#very melancholy. she sighs a lot

[smile-files]

for some reason my dad wanted me to come up with an inside out design for regret... so here she is!

[inkedinshadows]

Under the Summer Sun

Pairing: Azriel x Summer Court!reader

Summary: Azriel's mate takes him on a little vacation in the Summer Court, where she introduces him to a shocking tradition of her home court.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: I have one thing to say about this one, and it's that I had no idea where I was going when I started writing. I had a general idea, and that was it. Everything else came to me thanks to little sleep, lot of coffee, too many classes, and missing summer. This fic is really silly and I have no idea how it became this long tbh

@azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had been to the Summer Court many times, but never on vacation. He had gone on missions, of course, and to check in with his informants stationed there. Then there was that one time with his family, which had resulted in a wrecked building and Cassian's consequent ban. The last time he'd been here, it was to defend Adriata against Hybern.

And now, he was here with you. Somehow, you had managed to convince him to take a whole week off. Maybe it had something to do with you batting your long lashes at him, knowing he could never say no when you looked so cute. Or perhaps it was because you had already talked to Rhys, who had agreed that his brother needed some time to relax.

Either way, Azriel was glad you had convinced him. You were staying in your family's vacation house in a little town south of Adriata. The first day was spent in bed, cuddling and making love, getting up only to eat—as you had done years ago after accepting the mating bond. On the second day, you showed him the town and the places where you had grown up. But today would be a surprise. You had refused to tell him exactly what you'd be doing, claiming only that it was a common custom in the Summer Court.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Your voice came from behind the bathroom door, and Azriel glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time. His half-naked self stared back. You had given him a simple piece of clothing to put on, and you’d been very clear about wearing only that.

Azriel was confused.

It looked like underwear, but it was too long, reaching his mid-thigh, and it was a bit looser around his legs. The deep blue fabric was unusual—soft yet a bit thicker than his regular underwear, and elastic. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he didn’t understand why you wanted him to wear such a thing. It wasn’t alluring or anything like that. At least, he didn’t think it was.

With a sigh, he opened the door. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure—”

His words died on his tongue as his eyes settled on you. Standing in the center of the bedroom, you were wearing a new set of lingerie he had never seen before. The fabric seemed similar to the one he was wearing, but yours was a shade of cerulean blue that complemented your dark skin. It hugged your curves perfectly, tight enough to cover yet revealing in all the right ways.

“So?” you asked with a smile, spinning around so he could see you even better. “What do you think?”

Azriel closed the distance between you in two long strides, and his hands immediately found your exposed waist.

“You're breathtaking, my love,” he murmured, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. He could never get enough of you—your smooth skin, your soft body, your scent. And whenever you surprised him with something like this, his head felt as if it were spinning.

“I'm glad you like it.” You looked down at your body, brushing your fingertips over the hem of your bra. Azriel wanted to kiss the spot where the fabric met your skin. “It's been years since I last got to wear one of these.”

He had to suppress his rising desire to focus on your words. He frowned at the hint of melancholy that laced your tone. “What do you mean? You can wear it whenever you want.” His fingers pressed slightly into your flesh as he leaned down to whisper directly in your ear. “You look ravishing, sweetheart.”

He felt your body react to his words and touch as it always did—relaxing in his hold, leaning imperceptibly closer. But there was a playful smile on your lips when you asked, “What do you think this is, Az?”

Azriel's frown deepened. “New underwear?”

You hummed, amusement glinting in your eyes. But instead of answering, you slipped out of his grasp. “Let me take a good look at you.”

He grew more confused by the second. You studied him, eyes focused on what looked more like short pants than boxers. Yet there was no hint of desire on your face. Your gaze didn't roam over his body with that intensity that made heat bloom in his lower stomach. You didn't bite your bottom lip, didn't reach out to touch the bare muscles of his chest, and your breath didn't catch as it always did when you wanted him.

“You look so handsome,” you said eventually. Your gaze finally met his, and your amused smile widened at his confusion. “We can go now.”

Azriel blinked, but you were already heading for the door, grabbing a bag from the floor on your way out.

He immediately trailed after you, following you downstairs. His shadows swarmed around him, flying over to tangle in the ends of your hair as if trying to coax an answer out of you. But even they couldn't read minds, and you didn't offer an explanation.

“Go where?” he questioned, watching you put your slippers on. What did you even need shoes for?

“The beach,” you answered, as if it were obvious.

Azriel just stared at you. He was waiting for a punchline or a joke, because surely you couldn't be serious. But when you arched a brow, that smirk still playing on your lips, he realized you weren't joking.

“What do you mean?” he asked then.

“This is not underwear, Az,” you finally explained in an amused tone. “They're swimsuits. Mine's called a bikini, and yours are swim trunks.” You lifted the bag in your hand as if to prove your point. “I have beach towels. We're going to the beach.”

He gaped at you. “You really mean to tell me you want to go outside wearing…” He glanced down at himself, then at you. “Just this?” he finished.

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.” You shrugged, as if the thought of walking around with just a scrap of clothing didn't bother you at all.

“There's no way you're going out dressed like that,” he said firmly. “You're basically naked.”

“I'm not naked!” You sounded outraged, but he could see you were trying not to laugh. “I'm wearing a bikini.”

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never once told you what you could or couldn't wear, and he didn't want to start now. But a revealing dress or a plunging neckline were different from… this. The thought of everyone seeing you with nothing more than two small pieces of fabric made his jaw clench.

“How is it any different from going out wearing underwear?” he pressed.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, falling silent for a moment. “I don't know,” you mumbled. “It's just socially acceptable here to go to the beach like this.”

He thought he was getting through to you, that he just needed to push a bit more and then you'd see how inappropriate it was. Instead, you stood straighter again and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“Come on, Az,” you said, your voice low and inviting. “It'll be fun. I've done this a thousand times already. I promise you, it's totally normal here.”

Azriel knew what you were doing. You thought that if you used that tone, if you batted your lashes and looked at him with your big doe eyes, he would cave. Normally, he would. He could hardly say no to you. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone else seeing his mate clad only in underwear. Bikini. Whatever it was called.

“Y/N, that's not the point. I—”

Before he could finish, your lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and you suddenly turned and bolted out the front door before he could catch you.

Cursing under his breath, Azriel quickly slipped on his shoes and followed you outside, not caring about his own underdressed state.

You hadn't gone far, not with those slippers that made running nearly impossible. He caught up to you just as you turned the corner, his hand grabbing your arm, his shadows swirling around both of you to hide your indecent state.

You stopped in your tracks and pointed to the beach just at the end of the short street. “Look,” you said simply.

Azriel did, and his eyes widened at what was probably one of the most shocking sights he'd ever seen.

There weren't many people, but you were right. Everyone—males and females, High Fae or lesser faeries, even the few children—was wearing the so-called swimsuits. And no one paid anyone else a second glance. Everyone minded their own business, either lying on towels or swimming. Some of the children were playing in the sand.

His shadows dimmed under the sunlight, halting their swirling around your bodies and disappearing completely soon after.

“Is it really that normal here?” he asked, a hint of surprise still in his voice. His gaze slowly returned to you.

“This is the Summer Court, Az,” you replied with a chuckle. “What kind of people would we be if we didn't enjoy our sea in this heat?” You took his hand, giving it a gentle tug to make him follow as you began walking again. “Come on. You're a big Illyrian. Don't tell me you're shy.”

Despite his lingering shock, Azriel couldn't help the smile spreading across his face. “It's not that.”

He had never had a problem with nakedness. He'd seen plenty over the centuries, enough not to be bothered by it. It was the idea of willingly wearing nothing more than underwear—and he wouldn't let you convince him that it was anything other than that—and going out in public. More specifically, it was the idea of his beautiful mate going out in public like that. It was a sight usually reserved just for him, and he didn't want to share it with anyone.

“Fine.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “If someone looks at me the wrong way, you can bash his teeth out. Is that better?”

He knew you were joking, but the fact that you were aware of his concern and the way you dismissed it so lightheartedly actually helped him relax.

“It is, yes,” he confirmed, only half-joking. He wouldn't actually do it unless it was an extreme situation, and he knew you could hold your own without his help, but still. He couldn't suppress the protective—and possessive, if he was being honest—streak that was only emphasized by your bond.

“See, this is why I didn't tell you what we'd be doing today,” you teased. You had reached the beach now, and you led him to an empty spot away from the others before letting go of his hand. “Because you wouldn't have agreed.”

Azriel couldn't deny that you were right. It would have taken a lot of convincing and persuasion to get him to agree to this.

Or maybe just your smile.

You took off your slippers and buried your bare feet in the white sand, wiggling your toes through the grains. You breathed in the scent of sea and salt in the air, your eyes closed. And the soft, fond smile that graced your lips as you reconnected with your homeland court made him fall in love with you all over again. It was a smile he’d do anything to see, and Azriel made a mental note to bring you to the Summer Court more often.

He followed your lead and slipped off his shoes. The sand was warm under his soles, and the morning sun heated his tanned skin. He even spread his wings a little, basking in the sensation.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked after a moment.

Your eyes opened, and you crouched down to open the bag you’d dropped on the ground. “Now we set the towels down,” you answered, pulling one out and handing it to him. “It’s probably too small for you, but I don’t have a beach towel for overgrown bats, so…”

Azriel shook his head, used to your endless teasing. You chuckled softly, and after you both placed your towels on the sand—his was, indeed, too small—you took his hand again, walking backward toward the shore and pulling him along.

“Now we go swimming,” you declared, then paused, a small frown creasing your brow. “You do know how to swim, right?”

It was Azriel’s turn to chuckle. “Of course I can swim, sweetheart. I just don’t remember the last time I had to.”

“Well, then,” you said with a smile, rising on your toes to kiss him, “let’s go make some memories.”

Without waiting for a response, you ran into the ocean with a delighted squeal and dove in, water splashing around you. Azriel didn’t move immediately, and simply watched as you emerged, eyes bright and smile wide.

You were the picture of joy.

The last time he had seen you this happy was probably at your mating ceremony, when you had appeared in that stunning teal and gold dress, looking like a vision. And now, as you stood in the water, Azriel was suddenly grateful you had brought him here. Droplets trickled down your body, your brown skin glistening in the sunlight as you moved your wet hair out of your face.

You beckoned him with a hand, and his feet moved of their own accord, guiding him toward you. He inhaled sharply as the cold water reached his thighs, sloshing around his wings. He didn't know how you could look so at ease when he was shivering, but you were in your element after all, while he was completely out of his.

“Aw,” you cooed as he reached you. “Is my little bat cold?”

Azriel grimaced, his tone playful as he pulled you closer. “First you call me an overgrown bat, and now I’m a little one?”

Your wet body pressed against his still-dry chest, and your hair dripped water onto his tattooed skin as you looked up at him. “Well, yes,” you confirmed, stating it as if it were an obvious fact. “Illyrians are overgrown bats, but you’re my little bat.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know I’m a head taller than you, right? I’m not little.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you closed it without saying a word. Azriel could see the wheels turning in your head as you stepped away from him, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What is it?” he asked, knowing that expression all too well. “What did you just think?”

“There's this thing my father always did when I was a child,” you explained. “I loved it, and now I want you to do it too.”

After all the crazy ideas you'd hit him with over the years—this beach day being the latest—Azriel wasn't sure he wanted to know what you were talking about now, but he still lifted a brow. “And said thing is…?”

Your smile widened. “Throw me in the water.”

Azriel frowned. He must have heard that wrong. “What?”

But you nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips. “Pick me up and throw me in the water. You're strong enough to do it, c'mon.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, but he still wasn't convinced. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you love me and I asked nicely?” you tried, batting your lashes at him.

Azriel chuckled. “I do love you, but you did not ask nicely.” He pulled you closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your panties. Gods, it still felt like underwear to him, and all he wanted was to take them off. “You ordered me to do it.”

You laughed with him. “Sorry about that.” Pulling him down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Love of my life, my mate, my everything, will you please be so kind as to use your beautiful, strong muscles to pick me up and throw me in the water? It's fun, and I’d really appreciate it.”

He knew you were teasing, but his heartbeat quickened with every word of flattery, even after all these years. “You are unbelievable,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss.

Though he still didn't understand how it could be fun, and wasn’t sure if he even liked the idea, his hands slid up to your waist. He lifted you effortlessly, water cascading off your body as he hoisted you out of the ocean. He hesitated for a moment, but when he saw your excited smile, he threw you back into the water, expecting you to twist midair and gracefully dive in. You had the agility and flexibility for it. He knew you could do it.

But you didn’t.

You let yourself plummet straight into the ocean, your laughter swallowed by the water as you plunged in, splashing it all around. The water was so clear he could see you sink for a moment before you kicked your legs and emerged, grinning from ear to ear.

Azriel stopped questioning whether it was fun or not. It didn't matter if it was childish and silly. After all, he still had snowball fights with his brothers.

All that mattered was the joy written on your face, and as he made his way over to you, he found himself wishing he had a place like this—somewhere he cherished returning to, a place filled with memories of a happy childhood.

“You probably think I'm crazy,” you said as you treaded water. He could still touch the seabed here, but it was now too deep for you.

“A little,” he admitted with a smile. “But as long as it makes you happy, love.”

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer as his hands found their way back to your hips. Pressing your body against his, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “There’s something else that would make me happy right now,” you murmured, gazing into his eyes.

Azriel’s smile widened as he leaned in for a kiss, but before he knew it, you had pulled him under the surface. He had adjusted to the water’s temperature by now, but the sudden, full submersion still made him shiver. His first instinct was to break the surface and take a deep breath—something he would have done already if only you had told him what you were planning. Before he could, though, you used your magic to create a bubble of oxygen around the two of you, allowing him to breathe.

“So drowning your mate is what makes you happy?” he asked skeptically.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “But the surprise on your face was priceless.”

Azriel lifted a brow, readjusting his wings. It had been so long since the last time he was underwater that it took a moment to remember how to position them properly, preventing himself from floating back up.

You laughed, your hair swirling around you like a shimmering, silver crown inside the bubble.

“No, but it was fun,” you answered. You cupped his face, kicking your feet to swim just a little closer to him. “What would really make me happy is something I’ve always wanted to do, but I need to let the bubble disappear. I promise I’ll summon it again as soon as we’re done.”

Azriel frowned slightly, but he had an idea of what you wanted to do. He could only hope he was right, because he had a feeling you wouldn’t explain it if he asked.

He nodded, and with that, you called back your magic. Water rushed around you again, but this time he inhaled deeply before it was too late. And then you proved his suspicions correct.

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he tasted the salty water on your lips. His hands settled gently on the sides of your neck, keeping you close. As you both kicked your legs to stay submerged, Azriel understood why you wanted to do this. It felt intimate, like you were the only two beings in the entire ocean.

It reminded him of the way kissing you felt when he was flying with you cradled in his arms—the world faded away, shrinking until nothing existed but the two of you.

It lasted only a few seconds, but when you parted, both of you were smiling. As promised, you summoned another bubble as soon as your lips left his.

“That was nice,” he murmured, his voice soft.

“Good, because we’ll definitely do it again.” You stole another quick kiss before pointing toward the endless expanse of the ocean. “I want to go swimming. Do you want to come or would you rather head back to the beach?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, I want to come with you.”

“Perfect.” Your smile widened, and you gestured for him to follow as you turned around. “Then I want to show you the reef.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he tucked his wings in tightly, kicking his legs to keep up with you. Never in his long life had he imagined that he’d one day find himself swimming in the Summer Court, wearing little more than a piece of underwear. But life with you was always full of surprises, and he had no doubt this wouldn’t be the last.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Please please some dating luke as percys sister and him finding out about you two when he sees you both in cabin 3 🙏🏼🙏🏼

This is how I find out?

omg I love this.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Warnings: Brief making out, getting caught making out,, secret relationships, Luke never turned, reader and Luke are like 2 teenagers in love

“I don’t hate him- I just hate not having the place to myself anymore, you know?” You spoke to Luke. “He’s a good kid.”

He nodded, carrying his lunch tray. “At least it’s not like mine..” he shrugged, giving you a small smile.

“Yeah, I would run away.” You laughed, and you both sat down across from Percy.

“Hey, Percy.” You both said in unison, and Percy mumbled a hi. You noticed him staring at something behind you guys, rather someone.

Luke quirked an eyebrow and turned to who he was looking at Clarisse.

“You don’t think she still has something to do with it, do you?” Luke said, turning back to Percy.

“I don’t know.” He said, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You and Luke glanced at each other for a moment and then you sighed, looking at Percy. He looked at you back now.

“Don’t let it bother you so much. You finished the quest.”

“I know but-“

“Percy. Stop. Worrying. So. Much.” You’ve only known him for a few days, but he seemed to be anxious, a lot.

He didn’t say anything, and stared down at his food with melancholy etched on his face. Once lunch was over, you and Luke stood up, and Percy went over to Annabeth.

“You’re definitely his sister.” He said with a small laugh, you both walked into the forest and you intertwined your hand into his.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, you just met him like what.. a few months ago and you’re very protective of him.”

“I am not…”

He gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes. “I’m like that with everyone.”

“I know. It’s part of why I love you.” He teased with a small smile on his face.

“Stop being corny.” You smiled.

“Can’t help myself.”

You both walked for some more time, before you had to go back for the bonfire. You let go of his hand, and found a seat in the back of everyone.

After a while, he leaned over and whispered to you.

“You wanna go to your cabin?”

You quickly nodded, you both ducked down and slowly made your way to the cabin.

“How do we get away with it every time?” You asked him, sitting down on the bed.

He shrugged. “We’re probably breaking about 4 rules right now.” He laid down, arm over his head, and you smiled, curling up to him and laying on his chest.

“You may not be in another God’s cabin.” You mocked Chiron.

“You must be at the bonfire at all times.” He mocked him, with a laugh.

“No dating.”

“What’s the fourth?” You asked.

He smirked, craning his head and capturing your lips in a kiss.

You both moved around and sat up now, you began to straddle his lap, you held his face in your hands, and his hands were on your hips.

You both were so caught up in the kiss, neither of you realized Percy standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat. You jumped off of him, standing up and dusting yourself off.

“Percy!” You laughed nervously. “Did the fire already end?”

“Seriously? This is how I find out?” He said, looking at you both back and fourth.

“We wanted to tell you, but we couldn’t. Dionysus would have our heads on a stick.” You said.

Percy sighed, moving to his bed.

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Almost a year now.” Luke said.

“Jesus… just, don’t keep any more stuff from me, please?” He said after a little.

You both nodded, and Percy spoke up again “And don’t do any of that in front of me.”

[corpsedogs]

✿ Chromatic silence (Jason Todd x Reader)

soulmates, alternative universe (no vigilante hero stuff), teacher jason todd, artist reader

sypnosis: The reader’s soulmate power is to see colors for the first time when she touches her soulmate. When she met Jason, her world bursts to color but not his. She fell for him quietly, but she’s not his and she’s torn between waiting for his colors to come or moving on. ao3 link, last chapter

a/n: i forgor to post

The painting had sold, for a lot too.

It had been wrapped in layers of brown paper secured around at the corners with painter’s tape stuck and curled like clumsy apologies. 

It was the first time you had ever sold a piece that felt most personal. Most of your work went with a pleasant sort of landscapes and portraits that were all dispatched to homes, hotels, lobbies and galleries but this one was different. 

But it was too late, you had already signed it with your initials. A gallery sold it within a week, with a very generous buyer too.

And yet you stared at the package as if it might change its mind and stay.

You sighed, hand tracing on the brown paper. “I hope whoever takes you handles you with care.” 

When a knock came, it felt like a disruption you needed and dreaded.

You padded across the floor, barefoot. You opened the door, you expected a delivery person for the painting or maybe some rando asking for sugar again. Instead, it was Cassie— smiling wild, rain misting her curls. To you, Cassie always carries the chaos of sunlight on a rainy day. 

“Hey,” Cassie said. “I brought food, but more importantly— are you still in your ‘melancholy artist’ era or can we pretend you’re emotionally well-adjusted for like an hour?”

“Depends on how good the food is,” you replied with a smirk, stepping aside to let Cassie in.

Cassie was your half sister, you weren’t around when she was little. It was only a few years ago since you and Cassie started talking. 

She glanced at the wrapped painting, her eyes softened. “Is this the one?”

You nod, “Sold yesterday. It ships today or tomorrow.”

Cassie made a sympathetic sound and handed you a takeout bag that smelled like grilled cheese and garlic. “Congratulations, and I’m sorry.”

You place the food down on the kitchen counter you convinced yourself to clean in case Jason comes by again. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I’d feel this sad selling a painting.”

“Well.” Cassie crossed her arms, “It’s him.”

You didn’t reply to that. 

The two of you ate by the window, the plates balanced on mismatched cushions. She talked about everything and nothing while you listened. 

“Sooo,” Cassie said, licking the cheese off her thumb. “We’re doing a booth thing for the school fair. My advisory class has been arguing about it for like.. three weeks.”

“Oh?” you asked “What are you guys gonna do?” 

“That’s the thing!” Cassie groans, “Greta wants a face painting, Bart wants a haunted house, and Conner is so locked in on a dunk tank.”

You laughed, “What does your advisor think?”

“He pretends not to care. But he does. Do you know Mr. Darcy? He reminds me of him.”

Something flickered in your chest, “Sounds familiar.”

Cassie smiles. “You’ll love him big sis. He’s an English teacher, big on sarcasm, hates mornings, drinks too much coffee. He acts like we drive him crazy but he’s the one who always shows up five minutes early and stays five minutes late.”

“He’s so weird though. He has this look sometimes like he’s somewhere else. Like his head is full of stories.”

Cassie didn’t notice the pause in your chewing, the way her sister stared at the window like it might offer some clarity. She didn’t see the way your fingers curled in a palm— remembering the night Jason sat in the stairs of her apartment, damp with rain. 

It had only been a day since then, but the colors haven’t faded yet somehow.

Cassie kept talking, then noticed her silence “What?” you snapped in your day dream and shook your head, “Nothing.”

That wasn’t true, the memory was still fresh. Jason standing beside you, hand clutching the umbrella handle as he stared at the rain like it hurt to breathe. 

I don’t know why I can’t feel what you feel.

“Anyway.” Cassie continues,  “He’s a good teacher. Weirdly good. Even when he’s being a jerk. I actually learned stuff this year. And I don’t hate Shakespeare anymore.”

That made you smile.

The two of you finished your food. The painting still sat in the corner, silent and still and waiting for its new life. You would never see it again.

Letting go was its own kind of closure.

After a while, Cassie started scrolling through her phone, showing you Pinterest ideas for their booth, pictures of decorated cupcakes and paper lanterns. It was silly and bright and messy, everything the painting was not. Everything Jason wasn’t, that was okay though.

Maybe the only thing you could do now was live outside of the memory of him, even though there wasn’t a lot. Let his world stay grey. Let your world keep its color, even if it makes you lonelier.

Cassie stayed for another hour before heading back home. You hugged her at the door. “Hey,” Cassie said, just before leaving. “You’ll come to the fair, right?”

“Of course,” you said.

When the door closed again, you turned back to the painting. You knelt beside it, pressing your palm lightly against the wrapped canvas.

Goodbye, you thought. 

You stood, walked to the window, and watched the clouds roll past, heavy and pale.

Outside, the world was still in color.

But part of you still ached for the one who couldn’t see it.

It was the third day of school fair planning, and Jason had already begun regretting agreeing to let his advisory class take the lead. Not because they weren’t capable. 

On the contrary.. His students were brilliant and creative, but too enthusiastic for their own good. Somehow, somewhere between a brainstorming session and a spreadsheet, they had managed to weaponize Shakespeare for god’s sake.

The advisory room was loud. Posters and doodles littered the whiteboard. Cassie stood near it like a general presenting battle plans, pointer in hand, eyes glinting with ill intent.

Conner leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and far too smug for someone about to advocate for dunking their teacher in a tub of water. 

Bart was practically vibrating in place beside Greta, his laptop open and showing a spreadsheet labeled: “To Dunk or Not To Dunk – Proposal Draft 3.”

Jason sat at his desk, arms crossed, one brow raised in suspicion, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying very hard not to sigh aloud.

“All right,” Cassie said, tapping the board. “Mr. Todd, we present to you: Shakespeare’s Time-Traveling Death Carnival!”

“That is not the official name,” Lonnie muttered from the back.

“Yet,” Cassie countered with a wink.

Jason dragged a hand down his face. “Is this going to involve poison?”

“Absolutely not,” said Greta.

“Unless you count the poison of passion in Romeo and Juliet,” added Kyle Rayner (who had been absent the other time), twirling a pencil between his fingers.

Poison of what?

“Help me,” Jason murmured to no one in particular.

But they were already in too deep.

Cassie beamed and gestured to the whiteboard, where each play had been transformed into a themed mini-game. There were drawings of potions, ghostly silhouettes, and dramatically large labels like ET TU, BOOTH? and SOMETHING IS ROTTEN!.

Greta handed him a printed outline, complete with bullet points and little Bard emojis next to each section. “We want the booth to be interactive and educational,” she said. “Each play becomes a station. You complete a challenge, get a stamp on your checklist, and then…”

“And then,” Bart cut in, bouncing in place, “if you get enough stamps— you get to poison Hamlet!”

Jason looked up, deadpan. “Poison who?”

“Not real poison, duh,” Bart said, rolling his eyes. “It’s a dunk tank. The prize is dunking ‘Hamlet.’ Which is you?”

Jason stared.

…

“No.”

“Come on!” Cassie laughed. “We already designed the flyer. You’d look great in a frilly collar.”

“No.”

Kyle held up a rough sketch on his tablet. It showed their beloved advisor, drawn in exaggerated Shakespearean garb— perched above a water tank, dramatically holding a skull as if pondering his fate. “It’s got aesthetic.”

Jason blinked slowly. “You drew a goatee on me.”

“You have a vibe, Mr. Todd,” Cissie said from her seat near the window. 

“Dark academia. Tragic hero. Brooding Hamlet. It fits.”

“It’s not a vibe. It’s my face.”

“Exactly.”

Jason set the folder down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight. You want to create an elaborate Shakespeare-themed obstacle course—”

“Educational experience,” Greta corrected.

“—culminating in publicly humiliating your English teacher by dropping him into a tank of questionable water.”

“Don’t forget the costumes,” Lonnie added helpfully.

Cassie bounced on her heels. “You wouldn’t even have to sit in the tank for that long. We just need to call you over!”

“Oh, that makes it so much better.”

“It’s for the children,” Bart said, placing a hand over his chest with mock sincerity. “Think of the joy in their faces.”

“It’s my advisory class,” Jason pointed out. “Why am I the one getting dunked?”

“Because,” Conner said with a grin, “you’re the only one cranky enough to sell the Hamlet act.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “What happened to decorating cupcakes?”

“Oh, we voted on that,” Cassie said. “Unanimous. This is better.”

“Unanimous?” Jason echoed. “I’m not even a part of the vote in my own class?”

“You’re the dunk target,” Bart said. “It’s a conflict of interest.”

Jason stared at the ceiling like it might offer him divine guidance. It didn’t.

Cissie chimed in, flipping through the proposal. “We also built in learning outcomes. Each station ties to a major theme— ambition, betrayal, identity. There’s even a mini quiz built into the trivia game.”

Jason squinted at her. “You put Shakespearean educational objectives into a carnival game?”

She nodded. “Well, yeah. You’d kill us if we didn’t.”

Jason opened his mouth. Then closed it. Fair.

There was a moment of silence as Jason pretended to read the rest of the proposal, he hated how good they were at this.

His students weren’t just clever, they cared. Cared enough to connect themes, to build structure around chaos, to argue for a dunk tank in iambic pentameter if they had to. He looked at Bart, who had clearly rehearsed lines from Julius Caesar. Cassie had doodled Caliban quotes in the margins. Greta had handwritten notes about sensory-friendly game options.

Jason exhaled through his nose, a sound that came close to a laugh but not quite.

“No Hamlet costume,” he said eventually.

A victorious cheer went up.

“Fine, fine.. no collar,” Cassie conceded. “But we are putting you in black.”

“I’m always in black.”

“Then we’re already halfway there!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’ve all lost your minds.”

“Madness in great ones must not be unwatched go,” Greta said solemnly.

“Touché.”

The class was still celebrating when he stood up and walked to the front, grabbing a stack of recently graded assignments from his desk.

“Before we start planning the dunk tank dimensions, I need to give back your papers,” he said. “Let’s see who actually read King Lear and who skimmed the SparkNotes.”

A collective groan rippled through the room.

Jason smirks.

“Allen,” he said, tossing the first paper at Bart, “C+. Points for creativity. Negative points for referring to King Lear as ‘a certified drama king.’”

Bart grinned. “Still true though.”

“Kent,” he said, handing Conner his B+, “good analysis on power and blindness. But next time, less boxing metaphors.”

Conner shrugged. “I write what I know.”

“Rayner—A. Your sketches were weirdly on point. Also, stop turning in essays with illustrated margins.”

“But they enhance the mood.”

“Noted.”

One by one, the papers were returned, each with its own snide remark or praise muttered just low enough to keep them on their toes. Jason didn’t hold back, but he didn’t tear them down either. It was a dance, mockery wrapped in care, sarcasm dipped in guidance. And they knew it.

Jason stared at his laptop like it had personally offended him.

The cursor blinked against an empty document titled: Advisory Class Contribution Proposal.docx. There was something cruel in how smug it looked, taunting him with its emptiness and the ticking clock in the corner of the screen. 

The deadline for contribution submissions was creeping closer, and while most teachers had long chosen their projects, some boasting about them over coffee and stale donuts in the break room— Jason still had nothing but his students’ half-muttered mural idea echoing in his brain.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The teacher’s lounge was oddly quiet today, aside from the low hum of the vending machine that always dispensed lukewarm soda. He didn’t mind the silence. It gave him room to think.

He sipped his coffee and grimaced. Burnt, bitter, and flat. Like disappointment in a cup.

“You’re brooding again, teach.”

The familiar lilt of Harleen Quinzel—Dr. Quinzel, technically, but everyone just called her Harley— echoed from behind him. She swept into the lounge like she owned it, all red lipstick and bright smiles and chaos in high heels.

“Mr. Todd,” Harley sang as she waltzed into the shared staff room, coffee in one hand, a stack of glittery cardstock in the other. She was dressed like she raided a color wheel and won. “Heard your kids are going for the Bard Booth thing, huh?”

“They’re enthusiastic about it,” Jason muttered, clicking his pen and avoiding eye contact.

“Aw,” she grinned, sliding into the chair beside him. “That’s cute. But you know about this year's contribution, right? Something permanent. Y’know. Real legacy stuff.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Booths count.”

“Oh, my angels are donating free supplies,” she said, examining her nails. “Glitter pens. Notebooks. Scented erasers. I even bribed a parent to fund some eco-friendly stuff. You know, the whole save the turtles, win the fair angle.”

Jason exhaled sharply. “Of course you are.”

Harley leaned in, grin stretching. “Which means you’re gonna lose. Spectacularly. And I can’t wait.”

Jason blinked slowly. “You know what your problem is?”

“Too charming?”

“You talk too much for someone who thinks Euphoria is literature.”

“Ouch,” she said, clutching her heart. “Low blow, Mr. Todd. But seriously! If you haven’t got anything yet, you’re gonna get steamrolled. I hear Waller’s cracking down this year. Wants the school looking clean, fresh, and ‘aesthetically aligned with our values.’ Whatever that means.”

Jason took another sip of his coffee. It didn’t help.

He hated losing. Especially to Harley.

But if he was being honest, the kids had already come up with something. It was stupid, sure, and messy, and full of chaotic energy— but it had potential. The mural idea had been tossed around during advisory, but the more he thought about it, the more it started to take root. They could paint something meaningful. Big. Permanent.

He rubbed the back of his neck, thoughtful.

“Don’t tell me you’re considering something risky.” Harley smirked, eyeing him like she could read his thoughts. “That little wrinkle between your eyebrows means trouble.”

“Get out of my face, Quinzel.”

She winked, unbothered. “No shame in losing, Todd. Some people just weren’t built for flair. You’re more… brooding hallway monitor than star advisor.” She twirled out of the lounge like she’d just won an Oscar and left Jason gripping the bridge of his nose.

He sat there a long while, listening to the echo of her words like they were bouncing off the walls of his skull.

Brooding hallway monitor. Mural. Losing.

His eyes drifted toward the faculty bulletin board where a half-torn flyer read, “Think Big, Be Bold — Advisory Contribution Challenge.” 

He slammed his laptop shut and stood, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair like it had personally dared him to try.

Principal Amanda Waller’s office was less “academic administrator” and more “top-level military base.” Her nameplate was polished to a mirror shine. The walls were bare except for a black-and-white portrait of the founding faculty, all looking like they’d rather be in a warzone than a classroom. Waller herself was seated behind her desk, paperwork neatly aligned in front of her like soldiers at inspection.

“Mr. Todd,” she said without looking up. “To what do I owe this unscheduled intrusion?”

Jason cleared his throat. “I want to formally submit a project proposal for my advisory class.”

Waller raised a brow, glancing at the clock. “Cutting it close, aren’t we?”

“I know the kids are doing the Shakespeare booth already,” he said, “but I’d like to approve a mural for our hallway.”

Her eyes flicked up, calculating. “You want to give me graffiti on my wall.”

“It’s not graffiti.”

“Is it going to peel?”

“No.”

“Is it going to offend someone?”

“No.”

“Are there swords?”

Jason hesitated. “…I don’t know yet.”

Waller stared at him. The silence stretched.

“And you want permission to bring in an external contributor?” she said finally.

“Yes,” he replied. “A friend. She’s an artist. Graduated. Good with students. Clean record.” he lies a bit, considering he didn’t know your background that much.

Waller leaned back, “You’re lucky I like your students.”

Jason didn’t flinch. “They’re lucky too.”

She tapped her pen once, sharp and deliberate. “If it’s for the good of the students, and they’re supervised at all times, I’ll allow it. But you’ll be responsible for anything that happens under your advisory’s banner. Understood?”

Jason nodded. “Crystal.”

Waller leaned forward. “And Todd?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to lose,” she said flatly. “I don’t like Harley gloating.”

He left the office with a strange sense of determination knotting in his gut. The kind that felt like cold metal warming slowly in his chest. Like purpose, maybe. Like pride.

By the time he made it back to his desk, the sun had shifted through the high windows, leaving golden slats across his papers. He stood over the cluttered surface of his workspace, staring at the notepad where he’d scribbled possible contributors earlier. None of them had felt right.

But there was one name that hadn’t made it to the page.

He paced. Sat down. Got back up. Stared at the faculty phone. Stared at his cell.

He’d seen your work. Knew how intimately you painted, how everything you created bled emotion. That portrait of him, haunting and personal, and not meant for anyone else’s eyes still ghosted the back of his mind.

You hadn’t painted him in flattery. You had painted him in honesty.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck and muttered something halfway between a curse and a prayer. There was no reason not to call you. 

But you had looked at him like you saw through every wall he put up.

Did he want you back in his orbit again?

He sat down, jaw tight, and opened his contacts.

Your name stared up at him. Simple. Unassuming.

He hovered over the call button, thumb shaking just slightly.

What if you said no?

What if you said yes?

Jason pressed the button.

It rang once. Twice.

The screen blurred as his thumb trembled again, and suddenly, all the air in the room felt heavier.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he whispered as it connected. “It’s me. I know this is… sudden, but I’ve got a project. For the school fair. And I could really use your help.”

@theendodthematerialgworl @sep3mberchild @sinnamon-bunn @daffy-the-duck @mydarlingelena @jason-todd-rh @mercuryathens @feedthefandoms995 @no-oneneedsto-know @profoundgreenturtle

[moonstruckme]

hello!!!! i hope you’re having a lovely day or night when u see this ! can i request sirius where reader is sensitive and very often just needs a tight hug and back rub through the day, and he’s sooo understanding about it and gives her all she needs

just lots of domestic fluff (maybe a drop of hurt/comfort if you’re feeling it)

feel free to ignore as always :3

Thanks for requesting lovely!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 562 words

It’s just a few minutes after Sirius hears the shower shut off that you’re padding into the living room, wrapped in a towel and arms spread entreatingly. Sirius knows better by now than to let himself get too twisted up about it; he sets the top he’s cropping aside and lets you crawl into his lap. Your wet hair is cold and heavy against his neck. 

“What’s gotten into your head, huh?” he asks, pushing his palms into your upper back the way he knows you like. You sigh in response. “I told you you’ve got to stop taking showers. You do too much thinking in there.” 

You laugh, but it’s clearly an effort. Your arms constrict together around his shoulders, and Sirius often gets this feeling around you. The urge to put your tender heart in a protective casing and carry it with him everywhere to keep it safe. 

He gives you an affectionate jostling. “Out with it,” he demands.

Another sigh, heavier than the last. “I was just thinking about that cat we saw in the shelter.” There’s a downward slope to your voice that Sirius doesn’t like. You squish your face further into his neck. “I just can’t imagine what life is like for him with no eyes.” 

Sirius hums, rubbing your back firmly. “I’m sure he’s happy with his new owner.” 

“Yeah, but he must be so confused.” You pull away from his shoulder, sniffling. 

And Sirius’ apartment is dim, but the frail threads of sunlight still sneaking in through the blinds lay themselves down across your face just so that he can see the tormented glossiness in both of your eyes. He tsks, kissing your nose. Your melancholy only seems to worsen. 

“Imagine you can’t see,” you choke out, “and you’ve got people making all this noise at you and touching you all the time. And the only thing you can do is cry to try and get someone’s attention. Wouldn’t you be scared?” 

Sirius feels himself frowning. He loves your gentle soul, but he hates that it makes you more susceptible to these hurts. You’ll get your thoughts all tangled up in something like this, and then you won’t be able to relax or be content until you can forget about it. But Sirius likes to think that he knows you fairly well, and he’s got his own methods for helping you through it. 

He has this spot memorized. The stretch of skin beneath your jaw and behind your ear, where if he slides his hand into place you’ll let loose a breath and melt against him like butter in the sun. He does it now, and your sigh fans warmly over the inside of his wrist, some of the tension sapping from your expression as you let your head rest in his palm. 

Sirius runs his thumb over your jaw. “You’re not going to do him any good by worrying, sweetness,” he says softly. “I just think…the person who adopted him had to have really cared to take on all that responsibility. I’ll bet they love him a lot.” 

You worry your lip, looking up at him uncertainly. “Enough to be patient with him even when he’s scared and crying?” 

Sirius has to take care to keep his lips from twitching. He smears a kiss across your temple. “Yeah, baby.” He wonders what that’s like.

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 1

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

═══════════════════════════

I've been fucking stressed this week, so instead of shouting at the people around me, I've made this anguish here!

CW: Implied abortion

═══════════════════════════

Okay, but A!Ghost and O!Soap, where Soap accidentally gets pregnant and tells Ghost, thinking that everything will be fine and that the two of them will work things out together, but Ghost, after hearing about the pregnancy, swears and kicks Soap out of his room, calling him a cheater and other things.

Soap tearfully asks in despair what happened, why Simon is acting like this, but Ghost doesn't answer from inside the room. 

Several weeks passed, each time Soap tried to talk to the lieutenant, but each time Ghost ignored him as if Soap didn't exist, Ghost no longer had lunch or dinner with Soap, the two no longer smoked together behind the barracks, even every time Soap entered an environment where Ghost was, the lieutenant always ran away quickly.

The omega needs the minimum of comfort from his alpha, just a piece of clothing with his fragrance, or just a pat on the shoulder, but his alpha doesn't care about him anymore. The two weren't mated either, which made matters worse.

Gaz, Price and Laswell, and a few other soldiers noticed the change between the duo.

Gaz tried to talk to Soap, but Soap, afraid, didn't say anything about the pregnancy and just said that he and Simon had had a bit of a row, but didn't elaborate.

Price tried to talk to Ghost but the man said it was nothing, even though he knew there was something Ghost and Soap weren't telling him.

Laswell also tried to talk to Ghost but it didn't work out, as the man asked to be sent on a mission, and Laswell, unable to do much, allowed it.

After two days without seeing Ghost at the base, Soap decided to ask Price, and Price told him about Ghost's solo mission, that he would be away for at least a week or two.

And at that moment, Soap just bowed his head and thanked him for the information, and then ran to his room, and when he arrived and locked his door, he collapsed, crying gallons of tears inside his nest while hugging an scentless sweatshirt that Simon had forgotten there.

At some point he fell asleep, and hours later he woke up to his mobile phone vibrating under his pillow. When he answered it, Soap heard his mother's voice, and again he burst into tears, remembering that his own mother had been abandoned by Soap's alpha shitty father before he was born.

At that moment he told his mum everything that had happened, about Simon, the pregnancy, everything. The smell of stress and melancholy wafted through the room, anyone in there would throw up or run to give the omega a cuddle.

His mother was very understanding, listening until the end and calming him down as Soap had little anxiety attacks. In the end, Soap asked what he should do, his mother remained silent, debating for a moment what to say to her son.

After a few minutes she said calmly. "If you bring that child into the world, you won't be able to work in the army any more and you'll have to find another job that pays a lot less, plus you'll be forever linked to that alpha who hurt you."

"But he's not bad, Mum." Soap whispered.

And on the other end of the line his mum sighed. "If he was someone good, he wouldn't have treated you like that, darling." A harsh reality that Soap wished were a lie.

She was right, if Simon cared about Soap he would still be here and on his side.

"You should think about what you want to do, you have to think about what's best for you." -She said gently.

They exchanged a few more words before Soap hung up and stayed quietly inside his room and nest, staring at the ceiling and running his hand over his belly.

Gradually, everything about the pregnancy, from the time he found out to the recent weeks he spent alone, sad and abandoned in his nest without his alpha to comfort him, and together with the conversation he had with his mum earlier, Soap made up his mind.

In the gloom of his room, with his hands wrapped around his belly, Soap mumbled with small tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to bring my first son or daughter into a world where he or she will have to be raised by a dysfunctional family..."

Soap was going to look for a clinic this week and someone to accompany him there...

═══════════════════════════

Idk if there's gonna be a pt 2, I just wanted to take my anger out on something. If u want, say something i guess?

Love u all! 😀

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Gods and Monsters

Yandere Neo x Reader

Random drabble series

Secret Garden

Part II

Heavily flawed and diverted concept as compared to the ORIGINAL STORYLINE, with shallow imagination and vague concepts I am too lazy to explain or expand upon.

Warning: None

Credit to the original owner of this GIF. Heavily unedited piece.

Drabble #3

While you savour the wine, your eyes casually glide around. Families, friends, couples, and one or two people sitting by themselves. That is when your eyes catch sight of the man two tables away. He has chin-length hair and a patchy but maintained beard. He is handsome and seems oddly familiar.

He smiles at the woman in front of him. Her shoulder-length hair matches the shade of her eyes, which are lost in his gaze. They are obviously in love, and you just know that there is no pretence or condition. 

But then you frown. You cannot precisely see what the future holds for them, but the way your heart sinks, you just know that their companionship will meet a tragic end. You feel the melancholy buried somewhere in the man. He is experiencing true happiness at the moment, but he has known pain. A lot of it.

“It’s not unfair.”

You are surprised to find Neo in front of you, seated in front of you. Dressed in black. This time, though, he has forgone the eyewear. You turn to the man again, realising why he seems familiar.

“Don’t tell me—”

“My remnants are in every matrix. They are imprinted on his cycle here.”

“You will look like him when you grow older.” You comment, shifting your attention back to your wine, filling his glass as well.

“Thank you.” He takes a sip.

“They love each other.”

“And they are doomed. Five years from now, she will die, and he will be pulled back to the same old pond he will fight so hard to come out of.”

“How is it not unfair then?”

“Choices. He will make the choice.”

“I doubt people here make much of a choice.”

“It is what it is. The Matrix remembers the deeds of anyone bound to it, listens to their thoughts, and reflects on what individuals emanate. He is not immune to the rules; no one here is.” He eyes you and leans against his chair. “What do you see?”

“Not much. It’s fragmented.” You turn away from the couple and look at him, wondering if.

“Try a bit harder; it will come to you. It will come when you understand your choices.”

“I don't think I ever had many of them.” Your voice turns clipped.

“I did what I had to. It’s us that matters, just us. It is all yours, (Y/N). Nothing matters more to me than you.”

“Hm, I know it very well now.” You take a sip of the wine, looking away.

“Good.”

Neo reaches out to your hand on the table.

“Whatever will happen is bound to happen. He has already made choices even before being in the situation he will be in. And he will have to own up to the consequences. The Balance is at times cruel, brutal, bizarre, and sometimes even funny. But never unfair. You should know this more than anyone else.”

“I know, " you nod contemplatively. "I created the Balance. I just do not yet understand the tally.”

“Does it really matter? People cling to this illusion here. He is just one of many. For now, at least, there is some hope for him.” He shrugs, looking over at the table.

The man whispers something into the woman’s ears, earning a honeyed laugh that aches your heart, knowing what is to come.

“I see bloodshed. Violence. Pain. A lot of pain.” You sigh, but you know that interfering will only disturb the fine balance.

“We are beyond this,(Y/N). You wanted to have some fun; here we are. Enjoy the food. There is nothing to be done or disturbed.”

You nod and shrug. He is right. Interference often creates complications and has consequences.

“I missed this.” You let out a faint sigh layered with fondness as he cuts the steak for you.

“Bon appétit.” He smiles, feeding you a piece.

****

[kyoshithewriter]

The Missing Piece. (Part Eight)

Wc: 3.8k

Warnings: mature themes (18+)

A/n: Just a little chapter that I tried to do from Virgil’s pov because I realize I don’t usually do that? lol anyway, I have two chapters of this left tops(knowing me I’ll probably just wrap it all up in one long chapter). Hope you enjoy 🫶🏾

Virgil stares out the window above the stove looking at nothing in particular. If his neighbour should coincidentally do the same, they’d probably think he’s staring right at their house. But he’s just zoned out; not in the way he’s become used to doing these past couple months. Not with bitter, melancholy thoughts feeling like they were physically eating at his brain and consuming his very being. But in a way that’s… peaceful. For the first time in a long time, he’s able to just exist without darkness clouding his mind. There’s an uncharacteristic lightness to his shoulders; his inhales actually feel like they fill his lungs instead of being obstructed by the heaviness in his chest. His muscles and limbs feel lax— like they actually belong on his body and aren’t just there to burden him down. Is this what a little serotonin and prolactin does to a man? But he knows it’s not just the act of sex that has him feeling this good. It’s the who— Niamh. It’s Niamh and how she still found attraction in him at his lowest. It’s Niamh and her pretty little eyes and soft demeanor but fiery spirit when it’s necessary. The very first night he saw her in this very kitchen— even in that oversized, unflattering shirt and her hair tied up, he knew from the way his heart leaped just at her soft, nervous gaze that it would be a long fucking day for him. He had assumed she was a lot younger, and ran out the room because he didn’t know what to even say to her. Once upstairs, he actually took the time to comb through all the information Ivy had texted him about the new hire. 25. He had assumed 21, but she’s still a lot younger than what felt right. He thought it best to avoid her, like he does all his problems. But he found himself looking at the cameras more often, just to get a glimpse of her walking through the hallways. She was so gentle with his children like they were her very own and it made him restless because it heightened the attraction he was so desperately trying to ignore. He felt like such a creep. He almost fired her but decided against it. He’ll admit he had fallen out of love with his wife long before they got divorced. The constant fights, the way they never saw eye to eye, the way she didn’t show any appreciation for anything he did; they didn’t share a bed for almost a year before the divorce. It was loveless for a long time; but it provided a kind of stability that he and the kids craved. Losing her didn’t send him spiraling because he was still deeply in love, it sent him spiraling because he knew it would change everything drastically. Seeing Niamh create a perfect routine for them to fall into, the way they clearly adored her— he didn’t want to rip that away because he was a grown fucking man with a crush. So he let her stay. Even after she almost beat his door off its hinges to yell in his face. Virgil can’t help the way he smiles at the memory. Soft foot falls reach his ears before her hands loop around his waist. She rests her head in the middle of his back and he almost sighs out loud. Content.

“You left me in the guest bedroom.”

He can’t see her face but he knows she’s pouting her cute mouth like she does so often with him. Warmth spreads throughout his entire body.

“You could barely stay awake while we showered, so I carried you to bed. You were out as soon as your head hit the pillow.” He says with a chuckle.

“But I wanted to stay in your room. With you.” She gives a little yawn after the words leave her mouth.

He feels like he could actually fucking melt in a puddle of goo. Does she have any idea what she does to him?

“You’ve made a mess of my bed, baby. I slept with you in the room for a while. I only woke up a few minutes ago.” He responds truthfully. He turns his body just in time to catch her hiding her face bashfully. Niamh buries her face in his chest instead as he chuckles.

“‘M sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I loved every single second and I’d do it all again.”

He can’t resist the urge to grab her plump behind in his hands to give a gentle squeeze while pulling her closer to his body. He groans a little at how soft she feels in his hands. How did he become so lucky? Not only with her literally stumbling into his life like this, but being the man she trusts enough to share her body with.

“You did?”

He can hear the little sliver of insecurity in her voice. He knows it has something to do with her inexperience.

“Even more than you did, and you loved it a lot.” He says without a shadow of doubt.

“It was okay…” she ducks her head too late so he catches the teasing smile on her face.

“Okay? I’m sure everyone in the community knows my name now. Virgillll..” he tries and fails to imitate her whiny, breathless voice.

“Stop!” Niamh slaps his chest and burrows into his chest like she wants to actually crawl into his skin.

“It’s true though.”

“Yeah? Well you try taking a dick that big and see how you’ll sound.”

A sharp laugh is pulled abruptly from his chest.

“And you didn’t even take all of it, hm? Imagine how you’re gonna sound when I fit every single inch-”

“Shut up!”

Niamh slaps her dainty hands over his mouth. Amusement twinkle in his eyes as he looks down on her and flicks his tongue against her palm.

She pulls her hand away, eyeing him in faux disgust. Virgil stares down at her and he’s sure his gaze is tender; he doesn’t care. She eyes him with a contemplative look on her face.

“Your smile is beautiful. I hope I get to see more of it.” She mutters shyly.

He tips her chin up to kiss her softly in lieu of responding. With a little sigh, she melts into him completely. He pulls away to rub at her chin with his thumb.

“It’s almost 1:30. We need to leave soon. Do you need me to pick you up on my way back?”

“Um I have some shopping to do and I’m not sure when I’ll be done with that so it’s okay. I’ll call a taxi or something.” She smiles softly at him, dropping her chin against his chest. He wonders if she can feel the fast pace of his heartbeat.

“Do you have your license?”

She shakes her head with an embarrassed expression on her face.

“No need to be embarrassed, baby. I understand your circumstances. I would’ve allowed you to take one of the cars but…” He pulls his phone out of his pocket to hand it to her. “Put your number in, just get ready at your place. I’ll get the kids ready and pick you up on our way to dinner.”

Niamh saves her number and hands him back the phone.

“Okay. I made a reservation for 7.”

“Okay. Could you um… could I borrow a pair of boxers?”

His dick twitches in his sweats at the thought of her being completely naked under his shirt again.

“Of course.”

Niamh steps out of his embrace and he follows her out the kitchen. He tries not to chuckle at her gait but fails terribly. It’s a little slower with her legs a bit further apart.

“I swear on everything, Virgil, if you're laughing at me after you did this…”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll kiss it better later.”

He smirks at the sound of her breath hitching. Suddenly, he can’t wait to have her all to himself again.

*************

When Virgil planned this family outing, he forgot what going outside actually meant. Being isolated so long made him forget that he’s an actual celebrity. He sits tensely, trying not to snap at paparazzi sitting outside the restaurant trying to be subtle as they take flick after flick. Thankfully, the children don’t seem to notice and it’s all thanks to Niamh as she engages them in conversation about any and everything. Beautiful Niamh in her long sleeved, black dress that shows off the black tights underneath. He has never seen her in heels before but he hopes this isn’t the last time. The shoes accentuate her long legs so well. And she looks so beautiful with her hair styled in an up-do that shows off her cheekbones with a few curls falling into her face. She’s so beautiful and that’s another reason he’s a little annoyed. The waiter has obviously been trying to flirt. The young man had been excited to see him and asked for a picture, which he politely declined, not wanting everyone’s attention on them. He then subtly inquired about Niamh’s position in his life.

“So… who’s the lady who finally managed to get Virgil van Dijk out the house after his injury?”

Virgil had hurried to let him know Niamh was the kids’ nanny, not wanting her face and name all over blogs. He’s realizing now that the cheeky bastard asked to know if he had the okay to flirt with the woman.

“Um, here’s the molten chocolate lava cake I suggested.” The boy is tall in a way that makes his limbs look awkward and his cheeks are blotchy from Niamh’s attention.

“Oh, but I didn’t order-”

“It’s um… it’s on the house.”

Virgil wants to gnash his teeth at the pretty smile she beams up at the man.

“We’ll take the bill now.” Virgil didn’t intend to make his voice so rough but his patience is wearing thin.

“Oh! Of course.”

The waiter, who introduced himself as Brandon, looks at Niamh one more time before shuffling away.

Virgil watches, fascinated, as Niamh manages to make five pieces out of cake no bigger than Aurora’s fist. She spoons a piece in each of the kids’ mouths and he almost protests since they just had gelato for dessert. But before he can, she scoops a piece of cake on the spoon again and shyly stretches it in his direction. He tenses. If he leans forward to eat directly off the spoon while she holds it, it will look intimate enough to create a headline out of.

“I shouldn’t. I need to stay in shape even through injury.”

He hopes the excuse is believable but his heart sinks at the little pout on her face.

“I’ll have daddy’s piece!” Aurora and Shelly yell in unison.

Niamh offers them a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and gives both girls the remaining pieces of cake. So unselfish; he feels like shit. Virgil hurries to pay the bill and still leaves the waiter a generous tip even though he’s annoyed at him.

“Thanks for taking us to dinner, dad.”

Shelly, always thoughtful, always appreciative, whispers as she hugs at his waist as soon as they enter the house.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Virgil stands in the living room watching as Niamh ushers them all upstairs to get them ready for bed. It’s a little past 9:15 and they have school tomorrow. By the time he’s done brushing his teeth and changing into something more comfortable, he hears the guest bedroom door open and slam shut.

“For fuck’s sake.” He scrubs a hand down his face and eyes his bed that’s stripped bare. It might as well have an “out of commission” sign hung above it. He exits his room and almost shuffles his feet down the hallway to the door of her room. He actually feels nervous and he wants to laugh at himself for it. He gives two firm knocks on the door before swinging it open. Virgil eyes Niamh standing by the vanity with her phone in hand while it’s plugged into the wall. She’s still fully dressed and definitely ignoring him. Sighing, he reaches behind to close and lock the door.

“Thank you for coming to dinner.” He starts cautiously, just to gauge her reaction.

“Okay.”

“Niamh…” he trails off with a tired groan.

“I just think it’s funny how you weren’t concerned with keeping your body in shape when you were chugging whiskey like water but a dime sized piece of cake is where you draw the line.”

He chuckles bitterly. “Wow, that’s low, Niamh.”

She chews on her lower lip and he can already tell she feels regret. It shows in the hunch of her shoulders and the way she can’t look at him.

“I just… I saw your body language all throughout dinner, Virgil and the way you hurried to let the server know I’m ‘just the nanny’ and… if you’re embarrassed to be seen outside with me then why invite me in the first place?” She questions with a sad frown on her mouth.

Virgil can only stare in stunned disbelief for a few seconds— then he starts chuckling. He makes his way over and drags her by the waist to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed.

“You think I’m embarrassed to be seen with you? Niamh, there were people taking pictures. I just thought accepting that cake would look intimate enough for some headlines. I know how cruel the public can be and I was trying to protect you, baby.”

“Oh.” She looks down at him bashfully. She rests her palms on his shoulders.

“And I was tense because that scrawny fucking waiter kept trying to flirt with you.”

“No he wasn’t. He was just being nice.” Her breath stutters when he playfully bites at her lower belly through her clothes.

“Yes he was.”

Her body calls to him in the gentle way she quivers and the subtle way her breathing picks up. He doesn’t dare resist. He grips at the hem of her dress and slowly pushes it up her legs. Shamelessly, he buries his face in the apex of her thighs— taking a deep inhale. He groans long and low in his throat at the heat of it- at the light musk. Her fingers grip at his hair, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. Virgil grips at the material of her black tights, it gives easily under his strength and rips right down the middle. She gasps above him.

“Still sore?” He bumps his nose against her black, cotton panties.

“Uh huh.”

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

Her soft thighs quiver in his hold.

“Yes you did.” She pouts.

“Mhmm. Take your clothes off, baby.”

*******

Niamh’s feeble attempt to flee his hot, relenting mouth is futile. The iron grip he has on her waist makes her immobile. The woman blinks down at him, eyes wide and teary- pleading. She still wears an expression of disbelief— like she’s still unable to wrap her head around the fact that he has her in this position. Even though he has already pulled one orgasm from her. He’s lying on the floor with Niamh’s legs spread on either side of his head. He learned his lesson earlier on just how wet she’s able to get and he couldn’t afford her ruining these sheets too; so he decided the floor was the better option. He’s glad he listened because she is currently making a mess of him; the entire lower half of his face is dripping— even the collar of his plain white tee is a sopping mess. Virgil wants to curse himself for choosing tonight of all nights to actually wear a shirt.

“Virgil- hah. Too much.”

He’s not sure if Niamh is just extra sensitive to every sensation or it’s because her body isn’t used to this kind of pleasure yet; whichever one it is, it makes her so easy to rile up. By the time Virgil kissed his way down her body and heaved her onto his face, he only had to flick at her clit with his tongue a few times before she was shaking through an orgasm. He was surprised but decided he wasn’t going to stop. Not until he’s had his fill; not until she’s begging for him to stop. He slithers his tongue through her warm, wet folds and teases at her entrance with it. She keens long and low in her throat — her body jerks causing his nose to bump into her clit. She tries to ease off his face, he allows her a few centimeters while he glares at her.

“You try to move off my face again, Niamh…” his voice is gruff with the warning.

“B-but it’s… I- I already came. It feels… it’s too much.” Her voice trembles with the effort. Gosh seeing her like this is enough to drive him wild. He never knew how much he craved a little submission. The way she eyes like she can’t believe he’s even capable of making her feel this good. Something nasty burns in the back of his mind that spreads shameful warmth through his entire body. ‘I’m her first.’ He’s the first man to have ever had her like this. The first to ever be inside her. The only man that knows what she looks like when she feels good. The only man that knows what she sounds like. ‘It should fucking stay that way.’

“Mhmm I know, baby. But you want to be good for me, don’t you?”

She looks down at him with those innocent eyes and nods.

“Good girl. Give me one more.” He pulls her back down on his mouth and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. Warm. Wet. Niamh. He grips her ass in both hands and drags her back and forth on his tongue. She glides along so easily, only little resistance from the texture of her swollen clit each time. He can’t help himself; her taste is so heady— pontent. Her little cries make him shiver to his bones. He’s so hard it hurts. He reaches one hand to push his shorts and underwear down before quickly fisting his dick. He groans at finally getting some stimulation and the vibration sets off a little sob from the woman above him.

One more orgasm turns to three. On the second one, she throbs wildly against his tongue and he moans from the pit of his stomach as he comes. Ropes of it spilling over his hand and on his lower belly as he fucks wildly into his tight fist. He keeps going even after he’s spent. On the third one Niamh actually starts begging for mercy through her tears as she wets his face and shakes through it.

“Virg, please. No more. Please! Hah! Can’t. ‘M sorry.”

He eases her off his mouth and carefully slides her down his body.

“It’s okay, you did so well. So good for me, princess.” He coos as he hugs her into his chest. Niamh trembles like a leaf, teeth clenched tightly as if the orgasm is still buzzing unrelentlessly through her body.

It takes a few minutes for Niamh to gather her bearings enough for him to take her to the bathroom. She’s pliant and clings to him as they stand under the warm stream of the shower. Virgil gently sits her down on the counter as he swishes mouthwash around in his mouth. Niamh stares at him through hooded eyes with something akin to reverence dancing in her pretty, brown orbs.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks as soon as he spits the contents in his mouth into the sink.

“How do you do it? How do you know how to make me feel that good?”

He smiles at the flustered expression on her face.

“Years of practice and experience. Observing how you react to certain touches.” He moves to stand between her legs.

“How… How did your wife go months without…? Like I’ve only gotten a small taste and I know it’s all I’m going to ever think about. I have exams soon too” She whines as if it’s genuinely distressing.

Virgil chokes on his laughter feeling the way his chest warms. How the fuck can one person be this cute?

“You better focus on your exams, baby.” He says a bit sternly, rubbing small circles into her thighs.

“How can I even think of studying in my free time when I know what your mouth feels like on my…” she trails off shyly.

“Maybe I’ll reward you? Hm? After every study session, if you’re able to answer all the questions I ask I make you feel good.” He murmurs suggestively before capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Deal.” She tries to chase his lips again but a tiny knock on the door makes them both stiffen.

“Niamh? I had a nightmare, can I sleep with you?” Aurora’s tiny voice both kicks them into gear.

“Coming, sweetheart!”

Niamh hurries to slide the oversized shirt overhead and slips her panties and sleep shorts up her legs. Virgil almost falls in his haste to get his boxers and shorts on. She’d laugh if she wasn’t so flustered. He throws his shirt in the hamper and they both power walk into the room. Once they reach the door, they both pause- eyeing each other. The question is clear without either of them having to ask. ‘How the fuck are they going to explain this?’ Niamh sucks in a deep breath and swings the door open.

“Hey pumpkin. Come in.”

Aurora rubs her little fist against her eye that’s heavy with sleep. The second she realizes her father is in the room, her face lights up.

“Daddy? You had a bad dream too?”

“Uh… yes?”

Niamh eyes the man above Aurora’s head, trying to keep her laughter at bay. Virgil bites at his lower lip hard enough to bleed.

“Don’t worry, Niamh gives the best cuddles. She’ll make the bad dreams go away.”

The little girl reaches for both their hands and leads them to the bed. Aurora slides in the middle; Virgil and Niamh flank on either side of her. The little girl tugs them closer so they both hug her little form between their bodies.

“Night, Niamh. Night, daddy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

They both whisper the words simultaneously. Niamh eyes him with a look so tender it makes him melt against the bed. Reaching an arm above Aurora’s head, he rubs at the apple of her cheeks softly.

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

“Sweet dreams, Niamh.”

[jjwolves]

haiii I lov your work,,,,, can I get merci hcs exce pt shes like a villain??? I rly like that idea n no one talks abt it

XENO ARCADIA ▼△▼△▼△▼△▼▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

What: 5 Villainous Merci X Reader Headcanons

Who: Merci from ENA (by Joel G)

How Much: ~1100 words, ~6 mins

Credits: Image Banner → Joel G, Divider → @ishyss3ll

Warnings: Language, Murder

You first met Merci when you were exploring a circular labyrinth which would have frequent place-quakes. You were a little unnerved when you first met her, to be honest—you were just wandering when you walked right into her as she rounded a corner. Some entities were like people, capable of thought, cryptic advice and, hopefully, conversation, while others were more like forces of nature which didn’t think twice about afflicting whoever just perceived them. You weren’t sure what Merci was, besides a mime of some sort. You stood straight and your nerves were tested as she loomed over you, letting her arms drape over the staff she held on her shoulders. Whatever her intentions, she seemed to arrive at a decision and began forcibly steering you towards an exit. You let yourself be manhandled by her until you reached your destination, at which she pushed you out and her hand-puppets said, “Come back sometime!” before stomping away angrily. It was hard to read her. But you were thinking that you’d take her up on her offer sometime.

You began visiting your strange new mime friend whenever you passed through. She seemed a little frightening when you met her, but ever since her helpful redirection, she was growing on you. It wasn’t long before you were stopping by to see her miniature performances where she’d juggle snail shells while balancing on her staff. She’d immediately always notice when you were in the crowd, and honestly, it wasn’t hard—the people watching Merci all looked the same: shadows with white masks and a swirling, sketchy eye. Your appearance stood out pretty distinctly among the homogenous attendees. Once, after the show wrapped up, she bowed and the audience left to hitch a ride in her shadow, she beckoned you over animatedly. Eager to reconnect with your friend, you skipped on over to her. She suddenly seemed a little bashful when addressing you. “Well, I should say thanks for catching my show, friend. It’s great that you could make it.” You said that you were happy that you could make it, too. Her performances are wonderful! Masked expression unchanging, Merci sighed with something like a cross between annoyance and fondness before her body language shifted into something a little more thoughtful, a little more melancholy. “I hope to see you in the crowd again.”

It takes a while to learn that what Merci says… Isn’t really what she’s saying. Or, at the very least, she speaks in choose-your-own-adventure, except no choice you can make was intended by the writer. You have to read her body language to read the author’s notes. She could be saying “Take a left at the skeleton elephant! The skelephant, you know”, but in reality, you need to squint your eyes and watch her contortions to hear her truth: “Go wherever the fuck you want and stop talking to me.” She was truthfully a lot shorter with people than you expected. And more profane. But she was also a lot softer with you than expected, too. You’d hear “Thanks for coming out! Fans of my work are always appreciated; that’s the truth”, but you’d feel “You’re so… sweet to me. I want to interpret your art more than anyone else’s.” And in response, well, the only sane thing to do to the mime you’d grown so attached to was to hug her. She was warm, and weird, and smelled like construction paper. Your heart grew hotter. But it dropped a little when she managed to squirm around in your embrace just enough to give an ominous portent: “I’m glad you’ll stay for me… I tried to warn you, you know. I won’t be able to let go of this. Of you. Hearing me, seeing me.” You didn’t know what she meant by that. All you knew was that you saw other entities here less and less. All you knew was that Merci’s audiences were getting bigger and bigger. Her shadow would need to get deeper to accommodate. Her hands would need to stop running through your hair—saliva is not good as conditioner. “You taste like soap. No, don’t feel bad—it’s very chic!”

One day, you went looking for Merci and couldn’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t on the stage made of bamboo. She wasn’t sitting anywhere drinking sake. Maybe she was backstage. You knew she was weird about bringing you back there, but you felt like it’d be good for both of you to see each other. You reached a hand out and drew back the world’s curtain, exposing a tall, dimly-lit corridor held up with wooden support beams. You wandered on into the corridor hiding behind all that was real when you found a room with lighting, shining like a beacon in the darkness. Merci was there, looming over a strange figure—some sort of colorful character that you’d seen lingering around the stage before. Now that you were closer, you could see what was really happening, and you were… shocked. And made a little bit ill. The mime leaned over the entity, using her one hand to suck out the person’s light from their one eye socket. They stood, frozen, as they turned monochrome and their face became a mask. It wasn’t long before they joined Merci’s shadow. She turned towards you immediately. No sense in hiding. “I didn’t really want you seeing after-show business, but I’ve never been great at hiding shit.” You stood stock-still, a little bit frightened of the masked figure as she stomped over. “Take it easy, geez. You’re making me nervous, standing like that. I was just making some new fans. I’m getting pretty popular, you know?” Merci began running one of her hand-mouths through your hair, giving a low chuckle. You didn’t have mental space left to think about the spit in your hair or whatever—should you tell someone about this? Should you do something? You loved Merci but this was weird and definitely not a good thing, you were pretty sure. “They’re big fans of you too! You’re a star now!” Shadowy figures emerged to clap for your performance.

Things are surprisingly normal in your relationship even after finding out that Merci turns people into her little shadow sycophants. A part of her seems relieved, even, that she’s able to share this part of her life with you. You’re obviously a little sketched out by the whole thing, honestly, but it doesn’t matter to her. She brings out her audience to applaud you for little stuff, like finding her staff after she had forgotten where it was or coming up with a clever pun. You’re pretty sure she has full control of them, but she gets angry at them anyway. “Wow, my partner is dazzling, right? Give them a round of fucking applause!” If any entities hassle you for your illogical flesh-shapes, they go missing. Merci doesn’t mention it, but when you’re not watching, she storms over to them and forces them backstage. “The spotlight isn’t on forever, you know. Quit worrying about people who don’t worry about you. Problem solved!”

A/N: Hope it's good Anon. 'Villain' is kinda vague so I tried to spin something up. What's fun about characters with like 1 min of screentime is that you can make up whatever about them.

[neurodivergent-and-mentally-ill]

Tw: mentions of prostitution

"...Prefect, are you... uh... are you okay?" A concerned Jamil asked Aeryn, who was clearly lacking sleep and sugar, as said Prefect climbed down from the second story balcony of NRC.

"Yep, fine. Totally fine. I've been working as a mercenary since I was fourteen, so this is nothing," Aeryn said and landed on his feet with absolutely no grace whatsoever, falling onto his ass quite spectacularly.

Jamil was about to ask why Aeryn would do such a thing when he heard a familiar voice call out.

"Koebi-chan~ come on, I just wanna show you somethin' cool in Octavinelle's aquariums!"

"Ah," Jamil said as he watched the white-haired dummy brush the dirt from his pants. "Where's Grim?"

"I sent him off with the Adeuce duo to prevent casualties," Aeryn said, completely serious… which really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Grim would’ve likely been taken by Floyd to lure the shorter man into following the damn eel.

Jamil nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Wouldn’t want another ‘anemone incident’. Thank the Seven that I managed to catch Kalim before he signed the deal.”

Aeryn laughed, a slightly raspy sound because it had been a while since he’d had something to laugh about. “Heh, yeah, that sounds like him. He would’ve been eaten up back home, y’know. Not even bones would be left of him,” Aeryn chuckled, but his eyes were dimmed with a sadness that was so clearly a sign of homesickness.

“Do… you miss your home very much?” Jamil asked as he followed Aeryn, who was walking toward the forest grounds, surprising himself. Jamil wasn’t exactly big on sharing his feelings and all that, but with this strange man from another world, he felt a little safer.

Aeryn only smiled, a melancholy look in his eyes, before starting to speak again in a softer tone. “My home… is a violent place, unlike this world. It’s cutthroat, harsh, greedy, and overall just a shitty place. But the people, my aunties… they are what I miss. They are ‘home’ to me.”

‘Aunties? I don’t recall Aeryn mentioning family before.’ Jamil couldn’t help but blush a little when he realized that Aeryn had shared something very private, whether he realized it or not. “What about your parents?” Jamil blurted out before silencing himself. ‘What has gotten into me today?! I shouldn’t ask about something so private!’

Aeryn didn’t seem bothered, however. “I never met my mom, but I knew she was a prostitute. She died giving birth to me and I was raised by the other ladies in the brothel, my aunties. My dad sucks, but I have my aunties, so I got all the support I needed, even if some were tougher on me growing up than others,” Aeryn spoke warmly, smiling a little. “I got picked on for having a whore as a mother and for being raised in a red-light district, but who cares?”

“I do.”

“…”

“…”

“You-”

“Please forget what I just said.”

Now at the edge of the forest, the two just looked at each other, Jamil blushing with his face buried in his hands out of sheer embarrassment and Aeryn stunned, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in an ‘o’ shape. After the longest minute of their lives, Aeryn stepped forward and hugged Jamil, arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in his shoulder. He smelled of exotic spices and expensive incense. Jamil froze. The Prefect as he knew him was not one for physical touch. Jamil had seen the short man break a Savannaclaw student’s nose after the beastman grabbed the Prefect’s arm, and then scrub the skin bloody in the bathroom.

“Jamil, you have no idea how much I appreciate you. If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, you can always stop by Ramshackle or drop Kalim off for me to watch,” Aeryn murmured against Jamil’s school uniform. “Thank you.”

Jamil slowly warmed into the hug with a barely audible sigh. “R-right, of course! You’ve done a lot for the school, so you’re always welcome at Scarabia.” ‘In my dorm room.’

The two stayed like that for a few more seconds before Aeryn pulled Jamil along to pick the berries they came for.

[project-claroscuro]

Hello everyone! It’s been almost a year since the definitive demo got published. I decided maybe now was a good time to start asking for voice actors for Claroscuro! Just keep in mind there will not be any full line voice acting. It will just be voices/noises.

[REQUERIMENTS]

No background noise or static.

You can audition for as many characters as you want. However, It is preferred to have them distinguishable from each-other, especially if they’re being voiced by the same person.

No prior demo reel or audio, nor acting experience, is required.

There will be no deadline, the audition will close after all the roles have been filled.

[ROLES]

Nikanor Voice type: Childish, curious, usually sounds unsure of what he’s saying….except when he’s not.

-Whoa…. (Surprised) -Whoaaa! (Excited) -Hmm... (Thinking) -Oh? (Realization) -Aha! (as if finding an item) -Huh? (Confused) -Ehehee…. (Nervous Laugh, 2 of them) -Gasp -Quiet Sobbing -Winded Breathing -Long and Pained Coughing -Panicked Breathing -Ahh… (Dreadful Realization) -A couple of playful laughs (one longer than the other) -A couple of "Sigh" sounds. (one for a serious moment, other for a lighthearted moment…..let's just say Amarant is a comic relief) -Waking up sounds. -Exhasperated Groan -Hmph (a pouty one) -A couple of crying sounds, one longer than the other. -Scream (He dies A LOT so I need plenty of shrill screams. Short ones are needed too.)

Amarant Voice type: Energetic, loud, childish. Her voice should transmit confidence.

-Haah! (For attack. One normal and one VERY angry) -Smug Laugh -Triumphant Laugh -Mocking Laugh -Huh? (Confused) -Hmph! (Annoyed) -Angry Grunt -Exhasperated Groan -Uhh…. (Awkward) -Hmm... (Thinking) -Oh? (Realization) -Hahahaa… (Nervous Laugh) -Scared Shriek -Gasp -Huh?! (Angry) -Argh! (Outraged) -Pained Breathing -Long, painful scream -Weak Laugh

Hellhound Voice type: In his late 20s, stern and serious. Slightly deep voice and light British accent.

-Exasperated Sigh (about 2 or 3 of them) -Outraged “Eh?” or “Ah?” -Gentle Laugh -Tsk -Grunts (sad, angry, surprised, painful; 2-3 of each) -Panicked Breathing -Short Laugh -Ah (Deadpan) -Heavy Breathing -Weak, Pained Laugh

Bellamy Voice type: Masculine, sounds like in his early 30s. Harsh and exasperated.

-Short Grunt -Argh! (Exasperated Grunt) -Ha! (Triumphant) -Mocking Laugh -Animalistic Growl (One short and one more menacing) -Hmm? (Confused) -Sigh (Annoyed) -Sigh (Tired) -Distressed Screaming  -Long, painful scream

Anya Voice type: Playful and confident. Think of the pranskter/kusogaki sounding characters you’d hear.

-Smug Laugh -Ha! (Trumphant) -Ah! (Happy surprise) -Nervous Laugh -Ahh…. (Scared) -Hmph! (Annoyed) -Pained Grunt -Distressed Screaming  -Distressed Sobbing

Taya Voice type: Carefree and relaxed. Like Anya, she’s a playful and confident prankster (though she’s more of a mad scientist than a kusogaki). 

-Smug Laugh -Short Laugh -Huuuh? (Teasing) -Aha! (Realization) -Exhausted Sigh -Frustrated Yell -Panicked Breathing -Crazy Laughing (I need two of them, one more broken than the other)

Puppeteer Voice type: Masculine, elderly voice. Has a very gentle and wise-like tone of voice.

-Hoh (Mild Surprise) -Tired Sigh -Gentle Laugh -Happy Humming -Gasp -Hmm? (Confused) -Quiet Sobbing

????? Voice type: Mature female, sounds like in her late 30-s. Harsh and stern, though there’s a hint of melancholy.

-Short Grunt -Exasperated Grunt -Mocking Laugh -Eh? (Confused) -Sigh (Annoyed) -Sigh (Tired) -Ahh… (Dreadful Realization) -Huuuh (Condescending) -Distressed Screaming  -Long, angry scream -Long, painful scream -Quiet Sobbing -Weak Laugh

If interested, send your auditions recording or video to ximsol180@gmail.com. Make sure you clearly state who you’re auditioning for! Thank you in advance for your interest!

** EDIT: Hellhound, Anya, Taya and the Puppeteer's voices are already taken. The rest are still open. Good luck!**

[rd0265667]

Momo x Reader: I would.

Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon @justme-idle

A/N: The last of my Misamo fics, and umm, enjoy

“I’m telling you, you look good. Stop pulling or it’s gonna crease now.” Mina said with her eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed as she leaned on the doorframe.

“I know, I know, I just wanted to look perfect.” You replied, causing Mina’s voice to soften. “How’re you holding up?” Mina asked. You were anticipating this question, it was a big day afterall. “A little nervous, but overall, I’m doing alright.” You say with a small smile. “Well, the service is scheduled to begin soon, so try not to dilly dally, it’ll be unfortunate to keep the guests waiting.” Mina replied, walking to the mirror, adjusting her dress before heading to walk out. “Hey, Myoui.” You call out just before Mina walked out from the room

“I know you were busy, but thanks for being here.” Mina shot you a small smile, a hint of melancholy and sadness. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Looking up at the mirror, you take a deep breath, a smile on your face. The same one you had practised in the mirror for days, in the hopes that you could hold it through the service. It’d be unseemly to start crying in the middle of it.

Stepping out from the room, you look to Mina, who had already situated herself at the lectern, who looked back at you, shooting you an inquisitive thumbs up. Seeing you nod in response, Mina cued the band, who began playing a slow soft tune. “Friends, Family, Loved Ones. As I’m sure you all know, I’m Mina Myoui, friends with both Y/N and Momo. We’re gathered here today to-” Just as Mina began to speak, you quickly jumped in, causing Mina to look at you with a quizzical look. “I wanna speak a little before the whole thing begins.” You whisper to Mina, who looks confused, but nods, handing you the mic. As Mina stepped off the lectern, her speech taken with her, you stood up, a deep inhale as you looked across the crowd. Sana and the girls sat right up front, next to your parents and Momo’s parents. Behind them, a messy collage of friends, family, coworkers. People who meant a lot to you and Momo. You were glad to see them here, with the whirlwind of confusion you had been under, you were too swamped to check RSVPs, and especially with how abrupt the whole thing was. 

“Hello, Friends, Family, All of you. I’d like to start off by saying how grateful I am that all of you made it. I’m really happy to see all of you, and I’m sure Momo is too. I know this is a little unconventional, but, before we get everything started, I wanted to talk a little about Momo. I know a lot of you know Momo, in fact I think all of you know Momo as the goofy one who spaced out a little too much and loved jokbal, but I wanted to talk about our story, how I met her, how, how she became the light of my life.”

.

.

.

“Oh when I get out of here, I’m gonna wring the life out of that bitch ass elmo.” You grumbled under your breath, picking yourself up from the ground. Your school needed you to sign up for extra curriculars by friday last week, and you had trusted your friend not to mess it up, but of course, your friend had accidentally mixed up both of your envelopes, so while she’s enjoying archery, you were stuck in a dancing class you didn’t even want to attend. “That was very graceful.” You heard a teasing voice from behind you, causing you to look back, and you saw her, a light layer of sweat glistening off her forehead, a teasing smile with her arms crossed. “Yup, a graceful fall, like a panda who drank too much whiskey.” You sighed, raising your hand up as she grabbed you by the hand, pulling you up. “You’re Momo right? From Chemistry. With Ms Marina.” You asked, Momo nodding. “Right on, been looking, creep?” Momo asked as she bumped you on the shoulder, a light giggle. “Yeah, been looking to burn my notes.” You hummed as Momo giggled. “So, what brings you here? I say this with love, you do not seem the dancing type.” Momo mused as she walked to her bag, rummaging about, pulling out an isotonic drink, tossing it to you. “Well, I wanted to take Archery, but my friend had to go and mix up our stuff, and now, here I am.” You sigh, taking a small sip “Well, thank god for your friend, because now I get to meet you.” Momo said nonchalantly, causing you to almost spit your drink out. “Come on! Come on!” Momo grabbed you by the arm, pulling you to the mirror. “Okay, so, this is how you do this move.” She said, positioning herself behind you, placing one hand on your waist, the other on your hand, puppeteering you, all the while you were fighting the urge to combust. You’d have to thank Elmo later.

.

.

.

“And that person is sat in the corner, the one dressed like a yassified calico critter.” You say, pointing to the corner, as your friend stood up, theatrically bowing as the crowd looked on, slight giggles at the story. “And as I’m sure you all knew, Momo was a unique person. Sure, she was serious when she had to be, but when she didn’t, whoa, she was the most random person we’d ever met. You know those random questions she’d send at like 2am, like “how would you arrest a one armed person. How would the handcuff situation even work?”, or “is Macaroni and Cheese ‘Mac’ because it’s short for Macaroni, or because it’s the acronym for Macaroni and Cheese.” You can laugh, Nayeon, don’t worry about it.” You commented “I wanted to tell you guys one of those stories that really stuck out to me.” .

.

.

It had been a long night for you, work had piled up at the station, so you were forced to work well into the night. By the time you got home, it was around 3am, and you expected to return to an empty home. Instead, you saw Momo laying on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, eyes closed shut despite the show playing on the TV, all in a futile attempt to stay awake. Walking to her, you knelt down, placing your arms under her, before picking her up and carrying her to the room. “You’re back.” Momo mumbled, nose scrunched, holding in a yawn. “I told you to go to sleep first, no? You didn’t have to wait for me, love. I could have been so much later.” You whispered, using your back to push the room door open. “Well, I missed you.” Momo mumbled, causing you to chuckle. “Wouldn’t it be better to go to sleep, so when you woke up, I’d be there already? Instead of having to stay awake to wait for me.” You asked, causing Momo to shrug “Hey, your job is to blindly support me, not give me completely rational advice.” Momo argued, causing you to let out a small laugh. Once you placed Momo on the bed, you turned to the bathroom, planning to take a shower. “Hey babe, I have a question.” Momo mumbled groggily You sighed, turning around as you sat next to her. You had been with her for too long to not know what she was about to ask you. “Would you love me if I was a rock?” She asked, causing you to raise an eyebrow. It had usually been a worm, or some other animal. This was new. “You always ask me such silly questions. Go to sleep, love.” You said with a small smile, placing a kiss on her forehead as she hummed in agreement, pulling the blanket over her.

.

.

.

The crowd laughed a little, though you felt a small wave of sadness rush through you. “Thank you all, I hope this helped put a smile on your faces. I know she wouldn’t want this to be too sad.” Looking to Mina, you nod, getting her to step back up to the lectern, as you retired back to the seat near the front, to a few backpacks, and whispers of condolences “Friends, Family, Loved Ones. As I’m sure you all know, I’m Mina Myoui, friends with both Y/N and Momo. We’re gathered here today to mourn the passing of a great friend, a great daughter, a great wife. Hirai Momo.”

“Hey, most of the guests are heading into the main hall, you coming?” Mina asked, looking at you, while you stood frozen at the spot, the merciless raindrops pelting you on the back. “I’ll be there in a short while.” You quietly reply, Mina nodding. “Take your time buddy.” With a sigh, you sit, your head leaning on her gravestone. “Hey love. I miss you. It was hard to smile through all that.” You whispered to the stone, as if you would hear a whisper in the wind. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without you.”

As you whispered to the dead, a question bubbled in your mind. You sighed, it’s almost as if she knew. “Would you love me if I was a rock?” Under the unrelenting assault of rain, you slowly ran your hand across the top of the tombstone. “I would.”

[florsial]

you should totally talk about ur lily more😔 (pleasepleaplepleasepleaspeleaapleaase)

Sigh, I have a very love-hate relationship with Lily with how some of her fans can get. Unfortunately, I did post about her at some point but took it down. Truthfully, I do love her in my own personal way.

Anyways, here's some headcanons:

-She's from Spain and was raised Catholic. Her family moved to the UK and unlike Petunia, Lily settled kinda well while Petunia wasn't used to the sudden change in environment. They moved when Lily was 10 and Petunia was 12.

-I feel like people will hate me for this, but I think her friendship with Severus was one of the most important ones. First friend-first love kinda of thing. They were each other's first person and even when they part ways, Lily will still feel fond of him even when they both wronged each other (because there is no way in hell two lonely teens weren't gonna hurt each other one way or another). Modern AU version of them is just two teenage girls who don't know where the boundaries of romantic-platonic end and begin which causes a lot of weird feelings and toxicity (don't ask how I know that)

-She's like one of those people who are like "Stop doing that, you're making me stressed", and the other person just placed a book in a different place. There is always a certain way she likes things done because she feels like works better, so if another way is introduced, she will be skeptical about its efficiency

-I don't see her reading fiction books all that much. She would much prefer biographies to draw her life inspirations from, literature essays to validate her internal points, and poems for small readings to just relax with. I think if she would read nonfiction, they would definitely have an overall message that she obsesses over. However, I think she would LOVE magazines.

-Not all that into movies, I don't think she would have the patience to watch them.

-We as a fandom must never forget her skill for potions. I think in the muggle world, she was very into chemistry (I've always found this funny stereotype about religious people not liking stuff like chemistry)

-Much more easily agitated during the war. Her head was constantly filling with regrets and a back-and-forth desire to run back to Petunia or stay with the Order. Once Harry was born, she kinda had this melancholy look about her, she won't be able to return or try to make amends with her sister for a long long time, or if she's even able to. At every meeting, she had a frustrated look in her eye but when she was pregnant/after Harry's birth, she just looked like she was reluctantly accepting a terrible fate. She's happy with the family she's crafted for herself but also misses when she didn't have to go through the loneliness of making one for herself because she had Petunia and that was more than enough for Lily.

-I don't think she regrets helping muggles at all. That's not what I'm saying. I'm more in the thinking that she wanted to the comfort of her own family in a such difficult time. Jealously when Regulus dies, Sirius can finally mourn and put his family to rest while Lily fears for her family's life every day as they live, living in regret and feeling like an outcast. James and his parents and her desire for her mother when she's pregnant, yes Effie is kind, but she isn't Lily's mom. Remus has the comfort of knowing his family is safe because Lyall is a wizard, and the same can go for Peter. Lily's family probably doesn't even know what was happening.

-All that anger and frustration kinda boils over and I WISH that JK Rowling made her more angry before her death. Lily's life was unfair! She deserved to yell and scream, plea for her son's life but also cuss out Voldemort. Screaming and crying (literally), shaking with fear but also anger, and I know, female characters can be soft/sensitive/emotional, it's not a bad thing. It's just I wish she was more angry/a mess because she was seen as a witty, sharp-tongued girl! This stereotypical fierce redhead! I would've been fine with her simply pleading for her son's life even in the most pathetic way (no shame) but her personality was established as being very fierce by JK Rowling!! But this could honestly be just me and yes, I know, situations change people sometimes. I just wished there was more anger, or maybe I'm angry on her behalf lol

-Teenage Lily is the helpless romantic, the girl who reads real-life love stories to prove love is real, the girl who cheers her boyfriend on the field, and the girl with gum and finished homework notes that could be given to anyone who needed them. But 20-21 year old Lily the tired woman who cried for her mother when she had her first child, the tired woman who wanted her sister's hugs again, the tired woman with sickly green eyes and moved too slowly for a woman in her early 20s, and the tired woman who watched everyone like a hawk at Order meetings that talked of more death. She sits in the corner, the chair seemingly too big for her, or anyone for that matter, and watches with frustrations simmering under her eyes. Sometimes give a cutting remark that Sirius laughs to.

[letslipthehounds]

Growing Up Wrecker 15/?

Woof. It's been a while. Sorry about that. Life… happened. I didn't have a lot of time to write, and when I did, I wasn't really in a good headspace to write for a while.

That might be why this chapter has some parts that are more melancholy than previous chapters. I hope you still enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Ratchet was not going to say anything to Orion, but he looked so much like Pax now. It wasn’t hard to look at him, far from it. But he kept expecting Orion to call him Old Friend, or to give him a look that told Ratchet he thought the doctor was being foolish.

Orion never did, of course. He was still too young to ever think that his doctor was foolish. And he was a good bit, he’d never say anything even if he did.

But now, with his altmode, he looked even more like Orion Pax.

Ratchet took a picture, and… hating himself all the while, contacted the only other mech who would understand.

“I did not expect to hear from you, Doctor,” Megatron said.

“I… you are one of the very few left alive who I can talk to about this,” Ratchet said. “Orion got his first altmode this week,” he added. “He chose to be a hauler.”

Megatron stiffened. “How… how much…”

“Almost exactly like a youngling Orion Pax would have looked like,” Ratchet interrupted. “I… needed to talk to someone. Most everyone else only knew him after he received the Matrix. It hurts, to see him like this. I keep expecting him to respond to me like… like Pax would have. Even though I know he won’t.”

Megatron sighed. “Doctor, I don’t know if I can help you. I can listen. And perhaps give you some advice. But young Orion does not need to know about this.”

“Of course not,” Ratchet said. “I would never tell him,” he added. “Orion does not need our expectations of who he used to be.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Megatron agreed. “Do… can I see images, if you have any? I never met Orion when he was this young. But I wonder if what I imagine is close to the truth.”

“I’ll ask Magnus,” Ratchet responded. “I don’t think he’ll say no, but Orion is his charge.”

Megatron didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. “Tell me, Doctor… is he happy?”

Ratchet smiled slightly. “Yes, he is,” he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most didn’t remember it, but Ultra Magnus had known Orion Pax. Not well, but he’d been assigned to guard the archives a few times, and had been at that long-ago fateful council meeting. He’d walked out of it at Orion’s back, and that was when Orion had started teaching him how to truly be a leader.

He’d known Orion Pax for more than a vorn when Orion had journeyed down to the core and received the Matrix. In all that time, Magnus had never wondered what Orion had been like as a youngling, but raising a youngling with Pax’s spark was giving him a good idea.

Orion was currently zooming around the youngling track at the local racing park. He wasn’t able to keep up with Wildbreak, whose altmode was sportier and more aerodynamic, but that didn’t seem to bother either of them.

Magnus watched the small hauler occasionally hook up to the practice trailers at the park and pull them for a few laps before dropping them back off to the side and go back to chasing the tiny racer.  Or being chased by the tiny racer, it was hard to tell.

“He looks a lot like Pax did,” Magnus said. “Smaller, still, but…”

“I never knew Pax,” Knock Out said. “But I’m not surprised.”

“Neither am I,” Magnus admitted.

Knock Out laughed as Wildbreak misjudged and nearly rammed into Orion from behind. She’d had to transform and summersault over him. A second later, Orion had to do the exact same thing as she wasn’t going fast enough any longer.

Very quickly after that, they were surrounded by other younglings who wanted to know how they’d done it. Magnus was fairly certain neither of them were entirely sure.

“Sometimes, I wonder if the other younglings had lives before this,” Knock Out mentioned. “I’ve never bothered to try to do any spark matching, it’s not really all that important, but I’ve wondered.”

I would be very surprised if Orion is the only one,” Magnus said. “He is unique, but I doubt he is that unique.”  He sighed. “Orion!” he called. “If you’re going to teach them, get off the track!”

The knot of younglings looked up and they all glanced at each other. Instead of leaving the track, they all transformed back into their vehicle modes and started racing again.

“Ah, younglings,” Knock Out said.

“Indeed,” Magnus responded. They watched for a while longer, and finally, Magnus noticed it. Orion was slowing down, and so was Wildbreak.

Magnus checked his chrono, and nodded. “We should probably head out,” he told Knock Out. “Orion will be tired tonight, and I think that he needs a chance to calm down or I’ll never get him into his berth tonight.”

Knock Out chuckled. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “Wildbreak too.”

“Orion!” Magnus called. When he knew he had Orion’s attention, he gestured over. Orion exited the track and transformed. He walked over with a bounce in his step. Yes, he was definitely overexcited. Magnus wasn’t upset, though. It wasn’t every day that a mech got his first altmode.

“It’s time to go,” Magnus said.

“Awww…” to his credit, while Orion was clearly and audibly disappointed, he didn’t argue.

Wildbreak finished her lap and followed Orion over.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Orion asked.

“No,” Knock Out said. “We’re heading for Kaon for the day. You two can play the day after,” he added.

Orion nodded.

Magnus nodded as well. “Good luck in Kaon,” he said.

Knock Out smiled. “Thank you,” he replied. “Come on, Wildbreak, let’s get some energon in you.”

At those words, Orion paused. “Magnus can we…”

“We’ll stop and get some goodies,” Magnus said. “Today’s a big day, after all.”

Orion cheered.

Magnus smiled. Yes, he’d never considered what Pax had been like as a youngling, but he had a good idea now… and he cherished every minute of it.

~~~~~~~~~

Yeah. Once again, sorry it's been so long. Since the last time I updated this fic, I had a death in the family, some pretty crazy work hours, got slammed by a hurricane, and moved several hundred miles away from where I lived. My September was particularly bad, being the month where I had both the death in the family and the hurricane.

Yeah. It's been a busy 6-7 months. And I can't promise faster updates (though I will try).

But for now, until next time!

[angeliqueiguess]

“Focus!” (j.jh)

021. unknown warnings: swearing, drama, like, a lot. fulla angst

The sound of the doorbell made Y/n jump slightly on the sofa of her apartment. Instinctively, she glanced at the wall clock—it read two o’clock in the afternoon. She looked back at the door, as if confirming the time could somehow prepare her for what was about to happen. But the doorbell rang again, pulling her out of her reverie. With a nervous sigh, she got up and walked to the door. Upon opening it, there stood Jaehyun, greeting her with a tense smile that resembled more of a grimace than genuine warmth.

“Come in,” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper yet clear enough for him to hear. Jaehyun nodded silently and stepped inside. Suddenly, the small, warm, and cozy apartment felt tighter, the air thicker with his presence. The waiting was over, and now that he was there, Y/n felt words stuck in her throat.

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked, more to fill the awkward silence than out of genuine hospitality.

“Yes, thank you,” Jaehyun replied softly. Y/N took her time as she headed to the kitchen, feeling the weight of the atmosphere grow heavier with each passing second. She wanted this moment to be over, to let the tension dissipate like steam from her third cup of tea.

When she returned with the glass of water, she froze. Jaehyun had turned his back to her, holding a picture frame that rested on a shelf—the very one she had thought about hiding before he arrived but had ultimately forgotten to move. Idiot, she scolded herself silently. Clearing her throat to get his attention, Jaehyun turned slowly, still holding the picture. A mix of nostalgia and melancholy played on his face, as if the weight of memories had suddenly crashed down on him.

“I still remember that day,” Jaehyun murmured, settling down on the sofa with the frame still in his hands. “It was when we made you believe that sand was sweet.”

Y/n managed a crooked smile as her eyes fell on the photo. There they were, three happy kids on a sunny beach: Johnny and Jaehyun, both around eight, and little Y/n, just six, posing together with the sea behind them.

Finally, Jaehyun placed the picture frame on the table, as if the memory burned his fingers, and accepted the glass of water Y/n handed him. He took a sip, letting the nostalgia mingle with the awkward silence that hung between them. She stood there for a moment longer, gazing at the photo and feeling the years that had separated them weigh as heavily as those happy memories.

“Yes,” Y/n replied as she sat beside him, leaving a comfortable space between them. “It was a bit cruel to make me eat sand, but... it’s my favorite picture.” She smiled nostalgically, her gaze fixed on the photograph on the coffee table. Jaehyun nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips, the kind that emerges when a happy memory is tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

Y/N turned her gaze away from the photo and looked at him. The weight of the words she had held back for so long felt unbearable. It’s now or never, she told herself.

“I’m sorry for leaving yesterday,” she finally blurted out. Jaehyun met her eyes, sensing the discomfort in them.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he replied sincerely, turning toward her. “I understand.”

She observed him for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek, until the doubts that had eaten away at her surfaced.

“Why now?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Jaehyun frowned, not grasping her meaning. Noticing his confusion, Y/n rephrased her question. “Why do you want to apologize now?”

He took a deep breath before responding, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“Because I wasn’t ready before,” he admitted with sincerity. “But now I am.”

Y/n wanted to say something, but the words remained stuck in her throat. Grateful for the silence, Jaehyun pressed on.

“I owe your brother a thank you,” Jaehyun began, his voice wavering slightly. “He’s the one who helped me see things clearly... who pushed me to find the courage I couldn’t find on my own.” He rubbed his palms over his knees, almost compulsively, as if trying to steady himself against the weight of his own words. His fingers clenched, then relaxed, as though grounding himself. "I wanted to apologize so many times, for so long,” Jaehyun continued, his voice a whisper by the end. His eyes lifted to meet hers, pleading, yet soft, almost afraid of how she'd respond. He hesitated, then added, “It’s okay if you can’t say anything right now... I just need you to hear me.”

Y/N settled into the chair, restless. She nodded slightly, giving him permission to continue. She knew this was an important step, even as the knot in her stomach kept tightening.

“I completely understand why you hate me,” Jaehyun said, his voice barely above a whisper, weighed down by guilt. “I used to think... ‘hate’ was such a harsh word. But now, looking back, realizing what I did to you, all the hurt I caused, I know that feeling is justified. It’s valid.” His words trembled, and he let out a heavy, trembling sigh, as though each syllable dragged some hidden weight from deep within him, one he’d kept buried far too long. “All these years, I hid behind someone I never wanted to be,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Someone I promised you I’d never become.” There was a pain in his eyes, raw and unguarded, the kind of pain that only surfaces after years of regret and self-loathing. He looked down, as though ashamed to even meet her gaze, his hands tightening into fists as he tried to contain the shame he felt.

Y/n listened in silence, her face impassive, but inside, a storm was raging. She battled between two versions of herself: the fourteen-year-old girl who still carried the pain of abandonment and the present-day Y/n, trying to maintain control and not fall apart.

“Do you have any idea how much damage you caused?” she finally asked, her voice barely holding together as she fought back the tears that glistened in her eyes. Jaehyun looked down, unable to face her. He’d promised himself he’d never hurt her, never be the reason for her pain. But now, seeing her like this—seeing what he’d caused—made him feel more hollow and ashamed than he’d ever imagined. “I spent so many nights crying,” Y/N continued, her voice catching. “Nights when Johnny or Mom would sit by me, trying to reassure me, telling me you’d come back.” She let out a shaky breath, her words laced with years of quiet heartbreak. “And even though I knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t, I still waited for you. I still wished for you every day.”

Jaehyun closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could push away the weight of his own mistakes, but he failed. The damage was done, and there was no option but to face it.

“I swear I’m sorry, Y/n,” he began, his voice trembling, weighed down by years of unspoken regret. “I hate myself every time I remember what I did to you. I was just a stupid kid… I know that doesn’t excuse it, but even now it kills me, knowing that one careless, selfish decision meant losing you, breaking something I can never fix.” His voice faltered, and she could see his eyes, red and glassy, struggling to hold back tears. “It’s okay if you still hate me. I deserve that. I just… I just need you to know that since I saw you again, I’m trying to be better every single day. For you, for myself. And the love I had back then, the one I thought I’d lost? It’s still here, Y/N… only now, it’s a thousand times stronger.”

Jaehyun looked at her with an intensity that nearly took her breath away. Y/n dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling emotions swirl in her chest. She didn’t know how to respond or even what to feel. Jaehyun’s words had been overwhelming.

“Jaehyun, I... I’m sorry,” she murmured, getting to her feet and walking toward the kitchen, searching for space to breathe and think. But before she could fully distance herself, he gently grabbed her arm.

“I understand if we’re not on the same page,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice barely holding steady, every word a plea. “I respect that, I do. I just… I just needed you to know how I feel.” His hand shook as he held hers, clinging to that last thread of connection. “Everything I did was out of fear—fear of not being enough, of facing my own insecurities. I thought pushing you away would protect me from that... from everything I was too afraid to confront.”

A tear slipped down his cheek as he searched her face for even a glimmer of forgiveness, his eyes dark and haunted. “All I can ask is that you forgive me. Please, Y/n. I know it might be too late, but I need you to know how sorry I am.” He released her hand, feeling the ache of loss settle into his chest, and watched her walk away.

“I need time to think,” Y/n said, not turning around, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. “This is too much for me.”

She took refuge in the kitchen, resting her hands on the edge of the sink as she tried to control her breathing. She wasn’t going to cry. She had to face this clearly, without being swept away by the tide of emotions engulfing her.

After a few minutes, she gathered enough strength and returned to the living room. She found Jaehyun whimpering and wiping his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, a gesture that made Y/n realize this wasn’t the distant boy she had known over the years. He wasn’t the perfect, unattainable star from the magazines. There, in front of her, stood the sixteen-year-old Jaehyun she had left behind, broken and lost but authentic.

“Jaehyun...” she said from the kitchen doorway, her voice firmer than she expected. He looked up, his eyes still puffy and his skin flushed from crying. “I forgive you,” Y/n whispered.

She didn’t need to say more. The moment the words left her lips, Jaehyun quickly got up and enveloped her in a desperate embrace, as if fearing she might vanish at any moment. At first, she froze, surprised by the intensity of the moment. But it only took her a heartbeat to reciprocate, sinking into his arms and allowing all the emotions that had built up over the years to flood out in that embrace.

Y/n remained in Jaehyun’s arms, feeling the irregular rhythm of his breath against her hair. The hug was warm, comforting, almost like it could erase the years of pain between them. But something inside her felt out of place, as if another truth loomed over them.

“Jaehyun…” she whispered, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze, unsure of what the future held for them. “I don’t know what comes next,” she admitted softly, the weight of uncertainty palpable.

“Me neither,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face with trembling fingers. “But I want to be here with you, right now.”

In that moment, Y/n chose to let go of the worries that plagued her. She silenced the doubts in her mind and allowed Jaehyun to kiss her, a kiss that held the weight of years unspoken, filled with tenderness and uncertainty. As their lips met, the world around them faded, and in that breathless moment, all the pain and loss melted away. When the kiss finally ended, they stayed close, foreheads touching, breaths mingling as they tried to catch their breath.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Jaehyun said softly, a smile breaking through his tears. Y/n returned the smile, though the weight of their past still loomed over them like a shadow.

For now, that was enough.

Hours passed—almost three—during which Jaehyun and Y/n reminisced about their childhood, sharing stories that brought smiles to their faces. Even though they couldn’t cover everything they wanted to, their gentle laughter helped lighten the heavy emotions that had lingered between them for years. Eventually, the moment to say goodbye arrived. Jaehyun left with a genuine smile, reassuring her that he would see her at work the next day.

As Y/N closed the door behind him, she leaned against it, feeling conflicted about everything that had just unfolded. Their conversation had been intense, a whirlwind of emotions that made her eager to share everything with her best friend. Just as she was about to take that first step, her phone buzzed with a message that completely threw her off balance.

prev//next masterlist.

Angie's note: what the flipping flip? this was a rollercoaster of things (dont hate me hehe) let me know what y'all think! hope u like this one and please make sure y'all take care of yourselves and drink water! love yaaa! <3 <3 <3

Taglist: @apolloxxivmin @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @livingdoll-hara @cryingforjae @heavenjae @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @kukkurookkoo @kodasity @injunnie-lemon @thegracerammy @hahaechans (TAGLIST OPEN!)

[unremarkablehouse]

Scully’s Hot Date

CH1 | Mature | S6 | WC 1639 | AO3

Summary: Mulder happens to run into Scully on her way to a blind date. Inspired by this photo of Gillian.

Tagging: @today-in-fic The FBI parking garage was desolate as Mulder slowly made his way to his car. Friday night before a public holiday, it seemed like everyone one had places they’d rather be. The squeak of tires and flash of light as a car pulled into a space was truly startling, more so the fact that he recognized that car within a fraction of a second from his periphery. It was her, Dana Scully, returning to work after 7pm on a Friday night. A large part of him hoped it was to see him, but as she parked her car near his, he knew logically it didn’t quite add up. Lounging on the trunk of his car, Mulder watched Scully get out of her car, her body stiffening momentarily before making her way towards his direction with a renewed confidence as she clocked the awe struck look on his face. Mulder didn’t mean to ogle but he had never seen her dressed quite like this before. Her hair pinned up displaying her neck, a dress that was soft and showed her curves, and her breasts. Good lord, her tits were out and Mulder’s brain had ceased to function. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her, but Scully’s laugh and the click of her fingers brought him back to earth. She was now standing in front of him, an amused smirk on her face at his reaction. 

“Hi, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here tonight,” Scully said with an edge of awkwardness in her voice unconsciously licking her lips in that way that drove Mulder insane.

“You look very… non-FBI tonight,” Mulder replied, unsure of the exact right words to use to describe how incredible his Partner looked. 

“Thanks, I think. I have a date,” Scully bristled as she started to make her way to the parking lot stair case. 

Mulder caught up with her in a few easy strides. 

“Hold up, who is the guy? He doesn’t work here right?”

There was nothing remotely casual about the tone of Mulder’s voice, the jealous quality was begrudgingly sweet so Scully took pity on him and stopped to talk as they entered the stairwell. 

“It’s a blind date a friend set me up on, I haven’t met him before so I organized to meet in front of the Hoover building so we can get a drink nearby.”

“Do you need a chaperone,” Mulder asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, standing close to Scully, her back almost pressing against the concrete wall. 

“I think I’ll be ok,” Scully said with a laugh, placing her hand on his chest to push him back, but instead slowly rubbing large circles across his pecks. Her heart raced when her palm made contact with one of his erect nipples, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“You look really beautiful tonight Dana,” Mulder said his eyes staring so intensely into hers it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. 

With an anguished sigh, Mulder dropped his head down, awkwardly resting it on Scully’s shoulder like a child needing comfort. Instinctively, her hand found its way into his hair, rubbing over the nape of his neck and back again. 

“What times your date,” he whispered, doing nothing to hide the melancholy from his voice. 

“Not for another half hour, I’m early.”

“Hmm,” Mulder said with a sad acknowledgement, nuzzling his nose into her neck in a way that made Scully catch her breath. Instinctively, she found herself kissing his temple and inhaling his smell. The warmth of their bodies and their proximity to one another was intoxicating. Mulder pressed both hands onto her hips to anchor her in place as he gently kissed a spot under her ear and whispered “I wish it was me.”

Mulder pushed away from her, ready to go back to his empty apartment, while Scully went on a date with a man who wasn’t him. Feeling a tug on his arm, Mulder turned as Scully grabbed onto his hand. 

“If you want it to be you, then ask me out Mulder,” her voice was breathy but challenging as she stared him down. 

Mulder’s puppy dog eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, filled with angst and a vulnerability which Scully was helpless to resist. 

“Dana Katherine Scully, will you go on a date with me?”

Scully made a show at umming and ahhing, while Mulder dramatically contorted his face in agony. 

“Okay,” Scully finally replied with a large grin, eliciting a delighted laugh from them both as Mulder excitedly bent down to kiss her. 

It was meant to be a quick celebratory peck in the heat of the moment, but Scully’s arms wrapped around Mulder’s neck and before they knew it he had lifted her up and pressed their bodies against the wall. Scully hungrily kissed Mulder, pulling his head closer to hers, unable to get enough. Mulder’s hands wondered ever so slightly up her thigh and back down to her perfect ass, unable to explore more territory as he held her up to his hip height. 

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling Mulder closer and grinding her hips against him hard. And with that, the flood gates were open. All the years of restraint and denial crumbled as they finally admitted the physical need between them. Decency and self awareness had long left the building as Scully’s hand reached for Mulder’s rock hard cock. Stroking it over his pants she moaned and ached to feel him inside her. Mulder enthusiastically nuzzled and kissed at her breasts while Scully attempted to undo his fly. In a surreal out of body experience Scully realized she was about to fuck Mulder for the first time in an FBI stairwell, minutes before she was meant to be going on a date with another man. However, she could not bring herself to care about the impropriety of the situation, conversely it actually made her ridiculously aroused at how primal and insane the whole situation was. Any concern or hesitation she might have had on the subject vanished completely when Mulder found her left nipple and bit down on it in a way that lead to a gasp and a flood of arousal. Moving their heads back up to kiss once more, Mulder’s hand managed to free his cock and slide it against Scully’s wet cunt as he deftly moved her panties to the side.

Mulder stroked himself against Scully’s slit, bumping the head of his cock over her clit as she moaned in approval. Scully squeezed her thighs hard against Mulder’s waist, impatient for more of him. “Mulder, now,” she panted in desperation.

The relative size of his cock and the angle of their bodies, forced him to enter her at an excruciatingly slow rate. Scully felt the stretch as it struggled to accommodate his girth, and her mouth watered at the thought of riding him until she was spent and sore. With a grunt and a thrust Mulder was completely sheathed inside her and Scully felt her pussy flutter and tingle at just the feel of him inside her.

Without much leverage, Mulder rolled his hips in circles, adding a pulsating motion to fuck her without ever leaving Scully’s body. The movement felt delicious, and the feel of Mulder’s stubble against her neck as he moaned “Oh, God Scully” was enough to tip her over the edge. Scully’s back awkwardly arched against the wall, her moan and cries of ecstasy leaving no doubt as to what she was experiencing. 

Mulder was in awe as he felt her convulse around his cock, moisture gathering between them, and the unmistakable quivers driving him wild. 

Mulder wasn’t anywhere near ready to cum himself, but he felt a sense of satiation by proxy as he continued to rock into her body, gently bringing her back from the edge. 

The loud trill of a cell phone brought them both back to reality and Mulder quickly removed himself from Scully and straightened up, their hearts pounding at prospect of getting caught. The ring continued and Scully realized it was coming from her purse, the neurons once again firing in her brain, battling adrenaline and her post orgasmic haze. 

Answering the phone with a professional, “Dana Scully,” her voice did not betray any of the lewd activities that had just taken place, and Mulder marveled at her ability to compartmentalize so quickly.

“Hi Derek, I can’t really hear you I’m in the parking structure. I’ll see you outside in 10.” 

As Scully hung up the phone and was greeted by Mulder’s heart sick face. 

“You’re still going to go out with him?”

“Well I can’t cancel this late, it would be rude.”

Mulder gave a snort of derision as he straightened his pants and licking his lips to remove some of Scully’s lipstick that had made its way onto his lips. He was pouting, and while Scully would normally find it infuriating, he looked adorable all ruffled with feint traces of lipstick still on him. 

“Mulder, would you like to join with us? We’re just getting drinks around the corner.”

“Really?” Mulder asked, excited as a kid on Christmas. 

“Of course, let me just straighten up in the bathroom first and we can go.” 

They quickly walked down  the stairwell to the lobby exit, but Mulder pulled Scully back before she could open the door. 

Looking up at him with a questioning stare, Mulder bashfully smiled at her. 

“I need a hug before we face the outside world,” Mulder admitted with a vulnerability that melted Scully. 

Without hesitation Scully tightly wrapped her arms around Mulder, her body melding perfectly into his.

With a quick kiss to her head Mulder broke the hug, “come on, let’s make ourselves look presentable, we have a date.”