#i already remember and know what my sources are/contain my memory is so good with that shit

[badolmen]

Help girl they want me to annotate bibliographies and make outlines.

[lgbtlunaverse]

A slightly unhinged case for jin guangyao knowing about the core transfer while WWX was still alive

Ok. SO. In chapter 101, during guangyin temple, Jin Guangyao clearly knows about the golden core transfer. He uses it to bring Jiang Cheng off-kilter and stab him and simultaneously reveals to wwx that jc himself now knows about the golden core transfer.

I've always wondered exactly when he figured it out. The most obvious explanation is that he pieced it together after hearing about Jiang Cheng asking everyone to unsheathe suibian (also? jgy? how the fuck do you know that? You were already going to/at Guanyin temple at this point! Did you just have people listen in on rumours from Yunmeng and report back to you for that?? Did you tell your spy network where you were going? My whole kingdom for a retelling of this arc from the pov of these random jin disciples seeing their sect leader start spiralling. He's diggin up random tombs? Fleeing the country? And threatening the heir's life?? What was random Jin cultivator #6 thinking of this before Nie Mingjue turned him into minced meat?)

BUT.

The first time I read that line I was like "oh so he's known for a WHILE." I mean, the line "I've always found it peculiar [that wwx never took his sword anywhere]" does indicate he's been thinking about this for a while, but it doesn't have to mean he knew back then. So I absolutely can't say with certainty that my instinct was right. But I DO have some decent canon backing for how he might have potentially figured things out as early as before Wei Wuxian's death. Specifically, after the discussion scene that takens place when wei wuxian does his thing with the wens and dissapears.

Cause, see, Wen Chao would definitely have bragged about Wen Zhuliu crushing Jiang Cheng's core to his father. He killed the current sect leader, and then permanently disabled the only heir. He did it! the Jiang are gone! I bet he was very loud about it until, a few weeks later, Jiang Cheng suddenly strolls up to the battlefield, with Zidian on his finger, cultivation very much intact, looking for Wei Wuxian.

That must've been fucking baffling if you were Wen Chao and/or Wen Zhuliu and/or any other cultivator who was there and definitely saw Jiang Cheng's core get crushed. They must have assumed something went wrong, or he faked having his core destroyed, but we've never heard of something like that happening before, and they tortured him for hours! It wasn't a quick batle where Wen Zhuliu must have missed in haste, he would've noticed!

Now, by the time Meng yao arrives, wen zhuliu and wen chao are both long dead, but that kind of thing would at least still be a source of gossip among the other Wen. The only time the core melting hand ever failed!

It might be something that, say... a very careful spy with a perfect memory looking for information... might pick up on in his stay with the Wen, no?

So, Meng Yao has heard the rumour that sect leader Jiang got his core crushed but somehow managed to... still have a core.

Independantly of his, Wei Wuxian is being really weird and refusing to carry his sword. His primary concern there is wwx stirring shit up, he has no reason to believe these things are connected yet.

But then Wei Wuxian runs off with a bunch of Wen, and before he is cut off, Jiang Cheng tells everyone that after the siege on lotus pier, he and wei wuxian were helped by Wen Qing and Wen Ning! Jiang Cheng doesn't get to say how, which is good for jgy in this moment because he's trying to steer the conversation as such that no one gets mad at the Jin sect for all the war crimes, but even if his goal is for everyone else to forget Jiang Cheng said that, he'd remember it.

So... after the moment where jiang cheng, according to rumours that were contained to the wen, lost his core, he was helped by wen ning and wen qing, who is a really good doctor. And, in canon, had written theoretical proposals on core transfers before, just never experimented on them. Were these available for others among the Wen to read? Did jgy read them? We have no way of knowing. But if he did, he remembers them. Either way, he knows her reputation.

And Wei Wuxian disappeared right round that same moment, only to resurface with his demonic cultivation, at which point he never touched his sword again. Not even in the middle of a dangerous war. Not even when he was public enemy number one and it would do wonders for his reputation if he was seen cultivating the traditional path. When doing so would have made not just him but the 50 people he was shielding safer! if Jin guangyao was somehow in his position, he'd immediately do everything he could to counteract the narrative of beign a dangerous madman who'd left the straight path. Wei Wuxian has been in absolutely desperate situations and still refuses to pick up his sword...

The saying doesn't exist yet, but i'm sure someone like jgy, more competent than everyone around him, is intimately familair with at least the sentiment of "never ascribe to malice what is adequately explained by incompetence" He is helping spread the narrative of Wei Wuxian as a violent madman, sure, but does he believe it? If it makes no sense for wei wuxian, no longer a privileged young master but an outcast, to not pick up his sword again out of arrogancy, the most reliable explanation is that he... can't.

So Jiang Cheng, who got his core melted, got help from Wen Qing, an incredible doctor, after which he coud cultivate just fine but Wei Wuxian, no matter how desperate, never used traditional cultivation ever again...

Hm. interesting!

It's likely no one else in the jianghu outside of the wen even knew Jiang Cheng lost his core to begin with. And Jin Guangyao was never given wwx's excuse of Baoshan Sanren owing him a favor like Jiang Cheng was. He has all the puzzle pieces in front of him and... if anyone as gonna put them together, it'd be him.

And that's my unhinged case for why I believe Jin Guangyao knew Wei Wuxian didn't have a golden core anymore years before anyone else did. He just never told anyone, because why would he?

I think this adds a whole other level to his speech to Jiang Cheng about how everything could've worked out if he'd just trusted Wei Wuxian more and stood by his side. He saw it all play out in real time knowing there was more going on beneath the surface!

Now the really interesting question becomes: When did he figure out Jiang Cheng himself wasn't in on it? Did he piece it together immediately from remembering seeing jiang cheng berate wwx for not carrying a sword, a thing he should've known he couldn't do? Or was it not until later, maybe the fake yunmeng bros fallout, or the REAL fallout when Jiang Yanli died? Or was it still the news of Jiang Cheng going around and asking everyone to unsheathe subian that made him realize that oh my god this stupid bitch had no idea the whole time.

[chairteeth]

"The Many Masks of Touka Satomi"

So I actually wanted to refine this certified word vomit of mine before I put it anywhere buuuut I figured this would be a good time to let it out of its containment zone. This is essentially me overthinking the crap out of everything ever and coming out of it with this interpretation of Touka in particular. Informal essay under the cut! It will have extra tangents! And I blend a bit of what we were shown in the anime into my interpretation, but this is game canon.

Whenever Touka is discussed, the words "child", "immature", "selfish", and "arrogant" are the ones most often thrown around. There is usually not much more discussion after that. Well, I'm not here to say it's wrong, it's correct for the most part, I'm just here to draw attention to the fact that there's so much more to her than meets the eye. So, hear me out, if you would.

Touka's levels of vulnerability in the Magius era. That's already interesting by virtue of it being the Magius era. That's a really interesting era. Ui was what brought Touka and Nemu together and Ui was the cornerstone of their relationship for a while, so losing that RETROACTIVELY kinda makes you wonder exactly what their memories of the hospital era became. How exactly the two of them met, became friends, came to share a room, etc. Because the quotes are from their Magius selves and so we know they very much remember being roommates for a long time and still consider each other reliable and trustworthy (also the entirety of Nemu's swimsuit costume story which spawns many questions when you stop to think about it but I will touch on that some other time). We know that in reality, the hospital trio began to share a room after Touka, in her infinite princess behavior, asked her dad to put all three of them in the same room because it was annoying to walk between the rooms so often (source: TouNemu Christmas alt quotes). Interesting choice on her part back then considering she seemingly wanted Nemu out of the way, but I will touch on that another time because the hospital era has its own analysis.

Okay then, let's talk about Touka's role as a Magius. A leader. One who shoulders the burdens of the many. She willingly exposed herself to the weight of a whole people's sorrow, pain, grief, anger. And then she chose to lead them. To avenge them. It may not have started that way but it sure as heck got there at some point (thank you anime for helping out with this point). Now, I want to stop here for a moment and remind everyone that during Arc 1, Touka was 11 to 12 years old (as per the JP script, she is 12 by the end of it). Not only that, but if you pay attention, you'll notice the stress of Nemu's declining health is killing her. Nemu is quite literally the only person Magius Touka shows genuine concern for. This one person she cares about more than anyone else, slowly dying for the plan. For the cause. And as the sort of "main leader", Touka can't back down. She just can't. It would be not only a betrayal to "her people", but also to the one closest to her, the one who has arguably sacrificed the most for their salvation. So then, with someone as full of herself as Touka, someone seemingly so arrogant... What about her own health and wellbeing? What about her own sense of self? Because I have a feeling she doesn't really have one.

The way she always emphasizes the genius aspect of herself and even uses it as an excuse and brings it up so often feels like that's all she sees herself as. Nemu gives, yes. Nemu has similar issues. But hers are much, much more obvious. Less concealed. Touka gives without measure, without the slightest care for herself. She's selfish and at the same time one of the most selfless characters. There's also the interpretation that, at their very core, Touka and Nemu both just wanted to live. But I feel like that was only at the beginning. If that was all there was to it, the plan would not have continued with Nemu's life at risk, Touka would not put herself in the line of fire. Essentially, Touka has taken on way, way too much responsibility, as well as crafting several masks. Don't forget, just like every other magical girl, she led a double life the entire time, and she financed a lot of the cult's operations. Though I don't have any doubt many of the richer members contributed to the budget with their ridiculous allowances that they do not use.

Touka had to hide from everyone. She couldn't show her true self to anyone. Not her father who loves her so deeply, not anyone else in her civilian life, not her subordinates, Alina is not the most warm and welcoming to be around... so her only option is Nemu. That's comfortable. That's familiar. But. Then there are the many, many feelings she has about Nemu. It's, complicated you see. Touka feels many ways about Nemu. For starters, if their memory of Ui is gone, it means all of the warmth and kindness Ui had must've taken another form, which explains the difference in their bond, how they seem so much... closer, as Magius. Either way, even back then, Nemu is the only one who would understand. Touka Satomi is an actress. Everywhere else is her stage, and Nemu is backstage. So, Touka can only ever be truly 100% vulnerable with Nemu. Yet she still didn't do it. I don't think Magius Touka ever really fully 100% relied on Nemu. She may have wanted to, and she does call her reliable in her quotes. But well, with Nemu's health getting worse and worse, she may have come to the conclusion that it would be for the best (health-wise) if Nemu didn't have to share her burden.

However, Nemu's declining health also brought something else. Touka took on another role: the protector. Nemu is practically helpless during the mid to late Magius era. Not completely helpless, she's still a strong magical girl, mind you, but could drop or have an attack at any time. We see this multiple times such as in Mifuyu's MGS, her own MGS, and she even has what is basically a stroke during Arc 1 Chapter 8, 4:02:36 - 4:03:43 in the video if you want to take a listen (I have a Magius Nemu essay in the works, don't you fret). Therefore, Touka has to be alert and ready to respond immediately. Which I think is why we see more of Alina outside than Touka. Touka lingers around where Nemu is and only hesitantly hands her over to Alina or Mifuyu when she absolutely must. Other than the sheer pain of watching Nemu bleed herself dry and being unable to do anything about it, not because she physically can't, but because she can't in a different sense... she also can't revert things back to the way they were, for all of her genius and medical knowledge she can't help Nemu, she can't help her best friend feel even a little better. This leads us to the undeniable fact that Touka is very, very unstable and volatile as a Magius. That's not the impression she first gives at all, of course.

Arc 1 Chapter 6 is where we first meet Magius Touka. She's calm, with a cold cheerfulness to her, calculated. Most importantly, I feel like the reason she was the one doing the lecture instead of literally just sending Mifuyu was because she recognized Team Mikazuki as a possible threat and specifically did not like Iroha, which was also why she lied. The one and only thing Touka lied about in her lecture: Iroha asked where Nemu was, Touka said they parted ways after being discharged. Blatant gigantic lie. And seriously, the only reason she'd have to lie about that and in that specific way would be to protect Nemu. At that point, Iroha and her team have wiped out a handful of uwasa, so she must have known. But yes, this is not at all how she really feels or what she really thinks. This is just another mask (I will talk about Touka's plastic smile and Nemu's poker face ANOTHER TIME). Because she needs to nip any aspirations Iroha may have in the bud, hopefully recruit more Feathers, and neutralize the threat that is Team Mikazuki.

What happens just as she's starting to go off the deep end? How convenient, it seems Yachiyo and Iroha have spent a good amount of their time destroying uwasa, thus wasting Nemu's repeated sacrifices, and forcing her to make more in order to meet their energy quota. Honestly, who wouldn't be losing it, at that point? So close to salvation, so close to freedom, so close to being done. And they're ruining not only the plan but also everything it means for her and the person she loves most. When you really think about it, Touka's mental health was, forgive the crude language, IN DEEP SHIT throughout Arc 1. Not that it was great before or that it improved too much after, but yeah, I do believe people do not give this enough thought.

Finally, with all of this in mind, as for the topic of this rant being Touka's levels of vulnerability as a Magius... There were none. She had no choice. At first it was fine. At first, before the gears turned too fast to stop, she could deal with it. She could confide in Nemu, even a little bit in Alina or Mifuyu (though not much), but it got worse and worse. Mifuyu was clearly blind to all of this the entire time (she, much like everyone other than Touka, didn't seem to care that Nemu had to give up her life force for each uwasa, and if you disagree I will point out the scene at the end of Mifuyu's MGS as one of my more than five pieces of evidence). Alina likely didn't care enough, and Nemu was probably too exhausted, although the concern must've been there. In summary, Magius Touka stands alone in her mind, and with her mind. Arc 1 was practically a descent into madness for her. When you start thinking about things from Touka's perspective, you start to see how abysmal her mental health was.

As part of my conclusion I'd like to say that honestly, it makes sense why she gave off the feeling of being lost for a decent chunk of... everything after Arc 1. What is she supposed to do without a purpose? What is she supposed to do without anything or anyone to tell her what she is and who she is? Not to mention the fucking ton of bricks to her face that must've been getting her memories back. I do not know how she didn't break. I legitimately do not know how she survived. During that little "lost" stage she had, I got the feeling she'd relapse back to her suicidal tendencies. It was... less "a feeling" and more "exactly what canon did", it's just slightly (badly) disguised.

ANYWAY. What I mean is that the children are complex and I ask everyone to have more respect and more compassion for them. I will be back with more about the performer and her backstage, hopefully in a more organized format.

[paleneckauthorcowboy]

I meant to post this a lot sooner but I genuinely forgot; anyway, this fic isn't completely canon to the timeline, it's mainly just self indulgent. Tw! THIS FIC CONTAINS BLOOD, VIOLENCE, DEATH, AND CRINGE. Once again if you know me irl or off of tumblr, no you don't. Just pretend you never saw this.

This was the end, Alex lost. Even after all his efforts Tim beat him, stabbing him in the neck for the horrible atrocities he had committed while under the influence of the operator. Now, here he is, lying on the floor of the college building; as he's bleeding out he thinks back to the one he truly cared about, even under the influence of the operator.

His one true love, Kestin. He tried so hard to save him, even managing to isolate him from the source of the problem and everyone else, even going as far as to slightly distance himself, as to not let him become infected with the sickness. But, Alex could only protect him for so long. He knew the end was inevitable but he never wanted to think that when it came to his lover. Alexs' mind wanders to past memories, remembering the summer before everything went down; God.. everything was so normal back then. 

He and Kestin were on a nice little date, walking along the beach. Neither of them planned on swimming; they weren't very outdoorsy, Alex would much rather spend his time working on his laptop and Kestin prefers to play videogames, Alex occasionally looking up a walk through and giving his boyfriend hints as to what to do. They were talking about their plans for the future. "what do you plan to do after we graduate?" Kestin asked, curious about his partners after college plans.

"I'm probably just going to find an apartment and start trying to make a career as a director." Alex seemed to have most of his life already planned out. Kestin liked that about him, he was alway able to keep Kestin on track as well. "That makes sense, I might become a writer but I'm not sure." Kestin smiled, he was never really good at making plans for the future; in all fairness, he never expected to make it as long as he did. "That sounds like I'd fit you perfectly, you are very creative." Alex was not always good at encouragement, but he tries so hard for his boyfriend. 

"Aww thank you, that really means a lot to me. Do you think we'll move in together?" Kestin asked, he'd been trying to hint to Alex that he wanted to live with him for months but he'd usually be met with confusion. "It's very likely, I do have the intentions of marrying you one day." Kestin stopped walking and Alex froze, as if he hadn't meant to say what he did. "You want to marry me one day?" Kestin looked a bit nervous, not because he doesn't love Alex, he just.. is afraid that Alex might be joking.

"Well.. of course I do, I can't imagine a future without you." Alex stood infront of Kestin. "And, well, I was going to wait until we got back to my dorm but," Alex gets down on one knee and pulls a small box out of his pocket. "Kestin, will you marry me?" Alex looked at Kestin, Kestin was quickly in tears and hugging him. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my gosh yes!" Kestin was happier than ever as Alex slid the ring onto his finger. Nothing could ruin this moment for them and nothing could ruin their love. 

And, then it starts to rain, heavy downpour. Kestin is laughing and Alex is trying to keep Kestin from getting wet as they run to the car, "That felt like something straight out of a teen movie!" Kestin held onto his arm, all giddy. "I certainly did." Alex starts up the car and drives them both back to campus. That night was one of the last happy normal nights that they had.

Which brings up back to the present, where were we? Ah, yes, Alex is bleeding out. His last thought as he slowly passes away is of his fiance, he closes his eyes for the last time. But yet somehow from just above his face he hears a familiar voice.

"Alex... Alex.. come on open your eyes." It's Kestins voice, Alexs eyes open and his face to face with his lover, Alexs head is resting on his thighs, he's smiling down at him looking so happy to see him. But, how could he be so happy? Doesn't he hate Alex for everything he did? "Shhh, it's okay, honey. I'm here, I still love you and I'm ready to spend the rest of eternity with you if you so wish." Alex hadn't even realized that he was crying as Kestin kissed his forehead and held him. "I'm so sorry for everything." Alex sat.up and held his partner close to him.

"I know, and I already forgive you, although I'm a bit sad that we didn't get to have our wedding day." Kestin kept it light hearted as he cupped Alex's cheeks, letting Alex melt into him. "Brian and Jay are here too by the way." Kestin nodded his head as he pointed behind him. Brian was sitting there kind of glaring at Alex, Jay also doesn't look too happy to see him. 

"Oh, uhh hey guys." Alex said awkwardly, "Kestin filled us about what happened, doesn't mean we forgive you though, we just won't cause issues." Brian spoke up after an uncomfortably long silence. "It'd just be counterproductive seeing as we'll be here for the rest of time." Jay added, Kestin smiled at them all. I guess this is their version of a happily ever after and everyone's story can finally come to an end.

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Carnotaurus

(I can no longer remember which ones I've already asked you but I don't think I've asked this one yet)

Carnotaurus - share a scene that contains some cool worldbuilding

I'm going to share a few small scenes that describe parts of how magic works

--

She swirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Melanie and my mom were friends, y’know, but… When she mentioned my mom dying, there was more sadness there than I ever sensed when she was talking about Jodi. It was like she didn’t care as much, wanted us to look for her but wasn’t invested in it.” Mika sighed. “Maybe she was just guarding her emotions and I didn't get a good read.”

She was dismissing it, but that sounded familiar. “They’re Chafs, right?” I asked.

Mika nodded and looked at me curiously. “Yeah, why? Does that mean something to you?”

“There’s a Chaf ability to cut connections,” I said. Most people thought of Chafs as dealing with communication, sending messages, enabling phones and radio, that kind of thing. People didn’t like to think about them getting a read on everything and everyone they were connected to, didn't think about what possibilities a Chaf had given access to their relationship connections. “It doesn’t make you forget about someone, but it can make you not care as much.”

--

He was no longer mad, or at least he wasn't yelling at me or telling me to leave now. Instead, he kept his hand on my arm, gently leading me to a bench a little out of the way. He sat down. “I’m sorry I forced you to unfocus,” he said. 

“How did you even do that?” I asked, sitting next to him. I’d been too upset to think about it, but I’d never known he could do that and now it scared me. 

He smiled slightly. “When you cast that spell you heighten the level of resources your brain has dedicated to a specific task. It’s heightening of a psychological phenomena. All I had to do was split up the resources.”

I thought that over. “I didn't know Nyps could do that,” I said, and somehow when he explained it it made so much sense. Like it was simple.

“I didn't know I could either. It was a theory. Until just now. But I shouldn’t’ve tried it. I wanted you to unfocus but I shouldn’t’ve forced it.”

--

He shrugged. “No one wants to know it came from me. No one even expects one person to be able to do such a variety anyway. But mostly I hate making [whispers].”

“Why?” I would have thought he loved to help people out with his magic, but maybe that’s not what was happening.

“It’s like going in blind. And because it’s freaking illegal we can’t do it right, y’know? Even if it’d be fine to tell people, no one wants a Nyp going into their mind, they’d much rather take a whisper because it doesn’t give access. But everyone’s different, everyone’s brain is different. I’ve seen these not work on some people, or even make things worse, and I hate it. If I could go in, if we could do research on these spells, I could find a way to actually help instead of giving this thing that works for some people.” He leaned on one arm. “And it’s worse because like, sometimes I’m selling it to someone, and like, I don’t need much to get in, y’know? I’m giving them a memory-whisper and I’m like, I can sense how your mind works and I know this won’t work for you, but I can’t say anything, and if people would be okay with it maybe I could actually help them. But maybe I’m not helping, because there’s no research on Nyp magic, and honestly, I have no freaking idea if there's side effects to anything, or if I could do more harm. I hate it.”

--

Focus isn’t the only spell I know. And while having it cast made other spells harder, I could give it a try. This was for Raymond, after all. If there was any chance it would save his life, I’d do it.

When I reach for it, I can sense the flow of any energy, including sound. Can feel them radiating out from their source, the dispersal as it gets blocked by walls and fades in the distance. Can feel it coming at my ear, too dispersed and jumbled to make out. And if I try hard enough, I can make it louder.

It’s not easy and there’s a balance to it: if I make it louder too close to the source, it’s painfully obvious to anyone else— that’s how a microphone works, and if your voice suddenly booms you’ll get suspicious. I can increase the volume when the sound hits my hear, but by that point, it’s too garbled to make out, especially when I have a brick wall or glass in the way. Anywhere between the two, and there might be an echo.

--

Of course this is just a few things different types of magic can do, but it's all cool, and my physical world-building isn't as explored in-story.

thanks for the ask!

From This

and if you wanna learn more about my magic system

[reilliane]

Sunder ★ Venti

— ★ Scry: Lunar Umbra + Venti + Modern AU — ★ Genre: Romance + Angst — ★ Concept: He had chosen his path, so will you. Sadly, it means that the two of you will no longer intersect. — ★ Words: 3.4k A/N: Mm, another Venti angst.. yes.. compile it with the plenty other Venti angsts :weary: in a modern setting, though! Thinking of a concept for this is a ride- and I'm glad with the one I came up with! Oh this emptiness, oh my chest-

An empty, white canvas.

For days until now, it continues to be bare, untouched by any other hues. The same blankness, the same setting. Your hand is hovering over it, holding a brush that is meant to streak and fly over the white.

But no color pours—because you remain still.

Blank, like the canvas you dread to approach tomorrow after yet another solid-colored evening. Albeit there is a craving to paint, there is no bloom of creativity or inspiration.

So, like any other night, you sigh, abandoning the mocking piece that is nowhere near complete so you can clear an already vacant head.

Being a renowned artist has its downsides—a notable one being failure to meet expectations when many are on the edge waiting for a new release.

The journey to fame hasn’t been easy, and to be honest, you weren’t really expecting to achieve such prominence in the art industry, but alas.

You’ve been making ends meet just fine, but after a rather famous actress has taken a liking to one of your pieces, it’s been a road to popularity. And the museum.

It’s easy to produce painting after painting in the beginning, but you’ve exhausted your creativity and ideas are longer spurring.

At least, nothing novel, nothing eye-catchy, nothing worthy.

You’ve done and sold plenty, with the most notable one being a violinist playing alone, with nothing but a bouquet of flowers by their feet. It was sold in an auction.

Head in hands, you expel a sigh, muttering, “And they expect me to have it done by tomorrow..”

To be fair, you’ve been given two weeks, but imagination won’t cooperate. You might as well just splash a handful of colors against the white and call it a night, but that’s such an overused tactic.

Flitting your stare towards the clock and seeing it read eight, you start drumming your fingers on the railings. It’s going to be a long night—

“Hm?”

There are a couple of boxes on your wardrobe, just nearby the clock.

One has a color that’s a mix of teal and [c], the mess obviously done by paint. You aren’t reckless enough to waste paint at such an age, so it can only mean that it’s from a period of long ago.

Oh, well, looks like you know what you’re going to do to pass the time other than wait for a burst of ideas.

It doesn’t take long for you to get the boxes down and blow the dust away, coughing and waving when it mingled in the atmosphere.

The container isn’t too large, but you have a feeling that you’ll find something inside that’s worth expressing in your canvas.

After all, what else is a good source of inspiration other than traveling down memory lane? Surely there are some pictures that will kindle an idea for a landscape painting—or perhaps you’ll recreate an old photo?

The first boxes are nothing out of the ordinary, containing old certificates, yellowed papers, dried flowers—and even a stack of square papers for craft.

You’re feeling even more hopeless halfway through, with the hope of creativity beginning to dwindle.

At least, until you spot a tiny box, the one splashed with teal and [c]. You almost forgot about that.

With a crawl and a blow of air to get rid of the dust, you swat any residue away, then take the cover off. Your hands hover in midair, heart pausing in its beat.

What comes from the sight inside is not a blossom of inspiration that you’re seeking—but a waterfall of sentimental yearning. You didn’t think it was possible to feel so strongly again, but here you are.

For as long as you can remember after school, you’ve attempted to put life in the inks and hues pouring from the strokes of your paintbrush—to the point that all the colors in your days have turned black and white.

Boring and vacant.

Yet, what you see now evokes a minuscule burst of [c], peeking shyly past the pristine white and silhouette of black.

“Oh, this one is…” you have just managed to find your voice as your fingers carefully pick up a piece of craft, “I had it here all this time?”

You’ve been looking for this for so long—who would’ve thought that it’d be on top of your wardrobe, out of all places?

Residing in the box is the highlight of your childhood memorabilia; a collection of paper planes, all of different sizes and creases—yet they share one similarity.

They are of the same, pristine white shade.

Time is frozen, with your stare continuing to zero in at the innocently laying origamis.

All of a sudden, the world darkens to a vignette—the voices distant like the memory in your mind.

“Hey, hey, what’s that?”

Recess has just arrived and although everyone is indulging in their snacks, one of your classmates—and fellow orphan—continue to sit by himself, scribbling on something.

It isn’t usual for him to be alone, so you’re drawn to learn what has taken him captive in a bubble of concentration.

“A paper plane!” he finally answers after a small delay.

“I know that, silly—I mean, what were you writing on it?”

“My wishes,” he beams and lifts his newly crafted paper plane with a cry of triumph, “So one day, I can make ‘em soar! Then I’ll wait for it to come true!”

There is a surge of emotion inside you—is it awe? Fascination?

If your future self could see you, it goes without saying that she’ll berate you for foolishly taking pleasure in hopeful wishes that wouldn’t come true.

But you do not care. You want to do it.

Perhaps it is the way your classmate looks so bright—so eager and certain, that you’re budging forward to take his attention.

“Oh, that sounds cool! Can I make one, too?”

All he does is slide a pencil and paper in your awaiting hands, letting you scribble a childish wish to ‘be a princess’ before teaching you the proper ways to fold it.

You are already bouncing in anticipation afterward and, with the plane in hand, the window becomes your next target location.

Before you can fling it in the open air, however, a hand tugs at your sleeve.

“Don’t let it fly yet! When you make one fly, that means you’d do everything you can to help make it come true! Also,”

What?! You nearly exclaim in distress as you stare at him with a gaping mouth. Doesn’t that just beat the purpose of making it in the first place, then?

He only gives a wide grin before he snatches your plane and exchanges it with his own.

“You’re in charge of my wishes, [Name], and I’m in charge of yours! I’m not letting go of you now—nor these!”

“… Venti,” you whisper, fingers twitching.

You remember telling him that it’s actually meant to be a thousand paper cranes in exchange for a wish, but he only laughs and says that he knows that.

Other than reasoning that a thousand is too many to fold, he mentioned that with paper planes, he can just make them fly whenever he wishes to and watch you be happy now that a wish of yours is on its way to be granted.

With a sigh, you fall onto your back, the paper plane resting on your chest.

Thinking about it now, exchanging ‘wishes’ has only been a way to keep yourselves together. Because the one responsible for letting the wish fly has to help it come true.

But none of that matters now, does it?

Not when the person bearing the wishes in your box is no longer here—at least, nowhere nearby as you would’ve liked.

Taking one of the planes, you start to unfold it from its finished piece, meticulous so as to not rip the paper out.

It read, ‘I want to learn the violin’.

You snicker, though it’s flat.

You do not know why there is a sudden feeling of being compelled to go through the tens—maybe even hundreds—of paper planes, but you find yourself picking one after the other. Making sure to refold it back to a plane afterward.

Ah, remembering that person… makes your heart twist, aware of the ending between a bond you thought would triumph over the trial against time.

The two of you are inseparable then—having come from the same orphanage, you spend a lot of time together. That includes discovering each other’s hobbies and dream careers.

He’s always been the brighter one between you—the white to your black, the sun to your moon. Wherever he goes, you follow without missing a beat. Whatever he does, you do with him.

‘May I win that contest!’

He never shies away from a challenge, or in a field where he’s lacking. He gives it his all, and although he falls into dismay when he’s at a loss, the gleam in his eyes does not lose its luster.

You’ve always admired that about him.

How in spite of the perforating monochrome of dull shades, he walks through those, bearing a rainbow that brought life to an otherwise prosaic and colorless world.

Saying that he is your color isn’t a means to be sappy, because it’s true—Venti knew that, he knew of his own worth to you.

At least, that’s what you thought.

After going through a bunch of wishes such as recitals, gifts, and grades—basically a journey in his life—you come across a tiny paper plane.

Its folds don’t look too well in the sense that it’s done by an amateur.

As if this is one of the first ones he has created. And you know this to be true when you unravel the folds to view the still messy handwriting of an eight-year-old.

‘I want to be with [Name]!’ it read.

Suddenly, your world darkens even more, the creeping silhouette clawing here and there to recreate a background.

Doing nothing, you allow both memory and imagination to work and bring about a poiesis of long ago.

White rises from the pool of black, shaping themselves into figures—you and him.

Everything starts to move before your eyes, flickering in and out like a vintage film played through an equally vintage slide projector.

It’s a simple scene, with the two figures sitting on a bench, fingers close yet shy to touch. You remember this as if it’s yesterday, remember the pensive build towards an angsty precipice.

You hear your voices start, clear—with the echo telling of its distant time. An unreachable place from where you are now.

“Have you decided on what to do?”

“I think I’ll take up music—composing, you know? My father actually wants me to take over his music label in the States,” his voice has gotten deeper, yet it remained pleasant.

It hasn’t dawned until now; how you actually miss hearing him talk and sing.

“Oh, that’s great news!”

He always liked music. Having to be an heir to the label will without a doubt make a road to the music industry a little easier.

You do not have the will to move your legs, but even with the figures’ back facing your way, you can recall exactly—the faraway look in his eyes.

“When will you be leaving?”

As if the memory will change into something else—something with a much more preferable ending, you avert your gaze. The paper in your hands almost rips apart when the response is heard.

You hear your voice, surprised, “That’s..”

Oh, you can’t take this.

“The orphanage will be closing that day and mother—”

In your peripheral, the figure of your past stands, horrified of the lack of interruption, the silence. The gnawing implication that you are alone in wishing for him to stay.

But why should he?

Ever since he was taken in by a family when you were fourteen, he seemed so far away.

Paper planes still find themselves in your locker, and the wishes all are undoubtedly coming from him—but why is it that he has seemingly changed?

Back then, it was only the two of you in a place that he brightened with colors.

But that last meeting with him…

“Venti, she doesn’t have much time left, can’t you be there for that day at least? Didn’t we promise to do something for her?”

… Everything has dulled again.

His beat of silence is the winning hand in a game of cards, laid out for reality to play in succession.

It is a moment of loss for you—but a victory to him and his future.

“… I can’t believe you.”

“[Name]—” you suck your breath, unprepared to remember how torn—how equally hurt he was at the damning situation.

But you didn’t know that then because all the colors—all the beauty Venti has poured in your life ever since you met him is losing their value, its hue returning to the same despairing shades of black and white.

Red, burning hot anger turns black—a silent, seething fury that rid your voice of tones.

“You told me you won’t let me go through this alone.. what happened to that?”

The words resonate in the crevices of your head, an awful reminder of a past that cannot be changed.

Right now, it feels like witnessing this is another mockery of the universe, saying that the beauty of your world has turned monochrome.

With this encounter alone.

“What happened to us, Venti?”

Where the power in your legs came from, you don’t know, but you’re standing up again. Then, with valiance to face the past, you make your way towards the illusions conjured from imagination.

A slow step forward, followed by another, and another—then you are positioned exactly where you were, years ago.

“In the end, the one who promised is the one letting go.”

You almost forgot how striking his features were, not like you’re bothered enough to care about that during this argument.

Venti has never looked more hurt then, with shining eyes and stuttering breaths. His heartbreak can be seen in the way his lips tremble, futilely attempting to respond—to justify his departure.

To choose; his future, or you?

“[Name]…” his voice is small, so small compared to the usual.

That was goodbye.

You swallow thickly as the watercolor of black and white swirls through the illusions, sweeping away the sceneries and the figures until the past dissolves back into nothingness.

And the visage you’re staring into is disenchanted away.

In his place, there is a blank, white canvas.

The same canvas you’ve yet to paint something on, and weakness returns to your knees, but you kept yourself up.

He didn’t show up the day after that. Not even a call.

You don’t even know where he is now—did he fulfill his dream? Is he finally composing music like he dreamt of?

The remembrance of him swells your eyes with warmth until something slips down your cheek. A tear drop falls upon the paper.

You’re hurting—feeling the same pain and anger you’ve agonized over years ago, ripping your chest apart.

With Venti, you went through so much—through suns of eunoia and moons of glum, you’ve felt plenty. But that’s to be expected, after all, he is the one closest to you.

And presently, the one farthest.

From a time long ago when your fingers would still entwine, now they are out of reach—all because you have both chosen your future.

A future that does not include you in his, and him in yours.

That argument was an eye-opener, presenting an epiphany you’d honestly be ignorant of—but you had to accept the truth. You’ve always likened Venti to a bird, a free and colorful one.

One that mustn’t be confined in a cage.

He flies whilst pouring color—and he’ll take flight carrying the rainbow with him.

Your mother always told you to forgive him before it’s too late, and you did. It’s been so long and not again have you ever blamed him for choosing his future.

It’s his life—his dream.

With a release of a shaky sigh, you move back towards the box after refolding the paper, and take out another one. It doesn’t seem to be as old as the rest.

There are scribbled numeric next to the single word, with the numbers read to be the date of his departure. The day after the argument.

The day your paths went asunder.

It’s his last paper plane. His last wish.

The word is simple.

‘Forever’

You let a rainfall of tears drip onto the now unfolded paper, the creases from being folded over and over still evident.

Clutching that parchment tightly—yet gently so as to not rip it—you allow your heart to remember and agonize.

What exactly, you don’t know; it can be the hysteric words that flew from your mouth in your last conversation with him or the tiny ‘what-ifs' that could’ve been a reality.

You watch as the drips of grey begin to suffuse with crystal blue, recalling the melancholia of the mentioned hue. You watch as various other colors streak through the black and white of your dull canvas of a world—of life.

The passion of red that lit sentiments of anger, the brightness of yellow that rivaled joy, the timidity of green that evoked solitude, and many more.

Grabbing a pen, you scribble something in addition to the single word on the paper before refolding it back to its finished form.

There is nothing but the desire to paint following the pervasion of colors back in your world, afraid that the hues are fleeting, and it’ll be back to the bleak monochrome.

With the potent emotions still raging within, you take your brush and coat it in paint before stroking it across the white.

The paintbrush is moved along with preciseness, without a wasted second, like you’ve done this particular process over and over.

Hysteria mixes in with the imagination, similarly to how the yellow blends with the pink, how the memory brought by the paper planes brings about nostalgia and grief.

All that you’ve felt, you’ve seen, appears on the previously blank canvas. Telling of a story that’s once only known to two, now to be told in a painting for the world to see.

And when you finish, what greets you as a completed piece is the painted sky of magnificent dawn with a soaring pair of white paper planes.

There are plenty of minute details, such as the silhouette of two people, the hands of a clock, and a particular date written on the corner.

You are still overwhelmed after completing it hours later, but you do not let it get the best of you.

It is four in the morning when your phone starts ringing, just as you place the brush down and you enter the balcony.

Ignoring the phone, a paper plane is pinched in between your fingers—the last wish of the one who got away.

Your eyes are burning as you plant a kiss on the paper, flowing into it all of the blearing red pain that weighed you down. All of the oceanic gloom you’ve felt over the years, the violet solace after a time of clarity…

And all the other colors that reappeared in your life after finding that box, you pour into the gentle kiss.

“Forever,” you whisper what’s written inside.

Then you finally let go.

“With you.”

The paper plane soars in the sky—with it, the wish in mind. Its striking white almost suffuse with the setting rays of the sun. It is carried away by the wind, leading past the threshold of yellow and pink.

Footsteps resound at the back—then a clear of the throat.

“Sir, what did you just throw out?”

Averting his gaze, Venti glances at his secretary. The smile on his face isn’t so… happy, unlike before. But it is a smile, nonetheless.

One that grows in size with his answer.

“A paper plane.”

He then moves back into his office, aware of his busy schedule as the official briefs him once more about the upcoming work. Still, the words are tuned out the moment he falls back to his seat.

Although his fingers are reaching to the side to grasp a square paper, his eyes are focused elsewhere. Not on his secretary, not on the wealth he has accumulated over the years, no.

It’s on a painting by the wall.

Venti smiles ruefully.

A painting that depicts a lonely violinist with a bouquet of flowers by their feet.

(bonus extension/reunion)

a/n: 0h it huRTS to reLATEEEE- ah, i wrote this while 'secret love song' is playing. i have never felt this hollow ever since vigil.

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @aryllechan

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

[versadies]

Hey!!! How are you?

Congratulations on your 1k followers

Can I request aries + Kazuha + hc scenario + fluffy...?

Today is the last day of the event, I just saw it today, at least it wasn't after the event ended ;w;

⠀

⠀

I'm thinking about having a nickname to join the anon squad... Maybe 🇧🇷 anon? Your content came to a Brazilian person! Congratulations on your content reaching someone on the other side of the world :)

in the next life (hc scenario, reincarnation au)

penpal: hi hi, i’m doing great ty 🇧🇷 anon!! i’m so happy to know that my content has reached to the other side of the world 🥺🥺 i hope you like this <<3

prompt: aries the ram, red-string soulmate au

pairing/s: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

sypnosis: sometimes, happy endings can only happen in another lifetime. (or, hc on how you and kazuha met during the modern era of teyvat)

includes: slight spoilers to inazuma quests (2.0), fluff/slight angsty, reincarnation au, mentions of death, modern au, rushed ending

soulmates has always been one of the things that made teyvat special.

people had all collectively agreed that meeting their soulmate is one of the most treasuring moment, no matter how strange or hilarious the first encounter is like, no one should ever forget the once-in-a-lifetime moment.

with that said, most stories are usually soulmates– specifically how one meets their fated other. historical moments are no exception to this, such as an archon's first ever encounter with their soulmate during an annual rite, a forbidden love between an immortal being and a human, a sweet story of a soldier and a healer during a certain war, and the list goes on.

but where are stories that contains soulmates who had never met one another? or had a tragic fate that gave them no opportunity to get along with their soulmate anymore?

none.

some would say they'll meet in the afterlife, where they can live on in peace as the world goes on. while some would beg to differ and think that the two soulmates are just bound to not meet.

only little would suggest reincarnation.

and you and your beloved soulmate are one of those little people.

but you honestly didn't think that you and kazuha would be the soulmates with a tragic fate.

the both of you had met thanks to the resistance. when beidou decided to introduce kazuha to kokomi, he met you along the way– the right-hand-person of kokomi and his soulmate.

the both of you had instantly clicked when you met, the wide smile the both of you had appeared when you notice each other's red string being connected.

since then, you were inseparable.

on days when your assigned unit didn't need your assistance at the moment, you usually use those times to hung out with the samurai, often talking about each other's adventures and experiences with the best you can.

it was those days when you incredibly cherished the moments, making sure to remember every second of those moments you had with him before going on battles against kujou sara and her soldiers.

unfortunately for the both of you, the memories that you oh-so cherished would be the last one you'll ever make.

"see you in the next life... kaedehara kazuha," you whispered, staring at the samurai as the both of you lie down on the cold ground with soldiers fighting around the both of you, blood gushing out from your mouth. "whether it'd be in the next life or another, may celestia let us have another chance."

you watched as kazuha smiled lightly, his hand shakily trying to reach out to yours until he intertwines it together. "till we meet again, y/n."

as the war between the resistance and the raiden shogun continued, you and kazuha let out your one last breath before passing away.

much to you and kazuha's hopes, the war against the vision hunt decree won victoriously, with the raiden shogun lifting up the decree and brought inazuma back to its usual peaceful life before the decree.

of course, the resistance alongside the traveler paid respects to you and kazuha's passing, telling you that you and kazuha can rest now that they won.

as centuries flew by, teyvat had a major change among the nations. in this particular century, archons and visions had long been forgotten, with technology around the world being more advanced than before. as for soulmates? they still exist fortunately.

then there's you, a person who found joy in traveling around the world and tell the world about it. at least, that's what people think.

to you, you simply wanted to travel around teyvat to find a person named kaedehara kazuha.

recently, you started getting dreams of a man who goes by kaedehara kazuha. some were usually romantic that it gave you butterflies, some were conversations that you sometimes would forget, and of course, the dreams that often haunt you.

most dreams of yours were always lying down beside the man– who was bleeding to death. was this a sign of him dying? what is the purpose of these dreams?

you didn't know why this was happening to you. are you slowly going insane? or were you just overreacting?

whatever it was, you knew that deep down that it has something to do with your soulmate.

you went high and low around each nation you visited, often asking certain people if they've know a man named kaedehara kazuha, only to receive no useful information that could help you.

of course, your only source that could help you find him is the red string that connects you and your soulmate, following the direction it led you with hopes of it twitching as a sign that you're near.

unfortunately, none of the nations you've visited had no signs of who you're looking for.

your last stop is inazuma, a nation that's infamous for having beautiful firework shows and tourist spots. there's not a single place that isn't worth taking pictures of.

the moment you arrived to the nation using a boat,l you came across to a woman whose name is beidou.

"i don't know a man whose name has a kaedehara, but i have a son who coincidentally has the same name as kazuha!" she exclaims with a grin. "i don't think he's the one you're looking for though, i've never seen him hung out with someone like you or anyone else who isn't gorou."

you smile lightly at the woman, trying to not look disappointed. "i see.. thank you again, miss beidou."

she quickly waved you off. "good luck in finding the man you're looking for!"

the moment you immediately checked in ritou, you started exploring around the nation with no plans of stopping, hoping to see at least one person who looks like the man in your dreams or has their red string connected to your finger.

unfortunately, every area you've visited in the land, you still haven't found the end of the string, your hopes slowly dying down as time flew by.

you decided to explore more the next day, deciding to go back to inazuma city and have dinner in one of their infamous restaurants.

as you sat down on one of the stools while waiting for kanbei to cook your meals, you let out a disappointed sigh. if you couldn't find your soulmate anywhere, where could he be?

what if kaedehara kazuha doesn't exist at all? what if he died before you could even meet him and find out what's going on with your dreams?

you let out another sigh, rubbing the back of your neck in frustration. you hoped all of this wasn't a waste of your time. you honestly don't know what to do if you won't be able to find him at all, let alone what happens after you meet him.

unnoticed by you, your red string started twitching nonstop. a man suddenly enters the place, sitting down one seat away from where you are.

"rough day, kazuha?" kanbei asked, not bothering to look away from the pot as he continues to focus on cooking your meal.

"not exactly. i found a perfect spot to write haiku." the man, kazuha, replied.

as kazuha and kanbei continued conversing, you couldn't help but find yourself slowly drifting to sleep, now feeling the exhaustion from your exploration around the nation.

before you could completely pass out on the counter, you immediately woke up from the delicious smell of your meal, looking up to see the chef being finished with your meal already. perhaps the reviews weren't lying when they said this restaurant is fast with services.

you quietly thanked the chef when he placed the meal down in front of you, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of the delicious meal before digging up, still not noticing the red string twitching nonstop due to your focus on filling your hunger.

"thank you again, kanbei." kazuha speaks up as he grabs the packaged food from the chef's hands and hands over the payment.

"always happy to serve, kazuha. see ya tomorrow." kanbei said, watching as the man walks away from the restaurant.

out of curiosity, you glance at who you assume is beidou's son, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of the same man that you've been seeing in your dreams–

along with his red string connecting to yours.

without thinking, you immediately jumped down from your stool, staring at kazuha, who already walked out from the diner without a glance of your direction. "i'll be back and continue eating my meal. apologies for my rudeness!" you exclaim before running towards kazuha's direction without letting a single word come out from kanbei, who was confused at your words.

"kazuha!" you yelled, hoping kazuha would hear your voice despite the sounds of cars and people being loud around the both of you.

you tried to call for the man again, only for you to get frustrated when he still hadn't heard a word from you. was he wearing earphones?!

you immediately look down at your string and back at kazuha, hesitating for a moment before shaking the string aggresively. please, please, please look back! please look like you're him–

you sigh in relief when he finally noticed his string shaking, causing him to stop his trakcs and look behind him to see you running towards him like your life depends on it.

his eyes widens at the sight of you running towards him, your face was all too familiar for him to remember. it can't be, you only existed in his dreams!

the both of you suddenly remember certain memories the both of you didn't even knew you had. memories of which the both of you used to be in. memories of the both of you walking around the infamous serpent head as soldiers trained with all their might for the upcoming war, memories of the both of you watching the stars and wish for the resistance to win victoriously, memories of your past life that you and kazuha had forgotten.

that was enough for kazuha to run towards you as well, his arms suddenly spreading wide open for you to clashed into, dropping his food without a care.

the moment you and kazuha finally had gotten closer, you tackled the man into a hug as tears prickled in your eyes, ignoring the questionable stares the both of you received from people passing by.

"i found you." you whispered, closing your eyes shut as you let out a sound of relief. "after so.. so many months, i finally found you."

kazuha hugs you back, pulling you closer to his body as he sighs in relief. now that there's no more wars or something to run away from, the both of you can start anew and live the life the both of you had wanted back then.

"i missed you."

[safertokiss]

Through a Different Lens

A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here. New content wowza. I’d say I’m surprised it’s been a while, but I simply am not. Luckily another fic swap has arrived to get my creative juices flowing once again. The gods have gifted me with another perfect opportunity to write sub spence because I was given @writing-in-april as my person yet again. Hooray! Anyways I hope you enjoy and thanks all you cool cats and kittens for the support (we almost to 1000 yeet skrrt). Also, it just happens to be my birthday today so as a gift to myself I thought about subby Spencer for a while.

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT and can’t forget that fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

ENJOY:)

~~~

It all started completely by accident.

There was no possible way that she would’ve been able to predict just how much they would affect the poor kid. 

She could remember, clear as day, the first time she was forced to wear her glasses to the bureau due to her ongoing frustrations with the torture devices that were also referred to as contacts. There were only so many headaches and eye-waterings that she could take before the insecurity of wearing her frames to work shriveled below the point of caring anymore. 

But none of those previous insecurities held a flame to the amount of confusion she felt when she entered the bullpen and waltzed over to Spencer’s desk to say good morning with a shy smile adorning her face. Y/n hadn’t even been able to get a complete sentence out before the young doctor had turned to her and froze, his mouth hanging open like a fish, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, the harsh red blush she had seen before, just maybe not to this extent, engulfing his boyish features. 

Before she could even attempt to ask him what she had done to warrant such a response, he was spouting out a meager, “H-hey Y/n” whilst simultaneously scurrying off in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Completely and utterly perplexed over what had happened, she had shrugged it off and made her way back to her desk, silently mulling over the interaction periodically throughout the rest of the day. 

It was a couple of the same type of interactions later that Y/n began to take notice of what was actually happening with the boy genius. The stiff and unnatural posture. The stuttering, granted that wasn’t something new, just much more frequent and severe. The audible heartbeat always accompanied by rosy cheeks and goosebumps. 

Spencer Reid was fucking turned on by the glasses.

And he didn’t even try to hide it. Or maybe he did and was just really, really bad at doing so.

Either way, Y/n quickly discovered just how much fun it was getting these reactions to pour out of the kid...so of course she kept wearing the glasses even after she was able to wear contacts again. He didn’t need to know that. 

It was so fucking easy too. 

She would just be sitting at her desk, occupied by some particularly troubling pages of a case file that makes her have to readjust her frames out of stress, when she’d hear a high pitched squeak across the bullpen, followed by the pattering of frantic footsteps she had familiarized herself with in former few weeks. 

While she felt some kind of guilt for putting him through this, it was nowhere near enough to overtake the genuine excitement and gratification that came with knowing she could have such an effect on the adorable doctor.

Of course she found him attractive...how could she not with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nerdy slicked back hair. Ultimately Y/n could understand his apparent infatuation with her wearing glasses as she had caught herself, on more than a couple occasions, openly ogling his own specs. 

Maybe they were both weirdos...the whole situation was almost as strange as the Converse kink that she secretly harbored for years. Although her intuition was quick to suggest that, just maybe, both of her unique infatuations stemmed from the same noodle-shaped source.

Perhaps her favorite reaction of his, though, came about during the little office birthday party that the entire team had thrown for him.

He looked so adorable in the gigantic birthday cake hat they had bestowed upon him, Y/n could hardly contain her giggles at the giddy smile adorning his face. She watched on in amusement as Spencer tried desperately to get the candles on his cake to extinguish, to no avail, at least until someone felt bad watching his struggles and decided to give him a hand.

“They’re trick candles Spence, they’re gonna come back on every time.”, JJ chuckled, subtly smirking at Morgan who was also enjoying Spencer’s ongoing struggles. 

A couple “happy birthdays” later and the rest of the team slowly began to disperse, leaving just Y/n and him alone in their own little space. He must’ve noticed this too because the blush that had already been present throughout the celebration beforehand seemed to deepen even further as he visibly swallowed down his nerves.

Slowly stalking towards the rouge kissed boy, she dragged a couple of her fingers across the surface of the desk, noting the way his eyes briefly flicked down to follow the movement before hesitantly returning his gaze to match her own. 

She also noted the way his knuckles were basically turning white from the amount of pressure he was using to grab the sides of the chair.

“You have a good birthday, Spence?”, Y/n drawled with a teasing smile, now standing directly before the trembling young man.

Seeming to snap out of whatever sort of trance he had been in, he hastily cleared out his throat before responding with a bit of trepidation. “Hmm...yeah-yes uh yes it was v-very good, than-thank you.”

She couldn’t even attempt to conceal the smirk that had made its way to her lips listening to the genius stutter through his words. Such a nervous, nervous boy. So adorable. So fucking hot. 

“Well that makes me happy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty boy.”, she paused her thoughts soaking in the little hitches in his breath surely from how close she was standing near him and the added nickname. Deciding to play a little bit dirty, she leaned over directly into his line of sight to reach for the cake set before him.

 “Now how about I take this away and cut it up for all of us to eat? Hmmm?”

His eyes darted immediately to the cleavage that was so graciously presented to him as she bent over to pick up the dessert, a sharp little gasp escaping his pretty, pink lips as his pupils dilated carelessly. 

Y/n inwardly smirked at his reaction and began walking towards the kitchenette, but only made it about three or four steps before being interrupted. 

“Did you know that in some instances birthday candles are safe for wax play?”, he exclaimed before seemingly realizing what had just escaped his lips, his hands flying up to cover his traitorous mouth. 

Bewildered, in the best of ways, by what had just been said, she slowly swiveled back around, facing him once again, before placing the cake on the desk beside her. 

“What was that Spencer?”, she grinned at the petrified man who hadn’t made a single noise since his unexpected declaration. The poor thing looked like a caged in animal with nowhere to escape. Perfect.

“N-nothing! I m-mean obviously it was um s-something, but j-just uh just forget what I s-said.”, he quickly explained while frantically shaking his hands as if he was hoping he could simply wipe your memory of the last minute or two away permanently.

“No, no please go on.”, she teased. “Now I’m intrigued. What did you mean by ‘in some instances’ Spence?”

She wasn’t expecting the look of confusion, however brief it was, that peeked its way through the overwhelming embarrassment that had been showcased on his face, as if he truly couldn’t fathom that someone was actually asking him to go into more detail about a topic. 

Still didn’t change the fact that he was completely mortified.

Clearing his throat, he hesitantly lifted his gaze back to Y/n’s, seemingly debating with himself over whether he could articulate the words to come out or not. 

“Um...well..usually many p-people who choose to e-engage in such act-activities will use specific types of c-candles that are uh more designed especially for pl-play.”, he paused and she drank up the way his Adam's apple bobbed along his throat. “Uh… basically depending on the t-type of candle that one u-uses, the amount of pain or um d-discomfort differs. B-birthday candles tend to b-be on the more painful side so only the couples who are in-into that kind of thing would ever really utilize t-them.”, he finished abruptly, his leg bouncing rapidly in her line of vision.

She still couldn’t really believe she had actually gotten him to say anything at all, nevermind an in depth analysis on wax play. In a weird way she was proud of him. Really proud. Sometime amidst her thoughts, she’d found herself standing directly behind his sitting figure, her hands resting on either side of him against the table, the goosebumps visible on his skin from the implications of the position they were currently in.

“That’s really intriguing Spencer. I’d love to find out someday just why it is you know so much about the subject, but I don’t want to make you go into cardiac rest anytime soon.”, she remarked, giggling at the shy smile that made its way to his mouth.

She didn’t even register reaching out to lightly touch his lips until she heard his sharp intake of breath. Until he turned his head so they were mere centimeters apart. Until she watched his puppy eyes dart between her lips and your frame covered gaze. Until the space between them seemed to be lessening with every sec-

“Hey pretty boy! Where’s my cake?”

Y/n grudgingly pulled back at the interruption, watching in amusement as Spencer’s body instinctively leaned forward as if his lips hadn’t gotten the memo and were still searching for hers. “It’s coming right up you lazy ass!” she yelled back with a grin on her face.

She looked back to the boy sitting before her and was almost mesmerized by the dazed look present on his face, the blush slowly retreating as he came back to his surroundings. She could tell there were words that he wanted to say, but they just didn’t seem to be forming fast enough to actually come out. Deciding to put their little moment on hold before he passed out, she walked back over to the neglected dessert and started heading towards the break room again.

“I’ll make sure to save you the biggest piece, Spence.”,she threw over her shoulder, chuckling at the bewildered look still that was still present on his face.

~~~

The day was a big success in her opinion. 

Spencer looked even more like a child than usual with the big shit eating grin that remained throughout the celebration and the bulky hat that he refused to take off. She could never understand how someone could have such an affinity for sugar as she watched him devour the huge slice of cake she had carved up for him.

But hours later, it was just her and Spencer left in the building. 

And she was not about to let that go to waste.

Y/n could see him from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchenette. She could see the way he slouched over his desk with his legs curled underneath him, criss cross applesauce, as he scribbled down whatever case file he was working on. She admired his determined work ethic, that’s for sure.

But now was simply not the time to work.

Spencer immediately froze as soon as her body situated itself to be leaning against his desk, painfully aware of her gaze on his tense form. 

“H-hey Y/n.”, he nervously murmured, the stutter once again making her giddy.

“Hey yourself doc. Wanna tell me why it is you’re still here working at such a late hour? Doesn’t the elusive Spencer Reid have better things to be entertaining himself with?”, she drawled, her piercing gaze making the poor kid squirm before her eyes.

“Oh um no...n-not really. I actually don’t mind working late. It’s k-kind of therapeutic in a way. But um...I’m happy t-that you’re here w-with me.”, he whispered the last part as if he was scared you wouldn’t appreciate his gratitude.

But she appreciated it more than he knew.

Noticing the little pencil holder situated amongst the file stacks on his desk, an idea popped into her mind that she just couldn’t shake, prompting her to pick it up and begin fiddling with it.

“Oh is that so pretty boy? Does my presence satisfy you?” Before he could even attempt an answer she “accidently” dropped the holder on the ground, the array of pens and pencils dispersing among the floor. “Oops my bad.”

Spencer immediately scrambled out of his seat and onto the floor to start collecting the colorful writing utensils, the perfect distraction needed for Y/n to situate herself on his desk with her legs spread open directly in front of his face. 

“D-don’t worry abou-”, his sentence cut off as he looked up and was met with the tantalizing sight of her white lace panties already damp with her excitement. She swore he could die happy with the way his eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“See something you like baby?” Unable to even form words, the young doctor slowly nodded his head, eyes still locked on the obvious wet spot between her open legs.

“C-can I..can I um…”

“Use your words baby boy. Can you what?”, she spoke clearly, grasping his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

“C-can I taste you?” She couldn't get over the desperate way he spoke as if he’d die of thirst if he didn’t get a drink from her.

“Of course you can sweet b-” Not even letting the words leave her mouth, his hands were eagerly pulling her panties down and off her legs, his lips instantly connecting with the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. She swore his tongue and lips were enchanted with the way he was able to effortlessly maneuver his way around, easily picking up on what she loved. 

“Oh Spencer you’re such a good boy.” she couldn’t resist  threading her fingers through his silky hair and tugging slightly, an action she assumed he enjoyed based on the muffled whine she heard from between her thighs. 

It hadn’t even been more than a few minutes before she found herself already on the verge of letting go. No guy had ever been able to make her feel this good and just electric until now. He was quickly ruining her for anyone else in the future. She did not mind in the slightest.

“Baby I really wanna feel you inside me. Is that something you want sweetheart?”

He reluctantly pulled back after a few more kitten licks to her clit, wide eyes finding hers and whimpering out a broken “yes”. More than happy with his response she gently pulled him up by his hair and started undoing his belt, his oversized pants easily falling down without the extra support. Just another thing about him that she had come to adore. She was very pleased by the obvious bulge that protruded through his baby blue checkered boxers. 

Before she pulled those down too, though, she very gently reached up and cupped his cheeks, guiding his plump lips to her own, basking in the delighted whimpers that escaped his mouth at the soft but passionate contact. She released his lips with a slight nip and proceeded with his clothing removal, coaxing him to sit down in the swirly chair he had been previously residing in, before straddling his lap. 

“You ready sweet boy?”, she asked leaning forward to kiss his rouge forehead and cheeks.

“Mhmm I’m r-ready.”

Taking that as the go ahead, she cautiously positioned herself over his throbbing erection before slowly lowering herself inch by inch until he was completely enveloped by her tight, warm walls. 

“Oh-ohh my.”, he whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being connected so intimately. Gently, she started to move a bit more, hesitantly lifting up before lowering herself back down, flush against his lap, one of her soft hands anchoring herself to his shoulder while the other caressed his flushed cheeks.

“I know baby, I know. You feel so good baby boy I don’t think I’m going to be able to last much longer.”

“M-me neither.”, he stuttered as the pace she had previously set seemed to increase in speed, the excitement and ecstasy getting to the both of them and subconsciously pushing the two of them closer to their shared release. 

The fire was quickly building within her body and she knew she was truly crumbling at the seams, but with the way his body was trembling and his dick was subtly twitching inside of her she knew he was right there too.

“It’s ok baby boy, it’s ok. Cum for me sweet boy. I want you to cum inside and fill up my pussy Spence.”, she muttered feeling the beginning of her end crash unexpectedly throughout her entire being, grasping onto the boy underneath her to tie herself to the earth. 

Overwhelmed by the utter euphoria of Y/n cumming around him, Spencer let himself get thrown off the edge, his hands tightening on her waist hard enough she was sure little bruises would form come tomorrow, not that she minded at all.

“Oh Y/n!” She watched on, obsessed with the way that his mouth fell open in a little o-shape as his eyes squeezed shut, the tell tale signs of pleasure coursing through his veins, the warm feeling that he left deep inside of her as she gently lifted herself from his shaking legs, reaching for her panties before the warmth was able to escape down her damp thighs.

Looking back at the trembling boy after cleaning herself and him up, she couldn’t help but melt at the lovesick, puppy dog eyes he was giving her, prompting her to lean forward and leave more little kisses on the top of his damp hair.

“That was incredible Spence. Really incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before baby.”

She melted even further at the way he shyly dropped his head to somewhat hide the wide grin that had spread like wildfire across his face. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before his head lifted with a questioning glance.

“How’d you-I mean uh how did you know that I liked you?” There was no way she could control the giggles that left her lips at his silly question.

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the whole glasses thing Spence.”

And then the only sound heard throughout the building was her full blown laughter at the mortification that speedily adorned his cherry cheeks.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @watermelonstyl @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @ughgoaway @cromies90-blog @mightaswell247 @calm-and-doctor @golden-hoax @1mpvls3 @lonewolf471 @centiaaa @spencerspecifics

[shadowsinger11]

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes,  and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii

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Masterlist

[cyndavilachase]

I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended… 

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).  

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant. 

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation. 

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers. 

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt. 

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely. 

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that. 

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.

[anonquack]

| History |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 5047

Warnings: None! Just some curse words.

Summary: Breakups hurt. Confrontations hurt. Separation hurts. But when it feels like all is ending, you and Alex always find a way to make things work. [Angst -> Fluff]

After a loud plop of a box against the floor, you brought your hand up to wipe away the sweat that was now resting on your forehead. Yuck.

In an effort to avoid letting your thoughts take over and throw you into a spiral of regret and sadness, you had been cleaning and reorganizing your room. You took this moment to look around, eyes scouting every inch of the room in search for something you could've possibly missed.

The room looked almost spotless at this point. The box you had just plopped down onto the floor contained a lot of the stuff you planned on throwing away. Everything else had been dusted, thoroughly cleaned and placed back where it belonged. Looking at your organized, comfy, bed made you realize just how tired you felt at this very moment.

But there was no time to rest. Rest meant time to think about what had happened. Time to think about what had been lost.

You let out a small sigh as you walked over to the untouched part of your room; the closet. This part didn't necessarily have to be organized, since no one would come into the room and specifically open up the closet. But at this very moment, your brain was telling you to clean EVERYTHING in this room.

As soon as you opened the door to the closet, your eyes landed on an item you did not want to see right now. As your eyes continued to roam across all the clothes on the hangers, it started to dawn on you that this might've been a bad idea. Maybe cleaning closets really wasn't necessary.

There were multiple of Alex's hoodies on the hangers, all looking as comfy and cozy as ever, but at this moment they didn't bring that comfort and happiness they usually would. Rather, they brought back all those painful thoughts you'd been trying to avoid.

You gently bit at your lip, slightly frustrated since you'd been 'doing well', cleaning and trying your hardest not to let your thoughts roam.

Your stubbornness to not rest and keep cleaning had been your own demise.

You weren't really sure what to do. Part of you wanted to take one of the hoodies off its hanger, put it on, and crawl into bed. The rational part of you knew you should probably return these to him. You had no business having these in your room anymore.

That thought alone made your stomach twist and turn. It really was over. These past few days had felt like an absolute nightmare, but at the end of the day it was reality. You and Alex had actually broken up. It was all history now.

You reached into the closet, grabbing all the hoodies and placing them onto the chair near your bed. They were a problem for another time. The closet was going to be your distraction for now. You'd avoid facing reality for just a little longer as you organized the shirts and sweaters in your closet.

—

It sucked. Not having anything to do, having nothing to serve as a distraction from the fact that Alex would no longer be a part of your life. You were now sitting on your bed, playing with the strings on the hoodie, remembering how these looked on him.

They fit him so well, some fit loosely against his figure, others fit just right, showing off his toned figure. You vividly remembered how the material of the hoodie had felt whenever he wrapped his arms around you, whenever you would hug him and just snuggle your face close to him, looking for a source of heat.

The memories of how you acquired these hoodies also came flooding back. Some had been him noticing it was cold out and you lacking common sense to bring a sweater to keep yourself warm. Him pulling off the hoodie and handing it to you, the way his cheeks turned red as you thanked him, his eyes narrowing and telling you it wasn't that big of a deal.

Other times you'd directly ask to borrow his hoodie. One that smelled like him just in case he couldn't visit or hang out in the near future and you were in dying need of his affection.

You wondered whether these hoodies might still smell like him. As weird as it might've looked, you were now on your bed, bringing the hoodies up to your face and holding it close, snuggling your ex's damn hoodie to see if it still smelled like him. It was so fucking stupid. It was over.

You set the hoodie down as you felt your eyes water. Not because of sadness, but irritation towards yourself. You'd already spent days crying your eyes out over the breakup, and yet here you were again. There had been progress made already, and now it felt like you were back in square one just because of some fucking hoodies. Cloth.

You gently pinched the bridge of your nose as you took a moment to recollect your thoughts. You'd return the hoodies, and be done with him once and for all.

Picking up your phone and pressing onto his contact, your message history flashed onto the screen. Old messages were spilling all over, making a mess of you all over again. Not what you wanted at all. You'd wanted to delete his contact number and erase the messages, but hadn't been able to bring yourself to do it.

And now, once again, you were dealing with the consequences of being unable to let go. You tried to ignore the old conversations that were on display, instead pulling up the keyboard and typing up a civil message to send.

y/n found some of your hoodies at my place. mind if i give them back?

You felt an uncomfortable feeling settle in your stomach as you waited for the message to deliver, waited for any sign that he might've read it. Waited to see if he would even answer. Maybe he didn't want them back. Maybe part of you hoped you'd at least get to keep something of his, something that made your relationship with him feel real. Made it feel like it indeed happened and wasn't just a part of your imagination. Part of you didn't want it to officially come to an end.

Giving away the last thing of his you had meant officially putting an end to this. Whatever the fuck you had with him. You hadn't even noticed you were biting at your nails until the loud ding brought you back into present time.

alex sounds good. where would you want to meet?

It was starting to feel real. The split was at hand's length away. Meeting him to hand the hoodies over solidified the end.

y/n maybe the library? its near both of our dorms.

alex alright. see you in 20?

y/n yea.

Such simple discourse was already eating at you. This wasn't him. But that was to be expected. You weren't his anymore and he wasn't yours. Nothing would ever be how it was.

Even with that realization, you still looked at yourself in the mirror, checking to see if there was any signs that you'd been crying, or just you looking like shit overall. A few glances and strokes to the hair and you were ready to go, the small stack of hoodies resting on your arm as you walked out of your dorm room. To officially end things.

—

As you walked towards the library, you noticed it was rather quiet. Nobody was out and about at this time, it was peaceful. It gave you a moment to really reflect on all that had taken place. What had lead to you being here, on your way to officially cut all ties with Alex.

It had been a misunderstanding, really. Something that was going to happen eventually. Being college students with different majors and goals was challenging enough. But balancing the giant workloads and quality time with your partner had proven to be difficult for him, and perhaps even you too. There was effort being made in the beginning, but recently it had just not been the same. Perhaps things change, feelings change, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt.

After a few confrontations and harsh arguments, he had stated that he didn't want to be in a relationship if it meant that attention was required of him this often. He admitted it felt like a chore recently, having all his school work and also having you to deal with, especially when you got confrontational.

It had been heartbreaking hearing him say that you were the reason for his recent headaches and that he no longer was enjoying the aspect of a relationship. He wanted space, he wanted to have a moment where he could do absolutely nothing. Not have to worry about another individual's feelings. It was valid, and you had agreed that it would be best if you two just broke up. Clearly if you two weren't going to be happy, it was better to just end it.

You really couldn't blame or hate him. He was studying law, and you could only imagine how stressful and difficult it must be. And to have to worry about a relationship on top of that must've been hellish.

You couldn't shake off the memories though, all the great parts of your relationship. You struggled too. You had homework too, but he was the highlight of your college experience.

Even if you were drowning in homework, you knew you could waltz into Alex's dorm and just cuddle with him for a bit. You knew he would walk into your room any second of the day just to declare you two were going to take a break from studying to go eat at this place he'd found near the university. He was the light that shined brightly and took you out of the holes you dug yourself into when you worked too hard and barely had time to take care of yourself.

You thought you had the same effects on him, but instead you were draining him of energy. The hangouts and time spent wasn't a nice break for him, it was a chore. It was something he felt obligated to do.

You shook the thoughts away as you noticed the library getting closer and closer. Once you got there, you walked in and headed to where you knew he might be waiting, or where he'd know to go if you were the first to arrive.

Fortunately for you, he still wasn't here, so you simply took a seat and looked around the library. You could feel the guilt settling in your stomach. Perhaps this felt like a chore as well, having to come all the way out here to meet with you, just to get some hoodies you could've dropped off at his dorm. 0 interaction needed.

The small bell rang, notifying everyone inside that the front door had been opened. This was it. He was here. You held your breath as you waited to see Alex, if it even was him who had just gotten here.

Surely, it was. He was wearing these black sweatpants, a white baggy shirt, and his beanie that neatly tucked away the strands of hair that would usually hide his facial features. He looked good, to say the least.

You watched as his eyes scanned the room, looking for you. Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your breath hitch in anticipation as his brown eyes finally met yours for the first time in about a week or two. It was so nice seeing him again, it felt right, but this was most likely your last time meeting with him.

You watched as he walked over to you, a small, polite smile on your lips as he came closer and closer. Once he was finally standing in front of you, a small, "Hi-" slipped out, which you instantly regretted. It sounded so pathetic.

"Hi." He replied calmly as he took the seat across from where you had been sitting.

He actually sat down. This meant he was planning on sticking around for a bit, right? If he wanted to leave right away, he would've stood, extended his hand out to show that he wanted you to hand him the hoodies. But here he was now, sitting in the chair across from you.

Usually when you two came to the library, he was seated beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as you two scanned a textbook of a shared electives class or both did your own studying. It was always so peaceful and actually allowed you to focus on what you were studying. His presence was so good for you, but it was recently made clear the feeling wasn't mutual.

Right.

You cleared your throat, not ready to hand over the hoodies just yet. "How have you been..?" You asked, trying to maintain a calm tone.

It might've been stupid to try and make conversation with him, but you were hanging on by a thread. You'd risk it, push your luck until the thread snapped and disintegrated in your own hands.

"I've been.. alright. You?" He hesitated to answer, and was currently avoiding eye contact, staring down at the table and then your hands that were placed on top of the hoodie stack.

"I've been okay. Big change to get used to." You admitted, a small chuckle escaping your lips. It was not a laughing matter at all, but you couldn't help it, especially since you were feeling rather nervous.

"It is a big change." He admitted as well, finally looking up to meet your gaze. The eye contact broke your heart. Usually looking into his brown eyes would heal any and every scar that may appear on your heart, patch up anything that may be breaking, but now it was these brown eyes that were killing you and breaking you apart.

It was now your turn to look away, settling your gaze on the strings of the hoodie, hands playing with them absent-mindedly.

The soft fabric against your finger tips reminded you why you were here in the first place, making you finally look up at him again. You were surprised to see that his gaze was already on you. Although your eyes widened slightly, you quickly brought them back to normal and cleared your throat, pushing the hoodies forward and towards him.

"Found these in my closet and figured you might want them back. They've been washed." You clarified towards the end as you watched him take hold of them.

And that's when it was official. They were now under his possession again, not yours. The hoodies were no longer yours, he was not yours. You could feel the lump forming in your throat at the thought, and figured it wasn't a good idea to be at this library for even a second longer.

You watched as he looked down at the hoodie stack that he was now holding. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say, yet was clearly holding back. It was a horrible sight to see. You knew you'd be thinking about this gaze, the words his eyes screamed, the words he failed to verbally say now. It would eat at you during late nights in the near future.

—

Now that the hoodies were in his hands, he realized just how real the breakup was. He hadn't been doing too well himself, beating himself up for reacting that way, for lashing out on you that way. For saying things he hadn't meant, and had only said because he was stressed out and in serious need of space. That was all it was.

And now here he was, sat in front of his ex, receiving the hoodies he had gladly gave them. He remembered when he handed each of these, what the occasion was and how cute you'd looked once you'd put it on. The pride that had filled his chest at the sight of you in his hoodie. How lovesick he'd felt whenever you came to his dorm with his hoodie on, when you wore it out in public and let everyone know that you were indeed taken. By Alex himself.

And now here he was. You couldn't even look at him for a few seconds without having to tear your eyes away. He wondered if you had cried just as much as he had, if you had blamed yourself or called yourself clingy, annoying, the worst of the worst because of the horrible things he had said to you. All things which he greatly regrets now.

When he had walked into the library, he'd spotted you almost instantly, sat at the table where you two would usually study, looking as cozy as ever. If he hadn't fucked up so badly, he would've walked over, wrapped his arms around you and left the softest kiss on your lips, maybe one on your jaw as well as he mumbled "hi baby," against your skin. The laugh that might've escaped your lips at his words and actions, the fact that he can't experience that anymore because he fucked up. It was killing him.

He knew that any second now, you'd stand up and walk out of his life permanently, and there'd be nothing for him to do about it. He'd already caused enough damage with the bullshit he had spewed just a week ago. He couldn't ask anything of you. Not a second chance, not a moment of your time so he could explain that he didn't want to lose you. That he had just been stressed and taken it out on you, tried to blame it all on one person rather than just taking a step back and thinking things through. Admit that he had fucked up. It would be extremely selfish of him to fuck up in the way that he did and then ask for you to forgive him. He just couldn't do it.

He wondered if you could tell how awful he'd been doing. Was it obvious that he hadn't slept? Too busy replaying the scene where he had broken your heart over and over again as he lay in bed, avoiding any and all responsibilities. When you'd reached out to him, he had been laying in bed, quickly getting out and trying to look as composed and not like he'd been feeling like absolute shit this whole past week.

But now he was sitting across from you and the hoodies were in his hands. The exchange had been successful and there was now no business for you to be here. Any second now, you'd stand up and leave him here. For real this time. He wouldn't get to see the way you smiled with your eyes, wouldn't be able to hear nor cause your wonderful laugh. Wouldn't be able to hold you close whenever he pleased, wouldn't be able to kiss you as many times as he wanted. Wouldn't be able to whisper secrets to you as you two lay in bed at 3 in the morning.

No. He had lost those privileges a week ago, as soon as those horrible words left his mouth.

The sound of you clearing your throat brought him back to his senses, along with the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. He quickly looked up, catching the words that were slipping past your lips.

"Well, now that you have your hoodies, I should probably head back to my dorm now." You said softly, an awkward smile on your lips. It was clear you weren't necessarily sure how to say goodbye. He wasn't either.

His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour in his poor brain, your moves were almost in slow motion in front of him as he panicked and tried to figure out what to do for you to stay.

No matter how many times he had lied to himself and told himself that he would be fine with you finally walking out of his life, it was exactly that. A lie. He wasn't ready. He wouldn't ever be ready to lose such a wonderful person that had walked in and changed his life for the better. Not at least without explaining himself. Asking for a second chance, as selfish as that might've been.

As he stood to his feet, the loud scraping of the chair against the floor caught everyone around you two off guard, especially you as you almost bumped into his chest as he suddenly blocked the path with his body.

"Y/N." He said, almost breathless. Your eyes were wide in confusion at the new barricade that stood between you and the door.

"I-I'm sorry." He finally said. Even if it was just two words, he already felt much better. He wanted you to know, to know that he was indeed sorry for ever saying such horrible things to you.

The shock in your face was evident, your mouth opening and closing slightly, truly at a loss for words. He took this as a sign to continue.

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you that day. They really weren't true. I was just– so stressed and I needed to take that out on someone. And you questioning me and asking why I'd grown distant just pushed me over the edge and I snapped at you. But I didn't mean a single word I said. I love you so much, Y/N. I couldn't fucking live with myself this past week, it's been eating me alive, the fact that I said those horrible things to you. You that could never do harm, you that has helped me so much throughout the years I've known you, whether it be as a friend or as my lover." He paused, it was so clear he was suffering from a severe case of word vomit, and people were staring now.

Your eyes had softened slightly as you listened to his word vomit, but you were cautious, it was evident to him. Your stance said it all. You looked around for a bit before letting out a small sigh.

"Not here, Alex. This is a library. Why don't we go talk somewhere else?" You offered softly, gaze way softer now, almost as if you were being cautious of the state he was currently in, scared he'd fall apart any second now. He silently nodded, leading the way out of the library with you quietly following behind him.

—

Your heart was beating rapidly against your ribcage, unable to truly process what the hell had just happened. Was that real? Did it really happen? Or was this a cruel joke, and soon you'd wake up on your bed, clutching one of his hoodies tightly to your chest.

You were walking behind him as he lead the way out of the library. You replayed the words in your head, unable to grasp that he had actually apologized.

You had gotten up to leave, saying your final goodbyes to him, and that was what lead him to crack. He had stood up quickly to block your path, and had began to spill his apologies, explaining how he's been a mess and feels horrible about the things he had said. He hadn't meant it. You weren't a bother. The relationship wasn't a chore. He perhaps still wanted you.

You had mixed feelings about all of this, especially considering the pain he'd put you through this entire week. But you also were obviously not ready to throw away a relationship that had lasted this long, and that had been going so well up until last week, when he presumably accidentally took it all out on you.

You were brought back to reality as he stopped walking and turned to look at you. He had lead you two to a coffee shop, one that you two frequently visited. Not for the coffee, but for the pastries and other drinks they sold, all quite delicious and a perfect breakfast for when you both were running late.

You looked at him as he opened the door for you to walk in. As you walked in, you were immediately hit with the smell of the freshly baked pastries. He then asked if you could sit while he ordered.

It didn't take long before he was back, with the usual orders you both got from here. It was touching, and probably an effort from him to patch things up. You thanked him for the drink and delicious smelling pastry before taking a small sip, awkwardly seated as you waited for him to speak again, attempt to explain himself further.

When he realized you were just waiting on him now, he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I'm really sorry. I hope I didn't make a scene or anything at the library. It was just, kind of a desperate last minute attempt to fix things between us."

Us. Us. It left a savory taste on your tongue. It felt right. Yes, Alex, us. You and I. That's how it's supposed to be.

You shook your head, "Nono. It's not that. It just- caught me off guard obviously, and well, I didn't want you to get in trouble for speaking a bit loudly, at the library."

He smiled, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the slight teasing tone at the end of your sentence. God, you had missed his laugh so much over the past week. It always managed to cheer you up no matter how bad things were.

"So uh, I'm sorry once again, Y/N. I know what I did was shitty, I've been beating myself up for it this entire past week. And even if you don't accept this apology and you want nothing to do with me after this, I just need you to know that I could never ever mean the things I said. You mean so much to me, and I just- I fucked up big time. You're not a chore at all. In fact, you make my life better, but it just took me so long to realize just how much you've positively changed my life. I'm so sorry for being distant. It's school, I promise. It's not because I don't love you anymore or anything. It's impossible for me to not love you, I hope you know that–" He paused to take a moment to breathe. He had just dumped all of this information onto them again. But he was just so scared that you'd up and leave any second now. He had to let it all out before it even came down to that.

"It- it was a bit of an overload, regarding information." You said once you realized he was waiting for a response. "It might take me a while to think about this. I mean, what you said really hurt me, Alex." You confessed, watching as his expression saddened, it was obvious he regret it. Everything he had said. "Don't get me wrong, I still love you, so so so much. Words cannot explain." You said, hand shyly reaching out to grab his. He responded almost instantly, fingers interlacing with your own. His hands were warm, against your own. You'd missed his warmth so much, and finally having it, even if just for a few seconds was sending you over the moon.

His grip on your hand was tight, but not tight where it hurt. It was tight, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were real, that you were really insinuating that you'd give him a second chance. And honestly? Of course you would. This man meant the absolute world to you. And you understood where he was coming from, why he'd done what he did. It didn't take away the fact that it hurt, but you understood him, and would forgive him, eventually.

"I love you too." He said softly, gaze meeting yours as he smiled softly. "Take as much time as you need. I really am sorry, I'll never stop being sorry for the horrible shit I said. But no matter the outcome, I'll accept it."

His words meant the world to you. Even if you knew you'd accept his apology soon, it still meant so much that he just wanted you to know he meant what he was saying, even if you decided to leave forever.

"Thank you, Alex." You said with a small smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to tell yourself as well that this was real. You felt him squeeze your hand back gently as well, and smiled slightly bigger at the memory that he did this whenever he wanted to reassure you about something. You really did love this man.

The day had started off with attempts to forget the very man you were currently holding hands with, attempting to get rid of every trace he had in your life in attempts to heal, attempts to move on. But he had stopped it all. He had apologized, admitted to the horrible week he's had, admitted to his faults, and was willing to accept if you no longer wanted him in your life.

But how could you ever wish that in regards to Alex? The one that brought sunshine into your life, the one that made everything better just by being himself.

Things were going to get better from here on out. Alex apologizing and stopping either of you from leaving each other's lives was a clear sign of that. From now on, you wouldn't allow such atrocities to take place either. You two would work on this.

As you stared at Alex who sat across from you, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility of having him back. Having everything go back to normal. It was clear he was thinking the same, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at you so brightly, almost bright enough to leave you sunburnt. Alex was sticking around, and so were you.

Maybe you wouldn't have to give the hoodies back after all.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Woke up married

Summary: Pounding headache, blurry details from the night before, awkward glances at brunch. All the right ingredients for the world’s worst hangover.

Warnings: 18+ stuff, drinking, talks of sex, humour & fluff.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Square Filled: Woke up married

Word count: About 1100.

A/N: Written for @avengersbingo Have I taken inspo from that Friends episode where Ross and Rachel get married? Yes I have. Enjoy ;))

Avengers Bingo Masterlist

Tony Stark Taglist - @raspberrymama @ladyeliot @boop-le-snoot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Taglists are open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be included!

.

Sunlight streamed in through the glass wall and on your face in a way that had you groaning and kicking the sheets, which in turn resulted in a muffled ‘ow’ being heard from somewhere down below.

The ruthless hammering inside your head became prominent and you knew it would only get worse if you opened your eyes. There was some shuffling and moving beside you, enough to mumble a curse word before peeking an eye open to locate the source.

A big lump of pristine white sheets and Tony’s bare legs poking out through the other end right next to your face. The need for rest hung heavy on your lids as the surroundings became clearer, still eluding the events from last night.

Apart from the sheets that were tangled around your body, you realised to your horror that you were sans clothing as well. There was popcorn littered on the nightstand along with some liquid splashed across the surface and confetti?

“Oh God…”

The movement caused Tony to pull your legs closer and rest his face on your feet. The pounding headache grew as you rest yourself on your elbows to take notice of the state of the bedroom you were in.

Clothes strewn about on the floor, your bra hanging off the open bedroom door proudly, empty champagne bottles and more confetti.

“Tony. Wake up!” You hissed, blinding tapping the lump of sheets that wouldn’t move. Another kick and he was up.

“Did you just kick my face? Ugh. What time is it?”

“Time to regret drinking a river that we did last night.”

Slowly unveiling his face from the sheets, Tony emerged looking as terrible as you imagined you were too. He rubbed a hand down his face before sitting up, his bare torso littered with your lipstick stains up for display, adding to your worries.

“Do you have your boxers on?” You asked, praying he did as you spotted your panties on the foot of the bed. Tony reached underneath the sheets to check, his expression revealing everything you needed to know as he gulped and shook his head.

“We couldn’t have had sex though, could we?”

“Given how badly I want to throw up and go back to sleep right now, I’m gonna say we were too hammered to do much else.”

Tony’s reassurance did nothing to pacify your panic as the cottonmouth you had screamed for water.

“I’m never gonna drink again.”

“Tony, you and I both know it’s a lie.”

“Do you remember what we did last night?”

“I think so? Couldn’t have been too bad.”

Little did you two know that all your worst fears were about to be revealed.

.

You shrugged on one of Tony’s old T-shirts and a pair of shorts you had stashed in his closet long back when you’d first started dating, rubbing your temples in circles as you waddled downstairs for sustenance.

Expecting it to be empty, you were surprised to find the team gathered around the living room, chatting animatedly before their heads turned in your direction watching the two of you enter the land of the living.

Spotting some food kept on the table you made your way over and plopped yourself on the couch with Tony yawning shamelessly following suit.

You downed the glass of orange juice in one go as Nat exchanged suspicious looks with Clint, Bruce looking uncomfortably between the two of you while Steve acted indifferent.

Tony reached for the cup of coffee before you slapped his hand away and handed him a fruit instead, mumbling something about how drinking coffee makes the hangover worse, causing the Russian assassin to chuckle.

“Okay what is it?” You asked, glaring at everyone.

“Are we going to talk about what you guys did last night?”

The Captain crossed his arms over his chest, displeasure prominent on his face.

That previously forgotten fear showed up again as you met Tony’s eyes, your expressions matching.

Just as you were about to answer, the God of Thunder burst in the room smiling at the two of you holding a vase containing massive long stemmed roses.

“Good morning! How is the happy couple?”

“What?”

You lost your appetite as memories from the night before came back to you in pieces. There had to have been Thor’s Asgardian liquor involved since you’d never had blackout incidents before this.

Your left hand housed a ‘ring’ fashioned out of copper wires, something you definitely knew was Tony’s doing.

“What did you do Tony?” You glared at the man who gulped as last night’s events flashed before his eyes.

“Honey I wasn’t the only one drinking yesterday.”

“Explain this!!” You flashed your hand in front of his face.

Bruce cleared his throat to interrupt the possible spat that was about to commence.

“Uh. Tony sent one of his suits to get a minister to marry you guys. And he wrote this on my hand.”

He rolled up the shirt sleeves to reveal what you hoped was a temporary tattoo that read, ‘Best Man Bruce Banner’.

You held your head in your hands, unable to face any of them while Tony tried his best but failed to hide a snigger.

“It’s not funny Tony.”

“Kinda is. Look, we can take care of it, don’t worry Banner.”

You stood up suddenly, making all heads turn your way, struggling to get the ring off of your finger.

“Wait why’re you removing it?” Tony followed you, leaving the group to stare after the two of you.

“Are you suggesting I keep this god awful thing? And this was an accident, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah it was. But what if we don’t get an annulment?”

Tony’s words made you stop in your tracks. The man didn’t seem to be joking as you faced him.

“What are you saying Tony?”

“I’m saying what if we stay married? It seems like we already had the ceremony.”

“No. Not a chance.”

You shook your head and began storming towards your room. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and headache making you this irritable and react the way you were, you wondered if the circumstances had been different your answer would change.

“But why? Do you not want to marry me?”

“Not like this I don’t! We were hammered.”

The ring finally came off which you threw in Tony’s general direction, not turning to see if he’d caught it.

“I’ll get you a proper ring (Y/N) come on!”

“Get me a proper wedding Stark!”

The others laughed as you slammed the door on Tony’s face before Steve removed his phone, scrolling through hundreds of pictures which he was forced to take capturing the world’s worst hangover.

[theartofdreaming1]

Here is my attempt at portraying Peeta’s camouflage skills convincingly 😅😅

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 19-21 are below the cut.

heart

While I love all the banter between Katniss and Peeta, I think my favorite of these three chapters is: “Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this,” I say. “Although for all I know, I am killing you.” “Can you speed it up a little?” he asks. “No. Shut up and eat your pears,” I say. A classic 😄

mind

I always imagined that Cato went after Thresh before coming for Katniss and Peeta because a) Thresh took the backpack for District 2 (which contained the body armor that would make dealing with Katniss’s arrow so much easier) and b) Thresh killed Clove and Cato wanted to avenge her... Although I have no idea how Cato ended up killing Thresh... he was doing pretty well for himself in his grass-y area... Maybe the Gamemakers wanted to punish Thresh for not killing Katniss and generated that thunderstorm and rain to force Thresh out of his refuge, which would give Cato a fair chance to kill him, I guess...

soul

Lol, honestly, since Peeta just generally seems to be motivated by kindness and love/caring, I don’t think it took much for him to keep the star-crossed lovers angle alive (I could easily imagine him actually noticing Katniss in the willow tree early in the Games and offering to take care of the District 8 girl, so the Careers would get the hell out of there, away from Katniss)

Chapter 19:

Peeta, who’s been wounded, is now my ally. [...] I’d loathe any tribute who didn’t immediately ally with their district partner. Besides, it just makes sense to protect each other. - Honestly, this just highlights what a kind person Katniss is, despite her aloof front; her innermost instinct is always to stick together and to protect. Because it doesn’t really make sense for her to team up with Peeta - she knows he’s wounded and won’t be of much help to her, her chances of survival are way better if she stayed on her own, but it’s not something she’d ever consider now that they are allowed to form a team (and only then does she even factor in the whole ‘star-crossed lovers of district 12′ -angle)

Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me. The thought makes me smile. - Aww 😊 (but also, how heart-breaking that the Capitol will do everything in their power to change that, to make Peeta become a danger to Katniss 😢)

He’s very hard to predict, which might be interesting under different circumstances - Okay, but this just makes me think of that exchange in Gilmore Girls when Paris and Rory talk about how you know a guy is right for you:  “Someone who’s compatible but not compatible.” “Yeah, kind of. I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don’t know – there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s gonna do at all times that’s just really exciting.” - fits these two to a T 😏

In fact, I’ve just about decided I’m on the wrong track entirely, that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source, when I see the bloody streak - Okay, but how flipping tough is Peeta?! He’s severely injured, with multiple tracker jacker stings and he drags himself to this terrain that is almost impossible to navigate for someone in his condition - a sturdy dandelion, indeed!

“You’re here to finish me off, sweetheart?” - What an entrance after having gone AWOL for quite a couple of chapters 👌🏼👏🏼

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” I jerk my head back but end up laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” [...] “Katniss?” Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words “How about that kiss?” I burst out laughing - He’s lying in a river bed, slowly dying, and he can still make her laugh 😊

“You know, you’re kind of squeamish for such a lethal person” - It’s such a small comment, but I can’t help but think that Peeta is just kind of intrigued to discover all these little idiosyncrasies that make up the ever-elusive Katniss Everdeen ;)

Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. -  Aww, she doesn’t even want to consider him dying, so she spontaneously decides to cut him off with a kiss👀👀 Honestly, at this point Peeta has elicited 2 (!) spontaneous kisses  (the kiss after the chariot ride and this one) from Katniss, who generally isn’t that big on touching people

“You’re not going to die. I forbid it. All right?” - Stubborn, protective Katniss... But also reminds me of their rooftop “date” in CF and the “Then you’ll allow it?” “I’ll allow it” - exchange

I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He’s great at this stuff. - KaTNisSs, gurl... 🙄🤦🏼‍♀️

Chapter 20:

But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I’m just going to have to trust whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. - The very best of instincts, Katniss, don’t you worry😉

Peeta’s struggling to get up when I reach the cave. “I woke up and you were gone,” he says, “I was worried about you.” - Gah, why are the both of them so good?! They just care for and worry about each other 24/7

“How do you feel?” “Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud,” he says. “Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you.” Oh right, the whole romance thing. - Oh Katniss...😐 I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. - Where did Peeta pick this up? From a time his family was less dysfunctional? Observing couples in the town square? Or is he a fricking disney prince and these things come natural to him? Questions, questions...

“You didn’t sleep,” Peeta says. “I’m all right,” I say. But the truth is, I’m exhausted. “Sleep now. I’ll keep watch.” [...] I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he’s been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. - These two are just too stubborn to take proper care of themselves - good thing that each of them is adamant to force the other to sleep/drink/eat when necessary

“Besides I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” - When presented with the choice of being flirty vs being a cheeky little shit, Peeta will choose being a flirty cheeky little shit every time 😂

“I’m going to make soup,” I say. “Don’t light a fire,” he says. “It’s not worth it.” - Okay, but what he’s actually saying is “I’m not worth it” 😭😭

Katniss telling that story about buying Prim’s goat😊... A young buck, probably a yearling by his size. His antlers were just growing in, still small and coated in velvet. [...] Beautiful. - We are all very much aware of Peeta’s appreciation for beauty, but the same does apply to Katniss, too (she’s just overall more pragmatic)

“Was it [the goat] still wearing the pink ribbon?″ he asks. “I think so,” I say. “Why?” “I’m just trying to get a picture,” he says thoughtfully. -  Peeta is so detail-oriented! I have this theory that this is actually something that enables him to overcome his hijacking; we catch glimpses in MJ of how he inches himself out of his condition by asking/focusing on small details or things most people would dismiss as trivial (Katniss’s favorite color, the color of her dress visiting District 7, her Dad singing the Hanging Tree when Peeta was 6 or 7 years old...) and I feel like it makes a lot of sense - his tormentors in the Capitol either wouldn’t have access to distort these moments or not even consider them to have any significance (since they are all about big, flashy gestures in the Capitol), so these memories would remain untouched. Luckily, Peeta seems to live by Robert Brault’s words: “Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. “

“Really? What did you cost me again?” I ask. “A lot of trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll get it all back,” he says. - Well, he’s going to cost her a lot more trouble in the future - but we know he’s going to make up for it and bring her much happiness, too 😊

“You’re not risking your life for me.” “Who said I was?” I say. [...] “Of course I’m not going.” [...] “You’re such a bad liar, Karniss.” [...] Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!” “I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says. - Soo.. their love language is offering to sacrifice their life like it’s nothing, huh?! 😳😅 

Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, - lol, sounds like a husband trying to get back on his wife’s good side after they had a row 😂

I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it’s too late, he’s already losing consciousness. - Ah, the most important indicator of true love: having person A force-feed person B a sedative so they can run off to get them life-saving medicine ;)

Chapter 21:

I lie next to Peeta in the bag, trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat. It’s strange to be so physically close to someone who’s so distant. Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol, - Reminds me how in MJ she’s going to be so close to Peeta (mentally/emotionally) while he will be physically so distant (in the Capitol!)

a tiny orange one [backpack] [...] that must be marked with a 12 - Interesting how that backpack is orange, huh? Why is that? Are smaller backpacks generally orange (like the one Katniss already has) to be more visible or is this simply to connect the backpack to Peeta (though we don’t know his favorite color at this point)? Do the Gamemakers care whether Katniss gets a matching backpack? It just seems like an unnecessary detail to throw in🤔

The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! - Honestly, this was a truly brilliant move; kudos! 👏🏼

[Clove] carefully selects an almost dainty-looking number [knife] with a cruel, curved blade. “I promised Cato if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show.” [...] “I think...” she almost purrs. “I think we’ll start with your mouth.” [...] she teasingly traces the outline of my lips with the tip of the blade. - Okay, but the idea of Clove cutting off Katniss’s lips is just all kinds of terrifying and disturbing 😨

“No! No, I-” Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh’s hand [...] Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove’s temple. [...] and I know she’s a goner. - Interesting how Katniss describes that rock that basically saves her life (or at least kills her assailant) as bread-sized, huh? “Your district... they sent me bread. [...] Conflicting emotions cross Thresh’s face. He lowers the rock and points at me, almost accusingly. “Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl.” - Katniss mentions the bread from District 11 as a proof of her alliance with Rue (and the recognition of D11) and Thresh spares her; bread keeps saving her life (while it keeps representing acts of kindness)

Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. - I appreciate this small, humanizing moment with Cato

The last thing I remember is an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. - I don’t know much about North American insects (not that I know that much about European insects either - just recently came across a relatively rare moth on my walks that I had never seen or heard of before) - is Katniss describing a special/noteworthy species of moth? Or is this a more literary symbolism kind of moth? (Just looked up some symbolism meaning of moths: change/transformation, seeking light; power of regeneration in some Native American mythology, hmm...)

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - three

New Beginnings

Timeline: Takes place a few years after the events of Breaking Dawn

Pairing: Paul Lahote x OC (Tallulah is 18)

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

She was like the moon -- part of her is always hidden away

Tallulah looked to the boy in front of her, up close, in much better light than she had first seen him in, he looks older, worn and tired. Like he hasn't slept well in days. “I’m aware of who you are.” she stated in a matter of fact tone, and she watches as the smirk returns to his face. Great, an inflated ego, she thought. Tallulah is overly aware that his eyes are on her, like he's trying to read her uninterested expression. “I didn’t know Joseph had a third daughter,” he spoked tentatively, as if he would cause her to bolt if he said something wrong. She nodded her head in response, of course nobody knew. “Yeah, I’m the best kept family secret there ever was,” she eased out with a breathy laugh, “I didn’t mean it like that” he backtracked quickly, “I’ve just never seen you around the rez before”

Tallulah nodded her head in understanding, “my mom hates it here so she never brought me.” she stated before turning her body back towards the bar, hoping he’d get the hint that this was not what she wanted to be talking about. The next question out of his mouth being ‘why’, clearly meant he did not know how to read a room, causing her to turn her entire body back towards him, her face level with his as he was leaning against the counter, eyes looking into hers, as she venomously spoke, “because it's a giant reminder that her ex husband spent two years of their marriage being in love with another woman before leaving her to care for a child by herself while he lived happily ever after.” The look of shock on Paul's face didn’t surprise Tallulah in the slightest.

The waitress had dropped off both of their drinks and as she was about to open her mouth to drop another heated sentence she felt a petite arm wrap around her own, and a raspy feminie voice greeted Paul, to which he nodded in acknowledgment, barely taking his eyes off of Tallulah, “Sorry, Paul, but I need to steal my sister for a moment,”. Tallulah was now looking at the tall, raven haired girl beside her. Lenna.

Now she was confused, as the younger of the two pulled her away from the counter, drink in hand, back to the table where Josie was now sitting beside herself. Lenna sat down beside her twin, across from Tallulah, a look of exasperation was evident on Lenna's face, whereas Josie had an apologetic one.

Before she could even ask what had just happened, Lenna was speaking in a heated tone, “you need to stay away from him,” she started, “he’s got a girlfriend,” before she could defend herself from what felt like an attack, Josie piped in, “They’re back together?” she asked in a shocked tone, to which her twin nodded her head furiously. “What does any of whatever you're talking about have to do with me?” she asked, eyebrow raised, Tallulah crossed her arms as she leaned back in her seat. “This has everything to do with you!” Lenna exclaimed, “You’re the shiny new toy here, doesn’t help that you're hot either. And Paul Lahote is dating Rachel Black, happily, might I add, and when they aren’t together, she's not happy and when she's not happy, I’m not happy!” she rambled, Tallulah looked to Josie for clarification, “What Lenna is trying to say is that Rachelis her boss and she is not easy to work for when she doesn’t get what she wants. And for as long as we can remember, Paul was the source of that stress. They’ve been on and off since they were 16.” Josie clarified, with Lenna adding, “Plus, dad has a rule about dating older guys, and he does not fit the qualifications, even for you.” she stated before picking at her perfectly manicured hands.

“Well, no need to stress. I’m not a homewrecker.” Tallulah stated matter of factly. “ Besides, he’s not my type anyways” Not that Tallulah had a type really, anyone who didn’t want her commitment and could make her feel something other than numb, was good enough for her.

The three girls stayed at the cafe until it was nearly dark. The twins carried the conversation, with Tallulah nodding her head and giving one word answers whenever it was needed. She didn’t particularly care for the topics in which they were being brought up, like who broke up or who’s not friends anymore. In such a small area she figured this was typical considering everyone knew everyone here. She didn’t even want to think about what people might be saying about her. After awhile, Lenna had to get to work and Josie had received a text from Kira of when dinner would be, to which Tallulah thought was odd, her and her mother never ate dinner together as a family. Either her mother was at work or she was out with friends, being left up to her own devices. So when Josie and Tallulah walked through the front door of their home to the smell of a home cooked meal, she felt a tinge of jealousy. The twins were living the life she had dreamt of as a child, a mother who cooked, a dad that was present in their lives, family dinners where they could talk about their days, the good and the bad. A family that made memories together, rather than apart.

The two girls kicked off the shoes and before making their way to the dining room table, Tallulah felt awkward, she didn’t want to sit in someone else's seat, so, she let Josie sit in her usual spot before sitting down, Kira and her dad sat at the ends of the table. They all jumped right in, grabbing and passing food to each other as if Tallulah had been there for years.

As they ate, Kira asked how her first full day in La Push was, she shrugged her shoulders, before stating, “it was alright. Met some people who seemed to already know who I was.” This caused her father and Kira to laugh, as Tallulah took another bite while her dad asked, “catch any names?”, before she could even answer, Josie was answering for her, “She met Paul today, seemed like they really hit it off.” Tallulah couldn't stop the glare that adorned her face, for someone who had essentially told her their dad didn’t like him, she was really throwing her in front of a bus.

She looked at her dad, trying to gauge a reaction from him but he was looking at Kira, the two of them silently communicating from across the table, before saying, “I don’t know if that's someone you’d want as a friend.He’s quite older than you, Tal, nearly 27.” to which she shrugged off, saying, “he was just asking if i was your daughter. Not a lot of people knew you had three before yesterday.” No longer having an appetite, she dropped her fork onto her plate, “and not that it's anyone's business, but I can make my own friends, older or younger. Thank you for dinner, Kira.” she said trying to contain her anger before standing up and tucking her chair in. She grabbed her plate and brought it into the kitchen, the anger that has been stirring since the day before coming back out as she tried to calm herself before it came back to bite her. She tossed her food and placed her plate in the dishwasher before walking up to her room and shutting the door gently, she turned towards her bed noticing a black book bag with a folded slip of paper on it. Picking it up and opening, she recognized it as a schedule, reading it over, she noticed she had more independent study periods than actual classes. Written in pen below the timetable there was a note, stating, “exempt from AP Literature, Biology III and Calculus”, which were all classes she had taken in the first semester of her old school. She let out a breath of relief at the thought of not taking them again. Shoving the paper in her bag, before dropping it at the foot of her bed. She grabbed a book out of one of her unpacked duffels that her mother must have packed for her, before laying on her bed to read.

-

At some point she must have dozed off, the room was dark but the moonlight illuminated from the window. Tallulah got up and stretched her back from the odd position she had fallen asleep, before stripping out of her jeans in favour of comfy shorts and a baggy t-shirt. She made her way into the hall to use the bathroom she shared with the twins, as well as to brush her teeth. From the bathroom she could hear the muffled voices of Jira and her dad, ‘he’s too old for her’ ‘this could be good for her’ ‘or it could push her further away’ ‘you and i both know that wont happen’, it didn’t take a genius to realize who they were talking about, and she wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest because in her mind, if they never assert their problems with her, then they can never be mad. How can she go against them if she didn’t know what she was doing wasn’t allowed?

She left the bathroom after dousing her face with water and patting it dry to see Josie waiting outside, Tallulah rolled her eyes before brushing past her, not listening to her apologies, she didn’t care if Josie was a snitch. She's just happy she found out sooner, rather than later.

[whump-a-la-mode]

*waves awkwardly* ahaha you know why I’m here😂😭 ... yet again... cliffhangers..

You’re keeping this story going singlehandedly! I’m glad for it, I’m loving writing this.

Another cliffhanger? Maybe.

Maybe a little bit.

Continued from here.

CW//None

The truck’s wheels grumbled over the overused and underkept streets of Metropolis. Once in a while, its tires would catch in a particularly jarring pothole, launching the vehicle against the force of its own suspension.

Villain couldn’t remember the last time they’d been in a car. They’d been brought to the HQ in one, certainly, a covered backseat kennel restraining their movements and eye sight in equal measure. After that... after that was the blackness. Then Hero, who was more than content keeping their dog in the facility overnight.

Thus, however long it had been since they were in a vehicle, it was far too long a period. They’d been in the facility so terribly long. There was no reason for them to be brought elsewhere, and therefore they were not.

Staring out the window, they could not help but feel as a slack-jawed child, awed by the sounds and sights of the big city. Regardless of how long Villain had spent in the metropolis beforehand-- their whole life, practically-- viewing it again after such time made them feel to be wandering through a painted memory half-forgotten.

They were free. They supposed that was the most incredible aspect of the whole thing. The door was closed, their seatbelt stretching across their body, but neither were secured. Neither were intended to keep them anywhere they didn’t want to be. If they had the impulse, they could undo the restraint, swing open the door, and be free.

Of course, they’d be swept up in moments, either by their newfound guardian or by their former captors. It was a hollow sort of freedom, but freedom nonetheless.

Better than they’d had in a long, long while.

The truck was new, the inside laden with black leather seats that had already been thoroughly ruined by golden pet hair in short order. A shiny screen replaced where most cars had dashboards, offering enough options to make Villain dizzy.

Not that they had access to it, at the moment. They were seated in the back of the vehicle, holding tight to a pillow that Spouse had sent along with them. Despite their partner’s protests, Civilian had refused to allow them to go along. Something about a low profile, about safety.

Villain missed Spouse.

Yet, this was their choice, and they were well aware of that.

The dilemma their caretakers had presented them with had kept them awake all night. Two options in sharp dichotomy. The first offered freedom, unhindered. Brought to another country and left to roam.

But, it was a conditional freedom. They would be free as long as they could keep running, keep their head down, keep out of their captor’s hands.

The other option offered the opposite. Contained protection. Shuffled around the homes of strangers, kept hidden, yet kept safe.

Even as they debated with themself, they knew that they could never take the first option. They were a pet. They could never be a stray-- they knew that. They knew how quickly they’d be surrendering themself to the closest police station they could find.

Either way, they wouldn’t stay free for long. So, they’d chosen the second. Contained protection.

Civilian turned the truck’s wheel, pulling off a main road to weave through winding residential pathways. The townhomes all seemed to be mirror images of one another, but they supposed that that was perhaps the point.

Thus, there was nothing remarkable about the home that the truck pulled up to and parked in front of. It was the classic staple of suburbia: Pale walls and gabled roof and all. The building was distinguished from its uncountable neighbors only by its number.

“I need to go talk to Friend.” Civilian began-- causing their passenger to jump. They hadn’t addressed them for the entire ride. Instead, their ear had been pressed against their phone. “Stay here, okay? It’ll only take a minute. Make sure you have all your stuff together, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Villain hummed. Outside of the safety of the home, their voice felt to have been sucked dry from their throat.

With that, their caretaker popped open the driver’s side door, hopping out to the asphalt below. On their seat, they left their cellphone-- which Villain noted to still be on. They moved with a paranoid gait to the front door, glancing around every few moments. This behavior only heightened when they rang the doorbell, waiting in silence for a few moments.

When Friend at last emerged, they had just as much nerve about them. Why were they taking all this risk, all for the sake of an enemy of the city? They seemed tense enough to startle at a pin dropping.

The two disappeared within the building.

It was okay. The car was locked, and no one was around, anyways. Everything was going to be okay.

Though, it was difficult to convince their paranoid mind of such a thing. Instead, they attempted another tactic: Distraction.

Villain glanced to the seat beside them, and the bag upon it. They had no need to make sure everything was still in it-- they hadn’t even touched it yet--but it still made them feel better. Pulling the bag close, they fished through its contents. Candies, books, and stim toys filled the thing practically to the brim.

So odd, to be given a gift. Spouse had put it together for them. Cautiously, they took out one of the candies, beginning to peel back its wrapper.

A voice startled them from their distracted state.

“You weren’t followed?”

For a few moments, the vehicle’s passenger scrambled about, scrabbling to find the source of the noise. Yet, the street was as deserted as ever.

“No. It’s not my car, either, it’s my partners. No one was behind us. I made sure of it.”

Civilian’s voice.

Villain’s eyes snapped to the darkened device, laying atop the driver’s seat. Civilian’s phone. With as much care as they could manage, they undid their seatbelt, slowly, slowly creeping towards the device.

With a single finger, they touched the screen, igniting the phone to life.

The call. It was still going. They must have forgotten to hang up.

And Friend’s phone was inside...

They sat with bated breath as the cellphone began, once more, to speak.

“Good.” A relieved exhale. “You have no idea how paranoid I’ve been.”

“Oh, no, I think I have quite a good idea, actually. You should look in a mirror. You look terrified.”

“I do?” A nervous chuckle.

“Mhm.”

“Oops.”

“It’s fine. If everything goes according to plan, it won’t matter. No one will know to look here in the first place. Besides, even if they do, we have backups, remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

“I think we all are.”

“So... they’re really out there? #4? I didn’t think we’d ever see them again.”

“Neither did I. But some of us have partners who wind up in the wrong places at the wrong times.”

“Yeah. Yeah, who could have ever expected this, huh?”

“No one in their right mind. We should get them in here soon, though. Do you have everything ready?”

“Yep. Room’s all set up, I got curtains to cover the windows.”

“Good. I can’t thank you enough for this, Friend.”

“It’s the least we can do, I guess.” A brief pause sat between the two. “They aren’t... dangerous, right? I mean, I’ve never dealt with a failed attempt like this before...”

“They aren’t.” Civilian reassured. “They don’t remember us. And my partner packed all kinds of stuff to help keep their mind off of it. What matters is keeping them safe.“

“And calm.”

“And calm.” They agreed. “Let’s bring them in, I don’t want them to get any stupid ideas out there.”

The voices began to fade, little by little. Villain’s gaze whipped upwards, just in time to see the front door opening. Biting their tongue, they clicked ‘hang up’ on the phone as quickly as they could manage.

They didn’t remember...

What didn’t they remember?!

[anime-alyssa]

purple scars. (d ragnvindr x reader)

i posted this on ao3 and forgot to move it here - so you get it super long and not 2 in parts. i’m thinking of continuing this, maybe?

thanks for reading and the support! i’m working on a xiao rn hopefully i can get my shit together 

warning: contains some emotional trauma, implied r*pe but nothing is overly graphic. the second half is smut, separated by stars if thats what you want to skip to. 

The bitter cold of Dragonspire finally started to fade away as you crossed over the bridge back into Mondstat for the first time in 10 years. You were bundled up to the extreme, having prepared for the cold, your sword on your back and jacket heavy on your shoulders. Your sword and your jacket were all you managed to steal away before you were able to escape your homeland, Inazuma. You were still dressed in the encampment clothes, your ID number splayed across the chest of the shirt and the boots too big for your feet.

You hadn’t wanted to be gone for 10 years - you wanted to only be gone for a few, to get your Electro under control. But when Baal placed borders around the country and started hunting down anyone with a Vision, life had become a living hell. You were placed in a prison camp and locked away from society shortly after, tortured beyond anything imaginable just for being born with a Vision. The only thing that kept you alive was the hope that one day, if you had gotten strong enough, you would be able to escape Inazuma to head back to Diluc, and Mondstat - were you really felt at home. 

Diluc Ragnvindr was a mystery to everybody, except for you. You found yourself more often than not sneaking onto Dawn Winery’s premises when his father was not around and exploring each other’s bodies, like the horny teens that you had been. Sometimes you thought you could still feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin at night - and tried to imagine that it was him when the Bakufu would do unspeakable things to you and the other prisoners. It was painful, and left you scarred - would Diluc even want you?

It had been 10 years - you had last seen him when you were merely 16 and he was entering the Knights of Favonius. The two of you fell in love as teenagers - no one expected it to be anything beyond that, but the two of you were convinced otherwise at the time. For you, it was still the same - you thought of Diluc every single day while you were in Inazuma. You could remember the day like it was yesterday - his heartbroken eyes, the cries you let out as you told him that you would be leaving, the way he held onto you. 

“I’ll be back - I promise - I just - I need help that I can’t get here.” you sobbed into his chest. The Pyro users warmth was all around you as he held you in his room at Dawn Winery, his father out for the night, leaving the two of you bare in his bed.

“You better come back, or else I’ll go to Inazuma myself to get you.” his eyes looked down at you and your heart broke at the sight of him - Diluc was never a vulnerable person, but right now he was. One of his thumbs stroked your tears away on your cheeks as his lips peppered kisses up your neck. “I will never forget you. Ever.” 

“Neither will I.” you said with a gasp, as Diluc had given you a night to never forget. 

You had officially reached the other side of the bridge - the cold gone away and the warmth coming back to you. You thought about taking the jacket off, now way too hot with it on, but you didn’t want people to know where you had come from. You didn’t want their pity. There was a small camp with other adventurers and travelers around, the chef offering you food for free before you went on your way. It didn’t do much for you to quell the aching hunger you had and the shaky legs - you weren’t really the best fed and had been surviving off of fruit from trees. In short, you were in no condition to be traveling, clearly sickly and unwell. But you were not stopping now - you couldn’t. Not after all that you had overcome. You hadn’t forgotten about him. 

A series of snarls from the side of you caused you to jump as you saw about four hilichurls coming right for you. You shrugged the jacket off and grabbed your sword, standing your guard as the monsters attacked. You fought them tooth and nail until your vision all but blacked out - you had hit the ground and heard someone calling for you. 

“Hello? Wake up - Lumine - she needs help! Hey, wait - that’s an Inazuma camp uniform!” a high-pitched voice said to you. Your vision slowly came back as you saw a floating - fairy? You didn’t know what she was - but she was floating above you looking concerned next to a young blonde teenager. “Are you okay?” 

“I - I don’t know. Need food - water - Di -” you managed to weakly say, feeling your world spin around you. The blonde teenager ran to the water source across from you - a lake? - to get you a drink of water as the fairy thing fished out something for you to eat. You felt like you were going to die - you were starving, dehydrated, but Diluc, you needed to get to Diluc.

“Here’s some water! Drink this, please.” she said to you kindly. You took the cup and quickly chugged the water, then taking the offered food. “My name is Lumine, and this is Paimon.” You gave them your name back, as they seemed trustworthy, as they sat down next to you and watched you. Paimon looked at you with sad eyes, seeing your uniform.

“Thank you very much. It’s been…. a while since I ate anything. All I have is this.” you said to them, continuing to eat. You were already feeling better, but by the way they were looking at you, you could tell that you were still quite a sight.

“You’re welcome - did you escape Inazuma? Paimon and Lumine were actually trying to find a way to sneak in.” Paimon had announced to you. You froze on the spot and looked up to them.

“What - no. Don’t go there. It’s dangerous - the camps - ” You felt panic start to bubble in your chest, your heart-rate increasing and breathing becoming staggered at the flashes of memories that flooded your mind. Paimon started calling out to you again, trying to calm you. She and Lumine had started to talk amongst themselves, looking at you trying to calm yourself as they made attempts to as well. You tried to remember Diluc - what you could of him, and slowly you were able to calm down. “I’m sorry - it’s just - it’s awful. I was there for 10 years, I was a prisoner.” You sat in an awkward silence before Paimon spoke up again. 

“Hey - Paimon remembers that when you were talking earlier, you almost sounded like you were saying someone’s name.” she said to you. 

“I’m - I’m looking for Diluc Ragnvindr of Mondstat - the Knights - or Dawn Winery - I don’t know where he is, actually. When I left, he was joining the Knights.” you said to them with a sudden hope that you hadn’t felt in years. Even in your journey, you hadn’t felt hopeful. There was always the chance of the Bakufu finding you and bringing you back or dying. But suddenly, you felt some hope. 

“Oh - Master Diluc! Paimon didn’t know he used to be with the Knights of Favonius - that explains why he dislikes them so much now - but he does run Dawn Winery now!” Paimon said, floating happily. She paused for a moment - then looked like some gears had clicked in her head. “Wait a minute - you’re Master Diluc’s lost love!!”

“His what?” You asked. Lost love? Was that what the rumor was? But wait - if there was even a rumor, that meant there was potential that he still cared about you - still thought of you. 

“What Paimon means to say is that Kaeya told us stories about when Diluc was… not like he is now. That he used to be much happier - and it was because of you.” the blonde traveler said to you. 

“What - what do you mean? He’s changed?” You wanted to slap yourself - obviously he changed, it’s been years. But they made it seem like he was completely different - and he left the Knights? When Diluc was younger it was all he wanted to do, so he could protect people and help them. What had changed? You assumed you would find out. 

“Paimon thinks we should take you to him to find out - Kaeya made it seem like you knew him better than anyone, so you would know more. Let’s go check Dawn Winery to see if he is there!” she said happily. You gave her a nod as you shakily stood up, feeling like you had a little bit more energy and walked with the traveler and her companion. 

You learned about her on the way there. She woke up on the beach with no memory, but knew she was not from Tevyat. Her twin brother was missing and she was in search of The Seven to see if maybe that would be a way for her to find him, which explained why she wanted to go to Inazuma despite your warnings. But, she was Vision-less - a fact that shocked you as you could have sworn you vaguely remember her using Anemo during the fight. That little factoid made you feel a little better. 

As you approached Dawn Winery, your stomach started twisting into knots. All of your anxieties came flooding back - would Diluc even want you still? Would he be appalled at the state of you? Would he be able to handle the extra baggage you came with now? Your mind reeled at Paimon babbled on about how maybe you would be good for Diluc to be happy, and how she was looking forward to the food the winery always had for them. You felt yourself fidgeting with the jacket, having put it back on to cover your uniform. 

You saw his red hair from a mile away and froze in your steps. He had gotten taller, but god he looked the same. He pulled his hair back like he always had, muscles built out over the years. He couldn’t see you yet, talking to someone else across from him at the entrance of the winery. Lumine stayed by your side, the teenager having a big heart and concerned. However, Paimon floated on over to him. 

“Master Diluc! Master Diluc! Paimon and Lumine have someone who was looking for you!” she said excitedly. You couldn’t help but admire the creature’s happiness, despite your nerves. You and Lumine walked forward as Diluc turned around - eyes going wide seeing you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you two made eye contact. It felt like all air in your lungs had just disappeared and you were unable to breathe. 

Diluc slowly stepped towards you at first, not being able to believe his eyes. You could tell he was taking you in, observing your features and you to make sure that it really was you. You didn’t blame him for taking his time - you were unrecognizable from before. Your features had thinned out due to the years of neglect from the Bakufu, eyes sunken slightly inward and skin paled. You saw a flash of doubt flash in his eyes - or at least that’s what your brain wanted you to think - and you let out a sob. That seemed to do it for him as Diluc ran over to you in a flash, pushing anybody out of his way to wrap his arms around you. 

It finally felt like you were home, in Diluc’s arms as he held you. More sobs wrecked your now trembling body, overcome with emotion as tears spilled onto his clothing. His grip on you was snug, but not too tight, treating you like you were glass and frail. He was warm, as he always was, while he held onto you like you’d disappear into thin air if he let go. You felt your knees give out, exhaustion starting to hit you, Diluc picking you up to support you. You tried to say something - to say anything to him, but the shaking and the exhaustion was becoming to much and eventually, you blacked out in his arms. 

——

You woke up on a comfortable bed - so comfortable it almost didn’t feel right. You were sunk into one side with the blankets over you, body bare underneath. Had Diluc been the one to take your clothes off - did he see your scars? Your body suddenly felt good - there was no aching, you suddenly felt healthy? If that was the word for it. You shuffled in the bed, making an attempt to sit up, before you were promptly pushed back down. 

“Lay down - please.” Diluc spoke to you. You turned your gaze over to him, laying next to you, half asleep and half dressed. You covered yourself underneath the blankets as he threw an arm over you, pulling you close to him despite trying to hide. “Don’t do that. Stop trying to hide from me.”

“Diluc - I’m - I’m not the same.” you stammered out. You felt his fingers dance over your bare skin and you gasped, instinctively jumping back. He retreated his touch upon seeing this, examining you again. “I’m sorry.”

“What did they do to you?” he asked. Panic bubbled inside of you once more as you tried to find the words to speak. You wanted to tell him everything. He deserved to know everything if he was still going to be with you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find the words. “Did the Bafuku do this - give you these?” His fingers grazed over the discolored scars on your body, purple marks from Electro attacks embedded into your skin forever. 

“Yes - they would - they punished us when we fought back. All of us - but the females - they would - they’d come at night - ” Diluc let out a low snarl, understanding what you were implying without actually having to say it. “I tried to imagine it was you. Thinking of you is the only thing that kept me alive most days. It was awful - once Baal placed the orders to capture everyone with Visions, they found me in days. The painful part was that I was right at Liyue’s border - I was so close to getting out. That’s when I got this one.” You lifted your left arm, pointing to a series of purple numbers on your wrist. 

“I don’t want to hear where they came from. It only makes me angrier that the damn Knights of Favonius didn’t even try to do anything to help.” Diluc said, cautiously wrapping a bare arm around you, testing the waters. You allowed him the contact - knowing that you were safe. You were safe with Diluc. You just needed to convince your brain the same thing, which would take time that he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s the middle of the night, let’s go back to bed. You need rest.” he said to you. 

You gave Diluc a quick nod as you found yourself inching closer to his chest, resting your head on him. He was warm, as always, wrapping his arms completely around you and pulling you onto him. He never used to be one who liked someone on top of him, even you, and you had respected that - but now it seems like he wasn’t going to ever let you go again. 

You didn’t mind as you attempted to fall into a dreamless sleep - but you were unlucky. Diluc was out in five minutes flat, but every time you tried to close your eyes flashes of the past would come back to haunt you. You weren’t sure if you got a wink of rest at all, until you found Diluc looking down at you, the sun out behind him. Your throat was dry and your face was wet. Had you had a nightmare? You weren’t sure if you had, since you weren’t even sure if you had fallen asleep at all.

“It’s just me - you’re okay. You were having a nightmare, I think.” he said, trying to say it in his calmest voice he could possibly muster. You blinked up at him confused. 

“I - I don’t remember.” you said sadly, racking your brain to see if you could remotely remember, but having no such luck. Your brain was telling you that it didn't want you to remember, you think.

“You were screaming in your sleep. Almost shocked me, actually.” he said, throwing a light-hearted chuckle in at the end. You were not amused though, staring at him with wide eyes as you sat up slowly.

“I did? Are you okay?” you asked him. He looked at you like you had ten heads, confusing you until he spoke next.

“What - are you okay?”

“I think that answer is obvious enough.” You replied plainly. Diluc’s hand went to your chin, bringing your gaze to match his. His thumb lovingly and gently ran across your jawline, and you instinctively leaned into his touch. Slowly, you climbed up onto his lap, and he allowed you the comfort. “I think - I think I’ll be okay now, though. It’s just going to take some time.” You nuzzled yourself back into his chest as he hugged you snuggly, a hum leaving his lips. 

“I’ll be here with you until it is, I swear it.” Diluc pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you knew then that he meant it just like he did 10 years before.

*********************************************************************************

Slowly but surely, you started to heal, and it was all thanks to Diluc. The nightmares started to slowly fade away and with time, you were feeling happy again. You lived with him at Dawn Winery and took on some responsibilities to earn your keep (though Diluc always insisted that you didn’t need to do so), like helping the staff keep the place running and making sure that Diluc was on time to everything he needed to be. Which was a challenge, especially once you started to feel like your old self again (or what you could of your old self). 

“One of these days, Charles is going to quit and then you’ll be stuck!” you said to him from on top of his desk, his lips on your neck as you let out a sigh. You weren’t quite mentally ready for much more intimacy, and he was okay with that, but you slowly had become re-accustomed to more touches. Diluc was letting you take the reins for what you were ready for and what you weren’t. 

“He threatens to quit every day. He never does.” Diluc spoke against your skin, grunting as you finally pushed him away - and just in time, as Charles walked in to look for him. You hopped off and ran to find Adeline to see if she needed any help. Later on that day, you saw Charles again and he said that Diluc had been in a particularly angry mood for the past few hours. With a sigh, you had hunted him down, finding him in your bedroom. 

“What’s wrong? Charles is going around saying you’re angry.” you said to him. Your partner let out a scoff as he turned back around to you, your eyes immediately going to his middle. You bit back a laugh. 

“Don’t.” he hissed through gritted teeth, face burning as you stepped closer to him. 

“It’s like you’re sixteen again.” you said with a small giggle. Before he could protest, you had him backed against the wall and his pants shoved down, solving the problem yourself. Charles saw you before he left for the night and had said Diluc was in a much better mood the rest of the day. 

You had found out about Diluc’s night-time hero work as The Darknight Hero a week or two after you had returned. Originally, you fought him tooth and nail against it, for selfish reasons - but once he explained what had happened to him over the past 10 years, you gave it a rest and let him go on. With the death of his father and everything that had happened with the Knights and his brother afterward, you almost couldn’t blame him. 

He had put a pause on it when you came back, but people started to talk and worry, and the Abyss Order picked up on it. He had to begin it again, and you worried every single night. Tonight in particular, he had been gone almost all night, and you were starting to worry. It was an hour or two more than what he was usually out, and you were alone in the Winery with your thoughts. To make things worse, it was storming outside so you couldn’t go out to look for him even if you wanted to. 

A crack of thunder caused panic to rush through your chest - it sounded too much like Bakufu punishment for your comfort. You were snuggled under blankets, bringing your knees to your chest as you tried to push the memories away - another crack making an involuntary whimper leave your lips as the shakes came on. You hadn’t panicked like this in months - but the conditions of the storm and Diluc being gone for longer than he said brought it on, and you were nearly unable to control it. 

The door opened and you jumped, not paying any mind to whoever it was that walked through the door as you fought to keep the memories at bay - flashes of them coming through in segments. You heard a curse and then running as you steadied some of your breathing, a hand coming to your face and forcing you to look at your lover. He wrapped his arm around you and brought you close to him, letting you soak up his warmth. 

“You’re okay - you’re okay.” Diluc chanted to you softly. You nodded against his chest as you wrapped yourself around him back, his hand gently rubbing your back. He was right - you were okay. “I tried to get back as soon as I could after the weather rolled in, I’m sorry it took so long.” he apologized from above you. 

“It’s okay.” you mumbled into him.

“No it’s not. I know how it gets - I should have known better.” he pressed a kiss to your hair after he spoke, guilt starting to rise up. Diluc had been overly cautious when it came to you since your return - within days he had memorized anything that sent you into a panic and was there to prevent it from happening. Until today, that is, hence the guilt. You let out a sigh as you relaxed into him. 

“I know you want to protect me, but you can’t always do it, on top of everything else. I’ll be okay.” you said to him, taking your head out of his chest and bringing your lips to his. 

He slowly reciprocated once his mind caught up to his body - realizing that you were initiating, something that hadn’t happened yet since you came back. His arms around you tightened as the kiss became deeper and more passionate, from a tiny little peck to open mouthed pants. Diluc was almost struggling to keep up with you, mind telling him to slow down for you but body betraying him, his need for you coming to the surface. 

Diluc almost lost his mind when he had dragged you closer to him and heard a soft moan leave your lips as you landed on top of the tent in his pants. The moan seemed to be the signal that flipped the switch in Diluc’s head, as he flipped the two of you over, placing your back on the mattress as he towered above you. 

“Are - are you sure?” Diluc asked, needing your complete consent before he went any further. A selfish part of him was hoping you’d say yes, but if you were to say no, he’d have no problem getting off you right now and going on with his night. It was all about if you were ready. 

“Yes. Please Diluc.” you said back quietly. It was his turn to let out a moan at your begging for him as his lips went to your neck, softly leaving pecks up and down both sides. 

“You tell me if anything - anything - is too much.” he spoke against your skin, coming back up to make sure that you understood. Diluc felt his cock twitch in his pants seeing your blissed out face, lust clouded over you from him. You let out a weak nod before he went back down with more vigor, sucking marks into your neck for all to see.

Fighting back wasn’t a thought in your mind as your body grew hot, clothes suddenly feeling restricting and your core in need of some friction. You hadn’t needed anybody in years, but right now, you needed him. Everything felt so right as his gloved fingertips pushed your shirt off your body, exposing your chest to him. The cool air made you shiver, but was soon replaced with the warmth of Diluc’s mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to all the skin he could reach. 

You managed to get Diluc to shrug his jacket off once you started to push it over his shoulders, pulling at his gloves next and discarding those. His mouth went back to its attack on your chest, finding one of your breasts and gently beginning to tug. A moan left your mouth as you tried to remember that your next mission was to get his shirt off. Your body was giving into him more and more as sparks of pleasure started to zoom through your veins and down to your core, slick starting to pool. 

“Diluc…” you moaned out his name lustfully, spurring him on more. He pulled away from your nipple with a pop, panting as he almost ripped the rest of his shirt off his arms before going back down to pay attention to the other nipple. You continued to cry out, twisting underneath him as you filled with more and more need. 

You felt his hands moving down your stomach, one resting on your hip while the other tucked under the waistband of your pants. For a moment, your mind started to reel and your heart raced - flashes of the past coming in. You were able to remember that you were with Diluc - you were safe, and you wanted him. Diluc noticed, immediately popping off you and gazing up at you. 

“Should I - ”

“Don’t you dare stop.” you said, cutting him off. Throwing your arms around his neck, you brought his lips down to meet yours as he quickly continued what he was doing. Fingers dipped between your folds slowly, toying with your sensitive bud and making you moan against his mouth. With a small grunt back, Diluc slid two of his fingers into you slowly, beginning to pump. You sighed out his name as your hips ground into him, his lips moving back towards your neck as he panted against you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” he breathed against you, hips rutting against your thigh. You used your free hands to push your pants off, kicking them down your legs and leaving you completely exposed. The purple scars on your body reflected with the lightning outside the window and the candle light on the bedside while your body twitched with desire. Another moan left your lips as his fingers curled up into you, his thumb circling your bud making your walls tremble. “I need you. I need you.” he chanted into your neck, trying to use his freehand to fumble with his pants to push them down. 

“Diluc…” you moaned as you started to meet his pumps, fucking yourself on his fingers trying to chase a high that you felt coming. 

“I need to be inside you. Let me - I need it.” he stammered, continuing to finger fuck you until you said yes. You let out a cry as you felt yourself nearing the edge, body hot and sweat collecting on your skin. “Please baby - let me - ”

“Diluc, yes - fuck - ” As soon as the words left your mouth, he pulled his fingers out of you and finished pulling his pants down, kicking them off and letting them fall to the floor. You let out a whine at the loss before Diluc leaned down to kiss you again, gently using his knees to spread your legs wider and his hand that was in you to line his cock up with you. Nerves started to kick in ever so slightly, surpassing the need as you spoke out. “Be - slow - please.” you managed to say. 

“Of course.” he said back, putting his lips back on yours as Diluc pushed the head of his cock into your hole. He let out a moan into your mouth, checking your face for any signs of discomfort before pushing in more. A whine left your lips at the feeling of being split open - it had been so long since you had someone inside of you that it almost felt like the first time again. Diluc pressed kisses to you, as some form of a distraction, as he continued to seethe himself inside until eventually, he was all the way in. “Okay?” he asked, bringing his gaze back up to yours. Diluc looked like he was absolutely holding back, restraining himself because you had asked. His face was red and he was panting above you already, heart racing with desire. 

“Ye - yeah.” you said back to him. He let out a groan before he kissed you again, not moving inside just yet. His lips were warm against yours, swollen from all of the other kisses he had given you so far. Diluc wrapped his arms around you and brought you close to him, pressing your bodies together as you felt your need re-awaken. Your body was on edge, having him inside you but not moving - and you needed him yet again. “Diluc - you can move - please.” you begged. 

“Fuck, yes.” he groaned into your mouth as slowly he started to rock his hips into yours, cock sliding in and out of you with ease. When he started moving, everything from before fully woke up again and you felt your muscles start to tense up, gripping onto his shoulders desperately as your moans started to fill the air. He took that as signal to start going faster and eventually, he started thrusting harder, with more purpose. A cry left your lips at the change of pace, feeling your body react by trying to move your hips to meet his. 

“Faster Diluc - please faster.” you cried out. Your lover let out a loud moan at your plea, hiking your legs over his shoulders as he fucked into you harder, cock curving up inside you and hitting the spot that had you crying out his name. You started to shake under him, a warmth pooling in you that felt like it was about to bubble over. Diluc took your lips in his again, drinking up your moans as he pounded himself into you, the bed creaking and the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. You felt his cock growing harder inside of you with every thrust, your resolve close to breaking. “D - Diluc - Diluc!” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as pleasure started to overcome you. 

“So good - you’re so good to me - so - perfect - fuck!” he said to you in a haze, a wanton moan leaving his lips as he felt your walls start to flutter around his cock. You let out a cry as you felt yourself nearly there - the pressure was bubbling and you were about to snap as the length of Diluc’s cock hit you right every time, his moans music to your ears and making your insides shutter. “Ah - ah - come for me, baby - come for me!” Diluc begged, now chasing a release by making you get to yours. You let out a whine - feeling yourself getting towards that edge - then a scream, feeling Diluc bring his hand down between your bodies to start rubbing at your clit. “Fuck you’re gonna - come - come!” he moaned. 

“Diluc - Diluc - I’m - fuck!” you screamed out his name as white hot pleasure took over your body, feeling your walls finally clench down on him inside of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your heard as you kept moaning, body arching against his and core still convulsing as Dilic continued to fuck you, now with a pace near brutal that had your orgasm being wrung out, overstimulation nearing. “Di - Diluc - ” you stammered as his fingers rubbed harder on your spent nub. 

“Fuck - I’m - I’m gonna cum - so hard - inside - baby - ” Diluc let out one last loud moan as his hips slapped against yours, his cock twitching inside of you as his seed buried itself deep. He let out moans as he bucked his hips up into you, your twitching core milking his cock as he all but collapsed on top of you. “Fuck -” he breathed out into your neck, dragging your hips close again so he could keep pumping his high in your body. 

You felt spent - exhausted. Eventually, you felt his cock stop twitching inside of you and Diluc pulled out, collapsing next to you. He brought the blankets over your bodies and pulled you close to him, pressing kisses to your temple. 

“Are you okay?” he asked you. You turned to look at him, eyes wide with concern. You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss to his lips. Even after all that, he was still worried about you. You could argue that's what you loved most about him - that under the facade of not caring, he cared a lot - he was an emotional guy. 

“More than okay.” you said back to him. He let out a hum as his hand trailed down to your abdomen - the area where you had the most scars from the Bakufu. Suddenly, you got what he was saying. 

“I - well - I came inside. Are you sure?” he asked again. You didn’t really think about that in the moment, honestly. You weren’t sure how you felt about that one hundred percent - but you knew that you didn’t entirely mind it. You had gone through hell to get back with him because you wanted to be with him - you wanted to be with him completely. 

“Yeah. I’m sure - I want to be with you, Diluc. That means… everything.” you said back. He nodded back down to you as he kissed you again, keeping his hand on you down below. When he stopped, he pressed your forehead to his lovingly.

“To everything.”