#it isn't as angsty as i thought it would be but we're getting there :)

[calithso]

ikaw pa rin ang pipiliin ko - cup of joe

→ → →

seven is from @infamous-if

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

An Essay on SamBucky

Just got back from seeing Captain America: Brave New World and am full of thoughts. The following contains Sambucky-centric thoughts, head canons, and spoilers based on the movie. (I have a separate post that includes my overall thoughts on the movie but this one is solely Sambucky.)

Sambucky nation--we rise! No divorce era for us! (Though it did provide for some awesome, angsty fics). I hope the trend continues with Thunderbolts*. Bucky is obviously looking rougher there than he did in this movie, so we're not out of the woods yet, but I'm feeling pretty good about our chances.

There's so much to say here. Multiple Bucky mentions (Sam alluding to Bucky when he talks about having a friend who was controlled by trigger words.), a picture of SamBucky prominently displayed at Sam's headquarters, Bucky showing up as emotional support when Sam needs him most, the hug, the "Buck" and the "I love you, Buddy." All of these have already been mentioned a lot, though, so for this post (who am I kidding this is an essay!), I would like to highlight a few points pertaining to the movie. I haven't really seen discussed in the Sambucky tag yet.

First, Sam says the following to Bucky at the hospital:

"Joaquin’s in here. Isaiah’s in prison. And Sterns…I had him. I had Sterns right in my hands but he got away." Bucky is given no additional backstory here, which means he already knows who Sterns is and what Sam is dealing with. This indicates Sam and Bucky are in regular contact with Sam keeping Bucky filled in on what's happening. This isn't just a case of Bucky seeing news footage and immediately going to Sam. Bucky is an active part of Sam's life and support system.

Then we have Bucky's line:

"Steve gave people something to believe in, but you give them something to aspire to." Bucky's admiration and devotion to Sam here is quite evident. I fully believe Bucky Barnes is all in for Sam Wilson and has been probably for longer than even he realizes.

Then toward the end of the scene where we get our iconic "Thanks Buck" and "I love you, Buddy" moment:

We have a wealth of unspoken communication here. Sam and Bucky seem to have a whole conversation with both their eyes and body language before they speak these words. Sam looks at Bucky. Looks down at (presumably) Bucky's outstretched hand. Then his eyes cut back up to Bucky. Then they cut back down as he shakes Bucky's hand, then he looks back up at Bucky. For Bucky's part, his eyes never leave Sam's face during the entirety of this. It's only right before he says "I love you, Buddy" that his gaze cuts down from Sam's face. After saying the words, Bucky proceeds to back away and Sam watches him go. The way this scene plays out, and the choices Mackie and Stan make leave a lot of room for subtext and interpretation, imo.

Right after this scene, we also get the female agent coming in with questions/comments about Bucky to Sam, alluding to a possible interest which Sam shuts down with "He's 110 years old." Look, it might make sense for Sam to try to nip a Bucky/Sarah potential connection in the bud like he did in TFATWS and it not mean anything (that's another essay for another day. I wasn't on Tumblr back then to share my thoughts on that.); after all, that's his sister and Bucky was riding on his last nerve through all the previous episodes at that point. It does not, however, make sense for Sam to insert himself into the narrative at this point and try to dissuade a random CIA agent from showing interest in Bucky if Bucky is just his friend and/or Sam's interest in him is purely platonic. It just doesn't. I cannot come up with a logical explanation for this besides the obvious 'that man is mine, step off' conclusion.

And for my last point:

During Sam's final showdown with the red hulk, with the outcome uncertain, and defeat (and therefore death) potentially eminent, Sam proceeds to bitch about Bucky under his breath. "Bucky is full of so much shit..." I know this is supposed to be funny and snarky, but it's also quite telling. We know that the signature of SamBucky's relationship--whether it's platonic or romantic--is the bickering. Not only is Sam spending his potential last moments ranting about Bucky (again, the staple of their relationship), he's also spending them thinking about Bucky. He's going out there facing odds that seem insurmountable and it's Bucky that's on his mind.

So, in conclusion, they're in love.

[lovely-peace]

Embarrassing!

Summary: The marauders are popular in school, sure. But that doesn't mean that they are really nice. In the end you are just living the basic high-school experience.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!

Part 2 Part 3

"You four back there, pull yourselves together now or I'll break you up!"

James' laughter could be heard all the way to the front, to my ears, along with the giggling of the girls next to me.

Great. So I must have been wrong again.

Professor McGonagall was now looking at me, teachingly. "To get back on topic. You have the right idea, but it's not quite that simple. To transform a body, it is of great importance…"

~

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. You weren't that far off the mark." Lily tried to comfort me. That was easy for her to say, she would never be wrong.

And the golden git Gryffindors would never make fun of her.

"Maybe."

"Evans, will you come here?" There stood the loverboy James, ready to have another go at her.

Lily rolled her eyes and smiled apologetically at me. "Don't take these idiots seriously, okay?"

With that, she walked in his direction, and did just that.

But I shouldn't be so hard on her because she was really trying to cheer me up, even though we're not really friends. She's clearly, well, more present than my friend Amy and me.

Amy was Gryffindor just like me, but didn't have transfiguration. She called the subject "A walking unnecessary babble".

Oh how I wish I had thought that when I chose my subjects.

I could still see Sirius grinning as James talked to Lily, Remus just stood there ashamed and Peter patted him on the shoulder.

Sirius noticed my look and whispered something to Remus, who flinched and turned away. I snorted.

Sirius' laughter was still ringing loudly in my ears, long after I had escaped to Amy's and my dorm.

~

"Well, I think they're really annoying. That's all." Amy pushed a plate of dinner towards me. She immediately realized something was wrong and I wasn't ready to go to dinner. I was very glad she was so good at the invisibility spell.

"Yes, but everyone likes them. Even Lily likes the four of them, even though she's always upset about them!" I groaned loudly and accepted the plate gratefully.

Amy looked at me with a smile. "Well, I don't really like them. They're entertaining, but I think they lack empathy."

"I think they're all stupid ego centers who only make themselves so important because they actually feel so bad about themselves." I took a big bite.

"And yet you can't stop talking about the four of them." Amy was grinning now. "I thought you said the other day that 'Remus isn't actually that bad and nice to talk to'?"

I almost choked at the mention of meeting the quieter boy of the group. It had been three months since we had met and talked in the library.

"That was something else. He just watches and lets the others get away with everything." I quietly turned to my food and Amy dropped the subject.

Oh, how I hated this cycle. Getting up. Eating at a house table where I know everyone and yet no one really. Subjects in which I will eventually make a mistake. Skipping meals to avoid the stares. Sleeping.

Hogwarts isn't that different from other schools. The same faces making fun of the same things. But we're all supposed to be adults soon, aren't we?

I should stop before I sound like an angsty teen.

~

Breakfast. New day, same course. I sat down opposite Amy and a laugh escaped my lips at one of her jokes.

But then another girl sat down next to me. Marlene McKinnon.

"Hey, you two, how are you?" she smiled, but something made me uncomfortable.

"Good, good." Amy laughed. "And you?"

"Oh, just fine." Marlene looked at my plate as if to check something. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable having a few chocolate cookies in the morning.

She turned to me. Oh no.

"Hey, this might be a bit sudden, but I'd like to know something." There was this twinkle in her eye that I didn't like at all.

I looked at Amy, who just shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay?" Very carefully. Don't make any big mistakes.

"If you had to date someone from Gryffindor, who would it be?"

I looked confusedly at Amy, who had to pull herself together not to burst out laughing.

"What?"

Marlene shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I was just a bit curious as I've never seen you in a relationship with anyone before."

I saw her eyes twitch briefly to the right. When I looked in that direction, not very inconspicuously, I saw Sirius whispering something to James. He grinned at Remus in response.

Oh.

"Well, I can't really think of anyone right now, sorry Marlene."

She looked at me in surprise and wanted to say something, but Amy gasped in shock. Shocked, she clutched her chest. "After everything we've been through!" she didn't exactly say that quietly. To my dismay, quite a few heads turned towards us. Including the idiots.

"Amy-" I began, but she talked herself into her theater rage. "Hush! I don't want to hear any excuses! I thought we were something special! But no. In the end, I'm just another one of the many picks that will never be taken." She stood up. She skillfully looked away and took in the audience. "I can reassure you. I was prepared for all of this."

"Amy, it's not what you think!" I played along a little now. "I couldn't be so open about something so… Say something like that!"

Amy furrowed her brow. "Girl, no homo."

The Gryffindor table laughed and we fled the room.

Outside, we also laughed a bit, but Amy quickly composed herself.

"Did you see how he looked at you?"

I furrowed my brow. "Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Remus, of course."

"Maybe it's because you made a big show," I said playfully, heading towards our next class.

"Hmm, but I think then he wouldn't have looked at you so longingly-"

"Amy!"

"With red cheeks and big heart eyes!" I walked faster while she laughed.

"That's all nonsense. Marlene only asked because one of those idiots requested it."

Amy looked at me confused. "Why would they do that?"

"Oh, they were looking at us too. And yesterday they were whispering among themselves. They probably find me really funny."

Amy became very quiet after that.

The only sounds were our footsteps and voices in the distance.

"You know," Amy began quieter than usual. "It's not like it used to be. We're all slowly growing up. We're not the odd ones out anymore. I think," she took a deep breath. "That the four of them won't make fun of us, of you, anymore."

How much I wished I could believe that. But I won't be able to, even if Remus talks to me in the library or Peter asks me if I like certain creatures.

Because in the end, I gave up on that a long time ago.

[glittter-vamp]

One Size Fits…Most

Joe Burrow x Plus Size Latina OC.

Warnings: Angsty. Mention of characters size. Body image issues. Mention of alcohol. Mention of cheating. If this sucked, my bad it’s been a minute since I’ve written & I decided to do something different than my usual work. (Proof read…kinda)

Looking in the mirror one last time Marisol made her way out of the hotel room and to the elevator. Her heels clicking as she walked through the lobby, feeling the eyes of strangers on her. "There she is, woah you look great." Mandy her old college roommate smiled as she waited in the southern heat for the car taking them to the wedding venue. "Thank you, you look great too. Green has always been your color." Marisol smiles as she hugs her old roommate hello. "And silk has always been amazing on you!" She smiles looking at her silk colorful dress. "I almost wore black but this Louisiana sun is not for that." Marisol chuckled. "Hell no it's not." Mandy agrees.

The car taking them both to the venue arrives and they get into the cool vehicle, immediately relieved of the hot humid air from outside. Greeting the nice female driver, the two of them mostly sit in silence on the way over there until Mandy speaks up again. "You think we're going to be the only ones without dates?" Mandy asks looking out of the window making you chuckle. "Nah, Jade told me Natasha called off her engagement."

"What!? Her and Andrew were together since freshman year of college? What happened there?" Mandy asks in shock. "She caught him on Grindr..." Marisol mutters and Mandy gasps. "Oh poor Tasha..." She pouts.

Arriving at the venue a few minutes later, you two already see a few familiar faces. "This going to be like a LSU college reunion isn't it?" Mandy sighs as we pick up a glass of champagne. "Unfortunately." Marisol lets out a sigh of annoyance. "Is...you know who invited?" Mandy asks. "Don't have a clue, Jade didn't mention him at all so I don't think so." She responds as her eyes skim the crowd of people, feeling more and more at ease as the person she's looking for never comes into her view. The wedding is starting in about 5 minutes so, she was sure everyone that was coming to the wedding, was simply already there.

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

Cheers erupted as the couple kissed and walked down the aisle hand in hand. Everyone around was sweating in this heat and were probably happy for the couple as much as they were happy to get out of the direct sunlight. While the happy couple made their way to family to take pictures we all walked over to the big white tents to cool off and grab some waters or fruity little drink. I'm going to run to the bathroom really quick, would you get me that dragon berry drink on the menu?" Mandy asks Marisol and she nods. Heading over to the open bar, Marisol asks the bartender for the drink Mandy wanted and ordered herself a spiked lemonade to help with the heat a little.

"Marisol?" She hears a familiar voice behind her, she turns to see none other than Ja'Marr Chase. "Oh, hey! Wow long time no see!" Marisol gives him a friendly hug. "How you doing? I see you traveling all over the world on instagram." Ja'Marr smiles. "I've been good and just working and traveling." Marisol nods. The bartender hands her over both drinks and she thanks him setting them in front of her. "I thought your days of crazy drinking would be over after LSU." Ja'Marr jokes seeing both drinks. Marisol chuckles shaking her head. "They are, one of them is for Mandy." She informs him. "Mandy's here? And to think Justin almost came." Ja'Marr mutters. "He didn't because of her, Jade told me." Marisol responds and Ja'Marr nods understanding.

"Well I gotta say, I'm surprised you're here then." Ja'Marr says and Marisol gives him confused look before she notices exactly who he was talking about. The man that broke her heart all those years ago, the big shot quarterback of LSU and the Bengals...Joe Burrow. "Ja'Marr!? Hey!" Mandy approaches us, greeting Ja'Marr as Marisol tries her best to remain calm. She practically chugged down the lemonade she ordered.

Marisol didn't think she would see Joe here. She thought he would be too busy with his lavish lifestyle or felt too important to be here at an old college friends wedding in New Orleans. But, there he was. In a expensive pastel blue tux that brought out his eyes in a breath taking way.

Ja'Marr excuses himself before going over to Joe. Marisol immediately turns around and orders another drink, something stronger. "I saw him leaving the bathroom, I tried getting to you before you saw him but then you were talking to Ja'Marr." Mandy grimaces as she sips her drink and looks at Marisol. "Do you know where we're siting?" She asks Mandy. "The table chart is over there, you think Jade would sit us all together?" Mandy asks. "I mean, it would make sense to sit people who know each other together." Marisol responds as she watches the bartender make her drink.

After getting her drink, she makes her way to the table chart written in script and in chalk. Looking at all the table numbers and names. Marisol finds her name under table eleven, she see's Mandy's name, a few familiar names, Ja'Marr and there it was...Joe's. "Damn it." Marisol mutters. The last thing she wanted to do was to be seated at the same table for the next 5 or 6 hours as Joe. "You're going to need a lot more liquor huh?" Mandy sighs looking at what Marisol was looking at. "Just don't let me get too drunk." Marisol looks over at her.

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

The DJ they had at the reception made the announcement for everyone to take their seats for the grand entrance of the newlyweds. It just so happened that Marisol and Joe were seated directly in front of each other. As if this night couldn't get any worse for Marisol. "You think anyone would notice if I just...left?" Marisol asked Mandy, making her roll her eyes. "Yes! You'll be fine just focus on everyone else here. Plus...that guy over there keeps looking at you." Mandy looks over to a handsome guy in a tux, one of the groomsmen. "He looks very young."

"So? He's at least over 21 because he's drinking. Have some fun and don't worry about someone from your past." Mandy says to Marisol. Maybe she was right Marisol thought. Just as she grabbed her champagne glass, Joe sat in front of her again. Making stomach turn a bit. She hated the way he made her feel, almost sick.

Joe made eye contact with her, Marisol making sure she was giving him the stink eye. Joe clearly understanding the message and giving her a look full of sorrow. The DJ announce's the newlyweds and everyone's attention flips to them, clapping and smiling.

Dinner begins to get served, Marisol looking everywhere else but right in front of her. The first course of her dinner was good, they brought out the salad she had picked but the second plate wasn't correct. They brought our salmon but she was allergic to it. Before she speak up another voice does.

 

"Excuse me, but she can't eat that. She allergic." Joe says from across the table to the man serving the food. Mandy and Ja'Marr looking over at the both of them, Marisol sitting there in a sort of shock before she clears her throat and tells the server herself.

The server looks at them oddly with a bit of confusion but takes back the plate and apologizes. Marisol looks over at Joe but doesn't say anything. She was surprised he even remembered that about her. The time she ate salmon at some football banquet he invited her too and she broke out in hives right after. They spent the rest of the night in the E.R while she got treated for it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the server came back with the chicken she had requested instead on the invitation. "My apologies Miss, it seems that I got confused with the seating. I can assure you there's no cross contamination with the food" The man says to her. Marisol just thanks him and begins to eat her food, which she barely finished because she didn't even have appetite to begin with. She still couldn't get over the fact she had to endure a night of Joe. 

The speeches start to begin from the parents of the newlyweds to their siblings to the maid of honor and best man. After the speeches, the first dance began and then the partying started to happen. Marisol quickly made her way over to get another drink. As she ordered herself an old fashion, from the corner of her eye she saw Joe stand next to her. Rolling her eyes and clenching her jaw she did her best to ignore him. 

"You shouldn't be mixing different types of liquor like that." Joe says to Marisol, the sound of his voice almost causing her to step on his foot with her stiletto heel. Instead, she just ignores him. "You're just going to ignore me all night?" He scoffs; Marisol still doesn't say a word back as she waits for her drink. "You need to let what happened go." Joe shakes his head in disbelief that she would still hold this grudge against him. "And you need to stop talking to me, guess we're both not getting what we want." Marisol rolls her eyes as her blood was starting to boil with anger. The audacity Joe had right now was mind boggling to her. The way he dared to even speak to her right now and then proceed to tell her that she needs to let things go. 

"Mare-" Joe starts. "No! Don't you dare call me that." Marisol snaps at him before the bartender comes back with the drink where she thanks him and walks away from Joe. Only for him to follow her. "Look, let's just talk this out." Joe says stopping her in her tracks as the lights dim and the music somehow grows louder. "I have nothing to talk to you about Joe. You made it very clear 4 years ago that a girl like me didn't fit your little superstar quarterback life." Marisol snapped at him, Joe rolled his eyes. "It was more complicated than that Marisol, you know that." He snapped back. "Joe, you brought up the idea to me to have a fake girlfriend that better fit your public lifestyle." Marisol said back to him, anger boiling in her. 

"It wasn't me, it was my publicist and some people from the team at the time." Joe tries to defend himself. "I don't care who it was Joe...you were the one all for it.” Marisol rolls her eyes. “It was a tough time okay, I was still figuring things out.”

“You seemed pretty damn happy after we ended things. Right off the bat you were with a Victoria secret model.” Marisol scoffs. “She was never a Victoria Secret model” Joe scoffs back which annoyed Marisol even more that he chose to focus on that part of things.

“Look, you need to grow up & get over what happened. We had a stupid fling in college and that was it. You seriously thought we were going to have a happy ending? We’re from two different worlds.” Joe said thinking that was going help, Marisol’s heart feeling like it was breaking once again. She loved Joe back then, she was there for him during the tough times at LSU. When the other players weren’t taking him seriously. When he was having a hard time balancing school work and football. When he ran out of money to eat, she would even share proper meals with him so he didn’t have to rely on ramen until his parents gave him his monthly allowance and he could go grocery shopping again.

“You don’t need to remind me that you just used me. I know that’s exactly what you did. Used me for your benefit, emotionally and physically…but I will never act like that was okay. You lead me on. I won’t apologize for not being this thin and perfect girl that the beloved quarterback gets.” Marisol tells Joe trying her very hardest not to get emotional over a guy she swore she left in the past.

“We wouldn’t have worked.” Joe responds, mostly seeming like he was trying to convince himself. “You can tell yourself that, it won’t change what happened and how I feel now. If having a woman that the world deems physically conventionally attractive is more important than what we had, that’s on you. But don’t act like you weren’t at my door almost every night trying to get a piece of me. Or begging me to come over to do that thing you liked. At the end of the day you will always be the coward that couldn’t handle the “fat girl” & the star quarterback who still can’t get a ring.” Marisol smirks leaving Joe standing there with his jaw clenched and nose flaring.

Marisol stands tall as she walked away from Joe. Hips swaying because she knows no matter her size she’s beautiful & deserves the best. She walks over to Mandy in the crowd of people dancing. “Where were you?!” She yells over the loud music. “Getting a drink, now where’s that cute guy that was staring at me earlier?” Marisol asks and Mandy gives her a smirk.

—————————————————————-

Part Two? 👀

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"

[b-lossm]

•*+Change pt.2+*•

Caitvi x reader [just vi for this part, fluffier but still angsty]

Synopsis: wait hes.. alive? pt.1

SPOILERS FOR ACT 2!!

Its been months since you've seen Cait, or Vi. You don't even know if you three two are still together, Lately you've heard rumors about another 'Hound of the Underground' taking on the pit fighting scene with rigor. The description almost sounds like Vi, but black hair? She was always proud of her reddish pink hair.

You walk into the arena and pay the fee to get the red ticket, you notice her friend loris in the crowd and make your way over to him. After one quick conversation later and you find out what happened and that she came her to 'outrun her demons', your anger for Caitlyn boiling over but quickly simmering down once you see your girlfriend "Holy shit....." you say, admiring her appearance, her muscles somehow got bigger, and the black suited her, but you like the pink more.

Standing there she doesn't notice you at first, focus on punching this guy's jaw again, but then she hears your familiar shouting from the sidelines, at first she thought she was hallucinating you again, but then she realizes its actually you and decides to put on a show just for you.

--

After her match you meet her again, hugging her softly before asking her what happened with Caitlyn even though Loris told you, you had to hear it from her "I don't wanna talk about it Sunshine, what she did made me question everything--made me question if what me and her had was even real or if she was just using me for information and my strength" oh your poor girl. You push her head into the crook of your neck "lets rest yeah? is that okay?" you don't wanna push the subject anymore, knowing that she' gonna tell you about it eventually. She cuddles into you, dropping her fists to hold you close "mph- yeah that's great Sunshine" she gives you soft kisses on your neck, missing the feeling of your skin on hers "G'night Y/n" she mumbles defeatedly "Goodnight" you kiss her forehead and rub the back of her undercut.

Before you surrender yourself to sleep you look around her small room, looking at all the discarded bottles and broken pieces of glass, noticing the beat up punching bag that has her black makeup on it, right where her eyes are 'my poor violet' you think 'what happened to us' your mind drifts to yours and hers room in your little apartment in Piltover, the nights and days you three would spend together, laughing and having fun before they had to leave.

--

The next morning you both wakeup with a start, she sits up slightly to see the source of the noise only to see her.. sister? After their argument, she told the two of you Vander was somehow alive and that he needed help.

"I have to do this y/n" she says while grabbing her gauntlets "Please let me come Vi--please" you beg, not wanting to be alone again, she places her hands on your waist, leaning in for a deep kiss coming back up for air she says "I promise I'll come back, I promise you y/n, go stay with Loris for a bit and I promise you that I'll come back" she hopes that you understand, even though her sister is a crazy she it had to be serious if she wasn't trying to kill her.

--

After your tearful reunion with the man, Jinx leads your little group to the outskirts of the fissures, Vi taking the time to catch you up with what happened, how she feels like her love for Cait was one sided all this time after her betrayal. Attempting to comfort her you try to reassure her that what she thinks isn't true, how she's too focused on grief and how she hit you too-- "What..?" Vi stops walking "She hit.. you too?" her anger is picking up, you can tell "umm. yeah..bu--" "No buts y/n what the fuck?? you didn't even do anything" she cuts you off obviously pissed at your guys' ex girlfriend, you sigh not wanting to talk about it "Vi can we just talk about it later" "No! this isn't oka--" she interrupts you again, then getting cut off by Jinx "We're here!!". The both of you look ahead at this weirdly pastel oasis civilization.

"we will talk about this later" she says with a huff after surrendering her gauntlets. You kiss her cheek to calm her down "Alright" you missed that little flash of red that appeared on her face whenever you did that, you miss the little flash of pink that appeared on Cait' face but you probably aren't gonna see her anytime soon.. you think

———————————————————————

act two will have two parts because so much happened!! tbh i kinda dont like this but whatever

[katz-rambles]

Hi! I saw your requests are open and I’m wondering if I can get a little Viktor xFem!Reader fic? 🥹

Maybe some angsty/dead dove themes, and lots of fluff? Maybe the Reader is taking care of Viktor while he’s in pain and they end up cuddling? Anything you want is fine! 💖

TIA if you decide to write this!!

Awww, yess! This sounds so cute. Viktors, my personal favorite, so I had a lot of fun writing this!

(fluff, angst(?) w/ comfort, gn!reader, this is it?)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Your footsteps echo throughout the empty hallway as you try and get to your lovely boyfriend as fast as you can. You haven't been able to see him all day. he and Jayce have been cooped up in the lab all day long.

It's well past midnight at this point, and Viktor still isn't home. Usually, you'd just let him do his thing, but not tonight, not when it's getting closer and closer to one in the morning, and there's still no sign of him. All signs in your mind point to the worst. Maybe he had a fit today and is in the infirmary, or maybe he just got caught up in whatever he was doing. You pray it's the latter.

The door to the lab is unlocked, so he hasn't left yet. He'd never forget to lock it. Unless there was an emergency. Your thoughts are swarming with what might have happened, none of them good. You have to brace yourself for what you think you may see when you get inside the lab.

It's quiet when you first enter, you could hear a pin drop. You look around, desperately searching for Viktor, and there he is, on the ground. "Viktor!" You quickly rush to his side, kneeling to try and figure out what's happening. He's sitting on the floor, his head resting against one of the legs of the desk behind him. His hands are gripping his leg as he lets out a low groan. He looks up at you, tears pricking the sides of his pretty eyes, and his brows are furrowed as he leans his head back and groans again.

"Okay. I'm gonna get you up, and we're going to go.. somewhere." You brush a few stray strands of hair off his face, internally panicking as you try and think of where to go. "Not the infirmary," he sighs, looking at you once again, "I've already been there." His words just make you panic even more.

You wrap one of your arms around his back and slowly help him stand up. He clings to you as you both get on your feet. His legs are wobbly, and if you weren't there, you're sure he would have fallen by now. You both take smaller steps. There's a comfort in the sound of the footsteps that are echoed by the thumping of a cane. It helps you remind yourself that he's right beside you and that he's not going anywhere anytime soon.

You silently thank whoever is listening that your shared dorm is on the same floor as the lab. It's not a far walk either, but the walk feels like it's taking forever. Every time you start to move a bit too fast, you hear Viktor groan, and it has your heart hurting for him. You know how much he hates it.

You embarrassingly fumble with the keys for a few seconds before you can actually find the right one. "It's okay, dear, I'm right here." Viktor mumbles, taking one of your hands in his. You nod and take a deep breath, finally grabbing the right key and opening the door. You help him get in the bed and leave the room to let him get changed into more comfortable wear.

He opens the door, and you immediately go inside, crawling onto the bed to lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, and you can feel his slim fingers curl around your shoulder, pulling you closer. From this position, you can hear his heartbeat. Each beat is a tell tale sign that he's still with you. His hand starts to rub your arm, and he kisses your forehead.

He leaves his head on the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. Letting both of you know that you're with each other. "Do you think you'll be able to get better?" Your voice wavers at the last few syllables that leave your lips. You feel the vibrations of Viktor chuckling. "I hope so, my love. I really hope so." He sighs, and you move your position so you can clearly see his face. Your hand is resting on his chest, and your finger starts to trace random shapes into his skin. Moving to outline the marks that adorn him.

"But.. ehh.. don't worry about that. Let's focus on the present." He whispers, his voice barely reaches you. You place a soft kiss on his lips and rest your head back on his chest. For now, all you can do is hope that someone, somewhere, finds a cure. Maybe one day they will.

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral, no use of y/n)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, kinda angsty

warnings: slytherin reader, the good good post summer break mental illness, everybody's having some issues here, there will be a pt.2 next week to give it a happy happy ending but this isn't so bad, it has a hopeful ending on its own

a/n: wowie another one lol hope y'all enjoy <3

Sirius is hollow when he gets back from summer break - quiet and petulant in a way that doesn't suit him anymore, snapping at his peers and pulling away from people's touch. You can't blame him. Especially not when you're feeling the same. You're not quite as showy about it as he is, that constant, underlying desperation to keep it all hidden burning under your skin. Sirius's suffering is loud - loud enough that you always hope it will drown out yours. It never really does, as far as the other two are concerned. 

He shoves towards the door when class ends, likely stalking back to his dorm to hole up for the rest of the evening. James sighs, a hand on Remus' shoulder comfortingly as the boy stares at the doorway where Sirius just was, his brow furrowed in that worried way that he's mastered. 

"We're going to do some studying together in the common room later… see if maybe Pads feels like joining. You're always welcome to come along with us…?" James asks in that gentle way of his, patiently hopeful. You busy yourself with gathering up your books, knowing that if you look at him, you'll crumble. There is love in the way he looks at you, despite everything. You're sure that, if you take notice of it, it would be enough to condemn you these days.

"I'm going to do some work alone tonight," you say shortly, brushing past the two of them. Remus catches your arm as you try to leave, fingers wrapping around your wrist ever so gently. But when you pause, he lets go of you abruptly, like there's something wrong with his touch against yours. This is the beginning, you think. This is where I start to lose you. 

"If you change your mind…" he begins softly. You nod stiffly.

"I'll let you know." James and Remus watch as you leave swiftly, Remus rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh, as if trying to take back the contact he'd already made with your wrist. This is where it starts, he thinks. This is where you begin to realize that I'm better when I'm left behind.

Remus has to stop himself from startling later that night when he's woken up by a cold hand shaking his shoulder. You hadn't come to study with them that evening, which wasn't surprising, but it hurt something in Remus. James, especially, had deflated, his eyes dull and his hands fidgety while he tried desperately to finish his essay, his thoughts wandering to Sirius and the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin - and then to you, to the stubborn set of your jaw and the hard look in your eyes. Looking down at his own hands, he wonders what worth they have if he can't even save the people he loves.

Needless to say, the last thing Remus was expecting was to have you in his dorm in the middle of the night, one of Sirius's sweaters shoved hastily over your pajamas as you shook him awake. You place a finger over his lips when he wakes abruptly, climbing up next to him without so much as a word as he fumbles to find his wand on his nightstand, casting a silencing spell over the four-poster bed.

"What's going on, dove?" he asks, his hands itching to hold your face, to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your cheeks and soothe you in some way. But he resists - you're here, in his bed, looking at him like you need him, and the last thing he wants is to overwhelm you and have you scared away. The last thing he can bear to do is put his hands on you, his scars glinting against unblemished skin -  something ruined touching something holy.

"I just… couldn't sleep. I'm not - I haven't been sleeping well these days," you respond, and Remus is sure that if he could see you clearly, if he weren't squinting at you through the dark, you'd be shying away, face tilted away from his eyes, away from any kind of vulnerability.

"Well," he says carefully, reaching out to put a hand on your knee. You don't pull away, to his relief. In fact, you relax a bit into it, letting your posture slouch. "Stay here then, yea?" Much to Remus's delight, that's all it really takes for you to move forward, pulling the blankets back to settle underneath them. He joins you, of course, settling in next to you and letting you decide how much - or how little space to leave between your bodies.

When you reach your hand over, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing your thumb over the skin there, he feels a part of him melt in the relief of it, a part of him that didn't realize quite how much he'd missed your touch - your love. He cups his hand over yours, tilting his head to press a series of kisses across your palm. When you continue to let him, sagging further into the pillows, he keeps going, trailing kisses up and down each finger and finishing with your thumb. 

It's then that you pull him closer, tilting your own face up to place your own gentle kiss to his lips before thumping your head against his chest. He lets you, of course, keeping his hand tangled up with yours while the other wraps around you. Before you can sleep, though, he leans close to whisper near your ear.

"James has been wondering where the invisibility cloak disappeared to. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're the one who ran off with it." You can't help but smile at his words, your face still pressed against his chest.

"You have so little faith in me, Rem. Not everyone needs the cloak to sneak around in this castle."

"But you did steal it, didn't you?'

"…I'll give it back to him later." Remus huffs out a quiet laugh at your confession, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"You know he doesn't mind," he soothes. You squeeze his hand in thanks where your fingers are still interlocked.

"Goodnight, Rem… and thank you for this."

"No need to thank me, love. I don't mind at all."

Something clatters to the floor on the other side of the locked bathroom floor and Remus frowns, staring at it like he can burn a hole big enough to see Sirius on the other side - to make sure he's ok. James drapes himself over Remus's back where they're sitting on James's bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Remus lets him, leaning back against him and feeling James sigh at the weight of it, a bit of tension draining from him.

"Were they really here last night? They really came and spoke with you?" James says, his face buried in Remus's neck, a desperate sort of lilt to his voice. Tell me there is hope, he thinks. Tell me I can fix this, still.

"You saw the note they left, love," Remus lets his eyes settle on his nightstand where you'd left the invisibility cloak, a note folded on top with a simple thank you written in it, a heart scrawled next to it that he recognized as yours. The whole thing almost made up for the fact that, by the time Remus had woken up, you'd already been gone.

"Do you think… things will be better now? At least a bit? Were things better last night?" James asks, his arms tightening around Remus's waist. Remus, in an act of reassurance, wraps his fingers around one of James's hands and squeezes gently as Sirius stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and stomping away.

"I do think things are getting better. It's… slower than you and I would like, I know. But all we can is love them - and that, my dear Prongs, I know you can do." James grumbles something unintelligible at the compliment, his face still hidden from view. Remus is sure that, if he could see it, he'd be greeted by the flushed red of James's cheeks. He settles for bringing one of his hands up to press kisses across it, instead, content to bring a bit of hope back to the person he loves - to do something good with this body of his. 

There is hope, he thinks, in this love they all share. There is something here to fight for, still.

[maysileeewrites]

bittersweet symphony || chapter 3

Haymitch Abernathy x f!reader || series masterlist

Summary: Being back in District Twelve isn't at all the silver lining you'd imagined it to be ... [read chapter two here]

w.c.: 4.8k || t.w.: mentions of grief & death, reader and Haymitch are doing their best to deal with things, angst!!, another very angsty look at Haymitch's thoughts (oh, the self-sabotage), mentions of survivor's guilt

AN: I'm so sorry that it took me like forever to get this chapter out, but Uni's so incredibly stressful rn. This chapter is very much a transitional chapter - I found myself constantly rewriting chunks of it, but in the end I decided to include all of the messy emotional stuff reader and Haymitch are going through. The plot will pick up within the next chapter though, we're nearing the first major turning point of the story ...

The morning after the festivities thrown for your return to District Twelve, you stay in bed for as long as possible. 

Not because you’re tired - though you feel such an all-encompassing numbness that the whole night spent tossing and turning doesn’t seem to have settled deep down in your bones just yet - but because you can’t stand the thought of actually getting up and facing the day. 

Because getting up would mean having to go down the grand marble staircase of the new grand and cold house your family now lives in, and having to face your family at the grand mahogany table in the kitchen for breakfast.

You can picture it all on your head: your brothers, Will and Felix, bickering over who gets the larger slice of bread, and your dad watching them with a knowing, tired smile on his face. He’d be the first one to notice you approaching, looking up at you and asking you how you’ve slept and whether you want tea from some herbs growing in the meadow behind the house or some fresh milk from the goat for breakfast. You’d answer tea, as you always do, grinning, as you’d ruffle through Will’s hair, ignoring his cries of protest. 

But all that is a thing of the past now, isn’t it?

Your family won’t need to rely on the goat producing milk anymore and you won’t have to harvest the wild, overgrown meadow behind your ramshackle house for some mint or chamomile leaves to make tea. Your dad won’t look worn down with exhaustion from his shift down at the mines from yesterday, and he won’t be in a hurry to leave for work, ruffling through Will’s and Felix’ hair before leaving. Because due to your new status as a victor of the Hunger Games, you’re rich now. Or at least richer than everyone else in District Twelve, excluding Haymitch. 

You’re rich now, and your family won’t have to worry about money anymore, but somehow the thought doesn’t fill you with as much happiness as it probably should. Instead, the only thing you feel is this numbness, this bone-deep, aching exhaustion. 

You’re a victor now. 

And even though it’s only been a bit over a month since you’ve left District Twelve for the Hunger Games, you can already feel the person you used to be back then starting to slip away from you. Who you were back then, that kind and caring, innocent person is slipping through your fingers one sleepless night, one nightmare about all the other dead tributes at a time. 

You’re not who you were when you left, but still you feel an immense, desperate urge to shield your family from that darkness inside you. You don’t want your Dad to see the tired sadness in your eyes, you don’t want your little brothers to hear you wake up screaming in the middle of the night-

Suddenly, there’s a knock at your door. It’s short and impatient, so you immediately rule out your dad. When the door opens, before you even get the chance to answer, you hastily sit up, trying to appear as though you didn’t just spent the better part of the last several hours in bed, wearily watching the sun rise on the horizon.

„See, I told Dad that you’re already up!“, Will says, not even bothering with a good morning. But that’s your loud, frantic little brother for you. 

You cross your arms in front of your chest. Somehow, with Will standing there in the doorway looking at you with an irritated sense of exasperation that feels all too familiar, the grin stealing its way onto your lips feels natural, and not at all forced.

„I could’ve still been sleeping!“, you say, shaking your head. „And good morning to you too, Will.“ 

Will just roles his eyes. „Yes, but it’s well after ten in the morning - if I were someone else, I’d have yanked away your sheets first.“

You roll your eyes at the way he emphasized the ‚someone else‘. Will’s always been a heavy sleeper, so whenever he didn’t wake up in time for school - which happened much more often than he’d care to admit -, it was up to you to see to it that he and Felix would still leave the house on time. Over the years, you’d tried a lot of different methods of getting Will to wake up, aggressively opening the old, threadbare curtains to let the bright sunlight in and turning the volume of your family’s old, crackly radio up to its highest capacity among them. But over time you’d worked out that while everything else might fail, yanking away his bed sheets would have him sit up in bed like nothing else. 

You can feel a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but then your warm and comforting childhood memories are overshadowed by something else. 

Will said that it’s already well after ten in the morning - you can’t remember ever sleeping that long. Or rather, staying in bed that long. Somehow, being faced with the time of day, actually getting up out of bed feels even more impossible now. 

„ - hey, you alright?“, Will asks you. Though he’s sat down at the edge of your bed, he sounds as if he’s far away from you. 

He says your name again, clear concern for you now etched onto his features. 

You blink, forcing a smile onto your face. „Sure, I’m just - it’s been a lot with the festivities and all …“, you say, your voice trailing off, as your mind inevitably takes you back to last night. Seeing Will dance together with Ellerie Foster. The look of hurt and confusion on Ellerie’s face when you just left her standing there like that with no explanation. And Haymitch, his taunting words and the mocking tone in which he delivered them a stark contrast to the profoundly sad expression in his bright grey eyes. 

Will nods, refocusing your attention back on the current moment. „I - I can’t even begin to imagine how you must be feeling … what you’ve gone through …“, he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious, void of the bravado he typically displays so well. „I mean, seeing it - watching you and Kai, s-seeing it all …“

„Will“, you say, your voice breaking and suddenly it takes everything in you not to break down into tears right then and there. But this is Will, your sweet, fourteen year-old little brother. And while you might not be able to shield him from everything bad in this world - these last few weeks have very much proven that -, this isn’t his burden to bear. It’s bad enough knowing that he and Felix and your dad watched your moments in the Games on television. But you don’t want either of your little brothers finding you plagued by nightmares in the middle of the night. That’s not their burden, not their pain to bear. 

„W-what I’m t-trying to say, I guess - is - if you ever need to talk to to someone …“, Will offers, his eyes finding yours. „I mean - I know I’m only your stupid little brother“, he adds, in a very exaggerated imitation of your voice, causing you to smile faintly. „But I just - I want you to know that we’re all here for you. You’re not alone.“

Tears threaten to blur your vision and you feel your throat closing up. Fearing that any attempt at speaking right now would only end up in miserable croaks, you just lean forward and hug Will tightly to you. 

For once, he doesn’t protest the display of sisterly affection, hugging you back just as tightly. 

Your heart aches. When did Will, your annoyingly over-confident little brother become so wise? When did he grow up so much? 

„Thank you“, you say, forcing the words out. „I love you all so much.“

That, at least is the truth. But as you hug Will to yourself, you make a promise to yourself: Will might be right in saying that you’re not alone, but you absolutely do not want to to drag him and Felix into everything that’s happened to you in the Games and in the Capitol. 

These memories are not their burden to bear, not their pain to deal with. 

Time passes. 

The oppressive, sweltering heat of August gives way to a September that’s just as unbearably hot and dry, though up in your grand new mansion in the Victor’s Village it’s decidedly more bearable than it was all the other years down in the Seam. 

You still visit the Seam regularly, though. 

A few days after your return to District Twelve, you set off to the little crooked house Kai’s family lives in. The smell of bean and ham hock soup still seems to permeate the air - or at least it feels that way to you, almost making you turn around and head back home right then and there. 

But you persist. If nothing else, you owe this to Kai - you’ve always watched out for each other, and this is no different than that. 

At first, Kai’s mother seems just as happy as ever to see you, but soon enough, the conversation feels unbearably heavy and uncomfortable, especially once Ellerie gets home from school. 

For a moment, you and Ellerie just stand there, staring at each other. 

„I- I’m really sorry“, you say, your voice sounding strained and on the verge of breaking, „I - I know that it could never truly make up for anything, but I wanted to you to know that I want to share my winnings with you. I - Kai and I we - we talked about it, before the Games, agreeing that should either of us survive the Games, we’d share the money with the other’s family-“

„That’s a wonderful idea“, Kai’s mother interrupts you gently, „you two were always looking out for each other.“ 

You want to say something, anything, but you find yourself unable to speak. 

But then Ellerie says your name, her dark grey eyes, so very much like Kai’s, finding yours. „Thank you.“ 

That’s all she says, but the heavy weight and the quiet sincerity behind her words tell you much more than all the words in the world ever could. 

You nod, holding her gaze. „Anything.“ 

After that, it’s almost harder visiting the Seam, especially for Kai’s funeral at the beginning of September. Even the weather has shifted from District Twelve’s typical insufferable summer heat to the first inklings of an autumn breeze. 

The funeral is a much bigger affair than you’d expected - it feels like almost everyone from the Seam is here. Which of course only makes sense, with the way Kai seemed to know almost everyone. Truly, you’d never realized just how lucky you were that he always chose to spend most of his time with you.

Your family’s there as well, Felix crying quietly into your father’s side and Will squeezing your hand almost knowingly, before you walk forward to where Ellerie and Kai’s mother are standing. They’d asked you beforehand whether you’d wanted to say something at the funeral and you’d agreed, somewhat hesitantly. Not because you don’t want to honor Kai’s memory, but because it’s hard enough trying to deal with your grief on your own. 

It’s one thing to wake up with Kai’s name echoing through your mind, your eyes burning with unshed tears after yet another nightmare in the middle of the night - alone and in your bedroom. It’s another thing entirely to be standing in front of his small grave, looking at all the people surrounding you. 

So many people came. 

So many lives that Kai’s soul touched, somehow. 

And for a moment, you can almost feel him standing next to you, grinning at your thoughts. Come on, he’d say, amusement in his bright grey eyes, don’t exaggerate. 

You steel your shoulders, the vision of Kai standing next to you, squeezing your hand encouragingly, giving you the strength to go on. 

„Kai was my best friend“, you start to say, your voice carrying out over the small meadow. „But he was so much more than that. He was Iris’ son and Ellerie’s annoying, overly protective older brother.“ At that, you hear Ellerie chuckling faintly. 

„His life was cut far too short by the Games, yet he touched a lot of other lives. Back in the Arena, he didn’t only try to protect me, his District partner. It was his idea to protect Flora and Dalton, Finn and Sarah, and Cassie and Lucas, too. He knew that, in the end, only one of us could win the Games, and yet he still wanted to protect them all.“ 

You pause, needing a moment to collect your thoughts, to collect yourself. To fight off brutal memories from your time in the Arena. No matter how much time passes, it never seems to get any easier shaking off all your darkest, most disturbing memories. 

When you look back up, your eyes meet an all too-familiar pair of bright grey ones. 

Haymitch. 

It can’t be, you think, almost expecting Haymitch to not stand there, far off to the side in between two massive oak trees, when you blink. But he’s still standing there, still staring at you, with an indecipherable, dark and heavy expression in his gaze, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his hands for once void of a liquor bottle. 

He holds your gaze, one of his eyebrows cocked as if to say go on. 

You breathe in deeply, squaring your shoulders, feeling out for that vision of Kai standing next to you again. Because even though you’re wondering what on earth Haymitch is doing here and what he’s been up to during the weeks you’ve been back in District Twelve - even though you’re practically neighbors now, you haven’t seen him once since the evening of your return, which is probably for the best -, this moment doesn’t belong to Haymitch. 

It’s Kai’s, through and through. 

 „But that was Kai for you“, you say, picking your speech up again. „Always looking out for others. Always caring. Always offering a helping hand …“ 

After you finish, there’s a moment of silence. It stretches on, yet not uncomfortably so, until Iris steps forward, squeezing your hand. 

„Thank you.“ 

You nod. „Of course.“ 

You attempt a smile, but Iris seems to see right through you, because she hugs you to her chest, right as your tears start to fall. And for a moment, you allow yourself to be held and comforted by Iris. 

But then you square your shoulders again, stepping back. Still, you’re grateful when Ellerie reaches for your hand. 

When you look around the meadow again, the spot between the two massive oak tress is empty once again. 

During the next few months, that’s all you ever see of Haymitch: small glimpses, all of them over so quickly that they all make you question whether or not you didn’t just imagine them in the first place.

He mostly seems to keep to himself, secluded in his grand mansion just down the end of the road of the Victor’s Village. More often than you’d like, you catch yourself thinking about him and about how he’s doing. He must be incredibly lonely, cooped up in that big house all by himself, for days on end. How does he deal with it, with the loneliness and the memories and the nightmares? 

Does he still wake up screaming every night as well? 

Is he still being plagued by nightmares of his time in the Arena? 

Or is that where all that white liquor you keep seeing getting delivered to his house gets into place? Is that his way of trying to cope with everything - just trying to drown all his sorrows in alcohol? 

Some days - those are usually your better days, the ones you spend surrounded by your friends and family, keeping your mind as preoccupied and focused on good, happier thoughts as much as possible - you just feel incredibly sad for Haymitch, your heart breaking for the lonely man living just a few houses down the road. 

How does he survive it, always isolating himself like that?, you catch yourself thinking on an evening in early October. 

It’s a Saturday evening and after being talked down by Will and Felix for the better part of the last hour, your dad has agreed to let Iris and Ellerie stay the night at your place. You’re in the middle of a game of cards with your loved ones, surrounded by warmth and laughter, yet you can’t help but look out the window at the dark and empty street outside. A faint autumn breeze swirls a few colored leaves in the air, but that’s the only movement you can see outside. 

Everything else, including Haymitch’s house down the road seems empty and deserted. 

Lifeless. 

On other days though, you start to think that Haymitch might be onto something, always having a bottle of mind-numbing liquor at the ready. 

Those are your bad days, the ones where you already start the day in a dark, empty place, your mind full of images of Kai’s lifeless body, of Flora torn apart by mutts. 

Those are days where you can hardly talk yourself into getting out of bed, where you feel as if you’ll never escape the Arena, as if you’ll always exist in this prison of your own mind, your friends and family always impossibly out of reach. 

Those days, you mostly keep to yourself. 

Some days, you end up wandering aimlessly through District Twelve, first haunting the empty streets of the Victor’s Village, then the town square and finally moving on to your old neighborhood in the Seam. 

Other days, you spend all day-long sitting perched on your windowsill, watching summer storms crackling through the air, autumn leaves swirling in the distance, the first fall of snow settling on the pavement outside. 

Sitting there, perched on your windowsill, a cup of tea long gone cold clutched in your hand, you think that maybe that’s the way it’ll always be, that you’ll be always be condemned to be nothing more than an outsider, always observing, never belonging. 

Some days, you can be surrounded by laughter and your brothers’ arguing echoing through the air, and still feel incredibly lonely and separate from everyone else. Those are the days where you strangely feel closer than ever to Haymitch, even though you haven’t spoken to each other in months.

How relieving it must be, you think, leaning your head against the cold windowpane, to be able to turn your mind off completely. 

Before he knows it, nearly four months have passed, and it’s almost time to pack up his things once again and board the train to start her Victory tour. 

The letter - written and sent to him by none other than one insufferable Effie Trinket herself - containing their schedules for the tour, is lying in the exact same spot he dropped it, after opening it two weeks ago. 

Usually, he only receives a letter from Effie Trinket once a year - every year during the middle of June, without a doubt, there will be a letter in Effie Trinket’s elegant scrawl waiting for him, stamped from the Capitol, informing him of his never-changing schedule for the Reaping. 

This year had been no different, and after opening the letter, his eyes skimming over the note on beige parchment - this year, decorated with some delicate flowers - Effie had attached to his schedule, he’d dropped the letter right on top of the stack on his writing desk. 

Over the years, he’s kept all the letters containing his schedules and the personal notes from Effie. He’s not quite sure why, though. 

The first year after his own Hunger Games, he was this close to just feeding the sheets of paper to the fire he’d got started in his fireplace just for that purpose, but something made him stop. He took a step back, crumpling the letter in his hand and dropping the crumpled pieces of paper on his writing desk, before reaching for his half empty bottle of white liquor instead. 

To this day, he’s still not quite sure why he kept that letter, and every single one after that. 

It’s not like Effie Trinket is a close confidant of his. Truly, he’d not even consider her a friend. Though maybe that doesn’t say much, because nowadays, there’s no one he’d consider a friend, except for- 

No. 

He shakes his head, taking another swig of his bottle, trying to force his thoughts back to the problem at hand. 

Easier said than done.

Even as he tries to focus his thoughts on Effie’s one-sided correspondence, her face still keeps coming up in his mind. 

The way she’d looked at Kai Foster’s funeral, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He remembers thinking that, for a moment, she’d seemed so frail, and lost. Almost as if a simple blast of air might knock her off her feet altogether. But then she’d squared her shoulders, stepping forward. Chin held high, her face so sad and heartbroken, yet in her eyes there was an angry, almost defiant spark. It was that exact same spark he’d seen in her that first day on the train, the same spark that initially drew him to-

Haymitch hastily gets up then, almost knocking over his bottle of liquor in the process. 

Air, he thinks, grabbing his bottle and throwing a woolen coat over his pajamas, he just needs some fresh air, and then he’ll be able to get his head on straight again. Or, well, as straight as can be in his particular case. 

He stumbles out of the door of his house, some Capitol news show still on the television, the fireplace crackling. 

The cold, chilly November night air hits him immediately and he breathes in greedy lungfuls of fresh air. 

That’s better, he thinks, allowing himself one big swig of liquor from his bottle. Much better. 

He just needs to make it through that dreadful Victory tour, and then he can go on doing his best ignoring her day in and day out. Ignoring her, even though they’re practically neighbors now, and some nights, he sits huddled on the front porch of his house, listening to the laughter coming from her house. 

His grip on the bottle tightens, as he blindly and aimlessly stumbles through the dark, deserted street. 

Forget. Ignore. 

Forget. 

Don’t even think about it. 

Forget, he thinks, taking another sip from his bottle, the white liquor burning his tongue. 

Forget and ignore, then move on. 

It’s what he’s always forced himself to do since returning an unlucky victor to Twelve, it’s what he’s always had to force himself to do. Because it was either that or cause his loved ones even more pain than just the pain that comes from him ignoring them or hurling liquor bottles at their girlfriend’s face. 

Haymitch cringes at the memory of that moment, at the shocked and pained expression in Asterid’s bright blue eyes, and at the rage, mixed with dispair displayed on Burdock’s face. And though that’s usually just one of the too many memories he tries not to dwell on, stuffing them right back down into the deepest, darkest pits of his twisted mind, right now he holds on to the pain of that moment. 

He has to. Has to remind himself that that’s the reason he doesn’t let people get close anymore, why he’s continuously shutting them out, even though Effie Trinket keeps sending him her stupid letters, and every few months, there’s a new basket of freshly dried herbs sitting on his doorstep, courtesy of none other than Asterid Everdeen. His best friend’s wife - well, former best friend would probably be a much more accurate description - and he didn’t even attend their wedding. Didn’t get to witness Burdock excitedly telling him about how he’s going to be a father. Instead, he found out through whispers on the Hob. 

Because that’s his life now, that has been his life ever since becoming a victor, and that has to continue to be his life forevermore. He’s never going to be more than an unlucky, bitter and cynical outsider, looking in. 

He can’t be. 

He can’t. 

Because no matter how desperate and lonely he might start to feel, in the end it won’t be worth it. No amount of warm, happy hours could ever be worth it, knowing that in the end, her blood will be on his hands, too. 

And so, he has to continue to stay away from her, to ignore her and-

A body colliding with his, the force of it all knocking the liquor bottle from his hand, which flies to the ground, shattering into a dozen pieces, breaks the train of his thoughts. 

Haymitch doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s her, because of course it is. 

He can talk all he wants about needing to stay away from her in order to protect her, in the end he’s still the same unlucky bastard he was eleven years ago that fate keeps trying to knock down. Lenore Dove wouldn’t like that line of thinking, he suddenly finds himself thinking, wouldn’t like how he’s convinced that in the end, his doom will be inevitable. 

She would probably agree, he thinks, his eyes meeting hers. 

There’s something wild and desperate about her, he thinks, taking her in. Her wide open eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and her cheeks are flushed. She’s wearing nothing but a set of pajamas and soft slippers and she’s crossed her arms in front of her chest, shivering. 

„Haymitch?“, she says, her voice colored with disbelief. 

He smirks. „In the flesh, Princess.“ 

She rolls her eyes, then shakes her head. „I - but - what- what … you-what are you doing here?“

He forces himself to shrug, to keep his distance, to not let his thoughts wander. „I could ask you the same thing.“ 

That seems to deflate her, but only for a short moment. „It’s the middle of the night-“

„It is“, he agrees, nodding, „and you should be getting your beauty sleep, seeing as tomorrow’s another big, big, big day!“ 

She shakes her head, her gaze landing on the pieces of his liquor bottle lying on the ground. „You-you shouldn’t be - you have to be up in just a few hours!“

Haymitch laughs mirthlessly. Instead of answering her, he shrugs off his coat, stepping towards her and ignoring her protest, when he proceeds to wrap the coat around her. 

„No, Haymitch- I don’t need that-“

„It’s cold“, he interrupts her. 

She huffs a breath, shaking her head at him and raising her eyebrows in an exasperated are you serious? expression. 

„Yes it is, which is why you shouldn’t-“

„Just take the damn coat, Princess“, he interrupts her. „I could do without all the teeth chattering and shivering.“ 

Haymitch expects another retort then, instead her expression almost seems to soften. 

Then, he remembers as well, that moment of them together on the roof in the Capitol, him handing her his sweater, and saying those exact same words to her. 

He shakes his head. How can it be that they haven’t spoken a word to each other in almost fours months, and yet it feels like no time at all has passed? 

Dangerous, he thinks, biting down hard on his lower lip. Letting his thoughts stray in that direction is dangerous, and will do him no good at all. 

„Haymitch“, she says then, breaking the silence between them. 

Haymitch’s heart aches upon hearing how small and lost her voice sounds. How uncertain. 

And it’s all his fault, all of it. 

Oh, how he wishes that the last four months hadn’t happened, that she’d never been reaped as tribute, that their paths had never crossed. 

„Haymitch, I-“, she says, then stops. 

Their eyes meet. Hers are shimmering with unshed tears, and full of so many emotions. Dread and terror for what lays ahead of them in form of the Victory tour. Fury and resentment, clearly aimed at him. And something else, something painstakingly familiar to Haymitch, this bittersweet regret-

She clears her throat then, shaking her head, and Haymitch can see it, can see the shift in her, can feel the moment she closes off again. 

„I - you … you-you should get some rest, you know …“, she says, trailing off uncertainly. 

Haymitch nods, grinning bitterly. „You too, Princess. Wouldn’t want to ruin the big day …“ 

She nods, a faint, half-hearted smile on her lips. „I - good night then, Haymitch.“ 

He forces himself to nod, to take a step back. There’s so much more that he wants, no needs to say to her. But he can’t - he needs to keep reminding himself of that. He can’t. He closed that window nearly four months ago, and for good reason at that. 

In the end, all he says is: „Good night, Princess.“ 

And even though a small, desperate part of him wants to stay, wants to say everything that’s on his mind, he forces himself to turn around and walk away instead.

gentle reminder that feedback is always welcome and that re-blogs really help me with visibility <3

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[somewhat-insane]

Can we get some general jealous headcanons for Sun Wukong, Macaque and the Nine headed demon? Pretty please?

OH MY GOSH ABSOLUTELY I LOVE THEM AND I LOVE WRITING THEM JEALOUS (even if I suck at it, we're not going to talk about that)

I try my best to balance fluff and stuff with more realistic traits like the more toxic aspects and stuff, and that might not be everyone's cup of tea. With a subject like jealousy it tends to skew more towards angsty traits because all three of these men have issues.

Per usual, I'm sorry if I go off request, I can not focus while writing for the life of me and I always get sidetracked. I'm working on it though. That's part of the reason this took so long- I had to keep deleting and rewriting everything because it didn't fit the theme-

~*Jealousy SWK, SEM, NHD*~

~Sun Wukong~

Surprisingly the least jealous of the three... on the surface, at least

Separation anxiety; he's a monkey so physical affection is really important for him

Poor clingy insecure whiner boy :(

Loves having his arms around you; will carry you if you let him

doesn't like sleeping without you close and if he wakes up and you're not there he's 100% panicking. Safe to say it will take a lot of convincing to let you leave his sight that day

He doesn't really mind much if other people flirt with you, he trusts you and doubts a couple of pickup lines from a friend or coworker or whatever will be enough to take you from him, he traveled with Zhu Bajie during the journey after all, he's used to watching people flirt and nothing come out of it

He uses disassociation as a coping mechanism so he doesn't get super upset if your attention isn't on him 24/7 because he's usually thinking about something else anyway, but in the times when he is present, he'll shut down and be pretty sad if you don't give him attention

He's a bit more... intense when it comes to physical contact though

In the case that you're touching someone else, hugging them, or patting them on the back or whatever, he'll get all pouty and won't stop looking at you like a pathetic wet cat until you give him attention instead

If someone touches you though he'll death glare them

Not afraid to show he's jealous

He wants you to know that he wants you by his side exclusively

If anything he's afraid of not showing you enough

Constantly trying to walk the line between "not being too controlling" but also "not seeming like he doesn't care"

On one hand, everything he's learned from his master tells him to take a step back and let things happen as they will, but on the other hand, he's tired of losing the people he cares about, ESPECIALLY when there are times he could've prevented it

Really just wants to be good for you

Hates the idea that there's someone out there who's better for you than him, but knows letting you leave would be the right thing to do (even if he cries about it)

~Six-Eared Macaque~

Kinda possessive and controlling but is doing his best to improve for you

Unlike Wukong who will sometimes be affectionate with the rest of the crew, Macaque only really trusts you, and sometimes Mk (Mk's a bit too loud and energetic for him most of the time though)

Abandonment issues incarnate (though he usually displays this by pushing people away before they can leave him... just expect a lot of silent treatments from him)

Wraps his tail around your wrist or ankle to assure himself you're close. He'll wrap his tail around your waist if he's feeling particularly possessive

Prefers to have you close by but doesn't rely on physical affection as much as Wukong

Likes being in the same room as you while you both do your own things

Wants to be the first person you tell any big news to (though knowing him he already knows from slinking through the shadows...)

People flirting with you ticks him off

How could anyone else think they deserve you? (This may or may not be him deflecting his own thoughts about how he doesn't deserve you onto other people)

He loves listening to you ramble or lore dump but he'll get all tense and cagey if you start talking about something you did with someone else

Doesn't mind if your attention is on something else, but does get kinda upset when your attention is on someone else

Feels the need to one-up anyone you say anything positive about

You liked the waiter's dress at that restaurant you went to? Macaque's showing up in an even better dress the next day

Will not hesitate to bad-mouth someone he's jealous of

Sees anyone touching you as a threat and he immediately feels like he needs to protect you

Sees you touching anyone else as him not being good enough and will either close himself off for a few days or obsess over being perfect for you

Afraid to show he's jealous

Has to keep his aloof demeanor or you'll think he cares too much and you'll leave :(

Still kinda believes power and manipulation are the best way to get what you want but is working on more healthy ideals like "communicating his thoughts" and "not sending people to the shadow realm whenever they get too close to you"

Doesn't want to hurt or scare you but he will fight to keep you by his side

He'll eventually relent if you really want to leave though, I don't think he would be able to handle trapping you with him if it's not what you want

~Nine-Headed Demon~

Pretty possessive and controlling and doesn't really plan on changing

Superiority complex

Has decided you're his and if you think otherwise you're just confused

The most manipulative on the list

I'm not entirely sure where to begin with his issues but there's definitely some insecurity

Gives you the illusion of choice and freedom

"You can choose whatever you want as long as you always choose me and no one else :)"

He knows he's better than everyone else but he's afraid of you not seeing that

Even if he's not the most affectionate person, he'll definitely get upset if anyone gets too affectionate with you or vice versa

Needs to know where you are 24/7 or he goes on a rampage in his full dragon form

Kinda the Mother Gothel of partners

If you tell him he's being too overbearing he'll get offended and try and convince you he's just doing what's best for you

He does genuinely think he's doing what's best for you

The only way he would ever change is if he failed to reach the chaos, but that's a story for another time

He refuses to admit to being jealous and instead insists he's just keeping you safe

I don't even think he knows he's jealous

~

Despite how much I adore NHD's design, I am incapable of writing him as a healthy partner-

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Thoughts are appreciated. I'm sorry NHD's was so short writing for Wukong and Mac is just a lot easier since we have multiple seasons worth of content with them.

[vodika-vibes]

Actually, now I'm having an angsty-ish thought.

Just imagine—

You're dating a clone who is deployed more often than he's around. And you're fine with it. You knew what you were getting into when you said yes to a date, and you're perfectly happy waiting for him to come home.

But then, one night before another deployment, while you're sitting on the couch watching trash reality TV, he gets to his knees at your feet.

And you're confused because he looks pained, but so far as you're aware, the pair of you are having a really good night together.

"Cyare," he says, his voice slightly rough, as he takes your hands and brings them to his lips, "I have a list of...acceptable brothers for you."

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Three times. And then you nod, "It's nice of you to give me a list of emergency contacts if I should need help, but my mother is listed as my emergency contact since she knows everything about me—" you say cheerfully.

It's his turn to be confused, and he slowly shakes his head. "No, cyare. I mean...this is a list of brothers I'm okay with you sleeping with while I'm gone."

"What."

He hurriedly continues, "I know deployments are hard, so I figured I'd make it easier on the both of us to give you a list of people who can take care of you while I'm gone—"

"—do you really think I'm the type of person who will sleep with another man when I'm in a relationship? Especially the brother of the man I'm dating?" You ask.

He hesitates, "It isn't personal, but it's happened before. We're interchangeable, after all." He jokes weakly.

You're quiet, and to your horror, you feel a lump in your throat and a burning in your eyes, "Do you really think that little of me?"

"No!" He yelps, and then he winces, "No. Cyare, no. Of course not." He repeats, "I'd be happier if you never looked at this list at all. But...you need to know the option is there."

"Delete it."

"Cyare—"

"Delete it. There isn't an option. You're my choice. Just you. And the fact that you think that I would... that I could cheat on you is, frankly, insulting." You're surprised you're so calm. You feel like your heart is breaking in your chest.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you—"

"Should I make a list, too, then?" You ask, your voice pained, "Of people I'd be okay with you cheating on me with? It'll be a short list."

"I would never."

"And yet you think that I will?"

He's quiet for a moment, and slowly presses his forehead to your knees, "I'm sorry, cyare. Forget this conversation ever happened. I'll delete the list." He looks up at you, "So please, cyare, please stop crying."

[midnightshindig]

Can you do familial hc’s/a drabble for the viltrumite reader trying to indoctrinate Oliver with the viltrumite mindset? Maybe Debbie finds out and tells Mark and he ends ups fighting the reader, you’re the best ✌️

Oliver & Viltrumite!Reader

Ooooooo you guys are angsty, I love it.

Fair warning, I hate writing fight scenes, so this is mostly just gonna be angst.

Tw for viltrumite ideology- which is like lowkey fascist and evil as hell. In today's political climate where we're like lowkey being ruled by Viltrumites, I urge you to take the necessary steps to interact with this work in a healthy manner, or not at all, however, is the best for your mental health <3 Remember to drink water and keep on keeping on.

As always, fic under the cut!

You had been living with the Graysons since you crashed onto the earth, with Nolan recognizing your clothing and insisting you stay with them.

Of course, he doesn't tell Debbie you're a Viltrumite but rather that you're an alien from a planet he once saved and that he wants to sponsor your citizenship on Earth.

Before this, however, he takes you aside and explains the situation: You cannot blow his cover no matter what, and you will be subordinate to him.

And you're quite young for a Viltrumite—not even a hundred years old yet, hovering in your 80s or 90s. Physically, you were barely in your mid to late teens.

So you're introduced into the family! Debbie takes a shine to you, excited to have another person to dote on when she isn't busy with work.

Mark is OBSESSED with you, in a cool "wow I'm a younger sibling now" kind of way

He's barely nine when you land, so he's got nine more years to get used to your presence.

before Nolan goes awol.

It's a year later and you're still staying with the Graysons

You'd been invited to join the Guardians but that meant blood tests and Cecil finding out what you were

a loyal Viltrumite preparing the Earth for colonization in Nolan's stead.

You couldn't wrap your head around why he freaked out like he did, but you're not surprised Mark rejected joining him.

No... Mark was a lost cause

It would be sad, but he would have to see the error of his ways.... or die...

The thought saddened you greatly. And you'd already made arrangements to have Debbie kept somewhere.

Yes, it was a little inhumane, but at least she could be kept, Mark couldn't...

But those weren't the only people in the household, you'd recently gained a new addition to your happy little family.

Another alien, a purple baby, Oliver, as Debbie calls him, half-Viltrumite and half-Thraxan.

You, unlike Debbie and Mark, understand that his viltrumite blood will dominate the rest of his DNA

this baby is basically full Viltrumite.

Maybe there's hope after all.

Indoctrination-- education, as you call it-- is slow

Mainly pointed children's book lessons during story time

Things come to a head when Oliver ages into his elementary school years

"Y/n, why can't Dad come back?"

He asks you on day, fist gripping the fabric of your pants as he looks up at you with bleary eyes

It's a question he knows he shouldn't ask, and one he's too scared to ask his mother or Mark

but you've never been rude or quiet about him, you were the only person he felt he could talk to about such things

You picked him up, resting him on your hip, and poking the middle of his chest playfully

"Oliver- you know he's stuck in space jail! He's essentially in time out, for not following directions and being super mean to the people of Earth!" You smile candidly, eliciting a smaller smile from Oliver

"But-" he starts, looking around "What did he do that was so bad? Mark and Mom say that he killed a lot of people, and that he wanted to take over the world!!" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis, but the gravity of his question was sincere

You thought for a minute before continuing "Well... Oliver... Your dad, and my dad are from the same place. I'm actually part Viltrumite, like you!" You smiled, this was a lie, you were full Viltrumite, but he didn't need to know you'd been fully lying to his family.

"And Viltrumites are a lot like your Mom, when she says to do something, you gotta listen, or else there'll be bad consequences" You nodded sagely "The Viltrumites's told your Dad to help Earth, and get it ready, and keep it safe so when the Viltrumites got here, they could keep it safe and make everything better!"

You heard a soft, stifled gasp, and looked to the doorway

It was Debbie, who had dropped the bags of groceries she and Mark had been out getting.

I guess they were back.

Standing behind her was Mark, wide eyed and confused, you'd never seen him so conflicted.

And you looked over at Oliver, still perched on your hip, staring with you at the rest of your family

Like a kid who'd been caught hearing a bad secret.

"You're... the whole time-" Debbie placed a hand on her forehead to support herself, looking between you and the carpet "You never told us."

A pang of guilt. You may be the superior life form, but she'd fed and protected you since you came to Earth. You didn't want her to be upset with you.

"Debbie I-" you started, before Mark-- entirely too wound up by the last year of his life-- cut you off

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?! YOU can't- Oliver come here." He took a step towards you, and Oliver flew in front of you, throwing his arms open to protect you

The room went quiet as everyone stared at Oliver, protecting you from Mark, in his own sad, too big for his body way

Mark calmed down a bit, approaching still

"Oliver, I need to have a grown-up conversation with Y/n. Go with Mom-"

"Mark!" Debbie hissed, not wanting to leave the conversation

But the look of pleading Mark gave her caused her to reconsider

She sighed, and held a hand out to Oliver

Oliver, in turn, looked at you with his big, puppy dog eyes

"Are we in trouble?"

oof. You ruffled his hair "You go with your Mom, now, okay? And listen to her, but remember what I told you."

Oliver nodded slowly, before joining his Mother and being led into the living room.

Mark exploded, throwing his arms in the air like a frustrated kid

"You were a viltrumite this whole time?! You lied to me- you lied to all of us!"

"Not Nolan." you corrected pointedly "And it's not your business, I don't owe you anything!"

"You do when you take advantage of us, of my mom! And when you spread your awful world view to a CHILD." He got closer, pointing his finger into your sternum

"Mark. I am not a child in need of scolding." You hovered above him, raising yourself above him "I know you don't see the point in what me and your father tried to accomplish, and the mission I inherited when he left, but you're not the boss."

He glared at you, still hurt and confused

"and what about me and mom? Are we like pets to you too?" You had just become a vicious enemy, and he could only think of the betrayal he felt

You were his older sibling. You'd taught him how to drive (after Nolan had taught you, it was a very similar process to driving your spacecraft on Viltrum)

You were the one who drove him to his first school dance- you helped him with his homework- you helped him with his powers after Nolan left-

...

Mark, in all his confusion and distress, could taste peanut butter in the roof of his mouth, fondly remembering all the days you and him were left to your own devices while his mom and dad went somewhere fancy for lunch, and you'd make him a pb&j

at first it was because you didn't know how to make anything else- they weren't big on individuals knowing how to cook on your home planet

but it had become a treasured memory.

"Did being my sibling mean nothing?"

His words softened you as your soles hit the carpet, reaching forward to put a hand on his shoulder

"Mark... of course not. I love you, and I love Debbie just as much as I do my own mother." you remembered your mother, a faceless vague woman who you hadn't seen since you were a small child Oliver's age "Probably more than my mother, in fact."

You sighed, pinching your nose "Nolan wanted you to see the way of things, but he's too harsh. He wants to be good at his job, he's one of the best soldiers Viltrum had, and for good reason. But he gets carried away, and fails to see the room for compromise."

You paused, folding your arms "Yes, we're going to take over Earth, and yes, a lot of people will die in resisting their betterment, but- Mark, those people will die anyways. In wars of their own or in enslavement of their own or global warming or any number of things."

"We take things over to ultimately make the world a better place, as opposed to what? Cecil? Who would trade human lives for a greater good any day, or what- The first supervillain to figure out how to take you all down? Would you subject Oliver to a world in which Doc Seismic runs things? As opposed to my people? Our people?"

Your words stung, and Mark had nothing to say to it but to keep staring at you with indignation and hurt

"And Oliver.. Mark- the boy is purple. And on earth that's a problem, Debbie spends so much money and time painting him just so she can take him to the grocery store. He's not socialized, he's not disciplined, he isn't happy. That's why he asks about his Dad so often. On Viltrum, he wouldn't be ostracized, he'd be studied and tested, and befriended by Viltrum children he could grow with and push to become stronger. he'd have a rigorous education and an incredible life, don't you want that for him? For yourself?"

You smiled coyly "The women on Viltrum tend to be quite gorgeous, a rarity. BUT, they only go out with other VIltrumites, so you've got a good shot."

Your attempt to lighten the mood failed, and Mark twitched in his inability to do anything

What was he going to do? punch you through the wall of your room? Throw your body through the corkboard of family photos taken over the years, maybe smash you through the desk littered in your small artistic creations, the little paper puppets you made for him and now made for Oliver? The scrapbook children's books you had made to tell stories of far-off places?

No. No he couldn't do that. He didn't have it in him. He felt just like how his dad had felt, knowing he needed to do something, but he couldn't kill you. He just. Couldn't.

You felt much the same about him, you knew you were stronger than him, but he was your baby brother.

You always knew he was going to have to get real or die, but you never thought it'd be you doing it.

"I... I...."

Mark watched you intensely, waiting for anything to happen.

"I'm gonna go."

Before Mark could say anything, you pushed open your window and flew off, with Mark too stunned to follow you.

Moments later, Debbie and Oliver came back into the room

"where's Y/n?" Oliver asked, picking up a puppet dragon from your desk and fidgeting with it

Debbie looked at Mark, her eyes begging the same question

"They're uh...." He didn't know what to say, because he didn't know "They're going away for a while. Probably."

The house felt so much emptier now.

Too big for a three person family meant to be a five person family.

[goldenwilliamson]

hard conversations | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: another angsty one featuring the game of 'we're not really strangers'. reader and leah end up having a fight about different feelings towards having kids and getting married. it turns out alright in the end but. does discuss poor relationship with parents/family.

word count: 1.9k

You and Leah sat down on the lounge, crossed legged and facing each other while you sipped on some wine. Leah's phone played music through the speaker and you had decided to play a little game that Leah had bought called 'We're Not Really Strangers'.

"So it gets us to ask each other thoughtful questions?" You asked, flicking through the red cards in the box.

"Yeah, it's supposed to help people feel more connected," Leah explained.

"Fun," you said, always happy to engage in a deep conversations.

You leant back on the lounge as Leah rifled through the cards, pulling out the first one.

"Alright, in one word, describe how you feel right now," Leah flicks the card with her other hand as she watches you expectantly.

"One word?" You sigh with a smile on your face, "Grateful."

"Grateful for what?" Leah asks.

"For a night in with you," you say, taking a sip of your wine. Leah lifts her glass off the coffee table and holds it out towards you.

As your glasses clink together Leah says, "I'm grateful for this too."

You're already enjoying this game, feeling excited over what questions might come up.

Your first question to ask Leah was 'How would you describe me to a stranger?'. She smirked as she let her mind wander.

"Well, I would say that you're the best footballer I've ever seen. You are the most loyal friend. You're the smartest person I know, and I learn so much from you daily. I'd say that you're the most beautiful girl in every room, and probably that you're great in bed," Leah says, making you laugh with her final statement.

"I mean, I hope you wouldn't tell a stranger about our sex life, but I'll take the compliment," you say proudly.

It's Leah's turn to pull a card again, this time asking 'What dating advice would you give your younger self?'. The question makes you both laugh, your dating history being almost a joke in your relationship.

"Stop dating boys, you're not attracted to them," you say with a laugh.

"Easy one for you," Leah shakes her head, tucking the card in the back of the pile.

It was your turn again and your eyebrows raise as you quickly glace over the question, "Ooh, deep one. What fear do you think holds me back the most?" You ask, unsure about what Leah might say.

She looks at you, as if weighing up how best to say what she wants to say.

"Honestly?" She raises her eyebrows, and you nod, urging her to continue.

"I think your fear of the future might be holding you back a little bit," she says, and you look into the wine in your lap while you process the words.

"What do you mean by that?" You ask, trying not to let your defences come up.

"Um," Leah rolls her lips together as she tries to find the best explanation.

"I just think whenever I try to bring up the future of our relationship you can shut down a bit," she says, and you nod.

You know she has a point. You being a few years younger than Leah, you struggled to envision those big life events like getting married or having kids. For you, all those events seemed rather inconceivable, especially since your own parents had gotten divorced and you don't have the best relationship with either of them. But for Leah, these were things that she desperately wanted, so when they came up in conversation, knowing it might cause friction, you tend to stay silent.

"You mean when we talk about getting married or having kids?" You question.

"Well when I talk about getting married and having kids, yeah," Leah affirms.

"I mean, that's just not really something I think about," you shake your head, not sure how else to explain that at this stage of your life marriage and children isn't a priority. Of course you love Leah and want to spend the rest of your life with her, but you have never felt like you need a ring on your finger or a marriage certificate for that to happen.

"But see, that upsets me Y/N," Leah places her wine glass back down on the table and you see her eyebrows knit together, frustration building. You sigh and copy her motions, placing your glass down as well.

"I see my future with you, and when you say that you don't think about it, it makes me feel like you don't want me to be a part of yours," Leah explains and you instantly reach out to grab her hands, rubbing them soothingly with your thumbs.

"Lee, I want you in my future. I love you so much, and I don't want to be with anyone else."

Leah gently tugs her hands out of yours, "But you don't want to marry me, or start a family. Those things are important for me!" She stresses.

You rub your face with your hands, "I understand they're important for you Leah, but right now at this stage of my life I don't want marriage and children."

"You don't want them now, or you don't want them ever?" Leah asks, crestfallen.

You pause, not knowing what how to respond without breaking Leah's heart, but it seems that you do that anyway. She sucks in her bottom lip and shakes her head before storming out of the lounge room and up stairs, distantly slamming a door as you stay seated with your head in your hands.

You're overcome with emotion, not knowing how such a lovely night could turn so sour. Wiping tears away you stand from the lounge and take the half full wine glasses to the kitchen and pour them down the sink, knowing your nice evening together was well and truly over. As you give them a rinse you try to collect your thoughts and work out how to approach this topic with Leah.

After setting the glasses down to dry you walk tentatively up the stairs, feeling nervous for how Leah might respond to you. Your bedroom door is shut and you knock lightly before turning the handle and pushing it open slowly. Leah is laying in bed, turned away from the door, giving you no response.

"Leah, darling, can we talk this out?" You ask, staring at the back of your girlfriends head and stepping into the room, closer to the bed.

"There's nothing to talk about," she says sharply.

"There clearly is," you respond as you sit down by her feet at the end of the bed. You reach out to squeeze her leg through the duvet but she scoffs and pulls away, sitting up so her back is resting against the headboard. She crosses her arms as she looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," you say, feeling genuinely sick to your stomach that Leah has gotten to this state. She just shakes her head.

"I just need you to know that while I don't see myself as a mother or married in the next couple of years, that doesn't mean it's off the cards for me," you say.

"But what if you're never ready for those things? I can't wait my whole life for you to want it Y/N," Leah sighs.

"Well, what if I don't want it?" You ask now, eyes welling with tears, terrified of what this conversation could lead to.

"I know how badly I want kids of my own one day, and how I want to start a family with the woman I love. But if you're not sure that you will ever want that, I'm not sure if we're right for each other," Leah says, voice breaking as she talks.

"See this is why I shut down when this comes up," you are unashamedly crying now, "I just need time Leah! I'm only 23 years old, how can you expect me to know this just now?"

You sob into your hands and Leah moves on the bed, crawling beside you to hold you against her. She wraps her arms around you and guides your head onto her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"I'm so sorry," Leah sighs into your ear.

"I don't want to lose you," you cry even harder as you vocalise your biggest fear.

"You're not losing me, I'm right here," Leah says, stabilising herself to comfort you in your obvious state of distress.

"You deserve someone who wants what you want," you say, gasping for breath between words.

"Shh, it's okay," she leans back to hold your face between both hands, trying to look you in the eyes. You pull your hands between Leah's, covering your face. She grabs your wrists gently and lowers them before wiping your damp cheeks with the cuffs of her jumper.

"I'm sorry, baby, you're right. I shouldn't expect you to give me an answer right now. I think just because I've always known what I want, I find it hard to imagine that it might be a more difficult decision for other people," Leah says, and you nod, knowing where she's coming from.

"It's just hard for me, you know, obviously you're close with your family so it's different. I've always been scared to get married and have kids because my parents had such a hard time with it all, and I'm not very close with them because of it," you say honestly.

"I know, baby, I understand," she says.

"But if I was to build a family with anyone, I'd want to do it with you, Leah. Do you know the first time I met your whole family I went home and cried," you admit, thinking back on that first Williamson family lunch where you'd felt so embraced by them.

"You cried! Why?" Leah says with concern.

"No, it was more happy tears. I'd just never seen a family that loved each other like you guys do, I guess I was crying for younger me who wished I could've had that type of upbringing."

"Oh, my girl, you'll always have that love from me and my family," she assures you.

"I hope so. And it brings me comfort knowing that any child of ours would be loved like that too," you say.

"Of course they would," Leah nods, pressing her forehead against yours.

"I just need you to know that I do want that with you Leah. Just probably a bit further down the line," you say.

"Okay, I can wait for that," she says.

You press your lips against Leah's and she kisses you back gently, apologetically.

"I love you," you say, and she says it back.

"But we're not playing that bloody card game again," you say, making Leah laugh.

"Hey, it did bring it closer didn't it?" She smiles and you shake your head. In some strange way it did.

You and Leah decide to call it a night, crawling under the sheets together. She holds you tightly against her, kissing you softly on the back and side of your neck as you both calm down from the heightened emotions. For the first time you do actually let yourself think about being a mother, and it isn't the scariest idea in the world. You fall asleep with ease in Leah's arms, feeling your future together stretching out before you.

[roses-tired]

Now playing: I don't mind

◁ || ▷

Warnings: based on this song, pre war, finnick and reader are both 21, established relationship, secret relationship, hinted snow sells reader, no use of y/n, kinda angsty, mostly fluff

Word count: 727

It's a sunny day in district four, the sun making your skin feel warm and there isn't a single cloud in sight. It's officially summer.

You're sitting at the beach with finnick, in a secluded spot only the two of you know. You have been in a secret relationship with finnick going on three years, the only people who know are a few trusted friends. The reason for so much secrecy and caution is because of the dictator president of panem, the two of you didn't want to know what he would do when he finds out the two most desirable victors are together.

You're currently listening to the water crash against the rocks, savoring the feeling of complete bliss. It's moments like this where you forget about the state of the world, at least for a minute. You can feel finnicks eyes staring into the side of your head, making you turn your head towards him. He has a boyish grin on his face and looks at you with eyes filled with adoration. There is something on his mind, you can't figure out what.

“What's that face for?”you say with a smile

“Just feeling nostalgic, let's talk about the old days, when I first saw you”you nod in agreement, feeling the same nostalgia he was feeling. Finnick lets out a small sigh before continuing “I remember the first time that I saw you, I had just gotten back from my victory tour and my head was a mess, the thought of being normal again seemed impossible” you frown a little at his confession, letting him continue. “But seeing you, talking with your friends and wearing that one dress, cleaned up all of the thoughts I was having”

“I remember that day, it was the height of summer and I didnt want it to end. I also remember coming up to you because I caught you staring and wanted to see why” Finnick chuckles in response and shakes his head. “Yeah,fourteen year old me didn't know how to handle seeing a pretty girl”his voice is filled with embarrassment of his past self. You laugh along with him, getting lost in the memories, in the time where things were as simple as they can be.

You stay like that with him, laughing at the memories over the years. Two kids who didn't know how they felt about each other, now hopelessly in love.

Hours pass as you and finnick now sit on the boardwalk, having taken off your shoes and your feet in the cool water. Your spot on the beach long forgotten. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky orange and pink. “Wow” finnick says “We really talked until sunset” ”Yeah, I guess we did”

This isn't the first time you and finnick talked for hours without realizing it. Time seems to stop when you two are talking and all your worries melt away for a while, like snow on a warm spring day. Each other's voice calms the storm in your minds, finding comfort in the sound.

“You know” finnick starts, his tone telling you that this is serious “There's something I've been meaning to tell you” you turn your head to face him, letting him to continue. “For around the past three years, I've been thinking about how I'd like to marry you one day. Maybe move out of victor's village and into a small house on the beach, maybe have a few kids” you smile at his confession, before it fades away as you remember why you can't have that life yet.

Finnick notices your smile fade and gently grabs your face, holding your soft skin in his hands. “But I don't mind if we're forced to take our time” he says softly “‘cause I'm yours if you're mine” you smile at his words, willing to wait until you both feel safe enough to come out of the shadows. He presses his forehead against your own, eyes closed, and sighs.

You both stay like that for a minute. You have no idea when or if you will feel safe enough to shout your relationship with finnick from the rooftops, because that's the thing about the future, it's so uncertain. One thing's for sure though, as long as finnick is yours, you'll wait as long as you need to.

Thank you Aly and Wanda for giving me the confidence to write this. Thank you Wanda and Vienna for showing love for this fic. I love you guys

First finnick fic based on a song I loved as a teenager and recently found my love for again

[chokifandom]

hihi new moot !! it’s nice to meet u and i love love love ur nagi theme :D

if there’s still slots open for ur event, i’d like to req 12 + venti from genshin !! congrats on 100 !!! 🤍

— underneath a broken sky

Thank you for requesting! your song is... A GOLDEN FORCE (ISON)

venti x f!reader, i call him barbatos instead of venti, super corny i guess LMAOO, major character death bc it’s the end of the world, slightly descriptive depictions of body pain, kinda angsty but mostly just very cheesy, possibly ooc venti because it’s been a while since i’ve written genshin and also he’s very weathered down by time and grief. also this song technically isn't an end of the world song but the vibes are There

wc: 1.6k

a/n: THANK U FOR REQUESTING ARTEMIS!! and we're technically not new moots anymore LMAO i’m so sorry it took me so long to get started on these event requests but i finally did! i was lowkey very stumped writing this because there were SO many ways i could write an end of the world scene and they would all fit venti and it was just. hard for me to choose. i hope u enjoy this <3

event

the day morax dies, you find barbatos on top of a windmill.

with a great rumble, the earth in liyue split apart, cracking and fissuring what remained of the great land. sat atop a windmill, venti heaved a forlorn sigh. the rifts in the earth stopped at the stone gate, almost threatening to tear into mondstadt.

the windmill was a rusty old thing, creaking with every slight breeze— its blades had long crumbled away with time, the city around it a ghost of what it had been.

he couldn’t bring himself to see morax in person, not even when you had told him that you could sense the earth weakening. and so you made the trip to liyue alone, so that the old dragon wouldn’t have to care for loneliness, at least in his final moments. perhaps, he could never truly come to terms with the possibility of outliving his old friend.

a familiar presence arrives next to him on a gust of wind.

“morax is no longer with us.” you perch next to him. almost immediately he intertwines his hand with your own.

it’s still real, no matter how much he runs away. morax is still dead, and him not being there to see it doesn’t change anything about it.

“he was… he was a good archon.” barbatos says. “i always thought morax would be the last of us.”

“isn’t fate a terrible thing? or whatever is left of it, i suppose,” you hum in response. “i watched him crumble into the earth, until he was indistinguishable from the soil around where he once stood.”

there are cracks on his face, like he was a porcelain doll  that eventually succumbed to the test of time. the erosion got to everyone cursed with a long life, and neither of you were an exception. 

the ugly claws of finality wrap itself around his heart, and his grip on your hand tightens with an anxiety he had seldom known prior to this moment. the looming end shouldn’t have felt so terrible— why then, does he feel his heart wrench?

he’s brooding. he almost doesn’t realise it until you cup his cheek with your other hand and lean in to rest your forehead against his. he closes his eyes and feels the world come back to him.

this lonely, barren world.

barbatos remembers the day istaroth had allowed him to peer into her memories, so he could learn the truth of this world. it was a few centuries before the people forgot her, before her existence dissipated. that heavenly mother of time wept for humanity and her tears rippled in the leylines. a piece of that bitter sadness taking root in his heart that day and never completely disappeared even long after her death, when the flow of time started eroding and becoming chaotic.

the tsaritsa had incurred the wrath of the higher ones with her betrayal, and she was the first of the archons to fall. all the snow on teyvat melted away until even dragonspine returned to how it had once been, bare mountain and flowing water. the abyss, ever opportunistic, took to ravaging the now godless land— and celestia disappeared quietly amidst the ash and flames.

but through everything, you had always been there. he remembers the first time he met you; dancing at the edge of starfell lake, your movements light and graceful but carefree at the same time. he emerged from the trees and played a lovely tune on his harp to match the rhythm of your steps, and you smiled at him 

in terms of authority, you were quite unimportant. a minor deity with the trees and flowers under your dominion was all that you were. but venti thought that it was one of the most beautiful things, to be able to create such life— anyone could shape the mountains and flatten the earth into plains, but not many gods had the kindness in their heart for even the smallest lives like you did. 

through decarabian’s fall, through the rise and fall of khaenri’ah, to the day that the abyss plundered the nations of teyvat, you had been there. you loved him through everything as did he, and now it was just the both of you nearing the end of time, under a sky torn apart from the war that had once seemed endless. 

it had been at least three thousand years since that day. three thousand years that almost seemed to have passed in an instant. fate truly does have such a cruel way of playing out, especially with how tangible the infinite realm of possibility was to an immortal than it could ever have been to a mere human, and that realm of possibility included carrying the weight and memories of a bygone world that the higher ones had left to wither away from both memory and existence.

suddenly, he feels a tug on his arm, and he doesn’t really have the time to react before he’s floating through the air, landing on a soft patch of grass that looks unusually squared against the dead soil. and before he can really process what happened, he starts laughing. it’s a hoarse sound from centuries of disuse, but it still has a raw sort of musicality to it. 

barbatos hasn’t felt this… weightless since the cataclysm two thousand years ago. 

you plop yourself next to him as he dusts himself off, and he watches. a bright glow emanates from your hand one moment, and there is a cecilia in it the next. you reach out and push the stalk of it into his hair. “you look so beautiful with flowers in your hair.”

you inhale sharply when you feel a tingling setting off in your palms, like a flame you can’t withdraw from. time had taken its toll on every immortal being— the erosion had started to cause you immense pain to bring new life into the world, and so the trees and flowers slowly died out too, just like the snow and the rivers and seas and the lightning and now, the earth. 

“what are you…—” he takes your hands in his, running his fingers over the cracks that had freshly appeared in them. golden ichor spills out, falling onto the grass and dissipating into the air. he lets go when you wince lightly, face softened with worry as he watches you. “doesn’t it hurt?”

“it does indeed,” you reply. the blades of grass withered away where your divine blood had spilled, sticking out a sore brown amidst the patch of green. “but there’s no point anymore, is there? there is no world to save anymore.”

“you’re right,” maybe it doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing anymore. the weight of the world on his shoulders is lightening up, and he begins to feel like a mere wind spirit again. “let us set ourselves free once more!”

in a brilliant display of light, barbatos unfurls his wings as he floats up into the air, braids coming wild and undone. a searing pain tears through his back and his lungs and his chest and he is caught somewhere between a wheeze, a shriek and a joyful laugh as he descends. there’s an ugly sound that’s somewhere between glass shattering and flesh tearing apart; his body is full of those ugly fractures, golden ichor falling out of every crevice of it, dripping down his beautiful face and majestic wings. “oh… oh, it hurts…”

it’s so difficult, so, so, difficult. your chest burns with every breath you take, but you make it— an expanse of green, a field of flowers of every kind that used to grow when times were not so discordant. an ugly splinter grows straight through the middle of your head.

barbatos lifts a shaky hand, caressing your cheek and wiping away the golden streaks running down them. you fall onto his shoulder; he feels your skin harden against his own, like bark of a tree. it’s grating, but it’s the last thing he’d ever feel; and so he pushes the discomfort to the back of his mind as he cradles your body that is slowly turning limp. 

“my lovely barbatos, in our long lives, i am so very grateful to have been able to be audience to your song.” you breathe out, and he rubs a tender hand on your back. but his palms don’t feel whole anymore— the end is approaching. “did you know? i am so happy that i get to breathe my last, with you by my side. whatever the end may be, neither of us will be alone.”

“forgive me, my windblume, for my voice is no longer what it used to be— my harp was lost in the war, too, but i hope that you won’t mind.” his throat burns, but he manages to sing a sweet lullaby that the mothers of mondstadt would sing to their children, a sweet song about the dandelions and windwheel asters. “rest well, my love.”

“i hope that we will be lovers, even in our next lives, if there is anything that awaits after this.” with your limbs effectively tangled, your bodies fall between the flowers, their clean petals being tainted by the gold blood that disappears as soon as it touches surface beneath a broken sky.

your vision fades into nothing as do all your other senses as your body turns back into the soil that you arose from, and barbatos’ body slowly dissipates into the air, like it had never been there in the first place. the world crumbles into itself under the weight of non-existence.