#i’m so genuinely unhappy with myself

[curlyhaired3confused]

.

[edenfenixblogs]

I also resent that person’s implication that I am either genocidal or self centered or overly sentimental.

I have repeatedly advocated for peace.

I have repeatedly tried to meet people where they are and to share resources to help Palestinians and to demonstrate interfaith solidarity.

I have contextualized fear of antisemitic violence in statistics and cultural context and avoided laying blame on any one group of people.

But I guess I’m fundamentally invalid because I’ve used the jumblr tag to find a shred of fucking community.

[whimsyprinx]

i don’t think I’m like actually allowed to be happy or that I even know how to be anymore

[rosenbraut]

My father just showed me videos he took of me. Words cannot express how I feel rn.

[tristancaine]

every time I remember how the atlas trilogy ended I get so angry all over again lmao

[steviescrystals]

ignore this post i’m just whining again

[pierregazly]

simply a joke ꨄ lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x assistant!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), lewis was pining and reader was oblivious [1.6k words]

request: 🌶 I would request for Lewis Hamilton and [20. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”]

The bill was placed down on the table, the waitress giving you a sympathetic look as she openly asked whether it would be cash or card.

“You don’t mind paying right? I’ll forward you the money, just forgot my wallet of course, such a lapse of memory sometimes,” he said, an arrogant smirk on your blind date’s face while he waited for your response.

Humming in acknowledgement, you muttered that it would be on card to the waitress. 

You didn’t give him much of a chance to say anything further, bidding him a farewell the moment the bill was paid, and a denial to a second date. The shock on his face made your smile grow when you whirled around, making the trek towards your car while you contemplated how your life had even got to this point.

A quick text sent off to the only person you actually wanted to see was met with an easy ‘I’ll leave the door unlocked, see you soon’, prompting you to direct your car in the opposite direction of your own home.

Lewis was always happy to have you over, saying more than once you may as well just move in with him with how often you were there anyways. Always shrugging the comment off, you would just laugh and remind him the two of you see each other enough during the week and that you were pretty sure Mercedes would be unhappy with a driver and his team-assigned assistant living together.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what they would want, actually? Full access for both of us, love,” Lewis practically had the response memorized, a shove to his shoulder the only answer he ever received to it.

Huffing as you flopped down on the couch next to the Brit, Lewis quirked a questioning eyebrow at you, silently imploring as to what could possibly be creating your current set of emotions.

“I’ve just come back from a date, what an absolute nightmare, Lew. I’ve never met someone who managed to talk about themselves more than that guy. Don’t think I even got a word in,” you complained.

A small chuckle fell from Lewis’ lips, his hand gently patting your knee with a sympathetic expression falling across his face.

“Like… am I the problem, Lew? Be honest, because I’m going insane here, I don’t think I’ve even had sex in months. I genuinely think I’m on the verge of insanity,” you said, practically begging for a response from the Brit.

Huffing, Lewis turned his gaze onto you. Looking you up and down, you felt yourself heat under his gaze. You would never admit it aloud, but you couldn’t deny that the Mercedes driver was borderline gorgeous. 

“I think if all you’re looking for is sex, going on a date in the outfit you’re wearing right now… well it’s not doing you any favours, really.”

Pouting at him, you looked down at your outfit while trying to decipher what was wrong with it.

He continued, “before you start, there’s nothing wrong with the outfit. You look gorgeous, really. But you’ve got the buttons up all the way to the top, the pants aren’t formfitting at all, and you’ve got incredible legs, you just refuse to wear shoes that accentuate them. You’re dressed like you’re going to a business meeting, not like you’re going on a date with the intention of being taken home after.”

He emphasized his words by coming closer, flicking open the top four buttons, allowing the top of your breasts to peak through, the lacy bra you were wearing visible to the open-eye. 

“You don’t get it, Lew. Sure, I could wear a shirt that shows off my breasts, pants that accentuate my ass… but I don’t just want sex. Sure, yes, I want sex… but I want to be taken seriously, I want to be taken on a real date and actually enjoy myself.”

“I could give you both, but you keep denying my offer,” he shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back towards the television.

Trying to wrap your mind around his words, “You act like your offer is ever serious, Lew. We both know it’s a joke.”

“You’re the one who says it’s a joke and that I’m not being serious. Not sure what else I’m really meant to say that’s going to make you believe me, love,” he said.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He had been making jokes like this for years. It was easy to assume they were comments he made with everyone, his personality naturally flirtatious.

Your body moved on instinct, pressing yourself closer to him as you contemplated your next words.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

He didn’t give a response before he was pressing his lips to yours, his hand instantly pressing to the back of your neck, tugging you closer to his body. His lips were soft, his tongue wet as it pressed gently at your lips, begging for an entrance. 

A soft moan fell from your mouth when Lewis pulled your body on top of his, your legs encircling his waist. You ground your core against his, a rumble of a groan falling from Lewis’ own lips, his head falling back against the couch behind him.

“God, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard, about fucking all of them, I swear.”

The whimper that fell from your lips was unintentional, your body subconsciously grinding down against the hardness growing between his legs; the pit in your stomach growing, the desire for him so prevalent in your actions.

You had never realized how much you truly wanted this, how much you wanted those comments you thought to be jokes, to be real.

“That better not be a joke, Lew,” you moaned, his lips pressing to your neck as he guided your hips back and forth over his lap. 

You felt your back hit the couch, Lewis’ body crawling over top of yours as he began kissing down your body. The buttons on your shirt having come undone at some point making it easier for the Brit to continue his ministrations across your skin.

Looking up at you imploringly, his tattoo-covered hand tugged gently at the waistband of your pants, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips slightly so he could tug the offending material off.

He lightly nipped at your hip, pressing a kiss to sooth the heated skin before continuing his actions to the other side. Small love bites, kisses, short presses of his tongue to your skin as he continued to move down your body. Lifting a leg to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, you moaned at the action.

It didn’t take long for your panties to join the discarded pants, his eyes hungrily taking in the display. You couldn’t help the self-conscious thoughts, your legs instinctively closing around his body. 

“Nuh-uh, none of that, pretty girl,” he said, his hands pushing your legs open.

A finger gently pressed to your core, parting your lips as he ran a finger through them, collecting the wetness that was seeping from you. A tiny whimper departed your lips as you watched Lewis bring the finger to his mouth, sucking the collected juices from the digit.

It was like watching a man possessed as he got in between your legs, your hands finding their way to his head as the first press of his tongue resonated throughout your body.

There was no surprise that he was skilled with his tongue, the same way he was skilled with his fingers; the same way he was skilled when he put his mind to anything else he desired success in.

His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, pressing against the spot inside your core that had you practically keening for him, your hips pressing up against his face; the only thing keeping his mouth from drowning in your wetness was the hand he had pressed to your pelvis, pushing you back down against the bed.

A loud moan fell from your lips as Lewis sucked at your clit, a third finger joining the other two inside you, a squelching sound vibrating throughout the living space as you felt yourself hit your peak.

Your orgasm crashed through you, your legs shaking as Lewis’ fingers and tongue slowed down, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. Your head was still thrown back when you heard the sound of more clothes hitting the floor, your eyes peaking open to a view that had your mouth practically watering.

It was common knowledge that Lewis was an incredible sight. From his hardened muscles, to the pops of ink that covered his body, everyone knew he was gorgeous. But his cock? All you wanted to do was wrap your lips around it, which in time, you knew you’d be able to.

But for now? All Lewis wanted to do was press inside you, feel the way your walls pulled him in, the way your wetness coated him, the way you’d stretch so lovely around him.

“On your knees, pretty girl. I wanna’ see this lovely arse when I push inside you for the first time, been thinking about it lots.”

You were quick to do as he demanded, flipping your body over so you were on your knees, resting on your elbows as you felt the couch dip behind you.

A low whimper fell from your lips as you felt him run his length through your wetness, coating his cock in your juices before pressing the tip inside. The stretch was delicious, your body pushing back against his, begging for more.

Obliging, his entire length pushed forward, your lips wrapping around him, the wetness dripping from your core making it easier for him to slide inside.

“Gonna fuck you so good, make you never wanna leave, baby. Can’t wait to feel you cum all over my cock, been wanting to feel that for ages,” he whispered in your ear, biting at the lobe as he pulled away.

Moans and grunts fell from your lips with every thrust of his hips, his body seeking the release he knew yours could give him. The way he made you feel, the feelings his body evoked from yours; it made you insatiable, made you crave the feeling more and more. Made you regret ever believing his comments were simply a joke.

anyways. i got carried away. please enjoy (reader has a hand kink specifically for lewis as i also do sorry!!! bye!!!)

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[cloudcountry]

OH MY GOD. THE MIX UP VALENTINE POST. YOU ATE!!!! could i rq a version with riddle, ace, deuce, octavinelle, and lillia? 🫶🫶

SUMMARY: you get a gift that was meant for the student you like, and the contents spur you to action.

COMMENTS: this is a spin off post of this post!! IM GLAD U LIKED IT ANON i was proud of that one myself ehehe

also the character limit is five so i picked azul from octavinelle

You stare blankly at the box of chocolate in your hands, the gift crammed into your desk haphazardly. At first, you thought it was for you—that’s what anyone would assume, right? Except...the note on top of it is not addressed to you, but rather, the guy you like. It makes you wonder if this is some joke, or if one of his friends wanted you to deliver it for him. You pick at the heart sticker sealing the note shut and peel it open, taking a peak of the contents.

Your eyes wide and your heart lurches in your chest, panic and annoyance roaring like red hot flames as you read what sounds like a genuine confession of love. Someone had their eyes on him? How did you never notice?

Was it weird to get jealous? I mean, he’s not even dating you yet...you don’t even know if he feels the same way. You can’t deny it doesn’t feel good that there’s another student trying to woo him, though. You’ve been so scared up until this point, so nervous about what he might think, but the clock is ticking. You’ve got to tell him before it’s too late.

Riddle sits up even straighter when he sees you approaching him with a heart shaped box and an envelope, his cheeks flushing pink. He clears his throat when you arrive, expression all twisted up as if you’re unhappy about something. Riddle turns to look at you, holding his chin high as he addresses you by name.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“This is a pathetic gift for the Queen of Hearts.” you reply dryly, throwing the gifts on the ground and stomping on them, “Someone thought that would be enough for you, but I won’t stand for it.”

Riddle stares open mouthed at the torn envelope and crushed box of chocolates, but a giant bundle of roses blocks his line of sight.

“This.” you say, a bouquet of roses in one hand and an entire strawberry tart in the other, with the truffles from the box placed in a circle around it in your hands, “Is a far more fitting gift for courting the queen.”

Deuce freezes after he reads the note you gave him with a sour face, cheeks turning pink. He wonders why you look so upset when you just confessed how much you like him—even though the words seem a bit off...

“See, Deuce? I told you you were popular.” you scoff, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

You glare so intensely at the envelope that Deuce feels your anger and jealousy.

“Is this...not from you?” he asks softly, his heart plummeting out of his body. And here he was, getting all delighted and cheesy about it—

“Nah. It’s not.” you say flippantly, “I’m confessing my feelings in a much better way.”

Deuce gasps when you pull out a bouquet of dark blue roses, kneeling at his feet as you take his hand. He swears you see hearts in his eyes as he stares at the flowers and your face, which look up at him with determination he knows all too well.

“Deuce Spade, I want you to be mine.” you declare, and his legs turn to jelly as he babbles out an enthusiastic yes.

“I can’t believe someone who isn't me likes your dumbass.” you smack Ace’s arm as he snickers over the note, an immature gesture if there ever was one.

“Well, if you like this dumbass what does that make you, huh? A stupidass?” he quips, knocking his whole body against you.

You squeal and shove him back, sticking your tongue out at his shocked face as he falls off the bed.

“Really!? This is how you’re confessing your love to me?” Ace huffs, playful as always, “I want a divorce.”

“You idiot, I’m just speaking your language!” you snap back, throwing a pillow at his head, “All you do is tease and yap and jab so I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine!”

“Oh you’re on!” Ace jumps to his feet, pillow in hand.

It’s obvious he likes you back. It always has been. And even if that person hadn’t sent that note, you two still would have known just how much you care for each other, even if it remains (mostly) unsaid.

(You still trampled that note at least ten times during your pillow fight though.)

“Is this some kind of joke?” Azul says blandly, placing the letter down on his desk of his VIP Room, “This obviously isn’t your handwriting, nor is it your style of writing.”

“That’s because it’s not mine.” you say just as blandly, raising an eyebrow as Azul looks over his spectacles at you, “Were you hoping it was?”

“What is the purpose of this visit then? You bring me some random letter with a confession of love...don’t tell me you’re hoping to butter me up.” Azul chuckles, standing up as gracefully as ever, “You should know better than anyone that those tricks do not work on me.”

You stand up as well, arms crossed over your chest as you meet his stare with your own.

“Because, Azul, someone left that note in my desk. It was addressed to you, as you can see, so I bought it for you. What you just read is what encouraged me to take action.” you take a deep breath and summon all of your courage, there truly is no turning back now, “Azul, I am interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I can assure you I’ve thought this over many times before coming to you with this proposal. If you’re willing, I would love to sit down and have a talk about the terms and conditions of this deal.”

You hold out your hand for a handshake.

Azul’s mouth forms an o shape, and for a second you’d say he looks shocked, but he composes himself quickly as is all too inclined to place his hand in yours.

“Well, well, well!” he beams, voice light and airy with what you can only assume is joy, “Let’s get negotiations underway, shall we?”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” Lilia coos, bringing a hand up to his mouth, “Why do you look so sour, sweets?”

“Because it’s not from me. It was stuffed in my desk and addressed to you.” you wrinkle your nose, the envelope clenched in your fist, “I don’t like the idea of someone confessing to you before I could.”

Lilia giggles, still hiding his mouth behind his hand. You stare blankly at him, tapping your foot so hard your ankle starts to cramp up.

“Oh, no need to look so anxious, dear. I’m sure you’re well aware of where my affections lie, yes?” Lilia approaches you, his fingers intertwining with yours as the envelope flutters to the floor, unnoticed and uncared for.

He doesn’t have much time left. He’s loved and he’s lost, he may as well go for what he wants while it’s still here, in front of him.

“That is such an indirect way of confessing.” you groan, squeezing his hand, “I even got you a whole bag of mystery flavored red lollipops...”

“Gifts are best shared, my dear!” Lilia laughs, pulling you over to his bed, “Now, hurry up! I want to see which flavor I get first!”

[brookghaib-blog]

Shattered Dreams pt.3

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

an: There you go, this is the final part, enjoy.

Summary: Y/N navigates a loveless marriage to Hoshina Soshiro

pt.2

The cozy coffee shop was bustling with activity, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet aroma of pastries. Y/N sat at a corner table, her baby daughter happily babbling in a high chair beside her. It had been a couple of months since she had met Gen Narumi, and in that time, their friendship had blossomed. They often met for coffee, sharing stories and finding solace in each other’s company.

Today, however, was different. Y/N’s heart was heavy with the weight of a decision she had been contemplating for some time. As she sipped her coffee, her eyes drifted to the door, watching for Gen’s arrival.

Moments later, he walked in, his presence immediately comforting. He smiled warmly as he approached, taking a seat across from her.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice gentle. “How are you and the little one doing today?”

“We’re good,” Y/N replied, her smile genuine but tinged with a hint of sadness. “She’s been growing so fast.”

Gen glanced at the baby, who was playing with a soft toy, her eyes bright with curiosity. “She’s adorable,” he said, reaching out to gently touch her tiny hand. “You’re doing an amazing job with her, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Gen,” she said, her voice soft. “I needed to hear that.”

As they settled into their conversation, Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her. Gen had a way of making her feel seen and understood, a stark contrast to the loneliness she often felt at home.

“Gen,” she began hesitantly, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

He looked at her, his expression attentive and concerned. “What is it, Y/N?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. “I’ve been thinking about getting a divorce,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. “I’ve been miserable for so long, and nothing has really changed between Soshiro and me. He’s never home, and when he is, it’s like we’re strangers living under the same roof.”

Gen’s eyes softened with understanding. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Y/N. You deserve so much better.”

“It’s not just about me,” she continued, her gaze drifting to her daughter. “It’s about her too. I don’t want her to grow up in an environment where there’s no love or affection. She deserves a happy home, and I can’t give that to her if I’m constantly unhappy.”

Gen reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “You’re incredibly brave for considering this,” he said gently. “It’s not an easy decision, but sometimes it’s the right one. Have you talked to Soshiro about how you feel?”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve tried, but he never listens. He’s so consumed with his work, and he doesn’t see what’s happening right in front of him. He’s never even acknowledged my paintings or my success. It’s like I don’t exist to him outside of being his wife and the mother of his child.”

Gen squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Your work is incredible, Y/N. You’ve built something amazing, and you deserve to be recognized for that. If Soshiro can’t see it, that’s his loss.”

She had been so afraid of taking this step, of facing the unknown, but Gen’s unwavering support gave her strength. She glanced at her daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in her high chair, and felt a renewed determination.

“I want to be happy, Gen,” she said, her voice firm. “I want to build a life where I can be myself, where my daughter can see what it means to be strong and independent. I can’t do that if I stay in this marriage.”

Gen nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Y/N. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As they finished their coffee and prepared to leave, Y/N felt a sense of hope for the first time in a long while. The path ahead was uncertain, but she knew she was not alone. Gen’s friendship and support were a lifeline, guiding her through the darkness and toward a brighter future.

Outside the coffee shop, the sun was shining brightly, a reflection of the new possibilities that lay ahead. Y/N took a deep breath, the fresh air filling her lungs and invigorating her spirit.

“Let’s walk for a bit,” Gen suggested, offering his arm. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Y/N smiled, accepting his arm as they strolled down the street. Her daughter gurgled happily, the warmth of the sun and the love of her mother enveloping her.

As they walked through the park, Y/N and Gen continued to talk about her plans and dreams. Her daughter, now awake, was fascinated by the trees and flowers, reaching out to touch the petals as they passed by.

“I’ve been thinking about moving,” Y/N said, her voice thoughtful. “Somewhere with more space for my studio and where my daughter can grow up surrounded by nature.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Gen replied, his eyes brightening at the thought. “A fresh start could be exactly what you need. Have you found any places yet?”

“A few,” Y/N admitted, smiling. “I’ve been looking at some houses in the countryside. It’s peaceful there, and I think it would be good for both of us.”

Gen nodded, his expression encouraging. “It sounds perfect. I’m sure you’ll find the right place soon. And remember, I’m always here to help if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Gen,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude. “Your support means the world to me. I'm going to his office later, I doubt that he will give me the time of day but maybe he will listen.”

They continued their walk, enjoying the tranquility of the park. Y/N felt a sense of liberation, a newfound freedom that came with the realization that she was in control of her own destiny. With Gen’s friendship and the love for her daughter as her guiding lights, she was ready to embrace the future and all the possibilities it held.

--

The sun was beginning to set as Y/N arrived at the Defense Force base with her baby daughter in tow. Determined to speak to Soshiro face-to-face, she navigated through the bustling corridors, occasionally stopping to ask about his whereabouts. Each person she spoke to mentioned that he was busy, but she persisted, unwilling to leave until she had confronted him.

Eventually, she reached his office. With a sigh of relief, Y/N pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was neat and organized, a reflection of Soshiro’s meticulous nature. Her daughter was sleeping peacefully in her stroller, and Y/N decided to explore the office while waiting for him.

As she looked around, her eyes fell upon Soshiro’s desk. Among the papers and files, she noticed a framed photograph of herself and their daughter. It was a candid moment captured during a family outing, their smiles bright and genuine. Seeing the picture brought a pang of mixed emotions – nostalgia for happier times mingled with sadness over their current situation.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Y/N began to sift through the papers on his desk. That was when she stumbled upon a drawer that contained several photographs, neatly arranged and carefully preserved. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the face in the pictures – Makoto.

In the photographs, Soshiro and Makoto were captured in moments of laughter and camaraderie, their bond evident in the easy smiles and shared experiences frozen in time. Y/N’s hands trembled as she picked up one of the pictures, her eyes fixed on the two men who had played such pivotal roles in her life.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening behind her startled Y/N. She turned quickly to see Soshiro entering the office, his expression a mix of surprise and apprehension. His eyes widened as he noticed her standing by his desk, the photographs in her hand.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cautious. “What are you doing here?”

She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. “I... I was looking for you,” she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Soshiro stepped closer, his gaze flickering between her and the photographs. “What have you found?” he asked quietly, his tone tinged with sadness.

Y/N looked down at the picture in her hand, her heart aching with unanswered questions. “How... how did you know Makoto?” she asked, her voice trembling.

For a long moment, Soshiro remained silent, his eyes fixed on the photographs. Finally, he spoke, his voice raw with emotion. “He was... he was my best friend,” he admitted, his words heavy with unspoken grief. “We grew up together, trained together... fought together.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “Did he ever...mentioned something of me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Soshiro turned to face her fully, his expression pained. “I always knew.” he confessed quietly. “From the moment your named was mentioned by my father I already knew. Makoto woudn't stop mentioning you.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as the weight of his words sank in.

"He died protecting me and now I'm living his life. Did you know that?" His breath began to be more difficult as each word came out of his mouth "He was suppose to be the Vice-Captain, he was stronger, wiser, he was suppose to marry you, our daughter was suppose to be his. I couldn't do anything and gained everything he desired and worked for... He told me to protect you, did you know that? I've never met you before our wedding but somehow he wanted me to do something he was supposed to do. Everytime I look at you I remmember that this life belongs to someone else who deserved it, someone who deserved you, you never knew me but treated me as if you wanted me with you, how could I be a husband you don't belong to me."

Y/N got up from his chair looking at him, crying, from his memories, from his feelings, because she knew now, that he always was aware that she fantasized about Makoto being in his place.

"How come you never told anything, we could have worked it out, we could have helped each other soshiro, do you know how much I've suffering from having a husband who wouldn't even look my way?"

"How could I? Would you play pretend when you knew you stolen someone elses life? He died and I got everything he wanted, he died protecting me and got the love of his life as a wife, carrying my child, at the alter with me, not him. I know, I know I've been a complete asshole, but how come I do all that I get you to be all nice to me, doing everything for me, treating me with respect, when it was I who took your happiness Y/N? answer me." Soshiro let it all out, tears running down his face, his voice breaking, his actions putting the weight on his back, the emotions now being exposed.

Y/N didn't know what to do anymore, she came here knowing the solution for her problems, getting away, living free, and now, in a matter of minutes. Soshiro was now the last thing Makoto left her.

She hugged him, she didn't know why really. "He was the smartest man I've ever meet, I know that, if he asked you something he knew you were capable of it, it was either you or him who would die that day, and I know very well he didn't even give you time of reaction, he would always put other in front of him, it was the only thing I hated about him, it was what took him...but you're here, you didn't stole him, he gave it to you because he knew that you were the only person who could do things the same way as he would've."

He rested his hand on her head, looking at her. "I bought the painting."

Y/N confused, now looking up at him, she asked "What painting?"

"The one you made for him."

--

The soft glow of evening settled over Y/N and Soshiro's home, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. It had been a day of unexpected revelations and tentative steps toward healing. Y/N stood in the living room, her gaze fixed on a painting that now adorned their wall. It was the painting she had made for Makoto, a piece that had found its way to the gallery and been purchased by an anonymous buyer.

She turned to Soshiro, who stood nearby, his expression unreadable. "How… how did you know about my paintings being at the gallery?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

Soshiro hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of guilt and resolve. "Narumi," he finally admitted. "He came to me one day, teasing me about having met my wife and how beautiful you were, joking that he might steal you away. He's an idiot, but I know he has been a great friend to you."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Gen told you about me?" she asked, her mind racing with questions.

Soshiro nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "He told me how he had met you at the gallery, and how you had shared stories about your past and your paintings," he explained, his voice softening with each word. "He also warned me, Y/N. He said that I would lose you if I didn't make an effort to understand and cherish what we have."

-flashback-

Soshiro stood outside the gallery, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. He had come here at Narumi's insistence, curious and somewhat apprehensive about what he might discover. Inside, the gallery buzzed with activity, the soft murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glasses creating a backdrop to the vibrant display of art.

Narumi found him near a display of Y/N's paintings, a knowing smile on his face as he approached. "Soshiro," he greeted, his voice laced with amusement. "I see you've finally made it."

Soshiro regarded him warily. "What are you doing here, Narumi?" he asked, his tone guarded.

Narumi chuckled softly. "I came to see the paintings, of course," he replied, gesturing toward the artwork on the walls. "And to learn more about the talented woman who captured my attention."

Soshiro frowned, a pang of unease settling in his chest. "What do you mean?"

Narumi turned to him, his expression serious. "I mean your wife, Soshiro," he said quietly. "She's remarkable. Her paintings… they speak to something deeper, something that resonates with anyone who takes the time to look."

Soshiro's gaze softened, a flicker of pride mingling with uncertainty. "I know she's talented," he admitted quietly. "But I haven't been… I haven't been the husband she deserves. I've been doing nothing but make her hate me, however, I wish she would, her heart is too big for her own good."

Narumi regarded him thoughtfully. "No, you haven't," he agreed, his tone gentle but firm. "But it's not too late, Soshiro. You can still show her how much she means to you."

-present time-

Y/N listened intently as Soshiro recounted his conversation with Narumi, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. She had never expected Narumi to play such a pivotal role in their lives, to be the catalyst for a conversation that had brought them closer together.

"Why did you buy the painting?" she asked softly, her eyes lingering on the artwork that now graced their home.

Soshiro took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. "Because I knew it was for Makoto," he confessed quietly. "Narumi told me about your conversations, about your love for him and the pain of losing him. I wanted… I wanted to show you that I understand, Y/N. That I want to honor your memories, Makoto was also everything to me in a way."

Y/N felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of Soshiro's words. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for understanding."

Soshiro stepped closer to her, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "And I'm sorry for never telling you. For never explaining, I... I don't deserve to have you both, specially our babygirl, I've neglecting my own child because I didn't want to move on."

She nodded" It's not ok, no. But you will make it up for it, just don't make me regret giving you this opportunity, I came to the office to go away from you. My daughter is not growing up to the same enviroment as I did."

--

The gentle afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow in Y/N and Soshiro's living room. Their daughter, now a lively toddler, giggled and toddled around the room, chasing after a colorful toy. Y/N watched her with a tender smile, her heart full of love for the little girl who had brought so much joy into their lives.

Soshiro sat beside Y/N on the couch, his eyes fixed on their daughter with a mixture of pride and affection. They had come a long way since the tumultuous days that had tested their marriage. Now, they found solace in these quiet moments together as a family.

Y/N turned to Soshiro, her gaze searching yet hesitant. "Soshiro," she began softly, "do you think it's possible… for you to see me as beautiful? To fall in love with me?"

Soshiro's brow furrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Y/N," he replied earnestly, "I've always thought you were beautiful. From the moment I first saw you, I was struck by your strength, your kindness, and your unwavering determination."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, a flicker of hope stirring within her. "Then why…" she started, her voice trembling slightly, "why couldn't you treat me right? Why did you push me away?"

Soshiro sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his confession. "It was never about you, Y/N," he admitted quietly. "Makoto was… he was like a brother to me. When he died, I couldn't bear the thought of taking his place in your heart. Of treating you as mine."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she listened to him speak, her heart aching with the pain of their shared history. "Is that why…" she hesitated, gathering her courage, "is that why you named our daughter that name?"

Soshiro looked at her, his gaze filled with regret. "Yes," he confessed softly. "I thought… I thought you would appreciate the gesture, even if at the time you thought I chose the name randomly."

Y/N nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "I see," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't how I never suspected…"

Silence settled between them, punctuated only by the sound of their daughter's laughter as she played nearby. Y/N felt a mix of emotions swirling within her – sadness for the loss they had both endured, but also a glimmer of understanding and forgiveness.

"Soshiro," Y/N said softly, breaking the silence, "I… I want to believe that we can move forward from this. That we can build something real between us."

Soshiro reached out and took her hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "I want that too, Y/N," he replied earnestly, kissing her hand.

She looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and vulnerability that he rarely showed. "Can you try?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope. "Can you try to see me, to really see me, and cherish me?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Soshiro's lips. "I'll do it." he admitted quietly. "And I think… I think I'm already falling in love with you, Y/N. You've not been invisible to me, the way you treated me, how proud you were of me... a man is easily defeated by a woman like you."

Tears spilled over Y/N's cheeks, this time tears of relief and joy. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. In that embrace, they found a fragile yet precious moment of peace – a promise of a future filled with love, understanding, and the courage to heal old wounds.

Their daughter toddled over to them, reaching up with chubby hands to be lifted into her father's arms. Soshiro lifted her effortlessly, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she giggled in delight.

"You'll be as beautifull and talented as your mother, one day, hopefully, you'll get to follow my steps and take Ahiru's place as my Captain, Makoto."

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

@jilymicrofics august 12: bride

“Oh!” James stammers. “Sorry, I thought this room—er, never mind. I’ll…just—”

She looks up, and James nearly stumbles backward, shocked and horrified by the sight before him. He knows the makeup streaking down her cheeks in dark smudges was perfect just half an hour ago. She’s entirely perfect, in fact, a fact he clocked from the moment he showed up to the venue this morning, camera bag in tow, completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to meet the most beautiful girl in the world.

The only issue, of course, being that she’s marrying someone else in approximately two hours.

Well, that and the now-added issue of her crying in an empty room of the church.

“Oh god,” she gasps, her voice cracking. She wipes at her snotty nose with a crumpled tissue, trying to smudge away the tears that have left her face a wreck. “You must think I’m mad. Two hours before the ceremony and the bride is having a meltdown...”

James forces a nervous smile, shifting his camera bag to his other shoulder. “I dunno,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “I reckon I’d rather see you crying now than after the ceremony.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, which quickly dissolves into a snort that he probably should find unattractive but bloody hell, she really is gorgeous. “What if I told you I’m not showing up to the ceremony at all?” she asks.

“Er…” His eyes widen, and he glances anxiously over his shoulder. “Should I—get someone…or…?”

She waves him off, the fabric of her voluminous dress rustling as she shifts on the floor. “No, no, my sister’s handling it. I’ll be hearing about this moment for the rest of my life—and the next one too. But Petunia’s thorough. She’ll make sure everyone gets cleared out and—” She pauses, looking up at him with a curious tilt of her head. “You’re the photographer, right? She’s probably looking for you.”

With some effort, she rises from the floor, the gown making her movements clumsy. James instinctively takes a step toward her, but she manages to stand on her own, brushing off the dress as best she can.

“Well,” she says with a forced cheerfulness, “consider yourself relieved of your duties.” Her laugh is a mix of hysteria and genuine amusement, and then her eyes widen as she adds, “You’ll still be paid, of course!”

“I’m not—” He shakes his head, frowning. “Are you alright?”

She glances over her shoulder, as if expecting someone else to be there, then turns back to him. “I…I don’t know. I’ve done something pretty awful, haven’t I? It’s not like I just started having these feelings today and Benjy deserves better than this...but I truly didn’t realise until I put the dress on today—” She gestures dramatically toward the gown. “—and then it just… What’s your name?”

“Er, James?”

“I put the dress on, James, and then I just knew. I think I love him, but—I mean, I’m only 22. How can I be sure? How can anyone be sure?”

I’d be sure about you, his brain immediately supplies, and he barely manages not to slap himself in the face, because what the fuck?

But his name sounds really, really good coming out of her mouth.

“So I just—I told Mary I needed a moment and I found Benjy and…” Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening in some sort of realisation.  “Oh my God.”

James steps closer, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

She giggles, a sound that’s somehow equal parts relief and disbelief. “I actually did it, James!”

“You…”

“I called off the wedding! Saved myself from a lifetime of unhappiness.”

“That’s…good. Right?”

“It’s great, James.” She looks around the room. “I wish I had something to drink. I need alcohol.”

“There’s…” He gestures vaguely over his shoulder. “Champagne.”

She looks at him for a moment, then bursts into laughter. “You’re fit and funny,” she says, still giggling.

Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit. Fit.

“Sorry,” she adds, though she doesn’t sound apologetic at all. “I’m a single woman now, you know?” James’s mouth opens and closes, lost for words, until she mercifully steps in. “I’m joking, James. Not about the fit thing, though. You are ridiculously good-looking. But I suppose you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m…not sure what to say to that.”

“Can I see?” she asks suddenly.

His brow furrows. “What?”

She points to the camera slung over his shoulder. James isn’t sure of the etiquette for showing a recently single bride pictures of her ex-fiancé and the wedding party, but he can’t imagine a reality in which he is capable of denying this woman anything. With a resigned sigh, he slings the camera around and turns it on. She crowds over his shoulder, the full skirts of her dress fanning out around them as she peers at the screen.

“Ooh,” she sighs, delighted. “You’re quite good.”

Something prompts him to ask, “Good enough to still frame a picture of you and your ex-fiancé above the mantle?”

She turns her head from the camera to look at him, the shift bringing her mere inches from his face. Her freckles are beyond lovely, and her eyes—Jesus.

“I reckon only I get the right to make jokes about my failed wedding, yeah? Seeing as I called it off all but half an hour ago.”

He swallows, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Right.”

Her face lights up with the most brilliant grin. “Did you know you smell spectacular, James?” Before he can respond, she adds, “I’m Lily, by the way.”

“Yeah, I…” He takes a breath. “Can I get you anything? More tissue? Champagne?”

She gazes at him with a look of fondness. “If you’re determined to be a sweetheart, you can stay right here with me until I’m absolutely sure I’m done crying.”

“Oh.” He nods, his movement slightly awkward, if not ridiculously eager. “Yeah. I can… do that.”

[a-dragons-journal]

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[musicalmoritz]

What are your thoughts on the chapter 118? MitsuKou fans are eating GOOD I can say that much

My thoughts on the best chapter thus far of the current arc? I’m glad you asked

I must say this chapter launched me into a full blown Mitsukou/Soukou brainrot. I have like a million fic ideas for both of them now and there’s no way I can possibly write all of them AND complete my requests so I just have to be sad. But omg, what a chapter!! I’m still stuck on the “smothered him with attention” line, that sounds like some shit I’d write. And ofc Kou being “captivated by that loser.” Ugh they’re so in love. I am now fully convinced that Sousuke had a crush on Kou in the former timeline when he was alive, you literally cannot convince me otherwise

The fact that if Kou’s mother hadn’t died and his father wasn’t neglectful, he would’ve used his free time to befriend Sousuke…and him being the one to save Sousuke’s life in the new timeline…oh I’m ill. The finger scene. Kou’s little blush. MITSUBA TEACHING KOU HOW TO USE A CAMERA BY STANDING BEHIND HIM AND GUIDING HIS HANDS. This was their cheesy romcom moment. The dead wife montage in an action movie

I love how their former selves are trying to reach out to them. No.3 was so unhappy with his existence to the point of wanting to die, and he wanted Sousuke’s life so badly but now that he’s lost it all he wants it back. Kou learned during the Red House arc that it’s okay if life is complicated, it’s okay if he’s stressed and doesn’t have everything he wants, and now he has to see a version of himself live in blissful ignorance. I don’t understand how people can say this timeline is better unless they’re fluff addicts, them staying in this timeline would do nothing for their character arcs and the overall narrative themes of growing up and facing reality. This life may be easier, but it robs each of them of their natural growth. I understand people are gonna have different preferences but the conflict of the old timeline MADE the story, do ppl rly want all of that to be thrown away for some “and then it never happened” ending?? Do you genuinely think it would be better writing if we never saw No.3 Mitsuba again and his arc ended with another shock value death???

Sorry for the rant lol, I couldn’t help myself. Absolutely no offense to anyone who prefers this timeline, it’s not like the fans are writing the story anyways so these opinions are harmless

I love how every version of Mitsuba wants to be someone else, they each perceive themselves as the “fake one” (excluding OG Sousuke) and feel disconnected from their existence. When I get around to writing my character analyses for TBHK I WILL talk abt all the queer allegories that go along with Mitsuba’s character but for now I’ll hold my tongue. All ik is this chapter made me love Sousuke sm more

Oh, and adult Amane…jump scare of the century. I can’t wait to see what his role is in this new timeline, I have a feeling it may be similar to Baby Tsukasa in the previous one. I love whenever the Yugi twins interact with Mitsuba (yes even the angst with Tsukasa) so that scene made me cheer. Also Kou saved his boyfriend!! Yippee!!

Sousuke and Kou wanting to run away together gave me major Picture Perfect Amanene vibes. Also HKOTO vibes, pls bring back the yaoi kidnapping🙏🏻

I think that’s all I have to say, Mitsukou fans were well fed this chapter. I’m eager to see the next one, still manifesting that Kou villain arc

[uluvjay]

Exile-C. Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x ex girlfriend! Reader

I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending

Warnings?; angst, being forced into a secret relationship, self doubt, crying, club scene, i apologize for any errors i made!

Charles could feel his breath get stuck in his throat as his eyes caught sight of your flowing hair and glowing skin, your body hanging off of a tall and fit gentleman.

“Dude what-oh..” Pierre winced as his eyes found what his best friend was locked on.

“I-it’s been three months and she’s here with another guy, feels like it took her five minutes to forget me..forget about us.” He breathed.

“He’s probably just a rebound dude, plus things didn’t really end that well for you two…” pierre trailed as he placed a hand on his friends shoulder and directed him away from you.

Charles shook his head with a scoff at the thought of the night you ended things with him, you had never shown signs of being unhappy or wanting to leave which is why the boy was more than confused when he returned from a phone call with his team to find you crying and packing your bags.

You never returned any of his calls or texts eventually blocking him on all forms of communication and telling your friends to do the same, even Kika.

Speaking of the girl he watched as she made her way back from the bathroom, slipping her small frame under Pierre’s arm; distracting him enough for Charles to make a break in your direction.

His eyes followed your body in that little black dress you wore as you walked to the bar and he wasted no time following and sliding into the spot right next to you.

You could feel him before he even spoke, the richness of his cologne filling your senses while his strong arm brushed against yours.

Your heart picked up at his presence, jumping like it was trying to get to him but your brain was screaming at you to turn around and walk out of that club.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He spoke first, his voice was soft but you could hear the sarcasm dripping in it.

“It’s a popular club and Monaco’s a small place.” You shrugged, cursing internally at the way your voice came out shaky.

“Who’s your boy toy?” He scoffed turning to catch a look at the guy again.

“None of your business.”

You finally looked at him this time, your eyes locking with his deep ones. Your stomach dropped as you thought back to the last time you looked into them, right before you shut the front door of his apartment and never looked back.

“He’s probably just using you, you know that right?” He laughed.

“And so what if he is? I’m not your problem anymore Charles, I can do whatever and whoever I want.” You spat before turning on your heals and heading straight for the back exit of the club.

However you weren’t fast enough to shake him as you heard his heavy footsteps close behind you and the second you made it outside a hand clasped around your wrist, pulling you back into his hard chest.

“You were never a problem, the only problem was you walking out on me and never giving me an explanation.” He spat, eyes burning into yours.

Charles jumped at the laugh that escaped from your throat, confusion clouding his face as the genuine sounds filled the quiet air.

“What are you laughing for? This isn’t funny Y/n.”

“You really think I just left? You’re more clueless than I thought.” You scoffed, pulling your wrist from his hold as you took a few steps back.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He questioned even more confused than before.

“You didn’t see all the signs I was trying to give? How I tried showing you again and again I was unhappy being your little secret? How sick I was of your team constantly referring to me as your problem?.” You scoffed.

“What signs Y/n!? You never said anything and news flash I’m not a mind reader.” He scoffed.

“I tried Charles! I tried so many fucking times and you always brushed me away. So I thought that if I would begin to distance myself or turn down dates and movie nights you would notice how I was feeling and ask me about it, but you never did.” You sobbed this time remembering how shitty you felt those days, how you would fight to get out of bed and put a smile on for him and your friends.

“I never knew you were that miserable Y/n, you should have forced me to sit down and listen to you. I’m sorry that I made you feel that way because I did and still do love you, so much.” He tried as he reached out for you.

You pushed his hands away as you stepped back doing your best to put more distance between you two.

“Of course you didn’t.” You scoffed as you wiped away some of your tears.

Strings tugged at Charles heart at the sight of the tears spilling down your face, wanting nothing more than to reach out and wipe them but he knew he couldn’t.

He thought back on your words and it clicked for him this time, he finally realized your tired and small efforts towards the end, how you would spend most of your days locked away unless someone really needed you, and he felt like a piece of shit for never noticing.

“I really am sorry Y/n, I wish I could’ve seen the signs, I shouldn’t have kept you a secret like they told me to because you deserved much better then that, I should have been telling everyone how much of a magnificent woman you are not hiding you.” He breathed.

“I’m glad you’ve realized that char but it’s too late now.” You smiled pitifully.

“No Y/n please let me make this right, let me show the world how amazing of a woman you are, let me cherish you and treat you right this time. Please.” He begged.

“I’m sorry Charles but I’ve seen this film before and I really, really didn’t like the ending.” You cried, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek softly before placing a small kiss to the skin.

“Goodbye Charles.” You breathed.

“See you later Amore.” He spoke lowly.

You smiled at his attempt to hang on and not fully let go but it was time for you to, you needed to grow and become a better you and Charles was no longer apart of that journey.

You gave his pretty eyes one more look before stepping back and hurrying down the alley behind the club.

Charles watch as your frame got smaller and smaller, standing in the same spot even after he watched you enter the cab and look back at him one more time.

And in that moment he realized you could still be his, all he had to do was read the signs.

-

[sheppardsmckay]

Somebody sedate me please this episode hit too hard and too close to home and it’s giving me too many emotions that my Mer self cannot handle lol

And then we started crying.

Stargate-Atlantis S3: E14: the Tao of Rodney

This was a great episode! Laughing, crying, watching Rodney face his own mortality, and expressing his love for his people was perfect. Loved this one.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 10

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Ao3

[Warning for reference to sexual activities, fairly brief]

-

Robin watches Steve walk past the “Action” section with an armful of Schwarzenegger films three times before she says anything.

“You’re distracted today.”

“Hm?” Steve looks up at her, snapping out of whatever vacant thought he’d slipped away into and entirely proving her point. “Sorry, what?”

“Distracted. You.” Robin points down the correct aisle. “The Terminator and his ilk go down there.”

Steve shakes his head. “Right, sorry.”

Following him over, Robin leans against the end of the shelf while Steve sorts through cases that Robin knows have already been organized. “So what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Steve is quiet for a moment longer. He doesn’t seem unhappy – he seems lighter, actually. He’s not in the same weirdly good mood he’s been in for the last week, but he’s a little more settled, so whatever it is, Robin figures it can’t be bad.

Finally, he glances around the store (it’s empty; Sunday nights hardly even require two employees once the afternoon rush has died out, but Robin won’t complain about being paid to sit around and do nothing for a while), and then says, “Eddie and I are dating. Like, for real this time. I think.”

The words come out in a bit of a rush, and it takes Robin a moment to decide that, yes, she’d heard them correctly.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is exactly as pointed as she’d meant it to be, if the way Steve winces at the question is any indication.

“The last you told me, you two were ‘talking about it’ and ‘taking it slow.’” Air quotes are heavily employed to illustrate Robin’s new skepticism.

“And we were!” Steve says quickly.

“That was, like, two weeks ago, Steve!” Robin says. “That is not slow!”

“Well it’s not like we just jumped into it! We did talk, and we went on a couple of dates–”

“What? When? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I mean, the first was last weekend, so–”

Robin gasps, jabbing a finger at Steve. “You lied to me!”

“I did not,” Steve insists, pointing a finger right back at her, though it doesn’t have quite the same effect with one arm still full of clunky plastic cases.

“You did! You asked me to take your shift because, and I quote, you were going to do something for yourself,” Robin shoots back.

“And I did! I gave myself the chance to see where this thing with Eddie was going,” Steve says.

“Or, you gave yourself the chance to fall right back into the same pattern that hurt you before,” Robin says.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s different this time,” he says, more quietly.

“How?” Robin demands. “Because ‘dating for real this time, I think,’ doesn’t sound that different.”

“I mean, we didn’t say the word dating, exactly, but…” Steve shifts a little on his feet, but stands firm. “He told me that he loves me.”

“Uh huh,” Robin drawls. “And was that before or after you slept together?”

She regrets it the moment she says it, regrets it the moment the words form and she knows they’re going to come out, but it’s too late. She can see the flash of genuine hurt on Steve’s face before he buries it beneath a layer of cool indifference.

“We didn’t actually have sex, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he bites out, turning and rounding to the next aisle.

Shit.

No one who Robin has personally seen tear a monster in half with his bare hands (feet?) has any right to look as much like a kicked puppy as Steve does, but he somehow manages it.

And the thing is, she knows how important that is to him – for someone to say the words out loud. She’s learned about his parents in bits and pieces; she even eventually got the full scoop on Nancy. She just– she worries. And when she worries, she says things before she really thinks them through.

Sighing, Robin walks around to the next aisle, finding Steve kneeling and paying entirely too much attention to the stacks of cases in front of him. When her slow approach isn’t rebuffed, she sinks down on the floor next to him, cross-legged with her back facing the shelf.

“I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot,” she says.

Steve shrugs.

“If it helps, it wasn’t directed at you,” Robin goes on. “I just– I really don’t have any reason to trust Eddie’s motives, and I don’t like it when you’re sad, and it’s my job as your best friend to look out for you and be mad at people on your behalf. Especially if you’re not going to be mad at them yourself.”

“Isn’t it also your job as my best friend to trust me and my judgment? And, like, support me when I’m doing something that’ll make me happy?” Steve asks quietly, a little dry.

“I guess,” Robin groans, leaning to the side so that her cheek is pillowed on the round of Steve’s shoulder. “But come on. If some girl made me cry, are you telling me you’d get over it in a snap?”

Robin can feel Steve tense beneath her for a moment, and she absolutely knows he’s thinking about lying to her.

“That’s different,” he finally says.

“It really isn’t, you big goddamn hypocrite.” Robin doesn’t bother to hide her smile, even as she smacks Steve on the back, ignoring the whiny ‘ow’ he gives her for it. “So tell me about the date.”

“Which one?” Steve asks.

“The first one. Must’ve been pretty good for you to agree to another,” Robin says.

“It… really was, actually.” Steve shifts carefully out of his crouch, giving Robin enough time to sit up before he settles onto the floor in front of her, back to the opposite shelf. “I mean, it was weird at first. He took me out to some random neighborhood and then we walked a little ways into the woods.”

“Creepy,” Robin says.

“A little bit, yeah.” Steve nods. “And then we came to this little, like, forgotten park? Had some playground equipment and a gazebo. And when we got there, he told me to turn around, so I couldn’t see what he was doing.”

“Creepier.” Robin wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, but I was curious, so I did it.” Steve shrugs and Robin snorts at him. “But when he let me turn back around, he’d uh – he had a bunch of candles lit up all around the gazebo? It was… really nice. And he brought dinner – something he cooked. Like, with one of the recipes I taught him.”

Robin’s brows go up, reluctantly impressed. “Damn, alright, point to Munson, that was pretty good,” she admits.

“It was,” Steve says with this dumb, smitten little grin that Robin will absolutely tease him about later.

“Okay, okay, so he picked up on you being a romantic, that’s great, but,” Robin holds her hands out in front of herself in an emphatic sort of ‘here’s the thing’ gesture, “where was all of this before?”

“Right?” Steve bursts out, flinging his arms out in front of himself, narrowly avoiding knocking into one of Robin’s hands. “Thank you! I’m not crazy for wondering that!”

“Of course you’re not,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes at him. “He didn’t tell you that you were, did he?”

“No, no, he– he didn’t.” Steve quickly shakes his head. “I just… I don’t know, I felt like I was being kind of unreasonable, I guess. Like, maybe for wanting any of that at all. Or wondering why he didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re not,” Robin says again. “You deserve to get what you want, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s what Eddie keeps saying.” Steve sighs, leaning his head back against the shelf.

“Well… good,” Robin says, a mildly reluctant concession. Maybe Eddie’s getting on the right page after all.

“He says he wants me to tell him when I need something,” Steve says. “Like… he wants me to talk to him.”

“What, about your feelings?” Robin asks, playfully wrinkling her nose. “Gross.”

“The worst,” Steve agrees drily, but he looks pleased, and a little thoughtful. Robin gives him the minute to think, before he says, “I did kind of blow up at him, though. Before that.”

“Good,” Robin laughs, nudging his knee with hers.

“It did sort of feel good,” Steve admits, glancing down through his lashes at Robin. “Just… to kinda get it all out.”

“What happened then?” Robin asks.

“Well, it’s – last night kind of went sideways,” Steve says. “It was supposed to be another date, but…”

“But…?”

“He just – when we were having dinner last weekend, he kept calling it our first date, and it was, but it also wasn’t? I kept thinking about what I thought was our first date.”

“Wait, was that the time in your car out by the quarry?”

Steve lifts his head up so he can shift the full brunt of his scrunched look of disapproval onto her. “No, hooking up in my car out by the quarry was not our first date. That didn’t happen until later.”

“Well it’s not like I have timestamps on these things, Steve!” Robin groans.

“It was that night at the diner,” Steve says, and Robin’s mouth falls into a little “oh” of recognition.

“The diner.” She nods.

It’s obvious in retrospect; Robin has heard everything about that night and then some, from the way Eddie had managed to get ketchup everywhere to “and he can do this thing with his tongue, even I didn’t know you could do that, but I’m gonna try and figure it out, it was so good–” (Robin had teasingly asked him if he’d need to practice on a peach or a banana, and he’d thrown a handful of balled-up receipts at her before deciding “both”).

“But he wanted me to tell him about it, so I did, and then last night, for our date, he took me to the diner,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at Robin.

“What?” Robin’s eyebrows scrunch down in answer. “Did he think he just gets a do-over?”

“That’s what I asked!” Steve says, before subsiding a bit. “But I don’t… I really don’t think he thought that far ahead. I think he just wanted us both to have, like, some kind of special memory there.”

Robin hums, squinting at Steve skeptically.

“Anyway, I kinda yelled at him and I left, but then he actually came and found me,” Steve continues.

“Where did you go?” Robin asks.

“The lake.”

“Why were you all the way out there?”

Steve grimaces. “Mostly because I knew he doesn’t like going out there.”

Robin snorts, and Steve’s grimace shifts into a guilty sort of smile.

“But he came out there, anyway. And we talked, and– I really think he means it, Rob,” Steve says, looking at her like he needs her to believe it, too. Or at least like he needs her to believe him.

Robin sighs, letting her head fall back slowly, as if she’s deflating. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Munson is off death row. He can have a parole hearing.”

“I think you’re getting a little too into this whole execution metaphor,” Steve says.

“You’re both lucky I didn’t decide to make it literal,” Robin shoots back, and Steve laughs. “So, wait,” she looks back up, “you seriously haven’t had sex again? Since the whole…?”

“Oh my god, get this: he actually walked me to my door last weekend,” Steve says, halfway between incredulous and amused. “He didn’t even ask to come inside. Said the rule is to wait until the third date.”

“Oh, I bet you loved that,” Robin teases.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked to come in,” Steve scoffs. “But I’m… kind of glad he didn’t. It was different.”

Robin smiles. “Different is promising,” she says, reaching out to pat Steve on the knee. “Now come on; we close in, like, half an hour and I don’t want to stay late cleaning.”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agrees, hoisting himself off the floor before offering Robin a hand up.

“Also, you owe me dinner for all the secrecy,” Robin declares, heading back towards the front of the store with the intent of putting the counter back in order.

“What?” Steve groans. “I already spent, like, two weeks with literally no one to talk to about all of this. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Nope,” Robin says, and for all she can hear him grumbling, it only takes a minute before Steve is standing next to her again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Sap,” she mutters, putting arm around his waist and squeezing him back.

“And yet, who agreed to be my best friend?” Steve asks.

Robin sighs. “I did,” she says, and she doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve’s grin mirrors hers.

Part 11

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