#so if you have to remain invisible. that’s okay. I get it I really do

[stringofswineteeth]

I wasn't going to respond because I wasn't confident in my previous response so didn't that adding on to whatever response anyone had was going to be helpful, wasn't much to add that would be worth disagreeing with whoever responds, they'd have it handled.

I'm responding because I don't think your addition is worth disagreeing with. But, you said you can't wrap your head around it, so I am going to explain my concerns because I think they're important to understand.

There ARE people impersonating legitimate researchers right now for nefarious purposes. And it's not about it not being the "perfect time" it is about it being outright terrifying time, where I'm not even convinced getting gender related healthcare from verifiable organizations is safe. This isn't something I'd advocate against doing because there's a lot of complexities to personal situations and everyone must take calculated risks.

There's plenty of links I wouldn't trust and risks I wouldn't take that I wouldn't get in the way of others' decisions surrounding, at least without verifying that it is ONLY dangerous.

Basically, I don't think my response should've been what it was, but I also think it is worth considering why I would respond that way. The level of danger related to all things being openly queer, especially getting entered into a database as such, is unprecedented in my lifetime, not just imperfect. On top of that, the people involved are very young, and the economic situation might encourage making rash decisions when money is involved. Also ig worth noting that the dangers of unknown links have only grown.

Again, I think I probably should've minded my own business, especially if I'm not willing to do research into the organization I am concerned about or click links provided. I also think what I was advocating for, hiding, can be damaging because part of the goal is not just to kill us, but also to make those of us who remain invisible, and I hadn't thought through the implications of that.

I'm editing in an addition because I'd rather be done with this, but I am still thinking about it. All the above that I said holds true, but I don't feel right about leaving it there. Yes, we need to be loud and make sure our voices and history is not erased. At the same time, it is extremely important to be aware of the risks you are taking and make your choices very intentionally. If you have investigated this source and have decided they are trustworthy and contributing to their study is important enough that it is worth the risk, absolutely be brave and go forward with that. I don't want your voice erased, I just don't want you to put yourself in danger that isn't balanced out by the good it does. please be extremely careful. I wouldn't feel okay about leaving this up without really making that point clear. Especially under unverified links to the same type of content we KNOW is being imitated by people who wish us harm.

I am not encouraging you to roll over, I am encouraging you to tread extremely carefully while acknowledging that there are some risks worth taking. It is up to you to decide what those are.

Researchers at the Lyda Hill Institute for Human Resilience with the University of Colorado Colorado Springs are recruiting LGBTQ+ teens (ages 15-18) and their caregivers for a study of an online group program.

Parents and teens can EACH earn up to $160 for their participation.

Click the link below to learn more!

[kirby-souljourney-au]

Happy Transgender Visibility Day!!

In celebration of my fellow tbeings now being visible, here’s a list of every character in Soul Journey that is trans!

Ione / Meta Knight (Non-Binary)

Dark Meta Knight (Non-Binary)

Galacta (Bigender)

Mirror Galacta (Genderfluid)

Bandana Dee (Transmasculine)

Sailor Dee (Transfeminine)

Kirby (Transmasculine Agender)

Shadow Kirby (Transmasculine Agender)

Auberon (Transmasculine)

Blade Knight (Transmasculine)

Nightmare (Transmasculine) (yes he gets included here. He’s a trans K:SJ character, so he’s on the list.)

Inifya (Agender)

Mirror Inifya (Agender)

Aralor (Non-Binary)

Morpho Knight (Non-Binary)

Ophanim / Morpho EX (Xenogender)

Flamberge (Non-Binary)

Zan Pertizanne (Genderqueer)

Void (Agender)

Taranza (Non-Binary)

Artemis (Xenogender)

…And a few others, but I’m not really awake enough to remember all their names.

Anyway! Be trans! Be weird about it! Go crazy!

~Mod Bugthing, resident xenogender 🏳️‍⚧️

[selarina]

tw angst, breakup

gojo satoru who’s just so used to kindness and patience from you because from the moment you met him, you knew you were soft for him. practically invisible mush. but things have changed now, he broke up with you. and he’s seeing you without the blue and white hues of kindness for the very first time.

it’s almost noble that he broke up with you. one could see it that way, but you see it as selfish.

you always knew his family and jujutsu society wanted him to marry someone with influence and power. marriage was a matter of politics after all.

but you didn’t really care. you knew what you were getting into after all. you’re not an impulsive person, you think deeply and rationally about these things. you didn’t jump face first into love, you slowly sunk yourself down further and further until you reached the riverbed.

so when he mentioned that his family was talking about marriage with Aya Tsukino, the infamous crystalline sorcerer — you were barely phased.

it admittedly hurt a little. you did always imagine a more traditional route with love — with altars, rings, vows, cakes and champagne. i mean, who doesn’t? but you saw reality for what it was and told him it would be fine.

that you would deal with it when it comes, that you would be okay being his dirty little secret if it was okay with ms. aya

but he’s a week away from the wedding — the biggest of the millennia so to speak, and he should be out there attending a celebratory party in his name, but he’s out here standing in your dimly lit bedroom breaking up with you.

you don’t react when he breaks up with you, that wasn’t when you started withholding your kindness from him. no, that night you gave him a measured response — i understand. no, you’re right. yeah, we can try to be friends. i understand. take care. and he surprised that you remained as calm as you always do, but he supposes he shouldn’t have doubted you.

but when he shows up on the day before his wedding — his excuse being he really wanted his jacket back — he sees you laced with anger for the very first time.

he can tell he’s interrupting but he doesn’t really care, he’s not the kind to but he’s especially not the kind to care when he’s practically signing away his love life tomorrow day. so he barges in regardless, and you let him.

he sees the opened bottle of wine — half-empty, a glass of red wine — half-empty again. a romcom of some sort up on TV, throes and throes of pillows and blankets on your couch. there’s a sadness that fills his already bleating heart up, but he doesn’t break.

he maintains the facade — he wants his jacket back, and he definitely isn’t here to see you.

you come out of your room — your expression neutral still as you say, “i can’t find it.”

and he believes it, but if you can’t find it, he needs to leave now and he doesn’t want to. so he insists that he needs it, because he “can’t sleep without it.”

and you frown, “you’ve been sleeping fine for a week.”

“i haven’t,” he says, plainly. you notice the dull blue from behind his black glasses and you think maybe he isn’t lying, so you merely nod as you go back into your room to scramble through your wardrobe.

it takes you about 20 minutes but you show up, and he notices the lack of a hoodie in your hand.

“couldn’t find it?” he asks.

“nope,” you respond. “are you sure it’s not with you?”

“i’m sure,” he says. “can you look agai—”

“nope,” you say. your voice comes out stern and he notices the reclusiveness in your posture. hands folded, and eyes almost a glare. “i think you need to leave. i'll send it with takashi if i find it.” takashi, your driver.

“but i need—”

“for gods sake — gojo. you’re a grown man. take a fucking pill or something.”

there’s no mistaking the anger in your voice now. no, it’s not just slight agitation, it’s anger. it's anger, and it's making you see things in shades of orange.

"what—" he says lowly, as he looks no worse than a kicked puppy. he reaches for his glasses, taking them off as you see his eyes for the first time in 2 weeks. they looks sad, but then again, they always had a certain sadness to them.

his eyes change now, ever so slightly, there's a certain anger brimming through the blue as he stares back at you now, "all i asked for is my jacket."

"well, if gojo satoru wants his jacket. i guess i should put my life on hold, and scramble across the earth to look for it, right?" you roll your eyes with a scoff. and he's taken aback. you've never been petty. you've never been this detached. not when it comes to him.

"not like i'm interrupting much," he speaks up and he knows that he's going to regret what he's about to say before the words even leave his mouth. "you're having a sob fest, if anything — me showing up here is helping."

"are you fu—" and then you laugh, but there's no mirth in your laughter. "how dare you even talk to me like that? you'r— you fucking break up with me. with your bullshit excuses. and then you have the fucking audacity to talk to me like this?"

"bullshit excuses? i broke up with you. for you," he yells back. "you would've been miserable, baby."

"i would've managed," your response is immediate.

"you were upset when aya kept kissing my cheek."

"i never said that."

"you didn't have to," he groans. "it's my- it was job to see that. and that's why i know you would've been miserable."

"i've told you this time and time again. i don't mind being miserable as long as i got to be with you. what's so hard to understand about that?"

"what kin- why? why even—"

"because i love you."

"what kind of love makes you debase yourself in such a way. it's fucking pathetic," he replies, and there's some contempt in his voice.

you see how he views you now more clearer — like you're some sad thing. like you're the world's greatest loser and you should dig yourself into a hole until you've moved on from him.

you're only used to love from him, and that made your decision to stay with him feel revolutionary — like you could've lived the worst life socially if it meant you could stay in love but now — now you're not sure about any of this.

"you would've been miserable. so i made the decision for us. you'll thank me one day," he says.

"maybe," you say with a sigh. you're tired and frankly all you want is for him to leave so you can chug the rest of that wine and pass out. "maybe, but it was our relationship. and you made this decision all by yourself. so don't ever blame me for our end."

part 2

[girlgenius1111]

alone.

i wrote this in maybe a half hour and it's very short but i was very in my feels so you get angsty sol as a result before the events of family line. sol struggles. there is change on the horizon, but she doesn't see it.

-----

It was the same every morning, the same every day. A quick knock would wake you, a second knock a few minutes later telling you it was time to get up. You’d throw on clothes that didn’t quite fit with Spain’s climate, tie your hair up in a bun, and go downstairs. 

Breakfast was always quiet, ever since the first few weeks, when Ingrid had tried to engage you in conversation and you rejected every attempt. She’d ask you a question that would remind you how little she knew about your life now. You’d snap back at her unintentionally, she’d get angry, and the table would fall quiet. Eventually, it just stayed quiet. 

You’d go to school, barely understand a word spoken to you. Scrape by with passable grades, most of the time. Go back to Ingrid’s house. Do your school work at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on you. Hide in your room until dinner. Hide in your room after dinner. Distract yourself with a mindless show, or more often, a nature documentary of some kind. Fall asleep, dream of lakes and forests and grass and mountains; things that could never be disappointed in you. 

You went through the motions. Step by step, day after day. Not really living, just existing. Not trying, either. 

You’d stop trying a long time ago. Long before Spain, before the small, bland extra bedroom you slept in. Before disappointed looks had begun to come from your sister. You’d stopped trying when you were still in Norway, still disappointing your parents. 

Back in Norway, you felt content being mostly invisible. Your parents ignoring you was better than being yelled at, though they still did that a fair amount.There was something about being here, though, in Spain that was just… different. 

Perhaps it was that part of you, little you, who still remembered Ingrid as someone who gave the best hugs and always knew how to make you smile. Little you hadn’t ever had much hope in her parents, but she’d had hope in Ingrid. That part of you clung to the idea that Ingrid could still make everything better, like she had when you were small. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let go of that hope. 

It crushed you, time and time again, when Ingrid yelled at you, or frowned at a bad grade, or sent you to your room for being a few minutes past curfew, without even letting you explain why you’d been late [there’d been a turtle in the road on your walk from the climbing gym, and it had taken 5 minutes you didn’t have to make sure it got across safely]. When she’d sigh after another weekend passed, and you remained locked in your room. When she’d tell you to just try harder. At speaking Spanish, at making friends, at school. 

You didn’t have anything left to give. All of your energy was spent dragging yourself out of bed. Why couldn’t she see that? Growing up, it had felt like Ingrid had been the only one to see you. Now, though, she was just like everyone else. She saw what your parents saw, you decided. Someone who just wasn’t worth it. 

Ingrid had always loved you. Even when it was hard to believe that your parents did, Ingrid always told you she loved you. She hadn’t said it in a while, though. You hadn’t heard from your Mamma in weeks, the last text you’d gotten from your Pappa had been scolding you for spending too much money. [You’d bought Ingrid a birthday present, but he made you return it before you could give it to her]. 

Maybe you just weren’t someone who could be loved. You rolled onto your side, covering your ears to block out the sound of Ingrid’s loud laughter at something Mapi had said. Tears dripped off your face, and you wished you were 7 again, burying your face in your sister’s shoulder and knowing that as long as she had you, you’d be okay. That was back when she loved you, though. You were pretty sure she didn’t anymore. How could she? When all you did was screw up, who could love someone like you? 

You weren’t 7 anymore, you were 17, and you were all alone. In a house hundreds of miles away from home, with your sister who you felt like you barely knew anymore. All alone. You were beginning to think that was all you’d ever be. Alone. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, though. You didn’t know about the book shoved under Ingrid’s pillow, about troubled teens. You didn’t know that she’d stand in your doorway sometimes, just watching you sleep. Enjoying that, at least while resting, you didn’t frown. 

You didn’t know your Pappa picked up the phone often, but never called, feeling like he’d created a gap he wasn’t sure he could ever fix. Didn’t know that sometimes your Mamma slept in your bed, remembering the small child that had once smelled of syrup and brought her flowers from the garden. 

You didn’t know that Mapi stayed up late at night, duolingo open on her phone, hoping that maybe speaking a language you understood would make you feel more at home. 

You didn’t know that Ingrid loved you more than her heart could take, sometimes, and that she was just doing what she thought would work. She didn’t realize you didn’t need discipline, that you just needed a support system. 

Things would improve, but you didn’t know that. As you sobbed into your pillow, you were pretty sure you’d always feel like this; unloved and completely alone. 

[moonselune]

The game never really elaborated other than giving you the “everyone disapproves” messages when you let Volo pluck your eye from your skull on accident. How do you think the romanced companions would react to Tav with their new Ersatz eye?

ooo it was fun writing for those who weren't actually part of the camp by then, good request !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

You sat by the campfire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across your face. You felt the weight of your new ersatz eye, a strange and unsettling sensation that you were still getting used to. The camp had fallen silent, the rest of your companions busy with their own thoughts and tasks. Karlach, however, had been watching you closely ever since you had returned with the new eye.

She finally broke the silence, her deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"So, tell me, love—what possessed you to let Volo pluck out your eye and replace it with… that?" She gestured to your new, artificial eye with a wry smile.

You shrugged, trying to find the right words. "It seemed like a good idea at the time! Plus, it has its advantages. I can see things now that I couldn’t before."

Karlach chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, that was a bit silly, wasn't it?" She reached out, her hand warm and comforting as she cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against the edge of your new eye. "But I have to admit, it gives you a certain… unique charm."

You smiled, leaning into her touch. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," she said, her eyes sparkling with affection. "It’s very you—bold, a little reckless, and definitely one-of-a-kind." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin. "And if it helps you in battle, then it’s worth it. Just promise me you won’t let anyone else convince you to do something quite so drastic again, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. "I promise."

Karlach’s smile widened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Good. Now, in your words, let's go find some evil for you to smack"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The air was tense as you approached Minthara, the stern drow warrior assessing you with her piercing gaze. You could feel her eyes on you, scrutinizing every detail of your altered appearance. When you finally stood before her, she reached out and grabbed your face with a firm, but not unkind, grip, turning your head this way and that to examine your new eye.

"You fool," she hissed, her voice low and filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "Why would you let that imbecile Volo mutilate you like this? I will miss your eye."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "This eye allows me to see people who have turned themselves invisible. It gives us an advantage in battle."

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you feared she would remain angry. But then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, transforming her stern expression into one of approval. "Is that so?"

You nodded, relief flooding through you. "Yes. It may look strange, but it’s useful."

Minthara’s grip on your face softened, and she let her hand slide down to rest on your shoulder.

"You always surprise me," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "Your willingness to sacrifice for the sake of our mission is commendable. I suppose I can forgive you for this… folly."

You couldn’t help but smile at her words. You weren't going to dare correct her that you had done it as a last ditch effort to get the parasite out. "Thank you, Minthara."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "Just don’t make a habit of letting fools experiment on you. I need you whole and capable, not a collection of curiosities."

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension between you dissolve as she kissed your cheek. "I’ll keep that in mind."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The firelight danced across Lae'zel's face as she stared at you with a mixture of irritation and fascination. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of your new ersatz eye, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You fool," she snapped, her voice tinged with frustration. "You let that bumbling idiot Volo pluck out your eye? Your own eye, the most reliable asset in battle? When we are already on our way to the creche!"

You winced, her words stinging despite the underlying concern you could sense. "It wasn’t exactly planned, Lae'zel. But this new eye… it has its advantages. I can see things now that I couldn't before."

Lae'zel crossed her arms, her expression still stern. "Your own eyes were more than capable. But if this ersatz eye gives you an edge, then I suppose it is not entirely worthless."

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against your cheek as she inspected the new eye. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her irritation melting into something softer. "It is strange, but… there is a certain appeal to it."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at your lips. "You find it sexy?"

Lae'zel huffed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Do not misunderstand, it does not make you less of a fool. But yes, it has a certain… allure. Just do not let this happen again."

You nodded, relieved and somewhat amused by her reaction. "I’ll be more careful next time, I promise."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a brief, fierce kiss. "Good. Now, let us see how well you can fight with your new eye."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

You found Shadowheart by the edge of the camp, her eyes reflecting in the sun as she turned to face you. Taking a deep breath, you revealed your new ersatz eye, waiting for her reaction.

She stared at you for a moment, her eyes widening in shock before narrowing in annoyance. Without warning, she lightly whacked you on the arm. "What were you thinking? Letting Volo pluck out your eye like that? That was incredibly stupid."

You rubbed your arm, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it does have some advantages, Shadowheart. I can see things now that I couldn’t before."

She sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I can’t heal your eye. You’re stuck with that ersatz one now. You should have come to me first."

You pouted, feeling the need for some sympathy. You draped yourself over her, resting your head on her shoulder. "Shadowheart, I didn’t mean to be reckless. Can I at least get some sympathy?"

She laughed, her annoyance melting into amusement. Pushing you off gently, she shook her head. "You’re impossible."

You continued to pout and whine, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes. Finally, she relented, pulling you into a hug. "Alright, alright. You look… pretty. Stupid, but pretty."

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at her words. "Thank you, my love"

She kissed you softly, her hands cupping your face. "Just promise me you won’t let anyone else experiment on you. I need you whole and safe."

"I promise," you murmured, holding her close. "I’ll be more careful from now on."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The moment you revealed your new ersatz eye to Jaheira, her expression froze. Her eyes widened in shock, and she raised a hand as if to stop you from saying anything.

"Don't speak," she said sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. You could see the internal struggle playing out across her face as she tried to collect herself. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, clearly fighting to maintain her composure.

For a few long moments, the only sound was the crackling of the campfire. Then, her eyes snapped open, and despite her earlier efforts, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

"What were you thinking?" she yelled, her voice a mix of anger and worry. "Letting Volo of all people pluck out your eye? Do you have any idea how reckless and foolish that was?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but she cut you off, her words coming out in a rush.

"You could have been blinded permanently! What if something had gone wrong? What if he had lobotomised you - although that may have improved that brain of yours!"

You stood there, feeling a mixture of guilt and helplessness. "I… I thought it might work, that it might get rid of the parasite. It gives me the ability to see things I couldn’t before."

Jaheira took another deep breath, her anger slowly subsiding into a weary resignation. She stepped closer, placing a hand on your cheek, her thumb brushing against it. "Just… promise me you won't do anything like that again without talking to me first."

You nodded, feeling the weight of her concern. "I promise, beloved. I’ll be more careful."

She sighed, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Good. I don’t want to lose you. You're too important to me."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

When you showed Gale your new ersatz eye, his reaction was immediate. His brows furrowed, and his mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"You let Volo pluck out your eye?" he asked, incredulous. "Are you out of your mind?"

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his disapproval. "I didn't mean to let him pluck it out, it just... happened, when he was trying to get rid of the parasite. But! It gives me the ability to see things I couldn’t before."

Gale shook his head, launching into a rant. "Volo is a charlatan, a storyteller with a penchant for the dramatic. Trusting him with something as delicate and vital as your eye is beyond foolish. And to think he could remove the parasite?! What if it had gone wrong and you were left with no vision at all?"

As he continued, his voice growing more animated, he inadvertently let something slip, "And yet, despite the madness of it all, I have to admit, it’s… it's incredibly attractive in a strange, reckless sort of way."

You blinked, taken aback by his confession. A smile crept onto your face as you saw the realization dawn on his.

"Gale," you said softly, stepping closer, batting your eyelashes at him "you think my new eye is attractive?"

He stammered, momentarily thrown off his rant. "Well, I mean… it's not the point. You were still a fool to trust Volo, but… yes, there’s a certain allure to it."

You leaned in, silencing him with a kiss. His initial surprise melted into a deep, passionate response as he pulled you closer. When you finally pulled back, you whispered against his lips, "Thank you for caring, Gale. And for finding me attractive, even when I do foolish things."

He chuckled softly, resting his forehead against yours. "Just promise me, no more reckless decisions without consulting me first. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"I promise," you replied, your heart swelling with affection. "I’ll be more careful from now on."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

As you approached Astarion with your new ersatz eye, the night air seemed to still. He had stayed at camp whilst you and the others were exploring the grove, it had given you time to prepare for this moment. He was lounging casually, a goblet of blood (where it was sourced you did not want to know) in hand, when you revealed your altered appearance. His reaction was immediate and dramatic, his eyes widening in horror and surprise.

"By the gods, what have you done?!" Astarion yelped, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. It was as if he had seen a ghost or been caught in a sudden, terrifying twist of fate. His reaction was so pronounced that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance.

You crossed your arms, frowning as you looked at him. "Astarion, really? I didn’t think it would be that shocking."

He flinched, his grip tightening around his goblet. "I—I'm sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. You startled me, dear."

You started to turn away, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. But Astarion quickly moved to stop you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Please, don’t go. I truly apologize for my reaction. I just… didn’t know how to handle it at first."

You looked at him, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. "It’s alright, Astarion. I suppose it was a bit sudden."

He sighed, pulling you into a tender embrace. "I should have been more composed. I’m just… well, shocked, darling. It is not everyday your dearest appears with a brand new eye. I apologise a thousand times over."

You softened at his touch, resting your head against his shoulder. "I’m not angry. Just a little embarrassed. But thank you for apologizing."

Astarion nuzzled into your neck, his voice warm against your skin. "I promise I’ll adjust. Your new eye is… striking. And it suits you, even if it did give me a fright."

You chuckled softly, feeling reassured by his embrace. "I’m glad you think so. It’s a bit different, but it has its uses."

"Well I simply cannot wait to see you put it to work my darling." Astarion smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, he was still in the doghouse but this was a promising start.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

When you revealed your new ersatz eye to Wyll, his reaction was immediate. His eyes widened in shock, and he let out a low whistle.

“By the gods, you actually let Volo pluck out your eye?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and concern.

You hesitated, feeling a bit awkward under his gaze. “Well not exactly, but let's not focus on that right now. The eye lets me see things I couldn't before.”

"We will get back to that later." Wyll shook his head at you, a bemused expression on his face. He tilted his face as he took you in. “Foolish, but then again, I suppose I can’t say much. After all, I’ve done my fair share of reckless things.”

He managed a half-smile, stepping closer and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Welcome to the one-eye club,” he said, his tone softening. “You’re now part of a very exclusive group.”

You blinked, a bit surprised but touched by his attempt at lightening the mood. “I am honoured, you have my eternal thanks, my love.”

Wyll’s smile widened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “You’re still my beloved, no matter how many eyes you have or don’t have. Just… try to avoid letting anyone else poke at your eye, alright?”

You chuckled softly, feeling a mix of relief and affection and you melted into his embrace. “I’ll keep that in mind, Wyll.”

"Good, now it looks like I have some competition for the prettiest member of the one-eyed club." Wyll murmurs, and you laugh, pulling away. Wyll kisses your forehead and smiles to you, "Fierce competition indeed."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

When you revealed your new ersatz eye to Halsin, his reaction was immediate and deeply telling. His usually calm demeanor was replaced with a mixture of disappointment and concern. He drew in a sharp breath and let out a low, disapproving sigh. As he examined your altered appearance, his brow furrowed and he shook his head in disbelief, tsking softly under his breath.

"You let Volo perform such a risky procedure? Why would you trust someone like him with something so delicate?" Halsin’s voice was a mix of disbelief and frustration. His eyes were fixed on the artificial eye, assessing its placement and function with a critical eye.

Feeling a pang of guilt and embarrassment, you pouted, your shoulders drooping slightly as if you were a child being reprimanded. You reached out tentatively, wrapping your arms around Halsin in a heartfelt hug, hoping to mitigate the disappointment in his gaze.

"Please don’t be mad at me," you murmured against his chest, your voice muffled. "I thought it was a good idea at the time. I really didn’t think it would cause this much trouble."

Halsin’s expression softened, though his concern was still evident. He gently placed a hand on your back, the touch warm and reassuring.

"I’m not angry with you, my love," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I just wish you wouldn’t let hacks like Volo have their way with you. It’s not only reckless but downright dangerous. I care deeply about your well-being."

You tightened your embrace, nuzzling into his chest as if trying to seek comfort and solace. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’ll try to be more careful next time," you said, your voice earnest and apologetic.

Halsin’s posture relaxed as he allowed himself a soft chuckle. He wrapped his arms around you more securely, drawing you into a protective embrace.

"I’m not truly mad, just worried," he admitted, his tone warm and gentle. "I don’t want to see you put yourself at risk. You’re far too important to me for that."

You looked up at him, your eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you for understanding," you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

Halsin smiled back, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"Always," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "Just promise me you’ll be more cautious in the future. I care too much about you to see you hurt, especially when it’s avoidable."

You nodded, feeling reassured by his comforting words and the warmth of his embrace. "I promise, Halsin," you said, your voice steady and sincere.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xoxo

Keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[chisubi]

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

content. fem!reader, slice of life, implied／referenced infidelity (not by you or rindō), non-linear

word count. 7.4k

note. this is something i’ve been working on for a while because i have no idea how to write rindō . . . >< i wanted this to have a summery shōjo feel to it, so hopefully i was able to capture it well enough ?? (also, sorry, this is a little unedited.)

i had to force myself to finish this or else i would end up forgetting about it again ! there’s only three parts to this, however, updates will be sporadic :x

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

He doesn’t tell you, you never ask, you just know — a woman’s intuition is never wrong. Something you learned from your dear mother.

Two nights ago, while you are both lying beside one another in bed, he complains that he has yet another business trip in Tokyo [his last one was just a few weeks ago], he asks if there is anything you would like him to buy — like that dessert you find yourself indulging in a little too much these days, a new novel to add to your collection of unread books that you swear you will get to them eventually, a new set of coffee mugs or a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You tell him, “No, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

He doesn’t press when you decline. Instead, he leans down to capture your lips with his before he leaves; the wind rushes by, chilling over the spot he had touched. His “I’ll miss you” never reaches you, carrying with it the ghosts of your past. His “I love you” completely passes you by. Ever-so-fleeting.

It’s been this way for a few months now. You don’t know when it first began, but the signs became more and more obvious as the days passed by. Rather than sadness or anger, you don’t really feel anything anymore. Only regret remains. Those memories and promises you both made together are beginning to fade. And what seems to make your heart shake is that you don’t know what to do, despite change and abandonment seemingly always following after you. Time and time again. Even after all these seasons, you are still lost.

When summer burns, or when fireworks spark up the midnight sky, you feel it on your tongue and skin as the same memories fill your mind once again. That summer night by the river’s edge. And summer nights following that — all of them are unforgettable, always leaving you feeling the bittersweet taste of citrus and honey drowning in the back of your throat. Too sweet, too sour. 

No matter where you are in the world, a spirit of a little girl clinging onto the sandbox of an old playground remains in Roppongi. Abandoned, yet not once forgotten. Your flesh, blood, and bones will always be made up of Rindō and Ran from way back then. You hold these memories deep in your heart so preciously like a collection of little treasures as you continue to grow older.

A quarter before midnight, the moon is down and clouded by the fog; you take the train all the way to Roppongi. It’s strangely empty inside, you cannot see what lies outside. Tired and uneasy, the sound of the midnight train running across the tracks lulls you to sleep.

—

You are eleven when your mother drops you off at your grandfather’s house all the way in Roppongi during the summer; miles away from the countryside you grew up in. She doesn’t wait for your grandfather to open the door to come and greet you. She yells out how she will see you in a few weeks, the engine roars, and she is gone.

You have never met any grandparents before. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about them, so you never ask, not wanting to overstep the invisible line (she is scary when she is in a foul mood). You learn to be a good child because you want to see your mother smile again — she stopped smiling for months now, and you don’t know why. However, you believe she will feel better once she picks you up in a few days.

After all, adults need their rest as well (or something like that).

You soon also learn that your grandfather is a tall, scary man. A seemingly permanent scowl, a low and gruff voice that is only heard through a few words. A strong scent of alcohol lingers on the collar of his shirt – one you sometimes smell on your mother’s breath – he looks at you so emptily, then sighs. The chill in the air prickles against your exposed skin, you gulp.

No matter how silent of a man he is, you are a good daughter, so you introduce yourself to him and thank him for letting you stay with him — “I’ve always imagined meeting you, grandpa. I saw you in a picture before!” 

These words seem to catch his attention. His tracks stop, he doesn’t look back, and all you can see is his wide back. You hear him mumble something beneath his breath, you don’t catch any of the words — you weren’t meant to. Something sticks out about your grandfather. Something you can’t help, but focus on is his missing a pinky. You try not to stare, and he doesn’t say anything when he catches your innocent, curious eyes. Rather, he doesn’t say anything at all to you and you can’t help but become overly sensitive to every draw of his breath.

You wish you were back home in that little countryside town, tucked far away from this bizarre place. You want your mother to come and pick you up.

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

Surprisingly, you got more sleep than you expected last night. This is your first time sleeping in a bed that doesn’t belong to you; in a place that is so foreign to you.

And you guess it wasn’t so bad. The mattress is a lot softer than the one back at home.

Breakfast is simple and traditional. A bowl of steamed rice, fried mackerel with a side of nattō (you don't like the smell, but you try your best to swallow the beans without making any faces, and fail). The mackerel on your plate is neatly pulled apart, bones discarded, and you smile to yourself. Your grandfather is more attentive — kinder than he looks. Your teachers have always told you and your classmates to never judge someone based on their appearance.

“Um . . . Grandpa?” Silence is met with your call. However, you take that silence as a sign to continue speaking. “Can I, uh, may I go outside for a little bit?” 

“There’s a park nearby,” he simply replies with a few words before directing his attention back onto the television.

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

Quickly shoving down your breakfast, you’re out the door and ready to play.

So, your grandfather isn’t the greatest at giving directions. After some twists and turns and walking back and forth, it is not too hard to find the park he vaguely described. 

There's a group of kids playing on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars and sitting around. Too shy to approach, you shuffle over to the swing set, and rock yourself back and forth.

After some moments of swinging, and looking back at them to your feet, you hear a bunch of footsteps heading towards you.

You look up in anticipation and nervously smile at the group of boys in front you. Maybe they want to join you? [Hopefully.] “Um, hi! Did you want to—” Your words are immediately cut off as someone steps right in front of you.

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

“H-huh?” A boy mocks with a high pitch tone and your cheeks heat up when you hear laughter surrounding you.

“Get off so we can play,” this one stands in front of you, hair short with a red cap in his hand. “You can hear properly, right?”

Someone says, “No, I don’t think she can.”

Another laughs.

The short-haired boy glares at you, hand reaching over and tugs on your hair — hard. You yelp as your hand immediately wraps around his wrist. “We told you to move, so move,” he harshly shouts and you flinch as your ear rings.

You don’t understand why they’re mad or why they are telling you to leave. This has never happened to you back at home before.

You yell at the boy to let go of you, pushing his arm away as hard as you can. However, this action only leads him to pull hard this time. You yelp. The group breaks out into snickers and grins.

Traitorously, your body betrays you as tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You don’t want to cry — you don’t like crying, never wanting anyone to see your tears. But you feel so helpless and lost and alone.

"Hey, wait, you're gonna make her cry. . .” Someone speaks up and for a second, you’re hopeful.

“I’m not even doing it hard. She’s just being a baby,” the short-haired boy scoffs before he accuses, “why do you care? You like her?”

His face flushes, and beneath the thick frames of his glasses, his widened eyes shake. “No way!”

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

The boy gags as he takes great strides away from you. His arms cross over his chest as he yells, “Gross. Over my dead body.”

“Oh, is that so?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere, causing you to jump. Colour drained from the faces in front of you; awfully, sickly pale.

And it comes fast all too fast — someone running in between you and the group of boys with a flying fist. Another one and another one. Colour falls from your cheeks mirroring the group and unlike them, you find yourself unable to move. To run away. You think you see a drop of red splattered on the concrete as you tightly shut your eyes, your body shakes and you cover your ears in an attempt to block the sound.

Someone cries. Screams, shoes smacking against the pavement, and laughter — one both loud and taunting. Then all of a sudden, everything goes silent. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes. Purple fills your entire vision. You jump at the sudden close proximity, you can feel their hair tickling your cheek as he leans in close to you.

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?” 

You slowly nod, “Thank you for, um . . . helping me?” You say this rather confusingly, unable to comprehend everything that had happened within minutes. You take a step back as you look around, you don’t see any of those boys from earlier. They vanished as if they were never here, the footprints made in the sandpit and droplets of blood remind you otherwise. 

Your eyes fall towards his hands that punched those bullies — knuckles all red, you bite your lip to conceal your quivering lips. You turn to the taller boy with no visible cuts or bruises, only a smug grin on his face that matches with the one in front you, and you thank him as well. When you take a better look at him, you notice the two of them sort of look similar.

He looks down at you and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys were lame for ganging up on you. They always pick fights with people weaker than them.”

“Right, those idiots got what was coming for them,” the other boy adds with a laugh. “Are you not from around here?”

You shake your head.

“Thought so. Haven’t seen you around here before. So, what’s your name? I’m Rindō, and that’s my older brother, Ran,” the boy – Rindō – introduces.

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

“Uh-uh. Just tell us if they bother you again. We’ll deal with it,” says Ran.

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

Roppongi belongs to the two boys who don’t seem older than you. Confused, you ask, “Are you guys protectors or something? Like heroes?”

Your words are met with snorts that evolve into laughter. Beside you, Rindō gives you a toothy grin as he readjusts his glasses. “I guess if that’s what you think, then sure.”

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

Meeting the Haitani brothers was probably nothing special, a similar story that could be told by countless people during their youth. However, to you, an eleven-year-old girl being picked on at the playground, helpless and tear-stained, they seemed like your heroes. So bright and blinding. A moment that changes your entire life.

—

Ran and Rindō have come to knock on the door to your grandfather’s house nearly everyday since then. When the old man opens it to see two unfamiliar children, he sighs before calling out your name (which makes your heart jump from your chest from how loud his voice can be). And you’re quick to slip on your old running shoes and bolt out the door.

Rindō tells you he found a cool place the other day, a hidden room at the back of an old shrine, and he wants to show it to you. Keeping up with the Haitanis is hard; chasing after them is even harder. Their legs aren’t that much longer than yours, but their strides are far too long, too fast.

Rindō is kind enough to slow down, only for a moment. “You’re too slow,” he complains before grabbing your hand and pulls you along to keep up with them. Without noticing, you don’t trip over your own feet anymore.

“Careful, Rindō,” Ran lowly warns as his hand reaches out and wraps around Rindō’s wrist, pulling him away from walking up the stone steps. The tall, red torii gate looms above. A crow lingers at the very top. “Don’t you know young children get spirited away here?”

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

“No, no. Not the film, Rin,” Ran snickers at his brother’s words, you don’t understand what Ran finds so funny. And Rindō doesn’t seem to know either, but his face is red and he looks mad at Ran. “The legends. Haven’t you heard that the yōkai will come and snatch you up? They take away children who run off alone. They’ll come to get you, dummy.”

Rindō shakes his head, staring up at his brother with skeptical lavender eyes. “No way. You’re just trying to scare me again. I won’t fall for it anymore, nii-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, ‘m serious this time.” Ran says this so lightly, it sounds unconvincing.

Rindō's glare hardens as he crosses his arm. “Okay. Why are you such a liar these days?”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

You block out their childish bickering — they always seem to do this. It’s always Ran who seems to start it. And through their yelling, an old memory flashes in your mind. Your head perks up in remembrance as you gasp. 

This garners their attention because they both immediately stop their “argument” and turn to look at you.

“Wait, it is true! I heard that Tomoko-chan from the class next door visited the shrine last summer and she never returned . . .” you pitch in with the eerie rumour your classmates had whispered to each other last year — Tomoko-chan got taken away by a monster. Those words reach to the end of the long hallways and snuck into the wooden panels in the room. Kids at school don’t go anywhere alone now.

In the distance, a crow caws.

So, you learn something new: monsters also live in the city. They don’t only reside in the little town you grew up in. Monsters exist everywhere in the world.

The brothers send each other a look, one that you don’t understand, something only they know — only them. You watch as they communicate through stares alone before turning their attention back onto you.

“Really?”

Quickly nodding, you add, “Yup, it’s true. I swear. Everyone said so. She went to make a wish, and then disappeared. Her family isn’t even in town anymore.”

Ran lets out an exaggerated sigh. He crosses his arms with a half smile to his face. “See, I was looking out for you.”

“Right. Don’t you think you’ve been lying too much to me lately? At least, learn to make it believable.”

Ran laughs before quietly saying, “If you’re scared, just say so.”

The crow above the gate caws, careful, you glance up at the noise, to the long steps then to Ran, and then Rindō, who looks up at his brother clearly unimpressed.

Obviously, Rindō isn’t scared of ghosts, or yōkai, or monsters that eat children. He is already too old to believe in things like that. He protests and says this, despite you and Ran telling him otherwise, Rindō is skeptical. He says he still doesn’t believe you, he can’t believe you would make up a lie and follow Ran, and you tell him you would never lie to him or anybody. Only bad people lie.

However, the Haitani brothers are closer than anyone — they told you this when you first met, so it’s to no one’s surprise when they turn around and gang up on you instead. Because you are scared, or so Rindō insists. Ran says it’s okay because you are a girl and you’re just a baby compared to them. It’s true, you are scared of the yōkai who snatch away wandering children. You aren’t scared because of the reasons Ran says. It’s rather annoying how Ran calls you a baby for something like that.

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

The three of you don’t enter the shrine. They show you around the neighbourhood and some spots they like to hang out at, like an arcade and a newly opened ramen shop. The entire time, Ran holds both of your hands tightly, you are sure he is holding Rindō’s even tighter. Your shadows are overlapped, mixing together. The yōkai don’t come for them or you. You are safe together. 

As the sun begins to set, you stop by a food stall, the old lady running it tells you that you look so pretty and you remind her of her granddaughter. She gives a discount — 100 yen for six pieces. Ran takes out the coin from his pocket and he divides the takoyaki between the three of you before heading home. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house, nobody welcomes you home, but your grandfather sits in the living room watching television again. He spares you a glance, before turning his attention back to the t.v. Static and muffled voices fill the house.

—

A week turns into two, then three. Summer passes by quickly here in Roppongi. Everything moves so fast in the city, it’s exhilarating — overwhelming. Your little body struggles to keep up.

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

“My mom abandoned me,” you tell Rindō one afternoon, weakly adding in, “. . . I think.” Hopefulness seeps through; a child’s innocence, your naïveté.

Underneath the big oak tree, Rindō turns to look at you while opening the blue ramune and gives it to you to drink first — he was supposed to buy two, but he forgot the rest of his change at home. He says it’s fine because he doesn’t mind sharing his drink with you. He shares drinks with Ran all the time. And you don’t mind it either.

“. . . She will,” he slowly replies, “maybe she is just busy working — adults are like that, y’know. What about your dad?”

Adults are like that, at least the ones you know. Your mom is probably busy, but either way, she lied to you and this is what hurts. You don’t try to hide your disappointment in her.

You shake your head, looking down at your swaying feet. “I don’t know.” 

You really don’t know.

You don’t remember his face, eyes, and everything is blurred, but you recall his boxy smile and a heavy hand that ruffled your hair. 

“I haven’t seen my dad before either. I don’t even think that guy knows I exist.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Are you lonely without him?”

He shakes his head, hair bouncing with every movement. “Nah, I have Ran. Even though he’s so annoying these days.”

The two [three] of you are similar in a way. It’s rather comforting knowing you aren’t the only one with a family like that.

Rindō vows to you that he will always be by your side so you aren’t alone anymore, because he has Ran, but you don’t have an older brother like Ran to stay with you.

He holds your hand — one so cold and sticky from the blue ramune. Again, he tells you that you still have him and Ran, because you are his best friend. Maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time. His words are warm, so you don’t mind his cold fingers touching yours — it cools you down from the heat, even if the rest of your body is melting under the summer sun. Somehow, it always finds a way to peek through the little gaps, through the spaces between your fingers.

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

At the end of summer, you are still at your grandfather’s house — your mother never comes to get you. That little, big, tiny feeling brewing in you all summer in Roppongi turned out to be right. But you aren’t alone.

Time flows quickly in Roppongi. Months pass by in a blink of an eye.

—

Coming home to the city where everything first began leaves your thoughts in a flurry; too jumbled and twisted. This house hasn’t changed one bit, walking into your old bedroom feels like a dream; both familiar and alien. A few of your old belongings still remain in place, you never have it in you to pack it up and bring them with you. Your mother hasn’t bothered to move them either.

Tonight, you help your mother make katsu curry. A staple in many households; also, the first dish you learned how to make.

You can feel your mother’s nerves as today is the day where you are officially meeting the man she is seeing (whom she had once mentioned as her new colleague over a year ago). He seemed like a normal, stand up man, but you can tell she likes him, so you don’t disapprove of him.

To calm her down (as well as your own excitement and nervousness), the two of you make small talk as you cook.

“Did you love him?” 

You immediately stiffen, the knife stops just above the fresh carrots from your mother’s garden, and you don’t press down. She doesn’t say who, but you already know who she is referring to. Your heart aches without the mention of his name. A boy who isn’t your fiancé. Your soon-to-be husband. “Did you love that boy from back then?”

Your face shines in the knife, the glare of the light above makes your reflection disappear. You force yourself to focus, continuing to cutting the carrot into chunks. The sound of the knife hitting against the cutting board echoes in your ears. “Why are you mentioning that? Why are you curious about it now? It’s been too long since then.”

“I used to think you would end up marrying him in the future.”

The sentence has you turning around in surprise. You harshly swallow, forcing a short laugh. Your heart clogs your throat. Emotions twisting like ebbing waves. “You never even liked him,” your voice doesn’t sound less tense.

“Maybe I didn’t, but you did.” Her expression says nothing — no hatred, regret, or sadness; she is only looking at you so clearly — right through to your leaking heart. All you wish is to run and hide from that all-knowing gaze of hers, you wish you never turned around. “For some people, they are only capable of loving one person their entire life. There’s a saying that nobody forgets about their first loves and for those people, sometimes their first love lasts forever.”

Some people, she says. By this, she means you.

The ring that sits prettily on your finger feels too heavy, squeezing your finger.

“. . . That already ended so long ago,” softly, you say.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense atmosphere. There’s an exchange of looks — her expression soft as she offers a small smile of condolence.

The man – Mr. Hajime – arrives earlier than expected. You follow behind your mother as she opens the door and you see bright red roses before you see him. Your mother’s cheeks turn red as she bashfully smiles while accepting the bouquet.

He enters the home and when you meet his eyes, you smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mr. Hajime stops in front of you, pulling out a bouquet with a variety of flowers; of blues and whites.

“Thank you,” you say as he places the flowers in your hand.

His smile is awfully gentle. His eyes match that gentleness, too. An old, loving soul. “No, I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother often talks about you.”

You smile as a reply.

You wish to know what she has said. And maybe you will ask him another time, you know you will. There’s no doubt you will be meeting him again and again.

Mr. Hajime moves with familiarity in the house as if he has been here many times before (you wouldn’t doubt if he has). He makes his way to the dining room as he turns on an old song on your grandfather’s beloved record player. You don’t know the title, but you remember hearing it play many times back when you were a kid. It sounds so nostalgic. 

As the three of you eat dinner, a younger image of your mother and you eating in silence overlap, and the bittersweet feeling at how much your mother has grown begins to hit you. Despite her fading black hair and the grays that replace them, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around her eyes; the look in her eyes seems younger — happier. 

You’ve never seen her like this before. Her heart races for her — her love for Mr. Hajime and the happiness he brings to her. You’re happy for her, you really are.

This street and this house bring back so many memories; memories of times that will never come again and new ones are being created. And even more in the future.

Nostalgia continues to devour you. Your heart is aching in many different ways.

—

A year passes by, you don’t hear from Rindō or Ran after a few weeks of sending letters back and forth, and occasional phone calls made on your house line when your mother works overtime on Saturday nights.

Ran had warned you beforehand that he doesn’t do handwritten letters or phone calls or emails [whatever that means], you think he may just not want to talk to you, and strangely, you don’t take much offence in it. Like Rindō has always said, Ran is Ran, he does things his own way. Plus, you had already assumed you would hear updates on Ran from Rindō, however your assumption turns out to be wrong.

Tons of calls and letters left unanswered. You send another one, your final letter to him.

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

I know it’s been a while since my last letter and I haven’t received one back from you either. I make sure to check the mailbox twice a week! I really will be upset if you don’t reply or call me this time for real.

The new year started recently and I’m being forced to join a club this time. Kaa-san is still busy with work, and she comes home exhausted, so I decided to join the culinary club. Coming home to a cooked meal is something everyone likes, right? I am not really confident in my cooking skills though. . .

I miss you and Ran a lot. It’s lonely here without you guys. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I won’t forgive you if you did. Write to me soon, okay? I want to know what you have been up to.

And it’s no shocker when there’s no response to it.

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

As the years go on, you forget all about the Haitani brothers and Roppongi. Their faces become more and more blurred with each passing month. You must’ve been erased from their memory — a little childhood memory too dazed to remember.

Junior high is harder than it seems — making friends doesn’t come easy, you spend the majority of your time alone. But ever since you joined the culinary club in your second year, everyone there is friendly and supportive, and things begin to change. School becomes a little more fun, and sometimes, you don’t mind waking up so early in the morning.

You find yourself trapped in the middle of a circle. All eyes on you. Ones full of anticipation.

And of course, this could only be one thing — gossiping. They talk about love stories, first kisses, and boys. Unfortunately, the target today is none other than you.

“No, I don’t have a crush on anyone," you firmly state. It’s the third time this week you've been asked this question, you don’t understand why everyone is so curious.

“Ehh, don’t lie!” Sachiko playfully nudges you with a giggle. Eyes piercing into yours, and you inaudibly sigh at her skepticism. You don’t budge when she continues to push and she pouts. “Fine, fine. What about Naoki-kun from the baseball team?”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ and giggles erupt in the room. A telling sign of the boy’s popularity. Even someone like you, who doesn’t care much about boys [yet] knows about him. From what you heard, he spends most of his time practicing baseball and he only dated one girl during his first year for only a week. He’s more serious than he seems, yet he gets along with everyone, parents and teachers included.

He’s good-looking. You aren’t blind, you know this much, but you don’t think you like short hair so much — even if Naoki-kun’s short hair suits him quite well. Still, you end up timidly agreeing with your club members, wishing to get this over with. “Mhm, I think Naoki-kun is kinda cute . . .” 

"Oh my gosh . . .”

“Ah, I knew it,” someone says. “I mean, most girls like him, so it’s obvious, right?"

You never said anything about liking Naoki-kun in a romantic way, you just said he was kinda cute (you guess). You just shrug and the topic moves onto how a student in the grade below you had caught the new teacher from class 2-b and the principal on a date. Your married principal. A classic love affair. The rumour echoes down the streets in the town, forever spiralling.

And in the early morning of May, 2003, your mother enters the house again and you think she may have forgotten something before heading off to work. Instead, she tosses a letter on the kitchen table. She says it’s for you. It’s plain. A white envelope with no decorations — you immediately know it’s not from one of your friends from school and your heart races in anticipation even before you grab it. You flip it over to see if it says who it’s from.

And it does. It’s a letter sent from Roppongi — a letter from Haitani Rindō.

Time slows and your heart beats loudly in your ears. The wind leading into summer suddenly doesn’t feel so slow; the morning birds chirp in tune of your heartbeat.

It was already the end of June, you blow out your candles. Another June goes by and you graduate from junior high.

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again. 

They surprise you at the train station, and when you see them, you don’t recognise them at all. It feels like you don’t know who they are. They’re suddenly a lot taller, more mature with matching tattoos and dyed hair that you don’t see people your age with — and to their defence, they have always had dyed hair back when you first met. There’s an intimidating air to them which draws you in. An edge you should look out for. One step and you will fall.

Your grandfather has also changed — barely, but you can see he looks a little smaller than you remember him to be. Older, too. There’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth — ones due to his permanent frown. Yet his eyes feel warm, they soften when he looks at you.

Ran doesn’t really hang out nor talk to you anymore. During your trip there, he spends most days out and sometimes Rindō tags along with him, in which you stay at home with your grandfather or go shopping. And when you first caught them with bruises on their faces and torn skin on their knuckles, you cried. Catching them two and three more times didn’t make it any better.

You knew from first glance that Rindō and Ran are what people call delinquents, you aren’t blind when faced with the obvious. It feels strange seeing your childhood friends like this — the violence they indulge in.

(You couldn’t believe it when you first learned the reason as to why you haven’t heard from Rindō in a long, long time. It’s still hard to believe, but when you see them like this, you can’t refuse it.)

It gradually builds into a routine, always finding yourself in the Haitani home while their mother is away at work. Forcing Rindō down onto his bed as you clumsily clean up his wounds, shaky, and unable to look away. Fretting over the way they’ve been hurt like a mother to her children (this is how their own mother probably feels coming home to be greeted by bruised faces). A burned cd of his favourite songs plays in the background. Quietly, because you’re both afraid of Ran waking up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His tone is anything, but harsh. His sigh is heavy, yet soft. “You gotta stop worrying at this point. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You immediately frown as you glare up at him. “I worry because you don’t.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it looks. Can barely feel a thing. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

You quickly retort, “It is . . . Why do you keep saying that? Every time I see you, you are injured. That’s not normal.” Growing more frustrated at his lack of self-care, you softly glare at his tattered hand. You mumble, “What are you and your brother even up to?” More so to you, than to Rindō.

However, he hears you. He laughs, more rather airy than his usual boastful one. “Aren’t you too nice?”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter. “Something like this is normal.”

“I guess that means my world isn’t so normal. I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Those pretty amethyst eyes draw you in. You shake your head, replying, “You will meet others like me. Caring about someone who is hurt is nothing special. It’s . . . it’s human to do so.” You hold his hand carefully in yours, inspecting the cloth to make sure it’s securely wrapped. Thumb brushing over the fabric.

“There’s only you.” 

The room falls silent. The track slowly fades into the next. Your heart races.

Rindō coughs into his sleeve. “Um, I meant that I only know you. The guys I know aren’t really like that at all.”

It may be your mind playing tricks on you. The way he looks and sounds — his every gesture feels too tender to be Rindō. It’s odd, not him. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you too because the look in Rindō’s eyes seems too gentle and intimate. You look away.

“You have Ran, who cares about you a lot,” you point out, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He quietly chuckles, “Yeah. That’s just Ran though. You know how he is.”

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Everyone knows so,” you softly add, “just take of yourself more. Please.”

You lift your eyes for a split second, and he meets you within it. Rindō softly smiles, “Okay. I will, so you won’t cry anymore.”

You can’t look at him for too long without feeling your face flush, it gets too hot, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies that invade your stomach, pooling, itching to explode whenever he smiles at you. He makes you so nervous and you don’t know how to react. You’ve never felt this type of nervousness with someone before.

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

That night, once Ran awakens from his nap, the three of you decide to hang outside. Roppongi is not similar to the countryside in any shape or form and you’re no longer surprised to see the city awake during these late nights. This city is always brighter after midnight.

Rindō had run off to the nearest konbini for drinks due to him losing three rounds of rock-paper-scissors [really, who actually chooses rock], and you and Ran are squatting down by the riverbank with sparklers burning in your hands. Rindō will probably be annoyed that the two of you started without him the second he ran off, but it’s Ran fault if anything. He’s the one who made you grab the sparklers and lit them himself.

However, Rindō wouldn’t be surprised by this, because everyone knows how impatient Ran can be at times.

“Y’know, on summer nights like this, the main character and her love interest would light sparklers together—” Ran begins to say with his sparkler dangles above yours, burning so fast and bright, “—and they will become stuck together. It stays like that, and that is usually when something in their relationship changes. . . I saw it in a shōjo anime before.” He pulls the end of his sparkler before his and yours get the chance to become tangled, and smiles softly at you. Ran looks pretty — prettier than most celebrities you see on television and magazine covers. He’s probably popular with girls.

And you assume, Rindō, too. He’s definitely no less popular than his brother. This thought immediately makes everything feel sour, your smile falters and you look back down at the sparklers. A pile of ash building below. The flames are bright, rushing into your eyes and leaves your head dizzy.

It’s quite beautiful; the way sparks flicker and dimming ashes fall around you. Vanishing within moments it hits the ground.

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

He replies with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. It’s a popular trope these days. I know you girls are into those types of things. Quite romantic, hm?” 

You nod and don’t try to hide your smile. You didn’t think Ran was into anime like that. You didn’t know he was a romantic type of guy.

“Don’t laugh,” Ran scoffs. “You’ve become quite rude, huh.”

“I’m not! I just thought it was cute,” you huff in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

He rolls his eyes in which you mockingly repeat back, and you both laugh.

So, Ran is a little different these days. He’s all grown, almost unrecognisably so. But he is still your friend — there is still the Ran you knew back then there inside of him. And you think, he and Rindō could probably say the same about you. Change is inevitable, it comes hand-in-hand with growing up.

“So, this is something you do with someone you love. . .” you mutter his words to yourself. “Why aren’t you doing it with someone you love—well, uh, have you?”

It’s silent. A croak of a frog, a call of a cicada. His answer lies in his silence and it’s sad to hear, because beneath everything, Ran is someone with lots of love to give. It’s unfortunate how he’s never once liked to wear his heart on his sleeve, hidden away deep in a metal cage. He is a nice guy, really. So sweet to Rindō — sometimes towards you.

Ran shakes his head, redirecting the conversation to you. Something he always seems to do. “Why aren’t you?”

You . . . ?

Attentive with the eyes of a hawk, Ran picks up on your confusion within seconds. He tells you not to mind his words which only makes you feel more lost — heart racing. You think Ran knows something, but you do not know what. The unknown is always terrifying and you want to know.

Ran wants an answer that you cannot provide. Beginning to feel warm underneath your thin clothes, you grow anxious under his heavy stare, yet can’t find it in yourself to look away.

His eyes drift for a second and light from the sparklers fall in. He looks back at you, then cocks his head in the opposite direction. Curious, you follow his line of sight — Rindō.

Immediately, you take this opportunity to run. You hand the remains of your incense stick to Ran as you jump up, dusting off the dirt and ash that may have gotten on your clothes. Running up the stone steps, meeting him halfway (you pay no mind to Ran who yells that you got dirt on him). Your shadows reach before your bodies do, overlapping underneath the flickering lamp post. 

“Rindō! Why’d you take so long?” You ask while leaning in, folding your hands behind your back. His blond locks are messy and sticking to his forehead instead of styled in his usual fashion, red cheeks and his chest is raising up and down as he breathes. “Did’ya run here? You’re looking a little red . . .”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, visibly annoyed with a prominent scowl on his face. “This idiot in front of me was taking his sweet fuckin’ time,” he replies, his glasses shift down his nose bridge and you reach your hand up to fix it. However, before you can, he grabs your wrist (a sudden yet gentle gesture) completely stopping you.

You awkwardly mutter, “Um. Sorry . . . ?” 

Rindō blinks before letting go of your hand, shaking his head. “Ah, no,” he clears his throat, “I got it. Thanks.”

Opening the plastic bag, he holds a bottle of ramune towards you. The little spot he touched burns, and it’s then when Rindō asks you what’s wrong because you had suddenly froze in your movements. “Did you want a different flavour? I think I saw a strawberry one left,” he offers, “or you can take my drink. It’s beer, though. You don’t drink, right?”

“No, no. I like it. I prefer the original one,” you decline as you take the drink from his hand. Fingers brushing against his cold ones. “Thanks, Rin.”

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

His favourite, yet he had replaced it for some cheap canned alcohol — he and Ran aren’t even old enough to drink, but you don’t really care, either. Things like that strangely suit them.

You bite your tongue when you almost reply, I know. However, you do respond with a brief, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a necessity on summer days, y’know?”

You can’t help, but agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And you wonder if Rindō remembers everything that happened the summer the both of you first met — you do. Those summer days spent underneath the shade side by side sharing melting popsicles and ramune, running around Roppongi and challenging each other at the arcade games. Aiding new cuts and bruises that appear on the brother’s bodies, Rindō would place a bandaid on your hands and knees every time you had fallen down trying to catch up to them, and whispering secrets only meant for the two of you to know [ones Ran comes to know, unsurprisingly]. You miss those summer days, and you don’t want to see the end of this one too.

Days with the Haitani brothers are unforgettable — so special, a feeling nothing can replace. Your hometown has never once felt like this.

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

You bring the ramune to your mouth, sweetness dissolves on your tongue, your lips tingle, and your heart burns and burns and burns.

—Bang!

A sudden sharp noise causes you to jump, droplets of your drink splash onto your thin shirt and down your chest. The culprit is none other than Rindō, who had bought firecrackers along with the drinks — setting it off a little too close to him and Ran, bursting right beneath their feet. Rindō laughs uproariously due to your surprised expression — so loud and clear, it cuts through the cicadas’ callings, passing cars, and the booming of firecrackers. His smile is like the warmth of summer; brighter than sparklers and the sea of little stars above. Your cheeks heat up, and all you can see is him.

At this moment, it’s two a.m. at the end of July when everything hits you like a huge tidal wave. Oh. You understand it now. 

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

[weirdsht]

cale with vice commander?? his closest confidant, the one he shares his plans with, and is close with the kids (+ choi han who uses them against cale whenever sacrificial plans happen, "I don't think miss [name] will like this" "..fine")

I Triple Dare You

a/n: I got home from uni, saw my face was as pale as a ghost, then decided to write a fic because when will I ever have the time? lol

tags: female reader, undefined relationship

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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“Cale-nim…”

Choi Han warns as he sees Cale abusing his ancient powers again. The man in question only sighed at the swordmaster.

“Just a little, I won’t faint.”

The redhead tried to argue but then Raon suddenly spoke in his mind.

“I’m telling [Name]! She’s just 10 steps away!”

“Don’t–”

Cale tried to say to the invisible dragon but the enemy attacked again.

“How can I stop using my powers when these things keep coming!”

He was now frustrated. If he overuses his powers the children and Choi Han are going to tattle on him.

“Cale-nim let me handle it. I don’t think Miss [Name] will like it if you faint again.”

“...Fine”

The commander relented, not wanting to see his vice commander’s sad gaze if he fainted or coughed up blood.

Everything was progressing smoothly. Choi Han and Raon take vanguard in attacking the enemies while Cale stands in the rear. He occasionally provides support, just enough to conserve his powers.

“Oh..? You haven’t fainted yet nya?”

On spoke to Cale as she and Hong regrouped with them. The silver kitten looks genuinely surprised to see Cale still conscious and well.

…It makes Cale wonder just how the children see him.

Sure his physical strength is nonexistent and he faints and coughs up blood sometimes. But still, he’s generally very healthy because of the crybaby.

“This is surprising nya! I was ready to go tell [Name] that you feel unwell again nya.”

Hong agreed with his sister’s sentiments. His paw touched Cale’s face to make sure he was really all right.

“...I know how to keep my word.”

It was true, he does. Well, at least tries to do so to the best of his abilities. The children averaging 8 years old merely hummed in approval. Probably thinking that something will happen to Cale later on.

But nothing will.

Cale already promised [Name] that he’ll take better care of himself.

“Cale, you’re aware that I worry about you right?”

[Name] spoke to him as they drank tea leisurely. They had just finished planning their next move. Everyone was away to make the necessary preparations.

“I do, even if you don’t tell me the children will keep nagging.”

That made [Name] laugh. On, Hong, and Raon seem to always take her side, even in the instances she’s not around.

“Maybe I rant to them about you too much.”

“Hmmm, maybe you’re all just very close.”

Silence filled the air. However, both are content for they are basking in each other’s presence. With how busy things are these days, they have learned to enjoy small tranquil moments like this.

“I promise I’ll try my very best to not get hurt next time.”

Cale spoke up as he finished the remaining drop of his tea. [Name] raised her brows at him.

“That includes coughing up blood okay?”

“Yes, I won’t cough up blood either.”

[Name] smiles and Cale could feel the surroundings become brighter even if it was in the middle of the night. 

Then [Name] suddenly held out her hand. Pinky sticking up, asking Cale to link his pinky with her to seal the deal. 

Cale scoffed at his vice commander as he complied with her wishes, finding the unnecessary gesture childish. However inwardly, he was happy. Even if he thinks it is childish, he’d still do it just to see that smile on her face brighten up even more.

Before Cale knew it all the enemies were taken care of and all five of them were on their way to regroup with [Name]. 

“Cale-nim I’m impressed.”

Choi Han gave the redhead a thumbs up. Cale did not dare ask what he meant, simply looking away as he used the Sound of Wind to get to [Name] faster.

The lighthearted mood changes once they get to the battlefield where their vice commander is. The scene was chaotic. Dead mana was spread everywhere and [Name] was alone defending one side. Her purification powers work overtime to make sure no one from their side will come into contact with the dead mana.

“Raon call Mary and the Dark Elves–”

“Keugh!”

Cale stopped speaking as he heard [Name]. He turns to look at her, only to see blood dripping from her mouth.

His words might have stopped but his movements did not. Cale was still instinctively moving towards his vice commander. 

Good thing that he was. For he was just in time to catch her from stumbling forward.

“You punk! You told me to not cough blood only for you to do so yourself!”

The redhead’s words were harsh. Despite that, the circles he traced on [Name]’s waist as he supported her were tender. They provided the purificator comfort as she composed herself.

“Ironic right? But the situation was unexpected. I didn’t expect them to make to sacrifice 10 ships full of dead mana…”

Cale pinched the bridge of his nose. He can’t blame [Name], none of them expected the enemy to carry literal ships of dead mana.

From a distance, he could see the Dark Elves arriving. As they did he gently stirred [Name] away from the frontlines of the battlefield. Guiding her to stand on the sidelines, letting the Mary and the Dark Elves have a feast.

“As your commander, I’m sentencing you to house arrest for being injured without permission.”

The commander suddenly spoke as they watched the Dark Elves have fun. His arm never leaves [Name]’s back. Hands still tracing comforting circles as his eyes scan her body to see if she’s hurt anywhere else.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, but I will.”

Safe to say that [Name] is not leaving the villa after this operation. Perhaps she won’t even manage to leave Cale’s room.

[lunarriviera]

[overthinking about blorbo follows] [quasi-spoiler for uts s2 e3] look okay so here's the thing. shen yi is an insanely gifted classically trained painter who now lbr spends most of his working life sketching holdup mugshots off of grainy cctv footage, an occupation that at this point for him has to be boringly straightforward. maybe once in a while there's a cool serial murderer and he gets to come up with a way to reconstruct an entire person's body from one molar, or invent some new shrimp colors or something. then he goes home and paints his fucking heart out all night and for what, who is seeing it? who is seeing him? (and don't say du cheng bc i love him but we all know he probably wears black because he's red-green color blind.) so here he is, showing his canvases in a little group exhibition and trolling quietly amongst the clueless spectators, and no one even knows who he is because he's not showing up at the gallery opening in a suit du qing poured him into, clutching a glass of room-temperature champagne. instead here's someone standing the correct distance away from the canvas and you can practically hear shen yi's invisible antennae go sproing. idek who this charismatic pointy-faced guy is yet, maybe he's under the skin's answer to sheev palpatine but the point is, no one who can see what shen yi is doing talks to him about his work. so when weasel man says "he's a genius" and shen yi gives that tiny smile that's so frail it's almost invisible— he gave that smile one time before in s1, remember? when du cheng says "it could be that shen yi is wrong—but that's impossible, so we're crossing that one out." it's a beautiful little character note from tan jianci bc very likely shen yi isn't even aware he's doing it. maybe he's even telling himself "oh please how dare this guy, who does he think he is, clement greenberg"—shen yi who literally set fire to his ambition in the service of honing a moral compass so ruthless and unbending you could set greenwich mean time by it. but somewhere down in there, always—inside any person who chooses a life devoted to making things—is the desire for those made things to be seen.

who was the last person who said "he's a genius" not about his police work but about his painting? the last person who looked carefully at all of his values, hues, lines, shapes, gestural movements, mark-making, brushstrokes, depth of field, play of light, and really saw what he was doing, enough to be critical of it? when you're a working artist and someone sees you well enough to critique you intelligently? the pleasure is breathtaking, frankly on a spectrum with the erotic. (you could also argue he's smiling ruefully at the declaration that the painter's having become a cop is what ruined his work; when shen yi possibly thinks: you know nothing, it opened up everything for me. but i'm not so sure about that. because did it? has it? do we know that?) tl;dr weasel man is holding out an opened box of fresh turkish delight and it remains to be seen whether shen yi is going to faceplant into it. but i for one could not blame him. it is exhausting to have an enormous part of your psyche be all but completely invisible for years on end.

[cobaltperun]

Genius (5) - Supermassive Black Hole

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next part

Word count: 4.3k

-I thought I was a fool for no one, ooh baby, I'm a fool for you-

Why did she push you away when you were kids? She thought that would make her parents love her, that being more like them would make them proud of her, make them pay attention to her. Eleven-year-old Cairo wanted their love so desperately she decided to push away what she had to try and obtain what she might get. Why did that… why did that sound familiar all of a sudden?

But she couldn’t tell you any of that, not because she couldn’t admit it to herself, no, she could, she understood why she did it. She didn’t want to admit it to you. Because, sure, she could tell you the reason, but you might ask for more, and then she might have to tell you that you were on her mind all these years. That she missed you so much, that she wanted to see you. And then what? What realization would she have to face if she gave you the answer you sought? So, she remained silent, masking the apology she wanted to utter with defiance in her eyes.

“This is ridiculous,” you gave up, sighing out of frustration and just walked away. You walked away from her this time, and she felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her heart, threatening to pop it like a balloon.

But she didn’t call out to you, she didn’t say anything, she just watched you go.

~X~

She couldn’t focus that night, not on writing, not on anything Winnie was saying, she was just lost in her own thoughts. None of them made sense, there wasn’t any order, or logic to them, they were random, unorganized, and she hated it.

“What’s on your mind?” Winnie’s voice eventually did reach her, not quite piercing through the chaos of thoughts in her head, but it did reach her.

“Nothing,” she sighed, trying to focus on the girl. “Everything. I don’t know,” it felt like her mind was pulling quotes from dozens of books at the same time, mixing them together and creating a mess she couldn’t make sense of.

Winnie pupped the lollipop out of her mouth with a resounding pop. “Is it Mr. Miller? You’ve spent some time with him now, how’s the seduction going?”

Cairo remained silent. A lingering meaningful gaze here, not moving her hand when he occasionally put his hand on it. Leaning in just a bit closer than necessary when he lit her cigarette. It was a dance, on that felt forbidden, and she could see the shift in his own eyes. He was looking at her, nothing vulgar quite yet, but he was looking.

“It’s. going,” she chose not to share more than that, she started it, she wasn’t a coward, she would finish it.

Winnie remained silent. “You don’t look happy about that. Is it Y/N?”

Winnie was being too perceptive, but Cairo imagined she wasn’t doing a good job hiding it, as she felt the corners of her mouth twisting downward at the mention of you.

“Do you like her?” Winnie persisted, getting up from her spot on Cairo’s bed and moving to sit next to her. “Cairo, if you want her you need to stop what you’re doing with Mr. Miller,” she didn’t even wait for confirmation.

“Weren’t you the one talking about wagyu beef? Older men harvesting virginity and all that?” and now she was telling Cairo to give up on Miller and go to you?

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That was different, that was before I realized you had a thing for biker girls,” Winnie tried to joke, to nudge her and get her to laugh or at least smile. “Okay, one biker girl, the point stands, I you want her, like really want her just go for her. Forget wagyu beef.”

Did she want you? Was that what she wanted to turn your relationship into? And if it didn’t work out where would that leave your friendship? Did the fact that he noticed her more than anyone else ever did really mean so little? Now that everything was moving, when all he likely needed was just the right circumstances?

“Cairo, this is changing you,” Winnie kept talking, trying to stop what she set in motion unknowingly filling Cairo’s head with thoughts that weren’t there before, the thoughts of her first time not being painful, the idea that she could get that with someone older, and now she was trying to take it back.

“It is changing me,” she admitted, and she knew she was changing, she had the idea she now desired, a madman’s love, a love so passionate it could not be contained, a love so strong it would bring her to ruin, a love that would eclipse any other she felt or would ever feel.

Winnie grabbed Cairo’s phone and before Cairo could even register what was going on Winnie had unlocked it. “What are you doing?” Cairo demanded, getting up to go after Winnie as she began pacing around the room.

“Getting Y/N’s number.”

“Stop it,” Cairo demanded, grabbing Winnie’s forearm just as she sent the number to herself.

Winnie’s eyes widened and for a moment Cairo wondered how mad did she have to look to make Winnie look at her like she was now. Worried, and even a bit afraid.

“Don’t you dare call or text her,” she ordered, her voice shaking as she did. Winnie couldn’t contact you, she just couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Okay, I won’t,” she relented and Cairo finally let go of her forearm and snatched her phone.

Cairo started all of this. She was seducing her teacher. She was going to experience something, she was going to get her madman’s love.

~X~

Another Monday, another shitty way to start your week with Miller’s damn class.

“Censorship creates a vicious cycle, we’re taught from young age to accept certain norms, the rights and wrongs of society. It’s the death of writer’s ideas, and thus the reader’s ideas as well. It’s taking away the freedom of thought and speech,” he droned on, stopping by Cairo, the back of his hand brushing against her arm.

“They are separate,” you spoke without raising your hand, and he took a few steps back to take a look at you.

“Not to a writer, to a writer the thoughts become words on the page, they are given a form, and not in this context. When we are taught from young age how to think it becomes intricately connected to the way we express ourselves,” he explained his reasoning and you felt Cairo’s eyes on you.

“Thoughts are private, we cannot be held accountable for thinking, it is the absolute freedom that cannot be taken away, precisely because no one can be sure of what we think. Speech is, as you said, a thought that’s given a form, written, spoken, or expressed in another way. It is a right, and a responsibility,” you leaned forward, your hands resting on the desk, open, relaxed, you had no need to move them.

“To conform to the norms of society?” he challenged, and you gave him a hollow laugh, turning away from both him and Cairo for a moment.

You looked back at him, eyes filled with fierce defiance. “Please, if that was the case you’d be teaching a much smaller class. The society is meant to be critically observed, changed in response to injustice,” you stated.

“And thus, censorship should be seen as an issue, because it is used to cover the injustices,” Miller leaned back against the table. “Just think of how many women had to publish their works under a pseudonym, or how often works that even implied anything outside of societal norms had to be edited to conform to those norms.”

“You are equating rights of entire groups with ideals of a bygone era?” you raised an eyebrow, hardly believing what you were hearing.

He raised his hand in defense. “Certainly not, but-“ he paused, collecting his thoughts. “But, censoring of those ideals of the, as you said, miss L/N, bygone era, takes away our ability to judge them for ourselves. To start a conversation.”

“So, your idea is mere discussion?” you held back a laugh.

“Of course,” he had the guts to say after how he’s been acting with Cairo.

“Yet every idea, no matter how pure, taken to an extreme can be twisted, corrupted until the very basics of what made it good no longer apply, and such corruption needs to be removed,” you weren’t backing away, you ignored the looks of the handful of students that got interested in the conversation, you ignored Cairo’s piercing gaze.

“Every? Freedom of speech included?” he asked. “It has been said that one man’s vulgarity is another’s lyric. And it is one of the highest forms of hubris to assume one person gets to decide what it right and wrong and enforce it on others,” he crossed his arms over his chest, shielding himself once more.

“You sure you have the right to speak of that? Teacher?” you bit your tongue, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you.

The tension in the classroom rose to nearly unbearable, his defensive posture, his eyes, filled with surprise at being all but accused, wandering from you to Cairo

The bell rang breaking the tension and making the students get up to leave. You collected your things and stepped outside, sighing as you did so.

“Y/N,” a fairly cute, blonde girl you shared a couple more classes with, Emily, called out to you and quickly caught up with you before you could get out of the class. She held a pencil you let her borrow on Friday in her hand. Oh, you actually forgot about it. “Here, thanks again for letting me borrow it,” she smiled a bit shyly at you and tucked a strand of her hair back.

You smiled back and took the pencil. “Don’t mention it, Emily,” you put the pencil inside your bag.

“We’re heading in the same direction, wanna go together?” the girl offered, and you shrugged, seeing no harm in doing so.

“Sure,” she was nice and you had no reason to be hostile toward her.

~X~

“Keep glaring and you’ll make her combust,” Winnie teased as Cairo glared at the girl as she was walking away from the classroom.

“If only,” she grumbled, annoyed. Who did that girl think she was, taking your attention after what happened in the class.

“Cairo, could you come by after classes?” she heard Miller asking once only her and Winnie could hear him.

Cairo looked inside, to where you just sat and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I made plans,” she decided, she certainly wasn’t in the mood to play any seduction games.

He looked surprised. “Right, of course,” he stammered and Cairo just nodded her goodbye. The blonde girl was no longer in her line of sight when she turned once again.

“You’re so jealous,” Winnie laughed, and that was the last drop, she made her way outside the school, ignoring Winnie’s protests.

She wasn’t jealous. What did she have to be jealous of? A blonde that met you maybe a month ago? As if that could compare to what you and Cairo had. The key word was had, as her brain cruelly reminded her. You no longer had that. Without thinking much, she dropped her things off at her house and went into the forest to clear her mind.

What were you thinking? Speaking like that in the class? What made you speak up for the first time in Miller’s class and well, that was one way to speak up for the first time. Ideals of a bygone era. She figured she was seduced by them. By Winnie’s talk of older man harvesting virginity. It wasn’t just that though. It all went back to madman’s love, for how mad would someone her age have to be to love in such a way.

Was it the way Miller touched her that made you react? It was just a brush of the back of his hand, intentional, no doubt, as it remained there, but by now she was used to the closeness. They sat side by side on the bench smoking, and it was certainly physically closer than just the back of his hand. But it still, maybe set you off, just like his attempt to hold her hand did last week.

And then, as she walked, as she went deeper into the forest, as she went to the exact same place where the rose bush she found all those years ago grew and was crushed was, as she went to the place she didn’t go to in years, she froze. Again. a rose bush. Again, an old tree fallen over it.

It was happening again, the same image, the same scene, the same outcome, haunting her, repeating again and again and driving her into madness. She had no one this time. Not one person who could drag her away. Alone. Meant to be crushed like the lone rose bush in the forest. Meant to be crushed by the old, by her parents, her teachers, her village, suffocating in a place fit only for ghosts, an unforgiving place that refused to let anyone be different. To be crushed by the place she was abandoned in and the people in it.

Her nails dug into the dirt beneath her, and she just now noticed she dropped to her knees down to the harsh forest floor. Maybe she should just stay there. She felt too weak to get up anyway, too dizzy and numb at the same time, her breathing too erratic, uneven, panicked. Yet all she could focus on was the scene that kept repeating.

~X~

You were finally close to the end of Verne’s book, just another ten or so pages, but you felt sleepy, and the rain softly falling wasn’t helping you stay awake. Your phone suddenly buzzed, breaking your concentration and making you groan as you leaned your head back. Whoever was calling you wasn’t giving up, that was for sure. So, to spare both you and the caller you grabbed your phone, noticed it was a number you didn’t recognize, and picked up.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hey, is Cairo with you?” it took you a moment, but you recognized it was Winnie, her voice laced with worry and clearly on the verge of panic.

You immediately sat up. “No. Why?” you asked, you didn’t have a reason to worry just yet. Maybe she just got too into one of her books.

“I’m at her place, it’s unlocked, her bag is here, but she’s nowhere to be found, and we were supposed to hangout tonight," Winnie told you and you could hear her pacing around.

“Okay, okay, just calm down. Let’s just go and look for her, do you want the forest or the village?” you were grabbing your biker jacket, since it was waterproof, as well as the keys of your house and already heading outside.

“The village, and thanks, I appreciate this,” Winnie said.

“Of course. Call if you find her before me,” you said and when she agreed you hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket and ran into the forest. You had to hurry, it was getting dark, and the rain made the ground slippery, the more it took you to cover the forest the higher the chances of getting injured, or plain and simple lost would be. So, you ran, as carefully as you could through the forest, yelling Cairo’s name.

‘Where are you?’ you shouldn’t have parted the way you did. ‘Why can’t you answer your phone?’ you should have tried harder to get to her. ‘Are you okay?’

“Cairo!” you shouted as loud as you possibly could, your yell getting swallowed by the trees and the rain.

Somehow, for the reason you couldn’t explain, you remembered her sob from all those years ago, you remembered that sound, the reason for her sorrow back then, that tree and the bush of wild roses and you just took off, running in that direction as if somehow drawn to that location.

~X~

Her body trembled, physically she felt cold, but deep down she didn’t feel anything. Her body felt like nothing, like the least important part of her, like it no longer mattered what happened to it. Her mind and soul were what was important, and the rain couldn’t hit those. The loneliness did, however. It froze her mind and soul in a way cold rain and the darkness that slowly consumed everything around her could never accomplish.

She desired a madman’s love, the ruins of it, the decay, she desired to be entirely consumed by it, yet here she was, not only without a madman’s love, but without love in general.

“Cairo!” her mind must have been playing tricks with her, she heard you shouting her name, and that just couldn’t be true. Why would you be there?

“Cairo!” this time it was closer, and her eyes widened as she caught glimpse of you in the distance, just narrowly missing her. Another old tree, just waiting to fall between you two.

“Y/N!” she cried out, calling after you and trying to get up, but her legs had gotten too numb to get up so abruptly and she stumbled, digging her palms into the muddy ground beneath her. There was no way you heard her, you were too far, you just narrowly missed her, she was once again too late to reach out to you.

Same mistakes. Same haunting images. Everything was happening again.

“Cairo,” she heard footsteps, running toward her and raised her hand, seeing you, your hair and face wet from the rain, water dripping from your jacket and relief washing over your expression. “Are you okay?” you ran up to her and without a moment of hesitation grabbed her shoulders, pushing her up slightly and looking her over. “Cairo, hey, hey, answer me!” your gloved fingers moved her hair from her face and she couldn’t take it anymore, she just fell into your arms, hugging you and clinging to you. She took several deep breaths, finally feeling like she could properly breathe.

“How did you know?” she asked, judging by how wet your hair was you were out for a while.

“Winnie called me,” you whispered as you softly rubbed circles on her back. “Give me a second,” you pushed her away for a moment and she felt what little warmth she regained fading away. You took your jacket off and put it over her shoulders.

“Y/N, wait,” she tried to argue, she didn’t want to let you get a cold, but you just pressed a finger over her lips.

“Don’t argue. Can you walk?” you asked as you helped her get back on her feet.

Cairo nodded, this was already enough, you were already doing more than she could have asked for, but even as she began walking back home you kept her close, supporting her and holding up some of her weight as she leaned onto you for support.

And then, just as the two of you got twenty feet away from where Cairo was kneeling, a lightning struck the old tree and both of you flinched as it cracked and fell, right to where you and Cairo just were. You just saved her life, because there was no way she would have moved if you didn’t arrive.

She felt you freezing and she wondered what was going through your mind. Did you realize what would have happened to her if you were even a minute late, and in the way you pulled her closer she felt that you did think of that scenario just now. Of finding her underneath a fallen tree.

~X~

You called Winnie to tell her you found Cairo and that you brought her back home as she was taking a warm shower. You considered leaving, but maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave Cairo on her own right now, so, you stayed, a towel you borrowed from Cairo hanging from your neck. You needed to change, but you weren’t sure you could go back home and come back here before Cairo was done.

You were waiting in her room and you noticed how much darker it got, less light seeped through the windows than when she was a child. Well, people changed, and you guessed seven years was a long time. As you sat on the chair you brought up from the kitchen and waited you caught sight of a familiar book. ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ sat on the table next to a book written by Henry Miller, ‘Under the Roofs of Paris’ the duality of those choices didn’t escape you, but you didn’t move, you weren’t about to stoop to Miller’s level and look through Cairo’s stuff.

A few minutes later, she came out, dressed in her pajamas and with a towel around her head. “You should change,” she noticed now that the shower cleared her thoughts a bit. “And take a shower, the rain was dirty,” she said it as if she expected you to do it at her house.

“I will, I just wanted to check if you were okay and I’ll leave,” you told her, already getting up. She looked fine now, but you still looked her over, you didn’t notice anything wrong, any injury or anything that she needed help with.

“Do it here? Please, you were out looking for me, and the rain is falling even harder now,” at least the part about the rain was true, the weather was getting worse. “I’ll find some clothes that fit you,” she promised, and you nodded with a sigh.

“Okay,” you saw her smile and you couldn’t argue anymore.

When you stepped into the shower you just let the water wash over you, to erase the image of the tree falling right where Cairo was, to wash away the worry and fear as you ran through the forest, desperately looking for her. Everything turned out fine, in the end and you found yourself no longer caring about the answer to your question.

It no longer mattered why Cairo pushed you away, what was happening now mattered much more, and you weren’t going to waste it just because she didn’t want to give you your answer.

When you stepped outside in the shirt and trousers she gave you that were a bit too big for her, you saw her already in her bed, and she turned to look at you, her still slightly damp hair sticking to her skin. “Hey, how are you doing?” you approached her and knelt next to her, only now realizing how stupidly tall her bed was.

Cairo looked at your hand, resting on the edge of her bed and then at your eyes. “Better now. Thank you for looking for me.”

You shook your head. “Don’t thank me for that, you asshole. I’ll scold you properly later,” you promised, luring out another smile from her.

“Do you want to read together?” she asked, moving to the side as if offering her bed to you.

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision, but you nodded, getting in the bed next to her and getting comfortable as she opened the book that somehow became the most tangible reminder of your past. You settled down and took a deep breath, and you realized your mistake, as Cairo’s scent invaded your senses.

“Can I start?” she asked and you nodded, focusing only on her voice as she began reading the book.

~X~

Cairo woke up around noon, alone in her room, and more importantly, she missed school. Almost two whole days, that was strange for her, yet she doubted anyone would notice. She wondered when you left, well, she woke up when you got up this morning. The two of you fell asleep about two-thirds into the book. Nothing happened during the night, neither of you subconsciously moved like books so often depicted, she didn’t wake up tangled up with you, or holding your hand, or anything. You just happened to sleep three feet apart because her bed was so ridiculously big.

She stretched a bit and got up and as she opened her window she heard a sound she wasn’t used to coming from her backyard. She looked out through the window and saw you moving some pots she didn’t recognize. “Y/N?” she called out and her heart skipped a beat when she saw you looking up.

“Come down here! I want to show you something!” you yelled, a wide grin on your face.

“Give me ten minutes!” she told you and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. She couldn’t remember the last time she rushed this much to get changed and ready for the day, it certainly didn’t happen since she was a child and had all day free to play with you.

She barely even remembered the last time she purposely went to her backyard, yet here she was, walking over to you as you finished whatever you were doing. When she stopped next to you she saw the pots, five of them, filled with earth, and stems from the wild rose bush stuck in them.

“If I did everything correctly at least one should sprout roots,” you said as Cairo, speechless for once, looked between you and the roses. “I noticed the crushed bush, so I went back after getting everything I needed,” you said softly.

Cairo felt a tear sliding down her cheek as she jumped into your arms, ignoring any dirt that may have gotten on you. All the unwanted tension between the two of you seemed to fade away as you got over your surprise and hugged her back.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy

[dadvans]

Short Term Solutions for the wip game! 💕💕💕

for the WIP title meme!

tbh can't remember what i've posted from this one before--

Tommy feels like he’s walking onto another scene when he shows up at Evan’s apartment. There’s smoke, albeit thinning through every open window, and Evan is standing on the table waving a sheet pan at the detector high overhead on the ceiling. “Hey.” Evan doesn’t look down at him. Tommy sees a smothered pot on the stove’s back burner, hallmark of a grease fire. “How do you feel about pizza?” “I love pizza,” he offers, like there’s a monster out there that somehow doesn’t. He tries to hide the worry in his voice and makes his way around the kitchen island to the stove so he can help dispose of the smoldering remains of dinner. “I’ll call Dominoes as soon as I’m not afraid of this alarm going off again,” Evan says. “Don’t worry about it.” Fuck Dominoes. Evan’s clearly had a long day, and Tommy is hungry but he’s not that hungry. They’re doing the overpriced hole-in-the-wall down the street where Ryan Gosling was apparently caught by paparazzi last week. He’s fine paying. “I can call.” Evan gives in without a fight, so he must really be at his limit. “Thanks.” It’s tough to see him like this. His usual spark has been dimming more and more the past month since Gerrard resumed control of the 118, and even on the really bad days, he seems reluctant to talk about it. The first time they did, Tommy tried to pass along wisdom from what he remembered of Gerrard: keep your head down, don’t go out of your way to do anything you weren’t asked to do (especially on a call), stay in your lane, and document every goddamn thing as best as you can the second it happens. But these days Tommy can see it in the dismissive way that Evan will crack open a beer on the countertop and say, “Nothing, nothing, you know, asked me if i moved out here ‘cause California is the land of fruits and nuts again,” that there is something worse and more complicated going on under the surface, something Evan refuses to let him help carry the weight on for a variety of reasons. It sucks. Tommy wants to help, and watching Evan struggle and buckle under whatever is going down at the 118 without him is starting to scare him. Something’s gotta give, and Tommy knows it inevitably will. The best thing he knows he can do until further notice is focus on short term solutions. He can take care of a smoking pan while Evan stands helplessly on his kitchen table. He can order a large Hellraiser, extra meat. He can get Evan so far outside of his head he’s boneless and thoughtless and can temporarily forget. “Delivery ETA is sixty minutes,” Tommy announces as he gets off the phone. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Evan says, gingerly getting off the table and setting the pan down. “I told you I’d have dinner ready, you’re probably starving. I can probably throw a salad together—“ “Don’t worry about it,” Tommy says, and that’s when he notices one of Evan’s hands is loosely wrapped. “Are you okay?” Evan seems to have forgotten about it, and looks down at his own palm when he sees Tommy staring. “What? Oh, yeah, got distracted, burned it. Then totally forgot I left the heat on high when I went to take care of it, and“—he waves his good hand vaguely around at the thinning smoke, a half-laugh catching in his throat clearly directed at himself—“yeah. Just can’t seem to stay out of my own way today.” There’s something unsaid there, some kind of weakness Evan doesn’t seem willing to part with, and it breaks Tommy’s heart. He maneuvers his way over to Evan’s side, taking him by the wrist to gently kiss over the burn. “Well, we have an hour.” He sighs. “Tell you what. Let me take care of you, get you out of your head for a bit. Then, after dinner, can we talk about it?” Evan stares up at him, eyes so big. Some invisible weight seems to slough off his shoulders at the suggestion alone, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

[heliads]

Aaaaah so glad I made it in time x3 your writing is godsent and being able to request something fills my cold heart with joy!

Okay so I rewachted Descendants and just... imagine if Carlos has to live together/spend time with a villain kid that got adopted and raised by the big bad wolf (I checked and yes that is a Disney villain!).

For some plot... (my mind comes up with something funny so do not expect too much lol) maybe taking place during Descendants 2 (with Uma) and somehow the crew has taken Carlos and Little Bad Wolf has to keep an eye on him? Except that little bad wolf gets seasick "Dude this ship isnt even on open sea, how are you feeling sick?" "shut up!"

'get him back' - carlos de vil

masterlist

The pirates never should have taken Carlos.

It was a stupid move, really. Stupid to get Mal on their bad side, but even worse to kidnap Carlos. As if Mal wouldn’t do anything in this world or the next to get her friend back. As if anyone who dared to stand in her way would not find themselves lost to the salt of the sea if they didn’t immediately back down.

Uma didn’t learn that lesson soon enough, but she will. It doesn’t matter that she was a formidable foe, the moment she made the fight personal by kidnapping Carlos, it was all over. Mal’s got an unsettling edge to her voice, the sort of dark and twisted tone that makes you follow her orders without question. Villain kids don’t like doing what they’re told, but in this case, you’re all of the same mind. What matters the most is getting Carlos back. Your egos can wait until after your friend is back by your side.

Uma’s ship came by in the dead of night and took Carlos when he was walking around unawares. They must have all attacked at once, half a dozen pirates against one boy, because there’s no way Carlos would go down without a fight. There are clear signs of a scuffle on the roads where they took him away, obviously not the clean abduction Uma was hoping for, but the facts remain. Carlos is gone, and you need to get him back as soon as possible.

Mal has already drawn up a rescue plan. She’s enchanted a small boat to be silent and almost invisible in the dark waters; once night falls, you’ll sneak up to Uma’s ship and get your boy back. One of you will sneak on board and find Carlos, then dodge the pirates meant to be guarding him and bring him back to your ship. You’ll have to wait until the right time to make your escape, though, so you can immediately land at a local deck and make your getaway. Uma can beat you in water, but you’re faster on land, so everything has to be timed perfectly.

You’re the one who’s been assigned to the difficult task of slipping onto Uma’s ship. As the adoptive child of the Big Bad Wolf, you’re well trained in the art of sneaking around and blending in. You’re the perfect spy, so to speak, so you’re the best bet the VKs have at going unnoticed by the pirates on that ship.

Even though you know the official reason for your selection is simply that you’re the best among Mal’s VKs at staying under the radar, you can’t help a rush of pride at being the one selected for the task. When Carlos looks up to see his savior, you’re glad it’s going to be you. You want to be the one on his mind when he thinks of safety. You, not Evie or someone else. Just you.

The credit for this rescue, though, should rightly be shared among all members of your friend group. Right now, Mal, Ben, Jay, and Evie are on Mal’s cloaked boat, drawing close to Uma’s ship. It slides by before you, cresting the indigo waves, so close you could reach out and touch it with one hand. Right under it, you’re struck by the size of the ship. Carlos could be anywhere. This might take longer than you thought.

Mal nods at you. “It’s time.”

You nod back, standing up carefully and reaching for the rope ladder one of the pirates forgot to pull up on the side of the ship. Tugging it quietly to test its strength, you pull yourself up slowly hand over hand, pausing just before you reach the top so you can survey the deck and see how many pirates are there.

Not expecting an attack this late at night, Uma’s crew has left the deck mostly unmanned. Two pirates are idly chatting near the helm, keeping the ship on its course, and there’s a guy up in the crow’s nest, although he’s nodded off instead of keeping a good watch on any possible intruders. You crawl over the railing as quietly as you dare, sticking to the shadows to avoid notice. Oil lamps cast pools of sticky yellow light on the ground, and you skirt them as best you can, all the while making for the stairs leading to the lower parts of the ship. Your steps are silent, each taken with the fear of causing a loose board to creak and alert the crew to your presence.

Once belowdecks, you can breathe a little easier. Most of the sounds you hear are of snoring and sleeping pirates, although a few still remain awake even despite the late hour. Without the stars and moon bleeding white light overhead, the halls are darker, giving you more room to bleed into the shadows and avoid detection. A few times, someone pokes their head out of their door or shifts around a little, causing you to freeze in your tracks, heart hammering in your chest, but you still manage to come out of each close shave without getting caught.

The further you go into the ship, though, the worse you feel. Despite living on an island for most of your life, you never really had a chance to get on a boat before, and you can say decisively that you don’t enjoy the feeling. You like solid ground, a floor that doesn’t rock, and the stability of knowing there isn’t empty water under your feet at any moment. Uma’s ship lilts and turns every few seconds as it crosses the waves, and it leaves you feeling drained of all strength before you’ve even spent ten minutes inside.

You’re not here to complain, though, you’re here to rescue Carlos. You push past your growing nausea and keep peering in doors, searching for the room holding your friend. Before long, you spot it– a locked door at the end of the hall, a flash of white hair inside. It’s meant to be guarded by two pirates, but they’ve obviously grown bored of their post and settled in for a game of cards a few paces away. Perfect. You cause a small distraction by knocking a can to the ground down the hall, and hurriedly pick the lock while they go rushing off in the opposite direction. 

You swing yourself inside the cell and shut the door again just before they look back. Grinning, you allow yourself one moment of quiet victory before you’re engulfed in a rush of red and black and white.

Instantly, your body is on high alert, but you manage to calm down when you realize you’re not being attacked by a pirate but one of Carlos’ fierce hugs. He pulls back a second later, beaming ear to ear. “Y/N! What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

You laugh quietly. “You can thank Mal for that, she dropped everything to come rescue you once we found out you’d been kidnapped.”

Carlos punches the air triumphantly. “Perfect! Let’s get out of here. Pirates stink.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that simple, unfortunately. We have to wait an hour or so for Uma’s ship to pass by land. That way, we can escape onto the peninsula without trying to sail back or she’d catch us.”

Carlos’ face falls. “You’re telling me I have to stay in this rat’s nest even longer?”

You frown sympathetically. “I know, trust me, but we have no choice. She’d catch us if we tried to just sail away. And believe me, I’d like nothing more than to get out of here. I hate this ship.”

As if proving your point, the ship hits a sudden burst of waves and you nearly lose your balance and your dinner along with it. Carlos catches you before you fall, hurriedly bringing you over to a small, hard looking couch along the side of the cell. 

“Hey, easy there. Don’t go getting sick on my watch. You can lie down and try to regain your spirits while we wait for Mal, alright?” He says.

You close your eyes gratefully. “Thanks, Carlos.”

He giggles. “No problem. Although I can’t believe you feel this bad already, we’re not even out of the bay. This ship isn’t in the open ocean, how are you seasick? The water is practically dead still.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath, fighting another bout of nausea.

Carlos laughs again, but thankfully remains silent. You have no doubt that he’ll be bringing it up again soon, though, probably to win an argument about which VK is the toughest.

You’d like to clear your good name, of course, but the rocking of the ship silences you again, keeping you absolutely still and silent on the tough couch. Carlos, sensing your obvious discomfort, tries to distract you by talking. He keeps his voice quiet so he doesn’t attract the attention of the guards outside, and the soft lull of his words spilling out into the darkness of your lidded eyes makes you wish for sleep. 

Carlos talks about how surprised he was when he was kidnapped, how glad he was to see you, what he plans on doing after you break him out of here, what he was supposed to be doing when Uma and her pirates took him in the first place. Carlos has always been a good talker, but you’re extra glad for it now.

When he pauses for breath, you laugh quietly and say, “I thought I was supposed to be the one saving you, but it looks like it might be the other way around.”

Eyes still closed, you can tell Carlos is smiling by the soft exhale he lets out. “I’d say freeing me from a pirate ship is a bigger deal than distracting you from seasickness. I’ll still give you this win.”

“That’s awfully generous of you,” you hum.

“Yeah, well, I’m a generous guy,” Carlos tells you. “It’s no problem when it’s you, though. I’d do anything for you.”

When you dare to crack open your eyelids, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. All of a sudden, the breath is low and careful in your lungs not because of the churning waters beneath you, but because of him. Always because of him.

“Carlos,” you begin quietly.

“No,” he says, more determinedly, “I’m serious. I like you, Y/N. I really do. Seasick or not. I’ve liked you for a while, and if I was going to be stuck in a cell in a pirate ship with anyone, I’d want it to be you. You were the best part about the Isle of the Lost and the best part of Auradon. I can go anywhere if you’re with me. You don’t have to feel the same, I just– I thought you should know.”

You sit up carefully. “I do feel the same way.”

Carlos’ mouth drops. “Really?”

“Is that so much of a surprise?” You ask, laughing slightly. “I’ve followed you everywhere since we first met. We’re practically inseparable. The only reason I wasn’t kidnapped along with you is because I got distracted by Evie needing help finding a pair of matching shoes. You’re my home too, Carlos. You always have been.”

His smile is brilliant in the darkness. “I couldn’t be happier to hear it. Except maybe when we get off this ship.” He extends a hand to you. “How about we make our escape?”

You take it, letting Carlos pull you up. “I’d like nothing more.”

It feels like your entire life has opened up before you. If it takes a kidnapping, a pirate ship, and terrible storms for the two of you to finally confess your feelings, it might just be worth it after all. You’ve got Carlos, and that’s worth more than all the treasure in the world.

requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!

disney tag list: @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal, @goldfish4403

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[derww]

DEVOTIONS WEEK DAY 4: ANIMALS/OBJECTS

Okay, the thing is: Zam goes to the Kings SMP, spends several weeks in a bloody meat grinder, fights back to back with Minute and Mapicc and Jepexx against the world and somewhere in the process realizes herself to be a girl.

It's not bad: she swaps her crown for an elegant tiara, and her pretty kitty princess blade hits exactly on target and holds in her hand like a glove, and the dress turns out to be much more comfortable than an almost formal suit.

She spends the rest of the season so at ease with herself – even after losing her magic blade, she does not return to her former self, but rushes around the server, ready to destroy anything, and, in the end, reunited with the blade, counts it as her happy ending.

And then it's time to return to the Lifesteal, and she lowkey expects that her dress, like in the Cinderella, will turn into rags, but she, Minute, Mapicc and Jepexx activate the teleport, and Minute holds her gloved hand, making sure of a safe landing, and they appear on a flying an island in the center of the spawn, and... Nothing changes. Even her pretty blade, despite everything, remains hanging on her belt.

For a moment, while everyone is still recovering and looking around, she just stares into the sky, and then, experimentally, lightly stabs Minute into the side. He curses and lets go of her hand, and a cat falls at their feet with a long meeeeeow. She looks at it, running around and scratching Minute's feet, with mild amusement.

Oh. Oooh. Okay!

In the end, it is kinda nice: everyone, as it happens usually on the Lifesteal, just roll with it and she changes her dress for the black one with purple accents, and cats help her push players into the void, and in return she makes them a corner in the skull base and feeds them with fish washed up by the waves. Pangi is being heavily liked by one of them for some reason. He names him Cheeseburger.

(For some reason, cats don't like Jumper. She wonders if it's because of their experience on Kings)

Cat ears make her much more sensitive and observant, allowing her to detect enemies and hide from them just as successfully, and also – to lie at night on an icy bedrock and listen to the measured whisper of the Abyss. Sometimes Mapicc joins her, but he doesn't quite hear it, and she describes it to him.

It simultaneously changes everything significantly and really does not. Her dress is elegant but shorter than she would like, and she doesn't wear heels, and her scar – her pride – is not going anywhere, and she still kills people and herself, but everything seems to be half a tone better than it was.

Mapicc grumbles about the need to retrain for her movements changed under the new center of gravity, and also about her too–long hair getting in the way, and she eventually ties it into a high ponytail and it instantly shuts him up. They fit her blade into their normal formations – backstabs do great damage, and cats push and interfere with enemies, and they are forcing opponents to always think about one more thing.

One day she makes a mistake and falls into the void and dies, and it's hard, but she accepts it because she knows that one day it was bound happen. The Abyss demands all kinds of sacrifices, she tells herself, and I must always be ready to give her everything, including myself. Bacon gifts her an elegant rapier crowned with stars, and she continues to live because it was not the blade that defined her.

But one day, in the dead of night, walking through the void, with bare feet on the great nothingness, listening to the eternal whisper of absolute knowledge and dancing under the new moon, the Abyss speaks to her. And it's not like She's never talked to her before, but this is the first time she's been alone.

My child, the Abyss whispers, overwhelming her with an invisible pressure, I have something that belongs to you by the right.

As if enchanted, she pulls her hand forward, and intently, and slowly, as if with effort, squeezes her fingers until she feels the icy metal of the handle, and nothingness separates the blade from the ink.

This is her blade, absolutely it is, but it is darker, almost completely black, and only rare gaps in the folds reveal the familiar deep blue.

She smiles.

"Thank you, lady," she says from the bottom of her heart, and the tension around her evaporates with a dry click.

[kolyasangel]

A LIGHT NOT FAR AWAY FROM US

synopsis: it's a restless night for both you and nikolai, which makes room for late night talks—maybe the two of you have more in common than initially thought.

content: ch. 5 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 8.1k

Restlessness is not what you thought would accompany you tonight.

The sound of your bedsheets rustling was becoming increasingly tiresome at this point. It feels like the hundredth time that you are shifting to the opposite side, hoping that, this time, it would be the more comfortable spot—though you're sure you already have your answer.

You don't usually have trouble sleeping at night, but something unseen is bothering you, like an invisible force compelling you to stay awake.

Frustrated by your futile attempts to fall asleep, you reluctantly leave the warmth and comfort of your bed, dragging your feet on the wooden floor as you head to your front door to seek solace in the calming night air. You put your slippers on and open the door, expecting an empty balcony at this hour—only to see a certain someone already standing on the balcony with his arms folded on the railing, gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

"Nikolai?"

Startled, Nikolai turns to face you with a flicker of surprise in his tired eyes.

"I'm sorry for spooking you," you say, the corners of your lips turning upwards at his reaction. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies with nonchalance.

Taking in Nikolai's exhausted appearance and red eyes, it becomes evident to you that maybe he was also struggling to sleep.

"I couldn't sleep for some reason, so I just wanted some fresh air," you explain to him, moving closer to stand beside him on the balcony, mirroring his stance and resting your hands on the railing like he's doing.

He seems taken aback at your response as if he didn't expect that to come out of your mouth. "I couldn't sleep either."

It's like your presence is making Nikolai feel on edge, evident from how he isn't facing you and the tight grip of his hands on the railing. Wanting him to ease up, you place a gentle hand on his back. “Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry about me," he reassures with a laugh, finally meeting your eyes.

There was a magnetic pull, the way his eyes locked onto you and your appearance. It's hard for him to tear his gaze away like usual when his eyes trail and notice how you look this flawless, even when you're just wearing a simple loose t-shirt and pajama pants. He loathes that even for a second he liked seeing you like this, your bare-faced look with tousled hair.

Stop it.

He scolds himself internally and forcefully turns his head the other way, realizing it's too risky to keep staring.

You pull your hand away from his back, returning to rest on the railing when Nikolai shifts away from your touch. "Don't you love the smell of summer night air? There's just something about it that's unique and refreshing," you say, looking at him. "I guess it isn't really summer anymore though.. since fall is practically here. The weather changes so quickly, don't you think?"

He nods and remains silent but listens as you continue to speak aimlessly, your voice filling the void.

"It's still summer in my heart, though," you add, a grin forming on your lips as you run your fingers through your hair to smooth it a little. "I find it hard to decide what my favorite season is. As much as I adore summer, sometimes the heat gets to me and I can't wait for winter to start. Every season is charming and unique in its own way, so I can't pick one over the other."

A soft, almost wistful smile forms on Nikolai's lips while he listens to you sharing your thoughts. "I like winter," he confides. "I personally think it's the best season."

"Oh, I never would've guessed that!" you laugh with surprise at his unexpected response, your hands retreating close to your chest again in delight. "Do you like the cold?"

He nods almost immediately. "It's familiar to me. Where I'm from, it's always cold, so winter feels especially comforting."

A grin pulls at your lips with his choice to concede. It encourages you to go on. "Now I can't wait for winter to arrive, just so I can see the pure joy on your face."

Your remark elicits a laugh from Nikolai, a sound that quickens your heartbeat and brings a subtle warmth to grow in your cheeks. It felt like a rare chance to talk to Nikolai like this, so you made the most of it with what you could. These infrequent moments of connection were precious to you, and you wanted to seize every one of them and hold them close.

"Maybe we can go ice skating when winter comes around," you propose to him impulsively, heart racing with spontaneity. "I've always wanted to learn how to ice skate."

"And what makes you think I know how to skate?" he retorts, a teasing edge to his voice. Yet, there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, his expression softening a bit at your suggestion, momentarily replaced by one of intrigue instead.

"I just.. thought it would be fun if we could try it together, that's all." you giggle, warmth blooming in your chest at the mere thought.

"Yeah, thought you would say that," he slyly says before his gaze returns to the starry night sky.

Your eyes follow his. "Aren't they pretty?" you ask him, referring to the stars that twinkle like tiny beacons in the dark, tilting your head in fascination.

His attention shifts from the sky to his own hands in front of him, which rest on the balcony railing. "Yeah.. whatever," he shrugs with disinterest.

A thought pops into your head, nearly making you laugh out loud. "Do you think wishing on stars makes dreams come true?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, they don't. Maybe if you're five," he responds, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I was just curious to see what you would say," you giggle lightheartedly at his skeptical reply. "It doesn't hurt to hope though, right?"

That couldn't be more false.

He thinks you must be blissfully unaware of the double-edged sword that is hope. The emotional investment, the attachment that is linked with hope—they all contribute to and amplify the hurt and heartache of unfulfillment that follows. It's a painful reality he's already come to face, though he supposes you wouldn't know anything about that.

"What's your biggest wish?" Nikolai asks you, deterring the current topic.

You ponder for a moment before answering, reflecting on his question in the stillness of the night. "To be wanted.. no, needed. To have someone in my life who understands and loves me unconditionally," you reply, looking at him with a smile. "I think we can agree that everyone wants that, right?"

Nikolai nods half-heartedly as he absorbs your words, more so as a tepid response rather than an earnest sharing of sentiment.

"What's yours?" you ask him.

"What's my what?" he shoots back at you, confused by your question.

"Your biggest wish?" you pout jokingly. "I told you mine, so tell me yours!"

"Oh," he sighs, slightly overwhelmed by your encouragement and the playful spark in your eyes. He felt as if he'd been detached from society for years and didn't know how to interact or talk to people like a normal person anymore.

Actually, he isn't sure if that's ever been easy for him anyway.

"I don't have one."

Your lips press together at his response as disappointment flits across your face. But you change the topic, feeling as if he'd appreciate that. "Nikolai, I saw this park nearby on my drive back from work today.. and I think it would give us a great view of the stars," your voice turns quieter with nervous anticipation as the next words leave you. "Do you want to come with me?"

Nikolai shakes his head.

He doesn't really feel like going anywhere right now, not with you especially. So when he hears shuffling beside him and sees you stepping back inside your apartment, a lightweight sigh of relief escapes him as he realizes that you probably went back to sleep.

But a few minutes later, he hears your door creak and open again. He sees you emerge, changed out of your previous sleepwear.

"Where are you going?" he asks you, confused. A sense of curiousness swims in the depths of his light-colored irises, shadowed by a hint of something deeper.

"I want to go myself," you respond to him, your voice growing fainter with each step you take toward the stairs.

Panic.

"Are you crazy? It's not safe for you to be out alone this late at night," his voice turns stern with no care for the other sleeping neighbors as he watches you walk further down the steps, half-expecting that you will turn back at any second.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes piled into a mountain of dread that turned more unclimbable as time continued to pass. It was uncomfortable—the sensation of a certain unease that claws at his chest the longer he waits. Yet amid this feeling, an opportunity opened up for him. He realizes that if anything were to happen to you, it would no longer be of his concern—it wouldn't be his problem anymore, and he would be free of the burden that has begun to weigh so heavily on him.

But just as quickly as that surfaces, another hits him like a cold wave—you aren't coming back. A sort of alarm washes over him, so in a sudden rush, he hurriedly heads back into his own apartment to put on his shoes. He feels the roughness of the soles beneath his fingertips before he frantically pulls on a jacket, snatching up his keys and wallet just in case as an afterthought.

"Fuck.." His frustration was clear as he made it down the stairs, the irritation manifesting in the furrowed lines above his brows and the tense clench of his fists. He didn't have to follow you, but if he didn't, that didn't feel right either—the idea of letting you go out alone gnawing at his conscience.

He wants to be strong and unyielding, to resist the pull of his feelings and the impulses that guide him as an insurgence to rid the soul of its hell. But it's as if his heart and mind are engaged in a relentless tug-of-war, each vying for control over his actions and decisions. His want to stand firm and resolute seemed futile when his own emotions betrayed him at every turn, leaving him feeling ambivalent and astray from his own self.

He reluctantly follows you, scuffling with internal clashing desires, torn between the urge to resist and the unknown fervor brewing within him.

Like a moth disoriented by a flame, he follows.

— ✦

The moon embellishes the dark velvet sky with nothing but the rhythmic tapping sound of footsteps against the pavement echoing in the air, a slight breeze caressing your face as you stroll.

"I didn't tell you to come, you know," you turn to Nikolai who is now walking beside you, accompanying your walk with his hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket.

Honestly, you were thankful for his sudden change of heart and that you hadn't made it that far before he caught up to you. You were glad that he had decided to join you in the end because even if you didn't want to admit it, you didn't want to venture out alone in the first place.

"I didn't think you would actually go out by yourself." A low grumble comes from next to you, breaking the peaceful quiet.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, teeth bitterly pressed down to stifle a reaction and hold back a response, even if you weren't completely sure of how you would respond to that either.

So what if you did? Why did it matter to him if you went alone?

It made little sense to you. You couldn't understand why he would be irritated over this when he made the decision to follow you himself, a swirling mix of frustration and confusion brewing within you at the thought. It feels like no matter what you do, you are blamed for only doing what you want to do. He was under no obligation to accompany you. Yet, you still think he was kind for doing so anyway, even if it feels tainted by the unspoken tension.

Most of the walk was spent in silence, which surprisingly suited you just fine this time. Silence as in no words were being spoken, only the sound of the dead fiery-colored leaves that had started to fall from the trees crunching beneath your feet.

However, the silence did bother someone else.

It didn't go unnoticed to Nikolai that the look on your face was the same one from earlier in the day. It didn't go unnoticed that this silence was just like before, and he didn't understand why it bothered him despite it being a good thing for him. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to listen to you rambling nonstop. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to go through hell and back trying to decide whether or not he should respond to you or not. All of these are good things that he should want.

But he can't focus on anything when that same feeling of suffocation arises within his chest again, and it drives him to do something about it quickly to alleviate it.

The two of you came to a stop by a vending machine, its bright light casting a glow that illuminates both of your faces in the darkness.

"Do you want anything?" Nikolai asks you while he's reaching to pull out his wallet from his pocket.

You get closer to the vending machine and peer at all the drink options offered, a strawberry fizzy drink catching your eye. "This one please," you request as you point towards the glass.

He inserts a bill into the machine, the acceptor buzzing as it eats his money. He then pushes a button for the strawberry drink you chose, along with a melon cream soda.  

You smile to yourself when you notice his choice of drink. You don't know why, but you find his drink options cute. He could pick something like coffee or something bland, but he seems to prefer sweeter flavors.

Nikolai collected both of the drinks once they fell, handing you yours before continuing to walk along beside you. But he notices how you look at the can in your hands instead of cracking it open like he does.

“What’s wrong?” he asks before bringing his drink to his lips.  

“I feel bad,” you confess to him.

“Why?”

“Because you bought this for me, and I want to pay you back somehow..”

He doesn’t understand how you could feel guilty over such a simple thing. And he couldn’t decide whether it was admirable or pathetic either, though he was leaning towards the latter.

He is just confused. You always manage to find a new way to confuse or shock him, and he found it amusing above all. It wasn't like he hadn't ever felt guilty about money either, although for very different reasons. But he couldn't be concerned about something so insignificant anymore when there was a bigger issue at hand, standing right next to him.

“You don’t need to feel bad, just drink it. I already bought it for you, ‘kay?” he reassures you, an uncertain look swimming in his eyes.

A smile crept onto your lips.

It felt like a gift.

— ✦

"Guess what kind of flower this is!" your cheery voice fills the air.

"Let me take a wild guess. A white one?" Nikolai's monotone voice responds as a contrast while you're eagerly pointing to a bloom you happened to come across.

"No! Well, you're not wrong.."

Nikolai's arms are crossed while you're fascinated by the flowers that decorate the bushes. He finds it amusing that you can be so interested in something so ordinary, so trivial.

"You like flowers a lot," he states, his observation unable to stay confined in his mind, almost wanting you to say something to satiate his hidden curiosity.

"I like to care for and look after things that are delicate, that need me. It gives me a purpose," you turn to look at him as you both start walking again. "I find that whenever you have a purpose, life is more bearable."

If he was being honest with himself, Nikolai is at a loss for words. You seem so put together and have everything set in stone compared to him. You seemed to have achieved everything you wanted in life without grueling difficulty compared to him. You seem to have everything so easy compared to him.

You seem content. He wishes he could be the same.

He envies you.

The glow of the lamp lights illuminates the bench in the middle where you both return to, each footstep echoing softly in the quiet air before the two of you sit down, across from each other.

"When did you start working at that flower shop anyway?" Nikolai asks you with genuine curiosity before taking a sip of his drink, feeling a slight chill from the cold metal against his lips.

It probably wasn't a good idea to drink something this late at night, especially something sweet. But the drink wasn't as sugary as he expected it would be. Moreover, he was already awake anyway, so he found little to no harm in doing so.

And besides, this was certainly one way to kill some time.

"Only a year ago," you answer. "I was really unhappy about where I was in life but I ended up finishing my degree and graduating anyway, only to end up where I am now."

"Parents probably weren't pleased about that, I'm guessing?"

"Of course not, but why do anything at all if it doesn't make you happy?" you say, tapping your nails against the aluminum can.

Happiness.

Another putrid emotion. Why not choose freedom of the soul?

However, you seem much more open-minded compared to many other individuals he has ever met in his entire life. He had to wonder about something—if he were to enlighten you about his goals, would you accompany him on his journey? Would you understand him like he did?

No, nobody does. Nobody has before or since then, and nobody will.

He is a fool for even thinking so. But he had to admit, he was a bit astonished by your bold statement.

Extremely envious, even. Because you're stronger than him.

The words start to come out of his mouth, thinly-veiled. It didn't help that it was late either—his head getting fuzzier with each passing hour, the words flowing from his mouth with little inhibition.

"I think you're brave."

A subtle flush creeps up your cheeks, taken aback enough to stop your tapping when you hear the sudden words come out of Nikolai's mouth. "What?"

He freezes after seeing your reaction, a profound realization of what he just told you immediately settling in. It feels like time has paused for him—a moment suspended in disbelief at his own words, knowing it's too late to take anything back. There was no taking back what he had laid bare, no taking back the words that continued to come out of his mouth with no stop.

"For wanting to do your own thing, to follow your own path no matter what others around you say or think. That's a very brave thing to do, you know," Nikolai finishes off quietly, his gaze averted elsewhere as if searching for something else to direct his focus on.

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you let the sincerity of his compliment soak in. "Thank you," you shyly tell him while fiddling with your fingers before finally resting your hands in your lap. "That's the first time someone's ever told me that."

It’s impossible for him not to shift his gaze back to you as you speak softly, your voice mellow. "You weren't scared at all?" he asks you, resting his elbows on the table and crossing one of his arms over the other.

"I felt lonely, that's all," you admit in a voice more hushed, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you nervously gnaw at it.

You still do, but you didn't want to admit that to him out of shame. The humiliation that would come with doing so was something you feared, his reaction to the knowledge of it.

What would he think of you if you did?

Although recalling the events of earlier in the day, you think it's a little too late and even pointless to be worrying about that now. However, you still didn't have your answer, and you weren't sure of why you wanted it so badly either—why his opinion held so much weight.

Your eyes drift back to the star-studded sky above, which looks like a vast canvas painted with shimmering diamonds. But it's something you can't fully enjoy when a small chill creeps up on you, an elusive beauty dulled by a brisk breeze rustling the trees and passing by the both of you.

Nikolai notices you shiver. He knows you're cold.

But all he can do is grip the jacket on his frame and hold it closer to himself while looking down at the ground, where the earth seems more interesting than the unfolding situation.

He would not surrender to these feelings.

"You should tell me something about yourself too," you say with excitement bubbling in your voice to catch his attention again, but your gut signals you to back that sentence up with something else. “Only if you want to..” your words come out deliberately and carefully so as not to overstep boundaries that stretch between you.

Hesitance. Nikolai was practically hanging by a thread here.

What is he doing?

This was precarious. He should know better not to speak any further, to step further into this dangerous territory he knows he shouldn't explore. Still, he can't seem to stop himself like he normally would be able to when an unfamiliar urgency grips him to unravel his usual self-control.

"I do have one wish," he tells you, his fingers unconsciously curling around the now-empty can as if seeking comfort in its solidity, something he wishes he could possess in this moment.

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, but you nod to let him know that you're listening, undoubtedly interested in whatever he is about to admit to you.

"Freedom."

Freedom.

The word rings in your mind. It was so simple, yet it seemed so ominous.

"Freedom..?" you repeat in a way that makes it seem like a question directed back at him.

A nod confirmed it once more. "To be free from any attachments, and everything that bounds me," he reveals.

Nikolai's sudden seriousness took you by surprise. He was never one to open up about his feelings or his past, but now he’s telling you something that seems to hold importance to him, so casually at that. Maybe the two of you have reached a new level of closeness.

You've wondered about Nikolai's guarded nature and hesitance to open up about his emotions before, more times than you would like to admit. However, you never thought it would be because of such an unpredictable reason. His reluctance to share anything about himself with you could be a reflection of a deep-rooted apprehension due to this so-called freedom he was referring to. It's the earnestness with which Nikolai shares with you regarding his wish for freedom that alludes to something, but you try not to ponder on it for too long.

"Like a bird?" you ask when the thought flits across your mind like one.

He looks up at you, almost confused that you caught onto him so quickly. A hint of admiration imbues his tone as he begins to speak. "How did you know?"

"Cause birds fly freely, and that was the first thing that came to my mind when you mentioned freedom," you explain, a lilt in your voice.

"Yeah, that's precisely what I mean," he acknowledges and smiles, visibly content that you could comprehend it from his perspective.

"Aww, Nikolai, I know you so well!" you exclaim your happiness, catching the small glint in his eyes when you do so.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't expect you to understand where I was coming from," he tells you, unable to control how the corners of his lips turn upward.

"Why wouldn't I?" you sulk playfully to feign offense, causing a giggle to escape from Nikolai.

Nikolai shakes his head like he isn't sure how to respond. This whole thing was definitely a change of pace for him. Someone attempting to understand the way he thinks wasn't only rare—it was something completely unexpected.

"When did you first know that you wanted freedom?"

He feels his throat tighten at your question as if the words resisted escaping. In truth, Nikolai was far too young to be thinking of such things. But it wasn't like he had a choice given his circumstances at the time.

"At a young age," he replies regardless, his voice tinged with an unshakeable uneasiness as each syllable spills out like a reluctant confession.

What does he mean?

You had no choice but to contemplate why he felt so strongly for freedom since a young age, as he had just admitted to you. You were forced to wonder what blossoms such a strong desire in the first place.

How long has Nikolai been fighting for freedom? What exactly lies beneath his calm face?

More and more questions swirl in your thoughts, each one tugging at your curiosity and swelling an urge to understand him more deeply, to sift through his layers.

"But.. don't you think it's difficult for a bird to fly if it's been confined in a cage its whole life?" you ask gently, an ache growing in your chest at the thought of him dealing with hardships.

He feels as if everything around him crumbles when your words reach him, leaving him unsteady. "What are you trying to say?" he replies, a steely bite sneaking into his voice.

"The bird only knows what it's been surrounded by its whole life," you explain further. "You're striving to reach freedom, but what will you do when you get it? What if it's not what you had hoped for?"

In a heartbeat, Nikolai is speechless, his expression a mixture of different emotions. Your words cut deep, carving into the layers of his mind through his convictions and inscribing new ideas into it that he'd never entertained, unfurling deftly and intertwining with the beliefs he had cultivated for so long.

How dare you.

How dare you force him to rethink everything he's ever known.

To him, your innocent appearance was such an intense contrast to how effortlessly you could rake your fingers through layers of defense he'd hardened over the years, cutting into a wound that he doesn't think will ever heal. You look at him like you're peeling back each layer one by one, exposing the tears underneath that aren't meant to be seen by anyone other than himself.

He's convinced someone or something has sent you here to him to contest everything he stands for.

He doesn't know what it is, but he's afraid.

He felt like he was being cornered while clinging onto his idea of freedom, no matter how small he felt with your question that was like a dagger to his soul. Yet by feeling this way, he was only prolonging his stay like a bird stuck in its cage, the sharp, cold metal confining him inside with no release in sight.

The lack of response from Nikolai signals that maybe you said something you shouldn't have, your hands falling to grip the sides of your thighs in anxiousness. But rather than him being irritated like you expected, you notice that he only looks sad. Noticing this makes you feel so bad because it wasn't your intention to make him feel upset.

"So, you wish to be free from everything.. does that include your emotions too?" you ask, intrigued to know more and to ease some tension that started to cloud over.

"Exactly," he affirms, humming in agreement. "The mind is a cage. You'll never be truly free as long as your emotions tie you down and keep you captive," his tone softens while his eyes are still avoiding you.

A certain dread suddenly fills you, sensing something unsettling lying beneath the depth of his words.

"I guess so.." you respond, trying to understand it from his perspective for something he clearly cares a lot about. "Sometimes I wish my emotions didn't control me so much either.. I wish I didn't have to feel hurt or pain or anything like that," you breathe out, releasing a soft sigh to collect your thoughts while also making sure not to spill too much. "It's hard, isn't it?"

His head shoots back up, eyes widening as they meet your face as you continue to speak.

"But I think it's all right to feel like that occasionally because we're only human. It's natural to feel emotions and I shouldn't push myself too hard to resist against that." Your gaze trails over to him, observing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Nikolai is still looking at you, his expression changing to one of astonishment at your words and the fact that you didn't judge him at all for what he deemed important. He wasn't sure that you could fully understand him or the complexities of what he felt. However, the absence of such judgment in regard to his goals and the thoughtful attempts you're making to try to understand him is what strikes him most, as it's something he doesn't think he's ever encountered to such an extent before in his life. Instead, you embrace the very facets of his existence, ones that he doesn't even bother to explore much himself.

You lock eyes with him, allowing you to notice a sparkle flickering in the depths of his trembling irises that you haven't seen before. Maybe it's the faint shimmer of the stars reflecting into them, or perhaps it was something else—it doesn't matter, because either way, his eyes have never looked prettier as you found yourself unable to look away from him like a pull is holding you in place. The way shadows dance across his features only accentuates the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness in his usually intense eyes, giving him an aura of fragile strength. There was something deeply evocative about his stunned expression, a depth that pulled at your heartstrings—a raw honesty that takes your breath away for a second.

It felt like you said something that changed his whole rhythm.

You don't know what comes over you, but you're so overwhelmed by an inexplicable urge that the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, soft and earnest.

"I like your eyes.."

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Nikolai's mind begins to whirl. It's hard to ignore the heat crawling up his neck and the erratic pulsing of his heartbeat, each thud echoing in his ears as the weight of your words settles around him. The moment hangs heavy as you're disrupting fragile boundaries, unknowingly pulling at the strings of something he'd carefully constructed for his own protection. He tears his eyes away to rest his head on his arms, which are folded over each other on the bench, giving zero mind to the discomfort of the metal. He couldn't be bothered by it when it granted him a reprieve from whatever you just stirred in him, taking the chance to escape the intensity of your gaze.

God, why did he have to be so fucking pathetic?

As if his former jester persona hadn't tattered him completely, he'd soon quickly donned a mask of a different type, one more draining than he could've ever imagined being. This facade of pretending to be unbothered and emotionless was one very different from the eccentric one he'd taken on years ago—an exhausting never-ending performance that lasted years.

But he's tired. He couldn't take it anymore, so he abandoned the former.

It was so easy to wear a mask of laughter then, easier in comparison to the one he was wearing now. How such a thing was possible was beyond him, but the difficulty of maintaining his present condition only rose when you appeared in the picture. Now, standing on the precipice of something real with you, the confusion and conflict only sharply twist deeper within him like a knife. 

What would it mean to let you in?

That thought terrifies him.

Fear grips him tightly—fear of vulnerability, fear of disappointment, fear of losing himself as his sanity as he knows it is slipping through his fingers like sand. 

Being around you only fed into such things, as well as the anger that came after the realization of it. It was a matter of time before he'd regret his actions again. He really does try to control his resentment, but his patience is wearing thin. He'd already unraveled too much that day he spent with you, and he wasn't going to unravel anymore. For obvious reasons, of course—but there was one that flits into his mind and out just as quickly, the ache in his chest persisting.

“Nikolai?” you ask, your voice breaking into his turbulent thoughts.

But he doesn't raise his head even after you speak up.

It alarms you, your lips rubbing together in nervousness due to this troubling situation you're put in. You decide to take matters into your own hands and channel some bravery—bravery you didn't even know you possessed yourself until tonight.

His words ring in your mind again, louder than the initial time.

You rise on your feet and walk over to his side, taking a seat next to him while also keeping in mind to not get too close to bother him. His braid fell over his back in such a way you considered far too perfect to be candid, far too perfect for someone who was struggling with sleeplessness. You had to take a second to admire him—and maybe it was wrong to do so while he seemed troubled, but you couldn't help yourself.

Your hand moved on its own, fingers sliding against the cold metal of the table. "Nikolai," you begin softly. "We can go back now.." Your hand reaches to his shoulder, gently kneading it with heedfulness.

One could mistake the caution instilled in your movements as fear, but that couldn't be further from the truth. You weren't scared of him, not at all. Your main focus was to keep the atmosphere light, to maintain what you had right now—fearful that anything you did could push him away at any moment, leaving you to face the silence in your life that felt all too heavy. You didn't want to upset your friend in any way. That was truly the last thing you could ever want.

"No.." he groans softly and shifts away from your touch.

"Hm? You don't want to?" your rubbing comes to a halt, just barely feeling the material of his jacket underneath your fingertips. You try to avoid touching his hair since you don't think he would welcome such closeness, but with a subtle movement from Nikolai, his braid falls and brushes against the backside of your hand, sending a shudder to course through you from its silkiness.

He lifts his head slightly, immediately prompting you to move away from him so he can have the space he most likely wants. You're very aware of the need to respect his boundaries and space, but when he looked so distressed you couldn't help but want to comfort him and soothe whatever was troubling him.

Nikolai's eyes are still avoiding you, looking in the opposite direction as he feels your hand move away from him. It wasn't your touch that he was so bothered by, but rather the feeling he gets when you do so and the ache that lingered in the absence of it. Not to mention, the words that came out of your mouth were dangerous. It's like you knew where it hurt the most and purposefully pushed his buttons, intentionally pressing those raw, aching spots of vulnerability. Yet, beneath the surface of that impression he wanted to believe, he was painfully aware that couldn't be farther from the truth.

He recalls the events of earlier in the day, those gentle, unintentional touches shared between you both that kindled something in him. The way you looked at him while he was in your apartment, the playful banter and laughter shared. The way you treated him with so much kindness despite him not doing anything for you. In a weird way, it felt like a dirty secret—one that not even he was supposed to have knowledge of.

"Are you okay?" you ask again, feeling concerned for him.

"Of course I am," he fleers as if it was ridiculous that you were even asking him such a question. He presses his lips together and relaxes his eyebrows, returning to his usual, placid expression. He slowly gets up from the table, slipping a hand in his pocket to feel for his keys.

You're momentarily a little startled by the sheer strength revealed to you when he takes both empty cans and crushes them with no trouble before tossing them in a trash can near the bench.

"Come on, let's go," he tells you before walking back in the direction of the apartment complex, pretending as if nothing ever happened.

Maybe it was for the better.

— ✦

1:54 a.m.

Your phone makes a click noise as you turn it off after checking the time, the brief glow of the screen diminishing in the darkness.

The walk back home was silent too, for the most part, momentarily broken by crispy leaves falling apart as the earthy scent of decay pervades the air.

"We should do this more often.." you smile at Nikolai who's walking a little ahead now. But he doesn't turn to look at you, the silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket. The unresponsiveness makes you turn your head down, eyes drifting downward to look at the ground you're walking on instead. They trace the uneven pavement as you walk, examining each crack and stone after another.

As Nikolai navigates each step, he can feel the subtle heat rising over him again. It seems to worsen whenever he tries to distance himself—a smoldering intensity that gets hotter and hotter, threatening to swallow him. He glances back at you, your figure slightly blurred by the fog of his unease. Each time he meets your gaze, it's as if you ignite something within him, a flicker of vulnerability he desperately tries to douse out. The last thing he wants is to be burned by whatever he's feeling right now—it's a flame that could easily turn to ash if he allowed it to grow.  

When you raise your head back up, you notice his gaze and quicken your pace to catch up with him so that you can walk side by side. You peek at him with a look of concern etched all over your face, a silent invitation for him to share what weighs on his mind.

“Stop, I'm fine,” he replies with an edge to his words, but even to his own ears, the words sound unconvincing and hollow. The reassurance falls flat, yet he presses on as if trying to not only convince just you, the uneasiness simmering just below the surface.  

Regret already started to settle in.

It was only now that he noticed there weren't many people out at this late at night, which gave him a strange sense of relief—that maybe you would've been alright by yourself. But, at the same time, he would've never known if he never came along either.

The image of you wandering alone in the darkness was one he couldn’t shake despite outwardly convincing you—and perhaps someone other than you—that he’s indifferent about the choices you decide to make. As much as he didn't want to admit it, each option felt equally as worse than the other and caused him to suffer a great deal, like a blade slicing into his skin no matter the direction he took. He feels trapped, resenting this reality where these new blooming desires collide with his autonomy.

As you both reach the apartment complex, he steadies himself. Just a little longer—he tells himself, to keep holding tight to that mask. He swallows hard, trying his best to suppress the intimidating heat slowly looming over him. He can’t afford to let himself get scorched. Not now, not again.  

Reaching the last step of the stairs, a hand slides into his jacket pocket to pull out his key to return to his apartment—something that needed to happen more than anything, but his fingers freeze in the process. Instead, he turns on his heel, drawn back to the balcony rather than his own door.

He can't help but sense someone's gaze fixated on him, confirming his suspicion when he turns his head to see you looking at him.

"What?" he asks you, his voice caught somewhere between the lines of curiosity and sensitivity.

"You're not going to bed?" you ask while following his movements as if tethered to him, reluctant to return to your apartment yourself.

He shakes his head as if he's not feeling tired. You, on the other hand, do feel weary, but you didn't want to leave him alone just yet.

"Nikolai.."

He listens as you begin to speak, your voice soft, your lashes fluttering like delicate wings. It's so difficult to ignore everything that he should, the ache in his chest growing sharper with your presence.

"Yeah?"

Even though the sun had already gone down long ago, he still felt its warmth right beside him. And with every passing moment, he feels drawn closer to that warmth, yet instinctively pulls away.

"Do you believe in fate?" you ask him, your voice carrying a sweet curiousness.

Fate? Why would you ask?

He isn't sure what he even believes in anymore.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think, his head clouded and fuzzy in a haze, his stomach twisting with warmth. He only shakes his head as his eyes are still peering into yours before quickly glancing away. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to stay outside for a little longer until his thoughts turn void and senseless.

There wasn't anything stopping you from retreating to your apartment yourself right now, yet you felt determined to stand in this spot until the both of you went to sleep. The silence hung heavy, a comforting yet laden awkwardness in the air. You don't know what to do but to look at Nikolai in this moment while your fingers twirl the ends of your hair, wrapped up in the shared silence.  

"Go to sleep, I can tell you're tired," his voice slices through the silence, breaking your trance as you blink repeatedly to expel some heaviness weighing down on your eyelids.

"But what about you? You need some sleep too," you tell him, a fine thread of concern weaving through your words. It feels important to you to let him know that he's not alone in this exhaustion.

"I'll sleep in a little bit," he reassures you, standing still in his place.

You don't have much energy left to muster up a protest when drowsiness slowly starts to overtake your senses, causing you to yawn and rub one of your eyes. "Alright, alright.. whatever you say," you reply with a smile and reach over to pat his shoulder lightly, taking his word for it.

"Don't stay up too late, okay?" you chide, your finger moving to give his shoulder a little poke. When you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, he looks back at you with a bit of surprise at your touch. The innocence of the gesture feels like a shared secret, and a grin breaks across your face at his adorable reaction—so infectious that it makes his lips twitch slightly upward as well.

Whether or not he was naturally shy was a mystery to you as it was difficult to read him—but you found these moments where such behavior was present endearing nonetheless, beautiful even.

Nikolai turns around and watches as you walk to your apartment door, gulping when you turn to him and flash him one more coy smile that somehow sparkles in the dim light.

"I hope you get your wish soon, Nikolai. Goodnight."

His mind blanks for a moment, overwhelmed by his surroundings, by everything.

Too overwhelmed.

"Goodnight.." he returns a fragile smile to you and watches as you close the door, the creak of the wood failing to bring him some solace like he thought it would.

"I hope you get your wish soon."

He would've. That was if you hadn't made it a hell of a lot harder for him, dragging him back on this earth to be shackled another day. His longing to escape the ground from below, his refusal to be consumed by the intense heat of his emotions again—they've all become increasingly difficult to preserve with your mere presence. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to explain to you that you're the very hindrance to his path to freedom, the bane of his existence?

It wasn't as if he wasn't used to difficulty, though. No—that's something he's something he'd come to terms with a long time ago, to the fact that true freedom was never easily attained. But when the weight of such difficulty relentlessly pressed down upon him, he feels lost in the end. It feeds into hidden doubts, places in his mind where he doesn't want to wander.

Nikolai is nothing without his goal of freedom. Yet, tonight, you had torched a fear he dared to never confront—a paralyzing dread of inadequacy once the chains were removed.

What would it feel like? When would he know? What would he do?

Is freedom even real?

But amidst all this, the strange sense of security and comfort that also came with your presence was unforeseen. This mixture of emotions was something he couldn't quite solve, much like an intricate puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. That overwhelming, unidentifiable ache for something unknown he's experienced in the past is slowly creeping back into his core, but it seems more intensified around you for some reason—something both thrilling and terrifying.

He's getting too comfortable. He needed to save himself before it was too late.

But it was as if he couldn't help but get closer. To be able to see your face and hear your voice again was something he'd never find himself to be relieved over. He's never felt more pathetic and weak in his life over this very fact. It's like he turns into someone else when you're near him, awakening a dormant part of him—someone he had tucked away many years ago. He feels like a child again when he's with you, lively and unguarded, free from the weight of his burdens. Yet, he wasn't. He was exceptionally far from that reality.

You're making things unbelievably worse for him.

He doesn't think he's been this miserable in a long time.

Since..

Since...

How difficult things have come to be since his whole world had twisted into something indiscernible, burdened by troubles that seemed insurmountable. He doesn't want to believe that the light will evade him again, leaving him clinging to nothing but empty promises.

If only there was a way to reach the light without the danger of getting burnt.

He tries to distance himself from that lingering heat, but he knows deep down that avoiding the fire won’t extinguish its glow. It’s there, alive and threatening, every time you look at him with those gentle, unassuming eyes. And despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, he knows the blaze will one day demand to be felt.

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

[satorustyles]

you can't fall asleep (a kento nanami one shot)

a/n: a nanami version of this one shot! thank you to everyone who liked my first post, there's more to come! <3 -bear

pairing: nanami x fem!reader

warnings: implied smut at the end, but mostly just pure fluff

word count: 1,750

gojo version here!

sukuna version here!

Despite Kento’s busy schedule, he was always the last to fall asleep. He would stay up longer finishing paperwork or answering emails, and there would always be a bottle of beer next to him to help him ease his stress. Not only was he a full-time worker, but he was just recently promoted to a higher position. Which meant higher pay. Longer nights.

Ever since he got the promotion he’s been staying up longer than his usual bedtime, signing papers all while checking his laptop for emails. After dinner, you were almost invisible to him, with his attention solely on his remaining work and you had to wait for your time until he was finished–which was around eleven late in the evening.

“You should go ahead, baby.” He had told you, giving you an apologetic kiss on the lips. He still wore the same suit that he had on, minus the coat and the tie. He couldn’t fall asleep knowing he had unread emails and unchecked paperwork.

And you tried to sleep without him, you really did. But the bed was colder and quieter without him, without his strong arms wrapped around your smaller body and having his warm breath tickling your neck, plus the occasional, sleepy kisses you would get when you were close to falling asleep.

You missed cuddling with Kento before bedtime. You missed waking up to his kisses and groggily telling you how much he loves you and would promise to spend the rest of the evening with you, however you wanted.

But the promotion took him away from you.

You sighed frustratedly as you left your bed, padding towards the kitchen where he was still situated on the island counter, faced with piles of paperwork and a bottle of beer. The light from his laptop screen illuminated his tired features, dark circles underneath his eyes, and his blonde hair in a messy state.

“Nami,” You whined, calling him by the nickname you gave him that he immediately loved to hear. His head was quick to snap in your direction. “S’too much work. Come to bed with me.”

He smiled tiredly at you, and your heart ached at the sight of him. You hated how hard he worked every day, barely getting enough rest that he deserved. Whenever you asked him to take a break, he would shake his head and tell you that he was doing this for the both of you. So he could provide for your own needs as well.

And you hated that you couldn’t help him yet. You were still in school, and the least you could do was wake up before him and prepare his breakfast and make him dinner when the evening comes. But you knew that wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He apologized as he stretched his arm out for you, asking you to come to him. “I just have to finish this, okay? I’m almost done.”

You walked towards him and he looked up at your sleepy face, smiling at how adorable you looked. “Gimme a kiss,” He whispered.

You shook your head. “Not until you get in bed with me, Nami. You can just finish that tomorrow.”

He sighed as he stared back at the papers in front of him, the light coming from his laptop screen already straining his eyes. You were right. This was already too much.

“C’mere.” He told you as he pulled you towards his lap and you obliged. You straddled his legs, facing him, while he did his best to clean up his mess and shut off his pc while ensuring you didn’t fall from his lap. “Thank you for reminding me, angel. If you didn’t come out for me I would have stayed for another hour.”

“You’re overworking yourself. This is too much work, even for someone who was just given a promotion. You’re like a working intern who was given all the heavy load.” You were angry. Not at your boyfriend, but at the fact that his company promoted him to a better position but the work given was somehow a downgrade. It was paperwork and meetings all over again. “I mean, I’m not one to judge, and I certainly have no clue what your responsibilities are, but I know better that you shouldn’t be working way past your eight-hour shift. That’s so unfair.”

Kento sighed and you looked up, worried that your words had upset him. But, you were surprised to see him smiling fondly at you.

“I agree. I really was planning on talking to the supervisors about this. Maybe ask if I could get an assistant so that I could have someone divide the workload.” He replied just as his hands held your waist and pulled you closer to him, keeping you from slipping down his khaki pants.

“I miss falling asleep next to you.” You sighed as you stared up at his tired eyes.

“I know, baby.” He cooed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I know you couldn’t fall asleep without someone next to you. I’m sorry. But you’re right, this is unfair.”

His hand rested against your back and pushed you down to his chest, keeping you there as his other hand grabbed his phone from the counter and began dialing someone.

“Who are you calling?” You questioned, struggling to move your head so you could look up at him since his hand was still on your back, his grip strong as he kept you from moving so much.

“Shh, this will be quick love.” He muttered before kissing your forehead quickly. And so you remained silent. You loved how small you felt in Kento’s hold, his strong arms wrapped around you, feeling the way his chest would rise and fall with every breath he took, inhaling the faint smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and how his hand would slowly start rubbing circles behind your back…

You were slowly dozing off.

“Mr. Yamato, good evening,” Kento spoke, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and you could feel the way it vibrated against your head. “Yes, I am aware of the time. I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ll be taking the day off tomorrow.”

Your ears perked up. He’s asking for a day-off? So unlike him.

“With that, I would also like to discuss further a possible assistant you could give me. I know you trust me enough with the position you have bestowed upon me, but it has been taking too much of my free time and my wife doesn’t like how I still work even when I’m at home.”

Your heart jumped. My wife?? His wife? He called you his wife??

You squirmed underneath his hold but his grip was tighter around you, as if silently asking you to stay put.

“Ah yes, of course. We’ll discuss this further the day after tomorrow. Thank you so much, Mr. Yamato. Have a good night.” He then hung up and threw his phone on the counter.

“Now, where were we?” He sighed in relief, his eyes down at you with a cheeky smile and all you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“You asked for a day off?”

“Why, yes of course.” He replied nonchalantly, his hands on your sides keeping you steady as you moved to sit up and face him properly. “I told you, you were right. My work was getting too much. And the day off would be a quick recovery for me to get more sleep and spend the rest of the day with you.”

You couldn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face as you excitedly leaned in to kiss your boyfriend square on the lips, catching him off-guard but eventually relaxing with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah? Sounds good, right? A day off with my baby girl.” Kento mumbled against your lips, sighing contentedly. “We’ll sleep in, just order takeout for lunch, and you’ll give me cuddles in the afternoon, and maybe have some more fun…”

His kisses began going downwards as his words trailed off, peppering your throat and collarbone with wet kisses and you sighed at the feel of his tongue tickling your skin. Beneath you, you could feel something hard subtly poking your core. 

You knew Kento was getting needy. It’s been a week since you had sex, and there was his promotion to thank for it. You tried your best to avert his attention, even just for an hour, because you knew you could at least help him with his stress just a little. But he was always adamant about finishing his work.

“I’m so sorry I never got to spend more time with you, y/n.” He sighed, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “I let this promotion get the best of me. I never even bothered considering that you would need me, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. “Nothing to be sorry for, Nami. You were just doing your best. I’m just glad you could at least have a day off to yourself and finally talk with your boss about getting an assistant. I’ve been telling you that since Monday,” You told him and he sighed on your shoulder once again, his arms tightening their hold around your waist and pulling you closer to him, as if you would suddenly disappear from him if he loosened his grip.

He suddenly lifted his head, looking you straight in the eyes. Your heart hammered against his chest at the sudden action and the way his brown eyes stared back at you intensely.

“This time, I’ll be making it up to you.” He growled and you gasped at the sudden change of his demeanor. Before you could reply, his lips were on yours once again, his kisses suddenly becoming needier and hungrier as he gripped your thighs and pulled you up with him, taking you to your shared bedroom.

“Kento…” You sighed against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from falling from his hold.

“Shhh, let me take care of you this time, angel.” He muttered when you both finally reached your bedroom. He dropped you on the bed with a soft thud and he was immediately on top of you, capturing your wrists and trapping them above your head. 

“Let Nami make it up to you for those days when he's been busy.” He then gripped your lounge shorts and pulled them downwards, and you knew that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight at all.

[imagionationstation]

@puma-or-cougar & @greenlovescats

Here:

He clenched his quivering hands and weakly mumbled, "S-Sorry, guys, I- I messed up the mission, didn't I?" 

"It's not your fault." There was definitely a underlying frustration in Leo's voice. 

Donnie wanted to duck into his shell and disappeared forever. He'd ruined the mission and disappointed his older brother. Hadn't Leo told him this would happen? Why hadn't he listened? 

Everthing was going so well! Yet, turtle luck just had to remain true to form. 

"What happened?" That was Raph. It sounded like he was standing behind Leo and was stewing about something or another. He probably regretted agreeing to come along. Donnie should have known he wasn't cut out for plans or team leading. He should have stayed in his lane. 

Couldn't he do anything right? 

"Baxter caught me by surprise." Donne winced as he realized that this admittance only added onto his already pathetic appearance. Taken down by flyface of all mutants? Seriously? "Threw a vial of some sort at my face." 

The perilous extent of what he said came crashing down at him all at once. "Do I look okay? No face peeling or anything? No spots, weird bruising, or unnatural paleness?"

"You look fine, Donnie." Leo reassured as the clothe was pulled away, as if he was checking to confirm his statement. "How do you feel?" 

"The pain stopped." Donnie breathed in relief, assuming that the lack of command to keep his eyes shut meant that he was allowed to open them. He blinked a few times, waiting for them to adjust to the dark surroundings. 

They didn't. 

"Donnie?" 

Panic seized his chest he scanned around him, trying to find even the tiniest speck of light that could hint that they really were just sitting in an unreasonably dark alley. Everything was the same shade of black and he felt his breath hitch as this sunk in, mind screaming denials as he reached up abruptly.

"Ow!" 

He felt the collision as he hit something and he yanked his hand back, holding it in a fist over his pounding heart as he realized how close Leo's voice was. It had to be only a few inches in front of him, but he couldn't see him at all. He looked down and flexed his fingers, trying to see if he could spot any movement there. 

He felt his hand move in a disorienting way, but still he could see nothing. 

"-Donnie!" 

It occurred to him then that his brothers had been calling his name, and the squeezing on his wrist snapped him from his daze. It was a tight, unnerving grip on the arm that he couldn't see, and from a brother that was equally as invisible, hidden beneath an impenetrable cloak of black. 

"Bro, talk to us." Mikey was taking his turn to speak, and the grip on his wrist tightened. Mikey must have had his arm and his silence was worrying his little brother.

Donnie swallowed hard and he refused to look up, staring down at the black as he tried to convince himself that it was a bad dream. It felt like time was paused, as if the entire world waiting to hear his horrible assessment. "I-I can't..." 

His word died as he felt his hand shake within Mikey's steady grip, looking up as the horror finally sunk in. Mikey's voice was equally scared, like he already knew what Donnie was barely forcing himself to comprehend. "You can't...?" 

"I can't-" The panic bubbling in his gut burst. "I can't see!" 

And Here:

He allowed Raph to lead him away as Leo turned his attention to the youngest. "Mikey. Could you go get Splinter?"

Mikey placed the last vial down on the table and nodded several times, happy to be useful. "On it!" 

He dashed out of the room and Raph release Donnie so he could sit down, but his younger brother somehow managed to miss, chair slipping out from under him and rolling in the opposite direction. He hit the ground and Raph paused guiltily, expecting a deserved outburst of how he should have waited five more seconds to let go. 

Donnie said nothing. 

He blinked rapidly and then pulled his knees up to his chest, settling right on the floor where he fell. Somehow this seemed worse, and Raph hesitated on how to approach his younger brother's sulky air. He decided to give him space, but after a good sixty seconds of silence, he watched his younger brother stiffen. 

Pin-prick eyes darted left and right. He lowered his hands, a note of fear touching his voice, "Raph? Raph?"

"Cool it." Raph walked over and dropped down next to him. His voice came out more irritated than intended, but what did Donnie think he did? Walked off and left him like this? 

His brother really should give him a little more credit. 

"R-right, right." Donnie exhaled shakily. "I just- I can't-" He faced towards the floor. "Nevermind." 

And just like that, Raph felt guilty all over again. 

He wasn't one for reassurance or small talk- not much of an optimist- so he just set a hand over his younger brother's and stared up at the roof, tone bored. "I ain't going anywhere." 

The tension faded from his body almost instantly. Donnie unconsciously grasped his older brother's hand in his own, the hothead's face blanching before reluctantly allowing it. 

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｌｏｖｅｒ ｂｏｙ♡

Pairing: boyfriend!felix x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend comforts you during a depressive episode.

Genre: fluff/angst-ish

Word Count: 849

Warnings: mention of depression/some dark thoughts & feelings

A/N: Just wanted to write something for anyone out there who might struggle with depression and need some comfort ♡

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time...

But it was bound to happen at some point, you think, burying your face in your hands, a puddle of tears forming in your palms. Things have been going so well with Felix, better than they have with any other guy. From day one he’s been your Prince Charming.

Taking you on dates to botanical gardens blooming with flowers you thought could only exist in fairytales. Packing you lunch for work whenever he stays over with cute little notes tucked in the bag to brighten up your day.

Felix is a dream come true for you. You wanted, with everything inside of you, to be the same for him, but all of that’s over now. You’re sure of it. It’s the first night you’ve spent at his apartment, mere days after the two of you became official, and you’re curled up on his bathroom floor crying your heart out at 2 in the morning.

It’s nothing he did. He’s been a sweetheart, as always, cooking you dinner and making sure that you’re comfortable. Still, depression’s found a way to creep up on you, flooding your mind with thoughts that tear at the thin layer of confidence you’ve been pouring all of your energy into maintaining.

The pain is like a ton of bricks in your stomach. An invisible hand around your throat gripping tighter the more you struggle to twist away. The voice in your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough, mocks you for being silly enough to think you could hide this part of you from Felix forever.

He’ll see you, really see you, and he'll hate what he sees.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Felix’s voice breaks through deep and scruffy from having just woken up, somehow remaining soothing in all of its power. Lifting your head up, you wipe your tears on the sleeves of your pajama shirt, positive you look a complete wreck. This is it. The end.

“I don’t…” you stutter, unsure of how to explain yourself, “I’m so sorry.” Based on the confusion that paints his face, you half expect him to back away only for him to do the exact opposite. He’s not running away, he’s grabbing handfuls of tissue, kneeling down beside you to tidy up your runny nose. 

“Talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do…” You sniffle, shaking your head, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just…fucked up I guess. Too depressed to keep my shit together.” Your head falls again, this time resting on your knees, and you close your eyes, wishing you could start this night over again.

For a brief moment, Felix shuffles around in a direction you can't pinpoint before two arms wrap around your body, hands clasped together where they meet your soft belly. He pulls you against his chest, strands of long hair brushing your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say that.”

There’s a sense of safety and connectedness within his arms that you haven’t felt in, well, ever. You're almost ashamed at how intensely his warmth shields you from the cold darkness closing in.

“You’re not fucked up. You’re just hurting and that’s okay. Well, it’s not okay but it’s…fuck I’m so bad at this.” Rolling your eyes, you reach a hand up to stroke his cheek, “Shut up. You’re not bad at this.” “Are we gonna sit here all night complimenting each other?” he teases, “Because we can. My butt will probably go numb though. I don’t have as much cushion as you. Don’t know what you see in me.”

The faintest giggle on your part has him kissing your neck, bear hugging you. “There’s my girl and that beautiful smile of hers.” “Don’t get used to it” you sigh, “It won’t last.” Felix just shrugs, “Doesn’t have to. I’ll still be here. I don’t care about you under the condition that you’re happy 24/7. You know that, right?” 

“I, well, I didn’t know…”

“Well, now you do.” 

His palm meets the back of your hand, fingers twining around yours to bring your arm down to your waist. “Let me be here for you. Give me a chance.” Hearing someone say that, hearing him say that, is more terrifying than you expect it to be. Trust is hard, trust is risky…

Felix leans forward to get a good look at you, a glimmer in his still sleepy eyes

…but if there’s anyone worth taking a risk on it’s the freckle faced boy staring back at you. 

“Uh…yeah…okay.” 

He smiles, “Yeah?”

 It’s impossible not to smile back, “Yeah.”  

“Good.”

Felix loosens his hold on you enough that he has room to lean his head on your back. “Want me to sing to you?” he yawns. You settle comfortably into the arms of your Felix, your safety blanket, letting your eyes fall closed from exhaustion. “Sing what?”

A stretch of silence lingers as he scans his brain for the perfect song to fit the moment.

“Oh! Got it! Fake eyes open…” 

“Felix!” you yell, slapping him on the knee.

“What? Bad timing?”