#and now of course the sun sets much later so it’s harder if I don’t want to be out of the house forever

[fulokis]

I miss being able to sit outside and look at the stars

[hummingbird24220]

Bite by Bite | One Piece x Reade

One Piece x Reader (Hints more towards Sanji x Reader)

TW: Emotional/Physical abuse mentioned, eating disorder, puking hinted at.

—-------------------------------

The scent of freshly cooked food drifted through the air, savory and rich, curling from the galley like invisible fingers. It was mouthwatering, the kind of smell that could make anyone's stomach growl. Yours didn't. It twisted.

You stood at the edge of the deck, fingers wrapped tight around the wooden railing of the Thousand Sunny. The sea sparkled below like it didn’t know how cruel life could be. You almost envied it.

Behind you, footsteps approached—light and carefree.

"Meal time!" Luffy’s voice was unmistakable, bright as the sun. “Sanji made a mountain of food, c’mon!��

You forced a smile and turned to face him. “Yeah! I’ll be right there,” you said, injecting some fake excitement into your tone.

Luffy beamed and bounded off without a second thought, yelling for the others. You stood there a moment longer, inhaling deeply through your nose, then exhaling slow. Okay. You can do this.

The dining room was loud. Chatter bounced from wall to wall—Zoro snarking at Usopp, Nami rolling her eyes, Chopper giggling. Sanji set down a plate in front of you with a flourish.

“For you, mon chéri,” he said with a wink.

You nodded stiffly. “Thanks.”

It looked good. Smelled incredible. You picked up your fork and stared at the food like it had insulted you personally. Everyone was busy, no one looking directly at you. That helped.

You cut a small piece. Just a bite. Just one. Then you can relax. You slid the food into your mouth and chewed, slow, deliberate, like you were trying not to wake a sleeping beast in your chest.

“Not hungry?” Robin’s gentle voice cut through the noise.

You blinked, hand frozen mid-move.

“Oh—uh, no, I am. Just eating slow today.” You smiled too wide. “Trying to savor it.”

She tilted her head, dark eyes unreadable. “That’s wise.” She didn’t push. She never did.

But the weight of that one glance lingered.

You managed to get through half the plate, then tapped your fork against the edge like you were finished. No one noticed, except Sanji—of course he noticed.

He frowned subtly but didn’t say anything. You were thankful for that.

You excused yourself early, claiming you were tired. Once in the bathroom, you braced your hands against the sink, breathing hard.

Sometimes it was easier to just not eat. At least then, you didn’t feel the war happening in your gut—guilt, fear, the echo of words that still rattled around your head from childhood.

"You don't deserve that." "Stop eating like a pig." "You're just being dramatic."

You splashed water on your face, cold and sharp. A reset.

You weren’t in that house anymore. You were on a ship with people who laughed with their whole hearts, who fought for each other like it was breathing, who welcomed you like you were someone worth knowing.

Still. The habits clung like barnacles.

Later that night, you sat on the deck alone again, knees tucked to your chest. The stars scattered across the sky like spilled sugar.

You didn’t hear Zoro approach. He leaned against the railing beside you, arms crossed.

“You didn’t eat much,” he said without looking at you.

You winced. “Noticed that, huh?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

You glanced over, expecting judgment. There was none—just quiet observation.

You sighed, head resting on your arms. “It’s... complicated.”

“Life usually is.” He paused. “You don’t have to explain. But we notice. We care.”

Those two words—we care—struck harder than you expected.

You nodded slowly. “Thanks.”

Zoro looked at you again. “Just don’t starve yourself, okay? You’re part of the crew now.”

And somehow, that meant everything.

—----

The Sunny rocked gently beneath you, the sound of waves like a lullaby for the heart. But even with the ocean’s calm, your mind was far from quiet. Sleep didn’t come easy on nights like this—not when your chest felt heavy, not when the past clawed its way to the surface.

You sat on the observation deck wrapped in a blanket, knees hugged close, watching the stars again. They were a strange comfort. Distant. Untouchable. Safe.

Chopper had given you a mug of warm tea earlier, pressed it into your hands with a sleepy smile. “You don’t have to drink it if you’re not feeling good. Just... I dunno. Thought it might help.” He scurried off before you could say much, his little hooves clacking against the wood.

He always knew when you weren’t okay. They all were starting to figure you out, piece by piece.

You took a sip. Warmth spread through your hands, but your chest still ached. And then—without meaning to—you let the memories come.

You were little again.

Your legs stuck out from the kitchen chair, socks mismatched, face sticky with jam. Your mom leaned over the stove humming a soft tune, flipping something on the skillet with practiced grace.

“There’s my sweet dumpling,” she cooed, turning around and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You excited for pancakes today?”

You nodded enthusiastically, chubby cheeks puffed with excitement. Your mom made the best pancakes—soft and golden, with just the right amount of vanilla in the batter.

She reminded you a little of Sanji, now that you thought about it. The way she cooked like it was a love language. The way she fed people to show she cared. The way she made you feel like you mattered… at least, when it was just the two of you.

But then the door slammed.

Your little body flinched automatically, fingers tightening around the table edge.

He was home.

Your dad’s voice was gruff and loud, already irritated. “What the hell are you feeding her now?”

“She’s just a kid,” your mom said gently, but firm. “She’s hungry. Let her eat.”

“She’s always hungry,” he spat. His eyes landed on you like you were something offensive. “Look at her. No self-control. No wonder she’s so fat.”

The words hit harder than a slap.

You shrank in your seat, appetite gone instantly. Tears burned your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You knew better. Crying just made it worse.

“She’s beautiful,” your mother said, tone tight. “And strong.”

“She’s weak,” he growled. “And disgusting.”

You barely tasted the pancakes after that. And from then on… you started pushing food around more than eating it.

The wind picked up, tugging at your blanket as your eyes blinked back to the present.

The tea had gone lukewarm. You hadn’t even realized you were crying.

A soft thud behind you startled you. You wiped your face quickly and turned to find Sanji standing there, hands in his pockets, a cigarette between his fingers. He didn't look surprised to see you here. Maybe he'd been watching from the shadows a while.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low.

You shook your head. “Too many thoughts.”

He took a drag from his cigarette, then let it trail out into the night air. “Want company?”

You hesitated, then nodded.

He sat beside you, close enough to feel his warmth. Neither of you spoke for a bit, just listening to the creaking of the ship, the waves lapping at the hull.

“You ever had someone tell you eating made you unlovable?” you asked suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

Sanji didn’t answer right away. He set the cigarette down in the little tray beside him and looked straight ahead.

“Not exactly,” he said. “But… I was starved. Literally. There were days where the hunger made me hallucinate. I thought if I didn’t eat, I’d disappear.”

You turned toward him slowly.

“I guess we’ve both had food turned into a weapon,” he added softly. “But I got lucky. Zeff… he saved me. Taught me that cooking could be kindness. That feeding someone is like saying ‘I want you to live.’”

You swallowed hard.

“I had a mom,” you whispered. “She was like that. She made everything with love. Pancakes, soup, even sandwiches. But my dad…”

Sanji waited.

“…He made me feel like eating made me disgusting. Like my body made me unworthy of love.”

Sanji’s jaw tightened. His voice was calm, but his eyes burned. “He was wrong.”

You looked down, fingers tightening around your mug.

“Can’t seem to unlearn it,” you admitted. “Even when I want to eat… I can’t always finish. Or I feel sick after. Or I punish myself later.”

Sanji shifted, turning toward you. “You don’t have to unlearn it alone.”

You blinked.

“I’ll cook for you,” he said. “Not to make you eat. But to remind you you’re allowed to. You don’t have to earn it. You’re already worth it.”

The tears came again, this time without shame.

Sanji smiled softly and nudged the mug in your hands. “Start with tea. One sip at a time. Bite by bite.”

And so, under the stars and beside the ship’s cook, you took another sip of the tea.

Warm. Real. Safe.

—----

The scent of breakfast filled the galley again, just like every morning. Warm, rich, comforting. Today it was egg sandwiches, seared potatoes, and a side of something sweet you couldn’t quite name—but it smelled like cinnamon and safety.

You sat at the table with the others, hands folded politely, eyes locked on your plate.

They didn’t rush you. Not a single one.

Luffy was elbow-deep in his fourth sandwich, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. Nami was sipping coffee and scanning the latest map updates. Usopp and Franky were arguing over who could eat more, Chopper giggling at their antics. Robin offered you a quiet smile now and then, her eyes kind and patient.

And Sanji? He didn’t even look at you after placing your plate down. Just hummed to himself at the stove, but you noticed the toast was cut in perfect triangles, the food arranged just the way you liked.

You were trying. Really.

You managed a bite. Chewed it. Swallowed. The taste was good. Really good. But your chest still squeezed a little, like eating was something you had to survive, not enjoy.

That’s when Chopper spoke, his voice unusually serious.

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked and looked up. Everyone else quieted. Even Luffy paused mid-bite.

Your heart skipped. “Sure?”

Chopper twiddled his hooves nervously. “I don’t mean to upset you… I’ve just… We’ve all noticed that… you don’t eat much. Or sometimes you eat and then disappear for a long time after. And I’m a doctor, and I—I’m supposed to notice these things, but more than that—we’re your friends. We’re worried.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, big eyes wide with honest concern.

No one laughed. No one rolled their eyes.

They all just looked at you with the kind of care that made your throat close up.

You set your fork down slowly.

“It’s not about your cooking,” you said first, glancing at Sanji.

“I know,” he said quietly. No ego. Just truth.

You looked at Chopper, then the rest of them. “I… I had a dad who made food feel like punishment.”

They all stilled.

“I was a chubby kid. Always hungry, always happy to be in the kitchen with my mom. She loved feeding people. She was like Sanji—she made food with love, made it feel like a hug.” You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But my dad... he hated how I looked. He’d mock me, insult me in front of everyone. Call me names. Sometimes he’d take my plate away and tell me I didn’t deserve it.”

Robin’s hands folded gently in front of her. Nami’s face had gone pale. Luffy frowned—an expression that, on him, meant real anger.

You kept going, even though your voice cracked.

“I started… hating food. Then hating myself for wanting it. I’d try to eat, and then feel disgusting after. I still do, sometimes. I know it’s not rational, but those words—they stick. Even now, when I’m safe. When I know no one here would ever hurt me like that.”

Your hands trembled in your lap.

Chopper crawled up beside you without hesitation and took your hand in his small hoof.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered. “And I’m really glad you told us.”

“I didn’t want to make it awkward,” you said, a shaky laugh escaping. “Didn’t want to ruin mealtime.”

“You didn’t,” Nami said, voice soft but strong. “You being here with us—that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t care if you eat slow,” Luffy added. “Or even if you just want to sit with us. I like having you here.”

Zoro gave a grunt that meant agreement. Usopp nodded with a tiny smile.

Sanji finally turned around, leaning on the counter. “What they said. I’ll always cook for you. Even if it’s just a bite. Even if you just look at it.”

Tears fell silently down your cheeks, but this time… they didn’t burn. They felt like release.

Robin passed you a handkerchief with a small smile. “Progress isn’t always a straight line.”

You wiped your face and picked up your fork again. This time, when you took another bite, your hands didn’t shake as much.

You weren’t alone anymore. And here—on this ship, with this crew—you had a seat at the table.

Always.

—---

It started with something small.

A sliced apple.

You found it on the edge of the counter that morning, already peeled and cut into neat, perfect little wedges, with a tiny skewer shaped like a dolphin stuck in the center. No note. No big deal. Just there.

You almost didn’t touch it.

But your stomach gave a quiet nudge, and your heart whispered try, so you did. One piece. Then another.

You didn’t finish the whole thing, but that wasn’t the point.

Later that day, Luffy came bounding past you on the deck, yelling something about meat and fishing and adventure. He skidded to a stop when he saw you sitting with a book in your lap.

“Hey! Want to come with me? I’m fishing!” he grinned, eyes sparkling.

You hesitated. “Uh… I don’t really fish.”

“Cool,” he said, already grabbing your wrist, pulling you along. “You don’t have to. Just hang out.”

You expected him to chatter the whole time. But instead, he sat on the edge of the ship with his fishing pole, legs swinging off the side, and just existed next to you. Quiet. Peaceful.

You didn’t say anything either. Just watched the water. At some point, he passed you a small, wrapped rice ball from his pocket with a shrug.

“Sanji made extras.”

You held it for a moment.

“You don’t have to eat it now,” Luffy said simply. “Or ever. It’s just there.”

You didn’t eat it right away. But you kept it with you. That felt like something.

In the afternoon, Nami called you to help her organize the pantry.

It was cramped and warm, and there were a hundred jars of dried herbs and spices you didn’t know the names of.

“I figured you might want to help with something to distract you a bit,” she said offhandedly, balancing a box on her hip.

You paused. “You’re subtle.”

She smirked. “I’m effective.”

She didn’t talk about your eating. Didn’t ask how you were doing. But she handed you little tasks, gave you praise when you got something right, and let you take breaks when you needed to. It felt… normal. Easy.

At one point, she nudged a small jar toward you and said, “Smell this. It always makes me hungry.”

You sniffed the spice and wrinkled your nose. “Smells like Christmas.”

“Exactly,” she said with a little grin. “Even smells can heal.”

Zoro didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at you when you sat near him later during his training session.

But he shifted his position slightly, just enough to let you sit where the wind would hit your face. It was cooler there. Quieter.

And when he finished his sets, he offered you his water bottle without a word. You took it. Drank a few sips.

He nodded, like that meant something.

And maybe it did.

That evening, you were sitting at the table again. The galley smelled amazing, like roasted vegetables and seasoned meat, with hints of lemon and garlic.

Sanji set a plate in front of you. But this time, it was smaller than the others. The portions were perfectly bite-sized, simple, not too much.

You looked up.

His expression was calm. “I figured we’d try something new,” he said lightly. “You finish that, I’ll make you dessert.”

You smiled. “That’s cheating.”

He gave a wink. “Only if it works.”

You ate slowly. And yeah—you finished the plate. Every bite. Not because you forced yourself.

But because you wanted to.

That night, tucked into your hammock, you stared at the ceiling and thought about all the little things. The apple. The rice ball. The wind. The spice jar. The smaller plate.

They hadn’t made a big deal out of anything.

They didn’t hover. Didn’t pressure.

They just adjusted.

To you.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt something bloom in your chest that wasn’t fear or guilt or self-hatred.

It was something soft.

It was something safe.

Maybe even… healing.

—-

You didn’t sleep much that night.

Not because of anxiety this time—but because your mind wouldn’t stop racing. A restless, buzzing kind of energy had taken hold. Not dread. Something else. Something like... purpose.

They’d given so much without asking for anything in return. A gentle silence. A smaller plate. A seat at the table. Space to breathe.

And you wanted to say thank you.

But words never felt like enough.

So you crept into the galley before sunrise, the ship still wrapped in a hush, the sky outside soft and pink with early light. Sanji would usually be in here by now, but he’d had a late night fixing up extra preserves for Nami. You had a window.

And you had a plan.

You started with what you knew.

Your mom’s pancake recipe—light, fluffy, with a hint of vanilla and orange zest. You used the griddle with care, browning the edges just right, flipping with the same kind of love you’d watched your mother pour into every meal she made.

Then came roasted vegetables, seasoned with cracked pepper, thyme, and a drizzle of olive oil. Fresh fruit, sliced neatly and chilled. You even made a honey-sweet sauce for dipping.

And finally, a savory frittata packed with herbs and cheese, because Sanji once said breakfast should feel like a gift.

You wiped your hands on your apron and took a long breath. The kitchen was warm. You hadn’t felt this alive in years.

When Sanji walked in, he froze in the doorway.

The galley smelled like a dream. His cigarette drooped slightly from his mouth.

“What the—?” he blinked, stepping closer. “Did you—?”

“Yeah,” you said, nerves starting to rise. “I just—thought maybe… I could cook. Just once. As a thank you. For everything.”

Sanji looked like he was trying not to cry. Or explode from pride.

“Well, damn,” he murmured, eyes scanning the table. “Looks like I’ve got competition.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I know it’s your domain. I hope that’s okay.”

He grinned and clapped a hand to your shoulder. “You’re part of this crew. You can set the kitchen on fire and I’d still say thank you for trying.” He paused. “But this—this is art.”

By the time the rest of the crew rolled in—some sleepy-eyed, some hungry and loud—the galley had been transformed.

Luffy paused in the doorway, nose twitching, eyes wide. “Whaaaat is that smell?!”

“Breakfast,” Sanji announced proudly. “Courtesy of our brilliant chef-for-the-day.”

You stood there awkwardly as they all looked at you, faces lighting up with surprise and curiosity.

“You made all this?” Chopper squeaked.

You nodded, suddenly shy. “I… wanted to thank you. For being patient with me. For not pushing. For just… being kind.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, already sitting down. “Well, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Usopp said, piling fruit on his plate.

Nami popped a slice of frittata in her mouth and made an impressed sound. “Okay, what the hell. This is better than half the cafés I’ve been to.”

Luffy stuffed three pancakes into his mouth and tried to say something, which you think was “You’re amazing,” but it came out as muffled chaos.

Robin, sitting quietly, took one bite and smiled like she’d just read her favorite line in a book. “Delicious. And filled with care.”

Your chest warmed.

You watched them eat—not with dread, not with envy—but with pride. You fed them. You made something. You gave back.

It felt like reclaiming something stolen from you.

Sanji leaned beside you as the crew kept eating, elbow resting on the counter.

“So…” he said, voice low. “Feel good?”

You looked around the room—at laughter, and crumbs, and second helpings—and smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It feels like love.”

He gave a soft hum. “That’s what food is, when it’s done right.”

And for the first time in a long, long time, you believed that.

[oscquinn]

DAY ONE → apocalypse, lip gallagher

TAGS & WARNINGS → honestly not much, js mentions of an apocalyptic society. otherwise fluffy!

WC → 662

you’d never thought you would live to see the day that life as you knew it fell to ruin. it happened quicker than you could’ve ever imagined. one day you were nineteen, smoking a joint out the gallagher boys’ bedroom window, swapping kisses with lip while ian rolled his eyes, and carl tried to steal the goods right out of your hand. then suddenly your family was gone, the city wasn’t safe anymore—not that it ever had been, but it was much worse now—and you were piling into a van with all seven gallaghers, your eyes set on the safety you’d heard of in more rural, southern parts of the country. the way veronica cried and clinged to fiona as she said goodbye was burned forever into your brain.

three years later, you were making do in the shadow of the appalachian mountains. it was honestly cruel, the beauty of what surrounded you. outside of chicago the land had stretched on forever in uniform, level plains, and while you’d always said you hated it, what you wanted now more than anything was to see those stupid boring fields again. the land here was sickeningly gorgeous, with the high altitude making way for clouds to kiss the mountaintops which your town was settled beneath. 

lip sits in the open window, his eyes glancing between your sleeping form, and those same mountains you’d traveled through years ago. he watches the faint lights of the high society assholes who drive up there, passing over the dark underbelly of their society without a thought. he watches as the sun rises, then watches as you slowly blink awake in the pathetic excuse for a bed the two of you share. 

“lip? come t’bed, please,” you mumble, and he obliges. the bed dips as he lays next to you, bringing one arm to circle your waist. “’s apple pickin’ day, y’need to rest” you murmur to him, one finger gently stroking the bridge of his nose. he would never admit it, but he loves the sensation. 

“eight fuckin’ mile walk, all f’some apples,” he says in a low grumble, but you can see his mouth is turned into the barest hint of a smile.

it’s not long before he drifts off, the exhaustion taking over his body. you untangle yourself as quietly as possible, giving yourself time to take some semblance of a bath and tuck your hair into a neat style to keep it out of your face. when the sun starts to crest above the mountaintops you wake him.

lip grumbles, of course he does, but he drags himself out of bed and the two of you start off towards the orchard. a few hours in the cool autumn air have you arriving at the small, abandoned tourist town.

lip catches sight of an old country general store, and he elbows you gently. “y’think i can find a pack ‘f cigs in there?” he asks.

you shrug, standing at the top of the hill and looking down over the expanse of the orchard. neat rows of trees with rotted wooden labels boast bright red fruits on their untrimmed branches. for the first time in recent memory you truly smile. 

wind sweeps across your face as you turn back to him, slinging the empty backpack off your shoulder to fill it with the prized fruits. “i dunno, i’m gonna go pickin’,” you say with a kiss to his cheek. 

before you can take a step lip hooks a finger in your belt loop. “nuh-uh baby, y’re stayin’ with me.” he ignores your grumpy expression, gently tugging you with him towards the store. “we don’t know what fucked up shit is down there. i’m keepin’ you in my sight so i know y’re safe.”

you want to pout, but the simple action shows you how much he cares for you. words are hard for him—emotions even harder—but he shows you in these small ways. it warms your heart.

MASTERLIST || INBOX

[threadbearsweater]

a wip that will probably never be finished unless my writing mojo returns from war. I miss losing myself in my words. gonna start releasing my unfinished drafts into the wild. maybe it will help.

Colter is desolate. Snow is piled high as far as the eye can see, and there isn't another soul around for miles. The horses blow wild plumes of steam as they haul the wagons, crying in protest when the winds blow harder and the mountain passes climb higher.

You almost weep with relief when you see a cluster of abandoned buildings and hear Dutch's command to stop the caravan. You help unload only necessities as quickly as possible while the horses are secured and a fire is stoked in the hearth of the largest house.

Biting winter chill still slices through the gaps in the wood siding, but you huddle around the growing flames with the others for a little while, sharing what little body heat you might cling to. Arthur and Javier scout ahead, searching for John, who went missing somewhere along the frantic, mad dash from Blackwater. You do your best to console Abigail and the boy; Abigail is beside herself, but little Jack seems more concerned with keeping warm and filling his belly than the whereabouts of his father. Smart kid.

There's plenty to do while Dutch and Hosea strategize. Pearson sets up in one of the old stables. Charles tends to the horses with what little food is left for them and finds a stable to at least keep them out of the worst of the wind. You, Karen, and Mary-Beth search the other houses for anything useful. There isn’t much, and the rations on your wagons are sparse, too.

“Hope we ain't stuck up here too long,” Karen says, taking a healthy swig of whiskey straight from the bottle before passing it to you.

“Probably be here at least till the wind dies down,” you say. The whiskey warms your belly, but does little else to fill it. Arthur and you had shared a sleeve of crackers a couple hours ago, but it's been days since you've had anything worthwhile.

Night falls fast this time of year, and the setting sun takes away what little warmth is left, leaving only darkness and a clear, crystal chill in the air, even close to the fire. Lenny feeds log after log to keep it blazing, and you begin setting up Arthur's effects in one of the smaller rooms off the main. You hope against all hope that the thaw will come in the next few days, but if tonight's temperature is any indication, it certainly doesn't bode well.

You really hadn't meant to fall asleep, either. Of course there weren't any rules about who sleeps where, but you tried hard not to make a habit of staying with Arthur in whatever camp you ended up in. Privacy was always at a minimum, and the temptation to indulge in affections of a more intimate nature was far too great for either of you to resist. So you kept to the girl's tent, sleeping alongside Mary-Beth and Tilly, waiting until morning to see Arthur, if he had even returned to camp the night before.

Now that you're in a new place, one with four walls and a floor– nevermind how rotted the wood– the exhaustion of running for days on end has caught up with you. There's a good bit of heat from the chimney that seeps into Arthur's room, and you tell yourself you're just going to sit down. Just for a minute. You're weary. Bone tired. Freezing. You grab one of Arthur’s coats and curl up on his cot.

Just for a minute.

Arthur and Javier return some hours later with Marston in tow. He’s a sorry sight– lucky to be alive– and there’s quite a commotion when they bring him into the house. You don’t hear a thing; too worn, too exhausted. You've found some tiny sliver of warmth in Arthur's coat, and even if a snowstorm blew straight through the house at this point, you probably wouldn't stir.

Once John is settled in and Abigail and Susan sit by his bedside to see him through the night, Arthur is able to relax for the first time in days. He rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck, then scans the tiny cabin for you.

“Think she's in your room. Back there.” Hosea, who sits by the fireplace with his back curled forward, points at the door to his immediate left. Arthur meets his eyes and nods in understanding and thanks. Neither man elaborates further. There's a lot to say, but where to begin is clear as mud. Tomorrow will bring clarity, Hosea said on the way up the mountain pass. We need to get somewhere tonight and rest up. We're not done running. Not by a long shot.

Arthur swears he feels his heart swell when he pushes open the door– slowly, so the hinges don't groan quite so loud– and sees you curled into yourself on his modest cot. You're buried under his coat, brow furrowed even in your sleep, as if the chase continued long after you closed your eyes. The room itself is small and retains a small bit of heat from the fireplace, but the window lets in a sliver of cold night air that cuts right through a person if they're in the direct path of it.

He feels warm when he sees you, though. He wants to stand and just watch you for a while, and he does; the gentle rise and fall of your steady breathing, the way your pretty mouth works now and then, involuntary and sweet. He marvels at how you can curl yourself into such a shape and still be comfortable, but supposes that's what cold weather and fatigue can do to a person. A woman like you, especially, who isn't used to a life on the run like Arthur and the rest of the gang. He stands and works his hands open and shut, trying to get the blood flowing to his fingers again. He worries about you, about whether he's doing the right thing by letting you come along. He wonders if this is really what you want, like you said it was that night he brought you back to camp with just a small sack of your belongings and what was left of your dignity.

He wonders if you'll stay, or if you'll grow weary of the cat and mouse that Arthur has known all of his adult life.

But when he pushes away from the doorframe with his shoulder and takes a couple of steps to where you lie sleeping, he takes one look at your face and finds that he can't bring himself to care much about all that.

[phantomamour]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭

racer!billy the kid x reader •*⁀➷ countdown to abu dhabi

cw// none really. a good amount of flirting, but really all just fluff to start off the countdown

“You don’t have to come with me. It’s too cold out there anyways.”

“If it’s too cold for me to sit on the sand, then it’s especially too cold for you to go surfing, Billy.”

“It’s more so swimming than surfing, baby. No waves out there.”

The Bahrain Grand Prix wasn’t set to start until six, and with Billy not needing to be at the track until noon, he was determined to get in the all-too-beautiful waters along the city's edge. If it wasn’t for Billy’s love for fast cars, you think he may have gotten his fill of adrenaline in life from surfing. You never complained about the many early mornings you had accompanied him to the beach in Miami, Singapore, and Mexico last season, as he’d always wrapped you up in his jacket and a blanket on the sand. Leaving you with a soft kiss before you’d watch him ride the waves with a smile that could only be beaten by the one he sported inside his car.

You knew his desire to go out now was fueled by just how antsy he was to race; he needed to be in the water more than he needed to pace the paddock. After months off, the season's first race was a thrilling experience, and he’d snagged a starting position in the top 5 after a great qualifying session. In his excitement, he’d barely been able to sleep the whole night despite your attempts at tiring him out. Even with the tired look in your eyes from your many exhausting attempts at getting him to relax enough to sleep, he knew that his offer for you to stay in bed would only be met with more protest as he wrapped his team jacket around your shoulders and tucked a blanket into his bag. 

“Are you looking forward to the race?” you asked as you walked hand-in-hand down the steps to the beach from your hotel. You already knew the answer –of course, he was– but you also knew him well enough to know that he needed to get it off his chest as he nearly vibrated next to you, able to tell that he wasn’t shivering from the cold.

“I think this is my year, baby. Maybe it’s foolish to think that, but… I feel good about it. Yesterday went well, and maybe my hopes are too high, but I think I can at least get my first win this year.” He sounded hesitant, in all honesty, but you knew that with him freshly out of “rookie” status, hoping for much more than a win was what took too many drivers down later in the season. He had yet to win a grand prix in his F1 career, and you knew he was anxious to get that moment on the top of the podium like he had in F2. 

“Well, I will scream the loudest out of everyone when you stand up there this year. Maybe even flash you a little,” you teased before he laughed with his head thrown back, arm moving around your shoulder and holding you tight to his side as your feet sunk into the first step of sand.

“You better not do that until we are in the privacy of my room. That view is exclusively mine,” he insisted as he led you to a small flat of sand, “This okay for you, baby?” When you nodded in response, he quickly pulled out the blanket from his bag and wrapped you in it where you had sat down in the sand, still a bit cold as the sun rose over the horizon. You couldn’t help how you stared as he took off his hoodie; he had trained harder than ever over the winter break, and now your eyes got to reap the rewards. His toned chest and strong arms warmed you right up even as the sand tried to steal every bit of it beneath you.

“Feeling a little objectified over here,” he smirked at you as he rested the hoodie over your bare feet. 

“You can objectify me later in return. Right now I’m enjoying the view too much to care.” He laughed as he flexed his arms, only to receive a handful of sand to the chest with your own laugh.

“Show off. Go get in the water before I drag you back to the hotel, and find a better way to spend this time before we go to the paddock.” He hummed in response, feigning having to think it over before leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“I’ll be back. Stay warm, and come get me if you want to go back earlier… Then I’ll find a few different ways to heat you up,” he spoke softly, a slight tease in his last words as he ensured your blanket was still wrapped snuggly around your shoulders. You watched as he made his way down to the water, the muscles in his back catching your attention as he lowered himself beyond where you could see. This was everything you wanted, everything he had worked for, and you had done your best to support him through it all. You’d wake up well before sunrise any day to see the smile that racing brought to his face and stay up far past midnight to listen to his antsy rants about wanting to win a race.

There was nowhere in the world you wouldn’t follow him, and while he had been worried about high hopes, you had just the same ones for the season ahead of you two. 

[ruewrote]

𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦.

PAIRING: ashley brown x gn!reader WARNINGS: miscommunications, no use of y/n GENRE: angsty comfort SONG INSPIRATION: hostage by billie eillish WORD COUNT: 1k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | ashley brown masterlist

you and ashley had always been inseparable. closer than anyone else in your group of friends. 

it was something everyone noticed, even if no one ever said it out loud. 

the kind of connection where sharing a bed at sleepovers didn’t feel weird, where cuddling up during movie nights wasn’t something to giggle about. it was just natural. it was just you and ashley.

you’d call each other every night, voices hushed under blankets as you talked about your days until one of you fell asleep to the other’s voice. even when one of you was sick, you’d keep the line open, content just to listen to each other breathe. 

so, when ashley started pulling back, it was like the ground had shifted under your feet.

it started slowly. she’d message you that she was busy, and you didn’t think much of it at first. everyone gets busy sometimes, right? but the hollow feeling in your chest, that sense of something being off, lingered long after you put your phone down. 

you tried to shake it off, convincing yourself you were just being paranoid. but the messages from ashley came less frequently, and when you did reach out, you’d be left on delivered for hours, sometimes even days.

it stung. more than you wanted to admit. you’d send her something funny, hoping to make her laugh, only to get a short, almost dismissive response, if you got one at all. you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something wrong, if maybe she had finally figured out how you truly felt about her. 

you had fallen for her, plain and simple. and now, it felt like she was slipping away, right when you realised just how much you needed her.

the silence between you stretched on for weeks, it became harder to act like everything was fine. every time you saw her post something on instagram or laugh at a joke in the group chat, the longing for her gnawed at you. 

you wanted to reach out, to ask her what was going on, but every time you picked up your phone, your thumb hovering over her name, paralyzed by the fear of what she might say. 

would she even want to hear from you?

it wasn’t until one friday night, when you found yourself alone in your room scrolling through old pictures of the two of you, that you realised you couldn’t take it anymore.

before you could second guess yourself, you called her. the phone rang once, twice, and then a third time before it went to voicemail. you almost ended the call, but something made you stay on the line.

“hey, ash,” you said, trying to keep your voice light even though it cracked at the edges. “um, i don’t really know what’s going on, but… i miss you. and i just want to know if i did something. if i did, i’m sorry. just– call me back, okay?”

you hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed as you covered your face with your hands. you dreaded her reply, but at least you’d finally said something. 

now, all you could do was wait and hope.

hours later, long after the sun had set and your room was cast in shadow, your phone buzzed. 

you scrambled to pick it up, heart leaping into your throat when you saw ashley’s name on the screen.

the message was short. 

can we talk?

your chest tightened, fingers trembling as you typed back. 

yeah, of course.

not even a minute passed before your phone started ringing. you took a deep breath and answered, bracing yourself.

“ashley?” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

there was a long pause on the other end, a shaky exhale. “i’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t know how to handle this. i thought… if i pulled away, maybe it would hurt less.”

you frowned, confused. “handle what?���

“you,” she whispered. “us. i–” her voice broke off.  “i saw you and josh getting close, and it hurt. i thought you liked him, and i didn’t want to get in the way. i figured if i backed off, it’d be easier for you… and for me.”

your heart sank, the realisation hitting you. “ashley,” you said, almost breathless. “it’s not like that. it was never like that.”

“but it looked like it,” she murmured, voice wavering. “and i thought… i thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way about me, so i just–” she let out a broken laugh. “i didn’t know what else to do but pull away.”

you could hear the raw pain in her voice, and it tore at you. “ash,” you said softly, “i thought i was losing you. i didn’t understand why you were acting so distant, but i never– god, i never wanted you to think i had feelings for josh. i don’t. i never have. it’s always been you.”

the silence that followed felt heavy, but not unbearable. it was filled with the weight of everything left unsaid between you, but also with something softer, something hopeful.

“always?” she asked, her voice small and fragile.

“always,” you repeated. “i’m in love with you, ashley. i have been for a long time.”

you heard her gasp, a sound caught between a sob and a laugh. “you have no idea how much i wanted to hear you say that,” she whispered. “i love you too. i was so scared i’d ruined everything.”

“you didn’t,” you reassured her, your own tears slipping down your cheeks now. “you couldn’t. not even if you tried.”

there was a shaky, relieved laugh on the other end of the line. “i feel so stupid,” she admitted. “i wasted all this time when i could’ve just told you.”

“it’s okay,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“i’m coming over,” ashley said suddenly, her voice now lighter, happier.

“i’ll leave the door unlocked,” you replied, wiping your tears away as a sense of calm settled over you. for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

hanging up, you realised that the silence between you two wasn’t something to be afraid of anymore. it wasn’t empty; it was filled with the promise of everything you’d been too afraid to say before.

and now, you had all the time in the world to say it.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[cyanspica]

Please talk abt Thomgelica! I don’t ship them but I’m open to hearing about it & potentially shipping them

Oh boy... now you've done it hahah

In essence, Thomgelica works for me the same. major reasons that Hamgelica does.

Thomas and Alex are, in my view, the definition of same input, different output. Their personalities are pretty similar: both smart, educated, outspoken, sassy, vain, good writers, ambitious, but the way they interact with the world is so different. It probably comes down to their backgrounds, with Alex having to fight much harder to get to the place he is than Thomas and not always having the same respect, so he's the one responding to rumors that Thomas just lets slide right off. And their views are different, too, but if they weren't, I think it's quite easy to imagine them becoming the kind of tight friends/allies that James and Thomas are.

So, moving onto Angelica: the biggest thing she wants is a mind at work, someone who can match her in wit and conversation. That's Alex at first for her---and who matches Alex's mind in turn, later on? Thomas. So if you put her and Thomas in a room together, I think she'll very quickly identify that. And she did, as she says, want to convince him to write a sequel to the Declaration, so there's already that motivation to talk to him, that background knowledge that he's produced brilliant things and that she wants to be part of it, someone who can improve upon what he's already done---or at least persuade him to do it.

I think depending on the setting and time, there's a touch of resentment that drives her towards him, too. Especially if Alex has fucked everything up with her sister. She sacrificed him for her, and then he's going to go fuck up Eliza's whole life? Hell no. So what if Angelica goes and fucks his worst enemy? Alex doesn't deserve anything from her anymore. Even if Alex hasn't blown up her sister's life, I think there's still some appeal in doing something she shouldn't. She can't have Alexander. She doesn't get her mind at work and marries someone who she finds boring, but Thomas is everything she wanted. Why shouldn't she take it later, when she already gave up what she wanted for Eliza? She can trust on Thomas's discretion. So there's some forbidden appeal there too.

Of course, if it's a modern setting, she can and will fuck whoever she wants as she pleases, and Thomas is hot, smart, and accomplished, just like her, so of course she's going to take the opportunity to fuck him.

In turn, I think Thomas is totally charmed by this sophisticated woman who comes up to him, challenges him, and tells him point-blank that he should do better. Thomas, in my opinion, is always striving to be better and never shies from a challenge. And he doesn't get many of those---like her, there's very few people on his level. She's not going to take his shit. She intrigues him, and she's going to stand up into him, but in a less obnoxious way than Alex and with a lot less yelling (can you tell I also ship Jamliton LMAOO??).

And Thomas would absolutely lean into the forbidden angle too and fuck his enemy's sister-in-law/ex/situationship/whatever Angelica happens to be to Alex, because Thomas thinks Alex is an asshole and he likes to spite him. That she happens to be stunningly attractive is just the icing on the cake.

If we also get historical, there's a lot of fun background there to lean into. The two of them actually met in real life and keep up a running correspondence, and Thomas was (understandably) totally charmed by Angelica. He's a fucking simp for her. He writes to her after she leaves France (where they met around 1785) and literally says the sun is shining wrong the day after she leaves France and invites her to Niagara Falls. Angelica sends him a gift and gets one a copy of one of his portraits that she says is a worse copy of the one Thomas's lover Maria Cosway has, but that his likeliness is better preserved in her heart. Totally normal things to say to your platonic friend.

The two of them make a perfect couple---they're both aligned in their goals, intelligence, and interests. In a modern world, they're the ultimate power couple. In a historical one, there's so much forbidden energy to lean into, and all of the same appeal.

Plus Angelica will totally peg him, and Thomas is totally into that.

[behind-the-veil-of-sanity]

I’ve never kept a diary, but I guess if I had, the entry for today would run something like this… September 5, 2024. It is summer again. Did summer actually ever leave? 21C and not a cloud in sight (teeny fib, the late afternoon turned hazy, but still warm). Shorts and T-shirt. Short socks in sneakers :D No response from real estate agent on web query. Wrote direct email re next possible viewing. Yay, a fast response! Viewing planned for today. In two hours time… find bus route and get there on time. Arrived on time, no agent in sight. Wait. Wait. Ah, eff it, I take a stroll around the property to get my bearings and make use of MY TIME! Apple trees, red and blackcurrant bushes. Nice. Pick up Newtonian apple (allowed!). Take a bite. Soft… pick a few red and blacks (don’t tell!). WHERE IS THE EFFIN AGENT??????? call agent. Auto response: can’t talk right now. What? Text agent: where are you, I’m here!!!! Out of town? Misunderstanding? Oh. Well yeah you didn’t spell that word right did you, but I also did not read that word properly. Next week you say. Okay. Fuck. (sneaks off the property hoping no one saw me). Now what? Stroll down the high street. Check out the local shops and dining places. Quaint, my final verdict of this village. Check bus time table, last bus an hour away. Hungry. Take aim at the local pizza place. 45 minutes later I roll out of the pizza place, one calzone and a beer lining my stomach. Buy orange fizz for desert (why? There wasn’t any coke!). Take last bus back home. Same driver as before. He recognised me… Get off bus, walk for 30 mins to get home, plus stopping off at the local grocery store. Note to self: always bring two bags for groceries. One bag makes life just so much harder. Arrived home. Sweating like a roasting pig. Huffing. Puffing. Watch warns me my pulse is too high for a sedentary position. Fuck #2. Feel stuffed two hours after pizza. Too much mozzarella I reckon. Also, too little tomato sauce. TV time. Watch TV. Time passes. The sun sets. Nice. Takes photo and posts to tumblr. TV. TV. Bang. Darkness. Power gone. Look out the window and realise the whole neighbourhood is dark. Get candles. Light candles. Get phone. Wait for cell service to be restored. Check power company website. Planned work? Power restored in 6 hours! The text to mum contains too many expletives to mention, but how the fuck can EON (electricity company) be allowed to run planned maintenance without telling their customers. Getting annoyed. Write complaint email to EON using even more colourful language. Press send. Feel no remorse. Fuck. (#3) I was supposed to enlist in the next uni course today. Today. The last day. But the power is off… I can access the computer with all the docs. Fuck (#3 still echoing in my head). Get phone out. 30% battery left. Might just work… Log on to Uni. Select course. Enlist. Proceed. Sorry? What? The online system can’t determine how much I’m supposed to pay cuz I’ve moved… BUT I DONT NEED TO PAY TODAY!!!!!! Contact Uni using web form. Write long explanations but try to ignore the frustration from the power fucking company idiot still bouncing in my head. Press send. Get automated reply immediately. Okay, that seemed to have gone to the wrong department. Try again. Contact student support. Sigh. Repeat the same info, adding a few extras and further queries. Press send. Fuck it. Walk to fridge. Open door. Get beer. Drink beer. Sigh. Gawd, I just feel the urge to whinge, into the void where no one can hear me. Huh, I know — Tumblr.

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes- Chapter 7

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Kara looked up and smiled. Above her was Rao’s light shining down on her. She was surrounded by rolling green hills with a bubbling river nearby. She lay down with her eyes closed in the warm grass feeling the light tips against her fingers. She smiled as the heat from the red sun warmed her face. She felt a gentle hand nudged her. She looked up and saw her mom sitting next to her. She was wearing her blue ceremonial outfit for the House of El, with their family motto printed boldly in the center of her chest. Her long, curly brown hair hugged her face as she stared at Kara with so much love and warmth.

Kara smiled and said, “You’re here.”

Her mother chuckled and said, “Where else would I be?”

“I thought that you would be with Dad and the other scientists discussing the tremors around the city.”

“I think I had enough time listening to pompous men thinking that they know everything.”

“Even dad?” smirked Kara. 

Her mother chuckled and lightly slapped Kara’s arm.

“You know your dad is the exception. Your father is the only one other than me of course with common sense in that group.”

“Maybe, if you guys collected more data, you could…”

Her mother shook her head and said, “The tremors aren’t my main concern right now. I am more concerned about you.”

Kara frowned and asked, “Why?”

Her mother looked back out at the grassy hill and sighed. 

“I often worried that we set you up with an impossible task.”

Kara sat up, grabbed her mom’s hand in hers, and said, “You never did such a thing.”

Her mom gave her a forced smile and said, “But, we did. We sent you off into the unknown to watch over Kal El. I was 28 when I had you and felt overwhelmed. You were only 22 with no support…”

Kara hugged her mom and said, “You don’t have to worry. I arrived much later than Kal. He is an adult now.”

Kara looked down, sighed, and said, “He obviously doesn’t need me around. He just thinks I am a nuisance.”

Her mother shook her head and said, “You are no such thing. You are one of the bravest people that I know. You are always the first to volunteer to go into situations where I have seen grown men falter. Did someone forget that they were the youngest cadet ever to become a corporal?”

Kara chuckled and said, “I remembered the baffled look on Major Sans’ face. He told me I would fail out my first year.”

“And you proved him wrong.”

Kara looked at her mom wistfully and said, “I wish I had a chance to be in my new position. Back then I had a purpose.”

“Purpose is ever evolving.”

Kara frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”

“You still have the same purpose of protecting Kal El. It is just the method of what you have to do has changed.”

Kara rolled her eyes and said, “That jackass could care less what I would think. Besides, he is doing fine on his own.”

“Are you so sure about that?” asked her mother. 

Kara frowned and tried to look up at her mother. However, everything had turned blurry. The red sunlight had intensified around her making it harder to see.

Kara placed her hand over her face and winced.

“Mom, I don’t understand.”

She heard her mother’s voice but she felt it was drifting. As the light became brighter and brighter, her mother said, “Remember the first principle of your training as a cadet. Kal El’s life depends on it.”

Kara jolted up breathing heavily. She looked around and noticed that she was sitting in a bed that had a sunlamp right above her. 

No wonder why I felt like there was sunlight on me.

She looked around more at her new environment and was startled. She was in a cave. A very well-lit cave. There were bats flying overhead. 

I guess that answers where I am at. 

She heard rumors before about Batman's supposed lair. She thought it was all myths about hiding in caves with bats especially considering how high-tech his weapons were. She shook her head. 

Looks like there was some truth to the rumors.

She looked to her left and was startled. There was a man unconscious in a bed a couple of feet from her. She didn’t recognize him at all. He had brown hair and peach-colored skin and wearing a white shirt. He appeared to be similar in age to her. 

Wonder if he is one of the Robins or even Nightwing. 

She tried to get up but winced. It felt like her body had been hit by a ton of bricks. She looked down at herself and was startled. She wasn’t in her Supergirl outfit anymore but in a nightgown.

“Hopefully my suit wasn’t destroyed,” muttered Kara.

She groaned again as she slowly made a second attempt to get out of bed. Once she got on her feet, she had to steady herself for several minutes. She looked over again at the unconscious man. He seemed to be the only person near and she wasn’t sure if she could make it around to explore. 

Hopefully, he is up for questions about this place.

Read the rest on AO3

[pas-de-duex]

The Black Swan Ch. 10

Remus flew away.

He flew and he flew and he flew until he was far away from the lake. Far away from the small town.

Far, far away from Logan.

He landed on Roman’s balcony. He gently tapped on the doors, and his twin brother quickly pulled them open.

“Remus, are you alright?”

Remus shook his head. He waddled into Roman’s room then flew to the top of his bookshelf.

“Remus, what’s wrong?”

Remus did nothing. He simply curled into himself, head into his wings, and fell asleep.

He woke up to shots of pain.

He quickly flew off of Roman’s bookshelf and landed on the ground as he completed his transformation. He sat on the ottoman at the foot of Roman’s bed and placed his head in his hands.

He didn’t know why he came here.

He rarely ever visited the castle these days. It was too much, everyone mourn over him like he was dead. They treated him like he was a fragile child, and he couldn’t prove them wrong.

He had lied to them for so long.

He had spent days, no, weeks in the enchanted forest after Rothbart’s curse. He had been scared. So, so scared of what everyone back at the palace would think of him.

He had just learned how to fly.

Rothbart had returned with his son, Odile.

“Daddy! That Spider would look gorgeous attached to my silver chain! Oh get it for me daddy, get it for me!”

The large owl man had swooped up the young Virgil into his talons.

“No!”

Janus had already taken his role as Remus and Virgil’s protector. As the only two children in the forest, he had felt it was his responsibility to care for them. The snake tried to slither after them, but as quick as he was, he was no match for Rothbart’s large wingspan, which allowed him to travel far.

Remus hadn’t even noticed until he was in the air. He had been running after them, and was waving his wings around wildly. It must have been enough to get him into the air, because the next thing he knew, he was right on Rothbart’s tail.

“Remussss! Be careful!”

He heard Janus’s shout from below. But he persisted on. He rammed himself into Rothbart, causing him to release the young spider.

“Remus! Help!”

Virgil began to fall.

Remus aimed downwards. He felt the pain start as the sun began to set, but he remained determined. He flew faster, harder. Harder. Faster. Faster. Harder. Until he was finally underneath Virgil. He felt Virgil’s small spider body land on his back.

And then the pain grew.

Remus wasn’t used to it yet. His swan cries turned into human screams as he and a now human Virgil plummeted to the ground.

He was thankful he caught Virgil. He was less thankful that they both landed on a large pile of rocks.

“Remus, Remus are you ok?”

Remus felt himself slipping into unconsciousness as Virgil shook him.

“Remus!”

The next thing he knew he was being lifted off of the ground.

“Your majesty! I’ve found him!”

It was Wolfgang, Patton’s father. He was the Prince’s tutor, and had volunteered to join the search after Patton had been partially responsible for Remus’s disappearance, as Roman later told him.

He woke up a few hours later, back in his room in their Eastern Castle.

“Remus,” his father had enveloped him in a large hug, the first one he ever remembered his father giving him.

Remus should’ve been happy. His father missed him. Roman missed him. Even Patton missed him.

But instead he was terrified.

What would happen when they found out? That Remus spent the entire day as a swan, returning to his human form only in the dark of the night?

“Remus, can you tell us what happened?”

Remus looked out the window, and saw the rising sun. He didn’t have much time.

He forced himself to cough.

“I… I’m sorry father, I, I feel so weak,”

His father nodded.

“Of course, son. Why don’t you get some rest? Well, we’ll leave you alone for now.”

“Thank you, father.”

The moment everyone left the room was the moment he began to transform again. He stifled his screams in one of his swan-feathered pillows. He almost laughed when he realized.

When his transformation was complete, he threw the pillows on the ground. In the evening, he would request new ones. Ones without feathers inside.

From the look his father had given him, he knew his wish would be granted.

He paced the room the entire day. He had to think of something that he could tell them. Not only about what had happened in the woods, but something that would explain his new constant absences from their lives.

He had decided to stick with the sickness route. After a few days of feigning illness during the day, only re-emerging at night, and a very large bribe, a doctor officially diagnosed Remus with an allergy to the sun.

“How, how is that possible? He has never had anything like that his entire life!”

The doctor told his father that his “extreme sun exposure” from his time in the woods had most likely triggered it. Remus was to be confined to the Eastern Castle until he was strong enough to return to the sunny Northern Castle permanently.

A day Remus knew would never come.

He bribed the doctor to come to the Eastern Castle every few months to say he is still unable to go home.

Of course, Remus goes to the Northern Castle for important events like Roman and his father’s birthdays, royal balls, and big feasts his father occasionally throws.

The rest of the time he’s in the enchanted forest, far away from society.

So for Remus to show up on Roman’s balcony unexpectedly,

Well, Roman must’ve known something was seriously wrong.

[natlacentral]

‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’: Kid dentures, prison buff Iroh and more during PaleyFest

The animated fantasy action series Avatar: The Last Airbender has a passionate fanbase that can be very protective of the franchise. After a failed movie adaptation over a decade ago, some approached the most recent live-action television show with skepticism. However, this version was better received. At PaleyFest 2024, the cast and creatives came together to discuss the first season and their expectations for the future. 

Showrunner Albert Kim, executive producer and director Jabbar Raisani, and actors Gordon Cormier, Kiawentiio, Ian Ousley, Dallas Liu, Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, Arden Cho, and Elizabeth You all took to the stage.

During the panel portion of the evening’s events, the audience heard some behind the scenes stories during filming. For example, Kim did not realize how young his lead actor was until he received a call from the production office about an accident on set. There was no fight or stunt accident, but Cormier did lose one of his baby teeth. A week later he lost another. Kim hired a denturist on staff to create dentures for the star. Imagine, a twelve-year-old with dentures.

Lee was the oldest cast member on stage, and he reflected on how when he was growing up, he never saw himself in the shows he watched on television. He felt blessed to be part of Avatar: The Last Airbender with such a diverse cast. He was especially excited to work with Daniel Dae Kim, who plays Fire Lord Ozai, and Ken Leung, who plays Commander Zhao. Lee loved Leung’s character on Lost so much, that he named his son Miles.

Near the end of the discussion, the actors were asked what they were excited to explore about their characters in seasons two and three. 

Kiawentiio touched upon how Katara has gained a new confidence over the course of the first season earlier in the night. She would like to see more of that confidence, and just more of the main trio. Ousley spoke how Sokka experienced his first catastrophic emotional situation with a love interest in the season one finale. Now there is a lot that he’s going to have to work through emotionally.

One of the most engaging pairs in Avatar: The Last Airbender is the uncle and nephew duo of Prince Zuko and Iroh. Liu is anxious for fans to see more their relationship.

“You get to really see how close Uncle Iroh and Zuko really are compared to the animated series. Carrying that over to the future seasons of our show, if you’ve watched the original, you know how big some of those moments are in the ending and at the beginning of season three,” Liu said.  “I’m really stoked for Uncle Iroh and Zuko’s moments in those seasons because I think they’ll hit that much harder because of what we built in season one.”

Lee felt that his TV nephew stole his original answer. He then jokingly responded with Prison Buff Iroh to be aided with the use of CGI. 

Yu is looking forward to playing a bigger role in Avatar: The Last Airbender. “Towards the end of season one, I think Azulah gains her freedom from the Fire Nation when she’s able to reign terror on the rest of the world.” With that new sense of freedom, Yu is hoping to finally be able to interact more with the other characters.  

For Gordon, his thoughts came back to his character’s flying bison. He shared, “In episode one we get to see Aang’s relationship  with Appah a little bit, and if we did get to dive into that more in season two and three, that would be so amazing. That would be awesomeness.”

The final words of the night came from Kim. He will be stepping away as showrunner of Avatar: The Last Airbender and Raisani and Christine Boylan will be filling in moving forward. But fans don’t need to worry about the change in creative leadership. 

“Both of them were so involved in the first season. They were so vital in making the season what it was so I have utter confidence in what they are going to do,” Kim told the audience. “I know that Christine, who is here today with a bunch of our writers who are all here, they are hard at work on the scripts for season two. I’m looking forward to seeing what they do as much as anyone. I’m very very confident and happy of the hands the show is in and where it’s going to go.”

Check out the rest of the programming schedule of PaleyFest 2024.

[aeoki]

Tri-Lights - Wheel of Fortune: Chapter 4

Location: Yumenosaki Tennis Court Characters: Sora, Natsume, Tsumugi & Madara

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Thirty minutes later. >

Madara: ♪~♪~

Alright, here comes the next serve. Take that…!

Tsumugi: ………!

Natsume: A service aCE…!

Tsumugi: We couldn’t move an inch. As expected of Mikejima-kun – his athletic abilities are off the charts.

Natsume: Is that what you should be saying right nOW? His serves are so strong we haven’t even gotten one point off him, you knOW?

I think the sun will set before we can rescue Sora at this poiNT. You were the one who accepted the battLE, so you need to put more back into iT.

Tsumugi: I–I know… But I didn’t think Mikejima-kun was this strong. I just thought he was just slightly good at sports.

I’ve seen Mikejima-kun help out a lot of units, but who would have thought he’d be this good at tennis?

Natsume: That’s an overly optimistic outloOK… He’s skilled enough to help other units so it wouldn’t be strange to think that he’d be good at tennis too, rigHT?

Madara: Hahaha! Is this a fallout?

You need to cooperate with each other when you’re playing doubles. Surely, you don’t think you can win with just fighting spirit alone?

Natsume: Fighting instinct and cooperation or whatevER… you’re talking about too many different thinGS…!

Madara: Hehehe. You’ve gotten more fired up, Natsume-san ♪ You’re heading in the right direction ♪

On the other hand, Tsumugi-san, you’re still so calm. Maybe I should say you’re cautious instead.

You two don’t look like you’re trying to win – Are you really okay with how things are?

Tsumugi: T–That’s what we’re trying to do…

But I’m not good at showing vigour.

It feels like you’re playing tennis with us out of goodwill, so I can’t feel a sense of urgency.

Madara: Hmm, goodwill, huh… You trust me too much, Tsumugi-san.

Sora-san, could you get Tsumugi-san motivated?

Sora: Well, Sora does want Master and Senpai to work a bit harder~

So Sora wants to see you two work together to beat “Mr Giant”!

Otherwise, Sora would think that’s all our relationship amounted to and would feel sad.

Master, Senpai – Sora believes that you can make up for what you’re lacking in skill by working together!

Madara: The outcome of this tennis game can even affect the unit relationship, huh. Yup, that’s a good way to motivate someone ♪

It’s true “Switch” can’t be called “Switch” if Sora-san isn’t there.

But Sora-san would be put in a tough spot if his two seniors can’t work together.

Tsumugi: I–I’m sorry. Sora-kun, you must be feeling anxious because the game is way too one-sided, right?

Can we take a small break? I’ll discuss things with Natsume-kun and see what we can do.

It’s time to strategise… You’re okay with that too, right, Natsume-kun?

Natsume: Of courSE. We have our pride as weLL.

This may be a battle that’s out of our league but we have to aim for victory now that we’ve accepted iT.

Tsumugi: Thank you. I’m an amateur in all this but this is what I suggest.

First, we should keep the same formation with me in the back and…

Sora: HaHa~♪ Their “colours” have gotten more fired up ♪ I think you might have a hard time, “Mr Giant”~

Madara: Yeah. Tennis is a sport where a larger number of players is more advantageous, after all.

Hehe. It seems things have finally kicked into gear. Even someone like me without synesthesia can tell that their will to fight is starting to show.

Is this what you wanted, Sora-san? Is this closer to the image you had of a sporty “Switch”?

Sora: Yes. This is fine. Probably.

Both Master and Senpai are far too kind-hearted, so Sora is certain that “that’s” the part missing from the sporty “Switch”~

Sora doesn’t know about the past but Sora thinks the past Master and Senpai had gotten tired from all the fighting.

They didn’t want anyone to be hurt anymore, so they became “magicians – witches” who would save unhappy people. That’s what Sora thinks when Sora looks at the current Master.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[justmybookthots]

This Time It's Real

5/5 stars

I AM SCREAMING. I AM SCREAMINGGGGGG.

You know, I’ve always thought the fourteen-year-old romantic I used to be was dead? But maybe… it isn’t?? How is it that this cute little YA made me feel a gazillion more things than most adult romances? 

Ann Liang, I love you so much. I’m officially a hardcore fan now after I read If You Could See The Sun (which I reviewed) and this book. And there’s another book of hers coming next year (I weep! I WEEP! Why are all the books I’m looking forward to only out next year?) which I will DEFINITELY be reading. I am so excited. 

This book. This book. I am incoherent. I am squealing. And this is coming from a person who hates the fake dating trope, and YET. There is definitely an exception to every rule. Maybe it’s because Ann Liang writes her stories in Beijing, with a Chinese cast and setting (I love the personal rep). Or maybe it’s because Caz, AKA the male lead, is soooooo cute. Oh my gosh. CAZ.

Okay. Okay. Let me get my thoughts together before I spiral. The premise is simple: two Chinese high-schoolers, one an aspiring writer, the other a teenage heartthrob actor, fake-dating. I have to say that Eliza's reasons for needing to fake-date sound very valid, but I wasn't convinced by Caz's. All he gets out of it is… Eliza writing his college applications? There's also another reason—him cleaning up his image because of this "scandal"... which never gets touched upon again later in the story, so I don't count that.  

But whatever. I didn't dwell too much on it, because there are so many things I loved:

Caz trying to make Eliza jealous (LMAO) by going into lurid detail about his kiss scene with a girl and getting disappointed when she doesn't seem to care

Caz getting worked up over a pimple and not going to school

Caz being a vain little shit, period

Caz telling Eliza that he wanted her (for real, and not pretend), point-blank. T_T

Caz helping Eliza find her friendship bracelet 

Eliza trying to jog and getting outrun by an old man

Eliza and her PowerPoint Presentation.

Eliza and Zoe. PLATONIC BREAKUPS ARE HARD, IN A WAY HARDER THAN FALLING OUT WITH CAZ. THIS PARAGRAPH GOT ME:

What Eliza's dad said about girls in romance dramas because it is SO TRUE (for the non-Chinese folk out there, 'jiayou' means to 'keep fighting/going'):

My main complaint about this book is really how it ended. I think that Ann Liang ends her books in a really abrupt way, to the point where I don’t feel I got enough closure. The story just concluded about a chapter after Eliza agreed to be with Caz for real, and then… the end. Listen, I think that the build-up is always the highlight of a romance, but I still would have liked for a bit more closure. At least let me see them on one real, proper date before ending the book! 

(Since I'm on the topic of complaints—this one isn't from me, but from some reviewers: they say that Caz isn’t very different from Henry from If You Could See The Sun but I don’t agree? Henry isn’t anywhere as vain as Caz, and he is definitely academically more brilliant than Caz, lol. I thought they were notably different, and I was quite surprised by it. I actually found Caz somewhat more immature... but I adored him just as much as Henry.)

One final mini-complaint of mine before I wrap up this entry: I don’t think that Eliza’s hangup about being with Caz is ever truly addressed. She frets that, yes, Caz may love her now, but they’ll grow apart like she did with Zoe because she’s always on the road (and he is, too). In the end, she changes her thinking to: yeah, maybe I was just afraid all along that he really never did love me but now I’m sure he does. To me, that’s two completely different concerns, and the first still isn’t solved. 

But of course, this is just me nitpicking, and I can shut one eye about it because the rest of the book was just so, so lovely. If I were to nitpick further, I'd say boys like Caz really do not exist (re: young heartthrobs who are so swoony both inside and outside) but the fiction is fictioning, and that's how I LIKE IT.

And you best believe I will be eyeing Ann Liang’s next book when it’s out. In the meantime, I just need to make sure I make it till 2024. 

- 19 Aug 2023

[gnattyplayssims]

Week 1 - Settling into Mid-Nowhere

Sunday - Last night was something out of a nightmare. I barely escaped with my life. Escaping a lifetime in the pack is not something that happens easily but I can feel it in my bones…I’m free. Moonwood is behind me.

I couldn’t be sure what World I had washed up in but the sun beating down on me left me ravenous. I guess some things don’t change. I could practically hear my father’s voice “if you can fish you’ll never starve” I’m thankful he taught me how, but I’d like to find what other delicacies this world has to offer.

Monday - This morning I woke to find a cloaked figure prowling around my camp. When I confronted him he merely grunted, pointed to the remains of fish near the fire and when I offered him the scraps he took them and raced into the woods. I swear I saw a tail peeking out of his trench coat. A spy from the Mill perhaps.

I didn’t have much time to consider significance of this before a group of males showed up. They told me they were the welcoming committee. Turns out I’m on a small island on the shore of Windenburg. A World I never would have imagined myself fitting into before yet there I was chatting like one of them.

Imagine me a bro!

Tuesday - This morning I sold some fish to a nice looking gentleman…of course everyone seems nice now that my senses are dulled. It’s harder to read people when you can’t smell their fear or hear the beat of their heart. Regardless he wanted fish and I needed tools. Rory used to make fun of me for whittling with my nails. Said we were made to destroy things not create.

That isn’t me any more. I’m going to build myself a home with my own two hands. I’ll create beauty out of wood and things others throw away. I’ll fill my home with food I grow myself. Look out Windenburg theirs a new wo…er…man in town.

Wednesday - I headed into town today to sell some wood statues I’d made and to participate in a community event the cafe was hosting. I wasn’t really sure what speed dating was but thought it might be a good way to meet new people. Turns out it’s a sort of mating ritual. Finding a mate is far more complicated here than in Moonwood. But the coffee reminded me of home and I met some nice females.

Later in the evening Jacquin invited me to a place called the Bluff for a party. Funny thing is no one showed up. I’ve been part of enough imitations to know when I’ve been set up Jacquin insisted that wasn’t the case but I don’t believe him. It’s a shame cause I thought we had good compatibility but I don’t trust Jacquin.

Thursday - I woke up this morning to it raining! What a beautiful sight. It was refreshing to shower outside rather than have to sail to the mainland and shower at the gym. I don’t mind the smell but I had a date.

Brytnee, one of the females I met at the cafe had invited me to a Meet and Greet. Thankfully I did have something respectable to wear though I don’t know if she agreed. “How…quaint” she said and I’m not so sure it was a compliment. Once inside we found a table and she ordered a platter of something delicious. But soon the paparazzi started making her uncomfortable so we left. I think she might be kind of famous.

Friday - I woke up early this morning to do some yoga. Sometimes I still feel like the fury is growing within me. Maybe it’s just a phantom pain, some lingering energy trapped inside me. I don’t want to be that creature who rampages through life. I want to learn to control that energy and release it elsewhere. If only Rory could see me now.

Today was Love Day and Brytnee invited me to dinner. She really must be rich cause she took us on a private jet all the way to Salvadorada just for lunch. I don’t have much but I had found a rose bush on the island. She seemed to appreciate it. By the end of the date she’d even proposed we become a couple. This seems to be similar to being Promised. I’m still not sure how this works but I know I don’t want to be alone.

Saturday - Today was spent in quiet. It’s strange being alone after growing up in the Pack. There was never silence. I guess I’m kind of a Lone Wolf now…Or…a Lone Man…somehow that seems more tragic. I’ve bought the tools to start making candles now which means I can take commissions as a Freelance Maker. It makes much better money than just selling carvings for whatever I can get off them.

I should have known that everything was going too well. I woke up to a sound in the night and thought the trench coat creature had returned to raid my trash. As it turned out, it was a thief. They stole my carving tools and scattered my fireplace. It will take some time to be able to replace those tools…for now I’ll focus my energy on my candles.

Sunday - Today Brytnee and I went to the Romance Festival in San Myshuno. I thought Windenburg was big, San My is HUGE!! There were rose petals everywhere and I was feeling romantic. Bry didn’t appreciate the gesture. She seemed tense the entire evening. “What’s your problem?” I couldn’t contain my frustration anymore. “You’ve been flirting with other women ever since we met. I’ve told you I don’t like it and you keep doing it!” “I’m just being friendly and introducing myself!”

Brytnee said our relationship is over. That she can’t handle being with someone who doesn’t have eyes for only her. I don’t understand it but I’m sure she just needs to figure it out. We’re Promised after all…but maybe that doesn’t mean anything here. And it wouldn’t be the first time I was Promised to someone. Maybe I really am better off a Lone Man…

[aurorasgate]

when you sleep on the couch after an argument (except its more like the guest room)

diluc ragnvindr x reader

2.1k+ words | zhongli + alhaitham

warnings: hurt/comfort, more hurt on dilucs end im sorry baby❤️ no pronouns used

hello yes not even 24 hours later i'm back with more angst

“just forget i said anything diluc,” you sound as defeated as you feel. it could be so difficult trying to get through to a man as stubborn as him and it only upset you more when you started to lose your cool while diluc remained impassive about the whole situation. you’ve always known he had a difficult time expressing his emotions, especially the more uncomfortable ones like you both feel so swirling in your hearts right now, but that didn’t stop you from wishing he would let you in just a little more when you opened up about your own. you don’t know how long it’s been since the argument started, too long, long enough for the late afternoon sun to turn into dusk. by now your throat hurts, your eyes sting with frustrated tears, your lungs feel like they're suffocating in the heat of the room and all you want is for this to be over, to stop hearing his frustrated tone normally reserved for annoying bar goers and other annoyances being used to speak to you. how much longer could you take of this before you broke.. “i’m too tired to keep going on like this..”

“we’ll be finishing this discussion later.”

the coldness of his tone is the final blow to the cracking dam that was your tear filled eyes. with your back turned towards him, your steps quiet and shaky, you try your best to hide the quiver in your voice as you whisper a small ‘okay’ before exiting the study, softly closing the door behind you. thankfully most of the staff was gone by now and you could walk to your room with your head hanging low, without the embarrassment of them seeing you and accidentally making your tears worse. 

you know you won't be able to sleep despite how exhausted you feel but you lay down and curl up in the plush duvet anyways, hating and loving how it smells of cedar, wine and a hint of smoke. you don’t know if the scent of him is making your tears better or worse but you don’t move from the bed until the sun sets behind the open curtains and you hear the large mahogany doors of the manor shut as your beloved heads towards the city. realizing a little too late how it would affect your already fragile heart, you rise from the bed and watch from the window as his figure disappears into the night.

all at once everything feels like too much and you find you can’t handle how every inch of this room feels clouded in your frustration and sadness. you couldn’t be in here, you wouldn’t find sleep with his scent lingering on the sheets. in your upset and frustrated mind you didn’t think you’d find comfort in any reminders of him but you soon found the guest room was not much better. it hadn’t been touched in so long, probably before you even knew diluc, and not a single thing in here is a remnant of him, it’s everything you hate about the room but you weren’t sure which was better. in the end it didn’t really matter, no matter where you were you were bound to cry yourself to sleep, hating that you’d still feel this way when you had to face this argument again in the morning.

“we’ll be finishing this discussion later,” he says, forcing himself to tear his attention away from you and return to the paperwork that needed to be filled out hours ago. you were getting nowhere like this, you both knew it and the only way he knows how to calm the uncomfortable tightness through his whole chest, that creeps up his spine and rattles his stolid demeanor, is to throw himself into his work, and he does just that. 

he hardly notices the sun set and the darkness throughout the study as he gets through contract after contract. only when the words on the parchment became not enough to distract him from your argument and he was finding it harder to ignore the emotions still coursing through his veins was he pulled from his work. despite the late hour there was still so much to be done, the night was far from over for him. he slips on his coat as he exits the study to head to the city but is stopped at the edge of the steps, his eyes drifting slowly towards your closed bedroom door. he swears he could choke on his heart in his throat. he does his best to swallow it, and takes some solace in the fact the room is dark. hopefully that means you’ve found sleep.

he doesn’t even make it to the city before every ounce of his frustrations is used to fuel the burning flames in every swing of his claymore; every hilichurl, every abyss mage and treasure hoarder that was unfortunate enough to come in his path feeling the searing scorch of the uncrowned king of mondstadt. 

as enemies lay defeated before him, proof of his anger, the feelings raging inside him turn from irritation at you for being stubborn, to confused frustration about the whole situation, to guilt ridden self loathing about his blindness and bullheadedness. why is it only now, as he analyzes the fight over and over, that he sees the tears pooling in your eyes, that he truly hears your words and that all you said came from nothing but concern for his health, all because you loved him and cared for him. it was him who was being stubborn. he pushed you away, he kept you at arms distance when you were so ready to accept all of him and tonight he pushed you even further from his heart but that was something he never wanted. without you -

his claymore clanks on the ground beside him as he tears off a sullied glove and rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger before running his hand through his frazzled locks, trying to compose himself. archons he hates this. he hates arguing with you. he hates feeling so far away from you even though he knows he has no one else to blame but himself. he hates seeing you cry and even more than that, he detests being the one to cause your tears.

his aching heart leads him home, sending a plea to the universe that you’re still asleep and you will stay asleep as he holds you tightly against him, not caring how desperate his grip will be. he knows he messed up and when you awake tomorrow he’ll apologize from the bottom of his heart and keep his promise to do better, accept his consequences but tonight he can't be away from you any longer.

with quiet footsteps he makes his way up the grand staircase and to your shared bedroom, shaking hands quietly closing the door behind him. the sweet smell of you wafts faintly in the air and lessens the pressure tightly in his chest. hanging his coat on its hanger by the door, shedding his vest and changing from his day clothes to something more suited for sleep he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with you. but as he steals glances at the bed, while normally hard to make out much through the drapes on the canopy, he notices how empty the bed looks. it has his heart pounding in his chest but he remains rational, it's dark and you often like to curl up, it’s oka-

he pulls back the drapes on your side of the bed, slowly at first, but when he sees the bed is completely devoid of you his body goes rigid, the heat his worried heart flares up nearly catching the drapes on fire. letting out what was supposed to be a breath to relax him, to not let his mind run with the worst of assumptions, with the fear he refused to let form fully until now- was this fight really enough for you to leave like this? had he lost you thanks to no other than himself, rather than the darkness that usually took those he loved- of perhaps he was the dar- no diluc. get a grip. 

he had to think rationally before he burned all of teyvat down in search of you.

plenty of times you’ve fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for him to return, he hadn’t even thought to look there when he came home- his tunnel vision bringing him to the place you should be. gripping tightly onto the banister, he quickly makes his way down to the parlor and feels his barely held together calm slip completely when you’re nowhere to be found. 

every door, even ones that don’t make sense- closets, the pantry, the cellar- are thrown open in search of you. every guest room that hasn't seen a guest in so long has the master's attention, one by one turning up empty, taking more of his sanity until he feels like he's suffocating. there’s only one more guest room left and he doesn’t waste a moment opening the door and lighting the candle by the bookshelf to illuminate the room and hopefully you. 

he honestly isn’t sure how he makes it to the bed. he swears once he sees you laying in the normally untouched sheets his knees threaten to give way but nothing could stop him from holding you. he had to, if he didn't, what was the possibility this wouldn’t be real or that you’d slip right through his grasp while he was unable to do anything.. even if that chance was miniscule, it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. he couldn’t imagine his life without you, more than anything else in this world he loved you.

shaking hands that grip and pull you harder than they intended to make it impossible not to be stirred from your restless sleep but you don’t question who it is, this warmth could only belong to him. you attempt to sit up to get a better look at him, to rub the sleepiness from your puffy eyes, but his arm wrapped around your middle and his other hand buried in your hair holds you steady against him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, tickled by soft vermillion locks.

“‘dil-”

“please forgive y/n..” he pleads softly. “i’m sorry for being so stubborn, i regret you see that part of me from time to time but y/n.. i.. i love you more than i know how to express.. i will do better for you.  i can’t- i can’t lose you.”

“lose me?” your tired mind finally registers just how hard his heart is beating against your chest, how his breath is uneven, that his grip on you keeps growing tighter with each passing moment. it's almost crushing but you don’t protest, you need it just as badly as he does. pressing your head against his shoulder, accepting him completely, you speak honestly and hope he’ll hear the love behind your words. “‘luc, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i don’t know what i’d-”

“my love, you don’t need to worry about that,” your lips find his exposed neck and you place a tender kiss against his porcelain skin. “i’ll always be by your side. nothing will change that.”

you swear you feel his heart skip a beat. “i do not deserve you.”

“that is far from the truth. you are deserving love and everything you could ever hope for-”

“you are all i hope for, all i need…”

his confessions of love continue, each one stealing your breath away, melting away any lingering sadness from your fight. he leaves you blushing, speeches and you can’t help but cling to him. all of his promises, all of his apologies, were so full of honesty and love, they consumed you, dilucs love encompassed you and you melted against him, your heart so full you didn’t know what else to do but cry.

somewhere in the eternal warmth of his love and words he had lifted you up higher to rest his forehead against yours, to feel your touch, leaning into every brush of your fingers behind his ear as you moved hair out of his face and returned his love in kind. 

only celestia would know how long you spent spilling the contents of your hearts until tears of love and pure exhaustion brought you both to sleep in each other's embrace, in a bed that wasn’t your own. but it didn’t matter, wherever you were together the flames of your hearts burned brightest and couldn’t be torn asunder. 

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[finelinevogue]

I just know these would gossip so much between the two

Like they are inside the pool observing everyone and commenting on every drama and interactions and giggling “those truly hate each other” “davide has crazy eyes when you look him fro the front” oh my good look x person is pulling y for a chat!” Etc

golden-hoax: i can see li!harry & y/n going in the pool more than the others because they obviously have to take their mics off for that and they have some alone time cause most of the time no one is in there. and i bet you they'd try to do the dirty dancing lift in the pool🫶

they are such the gossips yessssss!

“I feel like Dami and Indiyah have more of a connection than Dami and Amber. Or even Indiyah and Ikenna.”

You said, whilst you rested your head on your arms on the side of the pool. Harry was floating beside you, but that boy could not lay still for England so he wasn’t going to get comfortable beside you.

It was a tactic being in the pool whilst you and Harry had chats, because you couldn’t wear your microphones and therefore nothing could be picked up by the producers.

It was an escape.

“You think?” Harry questioned.

“For sure. I hope they figure it out and don’t just settle.” You pouted.

“It’s not really for us to interfere though, I guess.”

You and Harry had both decided that getting involved in between a couple was just wrong and wasn’t any of your business. It made choosing sides more difficult too.

“No you’re right.”

“Oi, Davide is looking at you again.” Harry nudged you carefully, not making it too obvious.

“Oh for fuck sake.” You giggled. “I’m flattered, but no thanks.”

Harry came up behind you in the pool and you could tell it was his subconscious way of marking his own territory. Instead of putting his hands around your waist, he groped them on your ass instead.

“Too right it’s a no. This is mine.” Harry squeezed your ass again, making you kick up a leg, as fast as the water would let you, to kick him in the balls playfully.

“You’re so, egh, sometimes, you know?”

“Don’t care. Still mine at the end of the day.”

He kept his hands on your ass as he rested his chin on your shoulders, staring down Davide as you both kept on talking about nothing.

“Can we try something?” He would ask a while later.

“Sure.”

“Let’s do the Dirty Dancing lift.” He smirked like a teenage boy being told he’d just been bought a new lego set.

“It will go very wrong.” You laughed whilst shaking your head in protest.

“It won’t. I promise. I’ve got you.”

“Har…”

“Trust me, please.”

You rolled your eyes, but allowed him the pleasure of you accepting. Anything to make him happy. He threw his sunglasses to the side and you did the same with yours.

He made sure he was standing with the sun facing his face so you didn’t have to squint. It would make it like him more had he not convinced you to fly in the air above him.

“You ready?” He asked, bracing his legs and shaking off his arms.

“Of course not, you idiot.”

“Great.” He replied, still smiling. “Now just run and jump before you get to me.”

“I can’t run in water, H.” You sighed.

“Um, okay. Well walk really slowly and we’ll just pretend we’re in 2x speed.”

You smiled at his ridiculousness, before wading over to him. As you approached him his smile got wider and wider, making grabby hands as he awaited you.

Once you got close enough you jumped and his hands went to rest on your waist. It must’ve been harder than he expected because to lift you up out of the water, he had to squat underwater. It made you laugh, mainly because his hands were slightly tickling you but also because his face was flat over his face now.

It worked though.

You were in the air like Baby.

Harry was Patrick Swayze too.

Until his arms went weak and he threw you over his head and you dived head first into the water. After you came to the surface Harry was right there to make sure you were okay.

“How was it?”

“Well I hope you’re happy, because we’re not doing it again.” You twisted your nose to free it of water.

“I had y’tits in my face, of course I was happy.” He winked and you just shook your head at him in disgust.

“You’re so gross.” You tutted.

“And I got to relive a classic 80s romcom moment with a girl I really like, so.” He blushed.

You swam over to him and wrapped your hands around his neck softly, feeling his arms scoop around your legs to hold you up securely against him.

“That’s more like it.” You smiled and kissed him softly.