#lose clarity au

[lunar-solarsystem]

so i have an explanation

so i was talking with a friend, i showed them a draft for something about Lose Clarity and they caught me accidentally saying “Puzzle’s” somewhere rather than just “Puzzle”

so now i have a joke branch off for my own AU

this shall now be known as the Puzzle Pieces branch-off :3

it’s literally just a whole bunch of tiny Puzzles

they multiply :)

[justdrawlynn11]

Puzzle from @lunar-solarsystem’s Lose Clarity Au!!

Look at ‘em!!!!! Eheheh!

[theinfamousmaybelle]

@lunar-solarsystem

We started this 💀

Anyways lets finish it/continue it :3

[ithinkdogshouldvote]

Guardian swap au for 4/13 ^ ^

[lunar-solarsystem]

>:)))

i’ll tag you when i draw it hehehrhehe

ryo

ryo hear me out

should i have Ruin give Puzzle one of those little onesie outfits

…

but its a shark

yes.

[smokbeast]

I have some scribbles here and there but I haven’t had time to fully clean em.. but sombra concepts I been cooking with @skelekins and his oc imi taming sombra’s beaft moments,,

[r3starttt]

okay okay!! how about reader gets back late from patrol (so tlou au) and ellie was all worried and it’s super cute and fluffy?? (change it to your preferences if you like :)

THESE WALLS

PAIRING: Jackson! Ellie x reader

CW: fluff. outbreak|tlou universe. brief-non detailed mention of overwhelming thoughts such as fear of loosing loved ones and stress.

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST

The night lay thick with a stillness so profound that even the faintest sound seemed to echo with unsettling clarity. Ellie, trapped in the small sanctuary she had carefully curated, paced restlessly. Her gaze was perpetually drawn to the door, its unyielding silence a stark contrast to the usual rhythm of your return. Each passing moment stretched infinitely, laden with a tension that seemed to deepen with every tick of the clock.

The dim glow of a solitary lamp cast a soft, golden haze over the room. Walls adorned with wooden murals and comic book covers. Delicate strands of Christmas lights wove their way across the space, their faint twinkle casting a gentle, warm light. Yet, despite the serene ambiance, Ellie’s heart was a storm of unease.

She attempted to distract herself, but the mundane details of her surroundings blurred into an indistinguishable haze. Every action seemed to drift by in slow motion, her frustration mounting with each fruitless effort to quell her growing anxiety. She knew in her rational mind that the patrol was fraught with danger, but her deep-seated fear of losing those she loved clung stubbornly to her thoughts.

The creak of the door shattered the quiet, sending Ellie’s heart leaping to her throat. She dashed to the entrance, the door swinging open to reveal you, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unharmed. Relief surged through her, though it was quickly overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions.

As you stepped into the room, the scene before you was both touching and a little comical. Ellie’s usual dorky charm had been replaced by a palpable anxiety. The carefully decorated room, filled with her beloved nerdy trinkets, faded into the background as your focus honed in on her distressed face.

“Hey, sorry,” you said, offering a weary smile. The concern in her eyes was evident, and you could tell she had been struggling.

“We ran into a few more infected than we expected. It took longer to clear them out,” you explained, trying to reassure her.

Ellie’s response was sharp, but it was laced with an undertone of deep-seated worry. “I was starting to think… I don’t know, shit had happened.” Her eyes, usually so full of mischief and laughter, were now wide and brimming with concern.

You stepped closer, the old floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. Her fingers drummed impatiently against her thighs, her gaze darting over you in a frantic search for any signs of injury.

Ellie let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples as though trying to ward off a headache. “It’s not just about being late. It’s about you being safe.” Her voice faltered, and she turned away momentarily, struggling to regain her composure.

You reached for her hand, gently enveloping it in your own. “I’m here, Ellie. Safe and sound. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Her eyes met yours once more, shimmering with a blend of relief and lingering anxiety. “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier—never mind,” she murmured, her words softening as the harsh edge gave way to a tender vulnerability. Her usual playful demeanor was momentarily eclipsed by her raw, heartfelt fear.

Drawing her into a tight embrace, you felt her tense muscles slowly unwind against you. “I’m here,” you whispered into her ear, your voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You gently cupped her face in your hands, pressing a soft, loving kiss to her lips. When you finally pulled away, a small, contented smile graced her face, her eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.

“Hey…” you murmured, leaning in closer. “How bad do I smell?” You playfully nuzzled against her, inhaling her comforting scent, the familiar fragrance and the fabric of her hoodie enveloping you in warmth.

Ellie chuckled, a soft hum escaping her as she considered your question. “Baby diapers," your quiet laughs mingling.

Your lips beushed over hers, one last tender kiss on her lips, savoring the moment. “I love you."

“I love you too,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “And I’ll always come back to you.”

[hyewka]

warnings. switch!beomgyu, idol!au, brief mention of choking

cant stop thinking about trainee!reader and idol!beomgyu, where gyu first introduces a fuck buddy relationship after sleeping with you one time, not aware that alone would be the sole reason his obsession and attachment manifests. just imagine dom gyu whos used to fucking with no strings attached due to the nature of his occupation and who thinks itll be the same with you until he feels bored enough to leave your messages on delivered. but idol!beomgyu who one day lets out his frustrations, too roughly and mean that when hes done and sees the hurt, the less than normal distance, gets some clarity to immediately melt into apologies, inspecting every inch of your body to be sure you’re okay.

beomgyu who for once, lets someone sleep in with him after sex all because of what he assumed was really bad guilty conscience. awkward as he attempts to scoot for some room, letting you cover your body under his blanket, just completely rigid as he stares at the ceiling with his hands to his sides like some soldier.

then…he does it again, he lets you sleep in, this time its because he’s tired and he can feel your exhaustion radiating off you. he’ll feel bad letting you walk all the way to your flat. but due to how frequent you get together, his arms feel more comfortable wrapping around your figure as you drift to sleep.

when he lets it happen the third time, it’s a problem.

you didn’t fuck, not even a quickie or a makeout session, just him, for whatever reason, asking you to cuddle. cuddle. “i’m stressed, with the comeback and all.” he mumbles lamely, biting down slightly on his lip, trying to convince himself as well.

“when you’re stressed… we fuck.” you say slowly, and skeptically.

just when hes about to backtrack and take it back you jump in his bed anyway, “whatever i’m not gonna refuse a good mattress.”

and then when you sleep with your face turned towards him, he feels like hes been sucked in, looking at every detail as if hes trying to have a picture in his head forever.

beomgyu who gets attached way too fast and way too quick that after the fourth time you‘ve fucked around and sees you flirting it up with soobin he absolutely loses it.

“i just got him a gift to congragulate him for landing the mc gig..why’re you acting like i murdered your entire bloodline?”

because thats what it feels like.

he inexplicably presses harder on your throat, shutting you up more by pressing his lips on yours, kissing and kissing till your lips were swollen, his brows furrowed deeply as you pathetically attempt to roll your hips into his. fucking you against the wall in a random artists’ green room, five minutes before a pre recording…hes fucking lost his mind.

god, he’s addicted.

imagine when your dynamic slowly flips, none of you are aware until you realize how often he follows you around like a puppy fan—you don’t think he was ever this clingy. beomgyu being the one who tries to meet up any chance available even paying you a visit secretly in the practice room at midnight, sneaking in snacks.

then its the sex— he’s more vocal, more sensitive when you touch him, moaning so loud you would have to clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. his eyes glaze over at times when you praise him and holy shit what the fuck was up with choi beomgyu.

the beomgyu you met that one day, fucked at a random hotel, and quite literally introduced hard kinks almost immedietely nows in front of you, crumbling down to his knees with his glossy eyes peering up at you like you were a god, begging you to use his face to get off. ruin his makeup. ruin him, please.

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (06)

And we are back for another chapter !

Warning: cursing (maybe)

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

05 <- 06 -> 07

Masterlist

Taglist

Todoroki’s heat had finally passed after three long days. He’d spent them either with Kirishima buried deep inside him or wrapped in his muscular arms, their bodies entwined in moments of quiet warmth. It had been all too easy to lose himself in the haze of desire, letting the weight of everything else fade away in a blur of passion and closeness. But now, as the intense flush of heat left his system, his mind was painfully clear.

Embarrassment hit him hard. What was I thinking? He asked himself repeatedly, and almost felt lightheaded as he recalled the desperation—the way he’d thrown himself at you like some lovesick teenager in his first heat. It was reckless and stupid. Worse yet, he’d let himself imagine all sorts of salacious fantasies involving you, Kirishima, and himself throughout his heat. It was utterly inappropriate. The clarity felt almost unbearable as shame surged through him, dense and stifling. If it were just about embarrassing himself, he could eventually deal with it. But the memories of that day went beyond the dizzy haze of horniness, beyond the scent of peaches and yours warm touch against his skin. He also remembered Kirishima’s raw rage and the deep red of your blood covering your face and the hospital floor. Shame gnawed at him from within, leaving in its wake buds of guilt, which blossomed as images of you walking around with a crooked nose and split lips flooded his mind.

Thankfully, it had been Kirishima who picked him up from the hospital that day. The red-haired hero had been too considerate to press him on what had happened; his only priority was taking care of him. Yet, as Todoroki had laid beside Kirishima on the third and final night of his heat, he knew that by morning, he’d have to face the rest of the pack. And neither Katsuki nor Izuku would spare him the questions he dreaded.

Morning came too soon. By the time Todoroki left his room, Kirishima was already gone and it was still early, he knew no one had left for work yet. He rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water might somehow calm his nerves or at least give him a moment to gather his thoughts. For the first time in his life, he almost wished his heat had lasted longer—anything to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation but no amount of scalding water could cleanse the mess of emotions swirling inside him. After a dozen of minutes, he resigned himself, finished his shower and got ready for the day.

The moment he emerged from the steamy bathroom, Izuku was waiting, worry pooling in his green eyes and his rough, scarred hand instinctively lifted to cup Todoroki’s face. His touch was warm and steady, grounding him and quieting the chaos within him. Despite the awkwardness of this whole situation, seeing Izuku made his heart flutter, and he smiled softly in his mate’s arms.

“Shoto,” Izuku murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wanted to be there, but I was tied up at the agency and..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a fast ramble, "Just... if you need anything, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. I already called your agency and told them you’ll need a few more days off. Kirishima told us a little about what happened, and I swear, we’ll track down that doctor. We’ll make sure—”

“He doesn’t need you babbling his damn ears off, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Izuku’s rambling. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Todoroki—not unkind, but piercing.. “He gets it. He’s not helpless, you know.”

Izuku shot Katsuki a small frown but remained unfazed by his blunt interruption. Beneath the sharp words, Todoroki could sense Katsuki’s genuine concern. The familiar edge in Katsuki’s tone was oddly comforting, and he knew that Katsuki’s refusal to coddle him was just his way of showing respect and consideration.

As they moved to the dining table, where Kirishima was already eating breakfast, Todoroki took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and took his seat around the table. Izuku quickly joined him, sitting beside him and reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee. Todoroki felt a rush of gratitude for the quiet support, and even Katsuki, despite his sharp gaze, gave him space to speak without pushing him.

.

.

.

“So... you were the one who threw yourself at her?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, his doe eyes blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to process Todoroki’s recounting of the events.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Katsuki scoffed in disbelief.

Todoroki’s face flushed deeply with embarrassment, his cheeks burning so much that he thought he might actually burst into flames. This was a lot more mortifying than he’d imagined. Izuku had started off so supportive, leaning in to comfort him, but as Todoroki went on and explained the situation, he watched Izuku’s expression shift from understanding to confusion, and finally to what felt like... judgment. Slowly, Izuku had began to scoot away from him, casting side glances full of disapproval and making it impossible for Todoroki to meet his eyes. Katsuki was more disappointment than anything else. Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. To him, this was beyond stupid—something a too-hormonal high schooler might do and definitely something Todoroki should’ve known better. But it was Kirishima’s silence that unnerved Todoroki the most. The red haired kept his gaze down, uncharacteristically quiet, before abruptly standing up and storming toward the door.

“I need to go apologize!” Kirishima’s voice was laced with urgency, tinged with panic, but Bakugo grabbed his arm and halted him.

“You can’t go back to that hospital, Eijirou,” Katsuki said firmly, tightening his grip. “What are you gonna do, knock on the door and ask for the doctor you beat up? You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kacchan’s right. She’s probably scared right now, and she’ll run the other way if she sees you again,” Izuku added, stepping in front of Kirishima and blocking his ways like a barricade, while exchanging a look of silent agreement with Bakugo.

“But I can’t just stay here! I hurt her—badly. She even tried to explain, but I wouldn’t listen,” Kirishima’s voice grew agitated. The vivid recollection of your tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips coiled within him, guilt tightening its grip on his chest. What kind of man hits an innocent woman? he thought, fists clenched as he struggled to free himself from his mates' hold.

“I’ll go,” Todoroki interjected suddenly. His words startled the others and they turned to him, puzzled. “It was my fault. I should apologize to her.” His voice was calm but resolute, slicing through the tension in the room and carrying a steadiness, calmness, that sought to soothe Kirishima’s agitation and remorse. “Izuku’s right; you can’t go there directly, Eijirou. I’ll go and apologize on behalf of both of us.”

"But I have to do it myself! I was the one who hit her. I should at least cover her medical bill!" Kirishima protested, spurred by a faint voice in the back of his mind reminding him how unmanly—and even less heroic—his actions had been.

“I’ll tell her you want to apologize in person too. If she’s okay with it, I’ll give her your number so she can reach out to you,” Todoroki assured him gently. It pained him to see Kirishima like this, especially knowing it was his fault. All he ever wanted was to see him smiling, radiant and untroubled, and judging by the looks on his other mates’ faces, it was clear they all shared the same feeling.

Kirishima’s expression wavered, torn between making a run to the hospital or listening to his mates, but Katsuki ended his internal debate with a firm arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulders, steering him toward the door.

“Come on, shitty head, we’re gonna be late. It’s Shoto’s mess, he’ll handle it,” Bakugo said, his voice losing its usual edge, and softened just enough to offer some reassurance to Kirishima.

Izuku lingered behind, casting Todoroki a final glance filled with quiet suspicion. Todoroki could almost see the gears of his mind turning, overthinking as always, but then Katsuki barked Izuku’s name from the doorway, urging him to hurry up. With a sigh, Izuku followed the red eyes pair and they all left for work, leaving Todoroki behind in their appartement.

Todoroki paced in circles around his apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He kept telling himself that he needed to apologize, but every time he neared the door, a wave of nerves yanked him back, making him turn and start another lap around his living room. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsteady, so... nervous as the weight inside him grew heavier, sinking like an anchor. He’d never been one to feel so unsettled—he was usually straightforward, never having trouble apologizing when it was needed. If he made a mistake, he fixed it; he owned up. But this felt different. Today, shame, guilt, and apprehension mingled within him in a discomfort he didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, it’s just... an apology. You’ve done this before,” he muttered under his breath, trying to summon his usual calm. He had told his mates so confidently that he would do it, but look at him now. “Just go in there, say you’re sorry. It’s not complicated.” Yet the words didn’t settle him. Instead, they only seemed to make him more anxious. Why was facing you so daunting suddenly? He couldn’t explain it—he didn’t understand it.

After what felt like ages, he forced himself to grab his keys and head out the door, before he could talk himself out of it again. But the nerves only grew worse when he settled into his car and sat behind the wheel. The flashes of three days ago replayed in his mind, flashes of him almost humping the backseat. They made him wince as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and started the car.

The hospital wasn’t so far away from his apartment, a short 30-minutes drive, but he had to will himself to stay focused on the road. When he paused at a red light, he found himself wondering if your scent would be as intoxicating and bewitching as he remembered it to be and the thought made him groan as he banged his head on the steering wheel, mumbling to himself, Focus, Shoto.

As he drove past a flower shop, a quiet voice in his mind suggested he bring you something. He considered it for a moment, pondering on how appropriate it would be to bring flowers to someone he didn’t know, especially someone who had been beat up because of him. Yeah, no, even he could tell it would be weird. But somehow, he found himself making a U-turn, parking his car in front of the flower shop, and stepping inside.

The floral scent enveloped him immediately—a soft, sweet fragrance that seemed to soothe the edges of his nerves. Before him laid a sea of vibrant and cool blooms stretched out in rows: roses blushed in shades of crimson and coral, delicate peonies, soft violets, cheerful tulips, and vivid anemones. The shop was beautiful, but he knew he had to leave fast when he realized he was searching for flowers that would complement the color of your eyes. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, he mused, but there he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and a minute later, he was holding a bouquet of dahlias. With the flowers in hand, he made his way to the counter, quickly paid, and rushed back to his car, feeling the steady thrum of nervousness in his chest.

Finally, we got to see Izuku and Katsuki in this fic. It took us 6 chapters but we made it through!!

I hated writing this chapter, omg, it took me almost a whole week. You guys have no idea how many versions of this chapter exist 😭. The length wasn’t the issue—I tried to make it a bit longer than usual (not by much, though; I’m usually around 1.5k words, but today I hit 1.9k). BUT omg, nothing really happened here. I think it was just a boring chapter (at least to write) 💀.

I’ve always referred to the characters as Todoroki, Kirishima, Izuku, and Katsuki in my head. But it’s kind of weird how half of them go by their first name and the other half by their surname in the narration, right? It’s also a bit confusing when I use both in the same chapter, so I’ve decided to stick with Izuku, Katsuki, Kirishima, and Todoroki for the narrator. The reader will use their first names once she meets them properly.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

05 <- 06 -> 07

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ;

[morganas-pendragons]

To be Held | Gil-Galad

Summary: You are Gil-Galad's most trusted warrior. With the centuries of history between you two - and the multiple wars you have both survived before and during his rule - it is hard for you to ignore the obvious: You are his complement, his other half, the shield to his sword. You two work as a unit. Everyone in Lindon knows it.

So what happens when he comes close to losing half of that unit?

Set during S2 of ROP - loosely AU to episode 8 (we don't go into the courtyards of Eregion)

tag: @wild-typo-turtle @celebrimbormylove @pentaghasm

You are one of the earliest memories of his younger years as an ellon. The years where he'd been living in the Grey Havens under the watchful eye of the Shipmaster, a young Elf named Artanaro who had nothing left but himself and the clothes on his back.

You had become a soldier at a very early age, taking to the spear with a gracefulness and poise unlike any of your other comrades who served alongside you in the war. You were raised in the heat of battle. Armor was your skin. Your weapon, your hands.

He admired you deeply. Your training commander at the time had noticed that the two of you were the only ones to take to the spear, and so it came to pass that you were often paired together for spars.

For sparring, for the front, for training. The other Elves whispered about you and how formidable you were as a unit the fields of war.

“What will you call yours?”

You watched him turn the weapon over in his hands. Once, twice, three times, long fingers flexing as it spun for him to properly admire the craftsmanship of the spear that had just been granted to him.

“Aeglos,” The Elvish word rolled off his tongue with an awe that made you shiver. You knew as well as he did that he would be known for being Aeglo’s wielder, among what other accomplishments he took to throughout his years. “It has a number of meanings, Mellon. For this one, however, I think snow thorn is more than appropriate.”

It fits him.

You averted your gaze away from him, desperate to keep your composure as you peered down at the spear in your own hands. He had such a deeply penetrating gaze. That unnerved you. You had to be unflappable. Something such as affection or love could not dare to make you weak.

You would not risk weakness on the field. You would not risk having something to lose.

“I think I have its name,” You announced. “I’ll call it Telmnar.”

Ereinion tilted his head curiously. He was not familiar with that term. “And what does that translate to?”

“Fire of Heaven.”

As the years passed, you took to chaos and disorder. Ereinion Gil-Galad took to the art of ruling much, much later in life with a firm hand and a soft heart. He never lost his spirit. Neither did you.

On the field, the pair of you were a force to be reckoned with. One unit. That’s what Elrond had said the first time he’d seen the two of you fight in the sparring yards of Lindon.

Gil-Galad just hadn’t expected the paralyzing fear that came with nearly losing the other half of your unit.

He sees you fall from across the battlefield. There are so few of you left, so many Elven bodies that litter the grounds of a scorched battlefield that Gil-Galad is sure will be their ruin. Elrond is catatonic over the Dwarvish army. You are fueled by your fury, helm hiding the fire he knows lights your eyes as you spin Telmnar with all the grace of poise of a practiced soldier.

Despite the destruction, you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. That is why Ereinion is so shaken when he sees the blade pierce your side through the gaps in your armor. A roar echoes across the battlefield as you twist your body to dismember the offending orc, Telmnar faltering in your grasp as it impales the body at the same time you fall to the earth.

Everything seems to blur together after that. Elrond is the one to rush toward you once clarity reaches him once again, removing the chest piece of your armor to better ascertain the severity of your injuries.

"Ereinion," You whisper. "Tell Ereinion..."

Telmnar gleams out of the corner of your eye as a hand reaches down to remove the spear from the body before laying it down beside Aeglos. They really are beautiful blades: A perfect pair for the best unit that the Elven armies had ever seen.

“Tell him what?” Elrond asks. He wants to keep you awake for as long as possible before blood loss sends you into unconsciousness.

Tears prick the back of your eyes. You’ve spent centuries trying so hard to keep your weaknesses out of harms way, to bury that secret you have kept of growing affections for Gil-Galad so he too would not come to be a name among the list of those you’ve loved and lost.

“He was never my weakness,” You whisper. “He was always my strength.”

"We may have lost many today, sweet friend," Elrond's voice is the only thing keeping you awake as he works to staunch the flow of blood from your body. "But you will not be among them."

You think of Gil-Galad, of Celebrimbor and Arondir, of Galadriel. They will not be able to take Adar on their own. They will need all the men they can muster.

Your innate desire to protect those you love is what coaxes you to move amid Elrond's healing, but not before a firm hand presses you back down into the ground and cradles your head in its embrace. Your eyes slowly shift across the open expanse of sky above you until your gaze falls on the dark eyes of the High King of the Noldor.

“Don’t move.” He commands, firm but soft as his fingers flex around your shoulder. “We will work diligently. Rest.”

Relief washes over you as you raise your fingers to graze his cheek. All you can see is blood and dirt, none of that smooth pale skin you’ve grown so accustomed to over the years.

He’s murmuring something low in Quenya as his hand comes upon your wound, and your eyes roll back into your head as Gil-Galad’s healing begins to seal what damage has been done. Elrond stands beside in waiting for the administration of bandages and salves so it will heal well.

The fingers of his free hand card through your hair as you fall unconscious in Gil-Galad’s capable hands.

***

When you first wake, there is a song on the wind. You’re being carried on a stretcher through what appears to be a path through a valley with elves on either side of you.

Panic rushes through your body until you recognize the voice that the wind carries. Gil-Galad has known since you were young that music was one of your only means of coping as it often brought you such serenity. Especially if the music came from him, his lips, his soul.

“Be well, my friend.” It is Camnir’s voice you hear closest to you instead as his face comes into view at your feet. Why the cartographer is here, you remain unsure, but your exhaustion is softened by the sight of his young face. “The High King is nearby. You are safe. I will wake you once we arrive at our destination.”

Your windpipe feels as if it has been pressed upon and your mouth forced open to swallow handfuls of sand. Despite that discomfort, you swallow and ask, “Is he safe?”

Camnir nods. “Indeed. Be peaceful. We are nearly there.”

You fall asleep once again with Aeglos and Telmnar on your mind.

***

There is warmth the next time you wake.

You’re careful not to aggravate your wound as you slowly shift your weight and rub your hands over your eyes to adjust to the dim light of the tent. Night has fallen, as you can tell from the shadows outside, but you did not expect to find The High King fast asleep with his hand gently laying on top of yours.

You smile. Not many are privileged to see him like this. It reminds you of your younger years, when you and Ereinion were just getting to know one another during your time in the Grey Havens. The pair of you had been far more curious than Círdan had cared for. The Shipwright had never complained. He simply remained grateful that someone cared as much for his charge as you did.

Gil-Galad shifts as you slowly kick your legs off the cot and reach outward to card your fingers through his hair. “Ereinion,” You whisper. Dark eyes flutter open and widen as he realizes you are awake, and it takes all of his willpower not to ask you a million questions as you hold a hand up to silence him. “Are you okay?”

The crease between his brow deepens as you run your thumb along his jaw.

“I believe it should be me asking you that,” He replies quietly. “You gave me quite a scare. I do not think I have experienced fear such as that watching you fall since we were young.”

Your earnest expression crumples almost instantly. “Gil-Galad-“

“You told Elrond to tell me something,” Now fully awake, the High King of the Noldor shifts his seat so that he’s planted directly in front of you, hands hovering over your thighs as he settles into the natural part of your legs. “What was it?”

Your mind shifts back to the early days. The days before the wars had ruined you, had cost the lives of so many people you loved, when it was just you and Ereinion against the forces of darkness and those who tried to tear you down.

The perfect unit, they’d called you.

Ereinion holds his breath as your hand, shaking as it may be, extends towards him to cup his face. “Do you remember all those years ago when I told you that the likelihood of me taking a partner was slim because I was not willing to have a weakness that could distract me on the battlefield?” You ask. He nods, transfixed by your face as your fingers gently trace the line of his jaw. “I’ve had one for centuries now. I have just never breathed a word about it.”

Hope flickers behind those dark eyes. “Do not utter that which you do not wish to come to fruition, nin meld.”

“Why?”

You dip your head down, fingers tangling in dark hair as he tips his head up to hover mere inches above your mouth. Your heart pounds with anticipation as you both waver against the line that was drawn centuries ago: the line that will forever change the two of you once you dare to take that risk.

“Because once you do, you can’t take it back.” Gil-Galad utters so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“I could not take back my affections for you. I would not dare. You’ve had my heart since Círdan introduced us. You are my weakness… and you are my strength, my hope-“

His kiss is bruising as he closes the gap between the two of you, surging upward to stand to his feet and cup your face in his hands. He is so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck to properly kiss him, but you don’t think you could ever quite tire of the fire behind which he kisses you.

“You are my salvation from this wretched life,” Ereinion whispers, relishing in the sweet sound of your whimper as he holds you there, helpless to do nothing but allow his mouth to trail across your jaw and down your neck. He is mindful to not aggravate your injury further lest Elrond have his hide for doing so. “And so I take that weakness willingly if it means I have the privilege to love you all my days.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod as his trail ends at your forehead before you part.

“You’re tired.” You point to the cot beside you that’s open. “Bring that over here.”

“I have to attend to duties elsewhere-“

You give him a pointed look. “Cleaning Aeglos and Telmnar can wait. There’s so many of us injured, and you cannot attend to your duties without having a few hours of sleep. You cannot function.”

He hesitates before acquiescing to your demand. Galadriel is being tended to by Elrond, Arondir is coordinating patrols, and the rest of Eregion’s survivors are taken care of at least for the night. He will sleep much more peacefully - and hopefully avoid nightmares about Celebrimbor - being able to feel your breathing under his fingers.

“Very well.”

When Elrond comes looking for his King, he is not surprised to find him with you, but he is surprised to find that Gil-Galad has indeed fallen asleep in the cot beside yours. You are sitting up in your own cot drinking the mint tea provided by the healers with a smug expression on your face as you meet his eyes.

Your other hand loosely cards through Ereinions hair as he moves himself closer to your leg, forehead pressed against your knee in sleep.

“Should I ask?” Elrond queries, laughing quietly under his breath as you playfully narrow your eyes.

“Keep walking, Peredhel. Nothing to see here.”

He will allow his King that respite for tonight. He deserves the comfort of being held by someone he loves.

[lunar-solarsystem]

(click on pictures for better quality + full picture)

mini comic for Lose Clarity - a gift for Eclipse!! Puzzle made him a friendship bracelet :D

they accidentally spelled it as “EclipzƎ” with the letter beads, but Eclipse doesn’t seem to mind :)

extra :3 - Eclipse secretly keeps the bracelet, hiding underneath his wrist ribbons securely so it doesn’t slip out and off his hand (and to make sure no one else sees it)

explanation for Eclipse and Puzzle’s relationship below:

with Puzzle technically being Ruin’s child, Eclipse (and Nexus, even previously as Moon) has never been fond of Puzzle. Eclipse hates Ruin, and he saw Puzzle just as a smaller version of Ruin when he first learned about them.

These two’s relationship started to grow more whenever Puzzle started coming around more often, usually out of boredom or just for fun if Ruin was off doing something and/or was occupied. (In the mini comic above, Puzzle decided to make friendship bracelets in their free time; one being for Eclipse as seen here). Eclipse never wanted to, and probably never will, admit that he started to like Puzzle’s company, sorta like Earth as well - and tbh, Eclipse and Puzzle’s relationship could end up being explained with this meme (<- i thought it could fit)

Eventually, Eclipse (sorta similar how he did Earth) grew a small soft spot for the kid. Eclipse ends up being one of the people who tends to Puzzle, whenever (Ruin is missing.) others are occupied. Eclipse has also taught Puzzle a few things here and there that Ruin may or may not know about :) Eclipse is also the person who Puzzle is comfortable with later in the timeline. Eclipse keeps them safe in the future.. (for certain reasons…)

tbh, part of the reason Eclipse hangs out with Puzzle is to spite Ruin-

i mean who said that??

(…no one tell Ruin-)

[jessamine-rose]

˖⋆˚♱ଘ Angel’s Tears ଓ♱˚⋆˖

*cries* I thought I was done with Church AU after Priest! Dottore yet here I am with more unholy ideas. Welp, Guardian Angel! Capitano x Nonbeliever! Darling, here we go (；ω；)

Tw:: yandere, psychological trauma, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 3.8k words under the cut ♡

♡ From the moment of their creation, angels are classified into the Nine Orders. This hierarchy determines their roles in Heaven and Earth, with higher ranks assigned greater levels of power and authority. A special exception is The Strongest Angel, an individual who is neither a Seraph nor an angel from the First Sphere. Rather, the moniker belongs to Il Capitano, the leader of the Powers.

♡ The legitimacy of his title has never been questioned. As a warrior angel, Capitano’s purpose is to vanquish evil. He is the chivalrous knight in bloodstained armor, the nigh-invincible being who strikes fear into the hearts of demons, the ever-righteous angel bound by a paradoxical duty to partake in violence for the sake of everlasting peace.

♡ It is in a small town in Mondstadt, following his victory over a legion of demons, that Capitano encounters you. It is the hour of mass yet you are nowhere near the Church; rather, you have taken sanctuary in a secluded meadow. A book sits on your lap, not a religious text but a tale of dark fantasy. There is a saintlike quality to your countenance, an air of melancholy as delicate as the flowers which surround you.

✿ ⚘

The moment Capitano appears before you, all peace leaves the meadow.

No, this isn’t right. It is normal for humans to feel fear in the divine presence of angels, yet he is donning his human guise. Nonetheless, as soon as his shadow touches your form, you look up and suppress a shriek, your face losing its veil of apathy.

So what exactly did he do wrong?

For your benefit, he remains rooted to his spot. Clarity comes in the form of your gaze flitting to your book, its title printed on the cover in conspicuous letters, the whispers which leave trembling lips.

“I…I can explain! This book—it’s just fiction! There are no real curses or spells inscribed in the text; it doesn’t promote any form of blasphemy!”

Ah, now he understands. You weren’t afraid of him.

Carefully, Capitano takes a step forward and raises his hand in a calming gesture. A gentle expression adorns his false face.

“Be not afraid.”

✿ ⚘

♡ It doesn’t take long for him to understand your wariness. A glimpse into your soul, paired with your quiet explanation, tells the story of an orphan raised by the Church. Only, your Church is one of many founded on distorted beliefs, of violence preached in the name of a cruel god. As a result, your upbringing was marked by strict rules, corporal punishments, and sermons which painted the image of a hopeless child with a weakness for temptation.

♡ Knowing this, Capitano can’t fault you for forsaking God and your Church. Still in his human guise, he promises his silence and leaves the meadow. But once he returns to Heaven, his first course of action is to apply for a position as your guardian angel. It is an easy process—while that role is typically reserved for the lower ranks, there is no shortage of humans in need of spiritual guidance and protection. He only questions why an angel wasn’t assigned to you when you were in greatest need of one.

♡ Henceforth, Capitano becomes a recurring character in your life. Every week, he visits you in the meadow. When you ask for his identity, he claims to be a progressive believer from another town. But rather than enlighten you with the true Word of God, he simply keeps you company and indulges your “vices,” leading to hours spent reading together. Beyond those meetings, he also watches over you to ward off any demons or humans seeking to harm you.

♡ From your end, you slowly warm up to your mysterious companion. He is a man of few words, but his actions always convey a sense of kindness. And despite his faith, he genuinely respects your beliefs and accepts you as you are. At one point, he even gives you a special gift, a quill pen of exceptional quality. The feather, pure white with a soft radiance, must have been sourced from a rare bird of prey.

♡ Over time, however, something changes. Capitano can’t deny that the faults lies with him. His visits, his constant thoughts of you, the ever-blurring line between want and duty…nothing of his behavior can be attributed to an angel’s inherent love for humanity. If that were the case, his love wouldn’t beget heartache. His love wouldn’t beget the temptation to harm others, rooted not in the name of justice but for your own safety. His love wouldn’t beget lust, guilt, dishonor, desires so sinfully evocative of his own fallibility.

♡ The truth is, you were never in need of spiritual salvation. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, what Capitano saw was a pure soul—a good person unlikely to commit evil nor fall into true temptation. Moreover, he knows that your sin of disbelief is forgivable unlike your Church’s sins of violence. That so long as you remain as you are, your soul will not be denied paradise, albeit in a realm of Heaven beyond Capitano’s jurisdiction. So why is he incapable of leaving your side?

✿ ⚘

“I had a long, long dream. I dreamed that you and I met again in the pure white world that we created.”

As you read the final line, your gaze leaves the book and returns to Capitano.

“What did you think of the story?”

Your shoulder brushes against his own, a tempting sensation. It is all he can do to remain still, to think against seeking out more of your touch, to remind himself that your close proximity is a mere necessity for your current activity.

The left side of the book, bearing the story’s ending, rests in your left hand. The other side is held in Capitano’s right hand, a blank page devoid of hope for a happy ending. When he turns the page, you seamlessly catch it under your thumb to show the next page.

Who knew of the casual intimacies imbued in the act of reading together?

“It was a well-written novel,” he says simply. “Though her sins tarnished her honor, Rosalyne’s sacrifice was an act of love. Her loss did not hinder her faithfulness to Rostam.”

“I feel the same way,” you muse. “Now I understand why this book was banned centuries ago. Forbidden love between angels and humans…it certainly goes against what the Church taught us about angels. I have to give the author credit for their imagination.”

It’s just the two of you again, this time in the library. At the start of winter, you invited Capitano to your workplace. There, in your greatest show of trust, you brought him to a secret room dedicated to texts banned by the Church for promoting “blasphemy.” Fantasy, erotica, anti-Church publications, first editions of censored books, stories which merely deviated from the Church’s popular depictions of spiritual beings.

Molten Moment belongs to the last category. Little do you know that it was based on a true story, that the author had really formed a pact with a demon called La Signora. Capitano himself is mentioned in the story under his true name.

He was one of the few angels who noticed the changes in Rosalyne’s behavior. She used to be a Throne, an angel with no connection to Earth nor humanity. Yet by some twist of fate, she laid eyes on a brave knight from Mondstadt and began to meet him in her human guise.

He was the first to hear of Rosalyne’s sin, that being she saved Rostam’s life during a battle. It was a direct violation of God’s orders: Angels and demons may influence humans, but they are forbidden from directly altering a human’s lifespan.

He was a silent witness to Rosalyne’s descent. She fell from Heaven, burned by her own flames, yet she had never appeared more ecstatic. In the following years, she married Rostam and lived a happy life with him on Earth.

He was the last to recognize Rostam’s soul at the pearly gates, forever separated from his fallen lover. Such had been Rosalyne’s divine punishment, worsened by her knowledge of this possibility. But what else was she to do? To let Rostam know of her true nature? To drag his soul down to Hell, where he’d be subjected to an eternity of undeserved suffering?

Capitano is no fool. As he read Molten Moment, he began to understand Rosalyne’s sin in a new light. Half the time, he couldn’t even concentrate on the text, his human eyes repeatedly drifting to your intense reading expression.

He closes the book, leaving it in your sole grasp. But before he can stand up from the sofa, you scoot closer and lean your weight on him. The book is placed on a nearby table, forgotten.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. Your right hand, empty since the prologue, traces his left hand.

A moment of silence precedes his response. “You may.”

Wordlessly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. A gesture of intimacy, an unspoken confession. Yet as he savors your touch, Capitano wonders if you would harbor the same level of comfort around his true form.

He doubts it. As a Power, he bears an inhuman appearance on par with that of his superiors. It is his true image which has earned him the title of monster by witnessing humans.

Still, he allows himself to indulge in the blessing that is your oblivion. When you look into his two human eyes, there is a soft light in your gaze wholly free of fear.

“Spring is coming soon,” you mutter. “I can’t wait to see the flowers again. Come to think of it, there’s a variety of narcissus which grows only in late spring. It’s very pretty.”

Against his better judgment, Capitano strengthens his grip on your hand. “Shall I take it as an invitation to resume our meetings in the meadow?”

“Sure.” That is when you look up, a small smile adorning your face. “And if you can’t visit for whatever reason, I’ll pick a bouquet and preserve it for you.”

For once, Capitano is rendered speechless.

Rarely do you ever smile. Even to him, you retain your listless disposition—whether it is out of habit or lingering distance, he has yet to discern your reasons. But that is what makes it all the more special, those few instances when he is beholden to your expressions.

He wonders if this is what humans feel in the divine presence of angels, when they are borne witness to all things holy and beautiful.

Your smile is a phenomenon reserved only for the worthiest of souls. And in your grace, he has never felt more undeserving.

✿ ⚘

♡ At the end of winter, a religious war is authorized by the Church of Mondstadt. Shortly after the news reaches your town, Capitano informs you that he will be busy with “work.” He says it during another reading date, featuring Heart of Clear Springs. Before leaving, he kisses your hand and gives you a kind smile. There is a sad look in his eyes, but you don’t inquire further.

♡ In late spring, your town is attacked. With the entire area under fire, from your home to the meadow, you find yourself running back to the sacred building which you’d avoided for years. After all, though the enemy soldiers belong to a different denomination, they still worship the same god as you. In the present, the church is the only place on Earth where you can claim asylum and pray for your survival.

♡ Except every entrance is locked, including the doors to the orphanage. As the army reaches the town square, all you can do is bang on the front doors and beg to be let in. From inside, you can hear the voices of the people that luckily attended mass before the invasion. Some tell you to hide elsewhere, others beg you for forgiveness, a few sound like the nuns and caretakers who tormented you in the past.

♡ Before you can think of another sanctuary, a soldier strikes you. Pain…it has never felt more intense. Through your fading consciousness, you register your body falling and your head hitting the concrete. Blood pools from your forehead and trickles down the steps of the church, tainting it red.

♡ Life flashes before your eyes in a blurry sequence. The static images of God, sermons and bruises, unanswered prayers, people who never believed you or simply didn’t care. A birthday celebrated with your departure from the Church. Sanctuary found in the library followed by the meadow. Yet the numbness remained, each day bleeding into the next in a gloomy haze. In all those years, did you ever feel God’s love?

♡ It doesn’t matter at this point. A small part of you wonders if you should have retained your faith, continued your prayers, sought out salvation in the safety of your solitude. At least then, at the hour of your death, you wouldn’t be confronted with the fact of your humanity. The primal fear of death, the spiritual fear of ending up in Hell no matter Capitano’s reassurances.

♡ Capitano…where is he? Weakly, you call out to him but he doesn’t appear. Of course, why would he? You should feel thankful; it means he is probably safe, wherever he is. Still, you can’t help but wish he were here—if not to save you, as he has done by simply keeping you company, but to comfort you one last time. And those are the thoughts which plague you in your final moments, an unheard prayer on the tip of your tongue.

“I pray that we meet again, myself and the first person who truly loved me.”

♡ ______ died on a cloudy day, one of many people persecuted in the name of God. After the Church was destroyed and its followers slaughtered, their body was buried in a mass grave that once flourished with nature. There was a poignant quality to their countenance, an air of distress as transient as the flowers planted above them.

♡ At least, that is how your story ends from the perspectives of the survivors. But to the angels and demons who witnessed the destruction of your town, your death was only the end of a chapter in your life. In their eyes, Capitano had been present all throughout, an invisible witness to your death, absolute in his refusal to perform an unauthorized miracle.

♡ He remained by your side until the light faded from your eyes. That was when he took notice of the bouquet of narcissus clutched in your hand, tainted with blood despite your feeble efforts to save his gift. A soldier approached your corpse, intending to drag it down the steps for burial; but before they could touch you, Capitano appeared before them.

♡ It was only for a brief second, but the soldier drew back and cowered in fear. In the following days, they were haunted by the memory of the angelic figure who appeared outside the Church of Mondstadt. Or more precisely, the monster who prayed over a bloodstained corpse and took a bouquet of ruined flowers out of their grasp.

✿ ⚘

From the moment you wake up, all peace leaves the meadow.

What happened? Your memory comes back in hazy fragments—death, darkness, blinding light, pearly gates, ethereal figures. Most vivid is the sensation of strong arms and soft feathers, a familiar warmth which accompanied you throughout your journey.

As for your current surroundings, you are in a meadow so beautiful that it brings to mind the Garden of Eden. Flowers of every variety bloom across the scenery, some out of season. The sky is bright, sunless, a canvas of multiple colors. There are no other signs of life.

Internally, too, something feels off. A nearby pond provides a glimpse of your reflection—white garments, gold scars in place of your fatal injuries, your disoriented countenance. If this place is what you think it is…shouldn’t you feel at peace, happy even? And why are you alone?

Your gaze lands on a patch of flowers. Pure white, perianth petals, cup-shaped coronas…the same type of narcissus which grew in your favorite meadow. The flowers point in different directions, as though searching for a sun that does not exist.

“You are awake.”

A shadow touches your form, engulfing you in darkness. It bears a large, unrecognizable shape but such details evade you as you recognize the voice behind you.

“Capitano!” Immediately, you turn around, only to gasp and suppress a scream.

The person before you…can you even call him human? He is incredibly tall, to the point that you must crane your neck to see his face—assuming there is one beneath his iron mask. His body is clad in silver armor, stained blood in some places. A halo, shaped like a crown of thorns, shines behind his head.

But what shocks you are his wings. A single pair covered in radiant white feathers and eerily dark blue eyes. Each eye seems to glow with an uncanny aura.

Dark blue eyes with a striking resemblance to Capitano’s. What more for his long black hair and his solemn manner of speaking?

It doesn’t make your revelation any less unsettling.

“Capitano.” Your voice comes out in a nervous whisper. “Is it really you? You’re a…”

“An angel,” he confesses. He takes a step back, widening the distance between your bodies. “I ask that you pardon my appearance. Such was my sacrifice—for my true form, in all of its monstrosity, to be my sole image.”

His human face comes to mind, along with the kind gaze you fell in love with.

You feel the weight of multiple gazes on you. “What do you mean?”

“Is this realm to your satisfaction?” he asks. “I beseeched God to create a special paradise for you, cut off from the rest of Heaven. The price is that your capacity to feel negative emotions remains in this realm…though that is preferable.”

Preferable? How so? Right now, you can barely process what he is telling you. You are dead. Your companion is an angel. Your soul is in paradise, but not exactly.

After everything you’ve been through, you were still deemed worthy of a place in Heaven.

“I am sorry.”

Capitano’s voice brings you back to reality. He has never sounded more serious, emotional, repentant. And when you look up…

Is he crying?

Most of his eyes remain open, focusing on you with a fervent stare. But others are downcast, as if unable to face you. And a few appear glossy, blinking back iridescent tears.

“I am truly sorry.” He bows his head in shame, wings folded. “What I did to you was cruel, an absolute injustice.”

You don’t know which eyes to make contact with. “You—”

“It must have been painful,” he continues. “Even if I were to justify my actions, the truth lies in the fact that I tolerated your suffering for my own selfish desires. And that is why I ask not for your forgiveness, knowing I am the one at fault.”

Silence. In light of Capitano’s confession, all you can do is stare at him and comprehend the weight of your situation. What exactly are you supposed to feel, knowing his betrayal? Knowing that regardless of your feelings, you have nowhere else to go in the afterlife?

Yet despite it all, your prayer came true. The two of you were able to meet again.

And that is what compels you to take a step forward, to come closer until you are standing in front of him. “Hey, it’s…don’t cry.”

A delicate sensation blesses his wings—your hands carefully tracing his feathers to wipe away his tears. Several eyes widen in surprise, but all he can see in your gaze is sympathy.

“I’ll admit, it was painful,” you tell him. “Dying alone. But maybe it’s…better this way. If I survived, I’d have to deal with the loss of my home. And who knows what kind of living hell the other Church would’ve put me through?”

Above all, Capitano is the only person whose love you can believe in.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. The next words to leave your lips are spoken with certainty, bringing fresh tears to his eyes.

“I’m sure it was an act of love on your part.”

His reaction is sudden, incurring your surprise. But all you can do is surrender to Capitano’s embrace, allow his free arm to hold your waist and pull you closer to him. His wings wrap around you, caging you in soft feathers and eerie blue orbs.

“Capitano?” You can only look up at him, peering into the contents of his mask.

…It’s like staring into an abyss, a night sky dotted with twinkling blue stars. But in the absence of a human likeness, his words express what a face cannot.

“Never again,” he vows, “shall I allow harm to befall you. That is a promise.”

The hand on your waist moves upwards to caress your face. His touch is light, more hesitant than his previous gestures.

“You need not serve God nor partake in fruitful labor like the other souls in Heaven. All I ask is that you rest, indulge yourself, enjoy this paradise to the fullest.”

A flower is pinned to his armor, right above his heart. You recognize it instantly—a narcissus in full bloom, stained with your blood.

“If you desire a flower, it shall grow at once. If there are any books you would like to read, they shall be brought to you shortly.”

What was the name of that variety again? Narcissus triandrus. Angel’s tears.

“If you are in need of my presence, I shall appear before you, so long as I am not in the midst of battle. And should you ever desire the opposite, I can promise my distance.”

When Capitano looks into your eyes, all he can see is his own reflection. Whatever emotion colors your gaze, it casts his true image in a compassionate light.

“I shall do everything in my power to bring you joy for all of eternity. Such will be my penance.”

“...All right.” With that, you close your eyes and lean into his touch. He feels warm, comfortingly familiar. “I’ll trust you on that.”

Rest in peace, ______.

Think not of your mortal body in the beginning stages of decay.

Think not of your tormentors who are paying for their sins in Hell.

Think only of eternity with your beloved savior.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

Aahhhh it's done....this idea turned out much heavier than expected, but I'm glad that I was able to write this!! I hope you all cried over enjoyed the story of Angel! Capitano and his damsel. They were truly a delight to write for~

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @diodellet @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @harmonysanreads @mochinon-yah @oofasleep @micchikari @whispereons @thescribeoflostmemories

[k0yaz]

hey hey, I saw your post about Mizu and I'm going to make a request of a oneshot, feel free to not do it if you want (my english is terrible i hope you understand)

It would be a modern AU where Mizu is in a "relationship" with the reader, but they both want to take the relationship further, become girlfriends or something like that, it could have an NSFW beginning if it fits with what you're writing.

I would also really like to see your hcs for a modern Mizu, but maybe that can be in another post 💕

juxtaposed.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, mostly sfw tho, female reader, afab reader, fingering kinda idk bro, situationship sorta??? fluff, slight angst, modern au, GIRLS KISSING OH NO, sitationship, wuh luh wuh, i have no warnings for this so im just gonna lose my shit over this gorgeous woman, this is worse than my furina obsession fyi yes your welcome for letting you guys experience this, might change my blog name to mizu’s wife instead lol, support my endeavors, the way I licked my phone when I saw her, not proofread.

A/N: OPEN THE FLOODGATESSSSSSSSSS AAAAAAAAAAA I’m so sorry whenever I rewatch bes I have the worst fucking mizu obsession and I plan on letting the whole world know about this one cause GOOD LORD HOW DID I NOT THIRST OVER HER EVERY SECOND THE FIRST TIME I WATCHED. Anyway I love her sm u guys don’t understand like I started eating my pillow 🕯️

Shallow gasps flowed out of your lips in a sudden jerk as the ridge of Mizu’s fingers nudged against your insides gently, her knuckles that were pressed against your cunt decorated with glossy heaps of your juices. Chest heaving, you could only take in your mind swirling with the rush of ecstasy that clouded every fucked our crevice of your mind, heaps of the bedsheets bundled in your fists as your eyes traced over the woman breathing heavily above you with her head lowered.

For quite some time, the two of you found yourselves drawn to each other, your own thoughts constantly racing with every aching second you spent near Mizu without holding her in some way. You couldn’t help the maelstrom of your vivid imagination racing through your mind each time you lost yourself in those icy blue eyes, utterly transfixed on the thought of her hands roaming your figure—the set goal being not to leave a single spot on you untouched.

Of course, you had always found yourself strangely attracted to her in a way apart from your carnal desires screaming within you. There you lay on the couch whenever she wasn’t in the dorm, every fiber in your body craving her arms hemmed around your waist behind you, nose buried in the crook of your neck as she would only respond to any remark of yours with a low hum. To put it simply, any action of hers, whether it was ravaging you like an untamed beast or ghosting her nails along your back to hold you close—all of them made your knees weak, chest fluttering at mental image alone.

Despite the euphoric waves that washed over you in the midst of your sexual passion, it was clear that nothing could amount to how your heart thudded in your chest at the thought of pouring out your heart and soul to her, spilling out every last drop of affection you had for this woman. Silence would frequent your reactions outside of the dorm however, typically not speaking to one another in public.

Although you wouldn’t admit such vulnerable expressions, you couldn’t help but feel a sting of sorrow whenever Mizu’s shoulder grazed past yours, acting as if you were nothing but a shadow of a human being. Sure, she opened up quite a bit around you in private, even then you acknowledged that she wasn’t a huge fan of public affection nor interaction in general. Yet you couldn’t help the burning sensation coiling within you, paired with the longing desire to scream out everything you felt until your voice went hoarse.

You knew the truth perceived in your head however. You knew with a shining clarity, clearer than the fresh water descended from the sky, of a truth that drilled a hole in your chest at the mere prospect. Her unrequited feelings should be of no importance to you, yet you could never comprehend the brimming tears that rolled down your cheeks whenever you were alone with this realization. At this point, you would sell your entire soul just to love her past this caged sexual situationship, silently longing for her love like a damned beggar.

It was of no use, was it?

Cautiously, you elevated your body off of the bed upon being able to catch your breath, gaze still fixated on her lowered head. You swallowed thickly at the sight of Mizu’s face locked onto dampened sheets below her, eyes empty as her breath didn’t seem to even out after a while. Her demeanor nearly made her seem unapproachable, of course anyone who was this stoic and menacing appearance wise would repel anyone close by, so saying it was surprising wouldn’t be a the best choice of words.

“Mizu…?”

She didn’t respond.

Your blood ran cold with each lingering breath that hung in the air as Mizu’s gaze hadn’t once rose to meet yours, her ragged pants becoming more and more prevalent in the ghastly silence enveloped the two of you. You felt your stomach uncomfortably churn as you gazed upon her, skin flushed and hair spilling along her shoulders. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet your gaze.

Her irises bore into you with a piercing glint of an unreadable sense, goosebumps blooming your skin as an uneasy chill trickled down your spine. Mizu’s quiet demeanor only served to accentuate the discomfited flurry racing in your head, your mind scrambling together every possible thing you could’ve done wrong. You looked her up and down nervously, glancing down at the blanket fitted snug over her chest until she finally opened her mouth to break the silence.

“(Name).”

She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth in a pause, her voice slightly shaky. Mizu’s fingers curled around the blanket heaped over her chest, grasping onto it to compose her thoughts. This might be the first time you’ve ever seen her this apprehensive, especially after sex.

“I can’t do this anymore…I don’t want to do this anymore.” She breathed out, swallowing back her usual stoic demeanor to leave herself open to you as she shifted closer, shoulder pressing to yours. Initially, her words formed a lump in your throat with the wrong idea. Did she want to stop? Were you pissing her off? What the hell did you do different this time that she hated? Damn it- what made her snap?

You swallowed back the sob crawling up your throat, threatening to spill out. The intense pulsating sensation in your chest from perturbation juxtaposed the initial throb that resided in your chest from pleasure. Yet you kept your impulsive reaction to yourself, taking in a breath to hear her out as you were sure she wasn’t entirely done with her sentence. To which, you would in fact be right.

“What do you mean by that..?”

“I can’t keep up this whole sex without feelings shit. I can’t keep pretending towards you like this.” She sighed, eyes heavy and clouded with something you could only observe as guilt.

“You have no idea how much I care for you, no idea how much I’d give for you. I think I like you more than just wanting to have sex with you.”

Mizu stated her feelings bluntly, muscles visibly tensing upon articulating her thoughts out loud. She awaited your response, a sour expression on her face to prepare for an inevitable rejection or negative response. Much to her surprise, you felt a strange warmth bubble up within you at her tender words, each string of things she said sparking a feeling rich like velvet.

Your fingertips danced along the defined skin of her cheek, pinky finger slipping below her jawline to caress every bit of her face with nothing but pure adoration. Mizu’s breath hitched at your feather light touch, involuntarily leaning into it-—craving more. Oddly enough, her initial anxiety built up was washed over with an unfamiliar fluffy feeling, a sort of flame ignited within her as your fingers traced the ridges along her face.

Smiling, your eyes roamed over her lithe yet muscular figure, taking in her entrancing beauty as if you were eating her up with your eyes alone. God, she was perfect. You found yourself questioning whether you were enveloped in the grace of a dream right now, blinking twice to affirm that this woman did in fact love you back. You reached over slowly, inching your hand closer and closer to her resting hand before running your palm over the top of her hand and tracing along her knuckles.

Fingers laced in hers, you took in a breath, lips ghosting over her cheek at a dangerously close level. Mizu’s face grew hot from your proximity, strands of hair shrouding the sides of her face to shield her embarrassing expression atleast a little, anticipation piling in her stomach. She leaned on the weight of her arms a little, anything to gain some semblance of stability as her usually stoic self completely crumbled near you in this moment. You hummed softly, drawing your lips back to speak.

“Well…do you wanna try it then?”

She glanced over at you with a puzzled expression, cocking her head.

“Try what?”

“Dating, obviously. I think we could work out honestly, and I’ve been dying to be your girlfriend for a while- you don’t even know.” You admitted, stumbling over your words a little at that last part.

Your heart nearly melted at the sight of the rare, small smile on Mizu’s face that met your statement. It was clear by the look in her eyes that she was genuinely happy. A rare occurrence. Unable to help the affectionate chuckle that left you at her expression, you gently cupped her face on both sides, palms flat against her cheekbones as you pulled her in for a brief kiss against her smooth lips.

Mizu closed her eyes, exhaling at the endearing gesture that ended as quickly as it began. She let out a quiet laugh in response, arm snaking around the curve of your waist as she reclined back into the comfort of the bed, sinking into the plush mattress in bliss. You rested your hand atop the edge of the glass window near the bed, lifting it up to allow a relaxing jet of wind to glide along your face. Falling back into the covers beside her, you draped your arm gently over the edge of her shoulder.

She aimlessly stretched her palm flat against the bedside table, shuffling for her tinted orange glasses situated next to the digital alarm clock. Grasping her hand, you coaxed her to stop her from grabbing her glasses, using your freehand to turn her head towards you.

“Don’t. I want to look into your eyes a bit longer.”

Mizu blinked, before her gaze was consumed by a sort of dreamy appearance that allowed you to get lost in those sky blue eyes, as if you were staring out into the vast ocean itself.

Nothing mattered in this moment. Mizu’s love was more than enough for you to fall back into a trace in her arms.

A/N: um hello I love how this turned out ANYWAY I LIED IM NOT GONNA LEAVE UNTIL 2025 THAT WAS ME BEING DRAMATIC IM BACK BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVEN probably cause im far too obsessed with mizu

Anyway I can’t give a full list of hcs here but here’s one headcanon for modern mizu—I feel like she would get really easily annoyed in public spaces around obnoxious people, like she’d hold herself back from slapping someone in a bar full of drunk boys.

I got so frustrated over my homework I started cussing at it in telugu help

also I might change my blog name from k0yaz to mihi or smn close to that (probably cause it’s literally my nickname and I’m at risk of someone homophobic finding my account if they see k0yaz) SOOOOO if you see a username change ITS STILL ME PLEASE anyway bye love yall im totally normal over this woman is it obvious ngl this fic looks short I hope it’s not pls don’t be short I spent so much time on this.

[buckets-and-trees]

Unexpected In the Shower

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Nick Fowler x curvy!female Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: You're thrown off and left wanting after Ari's visit to your room in the middle of the night. You're craving more - clarity and ravaging - but unsure what to expect next.

Content Warnings: modern AU, smut, shower sex, nipple play, kissing, clit play, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving)/throat fucking, slight aftercare

Author Notes: Surprise! Sharing more for my 2200 Follower Celebration! A follow up to soft!dark Ari at the lake house didn't win the poll, but it was pretty high up, and... I had a little idea brewing that the muse facilitated finishing off for this weekend.

Previous Encounter | The Lake House Encounters

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

After Ari snuck into your room uninvited last night and woke you up with the sole purpose of torturing your pussy with his mouth and his hands, extracting orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were boneless and blissed out, it might have been a good idea to lock your bedroom door.

But you didn’t.

Because it scared and thrilled you.

And

Ari hadn’t even given you his cock.

You had at many points begged him for it, but he had just chuckled and refused.

He told you it was only the first night.

And then, maddeningly, all day he’d acted as if he hadn’t snuck in and then out of your room in the middle of the night.

Whatever game he was playing, you knew you weren’t winning.

But in a game like this? You had no complaint if losing meant you got lost in unbelievable bliss and somewhat forbidden or at least questionable entanglements with your brother’s best friend.

As night fell, you decided to take a shower, hoping the warm water would soothe your tense muscles and racing thoughts. You stepped into the steamy bathroom, peeling off your clothes and letting them fall to the floor. The hot spray cascaded over your body as you entered the shower, and you closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

Lost in the sensation, you didn't hear the bathroom door quietly open. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine as you sensed a presence behind you. Your heart raced, assuming it was Ari coming back for more. You kept your eyes closed, not wanting to break the spell. Warm hands suddenly grasped your hips, and you gasped as you were pulled back against a hard, muscular body.

Large hands roamed your wet skin, teasing and caressing. You leaned into him, your body responding instantly to his touch. His fingers found your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as his mouth left a trail of hot kisses down your neck.

"Please," you whimpered, not even sure what you wanted, only that you wanted more.

Lips brushed your ear as a familiar voice whispered, "I had a feeling you’d want this."

You gasped and whipped your head around to look at him, because although that voice was familiar, it wasn’t Ari.

“Nick!” you whimpered.

His steel blue eyes locked with yours, dark with desire. A wicked smile played on his lips as he pressed you against the shower wall, the cool tiles a stark contrast to your flushed skin.

"I saw how you looked at Ari today," Nick murmured, his hands still roaming your body. "I heard you last night, begging for more."

Your mind reeled, torn between shock, guilt, and an undeniable surge of arousal. This was wrong on so many levels, but your body betrayed you, responding to his touch with shameful eagerness.

"Nick, we can't—" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss that made your knees weak.

"Maybe we shouldn't," he corrected, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your throat. "But we both want to. I've wanted you for so long. You want this too."

His hand slid between your thighs, finding you already slick and sensitive from the previous night's activities. He groaned in approval, circling your clit with a clearly practiced ease. You moaned, your hips bucking involuntarily against his fingers.

"That's it," Nick growled, his fingers working you expertly. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice husky with need.

You hesitated, torn between desire and the knowledge that this would complicate things even further. But as Nick's fingers worked their magic, you found yourself nodding frantically.

"Yes," you moaned. "Please, Nick."

With a triumphant growl, he spun you around and pressed you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures made you shiver as Nick lifted your hands above your head, and then caught your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. Demanding, possessive.

Nick's free hand roamed your body, tracing every curve as if committing it to memory. You gasped into his mouth as he ground his hips against yours, his hard length pressing insistently against your lower belly.

"I've waited so long for this," Nick murmured against your lips. "Watching you, wanting you. And now, knowing what Ari did to you..." He nipped at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you forget all about him."

He spun you around, and then his free hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he positioned himself.

"Finally you’re going to be mine," he murmured against your ear, his voice strained with barely-contained desire.

In response, you pushed back against him, silently begging for more. With a low groan, Nick slowly pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that made you gasp and arch your back. He set a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars.

The shower continued to rain down on you both, hot water mingling with the sweat on your skin. Nick's thrusts grew more forceful, and you braced yourself against the tile wall, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions and intense pleasure coursing through your body. This was your brother's other best friend, someone you'd known for years. He’d been that charming presence you thought you would never be able to indulge in, never given the chance to, and not someone you should pursue even if you wanted to.

Nick's hand snaked around to rub tight circles on your clit, and you cried out, your body trembling with the dual sensations. Nick's fingers worked expertly, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and you felt the familiar tension building deep within you.

"Fucking lose it," Nick growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense pleasure, your inner walls clenching around Nick's length as you cried out his name. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out, but Nick held you firmly against the wall, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continued to thrust into you.

As you came down from your high, Nick slowly withdrew, leaving you feeling achingly empty. He turned you to face him, his blue eyes dark with desire. Without a word, he gently pushed down on your shoulders, guiding you to your knees.

The shower spray cascaded over your back as you looked up at him, water droplets clinging to his chiseled abs and running down the defined V of his hips. His cock stood proudly before you, thick and glistening with your combined arousal.

Nick's hand tangled in your wet hair, guiding you closer. "Show me what that pretty mouth can do," he murmured, his voice husky.

You looked up at Nick, water droplets clinging to your eyelashes as you slowly ran your tongue along his length. He groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each pass.

Nick's hips jerked forward, pushing himself further into your throat. You tried to relax, suppressing your gag reflex as he hit the back of your throat. "Fuck," he growled, his voice strained. "That's it, take all of me."

You gripped his thighs, steadying yourself as Nick began to thrust into your mouth. The shower spray mingled with your saliva, creating a deliciously slick sensation as he fucked your face with increasing intensity. Your jaw ached, but you reveled in the feeling of him using your mouth for his pleasure.

Nick's movements became more erratic, his breathing ragged. "Gonna come," he grunted, tugging your hair roughly. You moaned around him, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself down your throat, holding your head in place as you swallowed every drop. Your eyes watered from the intensity, but you didn't pull away until Nick's grip on your hair loosened.

He gently pulled out of your mouth, helping you to your feet. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Then he pulled you close for a deep, languid kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, mingling with his own unique flavor.

As the hot water continued to cascade over your intertwined bodies, reality began to seep back in. You broke the kiss, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of what had just happened.

"Nick, I..." you started, unsure of what to say.

He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Shh. Don't overthink this," he said softly. "We both wanted it. We both enjoyed it."

You nodded, unable to deny the truth in his words. Nick reached behind you to turn off the shower, then grabbed a large, fluffy towel. He wrapped it around you, then got a towel for himself.

As he dried off, Nick's eyes never left yours, a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper swirling in their blue depths. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, thinking about Ari and the night before. As if reading your thoughts, Nick stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands.

"I know what you're thinking," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "But don't. This doesn't have to complicate things. It can be our secret."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Nick leaned in, pressing an unexpectedly soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

"Sweet dreams," he said with a wink, slipping out of the bathroom and leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

You finished drying off in a daze, your mind replaying the events of the past two nights. As you pulled on your pajamas, you couldn't help but wonder what the next day would bring. Would Ari return for another late-night visit? Would Nick act as if nothing had happened, just as Ari had?

↠ next encounter The Lake House AU

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I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[thejakeslayla]

hihii if it isn't too much to ask, could you make a oneshot of either an argument w comfort of riki or sweet intimate (i mean like tooth rotting fluff heheh) moment w riki?

pairing bf!niki x gn!reader ୨୧ genre fluff, idol au, established relationship, hurt with comfort ୨୧ warnings: argument, niki neglecting his health ୨୧

your arguments didn’t happen so often, the relationship you had with niki was closer to peaceful. but when they happened it tended to get tense. especially with your boyfriend losing his temper and saying stuff he doesn’t really mean, which also occurred this time.

“niki, i’m just telling you that you need to rest,” you urged as he settled on the couch beside you. having observed his exhaustion, as he came back home, you could tell he practiced more than he should by how he went to bed straight after stepping his foot in your shared apartment, you expressed concern. “you barely ate today, i’m just worried about you,” placing a gentle hand on his thigh, you awaited a response.

but niki remained silent, seemingly organizing his thoughts. recognizing the need to give him space, you sat in quiet contemplation, studying his side profile.

“i don’t need your nagging every single time that i get home tired, this is my work. i thought you got used to it by now,” he retorted, his words piercing your heart.

"please, just tell me what's wrong," you implored, but his volume escalated.

"how many times do i have to repeat myself? i. don't. need. your. nagging." each word accented with frustration.

he looked at you, genuine anger in his eyes, as yours conveyed confusion and sadness. you didn’t know what to say, his anger caught you off guard; previously, he hadn't seemed bothered by your concerns for his health. unsure of what triggered this outburst, you refrained from further conversation, knowing it could worsen the situation.

so, you just stood up, quietly leaving the room. your heart ached. but you basically couldn’t do anything, your boyfriend was too stubborn, you knew you are not able to talk him out of this. you entered the bedroom, sitting down on the bed you just thought what could happen or maybe some of your words hurt him? you began to spiral in your thoughts, overthinking everything you said since niki arrived home.

as hours passed and night fell, you heard niki moving around the house. however, he never entered the bedroom where you sat. a heavy sigh leaving your lips, as you realised you need to be the one breaking the silence between you. when you stepped outside the room, you bumped into someone, which you quickly realised was no other than niki.

surprised, you both made noises, and he quickly moved away, his hand poised to knock on the door. apologetic and regretful look on his face, he spoke, "y/nnie, i'm sorry. i was just extremely tired. i didn't mean to burst out like that."

"it's okay, riki. you're allowed to feel tired; you're human," you reassured him with a weak smile. seeing your forgiveness, you noticed how the weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"is it okay if i hug you now?" he asked, your smile widened, and you agreed.

"of course," and with that, he quickly pulled you towards him, pressing your cheek to his chest as he tightly embraced you.

"i'm sorry," he repeated as you wrapped your arms around him.

"there's nothing to be sorry about; it's okay now," you assured him. pulling away slightly, he kissed the top of your head. niki mumbled something, which you just couldn’t make out. after asking him to repeat himself, he did so with pride and clarity.

“i love you, y/n.”

smiling into his chest, you squeezed him slightly. "i love you too. let's go to bed and talk, okay? i want to hear about your day." looking up, you witnessed your boyfriend's beautiful smile spreading across his face.

requests: open

© 2023 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !

[s4lv4tions]

innocence and the art of losing it;

pairing; kamo choso x fem!reader (modern!au) wc; 1.1k cw; suggestive content, making out, post-makeout clarity, second hand embarrassment ? lol an; no thoughts just loserboy choso. a virgin who's never kissed anyone who literally hands his heart over the second u bat your eyelashes at him :3

Choso kisses you once — drunk, high, more teeth than lips — in the wish-wash strobe lights of a college house party, and is thrust face-first into obsession.

It’s his first kiss. Yes, he's 22, and his first kiss is a sloppy, intoxicated mess, and he doesn't care. He’s covered in glitter from when someone had thrown a glitter-bomb at the wall above his head, sweating off his eyeliner and face paint, delirious enough to wonder whether his cup is still in his hand or not. But you’re real. Firm and sweet-smelling and voice husky when you bow your head towards him, just as drunk as he is but wearing it far better. Dark kohl lines your eyes, lashes big and dramatic. The kiss is messy and bitter with the lingering taste of vodka, but he presses himself further into it, cheeks hot and ears hotter.

He doesn’t really remember the rest of the night. He remembers the kiss, and your face, and the untrained, inelegant way his tongue had explored your mouth; he remembers how you’d patted his arm after and told him you were gonna go crash in the bath tub upstairs and try to sober up — extended an invitation to him, too — before you disappeared around the corner. It was an invitation he would’ve taken if not for the sudden tugging on his sleeve.

Mahito — grinning all sleazy at the smear of lipstick on Choso’s face — steadies a blacked-out Jogo against one bony shoulder. He whines something about not wanting to take care of him, and Jogo slurs something else (most likely about Hanami, who he'd never had the courage to ask out, and was now dating a "ripped lifeguard"). They’re annoying at best and assholes at worst, but (begrudgingly) Choso admits they’re his friends. He’s never been able to refuse a friend in need.

He mournfully leaves the party — and you, upstairs, lying in the empty bath with a warm blanket and open arms — to help Jogo regurgitate his guts in Choso's apartment. He sobers up pretty quickly between retches, only left with a passing headache and a deep lethargy; still, when Jogo and Mahito collapse on his pull out couch (fully dressed, might he add), he lays in bed, bloodshot-eyed and blushing. He doesn’t know how he found your Instagram — your name’s not even in your username — but he’s staring at your pretty face and scraping his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth. He shouldn’t be doing either of those things. He’s so fucking tired, but he can’t look away.

An OOTD. A coffee cup and a fancy looking pastry. You and your friends hugging each other at a party, grinning and glitter-eyed. Another of you on your own, at a Halloween party last year — because that’s how far he’s scrolled — dressed as Morticia Addams, dark and sultry and smiling all the while. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest he swears it’ll erupt and splatter over the ceiling.

Fuck. Fuck. It’s the alcohol pooling in his stomach, he’s sure — the alcohol rushing from his head to his, uh, smaller head. The faint synthetic taste of your lipstick and the smell of your perfume — sweet and dizzying, good enough to eat — they cloud his head in the same way those incessant clouds of vape and weed had earlier. He remembers how your long, pointed nails had scraped through his hair and brushed against his scalp, shivers rolling down the hunched length of his spine. The softness of your chest against his. You’d been so funny, made him feel so comfortable where he’d normally shut down and go silent. Fuck.

He scrolls further, fixated on every detail — who’s that man standing just beside you? Why is that girl’s hand so tight on your waist? You were part of the Art Society two years ago, he wonders if you’re not anymore. That same year you visited Vienna in the summer, snapping photos in front of the Hofburg in a dark summer dress. Your jewellery makes your eyes look even more sparkly than they are in real life. He’s about to scroll further, when—

❤️ You liked this post.

“No,” Choso mutters to himself, shooting up in bed. “No, no, no, no—”

He fumbles with his phone — drops it out of his hands and then scurries to pick it up again, dread settling over him like a threadbare blanket. Nope, his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. Shamefully, he unlikes the post and turns his screen off, pressing his palms into his eyes.

A post from two and a half years ago. 30 whole months. And he’d liked it accidentally. His stupid fucking thumbs — and it wasn’t like he could play it cool. Even with unliking it, you’ll see the notification. You’ll know that he was snooping. That he was thinking about you.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have drank so much. He shouldn’t have gone to that party in the first place, he had exams to study for and this wasn't the example he wanted to set for his brothers, but — if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have kissed you. And he’d liked it. A lot. He liked you.

Choso stares at his home screen — his brothers and him, all huddled up at one of the tables of their favourite restaurant, taken before he’d left for college. Big grins and glassy eyes and Choso steels himself. If this happened to one of his little brothers, he knows what he’d tell them — to not think too deeply on it, and that everyone makes mistakes. That it’s not the end of the world no matter how much it feels like it. He has to make mistakes so his brothers don't — and how can he preach emotional maturity if he can’t follow through on it himself? Especially over something as small as an Instagram like.

So Choso sets his phone aside and ignores the half-hard problem in his pants, shutting his eyes with a little more force than necessary. He’s going to sleep. He’ll be able to think — and have a cold, cold shower — in the morning. Everything will be fine. You probably won't even notice, who is he kidding. He's sure you get a gazillion likes every day — surely his will be lost in it all.

(Except the morning comes with an Instagram notification that pulls his heart into his throat.

[01:22] stxrgxrl: like what u see? :p

Fuck emotional maturity. Choso’s gonna be sick.)