selfishly admire Harrison in his element, talking about what brings him the greatest of joys. You’re glad of the suit he chose for this event - a classic midnight-black suit with a crisp white shirt. It’s subtle and powerful and perfectly Harrison.

“Good evening, fellow colleagues,” he greets the room. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harrison Wells, and it is a great honour to have been asked to speak tonight.”

More cheers.

“Additionally, it is an equally great honour to be in this room with all of you, for each of you have the drive and dreams to create a better future for the world. And with your help, I believe the future will be here faster than you think.”

That’s it.

There’s no denying it.

You really are falling in love with your boss.

***

You and Harrison stand beside one another, shoulder to shoulder in your pyjamas, staring straight down at the damn hotel bed. He wears an aged heather-grey Central City University T-shirt and black sweatpants and it’s almost too much for you. Seeing the man in an expensively tailored suit is one thing, but having to witness Harrison Wells in casual clothing - the kind he sleeps in…

Somebody save me.

You feel utterly self-conscious in your lacy sleepwear, which is all you brought for the trip. It was a recent purchase, of the “treat yourself” variety, and no one was actually supposed to see you in it. Let alone your boss.

Harrison clears his throat. “Should we go to bed? I mean sleep. Should we go to sleep?” His face burns red, undoubtedly at the humiliation of having to sleep in the same direct vicinity as a subordinate. Oh, the horror.

You turn towards the man, but don’t look him in the eye.

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

The two of you pull back the blanket and get under it together, albeit at a “safe” distance from each other.

“Well… goodnight,” Harrison says to you, his face staring straight up at the ceiling.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, also finding the ceiling highly intriguing.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Something feels… different.

It’s like there’s an extra weight on your pillow-?

Holy Lord.

It would seem that Harrison, in his sleep, has moved over to your side of the bed. Your heads now share the same pillow. The smell of purely him overtakes your senses. His breath warms your ear. He is so incredibly close to you right now that you can feel him inhaling and exhaling, his chest rising and falling.

Is that his heartbeat or yours?

You may be going into cardiac arrest.

Ever so carefully, you turn your head the tiniest bit to see him sleeping peacefully like an angel. Your heart races like it never has before in your entire life. It's like it's going to burst out of your chest and run out of the room screaming. And your breathing! You think you seriously do need CPR. Your breaths are horribly uneven and hitched and are impossible to control and your worst fear at this moment is Harrison waking up to find you in this awful and embarrassing state.

How could I ever explain to him that this freak-out is all his fault because he was basically spooning me without even knowing it?

You somehow manage to drift off a little while after your near heart-attack until you later feel something nudge your leg.

Oh for goodness sake, it's his leg.

And how is it possible that your bodies seem even closer? God, I can't run away from my feelings for him if I tried, can I?

So naturally, now your leg decides that it wants to start hurting. It's going numb. Am I sleeping on it weird? You don't know anymore. What is up with your entire body trying to attack and hurt you tonight? 

You think that if you move your leg or your body at all right now, Harrison will wake up, see this position you’re both in and distance himself from you. And as much as your love/hate relationship with this closeness is, you don't want him to…

Ultimately, though, you can't handle the numbness in your leg, so you’re going to have to opt-out for a more comfortable sleeping position. You turn insanely slowly on your side, now facing the bathroom and your back to your boss.

Oh shit, he’s stirring.

And then it happens.

His hand finds your hip.

But only for seven glorious seconds.

You feel Harrison freeze and retract his hand. It’s almost as if you can see him through the back of your head - him assessing the situation and pulling back. He moves over - far, far away and back to his side of the bed.

The other side of the universe.

***

After Harrison spent the rest of the night on his side of the bed, you somehow managed to settle down and got your heart rate to return to a relatively normal state.

Presently, you work on your hair near the mirror by the hotel desk. Harrison walks past you. Neither of you has said much to each other this morning. You don’t want to bring up the incident. Clearly, he doesn’t either.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

Ha! I almost died in my sleep!

“Yes, thanks,” you reply instead. “You?”

“Yeah, good.” He clears his throat and shuffles towards the door. His hair is sticking up at all ends and you wish you had something to do with that look, but alas, you had no part in it. He wanders back with the newspaper that had been placed outside the room. He freezes in place.

“What?” you ask, frowning.

He hesitates. “Nothing,” Harrison claims but then throws the paper in the recycling. “I’m going to get ready. Long day today.”

As soon as Harrison grabs his necessities and retreats to the bathroom, you rush over to retrieve the newspaper to see what threw him off. After un-crinkling The Star City Star (honestly, this city…) you read the headline:

Is Central City’s Doctor Harrison Wells Dating His Personal Assistant?

“WHAT?” you whisper-shout. Your eyes scan below at the write-up where the author speculates further on whether you and your boss are secretly dating. There are two photos beside the article, too - black and white, zoomed-in images. The first is the moment when Harrison’s fingers touched yours when you passed him the speech backstage. The way you two are looking at each other… Is that how it really looks? If it weren’t you in this picture, you would believe these two were dating for sure.

The second photo beside the first is zoomed-in on you. Only you. You’re standing at the side of the stage, looking on as Harrison delivers his speech. There’s no visible doctoring of the photo, so you know that’s genuinely how you appeared last night: giving the scientist enormous heart eyes. It’s so plainly evident in your photographed face how you feel about him. And now all of Star City knows.

You pause.

Harrison saw this.

He chucked this newspaper in the bin and retreated without a further word on the matter.

You think you might be sick.

***

It took a little longer than you’d plan to get ready, but seeing as there were two of you, you should have factored that into the schedule. You rush out into the corridor when Harrison says, “You’re a little…”

“What?” you look down at yourself to find your shirt is not fully tucked into your skirt. “Oh, thanks.” Harrison closes the room’s door while you adjust accordingly.

Just a short way down the corridor, you hear whispering. Looking up, you see a woman saying something to a man in a hushed voice. They scurry into the elevator.

That… can’t be good.

Imagine how this looks - catching a woman adjusting herself after stepping out of the same hotel room as Central City’s hottest commodity.

You draw breath to remain calm and push the worry down.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Harrison is on his phone while he waits for the panel to start, but after not even a minute, he quickly puts it away. He then holds out his hand to you. “Hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m making sure you don’t work too much while you’re here. Take it all in and what have you.”

You sigh, half-wondering why he’s brought you along if you’re not meant to be doing your job. Oh well. Maybe it'll be fun without your phone?

“Boss’ orders,” you concede. Relinquishing your phone to Harrison brings a smile to his face. Eventually, you leave him to speak amongst the rest of the panel and stand at the back of the room. This is much farther away from the cameras and journalists, who are trying to move as close as they can to the table to capture the perfect shots of Harrison and his fellow innovators on this panel.

Wells, McGee, Stein, Palmer, Smoak, and Brand.

Needless to say, the room was packed.

Afterwards, you usher Harrison out the side exit of the room instead of the main entryway. It was blocked up with conference-goers. There would be no way out otherwise.

Lunch is next on the schedule, thank God. You barely had anything to eat after leaving the hotel room, so you are ready to stuff your face.

Daintily, obviously. You save the savage-eating for the comfort of your own home.

The conference coordinators hired the best catering service, in your opinion. You would literally lick your plate if you were not continuously stared at for being in the constant presence of Harrison Wells. During the lunch hour, several people had come up to the man himself, whether they be fans, old colleagues, or people searching for funding, just for a moment of his time and attention. And while this happens quite a lot generally, for some reason it irks you today.

Why can’t they just leave him alone?

And then- why can’t I just have him to myself?

You quickly bury that thought away.

As the time gets closer to Harrison’s scheduled board meeting, you have to figuratively fight off the hoards of people to get him there on time, not without a series of frowns and scowls from them. Screw them. I’ve got a job to do.

Harrison graciously thanks everyone in passing and mentions how he hopes to hear from them again. When you finally reach the designated meeting room, you stop and say to him, “I can’t help but feel I’m the Bad Cop and you’re the Good Cop, here.”

“Someone has to be.” He laughs a little, and you find it contagious. You meet his eyes for a brief moment, but break the contact, letting your eyes fall to his chest.

“Oh dear.” You reach into your bag.

“What is it?” he asks. You show him your handy-dandy detergent-to-go stick.

“You have a little…” Instantly, you begin to dab and swirl the applicator to the small stain on his white shirt around his right pectoral area. Your free hand rests flat against his left. He’s so fit underneath these clothes, though you’ve never actually seen proof of it. Not even after sharing that room last night.

The entire time, Harrison watches you - watches your hand make the mark vanish from the fabric. He is silent, save for his breathing, which you can also feel as his chest moves up and down under your hands.

“There,” you say weakly.

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

You’re still touching him, and once you register this, you take your hands off of him like you’ve been burned.

“Have a good meeting. I’ll meet you back here when it’s over.”

“Thank you, great, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You take your leave, daring not to look back, no matter how much you want to. It isn’t until you make it into the lobby that you realize your boss still has your phone in his pocket.

Welp.

***

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you apologize breathlessly while running towards Harrison in your bare feet with your heels in your hand.

He stands outside the meeting room doors. His eyes are wide and round upon seeing you, and that may be a smile tugging at his lips, but it’s hard to tell at the speed you’re rushing.

“I lost track of time, and you still have my-”

He shows your phone to you.

“Yeah, that.”

After a short moment of catching your breath, you slip on your first heel, but the second proves more difficult in your tiredness. You just about fall over.

“Here, let me help,” he offers—what a gentleman. You balance on your one heeled shoe, with assistance from his wonderful, wonderful arms as you slip on your other one. You think his arm flexes when you clutch onto it.

“Whoa,” he says as you wobble a bit, but he has you.

And boy, does he have you.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, not trusting your words. “We better head back to the room if we want to get ready for the banquet.”

He hands you your phone.

“Then, by all means, (Y/N), lead the way.”

***

You seriously need to stop thinking about how he said your name.

It was like a near-whisper. Like a secret. A secret you could try to decipher for hours, months, years, and never learn the true meaning because that was the enigma that is Harrison Wells.

Once back in the hotel room, you pull out your phone, at last, to catch up on what you’ve missed today.

Emails regarding in-development contracts.

Requests for funding.

Meetings to coordinate with Harrison’s schedule.

Junk, spam, email forwards, more junk.

And…

What.

The.

Actual.

F-

You make a noise similar to one you might make if you were drowning. In your inbox are a series of emails featuring various blog posts sent from familiar names within the company. All of these posts have one thing in common.

The speculative nature of whether you and Harrison Wells are an item.

Candid photos, inside scoop, rumours and catty gossip, there’s so much of it!

Pictures of you and him at lunch, you removing his stain, even him helping you in your heels not that long ago! What the hell? Who are these super spies?

There’s even an adamant blog poster insisting you’re sleeping with him because she claimed to have caught the two of you leaving the same hotel room and fixing your…

Oh God. This is bad.

Harrison turns around to you, now noticing that you’ve been incredibly silent and haven’t moved from your spot. His tie is significantly loosened, and it is not helping.

“Is something wrong? Is it the company?” he asks you. “Did someone blow up another prototype of the-”

You shove your phone in his face and look away. This cannot be happening. You just want to disintegrate out of humiliation.

“Well, then…” is all he has to say. He loosens his tie a bit more. “This is…”

“This is ludicrous, that’s what it is!” You start to feel the sheer indignation rise within you, for the both of you. “I’ll have every one of them all take these posts down, I promise. I am so sorry this is happening. People apparently have nothing better to do with their lives.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N), you know it’s not your fault,” Harrison says, calmer than you’d ever have expected. 

“I know, but it’s just still so wrong, all these lies.”

There’s a pause.

“...What if it were true?” he asks.

“What?”

“What if it were true?” he repeats, shifting in place and massaging the back of his neck. “You and I? Would that be something you’d be interested in? With me?”

He did not just ask that.

Did he?

“I- I mean, we can’t,” you fumble for what to say. “Even if I wanted to- if we wanted… I work for you.”

Harrison takes an unexpected large step forward. “Forget that for a second. Have you ever wanted this? Do you currently want this?” He gestures between you both. You swallow hard, bracing yourself.

“I do, yes,” you confess. Harrison smiles and moves yet another step closer. “But it’s not professional. You, Harrison Wells, cannot date your personal assistant, no matter how much I...”

Oxygen has stopped circulating to your lungs. Time is suspended. The man looms over you, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much.

“Then you’re fired,” he says, only before taking your cheek in his hand and pressing his soft and smooth lips your yours.

Angels sing in a chorus, you’re convinced.

Harrison pulls away to examine your reaction, carefully taking in your fluttering lashes and still-puckered lips.

“You’re rehired,” he tells you, seriously.

You barely get the words “I quit” out before you’ve attacked his mouth again, officially throwing care to the wind. You’re desperate to feel those lips again, they’re like your dreams, repressed or otherwise, come true. His hands grip your waist to hold you close to him, while your own lock around his neck.

Now it’s you who pulls back.

“Can I have my job back?”

“Not yet.”

Harrison spins you ninety degrees and presses you against the wall. A gasp leaves your throat, followed by a profoundly pleased noise of pleasure. Harrison’s hands wander from their caress of your cheeks, down your sides, brushing against your breasts as they do. His mouth does some wandering of its own - venturing down to the side of your neck.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening…” you say breathlessly to the spackled ceiling, feeling each nip of his lips on your burning skin. Every part of your body is on fire. Your lips, your limbs, your blood.

At your words, Harrison stops and searches your eyes.

“I need you to be clear with me if you want this to continue,” he says, “if not-”

“-Please, please, for the love of God, Harrison, continue.”

Impatience and desperate heat take hold of your actions. You start to undo the buttons on his shirt. When he slips it down his arms, you swallow the gasp that almost squeaked past your lips.

His. Arms. 

You’ve never seen your boss’ arms like this - completely bare and muscular and perfectly toned. These arms held you up earlier, and now you can’t help but imagine them holding you in the throes of passion.

And you may find this out very soon...

With one swift movement, Harrison has his undershirt off in no time at all and it’s kind of a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the ground. Is your mouth open? Probably. He hides that body under those suits? What a shame to keep it hidden… but then again, you’re glad. You get to see it now. Just you.

Your fingers trace the lines of his stomach muscles, captivated. You follow the lines down until they disappear under his black slacks.

But he interrupts your tracings when he starts to take off your shirt. This time, you’re ecstatic at it being untucked from your skirt. You shimmy out of that too. All these clothes are starting to become a real pain. A nuisance. A hindrance.

You’re now concerned with his black trousers still on him, belt and all. Your fingers automatically show him their keen interest and begin to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal clanging is music to your ears. You exhale shakily at the sight of him growing more erect before your very eyes.

You can’t help but chuckle, “We’re going to be late for the banquet dinner.”

Harrison stares at you with lust-filled, black eyes, staring you down in your bra and panties.

“Fuck the banquet dinner.”

He leads you towards the bed - the bed that had initially been your enemy. Now it’s your friend. The scientist lowers you down to your back, all the while crawling with you back up towards the pillows. Harrison hovers over you, scanning every part of you, downloading every curve and dip and line of your body. He plants a kiss to your stomach.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, working his way up with his lips, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too,” you squeak. “But there’s just one thing…”

Harrison lifts his head from the valley of your breasts and raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

It takes a second for him to understand.

The corners of his lips curl up when he does, and snakes back down your body, peppering kisses all the way.

“I’ve dreamt about this, you know,” you divulge, suddenly realizing that someone having witchcraft in their lips is a real concept. These special people make you spill your secrets.

“Is that so?”

Harrison’s slender fingers slowly pull your panties down your legs and discard them to the floor. You nod vigorously the closer his face moves forward to your wet heat. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You swallow.

“What a coincidence,” he says, “I’ve imagined this in my head about a hundred times.”

His breath on you has you in a hot sweat.

“Only a hundred?” you hear yourself say. Harrison responds by licking a stripe upwards. Your legs tense and you let your head hit the pillow. He grips your hips and pulls you closer to his mouth. It’s wild - the same mouth that is so eloquent in delivering speeches to hundreds of people is equally talented in what it’s doing to you right now.

Kisses, licks, swirls, and dives.

You are utterly at this man’s mercy.

You always have been.

“More,” you tell him, as a general plea. Just more of everything. All of it. “More. Don’t stop.”

He hums his reply, face buried deep.

It’s encroaching quickly on you - your climax. Your hand finds his hair, soft and silky and now perfectly ruined by your desperate fingers. Simultaneously, you grind your hips up to his mouth and hold his head to you. He’s devouring you until there will be absolutely nothing left of you.

You hit your peak, and you’re falling. Falling hard.

In a couple different ways.

***

It’s the middle of the night, or rather the early-early morning.  After a night of much lovemaking, you lay there in bed, pressed against Harrison with your hand on his chest, which has only just returned to its regular rise and fall. You trace random lines on his skin. He holds you with a sort of protectiveness. You never want him to let go.

“A bit too late for that dinner, huh?” you say.

Harrison’s laugh vibrates through you and sends a shiver down your spine. Those good kinds of shivers. “We could order something,” he suggests.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“It’ll be no problem,” he assures you.

“Actually, there is a problem,” you mention.

“Which would be…?”

“I don’t ever want to move.” This moment is just so perfect that either one of you moving feels as if it would shatter it. “I don’t think I can, anyway,” you add playfully. That earns you another laugh. Harrison takes your hand in his to rest on his stomach.

“So… I’m just wondering. What does this mean for us now?” you dare to ask the big, mountainous question. “I can’t work for you if this is going to continue, you know.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Which is quite terrible, really, because you are the best assistant I’ve ever had.” It’s your turn to giggle. “I’m sorry,” Harrison continues. You look at him straight on.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re now out of a job and I’m to blame.”

“Trust me, it’s not just you. It takes two to do the horizontal tango. And besides, I couldn’t be an assistant for the rest of my life anyway. No matter how perfectly amazing my boss is. I’ll find something else. Something I love to do.”

“That’s what I love about you-” he stops dead in his sentence. His hand tenses around yours at his confession. You can’t believe his words.

“Did you really just…?” you ask, needing to know for sure if you did hear that word correctly.

“I apologize, (Y/N), I know it’s probably-” You stop Harrison from his unnecessary apology with a deep kiss and crawl on top of him to straddle him. His hand runs up your back and down again. “Firing you was the best thing I ever did,” he sighs.

“And quitting was mine.”

~

A/N2: I have to disclose that the ‘you’re hired/rehired etc’ moment is actually taken from my favourite Ed episode (S03E17 “Captain Lucidity”). I just felt like it was so incredibly perfect (both in general and for this story) and I swoon every time at that scene. But yes, I did take a page straight out of Rob Burnett and Jon Beckerman’s book with that one. Those damn geniuses.

Anon Request: Hi i think I can still request so.. Harry and reader(his PA/ a scientist at star labs) go to a science conference thing out of town. they have to spend the night at the same hotel room ( maybe busy days so rooms are already occupied or something). Things get.. spicy between them. Both ends up in a relationship(optinal). Smut! AND I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

[heart-sprout-art]

A Good Boy and An Enigma

Enigma in both gender, and the fact Rhia ain't got no memory before age 14 amnesia as character drama, amirite Good Boy and Ex Human Yeven and Rhia, my 'The Witcher' OC's I haven't played any of the games, and I've only read the first book The Last Wish But I've watched the first NF series 1000 times and is my current hyperfixation yee haw

Rhia and Yeven met during him struggling to deal with the fact that from birth, each night he turns into a large wolf and then by morning is human again with no memories from the night. His parents had tried to hide and repress that side of him, but this led to his wolf side becoming out of control and causing their deaths. After being separated from their travel partner on the way to a small village, Rhia had heard from a nearby town of the wolf that had slaughtered said village, but would hide during the day. It would be too far for it to travel to them before the sun was up, so they felt safe and left it alone, considering just burning the village to the ground and being done with it. Rhia hurried to catch their travel partner before they could enter the town, unaware of its fate, before night, and arrived shortly after nightfall to find their partners horse waiting alone outside the village, and no sign of either friend or beast Entering to locate their friend, Rhia found them already having perished, their weapon drawn but unused. Knowing they weren't alone, Rhia tried to leave without encountering the wolf, but it found them first and Rhia managed to fight it off, using small flashing bombs to cause it to flee At day break Rhia returned to the village, and followed her fallen companions red streak to where the beast hid. A small house, torn up inside with the former owners belongings strewn everywhere. A mangled corpse of a man, and the corpse of a woman bearing only a fatal wound to her neck and no other signs of attack. She still clung to a book, her journaling of raising the son she loved, despite his nightly transformations, and how her husband had steadily forced her to reject the wolf part of her child to try lift the curse And in the basement now huddled the 19 year old human form of Yeven, naked and cowering in the remains of a rough iron cage torn open. He was more and more able to recount the events that happened while he was transformed, and he remembered Rhia. Reassuring him they were not a threat, Rhia reasoned that his wolf half only ever defended itself, longing for freedom and then being faced by a village that feared him when he won it. Rhia assumed his mother had been an unfortunate casualty, caught in the cross fire of the wolf's rage during it's escape that fateful night. Yeven Didn't know what to do to free himself from the nights transformation, and Rhia encouraged him to later that night, once transformed, come find them just outside the town gate Rhia left, made a small camp fire outside the village walls, and waited The wolf clearly remembered what Yeven had been told, and Rhia found themselves facing the enormous wolf charging them. Rhia used a burning stick from the fire to halt its charge, cast the stick to the side, and reached towards him Allowing Rhia to pet it's nose, the wolf and Yeven seemed to find what they both needed; acceptance. Rhia encouraged that it was just his personal nature to be part of both human and wolf worlds, and the wolf's fear of the sun and light was just another ghost of his abused past in the basement each night Feeling a peace wash over, the wolf and Rhia sat together through the night, Rhia gently stroking his big head and telling him the things he needed to hear. The sun rose, and now with both halves as one, Yeven remained a wolf. Rhia welcomed him to travel with them, until Yeven knew where he wanted to go Rhia smudged remnants of powdered dye on his ears, encouraging him to flick the ear corresponding red to no and yes to green and the rest they would figure out later Everything they could figure out later, right now Rhia's job was to show Yeven the world he had missed

[graysistance]

we can share the bed.    /    @aniimvs  (with an appearance by @darkestshadeofgrey)

rey isn't sure where the nightmares come from, but every night they’re usually the same.

always, always, there is her and the desert. what she does in the desert is the only element that changes. sometimes she is swallowed by sinking sands, screaming with a mouth that can make no noise despite her best efforts. the dry silt fills her mouth and she wakes gasping and clutching her throat. sometimes she watches as figures she is running to are blown away by a sandstorm or face the same fate she does. as they scrabble for purchase on the unmerciful dunes, she cries and cries for them to be saved. the figures and their faces rotate, but she always knows them. she wakes up the most terrified after seeing kylo or elias reaching for her as she runs, yet can never reach them in time. sometimes her feet do not seem to move at all. and sometimes, on better nights, she watches in seething rage as her old slave master is sucked down and out of sight. an outstretched hand hovers above him, seeming to push him deeper without ever touching him. rey thinks it's her hand. it doesn't seem like it could be anyone else's.

tonight the only face she sees is kylo's. there is the customary desperation as she sees his feet sinking, but the tide changes when rey is able to reach him just before the sand reaches his arms. her dream fingers grab onto his dream face, shaking so badly that it's difficult to hold on without him slipping through. starving from loss and sick with despair, rey presses her forehead to his. they're running out of time.

                  ❝ don't leave me, ❞  she can hear herself plead like a child through tears, through the rasp of collapsing sand.

kylo merely smiles at her, and so bitterly.

                  ❝ you have to let me go. ❞

                  ❝ no! ❞  the shame hits her within an instant, but the denial does not ebb. ❝ no, i can’t go on without you. i don’t want to! stay, please would you stay. ❞

his grip on her wrists loosens and she cries out.

                  ❝ kylo, a little longer. i don't want to be alone again so soon. ❞ it’s less of a girlish whimper now and more like a command, her voice digging deep to try and find the fortitude being a jedi is supposed to impart.

the dune she is splayed across gives a final groan and kylo sinks down to a depth almost out of sight. the last words he gives her are  ❝ you know i can't. you know we can't. ❞  they are a death sentence that hangs ringing in the air. wailing for him to come back is futile.

so as he goes, rey shrieks her rage and her grief into the wind instead, not content to simply sob. hands that scrabble against the sinking sand do nothing but trap her in the glittering mess, yet she cannot stop. if rey stops fighting she dies, too. if she cannot scream then she has nothing left. 

behind her, from a place she cannot see, comes another scream that sounds exactly like elias.

by the time rey gasps herself awake, chest heaving around a final wheeze of  ❝ no! ❞, the tears on her face have dried three times over.

an hour hemorrhages away second by granular second, only managing to drive rey more mad. tossing and turning is no balm for the feelings of dread that wriggle in her chest. it's been too dark to see her chronometer since before sleep overtook her, but rey doesn't spare a glance for the time when she sits up on her cot. if she can't sleep alone, best to do a cursory check of kylo's welfare. the remaining vestiges of fear in her mind insist it can't hurt. it’s the same fear that the jedi masters are so intent on expunging from her psyche (or so it feels) but how bad can it really be when all it drives her to do is protect?

padding down the halls to his room is a dance she's had well choreographed for many months, but there's always something darkly exhilarating about each tender step. anyone might spot her if she's not quiet enough. keeping pressed to the wall and muffling her presence with the force work as well as anything else, and agida propels her quickly to her destination. love and fear twist around each other like a net she must push through every second she’s hasn’t reached the source of his signature yet.

it must be said that rey does not intrude upon friends or loves alike unless absolutely necessary. using the force to unlock a door on a distressing night feels absolutely necessary. it’s hardly the first time she’s felt this way.

but to her surprise, on her arrival the door isn’t locked.

easing it open reveals a predictably shadowy and spartan space and rey can only just pick out the inky blob that is kylo’s cot. atop it, she is relieved to see what she can only assume is his half-curled form, though that in itself sparks confusion. drawing closer to his sleeping body reveals an important part of the scene rey ought to have sensed much earlier.

something in her chest unravels so suddenly. so sweetly. all attempts to mask her presence drop in the face of relief and just a little bit of surprise.

kylo is wrapped in a gentle curve around elias’s slightly smaller figure. both are on their sides, breathing so softly that rey hardly sees their chests moving in tandem at first. a moment of the sharpest terror passes until she convinces herself they aren’t dead. not terrified and not about to die. not like in her dreams. 

no, she is very much awake and overcome by a creeping sense of fondness.

this......thing, this bond between the three of them had not come from nowhere. what it had come with was hesitation (mostly on the boys’ parts, as rey didn’t have a shy bone in her body. or if she did, she was yet to find it) and intense curiosity. was it truly possible to love more than one person at once they way she loved kylo? it was hard enough keeping the bend of her heart hidden from the masters, so how much harder would it become trying to balance her feelings?

thus far she’d found no reason to regret any of it. while it was strange to be cared for by so many, and strange to....share kylo, although that wasn’t really the word for it, rey looked down at kylo and elias seemingly at peace and knew she’d made the right choice in reaching for them both. they all had.

it’s with a small start and no warning that kylo wakes. even his jolt is so subtle that rey has to stop and wonder if he was ever truly asleep in the first place. before rey can do anything except gape his half-open eyes have sought out her silhouette and pinned her, sucking her in like a gravity well. ( they always do, no matter where she happens to be. the weight of years bear down through his gaze -- many more than the few he has on her. ) no need to reach out his hand and stop her as if she was an intruder. which….well, rey can admit she is.

instead of a stronger reaction, kylo simply blinks at her. long moments pass and she blinks back, slowly succumbing to regret and embarrassment. was this the one time she’d overstepped, the one night she wasn’t welcome? 

but before rey can turn tail and run, accept that more of her private battles had to stay that way, the drowsy gravel of kylo’s voice seems to wash over the embers of her discomfort.

                ❝ you too? ❞

a stunned pause. 

                 ❝ what? ❞

                 ❝ nightmares. ❞

shoulders slump and she looks away, teeth digging into her bottom lip. so they’re all having them. kylo’s she’d known a little of, maybe elias’s in passing, but all together? all the parts of her bruised heart reserved solely for these two fellow padawans of hers begin to sting. she nods. 

                 ❝ yes, nightmares. ❞  a gamble. ❝ you. the desert was trying to take you away again. ❞

his eyes don’t widen, but rey knows they detect so much more than she wishes they did. yet she cannot do anything but stand and be scanned like a patient in the med center without the option to retreat. and she doesn’t want to. she wants to stay and guard someone she loves and make sure nothing can ever hurt them or take them away from her. she wants so much she aches.

then kylo moves just a little, twisting rather uncomfortably to check the space at his back. there’s a small amount of cot left even with the two boys taking up most of it. both of them are tall and slender already, though rey is still a wiry slip compared to them. which means there’s enough room for her, but only just. 

                  ❝ come on. we can share. ❞

it’s a full body effort to repress a whimper of relief and her body shudders with it. for all the times kylo has seemed so imperious, so drawn and dour, rey remembers every moment of his kindness to her. remembers when the ways they reached for each other became too tender and too big for her body to contain. every new occasion to experience it brings her to her knees when he isn’t looking. but rey wastes no time in doing as she’s told, slipping into the thin ribbon of free space and molding herself to kylo’s back eagerly. all at once she can feel so much of her fear slink away and back to where she stuffs it out of sight. one hand seeks the thump of his heartbeat, weaving around to his front where her fingers can rest against his chest, greedy for reassurance. something about her fingers becoming trapped between both elias and kylo makes her smile. as she wriggles her way to comfort, she can’t help but press the smile into kylo’s shoulder. the muscles below her mouth twitch, but that only makes her cling tighter. eventually she’ll let go of the space at his heart and seek out elias’s arm somewhere in the parallel tangle of their bodies, but for now she is more than content.

with the warmth of kylo’s robes against her lips, his heart at her fingertips, hers at his back, and elias near enough to touch, rey feels mysteriously….happy. even with the poisonous dream so recently faded and her fear biding its time, she is at home. this is home. close to the people she loves, ensuring they’re protected. making certain they are safe. 

it doesn’t take long for shadows to spread across her vision and pull her gently into sleep. no dreams and no panic greet her when she succumbs at last. 

all is well. for once, it truly is.

[needtherapy]

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 3 / 4

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

The story continues...

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ...  HOME

It’s on AO3 here if that’s easier to read.

NOTES: This story starts out G but will eventually be E for Explicit.

Chapter 3

The boy accompanies him through the encampment, talking non-stop the entire way, but Xichen isn’t listening. He’s observing this army with a commander’s eye. It helps him to pretend that he’s a spy, not a slave. He notes the neat lines of tents, the clean smell despite hundreds of horses, the smiles on the faces of the soldiers—men and women. This is not the bloodthirsty and chaotic rabble he had expected.

Who hasn’t heard stories of the Beifeng? They have devastated even the strongest clans, whose swords and magic were no match for the Beifeng archers and cavalry, not to mention their own unknown power. Some of the clans retreated into the hills, some sought sanctuary in the Cloud Recesses. And the man Xichen has just met—just kissed—is the demon they fear the most. 

Xichen can’t believe all the stories. No man can disappear and reappear at will, nor fly to the top of a building, nor drive an arrow through the heart of a soldier a full li away. He does not have wings or fangs. He is certainly tall enough to be fearsome, Xichen thinks with irritation, if less hideous than reported. His broad shoulders must make him as dangerous with a sword as he is known to be with a bow, but surely no more deadly than Xichen himself.

They reach a tent larger than the rest, hung with colorful panels of embroidered linen. Despite his churning fear, Xichen evaluates the workmanship and the cost of the dyes with favor. He sees purple and gold mixed with blue and less expensive yellows and greens, yet somehow the riot of color is pleasing. It is a far cry from the grey and white serenity of Xichen’s home. 

Not his home anymore.

“This will be your home while you are here,” the boy announces, gesturing to an exquisitely embellished panel hiding a doorway, stitched in a beaded pattern of clouds that almost seem to be drifting in the wind.

Xichen’s stomach clenches at this small reminder of the Cloud Recesses, and he’s instantly nauseated. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe away the bile, flinching when he feels a touch on his arm.

“Zewu-Jun, please come inside,” the boy implores, and Xichen lets himself be led through the tent flap.

“If you need to throw up, there’s a basin in the corner.”

Xichen’s eyes fly open, staring at the boy, whose eyes are dancing with repressed laughter. It makes Xichen furious that this child can find his distress so hilarious, and some of his feelings must be evident on his face, because the boy takes a step backward, hands up.

“I meant no harm, Zewu-Jun. The negotiations with your family ensured your safety, but you would be treasured regardless. Whatever comforts you need, please ask.” “Ask who?” Xichen snorts, more acerbic than he intends.

The boy’s grin turns his face into a dancing butterfly, light and carefree, and again, Xichen wonders who he is to the warlord.

“Me, of course. In your language, you can call me Huaisang. I will see you daily, whenever I can, but you can always ask your guards for me. Just say my name. They’ve been informed.”

Xichen looks around him. He has been given every luxury as far as he can see. The tent is warm, thanks to a covered brazier sitting on a ring of stone tiles. There are overstuffed cushions to lounge on, light blankets for summer, heavy wool blankets for the approaching autumn chill, paintings hanging from the tent ribs, a small but sufficient desk stocked with paper, ink, and brushes, and a table he assumes must be for meals, because it holds a pale blue tea service, plates, and bowls. Furthest from the door, next to the thing he will not yet acknowledge, is a wash basin, pitcher, and an unnecessarily large copper bathtub. 

It is all exquisitely made: the wood masterfully carved, the pottery glazed to a mirror shine, the artwork elegant and refined. The finest prison Xichen has ever seen.

He looks in a trunk near the tub, and surprise escapes him in an involuntary gasp. It is filled with books. He hadn’t realized what they were at first because they are wrapped in dark leather with no identifying marks on the bindings. He touches them reverently, opening some of their covers to reveal histories, books of folklore, even musical notations. Some he knows, some he doesn’t, but they are all beautiful. Tears sting his eyes and he inhales, rolling his eyes upward just enough to stop any drops from escaping.

“There’s a guqin too,” the boy—Huaisang—offers, pointing to a wooden case in the corner. “We understand your clan values music and learning. Elder Brother wants you to be comfortable.”

As comfortable as any concubine or sex slave, Xichen’s harsh inner voice reminds him, and he finally looks at the bed that dominates the tent. At home, this bed would be an extravagance. Even in the emperor’s palace, Xichen guesses, although he’s never been there, this bed would be excessive. It looks easily big enough for four people to lay in and never touch, and the thought heats his cheeks. The bed sits low on the ground, but its tall, carved posts are draped with silks thin enough to see through, and the mattress that looks soft enough to sink into is covered with a creamy blanket woven in a blue pattern Xichen would know anywhere: the graceful, curving seal of the Cloud Recesses.

This has all been made for him.

No, he remembers. Wangji. 

It was made for Wangji.

Chapter 4

In his twenty-two years, Xichen had never knowingly broken the rules of his clan. It had been something he was proud of, that obedience and propriety came so effortlessly to him. It made his life uncomplicated, and it allowed him to protect his brother’s small, secret rebellions from notice.

Now, it made it easy for him to deceive without being questioned.

He asked to see the letter his father was sending to the Beifeng warlord, to check it for errors, because there could be no mistakes to disgrace Wangji. His father was grateful for the assistance. He even apologized awkwardly to Xichen for not telling him what they were planning.

“We knew you would resist, Zewu-Jun, and there was too much at stake for your soft heart to interfere.”

Soft heart. As though that was all Xichen was. As though he did not earn his military title at the age of fourteen, two years before his father did. As though he had not defended the Cloud Recesses successfully until he reached his majority and switched his focus to preparing to lead his clan. As though his kindness and integrity were not regularly praised by all his family’s allies. 

What his father meant was, you would have told us we were wrong, and we did not want to hear it.

His father would have been right. He would not have agreed to give away his brother—Wangji, who did not like to be touched even by people he was acquainted with—to be what? A warlord’s concubine? A servant? Xichen was filled with a rage he had never known before, and it blazed like a funeral pyre.

No, Xichen would not be ashamed of his soft heart, no matter how it sounded in his father’s stern voice. 

It was far too simple to imitate his father’s hand and rewrite the letter accepting the warlord’s terms, changing the names and some of the details like his age and accomplishments. Truly, the warlord was getting a better bargain than he intended, Xichen thought. The first jade instead of the second. The heir instead of the spare. In light of the trade, he altered the letter to ask for Yunmeng’s safety as well, rationalizing that it would be suspicious to give a greater tribute than had been asked for.

He gave the letter back to his father, rolled in leather, scented with jasmine, and placed in a bamboo tube, already prepared for travel. His father accepted without suspicion. Xichen hid his smile with practiced ease. Perhaps there was some value to living a life above reproach.

The only thing Xichen regretted was that he could not tell his brother. He knew Wangji’s stubborn pride too well, and his brother would never let Xichen sacrifice himself, even if it was for Wangji’s own happiness.

Under the plum tree, he had wiped the tears from his brother’s cheeks and reassured him that he would tell Wei-gongzi anything Wangji wished. He could deliver a letter to the Yunmeng camp, if that would make it easier, and it strengthened Xichen’s resolve when his brother’s usually impassive face lit up.

The letter Wangji gave him the day before he was scheduled to leave was heavy, several pages thick. Xichen wondered what you told your soulmate when you had been sold in marriage to save your clan and maybe even your region from being overrun and destroyed.

Xichen had no way of knowing. Now, he never would.

He added Wangji’s letter to one he had written and hid them both under a floorboard in their mother’s empty home on the edge of the great forest. She had laughingly explained that as a healer, she needed to be closer to nature, so it had not been a scandal when she had moved away from their father so many years ago. But Xichen remembered the difference in her smiles before and after and the way she seemed to take fuller breaths here in this little house. It was a place he knew Wangji visited regularly, and the only place he could think of where his letter explaining what he had done and why, would be safe.

And then he prepared to get his brother drunk.

Xichen hated to lie to him, but by now, it was just one more promise he couldn’t regret breaking. His brother would leave at dawn in a caravan of horses, mules, and guards that would convey him and his dowry north to the Beifeng camp on the southern border of Lanling. The night before, Xichen invited Wangji to his rooms to share a hot pot of aged white tea, one of the oldest their family possessed.

“If there was ever a time to drink the best tea,” Xichen said, the misery in his voice unfeigned, “Today is the day.”

It was a family joke, Wangji’s intolerance for alcohol. Xichen had put in just enough so the taste would be masked by the sweet, rich honey flavor of the tea, but it would still put his brother to sleep. He was developing a talent for subterfuge, he thought, staring down at the limp form of his brother, sprawled across the table. Wangji’s face had lost the hard planes that masked his emotions, and he looked exactly his age.

It was easier than he expected to disguise his brother as himself, undressing Wangji down to the silk underclothes they both wore, switching their hair ornaments, and turning his face away from the door. Xichen pulled the blankets high around his head, and reinforced his brother’s sleep with a brush of magic. He felt a twinge of sadness to leave his beloved Shuoyue behind, but he couldn’t very well take the sword. Someone would definitely recognize it by his side, and he didn’t want to deprive his brother of Bichen. What would he do with a sword where he was going anyway? 

He put a note on his door with a single angry word—no—and hoped it would be enough to keep anyone from entering for a while.

“I am sorry, and I love you,” Xichen whispered before he left. He told himself it didn’t matter if Wangji didn’t hear him.

The last thing he did, a risk he couldn’t help but take, was to visit the library. His library, as he always thought of it. He breathed in the smell of leather and ink, touched the bindings of books he loved and scrolls of poetry he would never see again. He tried not to think about the music he had not yet committed to memory. Some of these books were ones he had bought himself, when he used to travel to other clans to contract and trade. Some had belonged to his family for generations. Next to his brother, this library was the thing he would miss the most.

Xichen was ready to leave at dawn, waiting on his horse before anyone else was awake to see him off. It felt strange to be riding again. He had not left his city in years, not since he had traveled to Qishan for the grand wedding of the Wen clan chief mere months before the Beifeng invaded. After they invaded, of course, he was too valuable to send into battle, despite his experience.

“You are too valuable to risk being ambushed and lost,” his father had said, but what Xichen heard was, your life only has value inside these gates. 

He wore a heavy riding coat with a tall collar and a plush scarf—too warm for late summer— that covered most of his face. He refused to look at any of his family, disdaining them as he knew Wangji would have done. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or offended that no one, not even his father, noticed the change.

Notes: This story is about 40k words, so if you want to follow along, it’ll be on my pinned post, and tagged with #soaring au. It’s also on AO3 (same title).