#how many? the answer is at the end of the tags!

[steddieas-shegoes]

forever starts with a question

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEX!!! This universe would not exist at all without all of your support and love and care for this version of Steve and Eddie and Rory. I hope you enjoy an extra little snippet of their lives and more importantly, I hope you have the best birthday @thefreakandthehair 💖

rated m | 1747 words | from the bear hugs universe | cw: implied sexual content, references to sex | tags: established relationship, modern au, hockey au, fluff, marriage proposal happens off screen in this but on screen in bear hugs

🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒

This is stupid, he thinks for the 16th time tonight.

There’s only so many times a guy can change his shirt before he starts to think going shirtless is a better option, and that’s about where Eddie’s at.

He’s just asking Rory if he can ask Steve to marry him. It’s not like he has to look perfect. It’s Rory. She’ll have chocolate ice cream on her shirt within five minutes of their night out, anyway. It doesn’t matter if he wears the black button down or the red sweater.

“Are you almost ready?” She bangs on the bedroom door and Eddie jumps.

“Yes! Be patient!” He checks the mirror by the closet one more time before opening the bedroom door and smiling down at her. “Who braided your hair?”

“Dad. Is it okay?” She reaches up to touch the ends of the braid, trying to look down at it as if she could see enough.

“It looks great,” Eddie replies. “You ready?”

Rory nods and rushes to the front door. Eddie throws his coat on and grabs his keys.

“We’re heading out!” Eddie calls as he opens the door. Steve’s most likely already busy on his lesson plans, trying desperately to catch up from having the flu for the last week. “Love you!”

“Love you both!” Steve yells from the extra bedroom that serves as an all-purpose room. It’s an office and storage and guest bedroom and present hiding place all rolled into one.

Eddie feels the nerves really kick in when they get to the ice cream shop. They always start with dessert on their nights out together. Eddie believes in starting with the good stuff, and Rory doesn’t argue.

She’s looking at the flavor options as if she ever gets anything other than fudge brownie ice cream with caramel on top. He lets her. Maybe she’ll surprise him one of these days.

“I know what I want,” she says barely a minute later.

“Go ahead and order,” Eddie gestures, bowing dramatically and smiling when Rory giggles. “Anything the princess desires!”

“Can I please have a fudge brownie ice cream in a cone with caramel on top?” Rory places her order and Eddie can’t help but love that she’s such a creature of habit. So is Steve. Down to the way he unties his shoes, and the exact pattern of what he does when he’s getting ready for bed, and-

“Daddy, c’mon!” Rory waves her hand forward and he snaps out of his thoughts.

“Sorry! I’ll have a bourbon caramel swirl,” he says.

Rory nudges him, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh! Please.”

The woman laughs behind the counter and scoops his ice cream.

“You have to be polite,” Rory reminds him.

“I know I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted,” he admits.

She furrows her brows. She looks so much like Steve when she does it.

Eddie pays, adds a nice tip for his unintentional rudeness earlier, and lets Rory lead him to a table. She always picks the one closest to the window that looks at the fountain, but that one’s taken. She leads him to one by the other window, one that looks out to the street.

They eat in silence for a bit. Ice cream drips onto Rory’s shirt. Eddie doesn’t acknowledge it except to hand her a napkin from the pile he grabbed before they sat down.

Eventually, he runs out of ice cream and she keeps looking at him like she’s onto him. He doesn’t know how she could be, but you never know with her. She always notices the things most kids wouldn’t.

He needs to just say it. He has to ask now or the anxiety will just keep building.

“So. Rory.”

“Daddy.”

“I like our little daddy daughter times. Do you?”

“Yeahhhhh,” Rory answers, drawing it out to emphasize how strange Eddie’s being.

“It would be pretty cool to do them forever, right?”

Rory nods. Eddie wants to fist pump. He’s doing great.

“I think it would be pretty cool to marry your dad, don’t you?”

Okay, that delivery could’ve used a little work, maybe a little more buildup. He didn’t practice the exact words today, so naturally he’s struggling a little.

“Daddy, what the heck are you talkin’ about?”

“You know I love him so much? And I’ve loved him so much for so long.” Eddie feels his stomach flutter. He told himself this would be harder than the actual proposal, and he’s finding that wasn’t an exaggeration. He thinks proposing to Steve will be a piece of cake after this. “And I also love you very much. I want to be part of your family forever, if you’ll let me.”

“But you’re already part of our family,” Rory says, confused.

“I am!” Eddie reassures her, reaching out to take her hand and pull her out of her chair. She’s standing right in front of him now, eye level so she can truly understand what he’s trying to say. “You guys have accepted me and loved me and I will always love you both, no matter what. But I was thinking it would be nice for us to have a wedding and officially be husbands. Your dad deserves something nice, something he really wants.”

“Not like my mom?” Rory asks and it breaks Eddie’s heart a little.

“Yeah, little one. He didn’t get to have a nice wedding the first time, and he wasn’t loved the way he should’ve been.” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “And neither were you. But I’m gonna do everything I can to love you both the way you deserve.”

Rory bites her lip, reaching up to play with the end of her braid that’s starting to come undone. Poor Steve just never does it right enough for her hair type.

That’s okay, though. Eddie will be there to help her until she can do it herself.

“And you won’t ever leave?”

Eddie shakes his head and pulls her into his chest.

“I’ll never, ever, ever leave you. Even if your dad moves on from me, I will always be here for you,” Eddie says. “I’m your dad, too. I’m not gonna stop loving you for any reason, okay?”

Rory nods against his shirt. She’s quiet for a full minute before she pokes at his chest.

He looks down and frowns.

“You got ice cream on your shirt,” Rory says.

“Shit.” Eddie grabs a napkin and starts wiping, hoping it doesn’t leave an obnoxious stain. He’s glad he chose a dark shirt, at least.

“You can marry my dad.”

Eddie freezes and looks up. Rory is looking back at him with red cheeks and watery eyes.

“But I get to hold both your hands,” she continues.

Eddie beams at her before he pulls her into a crushing hug. “I think we can swing that,” he gets out despite the sob barely being contained in his chest. Rory is patting his back, probably trying to comfort him, which he knows looks bad to the strangers scattered around the shop.

“Are you sad?” Rory asks.

“No!” He sniffles and lets out a small laugh. “I’m so happy.”

Rory pokes his cheek and starts playing with a piece of hair that fell from his bun. “But why did you ask me first? Don’t you have to ask dad?”

“I do have to ask him, but I wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want me to. Your opinion matters,” Eddie explains. “Speaking of, though. Can you keep this a secret? I have an idea for a plan, but I need you to not spill anything.”

“I can keep secrets! I’m really good at it.” Rory jumps up and down. “I didn’t even tell you about the present dad got you for your birthday!”

She smacks her hand on her mouth while Eddie laughs. He loves this kid, even if she is bad about surprises. Luckily, Eddie’s plan is only a few weeks away, and he’s pretty sure she’ll be too focused on hockey to say anything to Steve.

He starts to tell her the plan while the rest of his ice cream melts in the bowl. He didn’t really want ice cream anyway, just time with his favorite kid.

****

“I can’t believe you proposed at a game,” Steve gasps between kisses against Eddie’s neck. “Can’t believe we’re engaged.”

Eddie laughs as he leans his head back against the wall. The unused equipment storage room they’re in smells like it was recently used, sweat and mildew clinging to the walls and carpet. It’s a smell that feels like home to them, but it’s decidedly unsexy.

Plus, they only have a few minutes before they have to get Rory from the locker room, where she is gathering autographs from everyone as if she won’t see them in the next month when Steve and Eddie come back for a coaching camp.

“Sweetheart, you’re not gonna have time to fuck me,” Eddie moans as Steve’s hand cups his hard cock through his jeans. “Shouldn’t even be in here.”

Steve pulls away a few inches. “Who said anything about fucking you?”

“Oh, I just assumed that’s why your hand was trying to fit in the back of my jeans,” Eddie smirks.

“You could fuck my mouth?” Steve offers.

“Jesus…” Eddie groans and pushes Steve away. He grabs his left hand, though, pulls it close to his lips, kisses the ring on his finger. “When we get home, I’m gonna do anything you want, I swear.”

“But not here?” Steve pouts.

“Not now,” Eddie sighs. “But maybe if we can find a closet at camp…”

“Deal!” Steve smacks a kiss to his lips and rushes to straighten his hair and look presentable.

“You’re leaving me like this?” Eddie asks, gesturing down at the wet spot showing through his pants. “How am I gonna explain it?”

“You’ll just have to hide it,” Steve says as he walks to the door. “You’re the one who didn’t wanna fuck me here.”

“This is rude!” Eddie yells as Steve leaves the room.

There’s no answer, but Eddie quickly adjusts himself and makes sure his jersey is covering his front as much as possible.

When he makes it back into the locker room, Steve is talking with a few of the players while Rory is busy tossing a tennis ball back and forth with the equipment manager and goalies.

Steve looks over at him and winks.

Oh, Eddie’s gonna have a fucking field day with him when they’re alone.

[thanosscross]

Thief of your money, and thief of your heart - Choi Su-Bong/Thanos x reader + Twin brother! Nam-Gyu part 1

Summary: Growing up with Nam-Gyu as an idiot twin and his idiot best friend was difficult, especially knowing you had feelings for your brother's best friend, until they ended up pulling you into the crypto scam somehow resulting in you leaving them behind, not knowing in a few short weeks you'd be trapped with them playing for money and your life

Warnings: None really other than the fight scene with player 333 which you take part in

Growing up with an older twin brother had to be your punishment from a past life, both him and his obnoxious friends were your personal hell, because of your family's financial situation, whenever you both turned twenty they helped you get an apartment together, now even though you hated your older brother, Nam Gyu, with a passion, you occasionally felt bad for him, so whenever you got enough money to finally get your own place, you stayed. Your biggest mistake? Leaving your wallet out for them to access one night, your brother sending you thousands of wons in debt.

You left not too long after that, choosing to live with your friend rather than your brother, at that point you hated even having the same last name as him. After you left it took two days before Thanos was blowing your phone up, asking if you were okay, calling his best friend an idiot, you never answered though, feeling as if Thanos was partially at fault for your brothers actions, he was the one who showed Nam-gyu that stupid dalmatian crypto site.

You never took yourself as the person to play games for money, but whenever the man told you it'd be enough to cover your debts and more, you were compelled, knowing this might be a sign from the universe to start trying again. As you woke up in the room you were sadly mistaken, seeing the familiar stupid faces of your brother and friend, of course they'd be here too, they were idiots. As you slowly climbed down the bunk beds you looked around at how many people were actually here, seeing numbers as high as 456. Thanos cheered seeing his best friend, Nam-Gyu, rushing over he hugged his friend, confident that they'd win now.

As they followed through the picture taking process, Nam-Gyu couldn't help but notice the familiar h/c and style of his sister, his heart dropping as he pointing you out to Thanos and he confirmed. Walking onto the field you looked around, determined to beat those assholes so you can have some sort of revenge against them. Thanos walked through, his and Nam-Gyu's eyes quickly falling onto your frame trying to hide behind somebody, ignoring the crazy ass man shouting something about dying, more concerned with why you had disappeared. You were quick to take notice of the two men advancing on you, forcing you to dive deeper into the crowd hoping to lose them, as the game began you were a little more confident you had lost them until you heard gunshots and a familiar voice calling 'tag' in a taunting tone. "Y/n" You heard a harsh tone snap from behind you as the doll turned it's head to face everybody calling red light "What're you doing here? It's not fucking safe" Your twin brother's voice seethed as you clenched your already formed fists, as soon as greenlight was called you were quick to take off, running away from your brother not wanting to be bothered by him. For a moment you felt like a kid again playing tag, Running away from Nam-Gyu and Su-Bong as they both tried to catch you, trying to torture you with some weird bug or gross thing they found, As you sprinted forward, Nam-gyu was quick behind you, Thanos, high off his high skipped down the field as he leaped into the air, tapping his heels in the air before freezing again whenever redlight was closed.

This time you were frozen behind your brother, your hand holding the back of his jacket, under false impressions that you were scared, Nam-gyu leaned more into your touch, resulting in you pulling him onto the sand in anger, going to rush past him but you stopped to look at him "Leave me alone. And tell him to leave me alone, I want nothing to do with either of you" You snapped before taking off, using your speed to leap over the line right as red light was called, you winced as you felt your palms and chin come in contact with the ground. Laying there for a moment to process exactly where the pain you felt was you noticed a looming shadow behind you "Nam-Gyu" You growled turning around ready to kick your brother in the shin before you stopped, his best friend stood a few feet in front of you, offering you a hand. "What to do you want" You asked harshly, trying to stay angry at Su-Bong while he was in front of you was hard, growing up with him you saw exactly what he went through, seeing his confused sad face you started to feel guilty for ignoring him, he wasn't the one you stole your wallet, he just showed your brother the stupid youtube channel and website.

"Senorita, Let Thanos the great help you" He smirked, crossing his arms after you pulled yourself to your feet, yea nevermind, you hated him again after that line. You rolled your eyes as you turned away "I do not ever want your help again" You replied flipping him off as you watched the other players rush to the end, as the time got closer to 00:00 you were getting nervous, watching your brother still struggling to get across the field, with every person that got shot running next to him the more time he'd take before he started running again, as soon as you glanced and saw a minute left you huffed walking past the purple haired high man that was desperately trying to get you to respond to his flirting. Rushing back onto the field you saw your brother's glare that was directed towards you, you didn't care though, as much as you hated him sometimes, you still cared about him..sometimes. Taking his hand in yours you gave him a reassuring squeeze "As soon as it's greenlight?" You asked giving him a nervous glance, Nam-Gyu wanted to drop to his knees and just get eliminated now, but as you came rushing back grabbing his hand he knew he had to get you back to the safety of the end of the field, he made a promise whenever you both moved out to make sure you were taken care of, and while he might've fucked up big time, he still intended on keeping that promise.

Whenever the speakers announced greenlight you pulled your brother's hand in yours, making sure he kept up with you as you ran, glancing at the timer you felt yourself start to panic, you were still on redlight and you only had ten seconds left with about 30 feet of field to clear still. Noticing your panicked state Thanos started to think, trying to get you both to run faster than you ever had, that's whenever it dawned on him, as the doll called greenlight Su-bong was quick to jump up to the front of the crowd, standing on the edge of the line "Guys!! Wasps!" He shouted loudly, watching as you let go of your brothers hand taking off, Nam-gyu quick behind you as he lifted you up over his shoulder as he ran past, slamming into his friend as he crossed the line with you into safety.

As you approached the doors to leave, your brother's hand was quick to catch your wrist "Y/n?.." He whispered, you just offered him a empathetic smile before walking off shaking your head, just because you helped him doesn't mean you forgave him or wanted to speak to you. Walking into the giant rooms the two men were still hot on your trail, refusing to leave your side, as you sat down you watched as Su-Bong demanded for your brother to get your guys' dinner, once you were alone he turned to you "Y/n..I've been trying to apologize for weeks now" He frowned resting a hand on your shoulder, you huffed fighting your wants, you were good at hiding it, especially with the two idiots being the people you were hiding it from, but you had a crush on Su-Bong, you had since you were teenagers and he'd try rapping cheesy lines to you through your bedroom door after you'd slam it in his face. Throughout the years of you playing hard to get, Su-Bong never gave up, he'd fuck other chicks, but that's all he'd call them 'chicks' or 'thanos' bitches' if they were overly obsessed with him, you were always 'Senorita' 'Baby' or 'my muse'. Regardless you shoved his hand off glaring at him "I'd never be in debt if it weren't for you" You snapped, shoving him back a bit, he just gave you an offended look "I didn't do anything! Your brother did! and that kid!" He shouted pointing over to a player that was trying to stay hidden on his bed, your head immediately snapped over glaring at him. Su-Bong knew he couldn't stop what was coming next as you stormed past him, Nam-Gyu caught your gaze as you stormed past him, you were determined, this guy was the entire reason you were here, that your brother was here, that Su-Bong was here.

"Hey! Cryptobitch!" You shouted as you stormed over, watching as the boy tried to move away, you were quick to cut him off, stopping him as he got to the floor, as he tried to turn the opposite direction you noticed Su-Bong stopping him walking him backwards towards you "The lady was talking to you" He snapped, Nam-Gyu quick to rush over so he could turn player 333 around to face you "yea man, it's rude to ignore a lady like that" he added on, Su-Bong quickly smacking the back of the players head "Don't you have any manners?" He snapped, you glared at him, balling up your fists before punching him clear across the jaw "That's for taking all of my money!" You shouted before throwing another punch "That's for encouraging those two idiots to lose their money to your stupid shit!" Another punch "This is for making me hate my fucking brother!" You screamed standing up, delivering a swift kid to his side before huffing "And that's for making me hate the person I loved for years!" As you panted you noticed another player approaching "Children! Let's not fight!" 001 Shouted, watching as Su-Bong and Nam-Gyu stopped their abuse on the player that scammed them out of their money for a moment "I am not! A fucking child!" You yelled marching over, ready to fight him as well before he quickly putting you in a bear hug, grabbing your wrist and shoving you away as he knocked your brother down, grabbing Su-Bong by the throat.

By the time you recovered from your fall the boys were standing up, rubbing different parts of their bodies in pain from player 001 kicking their asses. As you sat you bed glaring at 333 Su-bong made his way over to you, grabbing your jaw gently to look for any bruises or cuts "Are you okay?" He asked looking around for your brother "I'm fine, are you?" You asked, you'd be lying if you said you weren't charmed by him having your back earlier, but you wouldn't admit that, not yet, you didn't want either of them thinking you forgave them just yet, you wanted them to realize how badly they fucked up first.

You spent the last few hours before lights out using the boys' jackets to clean up any busted lips or cuts they may have gotten during the fight, never noticing the way Su-Bong looked at you the entire time, or the way he stayed up half of the night in shifts with Nam-Gyu to make sure nobody tried to fuck with you while you slept.

--

Do we like? I'm gonna try and make it to where each part is a different game, so like next will be Six legs and so on, anyways! I'm always excited to hear from you lovelies <33

--

Taglist!!

@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

@heartz4rubyy

@ericityyy

@lilou-0401

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@onyxmango

@private-vampire

@corrdelia

[kewrnage]

high infidelity

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ✶ ─── sylus had taught you to protect yourself from the things in the world, even from himself. that leads you questioning, doubting him.

pairings. sylus x fem! reader.

genre. sfw. angst. bad ending. surprise ending. bittersweet ending.

t. warnings. female reader. intelligent/smart reader. cheating. reader is not mc. slightly rushed ending. based on the card, night of secrecy. references to other cards like; abyssal mark and abyssal blossom. mephisto is our buddy, periodt. mystery ml in the ending.

word count. 5.3k

noir’s memoir. i’ve finally outdone my procrastination in writing, whoa. this is such a feat for my indecisive ass to stick to one idea. non mc reader because life with no drama in fiction is boringg. also tried to make sylus as annoying as possible 🙈

— plus, can my socmed feeds shut the fuck up with the night of secrecy card content because i feel like i just had a divorce with sylus, like the hell did i do to y'all?? 😭 jk. but i had to quit the game because i have no commitment to gacha games but enjoys being enraged in league lol.

— but i might open it again in summer after uni. 😩 your compliments and criticisms are appreciated tho! <3

— tagged y'all! in case i missed yours, pm me and i'll write your username on the tag list. pls don't hesitate to approach me! 🙏🏻

"Do you love me?" You'd ask, the words a familiar melody between you, a question that whispered on the wind of your shared intimacy. Each time, it seemed to brush away the dust of doubt, leaving only a lingering warmth in its wake.

You'd feel his rough hand, calloused from battles, graze your skin, a silent affirmation of his devotion. He loved every inch of you, flaws and all, your beauty, a canvas he cherished, a masterpiece in his eyes.

His thumb traced a path across textures of your skin clears any hint of insecurity within you as he paid no mind in those details, a touch that also spoke volumes of his affection.

Love. Almost three years ago since you have felt the romantic one aside from your family and friends, is when you met Sylus. Not only have you experienced it, but you learned things that have never entered your mind before.

He taught you things you didn't know. Baking, a little bit of programming- it wasn't easy, but love has the power to turn surrenders into miracles.

You somehow one day learned how to program Mephisto, because that mechanical crow is one of the little things that are part of him- that also you insisted on him to advise you.

There were many more lessons, such as when his knuckles scooted forward into the wind with force, eventually meeting your palm as your fingers enclosing his hand and he smiled proudly, his eyes reflecting the joy of that moment of that spar.

Or when he had a way of dealing with your emotional outbursts. One brush of his hand soothes your seething ardor towards frustration.

He would tell you to breathe in and out, He'd whisper, "Breathe in, breathe out," his voice like a soothing balm. You learned, slowly but surely, to think before reacting, to find calm amidst the chaos. He was intimidating, his red eyes like a blood moon, yet he was an angel you could turn to for guidance, a safe haven where judgment never crossed his mind.

After all, love isn't just all about affection, it is a journey and a path to clarity.

He surprised you one day with a statement that chipped away at your unwavering admiration. "I needed to teach you those things to protect you," he said, his voice low and tender. "From things, sweetie. Even from myself." The words were unexpected, unsettling even.

He usually spoke with a sense of calm certainty, but there was a lingering smirk on his lips, a hint of longing that you couldn't quite comprehend. It was a longing that made you wonder what secrets lurked beneath his unwavering presence.

Yet lately, his answer to that question was, "Of course, sweetie." Was his response before he left you in your bed, for a business rendezvous, he said.

Just like countless other days. The words were there, but the tone of his voice was flat, the warmth missing. It was as if he was going through the motions, his answer a hollow echo of his usual sentiment. The unease gnawed at you. Was it your mind playing tricks, conjuring up worries where there were none? Perhaps.

But these feelings weren't fleeting moments of anxiety. They had settled deep within you, a persistent unease that had lingered for almost a month. Something had changed, you were sure of it.

The piles of unanswered calls and unread texts served as a constant reminder of his transformation, a stark contrast to the man you once knew. Each unanswered call, each unreturned message, confirmation that he had hidden agendas he's unable to tell you.

.

It was difficult to push him from your thoughts despite his growing distance, his newfound frigidity. He was the one who'd always been there for you, a constant in your life, a safe harbor amidst your storms. He'd made sure that your comfort zone wouldn't crumble, that the cracks in your facade wouldn't widen into gaping wounds.

He’d bandaged your anxieties, reassured you of his love, trying to make sure that your heart, so fragile, wouldn’t ever break. But now, with each passing day, those bandages seemed to be loosening, and the wounds that had been so meticulously concealed began to bleed through.

Love takes many forms, including distraction, not to be confused with destruction.

The unraveling of your comfort zone forced a forgotten lesson back to the forefront of your mind. You had to know the truth. It wasn't easy. The path ahead was bound to be rocky, riddled with doubts and uncertainties, but you had to find your way, even if it meant facing the inevitable verdict you so desperately hoped was false.

Love had a way of clouding judgment, blinding a person to the cracks that were beginning to appear. He thought that massive alterations to Mephisto would go unnoticed, but you noticed.

You noticed the crow's new commands were convoluted as you tried to decipher its new system, its obedience reserved only for its Onichynus master. It was as if he’d put two steps between you, but you weren't one to be outsmarted.

You saved up, pooling your resources, and bought two small, unobtrusive tracking devices. It was a small step, a ripple in a sea of uncertainty, but it was a step nonetheless.

You gambled one day, a desperate act fueled by an insatiable hunger for truth. It was a risky play, a leap of faith, but you had to know. You began to wrap a collar around Mephisto’s neck, the mechanical bird squawking and thrashing in protest, its wings a blur of metal and feathers.

It was a struggle, a desperate dance of resistance, but with the help of your faithful butler, you secured Mephisto in your grasp. You felt a pang of guilt, you'd grown fond of the bird, but the truth, the need for answers, outweighed your remorse, but you can barely handle Mephisto's saddened, quiet caws as he grew fond of you as well.

You didn't know what sorcery Mephisto can sometimes able to feel on his own, nonetheless, it was a sacrifice you had to make in the name of love and the pursuit of truth.

With the leash secured firmly to the edge of your desk, you plunged the room into dim light, a measure to protect the camera from unwanted attention. Then, you turned to your butler, a man of technical prowess, the one who’d always understood the intricacies of Mephisto’s mechanisms. With steady hands, he began the delicate process of disassembly.

With the practiced hands of a seasoned craftsman, your butler begins. The silver cog atop its head, a key to its mobility, must be carefully detached. The delicate wires leading from it, intricately woven like a spider's web, must be disconnected, halting the flow of energy that animates its movements and vision.

It had been some time since that night, yet the memory remained vivid, etched into your mind like a scar. Now, you sat on the couch, your limbs restless, unable to find solace in the familiar comfort of your home. Sylus's actions, his growing distance, his secretive behavior, all gnawed at your mind.

You weren't sure what to think. Mephisto rarely visited you anymore, but sometimes, in a fleeting glimpse of its little figure from the sky, you'd catch sight of him, the collar you’d placed around his neck gone.

You knew, somehow, that Sylus had removed it. The knowledge made your teeth clench. Your doubts grew stronger, fueled by the certainty that he was hiding something.

But luckily, your butler managed to insert the other small tracking device inside Mephisto when the crow was dissected- as you anticipated your lover's potential actions. It was cleverly disguised, blending seamlessly with the crow's black metallic interior, just in case Sylus was trying to take a glimpse inside as well.

He thought he'd completely erased any trace of your sleuthing, but you always had a backup plan. He'd underestimated you, perhaps a mistake born from teaching you to be just as sly as him.

You sighed, a breath of grim determination, and unlocked your phone once more. The map glowed with Mephisto's location, a bright red circle on a backdrop of digital darkness.

The tracker, a nigh-perfect beacon. Dread, anticipation, determination, and anxiety—a cocktail that made your steps wary, every step made you so hesitant. You raced out of your lavish house, into the night, and into your car, following Mephisto's trail, the glowing red circle leading you deeper into the mystery.

Your car zipped past the city lights, the rush of wind against your face a testament to your mounting impatience. You were close, the revelation looming like a storm cloud on the horizon. The building came into view: an architectural masterpiece, a testament to opulence as you parked— it could be Mephisto perched on here somewhere.

Those elegant golden lights illuminating its windows and intricate designs adorning its exterior. As you entered, the grandeur of the interior, even more breathtaking than its exterior, momentarily stole your breath.

But this was not a time for sightseeing, for reveling in luxurious aesthetics. You were here for a different kind of revelation, one that could shatter your world. And for that, you couldn’t afford to draw attention to yourself.

You braced yourself, put on a mask of composure before approaching the reception desk. You couldn't let anyone see the turmoil within, the fear, the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm you. "May I ask something, ma'am?" you inquired, your voice attempting nonchalance, though its slight tremor betrayed your façade.

The receptionist, a charming woman with a smile that could lure you into a sales pitch, smiled warmly. "Yes, how may I help you, young lady?" she inquired, mistaking your bundle of nerves for being shy.

A wave of relief washed over you. "May I know if a man named Sylus is currently staying here?" you asked. It was a simple question, but it held the weight of your anxieties, the culmination of your fears and suspicions.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering slightly as she noted the urgency in your voice. But she was a professional, and she quickly recovered, her smile returning. "One sec, miss," she chirped, leaning over the counter to slide open a drawer. She pulled out a logbook, its pages filled with names and dates, and began to search, her eyes scanning quickly for Sylus's name.

The receptionist's eyes scanned the logbook, her finger tracing the lines of names, dates, and numbers. Finally, her finger paused, a smile lighting up her face. "He's on the fifth floor, young lady," she said, her voice warm and helpful. "Room 506. You can find this person on one of the doors." She handed the duplicate of the room's key to you.

A shimmer of hope ignited within you. "Thank you so much," you murmured, your heart swelling with a rush of emotion.

You bowed to the reception desk, then, with a swift move, placed a small bill on the counter. The receptionist’s eyes widened in surprise. She had been happy to help, but this small token of appreciation was unexpected, a pleasant surprise. You couldn't have imagined a quicker, smoother retrieval of information.

The elevator hummed its silent ascent, a slow, steady climb that seemed to amplify your anxieties. The brief wave of relief you'd felt at the reception desk dissipated, replaced by a chilling dread. Each floor you passed seemed to deepen the shadows, casting a foreboding weight on your shoulders. As the elevator doors slid open, revealing the fifth floor corridor, your heart hammered in your chest.

You moved slowly, cautiously, until you reached the door you were seeking. An oblong golden plaque, embossed with the number 506, confirmed the location. You braced yourself, your fingers trembling as they reached for the knob as you unlocked it and hiding the key to your pocket, a silent twist that opened the door, a secret whisper in the symphony of this opulent space.

The once blurring luminescence of the white in seconds as you opened the door you take it in, blurring your irises in seconds until the path ahead becomes clearer. You take a silent stroll to mask your presence and make the dangers of the room unaware. You passed through a couch and several pieces of furniture until you stopped in front of a bed- but you kept your distance a few feet away.

The sight that greeted you made your anger and despair collide, a violent storm of emotions that weakened your legs, the blood draining from your face.

Sylus was there, sitting with his back to you, his arms wrapped around her, kissing each other comfortably, tongues grazing the other. The silky red sheets of the luxurious bed crinkled beneath their combined weight, and their bodies, slick with perspiration, were a testament to the hours they'd spent entwined.

His hand rested possessively on her ass, a lingering touch, while the other brushed the back of her thigh, a gesture that spoke volumes of their intimacy. You were certain, with sickening clarity, that they had been entwined for hours.

“Syl…?” You mumble as you try to lift your head up, loud enough for him to hear. But they were lost in their intimacy, a tableau of forbidden pleasure that made your stomach churn with a mixture of jealousy and disgust.

Both were so immersed into the rhythmic pulse of jazz music thrumming its spell over them, while their arms and legs waltz on each other's skins, your voice could barely register into the room especially to Sylus.

The only thing that broke the immersion was the sudden, urgent caw of Mephisto recognizing you. The mechanical crow, perched on the window sill, had spotted you, its red eyes fixed on your figure. Sylus's head snapped up, his eyes widening with a flicker of surprise.

“Sweetie,” he breathed, a lazy, affectionate drawl that grated on your nerves. He had the audacity to use that pet name, a term of endearment that had once held meaning for you, now laced with irony, a mocking echo of a past that felt worlds away. He was now aware of the storm brewing in your eyes, the silent rage that pulsed through your veins.

“Which one of us is that, Sylus?” You questioned. The tension in the room crackled, palpable, a force that seemed to draw every atom toward the heart of this forbidden encounter.

It was a tense standoff three-way, a collision of love, betrayal, and a simmering rage that threatened to boil over and tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Sylus remained unnervingly calm, a stillness that bordered on arrogance. As if this situation, this blatant betrayal, was simply another day at the office.

He sighed, a melodic exhale that seemed to underscore his control, and gently eased miss Hunter down beside him. His hand remained intertwined with hers, a possessive gesture, a subtle reminder of his power, his control over her.

You remembered how he once taught you to think before reacting. But this was not applicable to this unjustified situation.

Sylus’s smirk held a trace of begrudging admiration. “How did you find me here? I made sure you wouldn't have any traces of me in my devices,” he remarked, a subtle challenge laced within his words.

He was impressed, not by your intrusion, but by your proficiency, the sheer brilliance of your tracking skills as little to no criminals, compared to you, barely achieved this feat.

The shock was evident in his eyes, a hint of something akin to awe, but he covered it with a façade of casual admiration. "You're two steps ahead of me huh,” he conceded, a grudging acknowledgment of your resourcefulness. “I should have known.” He tried to inject a false, affectionate tone into his words, but it was a poor attempt to disguise his unease. “you're indeed amazing for that. I'll give you the credit, sweetie.”

You surged forward with no explanation for that matter, fueled by a cocktail of anger and betrayal. You lunged, your palm connecting with his cheek with a resounding slap. The force of the blow sent a wave of shock through him, a crimson flush blooming across his cheek.

"Bastard!" you screamed, your voice raw with fury. "You betrayed me! How could you do this to me, after everything?"

Mephisto, sensing the eruption of emotions, flew out the window. The mechanical crow, a silent witness to your heartbreak, had sensed the shift in the atmosphere and retreated, leaving you in this charged space.

Sylus's hand flew to his cheek, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he felt the sting of your blow. He looked up at you, your eyes burning with a heat that threatened to consume him. He saw the inferno of pain, the charred remnants of your trust smoldering within them.

But he reacted with an unsettling calm. As if your fury was but a minor inconvenience.

"What happened to you?" His gaze, unwavering, held a glimmer of something akin to amusement. "I made you a strong woman and you're supposed to react like one." he had a small but bitter chuckle.

You stood there, face to face with him, the raw fury in your heart threatening to spill over. His figure, once a beacon of comfort, now seemed tainted, sinful in its betrayal. His calm, his audacity, ignited a fresh fire in your soul.

"Is this..." you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak, "Is this...what you meant when you taught me to protect myself from things… including yourself?" You finally completed your sentence, but the struggle to get there was visceral, an agonizing process of grappling with the raw truth.

"Sweetie," he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed sweetness, even as his hand remained possessively intertwined with his mistress's. He raised his head, meeting your gaze with a calm that bordered on a disturbing indifference. His casualness, his ability to betray you with such ease, was both maddening and bewildering.

"Yes," he said, his voice smooth and steady, "I needed you to know how to protect you from myself."

The words struck you like a blow. You were grasping for some semblance of logic, some explanation, some shred of comfort. But the situation was too complex, a tangle of emotions that defied reason.

How could this man, the man who had shaped your world, the man you had believed loved you, be capable of such a betrayal? You knew, you felt, you were certain that he loved you. His teachings, his unwavering support, they had all felt so heartfelt.

Sylus saw the whirlwind of emotions in your eyes, a mix of confusion, disbelief, and hurt. This was not the reaction he had anticipated, a vulnerability that made him feel a twinge of guilt, a brief flicker of mercy.

He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with a mixture of sincerity and uncertainty. "I'm going to be honest, sweetie." He averted his gaze, the weight of his confession a heavy burden. He wasn't a coward, he would always tell you the truth, just as he had taught you to embrace even the most uncomfortable truths.

"I have loved you," he confessed, his voice low and remorseful. "But you need to know, that this woman," he gestured towards the woman beside him, "is the one I love the most. Ever since… Eons ago, as a dragon, she has been with me. Even in the moment of my death," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The revelation struck you with the force of a thunderbolt. The anger, the hurt, the realization that you were, in fact, the other woman—it all washed over you, drowning you in a sea of despair.

This woman, this woman who had been with him for eons, their story, their world, had existed long before you, before your love, before your dreams. You were the one who had been tricked, the one who had been used, the one who had been left behind in the wake of their enduring love.

He turned away from you, his gaze settling on the woman beside him. She seemed flustered, embarrassed by the messy scene they had created, and you felt a wave of pity wash over you. You, too, were a victim in this twisted game of love and betrayal.

Sylus looked at her with an adoring gaze, the same affection he had once showered upon you. It was a sight that stabbed at your heart, a reminder of the love you thought you had shared, now gone, swept away by the tides of time and a love that had existed long before you.

"I remember, clear as day," he continued, his voice smooth, his gaze turning back to you, "Our adventures in Tarus City. The very first mark I placed on her skin." He was painting their courtship, a romanticized narrative that painted a vivid picture of their shared history. He was trying to make sense of it, to justify it—but it was hard for you to listen.

Each detail he shared—the caved city of treasures, the gold that glittered everywhere, how he'd held her waist with his dragon tail, the playful way he snaked up behind her to mark her neck—they were all memories you desperately wished were yours.

He continued,  "And when I laid on the field of crimson flowers, it was the only special place I would let her know and stay and she was on top of me..." It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, a love story that had begun eons ago,  a love that transcended time and death. And you were the outsider, the one who had been fooled, the one who had been left behind.

"In the moment of my death," he said, his voice laced with a profound sadness yet a sense of serenity. "She cursed me before my once more waking life, that I could never die again. I could only disappear in her will and her hands." He says, explaining the curse that the female hunter embedded onto her.

His words, laced with an undeniable truth,  were crushing. You could feel your own heart breaking into a million pieces. You were not part of their story, their love, their world. You were simply a footnote, a brief interlude in a grand romance that had begun before time had even begun.

"I thought I moved on," he admitted,  a trace of guilt in his voice. "But when I felt her newfound presence being around this world,  I couldn't abandon my true love.  It was a promise we made to each other, sweetie."  He was trying to make sense of it all,  to explain it. But it was too late.  The damage was done. His words were like daggers, twisting and turning inside of you.

"Did you think for a second that you used me!?" You choked out the words, your voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.  The realization hit you like a tidal wave—you weren't just the other woman, you were a pawn in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

"I didn't— but it is my responsibility..  to make amends. But you already know who I chose." Sylus replied, with a calmness that enraged you further. His response, devoid of remorse, was a slap in the face of the earth in yours.

You could no longer hold back the torrent of emotion, of hurt, and humiliation.  Tears streamed down your face. "You used me!" you cried,  your voice hoarse from anguish. You raised your hand, a fierce anger fueling your movement, and slapped him again.

This time, the force of your blow was fueled by the crushing weight of your shattered heart. Your slap resonated with the quiet despair that echoed through the room.

He remained silent, his face stoic, his eyes filled with a grim understanding of the wreckage he had created. He didn't flinch from your blow, nor did he offer any further words of explanation. The silence that settled between you was a testament to the profound devastation he had caused.

You knew then, with a terrible clarity, that you had been a mere chess piece in a game of love, passion, and betrayal,  played by two souls bound by a love that had lasted eons. You had been seduced by his charm, his intelligence, his strength. But you had been blinded by your affection,  blinded by the illusion you had built around him.

"I trusted you…" You choked out the words, the realization of your betrayal heavy on your tongue and the tears breaking down from your etes.  You stumbled back, needing to escape the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.  Your hand flew to your chest, clutching at the wound of your broken heart. 

"I looked up to you— I loved you!" You felt your voice crack, the weight of your shattered dreams cascading down upon you. "Then you're just leaving me to dust because you found your ancient ex-girlfriend! To deal with this on my own! Do you know how much I told my parents and my friends your loyalty— and you pull this shit out to my face!" The words were a torrent of anger, frustration, and betrayal, pouring out of you like a tidal wave.

"Yes, sweetie, I appreciate all the things you've done for me, too," Sylus conceded, his voice laced with a hint of regret.  It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a glimpse into the man you had once loved. He sounded a little rueful too from his disheartening deed.

But even as he spoke, his hand remained entangled with Miss Hunter's hair now, a constant reminder of his choice, his loyalty to the love that had endured throughout eons.

"But I simply chose what my heart desires and whom it beats for," he continued, his voice a smooth, steady murmur.  His words were a testament to his resolute decision,  a confirmation of his commitment to the woman beside him on the bed.

"It may have skipped for you as well," he added,  a faint flicker of acknowledgement in his gaze. 

"But not in the leaps way beyond mountains she has over me. " His words held a subtle undercurrent of  pride, a hint of boasting,  a reminder that his love for Miss Hunter was a force that defied time. It was as if he was comparing the intensity of his love for you to the enduring passion he shared with Miss Hunter, suggesting that yours was fleeting, while hers was undeniable,   unwavering and endless.

Your back slammed against the ornate, velvet-covered wall and, sending a wave of pain through your body. The rustling of the fire in the chimney heightening the tension.

But right now, nothing can be compared to the crushing pain in your heart. The silence of this opulent room now echoed with the hollow emptiness you felt within. You were stranded, alone,  lost in the wreckage of a love you once believed in, a love that had been a lie.

You had nothing more to say. It was all so clear, so horrifyingly simple. The pieces clicked into place, revealing a picture of betrayal so complete.

You gritted your teeth, tears cascading down your cheeks. "I just hope you won't make attempts to appear in my life again," you said, your voice hoarse.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a ring, a symbol of the future you thought you were building together.  

The ring, a precious gem that once held so much promise, now felt like a poison in your hand.  With a final, desperate action, you flung the ring towards him, the metal clanging against the floor, the impact echoing the shattering of your heart.

"I'm sorry, y/n..." Sylus said, his voice tinged with regret. But it was a regret that felt hollow, a  mere echo of the love he had once professed. His actions spoke louder than any words he could utter, and it was clear that his remorse was only a shadow of the love he held for the woman beside him.

A fire ignited within you, a blaze of fury fueled by heartbreak. You pointed a finger at him, your voice trembling with barely controlled rage. "Fine! We're done, that's what I want too!" You shouted, your words a declaration of war against the man who had betrayed you,  the man you had once loved.

You left him there, the image of his betrayal seared into your soul. You stepped into the elevator, the metal walls closing in on you, pressing down on you like the crushing weight of grief. The silent hum of the elevator felt like a dirge, a mournful symphony for a love that had died.

The lobby with its bustling crowd felt like a blur. You walked past people who were happily chatting,  laughing,  living their lives as if nothing had happened. You felt like a ghost,  moving through a world that had suddenly lost all its color.  It was too much. The dam of your emotions finally broke.

You raced to your car, a blur of movement and tear-stained cheeks. Slumping into the driver's seat, you rested your forehead on the steering wheel,  your body racked by sobs.  It was a quiet grief, a silent scream trapped in a world that no longer made sense.

The barrage of missed calls and texts suddenly made sense to you. Each one, a silent echo of your foolish trust, now felt like a searing reminder of your heartbreak. You kept crying, the weight of your grief feeling like a boulder, a heavy strain on your shoulders. You longed to break free from the torrent of your emotions,  but it felt like you were drowning in them.

But eventually, exhausted from the relentless sobs, you slumped back against the driver's seat, your head resting against the headrest. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, a testament to the depth of your despair.

Then, you heard it. A gentle, unhappy caw. You recognized the distinctive sound, the crimson eyes that peered through the darkened window. It was Mephisto. You unlocked the car window, and he flew in, settling on your finger, his metallic eyes shimmering in the dim light.

“Oh, Mephisto..” You sighed as you stroked his smooth, metallic feathers. Something about his presence, his silent understanding, brought a flicker of warmth to your heart.

“You're such a good friend, you know that?” He cawed softly, and you smiled, the first genuine smile you'd managed since you found out the truth.  It was a small comfort, but right now, it was all you needed.

The fact that he was Sylus' mechanical crow didn't diminish your fondness for Mephisto.  He had become more than just a possession, more than just a tool. Mephisto, as of now, had become a quiet companion, a silent witness to your heartbreak, a source of comfort in a world that had suddenly felt cold and unforgiving.

Life, in its own strange way, had offered you a measure of mercy. You haven't crossed paths with Sylus, not in any of the unexpected places where ex-lovers tend to bump into each other. It was as if fate had conspired to keep you apart, allowing wounds to heal without the added pain of an unwelcome encounter.

Mephisto, somehow, became your regular visitor, a silent observer of your healing process. Sometimes he would arrive with a sense of frustration, his metal eyes flashing a bit brighter, likely due to some altercation with Miss Hunter. 

She probably had a beef with him for being a spy dog, a relic of Sylus' traces. But you always greeted him with a smile and a gentle stroke to his head, the quiet comfort of his presence a comforting touch on your bruised heart.

Time, as it often does, had begun to mend your broken heart. The sting of betrayal still lingered,  a faint echo of the pain you had endured.  But  you were moving forward,  finding solace in  new experiences,  new connections.

You found yourself at a museum,  a haven of quiet beauty and wonder.  You wandered through the halls,  admiring the exhibits,  until you stopped before an aquarium,  captivated by the vibrant underwater world.  A particular fish, a mesmerizing glow emanating from its scales, caught your eye.   You pressed your hand against the glass,  intrigued by the creature’s hypnotic beauty.

"You seem to like that one too, miss? You have good taste,"  a voice said behind you.

You turned,  your heart skipping a beat as you met the gaze of a beautiful stranger.  His soft features had a hint of rebellion,  his  short, wavy indigo hair adding a touch of  charm. He  was  classically handsome,  dressed in  a  crisp white polo with  slightly puffy sleeves that  accentuated his physique,  and a glittering golden necklace adding a hint of  elegance. 

His smile was warm and inviting, and his gaze held a genuine interest. The  initial  hesitation you felt quickly melted away as you found yourself drawn to his charm and  ease. He spoke about the fish, sharing his  expertise, his passion for aquatic life filling  his voice.   

It made you giggle and discovered a shared love for the beauty and complexity of nature, and you found yourself laughing, sharing  stories, and  discovering a connection that  surprised  you.

Your banter with the mysterious man continued, a delightful mix of shared laughter and playful teasing. His initial charm was quickly evident, his playful teasing a welcome change from the dull routine of your days.

He was passionate about aquatic life, but he could be a bit pouty when you touched on sensitive topics. When you mentioned the idea of catching fish from the ocean to sell, he became visibly deflated and pouted a bit at you.

"Oh, please, you can't be serious?" he asked, a snarky tone creeping into his voice.

"It's not right to take creatures from their home just to line your pockets. The ocean is a sacred place, a source of life, and we need to protect it, not exploit it. It's not just about the fish, it's about the whole ecosystem," He defended and you only shrugged just to get him riled up again. Although he did have a point.

Somewhere in the throngs of visitors,  you  failed to notice a familiar pair of crimson eyes. Sylus, he was with his woman as usual, his presence a dark shadow casting  a  subtle regret across his handsome features, had witnessed  this brand new you.

tags. @yukithestar @babygirl-panda19 @rainkissedberries @aetherscribit @athanasia-day

[lunarriviera]

What are your thoughts on the last ep of under the skin...that cant be shen yi right...im seeing a lot of twin theories but thats a weird plot twist honestly 😅

to answer this question i guess i have to get up off the floor first, where i have been lying facedown and motionless since uts2 ended over a week ago. two weeks ago? yesterday? today? i don't know anymore i've lost all track of time, who are you? where are we?

oh right—the s2 ending. you must mean this scene, right? what a great way to end things! du cheng, happy, walking to meet a group of friends at his birthday party! truly wrapped up the whole drama, and left us in such a heartwarming place with our favorite characters!

...oh you didn't mean that ending? you mean there's another one?

[mindless screaming behind the cut AS WELL AS SPOILERS]

[and this winds up being about all of s2 as well as the final tag, OOPS]

so okay listen before i can even address this without the mindless screaming, i have to level with y'all here: s2 was rough on me. there are only like three du cheng stans in all of anglophone cdrama fandom and i'm probably two of them ( @wannings-wontons is the other one, thank god for her). i've written eleventyleven fics from his pov so i am ferally protective of my big stupid hot cop son. this season put him through the goddamn wringer and for my taste there were just a few too many scenes of du cheng looking like he was about to burst into tears while shen yi was smiling winsomely, for all the world as if he were not the one personally causing his captain to experience devastating mortal agony. allow me to demonstrate.

in the driver's seat: unspeakable anguish. literally can't talk.

in the passenger seat: hey nice air conditioner! guess what i have a new friend! i spent the night at his place, talking about infinity and human potential! in a few more episodes he'll be a murder suspect!

(i'm getting to the cliffhanger, believe me i'm getting there, no really i am, we just have to spend a minute dealing with the divorce arc first)

because, while i absolutely adore angst bambi (as @whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst has immortalized him), and thanks to @elenothar have firmly adopted him as a most beloved emotional support twink (not least because i suspect tan jianci is himself kind of a genius; no triple threat should be this good of an actor), i also honestly not infrequently this season wanted to drag shen yi into the men's room by his pretty hair and flush his pretty little head down the [redacted] until he came to his pretty little senses. because while later in the arc he clearly is, you know, attempting that deep-cover thing, and has to reject du cheng to his face, right in front of Evil Eugenicist Art Critic Weasel Man, in order to gain Weasel Moriarty's trust, etc.—

there are also a bunch of times when du cheng is visibly upset and miserable and in genuine pain, and shen yi just laughs. literally laughs at him. like tan jianci what are you doing, do you want the audience to dislike you? how are you trying to play this?? are we supposed to think, wow shen yi sure knows what he's doing? are we supposed to think he suddenly has the world's worst taste in men? because long before Weasel Man smashes a vase and snaps at his lab assistant and possibly kills someone and has assorted tantrums which start to tip off shen yi that maybe his new bestie is kind of a bag of dicks—long before that starts happening? shen yi just likes that guy. he LIKES him. enough to quote whitman to him (fang kaiyi you take his queer name out your mouth); enough to stay up all night painting the stars with him and we don't know what all else. enough to hang out in his lab for days on end, listening to junk science and pretending to understand the human genome and just what. shen yi. WHAT. he's literally a Bond villain styled like an asymmetric reptile—all this, just because he's tall? and he's gone to the symphony a few times? what, because he negged your painting, and that turned you on? i shouldn't have said any of that, but i did; and now i refuse to take it back. because inside me are two wolves, and they sound like this:

one wolf has been extremely online for many years, and thinks she's very hip and chill and jaded. this wolf talks in memes and laughs at herself, and she's like: “haha fun drama! Solving Crimes Through Art! lol i can't believe this turgid love song playing over a romantic montage, wow it's so stupid.” and also: “lmao divorce arc so hilarious, WELCOME HOME CHEATER lol get it, good joke right?” and: “oh my god why is there another pointless cliffhanger, they will NEVER GET a s3 what are they thinking. this scene is therefore not canon and can be safely ignored, just like the s1 tag turned out to be a ~~~dream."

but the other wolf is lying motionless in her barrow in the darkness flat on her stomach in mouldering leaves and mud head resting on crossed paws staring into the night with her old yellow eyes and she says they stabbed my son and left him alone in his blood and the last thing he saw was a cruel face worn by the boy he has come to love a boy standing at the end of the alley looking down at his phone who then moves past him and keeps on walking

and then, you know. then i lie on the floor for a week! which is fine, i'm an extremely psychologically healthy person who has certainly not at all outsourced her entire emotional well-being to an imaginary public safety bureau criminal investigator on the coast of southeast china.

so what do i think about the cliffhanger? here is what i think about it; and again, sorry for the hatchet job on shen yi but it was relevant:

1. i do think it's a dream, yes. they've already played that game with us—we waited two years to find out who was carving up shen yi's creepy murder-red self-portrait and whomst should it be but…nobody! just shen yi having nightmares about his future fling, apparently. (notice, too, how fang kaiyi GRABBED that craft knife, which shen yi had deliberately left on the easel, and didn't even ask why it was there. he might be tall and elegant and have good taste but he's nowhere near as smart as you are, shen yi. do better.)

2. whose nightmare is it, though: shen yi's, or du cheng's? remember that the first time du cheng meets fang kaiyi, he tells shen yi, "he reminds me of someone: the old you." (and shen yi laughs merrily, even though nothing about that is funny, either the observation or du cheng's immediate mistrust and jealousy. TAN JIANCI WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING). then, later, on the precinct rooftop, after the case is all over, shen yi confesses yet again that there's something in him that's not altogether good, that he has quote "demons," and that if he hadn't met du cheng, he might have gone down some vague unspecified dark path. not quite sure how a portrait artist was gonna become a mass murderer or whatever, but okay i guess. there was something off about shen yi 1.0, and du cheng could see it even a decade ago and he didn't like it then any more than he does now.

given all that, then, the nightmare is probably shen yi's. he's prone to them anyway, and he knows now how badly he's hurt du cheng, and that he came dangerously close to, well, getting into bed with the enemy. i don't think it's even until fang kaiyi is so limpidly nonchalant about zhou shanshan's death that shen yi's inner moral compass comes shrieking back into play (and then it really does; shen yi who never raises his voice out there just shouting that man down).

there's one argument to be made for the case that it's du cheng's nightmare, though, which is the way that he looks up at the camera at the very end of the shot, and laughs. shen yi 1.0 is standing too far away for that to be his point-of-view. so who's standing over du cheng? and who would he laugh at, in recognition, like that? shen yi 2.0, presumably (or 3.5? not sure what version we're on anymore).

either way here's my final observation, and then i swear to god i'll shut up, before the shen yi stans come for me like maenads. i was chatting with @wannings-wontons and she said something that absolutely blindsided me, which is that the cliffhanger literalizes the arc of the series: shen yi did, in fact, metaphorically stab du cheng in s2. why else would either of them dream that? du cheng being badly, even fatally wounded by arrogant young artist shen yi is precisely what happened during the divorce arc. and their reconciliation was so heavily censored as to be, to some of us anyway, unpersuasive. (two cops, talking on a rooftop all night! five feet apart cause they're not gay!) as @wannings-wontons said: "the last scene just reflects how badly hurt he was. and we're left to decide whether he'll recover."

so which is worse, dreaming that your lover stabs you? or dreaming that something twisted inside you stabs the man you love?

tldr, shen yi doesn't need a soap opera evil twin: he's his own evil twin, and he knows this. and what is more, du cheng knows it now too. if there's ever a third season, which seems completely impossible to me, the writers have to know that they have NOT fixed this.

fortunately, we have something censored production companies don't have, and it's called fanfiction. so bring on the episode codas, my friends. bring on the long painful conversations and the shouted arguments (du cheng never even got to yell, except once in a parking lot because he was frantic). bring on the tender reconciliations that can only come after those blowout knock-down-drag-out fights, and are therefore real and grounded, not stilted, wooden, woefully inadequate mockeries of reunion. let people throw furniture and cry and try to explain and plead and confess and even, sure, why not, grab the other person and kiss him breathless, and say I don't want to do this without you, say don't put me through that ever again, say but this isn't enough and I need something different, say okay then let's figure that out together, say i'm sorry i hurt you, you're the most important person to me and that's the last thing i ever want to do.

it's up to us, not to leave them there in the alley like that. but the good news is if it's work, it's only work. and it's our work to do.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Second Chance | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: It’s been two years since you and Sebastian considered each other friends, but that’s all about to change when he finds you in the back of the library.

Words: ~6,000

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, One-Shot

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the faint bassline of a song pulsing through his earbuds as he stared at the pages of his textbook. The words blurred together, his focus slipping away. He rubbed his eyes, pushing his hair back in frustration. Normally, he thrived on the chaos of multitasking—music blasting, three assignments spread out in front of him, and the ever-present buzz of his phone vibrating with group chat notifications. But tonight, none of it held his attention.

Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

To you.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared blankly at the spell diagram on the page. It had been a long time since you and he had been on speaking terms, but that didn’t stop you from haunting him. It was ridiculous, really. You weren’t even in his life anymore. You’d made that perfectly clear after fifth year.

Back then, you’d been inseparable, two halves of a chaotic whole. You were his clever, competitive, and sharp-witted partner in crime, the one person that matched his energy, who pushed back when he pushed too far. At least, you had… until the end. Until he’d crossed too many lines, gone too far chasing answers he thought he needed.

When you walked away, it was like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. He hadn’t realized how much of his world revolved around you until you weren’t in it anymore. And then you’d gone and changed.

The girl who once stayed up debating spell combinations with him and snuck into Crossed Wands had turned into the model student overnight. Top of the class. Prefect material. Polished and poised in ways that made you almost unrecognizable. You’d dropped out of Crossed Wands entirely, called it “unsanctioned” like you hadn’t been one of its fiercest competitors. And worst of all, you avoided him like he was contagious.

Not that he blamed you. He’d been reckless, selfish, dangerous. And you’d always been careful. You’d never taken him up on his offers to teach you darker spells, not even when he’d sworn you could handle it. Not even when he’d practically begged you to trust him. You’d drawn your line and stood firm, and when he crossed it, you’d walked away.

And he missed you.

It wasn’t just the obvious things, though Merlin knew those hurt enough. Like the way you used to roll your eyes at his jokes, even as your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide. Or the way you stood your ground against him when everyone else gave way, meeting his sharp edges with your own. No, what he missed most were the moments in between—the quiet spaces you filled without even realizing it. The way your laughter could cut through his darkest moods, or how you’d sit beside him, shoulders brushing, as you shared a companionable silence in a way that felt like a language only the two of you spoke.

Now, there was only silence. Cold. Empty. And it was all his fault.

He’d ruined it. He’d ruined you—or at least, the version of you that used to laugh with him and wipe the floor with him in duels you had no business winning. The version of you that once trusted him enough to sneak out at midnight and risk detention just because he said it’d be worth it.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he dragged a hand down his face. The textbook in front of him was abandoned now, forgotten in the tangle of his thoughts. His playlist shuffled to a new song, something slower, the kind of melody that made his chest ache.

Pathetic.

That’s what he felt like, sitting here brooding over someone who probably didn’t think about him at all anymore. You’d moved on. You had your perfect, spotless life, and he was just the lost cause you'd left behind.

He should have been over this by now. Hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to focus on. Seventh Year was demanding, and he had his own reputation to maintain—being Sebastian Sallow, Hogwarts’ resident troublemaker, wasn’t a title that earned itself. He liked his image well enough, even if it only scratched the surface. It gave people something to talk about, something to expect, and if they underestimated him in the process? Even better.

But all of that felt hollow tonight. He couldn’t shake the memories of you, the way things used to be, and the gnawing and incessant knowledge that no one else had ever fit into his life the way you had.

The faint rustling sound from the back of the library barely registered at first, lost in the haze of his thoughts. But when it came again, louder this time—a shuffle of footsteps, a whispered laugh—Sebastian’s attention sharpened.

Pulling out his earbuds, he frowned and glanced toward the back corner of the library. The lights were dimmer there, casting long shadows over the towering shelves.

Curiosity and a creeping sense of amusement pulled him from his chair. It wasn’t unusual for students to sneak off to the back room for some privacy, Merlin knew Sebastian had been caught back there more than once, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek.

As he rounded the corner, the whispers grew clearer—murmured words followed by a soft laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew that laugh. Knew it so well it hurt.

And then he saw you.

Pressed against the shelves, your fingers gripping the front of Garreth Weasley’s shirt as his hands rested low on your waist. He was leaning into you, close enough that there was no mistaking what was happening. Your lips met his with an urgency that made Sebastian’s stomach churn.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, his mind struggling to reconcile the scene in front of him. You. The same you who avoided him with practiced precision, who sat at the front of every class with perfect posture and perfectly color-coded notes. The same you who had a spotless detention record, and never even handed library books in late. The same you who’d left him behind.

Yet here you were, shattering that image before his very eyes, snogging in the back of the library.

And Merlin help him, he felt like he was splintering right along with it. Because you were tangled up with Garreth bloody Weasley. Like it was nothing. Like you weren’t supposed to be better than this type of thing. Like you hadn’t spent the past two years proving to everyone that you were.

The first rush of emotion was jealousy, sharp and acidic, curling through Sebastian’s chest like a fire he couldn’t put out. It clawed at him, angry and possessive, though he had no right to feel either. You weren’t his. You hadn’t been his for a long time, not since you’d walked away from the wreckage of your friendship and never looked back.

But beneath the jealousy, beneath the gut-twisting ache, there was something else. Something unexpected.

Hope.

It flickered in his chest, small and fragile, but enough to take his breath away. Maybe the girl he’d thought he’d ruined, the one he’d chased away with his recklessness and obsession, wasn’t entirely gone. Maybe the version of you he’d missed—the one who laughed at his stupid jokes, who stayed up with him plotting mischief, who could hold her own in a duel and grin while doing it—was still there.

Because here you were, letting someone back you into a shadowed corner with their hands up your shirt.

You broke the kiss first, leaning back against the shelf as you caught your breath, your lips still parted, your cheeks flushed. Garreth leaned in close, murmuring something by your ear that drew a soft laugh from you—a sound so achingly familiar that it cut straight through Sebastian. He knew that laugh. It was the one you’d reserved for him, for the ridiculous jokes you’d always rolled your eyes at even as your smile betrayed you. It was his laugh.

Or at least… it used to be.

Sebastian’s nails dug into his palms as he watched, his gaze frozen in place like he was locked under a Petrificus spell. The ache in his jaw reminded him to unclench his teeth, but even then, he couldn’t shake the tension coiled in his chest.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found his, widening with recognition, and the color drained from your face so quickly Sebastian nearly moved to steady you. The laughter that had been bubbling between you and Garreth disappeared instantly, leaving behind a stunned silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Sebastian,” you said, your voice sharp, defensive.

Garreth turned around too, but didn’t seem particularly bothered by Sebastian’s presence. In fact, he had the audacity to smirk, his usual easygoing charm fully intact. “Relax, Sallow,” he said with a chuckle, taking in Sebastian’s scowl. “I’m sure you've seen, and done, worse.”

The heat in Sebastian’s chest flared as Garreth leaned in closer to you, planting a light kiss on the top of your head. The casualness of the gesture, the ease with which Garreth claimed the space so close to you, made Sebastian’s jaw tighten.

“I’d stick around,” Garreth murmured, just loud enough for both of you to hear, “but I’ve got an essay on advanced potion theory calling my name. Can’t let Sharp down, can I?” He winked at you before stepping back.

Sebastian’s fingers curled into fists inside his pockets, the storm behind his expression barely contained as Garreth turned to him. With a grin that bordered on infuriating, Garreth clapped Sebastian on the shoulder in passing. “Try not to give her too much grief, yeah?” he said lightly before sauntering off as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, his blood simmering as he watched the redhead disappear around the corner, leaving the two of you alone.

You crossed your arms, your expression shifting into one of irritation, though the faint flush on your cheeks remained. "Can I help you, Sebastian?"

Sebastian’s jaw ticked as he turned his attention back to you, the mocking tone of Weasley’s words still echoing in his head. He forced his expression into something neutral but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease.

"Forgive me," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Just trying to figure out what the hell I just walked in on."

You bristled at his words, your posture stiffening, though the flush on your cheeks deepened. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” He let out a laugh, low and biting. "You were snogging Garreth Weasley in the back of the library, it's not like you tried very hard to hide."

Your glare sharpened, your arms tightening across your chest like armor. “Don’t start, Sebastian.”

“Start what?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk playing on his lips gave him away. “I’m just trying to figure out when you decided to join the rest of us delinquents. Was it before or after you decided that Weasley deserved the honor of corrupting you?”

Your jaw tightened, and your eyes flashed with a defiance that he hadn’t seen in ages. “You’re one to talk about corruption,” you shot back, your tone scathing. “You’ve built your entire reputation on it.”

“At least I’ve never pretended to be anything else.” He retorted, the smirk tugging at his lips sharp and humorless.

The air between you was charged, the kind of tension that felt as though it might crack and shatter if either of you pushed just a little harder. Sebastian’s smirk lingered, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which burned with something darker—something almost desperate beneath the sarcasm.

“Pretended? You don’t know anything about me anymore,” you said finally, your voice firm, but he caught the faintest tremor beneath the surface. “Don't try acting like you do.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said finally, his tone quieter now, the fire in his chest simmering into something closer to resignation. “Your spotless reputation is pretty well known, love. It’s hard not to wonder what happened to the girl I knew.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, the air around you humming with unspoken words. Sebastian stood there, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor as though it might hold some kind of answer. But when he glanced back up at you, something in his chest tightened.

Because even as you stood there with your arms crossed, your chin tilted high in defiance, he saw it. The hurt in your eyes, sharp and raw, like an old wound reopened. And beneath that—buried deep, but unmistakable—there was something else. Something wistful. Something you were trying desperately to hide but couldn’t quite bury fast enough.

And then, to his surprise, you let out a soft laugh. It was barely more than a breath, but it carried a wry edge as you shook your head, your arms falling loosely to your sides. “Oh Sebastian... you only think I’m such a good girl because I never get caught.”

For a second, Sebastian could only stare, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just heard. Because this—this sounded like banter. Not the cold, guarded deflections he’d gotten used to whenever you were forced to speak to him, but something that carried the faintest glimmer of playfulness. And that little flicker of hope that had been quietly smoldering in his chest suddenly roared to life, bright and insistent, warming parts of him he’d thought had long since gone cold.

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though it was softer now, edged with something more genuine. “Is that so?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Are you saying the girl I knew is still in there, underneath that Prefect’s title?”

You arched a brow, folding your arms again as though that would shield you from the weight of his gaze. “Maybe I just got better at hiding it,” you shot back, your voice calm but laced with a daring edge that caught him off guard.

Sebastian blinked, the smirk faltering for a moment before it came back with renewed intensity. “So the golden girl has a secret wild streak? Fascinating. Tell me more.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you replied coolly, but the faint twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed you. “I’m just better at knowing when to keep my head down, unlike some people.”

“Some people?” he repeated. “You wound me, really."

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping before you could stop it. And Merlin, that laugh—it was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that Sebastian wished he could bottle it, to hold onto this moment and never let it go.

“So what’s next for you, oh master of stealth?” He teased. “Another clandestine meeting in a forgotten corner of the castle? Or is Garreth the only lucky one?”

The mention of Garreth’s name made your expression falter, the brief levity between you vanishing like a popped bubble. You straightened, your arms crossing tightly again, and for a second, he almost regretted saying it.

Almost.

“What’s it to you?"

For a heartbeat, Sebastian considered brushing it off with a joke, deflecting the way he always did when things got too real. But something about the way you looked at him—equal parts defiance and hurt—made the usual mask feel too heavy to hold.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally. He shifted his weight, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just… didn’t think he was your type, that’s all.”

“My type?” you repeated, incredulous. “What do you even know about my type, Sebastian?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, caught off guard by the question. The truth was, he didn’t know. Not anymore. He used to think he did. Back when the two of you spent endless hours together, when he could read your mood with a single glance.

“Not much, I guess,” he admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. “At least, not these days.”

Something flickered in your eyes at that, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any argument could have been.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Look, I don’t know what you think you walked in on, but—”

“I think I walked in on you snogging Garreth Weasley,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone dry as he gestured vaguely toward the shelf where he’d found you. “Which, for the record, is a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritation in your expression softening just slightly. “What is it you have against him, Sebastian? Did he beat you in a duel when you were 11 or something?"

Sebastian huffed a laugh, his smirk resurfacing with just enough of an edge to mask the sting your words carried. “Please,” he said, crossing his arms. “Garreth couldn’t beat me in a duel if I tied my wand hand behind my back. You know that.”

“Do I?”

Sebastian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your piercing gaze. "Look, I just didn’t think he was your… speed."

"My speed?" you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up as incredulity laced your tone.

He hesitated, fumbling for words. "It’s just… Weasley? Really?" He gestured vaguely, his lips curving into a wry smirk. "The guy spends half his time trying to turn candy into explosives. I thought you’d go for someone who could… you know, keep up with you."

Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your glare sharp enough to cut through the tension hanging in the air. "And who’s that supposed to be? Someone like you?"

The question hit him harder than it should have, and for a moment, he couldn’t find a response. Because yes, once upon a time, he thought exactly that. Back when you were still friends, back before everything fell apart, he’d imagined—hoped, even—that he might be the kind of person you’d want.

But that was a long time ago. Now, the very idea felt absurd.

"I didn’t say that," he muttered, though the defensive edge to his voice gave him away.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned slightly away from him. "I don’t know why you even care. You made it perfectly clear a long time ago that we’re not exactly friends anymore."

Sebastian flinched, the words hitting like a blow to the chest. He straightened, his arms dropping to his sides as his smirk faltered. "That’s not fair," he said quietly. "You’re the one who walked away."

You turned back to him at that, your expression shifting from irritation to something closer to hurt. "Because you gave me no choice, Sebastian."

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because you were right. And then, before he could stop himself, his lips were moving, saying the words he should have said so long ago but never had the courage to face you again and say.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it. But I… fuck. For once I just wanted to say it. I really am sorry.”

Your expression shifted the moment the apology left his lips. The tension in your posture seemed to drain away, replaced by something far more vulnerable. For the first time in years, you didn’t look sharp or guarded as you looked at him—you just looked… fragile. It was enough to make Sebastian's chest tighten, his protective instincts flaring to life before he could stop them.

He took a cautious step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though you were a skittish cat that might bolt at any sudden movement. “Maybe we should…” he hesitated, glancing around the dim library as though the walls themselves might be listening, “talk somewhere more private.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, searching his face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn’t dare move, barely even breathed, until finally, to his surprise, you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Come on,” he murmured.

He turned and began walking, glancing back only to see you trailing after him, quiet but willing. The sight of you following him, however hesitantly, sent a pang of something bittersweet through him.

When the two of you finally reached the entrance to the Undercroft, Sebastian unlocked the hidden entrance and led you inside.

The secret room hadn’t changed much since the last time you’d been here two years ago. The same glowing sconces cast their warm light over the stone walls, and the air carried the same faint chill that always seemed to linger underground. But to Sebastian, it felt… different. Smaller, somehow, with the weight of all the unspoken words that had built up between the two of you over the years.

You stopped in the center of the room, your arms wrapped loosely around yourself as though to ward off the cold. Sebastian lingered near the doorway, his hand brushing against the edge of the stone wall as he watched you.

The silence stretched again, and Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his wand as he searched for the right words.

“I meant what I said,” he began hesitantly, his voice low and rough, like the words were dragging their way out of his throat. “I’m sorry. For… all of it. For the way things ended. For the way I pushed you away. For the fact that I—” He broke off abruptly, his jaw tightening as he looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His fingers gripped the back of his neck as he tried again, his words tumbling out in fits and starts, each one heavier than the last. “I—I was a mess. I am a mess. But back then? Fuck, I didn’t even see it. I thought I was doing what I had to do. That I was right. And by the time I realized how wrong I was… it was too late.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy with emotions he couldn’t quite hide anymore. “I hate that I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, though he forced himself to press on. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t stay. And I hate myself for being too blind, too damn stupid, to see what I was doing to you until you were gone.”

Sebastian took a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. “You were the best thing in my life,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “And I—I ruined it. I ruined us.”

He shook his head, his expression a mess of frustration and something painfully raw. “But I never stopped missing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not for a second. And seeing you now… sneaking around, breaking rules—it was like, for just a moment, I thought I still knew you.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, his gaze flicking away before returning to yours. “Even if you were snogging bloody fucking Weasley.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze fixed on the floor as you seemed to wrestle with your own thoughts. When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were glassy, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I didn’t leave because I thought you were a mess, Sebastian,” you began, your voice quiet but steady despite the way your hands fidgeted at your sides. “I left because I didn’t know how to help you anymore. I left because I was scared,” you admitted, the words heavy in the air. “I saw what you were doing to yourself—pushing everyone away, chasing after things that hurt you more than helped—and it killed me because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop you.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “And I couldn’t just stand there and watch you destroy yourself,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Because I—”

You took a shaky breath, the words fragile and undeniable. “I fucking loved you, Sebastian. And seeing you like that, knowing I couldn’t fix it—I thought… maybe if I walked away, it would hurt less. And maybe it would force you to save yourself.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. The weight of your confession hung heavy between you, and you laughed softly—a bitter, self-deprecating sound—as you glanced back up at him.

“So I left,” you continued, your tone tinged with wryness now. “I threw myself into rules and order and schedules. I thought if I could just be… perfect, the opposite of all that chaos, maybe it would fill the void you left behind.”

You wiped at your eyes quickly as a humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and raw. “But it didn’t help,” you admitted, shaking your head. “It still hurt. I still missed you every damn day."

Sebastian felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like the very foundation he stood on had crumbled beneath him and he was left grasping at nothing, struggling to steady himself. For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his heart hammering against his ribs as he struggled to process everything you’d just said.

“You loved me?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, like the words were scraping their way out of his throat. “You… do you love me?”

You hesitated, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively as you glanced away. “Does it matter?” you wiped at your eyes again. “It’s been so long, and we’re… not who we used to be.”

“But it matters to me,” Sebastian said, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“Sebastian,” you said softly, your tone wavering, “we can’t just go back to how things were. Too much has happened.”

“I’m not asking to go back,” he said quickly, his words rushing out as if he were afraid you might leave again before he could get them out. “I know I can’t undo what I did, but I’m not the same person I was then. And I know things have changed but—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

“Why now?” you asked, the words quiet but sharp. “Why say all of this now, after all this time?”

Sebastian exhaled shakily, his hands curling into fists before falling limp at his sides. He couldn’t meet your eyes yet, not until he forced himself to speak. “Seeing you tonight,” he began, his voice rough, “seeing you with him… I guess it… I saw what I’ve been missing. What I threw away. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt—pretending I don’t miss you. Because I do. Every day.”

His voice softened, steadier now. “You’re still you. That girl I knew—she’s still there. I saw her tonight. And fuck, I miss her. I miss you. And I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t care how much time has passed or how messy this is. If there’s even a chance to figure this out—to fix us—I’ll take it.”

The intensity in his words left you momentarily speechless, the air between you thick. You turned away, your shoulders stiff as you tried to gather your thoughts, tried to keep your emotions from spilling over. But it was no use—Sebastian could see it now. The subtle tremor in your posture, the way your shoulders shook with quiet sobs you were desperately trying to suppress.

Sebastian’s chest tightened painfully, his throat constricting as he watched you. For a moment, he faltered, the guilt and anguish rising like a tidal wave. But he refused to let it drown him, refused to let this moment slip through his fingers. He wouldn’t let you go. Not again. Not when you were here, standing right in front of him, raw and hurting in a way he knew all too well.

He stepped closer, his voice soft but resolute as he broke the silence between you. “You said you missed me,” he repeated, his words trembling with vulnerability. “Do you still?”

You froze, your hands clenching at your sides as you tried to steady yourself, but you didn’t turn around. The pause stretched, unbearable in its uncertainty, and Sebastian took another step closer, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Please,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just… tell me. Do you still miss me? Do you still—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, the weight of his emotions catching in his throat. “Do you still feel it?"

Finally, you turned, your tear-streaked face meeting his, and the sight nearly undid him. There was so much pain in your expression, so much conflict, but beneath it all was something else—something softer, something vulnerable and unbearably familiar.

"Yes, I do."

The moment the second “yes” left your lips, Sebastian was moving, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands found your shoulders first, gentle but firm as if grounding himself, before sliding down to your arms, and then pulling you into him, fierce and desperate.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but then your hands slowly came up to clutch at the front of his shirt, holding on with all the strength you had.

It was overwhelming, the sheer force of finally holding you after all these years. You felt the same—your body fitting against Sebastian like it always had, your warmth seeping into him. And Merlin, you still smelled the same—like wildflowers and ink and something distinctly, heartbreakingly yours. The scent alone was enough to undo him, memories flooding back in a torrent that made his chest ache.

His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I missed you,” he said, his voice cracking as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “God, I missed you. And I’m never—” He swallowed hard, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

Your eyes searched his, glassy but soft, and for the first time in so long, there was no guardedness between you, no walls keeping him out. Only you. The girl who had been his anchor, his compass, his everything.

You nodded, your own tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “Good.”

He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and tender all at once. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You were real, and you were here, and Sebastian swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side this time. Whatever it took to prove to you, and to himself, that this wasn’t something he would ever take for granted again.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you both struggled to steady yourselves. Sebastian’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that lingered on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he’d been too afraid to say before. “I’ve always loved you."

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “I never stopped loving you,” you whispered. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Sebastian let out a breathless laugh, the weight of your words sinking into his chest like a balm over years of ache. His hands stayed on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek before sliding down to trace the curve of your lips.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing, “there’s one last thing I need to know before I can fully move on from the whole Weasley… situation.”

You raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at your lips despite the tears still shining in your eyes. “Oh, Merlin. What now?”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own, the familiar cockiness warming his expression. “Am I a better kisser than him?”

“Sebastian.”

“What?” he said, his grin widening slightly, though his gaze stayed soft. “I think it’s a fair question, considering…”

You narrowed your eyes, but the playful warmth in his gaze was impossible to resist. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you relented, tilting your head slightly as though to consider. “Yes, Sebastian,” you said dryly, though the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “You’re a better kisser than Weasley. ”

His grin turned triumphant, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand slipping back to cradle your face. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, affectionate murmur. “I already knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, your smile lingered, and Sebastian’s heart swelled at the sight.

[violetasteracademic]

Yet again, a million years late but I cannot control when I must burrow in my hidey hole

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Thank you for the tags, my beloved @rosanna-writer @foundress0fnothing @yourstarsmyscars

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

This was my first year on AO3, and I posted 216,682 before the calendar year ended!

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

2, one longfic Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow and a one shot, Before the Night Ends, made specifically for my beloved @theseersgarden and some beautiful Elriel art she had commissioned by Lulybot! (This one may technically not be finished... we shall see)

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Four in progress, all three parts of Velaris Memorial Hospital (which is kind of like one big intertwined Feysand, Nessian, and Elriel AU) and another long fic, A Court of Twisted Fate

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

Oh this is so hard. Everything I wrote was what I needed in the moment, so it's difficult to disentangle myself. But I do think Me, You and the Moon Part One and Two from A Court of Twisted Fate was one of my favorite experiences writing. Also some of my favorite things I wrote haven't been posted yet, so I can't share yet!

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Absolutely Velaris Memorial Hospital. I have been writing third person limited fantasy and sci-fi for well over a decade, and have followed that in my fanfiction. Writing contemporary romance or modern AU in first person perspective was not something I ever imagined doing, but it has unlocked something in me. I am a huge contemporary romance reader, but writing has been an incredible new journey and I have so much newfound respect for first person perspective!

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Again, Velaris Memorial Hospital. It is by far my smallest readership (which I expected, I am new to the Nessian and Feysand arena and of course there's a huge variety of ship and character preferences. Not everyone is a fan of all three brothers and all three sisters) but it has wound up by far being some of the most engaged and supportive readers, and I have been absolutely loving writing for it!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Hmmm it's a bit hard to say, I don't have have that many fics out and not a super good sense of this yet. I do think my Nessian fic, The Albatross has my lowest metrics overall. And writing for Nesta and Cassian has also unlocked something very deep and inspired within me. But VMH is an enormous project and kind of choose your own adventure, so I hope it gets some more love in the long run!

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

Literally too many to count but I have to give the biggest shoutout to @elainemg97. Her artistry knows no bounds, and she is one of the best Elriel eggs out there. She is always kind and encourages positive fandom behavior, and is so encouraging and passionate about helping other artists grow and encouraging them on their journey! @stickyelectrons has such a beautiful eye for color, I just love what she manages (especially for Lucien) and I'm such a fan of @santkazoya and @tealeaves-and-rosepetals

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

Literally way way too many to count. @yourstarsmyscars, @rosanna-writer, @foundress0fnothing, @nikachansstuff, and citizenofvelaris are not only phenomenal writers but inspired beta readers and I feel so lucky to know them. @bloomingdarkgarden and @tealeaves-and-rosepetals are magic and pixie dust, truly phenomenal writers but also so available to support other writers and brainstorm and daydream with. I definitely have a lot more fic to read, I write much more often than I read so it leaves me pretty behind. But I'm sure I missed some and there are so many exceptional writers in this fandom!

Oh also, @tswaney17 has stepped away from fic writing but I'm SO excited for her journey repurposing I Do Bad Things With You into an original story for publishing!

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

See all of the above, but a special shoutout to @jasmineandcedar who writes such lovely short form pieces for Tumblr and did a Shakespeare inspired piece that had my jaw on the floor.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Before the Night Ends with @theseersgarden! It started just with @theseersgarden brainstorming ideas for a caption for an artwork in process, and trying to come up with a title/head canon/sweet moment to describe the scene. And then it spiraled into, wait a min... there's a whole ass fic here.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

It has been really awesome to see how well received Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow was. I try not to get too caught up in what fic is the most popular and whether or not I'm showing up on "best" lists, because art is subjective, and as I mentioned, I think some of my best work has had the smallest engagement. But Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow was my first ever fic. I was a little baby on tumblr and thought maybe four or five people would read a few chapters. I had no idea it would take off in the way that it did, and it still stuns me to this day. Other than that, just writing consistently, and finding wonderful people who fill my cup and and are so supportive and encouraging.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Fic writing is super different from original novel writing in a lot of ways, and I still feel like I'm getting my footing in a lot of ways. I find myself very often coming to my fellow writers being like- does this fly in fic culture? Am I overthinking this? But I think the heart of all creative writing is the same, which is trying to find the joy and a build a story that draws readers in and it's just a beautiful thing to invite people into the visions that take place in your mind, even if you are still learning and imperfect. Because you never know what will connect with someone. Also, shadows make great dildos.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Don't be afraid of the work. Do not fear the muck. Lean into the trenches. I am a huge advocate for transparency in the writing process, and the writing world (fic especially) I think is extra guilty of uplifting the work that just flowed out of them and took no effort at all. Grabs face LISTEN TO ME. Your best work might be what you fought the hardest for. Your strongest scene might be the one that had you in a black pit of despair, extremely close to giving up. Writing is a craft. The only way to get better is to write, this is true. But many people write thousands and thousands of words and never improve, because of the notion that writing should be easy, that it can only happen when you are inspired and flowing and know what you are doing.

Do not fear the trenches. Do not shy away from the work. Not everything comes easily. That doesn't mean you are a bad writer or can't do it. DISPEL the ideas that writing should be easy or come naturally or not require deep effort and work.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

To focus back more on original work. I don't do well with working on more than one project at a time, and I really dug myself into it working on four stories at once. There is no room left for my novel writing, but I can't leave projects unfinished or they will weigh on me. Also continuing to figure out my place in fandom and sharing what I can while staying away from the things that drain me and take away my joy. OH and letting myself take more time. AO3 is an archive, the work will live on. Encouraging myself to be human and need rest and time away. It's so critical to detach from the need for a constant stream of validation, breathe, and focus on the work and your well being.

If you’re tagged in this, please consider yourself tagged for the game!

[discoscoob]

Hi dear! The anonymous author of flash mobs is with us again today, hmmm...

Tag your favorite authors or mutuals and write what song do you associate them with?

Hi! I was struggling to think of songs so I changed it a bit instead. I’m going to share my mutuals favourite works! I hope you don’t mind me changing what you asked 😳

@fernpetals: Good Cop Bad Cop: yandere Tom Ludlow is extremely hot, this fic has me hooked and eagerly waiting for more!

@casuallyobssessed: .375 Magnum: this is so dark, I was so shocked by the ending. (in a good way) It’s written incredibly!

@lilithlinen: Jack Traven Passions Unscripted: this is such a creative way to do the alphabet headcanons, it’s so fun and entertaining. It makes it so much hotter when the answers come directly from the characters.

@treedaddymcpuffpuff: Beneath Miles of Stone: John Wick is 38 in this fic I keep thinking about it. He’s so young 😭 but Hannah captures the almost arrogant spirit you would expect a younger John Wick to possess, I love it so much and I can’t wait for more!

@scarlettspectra: T&N: Ted and Neo make such a perfect combination just like this fic is the perfect combination of insanely hot and insanely sweet. I love how Scarlett writes both of them, captures both their personalities so brilliantly!

@johnwickb1tsch: Bittersweet: One of the first fics I read by Julia and she’s blessed us with so many more since, but this one introduced me to her incredible writing and got me hooked. There’s still more updates to look forward to!

@97keanu: Digital Angel: My favourite Neo fic series, Lila writes him perfectly. I love the atmosphere she creates in this story, the vibe is immaculate! I really hope there’ll be more in the future!

Bonus: @treedaddymcpuffpuff and @johnwickb1tsch’s Excessive Force: I couldn’t make a post about my fav fics and not mention this, I’m obsessed with this series! It single-handedly made me hate Julian (at least this version of him) Julia and Han are both geniuses and I eagerly await every update!

[smallsafespace]

Hihi!!! I love your blog so much, I hope you do more clown stuff!!!!

Thank you!! :0) heres a child of the stars clown agere look and find!

[lavendarneverlands]

put 5 songs you listen to, post it, then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers <333

Thank you so much lovely🫶🫶🫶

Oh goodness this is a hard question because I like way too many songs😂 though I am a huge Swiftie & since I’ve on my TOG binge have been listening to a lot of fan playlists so let’s let my history decide🤣 these have been in a heavy rotation:

“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” by Taylor Swift

“Red Wine Supernova” by Chappell Roan

“Please Please Please” by Sabrina Carpenter

“Blonde” by Maisie Peters

“Can’t Catch Me Now” by Olivia Rodrigo

@impossibelle @iwantavaldezinator @idfendyr @shadowhunters77 @archerons-elain @cheap-spirits @maevecrom @endlessdaydream @somethingsomewhereanywhere @korepio

p.s. as always, no pressure tags :-) 💕

(Heads up for some tags: this is my main account, the side-blog ur probably used to seeing (as I’m more active) is @acourtofquestions I have a terrible habit of mixing up pages/conversations; so if ur going “who tagged me?” it’s just me lol)

[souenkun]

Judging from these panels, would it mean that there's no other yorishima exorcist that's still alive (since natori said that the yorishima family "was once" a big name, past tense) in the canon timeline, and that the yorishima we know probably ended his family's exorcism business for good by retiring himself? If so, was the reason tied to the youkai living in his left arm, or is there another cause? And when exactly did he retire— was it before or during seiji and shuuichi's high school days, which was why his left arm appeared with the thick bandages when he gave them the loquats in the anime, but he still lived in the estate during that time, or was it after the two became legal adults, which lined up somewhat with him moving into his forest home, abandoning his family estate in favor of living in isolation?

And, speaking of retirement, I wonder if we'll ever know why midorikawa told us that the takis were "famous" (which presumedly meant they were strong enough to be well-known) as occult diviners, since tooru herself only ever mentioned what their previous family business entails, and never about their status in the exorcism community? We don't really need this extra bit if she wanted to further establish how tooru has an aptitude for spell-casting, either. Again, there's another "strong" family (whose members are still alive in canon) that went into retirement, but did the taki family lost their power because the ability to see (if they were needed for diviners) disappeared for at least the last three generations (if we assumed that tooru and isamu's parents couldn't see youkai too), or was it due to another reason? How close was shinichiro (tooru and isamu's grandpa) to the matobas that even the current clan head came to pay his respects during his sixth death anniversary; was his relationship with seiji's father strictly resolved around exorcism business, or was anything else involved? Does tooru herself doesn't fully understand the prowess her family once had, hence why seiji was the one who told takashi (and us readers) about it? What would this tiny bit of lore mean for tooru with it revealed this late into the manga, when tooru herself only talked sparsely about her ancestors in previous chapters?

[rox-of-iu]

ayoo guess who finally sat down and caught up with cultivate B)

is me. so you know what that means.

spoiler warning for cultivate ch 30-37

there was actually.... more things i wanted to draw but I already did so many I had to physically restrain myself hfsjkkdh anyway yes can you tell i love this fic very much

yet once again. cultivate by the wonderful @neonghostcat

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever

[the-acid-pear]

Yesterday I was replaying Deltarune and I was going really insane about it picking up on things I missed on my first playthrough and something that fucked me up hard was this line here

The little ellipsis at the end, almost like you can hear the regret on their voice. Voice of an ad who is realizing maybe they fucked up on this one. But it also made me think of... The possibility of this being a reaction to Spamton's actions.

Because I don't think this was an automatic thing, I feel like their drifting off was gradual. Sure, their jealousy had won them over (I'd have killed the guy or myself if I was them so I don't even blame them) but Spamton was too getting busier and busier the more famous he got, and as they say, that never stopped. He only kept getting bigger, until it all came crashing down. And when it did it was one of them who tried to go find him, after all that.

But I digress, let's focus on the original quote from my favorite sigma enby themselves, Pink Addison. There's obviously not only the regret to it, but feeling like they were abandoned too. Both parties lost a lot and the real tragedy is just how easily it could've have been avoided! Or rather, how beyond their control it was...

But I'll get off topic if I keep speaking so I'll leave it at that. The sheer tragedy that there is to everyone involved just makes me insane. Like I said in a post previous to this; you cannot trace down a good guy or a bad guy in this tale, it's just desperate people taking awful decisions and living to regret their actions.

[pocketramblr]

I always found it slightly awkward how media makes siblings or people who see each other as siblings call each other brother/sister all the time as in real life you almost never see people do that with their own siblings (maybe someone out there like that)

In the case of Arkham Shadows I see why they did though because Bruce quite literally tells Harvey he loves him and Harvey says it back. Can't have the audience think Batman is in love with the DA.

They had Bruce pay for his college, pay for his campaign, pay for his surgery, pay for his therapy and had Harvey have him as his best man at his wedding. Wow..... Sugar baby Harvey is real.....

The calling sibling title thing is less common in English than in some other languages for sure- me and a couple of my siblings do it on occasion, but it's for a bit then. More common is when I call one of my close family friends "my sister" or "my nephew" when talking about them to someone else because it's faster and easier to say that than to say "my friend who I've known since she was born and lived with for a few years and consider a little sister" or "child of a close family friend who considers me an aunt" to someone who doesn't know them. Which is a lot of words to say that if they wanted to fully sell me on the brothers thing they should have either had a different bit or should have referred to the other as "my brother" when talking to an unrelated character instead.

But "oh no we have to make Bruce not look gay" has been a problem DC has struggled with more than once for many decades and it basically never works so I guess at least they didn't try to solve it this time by having Bruce pick a lady love over Harvey or cutting the holding hands thing

Because I saw that scrapbook! I know Harvey has been Bruce's sugar baby since he was ten years old! But we can't have Bruce take Harvey's hand and call him the love of his life because ok technically that's Gotham but also because gay. And we can't have Bruce take Harvey's hand and call him his best friend because they're not ten anymore and somehow that seems gay also. So brothers it is, I guess. Even if I think my brothers would bite my finger if I ever tried to pay for everything for them on that scale, guess it's different at billionaire levels

[14dayswithyou]

Bro i was listening to Taylor swift and ‘don’t blame me’ song reminded me of Rin deadass

✦゜ANSWERED: YEAHHHHH!! IT TOTALLY FITS HIM!! @yourunhingedgirlfriend once made a Ren mood board(?) including that song as well, and it hasn't left my mind since ^^ <3

But yeah!! I still stand by the headcanon that [REDACTED] is in his Reputation era and Ren is in his Lover era ;v; Also, in this 391,490,009 page essay I will be talking about how "Mastermind" and "Hey Stephen (Taylor's Version)" are such Ren/[REDACTED] coded songs, and that the entire Evermore and Folklore albums were the inspiration behind Elanor's charac-

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

the downside to being a sitcom neighbour sort of person is that when rough things happen and emotionally fuck u up a lil bit, it also sounds completely made up