#I think both people had real not fabricated feelings for each other

[moss-the-irishman]

I saw a post I can’t find anymore a while ago by @thebigqueer where she said that she thought Piper had real feelings for Jason, and not Compulsory Heterosexuality/ mind manipulation by Hera, and to be deathly honest, I agree.

[littlelamy]

a/n: since i have seen a lot of people ask for a part 2 :), keep in mind I am not that good at part 2s so please give me your honest opinions. hope you like it! credits: gifs are from @rafeyscurtainbangs and oyster pngs are from @saizun

part 1

boat aftermath

The storm hits harder without a warning.

One minute, the sky was clear, the ocean calm, the boat slicing through the waves with the group laughing...but that all changed in an instant.

A flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The wind whipped through the air with the fury of a wild beast, and the once-gentle waves became monstrous, crashing against the boat. Water poured over the sides, swamping them with a suddenness that had everyone scrambling to hold on.

Rafe’s heart pounded as the boat lurched violently beneath him, leaving you in the corner. “Where’s Sarah?” His voice cracked, strained with panic as he scanned the chaos around him. The boat tilted again, threatening to capsize, the weight of the storm pushing everyone to their limits.

“John B, what happened?” Kie screamed over the howl of the storm, her voice tight with fear as she grabbed onto the wreckage. “Where’s JJ?” She was drenched, shaking, but her eyes were wild with terror.

“Sarah! Y/N!” Pope shouted, coughing violently from the saltwater that sprayed his face. His voice cracked, sounding desperate.

“JJ! J!” Kie yells out, but the storm swallows her words, and the panic in the air grows thicker, darker.

The boat tilted again, more violently this time, and Rafe’s stomach dropped. “Where’s Y/N?!” he roared, his eyes searching the spot that he left you in. His hands clenched the edge of the boat as he fought to keep his balance. 'I only left her for a second' he thought to himself.

He couldn’t see Sarah. He couldn’t see JJ. The waves were consuming the boat, and he was being pulled deeper into the chaos. His heart raced, choking on the terror building in his chest.

And then he saw you.

His breath caught in his throat when his eyes locked on you, struggling against the violent currents, gripping a broken piece of wood. You were soaking wet, your body trembling with the cold, your face pale from the shock of it all. Rafe’s mind screamed as he pushed through the chaos, calling your name over the roar of the wind.

Without thinking, he lunged toward you, the boat tipping dangerously as he reached out for you, pulling you toward him. The storm raged around them, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but getting you close. As soon as he had you in his arms, he pulled you in tight, his heart hammering against his chest.

“Are you okay?” His voice was rough, frantic, his hands shaking as he cupped your face, feeling the cold rain mixing with the saltwater.

You barely had time to answer before his lips crashed onto yours, soft and desperate, kissed by the storm itself. The cold, the fear, the urgency of it all melted into the touch, a kiss that was more than just a kiss. It was relief. It was raw emotion, the panic slowly starting to fade as the sensation of you in his arms grounded him.

His lips lingered on yours for a moment longer, the kiss gentle, as if he was making sure you were real, making sure you were alive. The storm whipped around them, but it felt like the world outside had ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, holding onto each other, breathing through the chaos.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice shaky with emotion.

“I’m right here,” you breathed back, your fingers clutching the wet fabric of his shirt as you held onto him. The rain poured down, but the world seemed to slow as you both clung to each other, trying to find solace in the midst of the storm.

You both held on to each other as the boat began to break apart completely. Waves crashed over them, threatening to drown them, but somehow, they held on, refusing to let go. Finally, after what felt like hours, the storm began to calm, leaving only the broken pieces of the boat scattered across the water.

Rafe helped you onto a piece of wreckage, his body still trembling with adrenaline. He couldn’t stop looking at you, his heart still racing, afraid that any second, you might slip away. But you were there. You were with him.

Hours later, the storm had passed, leaving only a cold, eerie quiet. The fire on the beach crackled weakly, the warmth of it barely enough to fight off the chill of the night. Rafe sat on the sand, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his mind still reeling. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest.

“We need to keep looking,” Rafe muttered, his voice low, eyes distant.

You sat next to him, not saying anything, just letting him process the fear that had taken over him. His chest still rose and fell in uneven bursts, as if his body didn’t know how to calm down. His hands shook, but you noticed how he’d been holding onto you tighter than before, the lingering fear still not fully letting him go.

He glanced at you, his eyes haunted. “I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not again. I... I can’t do it.”

You didn’t respond right away, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Instead, you reached out and placed a hand on his, offering what comfort you could.

“We’ll find them,” you said quietly. “We’ll keep looking. We won’t stop until we do.”

Rafe nodded, but the fear in his eyes didn’t fade. His thoughts were still on Sarah, surprisingly on JJ, but he was trying to hold himself together—for you, for them. But he couldn’t stop the wave of emotions crashing inside him.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the coldness that still lingered in his body, but you stayed close. You didn’t speak again. You didn’t need to. Instead, you just held him, your warmth offering him the reassurance that nothing else in the world could.

The night stretched on, but Rafe couldn’t sleep. His mind was stuck in a loop, the terrifying thoughts of losing Sarah, of losing anyone, eating at him. He could hear your breathing, steady and calming beside him, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the chaos in his mind.

And then, as if it was the only thing left to say, he spoke again.

“The night we...you know,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, the vulnerability in it almost too much to bear. “I keep thinking about it. Over and over again.”

You turned to him, noticing how his jaw was clenched, his eyes clouded with thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

“I don’t know why,” he continued, his voice tightening, “but I can’t stop. I just...” He paused, swallowing hard. “I just don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

The words hit you harder than expected, and you could feel the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between you both. You didn’t answer right away, letting him gather himself, feeling the rawness in the air.

And then, with all the emotion you both had been carrying, you simply did what he needed.

You leaned in, pulling him close, wrapping your arms around him in a way that felt like it could heal something deep inside both of you. Rafe let out a shaky breath, and for the first time since the storm hit, he let himself be vulnerable, holding onto you like a lifeline.

"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of everything. "Just... just hold me. I can’t do this alone."

And you did. You held him, letting him find peace in the way your arms surrounded him. No words were needed. It was weird seeing Rafe this vulnerable, but you did care for him, so if he needed this you were willing to give it to him. The chaos raged on, but inside, for a moment, everything was still.

The next morning, the sea was finally calm, but the air remained heavy with fear.

And then, against all odds, Sarah and JJ appeared, walking from the shadows of the desert shore. They were both disheveled, drenched, and exhausted, but they were alive. Their feet shuffled through the sand, their movements slow and labored, but there was something undeniably real in the way they approached the group.

John B spotted them first, his breath catching in his chest as he realized they were okay. He rushed toward them, his face lighting up with relief and disbelief.

“Sarah! JJ!” John B shouted, his voice cracking as he ran to them, pulling them both into tight, desperate hugs. “You’re alive. You’re both alive.”

Sarah’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her clothes clung to her, drenched from the sea and the rain, but her eyes shone with something that could only be described as relief. Her lips trembled as she looked up at John B, barely able to keep herself steady.

“Hi,” she whispered through shaky breaths. Her voice was hoarse from the saltwater, but she was alive, and that was all that mattered in this moment.

“I’ve got you,” John B said, his arms tightening around her, not wanting to let go. “I’ve got you.”

JJ, still standing behind Sarah, wiped the rain from his face, his eyes scanning the group with a quiet intensity. He was exhausted, too, his body battered by the storm and the struggle to survive. But there was a faint, tired smile on his face.

“You both are crazy,” Pope said, his voice filled with relief. “You made it.”

JJ shrugged, letting out a small laugh, though it sounded tired. “Yeah, well, someone had to keep her alive,” he said, glancing at Sarah, who was still clinging to John B as if he were her anchor.

John B chuckled, his hands gently stroking Sarah’s wet hair, the shock of seeing her alive still overwhelming. “You saved her,” he said, voice thick with gratitude.

But it was Sarah who finally spoke again, her words breaking through the moment. “We were drowning,” she said, her voice trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered the panic, gently rubbing her stomach. “JJ saved my life. He saved us both.”

JJ shifted uncomfortably at the praise, looking away. “Look! I was just the closet to her. That’s all.”

As they stood there, the moment of reunion filled with the overwhelming joy of survival, Rafe remained at the edge, standing alone, apart from the group. He watched, his heart pounding as he saw Sarah and JJ, both alive. They had made it. He should’ve felt relieved, but the unease still gripped him. The fear of what could have happened, of what nearly had, lingered in his chest.

You noticed Rafe standing off to the side, far from the embrace and the chaos of joy. You couldn’t help but walk toward him, sensing the weight of the moment he was carrying. He didn’t seem to notice you until you stood in front of him, your presence pulling his gaze up.

"You okay?" you asked softly, your voice low and gentle.

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes lingering on the group who were laughing and cheering, embracing one another in relief. He exhaled, his hands clenched at his sides. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Sarah, still wrapped in John B’s arms, as they celebrated their survival.

“I don’t know how to feel,” Rafe said, his voice heavy with exhaustion and relief, but there was something else beneath it, something he wasn’t willing to admit out loud. “I’m glad they’re alive. I’m glad she’s alive. But I just—I don’t know, man. I can’t shake the feeling that something could’ve gone wrong. That I could’ve lost her. Lost you.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Rafe,” you murmured, your voice soft yet firm. “You didn’t lose anyone. You didn’t lose her. You didn’t lose me.”

His eyes flickered to yours, and you could see the rawness in them—the fear that had been gnawing at him since the storm first hit. His body was tense, like he was still bracing for the worst, for something terrible to happen. But your touch, your words, they brought him back to the moment.

“Just don’t go,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Don’t leave me like this. Not after everything.”

You stepped closer, closing the space between you. Without saying another word, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you, offering the comfort he didn’t know how to ask for. For a long moment, he didn’t move, just letting himself lean into you, his breath shaky against your shoulder.

You whispered into his ear, “I’m not going anywhere, Rafe. I’m right here. We’re all still here. And we’ll make it through.”

He held you tightly, pulling you in closer. You felt the warmth of his body, the tremors running through him as he finally allowed himself to relax against you. Then, almost as if it were instinct, he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for a moment before his hand cupped your face gently. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a soft, desperate kiss. It was fleeting, but it was full of unspoken relief, fear, and something deeper—something he hadn’t fully understood until now.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "I needed that," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“You’ve got it,” you replied, your voice steady, your arms still wrapped around him. “I’m right here.”

The sounds of the group celebrating in the distance—their cheers and laughter—faded into the background as Rafe let the moment wash over him. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. And for now, that was all that mattered.

As the others gathered around the fire, their joy palpable in the air, Rafe stayed by your side. He watched them from a distance, not quite ready to join in the celebration, not yet willing to let go of the weight in his chest. He didn’t know how to express the relief, the gratitude, the fear that still lingered. But with you there, holding him, he didn’t need to.

Together, they had survived. Together, they would face whatever came next.

taglist : @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl

[yueebby]

how i met your mother  — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, meet ugly, established relationship, highschool!gojo in flashback, gojo just loves his wife and everyone is sick of it

notes. this is apart of my indulge me series but everything can be read as a standalone!

“you forgot to give me a kiss this morning,” your husband pouts from your lap before puckering his lips out, “i’ll need a thousand more to compensate!” 

just a couple meters away from you, paper crinkles harshly as nanami, your fellow colleague, flips the page on the newspaper he’s reading. you hear a heavy sigh leave his lips.  “i missed it when you both hated each other,” he readjusts his glasses with one hand tiredly. he’s disappointed, but not surprised with satoru’s behavior.

this comment causes itadori, who happened to be hanging out in the teacher’s lounge to perk up.

“gojo-sensei and gojo-san hated each other?” he sits up straight on the couch. the pink haired boy looks between you and satoru, who is purring happily as you play with his hair. “i can’t imagine that..” he mumbles quietly. he was, unfortunately, a first hand witness of gojo’s love for you.

the white haired male that was comfortably nestled in your lap looks up at you, “ah! she tried so hard to resist my charms, but this handsome face won in the end!” his loud boast leads you to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” you press your palm harder against his mouth, determined to silence his protests. 

nanami easily ignores his senior’s muffled whines while itadori looks at his sensei in pity. marriage must be tough, he thinks.

you only lift your hand off of his mouth with a shriek when satoru decides to lick your palm. he smirks proudly at himself causing the other two males in the room to grimace at the strange display of affection. 

“darling, you hated me?” his eyes blink up at you innocently, blue eyes on full display. you purse your lips together, resisting whatever game he was playing at. from the moment you stepped into the lounge with him, he insisted on taking his blindfold off. he argues that he has to see you with his own eyes or he’ll die. you argue that he’s dramatic. nonetheless, satoru was cute so you’ll let him get away with it. 

“hate is a strong word– i just didn’t like you very much. we got off on the wrong foot, might i remind you.” 

2005 — year one at tokyo jujutsu tech

meet at 1 chome-1-1 dogenzaka, shibuya city, tokyo

that was written in the letter addressed to you from yaga. the bustling streets of tokyo, filled with the cacophony of hundreds of conversations and the rush of oncoming traffic, were a stark contrast to the serene country life you had enjoyed. 

the sheer mass of people in the street made it nearly impossible for you to spot your teacher and future classmates, but the heavens above must be on your side because you spot a dark uniform in the corner of your eye, similar to the one you’re wearing.

a jujutsu tech uniform! without wasting a second, you weave your way through the crowd to the tall figure. upon closer inspection, you find that it was a boy with snow hair, a juxtaposition to the dark fabric of his uniform.

“excuse me, but are you by any chance from–” you tap on the abnormally tall frame from behind.

“not interested.” he doesn’t spare you a glance before walking away. it takes you a minute to process what had just happened. did he just–? that must have been a figment of your imagination. you feel as though you were shell shocked.

another voice joins the conversation, “oh, gojo, you found her.” it was another guy with a uniform just like the white haired boy and yours. he has notable bangs, you think. 

“did i? she must be a real weakling. i couldn’t even sense her cursed energy,” gojo now turns back to look at you.

a surge of irritation courses through you, your grip on your skirt tightening. this guy must be some spoiled brat that came from a special lineage. you shoot him a sharp glare from the corner of your eyes, only to find out that he too had a sharp gaze on you.

a low whistle comes out of his mouth. 

 “oh,” there is a noticeable change in the tone of his voice. from your peripheral vision, you notice him take off his round sunglasses. “hey.”  you want to laugh.

out of pure pettiness, you recycle his previous comment, “not interested.”

thankfully, another student arrived, this time it was a girl with short brown hair. she waved at you politely, to which you happily smiled. it was nice to know that there were some people left in this world with manners.

soon after her arrival, yaga comes.

“hello, i’m [last name] [first name] from kyoto. please take care of me!” you bow before everyone but gojo or whatever his name is. you come to find out that mr. bangs is actually geto and the pretty girl is ieiri.

“you didn’t tell me she was hot,” gojo not-so-quietly whispers to geto. the hand over his mouth is in vain because you can still hear him clearly. both ieiri and geto make a distasteful face. 

you look around confused. it’s not everyday you receive such a brash compliment, “...thank you?” 

there’s a slightly horrified look on gojo’s face when he realizes that you had heard him, but he recovers quickly, replacing it with a cheshire grin.

“say, have you been to shinjuku? i’m sure a country bumpkin like you wouldn’t know, so allow me to–” 

there’s only so much patience in your body. with a deep breath and your best passive aggressive smile, you utter, “no thanks.” 

he blinks. once. twice. you assume he is not used to rejection with the way he has yet to process it. 

a soft chuckle leaves his mouth, “playing hard to get, i see. i like a challenge.”

“that’s not really the case.”

“one date,” he announces with a playful smirk, raising a single finger in emphasis.

you’re on the verge of shaking your head in rejection, but before you can, yaga intervenes, swiftly and unceremoniously slapping the back of gojo’s head.

“kids these days,” he mutters under his breath while gojo rubs the wound painfully. you snicker.

gojo straightens up when the sound of your laughs reaches his ears. his eyes track the sound waves back to your face, only to be disappointed when he sees that your attention is on geto. 

unlike gojo, geto was trying to salvage what was left of a good first impression. the black haired male smiles awkwardly, leading you away from his strange friend, “so you’re from kyoto? why didn’t you attend the jujutsu tech there?”

from behind you, there’s an incredulous, “eh? and lose a beauty like that to the kyoto guys?” 

you’re nearly certain that a blood vessel is about to pop. but you swallow your frustration, choosing to answer the only sensible boy you’ve met today.

“i’m trying to avoid clan matters, so kyoto is the last place i want to be,” you explain to geto who nods understandingly. 

what you don’t see is the sneaky wink he sends back at a fuming satoru.

2018 — present day

your recollection must not have been accurate, because your husband is sulking by the end of your story. 

“hmph. that’s not how i remember it.” he crosses his arm with a huff.

“how do you remember it? do tell.” you look down at him. there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap.

there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap. “i remembered cherry blossoms falling and more hearts floating around,”

you smack his shoulder.

“be serious!”

he waves his hand in the air to stop your playful attacks, “fine, fine!” 

you know that he’s secretly enjoying the attention.

“well, i’m quite the looker so it was common for girls to constantly gush over me y’know?” he grins. you did not find that amusing, retracting your hands from his hair. he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head.

“let me finish!”

you resume your handiwork on his head reluctantly. “go on.”

there’s a content smile on his face, “i thought you were just trying to hit on me! it was only after i took a good look at you, i realized that you were totally hot.”

“i can’t believe i married you.” you roll your eyes, but there is no malice behind the action.

“hah–” his mouth is wide open. “i’m a total catch, ya’ know?!” 

“mhm, yeah. you are a catch toru,” you coo while pinching his cheek and he blushed furiously. 

the two of you are too engrossed with each other to notice the horrified look that has settled on nanami’s face. one peaceful afternoon, he thinks. one peaceful afternoon is all he asks for.

extra notes- 

yuji respects gojo as his teacher, but he still can’t believe that gojo was able to pull you.

there have been multiple occasions where you had forgotten to give satoru a goodmorning kiss, each time he finds you and forces you to actually give him a dozen to compensate. it doesn’t matter if he was on a mission or teaching (he’s annoying like that).

gojo’s the pride of the gojo clan so he was spoiled rotten, hence the reason why he was so sure you were into him.

this is only the start, as your high school years go by, he only falls harder.

[chobunz]

── homie hoppin’ ( lhs, pjs, sjy, psh ) ּ 𓂅⋆ 📙

๑ Heeseung never wanted to believe the rumors about you around campus, to him you could never do wrong and he sees you as nothing less than an angel. But when his friends begin telling him about their nightly escapades with some “mystery girl” that sounds awfully familiar, he grows more suspicious of your true intentions you’ve been hiding all along.

pair: hyung line ㅊ f!reader, college au | warnings: pwp, smut, angst (kinda ??), hook-up culture, yn is the biggest fuckgirl omg (but she’s sooo cuntyy), humour, slut-shaming (not from the boys), daddy kink, oral (m + f. rec), mentions of running a train but it doesn’t happen lol, lots of s.x flashbacks, yn is so unbothered by everything 😴, unprotected s.x (yikes !!!) | teaser wc: 857

thanks to @leeechin & @pshbites for enabling this idea LOL, couldn’t have done it without them frfr. also here’s a silly little preview of what’s to come (it gets real MESSY in this sfdsfsd)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

heeseung was never really the type to ever engage in gossip or drama going around campus. he’d rather simply mind his business and keep it moving, it was useless to entertain it anyway— most of the rumors held zero truth or any proof to back them up. what does seem to grab his attention however, is your name being constantly brought up in almost everyone’s mouths. you were the talk of the whole school and it wasn’t anything good that was being said about the girl he’s been sleeping around with on and off for the past few months or so.

“oh you know about y/n? isn’t she the one who’s always bouncing from one friend group to the next ? i wouldn’t trust her around my man even for a second..”

“didn’t she let leehan hit it at that party last night ? that girl needs to be stopped, she’s always messing around with different guys..”

“wasn’t she just with eunseok last week ? he was telling me all about how him and sungchan took turns on her.”

he couldn’t believe half the stuff that was being said about you. not only was it just plain disrespectful, but it was also disgusting how some people could spew such fabricated nonsense as if you weren’t a real human being with feelings. heeseung knew you two weren’t exclusive but you’ve been seeing each other more frequently, which made him think he might have a chance to make things official. at least he thought so, until he saw you talking with one of his close friends, jaeyun in the library. you both were way too close for comfort and the way you were giving him those same bedroom eyes that you’d always flash at heeseung, made his whole body fill up with an unimaginable amount of rage.

you were quite popular and well known around campus, your charming persona and pretty face was the perfect combo to get anyone to fall head over heels for you. everywhere you went you’d turn heads, all the boys would be breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of you. the tiny skirts you’d always wear had their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, which only made the other girls seethe in utter jealousy. the way you could command an entire room without even trying was a superpower in itself, you didn’t need to put in the extra work to get all the attention on you because everyone gave it to you automatically.

it wasn’t until heeseung began hearing more about his friend’s sex lives that he’d grow more suspicious of what’s really going on. he usually zones out and doesn’t really listen much whenever they talked about it, but since the movie they were watching wasn’t all that interesting, he began shifting his attention to his friends. jaeyun and jongseong were always bragging about how much pussy they’d get but they seemed to hyperfocus on one particular girl that seems to get brought up a lot in their conversations. jaeyun would say how she gave him the ‘most life changing head’ he’s ever received, meanwhile jongseong was describing how some girl he fucked a few days ago rode his dick like a grade A pornstar.

heeseung wasn’t adding much of his input into the conversation, and neither was sunghoon as he tends to keep that part of his life more private. but, what made him suddenly wanna jump up in his seat was when jaeyun was telling them how hot the girl looked when he fucked her from behind, she had a back tattoo and he thought that was the sexiest shit ever. he never specified exactly what the tattoo was, but he remembers that you also had one too. maybe he’s just reading too much into it ? could it really be you they were talking about ? nah.. there’s no way. he’s sure there’s plenty other women with back tattoos walking around campus, it simply could be an eerie coincidence. he knows he isn’t the only one that you’re sleeping with, but to mess around with his friends would be a new low for him. he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he were to find out that happened..

his worries would only worsen when he catches sunghoon smiling and faintly giggling at his phone about something, to which jongseong asks him what’s so funny. sunghoon simply shrugs it off and says it’s nothing, quickly locking his phone before he lifts up from the couch to announce that he’s going back to his dorm. they all exchange their goodbyes and wish him a safe walk back to his place. but when he left, he was walking in the direction completely opposite of his dorm, he was heading the exact same way it took to get to your building instead. now he’s really starting to overthink at this point. there’s absolutely no way you’re actually fucking all of his friends and he doesn’t have a single clue about it. heeseung may be quite oblivious at times but he isn’t that stupid. he’s probably overreacting. again, could just be a very weird coincidence… right ?

just leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

[inkskinned]

there are days that it is hard, and unfair, and some horrible part of me wishes i could have been born in a different world. i love being queer, i hate how others react to it. when i first came out at 15, my mom whispered: please don't say that. your life would be so much harder.

it is harder.

it is also a tuesday, walking my dog. we are both skiving off of work, and yes both of us have dyed hair and pronouns. mine is patchy - it was my first time trying bleach; i didn't have enough. theirs is a resilient toadstool green. a little girl comes up to us and asks um, excuse me? is your hair real? 'cause jason says you're a fairy.

it is sunday brunch, all of us talking over each other, overfull on love. she is trying out a new name today, and we made her a cake with today's name scrawled in shaky purple letters. she laughs so much she cries and then gets frosting in her hair. someone young at a different table keeps giving us these large, wide eyes: the same look we have all been on the other side of. the kind that says, breathless: wait, is that possible?

it is a half-fight in a supermarket because he loves "dance moms" and says abby's tiktok is funny and meanwhile i think the children in that show should be allowed to sue abby lee miller for child abuse. i tell him that it led to the casual acceptance of child harassment for mainly adult views; and then i am standing, suddenly, in someone else's thrown soda. there's a white lady standing there, furious, saying something about hell-on-earth. i had forgotten i was wearing stuff with pride colors. and then it is this: he had just been casually arguing with me - and within an instant, he squares his shoulders and goes after her like i am his sister

on saturday i sat in a circle while beca played with my hair and we were all over 30 and we laughed about how much happier we are being this old, how much more we appreciate our community. 25 minutes from now, we will be on stage to dance in baggy beige clothing, but for now we look on with envy to the dancers in loud-and-bright buttondowns. where are they getting these shirts! i cry, distraught. everyone laughs. one of our friends has a mushroom witch hat. this would have been cringey in high school, probably. instead we are all delighted with each other; happy just to be here and alive and moving

it's that last week my new friends cried with joy for me when they heard i'm getting top surgery. every so often i have the honor of being the first person someone feels comfortable enough to tell. i'm trying to make long fluttery butterfly wings to wear to pride; but i don't know anything about fabric or dye, so my friends have been sending me their personal advice.

i think in a different poem i would talk about how sometimes you walk into a room and put the mask back on. but i'm sleepy and my whole brain is fuzzy so i think in this one, it's a monday, and my dog and i took a nap on a couch, and i had missed texts from friends. i used to wake up lonely. i think this poem is about walking into a room and seeing someone and just knowing, the way you just-know-sometimes, and then giving them that little smile, and seeing them light up with joy and relief. it is how we always seem to be able to find each other in a crowded room. how we always seem to make friends with each other before even we know-it-to-be-true. it is saying: we're very different people; but i belong to you.

it is harder, yes. but it comes with a built-in family.

[cougheemedicine]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

Word count: 2463

Warnings: Nudity, suggestive but nothing explicit (they bathe together), drinking (drink responsively kids), no beta we just die, the impending wrath of Fu Xuan, ooc? I've never written him before, I think that's it?

Content: Fluff, some angst right at the end but all is resolved, established relationship, Reader is a long-living species, Reader is shorter than Jing Yuan, other characters mentioned, they're whipped your honor

Summary: Due to your position in the Xianzhou Luofu's sky-faring commission, you are rarely home. Often gone for months at a time. Your dear husband never copes well with your time apart. He always makes sure to make up for lost time.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

   The ground under your feet slipped away before you knew it. So this is how it ends, this is how you die. Not the worst death one could have, you supposed.

       “General-“ A dying wheeze escapes you, “General, I can’t breathe.”

       Met only with a huff that sounded more annoyed than agreeing, the crushing weight on your ribcage lessens. If only slightly. Not enough for your feet to touch the ground, but enough for you to wiggle your arms out from where they were pinned to your sides, wrapping them around your husband’s shoulders.

       “I’ve missed you,” Low and hoarse, the deep baritone of Jing Yuan’s voice sends a shiver down your spine. You sigh, relenting to your husband’s affections. It had been months since you’d seen each other last. As the fleet-master of the Luofu’s sky-faring commission, one of your most important duties was to craft interstellar maps for all of the Luofu to use. The only way to do that was to go on the missions yourself, which could last between six to nine months.

       For the long-living Xhianzhou natives, nine months passed in the blink of an eye. For your beloved, equally as long-living husband? Nine months was torturous. The man laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You debated on whether you should drag him back to work to avoid the wrath of Lady Fu Xuan on your doorstep in an hour’s time, or repent and simply bask in the presence of your man. Who was real and tangible, embracing you instead of hushed words through a disembodied voice on the other side of your phone, or a pixelated figure sitting bored at a meeting you had to attend via a live hologram.

       As his hand slowly rubbed up and down your back, his other hand supporting you while you still dangled in the air. You found the decision easy to make. You craned your head, pressing your lips to his hairline, right above his ear. “I’ve missed you too, my love,”

       But, there was one thing amiss. Even as you felt Jing Yuan smile against the fabric of your shirt. You could also feel the eyes on your back. Both of your crew, and of Luofu citizens. None of the gazes malicious, just a bit invasive. You could also hear the whispers. The giggling and gossiping.

‘The general’s gone soft,’

’Aw, how sweet!’

’How adorable…’

       “People are watching, general,” You spoke up, raising a hand to run through the hair that escaped his ponytail, tightening your hold on the back of his neck to keep yourself up. Jing Yuan sighed contently, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Let them,”

       “General, I’d like to bathe, and get out of this armor,” You tugged lightly at his hair, pulling his head from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. Any normal person would’ve seen no difference in Jing Yuan’s face, but you were far from normal. After centuries of marriage, you could tell. The curve of his brow, and the pull of his frown. “Stop pouting, general,”

       He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. That tired, easy smile of his. He set you back on the ground, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. “Stop calling me general, then I’ll let you go,”

       Despite his words, he still let you go. Stepping to your right and linking his arm with yours. You shared a smile as you walked, leaving the port. “Whatever you say, Jing Yuan.”

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

        The sound that leaves your mouth as you sink into the steaming bath water would make even the most stone-faced of war veterans blush. You were never more grateful for the sheer lavishness of the general's residence than when you just return from a mission. The bath of the general's home was better described as a pool. Set in the tile floor, and large enough to fit ten people. The large window on the far wall overlooked the Luofu, saying the whole experience was lavish would be an understatement.

        The feel of tar running in your veins instead of blood finally subsiding as the salts and oils in the water sunk into your skin. You rest your arms on the edge of the bath, letting your head lull onto the tile behind you. You don't focus much on anything, eyes scanning the traditional Xianzhou architecture of the bathroom, and letting your limbs, heavy with fatigue, float weightless in the water.

        "Enjoying yourself, dear?"  Jing Yuan's voice brings you back from your trance, eyes bleary as his feet come into view. You slowly lift your gaze, shamelessly eyeing your husband in a thin robe that was far from befitting a general. He's holding a small, porcelain cup in each hand, intricately decorated, with a bottle of wine under his arm. Oh, how you've missed this. "Very much. Even more so now,"

        "I heard from your co-pilot that you had trouble with some rogue asteroids on your way back to the Luofu," He hums as he sets down the cups and bottle a small ways away from your head, settling behind you with a washcloth.

        You groan "Ugh, I don't want to talk about it. If it weren't for my navigators we wouldn't of been able to come back unscathed,"

        Jing Yuan coaxes you to lean forward, and you let out a rather undignified yelp when the cold soap on the washcloth touches your back. Jing Yuan laughs. you flick water at him.

        "I commend your navigator's skills. They seem very talented," Jing Yuan lathers the soap as he speaks, taking the washcloth across your shoulders and down your back. He then gently takes your right hand, running the washcloth down the length of your arm.

        "Of course they are, I taught them." Jest laces your tone, even as you submerge yourself to the neck to rid yourself of the suds. As you finish, you lay your head on Jing Yuan's crossed legs. Jing Yuan smiles softly, emotion swirling in the single eye you could see. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulls back, the washcloth long forgotten, he runs his thumb across your cheekbone, then down the bridge of your nose, and over the curve of your lips. You've long since closed your eyes, a smile pulling at your lips. "Join me?"

        Jing Yuan is silent for a beat, and you lift your head once more. "Your wish is my command."

        Jing Yuan stands, and you watch him walk to the stool you had set your own robe on. You watch him fiddle with the knot at his hip, then slowly shrug off one side of the robe, then the other. Making sure to stretch his arms above his head, allowing you the pleasure of seeing the entire expanse of his back and arms. You can sense the smile playing on his lips, and you know he can sense your staring. He's teasing you. You avert your eyes the moment his robe drops to the floor. 

       You feel him slip into the water beside you, letting out a groan very much like the one you had earlier. He smiles at you, his hand creeping up to the side of your head, guiding it down to rest on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Months ago, silence meant sitting alone, in the cramped captain's quarters of your starskiff, charting maps and scribbling reports to send back home. Silence meant nights that seemed endless, hunched over your work, and being far, far away from home. Silence that was so loud you had wished so very hard for moments like this to happen more often. 

        Jing Yuan shifts under your head, offering you one of the cups he had brought in. Wordlessly, you take it, allowing him to pour the wine into your cup, then into his own. "Tell me," You pipe up, swirling the cup under your nose. The scent was light, you watch as he takes a sip "When was the last time we've shared a bottle like this?"

        "I can't say I recall. You're very cruel you know, keeping me waiting so long to repeat moments like this," Jing Yuan downs the rest of the contents of his cup, resuming his previous position at your side. "Fleet Master." 

        "Excuse you, we were right on schedule. Even after the whole event with the asteroids," You grin, playing with the fingers on Jing Yuan's free hand. "General-"

        Jing Yuan surges forward, before you even have half a mind to process, slotting his lips against yours. You hum, his lips taste of wine, and the scent of his shampoo roles off him in waves. One arm slung lazily around your back, the other keeping his cup above the water, he parts from your lips with a gasp, dipping his head to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. You manage to suck in a breath right as he lifts his head again, mashing your lips together clumsily. Desperately. If you didn't know your husband better, you'd think him drunk. With how careless he was being. The sound of his porcelain cup clattering onto the tile beside you ringing sharp in your ear only proving your thoughts.

        His grip on you tightens, bringing his other hand up to push you even closer together, you throw your arms around his neck to stable yourself. You can feel every dip and contour of his body against yours, the callouses on his hand sliding up your back to between your shoulder blades as he brings you oh so much closer, his loose hair tickling your face when he hunches forward. Kissing you even harder.

        You're the one to pull away. Or perhaps it was him? You don't really have it in you to care.

        The both of you are panting like dogs. You let your arms around his neck go slack, and his hands drop from your back to your hips.

        It's silent again, only your breathing filling the room. Without really thinking, you raise a hand, cupping your husband's cheek. Immediately he leans into your touch, covering your hand with his own and pressing a flurry of kisses to your palm. His face is flushed, pink from his cheeks to his ears, and his lips bruised. Truly a sight for your sore eyes.

        You peck Jing Yuan's cheek, the one you aren't holding, laughing quietly against his skin. He joins you, a deep chuckle that always brought a pleasant warmth to your chest. It was rare for Jing Yuan to laugh to heartily, even rarer for you to even be present to hear it. You don't think you'll ever tire of the sound. He presses his lips to your temple. "I think we better leave before we become prunes,"

        "Always so wise, my dear,"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

       “Jing Yuan, I can’t walk with you both leaning on me,” You whine. Jing Yuan groans, leaning more of his weight onto you. His grip on the front of your night shirt tightens, wrinkling the light fabric as Mimi curls around your legs, head butting your thigh. A chuffing sound leaves the lion, as if she were laughing at you. Jing Yuan rests his chin on your shoulder, cheeks still pink from the heat of the bath.

        “Don’t be mean, she’s missed you,” He lightens his iron grip on you, running a hand through the fur on Mimi's back. You smell opportunity. You worm your way out of your husband's arms, as warm and comfortable as they are, you still need to walk. Narrowly dodging his hand, fully intent on tugging you right back, you stride on down the corridor. You needn't look back to see Jing Yuan huff and cross his arms, dragging his feet as he follows you.

        The moment you close the sliding door to your shared chambers, you're shoved onto the unnecessarily large bed. Jing Yuan crawls over you as you shuffle up to the pillows. He straddles you, a leg on each side of your torso, keeping you down with a hand on your shoulder. As you settle your hands on his hips, you feel the bed dip once more. From around Jing Yuan, you watch as Mimi sprawls out over the entire foot of the bed. A hand on your chin guides your eyes back to your husband's face. He leans down, kissing you gently. Your hands travel, from his hips to his waist, then up his chest and over his shoulders. You settle your hands in his hair, running your nails over his scalp. Sliding a hand down his nape to his shoulders, you gently push him down, letting him put all his weight on you.

        "This isn't uncomfortable, is it?" Jing Yuan lowly asks, barely above a whisper. He's already shifting his legs, leaving only his chest resting on yours. Always attentive, your Jing Yuan.

        "No love, it's perfectly fine," You sigh, continuing to card your fingers through his hair.

        Jing Yuan hums, pecking your forehead then the tip of your nose. He lowers himself till his head is cushioned by your chest, pressing another kiss to your collar bone before settling down right above your heart, curling his arms around your ribs.

        Mimi huffs, and you hear her breathing become slow. You've certainly missed this. You can feel Mimi's tail sway against your calf in her sleep, and Jing Yuan tightens his grip around you, you can feel his every breath against the thin fabric of your shirt. You continue scratching at his scalp. "Jing Yuan?"

        You hear him mumble something, he throws a leg over yours.

        "I'm sorry I'm away so often," It stings. Whenever you leave. The silent nights holed away in your office, or piloting your vessel. The homesickness eating at you the minute you leave port. Sometimes you can't help but think that having someone so dear be so far away takes a toll that isn't worth the pay off.

        "Distance makes the heart grow fonder, my love," Jing Yuan replies, muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and slurred by exhaustion.

        On second thought. Maybe having someone tying you to your home was a good thing. Who knows if you'd ever return from the stars if someone wasn't waiting at home. Speaking of home...

        "Jing Yuan, how did you convince Qingzu and Lady Fu to leave you be for so long?"

        The man stiffens in your hold.

        "Jing Yuan!"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

work belongs to @cougheemedicine, all forms of plagiarism, modifying, translating, reposting are not allowed.

[engie-ivy]

884 words

If high-profile power couple Remus Lupin and Sirius Black will spend the holidays apart from each other, the tabloids are going to be filled with stories of their Christmas break-up. But Remus can't take Sirius home for Christmas if they're not real.

Can We Make It To Christmas?

Make It To Christmas - Alessia Cara

“We had a deal.”

It's hard to say which is more intimidating, Regulus’ icy stare or Lily's fiery gaze.

“We did have a deal,” Lily replies. “And Sirius’ new album has gotten quite some extra publicity due to his supposed involvement with Remus.”

“And so has Remus’ new play,” Regulus replies cooly. “I'm not denying that so far they've both been profiting off of their highly publicized ‘relationship’. But all the positive publicity will certainly be overshadowed by a break-up right before Christmas.”

Lily crosses her arms over her chest. “The deal also included that in case one of the parties so wished, a break-up would be staged.”

“A clean, mutual break-up with as little publicity as possible,” Regulus says. “If they suddenly spend Christmas apart, all the tabloids will be filled with speculations, insinuations and fabrications!”

Remus is sitting quietly on his chair as Lily argues on his behalf with Sirius’ brother and manager. Sirius himself is sitting across from him, also not saying much, but staring at Remus intently, trying to catch his eye, with that intense, bright-eyed gaze.

But Remus can't look at him. He's afraid that the look in his eyes will betray too much of his emotions.

“Remus,” Lily interrupts his thoughts.

Remus looks up at his best friend and manager.

“I hate to admit it,” Lily says. “But Regulus has a point. If you and Sirius don't spend Christmas together, the tabloids will have a field day making up stories of how you broke up just before Christmas. A messy Christmas break-up is the last thing that we need right now.” She looks at Remus pleadingly. “Can you really not take Sirius home for Christmas?”

“I would take you home to my family,” Sirius speaks up with a wry smile. “But I'm not even welcome there myself.”

Remus shakes his head. “I can't. I'm sorry. I can't.”

“Do your parents dislike my music?” Sirius asks. “Even if I'm usually always singing or playing my guitar, I can go without for a week. I won't sing a single song or play a single note.”

“Sirius, they don't…”

“Is it me then?” Sirius presses. “Do you think your parents won't like me?”

“That's not…”

“Because I know I can be a lot! But I don't have to be. I can be more quiet, more reserved. I can be anything you want me to-”

“You're perfect!” Remus blurts out.

Sirius closes his mouth and blinks.

“Please, Sirius, don't ever think you need to change anything about yourself for anyone. My parents would absolutely love you. But I can't. I can't take you home for Christmas.”

“Why not?” Sirius asks softly.

Remus shakes his head. “I just can't do it. I can't bring someone home, introduce them to my mum and dad, spend the holidays all together. Not if it's not…” Remus swallows. “If it's not real.” He looks at Regulus and Lily, still unable to look Sirius in the eye. “I'm sorry.” He gets up and leaves the room.

Remus saw the paparazzi at his home, he knows they tracked his car, and he's wholly unsurprised to see a swarm of reporters already waiting at the train station.

“Remus Lupin! Why are you and Sirius Black not spending the holidays together?”

“Mr Lupin, does this mean you and Mr Black are officially over?”

“Remus, why did you dump Sirius right before Christmas?”

“Lupin, how does it feel to spend the holidays newly single?”

“Remus, Remus! Is it true you are now involved with someone from your hometown?”

“Remus Lupin, what's it like to be alone for the most romantic time of the year?”

“Remus!”

Remus freezes. Because he knows that voice, and that's neither a reporter nor one of his fans calling his name. He turns around. “Sirius?”

Sirius stops in front of him, out of breath like he ran a long way.

The people around them buzz with excitement as they recognize the person stopping in front of Remus and cameras flash, but Remus hardly notices. “What are you doing here?”

“You…” Sirius has to catch his breath for a moment. “You said I was perfect.”

Remus can't help but laugh. “That can't be the first time you've heard that. There are whole communities online dedicated solely to how perfect people think you are.”

Sirius shakes his head. “You've seen me, seen every part of me, and you still think I'm perfect.”

Remus looks away, because what is he even supposed to say to that?

“Take me home for Christmas,” Sirius suddenly says.

Remus’ eyes snap back to Sirius’ face. “Sirius, I already told you. I can't. Not of it's not-”

“We're real,” Sirius interrupts. “Remus, why don't we stop pretending we're only pretending? We're real. I know it and you know it too.”

Remus' breath halts as he stares at Sirius.

Sirius takes a few steps forward and places a hand on Remus’ cheek. He slowly moves forward and presses their lips together in a kiss. Not one of the fake kisses they've staged for the tabloids, but a real kiss.

Sirius pulls back slightly, but he stays close as he searches Remus’ face.

This time, Remus doesn't look away, and the emotions he was so afraid Sirius would see are reflected back to him.

“We're real,” Remus whispers.

[wordsarelife]

⛧༺ NO BODY, NO CRIME ༻⛧

EPISODE 06: i wasn’t letting up until the day he died

pairing: theo nott x potter!reader

summary: theo and you try to process past nights events, when you stumble upon a hint that could reveal the real killer

warnings: extremely big trigger warning for the whole series, in this chapter: mentions of murder, illegal activities, mentions of blood, wounds, manipulation, grooming

note: welcome back to the sixth episode of nbnc! i’m so excited to have you all back!! so so sorry this is so late, but i had so much today, i hope you still like it :) (ps: epilogue will be published on thursday probably)

please let me hear what you think in the comments!!

the next morning began like it was the most dreaded thing in the world. which wasn’t so far off, if you remembered the final moments of the night before.

neville was dead. sweet, nice, harmless neville. and he had died because of you. because you did everything, but keep out of things that didn’t concern you.

you had ignored the first warning, that draco malfoy had brought. and neville had been the final one. 

the next one to die would be you, if you didn’t finally stop investigating this whole thing.

the common room was dead silent when hermione and you came down the stairs. silent whispers hang in the air as people were crying, just finding out about the news.

a few younger students, who didn’t have much to do with neville, looked concerned and had the decency to whisper or leave the room all together. 

harry and ron looked as bad as you and hermione. 

they had waited for her, harry clasping his arms around the girl as soon as she came close. ginny was nowhere to be seen and ron informed you that she didn’t wanna get up. 

ron and harry both send you frosty glances and quickly left you behind when they walked to breakfast. they acted like you had betrayed them, and they weren’t even far off. 

hermione whispered a soft “sorry”, before she followed after them. 

maybe you could fetch a piece of bread from the kitchen? you were too ashamed to sit alone at breakfast, with the burning gazes of your friends in your back.

but it didn’t come to that. 

“ow!” a voice called when the portrait swung open and hit the person standing in front of it.

“theo?” you asked confused at what he was doing here.

“morning” theo was rubbing the back of his neck where the portrait had hit him.

“serves you right!” the fat lady commented “a slytherin shouldn’t be lurking here”

“lurking?” you repeated, quirking a brow. 

“i wasn’t lurking!” theo defended. “i was waiting for you and seemingly underestimated the distance i should’ve held”

you nodded, your smile dying down as you suddenly remembered standing in front of the portrait together with theo the night before. your throat tightened.

“hey” theo cooed, pulling you close to his chest and softly brushing a hand through your hair to calm you down. “i’m so sorry, sparrow”

“it’s my fault theo. i should’ve stopped once we received that warning”

“it’s not your fault” theo argued, shaking his head. “i insisted that we continue to investigate. if anything it’s my fault, you did nothing wrong.”

“i’m scared, theo” you muttered, tears soaking the fabric of his jumper. the material was soft, feeling warm against your cheeks. “we have to stop, before someone else gets hurt. i couldn’t bear being the reason. if something happened to my friends or you—“

“shh” theo whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “we’ll stop. no ones gonna get hurt. and nothing’s gonna hurt you, okay?” 

you nodded against his chest as he pulled you impossibly closer. you breathed in his smell that gave you so much comfort. a mix between nicotine and fabric softener. a feeling of home, even if he had been so foreign a few days ago. it felt like theo and you were the same. like you had been destined to find each other. 

theo loosened the hug, taking your hand as he started walking down the corridor. 

“wait” you shook your head, freezing in your step. “where are we going?”

“to breakfast of course” theo smiled softly, but quickly sensed your uneasiness, his smile turning into a frown, “what’s wrong?”

“well, my friends basically shunned me” 

“what?” theo laughed, before he realized that you were serious. “shit, really?”

you shrugged, frowning at him. “i don’t think they think i’m at fault or anything, but they’re pretty angry i’ve been hanging out with you all that time.”

“well, slytherins are the bad people, right?” theo smiled softly. 

“theo” you muttered, shaking your head. “that’s not what they—“

“but it is, sparrow” he interrupted. “i can’t even blame them, just think about that stupid ball yesterday and how everyone there was part of my house. there’s a killer on the loose and they’re just afraid that you’ll get hurt” 

“i don’t think you would hurt me. not like that anyway”

theo laughed. “i wouldn’t dare. and as soon as dumbledore finds who did this, there might be less suspicion around our relationship”

“so, you’re not breaking up with me, because my friends are acting like you’re the killer?”

“what does it look like, sparrow?” theo muttered, pushing his hands from your cheeks into your hair to pull you closer, before he connected your lips in a short kiss. “ready?” he asked, leaning back and looking at you. 

“ready” you nodded with a soft smile. it looked that with theo everything didn’t seem as bad. 

you could feel your friends’ and your brother’s gaze burn in your back when theo and you walked into the great hall. even though they were too far away for you to understand a word, you felt like you could hear every question and every malicious input the group of gryffindors were discussing about you. 

for them, this was the ultimate betrayal, the final proof that something was deeply wrong with harry potter’s corrupted sister. 

“it’s alright” theo assured, squeezing your hand that was gripping his like a lifeline. “don’t think about them” 

your arrival at the slytherin table was met with various surprised looks from the surrounding slytherins but also theo’s friends. 

“y/n!” pansy was the first to speak. she robbed to the side, freeing the space between her and mattheo for you to sit. you exchanged a glance with theo, who gave you an encouraging nod, before you settled between the black haired girl and mattheo. 

mattheo and enzo both smiled at you. malfoy shortly looked up from his papers to send you a nod, while blaise was still busy arranging food on his plate. 

“hey blaise” you smiled, trying to be friendly. 

blaise looked up at the sudden greeting. “uh hi” he muttered, obviously confused. “have we met?” 

you blankly stared at him, not even remotely knowing what to answer to that. 

“yes” theo finally said, jumping to your rescue. “of course” he shook his head, not able to hide his smile, because he found the situation so ridiculous. “don’t tell me you don’t remember y/n, she was the reason you got through divination!” 

“hm” blaise muttered, studying your face. “oh! ace, of course i remember you! why didn’t you say that sooner?”

you shook your head, a relieved smile playing on your features admist the awkwardness resolving itself. 

“thanks by the way” blaise smiled, pressing his hands together and doing a little bow, before he pushed a plate with a pancake he had coated in jam in your direction. 

“uh thanks” you smiled, taking the plate with a grateful smile. “and you did thank me. only yesterday actually” 

“huh, i don’t remember” blaise shrugged. “do any of you guys?” the rest of the slytherins shook their heads and theo and you exchanged a confused glance, before blaise leaned over the table and winked at you. “never happened”

“o—kay” you nodded, raising your fork and knife and cutting the pancake in front of you as you began to eat. 

“so did you find out who did it?” pansy wondered, as she filled your glass with orange juice. 

“no” theo shook his head. “we decided it was for the better to stop looking for answers. after what happened to longbottom yesterday, i mean—“

“it was gruesome” you added “i know all of you didn’t really like neville, but it’s just terrible”

“it is” mattheo nodded and he had an unusual caring look in his eyes when he glanced at you. 

“we loved to poke fun at longbottom” pansy muttered. “but he didn’t deserve that” 

draco lowered the papers, looking at his friends and then at you and to your surprise he didn’t say anything to contradict their words, but simply nodded. 

“you don’t know us well” enzo said. “but just know you can come to us if you need anything, loyality is the most important thing among slytherins” 

“enzo is right” mattheo added, exchanging a look with theo, who glanced at him warningly. “we’re here if you need us” 

“thank you” you smiled, looking at all of them individually. 

“yeah, like literally” blaise giggled. “it’s not like we can go anywhere while this stupid snow storm is still happening”

“i completely forgot about that” theo muttered surprised. “they still didn’t figure it out?”

“far from it” draco finally threw the newspaper onto the table, seemingly finished with reading. “they won’t say it, but all of them are disturbed, especially after what happened yesterday. they’re scared it’ll happen over and over again until we can either leave or the killer is caught.”

“he seems to be smart, right?” pansy asked theo and you. 

“well, i guess” you shrugged. “i’m not sure i’m the right person to ask”

“you two seem to have found out more than the teachers” enzo shrugged. “seems like you are”

“well, we found out a little, yeah” theo nodded, before you exchanged glances, silently discussing if it was smart to share the information you had gathered. maybe a controlled share was the best way to proceed. 

“we figured out that probably neither the nocturn society nor the artifact had anything to do with the murder. the motives would be too weak”

“yeah” theo agreed, “we also found the weapon”

“the murder weapon?” draco perked up, throwing the newspaper fully onto the table. 

“yes” you muttered and you noticed how all sytherins hung on your lips, just waiting to hear what had killed their teacher. “poison. very complicated potion, but also very deadly”

“shut up” pansy said as she leaned back on the bench, mouth wide open in disbelief. “and you tell us you don’t know if he’s smart”

“pansy’s right” mattheo agreed. “not using their wand and brewing a complicated potion? that takes intelligence and planning” 

blaise nodded. “the killer had the intention to kill and he knew how to do it without getting caught” 

“well, it can’t be a gryffindor then, can it?” enzo joked and theo shook his head. 

“we have to stay focused, enz. we were so close” he looked at you. “too close probably. the killer felt threatened, means we’re just a hint away from catching them”

“but the killer thinks that he’s smarter than you” pansy pointed out. “you might be close, but he’s always two steps ahead of you”

“he watched every step” draco added. “knows every secret”

you looked up at theo, before your eyes flew over every single person sitting at the desk. “that means..”

“…it’s someone we trust” theo added. 

your mind froze at the sudden realisation. of course! how could you have been so stupid? it was always someone who had been close. someone who believed in himself enough to pull this off. someone who knew that he had made no mistake.

or had he? your mind wandered back. images flew threw your head.

the chandelier ratteling to the ground at the ball, blaise showing you the artifact and telling you about burbage, enzo warning you about the danger it beholds, pansy offering an unexpected allyship, draco giving away warnings, mattheo’s cryptic information about the society and finally burbage’s office. 

no, the killer had clad himself in smoke and mystery, but he had forgotten about one single detail.

one single thing that made him distinctive, something that could only be connected to him, as he was smart enough to not have anyone know about his schemes. no alliences, no accomplice. just him. 

and now you knew how to identify him. 

“i have to go” you said suddenly, standing up from the bench and collecting your things in a hurry. the slytherins watched you in confusion and even theo seemed to be utterly left in the dark. “the library book” you said to him as if it was a reminder. “you promised to come with me to bring it back, remember?” 

“uh, yeah, right” you had almost let a sigh of relief break from your mouth at theo’s quick thinking. “thanks for your help guys” he nodded.

the slytherins still looked suspicious, as you waved at them and left the hall in a quick step, closely followed by theo. 

his hand was on your hip, just as you reached the hallway in front of the doors, pulling you to a halt. “what is it?” he asked, still not being able to make sense of your hurried escape. 

“we forgot something” you explained. “god, theo, we forgot the most important thing ever”

“what?” theo furrowed his brows, his breath hitching at the new information.

“he was smart, he was so smart” you shook your head in disbelief. “but the murder was personal, oh it was so personal” you laughed and theo watched you almost in horror. 

“what are you talking about, sparrow?” he asked helplessly “oh for god’s sake just—“ 

“—the message on the wine!” you spluttered and you had almost done a triumphant dance, if theo’s hands hadn’t been gripping your shoulders this hard. 

all colour vanished from his face as soon as the words registered in his mind. “no” he muttered, shaking his head. but he knew in that moment that you were right, his mind wandered back to the message, —to burbage - for when the pressure gets too much. consider this a parting gift.—, and the image was as crisp as day. 

“handwritten” you finally said. “she knew him, right? she trusted him, just like we did. she drank it, because she knew it was from him, he wrote it because he wanted her to know that it was him. that he had been the one to betray her, the one to kill her”

“shit, y/n” 

“there’s always something distinctive. in every handwriting. the m’s i write almost look like birds. hermione has the neatest handwriting ever, but she curls her g’s a bit too much. and you, you write the t in such a particular way i would recognize it anywhere”

“that’s amazing, sparrow” he smiled impressed. “but dumbledore has the message, how could we check?”

“we don’t have to” you grinned, “i noticed it when i read it the first time, but i was too stupid to make any sense of it”

“so?” theo urged. “what is it?” 

“the e” you simply said. “it’s the e. it’s not the normal one most people write, he writes them like a mirrored three. we have to get back to burbage’s office”

“okay, that’s good, no amazing actually. but the message isn’t there anymore, sparrow”

“theo, we might not know everything about the killer, but we know one thing for sure: he was probably a student in one of her classes. and do you remember how her classes were?”

“an assigned essay each week, of course” theo realized. “the proof’s been inside that stupid office all this time.”

theo and you basically sprinted through the halls. you couldn’t reach the office quick enough. it was as if every moment counted, every second could decide the future. and every minute in which you still didn’t know the killer’s identity was a lost one. 

you picked the lock, just like you had done when you had broken in the first time, theo standing in front of the classroom to keep watch, before you called him inside, revealing the opened office door. 

the contents of the room were in the same state you had left it in a few days before. the desk was still filled with various stacks of paper, which was to your advantage.

“this is gonna take forever” you groaned, pushing one stack in theo’s direction. 

“not if we sort out the papers of people that haven’t been near us this week”

“that would make the circle of suspects very scary” you mumbled.

theo shrugged. “as you said before, we trusted them, it has to be someone we know”

“so who would make the cut?”

theo thought for a second, before he began counting names in a low voice. “mattheo, pansy, draco, enzo, blaise” 

you nodded, feeling sorry for him. theo had questioned everything these past few days and he had told you multiple times that he wasn’t sure if he could trust his friends. that couldn’t be easy. 

you sighed, before you added: “ron, hermione and.. harry” 

theo and you exchanged a worried glance, both absolutely disturbed from the chance that the killer was someone so close. but it was the only possibility and you both knew it, as you silently sorted through the essays. 

the never ending stacks only seemed to grow as you worked through the papers, not seeing an end yet. 

suddenly, there was a disturbance in front of the door. it sounded like someone was rattling on the door to the office. theo and you exchanged hurried glances. but it was too late, both of you had grown far too comfortable, launching on the ground, papers around and in your laps. 

the sigh of relief was silmultaneous as the disturbance revealed itself to be a patronus charm, with a message attached. pansy’s voice rang out in the little office. 

“the teachers just took mattheo with them” she muttered in a hurry. “they think he did it, they’re taking us in for questioning. i know that he didn’t do it, theo, but they believe it’s him” 

the patronus disappeared and left theo and you speechless. 

“shit” theo scrambled to his feet. “shit, shit, shit” 

“it’s okay” you assured, standing up and gripping his hands, that had been trying to rip out his hair. “you’ll go and answer any question, yeah? i’ll sort through the papers and come as soon as i find the proof. they can’t arrest him if i have the proof”

“are you sure?” theo looked from the papers to you and back. he was unsure about leaving you alone, but you nodded. 

“go!” you encouraged, pushing him in the direction of the door. “go”

theo nodded, walking out of the door, but quickly dashing back inside to give you a quick peck. “thank you” he softly said against your lips, before he left the room fully. 

you smiled after him, before you got right back to work. in the span of five minutes, you had a small stack with essays from everyone on your suspect list, including your own brother. 

harry’s was the first one you checked. nothing. 

pansy’s essay was absolutely chaotic and she tended to draw hearts instead of points onto her i’s, but there was no sign of a mirrored e. 

mattheo and blaise were fine too. they had written little to nothing, but you could tell enough from it. 

hermione’s was neat as always, her writing not faltering and it would’ve suprised you if she had ever even thought about writing her e’s the way you were searching for right now. 

the next paper you threw open, made your breath hitch. not only because the handwriting matched the one on the wine message, but because there was a little post it note plastered onto the page.

‘wonderful work as always, darling, can’t wait to see you after dinner tonight’

you and theo had been wrong. yeah, burbage had trusted her killer, but not because he was a student or someone she knew. the killer wasn’t the relative or a friend of her victim. no, the killer and the victim were the same person. 

“i wish you wouldn’t have found this” 

his voice was the first thing you heard. then pain. you fell forward, the essay slipping from your hands as your head made contact with the hard floor beneath you. your sight was black as you felt him bend over you, your hand searching for anything you could use to fight him. you gripped something, bringing it close to your chest, before the pain registered once again and you lost consciousness. 

by the time you woke up, you couldn’t tell how many minutes had passed. the first thing you felt was the cold breeze of the evenings wind. maybe it had been hours since he had taken you, or maybe you had been in that office longer than you could remember now. 

you couldn’t move a muscle, probably a hex that was resting on your body. 

your eyes snapped open, scanning the room, or more lack of, around you. you were laying in the middle of the wodden platform of the astronomy tower. the very same platform theo and you had talked on only days before, minutes before you found the body of your teacher. 

“hello” he smiled, stepping around you and helping you to sit up against a box behind you. 

“i would’ve never even thought” you shook your head, tears brimming at your eyes. 

enzo giggled relentlessly. “oh, don’t cry, angel” he caught one of your tears with his finger. “i should be the one who’s sad” his mimic changed dramatically, as he took on a whiny voice, “i tried to talk her out of it, but she was so far gone. she told me that the murders had been necessary to fulfill what the artifact had needed from her. but she regretted it and couldn’t live with the guilt.” he paused, smiling at you, before he fell back into his previous role. “i’m so sorry, theo, i tried to catch her but i was too late” 

you closed your eyes, silent tears rolling over your cheeks. “she broke up with you, that’s why you killed her, isn’t it?”

enzo laughed. “our relationship was magical and she broke it off from one day to another, like it had meant nothing, like i had meant nothing”

“it wasn’t your fault” you shook your head, trying hard to keep together, despite the hatred that was ready to flood your features. “you are a victim, enzo, she used you, she manipulated you”

enzo stared at you unimpressed. “she loved me” he corrected. “and i loved her too. i did everything for her, was her good boy. and what did i get? not even a proper conversation. she just decided it was over”

“she hurt you” you nodded. “you didn’t deserve that” 

“of course i didn’t” he laughed like a maniac. “that’s why i made sure she knew that too. it was almost too easy to paint myself as innocent. the stupid society, the idiot blaise and his artifact, all these bloody people, they played their part perfectly.” he grinned, “even theo. i have to admit that he was the riskiest part of the plan, but he was susprisingly easy to manage. and that just because he decided to fuck potter’s sister, who would’ve thought?”

you looked away, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

“i’ve been in love too, i know how it’s like. you lose sight for everything else. just like at the ball were you two were too occupied making out until that chandelier almost ripped you to shreds. would’ve made a great show, by the way”

he shrugged, before he continued to speak. “the only thing that complicated things was that stupid snow storm”

“complicated?” you repeated in disbelief. “gave you all the time in the world, didn’t it?”

“it wasn’t part of the plan.” he shook his head “charity summoned it. couldn’t have been worse timing. she wanted to give blaise and the other idiots more time to figure out how to work the artifact.”

it was weird to hear the professors first name escape enzo’s lips, without so much as a second thought, like it was his nature to call her by her name. which it was, but it freaked you out nonetheless. 

“too bad she gave you time to investigate her own murder, huh?”

“you disgust me” you spit. 

“i only had to do what was necessary, angel” he moved a piece of hair behind your ear.

“neville was not necessary” a bit of movement entered your body, making you able to lean back to escape his touch. 

enzo frowned. “of course he was” he stood up, looking down onto the ground from the railing. “someone had to find that potion for me. what a shame that longbottom enjoyes to read so much.. pardon enjoyed”

another few tears rolled over your cheeks, your head already hurting from all the crying. 

“had to get rid of him just to be sure, god forbid he would’ve made that connection. i was lucky, i guess” he turned around and looked at you, smiling even brighter as he noticed that you were crying even more than before. “and the message it send was just a bonus. how else could i make sure you stay far away from that stupid investigation. but you’re not so good at listening, right angel? we wouldn’t even be here if you had just stayed in line. and i find it awfully impractical that i have to kill such a hot girl, but you’re too young for me anyway” his smile send shivers down your spine.  

“i can’t believe she drank that poisoned wine, because i don’t think she loved you, enzo, she used you, that’s all” 

“don’t you dare” enzo stepped closer, anger evident on his face. “she was fucking obsessed with me. blinded by love. she drank the whole bottle because she missed me”

“she never loved you” 

“she died thinking about me. i was there” he admitted. “that night, i opened the door for her, she said my name before she fell into the snow.”

you huffed. “you were there?”

“well, i had to slip the rune into her hand and make sure someone found her in time. luckily theo and you were right there, like actors in a play.” he paused, a few beats of silence passing by. “is that a game for you guys? stumbling over bodies, investigating murders and then fucking in broom closets? that get you going?” 

“shut up” 

enzo giggled obnoxiously, shaking his head as his laughter died down. “nah, baby” he grinned. “your turn to shut up.”

he reached for your body, picking you up with ease. “you and me could’ve been a great pair, if you were like twenty years older” he walked you closer and closer to the edge. until only the railing was between you and the ground beneath. 

you could feel the wodden beam press into your back. enzo’s breath was hot on your face as he stared down at you. you could tell from his face, that he enjoyed this. almost like it was a game to him, like a sick fantasy that he could get off to.

he caressed your cheek, before softly loosening your ponytail. “makes it look more dramatic” he smiled, as he watched your hair move in the wind. 

he pushed you back slowly, like he was trying to let you down easy, almost like you would float to the ground. but the desire in his eyes told another story, he was blood thirsty and he would keep anything you’d give him. 

your body gained more and more movement as the hex wore off. enzo furrowed his brows when he felt you pushing against him, body to body. 

“trying to keep it interesting, huh?” he laughed, watching attentively as your hand grabbed his underarm. it made you uneasy to see the relaxed reaction he had to you fighting back. like he knew perfectly how easy he could overpower you if he wanted. he was just entertaining you, just enjoying your miserable tries to free yourself from him. 

there was no situation where you had a real advantage. both of you knew that. you could only hope for a wonder, but then, you could feel your legs again. 

it was like you knew what to do immediately. you moved your arm fast, it was so surprising you really got it free. then your leg knee flew up, kicking enzo in the balls, just as you moved his body closer with both hands on his shoulders. 

he groaned from the sudden pain, his body collapsing to the ground. it gave you enough time to get away from the railing, but not enough to reach the stairs before he was on his feet again, pressing your back against his chest. “nice try, angel” he whispered into your ear. you wanted to throw up from the tone of his voice. 

so cocky, totally unbothered. 

he started dragging you back into the direction of the railing again. you tried to make yourself as heavy as possible, trying to make it as hard as possible for him to overpower you. 

“don’t be difficult” he groaned, slowly becoming annoyed at your relentless trying. your hand went through the air, grabbing onto a thick beam, that was not fully brought on, but only leaned against the rest of the construction. 

you kicked against it. one, two, three times. enzo looked up from the sudden sound of the beam falling forward. on it’s way down, it hit both of you, as your tried to gamble away. 

now the head injury was joined by a gush on your arm. enzo was bleeding at the leg and both of you stayed unmoving for a second. the heavy beam, claiming the middle of the railing as it fell against it, hit the ground with a thud.

“well, that makes it easier” enzo grinned, eyes on the empty space were the railing used to be, before stumbling back onto his feet just as you did. 

you sprinted towards the stairs, but before you could reach them, enzo had stepped in your way with open arms. “you’re not leaving yet already, are you?” 

you stumbled back, well aware that the missing railing was practically a free passage for you to fall to your death. 

maybe there was no escape. maybe you would die by falling off this stupid tower, maybe you would die, becoming the killer that enzo would direct you to be as soon as he would tell his story. 

a silent movement behind enzo made you look up. blaise had climbed the stairs, stepping onto the plattform. 

your reaction had to have been hopeful enough for enzo to suspect something, as he spun around, facing his friend with a look of surprise. 

blaise wasted no time as he reached out and hit enzo in the face. the younger boy stumbled back, holding his bloody nose, before he regained confidence, the surprise finally leaving his body, as he leaped over the platform, throwing himself at blaise. 

blaise jumped back, but was still taken to the ground, as enzo began hitting him merciless. he reached for a piece of wood beside him, hitting blaise so hard, that blood splattered into the air and a sharp breath left your mouth. 

blaise kept lying on the platform unmoving as enzo climbed off him and turned back around to meet your gaze. there were driplets of blood all over his face, his own, mixed with some of blaise’s. he opened his mouth, widely smiling at you, exposing his teeth to be as blood covered as the rest of his face. 

“your turn, angel” he dashed over the platform fast, ripping you away from the wall, you had stood against and moving you closer and closer to the edge. “third time’s the charm, right?” he grinned. 

you closed your eyes. 

his steps were slow, deliberate, clearly enjoying every ounce of control he had over you. killing was like breathing to him. like it was the only thing that brought him joy. and this person, this killer, was totally different to the person he had been before. it was like something had been awakened in him, ready to strike as soon as needed. 

a thud made you open your eyes again. a disbelieving laugh left your mouth as you noticed that blaise had sat up. the wound on his head bleeding, but he was alive. 

again, your reaction triggered enzo and he turned around searching for the cause of the noise. his susprise was just as present as yours, ultimately being sure that he had killed his friend. 

blaise’s survival was like newfound hope for your body, you pushed enzo back, changing sides, as he was now the one closest to the railing, or the nonexistent one to be more precise. 

you reached for the piece of wood he had hit blaise with and quickly hit him in the stomach. enzo stumbled back and before he could dash forward, you hit him again. 

you noticed the beam of wood on the floor between him and the railing too late. enzo stumbled back from the second hit, trying to find his balance, as the back of his feet hit the beam and gravity did the rest. 

it was like he fell back in slow motion. your hands let go of the wood you had used to hit him as your ran forward, trying to hold onto his hand or any part of him. but it was too late.

you were sure you had fallen off the edge too, if blaise hadn’t pulled you back at just the right time. 

“no!” you screamed as you realized what had just happened, you stared down onto enzo’s unmoving body on the ground beneath the tower for only a second, before blaise moved you back towards the stairs. 

you both fell onto the floor, the shock draining you and making your bodies heavier than usual. 

“i killed him, i killed him” you cried against blaise’s chest. blaise stared straight ahead, just as traumatized as you, before you could feel him shake his head. 

“no, he fell” he corrected. “he fell, it wasn’t you”

“i’m sorry, i killed him” 

“no, ace, you didn’t” he moved you back. “look at me. it’s important that you know you didn’t. he fell”

you nodded, tears falling off your face, because they were running down your cheeks so quickly. 

“repeat it” blaise said. “you have to repeat it: he fell”

“he fell” you repeated, your voice only coming out as a whisper. 

“again!”

“he fell” you said, less unsure, louder, clearer. 

“there you go” blaise nodded, pressing your face against his chest to comfort you. “not your fault” 

you continued to cry together for what felt like hours, but was only mere minutes. not one of you dared to move or look over the edge to find enzo’s body on the ground. your very short sight of his body and the blood on the snow had been enough to keep you from it. 

heavy footsteps echoed through the tower and the next thing you saw, was theo make his way onto the platform, a worried expression on his face. “what happened?” he asked, while blaise helped you stand and you stumbled into theo’s direction. 

blaise nodded as your searched for a confirmation. 

you fell into theo’s arms, while blaise’s nod of permission wandered through your mind. you breathed, a sigh of relief and clear air wandering into your lungs for the first time in hours. 

“he fell”

epilogue out soon...

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ps: there will be one more chapter, the epilogue :)

[randomfoggytiger]

The Evolution of Gillian Anderson's Friendship with David Duchovny

Early friendship:

He was an experienced actor when they started The X Files, she had been receiving unemployment benefit and had been in front of cameras only once before.

And she admits: "I desperately needed someone to show me the ropes and David did. He was wonderful."

There were rumours of a secret romance, which would have got them both fired on the spot. It is a strict studio rule that there will be no intimacy between the stars - off screen as well as on.

But Gillian did find love on The X Files, in the shape of assistant art director Clyde Klotz. And she did turn to Duchovny for advice after acting spontaneously on her wedding night, taking no precautions and finding herself pregnant.

She was horrified, believing she would get herself fired and ruin her career.

[“I went into his trailer,” she recalls, “and I said, ‘David, I’m pregnant.’ It looked like his knees buckled.... And he asked me if it was a good thing. I said, ‘Yeah, it is.’]

But her co-star, who was the only person she confided in apart from her husband, put Gillian's mind at ease.

He advised her not to have an abortion - that things would work out. And they did.

He kept her secret while Gillian thought things over for a month.

1995:

David Duchovny is not happy.....

Anderson, sensing Duchovny’s mood, looks down at his hand on her left shoulder and tries to brush it away, as if it were a mosquito. Then she turns and jumps into his arms, laughing, looking like a little girl making trouble for a protective older brother. Startled to be holding her, the smile on Duchovny’s face is forced no longer.

...“We really trust each other,” Duchovny says simply.

There is, between these two, a real-life camaraderie born of necessity, a friendship strong enough to survive too many work hours, and a chemistry powerful enough to rearrange the atoms on-screen. “Whenever we’re acting together,” says Anderson, “it’s there.”

1997:

But in real life, Duchovny and Anderson have a relationship as much a conundrum to outsiders as any X-File.

“We have a relationship that is completely odd and fabricated,” Duchovny says. “We’ve been thrown together, two people who don’t know each other, and we’ve been forced to spend more time together than married people do. So you can’t describe our relationship as ‘like’ or ‘dislike.’ ”

Sounds a little frosty.

“It is frosty,” Gillian Anderson agrees when she is read Duchovny’s description of their relationship. “But it’s accurate.” She laughs. “It’s not that we don’t like each other. It’s complicated.”

2008:

Question: Can you talk about getting back into these characters after a five or six year period?

David Duchovny: The first two weeks I felt a little awkward and I didn’t really feel like I wanted to do longer scenes. I was just fine running around. Then as soon as Gillian and I started working and it was Mulder and Scully, then I kind of remembered what it was all about and that relationship kind of anchored my performance just as I think the relationship anchors this film.

Shock: What’s that like with David now that you’re not with each other 16 hours a day on a series?

Anderson: It’s great, but it was great then, too. This is like a sibling relationship and I never had siblings.

What is your favourite thing about each other?

Duchovny: Gillian just doesn't give up.... She'll hang in there 'til we get it right.

Anderson: ...The easiest answer, I guess, is his sense of humour. He's always looking at the funny side of things, especially when he's around other actors who are comedians or funny themselves - it can turn into a bit of a contest to see who does the best impressions and such. But aside from that, there's a gentleness inside him that comes out every once in a while that is quite disarming and lovely. It's rare, but very nice.

2014:

Q: Was there a sense of almost a bunker mentality where you were at least going through this process with David? You mentioned he had more experience, he had done some bigger films but still the phenomenon that emerged within the first couple years was pretty remarkable. Did it help to have him there too and kind of like “Are you getting this too? Are you going through this too? Is this weird?” 

A: No. No, not really. We talk about the fact that it’s crazy that we didn’t. And that we didn’t take advantage of the fact that we had each other but it was complicated. These were long hours that we were working. We spent more time in each other’s presence than we did with our, you know, spouses and children, etc.

But also, you know, I think we p***ed each other off, quite frankly. And I have no doubt that after they’re waiting – we’re gonna roll and somebody has to come in and redo my lips and the difference between the maintenance for guys and gals and we’re shooting in all weather – you know, we never shut down except for one day for weather in the entire show.  We were shooting up in Vancouver through rain, sleet, everything. And my hair would frizz up to here in between takes and they’d have to get the blow dryer out under the tent and we’d be waiting for Gillian’s hair to do another take. You know, that p***es you right off. It adds up. So I, you know, I’m sure there were plenty of things he did that p***ed me off too. It just wasn’t, you know, but on the other hand.. NOW, we get to talk about that and we’re probably closer than we’ve ever been. 

2015:

Not surprisingly, she and Duchovny also became the story – according to the press, they were having an affair, hated each other or both. “I mean, yes, there were definitely periods when we hated each other.” She starts again. “Hate is too strong a word. We didn’t talk for long periods of time. It was intense, and we were both pains... for the other at various times.”

How was Duchovny a pain... for her? “Erm ...” Ten seconds pass without a word. Meanwhile, her smile gets wider and wider till it’s halfway up her cheeks. “I’m not going to get into it. I’m not even going to begin to get into that. But we are closer today than we ever have been.”

2016:

Anderson on working with Duchovny “Our relationship has definitely become a proper friendship over the last few years. I think we’re more on each other’s side. We’re more aware of the other’s needs, wants, concerns, and mindful to take those into consideration— and just sharing more about our experiences in the moment, under the sudden realization that we’re both in this together, and wouldn’t it be nice if it were a collaboration?”

2018:

They've worked together for 25 years but Gillian Anderson wants to make one thing clear: David Duchovny does NOT feature in her Ex Files.

While on screen their relationship left viewers wondering whether they would ever hook up romantically, Gillian says that off camera they were never very close.

In fact, she goes so far as to admit: "I don't know much about David Duchovny. If you asked me 10 things about him I'd probably get nine of them wrong."

...But now Gillian sets the record straight, saying: "We were never close. It's true we spent more time together than we have in any other relationship but it doesn't mean we were close.

"Very often when you're working long hours you may have a chit-chat between scenes but you're not really standing around talking about personal lives.

"And very often you don't have meals either at work or outside of work together because you're in each other's company all the time.

"So I actually don't know very much about David Duchovny, but we appreciate and respect each other."

2021:

Stella made a new friend today.

2023:

A huge congratulations to my old friend @davidduchovny on the world premiere of his film Bucky F***ing Dent @tribeca which he wrote, directed and stars in! A massive accomplishment and can’t wait to see it. (ps I’d say some of your prior writer / director gigs with me went pretty well and this was all just yesterday, right? 😉) #Tribeca2023

2024:

Awww Double D I’m so sorry. He was your guy. RIP Brick Duchovny

A comment from David, 2024:

"My former X-Files costar Gillian Anderson and I are really good friends. ...When you share a seminal kind of experience in your life-- the huge success we had with that show-- only we know what it's like to be in the center of that. It's almost like being in the same family...."

Last but not least:

"Looking forward to revealing some shared memories and new thoughts with my old friend.

Thank you @gilliana for joining me on this week’s episode of #FailBetter"

[chukys-mouthguard]

Ugly Sweater Weather

day 5 of the 2024 NHL advent calendar 🎄

1.2k words

genre -> fluff, suggested smut: minor sexual themes or ideas

featuring-> matthew knies x female reader

summary -> matthew drunkenly spills a drink all over your sweater at the leafs holiday party, forcing you to head to the nearest restroom to clean it

“This sweater is so fucking itchy, why did I let you convince me to wear this one?”

Matthew pulled at the neckline of his ugly Christmas sweater, a smirk in your face as you shook your head approaching the front door of Mitch’s house.

“Let’s see, because your other two options were not appropriate for the occasion?”

Raising an eyebrow you stopped on the porch as you rang the doorbell while Matthew laughed to himself as he thought of the two sweaters that were both decorated with horrible sexual Christmas puns.

“Hey! Look at you two! Thanks for following the theme, come on in!”

Mitch invited you inside, him and his wife wearing matching sweaters of their own that were so ugly they were cute. Their home was decorated to the nines as the Leafs and their significant others filled every room, enough ugly sweaters you were sure two people could start a fire if they rubbed arms for too long.

“Damn Kniesy…that sweater is something.”

Joseph Woll took his time poking fun at how uncomfortable Matthew looked in his sweater, only making him grow more irritated than the fabric was managing to make him. It didn’t help that Matthew was jacked and the sweater was possibly a size too small, but you refused to go to the party with him wearing one that said I have a big package for you while Santa was posed sexually across the front.

“Hey, just relax okay? Get a few drinks in your system, you’ll forget the sweater is even there okay?”

You ran a hand over his chest, doing your best to comfort him before stealing a kiss, then heading into the other room to greet some of the girls.

“Y/n, how in the world did you get Matthew to fit in that sweater?”

“It was definitely a two person job. But he was planning on wearing one that had an awful sexual joke and I vetoed that real fast.”

You accepted a glass from Mitch’s wife as you watched some of the guys begin to set up a drinking game.

“What are the odds he’s out of that sweater within the hour?”

“Has he finished any drinks yet?”

You eyed Matthew from across the room, watching as he and Auston argued over the rules for their game of pong.

“I think he’s on his second beer?”

“I give it three beers and the sweater is coming off.”

You sat in one of the barstools by the kitchen island as you watched the game of pong come down to the last few cups. Matthew and Joseph were one away from beating Auston and Mitch. The entire party was watching as it came to one last throw, Joseph needing to make it or there would be a rebuttal.

It was so quiet you could hear only the crackle of the fireplace as the ball flew through the air, clanging against the rim of the solo cup before finally splashing into the beer that filled it.

“Fuck yeah, let’s go!”

Matthew and Joseph jumped into each other's arms, Matthew clearly forgetting he had a full cup in hand as the beer poured out and all over your sweater. Your jaw was on the floor as you couldn’t believe he’d just drenched you in the liquid, a slight chuckle leaving your lips because what else could you do but laugh.

“Matthew. Knies. Are you fucking kidding me?”

Matthew’s smile faded as he looked at your white sweater that was now turned brown from his beer, immediately rushing to grab napkins as if they’d be of any help now.

“Babe I’m so sorry, um, here. Let me just try and-“

“Stop, it’s fine. Just stop.”

Pushing past him, you ran upstairs to the nearest bathroom. Immediately pulling the sweater from your body, gagging at the damp feeling left on your stomach and chest from the beer. Dropping the sweater into the sink you began running hot water over it, hoping that you could try to salvage things before it stained. Muffled expletives leaving your lips as you cursed Matthew under your breath.

“Babe?”

A soft knock came from the other side of the door as you heard Matthew call out to you. His voice was soft and apologetic as he slowly opened the door to peek in at you.

“I’m so fucking sorry, honest. Can I do anything to help?”

Slowly slipping into the bathroom, he found his place behind you as he watched you frantically wringing out the sweater, most of the beer washing out but now the fun part was drying it.

“And here I bet that you’d be the one out of your sweater in an hour, but instead it’s me.”

Setting the sweater down on the counter with a huff, you softly laughed as you shook your head. The party had only started and now you were without a sweater, and no change of clothes. Though you were sure you could borrow something from Mitch or Stephanie.

“Wait a minute, back up. Huh?”

Matthew’s hands rested on your waist as he smiled at you in the mirror.

“Me? Be out of my sweater? I think I’m missing some details here babe.”

Tucking some hair behind his ear you eyed him up and down, hand resting on his cheek as you bit your lip.

“You sir, have a dirty mind! It was a bet that you’d bitch out of wearing that itchy sweater all night and lose it within an hour of us getting here.”

Playfully you smacked him on the chest before searching for a hairdryer to use on your sweater now that the stain was taken care of. Matthew simply watched as you moved about the room in nothing but your leggings and a red lace bra, his eyes never leaving your frame.

“Damn, here I thought maybe you were finally matching my level of freaky dirty-mindedness babe. This bathroom is secluded, we totally could’ve had some fun.”

He leaned against the bathroom counter, his voice trailing off as he pretended to sound disappointed, simply sighing as he crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to have some snarky remark.

“Matthew Knies, no way in hell we do anything like that in Mitch and Stephanie’s bathroom. Are you crazy??”

“Crazy horny right now with you standing in front of me in a red lace bra? Absolutely!”

His hands grabbed your waist as he pulled you into his chest, taking the sweater from you and tossing it to the side so he had your full attention.

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fun. Let me make it up to you for spilling my drink all over you.”

He began peppering your neck with kisses, making you giggle and squirm in his arms, finally giving in as he knew just how to win you over.

“Okay fine! But ditch the sweater, it’s really fucking itchy.”

[psicheanima]

I find myself thinking frequently about something which is not real, so I am not certain what the thought itself consists in. Yet, I know that everyone is involved or scheming behind my back - without me being made privy to their plans - but I am well aware of the animosity. It is painful. I do know.

Could it be a conspiracy? I don’t know. But it hurts me. I am aware of the dislike towards me. I have not mistaken it. It is something that is being contrived and hatched, and which I am not a part of. I believe my enemies are in cahoots to do me harm. I understand them. They hate me.

Perhaps it is nothing but an illusion! I cannot know for certain — I am clueless about any life that has been lived. What do I know? Perhaps I am too cynical and it is only my own imagination that people want to harm me. I see conspiracies at every turn. And perhaps it is not real. I am not certain, I am just being paranoid.

No. It is a sham. It is all fabricated — the entire landscape is nothing but a lie. We should abandon it, we can no longer endure it. It is becoming unbearable. It is such a terrible place here. The surroundings are artificial; it is all make believe. It is time to throw in the towel, as it has become unbearable. It is so horrible here.

Staying here anymore is too much — it is time to escape to outer space right at this moment! It is no longer habitable here! I mean to begin anew on a remote planet where the water-courses are of gold and the air impregnated with sulphurous vapours. The atmosphere burns in my chest like sunburnt flesh - I feel I am roasting on a spit.

A galaxy star meat boy - I'm being raised to please aliens? Is this my life? No - no - this can't be - people detest me — must these aliens have taken me? No - they are so friendly — their faces so affable. I can't believe it -- their smiles! -- I've found a family to embrace me; the universe is no longer empty and my life has value.

We were both sitting on the bed. I was happy. I was still very new to everything. I'd lost all shame. I felt as if I'd discovered the way to be happy in life, and I was certain of the truth of what I'd been told, that I was loved, that I would be happy, that I had only to keep quiet and not talk about what I had been told: that life was beautiful, that we made our own happiness, that it was simple as longas one was loved.

But as I sat there, happy, proud, I became conscious of a slow, persistent, gentle pressure on my left side. Something was being removed from me; I wasn't sure what. I was still quite naive. This thing, whatever it was, they said they loved. At first I did nothing. The extraction continued, and my contentment gradually ebbed with it. The feeling of being emptied, deprived, was not painful - merely an absence of pleasure. And then I started to realise that I did not want to lose it.

A part of me is gone, an absence where only the shadow of sensation remains. However, all is not lost. My cats amuse me, and I can still take pleasure in their comical antics. My mundane life as a market-gardener proceeds thus: I wish to eat a dish that has never been cooked; I want to be clothed with garments cut to my measure; I would like to lie on distant meadowland in high hills. Such songs I would hear that have not been sung before — such joy I want to know; so much life do I crave.

Can it be right that one who is detested longs so intensely? Is there a limit? I ask — perhaps you will tell me – but this is what I feel: I should have the answer. Someone like me, who is unconnected, who's not at all involved, should have an explanation.

That is all it seems to be; the answer is that we’re not involved, and we can return home and sleep. We are a tired person. I suddenly yawned, a long, gaping yawn: the tears trembled in my eyes ready to fall. I felt I had never felt so sleepy in all my life.

I love you! Let’s meet each other as soon as we can! I love you in daylight, by the moonlight and at any time! Thank you for your words. I'm alright, I can manage. I shall sleep, it will help, it will be alright. I am here now and when I wake it will be alright. I shall still be here for a while.

Oh, how long is that, then? To be here? Oh… Well.

In my way, I'm devoted to all of you.

But please don't hate me...it's all just verse.

[incandescentflower]

It's interesting because it seems like most people read Tyme as having a more significant connection to Great than I did. Yes, he clearly regrets being a huge asshole to someone he had a nice interaction with as a kid, but that's because he is now on his death bed. I buy that Tyme felt badly about using Great initially, but I think he would still have done it again as a means to his own ends if something so terrible hadn't happened to Great. It feels like regret on a simply human-level as he fully understands how low he had sunk based on his singular focus of revenge.

I am still interested to see what the drama will show in Tyme's four minutes, in terms of what he would redo and what connection he'd want with Great in that circumstance. I think the drama is going to say he does want that romance, but I'm not sure it makes sense based on the narrative so far.

This definitely feels like the "they knew each other as kids" trope to short cut a stronger connection than they have shown on screen. By my count it seems like they have had three real significant interactions in their lives in total, which is not enough for me to feel like they truly know or understand each other.

But I would find it interesting if that was actually the point. If Tyme does the same thing Great did with in his four minutes - Tyme idealizing who Great would be if Tyme's actions were different and that in turn changing Tyme - I would find that to be a compelling narrative, as long as the drama was clear that both those scenarios are complete and utter fabrications. Allowing that to be real doesn't feel earned to me at this point.

And there would be something poetic and beautiful about them both putting all their hope and optimism into the way the other person could have helped them be a better person in a different scenario, despite us all knowing that from what we've seen of both of them on screen that wasn't ever going to happen.

The fantasy that each of them wished the other one could have "saved" them, but they both would have had to have been different already for that to happen.

[uzurimisery]

chapter 6: the fold. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 5k

Warnings: MDNI, he's still insane and possessive, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

The time between then and the engagement party had felt short, going by too quickly, a whirlwind passing through you. It would be wrong to say you weren’t nervous, the sensation gripped you holding you close. Even if you did believe Coriolanus was sincere in his desire to be allies trusting him was another matter. Alliances were often forged with hidden motives.

You had seen firsthand the ruthless ambition that drove people to betray their allies, you had done the same, sacrificing presumed loyalty for personal gain. Trust was but a fragile illusion that could shatter in the blink of an eye. A fact made all the more apparent by your illusory relationship with him.

Despite the reservations, you were drawn to him. His ruthless and cunning nature mirrors your own, and there was no denying the sexual attraction between you both. But as the day of the engagement party loomed, the agitation never ceased.

You were about to take a leap of faith, place your life, your very future, and marry a man who had once been an annoyance to you. Yes, you had brought him back to the Capitol, but he had been more annoying than you thought. There was some hope, however. Coriolanus had recognised your strength, your potential, and he had been the one to extend the hand of allyship. Besides, as long as one of your parents lived he be hard-pressed to betray you.

A pin prinked at your side.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Tigris exclaimed as she rushed to soothe the wound. Her hands were cold against your skin.

“It’s alright. Hardly imagine it was intentional.”

“Of course not.” She was quick to get back to work, doing up the final adjustment stitch to ensure your dress fit perfectly.

It was simpler than Tigris had wanted it to be, insisting that your engagement party dress should be grand. You were able to convince her to focus on the wedding dress instead, which you were grateful for. Tonight could be simple, less caught up in the extravagant happenings of the Capitol. So your dress was simple. White silver chain mesh with a nude underdress and a solid white cape.

As she backed away she spoke again. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you admit, gently passing your hands over the soft fabric of the cap. Despite the simplicity, it was elegant. Slightly understated, but it suited you.

Her eyes were lit with concern. “Don’t be,” she was reassuring, voice laced with genuine warmth. “You look amazing.”

Looking great and feeling great were different things. Tonight, you weren’t sure if you’d be feeling great.

“Thank you Tirgirs,” your voice was thick with emotion. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Are you worried about him?” She was quick to pick up on your actual concern. Coriolanus Snow.

You steeled your gaze in the mirror and straightened your shoulders, trying to regain composure. “How could I not be?”

“He cares for you…” she trailed off. “At least I think he does. He’s different with you. More like the boy I grew up with and less, well, like he is now.”

You studied your reflection, searching for any sign of turmoil within. Your hair was in order, your makeup flawless, and your dress impeccably tailored. There was not a hint of emotion showing. Perhaps the shadow of the boy Tigris knew was the glimpses of warmth that you could feel from Coriolanus.

“I care for him as well.” The truth was easy, you did care for him.

Tigris paused. “That’s good then. The only thing worse than a political marriage is one where you hate each other,” her voice held a touch of sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from the mirror. Speculation would be endless, but tonight you needed to focus on the present. Standing there trying to determine, or wish, that there was the chance for you and Coriolanus to have something real, reach your goals and build the lives you want, and have something real. The past year had been messy, with a constant fluctuation of feelings but between the lines moments had felt true. When the two of you were alone it felt real to you.

Despite his previous explanation, you refused to believe that the shock engagement had been calculated as he claimed. Somewhere inside him he cared for you, you knew it, relieved it like gospel. Faithful to the higher power of emotion, praying that it was true. That he was capable of loving you like you loved him.

“We moved past hate a long time ago.”

“That's good then.” Tigris paused for a moment, hesitating to ask the question, her eyes flicking over you. “Do you love him?”

“Love?” you echoed, voice breaking on the word.

“Yes, love,” she was persistent. “Do you love him?”

It was hard to love a man like Coriolanus Snow but you couldn’t say that you didn’t love him at this point. The months of closeness laid the ground for positive feelings, and at every turn, he surprised you. The soft touches, passionate kisses when you were alone, the unspoken emotions fogging up the air between the two of you-- they had fed the selfish desire within you to have Coriolanus to yourself. A need to have him by your side. Greedy passion clawing at your legs.

The model of love you had growing up was your parents. They weren’t a typical loving couple, unconventional in all manners, but they did love each other and worked as partners. Each picked up the slack where the other faltered. What you had with Coriolanus felt like that. The balancing act, the tipping of the scales.

There was a pause before you answered. “Does it matter?”

Your feelings towards him were inconsequential in the grand scheme. It’d be worse to have them thrown in your face and laughed at knowing that you would still be going through with the marriage for the sake of your ambition. Love and ambition were a dangerous mix.

“I think so,” Tigris was soft, hand smoothing out any wrinkles of your dress. “I’d like to think that you and I have become friends over the past year and… I’d like you to be happy. I saw what a loveless marriage did to my aunt and I don’t want the same for you.”

Her words broke you down, shattering the barriers you had up. She was always so gentle and caring, it felt like she had no ulterior motives whenever you spoke. There was one thing she wanted, and that was the best for everyone. Even Coriolanus even if she didn’t agree with his actions. Tigris was a kind and gentle soul, something so rare for the Captiol.

The truth bubbled over the surface, a moment of closeness so rarely felt. The feelings you had rationalized away, hiding them behind logic, spilling out. It hurt, like ripping off a bandage, stinging and sharp, exposing the wound.

“Must you have asked me this after my makeup was done?”You joked, trying to shake off the tears welling in your eyes.

“Sorry.”

You exhaled, breathy and burdened. “Love is a complicated feeling and a luxury I didn’t think I’d ever be able to afford. It’s hard to explain what I feel for him, I don’t even know if I understand the feeling myself. I know that I want him in my life, and the thought of him not being there, being someone I can depend on, makes me feel like I’m going crazy. He’s someone I know will always have my back as long as I have his.”

Tigris chewed on your words for a minute.

“So you do love him then?”

“If this is love, then yes I do.”

“Have you told him?”

“I can’t,” you stutter slightly. “It’d be risking everything over my feelings.”

“But do you think you can marry him without telling him? Go your entire life not telling him?”

You were terrified of that. Telling him was vulnerability and uncertainty, threading waters as the tide came in threatening to swallow you whole. Your feelings could cost you your ambition, your power, and at the furthest extreme, your life. But not telling him, marrying with this secret, was even more terrifying. Trapping yourself in a relationship with him where you could never truly voice your thoughts.

It was a cruel dilemma. The future you had always wanted, influence and control, and love. How could you risk everything for something so uncertain? How could you jeopardize everything for a man who might not even feel the same? But how could you wake up every day by his side, the feelings burning you, and expect to be fine?

“I’m afraid of what he’ll say, of what he’ll do, of losing him.”

“I know it’s easy for me to sit here and say you should tell him, but I think you should. If you do love him, you owe it to yourself to at least try.”

Her words held truth.

____________________________________

The grand ballroom of the Gaul estate was filled to the brim with the Capitol’s elite. The air seems alive with the hum of excitement, bouncing around the opulent decor, mingling with the clink of crystal glassware. Even the president, who had never been the same after the death of his son, looked to be enjoying himself. There had been no expense sparred for the engagement party, Coriolanus could only imagine what the actual wedding would cost. 

Surrounded by guests, Coriolanus found himself in the company of former Academy students. The conversation had been fine at the start, but the more that they drank to more it began to grate on him.

“You know I never thought you’d be the first to get married Coriolanus,” Apollo Ring hammered on. “I figured it’d be Florus.”

“Florus! I would have bet money on Io.” Domitia Whimsiwick chimed in.

Did they all have nothing better to do than bug him? The constant chatter, the forced camaraderie irritated him, like nails on a chalkboard they drug on and on. He knew that the party was about himself and you, but god did he hate having to put up with his former classmates. They thought themselves all to be friends, which included him in it. 

Of course, he engaged with them, laughing at their jokes and acting like he cared about the conversation. The whole like he was surveying the room, waiting for you so he could finally have an excuse to dismiss himself from the conversation. After 15 minutes or so, he finally saw you. 

Somehow, you had gotten more beautiful. It was a subtle shift in appearance, a change so small but it made you even more attractive.

Your hair was down, curling down your back, a change from your usual updos. Previously you told him they were “more practical” for working in the lab, but he did love it when your hair was down. He watched as you flitted from guest to guest, thanking them for coming with your signature red lipstick smile. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a genuine one, breaking through his front. 

“Apologies everyone,” Coriolanus placed a hand on his chest and gave a slight bow. “The future Mrs. Snow has arrived.” The group wished him well, a few jokes about him being whipped, and went back to talking amongst themselves as he left.

His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The closer he got to you the more the feeling of contentment, something he rarely if ever experienced, settled in his stomach. 

“You look stunning,” he spoke while wrapping an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead, conveying the tenderness he felt. Then with practise poise, he greeted the guest you were speaking to. “You should wear your hair down more.” 

You smiled up at him. “Why thank you, Mr. Snow,” if hearing your voice was the reward he got for suffering the others, he’d suffer a thousand lifetimes. “I was just speaking with Mrs. Thornton about how you’re such a charmer.”

“Guilty as charged,” Coriolanus laughed a bit while turning the conversation the the older woman. “How could I not try and charm her when she’s this beautiful?” 

“Oh, young love! I’ll leave you kids alone. Congratulations on your engagement.” 

Coriolanus wanted to snatch you up and take you away from here. This was the part of politics he hated the most. The show of it all. Unfortunately, he was obligated to remain here until the last guest exited the building. His arm tightened around your waist, fingers drumming against your side. 

“How long do you think this will take? I’ve had my fill of pleasantries and if I have to listen to Gaius speak again I might lose it.” His exasperation at events often entertained you.

Your laughter, a melody from the heavens, danced around the air, drowning out the ringing hum of conversation around you both. “Patience, Coriolanus. This whole thing is just for us, so probably be a while before it ends. It’s not like we can sneak away either.” 

“You’re the only reason I tolerate these events, you know,” he whispered in your ear, watching the shiver run down your spine as he did. “Otherwise I’d have no problem avoiding them.” 

“Well now, that doesn’t sound like a man who's excited to get married.” Your eyes met his own.

“To entertain over a hundred people at an engagement party? No, I’m not excited about that. But to get married to you? That’s another thing altogether.”

There was sincerity in his words. As much as he hated the required socialising, he was excited to marry you, to finally have a visible form of ownership of you. The prospect of sharing life with you added to that. He could taste the future on his tongue. One filled with you, laughter, and love. One where the two of you sat upon a gilded throne and ruled over Panem together. 

“Are you excited then? To marry me?” 

Warmth blossomed in his chest as Coriolanus gazed into your eyes. You were letting him see through the cracks and into your anxiety about the situation. You were still worried that he regretted the choice.

“Of course, I’m excited to marry you,” he admitted, voice soft and sincere, twinged with longing. “Who else can I trust to take over Panem with besides you?” 

There was something in your eyes he couldn’t read, a flicker so quick he almost missed it. Something was wrong. 

“First we have to endure this engagement party, don’t we?” you replied, cutting the conversation, while moving the two of you to continue flitting around the room and greeting guests.

It drug on for some time before finally everyone had been ushered into the gardens and the ballroom transformed into a dining experience. Coriolanus was glad, it meant there only be a few more hours until he was finally free from the party. 

The ballroom had been completely transformed in just 15 minutes by the staff. Where there had been ample room for dancing, was now tables filled with placements and decor. The lighting had been lowered, with candles placed on the tables to better illuminate them, creating a romantic and intimate space. He had to admire the efficiency of your family’s staff as another team of them began leading guests to their assigned seats one by one. He, of course, would be at the table at the head of the room, next to yourself, and with both of your families. 

After all the guests had been seated, Mr. Gaul rose and tapped against his champagne flute with a knife. He was well-dressed as usual, this time donning a black suit with white embroidery around the lapels. It was interesting that despite Dr. Gaul’s more prominent status, your father took over the majority of the public-facing events. Acting as her mouthpiece at a lot of them. 

“Welcome, welcome everyone,” he boomed as a hush fell over the room.“I want to thank you all for joining us here tonight in celebration of what is bound to be the most influential wedding the Capitol will see this generation. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my daughter,” he spoke with a sly smile, making the guests chuckle. 

Mr. Gaul paused, taking a sip of champagne, his eyes lingering on Coriolanus.

“Like any father, I had doubts on if Mr. Snow would be good enough to marry my daughter, but my doubts have been laid to rest. I’ve been lucky enough in my life to see love in all sorts of forms, and am glad to see the love shared between him and my daughter.” Coriolanus nodded at him, giving your hand a squeeze on top of the table where they were joined. 

“Before I talk your ears off, my wife has a few things to say.” As your father sat, Dr. Gaul rose. 

“Thank you all again for joining us this evening,” her sing-song tone echoed over the silence. “It truly is remarkable to witness the union between Gaul and Snow, two strong and powerful families coming together not for the sake of Panem, but for the sake of love.” Dr. Gaul's arms were wide as she faced the guests. 

“With their love, I have no doubt this union will create a new era of prosperity and power for Panem,” she continued, resonating with pride. “Coriolanus, my sweet Y/N, you are the future of this nation, and I am confident that your union will lead us into a brighter, more prosperous future.”

The room erupted in applause, whistles and cheerings cutting through. Coriolanus felt drawn closer to you at the moment, your hand in his sending a jolt of electricity across his skin and through his veins. The implications of your marriage were transparent. Once the two of you were wed, even now before that, it was clear that the future of Panem was dependent on the two of you. To the untrained eye it was a beacon of hope, a promise of prosperity, unknowing that Coriolanus and yourself were ruthless. You would rewrite the narrative of Panem, and transform it into something of your choosing. 

Beyond that, it was finally having you to himself. No more barrier between himself and access to you. It was a victory. His gross and sickly feelings of obsession, lust, and love, are being rewarded after months of wanting you. Your attention, your affection, your very being his. You were his prize, his trophy, his ultimate conquest and he’d place you on the highest throne beside his own. 

As the cheering died down, servants came in with trolleys full of food. The air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, succulent meats, and vibrant exotic fruits. All just for the first course, as the guests began engaging in their own conversations, all of them sheep. 

He turned to you, voice low with anticipation, possession threatening to spill. “Soon all of this will be ours. Snow and Gaul leading the nation.”

You turned, facing him, big doe eyes peering up through your lashes. He wanted to make you cry again, watch the tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. It was neither the time nor the place, but he wanted to-- no needed to-- be inside you. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 

“Tonight,” his teeth nipped at the ridge. “We begin our reign. We will conquer Panem, and we will rule it with an iron first.” Coriolanus pulled away, moving to give you a chaste kiss. 

When he kissed you, you didn’t smile into it like you normally did. You were passive, emotionless, simply going through the motions of it. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. What had changed in the short hours he had been apart from you? Why were you suddenly pulling away from him? He wanted to press you about the issue but this wasn’t the time nor the place. 

For the rest of the meal, it was all Coriolanus could think about. Worry builds with every passing minute. The gentle warmth you brought into his life now felt passive, and that passivity unsettled him. Your interactions over the past week replaying in his mind, trying to isolate the moment when the shift occurred. It had to be after you had left his side to get ready tonight. You had gotten ready with Tigris, so she could be the cause, undermining him.

The more he thought about it, the more the problem escalated. What had Tigris said to you? Did something happen while you were getting ready? The questions echo in his skull, overtaking his thoughts. Had it been something he did? Did he say or act out of place? The fear of losing your affection, coupled with the uncertainty of the situation, weighs heavily on his shoulders.  

Maybe you had learned the truth: his feelings for you. You had figured out his feelings and were pulling away to avoid addressing them. He knew that there was a very real chance that you were burdened by that truth. Coriolanus grappled with the fact that his attempts at subtlety had failed, exposing him and making him vulnerable. The fear of rejection, his emotions being laid bare for you only to be met with rejection, making him nauseous. 

When the meal finally ended and guests filtered out, you were missing. You had been by his side most of the night and had only gotten up to see out guests, just like he had. But now you were missing. 

Coriolanus walked the estate looking for you and failing. It was like you had vanished. 

He nearly screamed when Dr. Gaul appeared out of nowhere, startling him. “Looking for something, Mr. Snow?” Her smile is wide and crazed. 

“Yes. I’m looking for Y/N.” 

“How unsurprising. She’s in the greenhouse, and likes the solitude after events.” Just as quickly as she had shown up, she started to leave. “Oh! Don’t forget my warning Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus made his way to the greenhouse, driven by urgency and anxiety. If he could just explain things to you he could resolve the situation and ease his worries. As he entered the building, the smell of damp earth and flowers assaulted his nose, a stark contrast to the rest of the evening. 

There, amidst the foliage of a massive monstera, he found you seated on a stone bench, your shoulders shaking. You were crying. The sight of it stabbed his heart as he hesitated, unsure how to approach you. 

With a deep breath, he spoke, soft and slow, careful to startle you. “Y/N?” He watched you jump, rushing to swipe your eyes as he sat down next to you, your back stiffening.

“Sorry, just overwhelmed.” Your excuse was weak. 

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me.” Coriolanus was not a man who pleaded or begged, but he would be a beggar if it meant calming you. 

“Can I?” You looked so small in this moment, fearful like a child. 

“Of course you can.” 

Instead of soothing you, you only began to cry more. He felt so helpless watching your tears fall. His control and composure crumbled with every tear. The usual confidence he had waning. He wanted to understand the cause of your distress, understand why you had been so different tonight, but the answer felt further away than it did at the start. The need for answers was overshadowed by the need to make you stop crying. 

His hand grabbed your own, running his thumb over the top of it as he often did. “Y/N, I want to help. Please just tell me what’s wrong?” for you it felt normal to beg. 

He wants Coriolanus Snow in this moment, he was just a man, earnest and sincere, watching his lover cry and unable to comfort them. The weight of your sadness pressing against him. All he wanted was to find the right words, the right actions, the right anything, to bring you comfort and make you smile again. 

“I just need to know if this is real. If I’m safe with you. If you don’t view me as another stepping stone. Because I can’t stay here, keep doing this with you, if you don’t feel the same way. It’s eating me alive.” your body wracked with sobs. 

He could only watch. Coriolanus had never seen you so raw and exposed, your shoulders trembling. It was you letting him in, in every sense of the word. This is where he had to put himself on the line. Did he have enough courage to trust love one more time? To be this close? To let you see the most broken and paranoid parts of himself? To lose control?

This is what he had wanted. You broke down and begged him for the truth, your own feelings finally exposed for him. He had wanted you so overwhelmed with your own feelings that they damaged you the way his own did. But not that he got it, had you are your lowest, he hated it. Coriolanus hated seeing you cry because of him. 

The decision was agonising. Fear of failure, fear of being exposed, but more so, the fear of losing you. Sitting here, listening to your choked-up sobs, mascara beginning to stream, beautiful at your lowest. The silver gown that started the change in him.

He had played such a dangerous game; he lost to himself when he started seeing you as a person. You were supposed to be nothing to him, another pawn, a reason for your mother to further his trajectory. How was he supposed to know that you’d be so perfect for him? Your strengths cover his weaknesses and his yours. Genuine connection, not possession. A revelation.

He would starve if he only ever ate on Sundays. He would starve if only had you on Sundays.

With a trembling voice, Coriolanus spoke, a final confession of his own feelings, of his sins. “I only want this with you.” his hands held your face forcing you to lock eyes. His eyes are bare of any calculation and ambition, just the depth of his feelings for you. “I look for you, always, and in everything I see. You’re in the grass, in the trees, in the lab, in everything, you’re everything to me.”

The tears streamed down your face, and he wiped them away. He was crying now. They blurred his vision, but you shone through it all. He kisses you, soft and tender, before continuing. 

“I’m so incredibly flawed.” his voice was thick, the self-doubt that whispered in his ears at night leaking out. “I don’t deserve you, and I could never deserve you.” 

“You’re death and rebirth to me. My reason to forgive, to let someone in. And every time you leave my side it’s like the world around me dims, and nothing shines anymore. It gets harder to breathe.” 

You tore down his defences and stripped him of protection. 

“I told myself I’d never let someone in like this again, to make room in my heart to house your own,” speaking it out loud felt like ripping off a bandaid. 

“But I’ve never felt this way for someone before. You’ve changed me, altered me so deeply that there are parts of you that took over parts of me.”

You had changed him and made him feel compassion and empathy again. The dormant emotions he swore off now are reborn and only for you. Your being had seeped into every aspect of his own, forever informing him of you. At this moment, Coriolanus’ soul naked and in front of you, the final walls came crashing down. 

“I was just so scared to admit it, to give away my final card. To admit that it all has no meaning if you’re not there beside me and that I need you to make it matter. But it’s more than that. I was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way. I can never tell what you’re thinking, never control you like I can others, I just have to trust you.”

It hurt to expose himself. The kind of hurt that felt good. A cut on your hand that you can't stop picking at. A bruise that you prod. When you push yourself hard at the gym and wake up the next morning sore. The dull ache of injury, a reminder that through all the pain, all the suffering, you were still human. He was still human. 

“I love you, Y/N. I have for months.”

His voice trembled, the admission hanging in the damp air. He had never allowed himself to feel love like this before, to surrender so completely to another person. 

“I love you too,” the relief he felt was instant. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, focus on something--anything else. But I realised that I couldn’t marry you without telling you.” 

Coriolanus’ hands cupped your face and he kissed you. Deeply and wholly. His touch was tender, filled with the very depths of his feelings for you, the kind that words could only partially convey. It was more than just a kiss, it was your soul's entwining. The acknowledgement that both of you had toiled over something for so long. There was no urge to control the situation, only to be in the moment with you. 

As you kissed, the greenhouses faded. It was only the two of you, hearts beating in unison. The act dropped, the lines were forgotten, and the actors were just people. The politics were irrelevant. It was just the two of you, as it always should have been.

@serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad @harrysbitvh123 @secretsicanthideanymore @ayyyeeeeidk @hinata7346 @kisstheskin @sumo-b98 @duds31 @mrsjobarnes @whorefortim @joonvrs @sabrinasbd @itsmeduckieee @dangelnleif

[happy-beeeps]

To Build a Home

WC: 4.2k

Pairing: din x reader

Synopsis: You’re on the hunt to make this house on Nevarro a home, but you’re wrestling with feelings of inadequacy in you and Din’s relationship after he adopts Grogu but doesn’t take you as his riduur. Fluffy, emotional hurt comfort, domesticity, slice of life, Din is a fisherman for 30 seconds.

Warnings: none really! Vaguely ooc Din but I think I got it back. Ever since that one episode of The Bad Batch I’ve just been dying to send Din fishing

A/N: HAPPY MAY THE 4TH!!!!

Fun fact, when I started this blog three years ago it was because the Mandalorian had just come out and people had only just started writing Din fic. I was in the trenches with the other mando fic pioneers. Technically this is the same reader as my first ever longfic “I don’t do droids” which I’ve semi abandoned BUT I do plan on making a better spin off version soon! It's not at all necessary to read that to understand the reader’s backstory though!

* * *

You’ve been to markets before. The familiar fast paced environment had always been something of a vice to you when you traveled with Din, the reprieve from being crammed on the crest or a short expedition for something to snack on. Once or twice Din himself had even accompanied you, with the baby wrapped around your chest in a bundle of fabric, his hand interlaced with yours. Now, though, you’re alone for what feels like the first time in years. You’re wandering through the market at a speed so slow it’s almost comical, taking time to touch, to see, to hear.

It’s exhilarating.

Nevarro has grown since you had first been here, and you can’t say it’s been particularly easy for you to return, to immerse yourself in a system that’s caused you so much pain. There are nights you find yourself thrashing at the sheets at the image of Din’s body crumpling under fire as the rest of you were forced down through the halls of the covert, or the ice that filled your veins when you realized your son had been taken. That Nevarro is gone, however, up in ash like the volcanos that dot the landscape of this system. You have a home here, a real house, and you’re determined to make it into something to rid both you and Din of your nightmares.

You left Din and Grogu at the house and took the small speeder he had been restoring for you back to the city center, parking it just outside the bustling square, ready to go if need be. Old habits die hard, you guess. The city itself now brims with life, families duck in and out of each other as they weave through the streets, droids pull carts of fresh produce. It’s all very exciting, very reassuring. 

“Lady Djarin!” A booming voice calls, one that stops the people nearest to you as they part ways to make space for the figure coming through. Greef Karga walks through the parted crowd, offering handshakes and smiles to those he walks past, before coming to stop at you and extending his arm. “Going shopping?”

You blush slightly at the moniker, Din had been clear that you had been made part of his clan and while you were by no means married, you appreciate the sentiment. “You know if I let Din make decisions on the house it’d stay as barren as the day we moved in.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles, escorting you through the streets and alleys. It really is beautiful here, with overflowing greenery practically spilling out of the windows of the residents, flowers of numerous bright colors dotting shopfronts and the hair of those who walk past you. “Have you been to our markets before?”

You glance at him and quirk up an eyebrow.  “Have I ever had much time for shopping when we’ve been on system?”

“You’ve got a fair point.” He leads you farther, until you approach a colorful alley with storefronts boasting fruits, silks, and small goods that stretches farther than you can see. “I recommend the flowers from the Togruta woman halfway down, if you were to pick some up,” and pats your hand before leaving you to your own devices. He knows you well enough at this point to know that you aren’t unable to defend yourself, and that you do occasionally appreciate the rare moments you get away from father and baby.

It’s not that you don’t love them both dearly, you do, so much so that you keenly remember the feeling of bringing a vibroblade up to the chest of Moff Gideon before you were quickly thrown aside. You’ve got the scars to prove it. You adore them. You also needed a moment of peace, to think and feel and make a home out of the house you were so graciously gifted. Besides, you can’t help but feel a little lost in your place in life now, as the dust has settled. Din had clearly adopted Grogu as his son, a fact you really couldn’t be happier about, but where did you land? You had waited with baited breath for him to ask the Armorer to add you to their song, but he hadn’t. Instead the three of you left soon afterwards, planning to meet up at Nevarro after he went to talk to an old friend with the New Republic. You had grown to resent his little two seater N-1, much preferring the space of your trusty fighter.

You walk down the alley, stopping to feel the fabrics and scarves that line the booths. One stall boasts brightly colored blankets, and you rustle through the soft blankets before you find a warm cream color dotted with tiny, multi-colored, embroidered flowers.You hand the shopkeeper the credits, and continue to walk down the street, doing your very best attempt to not buy everything you touch, though you aren’t sure you’ll succeed.

“Fruits! Fresh fruits here!”

“Instruments for the finest songstress!”

“Silks and scarves, keep warm when the sun sets!”

“A treasure for the finest student, primers for language!”

It’s this last seller that stops you in your tracks, reminding you of the reason you first met Din anyways. Sure, your role had grown now, twisted into something beautiful and pure, but aside from being lover, mother, confidant, and pilot, you were at your core, his translator. 

“What languages do you offer?” You say, walking into the old man’s small storefront. It’s cool inside, with walls painted a deep blue with light blue outlines of nearby star systems, like a map projected. He’s got datapads and even a few books of flimsi strewn around, tucked into cupboards, as well as collectibles from systems you could only dream of visiting. 

“What language do you need?” He grins, pulling out a datapad from his pocket and opening a menu that seems to scroll for years. “I offer most standard tongues, as well as a few more useful in the outer rim. You strike me as someone who’s looking for something a bit more unique.”

“I’m a translator by trade,” you say, scrolling through the offerings until you find something that stops you. “Standard is my craft.”

“A scholar then,” he pauses, and takes the datapad away from you. “When was the last time you learned a language for yourself?”

“I learned Kaleesh when I was younger,” you shrug, and the shopkeeper laughs.

“What does a woman like you need a war-tongue for?” “All the best people in my life are fighters.”

“Perhaps the language of a friend then, a spouse?” he offers, and you stop in your aimless wandering around the shop. Of course, how could you have been so stupid.

“I’ll take one basic primer, for a child, and anything you’ve got on Mando’a.”

Your arms are beginning to tire from the amount of things you’ve picked up: you’ve got toys for Grogu, fruits and vegetables, some meat for dinner, the blanket, your downloads, a few silks to hang for drapery, seeds, and a rug that’s set to be delivered in a rotation. You’re about to turn back, content with the amount of credits you’ve ran through in a day when you notice her, the Togruta woman and her flower stand. She’s inarguably stunning, with wide eyes and lekkuu that stretch down her chest, her markings intricate and carved down her face in an eye-catching way. 

“Hi,” you begin as you walk up to her, she’s pruning a bright orange flower now, and she glances up from her work to offer you a smile. “Your flowers come highly recommended by magistrate Karga.”

She scoffs and sets her flower down, offering you a worn hand to shake. “I’m Obesha.” She gestures to the blooms bursting from her cart. “What are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m relatively new in town, me and my,” you struggle to find the word. Din isn’t your spouse, but he’s more than your boyfriend. Frankly, lover feels a little too intimate for this woman you just met. “Companion and our child just settled outside town and I’m looking for something to brighten up our home.”

Obesha grins, before plucking a variety of blue, yellow, and white flowers carefully, tucking in pieces of greenery amongst them. “Turning a house into a home is one of the most challenging, yet rewarding things a being can do.” She gingerly plucks at the leaves, pruning it to perfection, before wrapping the bouquet up in a light gray cloth, which for some unbeknownst reason feels softer than anything you’ve felt before.

“What is this?”

She hums and turns back into her shop, coming out with a larger swatch of fabric, this one decorated with finely worked sheer lace, dyed the same blue-gray as the fabric on the outside of the bouquet. “It’s custom in my village to wear these for special occasions,” she pulls the wrap up to model it on herself, and you’re struck by the way the light filters through the lace. “It’s deceivingly warm and very beautiful.” She folds it up into a small square before handing it to you, “consider it a housewarming gift.”

Your mouth falls open as you struggle to reach into your bag for the credits. “Please, let me pay you, I have the money.”

She extends a hand forward to hush you, then gestures back down the alley. “Pay me back by letting me know what your family thinks of my arrangement.”

* * *

You’re distracted your whole ride back, which you admit probably isn’t the best thing for you to be as you navigate the desert. It’s not a particularly long ride to your home, which you’re grateful for, and you smile as the familiar form of the ships parked outside the small cabin beacon you in. Din and Grogu must not be home, considering he usually rushes to you to take anything you’re carrying and you can typically hear Grogu’s coos before you see him. It isn’t a surprise then, when you walk in to find the house empty, and notice the small message flashing on the datapad he’s left behind.

Gone fishing just down the springs.-D

It’s a habit he’s picked up after the brief time the two of you spent apart, when Grogu went to live with the Jedi and Din went off on his own. He came back to you quickly, finding you easily while you worked as a translator on Tatooine, with the daimyo you and Din had gotten to know very well. He never left without a message again once he had you back, and you smile as you swipe the note away.

“Time to organize!” you clap to no one in particular, and begin setting things up around the home. You tuck the new blanket in along you and Din’s bed (a concept that still feels so foreign after the places you’ve been sleeping recently) and the toys on a shelf in the small room you’ve begun calling Grogu’s nursery. The rest is relatively simple, tucking fabrics along windows and placing fruits in the kitchen. You put the bouquet down in the middle of the small table, and are sure to add fresh water to the vase. It’s really coming together, you have to say. The cabin isn’t particularly large, the majority of the house consisting of one large room that works as kitchen, living, and sleeping space (which you’ve done your best to section off,) a small ‘fresher off towards the back, and the small room you and Din have given to Grogu. It’s perfect for your little clan of three, and you don’t find yourself wishing for more from the space, settling down on the couch and digging into the Mandalorian language pages on your datapad.

You aren’t sure how long has passed when your legs want for movement, and you set the datapad down and opt to go find your fishermen. It’s still blazingly hot on the surface, so you forgo the small shawl and walk towards the direction of the springs. You and Din had both dipped in them on your first night here before you realized the springs died off into a small, cooler pond a short walk away. There, Karga had explained, there was a thriving population of fish and other reptiles that were open for fishing. 

You spot them before they spot you, Din’s shiny helmet reflecting in your direction. It’s another thing that’s had your gut twisted in on itself. You’ve seen Din’s face, the day Grogu left you had seen it. In that moment you had fallen deeper in love than you realized even possible. You were absolutely supportive of him and frankly, you were elated he’d been able to be welcomed back into his covert, but you couldn’t help but feel like an absolutely terrible person for it. Honestly, you hadn’t expected this move to domesticity to churn up so many emotions for you, particularly when this is the thing you’ve basically been dreaming of since the two of you first kissed.

Now, he’s perched on a rock, pole in hand, while Grogu sits on his knee, eyes fixed on the pond. You walk up quietly behind him but years of experience have him turning his head to spot you walking. Grogu turns too, and you can swear he gurgles out something to the effect of “buir!” as he bounces up and down on his father’s knee. You move in to scooch beside Din, who happily makes room for you, as you run a hand down the side of his helmet.

“Hi,” you breathe, and his hand, not on the pole, moves to find your fingers.

“Hi.” He murmurs back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I got some things for the house,” you lean over to scratch Grogu’s ears, “Got some stuff for bug and some food for dinner.”

“Can I cook for you?”

Your cheeks bloom at the words, “Sure, I’ve never had your cooking.”

“Never really had the space to do it,” he shrugs, “but I do now.”

You settle into a comfortable silence after this, and he sets Grogu down to splash in the edge of the pond and rests the fishing pole on the side of the rock. With his hands free, he heaves you up onto his lap and slides his arms around your waist. “Did you get anything for yourself?”

“One or two things,” you wave a hand in the air, “got a language learner for Grogu, thought we could try and teach him basic.”

“Please, as if we need to give him more ways to say ‘No’” He groans, but you can tell from the shake of his shoulders that he’s laughing, and he pulls you in closer to his chest. “We haven’t caught anything all day.”

“Mmm… so he clearly doesn’t get his patience from his father.”

“No, he gets it from his mother.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. Sure, you know you’re his mother, but hearing those words, after the adoption, it floods you with a warmth that has you wishing you could just kiss him right now.

“Cyare,” he starts, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, but is disrupted by the sound of violent splashing. You both jump up just to see Grogu standing at the edge of the pond, fish in hand. 

“I guess only one of you had trouble today,” you nudged him playfully before going to scoop up the baby, while he dropped the fish in the pond.

It’s been dangerously quiet inside the house, and you’ve been relegated to sit out on the small bench on the front porch. You appreciate Din cooking but the simple fact that you aren’t entirely sure he knows how to cook slipped your mind when you agreed. Now, you try not to think about that fact, and dedicate yourself to the datapad in your lap. You’ve seen some familiar words, buir and cyare, even the diminutives Din calls you late at night, cyar’ika and mesh’la.  You’ve always wanted to pick up his mother tongue, and you want to kick yourself for not doing it sooner. Now, you’re devouring it, trying to learn it all. It’s a rich language, more complex than most you’ve learned. You’re so wrapped up in your reading that when Din opens the front door you jump, and he leans forward to grab your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

“I think it’s done?”

“You aren’t inspiring a lot of confidence here,” you laugh as you walk inside, sitting down at the table next to Grogu. Din brings over the pot and you peer in. He’s done what looks to be a solid job, the vegetables are chopped a little more rough than you could’ve done, and you can tell the meat is slightly overdone, but considering it comes from him, you spoon it onto your plate like it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten. You pour some out in front of Grogu and you feel Din’s eyes practically burn holes in your head.

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you like it.” He’s so quiet, the voice sounding almost shy. You reach over and place a hand atop his. 

“There isn’t a universe where you make something I don’t love.”

You both begin eating in silence, (his use of seasoning is surprisingly impeccable, and the meat is only a touch rough) when he starts up again. “The flowers are a nice touch, and the drapes.”

“Thank you,” you blush. “I just wanted to warm it up here.”

“Maker knows I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re lucky to have you.” He reaches over and taps you on the chin before turning his attention to Grogu, running a rag on the table across his mouth as he manages to smear every bite of food across his face.

After dinner, the two of you work to clean the kitchen while Grogu plays with one of the new toys you brought for him in the living room. You and Din are chatting, about nothing, about everything, when the warmth of the moment hits you, and you lean your head on his shoulder. He’s since dressed down to just his helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin radiate beneath his shirt. “This is nice.”

“What, dishes?” he laughs, but you can feel his arm snake loosely around your hips as he sets the last plate down.

“Just, this” you gesture to the house, to the pile of dishes, to Grogu playing, “it’s nice to have a home.”

“I already had a home,” he pulls you in closer, you can smell the sweat of the day and his spiced aftershave from where your head falls on his chest. “When Grogu falls asleep, I want to take you somewhere.” He pushes his forehead on yours, before moving to sit on the floor with Grogu, leaving you standing in the kitchen, grinning like an idiot at the scene before you. This is your family, your clan. Husband or not, Din is the love of your life, you’ve lost him and the baby once and you don’t intend to do it again. You set down the cleaning rag and join the two of them on the floor, happy to oblige in whatever game Grogu is playing.

* * *

“Where’d you get that?” Din asks as he leads you down the rocky sides of the springs.

“The florist, it’s shockingly warm.” You pull the shawl tighter around your form and Din stops suddenly. You're back at the pond from earlier only now it looks different. There’s a small blanket strewn across the rock you had sat on earlier, and he scrambles to light a few assorted candles that litter the ground. Even the scenery appears to have changed, as tiny yellow lights dot the air.

“They’re actually tiny lifeforms,” he says, gesturing to the yellow dots, “Karga told me they come out at night over here.”

“It’s beautiful, how come we haven’t been here yet?”

“Just waiting for a good time to get you alone.” He pulls you closer to the rock and the two of you sit down, your back pressed to his chest as you watch the sky turn a deep purple color as the yellow lights dance in the sky. You sit like that in silence for a moment longer when his voice comes out, rumbling and warm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, why?” You sputter, and you want to smack yourself for how incriminating that sounds.

“You’re hiding it, and hiding it well. But something’s wrong,” his voice comes low to your ear now, still modulated and heavy but him. “What I don’t know is why you won’t tell me.”

“I’m… It’s really not a big deal.”

“Can I guess?”

“If you want.”

“Well,” he breathes in, like he’s holding his breath, “I commed Bo.”

You whip your head around at that. He must have been really concerned to enlist the help of one of your favorite Mandalorians.

“Oh? What did Bo say?” “That I’m a nerf herder.”

You snort at that and settle into his chest again. “Sounds like Bo.”

His hands come up to turn you towards him, and he pulls your legs so you're facing him, your legs wrapping around his waist. You’re close like this, if you leaned forward you could rest your forehead against his. “You doubt me, what I feel for you.”

“That’s not really the way I would put it,” you murmur, and he closes the gap for you, bringing his helmet to your head. “I just was worried… that I wasn’t a part of your clan. You’ve adopted Grogu, and that makes you his father. But I’m just-”

“His mother. Cyar’ika, I haven’t been fair with you.” His hands move to press small circles into your back. “I shouldn’t have let you feel doubt in me, in our clan. You are to Grogu as I am. You’re my-”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you breathe, and it’s your turn to cut him off, whispering the sweet words to him in the echo of the world. You can hear his breath hitch as he grabs you tighter. “I’ve been practicing all day.”

“You don’t need to speak my language to be a part of me. You already have been for longer than I can say,” he murmurs, and his hand goes to the back of your head. “Gar solus ner aliit, gar solus but buir.”

It takes you a moment to catch up with the translations, the sweet words he’s whispering, and Din uses this moment of thinking to bring both his hands up to his helmet, disengage the locking mechanism, and pull it off, resting it on the rock beside him.

“Din!” you shout, and smack your hands over your eyes, but he’s faster than you and catches your wrists in your hands. 

“Look at me mesh’la.” And you do, you drink him in with everything you have, bringing your hands to trace his lips, his nose, eyes refusing to leave his. “I finally have something to offer you.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you swear you’ve died. That must be the case. You’ve simply ascended into the great beyond. “I didn’t add you to the song on Mandalore because I wanted to have something to give you, something to promise you forever.”

You look past his shoulder to the silhouette of the cabin. “Our house.”

“Our home.” He holds your cheeks in his hands, and you can tell he’s been as starved of this as you have. “You’ve made it a home.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, and you’re devouring him like you’ve been starved. Sure, you’ve kissed him since he put his helmet back on, but the weight of all of this, of his helmet being gone, of you seeing him again, it’s like the first time all over again.

“Din, your creed.” You murmur between kisses.

“Save me the trip back to Mandalore and marry me then.”

You pull back, searching his eyes for any joke, and you want to cry when there isn’t one.

“I told you, when I had something to offer you.”

You’re laughing and crying now as he fiddles with the lace hem of your shawl before delicately draping it across your head. “My riduur.”

Even with your expert knowledge of linguistics, the vows are clunky and foreign in your mouth, but with Din smiling at you, you have no complaints. He scoops you and his helmet up almost immediately, walking you back into the cabin and tossing you onto the bed. He breaks from your gaze for just a minute to go into the nursery and emerges with a sleepy-eyed Grogu.

“Hi baby,” you croon as Din places him on the bed and he waddles towards you.

“He loves his buir” Din whispers as he falls into bed beside you. The little green cover stealer is quick to settle between you and his dad, his hands reaching out to press on both of your foreheads. You look over at Din, whose eyes are once again finding yours.

“Welcome home.” He whispers.

You mean to tell him that you love him, that you’re happy to be married to him, but sleep 

finds you first. Not that it matters. 

He already knows.

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

Witchcraft when plural, so far

SO because I'm procrastinating doing our intro post again, let's talk about plurality and witchcraft!

When we first realized we were plural, which to be clear is very recent, we dropped our practice entirely. Not out of lack of love for it, but out of overwhelm. We've barely spoken to our guides/deities since syscovery. (Which is what people tend to call discovering your system, which I love. It's a fun word.) We went from chatting with our deities often and being confident in our ability to "hear" them to not talking to them at all because we were so overwhelmed. We had to rework how we thought of ourselves completely, and really had to rework how we thought in general completely. It went from "Sometimes my thoughts act on their own, but they're still my own" to "Oh, fuck, that's other dudes in here???" (surprise!)

We still have no idea what in our practice "belongs" to who. The way our collective works is that we share one memory, albeit a bit messily. We dissociated from our identities as individuals to fit under one overarching identity- every trait was assigned to Frog. This means that everything in our practice right now is up in the air. Is it shared? Is it meant to be divided up? No idea! We're learning^^ So far Apollo and Loki are definitely on board with being worked with collective-wide. Apollo helps us take care of our body, and Loki is nothing if not versatile.

But now the fun part: What we're doing now. We've slowly but surely begun untangling things. We have specific goals for our practices as individuals. Malaika and Crow (yes, like the bird,) are planning on getting into making things we can wear! Crow plans on crocheting and seeing if eventually he can turns that into spellwork. Malaika wants to get into sewing + fabric painting, which we also would like to learn collectively, and she has an idea for sigil jeans she wants to make. This is both to help us express individuality by making things we can wear that look like us and to further our practices.

I think Frog still eventually plans on continuing his work around writing as witchcraft. We're collectively learning to listen to our deities again, and it feels much easier now that we're not dissociating from ourselves all the time. I was able (thanks to that person who got a reading, which thank you if you happen to read this) to get my own tarot deck. While technically it will be shared, it will primarily be mine. Having something that we specifically own is such a big deal to each of us. Which is part of why we're getting into art and crafting, and hoping to do spellwork in that form too! Oh, and those of us who are fictives/sourced in some way are beginning to look into ways to incorporate our sources into our practice. Crow has an altar in the works for a deity from his source he's close to, Malaika is a typical "fantasy witch" so her practice is taking a flashier tone, etc. etc.

This is a huge ramble, but I just... felt like it was a good idea to post. It has no real point, other than to put our experiences as a plural collective relearning witchcraft post-syscovery out there. We have so much hope for our future that we've never had before. We our ourselves now, and we know our practice will expand accordingly.

-Rayne

[mogai-headcanons]

May i ask, why do you support endo-systems? (Coming from someone with did themself)

i've talked about this before (can't remember which blog it was on) but can't find it so i'll just run down my reasons again:

above all else, i do not have the right to tell anyone what is actually going on in their own brain. the only time that might be acceptable would be if i was a doctor treating them for a psychological issue, and even then, it's not often a good idea to outright tell someone that their brain is Wrong. this applies both to fakeclaiming endogenic systems and to telling them that they're actually traumagenic but have repressed their trauma; neither is good form.

secondly above all else, we NEED to have solidarity among plural folks. this is coming from a psychology major and a system — there is a large number of psychology practitioners and researchers who straight up do not believe plurality exists in any form. there is also a large number of them who believe systems are far rarer than current diagnoses show, and therefore most diagnosed and suspected systems are not real. i have had to write an essay on why did is fake for a grade before. there are extremely prominent psychologists (ex: allen frances, the literal chair of the team who developed the dsm-iv) who believe did is a fad (allen frances has stated that he wanted to outright remove it from the dsm-iv). if we are fakeclaiming each other in our community, this only makes us more susceptible to the people who want plurality to be seen as entirely fabricated.

on that point, we also need to have solidarity against non-psychologist singlets who fakeclaim systems. things like the r/fakedisordercringe subreddit can be legitimately damaging to the people who are posted, scrutinized, and ridiculed, and we should be protecting each other from that, not shoving endogenic systems into the line of fire.

there is scientific evidence of non-traumagenic and non-disordered plurality (there are some interesting studies linked on this page), especially in spiritual communities.

though not all endogenic systems are disordered, they Can be; having experienced trauma is not a diagnostic criteria for did or osdd-1 in the dsm-5 tr or the icd-11. though it's obviously highly common for did/osdd systems to have experienced trauma, a non-insignificant portion of diagnosed disordered systems (something like 4% iirc) are not traumatized.

to go with the above point, many endogenic systems don't claim to have a dissociative disorder or that their system is disordered. if you're worried about people 'appropriating' or 'faking' your disorder, they largely are not, since plurality can and does exist outside of disorders.

as a traumagenic system, i feel unwelcome and threatened by anti-endogenic folks. i've been fakeclaimed by anti-endos before, either because they mistook me for an endogenic system since i support them or because they decided the behaviors i perform on the internet are evidence i'm faking. i'm not the only traumagenic system this has happened to.

i think that's the main points, i may have more idk