#or a rushed 'accident'? where she just kind of does it and then realizes as she pulls away?

[bikananjarrus]

i really need to take a stab at writing a kanera first kiss fic

[nightingale-prompts]

Comforting Your Batboy

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Danny slept next to Dick for a few days after what happened. He no longer felt secure about his place here. No matter where you go you take yourself with you and Danny is the problem here yet again.

Danny didn't understand affection, at least not the kind that a parent gave. The moment Danny told Dick that his parents were scientists Richard understood. Gotham had seen dozens of scientists who pushed the boundaries of morality and there was no shortage of children used to fulfill their ambitions.

Danny still missed his parents. Regardless of how things ended, he had lived his entire life with a family unit that on paper meant life was stable. He had somewhere to go and people who at least acknowledged him as family. Parents that took care of him at least out of obligation.

This story sounded familiar. Like Jason who never stopped loving his mom despite everything or Tim who accepted his neglect as what it was. They didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved them like they should. Dick was lucky to have the parent he had.

Danny remembered quiet dinners as his parents rushed to finish the food that Jazz made or them going on long tirades about their research. For 12 years they devotedly worked on that portal. Every chance they got they'd run off to the basement. Because it was their life's work, the only thing that mattered.

When it was unveiled, Jazz only scoffed. She hated the portal. Dad looked to Danny for praise and Danny didn't know what to say.

"Isn't it just the greatest thing you've ever seen?" Dad put his hand around Danny's shoulder.

"Well...its definitely a thing." Danny laughed awkwardly.

Danny had hoped that when the portal finished it would mean he'd spend time with his parents. Maybe they'd give him more than a passing glance when he brought them his report card. He could share with them his dreams and plans to be an astronaut. Show them the stars and all his research. To prove to them that he was a scientist too.

But that didn't happen. None of that would ever happen.

Jazz warned him not to hope for too much.

"People don't change Danny." She said simply.

Danny still tried. He still hoped. That hope made him try.

That hope killed him.

Danny never told Dick the specifics, about the accident. Dick never pried, but he knew something wasn't right.

Danny would cry in his sleep some nights. Dreams of a life that was far away now. Dick couldn't do much, all he could do was hold Danny's hand and wait for the nightmare to pass in hopes that Danny would forget his dream when he opened his eyes.

Danny's body was scarred. Something he used his powers to cover but they were still there and appeared when the stress got too much. Dick only saw a small part of them.

Dick got a full view once of Danny's back once when Dick left him a change of clothes. Lichtenberg scars like feathered ferns ripped through Danny's left arm and back. Danny hated it when people saw his scars and the marks disappeared the moment he realized he was being watched.

Dick didn't mention it. Not even the faint green glow the marks gave off.

"Why does Batman hate me?" Danny asked peeking out from under his blanket. He was still shrunk down

Dick bundled the toddler up in the blanket.

"He doesn't hate you. He just...he doesn't like things he doesn't understand." Dick tried to not make that sound awful.

"He doesn't understand me." Danny sighed.

"And he doesn't have to. He won't do anything to you. Not with me around. I promise. I know you've been hurt before and you must have felt alone but you got me." Dick ruffled his little fuzzball's hair.

(Ignore small errors. Have bat picture.)

[clowncaraz-journal]

i wrote in my journal about mouthwashing and how I didnt like the approach they did. i have new thoughts in this post id like to share.

SPOILERS.

Mention of (sexual) assault and other violence in a fictional setting.

here's the original entry:

nov 20 24 1:06am

i don't get the hype or the appeal of mouthwashing beyond the exaggerated retelling of five people; a naive kid, a cynical old man, a manipulative rapist, a neutral captain, and their unqualified nurse. it begins when they realize their freighter is the last of their kind and their company will be letting them all go. the old man has been here for decades, and the kid is too happy for his own good. the rapist was already hinting at pinning himself onto the nurse by his inappropriate alone time with her during psych evals. the nurse is then sexually assaulted. the captain knows and takes responsibility too late. the rapist knows that the captain knows. the rapist crashes the ship on purpose to pin himself as the hero and make himself captain. said rapist them destroys and forces every single crew member to kill themselves or get killed at his mercy, leaving the mangled and charred captain to suffer in a cryo pod, frozen for 20 years. rapist claims he had taken responsibility while forgetting to do the one thing like acknowledge he raped a woman and got people killed. said rapist takes his own life. the captain is the only living one, and survives for decades in agony. the game is not that hype. it's deeper messages mean something, but fail to breach the curtain of simplicity they were trying to tear down. i believe even if they didn't want it to be torn, they put too much attention on trying to make the player feel as though they are guilty alongside said rapist rather than having the second playthrough explain it all again. Needs more dead air and to play with the character models a bit longer to provide any "psychological damage" or sensation that people claim. other than that, they got their bag, and they got a game that at least makes sense in the first few minutes.

That was initial response to the gameplay and the hidden secrets in general. I've watched/played it over and over to find new things I didn't have time to and honestly. I have a bit more complicated feeling.

Mouthwashing could have been better. I'm planning on making my own story based around the game's premise but not directly related or even about it. I think I wanted something unique and not what happened. I don't believe Curly should be responsible for cleaning up the mess that Jimmy left. I don't think Jimmy should have been the main perspective of the game. I don't think Anya should have been dumped and rendered useless so quickly. I don't think Daisuke should have died. I don't think Swansea should have been there. I don't believe the story is finished though.

I am a firm believer that anyone should be held responsible for what they do and that person shouldn't be treated with respect until they do. Jimmy is this case. I have no feeling towards Anya's character nor do I think she should have been written to just be the victim. She was written in a way where her only purpose was to point out how bad Jimmy is - not to ever have her exist as a character on her own. She had lore but she was just a vehicle to showcase how bad Jimmy would be as a character.

I believe that Jimmy did this: He had past violent behavior that Curly was subject to at multiple points before and during the trip. He assaulted Anya because he could. When he found out that Anya told Curly, he knew Curly was going to get him in trouble. Curly was taking responsibility, and does it so much in fact the mere fact that he would do it in this case made Jimmy crash the ship. Knowing that if he set the ship into an accident, Curly as the pilot would rush into the cockpit and try to take responsibility for it again. to fix it. "I will fix it." Jimmy exploited Curly and disabled him as punishment for Curly's ability to be "too" responsible. For not being quiet. Jimmy planned to make sure that the only person who knew about the rape was him, and horribly treated the ones who did know so that they would suffer for their knowledge. When dealing with Swansea, he neglected a lot of interpersonal ideology between him and Daisuke to the point where he completely tried to have a "I will fix this" moment in regards to sending Daisuke up there will clear knowledge that Daisuke was going to likely be injured. He injured the boy so he could have his Curly moment. When Swansea kills Daisuke, that drives a further wedge where he realizes now that he can't do Curly's job because Curly was a good person. He was going to get Jimmy fired, he was going to take responsibility for Jimmy's faults, he was going to do everything in his power to fix it. But he knew about all of this too late. He knew about the assault and the pregnancy and what Jimmy did a few minutes before the ship crashed. And that's what Jimmy wanted. Jimmy overlooking everything he did to everyone besides Curly was him acknowledging not that he was actually in the wrong but that he wasn't a good captain of the ship. That's all he took responsibility for. That he was horrible at maning a ship. Nothing else. He didn't care about Curly, he was physically assaulting Curly the entire game. He cared about Curly knowing that he would be the "hero" by killing himself and "saving" Curly. That's it.

The issue with all of this is perspective. The way the game does it is that the player starts with Jimmy and ends with Curly, but the middle is Jimmy. I don't like this approach simply because it does what most psychological horror games do and tries to teach the player a message by pinning the blame on the character (by extension, the player). They shame you. you have to take responsibility for something you didn't do, but what you allowed to happen, silently implying that Curly has to take responsibility for letting Jimmy (the 1%, the dead pixel) be ignored because of the bigger picture (the 9.99%, the bigger picture.) I don't believe Curly let him slip through. Curly was ignorant to his own treatment from Jimmy. This is to say that Curly was a victim - an afterthought to Jimmy. Anya was not more of a victim because she was sexually assaulted. Equally, their troubles of being physically harmed are important.

Just because Curly was willing to be around Jimmy doesn't mean he was comfortable. It doesn't mean he was happy. It doesn't mean he wanted to be his friend. To me, he had a choice and was stuck on a ship with him. When Curly asks Anya, "was he angry?" It isn't just him being Curly, it's him consoling her because he KNOWS what it's like to be at the end of Jimmy's wrath. He knows. Just because he's captain, just because he's a man, just because he's a problem solver - it doesn't mean he's invincible to the narrative that is Jimmy's manipulation. Jimmy being upset at Curly taking all of the attention is not just him being jealous, it's him looking for a way to break down Curly so he'd give HIM more room knowing that Curly would be passive towards him because he HURTS him.

I would have loved to see all of this game through Curly's perspective. A 5 hour max game with no music, altered sound, minimal movement, and tiny details. You get to be a bystander to a story you unwilling helped to unfold by being an abuse victim who's choices were to either be passive or fight. And you knew you couldn't fight him. Being passive is a flaw not because it makes you horrible but because horrible person make you passive. And if Mouthwashing was like that, I'd 100% feel a lot more understanding of the hype surrounding it. It would have taken more of my attention, more of my thoughts, and made my actually think about how people are more likely to squeeze themselves in rather than be let it by others. Jimmy did not fall through the cracks, he forced himself through the pathway by molding the people around him into things that contrasted him, all so he could feel better when he pointed out how bad they were at their jobs (telling Anya she's not a good nurse, doubting Swansea's capabilities, pushing Curly to the side as if he was the worst...)

But yes, please tell me more about how Curly is the worst man to ever exist.

[frogsandfries]

Who knows how long Beast has been frozen in time, simultaneously forever a child naïve to the ways of a world he's never interacted with, as much as he has been looked to by the servants caught up in this mess to be the leader he was bred to be. Of course, with time continuing to pass beyond the cursed walls, stories have been spread to keep people away from this particular castle.

The little boy reaches out a hand to touch an ethereally beautiful rose that floats in the center of the garden where the fountain usually is. His hand bumps into a sharp thorn in the stem. In the dream, he doesn't feel the pain, but he feels the drop of blood splash upon the grass. Suddenly, the garden is filled with haunting, cruel laughter of many inhuman voices. They've tricked him, and now he'll be a beast so hideous as to be unlovable by any, the ultimate curse. His father's blood line will have no choice but to perish and the kingdom will belong to the fae once again, as it should.

Beast jars awake in the library, the book falling from his enormous chest to the floor. Why does he dream about that........ day, that horrible, stupid, childish accident all the time. It's done and there's nothing he can do except languish, frozen in time, trapped within the walls of the castle, unable to leave. What a cruel curse to burden a little boy with.

Of course, he has no way of knowing what legends and lore his story has evolved into, stories of a heart-consuming monster who tricks women, stories of someone whose foul and wicked soul has been made his exterior, someone who could never love and would never deserve to be loved. It's better that he doesn't know; the stories told when fires have burned low and children have gone to sleep would only hurt the sweet, naïve Beast.

Stories Belle had never heard before ambling into this little village in an isolated valley where she hopes her step-mother, and step- and half-sisters will never hear of her.

Belle wakes from what fitful little sleep she was barely able to get through nightmares of the gnarled, grizzled old drunk her step-mother tried to sell her to.

She rises quietly in the faint light of the approaching dawn. Her step-mother, step- and half-sisters sleep inside the house proper, on the far side of the house from Belle. Barefoot, Belle tiptoes out of the makeshift barely-a-room. She collects several bags from around the property, loads the farm horse, and quietly leads him off, away from the sun as the mist is being burned away by the sun.

A good distance away from the house, she rearranges the bags, mounts the horse and they set off at a better pace. Belle's mind rushes. Why haven't they come after her yet, what will they do when they catch her, where is she going to go, what are they going to do when they realize everything she took, what was she thinking?

Isolated in his cursed castle, Beast has no idea his life is about to finally gain momentum. This Belle is just as stunningly brilliant as the Belle in the original writing of the tale, as well as beautiful, but being so intelligent was no blessing for a girl who grew up socially isolated, neglected and verbally marred for more of her childhood than she hadn't.

Of course no one knows the truth of why he was cursed: The Beast was not transfigured to match his ugly interior, as rumor evolved into lore. He was merely a boy, caught in the crossfire of a battle between his father and the powerful fae his father had insulted, cursed to wear the appearance of a beast until he could find someone who could confess their love for him. After all, what is love that you can't verbalize.

A seemingly kind fae creature, feeling sad for the prince who would live his short life as a beast too hideous for any mortal woman to love, gave the boy what she thought was a gift, the chance to live, frozen and concealed in time. She comes to see him periodically, giving him new magical gifts--a magic mirror, a magic pantry, a magic book. Sometimes the fae is like a friend, sometimes like a mother--and lately, sometimes she's more familiar with the fallen prince. Idk maybe I throw that out.

Even though Belle's stomach is somehow more empty than her purse, she resolves to locate this castle--after all, the tales must have a granule of truth to them in there somewhere, and there doesn't appear to have been any nobles looking after this area for a long time. They must have lived somewhere. What's the worst that could happen? Her heart torn out and eaten by a monster? She might die of starvation or freeze to death in the rapidly approaching winter anyway, and then her heart would go to waste, scavenged by wolves or ravens. Belle had always fantasized about her prince charming whisking her off to a kingdom far, far away, where she could wear a new dress made of gems every day, if she wanted to. Even long-crumbling ruins of a castle are still a castle, right? Even if there isn't even a speck of gold dust remaining? It would be more shelter against the cold than the frigid pews of the church in the village.

[lumilasi]

Updated these two to add them to NCP. Also decided to change Silas into a girl instead, as otherwise their mom (design pending) would be stuck with FOUR gremlin boys lol

The Faylunes are probably the most well-adjusted family in this story (alongside the Knights), but even they aren't without tragedy in it.

Info below:

Age(s): 18

Heights: they're both roughly 167 cm tall

Nicknames:

Milo: Gremlin I Celine: Cece

Alternate name: Celine & Milo Danau (Danau is the Fae bloodline surname)

(coming from the latin name danaus, referring to a tribe of tiger butterflies)

Family: older brothers Claude and Hayden, Mother (name pending)

Friends: Classmate Adam Knight, sometimes they also hang out with Ichirou's group. (Ichirou, Marco, Janus & Clover)

Occupation: High school students.

Abilities:

MILO

As a SPD, he can merge with shadows and traverse through them. He can also paralyse people by, er, chomping them, or in case of small children, just by staring at them.

His kind feed off of fear their presence causes, and so he naturally gives Spooky Vibes when in demon form, which can cause paranoia, anxiety or small unease in people. (His vibes aren't as strong as Hayden's yet)

As a moth/bug type, he can also fly and shrink into a tiny size if he wants to.

Having a fae heritage means he is able to summon his wings (and extra pair of arms) in fae/human form without needing to transform fully.

He's pretty good at smacking things with staff-like weapons.

CELINE

She is highly intelligent, able to process information quickly and is curious/persistent enough to dig out things she doesn't know about, even if its hard

Excellent swordswoman, Celine's skill with her dual blades is considered highly impressive for her age.

She is incredibly stealthy, able to sneak up on even her brother Hayden, which is not an easy feat.

Fairly fast and agile at flying, though not as fast as Hayden who is Very Speedy Boi

Personality:

Milo: A friendly, kind of a chaotic gremlin with himbo energy. Means well but has a bad habit of breaking things and causing chaos accidentally. Temperamental and ready to throw hands for his friends and family anytime. Dumb enough to not realize if someone has a crush on him, unless he gets told directly (might still not connect the dots lol)

Celine: Smart, seemingly the polite and level-headed one. An absolutely mischievous gremlin in truth who likes messing with people and causing chaos just like Milo - only intentionally, and she is typically able to cover her tracks. Really loves learning about new things and is pretty competitive, often wanting to prove she's smartest in the room, for better or worse.

Weaknesses:

Milo: Due to witnessing their father's death, Milo has a phobia of tight places/being buried alive and therefore doesn't enjoy being in cramped rooms or crowds that get too big. He is mute that does sometimes cause trouble with communication, as not everyone understands sign language, and he doesn't know any telepathy spells and struggles to learn such magic.

Celine: Sometimes a bit too smug for her own good, where she overestimates her own capabilities. Her competitiveness can lead to problems where she might lash out at her friends and family if she loses, and generally act kind of mean. She always does apologize once she realizes she's gone too far, though.

ABOUT THEIR LATE FATHER:

The Faylunes had a fairly normal and happy family life living at the glow apple farm they ran.

Things changed however as their father was crushed in an accident during a storm, where the barn collapsed onto him; a lightning had struck it and he'd gone there to try and put the fire out.

Milo had rushed to try and help his dad when he'd gotten stuck under fallen debris and due to being disoriented hadn't been able to use his shrinking ability to escape,. Unfortunately, Milo didn't make it on time, and the resulting sudden flash of fire from the collapse also hit Milo, resulting in him losing his other eye and later wearing an eyepatch. (There is regenerative magic in this world, but trying to regenerate such delicate organs like eyes to another person is very risky and often not worth the effort)

Since he's the only one who directly witnessed the event, he was hit the worst out of the whole family, going mute and developing severe fear of tight places that seem to threaten to collapse onto him, like the barn collapsed onto their father. (He didn't develop a fear of fire given it ultimately wasn't the blaze that killed their dad, and had he not gotten trapped, their father could've probably managed to put the fire out.)

Fun Facts

Every sibling in this family has a clothing piece referencing their butterfly/moth wings and theme made by their mom; Celine has her long-sleeved shirt, Milo his fluffy cardigan coat, Claude his jacket, and while Hayden has no natural wings, being a Moon Mage instead of Fae, he still has agreen butterfly themed shirt made to him by their mother.

Milo's SPD form is blue as the inverse of his wing colors is bunch of blues.

Celine is a huge fan of Avane Faydream, as she's seen how incredibly good fighter and tactician she is, and she really digs tough and smart ladies.

Another person she finds cool is Adam's oldest brother Chester(Azul) who is currently "away," (he's a wanted fugitive for stealing something highly valuable and dangerous from the Overshadower Council, a branch of their world's government), but Celine doesn't know that)

Generally, she tends to dig confident and intelligent people, who are able to use their tactical skill to defeat an opponent instead of brute forcing it.

Milo is closest with their oldest sibling Claude among the bunch, but generally all 4 siblings are fairly close and have their own inside jokes that others don't get.

Celine in turn, is closer with Hayden than Claude

Milo's wings are based on Atlas moth, and Celine's the tiger butterfly like their older brother Claude's wings.

Milo tends to want to keep his cardigan on even during summer, when its honestly too warm to wear. This tends to lead to him stripping naked apart from the said cardigan, up until his mom tells him off

Milo's shirt has the logo of his favorite in-world rockband, the Showman's Lament. His sister also loves it, and owns a similar shirt, just white instead of dark grey.

While, like their older siblings, the two go to school in the capital Chrysalis city, they always travel back home to their mom for weekends and holidays, as she's currently mostly by herself otherwise.

Their dad was the Sleep Paralysis Demon, while their mum is the tiger butterfly Fae

The siblings' style tends to be kind of a mix of urban, sporty and punky fashion when in the city, but at the farm they do wear more practical clothing to help out their mother. (Hayden and Claude do the same ofc)

Milo has a ravenous appetite and will easily devour meals meant for three people.

When he's stressed, Milo might monch on canvases, including their home curtains sometimes which are full of 'mysterious' holes as a result.

[mphillipsfms]

[ michael evans behling, cismale, he/him ] - was that MONTEZ PHILLIPS i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY-NINE year old who has been in nightrest for HIS WHOLE LIFE and works  as a/an HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER has a reputation of being YOUTHFUL, but also STUBBORN. they reside in ASHMORE & people in town usually associate them with WAFFLE MAKERS OF DIFFERENT DESIGNS, A PEN WITH HIS INITIALS ENGRAVED, UNFINISHED CUP OF NOW-COLD COFFEE. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

FULL NAME: montez aldo phillips NICKNAMES: monty, tez AGE: 29 / march 22nd, 1994 GENDER & PRONOUNS: cismale, he/him FACECLAIM: michael evans behling HEIGHT: 6’2” SEXUALITY: heterosexual OCCUPATION: high school teacher

tw: death, pregnancy, miscarriage, car accident, amnesia

montez phillips was born and raised in a wealthy but humble household, both his parents working in the field of education, father, matthew phillips, a basketball coach and a physical education teacher whilst his mother, kalina phillips, the deputy principal, both working at the wardwell academy, where the two have also met before, became close friends, eventually fell in love, got married and had montez and his siblings, malachi and melany. it was like a common love story, a picket white fence home, with the occasional problems, either of their kids getting into light troubles, of course, but that’s how it usually was. their family was tight, not just within their unit but also their relatives, especially ones who lived nearby. everything was perfect, if you ask a young montez, or monty, as his parents would like to call him. the phillips family was everything he could ask for, and was grateful for everything that he has with them.

though, like any other stories, montez’s life took a turn. one day he was pulled out of class by his mother himself, his father was rushed to the university medical center due to him suffering a heart attack while he was teaching one of his classes. he was dead on arrival.

and just like that, everything fell apart. his mother grew distant, and even when both him and his brother both went through their rebellious stages just to get her attention, it did not do much, only a lecture and a conversation with anyone that would get them out of any kind of trouble they’d make. the brothers then grew closer than ever, realizing at a young age that nothing they do would bring their mother back, the woman they loved and looked up to when their father was still alive, the light of her life isn’t there anymore.

though as he grew up, he had this girl who would instantly become one of his closest friends, somehow someone who made what he’s going through sufferable. lunara kaplan, she was someone he grew up with, and became comfortable talking about anything and everything. of course, he does have his brother, but in a way, it feels good to have another person in his life whom he didn’t have to be related to for him to lean on. she was one of the very few people who knew he wanted to follow his parents’ footsteps, that in an early age, he developed his love for teaching, and throughout the way, lu supported him, encouraged him throughout the years, in fact, she was one of the few people he talked about getting the job at this school his parents used to work at. and before he knew it, he was falling deeply in love with her. it took a while for montez to muster up the courage to tell her, scared that he was going to lose their friendship if he messed it up. yet everything felt so organic, everything falling into place from the moment he poured his heart out to the other to when they found out they were expecting a child.

montez was thrilled, that it was something he prepared himself so much for, not just because he was going to be a father, but also, he was about to take a huge step, share this part of his life with his best friend. it was something he couldn’t stop talking about, lu sometimes finding him reading a book about pregnancy in his down times. he wanted to be there with her every step of the way.

but, as usual, his life, then again, would take another turn. good things don’t last forever, he realizes. the day lu lost their baby was also the day he lost her, and before he knew it, lu vanished. however, montez clung on the little bit of hope left in his heart, searching for the woman, driving around the city to search for her, at least for a goodbye if that’s what she wanted to do, leave, he will respect that. except, the endless and exhausting search leads to another unfortunate thing to happen, as lunara kaplan left, so did a lot of their memories, too.

it has been a month since the accident, and montez is on the road towards recovery, being decided that he’s not yet fit to go back to teaching, though he’s trying to life his life as normally as he possibly could, still not a trace of any memory of his relationship with lu and it’s bitter end, or is it?

[flames-memory]

went to see BC dj at penny palace.

I talked to her after. How do I tell her how awful I feel?? I'm not happy. I want to be, but I'm not. I feel weird and wrong and bad and I don't know how to fix it. I kept trying, and I'd end apologizing for... stuff.

I don't even remember what. Just.. always it's my fault. And every time, I feel smaller. Is that me doing something wrong? How the FUCK do I know. I don't know how to do anything here but give my love and try to take care of the people I love.

That's what I did. Why does it feel like my fire has had this drip, dripping water, slowly suffocating it? I couldn't even explain it all here... I felt like my complaints were just.. being petty and jealous. I wanted to be part of the family of three. It sounded so nice.

But all I felt was dead inside.

I look at my life, and I see the frustration, the love, the care and the careless moment, I see the darkness I was rescued from, and the light I live in now.

Is this growing up? I think so. Not the situation, but making a choice. I will end up right back in the darkness if I don't. I could feel the old deadness, the feeling of just... letting myself be physically there, but not emotionally.

That scared me. I went from the happy weekend.. the happy accident. We hadn't planned to spend the weekend. In fact.. I just wanted to jump his bones his first night there, so he'll always think of me there. It's evil, I know, but I never once claimed to be a good guy.

I stole the barcode shirt. MINE to sleep in.

Anyway... I already talked about all that. It was just... shockingly beautiful. Not unlike those other early days, realizing I had the ability to love, more, that I could feel SO much. It was very much the same.

and then I wake up to this feeling of dread... of ashes and smoke. I knew I couldn't pretend. I could FEEL it. That yawning chasm.

Go, he said. MUST go. Like I hadn't figured that out at that point.

Not can feel me. I can sort of feel him, but, it's murky and vague. I kind of know he wants me to be happy. So freaking weird. Like I have a guardian...something.

Anyway, I'm avoiding it.

I told her I couldn't do this anymore. I think she would rather I just... tried to fix things, but I feel like I've been trying to fix things.

Maybe there was a lot going on, and she was busy or dealing with whatever, but in the end, none of it matters. Things went the way they did, and my heart doesn't feel the same. I love her, I'll always love her and be grateful to her.

But I can't be in her bed anymore.

That feels wrong now. Like I'm taking steps backwards. I can't control this! I can't adjust my settings so that I feel different. I just can't do it anymore.

I tried to tell her to be proud of what she's done, that I' her creation. It's true. She did what was needed to make me a whole person. I maybe did a little of the work myself, but she made me possible.

When I was with her and Faye, I felt more like a cog in a machine. Not when we were alone, and not the first time with Faye.

I don't think I ever got over that one day... the feeling when Faye showed up out of the blue... understanding at that moment that I would never be the same. I wanted to like it... I tried so hard,

I guess I can't do it. It killed something, feeling like I was back in the stable... that's not something that was done to me, it was how I felt. I can't control that. I didn't understand it.

I think it just felt like I had lost half my value.. and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get it back.

If that's my failing, then so be it. I can't help it. Was it because I can't do it, or because the damage done was irreversible? Was it because I cannot share, or because somehow things were rushed, and I didn't have time to grow into it naturally? Was there too much pressure, or am I truly unable to love more than one person?

I feel like I can, I was... but it ended. However else you look at it, that is where I am now.

She.. tried to handle it well. Offered to erase my memories of her, which.. fuck.

that would probably destroy me, turn me back into the fucking morass I was before.

It scares the shit out of me think she could destroy everything I am now with a fucking injection!?!

She says she wants me to be happy. It's all I want for her too. I know this is devastating... I realize I had become so important to her.

I just couldn't breathe anymore.

[steohaniekr]

Chloe Matildo- 6 Kindness

                                   ---------Out of my mind---------

A rainy day at school had occurred, it had made everyone excited for the students were able to do whatever they wanted to in the rain, but not for Marcy. Marcy doesn’t have any friends, she doesn’t even have the courage to make any. She was an eleven-year-old girl who had lived alone ever since, and only had her servants to look out for her and never got to feel her parents’ love. This resulted to her feeling left out and that nobody loved her.

One day, on a daily basis in going to school Marcy stopped by to admire the flowers in the neighbourhood and lost track of time. That was when she realized that she had been late! She left the flowers in a rush to get to her school but as she crossed the road a car crashed into her! That was when Marcy had a freak accident on her way to school. She had a serious head injury that nobody knew about except for the driver of course. Her head injury was serious that it could lead to death.

Strangely enough, Marcy had woken up to a different place. There were people surrounding her. “AAAH!” She screamed in horror “Who are you?! Where am I?! What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?! What do you want-!” “Chill” Said a brown hair girl in a calm expression. “A middle age woman found you lying on the side of the street and asked us for help to get you here.” The girl said munching on her caramel salted chocolate. “But where is this place, I don’t think I’m ever familiar of- “Welcome to evermore!” Interrupted those people. “The name of the village may seem weird to you, however we call it this way because everything that stays here will be here, forever and always.” Marcy had a tour of the place. It was like a whole new different world. Like it was some place that does not even exist. It was somewhat like a fairy tale or some sort of folklore. It was mostly a place that Marcy had always imagined to be in. “Woww!” Mary exclaimed. “This place is glamorous!” She added. “Yes, this place is really, really…old, in fact, we must always make this place neat, shower it with plants and make sure this place will be a safe haven to everyone…” Said the girl in brown hair. They introduced themselves to each other and made friends to one another, in which Marcy learns that the girl’s name is Blair. “This is the best time I’ve ever had in my life! I don’t know what I’d ever do without you Blair!” Marcy squealed. “No…Thank you Marcy, it’s been a long time since I’ve ever made a friend, or toured arou- That reminds me…I haven’t showed you the mountains yet!” “Pardon? Mountains?” “Yes, the mountains to which my great, great, great, great, great grandfather created to save us folks” Blair explained to Marcy. This made Marcy think…Was Blair’s grandfather a wizard? Or some sort of mad scientist? But that can’t be, because the world she’s in seems just so…old! “Now come on Marcy! Come on with me to see the aurora borealis green!” It was a long hike up to the mountains…But it was great! “Woah…!” Said Marcy speechless. The view was like no other, it was the view of a pitched black sky enlighten by the colours of neon green, with a bit of bluish purple. The feeling of looking at this sight made her feel the loss of her emptiness…and her loneliness. However, as the wind started to hurl, she heard a voice calling out for her. “Marcy!” Marcy!” “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

A familiar voice had been calling out to her. Marcy’s head began to spin, her vision filled with blur. Everything was pitched black…She opened her eyes and saw, her parents. “What?” Marcy exclaimed. “Why am I h-here in the hospital I was literally just there in evermore and I-I-“ She stuttered. “Marcy my dear, you have been hallucinating all this time because of schizophrenia. It was just like a dream…a dream like you were in a world that you probably imagined so you didn’t live in this mess… You’ve been creating all of it to keep away from reality. And it was just terrible for us to hit you!... Our very own daughter… I talked to your doctor honey, and I am very sorry for not being such a good parent, it doesn’t matter to us if you don’t instantly or forgive us at all, we just don’t want that to happen again, Marcy. I know you feel betrayed… You probably made friends in those hallucinations of yours… But dear, school is a big place for you to explore, there can be so much people to be a friend of yours”. Her mom’s words hit her, but everything she said was right, and although her parents broke her heart, she forgave them because all she wanted was a family that would love and care for her. Well except for the part that her parents caused the accident.

A few days after she had recovered, she went back to school early, without stopping by to admire the flowers. It rained again, but this time she went out to have some fun in the rain and celebrate her recovery, that was when she spotted a quiet girl standing outside in the pouring rain watching other kids play. Marcy approached her. “Hello, there! I see you watching them play, do you mind joining me?” They chuckled, having fun playing together. “Thank you for hanging out with me, it was really fun and the first time someone has ever done that to me, but we better get inside now, by the way what’s your name? I’m Blair!”

                                       --------THE END-------

[bigboysteveharrington]

Eddie lowkey outing himself by accident but Robin’s the only one that’s even certain that’s what’s happening

Eddie’s finally graduated and he’s having a celebratory bonfire with the Hellfire Club and Steve and Nancy and Robin at it. They’re out by Skull Rock so that they won’t get shit or noise complaints from other people in the trailer park. They’ve already ceremonially burned 6 years worth of Eddie’s notes and homework and failed tests by the time Eddie goes off on his own

Which later, he’ll realize wasn’t a great choice. But it’s supposed to be safe in Hawkins with all the gates closed now and in the moment, he just knows that his bladder has caught up to all the drinking and he really needs to take a leak. And okay, maybe he goes a little further away from everyone than is strictly necessary, but he has a shy bladder

And it’s fine at first. He takes a piss and zips his pants back up and goes to head back to where everyone else is but then he gets cut off by the latest kind of demo-monster to be on the loose in Hawkins and he has nothing on him but his wallet, his lighter, and a pack of cigarettes so he is certain that he’s really dead meat this time

He stumbles backwards in his rush to get away from the demo-thing and ends up falling over a broken branch and landing on his ass. The things still moving closer and they’re not supposed to like fire, so he pulls his lighter out and holds the pathetic little flame at arm’s length and yells at it to keep back as if that’s going to do anything. He shouts at it as loud as he can, but he’s the one that brought the boombox and set the volume at the highest so he’s not holding out a lot of hope about being heard and he doesn’t know that it would really help if any of them heard him anyway. So mostly he just thinks he’s dragging out his own death by making the thing come after him slightly more hesitantly because of the fire

But Steve notices Eddie sneak off on his own and it hasn’t been that long, but he thought he’d be back by now, so he’s already contemplating going to check that he’s fine when he hears something off in the direction Eddie went over the shitty music

And clearly Nancy heard it too because she’s already rushing off in that direction and while Robin and the kids rush after her to see what’s going on and Eddie’s out of the loop friends look at each other confused about what’s going on, Steve grabs a big ass stick off the ground and pours the last of his drink over the end and dunks it in the fire and then grabs a big ass bottle of vodka for good measure because even though he couldn’t totally hear what Eddie called out and even though this might just be Eddie up to his usual dramatics on the way back, Steve knows there’s a very real chance that it’s not and that once again the nightmare with the Upside Down isn’t really over like they thought it was and there’s no way he’s risking rushing in as weaponless as everyone else and putting them all in danger. He’ll be the weird guy that chased Eddie with a flaming tree branch to his Hellfire friends if he has to be because he’ll take that over risking anything happening to anyone there

Eddie’s lying on his back on the ground with the full body weight of the demo-thing on him and he’s got his eyes clenched shut and he’s holding on tight to his lighter with his hands up with to protect his face as if that’s going to do anything to stop this thing from ripping him to shreds, but then suddenly there’s a squelching thwack and then an awful ear-splitting screeching and there’s nothing holding Eddie down anymore. He opens his eyes and sees Steve beating the thing with a flaming tree branch and Nancy grabbing an equally large not flaming stick to join in while everyone else rushes over to check that Eddie’s okay. And then Steve warns Nancy to back up and throws the vodka bottle at the demo-thing and lights it fully on fire

It takes a bit for it to burn and Eddie to remember how to stand back up, but by the time he does, Eddie’s adrenaline is still running wild and he’s floating on the natural high that comes with narrowly escaping death. He tells the kids he’s fine and gets up and then turns to Steve and starts heading toward him while he laughs and gushes, “That was incredible. I was sure I was sure I was a goner and then there you were just casually pulling off the most badass move I’ve ever seen out of anyone. Seriously dude. That was awesome. I swear I could kiss you right now.” Which he emphasizes by grabbing Steve’s face in both hands and then planting a quick dramatic kiss on him and he only really realizes what he’s done in front of everyone after he’s already let go of his face so he quickly rushes to add, “Seriously, I could kiss all of you right now” but then nope, that’s not a good cover either and he realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, so he quickly adds, “I mean not any of you kids because that’d be weird, but” and thankfully Robin chimes in with “I’m good without” and Nancy quickly adds that she is too so Eddie doesn’t have to start kissing all of his friends near his age just to try to cover for the whole heat of the moment kissing Steve before thinking it through thing. And Steve hasn’t hit him, so that’s a good sign that he might get out of this with people just assuming this is another one of his eccentricities and nothing serious

The kids and Nancy just assume that the kiss was just an extension of his dramatics and that he thought it would be funny. Robin is onto Eddie, but not about to say anything about it. Steve’s too busy with his internal huh, okay… apparently I like that to even start considering Eddie’s motives until long after the kiss has actually happened

[artzee-bee]

Not going anywhere | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer

Request:” Hi i have request for you ,Lucifer and the reader have a big fight they are married, and this fight it's lucifer fault The reader leaves home and Lucifer decides to give her space After a few days, he goes to the reader and realizes that she has been missing for a few days,When the person behind all this claims that the reader is dead and gives them a her body . Everyone thinks that the reader is dead and Lucifer He gets depressed and thinks it's all his fault , and after a few days, the thieves release the singer and the reader goes to Lucifer.Lucifer first thinks it is an imagination and then apologizes to the reader Thank you so much”

Genre: Angst with happy ending

Warnings: kidnapping, death

~~~

Your intention had never been to start a fight. All you wanted an explanation (preferably one that also made sense) and an apology, but apparently that was too much to ask, because as soon as you voiced your opinion, Lucifer went up in flames

“Don’t start this again!”

“I dislike it just as much as you do but what I hate more is being cancelled on, AGAIN, through a text message no less!”

“It was an emergency!”

“It’s always an emergency Lucifer! It’s starting to sound a lot like work means more to you than I do!” “The detective needs me, damn it!” your husband yelled

“And she has you! Every day of every week! All I ask for is one date night and for the past month you’ve done nothing but avoid committing to one or backing out at the last second! I’m tired of being your second choice Lucifer! I’m your wife and you are my husband, I love you to the ends of the world, I just wish you'd say no to Decker from time to time...”

“I’m saving people’s lives Y/N. So if you’re not on your deathbed, other people are and they need me now!” as he said this, Lucifer walked right past you and into your bedroom, seemingly ignorant to the painful words he’d just said. You looked around the living room, vision blurry with tears, your chest heavy with anger and disgust. You rushed towards the elevator.

“When you find time in your busy schedule and feel like being my spouse again, let me know!” the elevator door closed before Lucifer could say anything

~~~

When Lucifer woke up the next morning to a cold and empty bed, he didn’t think much of it.Truthfully, he was still kind of pissed at the attitude you had given him a day before, so he got dressed as usual and went to the precinct, assuming you’ll be home by nightfall.

Except when he got home that night, he stopped by Lux first, which ended up like it always does: with him sucked into an endless cycle of booze and dancing, that lasted until well into the night. When he did enter the penthouse eventually, he found it empty. Exactly the way he had left it in the morning. Even the tie he had left on the floor, after deciding last minute that it didn’t go with his suit, was untouched. Now this was curious, but still, Lucifer felt like you must be playing hard to get. He sent you one text message, before going to bed

“Call me when you can!”

The day after that, he figured his part was done! By reaching out first, he had already made a big compromise, so now it was your turn! To reach out, come home! But that didn’t happen that day, or the day after that.

Three days after the text message,Lucifer was getting worried. He was looking at his phone every other minute. Always making sure he hadn’t accidently put it on silent or missed any texts. He sent more messages, telling you he was sorry and that he wanted you to come home. That he would listen and spend more time with you, promising luxurious dates and weekend trips, if only you forgave him. You didn’t even open the messages.

“Lucifer are you listening?” Decker was insanely annoyed at her partner’s lack of concentration

“Sorry detective. I’ve...I’ve got a lot on my mind”

“Well, better get it out of the way now, so that we can move on to our case!” she said, cleaning out her desk quickly, before resting back into her chair “Talk to me!”

“It’s Y/N. I’m worried about her!”

“Why?” “We...had a fight a couple days ago and she left. She hasn’t come back since”

“Have you heard from her at all?”

“No…” Lucifer said, embarrassed at his own lack of care for you. He should have called you earlier, reached out more! He should have tried harder!

“How long had she been missing for?”

“4...maybe 5 days…”

“Lucifer, are you sane? And you’re only telling me now?!” Chloe jumped from her seat, turning on her computer

“I thought she needed space! I thought she was avoiding me intentionally cause she was angry! I didn’t know…” Lucifer choked back a sob, not wanting to break down in tears in the middle of the precinct

“Lucifer!” Chloe caught hold of his hand “I’m gonna find her! I promise you!” A few days later, she did. Well, more like Y/n came to her, in the shape of a pretty little gift box left on Decker's doorstep.

“A lil too late on your case detective” read the note attached to it. 

Inside were Y/N’s clothes, all of them stained with dark, dried blood. Y/N was declared dead that day and the case was closed. At her funeral, only her closests friends were present. Lucifer wanted it to be as intimate as possible.

That day was also the first time anyone had seen Lucifer, since the news. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes almost matched the black suit he was wearing. Throughout the ceremony he kept twisting his wedding band, a habit he’d picked up on since you went missing. He chose not to do a speech, but once the crowd disappeared, and he was left face to face with your grave, he pulled out a little piece of paper from his pocket and sat down on the grass.

“In hell, everyone feared me. There, I was nothing but another server of the universe, ruling over an empire I never really wanted, because I never had a choice. So eventually I left, thinking anywhere will be better than what I had, and I came to earth.

I ran into you about 2 weeks later, before I really even knew how to behave myself. Before I knew anything about who I really was besides ‘the devil’. I longed to know, grow and discovers different sides of me, where I could be something new, and you gave it to me. You made me who I never thought I could possibly be. You made me a lover. I never thought of myself as capable to love anyone, in any degree, but your light shone everywhere you went and your kindness touched me and everyone around you. It became impossible to not get infatuated with your person. I allowed you to see and feel around every dark corner of my soul and being and every time I thought it was the end. Everytime I would take in your touch as if it was the last, I would prepare myself for abandonment, but it never came. Through everything you stood by my side and when I felt my darkest, you gave me a fistful of your light and that was enough to keep me going. You married a broken man and called him perfect, despite everyone telling you how much of a foul you were. Even then, you shooed them away. Even then you chose me. I wasn’t worthy of your love or your trust and our last night together proved it.

You’re not here anymore to hear my apologies and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You’ve gone now somewhere I can not follow, but I know you are well taken care of there. I hope, someway, somehow, you’ll hear these words: I am sorry. I loved you with my entire soul. Not listening to you was the biggest mistake of my life and I’ll never forgive myself. I choose however, to remember you as you were, because I know that’s what you’d want. I’ll remember you and your laugh.I’ll remember our date nights and shopping sprees. Nights in Lux or on the penthouse balcony. I’ll remember all the meals you prepared for me and the flirtatious remarks you used to make, because you thought they were so silly. I’ll remember the little frown on your face whenever you worked on an important project for work and I’ll remember every evening walk around the block you’d make me accompany you on. I know I always complained about them, but they were always fun. Everything I ever did with you was always fun.

I loved you. I still do. You are my everything Y/N. Thank you for devoting yourself to me in all the ways that you did. I’ll forever live on in my heart.“

~~~

It had been months since your disappearance. After all this time, you finally managed to escape your kidnappers and report them to the New York police station, since that’s where you had been held hostage for so long. As soon as the paperwork was done and you were sure that the people who ruined you were getting the punishment they deserved, you jumped on a train and headed straight back home. Straight to Lucifer.

Lux looked exactly the same as you had left it. You were washed over by a wave of comfort that almost brought you to tears. Home. You never thought you’d get to step in here again. Overwhelmed, you took a seat on one of the couches, allowing your head to rest back on it, as you took in every detail of your surroundings: the feel of the leather on your fingertips, the cool breeze of the air conditioning, the warm lights. Everything was still here.

“Y/N?” you jumped at the sound

“Hi love…” your voice broke as you said those words. Words you never thought you would be able to mutter again. The sight of your husband, messy as he was, made you weak in the knees. He was standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in nothing but his robe, tied carelessly around his waist. He had probably just woken up. You wanted to say something again, but before you could, he laughed

“Nope” he said simply, before making his way down the stairs and to the bar “I’m not doing this. Not today, not ever!” Lucifer filled his glass to the top with bourbon, before turning around and trying to leave back to where he came from

“Lucifer, it's me!”

“Sure you are, except you’re not real! Nice of dad, taking my ability to stay endlessly sober, getting me drunk, forcing visions of my dead wife onto me to teach me another lesson about managing my emotions. Real clever, except this is too much! So I’m going to enter that elevator and I expect to never have to see you again, hum? Right, well, au revoir now!” he continued on his way, but before he could get far, you were clutching on the silk tie of his robe. Lucifer felt the tug around his waist and turned around slowly to look at you, this time a little more unsure. As if he was trying to figure you out

“Lucifer, I’m Y/N. I escaped”

“Escaped? But that’s impossible, she died! I saw it-”

“What you saw was a bloody shirt!” he looked up to meet your gaze, tears already forming “They lied to you Lucifer”

Finally, it seemed like he had connected all of the pieces of the puzzle. The glass of alcohol fell to the ground and your husband wrapped you in a big hug for the first time in months. He nuzzled his head in your hair and took in your scent, your figure, your warmth. Hell, you were even more perfect that he remembered! Silent tears fell down both of your cheeks as you collapsed to the ground, still holding onto each other for dear life

“I’m so sorry” Lucifer sobbed in your hair “I’m so so sorry”

“It wasn’t your fault Luci”

“If I hadn’t been a jerk you wouldn’t have left! If I would have simply listened to you, they wouldn’t have gotten to you! You would’ve stayed here, where you belong! You would have stayed with me but instead I was too busy with my stupid job and the stupid cases and I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” he continued crying on your shoulder as you rubbed small circles on his back

“I’m here now my love” you whispered, kissing his cheek “And I’m not going anywhere”

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[darling-i-read-it]

Comfy

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: injury, cussing

Author’s Note: I hope you like this babes! Karl my beloved omg, slight re8 spoilers

Requested: by anon, Ooooo requests? Maybe? Idk it says open so I shall ✨request✨. M’kay, so I’m thinking that Karl has a gf that likes soft things (blankets, sweaters, pillows, pjs, that kind of stuff) and small enclosed spaces, so Karl makes a small-ish room for her to put all of her stuff in and cuddle up to for when she’s cold/wants to relax. Like she has a switch and a tv and wifi- it’s like a soft man cave but for her and Karl. Anyway, Ethan is looking for baby and comes across her room and tries to hide in it, not knowing she’s IN there and asleep. He gets in there, notices the blankets and pillows and accidentally steps on her ankle, which HURT and makes her scream. Karl hears said scream and comes barrelling over in protective bf mode to beat Ethan up. It’s up to you whether gf goes “oi don’t be mean he’s looking for his baby” or not

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“I just think that it couldn’t be that hard for you to make a small place, hidden away.” Your voice didn’t carry far in the small room but it didn’t have to. You had a blanket over you as you sat up at the edge of the bed. Karl was walking back and forth around the room as he grabbed things to start his day. “You’re very good with your hands,” you said pleasantly. He pointed at you.

“You’re right about that.”

“Come on Karl. Just a small place. You can use it too if you want to run away for a minute.” He stopped in front of you, the first time he had stopped in a couple of minutes. You looked up at him and he looked down at you, caressing your cheek. He took a deep breath.

“I will see what I can do.” You grabbed his hand and slid it to your lips, kissing his palm.

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” He paused. “Say it again.”

“You’re the best Karl.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss before backing away to the door.

“You better believe it.”

===

You didn’t bring up your small place for a couple of days, just in case he really didn’t want to do it. You just figured that you could have a small room in the factory that no one but the two of you knew existed so you could finally have some privacy. You could fill it with soft things, blankets, pillows, all of that. And entertainment as well of course.

But he didn’t bring it up and you didn’t want to push it. He had a lot to do during his days and you didn’t want to add more stress.

You were sitting behind him, arms around his waist as he massaged your hands gingerly. You had your cheek pressed flat against his back as you both breathed, telling each other about your days.

“I made it.”

“Huh?”

“I made the room.” You backed up, pulling away from him. He had to turn because he wanted to know what your expression was. He was very pleased to find an overjoyed look.

“You aren’t messing with me are you?”

“No. Maybe. No, I’m not. I finished it earlier today, do you want to see it?” He had a goofy look on his face, like you wouldn’t want to see it.

“I would love to see it!”

He grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. You were allowed to walk around the factory but it still left you dizzy after walking around too long. Karl had given you a map and you had been around enough to know where you were going but there was still so much going on.

Fortunately Karl didn’t walk far as he led you down a hallway with a dead end.

“Not too far from the room so you won’t get lost,” he said condescendingly. You shoved him but he just smiled his little sarcastic smile at you. He kicked at the wall and a door opened just a little bit. You watched as he moved the very small door open to reveal a small cubby hole of a room. It was tall enough to fit the both of you which was preferred so you could both get in and out. There were blankets inside, along with things to entertain yourself.

You clapped your hands and fell onto the comfy ground, landing on a stuffed animal, pillow and blanket. You grabbed his hand.

“Come here, lay with me.”

“Maybe later kitten, I gotta get back to work,” he told you, leaning against the door frame.

“Well at least shut the door. We don’t want our little secret getting out or else Mother Miranda will find us here as well.” He rolled his eyes and stepped inside, careful not to smush anything with his work boots. You grinned as the door shut behind him. “Five minutes,” you whispered.

He let out an annoyed sigh despite not being annoyed in the slightest.

“Five minutes.”

You pulled him down to lay with you and started to explore the small place that he had built for you.

=====

All Ethan Winters knew at this point was running away from danger. He was always exhausted when the adrenaline wore out and he was sick and tired of having to find hiding spots.

That being said, he was currently looking for a hiding spot to guard him away from the horrors of this factory.

Breath heaving, he stopped running as he came to a hallway with a dead end. He turned around, hearing the horrific sounds of something or someone gaining on him. He put his back against the wall and then fell through it, surprised to land on a pleasant cloud of pillows and blankets. Realizing that this was a room he quickly shut the door with his foot so that no one would be able to find him in here.

He held his gun in his hand and put his back against the wall, looking around feverishly. The rooms were tall but the width was very very small, just enough space for maybe two people if they were really close to each other. Blankets covered the ground, making lumps and lumps of comfort.

Ethans eyes narrowed in confusion. Had he made it outside of the factory? This definitely didn’t look like Heisenbergs doing.

You opened your eyes slowly at someone landing on your feet. Naturally you figured it was Karl so you didn’t even raise your head much as you waited for him to search the blankets to find you. As you woke up from your sleep you heard the unfamiliar breathing of someone you did not recognize.

Your eyes snapped open and your heart started to beat quickly. You stayed still but the person stood up, standing very harshly on your ankle which must have twisted it or something but it hurt like a motherfucker. You yelped and sat up, eyes narrowing in on Ethan Winters, who you recognized from some pictures. He held the gun up to you but didn’t shoot, thank God.

“Hey hey hey!” you yelled, hands up. “I’m unarmed.” He looked terribly confused and didn’t lower his gun at all. You yanked your leg back to you and moved the blankets aside to see that your ankle was twisted in some kind of way. You couldn’t even tell what he had done but his boots were heavy and so was his step.

“Who are you?” he asked, breath not slowing down to an even pace.

“Y/N. You’re Ethan yeah? You stepped on my ankle!” He lowered his gun to your ankle to look and agreed, it did not look good.

“Listen I’m sorry I’m just trying to get out of-”

The door swung open causing you both to jump in surprise.

Karl stood there, big hammer in his hand as he looked between you and Ethan. He quickly surveyed the situation and noticed you holding your ankle. One look and he could tell, Ethan had done something to it.

Ethan raised his gun to Karl, annoyed he hadn’t been able to catch a break.

Karl felt his anger bubble in his chest at the sight of you hurt. He moved forward, grabbing Ethan by the shirt and lifting him in the air.

“You think you can just come into my factory and hurt Y/N of all people?” he sneered, voice deadly. Ethan had always heard a kind of sarcastic tinge to his voice but right now he was deadly serious. It sent a chill down his spine.

You stood up, using the wall to anchor you and gingerly holding your foot up above the ground to not put pressure onto it. You put a hand on Karls arm.

“He didn’t mean to. I’m sure you have plenty of other things to crucify him for but take it out of my room.” Karl didn’t even look over at you. You and Ethan met eyes and he weighed his options on trying to get sympathy out of you. He decided he probably could’t, not with Heisenberg right there.

“I’ll be right back,” Karl muttered. He took Ethan by the shirt and threw him out the door, following close behind. You looked down at the boot prints on your blankets and sighed.

====

Karl wasn’t gone more than 20 minutes and he came rushing back to you. He hated feeling so vulnerable, knowing people had the ability to hurt him so easily through you. He opened the door to your little room and started to panic when he saw you weren’t there.

He turned around, walking swiftly, trying not to act like he was panicked, back to yours and his room. You sat on the bed, some of the blankets from the tiny room on the ground. You had a first aid kit on the bed beside you as you attempted to bandage yourself up. It looked like you were failing.

“Where the hell did you go?” he asked and he meant for it to sound angry but it came out sounding more worried. You gestured to the blanket pile.

“Needed to clean the blankets. And also wrap this ankle up. Where’s Ethan?”

“Taken care of.” He kneeled in front of you and grabbed the wrap from you. He fumbled with the first aid kit. “How do you feel? Broken? Should I cut it off?” You scoffed.

“Maybe you should. It hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Well let’s get it wrapped and see how it does.” You nodded and let his fingers work their magic. When he was done you grabbed his hands.

“Thank you Karl.”

“I’m sorry he found you. I thought I hid it well enough.”

“It was an accident, don’t worry about it.” He nodded and you kissed his forehead with a smile. “Now go wash those blankets. Those are your boot prints, mister.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid down on the bed beside you.

“No, but thank you for asking.”

“Pff if you weren’t comfy I would kick you out right this very second.”

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 9

Summary: You get your ass handed to you. You have fun times with Wanda only for a rude awakening.

Warnings: a lot of cursing, alcohol

If anyone asks her, Laura loves her cousin. She loves you. She really, really does. But sometimes you were a bit of a pain or rather a handful and everyone knows pregnant women should not be carrying too much. So, she can’t help but be glad that there are other people here to help lighten the load. 

Is it wrong that lightening the load includes allowing her husband’s ex-assassin of a best friend to basically manhandle you, said cousin she claims to love so much, at 6am in the morning? It may be a little worrisome, yes. But what is really wrong here is how she is sitting front and center, watching it all happen in front of her a little too amusedly.

Could you really blame her though? She’s pregnant. She knows she wouldn’t be able to stand watching you get thrown around, especially on her swollen feet.

It seems everyone woke up early to watch Nat “teach you self-defense”. You’ve been outside for an hour now and no one has moved from their seats. Oh, no that’s a lie. Clint did go inside once, only for him to come right back offering everyone some lemonade. Even the critters are there sitting criss cross next to Pietro on the grass sipping on their lemonades. 

“So when does the self-defense part start?” you ask, out of breath. You weren’t doing anything, but falling on your ass repeatedly sure makes one sweat.

“When you start defending yourself,” Nat quips. You respond with a baffled, “What?!”

“Arms up, Y/N!” you hear your cousin shout as you prepare yourself to get thrown again.

“Look, if you are still mad about the Yelena Incident, I’m sure there could have been another less violent way to get your frustrations out.” Nat rolls her eyes and in what feels like a second, there are legs wrapped around your head in not a sexy way and you are flipped onto the ground. 

“OH!!!” Everyone yells, as you feel the wind knock out of you. You hear the kids shouting, “Do it again!”

“No, don’t do it again,” you wheeze out. You feel someone rush to your side. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda helps you sit up. An angel, that woman. She turns to glare at Nat. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Relax, she’s fine.” Nat answers, not bothered in any way. Either she’s blind or she’s delusional thinking you took her go-to take-down-the-bad-guy move like a simple scratch on the knee. Wanda gets visibly upset by Nat’s careless demeanor, little wisps of red magic trickling from her hand. She moves to confront Natasha and you think it might be you that is delusional when you stop Wanda, red wisps tickling your hand, and say, “It’s okay. I’m good.”

“See!” Nat throws her hands up.

“You should have put your arms up,” your cousin says off to the side. You narrow your eyes at her after Wanda helps you up. “Yes, Laura. Thank you so much. That would have really saved me from her spinny-upsidedown-flippity-whateverthefuck that was.”

Sam and Clint snicker beside your cousin at your description of Nat’s signature move. She gives you the watch-your-language look that you completely ignore. “Why don’t you come and show me how that was meant to help?”

“Can’t. Pregnant. Sorry,” your cousin motions to her belly. You shake your head, “Excuses, excuses.”

“I do know some self-defense though and I think it is really important to learn so I’m rooting for you on the side lines,” Laura adds. Not believing a word she said, you ask, “And who taught you self-defense? ‘Cause I know for a fact it wasn’t Nat. You wouldn’t be cruel enough to put me through the same torture.”

“I taught her. She’s a pretty decent shot too,” Clint admits proudly. 

“No way. You can shoot?” Sam looks at Laura as skeptical as you do. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hun, bring out your gear,” your cousin says, getting everyone excited. Pietro and Sam help her stand and move over to get a clear shot of where Clint put up a target. Everyone stands aside and watches in anticipation when Clint hands his wife a bow and an arrow. She nocks the arrow back, aims, shoots, and nearly hits the bullseye, leaving everyone’s mouth agape. 

“Okay, impressive,” Sam says.

“No way. You made that look way too easy. Let me try,” you say, wanting to give it a go, and a go you give alright, the arrow ricocheting off a tree (not even the tree that had the target on it) and heading towards Peter’s face. Luckily his reflexes or what he’s described as some kind of tingle kicks in and he catches the arrow on time. 

You let out a sigh of relief seeing that you have not accidentally killed someone. You didn’t want to be a murderer let alone be known as the asshole that killed Spiderman by accident. You flood Peter’s ears with apologies and though he says it’s all good, you still feel really bad and ask Wanda if she could help you bake him some cookies or something later. 

Everyone heads inside after that near death experience. Everyone but you and Nat who says, “Playtime’s over. Let’s do this for real now.”

“Wait, that wasn’t it?!”

Another two hours go by. Wanda wonders why you haven’t barged in the room yet to “bother” her. You should have been done undergoing Nat’s painful lesson by now. Finding it odd that you have yet to make an appearance, Wanda sets out to find you. She sees Natasha sitting at the kitchen table. When she asks her about your whereabouts and gets a “Who knows” as a response, she knows something is up. Nat always knows, so Wanda presses, “What did she say and where did you leave her?”

Natasha eventually tells her where you are. Wanda finds you outside, hosing yourself off. You are covered in mud, which Wanda can only assume was Nat’s doing. “Why did you have to antagonize her?”

You look up to see Wanda staring at you unimpressed, arms crossed and all. You defend, “You have to admit, had you the opportunity, you would have done the same.”

“You mean tell her you’ve now had two Romanov’s thighs around your head and then ask where her mom was because you wanted to ‘complete the set’,” Wanda says, uncrossing her arms to do air quotes. 

“Come on, let me have this, Wanda. You should have seen it! It was glorious. The set up, the delivery, the punch,” you throw your arms in the air dramatically, hose in hand splashing water everywhere. Your body aches and you yelp, “Ow.”

Wanda only shakes her head at you. You pout and turn the hose off. “I’ve never met her mom, but she probably would’ve at least chuckled appreciating a good line. I know Yelena for sure would’ve tried not to giggle before kicking my ass as well.”

Wanda doesn’t mean to let out the grunt of annoyance at the mention of this Yelena, but it happens. Luckily, you either don’t hear it or ignore it as you pass by her, stopping to take off your shoes by the door. Before heading inside, you turn to her and coyly ask, “Do you think you could help me wash some of the mud away upstairs? I don’t think I can reach some parts on my own.”

It doesn’t take a psychic to know Wanda helping you scrub your back is not what you actually have in mind. She tries her best not to stutter as she says, “Of course, what are friends for?”

You head up to the shower first. Wanda waits downstairs two minutes before following up, thinking it was enough time for it not to seem suspicious. Clint, who is in the laundry room, though back turned the whole time, still notices and pipes up right as Wanda takes the first step up. 

“Just keep in mind the acoustics of the bathroom,” he warns Wanda. Though he doesn’t see her, based on the clumsy rushed steps after, he knows she was blushing the whole way upstairs.

Having Wanda in the shower, double entendre intended, proves to be a good thing because it turns out you do in fact need help scrubbing some of the mud that somehow made it down your back. Wanda gets on your case again about agitating Nat but it’s hard to really focus on what she’s saying when her hands are all over you, even if she is just scrubbing you down.

An hour later, Laura and Nat sit at the kitchen table and try not to laugh at you struggling with the measuring cups. Sam holds no reservations in laughing in your face. “How does a grown ass woman not know how to measure some flour?”

Wanda makes a face and he corrects himself, “I hear how that sounded. Let me rephrase. How does a grown ass adult who has had to pass middle school to get into college not know how to measure some flour?”

“Unnecessary jibe at my education aside, Sam, I appreciate you rephrasing that. Back to the matter at hand, I’d like to see you try, bitch,” you challenge him, handing over all the measuring kitchen equipment. 

“Gladly.” He takes your place, leaving you to go stand beside Wanda. “Let me show you how it’s done.” 

You all watch him as he looks over the recipe. You think he is just bluffing about his skills, making a grand show of it all. That is until he turns back to Wanda to ask, “Two batches, right?” Then at her nod, he goes into British Bake Off mode or whatever you would call x game mode for baking. 

Seeing him confidently measuring ingredient after ingredient, you lean over to Wanda and ask under your breath, “Is he doing it right?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Damn it,” you huff out. Sam overhears and chuckles, his ego inflating by the minute. You pout at Sam having taken over what was meant to be a fun activity for you and Wanda to do, but he seems like he is really enjoying showing off so you can’t be too mad. Wanda finds your pout too cute and can’t help but press a quick kiss to your lips, surprising you both. You are both blushing and she tries to play it off cool. “You did say whenever I wanted.”

“I did say that, yes,” you recall. She smiles and then gives you another chaste kiss, more confidently this time, before heading over to Sam. “Alright, leave Y/N to do something, show off.”

Meanwhile, you are trying to calm your racing heart at her kissing you so openly, which is when you realize you have an audience. You’re afraid to see if Laura and Nat saw. You turn around slowly. They clearly did, your cousin’s raised eyebrow indicating so. It makes you blush harder, so you turn back around and go to see what you can do.

Wanda and Sam give you the job of rolling the cookie dough into little balls after moving you away from setting the oven heat because you tried to turn up the heat by double in order to “bake the cookies faster”. They explain why you couldn’t do that.

“Yeah, I knew that,” you say, as you lower the temperature back down. “I was just testing you guys.”

No one believes you but they don’t say anything. Nat and your cousin watch with interest as Wanda and Sam pull your hand full of raw dough away from your mouth when you try to taste it. You lie and say you were testing them again. 

Peter and Pietro trail into the kitchen at the smell of the cookies baking. Sam takes them out once they are ready. Pietro tries to grab a cookie first, but you are faster, smacking his hand away. “Peter gets the first cookie. They were meant to be for him.”

Peter, who has been lingering shyly behind Pietro, perks up. He asks you, “Why?”

“For nearly killing you. Sorry about that. Sam technically did nearly everything, which might have been for the best given my lack of skills in the kitchen. But it’s the thought, right?” you ramble.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you. I won’t say no to cookies. They all look good. Let’s just all dig in,” Peter says, seeing Pietro’s grumbly face. Pietro cheers up at that and mutters, “Finally.”

Laura sees you and the guys reaching for a cookie and warns, “Careful, they’re hot,” but the cookies are already in your mouths. 

“Fuck!” “Shit!” “H-h-hot!” All three of you yell but none of you spit the cookies out. Instead, you all choose to look ridiculous cooling the cookies with your mouths open. Sam looks at you three like the dumbasses you are. Your cousin and Nat look unfazed and Wanda is practically doubled over laughing so hard that you can’t even hear it because she’s having trouble breathing. 

“Get out of my kitchen. Come back when you have proof y’all graduated elementary school.” Sam kicks you out of the kitchen, Pietro grabbing some cookies before being shooed away. You head outside and decide to play some basketball. Cooper and Lila come and join you and a few minutes later so does Wanda. 

You pause, holding the ball in your hands as Wanda walks up to you. 

“What? Did you finish your two pages of reading for the day that quickly or did you just miss me?” you tease her. She gives you a sarcastic smile before snatching the ball away. “Two chapters actually.” She then goes to line up her shot. She shoots and scores, turning back to you with a smug smile at which you shake your head.

“Hey, you can’t walk with the ball. That doesn’t count!” Pietro whines. You fight for her point, telling him to just let her have it, which he does not let go without pointing out, “Oh, so when I do it, it’s not a point, but when Lila and Wanda do it, it counts? How is that fair?”

“Because she’s six and she’s cute, Pietro. That’s why it counts,” you reply.

“Okay, but what about my sister?”

“I just explained. Lila is six and Wanda is cute. Come on, man. Keep up.” Wanda overhears and blushes hard. Pietro laughs at his sister, embarrassing her further. You take the ball away from his hands while he is distracted and then pass it to Lila. 

You do way better this game than the last time you played. You still lost but progress. 

The next morning feels like a rinse and repeat. Nat wakes you up, you go for the morning hike, you complain the whole time. Breakfast is a different story. Laura’s lower back has been aching and she’s been having contractions, one of which comes while you’re eating, scaring most of you. You get straight to your feet asking where the baby bag is and Pietro rushes to find the keys saying, “I’ll start the car!” 

Peter pipes, “I think someone else should drive.” 

“Everyone calm down. I don’t need to go anywhere. The baby’s not coming yet,” your cousin reassures everyone, specifically her husband and Nat who are at her side. Everyone lets out a breath of relief. You ask where the baby bag is anyway to know when the time does come. She says there isn’t one and then Nat is on Clint and your heads about not being prepared.

“I got here after you did,” you defend yourself. She then looks over to Clint who says, “I’ve been saving the world.”

“Always an excuse with you two,” Nat chides. 

And so the afternoon finds Clint, Sam, and Nat going to buy the essentials, while the rest of you help clean up around the house. Wanda is left to supervise Lila and Cooper clean their rooms, Peter is in charge of vacuuming upstairs, Pietro is given dish washing duty, and you are given the broom and mop. 

Your cousin relaxes on the couch in the meantime. You yell up the stairs that you will be mopping now, warning everyone to watch their step. You repeat the same to your cousin who sarcastically says, “I think the whole town heard you, Y/N.”

“Well, excuse me for caring for everyone’s well being,” you retort, continuing your chores. You’re nearly finished. You just need Pietro to be done in the kitchen so you can mop there. You sit and wait in Clint and Laura’s little home office. 

You swivel around in the chair, looking around curiously until something calls your attention, that something being the laminator. You try to think of something fun to laminate but think of nothing interesting. Then you remember something and rush upstairs to get it.

You pass Peter who asks if he can go downstairs now having finished vacuuming. You say yes but tell him not to go into the kitchen yet. You grab what you are looking for in your bag and head back downstairs to laminate it. Before you do, you write a message on the back. 

Dear Scarlet Wizard, please stop hurting the books. Thank you. Y/N :)

Then you laminate the strip. You look over your finished product proudly before tucking it into your back pocket. You’re about to head out of the office when Pietro’s voice crescendos, heeding you of his presence before he appears. “Just ask her, Wanda. She’s seen you in them. I don’t know why you are embarrassed.”

That piques your interest. Pietro finally appears, with Wanda lingering behind him, looking like she’d much rather be anywhere else. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Pietro looks back at Wanda expectantly, but when she doesn’t say anything, he explains for her. “She needs help washing her underpants.”

“Pietro!” Wanda shouts, her face giving a new meaning to her superhero name with how red it turns. She moves forward, spluttering, “I asked Laura if I could wash some of my clothes. She said yes, but I don’t know how to work this machine and I didn’t want to make her get up to show me, and Pietro told me to ask you, so…” 

She trails off shyly, wanting to bury herself in the nearest ditch right after she murders her brother for putting her in this position. Wanda hadn’t prepared to stay so long and hadn’t brought extra clothes. Now she regrets not being like Peter who overprepares. She wonders how her brother hasn’t run out of clean underwear but she thinks it’s better not to ask, predicting she won’t like whatever the answer is; Pietro is not someone who is over prepared either.

“That’s it?” you ask, not seeing what the big deal was, but you can see that Wanda is still looking rather awkward about it, so you don’t question it too much. Rather you comment, “I was actually wondering if you all just overpack for breaks. I mean I know Nat has extra clothes here in the house but I was wondering about the rest of you.”

“Peter is the only one who does the most,” Pietro says.

“Hey, I heard that!” Peter yells coming in to join the three of you. You turn to Pietro and ask, “Then what do you do?”

“He used the same underwear after he showered,” Peter explains. You and Wanda make a face of disgust and Pietro makes one of irritation. Peter runs off upstairs when Pietro starts chasing him, “Don’t tell her that!”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you tell Wanda, who agrees with you. Then you motion for her to follow you into the little laundry room. You show her how to work the machine. She throws her clothes in and follows your instructions. Once the machine gets going, you decide to tease her now that you are alone. “It’s just underwear, Wanda. Pietro was right. No need to be shy about it when I’ve seen it both on and off you.”

She starts blushing again. She hides behind her hands and groans, “Ugh, I should have asked Laura.”

You continue on anyway, “In fact, I remember one instance where you were enjoying when I tugged them o-” You were cut off short by Wanda’s hands covering your mouth. “Stop talking.”

Your laughter is muffled but it’s there nonetheless, finding Wanda’s coyness endearing. She defends herself, recalling a story about you, “You are one to talk, Miss Purple Boxer-Briefs.”

You grab hold of her wrists, removing her hands from your mouth in order to speak. “Hey, that’s different.” You walk forwards, making Wanda take steps back until her back is against the wall. “I was not planning for anyone to see me in those. I was just taking one for the team, thinking the house was getting robbed.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Wanda giggles.This time it’s you saying, “Oh, be quiet, Maximoff.”

“Make me, L/N.”

You sputter in surprise, eyes widening at her words. Hers stare right into yours, challenging you to make a move. And she has the audacity to have a smirk on her face as if she wasn’t madly blushing about dirty underwear a few minutes ago. Where the hell did that girl go?

“Are you just going to stand there and look at me a-”

You surge forward and kiss her hard. Wanda can’t help but smile at getting her way, making it a little hard to kiss her. So you take the moment to break it and ask, “Hey, who told you my last name?”

“The same asshole that gave you this.” One of her hands between you moves up to caress your bruised cheek. “Does it still hurt?”

She prods at it, making you flinch back. “Ow, only when you poke at it.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, pulling her hand away from your cheek. Her bashful face makes you chuckle. You pull yourself together to ask her a question. “Okay, serious question,” you start, and it’s too cute how Wanda pays close attention to what you say next. You’d think she’d know better by now. “Does it make me look badass?”

“Y/N,” she more or less groans your name in annoyance as she gently shoves you. You’re a little off balance but you quickly grasp her elbows to pull back into her space. “I’m serious. ‘Cause if I look stupid, I’m pretty sure I could will my cells to work overtime to heal it faster or something.”

She laughs at you, muttering, “You are an idiot,” and pecking your lips between each word. You hear giggling, only this laughter isn’t coming from the beautiful woman in front of you. No, this giggling you know too well comes from a certain little critter who you now see has potential to go into her father’s line of work with how quiet she can creep up on someone. 

Wanda actually shoves you off this time, going to stand behind you to put a physical barrier between her and the intruding child. You clear your throat, smiling at Lila. “Hey, Lila. Did you need something?”

“Why were you kissing Wanda? Is she your girlfriend? Are you going to have a baby now?” She shoots one question after question rapidly as if she didn’t ask them all at once she would forget them. The first two are valid questions but the last throws you off so far you don’t know where you are. It throws Wanda too, so much so she’s basically choking behind you.

“Woah, okay. Umm, I was kissing Wanda because I think she is very pretty and nice and that’s just a way you can show someone that you think that about them, with their permission of course,” you rush in to add about consent. Your niece and nephews will grow up learning to be a decent human being. You continue on to her other questions. “But no, Wanda is not my girlfriend and we are not having a baby?”

Your last answer comes out more as a question, mostly due to your confusion as to where she got that idea. Wanda comes out from her hiding space to stand by you. From your peripheral vision, she looks amused at seeing you struggle to answer the six year old’s questions. Looking at your niece, she seems to be as confused as you, but you learn it’s due to something else. “Why isn’t she your girlfriend? Did you ask her?” 

You hesitate to answer, really not knowing where to start. Wanda is less amused and more interested now, crossing her arms over her chest, creating a barrier between her heart and your next words that she thinks will inevitably hurt to hear. Lila doesn’t give you the chance, however, continuing to her next question that makes you scoff. “Does she think you’re ugly?”

“I’d hope not.” You turn to look at Wanda, who holds a hand over her mouth trying to cover her giggles.

“Oh, maybe she doesn’t think you’re funny, like Aunt Nat says. Maybe she doesn’t get your jokes.” Lila tries to help, but little to her knowledge, it just makes you want to dig your own grave, especially when you can see Wanda is nearly losing it trying to hold in her laughter.

“Yep, you know you might be right. That must be it,” you agree to appease her. She grins at you, proud of herself for finding an answer to her question, which reminds you, “Why did you think we were having a baby?”

“Because that’s how babies are made,” she says, without a doubt in her mind, which reasonably has you questioning, “Who told you that, critter? Because they definitely lied.”

“Mommy said so,” she says almost defiantly as if what her mom says must be the truth and who were you to make her start questioning her mother now at six years old. You are also not ready to have that conversation, the conversation between you and your cousin where she yells at you for taking over the birds and bees speech that she probably had meticulously planned for a specific time in her children’s lives.

“Aaaand, your mom’s right. Yep. Wanda is basically pregnant now,” you say without thinking. Lila’s eyes go full moon round in excitement as squeals in glee. She practically runs out of the laundry room probably to tell god knows who about the news. Wanda gasps in disbelief beside you, smacking your arm. “Why did you say that?”

“Well, what did you want me to do? Be honest with the child?” you say as if honesty would be the worst thing to bring into that conversation.

“Yes, exactly that,” Wanda says plainly.

“Okay, well unless you want to deal with Nat on your ass about us unnecessarily stressing my pregnant cousin out with talks about baby making with her six year old, for the next however long Lila remembers, you are pregnant with my child.”

Wanda hangs her head in defeat after you put that image of an angry Nat in her head. There are worse things than being fake pregnant with your crush’s baby. She sighs, “You’re paying child support for this kid.”

You smile at her quip, retaliating with, “Not without a paternity test!” She shoves you as you both exit the laundry room and you chant, “Maury! Maury!”

“We are not naming the baby Maury,” she says and runs into you when you stop abruptly to turn around and question her, “Wanda, do you not know who Maury is?” 

When she shakes her head no in confusion, you grab her hand in excitement, “Oh, my god, let me teach you a little bit about American culture,” and drag her with you to watch some episodes of the show.

You only get to watch one with her, leaving her with your cousin to watch more as you go back into the kitchen to finish moping as your cousin so kindly (not so kindly) reminded you to do. Those baby hormones really were kicking in. 

You return to see Pietro and Wanda eating up the show. “I knew it! I knew he would be the father,” Pietro yells excitedly from where he is on the floor looking back at his sister. “Did I not guess right?” She nods and he turns back to the television to watch the guy run off the stage as the cameraman chases after him.

Laura can’t stop yawning so you suggest she go take a nap. You help her up to her room and tell her to rest up, that you had everything under control. She teases as you shut the door, “Just don’t go around impregnating more women while I’m asleep.” 

When you go back downstairs, Sam, Nat, and Clint are making their way through the front door with everything they bought. Sam and Clint set the box with the crib assembly in the middle of the living room. Nat carries some bags and says there are more bags in the car. You head outside throwing an “amateur” towards Nat who rolls her eyes knowing you are referring to your silly one trip from the car to the house rule. 

The rest of the evening goes to arranging the hospital bag and getting all the baby things in order. Nat and Wanda assemble the crib, Nat insisting she do it after Pietro rushes to assemble it with a “tada!” only for it to fall apart when Nat throws a pillow onto it. Wanda is just excited to do it and Nat trusts her to follow instructions unlike her brother. 

Everyone just watches, but Lila who tries to help handing the women whatever they need. As most excited six year olds do, she talks everyone’s ears off about the things she is going to do when her baby brother comes. “Oh! And he can have playdates with Y/N and Wanda’s baby. We can have tea parties every summer. Maybe not tea, cause tea isn’t very tasty and it’s too hot for that. Maybe we can have ice tea instead. What do you think, Wanda?”

Everyone in the room looks confused; most of the confused gazes are looking to you for an explanation and before anyone could say anything, you mouth “Don’t ask” while shaking your head. Wanda indulges Lila, though she blushes through it trying to look unfazed, “Yes, ice tea is nice. Or maybe lemonade. Can you pass me that small piece over there?”

It comes out perfectly, much to Pietro’s chagrin. Now the problem no one thought about- how to get it upstairs into the room. Sam and Clint carry it up the stairs trying to follow Nat’s instructions, attempting to turn it at the right angle to get it up the second flight of stairs. They clearly do not understand what Nat’s aim is here, Nat’s frustration growing by the second. Wanda gets a sense of deja vu but she can’t recall where she has seen this, until you laugh and as if reading her mind fill in the blank yelling, “Pivot!”

Satisfied with figuring out where the scene is from and not wanting to see Nat explode, Wanda uses her magic to take hold of the crib and brings Nat’s vision to life as she rotates the crib at the correct angle. The red mist lifts it the rest of the way upstairs.

“Thank you, Wanda. It seems you’re the only competent person here,” Nat huffs. She turns to the two men on the stairs, “Well, don’t just stand there, expecting Maximoff to do everything. The crib goes in the room with Laura.”

She storms up the steps shepherding Clint and Sam the rest of the way. You hear the laundry machine beeping, so you go give that your attention with Wanda on your tail. After her clothes begin to spin in the dryer, you stop her from getting any further than the kitchen remembering to give her your beautiful creation.

“Wait, Wanda, before I forget. I have something for you.” You pull the photo strip turned bookmark out of your pocket and hand it to her. She takes her time looking over the pictures on the strip from the time at the arcade, especially the third in which you are kissing her cheek. You gesture for her to look at the back and she rolls her eyes upon reading your message. Wanda appreciates the gesture anyways.

“You made me this?” Wanda asks, surprised. 

You nod, “Made or more so laminated it for you. Or rather for future me who will be happy to know she saved another book from you dog earring the ends of its pages.” 

You chuckle when she pushes you in jest. “Hey! That is a lot of judgement coming from someone who does not read.”

“I don’t have to be an avid book reader to know book etiquette,” you declared. 

“Book etiquette?” She raises an eyebrow up in question.

“Yes, there are rules to how you treat books, same as there are rules to everything,” you answered. “Like returning a borrowed book in the same condition.”

“And one of the rules happens to be not to bend the corner of the pages?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Hey, I’m just trying to do you a favor here. Wouldn’t want you to get bullied in book club or whatever. But if you are just going to disregard the rule and not use the bookmark,” you reply, reaching for the bookmark, “I can just take it back.”

“No,” she objects immediately, pressing the photostrip against her chest. She pouts, “You already gave it to me. You can’t take it back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you assured her, laughing at her childish antics. Wanda looks at it once more, smiling, and then gives you a kiss on the cheek. With rosy cheeks adorning her face, she thanks you. “I love it, really.”

Red really is the color for her, you think. That is until you find green giving red a run for its money the next evening.

Sam drove you, Wanda, and Pietro to one of the two bars in town in Nat’s car. It took about half an hour of begging from Sam’s part for Nat to give up her keys, but not without threatening his life if he were to even scratch her car. You couldn’t blame her, it’s a pretty nice car. 

You and the three Avengers walk into the bar. It sounds like the start to a joke and it almost feels like it could be with the way the night starts. It’s a Friday night so there is a crowd but it’s not too bad. You’re still standing around the front entrance and you wonder why no one has made the move to go further into the establishment. Turning to the other three, you notice their eyes sweeping the place. You quickly realize what they are doing. 

“Would you all relax? We are here to have fun. No need to act like you’re on a mission,” you remind them. Sam scoffs, “Uh, speak for yourself. This man is on the hunt for some sugar.” The rest of you three roll your eyes at him as he keeps scouting the area. His eyes befall on the pretty bartender. “And spotted. First round is on me.”

Sam walks up to the bar with swagger to his step. The three of you look for a place to sit. Pietro notices a booth open up and using a little enhanced speed, swoops into the booth, calling you and Wanda over. You talk amongst yourselves while Sam chats up the bartender. He comes over with the drinks smiling to himself. Wanda teases him, “Look at you all smiley. Did you get her phone number?”

“I’m still working on it, but I know it’s working,” he says confidently. “So hurry up and finish your drinks so I can go up and talk some more.”

He rushes you and chugs his drink in one go. You hate to be his buzzkill but someone has to remind him, “I hope you enjoyed that drink, Sam ‘cause that was your one and only for tonight. Or did you forget you drove us here?”

His face scrunches up and groans, “Noooo. Can’t Pietro drive? His metabolism works fast. It’s nearly impossible to get him drunk.”

“Did you forget what car we brought? The moves Nat pulled on me hurt like a bitch, and that was just her teaching me self defense. I can’t imagine what she would do if she finds out we let Speed Racer drive back.” You quickly turn to said twin, “No offense, Pietro.”

“You are all just a bunch of babies,” he responds, sipping from his drink. 

“Ugh, fine,” Sam concedes. “Maybe, I can work with this. I’ll be back. Same thing for everyone?”

After getting an affirmative, Sam is back at it. The three of you watch him flirt with the woman behind the bar. Sam points your group out to her and she smiles at you three while your group acknowledges her with awkward waves. 

A car alarm pulls everyone’s attention away; it’s Nat’s car. The three of you see Sam make a show of looking for the keys in his pockets when it’s clear to the group that he’s been holding them the entire time. That smooth bastard. The woman looks impressed.

Soon she serves up your drinks, Sam bringing them to the table, with a cocky smirk on his face. You, Pietro, and Wanda shake your heads at him his whole way back. “We see what you did there,” Wanda says. “That was very sneaky.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam denies. He takes a sip of his water as the rest of you grab your second drink. Pietro asks, “Very sad, using someone else’s things to boast. Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Keep it down. She doesn’t have to know that. Anyway, that car is a guarantee she’ll be looking this way,” Sam assures and he isn’t wrong. Wanda finds the bartender looking back at your group but much to her discontentment, she is zeroing in not on Sam but you. You don’t notice this happening. 

You are too focused telling some funny story Wanda isn’t really listening to, as she finishes her drink in one go. Pietro catches this from the corner of his eye, frowning at what has his sister looking upset. Ever so observant, he watches Wanda look at the bartender who seems to be staring at you and then shuffle closer to your side. 

His frown disappears, no longer worried but more so amused. He has always found it funny when his sister gets jealous. He’s seen it several times to know the signs- the furrow of her brow, the biting of her lip, and had it been a few years ago, there would be a dramatic exit. A dramatic exit would be overkill here so he guesses she’s substituted it for possessiveness. 

You welcome Wanda’s warmth as she sits closer to you. Sam and Pietro make their comments and jokes about the story you just finished telling. You sip on your drink, nearly choking when Wanda’s hand makes a surprise appearance on your thigh a little too high to be innocent. You try to ignore it and listen to Sam as he starts a story, but it gets a little difficult when she begins to move it. 

Sam asks you a question and as focused as you are when trying to answer, Wanda’s wandering hand makes you stutter a few times in your response. You chug the rest of your drink and Wanda takes that as a sign to get the next round of drinks.

“I’ve got the drinks this time,” she declares, pressing a kiss on your cheek before getting up and heading over to the bar. The little break you have away from her feels a bit of a relief. You were getting worked up under her touch and in public no less. You don’t know what’s got Wanda in this kind of mood suddenly, not that you would usually mind it unless it’s the alcohol. 

That’s the only real outlier here. If it is the alcohol, you’ll have to slow her roll down if only two drinks have her so handsy. You have to come up with a plan soon if that’s the case, because Wanda comes back, bartender behind her carrying a tray with shots.

Wanda takes her seat next to you as Sam’s point of interest for the night sets the shots in the middle of the table. Your eyes widen, counting the number of shots that end up on the table. 

“Damn, how much do they pay you?” you ask incredulously, knowing how pricey a single shot can be.

“And are they hiring?” the bartender jokes. Everyone but Wanda laughs. “Are we celebrating something tonight or just having a night out?” She asks the table but ends the question looking at you for the answer.

“A little bit of both. They’re going home soon, so,” you explain. You have all her attention now, her body turning to face you. “Oh, so you’re from here. I haven’t seen you around?”

Wanda slowly grows irritated, feeling the woman talking is overstaying her welcome at your table. She reaches for a shot, throwing it back, trying not to make a face as the liquid burns her throat. 

You frown at Wanda’s actions. Pietro snorts and Wanda throws him a glare. The bartender is still waiting for your response so you answer, “I don’t actually live here. I stay with my cousin during my breaks from school.” 

“What school do you go to?”

Wanda clears her throat, annoyed, “Don’t you have to go back to the bar? We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Sam speaks up, “There are two other people back there. I’m sure they’ve got Bethany covered.” So that’s the name of the woman unknowingly grinding Wanda’s gears. Wanda is disappointed to see Sam is correct. 

She drinks another shot and the moment Pietro has been waiting for arrives when she gets up suddenly claiming she has to go to the restroom. Bethany tries to help and point them out to her, but Wanda quickly cuts in with, “Thank you, Bethany, but I think I can find my way to the restroom just fine.” And then she stomps off. 

Finding her behavior odd, you decide it best to go follow her and make sure she’s okay. After answering Bethany’s last question, you excuse yourself from the table and head in the direction Wanda left. The restrooms are easy to find, a glaringly obvious sign pointing to them. 

Wanda splashes water on her face at the sink, trying to cool herself down. She can’t help the thoughts running through her head, thinking that Bethany was probably sitting in Wanda’s place by your side, grabbing your arm as she laughs at something you say. She knows these thoughts stem from jealousy and there is no need to tell her that she doesn’t have the right to be jealous when you agreed to be friends.

If Wanda wasn’t irked enough, there are no paper towels to dry her face with. Now she’ll return to the table with a wet shirt. “Stupid bar can’t refill the dispenser,” she mutters, pushing the door open with the side of her body, her hands preoccupied lifting the bottom of her shirt enough to pat her face dry with it. 

She bumps into somebody outside the restroom doors. She lifts her face from her hands to apologize only to be met by the person who has got her acting this moody and you aren’t looking at her face. Your eyes are busy appreciating Wanda’s exposed tummy. Wanda flushes as she drops her shirt, making you redirect your eyes. Embarrassed at being caught, you clear your throat. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I actually came to check on you.”

“Why? I was only gone for 2 minutes,” she asked, though she was happy to note that you were here waiting for her outside the restroom instead of entertaining the bartender sitting at your group’s table.

“You left kind of abruptly. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and not like throwing up,” you reason. You pull Wanda away from standing in front of the door to the restroom when someone tries to get through.

Wanda chuckles, continuing on with your conversation. “Do you think I am a lightweight or what?”

“Well I hope not. You did just buy a bunch of shots and it would be a damn shame to let them go to waste,” you remind her. She smirks at you. “You have some catching up to do.”

“Lead the way.” You step aside motioning for her to do just so. Wanda shakes her head, but smiles nevertheless, taking your hand and tugging you behind her. Wanda is happy not to see Bethany at your table but back behind the bar when you both take your previous seats. 

“There they are!” Pietro shouts excitedly, waving his hand in the air before smacking it back down on the table rather clumsily with an “Ah”. Tipsy Pietro was rather adorable. How did he get like this anyway? Looking back at the table, you find your answer.

“Holy shit, dude! Did you drink all of these yourself?” You’re worried he’d have to get his stomach pumped. He reads the expression on your face and reassures you. “It’s the only way I can get, umm, Wanda?” He turns to ask his sister something you don’t understand, asking in Sokovian. She answers, “Tipsy.”

“Yes! Tipsy. But I left you uh,” he counts the remaining shot cups that still have liquor in them, “four. Perfect. Two for each of you. Now hurry, I want to play billbards, bill-billboards. Pool,” he finally decides. He pushes two shots towards you and the other two towards Wanda.

“Oh, no. Y/N has to catch up.” Wanda pushes one of her drinks to yours, lining them all up neatly. You shake your head at a smirking Wanda. You sigh, “You’re really going to do this to me, huh?”

“Yup,” she affirmed. Then Sam got the three of them to chant your name, making others in the bar look your group’s way. Not wanting people staring, you hush them, “Okay, okay. Geez. I can see why Clint hates that.” Then you drink all three, one right after another. You do make a face. “Oof.”

Wanda drinks hers and then the four of you wait by the pool tables for one to open up. You spend the next hour laughing with Sam and Wanda at a clumsy Pietro. You are just as bad as a tipsy Pietro when playing pool but tipsy Wanda doesn’t care, insisting you teach her how to properly line up her shot. Tipsy you isn’t remotely embarrassed when Wanda completely misses hitting the ball with your guidance because your body is busy feeling something other than shame having Wanda pressed against you as she is. 

Sober Sam is getting bored. Bethany is busy behind the bar doing her job, more patrons filling up the joint. A few minutes later, Pietro is practically sober; his coordination comes back and he doesn’t find playing pool as fun anymore. Also, he’s growing tired of watching his sister basically grind her ass on you every time it’s her turn. 

Pietro ends the game five minutes later. “I’m tired. Let’s let some other people play.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reject the idea, handing his pool stick over to someone else saying his group can have the table. He and Sam head to the restroom but not before telling you two to be ready to go.

There is a pout on Wanda’s face that you find just too cute and you let her know so. “You are so adorable,” you tease, pinching her cheeks. Wanda sends you a glare that looks in no way threatening with her cheeks aflame, making you laugh. “I’ll get us some water. Wait here for Pietro and Sam.”

You head over to the bar counter. You grab Bethany’s attention and ask for some water. “So why was your girlfriend upset earlier?” She asks as she goes to fill up two cups for you.

“Huh?” you ask confused. She repeats herself leaning over the bar in order for you to hear her more clearly. “Your girlfriend,” she nods in Wanda’s direction. You turn to see Wanda watching you two closely. “She looked pissed off earlier.”

Bethany hands over the two cups of water. You didn’t need to but you clarify anyway, albeit a little awkwardly. “Oh, um, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” The bartender smirks at you. You’re confused and tell her so. She rolls her eyes at you. There is no way you could be so oblivious. She does find it cute that you were so focused on your “not girlfriend” that you didn’t see the way she was interested in you. She takes pity on you and clarifies, “She was totally acting like a jealous girlfriend earlier.”

“No, she wasn’t,” you deny, the idea sounding totally absurd to you. But with the way Bethany sounded so sure, you can’t help but begin to question the possibility. “How do you know?”

“I see these things all the time. Reading body language becomes a skill when you work at a bar. Trust me.”

Bethany sees you still doubting her so she proposes something. “Here. I’ll prove it. Do you mind if I touch you?”

You look at her confused but give her permission anyway. She reaches over and runs her finger up and down your forearm. You watch her move and feel more so lost when she throws her head back in laughter. “Okay, what are you doing?”

“If she is jealous, like I say she is, she will do one of two things. She will either come up here and act all possessive or she’ll storm off like she did earlier to the restroom.”

“I don’t know,” you say, unsurely, already pulling your arm away. You are not one to want to play emotional games. Before you have a chance to tell Bethany that, she says, “I should have put some money on it.”

You feel an arm slide around your waist. Wanda comes up beside you and pulls you into her. You are a little startled to be honest, especially when she kisses your underjaw making sure to give Bethany a good view. Wanda catches Bethany giving you a cocky smirk and it irks her. 

“Piet and Sam are waiting for us,” she reminds you. You don’t say anything, your mind still trying to process that Bethany is right and Wanda might just be jealous. Bethany sees the realization glaze over your eyes and rolls with it, pushing Wanda’s buttons. “Oh, you’re leaving already? Well if you ever want more conversations like these,” she writes on a piece of paper behind the bar and hands it over to you folded, “here.” 

Wanda is nearly grinding her teeth at this point. The audacity of that woman to give you her number while Wanda is with you is amazing. Though Wanda knows she’s not with you- with you, clearly the woman would think Wanda was something to you given the way she is wrapped around you. And if that wasn’t enough to piss her off, the way you say “Um, okay?” before pocketing the piece of paper is. 

“You know what, we’ll just wait for you in the car,” Wanda huffs, pulling away from you and storming off to Pietro and Sam. You watch her go, ready to follow but Bethany calls your attention once more. “And there is number two. What are you standing here for? Go. She’ll only be more upset the longer you take.”

“Thanks?” You leave it at that, not knowing what else to say and make your way to the exit. Bethany watches you leave with a shake of her head, mumbling to herself, “She’s gonna eat her alive.”

You reach in your pocket to read the note the bartender gave you, opening the door with your back. Wanda, who is leaning against the hood of the car, watches in jealousy as you laugh at the contents of the note. 

Sam asks, “What are you smiling about?”

Wanda answers for you, tone dripping in discontent, “Getting the number you couldn’t get.” 

“What?! Let me see!” Sam rips the paper from your hand. Wanda rolls her eyes in annoyance and gets in the backseat, slamming the door closed. Her brother shakes his head in amusement, but follows sitting in the passenger seat instead. 

“Come on, let’s go,” you hurry Sam along. You go around the car to open the door opposite the one Wanda slammed and take a seat. Wanda is already not looking at you, instead looking out the window, which you find pointless because there is nothing to look at seeing as there is another car parked right next to her. She’s just getting the view of their window. 

“Wanda,” you say, trying to get her to look at you. “Wanda.” She still ignores you, so you press, “Are you really not going to talk to me?”

“I’m not in the mood. Why don’t you talk to Bethany? Seemed like you liked talking to her. Now you can call her,” Wanda responds, voicing Bethany’s name in an obnoxious way. You try not to snicker but Pietro doesn’t. Wanda kicks the back of his seat, getting in trouble with Sam as he enters the car to see just that. 

“Hey, knock it off! I don’t need Nat busting my ass for something I didn’t do,” he warns and points at Wanda, who huffs but leans back, crossing her arms in irritation. He continues, “Also, if you want me to laugh at your jokes, make them make sense.” 

He throws the paper to your lap. You read it once more and laugh to yourself. Sam is about to start the car but you stop him. “Wait! Before we go, Sam, can you do me a favor real quick,” you say as you pull out a five dollar bill. “Can you go give this to Bethany?”

“So is this like an inside joke or something?” Sam takes the money anyway and heads back to the bar. Pietro asks, “Can I see the paper?”

“Why? You want to have a shot with her too? Clearly she was interested in Y/N, Pietro,” Wanda mumbles. You hand over the paper to her brother while rolling your eyes at her behavior, trying not to smile. 

Pietro reads it and laughs louder than before. Wanda takes off her seatbelt and leans forward to snatch the paper from Pietro’s hands. “Okay, what is so funny? ‘Five bucks she says my name in a mean voice’.” Wanda’s voice trails off in the end out of embarrassment realizing that the note was about her. 

“Hell yeah! I told you I would and I did. I still have the moves.” Sam barges into the car excitedly. “Look what I got!” He waves around a piece of paper in front of Pietro’s face. 

“Her number? Nice,” Pietro says, pretty impressed.

“Yep. She said ‘Here, for if you’re ever back in town,’” Sam tries mimicking Bethany’s voice. Turning to you, he adds, “Oh and she also said to tell you she told you so, whatever that means.” 

“Wanda knows what it means,” Pietro jokes, making you chuckle and Wanda punch him in the arm.

“Alright, alright. Chill out and put your seatbelt on,” Sam tells Wanda. He turns on the car and begins the drive home. “It’s a good thing we’re leaving when we are. Another drink in you and we’d have to pull you out of a bar fight.”

Wanda does as she’s told without another word. In fact she stays silent for the whole ride back, not because she was annoyed like earlier. To say she’s embarrassed is an understatement. It’s one thing for her brother to tease her, throwing remarks he finds oh so humorous her way. She’s used to that from her twin. It’s another thing for you to match his energy, laughing at his jokes and having the same knowing smirk on your face. 

Of course Pietro would know when she’s jealous; they’re twins. Pietro acts the same exact way when he’s jealous. Wanda just wasn’t ready for someone else to pick up on it, especially not the person for why she felt the way she did. 

It is humiliating and that’s why she vows to deny, deny, deny if anyone brings it up, which of course you do because life hates Wanda and won’t let her have this one thing. 

You bring it up after you get home. Wanda tries to rush out the car but you hold her arm, signaling for her to stay in the car. You tell Sam and Pietro to go ahead inside without you, that you need to talk to Wanda in private. 

Sam jokingly “oohs” and rolls down the windows a bit before turning off the car. “This seems like a long talk. I wouldn’t want you ladies to suffocate under all the tension,” he quips. 

Wanda looks at her brother for help and he almost stays seeing the dread on her face, but then he thinks about how this could be new ammunition for teasing her later and makes his decision to go. “Sorry, Wands, but she said ‘in private’.”

“Since when do you respect privacy?” she challenged, ticked that her own blood would leave her to die of mortification for his own amusement. 

“It’s never too late to try new things,” he reasons. He follows Sam to the house, laughing because Wanda shouts out of the car window, “Try not being a traitor next time!”

Wanda’s attention finally turns to you when she hears you giggling. Wanda sits as far away from you as she can, her back practically against the car door. Your laughter dies down, but you still sport a wide smile on your face, irritating her to no end. She crosses her arms and tries to keep her composure.

“What did you want to say?” She feigns innocence, hoping the conversation will take a different route than the one she feels it’s going. However, much like life you won’t let her have this.

“You know, I guessed you could be the jealous type given you telling your brother to stop flirting with me and the other way around, but damn, that was something else,” you tease, finding satisfaction when Wanda’s cheeks burn red.

You let her splutter for a minute, but then take pity on her when you see she can’t find the words to defend herself. You scoot close enough to her that your knees are pressing against hers. “It’s okay, really. Usually, I would find jealousy unattractive but there is something about green on you that I like. It really brings out your eyes.”

Your hands move forward to push some of her hair away from her face as if to see her eyes clearer. Wanda finally finds her voice, scoffing, “I was not jealous,” but she allows you to keep your hands on her face.

“No, of course not,” you reply sarcastically, smirk taking permanent residence on your face. You pinch her cheek to annoy her. 

“Only insecure people get jealous,” Wanda huffs and pushes your hands away. 

“Everyone has their insecurities, Maximoff.”

“What do you have to be insecure about?” she asks like you would be the last person to have any insecurities. 

You lean your side onto the seat. “Plenty of things. Like, no one ever taking me seriously. I hide a lot behind jokes. Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m being serious or not and that makes it really hard to communicate with people.”

You look away from Wanda who begins to uncross her arms, the earlier tension on her body from self preservation dissipating with your confession. Instead, you focus on your hands, fingers tracing the stitched lines on the leather seats. 

You continue with a sigh, “Not to keep reliving the past, but it seems like it’s all I ever really do, I think maybe had I worked a little more on that, maybe Skye and I wouldn’t have ended like we did. Maybe had I shown I could be, I don’t know, more serious, someone you could not only have laugh with but someone you could confide in, have honest talks with, be a shoulder to cry on, then maybe she wouldn’t have seen me as a distraction and maybe we, I don’t know. I’m just rambling now.”

It gets quiet in the car. Wanda watches your hands continue to trace the lines on the seats. You look up at her when she clears her throat, ready to speak. “Vision broke up with me with the excuse that heroes are meant to be alone and I try but ever since he said that I can’t help but think he has a point.”

“Why do you think so?” you ask. Much like you finding something else to focus on, Wanda begins fidgeting with the rings on her fingers before replying, “It’s just that after we broke up, everyone left me alone. They were trying to give me my space, I guess but all it did was make me feel lonely.”

You reach out to stop her fidgeting with her rings which only half works. When you hold her hand, her other one comes to start playing with your fingers. “As embarrassing as it was to have you see me crying, I’m glad you stayed with me that first day,” Wanda whispers, almost like it’s a secret.

You smile and joke, “You were crying? I would have never known if you didn’t just tell me.” You succeed in making her laugh, as she tells you to shut up, but you continue teasing her. “Now the puffy eyes and runny nose make total sense.”

“Oh, god! Don’t remind me,” she pulls her hands away from yours to cover her face. She mumbles behind her palms, “I probably looked so gross.”

You chuckle at how wrong she is, remembering that day. You pull her hands away from her face and respond, “Quite the opposite. I was wondering how someone could look so pretty crying.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at you and accuses, “Liar.”

“Honest. Then I thought how inappor- inaporpiet,” you struggle to say inappropriate so you rephrase, “how it was wrong to think that while you were crying. Sorry, the alcohol is still in my system.”

You continue through Wanda’s giggling. “And it’s your fault I’m not more sober right now!”

“What? How is this my fault?” she questions, still smiling.

“We didn’t get to drink the waters Bethany so nicely served us because you got jealous and stormed out,” you recount, watching the smile drop from Wanda’s face and a frown replace it. 

“I was not jealous!” Wanda still denies, much to your amusement. She tries to pull away her hands but you keep a heavy grip on them.

“Incredible. We just had a whole ass conversation about insecurities and you still can’t admit you were jealous,” you laugh when she denies it again with a pout on her face that you attempt to kiss away, pulling her into you. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mumble with a smile against her lips. She lets out an irritated sigh and leans back into you to finally do something about wiping that knowing smile off of your face. 

Wanda’s lips on yours, you both forget what either of you were trying to prove as you lose yourself to the feeling of having her pressed against you. You are both a mess, still slightly inebriated, but not so much that you don’t know what you are doing. You are well aware that you are in Nat’s car and she would kill you if she were to find out what you were doing in the backseat. 

You take the chance anyway thinking it would be worth it. Remnants of alcohol in your system and watching Wanda take her shirt off will do that. Hands are everywhere, stripping off clothes, so you don’t know who does it but the car horn sounds and makes you both stop in panic. 

“Shit,” you both whisper, out of breath. You turn to look at what could have caused the noise and see your shoe on the driver seat. One of you had thrown the shoe at the wheel. You both look towards the house. The lights were still off. You don’t think you woke anyone. At least, you hope you didn’t.

“Maybe no one heard?” You tell Wanda who looks at you with a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. There are five members of the most renowned team of heroes on the planet in that house. One, if not all, heard the horn.

Your phone chimes. Wanda gives you an ‘I told you so’ look as she pulls out your phone from your pants that are halfway down your thighs. Her heart stops in her chest as she sees the text is from Natasha. She shows you and you cover your face, not wanting to read whatever death threat is on there. 

“Read it for me. Maybe coming from you, I might not have a panic attack,” you beg. She opens the text and reads aloud, “ ‘I expect the car to smell of nothing but lemon scented disinfectant wipes tomorrow’ followed by two exclamation points and the red angry face emoji.”

You let out a sigh and remove your hands. “That doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t think she’s that mad.”

“Wait,” Wanda holds up a finger, reading off of your phone, “she’s typing.”

Your phone chimes incessantly. Wanda begins reading off, “Okay, girl with hand up emoji, ladder emoji, window emoji, person in bed emoji, oh, um.” Wanda’s eyes widen at what she now realizes is Nat threatening you through emoticons. “I am going to stop reading now so you can sleep tonight.”

You groan but take the phone to read through the little story Nat created. “Although I am fearing for my life, I have to give it to her. This is very creative and it sends shivers down my spine.”

You toss your phone onto the passenger seat. “If this is my last night, let’s end it right,” you say before dramatically sweeping Wanda in your arms and moving her to lie down as best as one can in the back seats of Nat’s car. She giggles as you nearly stumble to the floor due to your pants. 

“Stupid jeans,” you mutter, swiftly taking them off and moving on top of Wanda who is still giggling. You quickly shut her up. 

You wake up in the back seat of Nat’s car with Wanda in your arms. You feel three things at once: Wanda’s breath tickling your neck, the warmth of sunlight seeping through the car windows, and the beginnings of a headache. There is a loud screech that does nothing to help soothe the mild hangover. It wakes Wanda up as well. She voices her annoyance out loud, her morning voice husky. 

“Ugh, what is that? Y/N, make it stop,” she demands, burrowing further into you as if that will somehow make it stop. Coincidentally enough it does stop, but before you can relax, you hear voices arise. 

Wanda’s brows furrow and she tries to move away from you to see who could be coming to visit, but with the arm you have around her, you yank her back down into you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper yell.

She looks at you in confusion. “I’m seeing who it is.”

“Maybe that can wait once we’re fully clothed,” you suggest, pointing out the fact that all either of you have on are underwear and your shirts from last night. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, just stay still and hope they don’t peek in the car,” you command. The two of you stay quiet as the voices pass by. From the sounds of it, they come from two women.

“Oh, calm down! That landing was not that bad. It was way better than last time!” one of the women exclaims. Her voice sounds way too familiar, but you are too busy holding your breath in order to not get caught to actually try to place it. 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Daisy. Wait, who let you fly it before?” the second woman asks, the end of her sentence sounding far away hinting at them approaching the front door away from the car you and Wanda currently hide in. 

You hear knocking and then the front door opening. You think you hear Nat’s voice say something that sounds like “oh, fuck” but you aren’t too sure. You and Wanda only get up when you hear the front door close. 

You both hastily redress into yesterday’s clothes. Peeking out the window, Wanda notices a jet outside that definitely was not there last night and seeing as there are no other cars around, she can only assume it belongs to the two women which makes sense after hearing that one of them flew it. 

She sadly puts two and two together. These are the agents that would pick them up to take them back to the compound. You also pieced it together, “They’re here early.”

Wanda notices you sound a little peeved at that but you collect yourself. “Come on. Let’s go see what that’s about.” You give her a quick kiss before you exit the vehicle, holding the door open for her to step out. 

Wanda has half a mind to pull you back into the car, wrap back up in you, and never let you go, although she knows in the end it’s not you that’s going but her that has to leave. She’s just sad that her ride is here so soon and that she had to wake up to it after a night like last night. 

Last night was what felt like a wake up call for her. Lying in your arms, she began to wonder what she was even doing with you anymore. You make her feel like no one else has. She might have denied it all night, but she can be honest with herself. She knows she was jealous. She has never been jealous about anyone before and maybe because she knows she has no claim to you, in other words any reason to be jealous, she realized she wants to have a reason. She wants the right to be jealous. 

You stand there patiently waiting for her to step out of the car. Once she’s out, you fix her hair for her. “There. Maybe not Sister Wanda but I didn’t leave any marks for you to be DJ Wanda either,” you joke, trying to pull a smile from Wanda.

You do, but you find it odd that she doesn’t whack you or anything for teasing. “Wow, no violence after making a joke like that. Are you feeling okay? Did the alcohol not hit you until right now? Are you somehow drunk?”

“No,” she rolls her eyes at you. “I thought we had a rule about not hitting you.”

“Oh, so now you remember the rules. It only took you til your last day here to remember them,” you chuckle, closing the door behind her. You begin walking toward the house but when you reach the porch you feel Wanda pull you back. You look at her with questioning eyes.

Wanda decides to finally voice all her thoughts and feelings that she has been keeping to herself once and for all. “About those rules-“

“Robin Hood?”

Wanda is cut off by that familiar voice you couldn’t place before but you couldn’t mistake it now especially given that nickname. There was only one person to ever call you that. You didn’t have to look to know who it was but you and Wanda both turn to see the last person you thought you would ever catch in Westview County standing on your cousin’s porch.

“Skye?”

______________________________________________________

Dun, dun, duUuUn

@madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovestory @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission @imagine-reblog @fayhar @idek-5 @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @bemyvitamin​ @musicinourlips​ @paumxmff​ @wandamaximoffsrings​ @yeetus-thyself​ @lostandsearching​ @when-wolves-howl @euphoriaszn2​ @gingerbreadcookieforlife​ @myfavoriteficss @cyberbonesworld

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

[floorbe]

Kazuichi, Byakuya, Shuichi, Nagito, Hajime, Taka, Sonia & Mondo headcanons with a partner who is the Ultimate Dreamer? As in they have a HUGE imagination and creativity. They always ramble about ideas, are easily distracted/zone out a lot and get very emotional when an idea for a story or art piece doesn't go according to plan? I know that's a lot of people so you don't have to do them all, i'm sorry

ofc!! its not too many ppl at all, dw!!!

~

Kazuichi Souda

-He’s right on your wavelength!

-He’s got a crazy amount of creativity, too, so he’s right there with you and egging on your ideas!!

-He even adds on to them if you want! He’s got a lot of suggestions for everything

-He also asks for suggestions from you when he’s blocked for ideas on what to build/examine next

-At first he’s kind of offended when you keep getting distracted while he’s talking, but once he realizes it doesn’t mean you’re not interested, he’s cool!

-Has no problem repeating what he said, even if he has to do it twenty times in one conversation

-Kazuichi can completely empathize with getting emotional when something doesn’t turn out right

-He gets the same way when it’s his own creations, so he knows exactly how you feel and how to help

-“Hey, Y/N, don’t worry about it, okay?! We can always try again! Plus, I think this turned out pretty damn cool, anyway...” 

-He’s always encouraging you and complimenting all of your works, even the ones you don’t think are up to par. And he genuinely means everything he says

-You can count on him to always be there to motivate you to try again or move onto the next project

Byakuya Togami

-He’s honestly really impressed with how creative you are

-You’ll probably never know genuinely how much, because the most he’ll say is a “That’s quite an idea, Y/N” 

-He’s going to get frustrated at first if you zone out often, so bear with him as he gets over himself a bit

-Once he does get more used to it, he’ll just sigh and repeat what he said. It isn’t much better than before, but at least he’s not rolling his eyes with a snarky reply anymore

-He kind of... nitpicks your ideas? He doesn’t mean it in a harmful way, he just wants to add on in his own way. He’ll add on his own suggestions for a more practical and successful approach

-He’s actually a pretty good listener, though you’ll mostly get hums and grunts as responses as he doesn’t have much to add onto your thoughts

-If you’re a writer, he’s fully willing to proof read your stuff! He won’t say that, of course, but you can tell by how quickly he gives in when you ask him

-When you get emotional that something didn’t go right, he’ll walk past you and take a look at it himself

-“...This turned out well, Y/N. Our minds expectations are always higher than what we can accomplish; or, you’re your own worst critic, as they say.” 

Shuichi Saihara

-He’s amazed with how many ideas you have?? It seems like you never run out, and he’s so interested in hearing every one

-He doesn’t really have much to add on (and he kinda feels like he’s imposing by suggesting stuff) but if you ask he’s more than happy to give his own thoughts!

-Doesn’t mind you zoning out at all! He actually starts picking up on the signs that you are and either 1. catches your attention again or 2. gives you a minute before going on

-When you start getting emotional over something that didn’t turn out quite right, he’s right there beside you to ride it out with you

-“I-I think it’s amazing, Y/N, really!” and he does! But he knows what it’s like to not meet your own expectations, so he tries his best to be there for you

-And when you eventually pick up the motivation to start a new piece/work on your project again, he’s right there supporting you

Nagito Komaeda

-He’s astounded by how many ideas you have, and he wants to know about every single one

-This man is one of the best listeners you’ll ever meet

-He’s dead silent while you talk unless you want him to add stuff in or ask questions, in which he’s got you, too!

-He loves watching you work, and will gladly sit by you for hours just chilling

-Doesn’t mind at all if you zone out, but he may take it way too personally in a self hatred way, so make sure to reassure him it’s not because of him

-He’s so, so supportive of everything you make!

-He really does not understand how you could think that something didn’t turn out well, because “everything you do is amazing, my love!” 

-He’s got so many compliments for every project you work on. It’s almost too much, but later on in the relationship he knows when to pull back

-If you’re a painter, he’d love to paint with you!! He has no qualms about getting messy, and he loves spending time with you!

Hajime Hinata

-He loves listening to all of your thoughts and ideas!!

-Secretly kinda jealous of how big your imagination is, but he won’t tell you that

-He doesn’t have much to weigh in tbh, he just likes listening, but he’ll give suggestions if you want!

-Tbh he zones out a lot, too, so he totally understands you! He’ll just gently snap your attention back if you ask him to!

-He’s also right by your side when he sees you start to get emotional over a project

-He tries his best to comfort you, mostly by complimenting the piece in question and reassuring you it looks great (and it does!)

-He’ll stick to just comforting you if you don’t want any compliments, tho. He’s a great hugger!

-If you draw, sometimes you’ll catch him sketching in his own little book after watching you draw. He only lets you catch a glimpse of it before he shuts it, but it looked... suspiciously like you? 

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

-This man admires you so, so much. He has so much respect for you

-He’s not really an art person, so if your projects are art based he is so enamored by it! If you’ll let him, he’d love to sit in and watch you while you work! 

-Your creativity is so fascinating to him. He loves hearing all of your ideas, and loves discussing them with you! 

-He’ll try to add in suggestions, but if you want him to just listen he’s fine with that, too

-At first he thinks you’re zoning out because you’re being rude/disrespectful (and he’s a little hurt on the inside at the thought), but once you clarify that that’s not the case at all he’s 100% okay again

-Offers to proof read your stuff if you’re a writer! He may not be that good at creative writing, but he’s damn good at proof reading and editing writings

-He’ll absolutely ask for tips on some of the stuff that he’s interested in if that’s what you also do! (“Y/N, please teach me how to draw the other eye!”)

-He starts picking up on early signs that you’re starting to get emotional over a project, and he’ll rush to your side early to try and help out

-Whether it be by complimenting the piece (which he thinks is just... amazing, really, he doesn’t get how you don’t see that??) or just rubbing your back as you lament over it, he’s right there

Sonia Nevermind

-She’s so excited!!! She loves listening to other people talk about what they’re passionate about!

-She could spend hours just sitting with you and listening to you talk about your new ideas!

-She’ll get so excited if you ask her to weigh in with her opinion, so excited that she may fill up the suggestion with curse words on accident

-She doesn’t mind you zoning out at all! She knows it’s not intentional and she has no problem just catching your attention again and asking where in her sentence you zoned out so she can continue

-Sonia is very observant about the people she cares about, so she can see that you’re starting to get emotional over a piece before you even notice it 

-At an instant she’s bringing you water and snacks, suggesting to take a break with her and relax for a bit

-If that doesn’t work, she’ll wrap you up in her arms to comfort you and remind you that even if this didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted, it still turned out amazing in the end, and that is something to be proud of!

Mondo Oowada

-Damn, he’s impressed. How do you have so many ideas up in your head?? He’s astounded with every one tbh!

-Sometimes he asks you for ideas for what he should build next! (He’ll also let you paint his stuff if you want)

-If you paint or draw, please ask him to join you one day. It will be hilarious and endearing (imagine him drawing a hideous stick figure and labelling it as you)

-He likes sitting you in his lap as you talk about your ideas, and he’ll hum as he listens to you; he’s more of a listener

-Doesn’t mind at all if you zone out! He’ll just hum and repeat himself; no harm done! If you’re apologetic, he’ll scoff and reassure you that he does not “fuckin’ care, babe, it’s not a big deal to say something again”

-He can tell if you’re starting to get frustrated by a piece not going according to plan, and he tries to coax you into taking a break before you get too frustrated

-If you still get emotional over it, he’s beside you rubbing your back soothingly and reassuring you that you can try again another time

-Brings you away from the piece to get your mind off of it, whether that be by motorcycle ride, movie, etc., he’s pulling out all the stops 

[lady-literature]

Protect

royalty au? royalty au.

@maribatmarch-2k21​ | find more here

She was eight years old when she gained her first Wayne as a personal guard.

His name was Richard and Marinette remembers the bright smiles he always gave her when on duty. All the other guards tasked to her were so formal and grim, but Richard was always friendly and treated her with a simple sort of kindness, something she was rarely privy to from those outside her family.

The whole castle knew Richard was Marinette’s favorite, for she rarely made any effort to hide her affection.

When she was nearing thirteen, the aging D'Argencourt was transferred to the teaching of knights and Sir Jason Wayne was appointed to replace him. He was far more familiar with her than was proper, but Marinette delighted in his gentle teasing and ridiculous nicknames. Whenever he could, he taught her commoner’s tricks and told her stories about the lower town and living on the streets.

(It had been the first time she’d been faced with the privilege of her birth so blatantly. Jason had only told her stories of humor and levity, but she was clever for her age and could hear all the things he wasn’t saying.

She was melancholic for a whole week following the revelation, guilty about her ignorance and unearned luck of birth. When she emerges from the end, she swears to protect her kingdom from such hardship as best she can. She may not always succeed, but she will try, and sometimes, that is enough.)

By the time Tim is added the month after her sixteenth birthday, Marinette is starting to think this is all something of a tradition. (Or at least, with the way the siblings talk, a competition of sorts.)

She’s practically expecting the day Cassandra is sworn in, pledging her sword to the protection of the throne. And when Duke follows behind not even a month later, well. There are more than a few whispers of favoritism floating about the castle halls.

(There is, after all, not a single knight on her detail that isn't a Wayne at this point.)

The proper number for a royal escort is five during times of peace, so Marinette does not expect any new additions until Richard decides he wants to retire or finally take her father up on the offer of joining the Justice League, those privileged knights in charge of protecting the King and Queen themselves.

Of course, they all overlooked one important detail.

Damian.

***

They are attending Court. Her parents are sat in their thrones, crowns atop their heads and looking regal and kind as they see to the many needs of their people. Farmers and merchants and families bring to them their problems, and they solve them as best they can.

Her mother sits to the right of her father, and Marinette stands at his left and just a step behind.

They are a united front to the people of their kingdom and this is not an accident.

So, of course, when Damian strides up to the dais, he promptly throws it out the window.

He bows first to the King and Queen, deep and textbook perfect, but when he turns to her, instead of the slightly shallower bow that is afforded to her, he drops to his knees.

The Court gasps and Marinette’s hands twitch where they are clasped in front of her.

The hall has fallen deadly silent and all eyes have turned on her and the knight at her feet.

He is only a few summers older than her and a well-known prodigy on the dueling grounds, easily rivaling the skill of knights twice his size and age.

Marinette has known him nearly as long as she has known Richard, and up until this very moment, she had believed him to be indifferent to her in the highest regard.

Oh, how wrong she had been.

“I, Damian Wayne, pledge my sword and skill to the service of her Royal Highness, Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Should she accept this humble knight, I shall be the obedient weapon that which she wields. This vow I take, for as long as I breathe.”

For a long moment, Marinette does nothing.

He has offered the pledge to her and her only, which means it should be her choice alone to accept or deny it. But that is not how being Princess works and Marinette has responsibilities to more than just herself.

Damian has chosen to make this public, has chosen to cause a spectacle, and Marinette cannot afford to play along if it will place the people she has sworn to protect in danger.

Her mother eyes him with the critical shrewdness that had made her such an excellent spymaster before she married and was crowned Queen. After a long, drawn-out moment, Marinette watches the look melt off her face and the barely-there nod of approval makes the air rush from her lungs.

Should her mother have found that this action would cause more problems than they could handle, Marinette would have turned him away. She must, even if it would break her heart.

(Royalty must be united. There can be no lines drawn in the sand between them and Marinette cannot go against them without undermining the power she herself will one day hold as Queen.

She has responsibility to more than just herself.)

But Damian is lucky. Lucky he is young, lucky that the castle is already rife with rumors of where, exactly, the Waynes’ loyalties lie, lucky that he is a prodigy too valuable to scorn.

And perhaps, most of all, he is lucky that her parents are kinder people than rulers should be.

(How else could one explain his continued existence when he has so blatantly committed treason by pledging to serve an individual rather than the crown?

Marinette would laugh at his bravery if she did not think him an utter fool.)

Her mother has given her blessing, but Marinette does not yet reach for the sword Damian holds out for her to take. She has been privy to enough of the trials of Court and whispers of the castle to know this must be nipped in the bud.

Damian has made this a public affair, and so now Marinette will twist that to her advantage.

“To serve me is to serve Miraculi,” she says, voice clear and firm so that none may misunderstand her. “On behalf of the citizens I protect, and whom you shall as well, I shall accept if only you swear to them as well.”

There is not even a moment of hesitation. “I swear, Your Highness.”

She would smile had it been in any form appropriate.

“Then let your vow be accepted.” Finally, she takes the sword from him and taps the blade against either shoulder. “Rise, Sir Wayne. May you live long and fight well.”

Once on his feet, he bows to her once more and catches her hand as she returns his sword to him. Then, in front of her parents and all the Court, he presses a kiss against her knuckles and smiles.

Distantly, Marinette comes to the realization that she may have misjudged precisely how much of a handful her new knight shall prove to be.