#just being at homeis giving me anxiety

[bbydoll18xx]

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Pt 4)

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4 based on this request:

Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).

Heyyy y'all I've lowkey been MIA (ya girl has been depressed lol) but here is part 4

Also Paige is so hot i wanna light myself on fire

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: hella fluff

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You had held up your end of the bargain, quite swimmingly. Paige had effectively turned you into a simpering fool, and she loved it. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t. 

Long gone were the days of running from your feelings. Paige had you tumbling head over heels, and you wanted to confess to the whole world. It was as if she had tattooed her name on your heart. 

With fake dating being no more, there was still an air of hesitation around what the two of you actually were. You were trying to avoid obsessing over the label, but it ate at you. There were so many unknowns, and you were never one to just come out with what you were actually feeling. 

Since becoming Paige’s friend, you had always relied on her to take the reigns, while you took an emotional backseat. It was just the way the dynamic was between you two.

But now Paige had been scarily quiet on what she wanted from you. 

The two of you had spent an absurd amount of time kissing since you had run back into her arms with ample apologies. Soft kisses in the morning, bathing in the glow of the sunshine of a new day. Rushed kisses in between classes in passings. Passionate, bruising kisses in the heat of the moment after Paige basks in the glory of winning yet another game. 

You were drunk on Paige’s mouth, but the inebriation was not enough to distract from the incessant questions your mind whispered at each waking moment.

So before your anxieties could overtake you once more, you had decided that you would ask Paige out on a proper date.

And so you did.

Taking a deep breath, you walk inside Paige’s apartment. It was now a familiar environment, and the homey atmosphere calms your beating heart. ‘It’s just Paige,’ your brain soothes your sympathetic nervous system, as it tries to go into overdrive. Fighting against your instincts to flee, you stroll into Paige’s bedroom with a soft smile on your face.

The tall girl had fallen asleep, and she was curled up in purple bed sheets looking as angelic as ever. Her blonde hair fanned across the pillows, and her plush bottom lip was jutting out in a precious pout that reminded you of a childs. You wanted to remember this forever. 

You tentatively sit on the edge of the bed, placing a small hand on Paige’s cheek, feeling the warm, soft skin. Your touch rouses her from her slumbers, and Paige gives you a sleepy grin as she realizes it’s you.

“Hi, baby,” she mumbles, voice husky with sleep. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you tease softly. “Did ya get bored waiting for me?”

Paige just chuckles, and your belly flips at the familiar sound.

“Doyoumaybewannagoonadatewithme…? you spill out, practically babbling in a desperate effort to just get it all out before you lose your courage.  

Your rapid wording flies over Paige’s still drowsy head, and she responds with a bewildered, “Huh?”

You swallow your pride once more, and with a deep breath you repeat yourself, much slower this time. “Do you want to go on a date? With me?”

Paige’s blue eyes widen, and her tongue darts out of her mouth to run across that fucking bottom lip again, and she nods. A grin is spreading across her face, and the swarm of butterflies that were assaulting your stomach a few seconds ago have flown away, leaving a wave of calm to wash over you. 

Trying to figure out where to take Paige was a whole other issue that had crept up on you. You were not used to having much control when it came to planning dates, and it had to be fucking perfect. You wanted to avoid the typical dinner and a movie routine; that was boring. Other activities would be difficult with Paige’s popularity, and you needed to evade the hoards of her adoring fans. 

You finally decide to take her go-karting. It was perfect. It appealed to her competitive edge, and it was super fun. You packed a bunch of her favorite snacks, and you were all set. 

Wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, you knock on Paige’s door to pick her up. The nerves threaten to make you turn on your heels and flee once more, but you resist. Paige opens the door with a cheesy smile that causes a visceral reaction from you. She would never not make you feel a million things all at once. She looked you up and down, a flirty expression on that beautiful fucking face of hers. 

“Lookin’ good, babe,” she murmurs, and your face heats up at the compliment. 

“You look gorgeous, P,” you declare in response, thus eliciting a similar flush that has you smirking in pride. Pulling a blush out of Paige Bueckers was always an accomplishment. 

You take her hand in yours and lead her to your car, and you allow her to connect to the aux. She looks at you in surprise. “You never let me listen to my music in your car.” 

“It’s your lucky day,” you tease with a small laugh. “I can go without Taylor Swift for a bit; this day is about you.” Paige beams, and your decision makes it all worth it.

You would kill someone just to keep that pretty smile on her face. 

You drive to the go-kart track with your right hand intertwined with Paige’s, and it was your turn to rub small circles on the back of hers. The domesticity of everything was bringing you much hope that this would all turn into more. Now that you had a taste of what it was like to belong to Paige, you knew it would be nearly impossible to give it up without a brutal fight. 

As you arrive, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by Paige’s loud gasp as she realizes what the two of you would be doing this afternoon. 

“Go-karting? Babe. I’m gonna kick your ass!” 

Her taunting just makes you laugh, and you shake your head fondly as she gets out of the car and bounds toward the door, dragging you along in faux impatience. 

The building is void of the usual busy crowd, and Paige notices the lack of people quickly. Seeing the confusion wash over her face, you explain that you pulled a few strings using your media manager status in order to have a little privacy. Paige says nothing. Instead, she pulls you in by the waist to press her lips against yours in an appreciative kiss, and you know this was the right call. You chase her lips and subconsciously go up on your tiptoes in an effort to get even closer.

The moment is interrupted as the manager of the facility walks over to where the two of you were standing, and introduces herself. She explains that you would have the place to yourselves for the next four hours, and she goes over how to work the go-karts. 

By the time the manager leaves, giving you and Paige the privacy you had wanted since arriving, Paige is bouncing on her heels in pure, child-like excitement that makes you equally as giddy. 

She bounds over to a brightly-colored purple go-kart, claiming loudly that it belonged to her, as you seat yourself in a green one. You watch her as she pulls the harness across her chest and tightens it, her tongue peeking out once more in concentration.

She was so endearing, and the feelings you were having had grown tenfold since she had originally asked you to pretend to date her just a few weeks prior. You weren’t sure if you would survive actually dating her. Just the thought made your heart feel as if it could explode at any moment. 

Your daydream is cut short by Paige who is now attempting to trash-talk you. However, her insults were hardly so, as she was having a similar issue with handling her affections for you, as well. 

“Mkay, I’ll believe it when I see it,” is all you get out before Paige is speeding away with a loud squeal and a cloud of gasoline. You barely mutter out a “fuck” before slamming your foot on the gas in a feeble attempt to catch up.

No such luck. 

Paige actually was incredible at go-karting, and her smugness had no limit. 

She walked out several hours later, one hand around yours once more and the other raised in the air, pumping her fist victoriously for the millionth time.

If it was literally anyone else, you would have felt mildly annoyed at her antics, but your fondness overtook any other possible emotions in your little love-drunk brain. 

As you climb back inside your car to head back to Paige’s, you allow yourself to study the features of the blonde, and you’re ecstatic to see the similar looks of happiness on her face. You had been counting on this day being a success. 

“I had a really fun time today. Thank you for doin’ all this for me,” Paige whispers sincerely with a flush of pink overtaking her pale skin. 

“I’d do anything for you, P,” you respond, struggling to maintain eye contact with your sudden candor. “I just don’t know where your head has been, but I’d like to be more than friends. And more than just friends who pretend to date to help their other friend,” you add with a quiet laugh.

The sheer absurdity of the situation was finally settling in. And you were hoping to be able to reap some long-term benefits of having to pretend to date Paige.

Paige places a hand on your face, cupping your cheek delicately and forcing you to gaze deep into those blue eyes. “Course I wanna be more,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from the combination of the emotions and the amount of yelling she had done earlier. “You’ve been my girl since that day in the gym when you agreed to fake date me. Now it’s just official.”

“Good,” you reply, a smug smirk engulfing your expression, and before you can say anything else, Paige is pulling you into another searing kiss.

“What are we gonna tell the team?” you ask between kisses, puffs of air leaving your swollen mouth every few seconds.

Paige shrugs. “They’ve been wanting me to try and get together with you for years. Now that I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it, I feel like Azzi made up the whole thing just so I would kiss you…” she trails off, a look of realization flitting across her face. 

A giggle escapes from your throat at the determination of Azzi Fudd to get the two of you together. And boy, were you grateful for the little scheme.

thanks so much for reading. i love you all :)

[brainr0t-landfill]

🌃 Mercurial

ghoap x male reader

Chapter Four: Nausea

"I will poison all your happy times, I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box."

-The Crane Wives, Tounges and Teeth

(money insecurity, unhealthy relationship, implied homelessness, anxiety)

The on the road life is better suited for you, you feel more secure with the peeling, old wallpapers of whichever hotel you end up in than the walls you had painted with Johnny the beds reeking of mildew feel more familiar than the wide warm one you used to share with them.

Faces forgotten before you can commit them to memory, places gone with nothing to mourn them by, nightly vigels to the best thing that ever happened to you spent anxiously looking out foggy windows for any silhoutte resembling theirs, listening for uniform footsteps louder than an earthquacke and as familiar as the little compartment you've sewn in your backpack, containing a new ID, fake passoport ,ever-changing burner phones and your unstable money supply.

You're in your element when no one knows you, when people don't commit your face to memory, when they're ingenuine and changing. it's familiar and homey when you know every escape route and every card in the deck, it's not so familiar too with the ever present threat of being found breathing down your neck, you know too well how attached they are and how many strings they have to pull, you've seen it firsthand.

Even then you can't blame them, they fell for someone they thought was good and from this distance it's easier then ever to paint yourself as the villan, the one who stirred the water when all was well, pushed buttons he knew he shouldn't have pushed, tested boundaries that had been set in stone when they were finnaly comfortable, when all was finnaly well.

It started out small, just a way to relieve your tension, just a way to adjust and get some breathing room;

It was the small ritualistic details you started neglecting at first, not stocking the pantry, keeping the house messy before they came home from deployments, not kissing them goodnight or goodbye. They didn't get mad, they didn't even notice, John stepped up readily when you neglected the house and Simon happily went out for groceries whenever you 'forgot', and that set you off worst. The little things you'd built your life, your place in the relationship around where unimportant to them, just something someone else could do without much fuss.

Then it was keeping the door unlocked on the night you knew they'd be coming home, sleeping on the couch by yourself with the excuse of 'feeling smothered', going out and not telling them whene you were going or when you'd be back knowing you were leaving then anxious and frazzled worried for your safety and nothing else, they were good, too good for somone like you. So good that Simon sat you down and explained that he understood you needed some space and that them being gone one day and then then being so present and loud could be hard to get used to.

"Me 'n Johnny just want ya safe angel."

Simon and that understanding smile on his face, always considerate and understanding to the people he loved like a wise parent lecturing a misbehaving yet well meaning child. You spat in the face of that.

"You both are overreacting Si, I know y'all got this skewed view of the world because the military n shit but I'm an adult, I don't need bodyguards."

His face fell, John turned around momentarily to check on the conversation.

"It's not like that, 'n you should know by now. We love you, we want you safe, you're the one with the skewed view and if you keep this bullshit up there's gonna be reprucussions-"

"Simon."

John cut in walking over to the kitchen table and giving him a look, Simon deflated running a hand over his face and you felt the familiar pain of being a disappointment, of misguiding and upsetting. It was wose when you know you love them and do it anyway knowing the things they'd been through.

"Sorry.."

You mumble, his dark eyes soft as they met yours. His bare hands clasped on his lap, he's rubbing his own knuckles.

"Jus' - jus' be safe yeah? Take care o' yourself when we can't, keep our heads clear? For us, angel."

You nodded knowing full well that despite your guilt you had found a nerve and you weren't the good person you had cruelly convinced them you were. You revealed in uncertainties and tension, you hadn't been anywhere this long since your teenage years when you got kicked out. You weren't deserving of this care, this love so you were doing the right thing driving them away or perhaps you just liked being cared for in such avident and raw way either way you were dead weight at best and a parasite at worst.

The tension rose when you kept doing it, John was the first to snap when you introduced them as your friends to some work acquaintances. He broke down, screamed raw and bloody, punched a wall and pulled out his hair as Simon desperately tried to play mediator.

"How could ye?! How fucking could ye, you ungrateful, lying cunt!"

John screamed as you stood leaning against the wall his knuckles were still kissed white and bleeding from the hole they had left in the drywall. His aquamarine eyes squinted and wet, his breaths quick and shallow like a wounded bird.

"We live together! We sleep in the same god damn bed, that's my sweater on ye back, 'n ye sit there and call us your mates?! Yer buddies?! I swear to fucking god ye better have brain damage or I wi-"

Simon grabbed him by the shoulders before he could go on any further. You understood why he was mad, he had opened his heart out to someone he had trusted for so long not knowing he was a snake in the grass, he wanted his love, his safe space, his importance in your life validated especially after all the anxiety you had put them both through with your planned recklessness.

And you broke, in retrospect it could have been so much better if you hadn't, maybe then you'd have some resentfull exs instead of this manhunt with every card stacked against you.

You sobbed, apologized over and over again, promised you'd be better, promised you'd behave, you loved them, you really loved them, the pain in Johnny's voice was unlike anything you'd seen and you meant it too. You didn't wanna be stranded and drifting again, by yourself in the world.

"Ye know we won't ever let ye go angel, promise."

You broke your promises time and time again, they snapped and you broke, but guilt wasn't enough to scratch this constant itch under your skin. Waiting, salivating for when they finnaly got fed up with you like everyone else, it enraged you when they didn't.

Shit hit the fan when you spent two nights at a friend's house and kept your phone on silent, came home with her perfume spritzed on your neck, then you ended up in the cabin and realized some bonds had to be severed phisicaly.

So here you are now, in the roadie lifestyle you're used to, overgrown beard and bloodshot eyes, feet bloody and swollen in your shoes, always cold, always tired, never quite clean. Walking home with a measly paycheck in your pocket and TV dinner in a shopping bag, you're always tense, always on edge knowing full well they've most likely moved on, hopefully.

Life on the road isn't as secure as it used to be, not when their love made you soft and comfortable.

You miss warm beds, you miss a stable job and your warm clean home but most importantly you miss them, you miss them like an amputated limb, like you can reach out and feel the muscles hanging loose, the veins burst and drooling where you hacked them off; it's easier to deal with when you remind yourself people like you don't deserve things like that.

You're just outside your hotel rooms door when some primal, animal instinct straightens your spine, something isn't right.

You look inside from the windows check inside, your measly possessions are all where they ought to be, just when you're about to close to door you see them.

Footsteps, on the snow, big, bigger than yours and deep, pure snow filthied by mud somone tried to cover them up but they're still there.

You can't tell if they're combat boots that John favoured or the hiking shoes Simon sweared by but it sets you off anyways, primal fear and anxiety, restlessness churning in your gut as you pack all of your belongings.

Same game, new rules.

<< Next Chapter / Next Chapter >>

[sterekmpreg]

Did Stiles have to hide during his pregnancy or his one of those dudes who can get pregnant?

p.s: what was toddler eli like?

I have such mixed feelings on that topic…. Like if you headcanon Stiles as Trans (FTM) then I guess he wouldn’t have too. But me personally, I’d say yes, Stiles had to hide his pregnancy from everyone outside of the supernatural world. His pregnancy only being possible really through being Derek’s mate and the strong magical power that has tied it’s self to Stiles through out the years of just being a human in a werewolf pack… but I have headcanons for both but mostly magical werewolf pregnancy that has to hidden.

Magical Pregnancy:

1.) Seeing as men getting pregnant isn’t ‘normal’, Stiles has to take a break in his college years in order to hide his pregnancy. They say it was a family health emergency to the school, his Dad was having a hard time with his heart again. And with the sheriffs history, it’s not a long shot for many to believe when they ask why Stiles wasn’t back off at college when he’d just started.

2.) Stiles has to steal some of Derek’s clothes are baggy in him around the fourth to sixth months as his tummy really begins to be way to obvious under his own clothings. Sweat pants and sweater or just over sized tees was Stiles usual look to the public in that time frame. And although, yes, Stiles is having a hard time handling his depression and anxiety with his medication dose changed and it’s effect be visibly seen on Stiles physically, when people start speculating that Stiles had dropped out of college and became a depressed pot head his dad and Derek basically went Feral. Shutting down anyone, mostly other moms, who give Stiles judgmental glares or rush their own kids away from Stiles when they’d pass them in the stores or streets, because really that was just un-fucking-fair and, “what, you’ve never seen someone struggle with their mental health? You’ve really been that privileged? Then maybe you should just mind you’re own fucking business, Bitch!”

3.) Derek is quick to get a home out in the sticks of Beacon Hills before Stiles pregnancy gets past the sixth month. He’d been working for his father-in-law at the police station anyways and had quite a lot of money between that and the money he’d had left from the Hale family funds that hadn’t been stolen or burned. The house is perfect, kinda reminds everyone of the Hale house before it’s destruction. It’s big, and spacious, but just in the right ways to make it homey and comfortable. At least all the way out here Derek could get Stiles outside later in the pregnancy for walks or to get some sun and fresh air without the judgmental eyes of the neighborhood.

4.) Deaton, Melissa, Peter, and Chris are given the task to set up a room with everything needed to delivery the baby in one of the spare rooms of the house. They go above and beyond with any and all possible out comes, it looks like a straight up medical heaven in there. Anything and everything all in the spacious room.

5.) thankfully, Stiles survives the birth of their son even though he gave everyone a great scare, and when people around town start to notice Noah and the rest of the pack members around town with a baby the cheating rumors zoom through the neighborhood. But thankfully, Cora steps up and says she was a surrogate for them, which quiets the town down enough.

7.) When they file the birth certificate, Noah simply adds adoption papers for Derek to have rights to make decisions for his own son and be legally just as much a parent as he was biologically. Derek and Stiles were so thankful for that, couldn’t imagine if something happened to Stiles and the courts tried to take their son from his father.

Eli as a toddler:

1.) Eli is a ‘wild child’ as Noah puts it. Always energetic and loud…. Just like his mom was as a toddler. He likes to run in the yard and the house even though his dad like to reminds him ‘inside feet! Inside feet!’ As he zooms from room to room squealing in delight with his father chasing behind him with wide, terrified eyes.

2.) Eli is a picky eater…. Really picky. He won’t eat any food that isn’t made by his mommy, claiming it just tastes different when it really doesn’t but his little toddler Brian tells him it does. Derek has a hard time getting him to eat while Stiles is away on work and it becomes common for takeout after the meals Stiles preps before he leaves for his trips runs out.

3.) Eli gets sick a lot a child, his werewolf abilities not active yet, and this makes Derek a panicked mess of a man. Stiles can handle his sick child with ease and typically ends up sick with him. He knows how to get Eli to take his medicine without crying, what foods Eli can keep down when his tummy hurts from the flu, and how to get the curly haired boy to fall asleep with no fuss. Derek, on the other hand, tries his best. Whenever Stiles isn’t home he usually ends up on Noah’s doorstep at midnight crying because he just doesn’t know what he could be doing to fuck this whole parenting thing up so bad. Noah sighs and helps his son-in-law take care of his grandchild and reassures Derek he isn’t hurting Eli, it just takes some practice, especially when werewolf’s don’t get sick so how could Derek even begin to know where to start.

3.) Eli likes to get dirty. Rolling around outside, playing in his finger paints, chewing on markers…. Stiles can’t even remember how many times he’d tried to let Eli use the markers and would get up to grab Eli a snack not even 3 feet from his child and turned back around only to find Eli have half a face of blue with a disgusted face as he spits the markers tip from his drooling mouth. No white shirts are used in the child’s wardrobe because Eli would just get them stained with dirt, grass, and mud after playing on his play set in the yard. Stiles has learned how much some simple dish soap and hot water could do after started drawling on the walls and smashing play dough into the carpet… he’s also learned that tears work great on stickers stuck on the rugs.

4.) When the pack of coyotes had broken into the house because Derek had left the door open, Stiles grabs Eli off the floor and rushes into the kitchen while gripping his and Derek’s child to his chest tightly. When Derek enters the kitchen where Eli is sobbing and clinging onto his mom Stiles stares at Derek with wide eyes and moves back when Derek reaches a hand out towards them. “Don’t touch him,” Stiles warned, his instincts where off the charts and he wasn’t mad at Derek, just needed to hold his son to calm him down. When Eli has calmed down enough he screams when he sees his father next to his mother and calls Derek a monster. This breaks their hearts and Stiles graves Derek’s hand before he can rush out of the kitchen. The spend hours reassuring Eli that his father wasn’t a monster and would never hurt them. Eli insists on sleeping their bed for weeks to make sure his mother wasn’t in danger and Derek can’t help but cry when it’s just him and Stiles because Eli’s at school. He never meant to traumatize his son by keeping him safe.

5.)Eli loves spending time with his mommy and typically helps Stiles make dinner by clinging onto his hip with his head resting on his mothers shoulder. This, of course, has made Stiles pretty skilled in the kitchen compared to before Eli was born.

6.) Derek and Eli spend a lot of time together when Stiles is gone and Derek kind of feels guilty that his glad Stiles isn’t home all the time, because then Eli would probably hate him. Eli magically dismissed that fear though when he was getting bullied for having two dads and he only wanted to talk to Derek because “Daddy is tough. Daddy is the strongest person alive! Daddy will know what to do, mommy! ‘Cause Daddy will ask Mommy first cause Mommy is the smartest person alive too!”

I have so many more head cannons for Eli as a preteen and such. But these are just a few of my headcanons for Stiles's pregnancy and toddler Eli. Hope you love them🙃

[yeonjunszn]

so sick ! — 45

pairing: idol!lee heeseung x non-idol!f!reader

summary: when your boyfriend of almost eight years cheats on you your senior year of university, you decide that you’re done with anything and everything to do with love. that is, until you meet a guy who sings love songs for a living.

— my bad i forgot to update 😭

‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵

forty five: feels so right (1k)

“h-hello heeseung!” you stammer, mentally face-palming at the unease in your tone.

he gives you an awkward smile as he steps into your apartment. he glanced around, having never been to your place before due to his whole idol status thing. it looked very homey, the llama statue in the corner of the living room making it even more unique. as much as he was glad to be in your space, the fact that your roommates were away made him slightly more nervous than he should be.

especially considering you called him hot twenty minutes ago.

“did you want to practice the chorus again? or move onto the second verse? i don’t mind either.” the red headed male says after a moment of silence, removing his hat and mask.

you’re grateful that he didn’t bring up your tweet, the anxiety brewing in your stomach simmering down. you let out a small sigh of relief. “if it’s okay with you, i think i should practice the chorus again.”

he finally meets your eyes, the corners of his own crinkling as they usually did when he looked at you. he nods and pulls out his phone, a pre recorded guitar track of ‘back to december’ by taylor swift filling the atmosphere.

when you hit the last note of the chorus, heeseung grins. you blink in confusion and he presses pause on the screen. “i don’t know why you’re so worried about how this is gonna turn out. you sing really beautifully, y/n.”

you feel your face warm up at the compliment, forcing you to glance away from him to regain your composure. “it’s just weird thinking about doing it in front of our classmates. i’ve never even spoken to most of them.”

he tilts his head to the side. “how come they all seem to know who you are though?”

“siwoo,” you cringe at the name as it leaves your lips. “the fraternity he’s a part of is pretty popular and of course everyone would see me with him all the time, at parties and stuff. i kinda just became synonymous with being his really nice girlfriend.”

“oh. i’m so sorry,” he frowns. “that must’ve sucked.”

“it did for a while. i didn’t want to be known as ‘siwoo’s nice girlfriend’, because i know i’m more than that. but i never voiced it since i didn’t want to cause any problems between us,” you shrug, circling your finger on the table. “it doesn’t bother me anymore though. cause now i can say i’m the nice girlfriend that he cheated on and people see what kind of person he truly is.”

heeseung reclines back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling. “still, you shouldn’t have had to go through such a shitty experience to figure that out. not many people can come out of that and be who they were before it happened. you seemed to gain even more grace and self respect.”

“i just— i think that’s why i compartmentalized my feelings for a while after. i didn’t want to be upset over something i should’ve seen coming. i realized my self worth before i allowed myself to feel hurt, when it should’ve been the other way around. i don’t regret it, i’m glad i learned that i didn’t need him in my life, but at the same time, i think i should’ve let myself feel that pain first.” you say simply, flickering your gaze to him.

“you’re human, y/n. you make mistakes and you reflect on them. that’s one of the biggest lessons i’ve carried with me since becoming an idol. the important thing is that you understand what went wrong and grow from it. i think you’re doing a pretty good job with that.” he smiles warmly at you, reaching across the table to boop your nose.

you scrunch it up, a little giggle bubbling up from the back of your throat. the sound has heeseung reeling, his heart pounding absurdly fast in the confines of his chest. aside from being as sweet as you were, you were quite honestly the cutest thing he’d ever seen. yes of course he thought you were beautiful, but everything about you was cute. from your laugh to the way your eyes creased when you smiled.

when he looks at you, he wonders what the fuck he could’ve done in his past life to deserve meeting you in this one. getting to have the job he does was blessing enough, why did the universe continue to reward him like he’d saved a family from a burning building?

he couldn’t understand how siwoo could ever hurt someone like you, someone so wonderful and unabashedly herself. how could he throw away eight years of having the privilege to call you his, to see your face whenever he wanted? heeseung would kill to do that for even a second and this dude got to do it for almost an entire fucking decade.

then again, deep down he’s grateful that the idiot fumbled the bag with you. had he not, he wouldn’t have been given the chance to get closer to you in the way he has. while he feels terrible for thinking that way, it’s the truth.

“do you wanna keep practicing?” you ask, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“i don’t think you need it,” he shakes his head. “i think we’ll do just fine.”

“okay. hmm,” your eyes dance around the kitchen, landing on the cupboard next to the microwave. “would you like to eat instant ramyeon and watch a movie with me then?”

he looks at you as if you just asked for his hand in marriage, clutching the front of his t-shirt dramatically. “y/n, i could cry. i love instant ramyeon.”

you laugh at his behavior, standing to start making the food. “i’ll cook while you pick something! the remote is on the coffee table.”

the moment he settles onto your couch, his body relaxes. it feels so right; being in your apartment with you, doing something so domestic. he knows you still need your time, but if this is what he gets to have when he ends up on the other side, waiting doesn’t sound like much of an issue.

‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵

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‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵

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[patchesnpins]

I'm simply in love with the idea of Eddie giving you piercings?? anyways giving it a try with blurbs,,,

tw for needles!!

You nervously picked at the hangnail on your thumb, not entirely sure what to do with your hands but they couldn't stay still. Whether it was rolling the fabric of your shirt between your fingers or picking at the threads of Eddie's blanket, your hands were seeking something to keep your mind off the churning anxiety in your gut.

Eddie's room was homey, messy but you could sink back into the plush mattress and disappear in soothing low light and warmth, staring up at the glossy posters decorating the walls. You breathed in and out, slow and steady.

"Gonna pass out or something?" Eddie hums, bed dipping under his weight as he crawls onto it next to you.

"I'm letting Eddie Munson stab me with a needle, I think it's understandable for me to be a bit worried." You huff and sit up, letting Eddie situate himself in front of you.

He smiles, doe eyes softening in the low light and soothing your anxiety. "Give me a bit of credit, I haven't hurt anyone yet." Cradling your face in gentle hands, he angled your face towards the light, checking the little dots he'd drawn on along your lip with sharpie. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he checks over his work before smiling proudly. "Ready?"

"No." You croak.

"Sounds good enough."

The needle he produces glints menacingly and your're overtaken with the urge to tear your eyes away, forcing steady breaths through your lips in anticipation. Eddie hums along to the vinyl playing lightly in the background, flicking his lighter and with a sharp spark a flame sprouts and swallows up the sharp end of the needle in an orange glow. It's his favorite lighter, with a Metallica logo painted into the shiny black side, scuffed and faded from years of use.

His hand returns to your face, thumbing at your lip for better access but also gently caressing your cheek in a final attempt at comfort. You can feel the bite of warm metal against your lip as he lines it up. "It'll be over before you know it." He whispers and you squeeze your eyes closed, focusing on the dull coolness of the his rings against your cheek and the guitar solo playing from the record.

With a sharp pinch and the tiniest taste of metal in your mouth, Eddie gives a triumphant hiss of excitement under his breath and all you can feel is a subtle burn. You slowly, ever so slowly let your eyes open as Eddie fumbles for jewelry to be slipped in the needles place. He's grinning like a mad man, half proud of himself and half proud of you.

"Now," he starts with a sly look on his face. " I don't have any lollipops to give you for being so good for me, but I can give you something else." You can feel his breath against your face, lips only inches away from yours and just taunting you to come claim your prize. Like a child, giddy to pick a toy from the prize box, your nerves were now replaced with excitement thrumming through them.

Eddie leans in, the hand still holding your face suddenly jerks your face to the side and he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, pulling away with wild laughter as you stare open mouthed in confusion. "You know I can't kiss you until the piercing heals, right?" He giggles and leans back on his heels.

"What?"

send me blurb ideas?

[bcbdrums]

Eye of the Storm

A/N: Just a little post-Grad something. Takes place post-Lorwardian defeat but pre-UN ceremony. Thanks as always to

@split-n-splice

for keeping me motivated to write.

Read on:  FFn     AO3

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

It was hot. And humid.

That was the excuse Shego was giving herself for her mind's inability to quiet, but she knew the real reason was was far, far deeper than that.

She twisted in her uncomfortable joke of a beach chair yet again, her bare thighs sticking to the plastic as she shifted to try to get as much air flow over her skin as possible. She'd stripped to nothing but a green cotton tank top and short, black gym shorts hours ago, but it was doing very little to keep her cool in the heat of the Tahitian night.

The soft hum of the only working fan in the tropical tree-house lair sounded from Drakken's bedroom, both a reassurance and a torment as the real reason for her inability to sleep crept back to the fore of her thoughts.

Was he safe? Was he...alive?

What if the aliens had done something to him while he was on that ship that ended up killing him later?

Shego rose with an annoyed groan, the skin on the back of her thighs stinging as it peeled away from the cheap plastic of the chair. She was exhausted beyond description. She needed to sleep. But she knew she wouldn't be able to if she couldn't be certain of Drakken's well-being.

She was startled and then immediately relieved when upon hurrying through the open door to his room, a familiar silhouette bolted upright atop the water bed. Her heart pounded as she paused and looked at the dark mop of mussed hair framing what was no doubt a panicked expression that she couldn't see clearly in the starlight. He too was dressed for the heat, having elected to sleep in a white tank top and some dark-colored boxer shorts.

"It's just me," she said with a slight whine before he could fumble for a laser pistol.

"Shego? What are you doing in here?"

Her heart was still pounding as she realized suddenly that she had no excuse. She was afraid for his safety? 'Body-guard' may have been in her job description, but after so many years he wouldn't buy it.

"You have the only fan. So shove over," she said, her heartbeat quickening as she crossed the room, the dry cool of the hardwood a relief on her bare feet.

"What? Shego!"

She sat on the waterbed unceremoniously, grateful he'd at least tossed a sheet down upon it to avoid a similar sticky plastic situation like she'd had in her beach chair. She noted the second sheet and thin blanket that had been kicked away at the foot of the rosewood four-poster bed before snatching away one of his pillows, flipping her hair back so her neck could breathe, and then flopping down next to him.

He sat next to her in silence as she stared at the fan spinning on the ceiling above, the light fixture at its center adorned in carvings of pineapples. She smirked at the memory of when they had designed the lair, recalling the argument over the decor. Drakken had been frightened by the carvings of spiders and other terrors that would have made the tiny hideaway appear more evil, so he had purchased more traditional and homey adornments, much to her amusement. Weeks of mocking had followed until he had agreed to compromise on the 'haunted' signs this time, she finally persuading him to go with a more appropriate theme. Warnings of cruel mermaids, pirates, and deathly poisons this time would hopefully deter any passersby. However they both knew it wouldn't keep away a certain teen menace.

Nor aliens, apparently.

Shego turned her head to look up at Drakken's consternated expression.

"You weren't asleep either, so just lie down and make the best of it. We need to get through this night."

It was more than she'd meant to say, and her brow furrowed in annoyance at her own admission. Nevertheless, her words had done the trick, and the anxiety-riddled mad scientist finally reclined on his remaining pillow, the waterbed shifting under his weight. She released a breath she'd not realized she'd been holding and fixed her gaze on the fan again.

The heavy, greasy meal after the quick fast food stop during their return flight, coupled with pure exhaustion from several days awake still weren't enough to stay the adrenaline in either of them, the ordeal had been that intense. Questions burned in Shego's mind that she wasn't sure were appropriate to ask. The last time Drakken had unknowingly gotten on a ship with aliens, he'd not wanted to talk about it. But that was different. This time, those green War-whatever aliens had captured him for revenge.

She went back and forth with herself over whether or not she should ask, wondering if the answers would finally let her sleep, or only intensify the unspoken fear that plagued her.

What if they came back?

"They were going to kill us."

Drakken's voice caused Shego to startle again, and she turned her head to watch his profile as his gaze remained fixed on the fan.

"What...?" she breathed.

"Me and Possible. They were going to kill us for...trophies, after they took over Earth. They wanted to...stuff us and mount us, like animals."

After a moment, Shego swallowed and found her throat had gone dry. Her heart-rate accelerating was her second hint that the answers, so far at least, probably wouldn't be calming her. Though she tried to blame the sudden increase in sweat over her skin on the humidity.

After a silence, she realized Drakken wasn't going to offer anything more. She took a breath.

"Let's hope...they don't send anyone else to take back all those robots, since Stoppable killed those two."

"Nghn... Surprised he had it in him," Drakken replied.

"I'm not," Shego said, recalling the times the teen boy had been turned evil.

For a few minutes, the hum of the fan and the rippling of the waterbed were the only sounds. Faint starlight shining in the windows cast the room in a dim, blue light that helped bring an air of familiarity to the situation. They were back in the lair. They'd need to move again after things calmed down, and then soon it would be back to evil as usual. No more aliens. Nothing more threatening than a couple of meddling teens.

"Shego?"

She turned her head when she felt him shift, and their eyes met across the small gap between them atop the bed.

"Why did you come after me?"

That was the last question she had expected him to ask, and was equally stunned to find she had no real answer, her mind having gone blank.

"Uhh...why wouldn't I?" she finally managed. Her bare toes gripped the bed sheet nervously as she stared back into his searching expression, other memories suddenly returning unbidden. The way he'd reached out for her on the alien ship and then pulled back. The way she'd reached a little bit further...

"Because you leave when things get dicey or...or irritating."

"Psht, no I don't."

Drakken nodded. "Yes, you do. You bail out of crashing hover-cars, you left when we were trying to take over Smarty Mart... You even stole our escape helicopter on the train a few months ago. And you only take me with you if it's convenient."

Shego looked away, unused to such direct scrutiny. Especially from Drakken. The moment he'd turned away from her on the ship continued to assault her memories.

"Would you rather I hadn't? Can't just be grateful, sheesh," was her response as she stared up at the blurred movement of the fan blades.

Drakken didn't respond, to her relief, and she tried to banish the images in her mind and the unwanted feelings they were stirring. Especially since they seemed to be providing the answer to his question.

"Thank you, Shego."

A lump formed in her throat. The words were almost sad, though she could hear they were genuine. When she considered how afraid she had been... Not just of what the aliens might do as a whole, but the deep fear that had driven her to conquer another and go to space to rescue him... The fear of losing him... Was it really so much to give him something in return?

She rolled to her side and met his eager, searching gaze. She also noted the apprehension there and mentally kicked herself. She'd been hoping he'd open up and say something about what had happened to him for her own peace of mind. It was only fair to give him some peace in return.

When she didn't speak immediately, Drakken rolled to face her and leaned up on his elbow. She matched the posture but found it difficult on the waterbed and finally just sat up. He mirrored her again, and she noted how his eyes began to appear guarded when she failed to speak. She took a deep breath.

"Drakken. I..."

He sat up straighter, the eager look still in his eyes even as worry crept in. She impulsively reached forward and gripped his arm just above his elbow. He looked down at her hand and then up to her face, fear starting to override the other emotions in his features.

Shego looked down and sighed. She swallowed and then gathered all her courage as she met his gaze again.

"I couldn't let... I won't let anything happen to you."

She felt the veracity of the promise in her voice, and Drakken must have known it too for the way his face cleared, something akin to awe entering his eyes.

They regarded each other for another moment, Shego's heart pounding as the desire to express something else hit her. She was grateful that Drakken moved at the same time she did, his arms encircling her and pressing her hair into the sticky skin of her shoulders as he hugged her tightly. She was returning the gesture with one arm, her other hand maintaining a firm grip above his elbow.

"Thank you," he said just above a whisper, and she heard the telltale shake in his voice as he tensed in her embrace.

Any other words she wanted to say wouldn't come as her throat tightened, and she simply held him until the racing of her heart began to calm. The sound of the humming fan returned to her ears as the breeze it generated blew Drakken's loosened hair against her cheek. She heard him sniffle once, and she let herself relax for just another moment into the weight of the touch she hadn't realized she'd needed so badly.

It was with reluctance that she began to pull away, and Drakken matched her movements immediately. But she could tell both by his slowness and by the hint of moisture in eyes when she saw them again, that he'd needed the hug as much as she did.

Her hand remained on his arm as they slowly lie back down facing one another, the waterbed rippling beneath with the motion. The heat seemed both more and less in that moment—more from the prolonged contact with another warm body, and less for the breeze from the fan. The small movement of the air also helped to stay the welling of tears in her eyes as she noticed the redness in Drakken's.

"Shego, I—"

"It's okay, Dr. D. Just...let's get some sleep."

When she sank into the waterbed again, she felt relief for the first time since their return, realizing that the choice to sleep in the beach chair had been less about laziness in unpacking her bedding, and more about remaining on guard in case any other threat should befall...him.

He offered her a brief, shy smile before settling into his side of the mattress and closing his eyes. Her fingers remained in a vice-like grip below his bicep, and she wondered which of them she was trying to reassure more with the touch.

A chill suddenly raced across the bare skin of her shoulders, traveling down until it reached her toes. She curled up slightly and focused again on the sound of the fan, and the sounds of water beneath her as the slightest movement caused the mattress to ripple. She closed her eyes and was astonished at how quickly the sounds began to carry her into sleep.

The horrifying images that had been her waking nightmares—giant green aliens, the vacuum of space, and imagined deaths for the man whose arm she held—suddenly faded away. Even the torture of the humidity seemed less.

She clung to the last threads of consciousness as she felt the sudden, welcome warmth of fingers coming to rest atop hers. The soft sound of Drakken's relaxed sigh joined the hum of the fan, and then finally, Shego sank into blessed oblivion.

[quillyfied]

Top 5 ao3 tags

Uh oh. Ummm. I will try? It's easier to list tags I block rather than specific things I go looking for, but...

Asexual character/relationship. I don't go looking for it every time, but when I get the urge for non-sexual intimacy (oh hey there's another one) or just some poking around in the ace identity for navel-gazing reasons...that's a nice one to apply.

Tooth-rotting fluff. Sometimes, the fluff too sweet. Sometimes, the fluff need MORE SWEET. ROT MY DENTITION BEYOND SALVAGING WITH YOUR FLUFF. And to that point--

Domestic/Slice of Life. Be homey. Be comfy. Be low-stakes and sometimes silly but always ready for popcorn and cuddles, or trips to the store, or just having a day that doesn't end in needing to be held together, but rather just...being.

Hurt/Comfort. I have seen the Hurt No Comfort tag, and no shade to those who enjoy that, but it personally insulted me the first time I saw it. Mostly because I misread it. And it was exactly what it said on the tin. Which I did not read correctly. And immediately went looking for Comfort No Hurt, which sort of corrected the balance, but just like popcorn needs MnMs, sweet needs some salty sometimes.

Happy Ending. I'm a fluffy marshmallow human. I deal with depression and anxiety on the daily. Give me hope for the future. Lie to me if you must. Just let me believe in it for a little bit longer.

[communicationmyway]

Film Class Final Essay

Film class was a fun, rejuvenating class that I needed that allowed me to just write. I just needed an outlet that allowed me to write what I saw, get the juices flowing, and film class was great for it. By posting weekly discussion boards, I was able to overcome some of my anxiety by seeing my peers posting too: there was nothing to be embarrassed of! So, here is my final essay that I wrote and had quite a lot of fun doing!

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

The Exorcist vs The Ring Two

The Exorcist was made in 1973 and directed by William Friedkin. The opening scene is very dramatic, with chanting in Arabic and sunlight gleaming down on the sands. When finding something in the dessert, there is brief eerie music before a quick jump cut to a later time of the day, shown by the placement of the sun in the sky. There appears to be a very diverse cast of supporting roles. In the beginning, not much is said, but there is plenty of noises going on in every scene. All the jump cuts are very sudden, it's sort of off putting. The architecture everywhere is very well put together, setting the scene and placement of where the opening guy is. 

Everything about this movie in the opening is very sudden, as if to create a sort of scare. From the cuts of what's on screen, to sudden noises happening, it all goes into increasing anxiety for the viewer, as if they are too panicking. There's this sort of buzzing music noise they have in several parts as well that just adds to the eeriness. 

The color jump cut from the bright Arabian deserts to Georgetown is drastic, with Georgetown being bleak and urbanized. The sound effects turn slightly comical, as they do not sound realistic in this new setting. The diversity is gone, as it appears to be an all-white main cast now. The slow zoom in is an overrated film choice as well, to show the importance of a character. 

The music in the scene of the main female walking home is a nice touch, reminds you that you're watching a horror film. It's slow, creepy, picks up and the high-pitched noises increase some feelings in the person viewing. The home is nicely decorated, very homey with plants and a lot of antiques placed all over. The acting is okay, not the best. They overplay the relationship between the mother and daughter to show how close they are, but the fake laughter and everything is a bit much. 

One of the best lighting scenes I've seen so far is when a homeless man asks the Father for some change and a train passes by, casting quick shadows over his face, but you can still see his beady blue eyes as clear as day. The Father, dressed in all black, hasn't cracked a single smile yet, only a grim look on his face, as you continue to wonder his importance in the whole film. It appears to be a very diverse film in ways, having Arabic, English, and Greek dialogue. This is always a bright side, as it gives the viewer a chance to experience a nice difference.

The first real jumpscare is in the attic, when the mother is searching for the cause of these obscenely fake crashing noises. The candlelight flares and dies out as it's paired with a loud noise. Very classic jumpscare, sudden movements and loud noises. Besides that, it's all just been eeriness up to this point. The scenes have also gotten silent, which adds to the spookiness just as much as music does. It shows the Father boxing to release stress for no reason, with sudden jump cuts still. 

The sudden change in the daughter for no reason is a bit laughable, especially when she starts peeing. There was nothing leading up to her being sick, despite her mother saying that she was. They could've shown the daughter getting sick instead of the Father boxing. The mother then proceeds to jump on a shaking bed to hold her daughter instead of getting the daughter off it, make it make sense. 

The stylistic choice of having the Father speak directly to the camera was also a bit off putting, in that it breaks the connection that it has built up and creates a sense of awkwardness. The spasms that Reagan has is funny, even the cut to her eyes rolling back and her hitting the doctor. It's all comical, not even the least bit scary. 

They mention thematic elements of psychology. from the mother of the Father being put in a mad house to Reagan’s temporal lobe being out of whack, it attacks many things in regard to mental illnesses. They also do hypnosis and bring up the topic of possession and exorcism. They also swear a lot and use very vulgar words, such as 'cunting'. 

The most eerie part is having to stare directly into Reagan’s eyes while she's under hypnosis, she did a good job of making it seem soulless. And when the daughter's head turns around, it's great. It takes an hour and sixteen minutes for the Father to finally meet the mother. For such a fast-paced movie, it sure does go slow at some parts. The make-up and sound effects of the voice during possession were great, as well as the acting of Reagan. Overall, it was a very nicely put together movie. Very scary for its time, with the make-up and sound effects. The camera cuts could've been done better, but it added to the movie’s creepiness.

The Ring Two was made in 2005 and directed by Hideo Nakata. From the get-go you can tell it's newer by the high-quality shots they have of many bodies of water. The music is dramatic. It opens with the general storyline of The Ring, where you have to show someone else the VHS tape to pass off the evil spirit, so that they kill them in 7 days instead of you. The music is intense right off the bat, as the boy is in a panic and the girl reaches the tv. The classic haunting video shows, dramatic clips and eerie, high pitched noises. The effects are grand, showing a well and static, static encasing the surroundings of the boy as he is basically doomed to his death. 

All the colors are kind of dulled with a tone of blue and grey being the common theme. The movie doesn't make much sense off the get go if you have not seen the first one and know what has happened previously to Rachel and her son, but it's not hard to catch on. There has already been several jumpscares, and it's only 15 minutes in, with creepy images and loud music to bring the creepiness to life. 

They have quick jump cuts paired with intense music which pairs pretty nicely together and makes it slightly less disturbing. There was a cool fast panning scene of the street that made it look haunting as the tv flashed on to where you could hear water gurgling. This movie has made me terrified of static on my TV, in fear that Samara would come crawling out of it. 

Despite everything this young boy has been through, he still goes to the tv, too close for comfort and is trapped by Samara as she crawls out of the well. The water effects, tv, and music are plain creepy, especially as the boy is sucked into the tv. 

The acting of the boy is off-putting, not that well but he's supposed to appear a bit odd, so I guess it's fitting. He delivers his lines monotone and calls his mother by her name every other line. The music is to die for, perfectly fitting to the movie, as well as the sound effects which don't sound silly. There is never a perfectly sunny day, always cloudy or dreary. It adds to the color scheme very nicely.

The crescendo in music really aids to the panic as Rachel looks for Aidan, and the scenes with silence surrounding him adds to the creepiness of what you fear to happen next because there's so many cues that something is about to happen. There is a cheap jumpscare after a quick zoom into his camera, with a blinding white light, a clean Samara, and high-pitched scream. The CGI on the deer’s is too unrealistic, making it funny especially as Aidan starts to freak out. Could've been handled better in the animating. The glimpse of Aidan in the deer’s eye is also funny, as his face looks distorted, presumably meant to appear creepy. 

The glimpses of Samara are way too creepy and paired very nicely with sound effects and music. The acting could've been better at times, but it may just be the story and how the actors were told to handle themselves. The music, sound effects, and visual aspects all pair together very nicely to create an experience of fear for the viewer.

In all, the two movies are similar yet drastically different at the same time. The Exorcist relies heavily on makeup and sound- voices- to create an atmosphere causing uneasiness. A masterpiece for its time that dealt with many thematic elements. The Ring Two relies on makeup, CGI, music and jumpscares to create fear in the viewer. There is no doubt in my mind that if The Exorcist was made in later years, it would’ve been better, a more terrifying experience. But from the time it was made to now, it just appears to be comical, especially with the acting and events that happen within. The jump cuts were too much, too abrupt, and the movie was too slow paced and lacking important information. The Ring Two had a color scheme and stuck to it, from the get-go was creating fear in the viewer with jumpscares and creepy noises paired with scenes. The music was better, less out of place in some scenes, and the sound effects did not sound fake, like the crashing in The Exorcist. Over time, obviously, horror movies have become much better, much more willing to put fear into the viewer by creating atmospheres they can’t help but think about in the late of night when they are all alone in their dark room. 

Works Referenced

Friedkin, William, director. The Exorcist. HBO Max, Warner Bros. Pictures, 1973, https://play.hbomax.com/player/urn:hbo:feature:GXdu2RAwNtJuAuwEAADZy. Accessed 28 Nov. 2022.

Nakata, Hideo, director. The Ring Two. HBO Max, Dreamworks Pictures, 2005, https://play.hbomax.com/player/urn:hbo:feature:GXOQxMAjHY4DCwgEAAAAY. Accessed 28 Nov. 2022.

[salvosfinest]

Stardust to Stardust - Ch. 6

Sparring was a fantastic outlet for anger and frustrations.

The tempo of hitting pads, staggering his partner, and picking him back up was familiar. And tiring. He had let up on his partner, until he called for “harder!” Remembering the disaster of a “Christmas party” last year, Darius threw his shin into a lifted glove - and knocking the man to the mat.

“You wanted harder.” He said simply, reaching down to pick the dazed man up onto his feet - in his years, Darius progressively unlearned the names and faces of the people Talon would bring in. It was easier, knowing that they were cannon fodder. This kid would probably be dead in the next mission.

It was easier.

“Doctor Kaiser. Someone’s asking for you,” came from the outside of the ring, and Darius practically swung about to see who it was - it was rare for his sparring to be interrupted.

Oh. Siebren. Siebren with the most bewildered expression on his face.

“So that’s what you look like without a shirt,” he caught just barely over the sounds of his feet hitting the mat. Darius stuck his head between the ropes, practically nose-to-nose with Siebren. They both squinted a moment-- and Siebren was the one to laugh first. He always was. “Fine, fine, I am guilty. They were talking about some Christmas party and I know nothing of it. I was hoping you would come with me, as...” “A date?” “N-No! No, just... to keep company.” Now he was blushing. Finally. Usually Darius was the one to turn scarlet. It was a date. They were both tiptoeing around calling their outings such. “Sure. I do have a gift for you - once I wash up, I’ll give it to you. I’ll meet you in your room.” “Ah-- no, no, I like yours more.” It’s more homey, Siebren said once. But he knew he was constantly being monitored. So, it was a sort of code for “I feel safer there”.

Shaking his head, he waved a wrapped hand as he stood, “An hour. Twenty for this, forty to clean up and relax.” He heard the bench by the ring creak and he tried to brush it off, going back to the steady rhythm of his spar, ending with the kid in pads goading him into another hard hit. Fed up with his attitude - this man was half his age - Darius grabbed the man by the wrist and hoisted him as up as he could. “Stop.” He was dropped back on the mat, entirely confused as to what the past three minutes of his life were about.

He practically ignored everybody on the way out, finding solace later in his shower, letting the water beat against his back and neck, eyes closed. In the darkness behind his lids, he remembered that expression on Siebren’s face. Bewilderment? No. No, that was the gaze of a man that found something he liked. Siebren was attracted to him. Siebren was attracted to him!

The anxiety sat in the pit of his stomach as he dried off, dressed, and put his damp hair up. Stepping out, he stopped when he noticed Siebren was already chilling on his couch, book in hand. He was still so unused to having someone in his space. Want to be in his space. He cleared his throat, then dug underneath his bed to get a little box. He held it close to himself as he plopped next to Siebren, practically forcing it into his lap. “What-- oh! You did say you had a gift for me! What is it?” “Open it, I’m not telling you!” He saw Siebren roll his eyes, undoing the decorative tape on each side. Inside he had carefully folded a Christmas sweater. It was picked up carefully, then unfolded. There were some planets and the old NASA logo printed on it. There was silence and, surprisingly, stillness from Siebren as he gazed at the front of it - the only thing different was the line of tears at the bottom of his eyelids. The sweater was hugged to his face to hide those tears - and the older man’s head was summarily placed in Darius’s lap.

That was new.

“Ah, are you alright?” Furious nodding. “...Alright.” A hand smoothed down the few inches of hair that he had convinced Talon to let Siebren keep, his other hand resting on his arm. Sure, he was surprised that Siebren would do something like this, but he wasn’t heartless. He understood wanting comfort. Just... from him, was the surprising part. After a few minutes of silence, Siebren sat up and set the sweater down in his lap-- then the plain shirt he wore was off.

He hadn’t seen Siebren shirtless since he had to perform surgery. And by the gods did he forget what the man looked like. His frame had filled out, offering protection for his leaner muscles, his pale skin dotted with graying hair. He looked good. It was all hidden a second later by the sweater, which fit him perfectly with plenty of room to get cozy in. That was something he won’t forget.

Darius’s train of thought was immediately interrupted by a tight hug, finding himself relaxing faster and faster these days into the big man’s arms. He could stay here forever.

But, unfortunately, forever was far too short.

[anlheu]

Going Back to Where It Began

In the summer of 2019, I was working in Shanghai and one of the adventures that my friends and I did was to visit Tianzifang. It is this charming tourist attraction in the residential area of the French Concession that is filled with tiny boutique shops, cafés, and restaurants. You navigate through narrow alley ways to get from one shop to another which made me feel like I was in Diagon Alley from Harry Potter minus the wizards, witches, and dark magic.

In one of those alleys, we found this charming Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince) shop. They sell all sorts of dreamy, charming trinkets, and the interior is so homey that it reminds you of the wonders of childhood. I watched the film "The Little Prince" many years before and I have forgotten about a lot of details from that film and even how it made me feel.

But on that day... in that shop... I saw the mural of The Little Prince and the famous line:

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

I have recently read the book that my friend gifted to me and stumbled on that line again. Those words touched my heart, nay, my soul... there is something in that message that is just so pure that brings tears to my eyes and gives me a warm fuzzy feeling like snuggling under a warm fluffy blanket on a cold day.

Essentially, "The Little Prince" is telling us that people forget what is essential once they grow up. They forget about the wonders of life, the simplicity of childhood, and the emotional connection with people. When we grow up, things need to make sense all the time, serious, and heavy because we have responsibilities, bills to pay, and a reputation to uphold.

It made me contemplate that perhaps our dreams are the same as being "grown -ups." When we start out our dreams, they are simple, beautiful, and pure. However, once we work for that dream, we succumb to the pressure and anxiety along the way of making that dream into reality that we lose sight of the purpose on why we started to work for it in the first place.

It is easy to get carried away to keep up with the expectations of the society, the promise of fame and fortune, or the fear that our efforts are in vain. But we should not be drowned by the external factors that make us abandon the passion and purpose to achieve our dreams.

We are surrounded with things that are supposed to make us feel fulfilled and whole as a human being. Yet deep down, the little prince was right, we are blindly pursuing nothing because we forgot what is essential: the purity of our dreams...the reason behind them. It is important that we know exactly why we do what we do now, and we don't take the fun and magic that make it special for us.

I always have the notion that life is simple, and only humans are making it complicated. Going after our dreams should not be as complicated or problematic as we make it out to be.

Ask yourself:

Am I doing this for the fame, fortune, or out of responsibility? Or...am I doing this to make a difference, to make myself happy, or out of passion?

No matter what your reason is, at least you know where you can find what you are looking for. Your dreams won't be lost in a limbo of "grown-ups" who wander aimlessly. Reach to the inner child in you, and look through your heart to find the answer to the question "Why you do what you do?"

You might find that the answer can be as simple as the single rose or the water in the middle of the desert.

The stars mean different things to different people. For some they are nothing more than twinkling lights in the sky. For travelers they are guides. For scholars they are food for thought. For my businessman they are wealth. But for everyone the stars are silent. Except from now on just for you... when you look up at the sky at night, since I shall be living on one of them and laughing on one of them, for you it will be as if all the stars were laughing. You and only you will have stars that can laugh. (An excerpt from The Little Prince)

[angel-archivist]

.

[thepenismightierandallthat]

Look At Me (Part 2)

Part 1

Part 3

I didn’t intend for this to be more than 2 parts but I got a little too invested in this.

She’d never really given much thought as to where Benedict lived, she’d never really thought about what Benedict did when he wasn’t at Bridgerton house really. She knew that he had his own house fairly close to Bridgerton house and that was about at much detail her thoughts had gone into on the matter.

It was nice. A lot nicer than she thought bachelor’s lodgings would be. It was airy with lots of windows and natural light. It was one of those places that felt homey as soon as you entered, she supposed that must be how Bridgerton’s lived, his mothers house was the same way. It was like being greeted with a warm hug and smile, being ushered in and told to make yourself at home.

Benedict’s butler had taken her to the drawing room while he fetched him. It was late afternoon, slowly pouring into evening. The warm swash of pink in the sky painted a lovely filter over the room, the blue sofas looking almost purple. This house was at the perfect angle for viewing a sunset she thought. Probably even better for painting one.

She had just sunk down into the sofa her face turned towards the warming light and skirts tucked neatly around her when Benedict entered the room.

“You know I was half expecting you to change your mind.” He smiled at her a touch of nervousness pulling at his lips too.

At least that made two of them.

“Mr Bridgerton you’ve known me for a fair few years now. Surely you realise I can’t turn from this now. Eloise would be disappointed if she knew I’d backed down from something I wanted.” She raised an eyebrow, trying to make herself give off an air of easiness. If he knew she was positively vibrating with anxiety, excited anxiety mind you but anxiety nonetheless, he would send her home in one of his carriages immediately and their conversation never to be brought up again.

Benedict ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at his chestnut brown locks that all the bridgertons were known for. I wonder what that would feel like. She swallowed down the idea, her eyes widening at her own trail of thought. That was not why she was here.

“Do you have a studio?”

“Do i what?” For some reason the question caught him off guard, he was caught up in the anticipation of where the evening was heading.

“Have a studio? Where do you paint? It’s obviously not in this room unless you are exceptionally careful with the mess” She gestured with her arms wide to the pristine room they were currently in.

Benedict cleared his throat. “Yes of course. Follow me.”

He led her up a small staircase, nothing as grand as the house he had grown up. She trailed behind him, fingers running over the bannister.

“There is a ball tonight, I told my mother I was spending the night with Eloise as I know she is home feeling a little under the weather. I don’t much like using your sister like that but she would never have let me come here alone.”

Of course her mother wouldn’t. She wouldn’t leave her daughter, who had only a year prior had come out to society, alone with an unmarried man. She was an upstanding member of the ton. She was supposed to be looking for a match, dancing with gentleman after gentleman at the ball being held tonight. Instead she was here, alone in his house, about to let him paint her completely bare. It sent a delicious heat through his bones that she’d chosen this. Followed closely by something close to guilt.

“You are sure about this? I am a gentleman and I’m not about to make you do something you’re not fully agreed to.” He stopped before they entered the room. It felt like something would change as soon as they passed the threshold.

She placed her hands on her hips, nose turned up. She’d already told him this was what she wanted, she wasn’t going to be dissuaded no matter how much her blood pounded in her ears. “I assure you I wouldn’t have turned up at your door had I not been sure”

“My devilishly good looks haven’t confused you?” Benedict could always lighten the mood, his humour was one of the reasons she most enjoyed finding the bridgertons at every social event she attended.

“My delicate female brain isn’t so easily swayed I’m afraid” She smoothed her hands down her dress, hands fidgeting restlessly. “how does this work Mr Bridgerton”

“I think, considering what we are about to do, you may call me Benedict.”

“Please explain to me what you would like me to do Benedict.” His name felt comfortable in her mouth, at home sliding across her lips.

Benedict placed his hands on his hips, copying her earlier stance, trying to grin at how nice it felt to hear his name from her. “Are you going to be able to get out of your dress yourself?“

She made her way to the far corner of the room. “Getting out is fine, getting in is always the hassle”

He began rolling up his sleeves as she disappeared behind the dressing screen he’d had brought in. When he heard the soft rustle of fabric and found himself wishing he was the one helping slide her dress from her shoulders he busied himself with setting out the paints on his pallet. He’d seen naked women hundreds of times at this point in his life, it wouldn’t do to start getting nervous now.

She poked her head around the side of the screen her hair had been let down from its intricate style, a soft blush warming her checks and upper chest. “Where would you like me?“

Everywhere. Anywhere.

Benedict gestured to the sofa he’d had moved to the centre of the room and laden with pillows and cushions. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

With a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped out from behind the screen that had been keeping her hidden. With careful slow steps she made her way to the centre of the room, her eyes never leaving the floor.

Beautiful.

Benedict’s hands went limp at his sides, his eyes following her every move with a rapt attention he didn’t realise he was capable of. She was incredible. She was soft in all the right places, an enticing mixture of curves and sharp lines. Her nipples were pinched and hard, pulling her breasts to attention. He didn’t dare drop his eyes lower for the moment, a familiar ache between his own legs warned him against that.

He needed to translate her to canvas, immortalise this heavenly being before him. Everyone deserved to marvel at her she was ethereal, otherworldly in this moment.

“I want you to lie down on your side turn your head away-“ she manoeuvred herself into the position he had requested, still not brave enough yet to make eye contact with him. She was probably nothing compared to the women he had painted, a little too much here, maybe not enough there, but she trusted Benedict. More then she realised she did really.

She was so lost in racing thoughts she didn’t notice him approach. He reached forward, his touch feather light, and nudged her arm to drape over her side and against her stomach. He then reached for her face, tipped away from him as he’d asked. “Look at me” he murmured. “We can stop whenever you like.”

She shook her head, a small smile pulling at her mouth as she looked into his eyes. That familiar comfortableness she had begun feeling around him settled around her like a blanket and suddenly she wasn’t so worried about the fact she had no clothes on.

Benedict gave her a lopsided grin back and carefully moved her head back into her previous position. As much as he wanted anyone who saw this painting to know it was her, to bask in her glory, he knew it would ruin her in society if they did.

He moved back to his easel and picked up his paintbrush.

No turning back now.

[bloodycassian]

anon request - READER X AZRIEL - sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you want! I got a bit carried away in my own idea of Azriel being supportive but protective at the same time!

some hurt/comfort with Azriel where he and the reader get in a huge fight over protecting Elain (like they travel to a different court and Azriel is overprotective) and then the reader goes scouting to also cool down a bit and they get ambushed, the reader gets injured and the mating bond snaps. Hope it's not too much trouble!!

Elain was absurdly still as the conversation played out. Conversation being a loose term for the shouting happening around her. You didn’t leave her side though, even though your anger flourished while they spoke as if she wasnt there. Azriel was packing her things, shoving them haphazardly into a bag. The bag that Feyre had given her from their first trip down to the markets after Elain had started acting somewhat normal again. The happy memory seemed so distant now, compared to the anxiety ridden emotions that played about in the room.

“We are not going to the continent.” Az’s tone shift was abrupt, a snap of anger leaning into it. He tied the top of the bag closed and set it roughly atop the living room table. The scattered odds and ends of survival gear and weapons scraped against the wood. You watched the stare down between the high lord and his shadowsinger patiently. Waiting for your moment to speak rationally to them.

Rhys’ power roiled above, his eyes did not hide his frustration with his brother. His gaze was simmering with that dark power he possessed. Azriel did not back down. “The continent is the only place that may be safe. If the King finds out she’s a Seer he will never let her go. We can’t risk losing her as a hostage.”

You knew she would be a hostage too. Feyre would never let her sister be taken without a fight. Rhys knew his mate well enough to know not to risk just Elain, but Feyre too. Cauldron knew what Nesta would do if she were in that room during the conversation. Likely spitting fire and shoving Elain out the door to wherever she seemed to think was safe. Thankfully, both sisters were scouring deep in the library for any way to help win this battle.

Azriel did not break eyecontact with his brother as he made to speak again. You interrupted before he could make the situation worse. “I have somewhere in mind.” You spoke softly, urging the staring contest to end. Azriel looked away first, and you were surprised at that. His eyes met yours with something like relief. “Autumn. We have Eris on our side if we’re caught. I have a spot we can stay until-” Azriels scoff sent anger shooting through you. You clenched your teeth together to keep from lashing out at him as he had been doing just moments before. 

“Autumn is possibly the worst place we could send you right now. We’re on the brink of war with them potentially being on Hyberns side. We would be sending you straight to Hybern himself.” 

“Exactly. It’s stupid and they would never expect it.” 

“You’re not going. Beron exiled you. Don’t you remember what that means?” He looked at you with actual concern now that he knew you were serious. As if you had been injured and you were speaking a different language.

“It means we will be safe from Hybern when they come here to look for Elain. Isn’t that the point?” You wrapped an arm around her small shoulders and pulled her close. Az couldn’t argue with that. The other courts were not an option, as it would be harboring a target against one of the Night court Allies. And Winter court was nowhere to be spending the night. Not many survived the night there without shelter.

Rhys’ sigh was long and exhausted. Left without another option, he nodded to himself. He held out a hand and summoned two necklaces, both with pendants of black onyx that shimmered in the firelight. Az’s brows pinched together at the sight of them. The dull glow behind him shone through his wings, highlighting all the delicate structures there. You found his wings more beautiful than the enchanted stone Rhys handed you.

“Hybern won’t be able to sense your magic. Keep these on.” 

Azriel was already tensing, his fists balling at his sides ready to make it physical if Rhys refused to listen. He knew with his entire being that something was off. Something would go wrong this night. His shadows warned him of something. And he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried. “Rhys-”

“And you will be going with them. Keep them company while Feyre and I investigate just how many ships and forces they plan to bring.” He ordered in that indisputable tone of the high lord. With only a hint of friendliness. He gave Az a long look before turning back to you and Elain. “Do not take those off.” The nodded to the necklaces and started to winnow. Elain stood abruptly, startling you. 

“Thank you.” She said softly to the high lord. He seemed taken aback for a second, before giving her a gracious nod and finally disappearing. You rose to Elain’s height and took her hand in yours. It was warm, welcoming. “We’re going to be fine.” You promised, not caring if Azriel saw the care you gave her. She had been there for you just as you needed to be now. She had practically kept you alive with her soft humming and reading to you when you were at your worst after being exiled. 

 “I know.” She said, voice soft as rose petals. But that dark power within her were the thorns of that pretty, perfect rose. The reason Hybern even knew to look in Velaris for Elain. That cauldron calling power that she couldn’t control to save her life. You grimly smiled at her.

“We need to leave.” Azriel ordered, tone neutral. Just a warrior needing to move troops.

“Let me get your bag.” Elain said, giving you a squeeze of her hand, disappearing up the stairs. Leaving you with the brooding Illyrian. You grimaced in his direction. He ignored you as best he could, hoping that the time for babysitting would pass quickly. He had always found it strange how you and Elain moved like magnets together. Found the soft way you comforted each other somehow upsetting. He paced quietly in front of the fire while you gathered your gear. Two small blades - one for Elain - and your sword. You rubbed at a speck on the hard steel of the sword. 

Perhaps his lack of family had made that rivaling jealousy turn into hatred for the display of affection. He contemplated to himself. Had he become cold to everyone? Too harsh? Had the darkness he possessed taken him over? He tore his eyes from your short sword and locked them with yours. The thrill he felt wasn’t from anger or terror. His cheeks flushed slightly and you fought the grin that you wanted so badly to flaunt at him. The innuendos regarding the sword that you wanted to say were cut off by that look he gave you.

“Do not get into a situation where you have to use that.” He warned with a stern look. You couldn’t help the angelic smile you gave him.

+

The smell of rotting apples and decaying leaves was all you needed to sense to know you were home. You took in the court border slowly, adjusting to your orientation after being winnowed. Elain clutched your hand tightly, the bag in her other hand quivered only slightly from her shaking. Your hands became slick with sweat at the familiar sights and smells of Autumn. You hadn’t been back since being exiled.

“We wont be able to have a fire.” Azriel stated, gazing towards the sky. It was far too clear of a day out to risk it. The slight chill in the air filled your stomach with dread for the night to come. 

“This way.” You pulled Elain along with you, leaves crunching under your feet as you entered Autumn court. She didn’t move. Her eyes were blank, staring lifelessly into the orange and yellow forest. “Elain?” You asked softly.

“Five foxes will die tonight. Three more in the morning.” 

Her words sent a chill down your spine.

Az took the lead, territoriality putting himself a few paces in front of you. He wasn’t subtle about it either, occasionally jogging ahead to scout for any enemies around piles of bramble when you came across it. 

By the time you found your hideout, you were fed up with waiting for him to give you the all clear everywhere you went. You let you go of Elains now calm hand and stormed into the small shack with familiarity. Azriel hissed and seethed when you lit a lantern inside. “Get over yourself, Shadowsinger.” You laughed, taking in the small piece of home you made for yourself long ago. 

It indeed was a long time ago when you’d last been there. But it still felt homey to you. The small space was just big enough for a stove, the table you’d found, and a bed pushed against the far wall. The fireplace hadn’t been used in years. Soot marked small animal prints along the light plank floors.

The dusty blankets on the makeshift bed were pocked with holes from mice and moths. The fireplace was nearly caved in on itself. The bramble covering that acted like a second roof was growing through the actual roof in some places. But it was still home. Your small exit from the world when things got too tough. Even after being exiled Beron hadn’t known about this place. He would have had it destroyed if he did know of it.

Elain pushed in passed Azriel. His shadows went wild. Searching every surface of the cabin. The long beams of the floor were hardly visible through the darkness he brought. 

+

You knew you should have brought more blankets. You held back the teeth chattering as best you could, letting Elain sleep. She would need all the rest she could get. You could tell she’d been tired after the days walk. She rested peacefully under the layers while the wind shuddered the leaves outside. You pulled your coat tighter to your body. 

“This was a stupid idea.” Azriel muttered from the corner. He didn’t seem cold, but the dark curls of shadow wrapped around him protectively. While you were left with nothing more than a coat. Your own magic couldn’t save you from the stormy wind, the necklace Rhys had given you also weakened your power enough that you couldn’t use it. Even in your homeland. It bothered you endlessly, feeling so useless in such a dire situation of needing to help Elain. 

“Then maybe you should just leave.” You barked back simply. He didn’t have to come in the first place if he was going to be so bothered. 

“I just mean-” He sighed, and sat on the creaky old table that took up half the small kitchenette. “We could have done this better. We could have planned… Differently.” 

“We didnt have the time. We’re here now, so we just need to deal-”

“I know that. I’m just bothered that you’re so recklessly looking for danger everywhere we go.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m from here Azriel. I know what areas are dangerous.” 

“Maybe once.” His eyes were not angry when he said it. They were full of pity and doubt. Your rage spilled over, and you were ready to shout. Ready to scream at him about what a piggish idiot Illrian he was being. But Elain turned over, sighing softly to herself. 

So instead, you clamped down on that burning anger and walked out. And of course he decided to try to follow you. He made it a few steps outside the cabin before you turned on him, ready to roar. “Be safe at least.” He tossed his red jeweled dagger to you. Your heart squeezed, choking you up slightly. You brushed it away as best you could before he could see. You couldn’t yell at him. 

So you took the dagger and walked briskly away, into the brush of autumn forests. Laced with the smell of heavy fruits and warm trees. Leaves fluttering in your wake as the wind tossed with ease. 

You held his knife close at your side the entire aimless walk. Then, the sound of twigs snapping and males laughing heartily made you pause. 

Far to your east was a dull glow beyond a knoll. You backed away slowly. Trying to be as soundless as possible in case they could scent you. The breeze whipped at your skin, blowing in their direction. The trees above you shuddered sharply, and you swore as a heavy weight fell upon your shoulders.

+

Azriel paced in the kitchenette, his shadows swirling around him relentlessly, waiting for a target. It felt wrong letting you go. It felt like letting his hope sink. His shadows even seemed upset about it, as they now whipped around him angrily. 

He swore he was going to run a rut through the plank floor. He sighed, glanced to Elain’s sleeping figure and forced himself to sit. You had the dagger. You were capable. You knew the area and knew what you were doing. He tried his best to soothe himself. It didn’t help much.

The old chair creaked under his weight, and he smiled. For someone who claimed they couldn’t work around the house, you were quite the crafter making such a nice hideaway for yourself. He finally took a moment to pause, and actually look at the cabin.

The stove may have been older than he was. The missing burners on top were replaced with a few forks placed carefully around them. The ancient shelves were dusty, along with all the jars and cups atop them. Cobwebs spotted the entire house, but his shadows had gotten rid of most of them after the first one clung to his face upon walking in. 

Then he came to the table he sat at, the four unmatching chairs circling it. The table itself was solid oak, he could tell that much. But he wondered how you’d gotten it inside at all. Out of curiosity, he pulled on it. It didn’t budge. His eyebrows knitted together, and he stood slowly. The curiosity consumed him. He gave the table another tug. Still, no movement.  

He crouched down, and noticed the planks around the single leg of the table had been cut out. Then he noticed the intricate roots weaving their way up the trunk. The table wasn’t just a table. It was an entire tree - or what was a tree once… And you’d built the entire cabin around it. His awe was quickly quieted by Elain.

“A part of you is missing. The foxes will die.” She muttered sleepily, her eyes blank. And he lay back down as if it hadn’t happened. “Elain?” Azriel called. Dread, cold and stinging coarse through him. “Elain?” He asked quietly, approaching her side. She flung the covers from her lithe body. Azriel jumped back, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s okay, its me.” He calmed her, noting the wild look in her expression. 

“Find yourself.” She breathed, her eyes going wide with concern. Azriel’s heart sped, and he felt like he’d been dunked in a cold ocean of dread. Terror drug him under the deep waves and threatened to drown him the first chance it got. He took Elains hand and started walking the direction you’d left. 

Leaving behind the supplies and the living table that you’d created.

+

A glance at the oversized uniforms told you all you needed to know. The fox sigil pinned to their tunics proved that the uniforms were stolen from Autumn soldiers. Your blood boiled. Elain had been right. But they would die. Five of them, at least. But you had only glimpsed at three so far. You tugged at the ropes that bound you. Firm, and not able to be broken.

Their campsite was large, and full of small boxes of different fruits. Several different types of weapons leaned against their low lying tents. And with how many scars their fae leader had, you knew the rest of their story in an instant. Bandits. Filthy trade merchants that lived for thievery and making a quick gold mark.

And you’d be worth their weight in gold once they turned you in to Beron.

“We’ve got a live one!” The male shouted to his comrades. They cheered drunkenly, their voices carried far by the wind. Their fire sparked and popped against the blue night sky. And you knew that your death may not come in glory of battle, or in the name of your home. But in being stupid enough to be caught by bandits. You could have died that instant if it would mean you didn’t have to feel that kind of shame.

The male cut the opal from your neck, and you felt your magic explode from you. Your thoughts were racing, searching. Finding something cold and dark in the depths of your mind and tugging on it. Then, it was a live beast beneath your mental hands. It coiled and rose, ready to strike. 

The same one cut a long line down your cheek with the blade that had just cut your only protection against Hybern from you. You prayed to the mother that Hybern was too busy to notice a small blip of magic from an Autumn fae like you. You hissed in pain as the blade stung its way down to your neck, stopping at your collarbone. 

You pulled on that coiling beast that called to you. Beckoned it to find you, to help you from this pain. Maybe you were begging for death, or at least unconsciousness so you wouldnt have to feel the pain anymore. The male stood back to let another scaled lower fae get a look at you. His tongue lashed out over your bloodied neck. He hummed in approval, letting his forked wetness slither across your wounds.

You felt them seal and itch with every pass as he took your blood. “Good.” the one with the blade ordered, then… to your dread, he pulled a glowing rod from the fire. They would brand you. Then take you to the high lord. Only after they’d humiliated you though. The males clucked at your involuntary reaction. They huddled close around, waiting for the screaming to start. Their excitement coated the air with a tangy adrenaline filled scent. 

You reared away from the burning metal as best as you could. The ropes around you seemed weaker now that you had your weak magic back, but still too constricting to do much with. 

You closed your eyes as the glow approached your chest. It warmed your face with the heat. They were going slow on purpose. Wanting to savor your reaction. It made your stomach go queasy. You hoped you would pass out. Better yet, just die of the agony. That way Beron wouldn’t have the satisfaction of killing you himself. 

There was a thump, and sizzling. You cracked open your eyes, waiting that searing pain to hit you. But it didnt. The males stood back, bewildered. Across the camp in the dull glow of the fire as the one that had been lowering the branding stick to you. It was speared through his chest, pinning him to a tree. His mouth gasped, eyes wide and glowing a haunting orange from the fire. You would never forget the sight of it. The smoldering that came from the tree behind him as the hot iron burned into it. The wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing. 

Then, the gasp and thump each male that Azriel incapacitated before you. Elain stood at the edge of the trees, her eyes still puffy from sleep. Azriel kept the kills quiet and concise. None resembled the one pinned to the tree, now sagging under the weight of death. No, the rest of them had easy deaths at the hands of one skilled at dealing killing blows. The wet splatter of blood leaving a body pulled you back to the scene in front of you. Az’s scowl as he cleaned his blade was that of a warrior who had seen much worse. Done much worse. 

“I told you not to fucking-” He snarled, his hands on the rope at your wrists. He stopped though, and stared. The shadowed light of his eyes seemed to be blooming with awe. You couldn’t look away. The beauty in the deep irises, the way small freckles played about his dark skin. All new and exciting things you’d never noticed before. His scent alone was like a punch to the gut. 

Him. Azriel. It had been him to find you. Him to respond to that silent plea that you so badly needed to be heard. He was that coiling darkness that had saved you. Your breath was a gasp, and you nearly fell to your knees before him. 

+

His hands didn’t work anymore. The world stopped turning all together. His heart was no longer his own and his soul belonged wherever you were. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a foreign court’s borders. It didn’t matter that Elain trembled in the corner of the clearing. He was yours, and you were his. 

He vowed it, for eternity that was how it would stay. He’d never leave your side again. Never choose to be without you for as long as he may be alive. His very being was now shared. With you. His soul intertwined your yours, wrapping delicately around your earthy light that contrasted his darkness so perfectly. If you were the sun he was the moon, always chasing, always following and living in your light. 

The words weren’t needed but he managed to utter them. Around a shuddering breath and a shattering explosion of love he managed it. “My mate.”

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Hooked

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again. This time spending more time together and getting to know each other. 

warnings/ disclaimers: Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth. 

Harry was out searching for a book. He had left Loralie with his mother for the day since he had some errands to run and it would be a busy day. He had finished all of his books and he was on the search for another, maybe even some extra ones for his classroom. He had stopped by his favorite coffee shop and ordered his favorite black coffee to start his day of errands, then he went to the market to get everything for dinner tonight- he thought he might as well get it out of the way since he hates grocery shopping.

Now he’s on the way to a bookstore, he didn’t want to order it on Amazon or just go to a big chain store so he did a quick google search and found a small book store a block down the road from the coffee shop he had gone to. He wanted to find the book burning in water, drowning in flame- his sister had recommended it to him and now he was itching to read it.

He made his way to the bookstore, it looked like a homey place just from the outside of the store. It was a rust colored brick with two sconces on either side of the top of the book shop, a rather tall building- possibly a flat at the top. Harry looks at the cacti peeking through the windows, little flower stickers to decorate.

Harry walks into the book shop, opening the door making the golden bell at the top of the door frame sound off. As soon as Harry steps in he notes the warm scent, it smells like the owner had been baking cookies. “Hello!” He hears a cheerful voice sing while he steps toward the poetry aisle in search of the book. “Is there anything I could help you with today?” He hears the voice again making him turn his head. To his surprise it’s Y/n, he’s been thinking about her. “Oh, hi.” He says bashfully, smiling and stepping over to the cashier counter she was behind.

Y/n smiles, continuing to add price tags on the back of her new shipment of books. She had started her little business officially a bit after she had gotten pregnant with Milo. Milo’s dad had left her after she broke the news to him, they were in their early twenty’s (Y/n being twenty one and him being twenty two) so it was understandable that he didn’t want children yet but the way he dealt with the situation was just dramatic and too much on Y/n. So she put everything into her little book shop, she took out a loan and bought this place, starting planning and putting her all into it, it wasn’t easy but it was worth it.

“Hi Harry.” She says, adding a book to the stack. Harry blushes at her tone again, she’s hard to read. “Um… do you happen to have burning in water, drowning in flame?” He asks, whirling around her display of different styles and colors of bookmarks. He is a twenty six year old man, why is acting like one of his students who thinks he’s handsome? Y/n laughs, nodding while she pulls her mug up to her lips- Harry thinks it’s hot chocolate (and he’s right). “It’s in poetry, first aisle, third shelf, second row.” She says, impressing Harry in how she has memorized every single spot of her book store.

Harry gives her a tight nod, walking over to the poetry section and looking for the book. “Is this your place?” Harry asks, making conversation while the rest of the store is dead silent.

“Yeah, me and Milo live in the flat upstairs.” Y/n admits. Harry’s ears perk up, she didn’t say anything about a partner. He walks back to the counter placing his book down, not handing it over to her yet. “When did you open this place?” He questions, looking around the shop. He sees some crystals, some candles- that both look up for sale and also her personal ones. It’s cute.

“After I got pregnant with Milo. Right after Xavier left me.” She says, leaving Harry wondering. “Xavier is…?” Y/n sighs, rolling her eyes a bit. It’s only their second time meeting and she’s already giving him her sob story. “He’s what would be Milo's father.” She says, picking at her bare nails. She doesn’t consider Xavier Milo's father, he’s never been there for him so he’s not a father. Harry’s lips form a tight line, “um, Loralies mum died… so… we’ve all got baggage.” He laughs, trying to cut the tension.

Loralies mum had died, she died during childbirth. She already had a particularly painful and rough pregnancy with Lora and that was just extremely unexpected, Harry just thanks his stars everyday that his little one is safe with him. “That’s awful, Harry. I‘m sorry.” Harry smiles at her, “it’s okay. I’ve got my Lora so I’m okay.” Y/n nods, smiling and grabbing the book from between his fingers. “She’s a sweet girl.” She compliments.

Harry nods, feeling a little cocky over how well he has raised his daughter. “Is this all for you?” She asks, pulling out a small brown bag with the logo and name on it- they are cute. “Yes please.” Harry politely says, making her laugh under her breath. “If this is your first time here? You get a free bookmark with every book you purchase if it is.” She says, nodding over to the bookmarks. Harry nods, looking through the bookmarks and picking a random Fleetwood Mac one- cute, he thinks. Y/n adds the bookmark to the bag, setting it infront of him. “13.22” she says, Harry fishing his wallet out.

“Are you doing a lot today?” He asks, motioning down to all the books stacked around her while he hands her a ten and four singles. She shrugs, “the usual.” Y/n says, handing him back his change. Harry thinks for a second, pausing his response making Y/n a little nervous. “I could help?” Harry offers, setting his coffee on the table. Y/n gives him a questionable look, sharpening one of her eyes at him. “You want to put tags on books and reorganize with me?” She asks, making Harry laugh. He nods, putting a bookmark back in its place “see, I’m already helping.” He says cheekily.

Y/n smiles, shaking her head. “I guess you can help.” She says.

Soon enough they are sat on the brown carpet, mountains of books around them. Y/n has a blanket wrapped around her and Harry has his legs stretched out. Y/n is tagging books while Harry is setting by the book shelf closest to them organizing. “I swear they put something in the water fountain at that school, the kids are always running and screaming around my classroom while I’m trying to talk about how Van Gogh cut off his own ear.” Harry says, making Y/n loudly giggle, thinking about how Milo probably gives him a horrible time on Wednesdays.

“You like working where Loralie is?” She asks, Harry of course nodding. Loralie is his baby, he loves knowing she’s just up the stairs- especially if she were to get sick or hurt he would be right there to take care of her. “Yeah, I wish I could always be with Milo but one of us has to make the money.” She jokes which makes Harry laugh.

“She always comes waddling into my classroom screaming for me- which disrupts the class but I don’t care.” He shrugs, his mind going back to Loralie. “Oh shit, I’ve got to pick her u-“

“Hi! How are you, baby!” Y/n cheers, Milo running toward her then crashing into her in a hug. Y/n’s friend Mikaela had babysat Milo for the day while Y/n tried to get as much work done as she could. Usually on the weekends (like today) Milo will be in the store with her… which tends to distract her. “Um, I’ve got to go but we should do this again? Maybe… over dinner?” Harry asks, Y/n’s face lighting up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” She teases, Harry blushing and nodding. Y/n laughs, slipping her phone from her pocket, “take my number and we can schedule that date you’re begging me for.” She teases.

Harry gets her number, thanking her for the book and letting him stay before he slips out. Now he’s got to get back to Loralie. But he’s got a date!

**

Later that night when Harry and Loralie are practicing her memorizing her ABCs his phone beeps. He ignores his at first, just expecting it to be a stupid text from his friend Mitch, but once he looks down he sees Y/n’s contact name. “Keep going, bug.” Harry says, grabbing his phone from the carpet while they set on the floor of the living room, unlocking his phone.

Hii, im free next Friday :) let me know if that works with your schedule!

Harry laughs at her cute little smiley faces, trying to think up a response that doesn’t make him sound a thousand years older than her. The tip of his tongue sticks out while he types back his response, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.

Hello! Friday works, how about 5:30? I can pick you up.

He lays his phone back down and helps Loralie with her letters, pulling her onto his lap. “D is for Daddy!” She cheers, making Harry smile, chuckling and kissing her round cheeks while she squeals. Harry hears his phone ding, grabbing it and reading the response, thanking god she answered. He thought his heart would explode out of his chest. It was beating so hard.

That sounds good ☺️ see you then!

Harry got her to say yes, but now he has to deal with the anxiety of actually going on the date. What should he wear, where should they go? Should he be opening the door and pulling out her chair or is that not in-in dating anymore? He hasn’t dated since Loralies mum and his baby is two years old now, it’s been quite a long time since he dipped his toe into trying to charm a woman. He just hopes he’s still got it.

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

The day is here. Loralie is with her grandma so Harry can get ready for the date. He’s been panicking and running all around his little house. He showered and smothered himself in lotion and his best cologne- he wanted to smell nice for her. He was adding leave in conditioner to his hair (which he hardly remembers to do) to make it more silky and the curls look a bit prettier than they usually do- he doesn’t know much about hair, he just does what his sister tells him what his hairdresser tells him he should do.

He planned out an outfit, a pair of tan dress pants with a white tank top and a cardigan over it. He had thought over the outfit a bit too much, was it too casual for the date? Was the cardigan too much? He decided against his thoughts and layers some pearls on, sliding his rings on that were in a jewelry dish, placed in there before his shower. He takes a look in the mirror, readjust his cardigan before he gives himself a little nod. He feels good about this.

He makes his way over to Y/n flat, walking up the metal steps to her flat and knocking on the door. When she opens the door he notices just how amazing her home smells, just like her book shop. He needs to remember to ask her where she gets her candles. “Hi,” Harry smiles, looking his date up and down. She was dressed nicely. It was a sage green dress with spaghetti straps, it stopped a couple inches above her knee. Harry thought it was cute.

She paired it with gold jewelry and a black cross body bag. Dirty white vans to go along with it that added a child-like feel to the outfit. Harry thought that was cute too.

“Hi,” she smiles, glancing behind her. “You look nice.” Harry says, suddenly feeling hot. Y/n laughs under her breath, thanking him. “You look nice as well.” Harry smiles bashfully, looking down at his feet. “Thank you”

Y/n says her goodbyes to Milo, hugging and kissing him before thanking her friend again for watching him. It’s the same one from last week, Mikaela. They get into Harry’s car, a bit of awkward silent before Y/n breaks it, Harry stopping the tapping of his fingers along to the low radio once her voice interrupts it. “So, where are we going?” She asks, smoothing her dress out against her thighs.

Harry laughs, he’s not prepared for dates and for some reason he hadn’t thought about the most important part. “I’ll eat anywhere to be honest.” Y/n admits, looking through her window at all the different places.

Harry was looking around in a panic and he finally pulled something out of his ass that sounded good, especially on his teacher salary. “Olive Garden?” Harry says, trying to say it confidently but it definitely comes out as more of a question. Y/n’s eyes light up, she’s in the mood for bottomless salad and breadsticks. “That sounds heavenly.” And Harry is happy to hear that.

They walk into the busy restaurant, instantly getting escorted to a table. Harry is happy they didn’t have to wait- that would have just been embarrassing since he threw this together last minute. They sat in the booth, sliding in and getting comfortable. “So, how’s the bookstore?” Harry asks, pulling apart his breadstick. Y/n knocks her shoe with his under the table, she thinks it’s cute how bashfully he can get when just asking a simple question. “It’s good. How are your little art students?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes at her choice of words.

“It’s good. They are doing self portraits.” Y/n laughs, her eyes widening.

“How’s that going?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “They look like shittier versions of Picasso’s paintings.” Y/n dramatically gasps through her laughs, “aren’t you supposed to worship the ground that man walks on? Why would you say that?” Harry rolls his eyes once again, chuckling at her. “I’m just behind honest!”

Their date goes on the same, they order their food, giggling while they eat and even getting into a little food fight with the leftover breadsticks. (They weren't being humble, they asked for another basket) They finished their food, “That was fun.” Y/n admits smiling. Harry nods, taking the check and opening his wallet. “Here,” y/n holds out her card, Harry shaking his head. “I’ll pay.” Harry shrugs her off, handing his card tucked in the black check book the waiter had brought over back to him before she can further protest.

Y/n scoffs, throwing another breadstick at him that he tried to catch but it’s too greasy. “Hey! I thought we had a truce?!” Harry questions her. She shakes her head, apparently swearing off the truce. Harry shrugs, thanking the waiter when he brings his card back along with their mints. “You better sleep with one eye open then.” Harry says, standing up and waiting for her. She laughs, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I have a three year old, I basically sleep with them both open. You’re nothin’.” She says, Harry nodding his head in agreement. He knows just how she feels.

They drive back to her flat, Harry of course walking her to her door. “I had so much fun tonight.” Harry says, looking down before he looks up at Y/n. She smiles, blushing. She hasn’t dated since Xavier and she admired that to Harry tonight, they both admitted that they haven’t dated since their children’s parents so they felt a lot comfortable knowing they were both rusty.

“Me too, you’re a really sweet guy, Harry.” She says. She needs to remember to thank her forgetful little Milo for leaving his folder in Harry’s classroom. “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me. I was pretty nervous.” Harry admits a bit sheepishly. Harry is a bit giddy on the inside about them hitting it off so well, they were having the best conversation and at times they were getting extremely loud, probably annoying the people around them, but they didn’t care, they had fun. “Yeah, I was nervous as hell but I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Thanks for tonight.” Y/n smiles, leaning in for a kiss.

Harry’s eyes widen, but he still kisses her back. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long he thought he had forgot how to for a second. His hands come up to cup her jaw, moving his lips with hers. “I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.” Y/n smiles, opening her door with red cheeks. Harry nods, a little flabbergasted. “Have a good night.” He says, trudging down her steps.

And now he’s hooked on her.

Tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

If you liked this please reblog and please tell me what you thought of it ☺️ thank you for reading!! I hope you all like the series so far I’m writing part three right now so it should come out soon ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[aminiatureworld]

Distance

Characters: Childe, Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,280

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: What other explanation could there be? Surely this is the one logical answer. Even if it hurts, even if it doesn’t make sense.

In which the reader’s s/o assumes the reader is no longer interested.

Author’s Note: This prompt is really fun to write so far but I feel terrible torturing the poor characters like this. Oops.

Childe

The warm wind tickled Childe’s hair, causing the Harbinger to bat a few orange strands out of his face, eyes still pinned on the harbor that was fast approaching. The balmy breeze of Liyue was refreshing – a reminder of all the things he had been missing on his long-drawn-out trip. Now Childe leaned against the railing of the ship, eager to touch land, unable to contain the excitement he felt at the knowledge of what was awaiting him upon the dock.

Though he didn’t like to admit it this trip had been a particularly harrowing one, not just for Childe but for you as well. The post was notoriously touch-and-go across the Seven nations, especially with the deep snows whirling into Snezhnaya this time of year. The fact that he was gone almost a month certainly didn’t help. If he had to admit it Childe had found himself worrying about the time more than usual, worried how it might affect you. Now he was eager to push all those thoughts away, to once more find himself next to you, all well with the world. As the crew bustled around him to prepare the junk for docking the Harbinger took a deep breath in. There was nothing to worry about. Soon all would be well.

The empty dock was a jarring sight. Though saying it was devoid of people wouldn’t technically be accurate, business was going on as usual after all, to Childe it might as well have been a ghost town. Stumbling slightly, suddenly unsure of where to go, Childe climbed up the ramp awkwardly. Finding no one waiting for him on the stone pier as well, anxiety began to coil in Childe’s stomach. Had something happened? Ignoring the thoughts that flurried through his mind he quickly wove his way through the streets of Liyue. Though the city was bustling as always, laughter and shouting echoing through the air as people haggled and joked and went about their business, Childe found himself disconnected from his surroundings. His only thought was to find you, hopefully safe and sound and happy to see him.

There was no sign of anything wrong as Childe approached the door to your shared apartment. Sighing softly he dug around in his pack for the keys. You’d probably just fallen asleep, having recently taken up the habit of afternoon naps, according to your letters. Childe couldn’t really complain if that were the case, after all rest was important and you could hardly be blamed for not being aware of the time while conked out. Yes, surely you were asleep. Then Childe could give you the surprise of waking next to him. A smirk graced Childe’s lips at the thought of it, and as he turned the key in the lock he reassured himself. There was nothing to be worried about.

Unfortunately the Harbinger’s genius hypothesis had proven to be a false one. A quick scouring of the apartment revealed that you were not there, and no signs of any abnormal activity could be found as an explanation. Anxiety seeping into Childe’s mind he barely set down his pack before bolting out of the door, trying somewhat unconvincingly to keep his pace to a fast walk. Had something happened to you? Surely not! Childe knew you, knew that you could very well take care of yourself. He shouldn’t worry.

Still the thought passed through his head, combined with an even more unpleasant one. Had you simply forgotten about him? What if you didn’t care? Shaking his head the Harbinger took in a deep breath. He was overthinking things, still stuck in the mindset of a Harbinger. Not everything in life was a battle, hadn’t you told him that many times, teasing his constant need to see an obstacle to beat somewhere? He really should take your advice more seriously, at least in this case. Slowly down slightly Childe walked to the city center. He was sure his answer would be here; and that it would be so mundane as to not bother a second thought.

His pulse jumped in his throat as you finally entered his field of vision. You were sitting around with a few people, coworkers if the Guild crest and weaponry didn’t serve him wrong, chatting and smiling and overall having a wonderful time. Emotions stirred through Childe, the urge to run up to you, to stalk away, to find the nearest fountain and jump into it; but he stayed put, staring at your laughing face, pain flashing in his chest. He supposed he should’ve felt angry, felt like he’d been stood up. Instead all he felt was sadness, sadness and guilt.

Finally turning around Childe plodded back down the street, steps slow and sluggish. What did he expect really, for you to wait around for him forever? How was that fair? There was no reason you shouldn’t grow sick of waiting, shouldn’t want more out of your life. You were perfectly within your rights to want such a thing. Yet the pain continued, spreading throughout his chest until Childe felt like his lungs were on fire and his throat was crumpled in a fist of his own making.

Arriving back at the apartment a supernatural urge seemed to seize the Harbinger. Pack, he needed to pack. He wouldn’t burden you anymore, wouldn’t continue to strain your emotions by hanging around like a phantom. Luckily Childe wasn’t the kind of person to own a lot of things. Not that you really were either, between the both of you purchases mainly went into gifts for each other rather than personal buys. Childe now stood looking down at some of the things you’d bought or made for him. Scarves, books, a stuffed animal that had reminded you of his Delusion; all of these things lay peacefully on the shelf, giving the books behind them a slightly trapped looked. It was so homey and so comforting that Childe found tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Wiping his eyes roughly the Harbinger collapsed onto the couch. What was he doing? Part of him wondered if he shouldn’t just wait for you to come home, wait and see where you two really were. But it seemed unfair to do that. After all, what kind of sleazy person left their partner for a month then begged for their love and attention right after coming home? It was completely within your rights to want more, hadn’t Childe already made that clear to himself? And yet it hurt, it hurt so much. How had he managed to mess this all up, to let the thing most precious to him fall out of his hands? He had been so careless.

Giving himself up to his emotions Childe let the pooling tears stream down his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed so very heavy. Closing his eyes for a moment Childe sighed. Five minutes, he would give himself five minutes before returning to his packing. Yet the familiar comfort of the couch beckoned to him, and soon fatigue overwhelmed him, dragging him down into the realm of sleep. Thankfully, he dreamt of nothing.

“Childe what are you doing?!”

Lurching up Childe glanced around wildly, hands automatically moving to summon his weapon. For a few seconds he found himself utterly confused, unable to comprehend where he was or what was going on. Soon enough however, the situation came crashing back to him and the Harbinger lowered his weapon. Glancing up at you he braced himself for whatever was going to happen next.

Well you certainly seemed upset, though not exactly in the way Childe might have expected. Instead of anger there seemed something more akin to panic in your eyes, and the red patches on your face certainly pointed to distress more than anything else.

“Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong, you tell me that!” You took in a few erratic breaths, but your tone remained panicky. “Why are you packing? Do you have another trip? Why are you leaving?”

“I, I thought that it would be easier if I just left.” Childe lowered his head, unable to look you in the eyes. “I figured that I would spare you the pain of having to kick me out yourself.”

“Why in Teyvat would I kick you out?” You sat down on the couch next to Childe, and he could feel your eyes piercing through him. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t see you at the docks when I returned.” Childe paused, gathering his thoughts. “At first I thought that you’d just fallen asleep or something but you weren’t home. And when I saw you out with your friends, well it made me realize how distant I’ve really been; physically, emotionally, everything. I realized that, and I realized that you deserved better, that I hadn’t been doing enough. I realized that you deserve more, deserve a partner who will always be there for you, who you won’t always have to be waiting for.”

“Oh Ajax.” You whispered softly.

Raising his head Childe could see no relief in your expression. Instead sadness was plainly plastered upon your face. Reaching out your hands you let Childe slump against you, carding your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry my darling, I thought you were coming back tomorrow. That’s why I was out. I would never think such a thing as abandoning you,” you spoke softly, tone achingly soft, “I mean it. Our relationship isn’t conventional, that’s true; but I would never trade it for anything. I would never think that you weren’t giving enough, I know how hard you work and how much you put into everything you know. Believe me Ajax, I don’t begrudge you any distance, I’ve never lacked love from you.”

“But what if one day you want something more,” Childe couldn’t help but ask, “what if one day letters aren’t enough? What if one day, what if one day I’m not enough?”

“I promise that will never happen,” you let out a soft sigh, “really Ajax you hold yourself too cheaply. You shouldn’t underestimate yourself, or underestimate me for that matter. You will always be enough for me. There will never be a day I want anything or anyone different, and if need be I will remind you of that every. single. day.”

Punctuation the last three words with kisses to Childe’s head you smiled as he titled his face up to gaze into yours. Though the panic had evaporated from you there was still sadness, and for a moment Childe felt guilt wash over him, guilt that he had caused you so many trials and that he hadn’t even had the courage to face you about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Although I do appreciate you understanding that almost stealing out into the night nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Not my brightest moment.” Childe admitted.

“Perhaps not,” you laughed, “I mean really, you’d think that it was the second act of a tragedy or something, and not one I’d like to participate in.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! Just don’t do it again, or next time I’ll get genuinely angry, and then you won’t get off the hook so easily.”

Childe pressed his lips to yours, another unspoken apology. Though you let out a small huff of impatience you nevertheless leaned into the kiss, smiling against his lips as you let your hands drift from his hair to his shoulders.

That night Childe lay awake, listening to the soft cadence of your breath, indulging in the feeling of peace that lay over him. Though he knew that his worries and insecurities would never truly leave him, Childe nonetheless felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Maybe one days his fears would come true, maybe one day this life wouldn’t be enough. But “ifs” and “maybes” weren’t guarantees, and until that day happened Childe would cherish the time he spent with you.

Besides, Childe trusted no one as much as he trusted you. If you said that such a day would never come to pass, then surely you were right.

  Kaeya

You were working late again.

Kaeya supposed that it shouldn’t have bothered him, but then again he also supposed that almost anyone would feel somewhat uneasy if their colleague and partner was suddenly avoiding them like the plague.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much in Kaeya’s mind. Of course, if this were some sort of habit then he would hardly mind; but after months of making it a tradition to always walk home together, well, safe to say the whole thing didn’t sit well. Nor was it simply a matter of you staying to work late, even the days where you finished earlier than him it seemed that you were always dashing off somewhere, leaving him painfully out of the loop.

Now Kaeya stood across the room from you, fingers drumming on his arm, face carefully hiding the irritation and concern that rose up inside him, threatening to spill over.

“I’m really sorry Kaeya!” Your tone was sincere, and the apology in your eyes seemed genuine enough. “It’s just that Jean asked me to look over the ledgers for the infantry. You know the captain is out this week, but Jean didn’t want to have to owe the City and the soldiers in terms of late funds. I promise it won’t take that long, I’ll be done as fast as I can.”

“Why don’t I help you with it?” Kaeya could feel the sarcasm sweetening his tone, attempted to rein it in he stared at you silently.

“You’ve been working so hard, I wouldn’t want to bother you with extra work.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother at all. Anything for my dear partner.”

“Really, it’s fine!” You twisted your hands, a nervous habit that Kaeya had long ago picked up on. “I’ll be done in time for dinner. And then we can the new recipe you’ve been telling me about; okay?”

“Very well.”

“Thanks for understanding!”

Though you seemed happy enough by the proposition Kaeya noticed how fast your head moved to the papers on your desk. Closing the door behind him he heard you let out a loud sigh. Clenching his hands, as if to remind himself that he was still in a semi-public setting, Kaeya stalked out of the Knight’s Headquarters. The thoughts in his head felt like static, and he worried that if he remained still for one more moment it would swallow him up.

Walking the streets of Mondstadt, Kaeya tried to reflect back upon the past few weeks. Had he done something wrong? Wracking his brain for any serious disputes Kaeya came up frustratingly emptyhanded. If you had fought over something this whole debacle would be one thing. Kaeya had a temper of his own, and petty acts of anger was something he admittedly struggled with often enough. He could hardly fault you if you acted in a similar way, or at least not without admitting to his own faults.

And yet nothing had happened, nothing that might cause such a dispute. Clenching his hands one more, aware that his knuckles must’ve been bone white, Kaeya let his thoughts drift to darker waters. What if you were just sick of him? It was certainly plausible, or at least Kaeya thought so. It would certainly explain why you now seemed to be avoiding him like the plague outside of work.

The thought hurt, as it might well do, but surprisingly most of the pain didn’t come from the idea itself, but from the idea that you wouldn’t tell him such a thing. You falling out of love with Kaeya would be been incredibly painful. You not trusting him enough to the point you were simply avoiding him, well the thought was enough to knock the wind out of him. Did you really think so ill of him? The idea filled Kaeya with smoldering rage and indignation – fueled in no little part by the fact that Kaeya ultimately might agree with you. Usually thoughts like those were the kinds you hated, the kinds you chased away with a stick, assuring Kaeya that no matter his past decisions he was still worthwhile. But you weren’t here now, and those dark thoughts were now kindling for the fire that burned in Kaeya’s mind.

By the time he’d reached the apartment Kaeya was almost sure of his hypothesis. Though a small part of his brain reminded him that he was working of a diet of sleep deprivation and anger, such logical thinking was easy enough to shrug off. After all, the signs were there. You were evidently getting quite sick of him, it was hardly Kaeya’s fault that he caught on.

Throwing his equipment on the floor, not bothering to even put his sword up on its stand, the Cavalry Captain walked towards the kitchen. What he needed was drink, maybe even two. Really if it were up to him he’d spend the next hour or so getting as drunk as possible before passing out in the tub. Thankfully though his reason hadn’t completely left him, and Kaeya managed to limit himself to two and a half glasses of cider. He needed to be at least on the side of sober for the conversation that was bound to pass once you came home after all.

The lateness of the hour in which you arrived felt like a personal insult, though really it was only 21:00 or so.

“Kaeya?” You called out, whipping the Cavalry Captain out of his thoughts.

Stepping into the kitchen the grin on your face was a stark contrast to the emotions that swirled in Kaeya’s mind. Hands clasped behind your back you stood in the doorframe as if expecting something. You’d probably be in for a nasty surprise. Kaeya smiled sweetly at you, words burning in his mouth, mixing with the alcohol. This was a bad idea.

“How was the paperwork?”

“The paperwork? Oh! It was boring enough I suppose. I kept getting distracted though, I really should’ve had you there, you could’ve kept me from nodding off.”

“I’m sure I would have. Tell me something my dear, I have a question that’s been burning in my mind.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me why it is that out lovely Acting Grandmaster asked you to go over the ledgers when I was assigned to that exact thing yesterday?”

Ignoring the blotches of red that immediately spread across your cheeks Kaeya stood up. Carefully going to clean the glass he’d been using he stared into the sink, not trusting himself to look at you. If he did all the words he wanted to say would fly out at once, and something that probably shouldn’t be said with them.

“Did she ask you that? How odd! She must’ve wanted a second pair of eyes or something, I guess.”

“Are my eyes not good enough?”

“Kaeya, you know I wasn’t insulting your work.” A sort of shocked irritation ran through your voice. “You’re the best knight in Mondstadt after all.”

“Oh really? Well if you think so highly of me then why have you been avoiding me so much?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Then let me ask a different question; when was the last time we walked home together?”

“I don’t know, a week and a half ago?”

“Try two and a half.” Kaeya finally turned around, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you!” Indignation shot through your words as you shook your head. “I’m just busy recently.”

“Busy with made up work.”

“It’s not made up!”

“Oh really, then tell me what was your work last night?”

“I had to oil the bow strings for my regiment.”

“They couldn’t do it themselves according to protocol?”

“Not the new recruits they couldn’t!”

“Then what about the day before?”

“Kaeya!” You finally burst out. “I don’t know why you’re so quick to find fault with me right now! Just tell me what you’re getting at, if you’re going to insult me you might as well do it head on.”

A part of him admired you for wanting to look at the problem right in the face, another part of him thought of how well you knew him, how attuned you were to his moods. Just as he had figured out that you were avoiding him, so could you tell that his jabs were a misdirection. It was almost funny really, seeing the things you both had picked up about one another now used at the end.

“Fine.” Kaeya crossed his arms, hoping his expression was at least somewhat neutral. “It seems obvious to me that you’ve been avoiding me, and that you no longer want my company. What I am getting at is the fact that you want to break up, and that you evidently trust me so little with that fact that the only solution you’ve come up with is to avoid me.”

Your face went slack with shock, pupils turning to pinpricks as you stumbled backwards. Finally letting your arms fall to your sides you grabbed the side of the doorframe, as if unable to process what he just come out of your partner’s mouth.

“What?”

“Do you really trust me so little?” Kaeya pressed on, feeling his emotions begin to spill over. “Am I really so untrustworthy that you can’t even tell me you want to end things? Am I, am I really that untrustworthy?”

Everything seemed to be going all wrong. Kaeya had expected you to immediately fess up, had expected guilt and relief and then the end. Instead all he got was incredulous silence, incredulous silence and a look that screamed utter and total disbelief.

“Do you really think that I would do that to you?”

The question was a simple enough one, one that anyone might ask during a conversation of this nature. Still your tone was so dispassionate that Kaeya couldn’t help but pause. Did he really think that you would do such a thing? His anger certainly thought so, helped a great deal by his current buzzed state. All that aside however, did he really think that? When he woke up tomorrow, would these thoughts still be swirling through his head, these angry thoughts that threatened to burn through his happiness.

“I don’t know.” It was the best answer he could give.

“Then why would you accuse me of something you weren’t even sure of?”

“I…”

“Kaeya have you really thought so little about what you just told me?”

He almost wanted to apologize for how stupid his words seemed in retrospect.

“Would it help you if I told you where I actually was?”

Your voice was still quiet, but not entirely closed. Nodding stiffly Kaeya felt his fingers still.

“Very well. You were right about one thing, I wasn’t actually checking the ledgers for Jean; and I wasn’t oiling bowstrings all day either, I mean our troops should know how to do that at least. But you made one mistake in your judgement Kaeya, the idea that I was avoiding you. In truth I was gathering materials, I wanted to make a new sword for you. Your current one is so brittle and since I know you don’t want to use the sword you were given as an heirloom, well I thought that I wouldn’t wait for your current one to break and that your new one would be a present.”

“…I see.”

It was all Kaeya could get out; how else could he reply? Shame and guilt mingled within his mind, quickly dousing any anger that he might’ve felt. He really fucked up this one didn’t he. He let his emotions slip once more and now he had made a fool of himself. More than that he had refused to trust you, had ended up doing the exact thing he had just accused you of. Now what was there to do? He couldn’t exactly slink away with his dignity; even if he had managed to retain that, there weren’t many places to go.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Kaeya jerked his head up from the spot he’d been examining on the floor, confused by the sudden turn of the conversation. You stared into his eyes, shrugging slightly.

“I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry Kaeya, I should’ve come up with a better method. I didn’t mean to make you worried, or to make you feel like I wanted to no longer associate with you. Believe me that’s the last thing I want to do. So I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.”

“I was the one who accused you of all those things that weren’t true.”

“You did. I’m not very happy about that to be honest; you’re going to be doing some serious penance for the next week. I just figured that before that I would apologize. Then we could be even. Okay?”

Reaching out your hand Kaeya finally noticed what you’d been hiding. The windwheel aster was slightly limp, the breeze that gave it its beauty nowhere to be found. Nevertheless it seemed at the moment the most beautiful flower in the world. Walking over to you Kaeya tentatively took the flower in his hand. Smiling softly he leaned down to kiss you.

“I’m sorry.”

Tomorrow he’d start making it up to you. Tomorrow he wouldn’t listen to his demons, wouldn’t let his own lack of self-worth hurt you. Tomorrow he would do better by you and more. Today he would say sorry.

After all, he had plenty of time.

[clarrissanewt]

Seems like u r taking request! No.1 ur acc is amazing. No.2: Can u do Harry Potter×fem!reader where the reader is stressed about studies and has kind of anxiety and Harry helps her by talks and encourages her. Also plz add some passionate kissing and slight teasing, if u like,at the end! Thank u sm.

One more?

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: none

GIF not mine! Credits go to the original creator!

A/n: No.1, thank you:)

No.2, here I’m doing the same. Hope you like it!

Thanks for the request xx

Advancing Christmas isn’t homey for the first time.

The reason- oh, don’t even get her started.

Sixth year turned out to be heinous. Snape, being their DADA teacher, had threatened to give them detention if they failed in performing the non-verbal spells.

Potter doesn’t have to stress about it, of course.

But on Merlin's other hand, she, who had got way better O.W.Ls than him, couldn’t help but dunk her head into 'How to Ace Non-Verbality' that Hermione picked up for her.

Oh, just hex her already.

Why?

She couldn’t concentrate.

You will ask the reason again.

It is because a certain raven-haired boy slumped in front of her, quietly fumbling and drumming his wand, quite restlessly though.

It wasn't obvious from his actions, but she knew- he was trying to catch her attention.

Pity, she isn't in a mood today.

"Harry, can you just stop that?" She snapped at him while shooting daggers from her eyes. "Why don't you just study?"

"For Snape?" He faked a sympathetic laugh. "He legit made me scrub the pans of the hospital wing. Without magic!"

"Doesn't help me concentrate."

He swore he could have snatched her books and alighted them on his Firebolt, only if he didn't mind the consequences. He knew, that would thing he would have done.

So instead, he did halt his ear-drilling drumming, and got to his feet. "Looks like you've got something to replace me," he deliberately shot at her and tip-toed into his dorms.

And for, maybe a second, she didn't mind the deafening silence, but, Merlin, the next second, she was already craving his presence. It was somehow tranquil for her, her anxiousness did vanish at his goofy smile.

She groaned in annoyance, and forced her attention back to her book.

"Funnunculus- boils, Homenum Revelio- Harry!"

Now, don't get her wrong this time.

This boy has got ways to make his presence felt. And now that he was nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck, she found it hard not to lose her concentration.

"Close that," he mumbled, clearly referring to the stiff-backed book she had been inhaling.

Well, she had to sigh before giving in.

"Harry, I swear, I'm failing this time! You should let me study."

He ignored her pleadings as he nicked the book out of her reach, and whirled the chair. Without a further word, he settled himself on the rugged floor, resting his chin on her knees as a tingling feeling danced on her skin.

Not even once in the past two years, she had accommodated herself to his touch. It was...unsatiable.

"Look at me."

She couldn't help but stare into those lucious green orbs that were twinkling alongside the cozy fire in the common room, and gave him a twisted sort of smile.

Their journey hardly needed words...smiles and eyes conveyed every unspoken entity.

And she was grateful- to have him.

"Okay, just one more page?" She etched out the most innocent (and forced) smile she could afford. Only if that could melt his determination today.

"No, no! No luck for today," he quickly sat over the book, making his seated figure shot up a little.

Hah, smart.

"Look, if I fail, I know my parents are disowning me."

"Good. I'll keep you."

She couldn't help but huff out an irritated laugh. "Convenient."

"You know, you aren't failing this. You are better than most of us in studies (this earned him an eye roll)."

"I can't concentrate when you look at me like that."

"Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so..."

And now, she had a greater urge to connect their lips, but, uh- she would fail tomorrow.

"Right now, I can't decide if I want to shove you off the tower, or kiss you."

He looked up from the meadows of her knees again, and found himself smiling like a fool.

A fool in love.

"Can I pick?"

And without another word, he pulled her head a little way to low as he rubbed lovingly on the lower petal of her lips. Just another hesitant glance and then, they started devouring each other, with all the love, all the resentment.

Not minding what will happen if Ron and Hermione turn up into the common room after their prefect duties...not thinking of the possibilities of failing or dying in the year ahead...it was just them in their safe place.

Hesitantly, she slipped her hand into his hair again, tugging on gently as his subtle fangs created peals of painful satisfaction on her lips.

The way his arm slithered around her waist and cemented her on her place, forced out a sound from her mouth into his, which she never knew she capable of making.

Oh, unfortunately, they did pull away at the end, eyeing each other's now swollen lips, and Harry's more than ever disheveled hair as hair-splitting pants rang the silent room.

But her eyes fell on the thick spined book he was perching on, and something clicked in her eyes.

"Okay, Harry, I still need to study- no! Just one more?"