#still keeping me a secret without the benefits of that secrecy

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Being the leader of your platoon and fucking you at the same time isn't something Simon wants paraded around, for both of your benefit as trouble could come from such a relationship. But keeping it a secret has become a problem as you've been out on a mission for a couple months with no physical contact to be had. The moment you return Simon has to have you...even though you are both filthy as fuck.

Authors Note: Nothing can stop me from getting at this man... Nothing.

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings:

Adjusting himself lower in his seat to get more comfortable, Simon spread his legs a little wider while stretching one out straight to hide and accommodate the growing bulge between his legs. The stiflingly humid air of the cabin inside the aircraft was not helping his predicament. Hungry eyes surveyed his team inside the plane one by one, moving from face to familiar face until he landed on the one he had been secretly looking for: yours. 

On the opposite side, towards the cockpit of the aircraft was where you sat as that starving wolf caught you in his sights. The cool and collected Lieutenant shifted again restlessly as his gaze lingered on your face with only one thing going through his mind, the same thing that had been there the entire fucking duration of this mission. Lucky for him that his mask afforded him the luxury of keeping his eyes covered in shadow so that he could watch you without looking too suspicious to those around.

Your lips upturned into a smile as you chatted with the private to your left, passing the time until you all returned to base and Simon could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It should be him that you were sitting next to, close enough that he could reach a sneaky hand across his lap to squeeze onto your thigh or lean in and whisper all the filthy things he wanted to do with you the second you both got the chance, but secrecy was the name of the game so that wasn’t an option.

Still, it wasn’t as if he was complaining about getting to look at you from afar. As he watched you go about business as usual, his mouth began to salivate as his amber eyes followed the curve of those full, plump lips through their movements as you spoke, that gnawing hunger growing stronger by the second as he wondered how fucking good they would taste against his own once he got them again. So lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming scenarios of how it would happen he became oblivious to the world around him.

Suddenly that cold awareness that he was being watched brought him back into the interior of the plane and as he refocused his eyes he was met with yours staring straight back at him. Taking your bottom lip into your mouth you bit it coyly before shooting him a smirk sly enough to match a foxes, causing the Lieutenant's pulse to quicken in his veins. Turning his head as he cleared his throat, he tried to focus on something else, but his heartbeat continued to pound heavy in his chest.

Were you thinking the same things? Were you burning for him just as much as he was burning for you?

It’d been a hot fucking minute since he had felt your touch and the ache in his cock was beginning to keep him at a constant level of agitation that left him with a short fucking fuse his team was beginning to notice. Sure his hand was fine, it did the trick in a pinch, but to really sate the serpent he needed your moist, tight cunt to bury himself in and the agony of having to wait to have you all to himself had been on his mind even more lately.

Ten weeks, ten goddamn weeks that he could look, but not touch; fantasize, but not indulge, crave, but never sait and fuck was it damn near impossible now to dismiss those visions of you breathless and naked, whimpering under him in his bed that ran rampant through his mind. Focusing on the task at hand was top priority of course, but Simon was a master at multitasking  and being in such close proximity to all that temptation while trying to remain professional and hide away the fact that you two were involved had caused his mind to constantly wander back to you.  

Who gave you the goddamn right to be such a delicious distraction? 

It had taken a herculean effort on his part to divert his gaze and steady his mind and though he had a modicum of success up until today, he found that he could not maintain that calm any longer. The mission had been lucrative and through the haze of adrenaline, something inside Simon had awoken in a fury so severe that enough was enough; he had to have you as soon as physically possible no matter what.

There was no more time.  

ETA ten minutes till return to base the update hit his headset and Simon took a deep breath; the agonizing torture was almost over and the gears began to turn on just how he would get you alone because waiting a minute more than necessary was no longer an option. Careful not to draw attention, he adjusted the crotch of his pants with his hand; good thing his uniform was on the baggy side or else he would definitely be giving a fucking show right about now. 

The second the craft landed everyone was itching to get out of that stifling atmosphere and make their way outside where they could catch a breeze. As the back of the plane lowered, people were already scrambling out and into the evening sun. One by one Simon watched as his squad deployed from the craft until only a few stragglers remained, one of which was the exact person he needed. 

“Specialist Y/L/N,” he called out to you as he made his approach, trying to meter his gruff tone so that he would not sound too excited while there were others still present.

“Sir?” you returned in proper fashion as you turned to face him, heart skipping a beat. 

So close, so fucking close. Just a little more and he’d have you again. “Need to have a word with ya, in private,” he stated plainly.

You gave him one short nod. “Of course, sir,” you said, giving the private you were speaking with the go ahead to leave you two alone and off they went with the last of your team to leave you both in seclusion completely unaware of what was really going on.  

…as if they couldn’t see how the Lieutenant’s gaze always seemed to linger a bit too long on you or how whenever you two were near there was a noticeable tension in the air.

Simon clocked the area, watching as the last of the privates and other personnel moved on further into the base and as soon as he was sure you two were alone, he closed the respectful distance between your bodies as his hand clasped on the buckle of your uniform to pull you in close.

“It’s been a long fuckin’ while, sweetheart,” he said, that gruff tone dripping with need.

You stared back up at him, the heat perking in your cheeks as your heartbeat thudded in your ears. “Too long,” you agreed.

“Gettin’ harder and harder to contain myself when I’ve gone that long without ya,” his fingers slid around just over the inner edge of your waistband causing tiny pinpricks of cold sweat to tingle along the back of your neck. “All ‘a this just out of my fuckin’ reach; too many eyes watchin’ us constantly that I can’t even touch ya without some bastard catchin’ us. It’s been hell.”

“I’ve been squeezing my thighs together all flight, but…” you admitted before you turned your head to the right and then the left before coming back to his face, “...seems we’re alone now.” Your breath hitched in your chest as you waited for what he was gonna do next. 

The day was warm, but as you both stood there with weeks worth of pent up sexual tension the air seemed to thicken until it was too hard to breathe. Simon paused as if weighing out something in his mind, his eyes drifting down your face slowly along four distinct points to stop and focus on your mouth before coming back up and meeting your gaze.

Without warning that 6’4” wall of muscle was on your body and shoving you by the hips until your back hit against the interior wall of the plane. Lightning fast, Simon wrenched the bottom of his mask up just over his nose, catching your chin in his grasp as he jerked it up and met your lips with a fiery intensity that instantly made your knees buckle and your mind short circuit. Sloppy embraces of his mouth against yours aggressively stole kiss after burning kiss while a thick layer of light brown stubble that covered his cheeks and along his jawline, a product of weeks without a razor at hand, pricked against your face as he pressed his firmly against your own. 

All you could taste was the sharp bite of tobacco as his thick tongue thrust past your lips and into the interior of that warm, wet cavern where it slithered over your tongue and towards your throat. Mouth open, eyes closed, he completely filled you full until you nearly choked on that determined bit of muscle, a kiss that was all encompassing and rough. His cracked lips ground over the surface of yours until they were raw and bruised to match.

With his body pressed into the curves of your own, you repositioned your right leg so that your thigh nestled up into the crotch of his pants. God he was hard, throbbing and straining into the meat of your thigh. He grunted heavy into your mouth as his grip tightened on your jaw, tilting his hips inward so that he could ground his bulge against your leg, his cock so stiff he was about to rip a hole straight through the fabric. 

“Can’t wait, need ya right fuckin’ now,” he panted desperately through the breaks in your mouth’s connection, drunk on your taste. The hand that was free slithered around the small of your back and up under your uniform jacket through the perspiration coating your skin to find its way inside your pants.   

“We’ve been baking for a couple days now, wouldn’t you rather I had a shower first?” you questioned and punctuated it with a moan as his palm found purchase on the curve of your ass and gave it a hard squeeze with as much as he could grab.

There was no hesitation, not a single fucking second passed where he even had to think about it. “Fuck gettin’ clean; no need for what I plan on doin’ to ya.”  

Christ he was filthy; honestly you both were. Not much showering out in the field this time around and it had been a good few days of sweating on the tail end that culminated in a distinct scent that radiated off his skin, mixing with the pungent aroma of gunpowder and the spicy sting of cigarettes on his breath; it was an olfactory experience that should have made your skin crawl, but you found the opposite.

You were just as needy for him even if he was absolutely disgusting. Maybe even more so.

“Where?” you groaned, needing him to make up his mind quickly. 

Ripping his mouth away from yours, he watched a string of spittle glisten as it was pulled from your lips before concealing his face again so that you could move. No words needed as he took your hand and led you out into the evening sun, his booted steps fast and heavy. The munitions depot was barely a two minute walk from where you were now and that was about all the waiting could tolerate. 

It was a goddamn miracle that the place was empty for the moment and quickly he used his clearance to enter, the sound of the door thudding open as he flung it while pulling you inside rang through the quiet space. The latch had barely clicked before he was picking you up and setting you on the nearest table, swiping away anything on the surface that would get in his way. You matched his speed as your hands were on the cloth of his mask to pull the damned thing off so you could finally see him properly for the first time in months. 

You tossed the damp facial covering to the ground and stared back into that face you’d missed all this time. Soggy dirty blonde locks clung to his head, plastered down from a combination of his mask and the sweat glistening over his face. The black rimming his eyes shimmered wet-like as it collected moisture from his forehead. Even in this state he was a goddamn gorgeous specimen. It could very well have just been you, but shit did he make filthy look good. 

“What are you waiting for?” you questioned back with a cocky raise of your eyebrow.

 

Simon smirked and dove right back in; he didn’t need to be told at all, let alone twice to get his fill. Heated kisses burned your raw mouth as he pressed your lips together hard so that your nose was buried in his face. As your lips danced, those large hands pawed harshly at your body to go up and under your uniform, ripping through the buttons to reach the t-shirt underneath, parting through the fabric to search for any bare piece of skin that he could find. Gloves already off, the pads of his calloused fingertips drug across the smooth flesh of your stomach, abrading the skin as they moved up towards your chest, tugging your t-shirt to stretch it to its limits. His blunt nails nicked you a few times, making you hiss into his mouth as they left red, raised marks behind.

A little souvenir to take with you the next few days to remember him by. Good, you’d cherish them until they’d dissipate; it had been too long since you’d worn his signature.

Feeling around up under the fabric was nice, but these clothes had to go; your body had been hidden by them for far too long and he was tired of knowing exactly what lay under there but not being able to see it. He jerked off the outer layer of your uniform before tearing your shirt up and over your head. Free of the barrier he pushed you back down onto the tabletop, your legs wrapping around his hips as he gripped into yours to pull you flush against him so that you were being pierced by his cock through his clothes. 

One more quick rough kiss before his lips were trailing down the side of your neck and across your chest, stopping so that he could fill his mouth with as much of your tits as he could fit without suffocating. The sweat made your flesh salty to the taste and as he sucked hard on the fullness of your breasts, one after the other, it filled his mouth. 

That agile tongue of his flicked around each nipple, circling around the areolas until that pleasure center in your brain lit up and had your back arching to push your tits further onto his face. Simon snarled into your chest so that you could feel the sound vibrate through you as the feeling of being enveloped by all that supple, yielding flesh made him even more feral. Goddammit, the more he sucked in the more he wanted until the pressure made the roof of his mouth sting and yet he held out longer still just to be sure he had had enough.

No sense in rushing… 

Emerging from you gulping for air, eye black smudged across his eyes and nose, he did not stop as he continued down the line of your body with his exploring lips: down your chest and over your stomach to just below your belly button. “Ya feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he stuttered with a groan low and guttural. “So fuckin’ good.”

But it wasn’t anywhere near enough for him yet. With a grunt he wrestled the clothing off of his top half, thick chest and torso speckled with perspiration glistening through the hair covering him as he stared down over top of you, those strong hands making quick work of your belt until it hung loose from the loops. The scent of his heady musk intoxicated you now that it was no longer contained by his clothing, something in the zesty notes made your mouth water uncontrollably.

Flicking his eyes back up to your face he licked his lips before bending over your lower half. “I need more,” the primal growl made your body shiver as he took the bit of cloth around the button of your pants into his teeth and ripped at it until he had them undone.

Simon pulled them off and threw them down to the ground and out of his fucking way to then again bend over your torso, placing heated kisses to your hips as this time his mouth took hold of the waistband of your panties and keeping them secure in between his lips he lowered himself onto his knees, taking them with him until they were down around your ankles and he could slip them off. 

Immediately one of those large hands palmed your right thigh to bring it to his mouth as he leaned his face to it, teeth ready to gnaw at the tender, plump meat. Bites sunk in firmly, but not too hard and his unkempt stubble rubbed over the indentations as he went along until you felt like your skin was on fire.  

“Fuck,” you whimpered into the air as a rush of contradicting sensations flooded your body to overload your senses. Your hips writhed wildly the higher he went up that tender inner thigh until he stopped right at the top of your leg. You knew what was coming, knew what he was going to do, and though you may have been hesitant due to your lack of proper hygiene, if Lt. Simon Riley wanted something he was going to get it no matter what.

Your untamed bank beckoned him toward it, a tempting treat no matter what state it was in; once he had it locked in his sights there was no backing away. He was feral for it, starved for it, and with his hand on your thighs he held them apart in a firm grip as he moved in without hesitation. Simon was used to wearing things to cover his face and though there were certain things that he enjoyed more than others, wearing you would always be his favorite.

Once Simon got nestled against you, there wasn’t a goddamn thing that could pry him away. Hot, muggy moisture coated his face from between your thighs as he lapped and lapped at the silky inner walls of your pussy with a weighty tongue, starting with the tip and then using the pad to press firmly up against your clit so you’d buck over his face. With his hand, he pushed down on your pubic bone as he worked until he had you mewling like a kitten. 

“Mmm,” he pleasantly hummed against you, that circling tongue being coated in the sharp tang of your juices as it took its sweet time to draw you closer and closer to the edge like a man obsessed. When it came to making your squeal, there was nothing else on his mind except whatever he could do to make you come harder. 

Shifting below you, he knew what needed to be done about that. Your legs were on the move then as Simon situated his shoulders under your knees, staying locked to you as he sat up taller now that you were completely strapped to him to tilt your pelvis up. In this position, as his tongue focused solely on romancing your clit, his fingers could enter you and stroke that bundle of nerves inside as well. 

Fuck he wasn’t playing around with you this time. If a complete mess was what he wanted to make of you then this was the way to do it, overstimulating you to the point of insanity. Minutes passed without a single sign of him losing stamina or wanting to surface, so lost in the ecstasy of being encapsulated by your thighs pressing around his ears as you squirmed and jerked each time a new point of pleasure was plucked. There was no one here that knew your body better than him and each second that ticked away that warmth in your abdomen gathered.

Sticky and wet, breathless and vibrating with the euphoria of being overwhelmed with that hulking man, it wasn’t long after that you had finally made it to the ledge. Simon could feel it around his fingers, the walls of your cunt becoming engorged and contracting the longer he continued to stroke them deep inside you as your legs began to shake and hit his ears- exactly what he was looking for. It wouldn’t be long now and his face would be dripping with your cum. Steady was the name of his game from this point, making sure not to make a move out of place or rush to reach the finish line. Your body knew the way and with each flick of his tongue and stroke of his fingers it brought you to the precipice just as designed. 

And then you fell silent and he knew it was there. The warmth in your abdomen exploded and shot towards the top of your head as you fell back flush against the table with eyes shut tight and you cried out as your body wriggled and writhed over Simon’s face. Slipping his fingers out of you he gripped hard into your hips to hold you to his face as he sucked on your clit until you rode out the pleasure to its end.

Only then did he let you go.

Standing back up Simon wiped away the moist sign of your orgasm from around his mouth with the back of his hand, a proud gleam in his brown eyes. Screw anyone who said that man couldn’t eat; he could devour you for hours and never have enough. That would be revisited later when time was more available and he could have you relaxed in his bed to make you come multiple times without coming up fully for air. Now he desperately needed to be inside of you.

“Ya ready for me sweetheart?” he said as the sound of his belt buckle jingling hit your ears and you picked your head back up to look at him. 

“I need it Simon, please,” you pleaded through shaky breaths.

You watched with a hungry gaze as he pulled his pants down enough to hang loosely around his hips so that it would release that beast of a cock. A bit of precum sparkled from the tip and he used it to coat himself with a few strokes of his hand; too much and he might lose it. Then he pounced, moving back in between your legs and taking one to place on his shoulder as he aligned the head with your entrance. 

It poked near the sensitive hole as he slowly began to insert it. The tip slipped in with a groan from both of you; fucking hell he had missed how you were so tight. Even just that tiny bit pushed harshly at the walls of your core as it stretched you out to accommodate him. You’d missed how big he was and how full he’d make you soon enough. 

He took a breath to calm himself, too much sensation too quick. “Goddamn baby, forgot how fuckin’ amazin’ ya feel,” he sighed. “It’s been a minute, ya think ya can still take it all?” 

You nodded your head as you swallowed hard to prepare yourself to take him.

“Good girl, just breathe for me,” he grunted as he pulled your body down onto his cock all the way to the base. “That’s it, breathe. T-that’s… fuckin’ hell.” 

Your fingertips dug into the muscles along his back as you were filled to the brim, your walls struggling to accommodate such an impressive object after this extensive break. The sudden, overwhelming pressure even caused Simon to stagger where he stood.

“Goddammit, sweetheart, I fuckin’ missed this,” he groaned, head falling back a moment. “Why can’t I ever get enough of ya? Ya got me under your spell baby. Christ, I gotta to fuck ya raw.” 

Taking it easy and slow was not something Simon had in him anymore, not now that he had gotten that first feel of your cunt in all its warm, wet glory. He was consumed and wasted no time in beginning to thrust recklessly in and out, feverish and rough, and all you could do was hold onto his shoulders for support as you both devolved into dirty, stinking creatures seeking for that ultimate high. 

Goddamn the snap of his hips shoved that fat fucking cock so far into you that he bottomed out at the back of your cervix, making you whine pathetically the harder he pounded until you gagged with each rough thrust. You were so fucking full of him there was no way you weren’t going to feel those bruises tomorrow. Tears stung the rims of your eyes as they rolled back into your head, the discomfort slowly giving way to overwhelming euphoria. 

“Fuck, ya take me so well,” he praised.

Your tits bounced up and down with the force of his thrusts, the table beneath you squeaking as it shook in time with the rhythm and threatening to break the harder he pushed. Christ he had missed this: the fucking ecstasy of your tight cunt gripping onto his cock for dear life as he pounded hard and desperate into it, the way all thoughts outside of the pleasure of your body seemed to vanish into thin air, the build of that release he knew would satisfy him completely… Well, for the moment anyway.

It was heaven in a sinful package.

The longer he went the more his sanity waned until there was not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he came. You could see the change wash over his face and through his eyes, making you grip onto him tighter; you’d never get tired of making him lose himself like that. 

You were completely at his mercy, his hulking size overwhelming so that he could do with you as he pleased and he used that to his advantage. Fingers reached between your bodies to again stroke at your clit; he was getting close and he needed to get you there just as fast. Those digits hit the spot just right and through the pounding of his cock that warmth again found itself growing in your stomach. 

“Right there, right there,” you repeated as your hips joined in on the movement, rolling with his strokes and thrusts to enhance the stimulation as you panted open mouthed into his face. 

His grip on your leg tightened harder as his release drew even closer, his swollen balls ready to spill his seed with just a bit more friction. God, he could feel it, that tingling pressure jolting from zero to one hundred as the muscles in his stomach contracted; his legs were shaking just trying to keep it together until he could have you finish.

“Fuck,” you winced as your breath hitched in your chest. Just a little more…  

He pumped with everything in him and that was it; with a shudder your orgasm rocketed through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp as you fell back against the table. God, it wouldn’t stop, second after second it just kept coming with relentless intensity. Simon did not let up either and soon you were crying from the over-stimulation.

Successfully reaching his goal, it was now his turn to let go and get his; nothing would ever be easier. In and out, in and out, he thrust and thrust until finally he could feel that ledge creep up and with a deep breath in he released control. That was it.

At the last possible second he ripped his cock out of you and nestled it between your clenched thighs as he milked out all that warm cum along your stomach, coating you with all that pent up tension he had been holding on to the entire time you were away. His abdominal muscle contracted hard, heart pounding out of his chest, body writhing as a shiver ran up the length of his spin while he squirted out every last drop that he could give. 

The room reeked of sex and sweat and cum but fuck did neither of you care. You lay there on your back with his warm, pungent semen coating your stomach and dripping into your belly button, panting to catch your breath as he stood hunched over top of you, lightheaded. All he could do was breathe until feeling returned to his limbs and he could talk again.

“Christ you do look good like this luv,” he said with a smirk on his lips as his panting slowed. “Now that we’re back, ya better get used to bein’ on ya back covered in my cum cause I’ve only just started makin’ up for lost time.”

“Lucky for you that’s my favorite place to be,” you chuckled as he went off to find something to clean you up with.

Coming back holding a random piece of cloth, he wiped away his mess and you sat up to give him a thankful kiss. As he handed you back the pieces of your clothing so you could redress, you finally checked your watch and realized that you were in fact late for debrief… for the third time. “Think they’ll buy that we got held up just talking again?” you questioned as you slipped everything back on as best could.

“With how flushed your cheeks are luv, ya better fuckin’ take a minute to collect yourself,” he picked. 

You rolled your eyes. “And who was the one to put me in such a state?” you returned. “Proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Very,” he whispered as he stole one last kiss from you while pulling his pants back up and redoing them. As his lips parted he stayed in close a moment. 

“Though I wouldn’t worry too much about how ya look cause if someone gets a little too close they’re gonna fuckin’ smell me all over ya,” he whispered as he slipped the mask back over his face and you both made your way stealthily back outside. 

Well, guess nothing to fret over now.

[deadgxrlsuperstar]

-Secrecy- Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

tags: secret fwb, suggestive, dash of NSFW at the end, swearing, consensual groping, reader referred to being "used", fwb to lovers, she fell first he fell harder, minors dni

"I swear to god Katsuki you are a real bastard" you whined.

"Not my fuckin fault that idiot was flirting with you, I just put him in his place" Katsuki growled while stepping closer to you, resting his big hands on your hips.

"Katsuki the whole idea of a 'friends with benefits' is that we just fuck without dating...why do you care?!" you spat back glaring up into his eyes

You and Katsuki had been having sex without the commitment of a relationship for months now....It all started when you came over to his dorm to work on a class assignment, and one thing led to another...

You two were currently arguing in his dorm room about Katsuki threatening a random guy who flirted with you in the gym after school. You didn't feel it was a big deal as your relationship with Katsuki was only sexual. However, he didn't see it that way.

"what are you in love with me now?!" you shoved him away from you and Katsuki moved to sit on the bed running his hands through his soft blond hair.

After a minute of silence Katsuki looked up to meet your questioning face "so fuckin what if I am, its not like you will ever see me as anything more than your fuck toy"

You could only scoff at his response "you were the one who initally wanted to keep this secret AND without any romantic feelings" stepping closer to him you point an accusatory finger to his face "so what the fuck changed HUH?!"

Katsuki would never admit, especially in the given situation, that seeing you annoyed turned him on, and all he wanted to do was make you worked up for a different reason.

He looked up at you smirking and used your stretched out arm to pull you on top of him. The shock of his sudden action caused a breathless whine to escape your lips; however, you refused to give in to his temptation and let him win you over that easily...you always put up a playful fight anyway but this time you REALLY didn't want him to win.

Scrambling to get off of his lap you adjusted yourself to be next to him "answer my question damn it Katsuki, what the hell changed?" your voice became softer but there was still malice in your words.

He looked over, studying your expression. You were always more difficult for him to read, which is what got him interested in you in the first place.

"I changed," he replied, dejected. Before you could utter a response, he continues, "At first, I thought I wouldn't catch feelings because I didn't believe that shit was possible for me and that I would just use you as a distraction or um stress relief, ya know...? You were the only girl in this class I would ever consider fucking, you seemed down and whatever so yeh...I figured what's the worst that could happen"

He paused, glancing over to see your reaction. "Go on.." You whisper.

Fidgeting with his fingers and avoiding eye contact "turns out the worst thing that could happen was realising that I fell for you and you not feeling the same fuckin way" he usually gruff voice became softer at his confession "And now I can't stand to see those dumbass extras try there luck with you, even though it'd not my damn place since we aren't dating..I don't want you to leave me y/n"

Katsuki sighed, looking downwards internally preparing himself for rejection, to be laughed at, for you to walk out.. Anything.

Instead, you gently rubbed his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder....giggling?!

"what's so funny woman?" Katsuki groaned.

"we really are both oblivious idiots aren't we?" You chuckled to yourself."I am into you as well, Katsuki, have been for a while"

You look up to see him shooting a toothy grin your way, and you return a sly knowing smile.

Next thing you knew, you were needily grinding on Katsuki's lap as he was groping your plush ass while exchanging sloppy, passionate kisses.

Breathless Katsuki pulls back to admire your lust filled eyes...your lips puffy from aggressively making out and cheeks flushed.

"you're all mine, imma let all those fuckin extras know that you're my girl" he groaned at the friction against his crotch.

giggling at his possessiveness "yeh yeh whatever big boy" you lean down to kiss his neck and whisper seductively "just make me feel good Kats"

Murmuring huskily as you massaged his bare chest "you have no idea what you're in for tonight sweetness"....

[taryn40k]

The Confessor's mood lately can only be described as dour. Four hours of meditation precluded his return to the command deck, and his demanded meeting with the Inquisitor surrounding the events of the last few days.

"I am... Disappointed to learn of the events surrounding the boy known as Taryn, Inquisitor March.

In accordance with the duties of a Confessor of the Adeptus Ministorum, I cannae allow such a grevious fault in both security and dedication to duty to stand unanswered.

I shall be scrutinizing the histories and the belongings of every member of the recon teams you had dispatched down to the planet. If two of these accursed devices have made their way back to the ship, there is no telling what other damnable artifacts have found their way into your warband's rucksacks unannounced.

Excuses, and obfuscation, will not be accepted. Not when this vessel is en-route to Holy Terra itself.

If necessary, I am prepared to expand my work to the entirety of the mid deck to ensure there is no trace of corruption or traitorous machinations within this vessel.

I had feared my reassignment to your warband was mere political posturing, but I see now the concerns of the Ordo Hereticus were not unfounded.

Such recklessness would be unbecoming of even a Rogue Trader's accoutrement... Let alone those charged with aiding in the sacred duties' of our Emperor's own Inquisitor.

I donnae believe that there is a need to call your judgement when selecting these men and women into question, but I am sworn by the Throne to deliver the Emperor's own truth of these matters and to see that you have a warband befitting your expectations.

I do truly hope this... Lapse in the better judgement of your men is an irregularity, and not the norm, Inquisitor.

It is my intention to start with Taryn, and see where the trail leads from there...

If there are no objections."

"Rest assured that I do share your concern : Our destination is far too sacred to risk tainting with anything as risky as those devices. Since you are so eager to join in on this most secret of conversation, we are currently on a slight detour in this system, so that I may dispose of the Halo Beast - and now the bracelet, as well- in a way that has been proven to be definitive. Once those devices are safely unatainable, I do intend on educating my warband about it ; but for the time being, it is imperative that you keep the knowledge of what they are, what they can do, and how many are on board to yourself. Whoever you might have discussed this with must also be sworn to secrecy. and I have the decency to let you see to this in a manner you would see fit, without my medling. When it comes to my warband, you will have free range as to who you interrogate. A search of their belongings will only go forward with their presence, if not their approval. Nothing will be confiscated without being brought to my attention and catalogued. And certainly, Haertloch, there will be no execution of any kind without my explicit permission after proof of corruption has been presented to me. Your authority as a Confessor spreads over this vessel, but it still falls under mine. I do hope we are in agreement with these terms, and that I will not find you bypassing my orders for your own benefit. This investigation will be done with respect and tolerance for the men and women that are actively giving their lives for the Imperium under my direction. Failing that, I will be forced to requisition a new confessor from your ordo, but I would much rather be working with you than against you. So Return to me the respect I show you, and let me do my own work to keep us all safe, even if my methods differ from yours."

[thievescanted]

cal-as-companion..... part the second

Story Specific

MY DOG ALMOST DELETED THIS........ anyway

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

"I don't trust them, but I trust that their interests are aligned with ours - only for the moment. And I'm trusting you to know when to cut and run - although we can't really run from them, can we...? Bit unsettling. But as long as they can work to our benefit, let's let them. Even if I really, really don't like it."

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

"Oh, I don't trust that one any farther than I can throw him. Trust me, I know the type, and getting into bed with his like never ends well. ... Let's see where he's going with this, though."

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

THATS HER BEST FRIEND! i think when theyre both companions they feel theyre like, rivals for tavs protection at the start lmao but if one of them is in charge then that kind of neutralizes that. she would definitely come clean about her situation from the start because she knows he also has a Situation - she offers to keep his vampirism secret in exchange for his secrecy about her death (she doesnt really like people knowing, partially because she feels her employer makes her a liability, and partly because she hates the thought of anyone pitying her)

she also would let him drink her blood, mostly because she's curious about whether her blood would even be consumable (it is, it's quite normal actally, which is more confusing to her really) but also because like. to her it would feel kind of fucked up for her not to help him if shes perfectly capable of helping

i misunderstood this question im realizing now. im not deleting all that though. if he tries to bite her she will be surprised to see him, and push him off pretty harshly; however she'll tell him "you could have just asked, and i would have," and she will let him drink from her

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

before: Definitely not going to help with our particular situation, but I suppose it can't hurt. Or - actually, it literally can. Still, I say give it a try! during: (after the first hit) Shit, I wasn't looking. Can you do it again? after: Well. I think you have to get married now.

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

she's fine with the player doing it! she figures any way they can make themself stronger is a better chance that they all stay alive. HOWEVER she would not want to do it herself - "I barely feel like I'm my own with this thing in my head. I'm certainly not going to feed the damn thing."

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

cal approves of helping the tieflings, and disapproves immensely of helping the cult. it won't cause her to leave, but it will set her approval almost as low as it can get without her leaving. if you side with the cult/the goblins she'll say that she trusts that you have your reasons, but she doesn't really want to know them

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

at the tiefling party: cal will confide that she stole a decent amount of whiskey from the goblin camp and invite you to have some with her. she thanks you for doing all you did to help the tieflings - she hadn't let herself believe she was someone who could do this kind of good. then she'll immediately start gossiping about rolan. she will invite a ftav/durge/origin character to join her for the night if they like (she will then skirt around defining your relationship for. a While. its a bit of an isabela situation) (this would be the players first time seeing her wound (you can see it later in-game if shes not romanced but since shes taking her shirt off to sleep with the character, Well). she feels Complicated about that). if not romanced at the party cal will hook up with shadowheart or lae'zel

at the goblin party: the player can find her pulling grass out of the ground by her tent and piling it up on a blanket. she'll say, "Do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something." she will make it very clear to you that to her you are a "convenient and capable meat-shield" and suggest that you keep it to just business. you can ask to join her for the night and she will say: "What, really? You don't want to look a little farther afield? Can't imagine you'd want to fuck someone who hates you. Unless - what, are you into that kind of thing?"

>On second thought, never mind. Cal: Grand. There's my evening free. Off you go, then, I've very important business to conduct here. > And if I am? Cal: Well, I suppose I can't say I haven't wondered. Let's get that out of our systems, then.

pursuing that will close off her romance entirely though lol.

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with?

if lae'zel: Soo... you and Lae'zel seem quite friendly tonight. Friendly as I've ever seen her, anyway. Just, uh, don't get too bruised up - busy day ahead of us tomorrow and all. if gale: So is Gale going to show you some magic tricks? Going to learn some useful applications of ray of frost? Are you two going to fuck, is what I'm asking. In case that wasn't clear. if shadowheart: You and Shadowheart seemed pretty cozy together just now. Leave some room for Shar, will you? I'm afraid her lady may smite you both. if astarion: Didn't think that one had the capacity to be interested in anyone that wasn't him - wonders never cease, eh? I'd make sure he's had something to eat before you get up to anything, though. Manslaughter does dampen the mood of a party. if wyll: Saw you talking to Wyll earlier. You left him looking rather more cheerful than he's been all night - good on you. I don't suppose you could lure him a little closer to the party? We're short a dance partner. (cares about him, is annoyed about it) if karlach: Karlach seems positively taken with you, you know. It really is a shame you can't really get to know each other. Still, you two have fun... talking all night, or whatever it is you can do. Sounds terribly romantic. Eugh.

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

Cal: Hey, so, uh. Not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but remember when I told you about how I died? And how that was kind of a traumatizing thing for me? And then you killed me? No no, it's fine, I'm not mad. (note: shes mad but holding it together) I'm just disappointed. Next time - and I know there will be some kind of next time - maybe just... warn me? A little heads up?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

Cal: So... does it taste bad... or good...? I'm getting some mixed messages.

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Cal: I want you to know I've always hated you. And if he tries to do any close-up magic near me I'm killing him.

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin? How is Orin's deception revealed? How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

YEAH she can be. ive been toying with the idea that cal had been killed by bhaalists, so i think orin would like the idea of having her back

the pc will wake to find cal watching them. when they wake, cal will tell them that she's been thinking about what gortash said, about orin having infiltrated the camp. that she thinks she knows a way to prove that you're both yourselves - she'll show you a couple knives and suggest that making a shapechanger bleed might reveal its true form ("I'm only talking a gentle stabbing, nothing too bloody.") if you refuse she'll reveal herself as orin; if you go along with it she will in fact stab you pretty hard. orin will tell you that "Callie-girl is safe with me" and propose her whole deal to you, whereupon she'll add that "She's marked for us, so it might be difficult to let her go."

when you free cal, she tries to put on her usual unbothered facade but she will be pretty clearly shaken

Cal: Gods, it's you. It-it is you... right? Fuck. No, I'm alright, I just have about fifty more mental images about how I might die, courtesy of Orin. Let's get out of here? Please?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

if astarion is ascended: Shit. He really did it. And we... let him. Helped him, even... I guess the choice is made and there's nothing for it. Still, I just hope he's still... you know, him. if astarion remains a spawn: I wasn't sure he would be able to turn down all that power. The guarantee that you'll be truly safe, that you won't have to die again... It's a lot to walk away from. ... Not that I've thought about it extensively or anything. Anyway I'm proud of him really, but don't tell him so.

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer? Can they offer to become one themselves? Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?

cal will nottt take the astral tadpole ("I just don't think I have a face for tentacles") but she won't object to a PC that chooses to take it for themself. if romanced, she'll confess that she's a little uneasy about the prospect of you changing, but that she knows you'll stay you, and she trusts you

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

Cal: Well that's, uh... Shit, you're telling the truth, aren't you? I mean, you did always kind of strike me as worryingly good at killing, so I guess that makes a weird sort of sense. Wait, you haven't thought about killing me, have you? (if playing a female character): I mean, it'd be fine if you have. Wouldn't hold it against you, like.

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

well she does not like it i can tell you that much! she will disapprove when you say you don't remember, but she'll take your word for it and compared to like, wyll or karlach shes less horrified Cal: Let's just... save the murderous intent for people we don't like, yeah?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

well unfortunately. due to how she is as a person. i think she would be a little into it initially. when she wakes to durge holding a knife to her throat, her first instinct is to sit up and kiss them, at which point they can tell her shes in danger.

Cal: Shit, sorry. It's the, uh. Adrenaline. Wait, danger? Were you actually going to kill me?

she will tie durge and sit with them through the night, responding fondly to their threats ("Aww, promise?") and encouraging durge to come back to her ("I know you're in there, and I know you're more than this. When you fight your way back to the surface, I'll be here. That's love - you showed me that.")

[dvilsdesire]

Haarlep and Raphael's Relationship:

This is probably going to get long and complicated, so bear with me... Also, this is my hc for my version of Haarlep, you don't have to agree with me :)

First thing's first, are/where they in love? It's complicated. Raphael is in love with only Raphael, and so long as Haarlep maintained that image, then Raphael was pleased and happy. Can we consider that true love? I don't really think so, but infatuation? Absolutely.

The truth is, Raphael could have gotten himself any incubus, especially if Haarlep ended up pissing him off too much, but he didn't. The two of them have been sharing a bed, and a house, for a long, long time (I pretty much hc that the moment Raphael set eyes on the Crown of Karsus that Haarlep was created to distract him from his goals thanks to Daddy dear).

Their relationship is/was 110% a sexual relationship. But with that, and with the years that they have been together, they have formed a bond. Because the more an incubus/succubus sleeps with someone, and the more they exchange bodily fluids, the stronger that bond becomes. Now, this usually means that the mortal that they are feeding off becomes weakened the more they have intercourse, and eventually the incubus will give them their final kiss and take their soul. Haarlep has pretty good control of his soul kissing abilities, and he will only consume a soul if he wants to. Souls are not required for food (though they do taste amazing), they are only consumed to make him a more powerful fiend that could ascend in time and rule over others. But I do imagine the fact that Raphael is also an immortal, that he likely did not become weakened by the bond he and Haarlep shared--why would Raphael do that to himself? Seems silly.

So comes the intricacies and complications of what kind of a relationship they had. Both fiends being... fiends, love is hard to come by (though not impossible). However, I do not hc that they loved each other like what we would generally see as love. This is the sort of love that is more... long term connection, benefiting each other, than anything pure. They both gained something out of this relationship. For Raphael, he got the pleasure of the only man he thought good enough for him: himself. And ofc, when he was more adventurous, an incubus could change forms, though I am interested in seeing how THAT works since Haarlep can only take on forms he has actually slept with (and Raphael is all man). In turn, Haarlep was given a home, and most of all, the physical intimacy that his kind requires for survival. Raphael was quite literally his food, and kept him sated without starvation.

Their relationship would have been filled with bickering and banter, and Haarlep's own contract was that he was sworn to secrecy. We don't really know WHAT that secrecy was considering it's not explained upon in his letter in end game, but it's clear he's rampaging around in Raphael's form and is getting loaded off it (he does consider it a favourite of his imo). My personal hc is that Haarlep's contract was between him and Mephistopheles, NOT Raphael and Haarlep. We know Haarlep was sent to distract Raphael, which makes more sense that the secret was between Haarlep and Mephisto. Now that Raphael is dead (if killed), that contract is forfeit and Haarlep can do whatever he wants.

I still 100% hc that Haarlep was forged SPECIFICALLY for this role, which was why he has no true name, why his name is Haarlep, crafted by Mephistopheles for this soul purpose. The soul purpose as a gift to his son, someone to both keep an eye on him, report back, and distract him. This is why when Tav enters the game, he is willing to give them the secrets to the Hammer, because it means stopping Raphael from getting the crown, and thus still keeping his contract with Mephisto.

This relationship between them could be considered like "an old married couple", but that's only because they've literally been living and sleeping with each other for such a long time that of COURSE they have rubbed off on one another. There are feelings there, yes, but not the ones that I would consider healthy, nor something that is pure and compassionate. This relationship is still a relationship, just not the ones that our society sees as fit. Two fiends getting something out of it and a mutual benefit and self gain.

Does Haarlep hate Raphael? No. He doesn't. In fact, he grew to like parts of Raphael's company (especially his body). There are, of course, things he didn't like about the devil, and in turn, Raphael didn't like particular things about Haarlep. I do hc that Raphael became extremely jealous if the incubus talked about any other bodies of his or anyone else he'd slept with, but that comes down to control and power. This relationship DID have its power struggles as well. Raphael, who likes to THINK he was in control, but Haarlep was actually the one in control, who would punish Raphael and call him a brat. Their sex was cruel and painful, and Raphael revelled in his punishment, and in turn, Haarlep surrendered to the cruelty he could do. Of course, it was all consensual between the two, and that power play was well known between them in the sheets.

So when it comes to Haarlep's loyalty to Raphael, it is a complicated thing. His loyalty was to his contract and Mephistopheles. As a fiend, he would (of course) bend and twist what he could in that contract, it is in his nature. But as a fiend who was brought up between the hierarchy of Devils and not Demons, he still follows the rules (even if he is chaotic evil at heart and not lawful evil like most Devils). That doesn't mean he wasn't willing to protect and fight for Raphael, he was, it just depended on the circumstances, but as a fiend, he shed no tears when Raphael was killed.

Now, this is where it gets tricky, because Haarlep DOES mourn in his own way. Despite being a fiend and an incubus, he is not devoid of emotions. The man he had been sharing a bed with, manipulating, toying with and forming this connection and bond with over the years and years of them being together is now... gone.

There is a fondness he had in his heart for Raphael, and he WILL miss aspects of that relationship, of course he will. You won't see him crying over it, but that doesn't mean he won't miss Raphael and the enjoyment that he gained from being with him. He will be missed, and of course, he was his main source of food when it came to his physical needs. Without that constant, he will need to go back to feeding off innocents (or not so innocents in the Hells ofc).

I should note that this relationship could absolutely change depending on if I'm writing with a Raphael mod (which I would LOVE to do to develop their relationship and see what could happen!). This is going off a purely in game scenario and if Tav kills Raph.

[corruptedforce]

Continued from HERE // @desireandduty​

These past several weeks had passed in a bit of a fog for Padme, mostly due to lack of sleep. In the end, they had decided on Theed’s premiere medical facility as the best place for her to give birth. She was glad of the decision, because her recovery had been slow. As a petite woman, it would have been difficult to birth one baby, but two had been exhausting. Without the help of her parents…. she wasn’t sure she could have managed it. The twins were good children, but they were still newborns, which meant they were demanding of time, energy, attention.

If she hadn’t felt like there was a shadowy threat hanging over their heads, Padme would have remained in her parents’ home for months longer. But if Anakin was right and the Emperor did harbor malevolent intent towards her or the twins.. she couldn’t bring that sort of risk down on her parents. So she’d returned to Coruscant only a few days ago, where she at least had the benefit of her handmaidens to help care for the twins. Another pair of arms was needed, because their father had been distancing himself from them ever since they were born. Padme wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed that he came to Naboo less and less frequently. And here it had been three days since she had moved back with only a few buildings as the distance between them, and he had yet to visit.

Or at least he hadn’t until that the early evening, when she’d finally got the twins back to sleep again after their afternoon feeding. She had been shocked and delighted to see him, but there was an undercurrent of hurt there as well. She didn’t understand why he felt the need to keep his distance. He’d yet to come anywhere close to his actions on Mustafar. The more time that passed, the more the incident faded into the past for her. She missed him dreadfully, and the fact that there was no more war or self-imposed secrecy to keep them apart made his absence sting even more painfully.

And now, he'd barely arrived, and he was already up and declaring he ought to leave again. Padme was a proud woman, but she was getting desperate at this point. "Please, stay," she begged, stepping closer and placing both palms on his chest in a pleading gesture. "You only just got here, and I- I miss you so much. I need you. I thought with the war over and us not keeping this a secret that things would be different, but they're not... I don't understand what is keeping you away from us so often."

Life in the new Empire was complicated. It was different than the Republic, although he was glad the Republic was gone.  Did he long to be able to live like he was actually married to Padme, once and for all? Of course, he did. But, it wasn’t that simple for him.  The Imperial Palace was coming together.  It was becoming more like a palace and less like the old Jedi Temple.  He didn’t come around that often. 

He was still going through changes. He was still trying to adjust to being a Sith, being trained in the ways of the Sith, adjusting his fighting style.  The night before, he’d gotten back from finally assembling his new lightsaber, after bleeding a kyber crystal of a dead Jedi.  But tonight, he had come by, needing to check on her and the babies.

He had so many concerns. While the emperor knew he was married to her and that she was pregnant, he still feared that he would try to take their babies. He feared her lack of fear of him. She didn’t understand how much more powerful the dark side was, and the fact that what he had done to her, didn’t make her pause at all it seemed, he had to be the rational one.  He had to give it time.

While going through all the training he was, he was dangerous. Life was not normal, and it would not be normal again.  

“It’s because you refuse to understand how things are. You don’t see the difference in the dark side and what it does. I nearly choked the life out of you and it doesn’t scare you. It scares me, and as long as you don’t see the severity of it, we have to keep a distance. I am here for you and for them, but your recklessness when it comes to me, could get them and you killed. Love can’t always save you. This isn’t something you can just decide is okay.” 

[retrievablememories]

three’s company | kai & taemin (m)

title: three’s company pairing: taemin x reader x kai genre: smut, fwb request: “hello!! can I req a kai and taemin with female reader smut fic?” word count: 4.4k warnings: MMF threesome, oral (female and male receiving), deep throating, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t try at home 🚫), cumshots, some spanking, taemin has dom tendencies, the aftercare is a bit lacking i think sjdfklfsk a/n: i have not written a proper threesome fic in so long, this didn’t come as easy to me as i thought it would 🤧

at the beginning of the fic—if you don’t know about taemin’s infamous slippers here are some references lol

“Open the door for your best friends!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Taemin’s head peeks through the crack in his front door only a few seconds later, and he grins at the sight of you and Kai standing on his front step, overnight bags in hand. “Took you long enough.”

“We would’ve got here sooner if Y/N didn’t take a hundred years to find her favorite slippers,” Kai says, snorting.

“I can’t go anywhere without them, they’re part of my bedtime routine,” you protest, stepping inside as Taemin opens the door wider for the two of you to come in. “And I am not wearing Taemin’s rat fur shoes as a consolation prize like he tried to make me do last time.”

Taemin rolls his eyes at your complaint. “Rat fur slippers or not, you have no problem stealing all my other clothes.”

“It’s not my fault your clothes are so cozy.”

“You say that every time you steal our stuff,” Kai points out, walking past you both to make himself comfortable on Taemin’s couch. “How many of my poor hoodies are hanging up in your closet, never to be worn by me again?”

“Just the right amount,” you insist, dropping your bag to the floor and jumping onto the couch with Kai, splaying yourself across his legs and the couch cushions. He grins at you like you’re an overexcited kid and leans against the back of the couch.

“You’re so goofy. I hope you don’t plan on having me take care of you all weekend like the last time you ate too much sugar and crashed like hell,” Kai says, tapping his finger on your forehead and making you swat his hand away.

“No, I’m not gonna do that again...I don’t need to be babysat, Jongin!”

Taemin passes by the two of you on the couch and pinches your thigh as he goes; fortunately for him, he’s fast enough to escape a slap from you. “Don’t worry...even if it does happen, we’ll take good care of you.” He leaves with a joking smile as he goes into the other room, though the teasing note in his tone makes you wonder for a brief moment.

—

A few hours later, the three of you are in the kitchen preparing snacks for your movie night—which usually ends up with you and Kai doing most of the work because Taemin tends to be a mess in the kitchen. Kai’s phone pings from the living room, and he leaves the both of you alone to go check what it is. Taemin sidles up to your side as soon as Kai exits the room, and you give him a questioning look when his arm goes around your waist.

“What do you want,” you deadpan.

“Don’t be so mean to me.” His tone is playful, but the lips at your ear are not so innocent. “We haven’t even seen each other in a while.”

“I know, which is why I’m astounded at your inability to keep it in your pants. You should’ve had plenty of practice by now.” Taemin gives an amused laugh, his eyes watching the doorway the entire time, and while the coast is still clear he takes the opportunity to press his hot lips against your neck. You shy away from him, but only because you don’t want to get caught.

One game of Truth or Dare with Taemin more than a year ago had gotten out of hand—a game the three of you usually played together, but Kai had been busy with EXO’s promotions for Obsession at the time—and the next thing you knew, you were sleeping with one of your good friends.

You knew that friends-with-benefits arrangements often ended in flames—you’d seen it happen too often with your other friends and their sexual partners—but you didn’t regret anything about the situation. You both enjoyed the sex, and it hadn���t managed to ruin your friendship, so neither of you saw any real reason to stop. No regrets—except for maybe the fact that you were keeping it secret from Kai.

It was Taemin’s suggestion and you went along with it, though you weren’t really sure what difference it made. He always acted as if letting the younger man know would be too much shock for him to take, or maybe he’d find it awkward to continue hanging out with you two, which you found ridiculous (it turned out fine with him, why did it need to be kept from Kai?) but you weren’t interested in arguing about it.

Taemin looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s suddenly zipping away from your side just as quick as he came. You see the reason why when Kai walks back into the room seconds later, seemingly unaware of Taemin’s earlier antics. You screw up your mouth and glare at Taemin for almost getting caught when all this secrecy was his idea.

Kai raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Taemin is bothering you again.”

“When is he not?” 

“Stop pretending like you don’t love it.” Taemin pulls out aegyo that makes both you and Kai cringe like you’ve been stung. Taemin laughs at both your expressions, though he’s also a bit embarrassed for even trying to use the cute card on you; you rarely fell for those tricks of his.

Kai shakes his head. “This is going to be a long weekend.”

—

Despite Taemin having more than enough space in his home to host all three of you in your own rooms, you all end up in Taemin’s bed when you decide to turn in for the night. Kai swore he was only stopping in to talk before going back to his own room, but he never left his side of the bed even after the overhead lights were turned out. You lie in between the two men the whole time, enjoying their body heat on either side of you and the comfort of having them nearby.

Kai is already knocked out on your left, but Taemin remains awake, his eyes sparkling with devilment in the dark. He angles his body more towards you, lying on his side, and you mean to ask what he’s doing and why he’s not asleep yet when his hand lands on your thigh.

Your lips part and your mouth moves aimlessly for a few moments as his hand works up and down your thigh, warming you up. “Jongin…” you finally whisper, and both of you know that you speaking the other man’s name is not you trying to call out for him—it’s a warning.

“...is asleep,” Taemin says, unfazed.

“This is wrong,” you mutter, but you don’t make a move to stop him when his hand comes closer to the space between your thighs. Taemin brushes his fingers across your pubic mound as he reaches his hand over to your other thigh, teasing you. “You were the one who wanted to keep all this hidden. Remember that.”

“Correct,” he responds, still sounding perfectly casual about the entire situation. “And we still can, if you just be quiet for a little while and let me do this.”

“Can’t you wait until later?” Your voice comes out strained. When his hand inches closer to your inner thigh again, you don’t know whether you want to ask him to stop for his own good or go further. “Like when he’s in the shower or something?”

Taemin slides his hand fully between your legs now, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit. “I have to touch you.” He says it like he doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t get the opportunity now. The tinge of neediness in his voice breaks something inside you and makes you want to relent without a single question more.

The sudden movement of his palm on the most sensitive part of your body causes you to jerk, and your elbow hits Kai right in the side by accident. For a tense moment, you think maybe you haven’t woken him, but then he grumbles and gently shoves you back. “Why are you elbowing me?” he murmurs, and then you freeze when he turns his head and opens his eyes to look at you. His eyes are only cracked halfway, but even in the dim room you know there is a good chance he can see how Taemin’s hand is now halfway tucked into your sleep pants as he begins his descent into your underwear. You stay stock-still as if that’ll make him unable to see you, which feels as ridiculous as it sounds.

“I-it was an accident, sorry,” you stammer. Kai doesn’t respond right away, too busy blinking his eyes against the dark. Then he says,

“If you two are going to do that, go in another room.” He scoffs and turns over, and you’re mortified. He sounded completely nonchalant about finding the two of you in a compromising position, which makes you wonder; does he somehow already know about the arrangement you two have? Maybe neither of you were ever really as sneaky as you’d thought.

“You should join us,” Taemin suggests, throwing yet another wrench into the situation. Kai’s body stiffens beside you, and there’s silence before he faces you both again.

“Join?”

“Aren’t you being a little—”

“Yes, join.” Taemin interrupts you, and you roll your eyes, pinching his arm. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it before.”

“What does that mean?” you blurt out, jerking your head to look at Taemin. What secrets have they been keeping from you? Kai looks equally bewildered, which makes you more confused.

“I—when have I suggested anything like that?” Kai argues, though his voice is uncertain.

“You don’t have to. You are easy to read, Jongin.” Kai makes a disapproving noise at Taemin’s statement.

“Easy to read? What about you thinking you were being sneaky with Y/N this whole time—”

“Well, I thought we were pretty damn clever—”

“Look, if you two are just going to go back and forth, I’m going to sleep—”

“Fine. Let me join, then.” You want to complain at being interrupted again, but Kai’s words make you pause. And then his eyes drift over to you, his face turning towards yours on the pillow and his voice becoming more yielding. “If you’re okay with it.” 

You feel a bit winded, never really expecting him to say yes. But now here it is, out in the open and waiting for you to take hold of it—or shun it away. You also know yourself well enough to understand the second choice isn’t even an option for you. Taemin waits in silence to see what your answer will be, though the corner of his mouth is already lifting in a smirk because he can take a good guess.

“Okay. Then let’s do it.”

With your acceptance, there’s a tense pause as everyone waits to see what the other will do first.

Taemin makes the first move by sliding his hand the rest of the way into your underwear, his fingers dipping down to feel you. You’re not as wet as he’d like yet, which he immediately seeks to remedy by rubbing your clit and bringing his plush lips to your exposed collarbone.

“Kiss her,” Taemin says in between laying kisses of his own across your chest. Kai stays still for a moment longer, and you wonder if he’s regretting this decision, but when you glance up at him his eyes are glued to where Taemin’s hand is moving beneath your pajamas. Finally, he tears his stare away from the scene playing out in front of him and meets your gaze, coming closer to press his mouth on yours.

More often than not, Taemin’s kisses are heated and frantic, as if he can never kiss you enough—which is not to knock his experience or skill, because he has more than enough to satisfy you—but Kai is soft and slow against your mouth, kissing you deeply and intensely like he might not get to do it again.

Taemin laughs quietly against your neck at how you grow wetter beneath his fingers from this one kiss. 

Kai’s touch is a little more tentative because he hasn’t done this with you before, but his hands go to the hem of your shirt. He goes underneath the fabric, pushing it up your stomach along the way, to touch your breasts. Your nipples harden at his touch, and he rolls them between his deft fingers. It doesn’t take long for him to begin desiring more contact, and he shoves your shirt up above your chest, lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

Taemin situates himself further down to let Kai have his way with your upper body and introduces one of his fingers into you, sliding the slender digit inside and crooking it up to find that soft spot. You twitch around him, your thighs tensing and flexing, and he keeps his lips pressed close to your hips, biting the skin there and then dragging his tongue across the places he’s just irritated. You’re already feeling overwhelmed at having both men pleasure you at the same time, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the rest of the night.

Your pulse races against Kai’s mouth as his kisses travel to your neck, making you shiver. “Does that feel good?” Kai asks, his voice low, and you nod without a second thought. You belatedly realize he’s referring to Taemin's actions when you notice his eyes have drifted below the waist again. He seems entranced with the way Taemin fingers you, or maybe he just wants a turn for himself. 

“It does,” you say, as if your nod wasn’t confirmation enough. Your words trail out of you in a breathless whisper. Kai soon shifts lower down your body just as Taemin eases another finger into you, which makes you moan softly. You think your heart might beat out of your chest when Kai settles himself beside Taemin, and you can guess what’s about to happen.

“Are you going to have her all to yourself?” Kai remarks, his tone joking.

“I was here first.” Taemin grins deviously, but he shuffles over to make more room for Kai between your legs.

As Taemin keeps moving his fingers inside you, brushing them against your g-spot and making you moan desperately, Kai lowers his head and drags his tongue over your clit. You gasp sharply at this brand-new sensation; the sight of it is even more erotic than you could’ve imagined. Kai wraps his mouth around your sensitive clit and Taemin observes closely as the other man sucks and licks into you. Though Taemin sometimes likes to pretend he isn’t as easily aroused as you know he can be, he can’t hide the way his breaths grow rushed and his face becomes more flushed.

The soft but intense sucking of Kai’s mouth and the smooth strokes of Taemin’s fingers have you careening off the edge faster than you anticipated, and your legs scrabble against the sheets as you toss and turn in the tide of a strong orgasm.

Kai comes back to your upper body when he’s finished, leaning in close to where your head rests on the pillow. Your chest heaves as you try to regain your breath. He smiles down at your supine figure, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You’re so sweet,” he murmurs against the seam of your mouth, and he slides his tongue in to let you taste yourself even more deeply.

Between kisses, Kai pulls your shirt the rest of the way off. You end up doing the same for him—with his help—and you run your hands over the newly exposed skin, feeling the soft but firm ridges of his abs underneath your palms. The length of his cock presses against his sleep pants, half-hard and still rising. Somewhere below you, Taemin removes your panties and pajama pants from around your ankles, and even though you feel spent, your body is already reacting to the idea of him pressing your legs open wider and pushing into you.

“Turn on your stomach,” Taemin instructs, though he’s already grabbing your hips and shifting you over before you can do it yourself. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to palm your ass as he does, his digits dipping down between your legs like he’s going to start fingering you again. Some nights, he can spend forever doing just that—pulling you apart with his hands and mouth and denying you his dick until he finally feels like giving it to you.

His plans for tonight are a little different, though. 

Taemin taps your lower back and says, “I think you know what to do.” You can’t see his face, but he must be giving Kai a certain look because the other man smirks, shaking his head.

“Come closer,” you say to Kai, because just as Taemin predicted, you know exactly what he expects you to do. You run your fingers up the length of Kai’s strong thighs, feeling the hard muscle of them and bringing your hands up higher to caress the bulge straining against his pants. Kai’s eyes grow heavier as he watches you palm his dick, and he settles himself in front of you with his legs spread.

You could probably occupy yourself all night with pulling reactions out of him and teasing him, getting to know what he likes and making him drip sticky precum down your hand. You are too eager to see his dick and feel him in your mouth, however, so you drag the waistband of his pants and underwear lower to bring it out. It’s thicker than Taemin’s, pretty and tan with prominent veins, and you can only imagine how it’s going to feel once he actually gets inside of you. Kai watches you with burning eyes as you grip the base in your hand and get his dick wet with your saliva, sliding your tongue across the shaft. A heavy, shaky breath leaves him when your mouth makes the first contact.

Behind you, Taemin’s cock nudges your entrance and then pushes in, and you whimper from being stretched while Kai’s dick bumps against your lips. Taemin keeps his hands on your ass as he begins thrusting into you, taking his time with it and building your pleasure up with slow thrusts. You want Taemin to move faster and send you spiraling headfirst into pleasure again, though. You whine with your mouth still around Kai’s tip, which makes him give an answering moan.

“Stop playing around and swallow his dick, Y/N,” Taemin taunts you from above. He angles his hips a bit differently to find your g-spot, and you make a choked noise when he locates it, causing Kai’s dick to slip from your mouth.

“Shut up, Taem. It’s not like you’re making it easy.” Taemin gives a sudden rough thrust in answer to that, and even Kai grins at the pleasured expression on your face and the surprised yelp you let loose.

“Try harder.” Taemin insists, and he lands a swift slap on your ass. It’s not harsh, but it’s enough to make you cry out. “You want her throat around your dick, don’t you, Jongin?”

Kai raises his eyebrows at Taemin’s words, but the twitch of his cock in your hand and the bob of his Adam’s apple are unmistakable. “Can you take it?” Kai asks you, voice thick with desire.

“Give it to me.” You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for Kai to slide in. You’ve deep-throated Taemin numerous times before, and you are impatient to let Kai try it now. His gaze darkens, and he grips his cock and leads it deeper into your mouth. He shudders visibly when the warm, wet heat of your mouth envelops him. He hesitates for a moment, like he doesn’t want to go too deep and hurt you, but you look up at him from beneath your lashes with your best pleading eyes and he is completely lost to your longing expression. His stomach tenses when he pushes further, feeling the tight space of your throat squeezing around his tip. More precum drips from him.

“Good girl,” Taemin whispers from above, his eyes glued to the back of your head. He leans forward for a better view so he can watch Kai’s dick disappear between your lips, and that movement ends with his hips pressed flush against your ass, his length as far in you as it will go. You moan helplessly around Kai as Taemin continues fucking you at this depth and angle, one of his hands gripping your hip tightly. You feel beyond full, unable to think about anything other than the two men inside of you.

“Don’t come yet.” Taemin pushes into you as steadily as ever, rushing towards his own climax as his breaths grow more broken-off.

Kai groans as your tongue slides sloppily against his shaft, your body being repeatedly pushed forward by Taemin’s thrusts. He doesn’t even have to do much work to fuck your mouth. He only keeps his hand at the back of your head, more because he just needs to touch you somewhere rather than trying to control the pace. The wet and filthy sounds of his dick hitting the back of your throat bring him ever closer to his end, but Taemin’s gaze gives him pause. “You’re telling me not to come yet?”

“You still have to fuck her,” Taemin says, smacking your ass again. He slows his pace momentarily to lift your hips slightly, sneaking his hand beneath you to circle his fingers around your clit, and your body tenses as you give a stifled cry. “You’ve got to feel her. This pussy is so fucking good, isn’t it, Y/N? Want him to fuck this needy little hole? You’re already getting tighter around me just thinking about it...how dirty.” There’s no way to respond with your mouth currently occupied; you only give a low, shuddering moan.

“F-fuck.” Kai abruptly pulls himself out of your mouth to stave off the orgasm threatening to overtake him at the sight of you looking so fucked-out. Like Taemin said, he definitely wants—needs—to be inside of you at least once before the night is over.

“J-Jong—” You want to beg for him to put his dick back in your mouth, gripping his thighs and trying to get closer, but those attempts are lost when your climax finally comes crashing over you. Taemin keeps his hand on your lower back to prevent you from squirming away from him as he continues thrusting into you throughout your orgasm, overstimulating your already wired senses. Weak with pleasure and shaking, you let Taemin use your body to get closer to his own end, which you’re more than happy to do.

Seconds later, Taemin is pulling out of you and stroking his dick, spilling his cum on your lower back and your ass. He lets go of his dick and slips it between your ass cheeks, thrusting between them and milking himself of the last few drops. He smirks at the messy creation he’s made all over your skin.

When Taemin lies on the bed next to you, Kai sheds his pants and takes his place. Kai gently turns you onto your back and grabs your weakened legs, pulling them around his waist, and you let him maneuver your body as he wants.

When he pushes into you, you almost want to sob at the way his dick spreads you open, sliding deep inside your oversensitive pussy. His eyebrows crease together at how you feel around him, so warm and wet.

Kai’s pace is not as quick as Taemin’s; his strokes are deep and hard as he buries himself inside and pulls nearly all the way out. Your lingering pleasure is stoked even higher by the intense way he’s fucking you, and your muscles feel like they might cramp up, but he keeps your legs spread open for better access.

“Is it good, Y/N? Do you love it?” Taemin asks from beside you, his voice light and airy as if he’s in awe of it all. His hands sneak over to your breasts, and his lips soon follow.

“Fuck, yes.” Kai brings one of your legs up to his shoulder to get a better angle. His gaze is burning as he looks at you and Taemin—Taemin sucking your breasts, your knitted eyebrows and half-open mouth, the sight of his shaft disappearing into you. “You feel s-so good. So fucking deep...” You grab Kai’s arms on either side of you, nails pricking his skin.

“Y/N…” Kai’s voice has grown rough, tinged with desperation. Sweat drips from his face and down his abs. His pace increases, and the tension tightens in your lower stomach again as his hips slap against yours.

Taemin grips your chin and turns your face towards his, sliding his tongue into your mouth in a wet kiss. At the same time, he moves his other hand lower to stroke his fingers across your clit, and this pushes you off the edge into a dizzying orgasm. It’s strong enough to turn your whole world blurry with an endless ecstasy.

When Kai gets close, he pulls out like Taemin did to jerk himself off and come across your stomach, painting your skin with his warm cum. His groans are deep and rich and lovely, and they make you clench with the last waning vestiges of your orgasm.

Kai lies beside you on the free side that Taemin isn’t occupying, keeping one hand on your thigh like he needs to have some part of you always touching him.

“We need to clean up,” you mumble, uncomfortable with the cum drying on your skin, though you’re also trying to battle the increasing sleepiness threatening to drape itself over your eyes like a veil.

“Maybe later.” Taemin throws an arm around your waist and cuddles his face into your neck. Kai grins and nudges his nose against your ear, tickling your skin. Their breaths fan over your skin, and you sigh and close your eyes, contented despite the mess.

“Fine. As long as you carry me to the shower later.”

[thekingofthieves]

96A.Is your perception of yourself similar or the same to how others perceive you?

Ah, honestly I don't believe there's a single person out there that views me the same way I do. And that's mostly my fault, frankly. 😅 I've always been quite secretive- now more than ever, since I'm in this human form- and it's not always a purposeful action I choose to make.

My time in the Makai, when I was widely known as the King of Thieves, was probably the closest I got to being percieved by others like I saw myself. I was blatantly egotistical and sadistic, and I made a name for myself through my extraordinary heists and cruelty. But such widespread infamy always leads to plentiful amounts of tall tales. Many stories I've overheard of myself had the truth stretched or had no basis on real events in the slightest. I didn't particularly mind it, though. Attention is attention, which I've always enjoyed, and I got the benefits of more people admiring and fearing me. And though I like the spotlight, I also am fond of secrecy, so keeping people in the dark of what about me is actually true let me have both.

Now... many in the Makai continue to spread these stories and believe they still reflect me (well, if they don't think I'm dead, or know I'm alive but look down on me for fighting alongside humans). When Yomi contacted me again, he had assumed I was still the same Kurama that he worked with a long time ago, but I've changed significantly from my time so far as a human. I may still have a big ego, but I also deal with a lot of regret and guilt over things I've done in the past... Unnecessary cruelty is no longer something I take pride in.

On the flip side, most humans think I'm simply an ordinary man, known for my politeness and intelligence. And to keep my demon identity hidden easier, I don't really make many close relations, so most humans I've met barely know much about me at all. My family, especially my mother, are the only ones who know me as much as possible without being aware of my true self. It's... strange, honestly, having some of the people I'm closest to still only know me through a filter I have in place. I'm much more open with them compared to most other humans- they're even exposed to my more mischievous side- but holding back a lot of myself is such second nature now. Sometimes I can't even tell for sure what is all even a front anymore.

Even with my closest friends, those who do know me as Kurama, I still have a tendency to hide things from them, even unconsciously... Particularly with my feelings, which I'm trying to work on expressing better. Vulnerability isn't something I'm well adjusted to still, at least not with anyone besides Hiei. And when I first met Yusuke and Kuwabara, they were so young- especially in comparison to me- and were being put into such extreme life-threatening situations, that I felt the need to internalize a lot of my own struggles. I didn't want to burden them with more problems, and I wanted to appear well off so they would feel that I'm someone they could always come to about anything. Since I have yet to completely take down those walls, they still aren't aware of the full extent of my issues, particularly with my mental health and sense of identity.

The only person who's seen me express more of those vulnerabilities is Hiei. When we had met, I was desperate for a meaningful connection with someone I could completely be myself around, and Hiei similarly desired such closeness for his whole life (though he was in denial about that for a long time). We could both see our lonliness reflected in the other... It was the only time I've ever been so quick to be open with someone.

But even despite the fact that Hiei's seen all of me- the real me, my deepest feelings and fears- his perception of me still doesn't quite match my own. That's just how it is though, when it comes to loved ones- any of your self loathing doesn't cloud their own views of you. It's easy to be more critical of yourself and your past while accepting any similar flaws and mistakes from your lover. I know I think much higher of Hiei than he does of himself, too. But regardless, it's wonderful to have someone that can truly know and understand me for all that I am. ♡

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Imagine yourself spending the first nine years of your life as a slave, with only your mother to guide you. Imagine being owned by another person, imagine being fatherless, struggling to get by in an unforgiving desert working for scraps. Imagine there’s a chip inplanted in your neck, in your mother’s neck, that will go off and blow you up if you run. Imagine living with that threat hanging over you, just one misstep and you or your mother will be doomed. Even when you find a way out, and are freed, she must remain. So, you vow to free her.

Imagine finally being taken away from that place, from your mother and the only comfort you know. Imagine being placed before a harsh, judgmental religious order and told that despite this one male stranger’s conviction that you are special enough to be a part of their convention, you don’t suffice. They condemn you, tell you you're not good enough, and you believe them. Then this man, whom you have begun to latch onto for lack of paternal idols dies suddenly and brutally. The boy he trained, who you clash more often with than not, is instead vowing to take you in.

Imagine meeting a girl with whom you are immediately besotted, imagine memorizing her beautiful face for years despite not seeing her again for a decade. Imagine you trying too hard to make her feel the same, imagine the guilt as you know you’re not supposed to fall in love. You’re not supposed to have emotional attachments, you’re not supposed to break your code. Imagine the desire to be with this woman of your dreams, imagine yourself knowingly breaking your rules simply to be with her. Imagine the rush of her feeling the same, imagine the fear of the secret coming out as you marry her in a candid ceremony.

Imagine you having visions and nightmares of your mother dying, and being unable to rush to her aid. Imagine pleading with your mentor, the older brother that the man raising you has become, only for him to deny you the opportunity. Imagine the stress, the anxiety, the fear. Imagine yourself, yet again bending the rules to finally rescue her. Imagine the terror when you find out your visions were premonitory, as you learn your mother was captured under torture. Imagine you sneaking into the place where she’s being held captive, only for her to be so weak she dies in your arms. The woman who was your entire world for the first nine years of your life, whom you have not seen for a decade is gone. You promised to free her, and you failed. 

Imagine yourself, blinded by rage and sorrow, seeing red as you slaughter the entire village responsible for her demise. Even the innocents are killed off, even the children.

Imagine yourself in a battle, your adversary intent on killing you. Imagine you being unfocused, furious, and out of your league. Imagine him sneering at you, jeering, mocking you. Imagine yourself aiming for his head, trying so hard to take him down. He’s already wounded your mentor, and you want revenge. Instead, he outmatches you with ease, twirling your weapon out of your hand and dismembersing you. As if it was naught but air, he has cut through and severed your right arm from your body. You are saved, but scarred and a grudge is growing within you. An urge to kill him, to punish him for embarrassing and decimating you.

Imagine yourself being nineteen years old, motherless, married, and thrown into war. Imagine yourself leading an army of men whom you become close to, who you are proud to call your brothers in arms. Imagine being forced to watch them die, imagine having all their lives on your conscience, imagine being expected to behave like a responsible adult. Then imagine being placed in the position of mentoring, and raising, a child of your own. Imagine having a fourteen year old girl dumped into your lap, to teach right and wrong when you’re still just a kid yourself. Imagine you being expected to act as a parental figure, imagine you being expected to be mature enough to make this girl turn out okay. Imagine you have to teach this child to lead squadrons as your war commander, imagine yourself forced to instruct her how to cope and deal with the losses of life when you can barely manage yourself.

Imagine trying so hard not to become attached, imagine sneaking around on your tiptoes not to expose your secret marriage. Imagine feeling like you always have to hide your true self to live up to expectations, and still never feeling like you’re enough. Imagine this older man who has been somewhat distantly watching over you entering your life, imagine him being kind, and understanding, and you begin to depend upon him. You share more with him than anyone else, perhaps even your wife. You view him as a role model, finally a fitting father figure to guide you through life. Imagine him gradually becoming all the more important to you, and your life.

Imagine your mentor, your brother within the convent betraying you. Imagine him feigning death, imagine him lying to your face on behalf of the schemes of your superiors. Imagine you, believing he’s dead, mourning the man who has despite any shortcomings become your best friend, your hero. Imagine you finding out he is not only alive, but he purposely let you believe he was dead because your emotional reaction was necessary to sell the hoax. Imagine realizing he played with your feelings, he used your weakness to his own benefit. Imagine yourself trying to justify it, but unable to dismiss the seeds of doubt that have been sawn.

Imagine the child, this girl you’ve been tasked with mentoring for two full years of war and death, this girl you have accepted as a younger sister, is suddenly suspected of carrying out a terrorist attack. Imagine how the entire religious group you’re a part of point their fingers at her. Imagine them turning against her one by one, even your brother stays silent on the matter. Imagine your despair, your discontent as she is expelled from the convent, from the only family she has ever known. Imagine yourself finally hunting down the actual culprit, only to find it’s somebody your sister considered a close friend. Imagine your rage, as you realize she too has been betrayed by people within the circle that was supposed to be a sanctuary. 

Imagine your relief as you are told your sister is let back into the order, that you salvaged her status and cleared her name, only for her to walk away. Imagine knowing you did everything to prove her innocence, and still she leaves. Imagine yourself, and your already self internalized insecurities as she turns her back on you. Everyone always leaves you, everyone lies to you. Imagine blaming yourself, believing that had you only done better, she would have remained by your side. Imagine her disappearing without a trace, and when you finally do meet up with her again after what seems like an eternity, she shoots you down. She’s distant, and while she is only being professional, you take it as a sign that she has moved on. That you were never as important to her, as she was to you.

Imagine your father figure being kidnapped by the adversary who took your hand whom you have now targeted as an enemy, a nemesis of sorts. Imagine you coming to the rescue, goaded by the enemy as he professes you are worthless, you cannot harm him. Imagine yourself snapping, finding strength in your anger and your hatred towards this smug, snarling menace. To his shock, you best him. You pay him back, cutting off both his hands as retribution as you disarm him. He’s helpless, on his knees, and you know you should spare him. You have been taught to value compassion within the convent, your religion doubles down on it. But your father figure implores you to kill the nemesis. You falter, but your hands move. He repeats the request, and you give in, beheading the enemy. The unarmed, harmless old man whom you were supposed to take into captivity. Still, your father figures reassures you you did good.

Now, imagine those same prophetic visions you used to have of your mother’s death returning, only to target your wife. You already doubt the sister you raised, you already doubt your own mentor and brother. You can’t turn to your convent for help, as you’re still married in secrecy and to admit that would have you expelled. When you ask the religious leader for help in a cryptic manner, he blatantly tells you to let go, to let whomever you’re worried about fade. You learn that your wife is pregnant, and while it is worrisome, you’re also overjoyed. And frightened, seeing as your visions foretell your wife will die in childbirth. 

You’re desperate, and as you share your fears with the only person you feel you can trust - your father figure - he begins to persuade you that the path you’re on is insufficient, if you want to save your wife and child. You begin to doubt the dogma you have been taught, the moral code that has been drilled into you, and you doubt everyone around you, even the wife you wish to save. Again and again, you are let down, as your convent requests you to spy on your father figure because of his politically powerful position. Imagine you knowing it’s against their religion, but you reluctantly agree as it’s your brother asking you to go through with it.

Imagine your father figure slowly but thoroughly beginning to shift your world view, insinuating that he has powers to save your wife. Imagine you buying into these suggestions, and even as you find out that he is a literal demonspawn - a murderer, a psychopath, a sadist, a monster - you hesitate to call him out. Imagine you desperate to do the right thing in sharing what you have learnt with your superiors at the convent, only for the one leader who trusts you the least to yet again ask you to stay behind rather than be helpful. 

You are tormented, desperate and break down in tears as you contemplate whether keeping this dangerous man alive, the man you admired, to save your wife is worth it. You give in, because in the end, you are selfish and your wife means more to you than anything else. Her life is worth a thousand others. Hence, you rush to your father figure’s aid, at first trying to beg for his life, only to hear this supposedly saintly religious leader tell you it’s just to kill your father figure. Your father figure who appears weak, disarmed, on the brink of death. When you the leader moves in to finish the job and execute your father figure, you step in and you parttake in the murder of the superior whom you already disliked.

Disfigured by the struggle with the now dead religious figurehead, your father figure notes that you are full of guilt and regret, as he tells you you did good. He praises your actions, and tells you that as long as you follow his orders, and his dogma, he will help you save your wife. You accept the offer, and you know deep down that you have just taken a path you can never renege on. Your father figure asks you to murder in his name, to be his silent assassin. You are sent to purge the convent you were tutored in, ordered to kill everyone in sight as a religiously targeted genocide - spare no one. You act on autopilot, without autonomy. This is a job, and it’s necessary to save your wife. Nothing else matters, and you follow your orders. You kill everyone, even the children. You tell yourself death is a kinder fate than life within this sect, which you now think this religious order to be.

Imagine yourself reporting in, and being dispatched to kill again. You relent, but when the deed is done your, guilt and regret catches up with you. You realize you have become a murderer, a monster, the blood of the innocent soaking your hands. You realize that while perhaps you can justify the deaths of the problematic political leaders you’ve just slain as unavoidable, the children haunt you. You think of your wife, and your own child, and tell yourself even as you weep that this is for a good cause. Imagine knowing you spoke to your wife just after you murdered those children, assuring her everything will be alright, and now you have to reassure yourself that what you said wasn’t a lie. 

Imagine your wife showing up out of nowhere, so close to the crime scene. Imagine her being shaken, panicking as she reveals your brother told her you have murdered children. Imagine you for some reason not understanding why that’s troubling her, when it was a necessary sacrifice to secure her survival. You admit to everything you have done, that whatever your brother told her, you did it for her. You tell her you refuse to watch her die, you refuse to lose her. Imagine her backing away from you in horror, and above all else, you feel enraged. She tells you she can’t believe you, she can’t stay with you anymore. She can’t accept you as you are. You are furious. You have broken every rule in the book, crossed every line imaginable, and she rejects you? You can’t accept it, and when you realize she has brought your brother with her - knowing he is intent on stopping you, whatever the cost - you refuse to believe her profession that she was unaware of his tagging along.

You see red, and you choke your wife. You choke her, even as she tearfully begs you to stop, as she tells you she loves you. You don’t listen, you can’t hear her words. You don’t trust her. Finally, you come to your senses and let her go. She crumbles to a heap, unconscious and you feel the weight of the blame, the guilt on your shoulders. Instead, you redirect the remorse towards your brother. You accuse him of being the root of all evil, the reason for all the atrocities you have committed. You make him into a figurehead for the sect, the cult you now believe to have brainwashed you. Imagine him telling you that he will kill you, if he needs to. Imagine you lunching at him, both of you fighting viciously. You want to see him dead, you want to punish him for all of your sins.

Imagine you coming to a stalemate, him offering one last warning. You disobey it, ignore it - and pay the price. He cuts off both your legs, and your remaining flesh arm. You shriek at him, and in that moment you loathe him with your entire being. You despise him, even as you use your only remaining limb, your prosthetic arm, to drag yourself towards him. Except you’re lying face down on pyring ashes, a lake of lava nipping at the exposed stumps of your legs. And in a second, you're set ablaze. It’s scorching, searing, agonizing as the flames eat away your clothes. Then your hair. Then your flesh; leaving gaping wounds in its wake as it devours you alive. You writhe, and moan, and try to plead as you reach towards your brother for salvation - for mercy. He just said he loved you, didn’t he? He still walks away, leaving you to burn. Leaving you for dead.

But you don’t die. 

As if by some horrible, cruel twist of fate you live. Your father figure comes for you, he picks you up, he brings you back to a makeshift medical facility to patch you up. You are given no anesthesia, and as robotic aids perform the lifesaving surgery on your ailing body, you feel every single, agonizing rip, tear, cut and probe. They wrench mechanical prosthetics into the stumps of your limbs, into your severed nerve endings. They dress you in a harsh bodysuit that rubs your already sizzled skin raw. Wires and tubes are inserted into your chest, your throat, your stomach. 

Eventually, the pain becomes too much but you remain conscious, remain in limbo. Finally, you receive a helmet to cover your face. It protects your scorched retinas, your charred esophagus with pressurized oxygen. Its lenses are red, and for the rest of your life, you will view the world around you through a crimson hue. You’re no longer breathing on your own. Something else is breathing for you, forcing your singed lungs to inhale and exhale rhythmically. You are strapped down, even as you are brought into a standing position to face your solemn father figure.

Then you remember how you ended up here. Your wife. Your everything, the woman you sold your soul to protect. She’s nowhere to be seen, and you find yourself both alarmed and confused through the haze of your pain. You speak, but the voice is not your own. You ask for her, shocked by the mechanism that now speaks for you and its brash, deep tone. You need to see her, even this hellish torment is worth it as long as you know she’s safe. As long as you know she made it out alive. You ask your father figure, but he reminds you of what you did to her. You hurt her, you choked her. You killed her, he says. 

Just like that. She’s dead. She’s gone. 

Despite everything you’ve done, every life you’ve taken, every crime you committed in her name. You wanted power, you wanted recognition, you wanted more - but not without her by your side. She’s lost. You will never see her again, you will never get to meet your child. You are trapped in a walking iron lung, a prison of your own making. You are scarred, warped, twisted, with countless lives on your conscience which you cannot write off as slights. You murdered your friends, your family, your convent - small children - in her name. When you finally could have had a future with her, you messed it up. You want to blame your brother, the religious order, the sister you raised, even your father figure. 

But you can’t. It’s all on you.

You’re alone. 

You have driven away everyone, you have killed the person who meant the most to you. You have nothing, you deserve nothing. You have poisoned and diminished what little joy you had to cling to. Imagine yourself, broken, battered, barely alive. Imagine yourself, now a murderer, a monster; a selfish, lost little boy who’s only just turned twenty two. Your life is in ruins, your wife is gone by your hand. Your child died with her. Your sister might as well have been executed, your brother left you to burn. You have fulfilled your own prophecy- You were the key to your wife’s demise, not her salvation. You are to blame, you are the reason, you did this. You can blame no one else. Only you.

You are Anakin Skywalker, and you will live with this knowledge for the rest of your life.

[jonsa101]

Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson: The Well-Meaning, Incredibly Self-Centered Leading Men We’ve Grown to Love.

Hey fam! Like I said, I’ve been writing a ton of meta lately and this is another one that’s just been sitting in my drafts. It’s basically a This Is Us and a New Amsterdam meta which is something I haven’t done before but something I want do more of. In my Game of Thrones days I used to write a lot of meta about shows and characters that had similarities so this is fun for me. I hope y’all enjoy this. ALSO THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR BOTH SHOWS!!!!!!!

Without a doubt the two most popular shows on NBC is This is Us and New Amsterdam. And what’s not to love? They’re both emotionally driven, heartfelt, shows that focus on incredibly deep and complex topics. Though one show focuses on family dynamics and the other focuses on the healthcare system, these shows are very similar in more ways than one. Case in point, Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson. The more I watch these two shows, the more I realize how these two characters are so alike!!! These two men are kind-hearted, well intentioned, individuals who genuinely want to make some sort of positive difference. They are incredibly ambitious and always have “bright ideas” and “goals” they want to accomplish and somehow they’re able to meet those goals without ever having to sacrifice their wants and needs. By every definition these men are the “main characters” or the ultimate “protagonists.” These are the folks that we are supposed to root for. At the same time, though these men have many traits to be admired, when you truly look at it both of them can be incredibly self centered and selfish especially when it pertains to their romantic partners and love interests. No matter how appealing you make these characters out to be these men clearly fall under the Behind Every Great Man trope.

The Behind Every Great Man trope has been used countless of times throughout Cinema and TV History that I’m sure that I don’t even have to explain it to you but for the sake of this meta this is how it’s defined.

“Behind Every Great Man...stands an even greater woman! Or in about a hundred variations is a Stock Phrase referring to how people rarely achieve greatness without support structures that go generally unappreciated, and said support structure is a traditionally female role via being the wife, mother, or sometimes another relation. This trope is specifically about a man who is credited with something important, but owes much of his success to the woman in his life.”

This trope usually has a negative connotation (and rightfully so) because the man who often benefits from this is an asshole and unworthy of this type of support!

For example:

Oliva and Fitz

Cristina Yang and Burke

Cookie and Lucious

Ghost and Tasha

There are countless others but these are a few of the couples that come to mind for me. Randall and Max aren’t comparable to any of these men that are listed above but they are still operating under the same trope. It just looks nicer because Max and Randall are inherently good and inspirational. They are the heroes of the story. I would even argue and say that both men fall under the Chronic Hero Syndrome trope which is defined as

“Chronic Hero Syndrome is an "affliction" of cleaner heroes where for them, every wrong within earshot must be righted, and everyone in need must be helped, preferably by Our Hero themself. While certainly admirable, this may have a few negative side-effects on the hero and those around them. Such heroes could wear themselves out in their attempts to help everyone or become distraught and blame themselves for the one time that they're unable to save the day. Spending so much time and effort saving everyone else can also put a strain on the hero's personal or dating life.”

Just because Max and Randall have these incredibly inspiring aspirations, is it fair that their wives and love interests are always expected to rise to the occasion and support them. Is it ok for their partners to continuously sacrifice their wants and needs because they love these men? 

Let’s dive into it. 

Truth be told, Beth Pearson, Helen Sharpe and Georgia Goodwin had to endure a GREAT DEAL to emotionally support the dreams and aspirations of these men while sacrificing so much of themselves in the process. In media we often see women sacrificing so much of their wants and needs out of love for these male leads and rarely do men do the same thing for their romantic partners and love interests. All three of these women clearly fall under the Act of True Love trope defined as

“The Act of True Love proves beyond doubt that you are ready to put your loved one's interests before your own, that you are truly loyal and devoted to them. Usually this involves a sacrifice on your part, at the very least a considerable effort and/or a great risk. The action must be motivated, not by morals or principle or expectation of future reward, but by sheer personal affection.When your beloved is in dire need of your help, or in great danger, and you do something, at great expense to yourself, for the sake of their safety, their welfare, or their happiness, thus proving beyond any doubt that you put their interest ahead of yours.”

Over the past few seasons we have seen all three of these women truly live up to this trope without any true consequences or accountability from the men they’re making all these sacrifices for. For example, in Beth and Randall’s marriage, how many times did Randall spring an idea on Beth without truly talking to her or considering her wants first? Everyone thinks these two are an ideal couple but she has endured A LOT for Randall.

Randall has spontaneously quit his job, moved his dying biological dad into their home, bought his biological dad’s old apartment building, fostered and adopted a child and also ran for city councilman outside of his district. In all of these decisions, Randall “consulted” Beth about it but at the same time didn’t really consult her. In a way there has always been this expectation of Beth to just go along for the ride with what Randall wants. Is anyone else exhausted from reading that list?! That’s a lot for partner to endure and lovingly support. But Beth has endured and has been Randall’s rock through it all!!! What worries me is that the one time Beth spoke out about her wants and needs of pursuing dance again, he couldn’t match the same energy she was giving him and eventually it led to world war three between them. Though things are looking up in their relationship  and he’s starting to support her more, has Randall nearly given to Beth as much as she’s given to him? Absolutely not!

Similar to Randall, Max also had a wife who was a dancer. in fact, she was a prima ballerina. Unlike Randall and Beth, Max relationship with Georgia was rocky from the start. When we were first introduced to them Max and Georgia were separated and rightfully so. Georgia was never Max’s first priority. The hospital always came first in their relationship. He couldn’t even dedicate a full night to her for their proposal. In order to “save” their marriage they decide to have a baby and they both committed to taking a step back in their careers in order to do so. The problem was Max didn’t keep his side of their commitment and took a job to become the medical director at the biggest public hospital in the U.S. She gave up her career to start a family and he totally and completely betrayed her trust. So throughout season one we see them trying to rebuild their marriage but even in the midst of trying to rebuild a marriage based on trust and mutual respect Max still keeps things from Georgia. For several episodes he didn’t tell her that he had advance stages of throat cancer. He only told her when Georgia asked him to move back home. That’s fucked up! Then throughout their pregnancy he was never fully there for Georgia because he was either to preoccupied with the hospital or himself. At the end of it all, Georgia died tragically at the beginning of season two and really had nothing to show for it in her relationship with Max other than her daughter Luna.

Now let’s bring Helen Sharpe into the fold. While all of this stuff was going on with Max and his wife in season one, Max was developing a deep friendship, borderline emotional affair with Helen. Their relationship started out with Helen being his oncologist. As the new Medical Director of New Amsterdam, he swore Helen to secrecy about his diagnosis so that he could still run the hospital. Through that secrecy they eventually formed a deep bond but as his cancer got worse his secret was let out of the bag. He realistically needed someone to step up and run the hospital when he was going through chemo and though Helen already had commitments she stepped up and became his deputy medical director. Somewhere along the lines Max and Helen started developing feelings for each other. As Helen becomes aware of those feelings, she made a choice and decides to remove herself as Max’s doctor. He BITCHES about it but eventually accepts the boundary she’s clearly trying to set. Mind you, as this is unfolding, like Max, Helen is also in a new relationship with her boyfriend Panthaki. As Max’s cancer seems to be getting worse with his new doctor, she goes back on her boundary and decides to be his doctor again. This pisses her boyfriend off because he could already peep the vibe between them and he breaks up with her. When we get into season two, Max’s wife died and Helen set him up in a clinical trail (with a doctor she previously fired) that’s helping his cancer.  Unbeknownst to Max, this doctor ends up holding his life saving treatment plan over Helen’s head and in order for his treatment to continue she gives this doctor half of her department!

Helen has sacrificed a lot for Max and now in season three she’s finally prioritizing her current wants and needs first! Like Randall, Max is starting to turn a page and is starting to support Helen and truly listen to the wants and needs that she has. All of this is good but my question is did any of these women have to sacrifice so much for the men in their lives to get a clue?

Why is it that this is a trope we see in media time and time and time again? Even if these men are good, why don’t we still keep these male characters accountable when they put their significant others in these situations that are clearly not fair? I’ve watched countless tv shows and I’ve seen a lot of tv couples but I think I have only come across one couple where the male counterpart has selflessly loved his significant other and has always put her needs above his own. 

That character my friend is none other than PACEY WITTER

I might be mistaken but I think Joey and Pacey are the most popular ship in tv history and honestly, rightfully so! This is only example I can think of where the male in the relationship so willingly puts the wants and needs of his partner first. It is a completely selfless and sacrificial love. He never wants to hold her back and he never asks her to compromise her wants or needs for him. That’s why I think so many women love Pacey because in a sea of TV relationships, Pacey Witter is a fucking unicorn.

So to wrap this up does this mean that I hate Randall Pearson or Max Goodwin? No! I adore them. I love both of their characters so much. I just think that when we see the media continuously play out the sacrificial wife/love interest for the sake of their male counterparts, it should be called out. I’m all about sacrificial and selfless love but it should come from both sides.❤️❤️❤️

Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this! As always my DMs are opening here or on Twitter @oyindaodewale

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: a grain of millet drifting, ch. 1

Relationship: Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Characters, Nie Huaisang

Additional Tags: Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV Wei WuXian

Summary: Wei Wuxian wanders after parting from Lan Wangji, looking to understand the changes in the world since his death, seeking to understand his place in it. He doesn't realize he's being watched. Frankencanon, so this has a liberal mixture of CQL and MDZS.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

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Wei Wuxian hadn’t lied to Lan Zhan after their brief confrontation with Nie Huaisang in Cloud Recesses, not exactly. 

Knowing why he’d been brought back, whether somehow his old friend had chosen him specifically for his own reasons, or if that had been entirely Mo Xuanyu’s call, wouldn’t change anything.

And part of him didn’t want confirmation of how much Nie Huaisang had meddled with along the way.

So much had been broken, so many people lost, and a part of him wanted to believe the façade that the indolent Nie Huaisang he had known during their days in the Cloud Recesses still existed. 

But once he’d left Lan Zhan and set off on his travels with Little Apple, once he started getting used to being alive again, to having even the tiny wisp of a jindan, barely beyond zhuji, that Mo Xuanyu had gifted him, something he could build on, something other than the gaping hole that had ultimately consumed him, he’d had to face some truths. 

He had no family, no home. He didn’t know if Jiang Cheng would ever want anything to do with him, and he wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. As much as he would always love Lotus Pier, he didn’t know that it had ever really been his home. 

In some ways, his leaving had been inevitable. Despite being head disciple, he’d never been welcome. And the fall of Lotus Pier would forever be his fault, the ghosts of his own doing. He’d never regret protecting Mianmian and Lan Zhan, but he would always regret the massacre that had followed. 

Even if he’d technically been absolved of the death of Jin Zixuan and the bloodbath of Nightless City and shijie’s death, his actions had still led to them. 

Wei Wuxian spent long, sleepless nights under the stars and listening to Little Apple snore outrageously coming to the understanding that he’d left the Burial Mounds with his sanity shredded. The war and continued use of resentful energy without a jindan had only worsened it. He’d raised the dead, the ancestors of their enemy, defiling their bodies to win the war, and he’d earned a dark and deviant reputation in doing so.

After the war, he’d taken to drinking to dull it all, and doing so had destabilized his mind further. He was sensitive about his inability to cultivate, but couldn’t explain why. Surrounded by people who wanted him to do what he could not, he had spiraled. 

Really, by the time he’d saved the Dafan Wen temporarily from their fate and gone back to attempt to live in the Burial Mounds, he’d been hanging by a thread. Wen Qing had bullied him into taking care of himself, for the most part, but he’d spent more days than he could count in the Demon Slaughtering Cave capable of little more than opening his eyes, what little energy he had dedicated to keeping the Seal under control. 

He remembered very little past Jiang Yanli’s death and waking up in the Burial Mounds with the remnants of the Wen who knew death was coming. The seal wanted more, another Nightless City. And he’d known he could absolutely destroy the Jianghu—but that the Seal wanted it gave him enough pause that he knew he needed to destroy it and end it all. 

He’d managed to find a way, but the Siege happened just as he was ready. What little sanity he had left went toward an attempt to hide A-Yuan—maybe the one good thing he had managed. And then, as the aunties and uncles and popo were massacred around him, he could only focus on destroying the seal. 

Dying in the way that he had, ripped to shreds by corpses, had been agonizing, though the benefit of Jiang Cheng stabbing him had meant he’d died faster. He didn’t know if his shidi had meant it to be a kindness, but ultimately it had lessened his suffering before he died. It was likely a better death than anyone else would have given him. 

But Jin Guangyao had been right: even before he’d absconded with the Wen remnants, his actions during the war, his temper and frayed sanity, his rages, his desecration of the dead… All of it had painted a target on him. 

No, he’d painted it on himself with blood. 

Wei Wuxian had come back in a body not tainted by the resentful energy that had burrowed its way into his bones before his death, despite it being his old one free of scars and birth marks, his sanity somehow restored, and was able to see his own self-destruction and how he had made that the only path he could walk through his own trauma-fueled hubris. 

Maybe those years dead had done something to heal whatever damage he had inflicted on his own soul, as well. He remembered nothing of that time, and waking up in a body had been like opening his eyes after a long sleep. He’d known he’d been dead, had known time had passed, though not how much at first. Everything that had occurred leading to his death felt so immediate, particularly shijie’s death and the knowledge he’d left A-Yuan hiding but didn’t know if he’d survived. 

The relief he felt that he had at least saved one person couldn’t be quantified. 

Part of the journey was trying to find where he fit into the world now, but most of it was reflection and coming to terms with the reality that now existed. 

He’d steered away from larger cities, opting to travel smaller roads to villages off the beaten path. Many, it seemed, had problems with restless spirits and the like—the occasional yao, even. He took care of what he could, and drafted letters to Lan Zhan when it was something that required more than he was currently capable of. 

Perhaps that was something he’d learned—to rely on others and not try to fix everything himself. He could probably handle it all, but there were costs of using resentful energy too much, and in this life he didn’t particularly want to pay them. 

So he communicated with the odd hungry ghost, used talismans to take down roaming fierce corpses, and handled the smaller yao that he could handle with the jindan he had, using these night hunts to help develop it further, hoping one day he could retrieve Suibian from Jiang Cheng and be able to wield the blade again—assuming his once-brother would let him have the sword. 

Everything beyond, that would require more spiritual energy than he had or more resentful energy than he was comfortable using, he sent to Lan Zhan so the local cultivation sect could be alerted. He dared not send them a letter himself; people still had strong feelings about the return of the Yiling Patriarch, and it was just as likely he’d be blamed for the problem as anything. 

The rural route he took left him able to travel in anonymity as a rogue cultivator, offering essentially any name but his own. Thanks to the ugly Yiling Patriarch talismans, the common folk didn’t know what he looked like. Most often, he went by Wei Yuandao, reminded of Mianmian’s happiness at seeing him when he did, that there were people in the world who didn’t hate or fear him. The villagers didn’t know him, were grateful for his help, whether in setting a spirit to rest or helping with odd jobs in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep by a hearth. 

Much of the time, though, he slept beneath a blanket of stars. 

One night like that, he heard the sounds of a scuffle and rushed to see what was going on. He expected to need to fight off a bandit, but instead he found a man in Nie colors running through a man dressed head to toe in black, face masked.

As he stood gaping, the Nie disciple bowed to him.

“Wei-gongzi.”

That confirmed a suspicion, and the logic of the situation ran through his mind at the speed of light. The courtesy, the Nie colors, what was clearly a would-be assassin’s body at his feet. Finally, Wei Wuxian sighed. 

“How many assassins?”

The young man smiled.

“Five in as many weeks. You are as smart as Nie-zongzhu said.”

Wei Wuxian snorted at that. 

“Not if I didn’t realize assassins were being sent after me. I’m guessing Nie-xiong knew they’d be hired and sent you to protect me in secret?”

He’d honestly thought he was being left alone by the cultivation world, especially since he wasn’t causing any trouble. How very naïve. 

The man nodded curtly, then bent to rifle through the corpse’s clothing, looking for clues and stripping it of valuables, every bit a Nie. 

“He wanted you to be able to travel without worry.”

Ah, Nie-xiong…

Perhaps Nie Huaisang was used to working from the shadows and had an agenda, or perhaps he truly just wanted Wei Wuxian to be undisturbed. Whatever his reasons for the secrecy, with this that ship had sailed. 

But Wei Wuxian had no idea why Nie Huaisang would bother, not after he threatened him at the Cloud Recesses. Implied threat, but still—he’d expected that would burn a bridge. Not… this. 

“I suppose I’m overdue for a visit to the Unclean Realm,” he said after thinking it over. “You may as well travel with me openly, unless Nie-xiong would prefer you watch over me in secret?”

Despite the protection he’d sent, Wei Wuxian didn’t know if he wanted the Nie clan officially associated with the Yiling Patriarch.

“Sect Leader was not specific about this eventuality. Traveling together openly may deter assassins, though it is easier to catch them off guard if they believe you unprotected.”

Ah, so Nie Huaisang didn’t care. Wei Wuxian waved off the concern. Now that he knew the threat, it was easily dealt with. 

“I can set talisman traps around the campsite. Probably should have done that to begin with.”

But he’d been trying to have faith in the cultivation world, he didn’t say. Once again, misplaced faith and he should’ve known better. 

“At least that way you can get real sleep as we travel to meet with Nie-zongzhu.”

They were a week of travel from the Unclean Realm, and he supposed he’d get answers to questions he hadn’t known he had then. 

He headed back to his campsite, happy to see his Nie protector was following, and set a gourd of water near the fire to heat and pulled out some tea. 

“In the meantime, we can talk about these assassins, eh? We’ll bury the body in the morning.”

It’d been over a decade since he’d last dug a grave, and it wasn’t to bury a body, but he was sure he could manage with the Nie’s help.

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Zhuji is the foundation building stage of cultivation, the stage before forming the jindan/golden core. Basically, Wei Wuxian is saying Mo Xuanyu was barely into the stage of forming a golden core, so it’s barely a wisp, but is still something that has the foundations built for him.

This fic was… unexpected. I wanted to write something for Nie Huaisang’s birthday, kind of a reconciliation between him and Wei Wuxian, and this happened. It will likely be no more than three chapters.

The title is a reference to a translation of a Su Shi poem, “First Ode on the Red Cliffs,” which was written after his first exile (he was exiled twice, both times for his poetry), while he wandered. There are several translations floating around, but I liked the wording of this one.

[cousinwingding97]

Silver Memories

Chapter Four: New Plan

Warning: Description of violence.

Realized this did not upload in the format I was hoping for at first. 😭 Sorry about that assault on your eyes. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Mando stayed with you throughout your entire episode, gently caressing your scars absentmindedly while whispering in another language to you. Your shaking body finally calmed enough for you to breathe normally. The tears dried and you had enough strength to pat Mando’s arm to get him to notice you were ready for him to leave while you freshened up.

He did so immediately, without making you feel like he was trying to peek at anything. Despite his actions and his words about the memory, you were shaken to the core. He still could’ve been lying, but your mind was at war. The feeling of security would not leave; yet, the violence in his voice in your memory sent chills down your spine. He may have done something and now you were temporary allies. Or maybe you were allies because of your lack of memories. You had no idea. Boba had said not to trust anyone without your memories and despite your dislike of the man, you were inclined to agree with him.

You stepped into the shower and let the scalding water burn your skin. The pain helped you focus on the now. I am in a shower and safe. The water feels good to my bones and I am safe. That’s all that matters in this moment.

The steam fogged the fresher, but your mind was clearer now. You would be flying by the seat of your pants from now on. That’s all you could do. One day at a time.

You found no clean clothes, so you grabbed the towel to dry off as best you could and threw on the white ones from Pollis Massa and the cloak. At least your body was a little warmer now.

———————————————————————

You stood in the hold of the ship, waiting for something to click in your mind to tell you what to do now that you were by yourself. You assumed Mando and Boba were up top in the cockpit flying you back to Pollis Massa; truthfully, you did not want to go up there and talk to either of them at the moment, but the thought of being alone with your thoughts was not an attractive option considering how your mind was finally feeling clearer to you. So, up the ladder you went to see if you could at least find some form of human interaction with them.

You should’ve known better. These men were deathly quiet. They didn’t even look at you as you entered the cockpit. You knew they heard you, yet they did not acknowledge your presence. You didn’t bother talking to them, not knowing how they would take it. You wanted to ask questions though. These men knew the past you. They knew and had deemed it necessary not to tell you anything. You fidgeted with nerves, the questions rolling through your mind one after the other. You opened your mouth multiple times to ask something, but promptly shut it not knowing how much information you would get.

“What is it you want to ask?” Mando inquired. He must have sensed the endless questions in your mind. Unknown to you, he had heard your start of questions multiple times with your mouth opening and promptly shutting with a clack of your teeth through the the enhanced hearing of his helmet.

You tried to think of the question you wanted answered the most. There were so many.

“Who am I?” You blurted out finally.

“You’re going to have to narrow that down, little one. He can’t answer your whole backstory without giving you another panic attack. Your head has to sort it out. Too much information and it won’t be able to handle it,” Boba interjected before Mando could say a word.

You stared daggers into the back of his head. Sure, he may have experience with memory loss according to Mando, but did he have any true idea? The humiliation of relying on others when you should be able to piece together everything yourself was beyond irritating.

As if sensing your anger, Boba turned his seat to face you, “You may not like my input, girl, but it is for your own benefit. You think your fit down there was bad? If Mando tells you the wrong thing or too much it could shut your brain down permanently from the trauma. Your brain is trying to heal on its own. Give it time and we’ll see if those at Pollis Massa can help. If not, then it’s up to you and your brain. So, be angry all you want. It won’t help you one way or another.”

“Easy for you to say when you have all your memories and a purpose,” you snarled back.

“You aren’t listening. Mando can’t give them to you. You’ve got to learn and heal. Until then, try to refrain from asking.”

Mando turned towards you now, “Runi, it’s for the best. Boba Fett’s right. I can’t answer everything. It truly is for the best. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You said you can’t answer everything, but can you answer some things?” You couldn’t help the spark of hope that lit your face and ran through your body with a warming glow.

Mando looked to Boba with the silent question and Boba just shrugged in response, “We’ll see. If you want to ask, go for it. I won’t answer you if it seems like a bad idea.”

You nodded your head excitedly since you would take anything at this point. Boba’s advice of not trusting anyone until you got your memories back still echoed in your mind, so you figured clarity would be best to discover if you could trust these two or not.

“Who are you?”

The Mandalorian froze with unnatural stillness. Boba snorted with amusement, but they were silent.

“Oh come on! You can at least start from the beginning. I don’t know you, so pretend it’s the first time meeting me.”

He thought it over and decided to play along, “I’m a Mandalorian.”

You groan in frustration and drop your hands onto your hips to further show you annoyance, “You do realize that means nothing to me and I don’t know what that is, right?”

Mando clears his throat in discomfort, “Sorry, usually people know us by reputation.” He shifts in his seat and fully faces you, “I live by a Creed. The Creed of Mandalorians is a serious one. We live in secret, train from a young age, and defend our people. We are a warrior clan. Our Creed never allows us to reveal our faces in order to maintain the secrecy of our identities to keep us safe. We used to live on Mandalore, a planet in the Outer Rim before it was destroyed by the Empire, so we have adapted. Learned to be bounty hunters, protectors, mercenaries. Whatever it took to survive.”

You have a lot of questions. So many more to add on to what you already have in your head. You blurt out the first one, “So you’ve never taken your helmet off? Is that why both of you keep wearing them all the time?”

“Easy there, princess. I’m not a Mandalorian like him,” Boba interjects, “I’m just a simple man making his way through the universe. Following my father’s footsteps and his ways. He was a Mandalorian and I wear this to honor him.”

“So, why don’t you take your helmet off? Is it against your rules?”

Boba doesn’t hesitate and reaches his fingers under the helmet. It comes off with a hiss and he turns to face you. His face is scarred. He has no hair, he is more tan than you would’ve expected for someone wearing armor all the time, but his face seems set to a permanent scowl. He looks scarier without the helmet. Not because of the scars but because of the eyes. His eyes look dead, emotionless. You can’t stare at them for long. You choose to look anywhere on his face, but his eyes.

“I wear it because people are intimidated by what they can’t read. What they don’t know, they fear. It has nothing to do with a creed. Just plain business tactics.”

These men were truly strange. You had no idea why they needed to be anymore intimidating than they already were. They look like they could break your bones with fairly little effort. They also sounded like they were in a cult, which was definitely disturbing to you.

“Then why can’t you take your helmet off, Mando? Besides secrecy. If you never take it off then don’t you just become just a Mandalorian and never the man underneath? Like how is it a secret if you just become it?”

He cocks his head to the side in thought. He’s silent for awhile trying to come up with an answer when he finally comes up with a simple answer, “This is the way. Spouses of Mandalorians can reveal their faces, but no one else needs to see it.”

You aren’t convinced. This just sounds like an excuse, “So your spouse has seen your face?”

He coughs and sputters out, “Uh no, I’m not... I’m not married.”

“So what if you die without anyone seeing your face? You’ll be unknown? What if someone takes it off forcibly? Are you still a Mandalorian?”

Boba Fett just sighs, “Look, you asking more questions about the Mandalorian isn’t going to help you. I’m tired of hearing your questions. You aren’t getting anything but more questions. I don’t see this getting anywhere except on my nerves. You should just rest.” With that he puts his helmet on and turns away from you.

You want to be angry, but you can’t help but feel like he’s right. The introduction left you more puzzled than you already were about these men. Now there was a whole culture involved on top of the backstories for both them and you. It was a lot to process and your body was weak from your earlier episode. You were cold too still in the wraparound cloak and thin clothes. The thought of relaxing under warm blankets on a soft bed was tantalizingly tempting to your weary body. You left the cockpit without argument in search of comfort in warmth. It did sound like Mando and Boba started speaking to each other quietly behind you as you left, but you didn’t bother trying to pick out any words.

Before you could even explore, there were footsteps behind you. Mando followed you from the cockpit. His cape was in his hands instead of on his back, you noticed. He was wringing it in his hands nervously. He reached you and held it out, offering it to you, “You’re probably freezing.”

As if in response, your body shivered as you brushed his gloved hands to take it. “I am actually. I was thinking of trying to find somewhere to sleep actually. I haven’t properly rested on a real bed for awhile. Well, besides the hospital.” You take his cloak and wrap it around you, easing the chill that you hadn’t realized has set in your bones. Thankfully, the cloak was soft and smelled good. Pine, maybe? It smelled like the silver armor of Mando’s and woods. It was relaxing to your mind. Faintly familiar.

“I’m afraid Boba Fett doesn’t believe in comfort. Even if it is for himself.” He vaguely gestures to the ship and you look around seeing just how sterile everything is. Not a single thing that would reveal anything about the person that owned it. Just metal and cold. Much like the man flying it. “He has a very uncomfortable cot he hardly uses and only lets guests use it if they aren’t bounties. I figured the cloak might help a little too besides...” he waves his hand over your figure, “your thin hospital clothes.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find anything else besides this cloak on Utapau. I appreciate the extra warmth, thank you, Mando.” He nods once in acknowledgement and silence falls on you two. It’s uncomfortable. This man, who is supposed to be a fearsome warrior, bounty hunter is nervous and fidgety around you and it makes you nervous. You try to break the silence with literally anything.

“What’s your full name? Not just the Mando part.”

“Huh?” His attention is now laser focused on you in disbelief, “My name? People call me Mando, but it’s not my name.”

“Oh. I thought since you were Mandalorian, you had a last name to differentiate between all of you. Sorry.”

“No, no you’re fine. I mean, you’re re-learning practically everything. Unfortunately, my name is a secret as well as my face.”

“So, what did I know about you? Anything? You said we were allies, maybe even friends, but it sounds like I know about the same information now as I did then.” The continuous lack of answers is infuriating. Why even bother talking to them if they aren’t going to tell me anything?

Mando matches your frustration with his own, “Why did you leave Pollis Massa if you’re so desperate for information? You were safe there!”

“I thought you guys were the bad guys! All I saw was everyone shooting other people, hanging out with bounty hunters and apparently upsetting the new form of government! I thought about staying, but all I saw was all of you at each other’s throats! What was I supposed to think? All everyone had told me made it sound like Mandalorians are the scariest bunch you don’t want to mess with, so excuse me for being wary!”

“We helped you escape from your cell! You were literally locked up when we found you! And hurt! Does that sound like the hands you want to be in?”

“For all I know, they were trying to help me! You guys didn’t exactly look like the nice rescuing type! All of you looked like emotionless droids armed to the teeth just waiting to kill everything in your path! That doesn’t inspire confidence and from what I saw, you all desperately want to fight all the time!”

Mando doesn’t respond. Without him even saying anything, you know that you messed up somewhere. Just not really sure where or how, but you could swear you feel his anger in your own soul. It overpowers your anger and makes you feel worse for pushing him to this.

He steps closer to you, crowding your space. The armor may be cold, but the heat radiating off of him is scorching you. You take steps back, but there’s only the hull of the ship behind you with its cold biting into your back and now cold armor biting into your front. You can’t look at the black visor staring into the depths of your soul. You don’t know why, your only guess is his reaction, but you feel guilt about something you said. This whole argument feels pointless now.

“Is that all we are? Emotionless because of our helmets? You think we are just murder bots coming to kill and destroy whatever we find? You acted like you knew better when I asked if you remembered me, but if that’s what you truly think, then I won’t hurt your head trying to get you to remember otherwise.” His voice is level the entire time, never shouting, but so cold. When he walks away, you catch your breath you had been holding and somehow, his lack of presence makes his icy words that much worse. You don’t have memories to go to in order to block out the noise of what just happened, so his words are so loud in your head. Berating, cutting, throbbing in your mind.

With tear filled eyes, you eventually find the sleeping quarters and shut the door behind you. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said Boba had lack of comforts. The cot was thin and firm. Like sleeping on a wooden plank. Not that you felt like sleeping.

The argument keeps playing through your head. It’s extremely unfair of him to be mad at me when I don’t even know if I’m insulting someone. I shouldn’t have been so angry, but he could cut me some slack.

You quietly cry in the confines of Boba’s room with Mando’s cloak wrapped tightly around you.

———————————————————————

Sleep was elusive. The anger, pain and sorrow still battered your soul. The ceiling became the most interesting thing to your eyes. You had counted every bolt, seen every shadow and the shapes they made. The grey tones of the ship started blending together with the tears in your eyes to make a stormy scene above you. A part of you could still feel the residual anger from Mando deep in your heart and focusing on that emotion kept you from falling too deep into a depressive state, and the sleep that your body desired.

You couldn’t understand how you could literally feel what he had felt in that moment. Nor the way you could feel the sense of safety that had drudged up from locked memories. It crowded out your own emotions. Your anger had been small compared to the insult he had felt. You were just mad at the lack of answers that they were giving you without even seeming to care that you were drowning in a body that didn’t feel like your own.

The ship lurched slightly with the suddenness of exiting hyperspace. You could feel the thrumming of the engines whine down. Since you had nothing better to do, you sat up and exited the room. Perhaps Pollis Massa will unlock my memories and I can move on with my life.

Slave I landed with a thud and the hatch opened leading to one of the landing platforms you had seen last time you were here. Boba and Mando descended from the ladder and you waited for them to lead the way. Mando took the lead, but Boba stayed on by the exit. You stopped and looked at him wondering why he wasn’t following.

Mando turned when he didn’t hear your footsteps following. When he saw you staring at Boba, he walked back up, “Boba isn’t coming with us. Let’s go,” he reached to grab your hand, but you turned back to Boba Fett, effectively keeping your hand out of his reach.

“Why aren’t you coming with us?”

He leveled his gaze at you, “I have business on Tatooine. A new business deal. I’ve already lost more time than I would like on this adventure. Now go on, you need to get going. You’ll be in my way otherwise.”

This time you felt a hand grab your arm leading you off the ship, a filtered voice sounded right by your ear, “I appreciate the help. Good luck with your venture.” The Mandalorian helmets nodded to each other and both turned away without another word.

You finally wrestled free from Mando’s grip and turned to follow him, “I thought you guys were friends. How are you going to get anywhere without a ship?”

“That’s a thought for a different time,” he answered bluntly. You got the feeling he was still pissed from earlier, so you let the questions die.

———————————————————————

Mando led you to the med bay in silence. The floating droids had led you to the same room you had been in when you woke up. Mando stood to the side of the room, facing towards the entrance as if guarding you. You vaguely remember him saying that he would guard you to that girl Cara. You didn’t know why you would need guarding if this was a safe place, but you figured he wouldn’t answer any questions you had right now even if the silence was heavy as if both of you had storms brewing in your heads, waiting for the other person to speak before lashing out.

You fiddle with the sheets on the bed you had been instructed to sit on while they prepared for all the tests they were going to run. They hadn’t said what that would involve, nor if it would be painless or just scans. Nervousness kept you jumping at any sound you heard from outside the room.

You broke the silence between you and Mando just to hear something besides your racing heart, “Do you think it will hurt?”

He turned his head to you, but not his whole body, “I don’t know,” he turned back to looking out to the hallway.

This is a man sized child. “Not like you would care anyway, I guess,” you whispered to yourself.

Against all odds, he turned to face you fully with a quickness that made your heart sink to your stomach as if he had actually heard your words.

“What?”

Before another argument could break out, the hallway door slid open and one of the floating droids came inside. Mando clenched his fists, but relaxed a little as the droid came over to your side of the bed.

“Hello, Miss. I’ve been assigned to examine your head. You’ve been dealing with memory loss, correct?”

The droid had a tiny mouth that moved with each word. It was smaller. About half your size. The voice was soft, soothing. It calmed your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. I can’t remember anything about my past. My name, family, friends, anything. I heard my mind may have been wiped.”

The droid hummed in response, “Typically, that practice is reserved for droids receiving new owners or prisoners during war. The practice has been outlawed by the New Republic. It could be that, but let’s check your head. It could be injured and a simple injection of bacta directly to your brain may fix the problem.”

“Will any of it hurt?”

“Oh no, Miss. All tests and procedures are painless. Just relax while I do a preliminary scan and we will go from there, alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. A hatch by the chest of the droid opened revealing a blue light that started at your face, momentarily blinding you, slowing scanning down to the bottom of your neck all the way back up your head.

“I have my initial scans. I will be back shortly while my colleagues and I gather more information and read over the data. Please, try to relax.” With that, the droid floated away and left you alone again with Mando who was now staring at you.

You wanted to ignore him since his earlier reaction to the argument, which hadn’t eased up the tension from earlier nor his shortness with you.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” You still didn’t look at him as you said it afraid he would see you as weak or just be too angry.

“I was just upset that you guys won’t tell me anything. I get it’s for my own good, but you just keep telling me to trust you; yet so far I’ve been locked up, hurt, shot at, flown to unknown places, hunted, shot into the air, and apparently whipped. You keep telling me that I know you and trusted you at one point. I want to believe you. It’s just feels like you keep hiding the most important things from me. You also got mad at me for something I didn’t even realize was super insulting to you because I don’t know why it would be. I’m sorry for the emotionless comment. I know you feel emotions, obviously. Please, just try to be patient with me. We are starting from scratch, ya know?”

He doesn’t respond and you finally turn your head to try to get a read on him. He’s now right in front of you, which should be impossible since you didn’t hear him with all that armor on. His hands are on the rails of the bed and he’s leaning over you. It should make your heart stop right there staring up at a silver and black helmet that could kill you with a headbutt. Or die by heart palpitations since it’s starting to pound.

He leans further down and gently places his helmet against your forehead. Instinctively, you close your eyes against it. The metal is cool and refreshing.

The absence of sight makes his voice sound less robotic. You can hear the gruff voice underneath the coder.

“I apologize too. You didn’t deserve it, Runi. I’ll try to be more patient. You must understand though, I am used to a different you. Seeing your face, but not the same mind is a new adjustment. I’ll be more patient too, but please extend that same patience with me.”

“I forgive you. You’re right. I didn’t think about how it is for you, but I’m at a disadvantage. You know way more than I do at the moment. Like what does that word mean? The runi?”

His head snaps up from yours in surprise. He fumbles for something to say and acts embarrassed, “It means...”

The hallway door slides open again and the droid floats back into the room. Mando jumps backs away from you before the droid even fully enters the room.

The droid comes to your side again and starts poking you with a needle, drawing blood and more scans. More droids pop into the room with a monitor.

The first one speaks quietly to the others in another language for a bit before finally turning back to you.

“There is good news. Your brain is fully healed. You have no existing physical problems; however, the memory loss is not something we can heal. It is not something physical that can be solved with any of our equipment or techniques.”

“What? You can’t do anything to help?” Mando sounds more upset than you feel at the moment. You hadn’t expected much. You hadn’t had a chance to really think about what would happen if you gained your memories back. Now that you wouldn’t, the sense of hope that had been in your heart, shattered completely. You just assumed you would be yourself again and the old you would be back. There wouldn’t be any reason to be upset or confused anymore. Was there nothing to do now? Were you stuck like this forever now? Learning through painful memories?

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold in the tears as best you could. You felt wet warmth slide down your face regardless. You couldn’t see properly.

“Unfortunately, no. There’s nothing we can do. It does not mean it’s a hopeless cause, however. I am only saying that there’s nothing we can offer you.”

“So, what can you offer us?” Mando grounded out.

“The best we can give you is advice. You need to heal her mind. Taking her to places that mean the most to her might trigger her memories.”

“I was told that would hurt her mind.”

“As long as you don’t push her, it should be fine. Start with important places and take it slow. If that doesn’t work, or if it’s too much of a risk, there are those that claim strong connection to the minds of others. You may try them.”

Mando sighed in frustration, “That’s the best you’ve got? I don’t even have a ship.”

It’s hopeless.

“You can try on of the captains on the landing platforms. They may be willing to give you passage or even sell. This planet is a refugee center now as well. Someone may sell you a ship.”

Mando nodded and the droids left the room. He looked back to you. He crossed the room back to you; once in front of you, he gently grabs your chin to tilt it up to face him.

“I swear, I will fix this. Just stay here and I’ll head down to see what I can find.”

Mando turns to leave, but you shoot out your hand to grab his arm, “Please let me go too. I don’t want to stay here alone with my thoughts.”

He looks back at you and you can tell he’s considering. You’re almost afraid he’ll say no before he finally answers, “Alright. Let’s go.” He reaches for your hand that’s on his arm and puts it in his gloved one, gently pulling you from the bed.

———————————————————————

After hours of talking to pilots, crew, literally anyone Mando and you could find to speak to about passage or buying a ship, both of you found one lonely older, green Twi’lek male unloading everything from an equally older looking ship. The ship had rust along both of its wings that came together in a “V” shape with the cockpit in the middle. It did have weapons and hyperdrive capabilities, much to Mando’s approval. The inside had plenty of room for you and Mando plus any cargo space for supplies. There was a larger refresher than Boba Fett’s. The sleeping nook was larger and more comfortable than Boba’s as well. Overall, the inside was clean and to your liking. Mando just seemed happy about the weapons and hyperdrive with little regard to the rest.

The Twi’lek negotiated with Mando about the price. Mando talked him down for repairs and tuneups that were needed and the Twi’lek accepted. He was anxious to be rid of it in order to retire on Pollis Massa. So, Mando handed over the credits and you both boarded the new ship, The Vanguard.

Neither of you had much in the way of supplies. You literally had the clothes on your back and Mando somehow had more weapons than you could’ve guessed he could hide on his body. The sinking realization that you would have to stop for supplies before you could focus on your memories took hold in your mind. You were tired of stops and delays.

“So, what’s the next step?” You asked Mando from inside the cockpit. He was fiddling with the controls and starting to warm up the engines.

Without turning from what he was doing to respond, “My best idea is to see someone about possible repairs and supplies first. After that, I’m not really sure.”

“But what about-“

“Look, I know you’re anxious for your memories to be returned, but without actual healing, I’m at a loss, okay? If I take you to places that are important to your past, I could ruin your chances and I’m not putting you in that position!”

“Mando, I need my memories. Maybe if we start with my home planet that would be a decent spot to slowly start the process.”

“You never told me where you were from.” He admits quietly.

Again the frustration with your past self rises up, “Why didn’t you ask??”

“I didn’t need to know.”

You groaned out a muffled scream. If you could punch your past self and Mando, you absolutely would.

“So, what do you want to do?”

He’s quiet and turns fully to you. “I do have a friend. She can connect with others on a mental level. Weird magical power stuff. She might be able to help you. We may even find supplies there.”

A friend? He has friends, that are girls? I didn’t think him capable.

You weren’t sure why, but your heart felt like it was corroding with an acidic build up. The thought of the girl made you feel uneasy. You hadn’t even met her, so why did you care? She was a friend and she could help you. You should be grateful.

“Have I met her?”

“Yes.” Of course that would be the only response from him. You rolled your eyes at his lack of explanation.

He caught that look and elaborated, “You liked her. She’s nice.”

It wasn’t much more, but at least you knew she wasn’t mean. It still didn’t shake the feeling that you were anxious about meeting her.

“Where is she?”

“Last I saw, Corvus. Hopefully, she’s still there.” He turns back to the controls and the ship roars to life, “Now sit down. We’re taking off.” You do as your told and watch as the ship leaves the slow, peacefulness of Pollis Massa and fires off into hyperspace.

———————————————————————

Everything within the oxygen filled environment is on fire. Bodies and parts are strewn across the floor. The air smells like blood and burning flesh. Anyone that is still alive, crawling on the floor are wishing they were dead compared to their pain.

There’s one such being in front. A black boot lands on his head, effectively halting his crawl. Leaning down, a man’s voice echoes loudly in the now silent rest area.

“Have you seen a girl around here lately?” A gloved hand fills the vision showing a picture that looks like you to the dying man.

“No, n-no.”

“Pity.” Fear, bone-chilling, unadulterated fear fills your whole body. The voice sounds like Death itself. A red flash and a simple swipe from the gloved hands, decapitates the head from the body and boots move on.

“Lord Laz!” A humanoid black droid comes into focus. “I was able to recover some footage from one of the med bay droids. It shows her with a Mandalorian.”

“Really?” The voice purrs. “Did you find out where she went?”

“Partially. Sounds like they bought a ship and left here not too many cycles ago.”

The asteroid shakes as something explodes nearby. The gloved hands reach up and fire emits from them, burning the surrounding area.

The voice fills the emptiness again, this time with fury, “Find what you can about what ship and then we are destroying this place.” The view changes to show the once beautiful Pollis Massa now turned to ruins.

“Yes, milord.”

The sudden wailing and screams of terror fills the vision. The dreaded voice is gone, but fear and pain are left behind.

——

“Hey, wake up!” You spring out of your seat. A cold sweat chills you further along with the cold of space. Your breaths are labored. You can’t remember where you are until a silver helmet fills your view.

“Relax. It was a just nightmare.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No, I think it was worse than that.”

[nicollekidman]

dude ...I used to hope Taylor swift was bi / a fellow lesbian out of optimism lol, because i admire her work and when seen through the lens of a closeted woman all the secrecy metaphors make a lot of sense.... it would be so fascinating and heartbreaking if it were true! but I’m getting too old for conspiracies . I dunno. What keeps you believing?

okay so! i’m gonna preface this with a few things: it’s gonna be long bc i haven’t talked about taylor in a long time and i’m having Feelings and Thoughts, and my journey with miss swift is necessarily very personal and i won’t pretend otherwise! 

firstly: i don’t think i need to “keep” being convinced. for me it’s not an ongoing search for evidence - i believe that her songs speak for themselves and all the personal clues that might or might not be reaches are just icing on the cake. 

i grew up in a country music-listening household and loved tim mcgraw when it came out as a single when i was in middle school! i was pretty much hooked on her songwriting for then on, and her albums always seemed to come out at pivotal points of my life. “we are never ever getting back together” was the soundtrack to my move to university in 2012 and 1989 coincided with my junior year which was revelatory in that it was the time when i was really coming to terms with being gay. my journey with taylor dovetails super closely with my own personal journey, in ways that i think are familiar to a lot of people. as a young girl i latched onto her storytelling and her confessional voice and then as i began to realize i was experiencing attraction to women, i found a lot of comfort and understanding in her lyrics. this happened for me really late in life compared to some people! i was 21/22 when i first identified as bi, and it wasn’t until later i began to think it was possible i was a lesbian. my experience with unlearning compulsory heterosexuality, examining my own emotional interior life, and thinking about why it took me over 20 years to even consider i could possibly love women made me look at taylor in a new light. 

i think everything i need is in her music. that’s where taylor is at her most uninhibited and truthful. i think when you look at the themes/relationships she’s been writing about since she was a teen, you can see that as long as you’re willing to suspend the presupposition that everyone is straight until proven otherwise, she writes in a way that resonates with gay women for a reason!! as a younger artist she relied on a lot of fairy tale imagery, perspective shifts, and idealized stories of love. especially when she talks about those songs.... (and she still does this), she’s always connecting them to movies, to books, to things outside of her own experience. and when she is clearly talking about herself, she takes second-person pov or otherwise spins narratives that are full of yearning and a hope for a perfect fairytale in the future. i think that mode of almost.... daydreaming about an idealized version of a love story hits close to home for us! and then her later albums are MUCH louder, with themes (as people have pointed out over and over again) that just don’t hold much weight if you view them through the lense of a very famous wealthy woman writing about equally well-to-do white men. when i hear songs about forbidden love, itching to hold the hand of your beloved in public, crying over seeing heroes die alone, spinning a portrait of a life in the future where she can share her home and her love with all her friends.... when she writes so acutely of pain and agony associated with living in a fishbowl and enduring long periods of being undercover and secretive with only stolen moments of peace/beauty.... EVERYTHING i need to believe she’s not straight is in her songwriting, which i view through the personal lense of being a gay woman myself. 

everything else... the masterposts and the powerpoints and the “clues”... those are helpful in terms of opening your eyes to the concept of PR relationships and recognizing that just because you’re fed something by a celebrity doesn’t mean it’s real, but it’s not the base of my feelings about taylor. i will say though, i originally was convinced that taylor was a lesbian because of swiftgron, what we know about the two of them publicly without any reaching was enough for me to recontexualize lyrics i thought i knew the story behind, and to start thinking about her whole body of work differently. i will say also that i was never one to follow along with taylor’s personal life until this point, i had a passing awarness of the men she was supposed to have dated but i didn’t give it much thought. however, i saw swiftgron stuff right as i was recognizing i was gay myself, so it opened my eyes and almost... gave me permission to understand that het is not the default!! then of course i’ve been active since 1989 and watced kaylor unfold in real time. it is still my belief that during the glass closeting era, they were obvious because the kaylor rumors benefited both of them and laid the groundwork for a coming out that was derailed by kissgate. everything afterwards..... well... 

i am not a fan of thinking of this as a “conspiracy” i think that that idea is perpetuated by homophobes that think that everyone is straight and assuming otherwise is somehow an insult or a gross invasion of privacy. i think the vast majority of people who think taylor is gay are doing what all swifties do, which is analyze her music with a layer of projection and personal identification. however i do think that taylor encouraged the speculation for a while, and fully intended to leverage existing kaylor fans into a solid base when she came out (which i do think was planned post-yntcd but was shelved). i think there is PLENTY to look at in her public image and personal posts/behavior that would lead to a person who is willing to look at things objectively to come to the conclusion that she wasn’t straight. she has absolute control over her image and there were too many public outings and “coincidences” to be an accident. 

HOWEVER i think that people who run blogs or talk about her gayness based on obscure clues and overanalyzing every micro-movement are missing the point and often too dedicated to their own placement as “Big Blogs” or receivers of “intel”, in a way that is mostly embarassing and myopic. i have always always been of the general opinion that we will never know every detail of taylor’s relationships, nor are we entitled to that information. she is a breathing, thinking, complicated woman with a HUGE public life and an equally huge private life that belongs to her alone. 

building a public platform based on smoke signals and secret messages and inside sources has never been something i’m at all interested in, and is largely unnecessary. her story is all right there in the lyrics of her songs, and the things she shares with us publicly. i do think there have been hints/clues in the past and they’re very fun to analyze (which she encouraged!!), but much of the digging/reaching is unnecessary! we will never know for sure until she comes out herself, but i believe that her whole body of work and her messaging speaks for itself. the only thing keeping people from more widely accepting this is truly the assumption that being heterosexual is a default, and you have to Prove otherwise with a preponderance of evidence. i readily admit all of this is influenced by my experiences and emotions as a gay woman, but everyone projects onto taylor swift. 

i’m fully convinced based on her music + her past public relationships with women like dianna and karlie + her intentional hints that she is a lesbian. however i am not interested in inventing “evidence” because she’s not on trial! and i’m happy to wait for her to come out, which i absolutely think was planned for lover era and then abandoned for various reasons!! 

[holicanth]

Hanging On Threads (2)

@shinoweek​ 2021 Prompt 3 - Sunset/Canon Divergence

Words: 3.7k

Genre: Angst. Drama. Shinohina. Tragedy

Warnings: -

Additional Tags: Shinohina, Kibahina, Naruhina, family issues, Konoha’s noble clans, nepotisme and collusion.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry y’all. I’ve been extra busy :( Here’s chapter 2 (?) of my Shino week series. I hope you have a great day :)

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

It has been 3 days since Shino disappeared from the Aburame compound.

It has also been 3 days since the Konoha elders re-welcomed the Aburames and reintegrated them into society.

Ever since, Shino has been staying at ROOT, hiding undercover while waiting for Danzo's orders.

And with that, Shino is handed the dreadful task of explaining every little detail to Torune.

 "I just can't understand your logic, Shino." He says, clenching his fists on the table. "You should know better than to just run away from home like that!" 

"What do you think you'll achieve with this?" Torune grits his teeth, "You cant escape this--there's no way Danzo will let you out anymore!"

 Guilt that has previously bubbled inside him was now gone. Shino felt close to nothing as he stays cooped in ROOT. No fear. No anxiety. He was obviously feeling full of himself, believing to have won his side of the bargain. As such, none of Torune's words were ringing bells inside his head. 

Shino tries to keep his facade well-put.

"How is Uncle Shibi taking the news?"

"I've sent some beetles to Father. I can tell he's doing well even without me. Nothing else will change in the household." 

"Not until," Shino's words come to a startled halt. "Until I finish my promise to Danzo."

His brother bangs the table in a display of panic that Shino has never seen. " You don't know what he'll do to you. Shino, you don't know anything..."

His words cut off abruptly. In a split second, Shino senses a tremble in Torune. A slight quiver of his lips. 

 Torune used to live with them, and had expressed massive gratefulness towards his uncle. Shino didn't realize at that time (he was but merely eight), that more than anything, Torune's sacrifice was addressed more towards Shibi. The boy would do anything to protect his uncle—you can see it in the way he devotes himself to his work.

A kindred sort of regret rose in Shino. To think that  he had so easily thrown away the ideal life that Torune had bestowed upon him—and voluntarily at that. 

But both of them know that there is no safer alternative. 

(It's an inevitable fate, they console themselves. It is a necessary sacrifice.)

 "I had to do it for our clan." Shino repeats the fact to his brother. "We were to be killed soon enough. And it would have been Father first."

Shino's eyes flit nervously as he spoke. 

"And who do you think would pull the trigger, Shino?"

Torune didn't ask why. Like he knew all of the details already. 

Shino glanced around the room, thinking. He already knows the answer. Rather, he's trying to figure out how to word it in a manner that doesn't...offend Torune.

 (Shino could list all the names of the ANBU members that have been in contact with particular individuals. Journalists, Governors, Clan heads, people of high posistions. Their agenda was blatant. Shino knows because their names have been whispered in contemplation throughout the Aburame compound.)

"The jonins," Shino says, in a hushed voice. "The jonins will work together with the ANBU. The Sarutobi clan will be extremely involved too."

There is a pattern Shino notices in Konoha's history. It's that the types of people who reign over the village are identical and identifiable amongst each other. A teacher to their student, A blood relative to their predecessor. Lesser clans would do anything to grab ahold of that social circle. 

Replacing an unliked noble clan would be one of such tasks.

 Torune listens keenly, in a hum that neither denies or confirms it. 

 "Not only that," He resumes, "There seems to be equal participation from other clans. Such as the Nara. You know they've been looking to steal our research on bugs."

"They're especially interested in yours, Torune."

He doesn't oblige. Torune was aware of this well before he came to ROOT, too. Fear and suspense were not things Torune had to be worried about. But today, he finds that he had to face it--the abject horror of seeing his little brother in a hostage situation. The pure fear of knowing how hopeless he is engulfs him. Was there nothing that Torune can do?

 (A shinobi must constantly opress their emotions, follow a strict set of rules that they decide among themselves, and avoid extraneous conflict.

This was the first lesson Danzo had stamped inside Torune's memories. 

To disconnect oneself from the act of murder—it was the essence of a shinobi.

Or so Torune thought.)

 "I was to be sent as well, Shino." Torune looks down as he breaks the ice. "They want us gone because of our power. Of our potential. They'll take our knowledge and use it to their own benefit. All the research, medicine, poisons and bugs."

 (The Aburames are notorious for being mysterious. All done in order to conceal oneself, to prevent oneself from having their secret techniques outed in public. Ensuring, that they stay formidable, underestimated,

 and strong.)

 "You heard Danzo say it. They think we're weird. Unsanitary. Off-putting. That our secrecy is a form of betrayal, even when we've been constantly obedient to Konoha."

"And will you die as well?" Shino asks cautiously, "After you've killed all of us, will they dispose of you too, Torune?"

A sorrow smile lit up Torune's face. There was, again, no answer. Shino knows—No, he had plenty of ideas already. Torune’s predisposition was already a valid enough reason for Konoha to justify his death. Killed or not, there are many ways to make a man break. Danzo would have his merry time trying out which one of those methods satisfy him best.

What Konoha was capable of bringing unto the Uchiha was just as likely to happen to the Aburames.

(This exchange ended on a heavy note. Nothing Shino says will add or subtract from the issue at hand. Just a hanging air of dread, looming over their clan's future. Both of them did what they had to preserve their clans. To protect those important to them.

 But this sense of kinship—to protect those that they love. Is it not what Konoha preaches to their young, too?

Or was it the reason that Konoha wants to tear apart the Aburame family ties?)

A knock on the wooden door brings an end to the brothers' conversation. The Yamanaka boy comes in, head held high. 

"Lord Danzo has requested for you, Shino Aburame. Come along, now." 

Shino leaves Torune in the room. Torune knows best that he should not interfere lest he wants to live a day beneath the soil.

 It can be said that ROOT was an illegal form of bodyguards, acting as Danzo's personal squadron. A blatant display of political corruption, despite Danzo’s "fancy" position as Konoha's elder. The facility was well maintained, and there was never a shortage of child soldiers sent there. The clan leaders know Danzo as a demanding figure. 

 The Yamanaka boy—Fuu  Yamanaka stops to knock at a set of tall doors. Shino stops to ponder whether he was related directly to Ino Yamanaka.

An oddly lit room opens up by Shino, displaying machines, scrolls, and different books that are perfectly arranged inside the giant walls of bookshelves. Danzo stood in the center, on a throne chair that he does not deserve.

"You may leave now, Fuu." He spoke in a low tone. 

 Something in Shino buzzes as he watch the Yamanaka eye him begrudgingly while he closes the door. The buzzing didn't stop after he went out.

(His bugs were reacting to something. A feeling that Shino doesn't want to name)

 "You. You're the son of Shibi Aburame, aren't you?" Danzo sneers, "So the Aburames have a dojutsu now, huh? What a nuisance. What, is your dojutsu like the Uchiha's? Prompted by deep emotional pain?"

 (Shino feels the buzzing again. His bugs were on guard, but for what?)

 "Does Shibi have this ability, too?"

"No." Shino spouts a half-lie. 

"And how did you get your hands on this? Are you saying that it just appeared out of nowhere?"

Danzo was gauging for answers. Shino was never good at communication himself, but he was naturally gifted in speaking conspicuously

"It was always in the Aburame blood. Just forgotten through time. Nothing new."

"And you vermins have been hiding this to yourselves, haven't you? Yet you wonder why Konoha has no trust in you."

"The other clans have aces up their sleeves, too. It's why they call it a Hidden Jutsu."

Shino didn't mean to sound snark. But Danzo himself might not have the mental intelligence to understand sarcasm, so Shino thinks it's okay. 

"So this dojutsu of yours—The Senrigan—tell me how this is more useful than the Byakugan."

 Shino bit his tongue before answering. Once more, he'll have to cherry-pick his words exceptionally well. 

"I transfer my sight to my bugs. Depending on how many bugs there are and how they're aligned, my sight can reach other countries."

"The Senrigan requires one to be perfectly still, but the bugs can collect all sounds, sights, and other details without having their chakra traced. Hiding my chakra under the bug's natural chakra will make them unnoticed by sensors"

 Danzo squints his eye, thinking. "Quite the useful spying tool, huh." 

"Still, we need to make sure you're telling the truth. Take off your glasses."

Shino was taken aback from the sudden request, 

 "Now."

 He does as he's told. The sunglasses are safely kept in his pockets. Shino's eyes were dark under the sunlight, and an even deeper shade of obsidian indoors.

"Let's have you demonstrate your Senrigan, shall we? I've sent Fuu to loiter around Konoha's busy streets. Locate him using the senrigan, and tell me every word he's speaking."

And without further ado, Shino created some hand seals, took a deep breath, and a swarm of kikaichu flew out of his body, travelling through the doors and crevices of the ROOT headquarters before dispersing overground. The emerald hue of Shino's eyes looked stunning in the dark. 

 Even from a distance, Danzo can sense an intricate, huge web of chakra dispersing from the boy's body, Undulating, stretching outwards, and going back and forth between Shino's body and his bugs. Then, as if on command, the chakra fell silent and Shino lets out a long exhale. He's successfully established the connection. 

 As Shino stills his senses to callibrate himself to the beetles, he orders them to trace any signs of the familiar Yamanaka chakra signature. He steadily reduces his chakra input. When a preferable balance is reached, Shino waits in silence. Until a bug notifies him of any significant clues

 (Go to the streets. He instructs them. Hover around in small swarms and don't terrify the people. 

A short pause. Don't bump into anyone that I know, He commands again.)

 Danzo watches as the Aburame in front of hin froze into a lotus pose. The stare in his eyes blank, but definitely buzzing with intel and chakra. There is much to be studied with this new forbidden jutsu.

 Shino is notified of a sighting near Konoha's marketplace. He checks in with the bug, and once their visions link he can tell that the person had the same chakra signature. 

"I've located him." Shino said. "He's using a mask and brown cloak, performing jutsus to the local children."

 "And what is he saying?" 

 Shino tries to concentrate as hard as he can. The hand seals that Fuu was using was something he didn't recognize. Apparently memorizing while the Senrigan is activated proved to be more dizzying than he thought.

"Tori, Uma, Ne, Inu, Ne, Tori, Hitsuji, Tatsu, I, Ushi..." Shino recites slowly, making sure that he isn't wrong. "This is a variant of the Water-style technique. He's forming water spouts from his fingers."

 That's absolutely correct, Fuu signals to Danzo, who had been telepathically communicating with him all this time.

"Well done, Shino. You've proven to us that you and your clan can be of use."

And with that Shino scrunches his eyes shut. A little bit disoriented from having to memorize while using the Senrigan. His beetles swiftly fly back to him, bringing him a small amount of chakra they absorbed from the villagers.

 "I've done my part in reintegrating the Aburames. Give me a month and things will be back to normal. Are you ready to fulfill your side of the promise?" Danzo asked, as he stood up from his chair.

Shino gulps nervously. He didn't really plan out what to do next. But Shino was a master at lying, and with a countenance that no one can read, he was indecipherable.

 "Why did you want us gone in the first place?" Shino asks, not realizing that he had voiced the thoughts out loud.

Danzo Shimura was a man who took the Second Hokage's manifesto to heart. Perhaps a bit too much. Shino had suspected, backed with the evidence and observation of his clansmen, that Danzo was pulling strings that led to the Uchiha massacre. It was easy to connect the dots, especially with Shibi and Shino's ability (they were tasked to clean it up. Shibi was fast in doing so, while Shino tended to the unconscious Sasuke.)

From the very formation of Konoha, the Aburame clan was in charge of the most tedious work. Often times having to deal with the brunt of it while Konoha lives scott-free. Border patrols, cleaning up after crimes, interrogation. The Aburames are efficient, but this efficiency ultimately lead to their public consternation.

"You Aburames are skilled, I must admit." Danzo's croaked voice echoed through the chamber. "So much so that any village would want to use you as weapons."

"And that's all there is to it, really. You bunch are too strong. Too skilled. There's too many unknown factors. The higher-ups have agreed to eliminate these threats. After all, Konoha prides itself in being a friendly nation. Your blood brings filth to our soil."

 Shino knows that there is a lie slipped between those words. Danzo was not a friendly type of leader.

 "The Four Noble Clans of Konoha are in need of a change. The Uchihas have proven to be evil. It is in Konoha's best interest to discard the bad, and salvage whatever is left. Haven't you noticed? The only reason we keep the Akimichi is because they're dumb enough to be controlled by the Nara and Yamanaka. And the Hyuuga's reputation are held at our mercy. You're smart enough to figure the rest." Danzo says, walking to approach Shino.

What?

Did he hear his words right? The Akimichi clan? All along, Shino had thought that the lucky title of a 'Noble Clan' are given to clans who had body modifications that cannot be replicated by other ninjas. To think that his fellow team had such a scheme hanging around their backs...Shino wants to believe that Team 10's friendship is genuine.

"Tomorrow," Danzo says, patting the chuunin's back, "You will be promoted as Jonin and will be registered as a member of the ANBU. Of course, that's a lie. Because tomorrow I will personally have you run... special errands for me."

Shino gulped. He didn't like the close proximity.

"Make sure you say your goodbyes today. You'll be listed as dead for security reasons."

 And with that, Shino is let out of the facility. He finds himself pondering aimlessly on a nearby park bench. Autumn has turned the Konohagakure into a beautiful display of warm colors. The trees looked like they've been covered in a rich, velvet cloak and the air was sublime. Shino wonders how long it'll be till he can bask in this scenery again.

 First, he'd visit his father. Then, he'd visit his other family members. After that he'll visit...no one. How could Shino bear to look at his friend's faces after resolving so adamantly to despise them? After convincing himself that they've forgotten him. 

(And Shino still hopes. He hopes that somehow someone will notice eventually.)

But he supposes he'll finish his priorities first. Evade a civil war, restore his clan's honor, and the rest will be his secondary concerns. It is dire that he doesn't get emotional, especially in the current state Konoha is in.

 He looks at the children, playing games under a nearby tree. They were too young for the academy, of course, but if they were old enough to attend, would they all turn out like him? Cold and efficient? 

Shino thinks that he used to be a perfectly good student. A good ninja, but perhaps not so good as a friend. One can see plenty of differences between Shino and the rambunctious Naruto, but do they realize how much he envies his cheerful personality?

(And Shino envies him so much. He's taken the attention of the girl he favors. And now, he has taken everyone's attention away from Shino's disappearance.

 Naruto had outshined Shino. As if Shino was a shadow that should not exist.)

He's had enough of the pointless thoughts. It was almost noon and Shino has to hurry home if he wants to say proper goodbyes.

 But a shrill bark had frozen him to his seat.

 "Akamaru, calm down!" A familiar voice shouted.

 Shino jolted at the sound. It was coming from behind him. He senses two people walking by, and a dog beside them. Shino was already certain of who they were. 

 "Akamaru, what's wrong boy? You shouldn't be barking at strangers." The man—Kiba himself said, as he crouched to rub Akamaru's head.

"Maybe he sees someone, Kiba-kun? I don't think anyone's back home from missions..." Hinata replied, looking around the park.

 Oh heavens. If there was anyone who Shino would avoid the most, it'd be these two—Hinata  and Kiba. He doesn't want to face them. He doesn't even want to be near them. Alas, everytime Shino denies this thought his heart urges him more and more. To simply turn to them. To tell them everything.

(But who was it really who had decided to forget about him in the first place? No one had bothered to ask where he went after the Chuunin exams.)

 Akamaru's barking turned into a soft whine. The canine was visibly confused.

Shino has yet to move from his spot at the bench.

 "Come on now. No one is here. You've mistaken him for someone else, buddy." Kiba says, sounding a little harsh for someone who claims to be Akamaru's partner.

 (Shino wanted to burst out laughing. Doubting a ninja dog's nose? Especially one who has worked with Shino for years? Kiba was a bad liar.

See, even Akamaru notices! Shino thinks to himself, proud to have concluded that the fault was theirs all along.)

 Akamaru still whines when Kiba motions him away from Shino's bench. 

"Why are you being so difficult today?!" Kiba grunts, frustrated. "Come on Akamaru, you don't want to upset Hinata on our date!"

 Oh.

 Oh.

 So it’s like that, huh.

 "K-Kiba-kun! Please don't shout in public..." Hinata whimpers, fiddling her thumbs together.

And with a little nudge, Akamaru finally moves on with them. The couple enjoying the beauty of Konoha's Autumn, oblivious to everything behind it.

 It took minutes. Hours, even for Shino to compose himself enough to process the ordeal.  

 And those hours were filled with empty pondering. With words that were on the tip of falling out of his mouth. With feelings that he had not been brave enough to admit before. With the eternal, everlasting regret of not speaking up.

But there was nothing he could do.

A shinobi must constantly suppress their emotions, follow a strict set of rules that they decide among themselves, and avoid extraneous conflict

 This is for the best. he repeats to himself. Hinata would be better off without him, he thinks.

(But he could have made her happy too. He would've given everything for her.)

 A stroll to wash off these thoughts. Yes, Shino thinks that all he needed was to cool his head, shrug it off, and return to his obligations tomorrow. The warm glow of sunset was eager to mask his unease.

The sunset was particularly shy that day, and had swiftly sank to allow the moon to greet him instead. It's already past six o,clock. He knows that he needs to greet his family, but Shino's distraught conscience told him to look at the sky. The moon was still as luminous as usual.

 Shino had always known how beautiful the moon is. How beautiful its pearly shimmer is. 

(How gentle her eyes were, radiating such a serene, pure love)

 And like an opened dam, suddenly Shino feels his chest aching. Like a hole had opened inside him--one that he can't touch nor see. A hole that, no matter how hard Shino tries, would always engulf him in rain. In a downpour that feels like a thousand needles showering on him.

It feels like such a distant memory. Months ago they were still fine. Hinata was still his comrade. And now, she's floating further away from his grasp.  Was there no more space for Shino in her heart?

 (But Shino was a fool to believe—

 A firefly can't love the moon.

 Its language can't be heard,

Its wings can't reach the sky,

Its light can't compare to the sea of stars.

 It can only do what a firefly does best.

 Illuminate the night in its own glow. 

A token of a love that falls on deaf ears.)

 By the time Shino reaches the Aburame compound, his tears were already dry. Shibi waits for him near the estate gates, and without speaking a word, held his son in a deep embrace. A fitting greeting for a child who's always been forced to grow up before his time.

Shino was going to stay the night in the estate. Saying goodbyes and packing things up. Of course, no further information would be given—everyone was in a state of wary due to the constant supervision.

He had to console them the best he can. Explain the situation. Share his insights. Assure them that this is his job as the Aburame heir. And for that, he would do everything in his capacity to make sure his loved ones don't perish.

 A night is never enough to tell stories. By tomorrow morning, Shibi would have said goodbye to two sons.

[razieltwelve]

Stabilise (Final Rose x Game of Thrones)

When Averia had been reborn as Lyara, she had immediately done her best to grasp her new situation. The North was vast, but the more she learned about it, the more her concerns grew. Despite its size, the North seemed to have little in the way of natural resources, and it had to import much of its food simply to survive. The former seemed to be at least partially due to how little her new world understood the ideas behind prospecting and geology whilst the latter was likely due to the relative primitiveness of the farming techniques available and the reliance on manual labour.

She had already dealt somewhat with the lack of mineral wealth in the North. Her theories regarding possible locations for mines had been proven mostly correct although her strike rate left much to be desired. However, without better maps and survey data, there was only so much she could do. She was fortunate too in that her father, Eddard Stark was a good ruler and father who actually listened to his children and subordinates, provided they could justify themselves. He wouldn’t have sent men to check for mines on a mere whim, but he had done so after reading her proposal and examining her reasoning for flaws.

With the North’s wealth set to improve, Averia turned her sights back to one of her more long-term projects: improving crop yields and increasing the area under plough. The two best methods for improving crop yields were to introduce better crop rotation and to identify or breed crops better suited to the harsh North. Given how devastating a mistake could be, she knew her father would never agree to any large-scale changes without ample data.

And that was were Maester Luwin came in. The man was highly intelligent, incredibly loyal, and quite open minded. He had listened carefully as she explained her ideas, and he had agreed that they would need proof before her father agreed to anything. With his help and with her father’s aid, she had been given several formerly unploughed areas to work with. If something went wrong, then it would be no great loss, but if she was successful, the whole North would reap the benefits.

Most importantly, she would be able to accumulate years of data with which to convince her father. The new fields would also give her a chance to test better farming equipment. She might not be Diana when it came to inventing things, but she was brilliant in her own right, and she had lived an entire life in Arendelle, a place whose wintry climate was a match for the North’s.

X     X     X

Maester Luwin looked over the numbers once again. The proof was incontrovertible. The crop rotation methods that Lyara had proposed had greatly increased the yield in the fields she had been given. Her theory regarding the ‘draining of soil’ by certain crops and its replenishment by others seemed to be correct. 

With retrospect, it seemed obvious. The soil provided nourishment for plants. Just as food contained different things that people needed to live, so too did the soil contain different things for plants. Likewise, just as different animals required different feed, so too might different plants draw different things from the soil to survive. Plant the same crop in one place too often, and it was no surprise that it would drain that area of nourishment, leading to failure. But if the crops were moved such that each subsequent crop demanded different things of the soil, then the soil would never be exhausted and in fact might be replenished over time.

Simple but brilliant and insightful - like so many of Lyara’s other ideas.

With this latest season of proof, he was confident that they could now approach Lord Stark and suggest a change in farming practices. Of course, Lord Stark would not likely force the changes upon his vassals. He was not the sort of lord to do that. Instead, he would try it in his own lands first. Should it prove fruitful - and Luwin was certain it would - then his vassals would undoubtedly follow suit. In the harsh North, only a fool would ignore the chance to grow more food.

Yet it was Lyara’s development of mechanical devices to aid in farming that were likely to be adopt most quickly. The North - and Westeros - had used the same plough or something quite similar for countless years. Yet she had designed a better one that could be pulled far more easily using far less livestock. Likewise the seed drill she had invented was a marvel, vastly speeding up how quickly seeds could be planted while reducing how many were lost to vermin. She even had plans on a horse or ox-drawn reaping device and other more advanced devices too.

Of course, finding someone to build these things was not easy. To that end, she and Luwin had sought out the most skilled smiths in the North, and they had moved steadily from mere designs and ideas to real implementations that had proven their worth in the fields she had been given to test her ideas on.

“It is time,” Lyara said. She had been reading through the numbers as well. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Luwin nodded solemnly. “I think so, my lady. Let us speak to your father.”

X     X     X

Ned Stark listened carefully as Luwin and Lyara explained what they had been doing and what their findings had been. Their words were accompanied by carefully kept records regarding crop yields and other information. Although Ned was no maester, he was still the Lord Paramount of the North. He was well educated in many things related to farming due to how important food was to the North. Every year, they spent much of their money to import food from the more fertile south, and every year, they struggled to equal the harvests of previous years only to find themselves coming up short.

For the first time, the reasons for their struggles were laid bare in words as simple as they were powerful. Likewise, an answer to their struggles was also presented. For a long time, he said nothing. Instead, he stared at the numbers on the page and at the designs on the parchment.

Finally, he spoke. “Who else knows of this?”

“Only Luwin and I know the full details,” Lyara said. “And the smiths involved in making the devices have all be sworn to secrecy. They are loyal men, father. They will say nothing until you give the order.”

“I see.” He smiled. “You have done well. This... I thought you finding those mines was a miracle beyond miracles, but it seems you’ve outdone yourself yet again. With these new techniques and devices...” He took a deep breath. “The money we could save on importing food alone...”

“I know, father.” Lyara’s gaze was calm as if she hadn’t just upended his world yet again. “As the words of our House say, Winter is coming, and I intend for us to be as prepared as possible.”

“Aye, you have the right of it.” Ned stood. “I fear I have neglected this project of yours.” He grinned and shook his head. “In truth, I wasn’t sure if you could create another miracle. I should stop underestimating you, daughter of mine. I wish to see these devices in person.”

The trip to the fields did not take long, and as Ned watched the strange devices his daughter had created get to work, he felt a pang of emotion that he couldn’t quite place. It was part awe, certainly, but there was also wistfulness too. How often he had heard his father mourn the lack of food in the North. Good men and women forced to all but starve when winter came. Had he seen these things, he would have wept at the possibilities. 

“Keep all of this secret,” Ned said once they had finished their demonstration. “We must be careful with this information.” He knew of many in the south who would seek to sabotage them to keep the North reliant on their food. Robert, of course, would send him whatever aid he could, but Ned did not trust the Reach or the West any further than he could throw their rulers. “If we are to build these devices, then we must build them ourselves, using only solid, reliable people of the North.”

“Yes, father.”

“Luwin?”

“My loyalty is to you, Lord Stark,” the maester said. “I will write nothing to my order until you give me leave to do so.”

“Good.” Ned considered the fields thoughtfully. They were bustling with produce. “Still, it may not be easy to convince others to follow your new methods, daughter. We will try them on our lands first. When others see our success, then we will share with them our knowledge.”

“Will you ask a price for it?” Lyara asked.

Ned paused, deep in thought. It would be easy. Men in the North would kill for the knowledge and devices his daughter had developed. Yet, he was Lord of the North. His actions must always be for the good of the North. “Not exactly,” he said eventually. “We will share the knowledge of crops freely with loyal folk from the North, provided they swear not to share it with anyone else. As for the devices, we will keep secret how to make them, but we will sell them at a reasonable price to those from the North who wish to purchase them.”

“A wise decision, my lord,” Luwin praised.

“Aye.” Ned could see it now. He could hoard this knowledge and the devices all for himself and his family, but what then? The other lords would grow bitter and resentful. They would grow to hate him for withholding what they needed to aid their people. By sharing willingly, he won their gratitude, and there was still plenty of profit to be made by selling the devices. Moreover, if people did not have to spend so much importing food from the south, then that was more money they could spend on things from the North. “Make this your top priority,” he ordered Luwin. “And, my daughter, I’m afraid I must ask you to focus on this for the time being.”

“Of course.”

Ned’s lips twitched. “I know that expression on your face, daughter. What else are you thinking about?”

“Roads, father,” Lyara said. “And how to build better ones, ones suited for the North, ones that will work all year round and last long after we are but dust.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Lyara (Averia) has identified weaknesses in the North, and she’s set about fixing them. With more money soon to be coming in from the mines, food is her next objective. Roads are after that since they’re expensive. But her intention is to have the North as self-sufficient as possible, to turn it from a net importer to a net exporter of goods and services. She’s also looking to expand trade, which may well bring her representatives into contact with merchants and sailors from Braavos...

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