My Heart Shrinks Every Time I Think Of His Affection 💔

i just finished this and am currently in depression state day 3 out of 5 business days 

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disclaimer - I don’t make most of my lockscreens; they come from Pinterest! if one of them happens to be yours, just message me and i will give you credit :)

hey dear <3 I'm fairly new to romance, so could I request ways to hint a crush? Thanks lots!

I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for. If not, feel free to drop another ask.

How To Hint At A Crush

A finds ways to touch B, e.g touching their arm, fixing their hair, sitting close to them, lingering touches.

A noticed small things about B, e.g A thinks their dimples are cute, A likes the way they play with their hands, A notices that B scratches their nose when uncomfortable.

A noticeably relaxes around B, e.g speaks their mind more, physically relaxes their body, smiles / laughs more.

A takes any excuse to be around B, e.g going on small trips with B, offering B a hand with whatever task they’re doing, asks if B is coming when they hear about plans.

Everything reminds A of B, e.g they’re reminded of inside jokes, they see something and think ‘B would like that’, they often think / say ‘I can’t wait to tell B about this’.

Also see:

Reasons for characters to fall in love

Fluff prompts masterlist

Writing advice masterlist

Prompts masterlist

sanemi icons

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Tabun- YOASOBI

I don't see why not if I don't get good new sir pups you're done for ಠ_ಠ

BUT THIS IS SO SAD.... BUT LIKE AT LEAST HORIKOSHI CONFIRMED SHINSOU BEING IN CLASS 1-A

SHUT UP IM GONNA CRY

haven't i given enough . . .

TOPIC: The only thing that justified your relationship, in your head, was the fact that you had your vision. Now that you've lost it, what've you now?

EXTENSIONS: one. two.

RULE BRICK: cyno, tighnari, kaveh, zhongli, and scaramouche x gn! reader. fluff here angst there, sorry not sorry.

NOTES: hehehahaMWAHAHAHA! experimenting with kaveh for a fic i'm writing for him... keep your eyes open for that. (romeo & juliet theme maybe?? idk)

✦ cyno : "not even the gods themselves can protect the ones responsible from my wrath; i swear this on my existence."

Cyno would never forgive the ones that took his lover from him. He'd never forget the fear in your eyes when he returned home one night, not remembering who he was. He'd never forget how he left the house with you as his betrothed and returned with you thinking he was breaking in.

He spent days the same, but his nights became restless (as if he could sleep without you.) He spent this time tracking down your routine that day, praying to the gods he'd find your vision as he retraced your steps.

"Hey, Cyno...?" You knocked on his bedroom door.

In a heartbeat, the door opened. The tiredness that usually occupied his empty eyes, for once filled with hope.

"Oh, I was hoping if I could get some clothes from my closet."

He cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes, "I see. Yes, come in."

You noticed the distressed state of his desk, in comparison to the rest of his untouched room. You watched sadly as he sat back down, working on whatever filled the lonely nights. You understood it, as your nights were just as desolate; you didn't know why, but at the same time you did, like a a word on the tip of your tongue.

"I'm sorry, that I can't remember." The sound of you shuffling through your closet filled the silence, "I can't sleep either, you know? I was thinking, maybe sleeping together will fix it?"

You turn your head in concern at the sound of him falling out if his seat, his face red.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"No... not like that, what are you thinking?" You couldn't help but smile at his embarrassment. "Lay down, I'll join you after I change."

No matter how hard he tried to push you away, you pulled him close. It had been the same way before your memory loss... he found it comforting. If you hadn't reached out, you wouldn't be getting closer like you are now.

He became your pillow and you became his guide, his compass that lead him closer and closer to the puzzle's missing piece.

✦ tighnari : "and to think i awarded myself in how 'observant' i was... the one thing i needed to notice slipped right passed me."

Tighnari considered himself a murderer. If only he noticed you lost your vision, he wouldn't have sent you one such a dangerous expedition. No, this is your fault for not telling him. Well, actually was if his fault for not making you feel safe enough to share something like this?

You haunted every moment he spent alive and breathing, whether that be memories returning at the sight of certain objects or nightmare of what could've been had he took a moment to make sure everything was okay. Was this your form of revenge? Payback for his negligence?

He knew you weren't to blame, in the slightest. You'd given him so many warnings, the fact that he missed it was humiliating. The inability to forget you was a punishment his subconscious he gave himself, and he would bear it until he physically could no longer.

✦ kaveh : "hm, what a shame... looks like i'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again, my love. how fun."

Surprisingly, the architect didn't mind the fact you didn't remember him. You both were roommates at the start and now you were roommates again; you fell in love once and you'd fall in love again. It was as simple as '1 + 1' in his head. He just left out the factor that your personality wasn't exactly the same.

His old flirtatious attempts no longer left you a stuttering mess, as a matter of fact you'd send them back his way and the old roles were reversed.

"Whatcha drawing there?" you asked, plopping down on the couch across from him.

"Only the prettiest person in the world," he winked.

You stared at him for a moment, taking a sip of your tea, "Why do that when there's a mirror in the restroom."

"HUH?" he was a quick one to cover his red face his his sketchbook, still not used to this 'new you.'

You chuckled, leaning toward him to pull the book away from his face, "aw, can't take the tea you brewed, hm?"

"That's not true, it's just uh, you weren't like this before." He admitted.

"What was I like? I wonder, tell me in detail would you? Maybe that'll jog my memory," You smirked at him before going back to where you once were in your corner.

"I know what you're trying to do."

"And what's that?"

Kaveh was more about designing than building, but boy did he try his hardest to fix your broken vision. He simply couldn't handle the embarrassment you put him through (on the daily) and just wanted you to forget any of this happened.

He fell in love with two people with the same face, how inconvenient.

✦ zhongli : "my dear, i may be an archon, but, wield no vision myself. it is the wielder that makes the vision strong, humans forget it was never the other way around."

He didn't notice you didn't have your vision, only the consequences that came with losing it. He also noticed the gaps in your memory, refreshing them as much as he needed to. He also notice how, when he asked to accompany on your commissions, you'd refuse without a thought. He noticed your lack of energy, and how you thought you were no longer deserving of anything given to you.

He'd admit; at first, he thought you'd found another but the tired look in your, now always, glossy eyes told him otherwise. So he waited, and waited until you were ready to talk about it, and you told him in the form of a letter:

Good morning, I already left for my commissions & probably for good, haha. Eh, this isn't a laughing matter... Sorry. Oh, while I'm apologizing; I'm also sorry for all the times you had to remind me of things I shouldn't've forgotten, and how you've had to put up with my lack of energy, and how much I've probably embarrassed you.

I left, not at all because of you but because of me. You were an amazing archon and an even more amazing lover... I'll miss you so much. I'll think of you everyday, do the same for me okay? Keep me alive in your memory when I may no longer be so in Teyvat. Promise?

I left because I'm nothing compared to you. It must be embarrassing walking next to me in the streets. Have you noticed the way they look at me? Ha, they must think I'm beyond pathetic.

As you've seen, I lost my vision. well it actually, broke. That's worse, to be honest. Who breaks their vision?? Hm, me apparently. Anyways...

The former archon didn't waste another second reading whatever other nonsense the letter contained. Not letting go of your broken vision in his hands, he looked for any other trace of you in the house; which, as you warned, came fruitless.

To him, you were his vision. The wielder made the vision strong, but for him, it was the other way around.

✦ scaramouche : "i'd offer you a delusion, but i don't really have those connections right now."

Scaramouche had been betrayed three times so he sorta understood the hurt you felt. He'd never betrayed himself before so he didn't fully understand your pain to that extent but he did his best to sympathize no less.

At first he did make fun of you, but stopped when he realized how much you were hurting. He himself had no vision, so he taught you to function without it, just as you used to.

"Wake up."

"No."

"Wake up."

"No."

"Why not? You have a vision to re-earn. and not lose a second time." The last part was a whisper as he dragged you out of bed.

"But I don't wanna," you whined, using the little energy you had to defy your boyfriend.

His grip loosened as he thought for a moment, "oh, shit... didn't think about that. Still don't care."

He took your shock to pull you close and toss you over his shoulder, "You have two choices, get ready and come or come wearing that."

"Noo, pleaase,"

"Okay, you're going like that."

Scaramouche was extra gentle around you, learning things that he had never been taught; such as, positive reinforcement. He experimented with different methods of lifting your mood, all of which worked, until you were back to normal.

While you didn't 're-earn' your vision in the long run, your bond with the Wanderer changed. For the better, in my opinion.

SILENT NIGHT ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader ( she/her )

summary: Loss doesn’t need to be lonely, grief doesn’t need to be an enemy.

warnings/info: hurt/comfort, mentions of death — loss of a loved one, grief, crying, hugs/cuddling, the internal conflict of loosing someone during the holidays.

word count: 1.2k words

note: the 27th of december has not been the happiest time of the year for me in a while, so yes, this is kind of self-indulgent. this is also for those who have lost someone during the holidays (or ever). i know how painful it can be to put on that fake smile, to force yourself, but please don’t. cry all you want, feel all you want, don’t destroy yourself for things out of your control or that are no longer under it. you are not alone, you are loved and cared for, always remember that. ♡

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 27th.

Humans are not forever.

It’s evident, plain to see, to experience, but then why love so deeply we yearn for infinity? Care so strongly while knowing its definability? It’s what makes you human, everyone says—loving people who give so much to remember, getting your heart broken by them because, at some point, it’ll be your turn to break one, two, a hundred hearts. 

They say a heart that's broken is a heart that's been loved, so you’re glad your heart’s broken. Even when mom’s not here to swipe your tears, hold you close, or tell you how to fix it—when she's not here to argue, talk it out, or stay silent—you're thankful she got to see you grow, see you fall, stand up, and succeed. She saw you fall in love and loved the man who held your hand.

Said man must be near—Charles must be somewhere near; you can hear heavy breaths leaving his lips every now and then, something he does when he’s overthinking. It’s strange, you think. Perhaps he’s become such a recognizable character in your life that it’s instinct to hear it, or, more realistically, the small sound assumes spotlight because of the silence embracing your apartment. You don’t know, and you don’t think further about it. It’s just Charles.

You think about the time lost, not knowing how long you’ve been here, cuddled on the beige couch in your living room as memories of your mom submerge your mind. You stare at the half-drunk cup of hot chocolate settled on the coffee table; it seems cold now. That’s a way to ensure time has passed.

Your slight change of focus leaves the dissipation of heavy breaths unnoticed. Now you hear their replacement, gentle steps that grow louder until they stop before you, crouching until green eyes meet yours. Charles looks beautiful. The dim lights of the fake fireplace and Christmas tree caress his features. His eyes don’t look as green, but a warmer color. He smiles close-mouthed, taking your hand in his, and you let yourself smile back.

He doesn’t talk, understanding you well enough to know you don't want to talk at all. His thumb starts making shapes on your skin, memories taking you back to that night a year ago, when Charles drove you home from the hospital, his hand never leaving yours, doing the same shapes he’s doing now. You remember how, upon arriving, he stayed next to you until you finished one glass of water, then made sure you dined, how he helped you shower, and the moment he cuddled you in bed while you cried, muttering sweet nothings in your ear, his voice quivering because he had been crying too—he had known your mom for eight years by then. He called Andrea the following day, asking to be instructed in soup making and taking care of the two of you all day.

A lot of those days were faint, blurry memories, but if there's one thing you are certain of, it's that Charles never left.

Your eyes travel around the room, landing on a photo on the wall. It’s Christmas 2021, you and your family are all warped up in each other—it’s one of the pictures your dad lent you early this year, once hung up on your mother’s office. Next to it is one of a younger Charles with your mom and dad. It was taken a little over six years ago, the day you told them you were dating. It makes you smile. Your mom always loved Charles; even before you started dating, he was her favorite friend of yours, always so kind and funny. 

You’re about to travel back in time when there’s a small tug on your hand, turning your attention. Charles is moving around, sitting down on the floor. He looks up at you, then at the picture, he smiles saddened, the beautiful memory stinging as much as it does to you.

For the first time, you feel the need to say something, to explain yourself. But not knowing what to say, you say the simplest: “I miss her so much.”

He leans down to kiss your hand. “I know, baby, I know."

Silence falls over you once again, and the necessity to talk vanishes. You look back at the gallery, now focusing on the same type of picture as before, but it's a younger you with Charles, his mom, and brothers; there’s a bed between you and Charles, Hervé Leclerc smiling at the camera. There's writing on its frame: May 2017. You look at Charles, a small tear tempting to fall but a smile on his lips. You lean down to kiss his cheek, letting him know that it’s alright to cry. He brings you closer, kissing your lips—small pecks over and over again.

He stops, briefly glancing at the other two photos hanging on the wall, one of Charles' family and another of the two of you, promise rings on your hands, smiling at the camera. You think about your families, about you, and about how it's been a year since your mom left, and you still want to tear the world apart. A newfound feeling spreads across your body: guilt. Guilt of spending your night consumed by dread and grief, letting Charles fall into it.

You hate this feeling. 

Charles let’s go of your face, cupping your hands together with his. You know he sensed the change; his big green eyes are asking questions you don’t want to answer. You want everything to stop hurting, the memories to stay happy, and the bittersweet taste on your tongue to be eradicated.

He waits, and you break. “I want it to stop,” you mumble. “I want the pain to go away; I don’t want to think about it. I want to go back and not feel like I did on the 24th, like I wanted to run away and cry in my room for hours. I don’t know how to deal with this, Charles; this is too much. I can’t, can't do it.”

The buildup is too much, your breathing is heavy and fast. Charles hurries towards you, his hands hovering over your frame. “No, non, bébé, I’m here; you know I’m here, just like you are always here for me,” he hesitates, but charges through. “Someone once told me that it’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to cry, to, to grieve. She told me: Grief is part of love, never hold back from loving.”

And you don’t know what to do or say. He’s cupping your face, looking at you so lovingly as he continues, “You told me that, chérie, so don’t hold back; even if she’s gone, keep loving her." He says, “You will slowly let go of the loss, I promise, I know how it is, just never feel guilty for loving her.”

It occurs to you at that moment that you haven’t cried in weeks, tears forbidden by a nonexistent rule, so when the first sob leaves your lips, there’s no regret over it. Tear after tear, sob after sob, your heart grieves.

Charles crawls up the sofa, bringing you to his arms, your head now on his chest, wetting the soft material of his shirt. You are about to care when his hand brushes your hair and back, and there’s no use in stopping it.

“Thank you,” you say between sobs.

“I love you,” he answers, knowing you do too.

i miss my mom so much

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