#gesture is something i specifically would like to study and i consider a lot of my art to lack that kind of naturalistic essence

[meringuejellyfish]

other loose things that were on that one mspaint canvas i shared art from a little while ago ....... ohoh ! ohoh ! he has sticks for arms because he suuuucks

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 7

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.6k

warning; /

notes; hope that you enjoy the chapter ... <3

here is the link for part 6 or part 8

---

The walk back to your shop was quiet, the night air cool against your skin as you and Azriel made your way through the sleeping streets of Velaris. The warmth of your shared moments still lingered between you, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort with Azriel by your side. But as the shop came into view, the weight of the mysterious order returned, pulling you both back into the reality of the situation.

Once inside the shop, you led Azriel to the back room where you had left the letter. The forge was dark and quiet now, the earlier warmth replaced by the cool stillness of the night. You retrieved the letter from where you had tucked it away and handed it to Azriel, watching as his eyes scanned the elegant script.

His brow furrowed as he examined the seal, the strange symbol embossed in the wax catching his attention. He turned it over in his hands, studying it carefully before shaking his head. “This symbol doesn’t ring any bells. It’s not something I’ve come across before, and I’ve seen a lot of seals and crests in my time.”

You nodded, already suspecting that the symbol was something unusual. “It didn’t look familiar to me either, which is why it caught my attention in the first place.”

Azriel’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his eyes serious. “Tell me about the magic they’re asking for in the sword. What’s its purpose?”

You sighed, glancing down at the letter as you considered how to explain it. “I’m no expert, but I’ve seen these types of runes before. They’re used in very specific, very dark enchantments. The runes they’re asking for are meant to create a blade that catches souls.”

Azriel’s expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. “Catches souls? What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, knowing how heavy the truth would be. “When you kill someone with a blade like this, their soul doesn’t pass on. It gets trapped within the sword, bound to it. The sword becomes a vessel for the souls of its victims, storing them indefinitely.”

Azriel’s face darkened at your words, his brows knitting together in a deep frown. “That’s… twisted. Why would anyone want a weapon like that?”

You shook your head, unable to find a logical answer. “I don’t know. But whoever commissioned this sword must have a very specific, very disturbing purpose in mind.”

Azriel set the letter down on the table, his jaw tight with tension. “This sounds more dangerous than anything. You shouldn’t go through with it, Y/N. There’s too much at stake here, and something about this whole situation feels… wrong.”

You met his gaze, seeing the worry and protectiveness in his eyes. The same unease that had been gnawing at you since the order came in now felt magnified by his concern. “I agree. I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s not worth the risk, and I don’t want to get involved in whatever this is.”

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad you see it that way. It’s better to be safe, especially with something this dark.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders now that the decision was made. “I’ll send word tomorrow that I’m refusing the order. If they push back, I’ll stand my ground.”

Azriel stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against your arm in a comforting gesture. “You don’t have to handle this alone, Y/N. If they give you any trouble, I’ll be here to help.”

His touch was warm and reassuring, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the closeness between you. “Thank you, Azriel. That means a lot to me.”

He offered you a small, comforting smile, the tension between you easing as the conversation shifted away from the danger and back to the quiet intimacy of the night. “I should probably let you get some rest,” he said softly, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nodded, though part of you wanted to ask him to stay just a little longer. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

As Azriel turned to leave, the quiet of the night settling around you, you felt a sudden reluctance to let him go. You reached out, gently catching his hand before he could step away completely.

“Azriel,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “About the letter… would you mind taking it with you? Maybe you could look into that seal, see if your network can find anything.”

He paused, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise before they softened into a gentle smile. “I was actually going to ask if I could take it. I’ll have my spies look into it and see if we can find out more. Whatever this is, it’s better to be cautious.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. “Thank you. I’d feel better knowing it’s in your hands.”

Azriel’s hand tightened slightly around yours, a quiet reassurance in his touch. The moment lingered between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the quiet understanding that had grown between you throughout the night.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you took a small step closer, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest. You felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the promise of something more, something that was just beginning to blossom between you. Azriel responded immediately, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss just enough to leave you both slightly breathless.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, the world outside the shop forgotten in that quiet, intimate moment.

“I’ll be careful,” you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of the promise you were making, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I know you will. And I’ll be here, whatever happens next.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. With a final, tender kiss to your forehead, Azriel stepped back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer before he let go.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said softly, his voice carrying a promise of its own.

You watched as he turned and stepped out into the night, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, you stood there, the warmth of the kiss still tingling on your lips, the weight of the letter now passed on to someone you trusted implicitly.

With a small, contented smile, you turned off the lights and headed upstairs to your apartment. As you climbed into bed, the events of the night replayed in your mind, the memory of Azriel’s kiss lingering as you drifted off to sleep, a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold.

—— 

The House of Wind was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth as Rhysand and Cassian lounged in the living room, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. They had been waiting for a while, their usual banter having faded into a comfortable silence as they awaited Azriel's return.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You think he’s off doing something shady, or just being his usual brooding self?"

Rhysand chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Knowing Az, probably a bit of both. But he’s been acting different lately—less brooding, more... distracted."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest. "Distracted, huh? You think he’s got something—or someone—on his mind?"

Rhysand smirked, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s been disappearing more often, hasn’t he?"

As if on cue, the front door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, his wings folding neatly behind him as he made his way into the room. His expression was calm, collected—perhaps a bit too calm, given the circumstances.

Cassian was the first to pounce, his grin widening as he eyed Azriel with suspicion. "Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Where’ve you been, Az?"

Azriel shrugged, his face betraying nothing as he replied, "Out."

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by Azriel’s attempt at evasion. "Out where? You don’t usually take this long on a simple errand."

Azriel’s lips twitched, but he kept his tone even. "Just taking care of something."

Cassian exchanged a glance with Rhysand, both of them clearly not buying Azriel’s nonchalant answers. "Uh-huh. And this ‘something’ wouldn’t happen to involve a certain blacksmith in Velaris, would it?"

Azriel shot Cassian a sidelong glance, his expression carefully neutral. "Why would you think that?"

Rhysand leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Oh, come on, Az. You can’t fool us. We’ve noticed you sneaking off more frequently—and it just so happens that you’re always heading in the direction of Y/N’s shop."

Azriel’s silence spoke volumes, and the corners of Cassian’s mouth lifted into a knowing grin. "So, did you kiss her?"

Azriel’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t respond. His silence only served to fuel the fire, and Cassian’s grin turned into a full-on smirk.

"Oh, fuck," Cassian groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the chair. "The kid won the bet."

Rhysand looked at Cassian, his amusement evident. "What bet?"

Cassian let out a resigned sigh. "I made a bet with Alex. I said they wouldn’t kiss until the second date, but that little shit was convinced it would happen on the first."

Rhysand couldn’t contain his laughter, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back in his chair. "You made a bet with a ten-year-old, and you lost?"

Cassian groaned again, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, and now I owe him. Damn it, Az, couldn’t you have waited until the second date?"

Azriel finally allowed a small smile to tug at his lips, his gaze shifting between his two friends. "You shouldn’t have made the bet in the first place."

Cassian grumbled, but there was no real heat in it. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait until you have to deal with him gloating about it."

Rhysand leaned forward, his eyes still gleaming with humor. "So, you really kissed her, huh? How was it?"

Azriel’s smile softened, his thoughts drifting back to the quiet moment under the stars. "It was... perfect."

Rhysand leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. "It’s about time, Az. You deserve something good in your life."

Cassian, still sulking over his lost bet, couldn’t help but chuckle. "Yeah, and next time, maybe wait a little longer so I don’t end up in debt to a kid."

Azriel shook his head, a rare chuckle escaping him. "I’ll keep that in mind."

The three of them settled into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. Despite the teasing, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a bond that went beyond words, forged in battle and strengthened by years of friendship.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to other topics, the easy camaraderie between the three warriors filling the room. But in the back of his mind, Azriel couldn’t help but replay the evening’s events, a soft smile lingering on his lips as he thought of you.

—— 

The days flowed smoothly after that fateful night, a comfortable rhythm settling over your life in Velaris. The shop bustled with activity as more customers came by, drawn by your reputation and the quality of your work. Alex was his usual lively self, helping out with the customers and occasionally throwing in a cheeky comment or two that never failed to make you laugh.

Azriel became a frequent visitor at the shop, his presence now a regular part of your routine. He would stop by during the quieter moments of the day, sometimes bringing you lunch, other times simply staying for a chat as you worked. There was an ease between you now, a quiet understanding that grew with each passing day.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up the final touches on a sword, the door to the shop swung open, and you looked up to see Cassian strolling in with his usual swagger. He greeted you with a wide grin, but it was the sight of him handing Alex a small pouch full of gold coins that really caught your attention.

Alex, ever the charmer, opened the pouch and gave a low whistle. "Pleasure doing business with you, General," he said with a mock bow, his grin as wide as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, wiping your hands on a cloth as you approached them. "What’s this about, then?"

Cassian looked caught for a moment, but then he let out a hearty laugh. "Just paying off a little debt, Y/N. Seems your apprentice here had more faith in Azriel’s romantic abilities than I did."

You couldn’t help but laugh, your eyes narrowing playfully as you glanced between the two of them. "So, this is about that bet, huh? Should’ve known Alex would win."

Alex puffed out his chest with pride. "I told you, Nana, always trust my instincts. Now, if only every bet was this profitable."

Cassian rolled his eyes, though his grin never wavered. "Careful, kid. Too much confidence and you might find yourself in over your head."

Alex just shrugged, tucking the pouch away. "I’ll take my chances."

You shook your head at their banter, but there was a warmth in your chest as you watched the two of them. Cassian’s visits were always a bit of chaotic fun, and it was clear he had a soft spot for Alex, despite all the teasing.

As the week continued, you couldn’t help but notice how Azriel made a point to keep you updated on his progress with the letter and the mysterious order. He’d stop by, his expression serious as he shared whatever new information he had uncovered.

“It’s been difficult to trace the seal,” Azriel mentioned one evening as you were closing up the shop. He leaned against the counter, his brows furrowed in thought. “It doesn’t match any known factions or groups that we’ve encountered before. Whoever they are, they’re good at staying hidden.”

You nodded, wiping down the counter as you listened. “I expected as much. This whole thing felt off from the start.”

Azriel looked at you, his gaze softening slightly. “I’m glad you decided to decline the order. It’s too dangerous to get involved with something like this.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his concern. “I sent back a letter a few days ago, stating that I couldn’t fulfill the request in such a short time and with the materials they were asking for. I haven’t heard back since.”

Azriel nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

The exchange was typical of the conversations you’d been having lately—serious, focused on the task at hand, but always with an underlying current of warmth. It was clear that Azriel was genuinely invested in your safety, and that knowledge brought a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

As the week drew to a close, you found yourself reflecting on how much had changed in such a short amount of time. The shop was thriving, your bond with Alex was stronger than ever, and Azriel… well, Azriel had become an important part of your life, whether you had intended for that to happen or not.

The night had fallen deep and quiet over Velaris by the time you arrived at the Town House, the moon hanging high in the sky, casting a silver light over the city. The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional guard or late-night traveler making their way home. The air was cool, with a faint breeze that stirred the leaves and whispered through the alleyways, carrying with it the promise of something darker on the horizon.

You had left Alex back at your apartment, assuring him that you wouldn’t be long. It was late, but Rhysand had requested a meeting, and you knew it was important. The weight of the past week hung heavy on your mind, and though you had declined the mysterious order, the unease still lingered.

As you entered the Town House, you were greeted by the familiar warmth of the place, but tonight, it felt different—more serious, more urgent. The usual lighthearted banter that often filled the rooms was absent, replaced by a quiet intensity that set you on edge.

Rhysand was already seated in the main sitting room when you arrived, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as he watched you enter. Cassian and Mor were there as well, Cassian leaning casually against the mantel, while Mor sat elegantly on the couch, her gaze flicking to you with a small, welcoming smile. Azriel was the last to arrive, his entrance almost silent, but you felt the shift in the air as he took his place near the shadows, ever watchful.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and calm, but with an undercurrent of seriousness that matched the atmosphere. "I appreciate you making time, especially so late."

You offered a small nod, taking a seat across from him. "Of course, Rhys. What’s this about?"

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Cassian and Mor before turning his attention back to you. "As you know, the Night Court’s relationships with the other courts—both on the continent and beyond—are delicate. We’ve worked hard to maintain peace and foster alliances, but there are always those who would see us weakened or divided."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "You’ve done well in keeping the balance, but I imagine that’s not easy."

"It isn’t," Rhysand admitted, his gaze steady. "And lately, we’ve had reason to believe that certain factions within the courts are growing restless. There’s talk of old alliances crumbling and new ones being forged, some of which could threaten the stability we’ve worked so hard to maintain."

Mor leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. "We need to be proactive. The other courts respect you, Y/N. You’ve built relationships with many of the High Lords, and that makes you uniquely positioned to help us."

Cassian chimed in, his tone less playful than usual. "We’re not asking you to do anything dangerous. We just need your insight—your understanding of the dynamics at play. If there’s a way to strengthen our alliances or to identify potential threats before they become real problems, we need to know."

You felt the weight of their request settle over you, and you took a moment to consider it. The Night Court had always been careful in its dealings with the other courts, but you knew that the balance was fragile, easily disrupted by the ambitions of others.

Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, calm and measured. "You’ve traveled to almost every court, Y/N. You know the High Lords, their strengths and weaknesses, better than most. We could use that knowledge."

You met Azriel’s gaze, seeing the trust and respect in his eyes. It was clear that this was more than just a request for help—it was an acknowledgment of your importance to the Night Court, and perhaps even something more.

"What exactly are you asking me to do?" you asked, your tone thoughtful.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "For now, we need your perspective. If you think there are ways we can improve our relationships with the other courts—especially those on the continent—I want to hear them. Beyond that, if you feel comfortable reaching out to some of your contacts, it could help us gauge where we stand."

You nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation settling over you. "I can do that. But you should know that while I’ve built relationships, not all of them are as strong as they could be. Some of the High Lords are… complicated."

Cassian let out a soft huff of amusement. "Aren’t they all?"

Mor’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at you. "We don’t expect miracles, Y/N. Just your honest opinion. If there are dangers we need to be aware of, or opportunities we can seize, we trust you to tell us."

You appreciated the trust they were placing in you, but you also felt the weight of the responsibility. The politics of Prythian were as dangerous as any battlefield, and one wrong move could have devastating consequences.

"I’ll do what I can," you said finally, your voice steady. "I’ll think on it, and I’ll reach out to those I can trust. But we need to be careful. There are forces at play that we may not fully understand."

Rhysand nodded, his expression grave. "We’re aware. And that’s why we’re counting on you. Your insight could make all the difference."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. It was clear that this was more than just a simple request—it was a turning point, one that could shape the future of the Night Court and Prythian as a whole.

Azriel broke the silence, his voice low. "We’ll take it one step at a time. No need to rush into anything."

You nodded, feeling the tension in your chest ease slightly at his words. "Agreed. Let’s approach this carefully."

Cassian pushed off the mantel, his usual humor returning as he clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough of the heavy talk for one night. I think we’ve all had enough of politics for the evening."

Mor smiled, the tension in the room easing as she relaxed back into her seat. "I couldn’t agree more."

Rhysand stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Thank you, Y/N. We’ll talk more in the coming days. But for now, get some rest."

You rose from your seat, offering a small smile in return. "I will. Thank you."

As you made your way to the door, Azriel fell into step beside you, his presence a comforting shadow at your side. The night was still and quiet as you stepped out into the cool air, the weight of the meeting still lingering in your mind.

"Walk you home?" Azriel offered, his voice soft.

You nodded, grateful for the company. "I’d like that."

As you and Azriel walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the conversation turned naturally to the High Lords you had met over the years. The night air was cool, and the stars above cast a soft, silvery glow on the cobblestone streets.

“You know,” you began, your voice thoughtful, “there are a few High Lords I’ve always found… intriguing. Helion, for one. He’s a shrewd negotiator, but he respects strength. We’ve always had a decent rapport.”

Azriel nodded, listening intently as you spoke. “Helion’s a good ally, though his court’s penchant for secrets rivals our own. And what about Thesan? The Dawn Court tends to stay neutral, but they hold a lot of influence.”

You smiled, recalling your interactions with the calm and measured High Lord of the Dawn Court. “Thesan’s always been respectful. He’s more interested in knowledge than power, but that makes him valuable in a different way.”

Azriel squeezed your hand gently as you continued to walk, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin. His eyes were thoughtful as he considered your words. “These connections could be vital in the coming days. Knowing who we can count on—and who might be swayed—will make all the difference.”

You were about to respond, to delve deeper into your thoughts on the other High Lords, when you suddenly noticed that Azriel had stopped walking. He turned to face you, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.

“Azriel, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft with concern.

For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying you with that same unwavering gaze. Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with a restrained longing. The world seemed to pause around you, the only sound the quiet hum of the night as Azriel’s hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer.

When he finally pulled away, his breath warm against your lips, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile, even as you playfully smacked his arm. “You should’ve done it sooner, then.”

He chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your waist as the two of you resumed your walk. The weight of the meeting was still there, but the kiss had lightened the air between you, bringing a sense of closeness that made the night feel a little less daunting.

As you approached your apartment, you hesitated for a moment before turning to Azriel. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It’s late, but…”

Azriel smiled, his eyes softening. “I’d like that.”

But just as you reached for the door, a sharp, metallic scent hit your senses—blood. The air was thick with it, the smell so strong it made your stomach churn. Azriel tensed beside you, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade as his shadows flared around him.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. Without waiting for a response, you shoved the door open and rushed inside, fear gripping your heart.

The scene that greeted you was one of horror. Stellan, your loyal dire wolf, lay motionless on the floor, his white fur stained red with blood. His lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, and a strangled cry escaped your throat as you dropped to your knees beside him, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch his still-warm body.

“No… no, no, no…” The words came out in a desperate whisper, your mind refusing to accept what your eyes were seeing.

Azriel was beside you in an instant, his expression dark as he scanned the room. But there was no sign of Alex—no sign of the boy who had become like family to you.

“Alex!” you called out, your voice cracking with panic. But there was no answer, only the oppressive silence of the room, broken by the sound of your own ragged breathing.

It was then that you noticed the pendant, a gift from the Winter Court, lying on the floor beside a pool of blood. Your heart clenched painfully as you picked it up, your hands shaking. The blood that covered it was still fresh, a grim reminder of what had been taken from you.

And next to the pendant, partially obscured by Stellan’s body, was a letter. The same seal, the same elegant script—the same cursed symbol that had marked the letter you had declined to fulfil.

Azriel’s hand was on your shoulder, grounding you as you struggled to process what had happened. His voice was low, filled with a simmering fury that matched your own. “They’ve taken him.”

You nodded, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you clutched the pendant tightly in your hand. “We have to find him, Azriel. We have to get him back.”

Azriel’s gaze hardened, his shadows swirling around him like a dark storm. “We will. I promise you, Y/N. We’ll make them pay for this.”

The determination in his voice was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely. With a final, trembling breath, you stood, your eyes locking with Azriel’s. “Let’s go.”

And with that, the two of you set out into the night, driven by a single, unrelenting purpose—to find Alex and to bring him home, no matter the cost.

---

please don't kill me for the end of the chapter <3

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[simplydnp]

you majored in straight up math??? God that's so fuckin cool of you!!

yeah! i've always loved math, so even though i registered late for uni, i knew it would be for math--i just wasn't sure what to do with it. ended up in math-ed. but, unlike some places, i did a double degree, so i have my full mathematics degree & my full education degree

the math degree was so cool. i've really considered going back for my masters since i loved it so much. there's something about pure math that just,,, makes sense to me. proofs are sometimes a pain in the ass, but there's really nothing like staring at one for hours and then it suddenly Clicks and you're off to the races. it's all built on logic--everything that happens makes sense and has a flow.

i also really enjoy the language aspect of it--which a lot of people find couter-intuitive. math should be numbers! but when you do high level math, there's not a lot of numbers involved usually 😂 it's all logic and arguments and specific wording and sentence structure. i love that shit. there's a specific and intentional way to communicate. there's words you use for getting from one idea to the next.

there's a really great video that breaks down how math and language is connected and, in particular, if you're good at 'traditional' math, you might not want a math degree.

here's a transcript:

if you want to go to school for mathematics and this is what you think it'll look like [gestures to background full of equations, trigonometry, and formulas] i suggest you do something else. the joke in the math community is that after sophmore year, you don't see a number over like, 10 again. this is because you learn math as a language. it's like the difference between studying Spanish and studying linguistics. you can study Spanish, but that doesn't mean you'll understand language as a whole. while linguistics studies syntax and semantics because it's the structure of language as a whole that they study. so in this example, if you want to just study spanish, be an engineer. if you decide to take this [math] route, you have two options: pure or applied mathematics. so applied wants to study linguistics as a whole, so they can become a Spanish translator--and maybe pick up Portuguese along the way. while pure mathematics wants to study linguistics so they can make up their own language. it sounds strange but the best mathematicians are often very good with languages too. if you're interested in learning why they have so much in common, then mathematics is for you.

[end ID]

it's like problem solving to the nth degree. a silly example is something like 'what's 1 + 1?' hopefully you know the answer is 2. but in pure math, they'll ask you why 1+1 is 2. and it takes you down this path of laying the foundations for the building blocks of traditional math. (now, that's advanced linear algebra which, frankly, i really disliked, but it's an easy example)

calculus & number theory were actually my 2 favourite 'subjects' in the mathematics we did (which, is very funny bc calculus has the least proofs and you take 4 years of it, vs 1 entirely proofs based course). i was lucky to have really great profs for most of my courses as well

[tsunael]

OC Smash or Pass

Quick Facts

Height: 4'11" | 149cm.

Age: 32.

Gender: Female.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Sexuality: Bisexual. Probably.

Pros

Diligent. She can cook (kind of)! She can clean! No task is ever left undone. She'd make a good homemaker.

Romantic. As her Raen blood dictates, she's always looking for a place to call home.

Talented. She has a knack for conjury, so you'll always be on the receiving end of her tender mercies. She also knows of several styles of dance and can play stringed instruments.

Elegant. Rigorous training in her youth has given her a natural poise and grace. She would make excellent arm candy.

Cons

Tsundere. This might be a pro, as the appeal would be to crack her shell.

Haughty. If she has reason to believe you have unsavory ideas, she may give you the cold shoulder. Her temper is as sharp as her horns-- speaking of...

Au Ra. She is a danger from the front and the back. Go in for a kiss and you'll be maimed. Oh, and she has fangs, too. Want to spoon instead? Too bad! Tail spines! Guess you'll have to get creative.

Cynical. She's been through a lot in her life, and it shows through more often than not.

Daddy issues. She certainly wouldn't be projecting on you, or looking for love in the wrong places or anything.

Details

Romantically: It's something she daydreams about, though she often wonders if it would be best to keep it as one. There's somewhat of a hedgehog's dilemma there, both figuratively and literally in that she can't really get close to anyone without feeling the need to pull away. However, if she were ever to have a romantic partner, she would devote herself fully to them. One could expect small touches of the hand and shoulder in public, and truly intimate gestures like light massage, or washing their hair in private. Though a soft and sensitive partner would be the ideal and probably make her happiest, she really shines when she's around someone she can exchange (verbal) blows with. Make her match your wit, and reduce her to a flustered mess (it's easy to do).

Sexually: She's somewhat repressed. The particular Okiya she was raised in was convent-like in nature, and she rarely ventured outside other than to the markets, or for work. She's had undisclosed partners, but never any that let her truly bloom. ... Because of this she might be hesitant to try new things, or engage in anything she deems too 'filthy', but it's learned shame, and there is merit in helping her overcome it. Ahem. In a similar vein, she does know what she likes, but she may have difficulty asking for it. This would be considered a con, but with enough time and patience you might get to see an extra special side to her. Basically, I think her years of yearning, coupled with an excitable nature would make for a, uh... very passionate experience if you can get over how much of a wilting flower she is at first. She probably has a few kinks to unearth, too!! Who knows! Anyway!

Tagged by: No one. I took it, comrade. Because sometimes you gotta do it yourself. Tagging: This is my community garden. Take what you will.

I didn't include an other option because mama didn't raise a quitter. You will SMASH or you will PASS and you will like it.

Points if you say why though. 🔍👀

Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc)

[killershrike]

ok guys here's a tiny sneak peek at a section in chapter 7 of dark suspension. just because languages are one of my autistic special interests lol I thought this might be fun to share to the fandom. I finally figured out how I imagine yautja to speak to one other, outside of human translation or you're reading two yautja converse in my fic. This is a COMPLETELY UNEDITED SECTION please do not think this is the final draft lol this is just the bare bones I thought would be neat to share

Han-e'sain's POV:

"Can I ask a question?" So-yin hums from his side, and the yautja rumbles in approval. He nods. "How did you get so good at English? No offense, I know you're smart. You just picked it up so fast-"

The warrior laughs, reaching out to rub her back in an easing way. "No offense, little one." Ghost assures her before continuing. "This device," He gestured to his gauntlet. "combined with my bio-mask allows me to trandlate any language to yautja. I can also search for specific things, translations, whatever I want." The woman looks astounded.

“While you slept and I could not sleep, I would study the ooman language." So-yin nods.

“You said it was kinda easy, right?” 

Ghost chuckles. “Yes. Now, no offense to you, little one, but there are species out there that do not even use words to communicate. Only facial expressions, gestures, sounds. Your ooman language is not so hard.” She considers the thought, looking intrigued and interested before getting herself back on tack, pretty green eyes focused back on Ghost.

“Too me, that hardest parts were identifying the correct region. And translating my language to you. It was.. very difficult. I probably sounded very stupid at first." The yautja even clicks, looking down at ground in embarrassment.

So-yin reachs out to teasingly tug a long dreadlock, smiling. “No, you didn't. You sounded better than a lot of other humans ive spoken to.” She giggles. “What was so hard about the translation?”

Ghost had to think for a long moment, trying to find the right words that weren't overly complicated for his sweet human. “The structure of your language versus ours. Very few ooman languages operate like yautja. We have an.. usual word order if i attempted to directly translate from my language, without added context or interpretation.” The woman looks even more curious now, and the yautja rumbles with humor as they walk.

“How's the structure different? I'm no writer or anything, I know plants more than I know language. But I'm curious.” A soft hand reaches out to grab onto his, managing to grip only three thick fingers in her small human hand.

Her lover rumbles on, "Yautja place the object of a sentence first. Then the verb, then the subject.” When So-yin tilts her head in confusion, Han-e’sain chatters in amusement. Her scrunched up button nose with a thick gold ring hanging from it was just too adorable.

Leaning down to pluck a vibrant pink and white striped flower, he holds it out to her. So-yin takes it, closing her eyes and inahling deeply before tucking it behind her ear, meeting Ghost's gaze again.

“Flower to her gave I.” He rumbles. “You would say something like, I gave the flower to her." Ghost clicks, with a little annoyance. "In my head, I kept switching the words around. It took me time to sound out the correct ooman sentence, in my mind."

So-yin understands, giggling now. Raising his hand and pressing a warm, soft kiss to it, she murmurs. "Love to him gave I?" The look of unsurity makes the yautja burst into deep, loving laughter.

"Very good, little one. You will speak yautja in no time." The rumble ends with a deep kiss.

-------

Anyways, I entirely based the structure off of Klingon! Object first, then the verb, then the subject.

So if you wanted to say something like "I gave him a book." It would translate to "Book to him gave I."

As we place the object (book), before the verb (gave), and then the subject (I.) Hopefully that makes sense and is interesting for any of my other language nerds lmao I know it's not that deep or complex or cool but I just thought it was Kinda Neat

[chronocrump]

Hello Chronocrump, I recently stumbled upon your art the other day, and I couldn't stop staring at your gallery.. It makes me realize there is so much thats lacking from my art that I really want to improve on. I felt desperate to contact you, but wasn't sure if it would be rude. I wanted to try to ask you, how do you approach drawing? Do you structure it first, or start with a gesture drawing? Focus on the form or perspective first? Etc My other question might seem strange, but I wanted to ask how do you hold your pencil? Ive learned that different pencil grips can drastically change the quality of someone's art. Thank you for your time. I'm sorry if my message is to long, or you don't want to respond back. I wanted to atleast try, but also let you know that your work has been very inspiring for me to keep trying.

I'm glad to answer your questions, it's seriously no problem. I wanna start by telling you how amazed I was when I checked your profile to see your work. I know you have a huge lack of confidence in it, but your art is genuinely beautiful, and frankly, looking at it, I found it hard to believe that you would be asking me for advice...from my perspective, you're way ahead of me. You're certainly better with color; you might notice I really only post sketches lol. I really don't want to dismiss or downplay your feelings about it, but I have to let you know how I felt looking at it. To me it seems like your brain is telling you your art isn't good enough when it very, very much is.

Anyway, enough gushing from me lol. On to your questions.

Usually when starting a drawing, I very loosely and lightly sketch the overall form of the pose I wanna do. Very rough basic shapes/forms to get everything in its right place before I start really drawing it with confident lines. Even then, all the lines are subject to change; nothing is sacred. To be honest tho, I usually mess up the proportions and have to fix them a bit lol. I try to sketch cleanly and concisely, meaning I try not to draw a lot of lines in a spot that could really be done with just one or two. I'm not super strict on that tho, at the end of the day while I try to draw efficiently, I also want to draw comfortably. So with something like a big circle for example, I'll draw that pretty sketchy. In terms of perspective, I'm trying to get better at it, but when considering how I want to use it in a drawing, it's part of the initial image or idea I have in my head, so I lay it out from the beginning. I do also draw structure lines on the face, just a simple cross to plan where the center of the face will be. Lately I've also tried taking more pictures of myself for pose reference and it works well.

Most of my practice comes from studying my favorite artists and trying to emulate the specific ways they structure their drawings. I should actually be doing dedicated practice sessions with that, but I digress. Recently I've been trying to practice from photos first thing in the morning, tho I'm finding it hard to commit to doing it daily. I just go on pinterest and find cool poses, then draw them, trying to get down the basic shapes and prominent features more than focusing on minute details. I've posted some of these practice sketches on here but there's a few more on my twitter if you wanna see what I'm talking about.

In terms of my pencil grip, I'm not sure...since I was little, I've always had an unusual grip. Looking it up, I guess it's like the "dynamic quadrupod" grip, but with my forefinger farther back. Really the most I try to do is draw less with my wrist and more with my forearm. Some say you should "draw from the shoulder", and that sounds right...I guess it's all about avoiding straining your wrist and getting carpal tunnel lol.

Anyway, I'm flattered that you would ask me for advice. To be honest, it makes me feel like I should have more confidence in my own art. And you should too! I can say that, objectively, your art is very good. I hope my advice was actually helpful and not generic stuff you've heard before lol. Good luck in your art journey.

[decepti-thots]

I’m trying to imagine the history of Meso and Prowl. Because Meso basically becomes obsessed with Prowl and I want to know why?

I HAVE SOME GOOD NEWS I WROTE A FIC ABOUT JUST THAT

ok, shameless plug aside, it's a really interesting question, isn't it? i know roche has said on a couple panels that he very deliberately didn't consider mesothulas' backstory when writing sins, because he thinks over-focusing on unnecessary backstory can be an impediment to writing, which is true but also leaves a very fun gap if you want to do fanwork about it.

i think with what tarantulas does say about it himself we get something of a clue as to not the specifics of what happened, but how that whole relationship came to be so obsessive, though. when he talks about what happened after he was pushed into and escaped the noisemaze, he discusses how coming back to his wrecked lab was awful; that it was the place that represented the 'fullest' version of himself, and to see it destroyed was, to him, seeing a part of himself destroyed too:

i think the degree to which mesothulas became obsessed with prowl is probably linked to prowl giving him all that. he let mesothulas isolate himself away from the world and study it as an indifferent observer as he so badly wanted to, and provided the means for mesothulas to do basically anything he might desire with it. his whole self conception seems to revolve around his autonomy and isolation from the rest of the world. prowl basically enabled that point of view and made it possible for him to embody it completely. he sees his partnership with prowl as intimately, irrevocably linked to his work, which in turn is what he defines himself by.

i can absolutely see it as being that mesothulas didn't initially see prowl differently to anyone else, but that intense isolation combined with prowl constantly providing whatever he wanted to do his work, no questions asked, changed that over time. some of it was probably that he saw something similar in prowl to his own amorality that is more interested in results than questions of 'should i really do this', but a lot of it is probably that prowl provided what he wanted whenever he asked, and no idea was too big or too dangerous. at least to begin with. mesothulas links his self-realization to his partnership with prowl, and he liked being that version of himself. so prowl perhaps became the first person to really impact on his life as an individual, and intrinsically linked to him in a way that simply by virtue of being the sole person to do so, would have to wind up... horribly codependent. i mean, if you get a taste of that, you want more of it- and if there's only one person who you think can possibly provide it, of course that's going to wind up. uhhh. gestures at tarantulas. Like That TM.

(obviously as per my linked fic, my favourite headcanon is that i like to imagine they met when prowl tried and failed to defect to neutrality, but i can absolutely see a version where he approaches mesothulas as an autobot; mesothulas agrees thinking whatever, i'll take your cool shit if it gives me what i want even if i don't care about politics, and accidentally gets in way too deep. very terrible man makes his first friend and reacts extremely badly.)

[markedbyfireandash]

2024 Grimoire Challenge: January Week 1

Figured I could do the @2024-grimoire-challenge more consistently if I answer the prompts in batches instead of daily.

Preparatory Work

Notebooks I already have a planner-journal for messy notes, dream journaling, and personal insights, a pile of loose paper for research notes and organizing them, and a dedicated logbook for keeping track of arcane shenanigans. I'll be answering most of the prompts on my personal journal. Research-related ones will go to my research pile.

List of 52 herbs to study Skipping for now. I already have a good number of botanicals researched for both mundane and magical use. May instead post my research notes on whatever new plant I come across that interests me.

List of 52 crystals to study Definitely skipping. I don't use crystals enough to make a deep dive worth it. I already did my research on the ones I own, and currently have no plans to collect crystals for magical purposes. May or may not replace this with a random topic deep dive.

Grimoire

Naming the Book

I already do name my magical tools, even my journals! In my personal craft, names hold immense power, so the act of naming is itself some sort of consecration and empowering ritual. Considering their importance, I will be keeping these names private.

Outline/Index Pages

My arcane logbook has one, as it's the only one that will actually benefit a lot from it. The rest of my notebooks (including the pile) run mainly on tabs.

Definitions

Ritual Any action or set of actions with a symbolic, cultural, and/or emotional significance typically done on specified events.

Spell An act of magic done to achieve a specified purpose, usually to enact a change in the world according to the caster's will through symbolic gestures.

Personal Practice

Spell Writing

A spell is itself a tool that creates another tool specific to a predefined purpose. My approach to writing spells is very similar to problem-solving in general, and is very loose.

Identify a problem and its causes. If there's currently no direct problem, then I find a goal to achieve.

Identify the best or most feasible method to achieve the goal.

Survey available resources. Adjust goal and method if needed.

I don't adhere to a particular format, but in general, a spell for me consists of:

A source of energy or power

A way to color, filter, alter, move, or interact in any way with that power

An anchor or a physical vessel for the spell

Some examples of a power would be myself, a fire, physical movement (dance, wind, song), spirits, the materials themselves, celestial influence, cultural significance, and emotion. Interacting with that power may utilize divination, spirit communication, prayer, visualization techniques, meditation techniques, physical gestures, tools such as wands and knives, and so on. The anchor is not required, but it's useful for maintaining and dismantling spells, and I personally just like creating something physical for the spell to hold on to.

Common Tools

Paper, to hold names, words, sigils, and even material and immaterial influences. A blank canvas full of potential.

Any writing tool. A regular writing pen or pencil works, but brush and dip pens are great for working with specialized, magical inks. Toothpicks for writing on candles, cotton buds for harsher liquids such as alcohol and oil, chalk for most non-paper surfaces. Even a finger would do. A tool of creation and direction.

A tarot deck, sometimes a normal deck of playing cards, both a divination and a spell tool.

Candles - white tealights, mostly - to carry light or flame, act as a power, be a source of wax, or be a way to suffuse scent. Scented candles especially are reserved for offerings.

A tea cup, to hold water - and metaphorically 'hold' things that the hands can't. Cups are good for small things that don't need much heating. For anything that needs to be hotter than boiling water, I use the pot. Pair with a strainer to filter out unwanted things. Lidded containers for storage.

Washi tape, which makes hiding magic in plain sight easier.

Scissors for snipping plants, paper, thread, and connections.

Miniature, pen-sized broom used for quick cleansings and asperging.

Music, both to mask the sounds of spell casting and to define a space away from the mundane.

I should experiment with things like bookmarks and keys, and the tea plant stave I have currently just standing around the living room.

Calendar

The solstices mark very significant events in my life, so I like to honor those dates yearly.

Equinoxes mark a subtle but notable shift in the day cycles, so while they have no symbolic or cultural significance at the moment, I just like to track them.

Epagomenal days, ie the last 5 days of the year. Calculating when exactly they land is tricky so I just synchronized it with the usual calendar.

New years - lunar and Gregorian.

Fruiting and flowering seasons of mango, rambutan, kalachuchi (frangipani), and the cotton tree. Mostly because they're common in the area, but also because seeing them fruit and bloom gives me a lot of joy.

I'd like to add more specific dates, but they have more to do with local weather changes, which have lately been weird because of climate change.

Altar Design & Workspace

I do not have a set altar or workspace! If I need to perform a spell, I do it on the spot, using whatever flat surface is available if it is needed. Usually, that flat space is either a desk table or the dining table.a

What I do have is a spread in a notebook (one that opens flat) decorated and dedicated to specific deities, and I use that to better communicate with them every now and then.

Introspection: Personal Practices

(Keeping this one in my journal)

[thedawningofthehour]

Hey...

I've been thinking about this for a while, but how do you feel that your war in the fic will sync up with the one in real life? I'm not trying to be funny or anything, but it's still interesting.... To say the least. It's just that it's been over a week now, and it's hard... I remember at the beginning of all this I got into a very stressful fight with one of my super religious aunts, I was raised catholic, made my first communion and everything, but yeah, it was a mess. It doesn't help that my family is prone to go by what the media says.

(I still can't get over that time when my mom told me that popcorn caused cancer because she saw it on a facebook post or something).

I talked a bit more about my religious background in a Castlevania post I reblogged not too long ago.

This current big conflict does not affect me directly, my country has nothing to do with it the closest we came to this conflict was a long time ago when our former president cursed Israel on public television.

But it is still hard, to see all those images, glimpses of those videos, all those news and people justifying and lying shamelessly about it and not being able to do anything, but express an opinion on the internet and hope someone will see it, and on top of that not even being able to talk to your family about it because it would be a disaster again.

We are at the end of 2023 and everything sucks.

I've been kind of avoiding talking about or even reblogging stuff on my main about the Israel-Palestine conflict because it's just...it's so much. Everything is terrible everywhere in the world and I am exhausted. I dislike the notion that everyone needs to 'speak out' about every travesty that goes on, I find it very performative and ultimately unhelpful and even distracting at times, especially considering most people do not have the knowledge or tact to address something like this, even as a performative gesture.

Like, I've read a lot, and I do remember having a unit on Israel-Palestine back in high school, but that would have been 2010-2011. And it was one unit, in a high school level social studies class. I am not nearly informed enough to talk about it with the tact it deserves or say anything about it that hasn't been said already. It's difficult to even get into because so much is Zionist bullshit or anti-Semitic propaganda-though the racists have seems to dispose of the anti-Semitism in favor of Islamophobia for now. (I mean, not surprising, they also buddy up with Muslims when it comes to oppressing gays and pretend to be friends with gay people when it comes to trans people) It's just...a lot. And it hurts.

I obviously did not plan for there to be a real-life war with honestly sort of unnerving parallels to Draxum's war-I just had very, very poor timing. Same thing when I was writing my Dishonored fic and COVID happened. I mean, the Ukraine war was also going on when I started this fic, but that still felt very different and by that point we were all feeling very hopeful about Ukraine. Part of me feels like it's disrespectful to even talk about this stuff in relation to my shitty fanfiction. But at the same time I still cite other conflicts and genocides and all sorts of horrible shit in my world-building, and those people had names too.

I don't plan to sync anything up specifically with current conflicts. Some parts are going to feel relatable considering what's going on now, because this conflict really doesn't teach us anything new about war. The horror, complexity, and ultimately futility of war is a major theme in my work, and I strive to portray it with the weight it deserves. War is awful. People die. They die horrifically, they die quietly, they die unheroic and undeserving deaths. They die needlessly and they die inside even if their body survives. War has always been the same. It is suffering and death and filth. I will not co-op what's happening in Palestine to talk about my fanfiction. But if aspects of my story makes you relate to what's happening over there, I'll consider that a mark that I've done my job right. Ideally, that's what fiction should strive to do.

[kaleidoscope13579]

Sorry this isn’t really a “comic” but just me drawing specific moments in the DR3 anime. So this is an AU where class 78 survived and joined Future Foundation.

Also I would see Ishimaru, Asahina, and Naegi as platonic best friends AKA two sunshines protectors with their sunshine.

Ishimaru’s NG code explanation:

So I was reading a post explaining Tengan’s possible motivations in setting up everyone’s NG code. So I tried to think of something that would be symbolic to Ishimaru while giving it a personal connection.

There’s no doubt that Ishimaru has a habit of pointing a lot. You can tell because it’s one of his sprites and some of the official art depicts him pointing (also if you want to count the stage play too). I imagine that Tengan was aware of Ishimaru’s habit and gave him this (like Izayoi’s eating or Juzo’s punches).

Pointing is also symbolic to his character. Depending on certain cultures, pointing is considered rude and aggressive which some people might describe Ishimaru as upon first impressions. Pointing is also a gesture that specifies going in one direction. For all of his life, Ishimaru thought he was going on one path for himself - study hard, follow the rules and the authorities, and become prime minister. Because of his narrow minded views, he hadn’t allow himself to be open for other paths such as socializing with friends. After the world apocalypse and joining Future Foundation, it has allow him to take on a different path and be more open in changes of direction.

While I think Ishimaru probably respects Future Foundation’s organization, he trust more in Naegi’s decision of saving the Remnants of Despair than Future Foundation’s killing method. (I’d like to believe that class 78 trust each other more than the Future Foundation officials.) Hence the scene with Munakata, I wanted to show that Ishimaru is not trying to break his habit of pointing but to showcase that he is not walking down that single direction anymore - following the rules and authority of Future Foundation. He has allow himself to be open on a different path and believe in Naegi’s hope than Future Foundation’s hope. Also his dialogue was influenced by a reddit I saw. (I can provide links to Tengan’s motivations and the reddit if somebody asks.)

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[luvyanfei]

with a short & insecure s/o (hcs)

ft. xiao, kaeya, zhongli, & xingqiu requested by anon

this,,, this is me

xiao. 

he’s appalled when he finds out people actually tease you for your height. xiao has always known how terrible humans can be, but to think they would attempt to tear someone down, specifically his lover, just because they’re considered small irate him to no end. you might want to hold on to him tightly before he can storm off and declare war on the bullies who dared to torment you in any way. 

he honestly doesn’t care if you’re short or tall, ugly or pretty - your appearance isn’t what’s important here. he fell in love with you for what’s inside of you, don’t forget that, okay? xiao may not outright say all that because he’s embarrassed of showing his soft side to you, but if your insecurity gets the better of you, he’ll at least lend an ear to you as you rant to him while stargazing together. 

however, what xiao despises more than others treating you poorly is you belittling yourself. he has zero tolerance for that kind of attitude and will react quite aggressively, gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you. he can’t help himself. it hurts him deeply, dare he say more than a stab to his heart, seeing you wallowing in self-hatred. he’s harsh, but he means well. xiao would much rather see a content smile on your face than having you look disconsolate. 

“have you finally stopped your wailing yet?” xiao peers at your face drenched in tears in disinterest, but really, he’s pretty concerned on the inside. your sobs have been reduced to quiet sniffles, but your body won’t stop trembling. he looks away for a minute, sighs heavily, and pulls you into his arms, a blush coating his cheeks. 

he stays silent the whole time, too nervous to do anything really, as your palms press against his chest lightly and will yourself to calm down. xiao clears his throat and brings a finger down to brush away the glistening tears from your eyes. 

“look, just because you’re short, it doesn’t mean i don’t like you any less,” he whispers only for you to hear, and presses his lips to your forehead, letting it linger there for a few seconds. “even if you, or anybody else, don’t think you’re worthy enough, i at lease still care about you, so don’t let others’ opinions get to you.”

kaeya.

not to be blunt or anything, but kaeya being, well kaeya, he’s probably going to relentlessly tease you. he doesn’t do it because he harbors any ill-intent towards you. it’s just, kaeya is very fond of your flustered expression. if you happen to end up crying from his words, he’ll immediately stop and apologize guiltily. the last thing he needs is for you to abandon him too because of a fault on his end. 

kaeya really does love you a lot, despite your flaws and silently admires you for your empathy and altruism. one good thing about being shorter than your boyfriend is that you can wear his clothing on and he’ll be a gushing mess in no time. he’ll purposefully place his jacket somewhere for you to find in hopes you’ll put it on. he may be doing this just for the purpose of having fun, but he likes knowing that it means you're comfortable and accepting in your relationship with him. 

he likes patting you on the head when you pass by each other at random times, his lips curling in a knowing smirk. if you ever need help obtaining items that are out of your reach, kaeya will conveniently be there to lend a hand. it fuels his confidence how you always go to him for help instead of seeking support from someone who might be more reliable. it goes to show that your trust in him is deep. 

“having difficulties, [name]?” kaeya hollers to gain your attention as you look down from the ladder to glance at the knight, your hand outreached to grab at the material you need with failed attempts. “allow me to be of service~” 

he gestures for you to climb down and gets up the ladder himself, easily grasping the object in his fingers. once his feet has touched the ground, he lowers his hand to give it to you, but before your fingertips can make contact with it, he pulls it away from you. "ah ah ah~ shouldn’t i get some kind of a compensation for helping my dearest?” you stare at him in confusion before an idea plants itself in your head. ah. so that’s what he wants. with a roll of your eyes, you stride up the ladder till your eyes meet and kisses him on the lips. 

as you push your body away from him, he gives a closed-eye grin and nods in satisfaction. “that wasn’t too bad, now was it?” kaeya finally hands you the item, but he grips your free hand in his and guides it to press against his warm cheek. “you should realize by now what you’re capable of doing, stealing my heart like this. you’re so cruel [name], but perhaps that’s why i’ve grown to love you.” 

zhongli.

zhongli is an honest and good-natured man. he’ll immediately tell you that he doesn’t think to care about your height, so there’s no reason for you to worry about it either. he’s not an idiot though. he’s aware that your self-deprecating thoughts won’t disappear so easily with his consoling words alone. actions speak louder than words, after all. 

if anyone ends up insulting you for your size, zhongli won’t hesitate to politely stand up for you. although, if they stubbornly persist in demeaning you, it’ll push him to the brink of indignation, but he’ll still attempt to keep up a courteous manner for your sake as he calmly tells them to back off. like kaeya, he loves it when you wear his clothing! he’s lived for a long time to see many things, but witnessing you cuddling him while his jacket is draped snugly over your body has got to be the cutest thing he’s seen yet. 

ever the supportive individual, zhongli will help you come out of your shell and build up on your self-esteem. he’s there with you every step of the day, so if you ever slip and feel like you’re about to fall into an abyss of despair, he’ll take your out-stretched hands in his and guide you back into the light. 

“[name], is something the matter? you look as if you’re bothered by something.” zhongli questions innocently, studying your face carefully. your eyes droop slightly, but you reassure him that you were pondering how it would feel like if you were as tall as him. he nods in understanding and brings a hand up to his chin in thought. 

before you know it, he’s turned his back towards you and kneeled down. perplexed, you stare at him, unsure of what he’s doing. “you said you desired to know what it’s like to be around my height, so this is the only thing i can think of.” hesitantly, you place your hands on his shoulder blades to balance yourself and he makes sure to hold onto you tightly as he stands up slowly. you smile in appreciation at zhongli’s consideration over your feelings and presses your body closer to his. 

he beams back at you, sealing a kiss to your lips. “if you ever feel down, remember that there’s at least one person in the world that loves you - one of them being me, of course.” 

xingqiu.

he also reacts similar to kaeya, although his teasing is slightly toned down and less vocal. like, if you wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, he might lean away from you and probably use a stool to make himself taller, but he’ll stop after a bit of fun and laughter. it’s not funny unless both of you are smiling, right?

he finds your short stature to be one of your charm points and will compliment you for that, calling you adorable and such. it’s kind of perfect for him because he likes being the big spoon, embracing you from behind and nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. if you’re around the same age as him, it’s alright! there’s still time for you to grow. he’s sure the both of you will be tall soon. there’s no judgement when you’re with him, so don’t be afraid of being yourself around xingqiu, alright? 

if he finds out your confidence is still lacking, he’ll scribble down a list of all the things he loves about you for you to read to lift your spirits up! although, that might prove to be a challenge considering his handwriting is infamously known for being illegible. 

“hmm... isn’t that the picture we took at liyue harbor together?” xingqiu observes the photo in your hand, reminiscing the fond memories. his honey irises flicker to you. “hey, what’s with the frown?” 

you shake your head and tries to change the subject, but he presses on to persuade you into explaining. when you finally do, he bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping away the tears pricking the edge of his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior, but [name], you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with such a trivial matter.” he tucks away a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his index finger ghosting over your lips. 

“have i ever told you that you’re cute?” xingqiu murmurs, a sense of genuine compassion laced in his tone. “don’t stare at me like that, please. i’m quite serious, so there’s no need to compare yourself with me. no matter the height difference, i’ll always love you - if you’ll allow me too. 

tagging. @liliisacutieowo, @scarymoosh

[plutoswrath]

✧ astro notes and titbits ✧

 part 1, part 2 x

- a common misconception regarding the South and North Node: it’s not the mission to abandon your South Node, it just represents what you already learned and brought with you here on earth and should be expanded. The Lunar Nodes represent a constant seek for balance, South and North Node should both be equally integrated in ones life. 

 - regarding North Node: the North Node is more an uncomfortable placement as it pushes us towards what we don’t know and have a hard time understanding and integrating in our life, even though we desire it. The North Node is impulsive and aggressive in its desire and thus, on the negative side, can equally lead to trouble when blindly followed.

- when looking at our own, or even other aspects, especially the harsh ones, we always have to consider the age of the person. As you grow into your placements over the years, we then can have the abilities to handle conflicting energies within us better - this is not only an encouragement to people with harsh aspects, but also newbies who might get intimated by their own and others placements!

- a Quincunx (Inconjunction) can be even harder to resolve than a Square. While a Square can find common ground in the modalities at least, the Quincunx comes from completely different sides and can manifest as unknowingly doing the same mistake over and over again, while the individual wonders why it always hurts. At the same time, it can seem like the only option left for them, even when they know it’s not the optimum. Quincunxes can go under the radar as well, since they are a small aspect 

- this a fun thing I recently did with my own and other charts: If you were born too late or early and you happen to know the approximate delivery date of your birth go and calculate that birth chart! I found myself lucky to be born two weeks later than expected asdfghj

- when you have Aquarius/Uranus touching your ascendant or any house that is about self expression and/or the public it could give you a very scattered energy;  you might be flipping on and off energy wise and people could have a hard time keeping up with you or adjusting to your flow of energies. This can also result in a lot of different ‘phases’ the individual goes through, or in equally getting passionate about something but then losing interest 3 weeks later

- A very common trait that a lot of Pisces Ascendants have are the droopy, watery eyes and often times pointed features on the face/a rather pointed face shape

- Taurus, Sagittarius and Cancer Ascendants could stretch features of the face/the overall face shape. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter and Cancer is exalted in it: both of these signs can be prone to easily gaining width, Sagittarius and Cancer also can indulge a lot and thus can lead to quicker wheight gaining. Taurus, being the bull, can give the individual a rather wide, squary/boxy look, but always very sensual and serene with Venus being it’s ruler

- some thoughts on Ceres: Ceres is an asteroid that tells us equally about nurture and destruction. Ceres was Persephones mother, as much as she loves to take care of her lovely daughter, she sometimes doesn’t know the limits and when to stop - once what she loves is taken from her, she can leave a path of destruction behind her and become deeply obsessive. She can cross boarders and break rules for those she loves. Ceres is a mother archetype, responsible for harvesting, she is not only directly linked to nature, but also a good representation of mother natures extremes

-> Also: Ceres can give you insight about the relationshio between a mother and a child. I would recommend looking at your synastry with your mother figure. It can give you additional information to your parental relationship despite other very telling planets, such as Moon. Look where their Ceres touches your chart and what aspects they form

 -> Ceres in synastry can also show you where your mother figure was most present, what they cared for most and maybe even where they were overly critical/concerned, protective or didn’t care for you at all. 

- some thoughts on North Node an karmic connections in synastry: links from one Nodal point to the other don’t always have to indicate a karmic link that has a major impact in your life. Think about it: All people that are born around the same time as you and have their NN in ~ 10 degrees to yours will conjunct it, but does that mean we’re all karmically connected? It’s more likely these people all share a similar karmic life path, sharing the same soul mission.  Most likely the really big feelings and influences are when the Lunar Nodes touch the inner planets/angles, as they have an almsot immediate and very direct influence on the other

- those with Mercury square/conjunct or opposite Mars/Uranus are the ones to accidentally say something they shouldn’t have if they are in a flow of speech or just really comfortable

- Venus square/opposite Uranus often go against social norms or revaluate them, so this could give them naturally the image of a misfit and provocateur even if they don’t actively intent to do so. Their ‘out of the norm’ behaviour/attitude could leave many people irritated. This also can make them suffer from a lot of misjudgement in their life, as people could put them in a box constantly

- having a water signs in an earth or air house can make the individual a huge advocate and humanitarian, especially when it’s in inner planets or when Uranus/Neptune in Pisces are in an air/earth house

 - This might be a quiet controversial thought for some, but I am a social studies student so just a little food for thought to everyone: let’s look at the heteronormative use of astrology, aka women = Venus, men = Mars, and I am not talking about energies, I am talking specifically about assorting a gender to these planets. Venus and Mars will both show up in someone when pursuing a person of interest and developing feelings. But now think about parts of society trying to raise women as ‘the harmonizer’ and men as the ‘conqueror’, because these are the often associated traits with these two forms of gender. Back at astrology, let’s look at the archetype and temperament of Venus and Mars. Venus is the represent of unions and forming connections thus standing naturally for harmony (mostly that is), and Mars is the fighter the pursuer and represent of raw sexual energy aka life force. If people believe that the association of Venus to women and Mars to men is true, maybe look a bit closer into the environment you grew up in and maybe you can see that it’s a consequence of heteronormativity. Chances are, Mars and Venus would be looked at equally, or only preferred in insights if an individual conciously is more attracted to ‘masculine/feminine energy’ - again, regardless of gender.

- Basically: Astrology is defenitely not free of the negative sides of society and interpretations should be scanned of our own bias as best as we can!

- I noticed that people with profound Mercury, Uranus, Sagittarius or Aries/Mars influence in their chart are the ones to watch YouTube videos in 1,5 x speed. The nervous and impatient energy inside their chart wants either to spend less time on a YouTube video (trying to watch 10 minutes in 5) or feel like how most people talk and the videos flow are just too slow (chances are they wish they could do that irl too asdfgh)

 - Pisces with profound Mercury influence (especially in inner planets) can give the possibility for a very quick to judge individual - and usually they are very expressive with it as well, either in accidental, small gestures or by openly showing their thoughts through facial expressions or quick reactions

- that being said, people who have strong Pisces influence in their chart, especially those with Ascendant/Pisces in 1st, usually give their first thoughts away with their facial expressions. Their eyes do reflect their inner nature a lot, more so than Cancers and Scorpio do since these are naturally more guarded and hesitant when it comes to self expression in new environments 

[beom1e]

SOUL WATCH

everybody had the soul watch app, because everybody was curious to meet their soulmate. it was an app that told you when or how and gave you hints, but never who. and due to all the pressure, you downloaded the app too... just to find out you didn’t even have a soulmate after all.

PAIRING yang jungwon x gn! reader

THEMES soulmates au, highschool au, fluff, humour

matching jewellery was a trend among soulmates when it came to being a highschool student. those that had found theirs wanted to show it off, basically shoving it into the faces of those that were still searching. walking down the corridors was a constant reminder that you didn’t have a soulmate for yourself, as matched couples would walk hand-in-hand with shiny bracelets or be seen wearing those missing piece style necklaces.

mondays. after freeing yourself from the couple-filled hallways, you sat down at your desk and placed your books onto the table with a huff. trying to block out your classmate bragging about meeting their soulmate over the weekend, you noisily checked around in your bag for your pencil case.

then came the clicking of your teacher’s heels as she entered the classroom, and there was a rush of students finding their seats. the squeaking of chair legs and quiet chatter only made you more annoyed at the world. to say discovering you were soulmate-less a few weeks prior had put you in a permanent bad mood would be an understatement.

but everything lit up as soon as yang jungwon appeared in the doorway. he apologised for being late, cheeks flushed and hair windswept. heat rose to your own cheeks at the sight of his sorry smile.

much to your dismay, he was a few seats to the back and to the right of you. he disappeared from your sight, making you slump sadly in your seat.

‘today is international soulmate day,’ your teacher smiled, setting her powerpoint up behind her. ‘as you all may know. there are many types of soulmate links out there, but i want to know about yours. so research and write about it — its origin, its rarity — and hand it in at the end of class.’

not sure what to do, you raised your hand. ‘what if you don’t have a soulmate?’ at the sound of your voice, jungwon looked up from his notebook. he didn’t have a soulmate either.

‘everybody has a soulmate, y/n,’ she reminded you. ‘maybe you entered your details into soul watch incorrectly.’

‘i don’t have a soulmate either,’ jungwon spoke up. you turned in your seat. ‘so what do we do instead?’

‘this is the first time i’m hearing of people being soulmate-less,’ she chuckled awkwardly, slightly panicked. ‘well, you’re both part of the student board aren’t you? just head down to the main hall and help the others set up for the soulmate dance.’

the soulmate dance. just the thought of it made you roll your eyes. you’d never attended, because you didn’t show interest in finding out until those few weeks ago, but you knew how cheesy it was. it was like every other kind of dance, totally cliché and super boring. except, you got to bring your soulmate.

you packed up your things as quickly as possible. as horrible it would be having to decorate for a stupid highschool dance that you wouldn’t even attend, at least jungwon would be at your side. and he must’ve understood your suffering, especially during international soulmate week on international soulmate day that just happened to fall on a monday.

you slung your bag onto your shoulder and followed jungwon out of the door. he walked slightly ahead of you, holding open each door for you which you quietly thanked him for.

when you made it to the main hall, the bright pink colour palette made your eyes burn. ‘this is going to be a long week,’ jungwon sighed, dropping his bag and leaving you at the door. mentally agreeing, you placed your own bag down beside his.

you sort of felt bad for jungwon. it was depressing to know that you weren’t ‘destined’ for anyone, and that you’d have to find someone the old way. he seemed even less of a fan of soulmate week than you were, but he did seem really down about not having a soulmate of his own.

it was wednesday morning and you’d missed your bus. annoyed with yourself, you had to run to the nearest bus stop in hopes another bus would arrive soon. that was where you saw jungwon and his friends, all of them being upperclassmen.

trying not to be seen, you awkwardly leaned against the outside of the shelter and looked off to the side. ‘it’s not like i like them,’ jungwon argued, which earned a few laughs from the boys. ‘why would i ask them to the soulmate dance if we’re not soulmates?’

‘because you don’t want to spend saturday studying alone in your room?’ sunoo teased, ‘if they’re not matched, then you can ask them. no big deal.’

the bus pulled up in front of them. you waited for them to get on before following, avoiding eye contact and taking a seat at the back. ‘good morning, y/n,’ jake turned around to face you. ‘i didn’t know you take this bus.’

‘i don’t,’ you awkwardly replied. ‘i was late and missed my own bus.’

‘are you going to the dance on saturday?’ sunoo also joined in, smiling brightly at you.

‘oh, uh,’ you nervously fiddled with the straps of your bag. ‘no, i don’t have a soulmate.’

‘well, we were just telling little wonie here that you don’t need a soulmate to go,’ jay patted jungwon’s head, making the younger boy complain about him messing up his hair. ‘you could come with us.’

‘thank you...’ shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you looked between all of the boys who were staring eagerly at you. ‘for the offer... but i don’t want to go. it means a lot, i just don’t do school dances.’

the bus conversation was probably the most awkward thing that happened to you that day. or during lunch time, when you took a seat on a bench facing the sports field. there was jungwon once again, playing around with the same friends. you watched as jake gave up on running around and collapsed to the floor, with everyone mirroring his actions seconds later.

you’d always had a crush on jungwon. he was always so sweet and polite, with the perfect balance between humour and seriousness. you saw him as someone you could easily rely on and trust, despite never being close to him. his cheeks always had this natural blush and his laugh was addictive, and he looked so serious whenever he was concentrating. you felt your heart racing whenever he was around, but you never had the courage to confess to him.

as you got lost in your thoughts, you made eye contact with him across the field. panicked, you began packing your things away and into your bag. then you left, trying not to move too quickly so that it didn’t look suspicious.

after classes, you were called into the main hall once again. knowing today you’d have to be painting, you grabbed your change of clothes from your locker and headed into the changing rooms. coming back into the hall, you were met with jake and sunghoon covering each other in the baby pink paint.

you slipped past them and looked around for something to do. and then someone tapped on your shoulder. it was sunoo, who asked if you could help him with painting the banner. jungwon passed by you, sending you a soft smile before hurrying off towards jay. how did he seem to be everywhere?

on friday afternoon, as you were exhausted from all the decorating you’d been doing, you were so glad to be able to go home and enjoy your weekend. the whole week had been a complete disaster, and you now had a strong dislike towards the colour pink. but much to your dismay, the head of the student board asked you to attend the soulmate dance in order to keep an eye on the students. why he chose you specifically, you had no idea.

so on saturday morning, you tried your best to drag yourself out of bed. though you really didn’t want to dress up for a highschool dance, there was an outfit you had in mind. things weren’t going to change, you weren’t going to randomly get a soulmate, but you stupidly had hope things could change.

you spent most of the day considering backing out, but gave in because you didn’t want to disappoint your classmate. you arrived at the main hall an hour and a half before the event, ready to set things up.

a few students were around, moving tables to either side of the hall. a large red carpet was being rolled through the centre of the room, leading out onto the school gardens. you turned around at the sound of your name, bumping into the source. they reached for your hand, preventing you from toppling over.

a shock of electricity shot through your arm, forcing you to snatch your hand back. ‘i’m so sorry,’ the voice spoke, and much to your dismay, it was jungwon.

you felt your heart racing again, heat rising to your cheeks in an instant. ‘it’s ok,’ you reassured him. ‘it was my fault, so i’m the one that’s sorry.’

‘well,’ he smiled. ‘i guess i’ll see you around.’

honestly, you felt like an idiot. he heard loud and clear just a few days ago that you didn’t want to go to the soulmate dance, but here you were. maybe he would realise you were being forced into it, but if he didn’t, then that would be humiliating.

you shook your head to clear yourself of all the thoughts. ‘y/n,’ turning on the spot, you were met with the sight of jay coming towards you. ‘you’re looking lost. i thought you weren’t coming.’

‘change of plan,’ you simply replied. ‘i was asked to help set up some things.’

‘well, i need help carrying some things in from the truck outside,’ he offered. ‘if you’d like to help.’ nodding, you followed behind him at a distance.

the sky was clear — not a single cloud in sight — and the sun was shining brightly. the back doors of the truck were open, workers from the catering company lowering large bottles of drinks onto the ground. jay gestured towards the cluster of fruit juice bottles before grabbing one for himself.

they were heavy, but you managed. walking at jay’s side, you couldn’t think of a conversation starter to make it all a little less awkward. but thankfully, or maybe not, he spoke up first. ‘you do know that jungwon has a crush on you, right?’

the bottle fell from your grip. panicked, you reached forward to catch it again. clearly the universe was on your side in that moment, because it didn’t split.

‘uh, no,’ you forced out a laugh, feeling your entire body heat up. ‘i did not know that.’

‘he denies it,’ jay shrugged, helping you lift the heavy bottle back up from the ground. ‘but we all see the way he looks at you. after he found out you were soulmate-less too, he wanted to ask you to the dance tonight. but when you said you weren’t going, he gave up on that idea.’

what were you supposed to say to that? as you placed the bottles beside the snack table, jay pushed them under it. turning around to see jungwon on the other side of the hall, you felt yourself swallowing your words before leaving to the outside again.

but avoiding jungwon wasn’t as easy as you had hoped. he seemed to be in your line of sight at all times and in all honesty, you weren’t even sure why you were avoiding him. after all, if what jay said was true, then the feelings were mutual. still, you couldn’t shift your mind away from the shock you had felt at his touch. you thought maybe you were going crazy and had imagined it, until your phone buzzed with a notification.

leaving jay to bring in the rest of the drinks, you leaned against the exterior wall and pulled out your phone. a notification from soul watch lit up your phone, 0 days until you meet your soulmate. eyes wide, you looked around the area, hoping to see someone checking their phone in that same moment. was that even possible?

you weren’t sure what to do. search for your soulmate? or would they just come naturally to you? did this mean jay was your soulmate? it was a possibility, considering you were with him when the notification came through.

‘you coming inside?’ speak of the devil. you quickly hid you phone, putting on a fake smile and nodding. ‘people will start arriving soon.’

as soon as the hall began to fill up with people, you wished you had never came back inside. you really needed some time and space to think everything through. there was that electricity when jungwon had helped you up, but then you should’ve gotten the notification in that moment, right?

you grabbed your phone from your bag, going out into an empty corridor. sliding down the wall beside the door and pulling up the soul watch app, you searched your profile for details. but all the information it had was about your soulmate link, which happened to be a countdown. and now that the countdown was over, there were no more hints?

you were in complete disbelief, but the soulmate dance wasn’t the place to be researching this.

‘i guess you got it too,’ you looked up to see jungwon. ‘you’ve been avoiding me all day, so you must’ve.’

‘i have not been avoiding you,’ but the redness of your cheeks suggested otherwise. ‘and got what? i don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘a sudden notification that you’ve possibly met your soulmate...?’ he sat down beside you.

‘well actually,’ you could’ve laughed at how stupid you were about to sound. ‘i was avoiding you because of what jay said earlier. and i thought there was no way you could be my soulmate otherwise i would’ve received the notification after we bumped into each other.’

‘who else could possibly be your soulmate?’

‘what’s that supposed to mean?’ you turned your head to make eye contact. he quickly looked away and down at the floor, wishing he hadn’t been so bold with his last statement. jungwon was never this forward with people he wasn’t yet close to.

‘i know jay told you that i like you,’ he admitted. ‘and i’ve always known that you like me back. i just never thought to bring it up because i didn’t have a soulmate, and i thought you would have one.’

‘but you have a soulmate now,’ you reminded him, a smile lighting up your features. ‘or... however that works. do you think it has to do with us touching for the first time back then?’

‘you felt that too?!’ his eyes widened as he stared back at you. ‘i thought i was going crazy.’

‘do you want to go back inside?’ you gestured to the door into the main hall. jungwon shook his head, standing up and holding his hand out to you.

‘we could...’ he trailed off, looking behind himself at the exit. ‘or we could ditch this snooze fest and do something fun instead... like go to an arcade?’

‘sounds like a plan,’ you took his hand, letting him pull you up from the ground. he checked if the coast was clear before running towards the exit, the sound of your laughter filling the empty corridor.

[floraltypes]

Old Beginning Pt. 2

pairings - aaron hotchner x reader, jethro gibbs x reader

chapters - one 

summary - the news of a dinner party arrises, but there are some little challenges before the actually night

wc - 3k

an - sorry this took awhile, my summer is over and my writing schedule will be a little wonky now. i’m taking a break from answering requests, so I apologize if I haven’t answered yours, but i eventually will

Penelope and you both looked back at Aaron, taken back by his repeating of the word ‘boyfriend’. You didn’t plan on telling people so soon, considering he was your boss from your old line of work.

“I want to know everything about him, you have to invite him!” Penelope quickly went back into her loud chatting, attracting other faces at her comment. “I also may have mentioned to some of the team that you do have a boyfriend, it just slipped! You know I can’t keep secrets!”

“It’s okay, Pene,” You smiled softly. “I can’t invite him though, you know, since I’m not the one holding the dinner event.”

“You can invite your partner, everyone else can as well, considering it is a catch up,” Dave walked over, a cup of coffee in his own hand as he used the other to scratch at his stubble. “I’ll even invite the woman I’ve been seeing. Feel free to all bring a plus one, I have enough room and everyone deserves a taste of my Italian dishes, will change their lives.”

“Thank you, Rossi, but I simply can’t. It’s so soon, and he’s such a busy man,” You laughed, waving your hand. “It was a kind gesture though.”

“L/n, don’t tell us you’re embarrassed to show your new boyfriend to us?” Derek walked back over, poking your shoulder. “Penelope told all of us down here, just wanted to wait and see when you would tell us.”

“I’m not embarrassed, that’s absurd. He’s truly busy.”

“Invite him, I’ll make sure Will comes and hire a babysitter for Henry, so that we can truly have a adult night,” JJ chuckled. “Everyone is bringing a date, so it would be odd if you didn’t.”

“Actually, I don’t have a partner at the moment due to how invested I am in my studies and the factors of that many young woman my age only focus on the factor of conventional attractiveness rather then the complexity of brains and deep-”

“Don’t worry, Spencer, if you don’t have a date, then I’ll just bring two,” Emily joked. “You don’t need a date, I’m not bringing one either, but Y/n is for sure.”

“I’ll be like the tw-”

“You are dating someone, we aren’t, so you’ll bring that someone. Come on, L/n,” Emily continued on, grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “I’ll walk you out,” She turned back to wink at her coworkers, leading you to the elevator and soon the parking lot.

“Aaron,” Rossi looked towards his friend, a man who had his glare fixated on your exiting figure. “Will you bring Beth, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah, I suppose I will,” He answered, retrieving his cellphone from his pocket, pulling up her contact picture, thumb hovering over the call button. “Let’s finish up this work, so we call all get home.” He shoved it back in his pocket, commanding everyone else while moving back up the stairs to his office.

Meanwhile, you were outside of your car, looking at Emily still was right by your side.

“Bring your boyfriend,” She commented, watching as you fished for your keys and unlocked your car. “I want to meet him, I haven’t really talked to you in a long time.”

“We’re both so busy. Him as well.”

“Seriously, Y/n, I’m not gonna ease up on you. I’ve noticed the new tint in your eye, new considering the last time it was severely dulled. It’s amazing to see your real smile again, you closer to your old self despite the past losses. He really has helped you, so I want to meet the man who helped my dear friend so much.”

You contemplated her kind words, getting down to the point that everyone probably was happy to see you again, yourself physically and mentally.

“I’ll call him, see if he can come. Can’t promise anything, his work is very important to him, so if it needs him he’s there.”

Emily smiled widely, leaning over to kiss your cheek before you moved to open the front door and start your car.

“Great, I’m actually bringing someone. Poor Spencer might be the only one.”

“Aaron is as well?”

“Hotch, yeah,” She laughed. “Meet her at some track meet he had, Jack really likes her.”

“That’s good, I’ll see you soon then,” You smiled, shutting the door as Emily watched you back out, waving a small goodbye.

Leaving the facility, while at a stop light, you found your flip phone, finding the contact of Jethro and quickly dialing the number.

“Gibbs,” He answered.

“Hey, are you on a case?”

“No, are you driving?”

“Yes, safely. What are you doing? Building a boat,” You chuckled, imagining him in the basement with the tool and sweaty shirt.

“Yeah. Did you meet up with your old team today?”

“Mhm, all surprised to see me today. It was humorous in a sense. But, Rossi invited me and everyone to a dinner, telling us to bring a partner.”

“Who are you planning on bringing?”

“You.”

“So, we’re being more public with our relationship?”

“Just with the old team, my old team, they don’t have contact with anyone apart of NCIS, or at least not personal only professional.”

“I thought you were going to come and see me, instead of making me drive,” You could almost sense his smile on the other line, a mocking one.

Gibbs would obviously accept the offer, the man truly holding a strong affection for you, a soft spot personally for you, so he would agree to drive the hour or two.

But just because he would, it doesn’t mean he didn’t have to mess around a bit, act like he wouldn’t.

“I know, but then you can see my new apartment. And after this weekend, who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again. Both of our jobs involved sporadic cases that start and end at no specific time, hard to plan around. And, everyone is pressuring me to meet you.”

“I’m already popular, huh?”

“I suppose,” You huffed, rubbing your temple, exhaustion starting to take over you, wanting to get some rest, a calming bath to combat earlier feelings that seemed as if they were creeping up once again.

“I’ll come, don’t worry. Get home safe, call me when you have the address and date.”

“Okay, bye.” You hung up, tossing the phone onto the empty seat as you continued to drive, playing the music from the CD already inserted in your car.

Time leading up to the dinner seemed to fly by, especially considering that it wasn’t much time and you weren’t having to work. You decided to take the free time to get fully settled in, figure out your nerves, make a phone call to your therapist, and even read. Trying to get prepared for all the days that are to come.

Your hair was now being changed from its normal du to a new one, fancier in a sense. Applying a nice coat of makeup, new lip color, trying a new pallet and the old eyelash curler that hasn’t been used in a while, you finished ‘upgrading’ your face. A outfit was simple, considering you didn’t have many fancy ones, so with not much to choose, it was a quick decision.

Sliding that on and fixing the straps to be a bit tighter, messing with the bra to fit correctly, and pulling it down a bit, you grabbed your go to purse, shoving needed materials a into it as you moved to the kitchen.

Within the kitchen, there was a certain door within the wall of the pantry with a password. Quickly typing in the combination the door swung open, choosing between a small but handy knife, you put in the pocket of your bag.

You weren’t too worried about dangers at the dinner, but with years of catching/fighting murders, specific people after you, and even very powerful assassins, you carried certain weapons for safety.

Hearing the sturdy knock of someone’s knuckles on your front door, you rushed to shut the the secret door in the pantry, heading to your front door where someone was waiting.

A quick peak through the hole, your eyes widened in surprise and opened the door, allowing the man to walk in.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, till uh, later tonight,” You mentioned, looking him up and down to see him more dressed up. “Are you not able to attend anymore?”

“No, I’m still going,” Hotch denied, sliding off his shoes and following you to the couch. “I just wanted to chat before than, a chance for just the two of us.”

“Is something wrong?” You walked over to your teapot, filling it with water, and placing it on your stove, heating up the water. “This is very unexpected.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to you, see the apartment, hear what’s new with you.”

“Things,” You shrugged. “Obviously I’ve had a new job experience, similar in ways and also not. Grew closer with a new group of teammates, people, lost a few. Yeah, lost a few,” You repeated, remembering Jenny Shepard, even Kate, both amazing women, who did amazing things.

“That’s always hard, I guess my most recent loss was Haley,” Aaron hummed, soon the kettle making a high pitched noise, you rushing to take it off and grab some tea bags.

“She was also a amazing woman. Wonderful mother, cared so much for that little boy.”

“She really was.”

“Did you come to chat about her, it’s been a while since we had. Last time we really talked was five months after she passed, after the funeral.”

“It really has been that long?” Aaron questioned, taking the tea that you time handed him. “But it’s not the reason I came. I should have made more of a effort to keep in touch, after your transfer, after your loss.”

“You stayed with me for three months, allowing to lose some time with your son so you could change my dirty sheets and pick up all my snotty tissues,” You laughed, sitting down across from him with your own cup. “You had to get back to your family, make up for loss time.”

“You still helped me with my divorce during that time, and I still saw Jack,” He reminded you.

“I could’ve moved in with my father, but you allowed me not to do that.”

“Your father is a good man, but might not be the best to live with,” He laughed, a deep chuckle, something you didn’t see much. “You look nice.”

“Now you just notice,” You chuckle, taking another sip. “Thank you, you look nice as well. I was actually just going to call Jethro and tell him to meet me there, a bit of a drive and he isn’t happy about having to find a new team,” You spoke freely, feeling comfortable with the old friend, one you used to spill everything to years ago, him ranting to you too.

“Jethro? He has his own team? Sounds like a boss of some type.”

“Uh, technically. It’s complicated. I need to get going, to make it to the dinner on time and, finish, um, cleaning up my room before leaving.”

“I could take you there.”

“No thanks, I’ll see you there, bye.” You helped guide him to the door, a curt wave before he exited and shut it, locking it in a rush and moving back to the dining room table to clean the mugs.

You didn’t want to tell him all that, always insecure due to Gibbs being the prior boss of you and how people looked at that. Rumors were always spread about your and Aaron’s relationship, mostly about it being romantic.

Joining the team, you two easily hit it off due to your personalities. Always being filled with determination and stubbornness, refusing to give up till everything was done and right, even with files. Eventually you joined together, talked, spent most days with each other due to cases, and truly gained a very close friendship.

When rumors were getting around, glares were thrown your way, comments, left out by members who weren’t your immediate teams. People thought you were the cause of Haley and Aaron’s divorce, somehow word got around quickly, drama always does.

It was frustrating, already dealing with many different things at home, and even being in a relationship, it put so much unneeded stress and anxiety onto you.

So, getting into a relationship with Gibbs was a very reluctant thing on your part, he expressed his feelings first, but it was hard to accept them, despite the nerves he faced to do it.

Locking up the apartment, having all of your items with you, you made your way out the door and too your car, starting the drive to David’s house.

Upon arriving, you could hear light chatter in the home, lights on, and soothing music playing in the background. It sounded like everyone was having their fun, you couldn’t make out all the shadows of everyone indoors, just waiting outside for Jethro to arrive.

“Y/n?” You turned around at the sound of his voice, keys jingling in his hands as he walked up to you with a sly smile, shoving them in his pockets to place his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong, love?” Be snaked them around, a kiss to your somewhat clothed shoulder.

“Nothing, just a bit nervous to introduce you to everyone,” You smiled back at him, he squeezed a little tighter, catching your lips in a quick kiss. “Looking at your team, yet?”

“Nevermind that,” He grumbled, removing his hands to now interlace your left one with his right. “We should go in, right?”

“Maybe we could head back, to my place, say you are sick or something?” You looked back at him with a pleading look, to which he just chuckled at, starting to move to the front door, pressing the doorbell as you groaned a little.

“You’ll be fine,” He looked back at you as Rossi answered the door, cheerful smile on his lips, glass of scotch in hand as he moved out of the way to let you in.

“Ah! Y/n!” He cheered, leaning over to kiss your cheek and then pulled back. “Glad you made it! This must be…”

“Y/n! Oh where is the man?” Penelope rushed in, coming right by you with her own fruity drink, then leaning to whisper in your ear. “Is this him, oo!”

“Uh, Jethro that’s David,” You pointed to the man who first greeted you, him and Jethro shaking hands. “This is Penelope, the one kind of like Abby,” You smiled, as she gave you a little look, turning back and enveloping him in a little hug. She quickly turned back to you.

“He looks a little intimidating,” She whispered as you just laughed.

“For sure,” You nodded.

“Can I offer you a drink?” David turned to you two, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Something like Garcia for you Y/n, and what about you Jethro?”

“Just call me Gibbs, and yeah that’s fine,” He corrected Rossi, taking your hand as the two of you walked more inside of the magnificent house.

It truly was so well designed, very expensive, and the appetizers adorning the oak wood table looked very delicious. You wanted to go and grab a bite, before you were actually led to the living room where everyone was currently sitting.

“L/n, finally made it,” Derek laughed, beer in his hand as he pointed at you with a little chuckle. “You always know how to be a bit late.”

“Fashionably late, I believe that’s what it’s called,” JJ corrected them with her own wine glass in hand, Will sat right besides her on one of the couch as most of them in that room joined in laughter.

“What can I say?” You laughed, walking over, feeling less nervous with the factor of introducing your boyfriend, taking a seat on another couch in the large room, Jethro automatically sitting right besides you.

“So, introduce us,” Emily motioned over to Jethro, sly smile playing on her lips.

“This is Jethro, but he goes by Gibbs, and, uh, this is the team,” You started to name everyone off while pointing to them, leaving off a few names due to your members introducing their own partners to you.

Emily, Derek, and JJ had all brought partners. Spencer and Penelope decided to ‘go together’ as if they were partners, and Hotch hadn’t arrived yet. Rossi also had his girlfriend helping him cook in the kitchen, making drinks for you and Gibbs now.

“So, you work at NCIS, right?” Spencer questioned. “The Naval Criminal Investigative Service, very interesting considering the type of crimes you investigate. I would love to hear more about some of your cases and how you went about it,” Spencer smiled, a small notebook being pulled out of his pocket with a pen.

“Yeah,” Gibbs just nodded, looking at you a little questioning, which you just chuckled at.

“Why should we talk so much about work, it’s something we all do too much of,” You joked, everyone laughing, as Dave came back out, handing some drinks.

“Fine, fine, what do you do for fun Mr. Gibbs?” Derek asked, putting a arm over the couch and pulling his girl closer to his side, the woman just on her phone.

“I like to build boats, a type of hobbie I’ve been doing for years.”

“Building boats? Where?” Will wondered, intertwining his fingers with JJ.

“My basement, a private workspace.”

“How do you get it out then?” Penelope inquired, now back by Spencer and her face in her hand, leaning closer to show her interest in Gibbs statement.

“I’d be no fun if you knew that,” He shrugged, taking a drink with a small smile as Penelope gasped, Emily mouthing how ‘I like him’. It was sweet how everything was going well.

They all continued to converse with Gibbs, easily accepting him apart of the conversation, it was sweet and you were now on your second drink, practically all nerves gone.

“Sorry we’re late,” A voice mentioned in the hallway, dressed in a fine suit with a beautiful woman standing besides him. He shrugged off the last of his coat as he hung it up, taking her hand and walking into the hallway a little.

“This is such a nice place, Aaron. Oh! Your friend, wow, so grand,” The woman admired, now truly getting in your line of sight.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, eyes interlocking with yours before falling onto Gibbs. “I’m Aaron, call me Hotch.”

“I’m Gibbs,” Your boyfriend stood up, moving over to the other man with his hand stuck out. “Call me that.”

You had a feeling this evening wouldn’t be as smooth as you hoped.

——————

taglist - @wolviesbabes @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

(comment to be added, or a tag list for all my gibbs post)

[mypoisonedvine]

You, Me, and Him | (dark)Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: the worst thing about the man who did this to you is that he’s convinced he isn’t the one who did this to you (or, brainscrambled bucky decides to keep the gift that the winter soldier left for him)

word count: 4k

warnings: smut (noncon), yandere-ish themes, stalking, kidnapping, very unstable/erratic bucky, slapping, creampie kink, praise

When you opened your eyes, you wondered why your room looked so strange.  What possible angle could you be looking at your ceiling from that it would be like this?

However, when you turned your head, you suddenly realized that you were not in your room at all.  The next thing you realized was that your hands were restrained— shackled, specifically, and suspended above your head.  Obviously, this realization shot ice-cold terror through your veins as you began to try to understand how you’d gotten here.  Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember going to sleep in your room: no, you’d been out shopping, in the middle of the afternoon.  Why couldn’t you remember anything after that?  

Your head spun when a door nearby opened, and the man that awaited on the other side brought it all back.

He was following me.  I tried to lose him, I turned a corner, but he was right there— and there was a syringe in his hand… and he must have—

“Oh my god,” the man gasped, “shit— are you okay?”

You stared at him in confusion, already starting to cry as you put two and two together about all this.  Generally, only one thing happened after a man drugged a woman and chained her to a wall.  The part that didn’t add up was the terror on his face as he rushed to you and knelt down in front of where you were lying— why was he worried about you?

“Oh no, oh nonononono,” he whimpered, mostly to himself, “oh god, I didn’t— this wasn’t… oh fuck.”

“Please let me go,” you started to plead between sobs, “I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have any money… I’ll give you whatever I have, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go, please—”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head quickly.  Either he wasn’t listening (bad) or he was denying your request (worse) and both possibilities just made you cry harder.  He, meanwhile, was rocking back and forth in front of you, covering his ears with his hands to muffle your cries.  “Oh god, what have I done, what have I done— what did I do?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered.

“No, no, I won’t— I would never do that…” he sighed.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You squinted as you tried to make out what that meant, sniffling as your crying subsided a little (mainly from being distracted by the confusion of it all).  “Do I… know you?”

He chuckled a little, scratching the back of his neck nervously.  “Uh, no, not really, I’m— my name is Bucky,” he explained, “I— you might have seen me on the news, but that wasn’t really me, that was this other guy—”

“Why did you do this to me?” you interrupted.

“No, see, that’s the thing: I didn’t do this to you.  It was… it was somebody else.  He’s… he’s in my head, and every once in a while he takes control and sort of does his own thing…”

Not that anybody who kidnaps somebody is totally right in the head, but this guy is certifiable.

“And he did this to you.  Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay,” he assured you, though it wasn’t comforting at all, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never— I won’t do that, okay?  I’m just gonna… I’m gonna let you go.”

You sighed with relief, although some voice in the back of your head told you not to trust him just because he seemed regretful.  Regardless of his strange excuses, this was still the man who kidnapped you.

“You don’t believe me,” he realized with an awkward smile.  “It’s okay, I understand.  I wouldn’t believe me either— god, I must sound crazy, right?  But I’m not crazy.  I don’t think…”

This time your sigh was less relief and more irritation.

“See, I was, uh, tortured.  Experimented on.  That was a long time ago, and I’m mostly over it, but this other guy— he’s a soldier.  I guess I am, too, but he’s… more on the war crimes side of things.  Like, assassinations and stuff.  That’s a whole other story…”

I think I’d prefer to hear that one.

“Anyways, sometimes I get sort of… messed up?  Up here?” he gestured to his head, leaning back to sit on the floor in front of you with crossed legs.  “Like, I can’t tell what year it is or how long it’s been since I’ve slept.  My psychiatrist says I’m ‘losing time’ and that it’s normal for people with… whatever it is that I have.  But it’s scary, you know?  Because I don’t know what I’ve done in that time.  So today, I woke up and had no idea how I got where I was—”

Same.

“And I came down here and… you’re here.  I didn’t… I didn’t do this, I can’t stress that enough.”

“So… this other guy…” you tried to understand, hoping that appealing to his twisted sense of logic would get him to tell you something actually useful, “he did this?”  Bucky nodded.  “Does he do this often?”

“What, kidnap women?  No this is… this is new.  As far as I know.”

“Why me?”

“Uh…” he stalled, looking away.  “God, this is sort of embarrassing, but… it’s probably because I sort of have this, um, crush on you…”

“You don’t even know me,” you mumbled.

“No, you don’t know me, but I… I know you,” he nodded confidently.  “Do you remember a few months ago when you went to that art gallery by your apartment?  It was raining that day, I couldn’t tell for sure if you came in to look at the art or if you were just trying to get out of the weather but, anyways, you had on this big puffy coat— ‘cause it was cold out— and you took off your hood and you just looked around… I saw you, cause I was in there to look at the art, too, and you looked so beautiful.”

You were getting anxious.  He said he would let you go but he hadn’t really made any progress on that goal.

“And I sort of followed you after that, and watched you— I mean, that sounds really bad, it wasn’t like that, I just… I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—”

“Let me go, Bucky, please,” you interrupted, getting more desperate.

He shook his head with a sigh.  “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry… I just haven’t had anyone to talk to… you’re a good listener.”

Yeah, everybody’s a good listener when they’re tied up and forced to listen.

“Just let me finish my story and I’ll let you go.  I was kind of in the middle of something.  You know, it’s rude to interrupt people.”

Oh fuck.  You’d angered him.  It was subtle, but he was clearly irritated; he looked at the floor, and his jaw tightened a little.  It must have been that this candid talk made you forget he was unstable and that you needed to tread lightly.  You couldn’t afford another mistake like that.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, finish your story,” you offered.

“Okay,” he nodded, “well, anyways, when you came into the gallery you looked around for a while but there was one painting you kept looking at— do you remember it?” 

You shook your head.

“Really?  You must’ve stared at it for half an hour.  I swear I saw you tearing up a bit,” he smiled.  “Clearly it had an effect on you.  I wasn’t sure if you were considering buying it, or if it would make you upset to see it in your house every day, but the way you looked at it… it changed everything for me.  You smiled at me as you left, just a quick glance— I’m not offended that you don’t remember me just from that, if anything it’s good because it made it a lot easier to trail you, but… I knew then that you were such a kind, soulful person.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “I remember… I remember that.”

It was so cold out that the rain was nearly frozen.  You’d gone in to escape the elements, but one painting drew you in.  Someone else was there, a man that you remembered thinking was attractive but a little eerie with the way he just stood there, seemingly even more purposeless than you.  He smiled at you as you left, and you smiled back.  You were just trying to be friendly.  No good deed, though, right?

“Do you remember the painting?” he asked again, leaning in a little closer with innocent hope sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes,” you nodded, “it was… it was a woman, and she was looking away from the viewer, out over the water.  She looked sad, but determined, like she was thinking about something impossible to describe.”

He smiled wide then, apparently impressed by your description.   “Look,” was all he said as he pointed to the wall beside you— and as you turned your head, you gasped as you saw it: it was the painting, even more hauntingly beautiful than you remembered.  You started to cry again, because somehow it was this show of disturbed affection that made you more sure than ever that you weren’t going to get out of here.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothed, moving closer again and wiping the tears from your face gently.  “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Please let me go,” you whispered shakily, looking back at him, straight into his eyes, as if maybe you could find some sanity there to appeal to.

He frowned a little as he pulled back, bringing his thumb to his lips to chew the nail nervously as he thought.  “See, here’s the thing…”

“Bucky, please—”

“I don’t think I can do that,” he sighed.

“Please,” you cried, the word starting to lose all meaning as you just fought to be able to speak past the force of your sobs, “please, please—”

“You could tell somebody— and I know it wasn’t me, but the police aren’t gonna care about that.  I always have to take the heat for what he does… and I would just rather not go to prison.”

“I won’t, Bucky,” you feverishly defended, “I wouldn’t tell, I swear— we’re friends!  Friends don’t tell on each other—”

He interrupted you as he grabbed you by your shirt suddenly, pulling you towards him as you recoiled.  “I don’t have friends,” he growled.

“We… we could be friends,” you offered weakly.  “I could be your friend.  Do you… do you want to be my friend?”

He studied your face, the gaze of his bright blue eyes burning through you instantly.  “I can’t say that I do.”

You whimpered as he leaned in closer, taking a deep breath right against the side of your face.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his left hand— bionic metal, much to your horror— reaching up to trace over your face and hold you close to him.  “We aren’t friends, silly; we’re soulmates.”

You shivered, gut sinking as you closed your eyes and thought there might still be a chance it was all a horrible dream.  This isn’t happening to me, this isn’t happening to me, this can’t be happening to me—

“Hey!” he yelled, slapping you on the face suddenly.  “Keep your eyes open!”

You cried but tried to do as he asked, knowing it would only be so much worse if you didn’t do whatever he wanted.

“The point is, even if you didn’t tell, letting you go just isn’t… economical for me,” he explained.  “‘Cause the truth is, even though I didn’t want to kidnap you, right now I wanna… I wanna keep you.”

He didn’t even let you start crying hard again before he cradled your face in his hands, refusing to let you turn away.

“No, baby, it’s okay— it’s gonna be good!” he promised.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Please, Bucky, don’t do this,” you sobbed.

“Shh, shh, don’t you get it?  He did this to help me— he knew I couldn’t do it alone, ‘cause I was too afraid to talk to you, but he brought you to me, and now I’m gonna make you understand how good we are for each other.”

He scooted closer, his hands rubbing your legs through your jeans as you cried silently.

“And that’s why he didn’t touch you,” he continued.  “He just left you for me, cause he knows you’re— you’re mine.”

He kissed you suddenly, and it was awkward and sloppy against your unwilling lips.  His tongue eventually managed to force your mouth open, exploring and filling it as you struggled and failed to turn away.  His hand on your jaw was almost tight enough to choke you, a looming threat of what awaited if you didn’t kiss him back.  You couldn’t exactly put much passion into it but you tried your best.

He was smiling when he leaned back and broke away from you, still holding your face and seeming almost proud— of you or himself, you weren’t sure.

“You are so perfect,” he praised quietly.  “I can’t believe I finally have you… god, it’s like a dream come true.”

Or a nightmare, you responded internally.

You jumped when he pulled the knife out from a holster on his belt.

“Oh, this?  I won’t hurt you with it— so long as you stay still,” he explained gently as he leaned forward and started to cut off your shirt while you tried desperately not to shake.  

He looked at you with the reverence of a man at the altar as he tore the shreds of your clothes away, cutting slowly until you were just in your bra and panties.

"Stop," you whispered, but it was so quiet he must not have heard you— or he just didn't care.  He gingerly slipped the knife between your bra and your chest, tugging out to snap it off.  

He took a breath to steady himself; he seemed nearly as nervous as you, just in an entirely different way.

"Baby," he mumbled under his breath, "god, I just wanna do everything to you."

It was hard not to tense up when he said that, or when he brought the knife between your legs to cut off your underwear, but you willed yourself not to shiver because you really weren't ready to lose anything important if his hand slipped.

With them cut and tossed aside, you forced your eyes shut— because you couldn't stop him from seeing you, but at least you didn't have to watch.  As your legs instinctively closed, he gently guided them back open, metal fingers cold on your skin but flesh ones unbearably warm.

“You have such a nice body, I don’t know why you hide it in those baggy clothes,” he chuckled as he ran his hands over your skin.  “I watched you shower a few times, you know, and I saw you look at yourself in the mirror before you got in…"

You opened your eyes, but he wasn't looking at your face, instead taking a long moment to take in everything else.

"You looked like you were disappointed," he continued, "but— but you’re beautiful, and you should know that.  You need somebody to tell you that.”

You felt your face heating up even though you should be horrified, not flattered.  To be fair, it was a bit of both.

“Do you think I’m, you know, handsome?” he asked awkwardly, glancing up to your face again.  “People used to say that about me, a long time ago.  Are you… attracted to me?”

You shook your head, lying.

“Then why are you so wet?” he sing-songed with a mocking grin, thick fingers spreading your lower lips and gathering the arousal they found there.  You whimpered when he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them hungrily.  “Fuck, you taste incredible— I mean, I knew you would, but wow, this is so much better than just smelling those panties he stole.”

You shivered with disgust, realizing that he was responsible for the pair you thought were lost in the laundry.  

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that,” he laughed.  “Yeah, it was his idea and all, I didn’t do anything but… I’ll tell you a little secret,” he smirked as he leaned in, right against your ear, whispering: “I got off with them, and on them, and it felt soooo good…”

He quickly pulled his cock out of his trousers as you started to struggle against the chains again, getting a quick glimpse before looking away as you wondered how he could possibly fit that in you.

“Do you like knowing that?  Do you like knowing I stroked my cock and thought about you?  I imagined you were laying under me, begging me to fuck you… and now you’re here, and it’s real, and it’s gonna be wonderful.”

You gasped as he suddenly pushed in, trying not to react but knowing he was watching your face intently and saw it all.  “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “you’re so tight, god, I knew you’d be perfect…”

You cried as he started moving inside you, holding your hips steady and filling you completely until it actually hurt to be stretched so wide.  You were sure nothing had ever been so deep inside you, and it was making your whole body jolt with each thrust.

“Does it feel good?  Do you like my cock in you?” he asked— but it didn’t sound like dirty talk, it sounded like he was genuinely asking.

You shook your head, lying again.

“What if I do this?” he offered, reaching down and circling a calloused thumb over your clit.  Your back arched into his touch, and he grinned proudly.  “See, doesn’t that make it better?  I bet I can make you come.”

One final lie for the night, you shook your head.

"Oh, doll," he soothed, kissing away a tear that had trailed down your cheek, "it's okay… it's okay to like it.  You don't need to pretend."

He reached down and pressed his hand into your lower belly, making you winced as he applied pressure until it took everything you had not to scream.

"Feel that?" he cooed.  "I can feel it.  We're finally together, baby, you never have to be alone again… isn't it incredible?"

Sobbing, your back began to arch up against the wall you were chained to.  With his hand pushing on you, it was impossible to ignore the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot— hard enough that your entire body shook with each thrust.  It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, and not just because you’d never been kidnapped before.  As he leaned down to suck on your neck hard enough to leave a mark, it was hard not to feel like he was claiming every part of your body all at once.  You bit down on your lip, afraid to moan too loud, but he heard the muffled noises and pulled up to tut at you disapprovingly.

“Don’t do that,” he frowned, “I wanna hear everything, pretty girl.  I wanna hear you beg for me.”

You whined as you tried to resist it, but getting railed like this made you want to do whatever he told you to.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged sweetly, “just let go, I know you want to…”

It was bubbling up in your chest faster than you could stop it, each cry louder than the last until you couldn’t hold back anymore.  “Bucky!” you shrieked, hating yourself as you heard him laugh happily right by your ear.

“Oh I know, I’m right here, doll,” he soothed gently, holding you tightly; your hands wiggled inside their shackles, and you shamefully realized that you were craving to wrap your arms around him, run your fingers through his hair.  The desire to push him away was lost to the need to reach your peak.  “Say my name just like that when you come on my cock, sweetheart.”

Your walls were already convulsing and you were moaning so loud you thought you might lose your voice.  Pleasure built up faster than you could comprehend, and so intensely that little black dots were dancing on your vision.  

Oh god yes, right there, don’t stop, yes, you would’ve cried out were it anyone else doing this to you.  Instead all you could do was whimper his name, somewhere between begging for more and begging for mercy.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I can feel you coming for me— you’re so good, so fucking good,” he groaned, “I’m close already, can you believe it?  I should slow down, so I can make you come again, but you feel too good, I can’t stop.”

Most of that was lost to you, though, because everything had gone numb and fuzzy in the wake of your orgasm, your body limp in his grasp.  The way he pulled your hips into his made you feel used, like a— well, like a doll, fittingly.

“Oh god, babygirl— can I come inside?” he asked gently, but when you weakly shook your head, he just smiled.  “It’s gonna feel so good to fill you up.”

Before you could make it clear that you were saying no, he leaned forward and kissed you— aggressive and rough as he started to breathe deeply and moan against you.  You kicked your legs to try to get him away but all you could do was uselessly scrape your feet against the floor.  You could feel him pulsing inside you, growling against your lips until suddenly warmth began to paint your walls.  Whimpering, you slouched limply as the fight left you.  

“Oh my god, angel,” he sighed, pulling back and smiling as he traced his thumb over your face, following the path of a fresh tear, “that was… you’re incredible.  I’ve never come like that, you feel so fucking amazing.”

He kissed you again, gentler and slower than before.  

“Is it weird that I don’t wanna pull out?” he asked just louder than a whisper, chuckling as his nose brushed against yours.  It was like this guy thought he was in a Hallmark Christmas movie while you were in a Lifetime thriller.  “I could just stay inside you forever… but I won’t.”

He watched in awe as his hips pulled back and his softening cock slipped out of you.  Your face burned with shame as you felt a gush of his come (and yours) leak from you.  

“Wow, look at that,” he mumbled weakly.  “Can you push it out, baby?  I wanna see how good I filled this pretty pussy.”

It made you feel disgusting, but you summoned the last of your strength to do as he asked, unable to see the results but watching him stare between your legs and bite his lip.  

“Fuck, babygirl, that’s… that’s fucking gorgeous.  I stretched you out pretty good, and you’re all swollen…”

Strange enough, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart… my pretty little doll.”  When he pulled back a bit, he moved a stray hair that had stuck to the sheen of sweat on your face, admiring you with a small smile.  “God, I can���t believe you’re finally all mine.  Guess he was lookin’ out for me, bringing you here.  I oughta thank him, somehow.”

He must have known what you were imagining by the way you tensed up, and he laughed softly.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let him touch you.  I won’t let anyone touch you but me.  Now let’s get you out of these chains and into a hot bath, how’s that sound?”

Weakly nodding, you let your eyes fall shut as he reached up to unlock the metal cuffs around your wrists.  Holding your hands in his, he softly kissed the marks left there from when you’d still been fighting, before finally scooping you up into his arms.  He didn’t struggle at all to lift you, and you were too exhausted to notice the way you were leaning into his chest as you dozed off.

You dreamt that you were looking out over still water, contemplative but determined, before falling right in.