#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.”

[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

═══════════════════════════

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! 😀

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

[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.

[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.

[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.”

[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.”

[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) -Oh? (Realization) -Huh? (Confused) -Ehehee…. (Nervous Laugh, 2 of them) -Gasp -Quiet Sobbing -Winded Breathing -Long and Pained Coughing -Panicked Breathing -Ahh… (Dreadful Realization) - 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 -Short Laugh -Huh? (Confused) -Hmph (Annoyed) -Angry Grunt -Uhh…. (Awkward) -Hahahaa… (Nervous Laugh) -Scared Shriek -Gasp -Huh?! (Angry) -Argh! (Outraged) -Pained Breathing -Long, painful scream

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!

[bejeweledblondie]

Peggy, The Pin Up

-

A/N: I apologize for being MIA I’ve had a lot of very great but time consuming things take over my life! I’ve started a 1940s vintage clothing blog & I’m shocked at how successful it has become. On top of that I’ve got promotions at work & it’s opened so many doors for me. I’m hoping to write a bit more!

Warnings: classic 1940’s sexism, mentions of nudity, female pronouns

Summary: Y/N never expected for her pin up prints to be put out… it causes some disruption on Abbott-Thorpe & one dark curly haired aviator comes to her rescue

It all happened on a Thursday morning at breakfast. Y/N sat there in her crisp white uniform shoveling the chalky yellow substance the army called eggs in her mouth. A dark shadow appeared above her plate & a magazine was plopped down in front of her.

“Don’t even try to deny it, this is you isn’t it?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Speechless she looked away & noticed that the Army’s shipment of Esquire hit the shelves. “God who knew? We knew you were a tease, but this is just another level.” He started. “Do you know what everyone says about you?” She shook her head shamefully, lying to herself. She had heard rumblings in the sick bay from time to time. Sometimes while fixing a patients IV bag or a even helping move a patient a hemline might rise causing a stir.

Before the pilot could continue his chauvinistic teasing session she immediately grabbed her belongings & swiftly exited. Little did she know a dark curly haired pilot was watching the torment happen. Due to rank he couldn’t intervene but oh he so badly wanted to bury the man six feet under. He had grown fond of the nurse, she was always so kind with his men. Incredibly soft spoken & nurturing when it came to the care she provided. He had walked in on her reading a copy of John Steinbeck’s, “Of Mice & Men” to the wounded pilots one evening. She didn’t have to do that, she could’ve been out dancing at the Officer’s Club. But she voluntarily chose to stay after her shift to read to them. He could tell the men greatly appreciated it too, it gave them a small window of comfort during an incredibly traumatic moment in their lives.

Douglass, also watching the debacle rolled his eyes & sipped his coffee.

“These men act like they’ve never seen tits before it’s insane.” He scoffed. Rosie almost choked on the toast he was eating.

“I mean some are freshly turned eighteen.” Blakely reminded him.

“Still, this is going to cause a huge fucking problem.” He swore. “Rosenthal, you okay?” Rosie had been staring off into the space during the duration of the conversation.

“Go to her,” Douglass sighed. “She may be oblivious but I’m not. You’ll also want to scoop her before someone like Egan does.” With that Rosie excused himself & started to head towards the medical ward. The sterile white environment contrasted heavily from the drab olive green darkness of the mess hall. Injured pilots laid in beds reading the paper, being fed their morning breakfast, or having their vitals taken. Valerie, a nurse he knew was friendly with Y/N was checking the vitals on a young sergeant.

“Val!” He said getting her attention & started over to her. “Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, she seemed a bit off,” She started. “She begged Major to allow her to just work in supply today. You might wanna try there.”

“Thank you.” Rosie replied & made his way to the supply room. There she stood sniffling & rolling gauze. Her eyes were clouded with a melancholy look as she completed the mundane task. He knocked on the door frame causing her to look up slightly startled.

“Oh Major Rosenthal it’s you,” She said with a slight tremble in her voice. “What can I do for you?” He cringed at her using his rank, usually it would make his blood pressure rise & heart race. But this circumstance was entirely different.

“I saw what happened in the chow hall,” He started. She’s started to wipe away tears. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He said wringing anxiously. She sighed deeply & looked away.

“I’ll be alright,” She stated. “I’m just going to lay low for a few weeks.” It broke his heart to see her this way. She was always a little jumpy & anxious to begin with. This situation just poured gasoline on a oil fire.

“No,” Rosie stated. “You shouldn’t let some asshole make you feel uncomfortable.” She stared him with big wide eyes. “If it makes you feel any better I’ll escort you places.” Her eyes softened as she listened to him. A small crimson warmth crept onto her cheeks at the mere mention of him escorting her.

After a few weeks, the heat died out about the pin up nurse. Rosie & Y/N had become closer over the weeks. His protection meant no one would even try to touch a hair on her head. From lingering touches, longing gazes, & of course Rosie sitting on her nightly readings to the wounded pilots. He (like every man on post who took a liking to her) did keep a copy of the pin up photo.

On missions he’d keep the folded piece of paper tucked into the pocket of his sheepskin. A reminder of what he was protecting & fighting for. His calloused thumb would graze over her innocent smile as he admired the image. Even in his bunk, he’d spend some alone time with it after everyone had fallen asleep. During one night after the pin up photo was brought up by a rookie pilot, & in turn making Y/N uncomfortable. Rosie knew he had to make her see what he saw in the photo. After some discussions with Ken Lemmons, he decided to really make sure he was reminded everyday was he was fighting for.

With hands covering her eyes he directed her to the airstrip.

“Rosie I can’t see!” Y/N giggled, tripping over her own feet. He chuckled at her natural clumsiness. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, you’re so impatient.” He said. He lead her right up the nose to his beloved bomber. “Okay now you can see.” With the removal of his hands & a adjustment to the sunlight she was staring at herself painted on the side of his bomber. The same pin up that graced Esquire months ago that brought them together. She gasped in pure shock at the artwork.

“Oh, Rosie.” She gasped unable to speak. “Did you paint this?”

“With a little help from Lemmons.” He replied. “I want you to see what I see. A beautiful woman. Do you like it?”

“I-wow,” She smiled. “I love it.” She turned around to face him. He was staring down her, admiring the way the sun light reflected off her hair. He brushed stray strands of hair behind her ear. His hand lightly danced across her cheek bone as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He leaned down & placed a tender kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated & kissed back. Her arms wrapped around his neck & his slowly gravitated to her waist pulling her in closer. After pulling a part they rested foreheads against one another.

“God you have no idea how long I’ve always wanted to do that,” He admitted.

[recurring-polynya]

Bleach Returns 2024 - Day 7 - Aftermath

This was the first thing I started for Bleach Returns 2024, and the last thing I finished. For theme weeks like this, it's always nice to have ideas that can fit under more than one of the prompts, in case you have to switch it around. This one could just as well have ended up under "Unlikely Pairs" -- they day I turned out to have skipped, but I needed the extra time, and I think it fits better as an "Aftermath" story anyway.

In any case, I have held the belief in my heart for ages that a truly underrated part of the Blood War was the fact that out of everyone in the Gotei, the only two people that got to see Komamura's wolf-man form were Iba and Hinamori, and I wanted to know if they ever talked about it later. I accidentally wrote it in the present tense, so it came out about a thousand times more melancholy than I intended it to be, but I'm actually pretty happy with how it came out. Consider this my Komamura Tribute Fic: you were a real one, sir, and for, like, 30 seconds you were a total smokeshow. Somehow I doubt you truly gave up your heart for good.

Rated T for one mild curse and endorsing lying to your boss | read on ao3 |

---

"Why are you asking me?" Rukia frowns. "Renji is a perfectly adequate liar." And your friend, she doesn't add.

Hinamori has an answer for this. She would have preferred to ask Renji, too. "He's too nice," she explains. "I know that I'm really bad at this, and he'll tell me I'm fine when I'm not. This is important. I need to do it right."

Rukia screws up her face and for a moment, Hinamori worries that she feels insulted, either on her own or on Renji's behalf. It's usually pretty rude to come up to a person and ask for their help in crafting a convincing fib. Hinamori knows Renji well enough-- she knows Rukia well enough now-- to expect that it would be taken as a compliment. But maybe not.

Rukia huffs. "You're right," she grumbles. "He's always been like that." She sighs expansively. "But if he were capable of running a team grift on his own, we never would have met, so I suppose I can't complain." And without any further preamble, she launces into a dissertation on the theory and practice of lying.

Hinamori blinks as she tries to take it in. There are fundamental precepts. There are classic techniques. There is ontology. There are hand-movements and eyebrow wagging. Hinamori should have brought a notebook, not that she could manage to get it all down. A lot of what Rukia says sounds like something Renji would say, but with far more conviction. He always used to say that he learned most of his chicanery from Rukia, and for the first time, Hinamori starts to believe it.

Rukia stops abruptly in the middle of an illustrative anecdote that has something to do with Kurosaki Ichigo's gym teacher. "What, exactly is the falsehood you need to fabricate?"

Hinamori tells her.

Rukia squirms for a moment. Momo realizes that she doesn't know if Rukia was asked to testify at any inquiries regarding her own captain. She wonders if she should have asked Renji after all.

"Look," says Rukia, in a way that is somehow simultaneously gruff and delicate, "Hinamori." She clears her throat. "I know it's extra weird because he's the Captain-Commander now, but you can just lie to Captain Kyouraku. It doesn't have to be convincing. He will ask you the question and you can say what you need to say and he'll write it in the official report. Whether or not he believes you is unimportant. He wants you to lie."

"I know," says Hinamori. "But I don't want it to just be a nod and a wink. Captain Komamura wouldn't have liked that. He was a good captain and a kind soul. Iba told me that he often tried to help people save face. I want to do a good job on my lie, for him. For Iba, too."

Rukia's brows furrow. She sets her jaw. "Your heart is very big, Hinamori," she says. "There are special techniques for lying with your entire heart. I will teach them to you."

"Thank you, Kuchiki-san," says Hinamori.

---

"Shortly after I became his lieutenant," Iba says, facing forward, standing at his fullest height, "my captain informed me that, in the case of his death, he had arranged a special exemption from the standard funeral rites for Gotei captains. He said that, if it was within my power, I should make sure his body was returned to his people."

"That is correct," the Head-Captain agrees. "Werewolves have a different path through the resurrection cycle than we do."

It takes Iba a moment before he is able to continue, but when he does, his voice is steady. He speaks in the cadence of a Lieutenant Delivering a Report. They can all do it. They all do do it. Momo does not remember anyone ever teaching her how. It just comes with the job. Iba's voice is naturally a little froggy, which Momo has noticed before, but it's even more evident when he is forgoing his usual tough guy turns of phrase.

Iba describes the damage sustained by his captain's bankai during the battle with Sternritter E. He makes a remark for the record about the unique relationship between Captain Komamura and his bankai. In this case, Iba says, the damage was more than Komamura could heal, would ever be able to heal. Iba states that by dismissing his bankai, Captain Komamura was able to eke out a few more hours of his life, but that his end was inevitable. This is why Iba and his captain did not regroup with everyone else, and why they declined medical assistance. Iba fought Soldat with his captain until the bitter, bloody end. At that time, zombies had begun to appear on the battlefield, and Iba felt it vital to deliver the body of his captain to the werewolf clan as soon as possible, so that it did not fall into enemy hands. That is why there is no corpse. "But my captain died honorably, in battle," Iba concludes. "I was there when he fell."

It takes some time for Head-Captain Kyouraku to finish up his note-taking. Lieutenant Ise is faster at transcription, Momo thinks, but she is not here. There is so much to do these days. She must be busy with something else.

Kyouraku's eyes scan quickly over his notes. "Thank you, Lieutenant Iba," he says. "Very complete. I don't think I have any further questions."

"If you think of anything later, please don't hesitate to ask, sir," Iba replies.

Kyouraku turns his gaze to Momo. "I understand you are able to corroborate portions of this, Lieutenant Hinamori?"

Momo straightens her spine and clears her throat.

You are telling a story, Rukia reminds her. Parts of that story are true and parts of it are not. Start with the parts that are true.

Hinamori tells the story of fighting her way through the Soldat-flooded city, trying to rejoin her captain. It is their practice to maintain distance when he is using his zanpakutou, but she likes to be within shouting distance. In case he needs her. She talks about seeing the columns of light and feeling the burst of strange, acidic reiatsu as the Quincy unleashed their Voll Stern Dich. She does not mention the way her feet were already moving even before she felt her captain's reiatsu plummet.

One of the things that makes you a bad storyteller, Hinamori, is that you always needs to add in extra detail, even when it doesn't add to the story, even when it makes you not look great. Especially when it makes you not look great. It's like you're always afraid of people thinking you are lying, so you want to lay everything out there up front.

This is still the part that is true, and Rukia said it was important to build up some momentum, so Himamori allows herself the indulgence of being a bad storyteller. If I tell the true parts poorly, she reasons, the lies will be less obvious.

"When Captain Hirako was injured, I made a poor decision. I wanted to save my captain. I thought I could get the drop on Sternritter E. I thought I could fight her fire with mine." Hinamori swallows. "Captain Komamura saved me. I know he wanted to go on and fight Yhwach, but he stayed back to protect me and my captain. I know it's not really relevant to this inquiry, but I would like it added to record anyway, if possible."

"Captain Komamura was always looking out for others on the battlefield," Head-Captain Kyouraku murmurs as his brush makes soft swishing noises over the paper. "I've made a note. Please continue, Lieutenant."

It's not a lie to not say something. It's just editing. Hinamori had wanted to tell Kuchiki the thing, the thing she had to edit out, but Kuchiki didn't want to hear it. Kuchiki had, in fact, put her hands over her ears and sang "LA LA LA LAAAA" until Hinamori gave up. It had been a little bit rude, in Hinamori's opinion. You want to tell me because it feels like a secret, Kuchiki had scolded. It's not a secret. It's extraneous information. Throw it in the trash. Burn it to a crisp. Forget about it forever.

It sure feels like a secret, the thing she had seen. She tries not to think about it, afraid that if she does, it will leave a hole in her story the size of a werewolf and the shape of a man. Instead, Hinamori continues. "Captain Komamura ordered me to take Captain Hirako and leave. I wanted to stay. I wanted to help. But I had seen her explosions, and I knew he needed the space. He went to bankai as I left."

"You didn't actually see them fight, then," Head-Captain Kyouraku surmises.

"Captain Komamura's bankai is--was--very large," Hinamori states the obvious. "As I left, I could see it taking explosion after explosion. I could hear and feel the bombs. They were deafening. I shouldn't have, but when they stopped, I… I looked back. I saw Captain Komamura's bankai crumble to pieces. It did not seem like a thing that would be possible to survive."

"Indeed," agrees the Head-Captain. "A great loss for the Gotei."

"Agreed, sir."

Iba draws in a long breath, but says nothing.

"Anything else, Lieutenant Hinamori?"

"No, sir. That is all."

"Captain Hirako has declined to give testimony. He said he didn't think he had anything to add."

"Probably not, sir. He was unconscious for most of it."

Kyouraku nods as he finishes writing. He puts his brush in the holder, and folds his hands. "Thank you both. I'm sorry we had to go through all this procedure for something so simple as a death in battle, but he was a captain, after all. Usually, the Central 46 would hold a hearing, but I think this--" he pats his stack of paper-- "should suffice."

She has done it. It's over. Kuchiki was right. It was barely a lie. It was a careful arrangement of true things. Hinamori feels like she has run a thousand miles and bench-pressed the Soukyoku. She wants to throw up. She wants to go to sleep for a million years.

"It was an honor to serve under him," Iba says.

Hinamori has no regrets.

---

Okay, it turns out that Hinamori does have regrets. Not about the statement. She receives a short note from the Captain Commander several days later informing her that the ruling of "Killed in Action" has been accepted, and thanking her again.

She wishes she had said more to Iba.

Hinamori is very busy these days. There have been three wartime actions in the last two years, and for once, Hinamori has come through relatively unscathed. She wants to make the most of this by helping everyone she can. She and Captain Hirako take on paperwork from the Tenth while its leadership needs extra treatment to purge out the last after-effects of the zombification. It's only fair. Hitsugaya has done enough of the Fifth's paperwork. She goes to PT with her Third Seat, who ended the war with a pair of prosthetic legs. She volunteers once a week at the Pop-Up Mess Hall the Ninth has been running to help out the squads whose facilities were destroyed, or who simply can't spare the manpower (also, the Ninth has a lot of talented cooks, and it's as good an opportunity to socialize as you can get these days). She tries to make time for all her friends, but especially the ones who are injured or grieving or overworked.

Hinamori is friendly with Iba, but she's not sure they are friends. He's not quite part of the close-knit core of the lieutenants that she hangs out with. He has his own friends, she's sure. He's pals with Abarai (who isn't?) and Madarame, who finally showed up to a lieutenant's meeting this week, even if he did so with a facial expression like he'd just drank a glass of slugs. Hinamori just isn't sure…well, it's not that those guys aren't sensitive to each other's feelings--scratch that, Madarame is definitely not sensitive to people's feelings--but Hinamori can't help but wondering if anyone has extended Iba any sympathy that didn't come the form of a moment of manly, stoic shared silence or possibly a punch on the shoulder.

Hinamori intends to swing by the Seventh shortly before the end of the work day. She isn't sure how this is going to go, and she wants to leave her options open. Her plans are derailed slightly when, on her way out of the door, she runs into Ise with a pile of new forms and feeling chatty to boot. By the time Hinamori walks into the Seventh's administrative building, it is half an hour past quitting time. The hallways are already pretty empty, and even as she knocks on Iba's door, Hinamori resigns herself to trying again tomorrow. "Lieutenant Iba?" she calls tentatively. "It's Lieutenant Hinamori. Are you in?"

"Ah, yes! Come in!" Iba's gravelly voice calls back.

Hinamori slides the door open and steps through. Iba is hunched over some paperwork. "Sorry!" he says. "Just a moment! I'm trying to finish up--there!" He looks up. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant Hinamori?"

For a long, long moment, Hinamori stares at him.

Iba has brown eyes. He blinks them once, then suddenly scrabbles around on his desk, shoves over a pile of forms that looks suspiciously like the one Ise just foisted on her, grabs his sunglasses, and crams them on his face. "Sorry!" he croaks. "Sorry!"

"No, no!" Hinamori waves a hand frantically. "It was my fault! I didn't-- I didn't see anything!" Her stomach clenches. Why is she always seeing things she isn't supposed to see? She looks away, frantically, and her eyes land on the floor next to Iba's desk. There is a pillow there, and on the pillow, a handsome dog regards her judgmentally. "Oh!" she says. "Hello, Goro!"

Iba clears his throat. "He's, uh. I don't keep him in here all day. He just had his dinner, and I'm going to take him for his walk as soon as I…" He looks at his stack of papers and then looks at Hinamori. "I'm sorry, what did you need? Are those more new forms?"

Goro puts his chin on his paws and sighs.

Hinamori looks down at the pile of paper nestled in the crook of her arm. "This?" she says, trying to get her thoughts together. "Oh! Right! No, no new forms! I got some flyers printed up for my weekly meditation circle! Do you remember, I mentioned it at the last lieutenants' meeting?"

"Oh…oh, yeah," Iba manages. "Yeah, that's not really my…"

"For your squad," Hinamori emphasizes. "I was hoping you might be able to post them in a common area. Or you could hand them out to anyone in particular you thought might benefit. Everyone's working so hard and dealing with so much right now. It can be, well, sort of a subtle way to suggest that someone takes a little break. I got a little stipend from the Fourth, so we have snacks afterward, now!"

Iba nods. He obviously does not need even one more thing to think about. "Ah, okay! Yeah, great idea! Thanks, Lieutenant Hinamori."

Hinamori slides the stack of flyers onto an extra table that Iba has pulled up next to his desk, apparently for increasing its paperwork-holding capacity. "You can have someone deal with these tomorrow," she says gently. She kneels down to scratch Goro's head. "Are you doing all right, Iba-san?"

Iba misinterprets her and immediately begins to bluster. "All of this looks much worse than it is! I'm getting the important stuff done! Ask anyone in Squad Seven--who have been champs, by the way! You see how empty this place is? It's because I make everyone go home on time, that's why! They'd be working night and day if I didn't make them take a rest. Maybe I'll send the whole lot over to your meditation whatsit!"

"That's not what I meant," Hinamori cuts him off. Unlike the Head-Captain's office, this is a place where she doesn't need to be parsimonious with the truth, so she goes on to say, "I only brought those flyers over as an excuse to come see how you were doing. You must miss him so much, and you can't even talk to anyone about the way it really happened."

Iba's mouth opens as he starts to say something, but then he closes it again. "I do," he says finally. He jerks his head towards an extra chair sitting along one wall. "You wanna pull up a seat?"

Hinamori does so. "Have you…heard anything?" She knows that Captain Komamura is still alive because Iba told her when he came to ask her to testify at the hearing. When he came to ask her if she would help him tell the story the way Captain Komamura would prefer it to be told. All the same, she is wants to let Iba be the one to say it out loud first.

"Ah, one of his relatives is a regular at the weekly market outside the eastern gate. There was a letter." Iba is silent for a moment. "He's healed up from his war wounds. He says there are some faces he's glad to see again." Iba reaches down to scratch Goro around the ears. "The cousin, he sells mushrooms, actually, really good mushrooms, I guess they sniff them out of the woods or something. Anyway, he says that, ah, well… they're happy to have him home."

Hinamori feels sadness settle on her chest like a stone. She barely knew Captain Komamura at all, but she knows he must have overcome so much in order to join the Gotei, in order to live in the city. She loves Junrinan, and yet she remembers feeling the cold terror that she might be sent back there after…when it seemed unclear whether she could still be a shinigami. "I'm sure it will be an adjustment," she says slowly. She wishes she could think of something else to say.

Iba regards her for a long time. "You get it," he says. "I can tell." He groans and leans back in his chair. "Aaah, Hinamori, you're right! It's been agonizing not bein' about to say anything! Everyone thinks I'm sad 'cause he's dead, and I gotta pretend that's true, but I'm actually sad 'cause all I can think about is his wolf-mom given' him a bunch of grief about wastin' his time on shinigami shit!"

"Does he have a wolf-mom?" HInamori asks, suddenly curious.

"Hell if I know! He never talked about werewolf stuff, so I've just been coming up with stuff in my head. I'm sure it's all wrong."

"I feel like if he has a wolf-mother, he would love her very much," Hinamori said. "He seemed like that type."

"You're right, Lieutenant Hinamori," Iba said, wagging a finger at her. "You're absolutely right." He cleared his throat. "While you're here. Listenin'. Well--there's something I been wanting to say so bad I feel like I'm gonna explode sometimes. You, ah, don't mind, do you?

"Of course not," Hinamori agrees. "Go ahead."

Iba leans forward, crumpling some of his paperwork. One side of his mouth curls up into a boyish grin. Goro looks up, curious. "He was awesome, there at the end, wasn't he?"

"Oh," says Hinamori, "oh, my, yes."

"For the length of that fight, he was immortal. Untouchable."

"I will never forget how I felt when I saw his bankai," Hinamori blurts out. "It gave me shivers."

"I know! It was absolutely incredible. I've--I've been working on my own bankai and I just…it's never going to be that."

Hinamori tilts her head to one side. "It might be," she says.

Iba frowns thoughtfully. "He gave me something to shoot for, for sure. What a captain he was!"

"Mm," Hinamori nods, thinking about captains she has loved.

Iba looks away for a moment, then looks back. "Hinamori, I gotta ask. You saw my captain. In his human form."

Hinamori is momentarily shocked to hear the secret thing, said out loud and in such a casual way. "Yes," she says eagerly.

"He was…he was, like, better than average on the looks scale, right? I'm not…I'm into ladies, you know, I'm not much of a judge of that kind stuff. But, like. Wow."

"Oh, yes," Hinamori, who is generally very circumspect when offering opinions on other people's look. "He was--well, that's not really my type either but--" She clears her throat primly. "Whew!"

"Whew!" Iba agrees.

Goro whines and puts his paws over his nose. Iba laughs, the kind of big hearty one that comes from getting something off your chest. "I know I've already taken up too much of your time, Hinamori, but, uh…I don't spose you'd like to help me take this guy on his walk?"

Hinamori smiles. "I'd love that."

[noacfapologyst]

night love confessions — matty healy

summary: after a night party, matty has the idea (or the need) to confess his love to you.

warnings: some kind of mention about get drunk, alcohol, drugs and substances (but nothing very explicit) nocturnal melancholy, sad atmosphere and some mentions of touches.

wordcounter: 3,4k

a/n: hey everybody! this is my first au and even i'm scary i really hope you enjoy and like the story, maybe then could put this into a general universe, but idk, it depends i think if it works and if the people like it. anyway, thanks for giving the chance to read it. last thing, english is not my first language so if something it's bad i apologize for that too.

hope you enjoy it 🖤

The bottles that are opened, the containers that fall to the ground, the footsteps of shoes, the music that resonates through the speakers and deafens your ears.

The group of guys you're looking at, the smile one of them gives you at the end of the track. The adrenaline when listening to the band's new song composed by your friends, the lights that make you lose, you feel everything in slow motion.

You drum your fingers on the red disposable cup, before pouring the harsh liquid down your throat and feeling the traces of the rest on your tongue. There is a silence on you, but then you return to the ring with a small scream of happiness, which perhaps multiplies the state you are by a third.

You don't know how many glasses you've had, enough so that your sobriety is hanging by a thread and the hangover of the morning with your head exploding is too evident, but you know that this time nothing else has been mixed. Last time the story didn't end too well, jumping over security fences outside an abandoned club to end up with a sprained right foot and several bruises is not something you want to repeat two weeks later.

— Does anyone know where the hell Matty has gone? — George exasperates, raising his voice over the speakers. Everyone looks at each other confused, without having a clear answer. — God, this guy is going to give me a bad headache one day. —Although he is drunk and has red eyes, he is at his most sane. — You are surprised and turn your expression into an "o".

— He was here a few moments ago, I swear. — Ross responds a while later, moving up to follow him into the crowd.

You sigh a little tired, lately it has become the same routine and with regret inside you decide that you should abandon the staring contest with the black-haired man who is a few meters in front of you.

— I'll bring him back in a moment, let me take care of this. — You pronounce with difficulty, slurring the words and pouting.

— Well, if you can't find us we're probably outside. — Brown hair appears behind George, and even though you know you know the girl, you don't remember her name. You just know that from time to time she and your friend go to some bars .

— She's right. I need to sleep right now. —Ross exclaims, running the fold of her fingers over the sockets of his eyes. — Find him and then we'll leave.

You know Matty well enough to know that when he separates from the group, there are three places he can be doing: 1) In the outside or inside courtyard smoking some kind of cigarette, it's always a different edition so you don't know what you'll find. 2) In the nearest bathroom, with a card in hand and light white tints under the nose and nails. 3) Flirt with the first person you meet at the bar, spending the little money on drinks that will later be deposited on his bed.

— And if you don't find it, what? —Adam asks, in a tone of total concern.

— I will do it, I promise.

— Just... let us know when you get home, girl. —George closes the conversation and everyone else nods at his request, shakes their heads in response and greets them with a "yes, goodbye" in the air.

You hate a little, a lot, the rock superstar life that your entire band has led, it has been like this for years, but especially since they managed to make their first album become famous so quickly, and have devastated the sales stands and the lists have them in their heads. In fact, while you're debating where to start looking for it, Girls starts playing through the speakers. Great, the world makes fun of you with good satire.

It doesn't matter that you don't have clarity to think, your body moves for you and makes its way through quite a few people, until you touch a wall that has two exits: the bathroom and the courtyard. You breathe and try to lower your level to one less, until your instinct kicks in and you know you'll find Matty smoking.

Then you go out to the inner courtyard with the frost freezing your back. Adam was right, you needed your jacket that you left at his house a few hours earlier. The wind makes your eyes turn to glass in a sense, but you don't plan on giving up when you know you're committed to finding and bringing it home in the best condition possible.

You find it almost at the end of the place, away from the main entrances, which catches your attention. He has his leather jacket over his knees, which leaves his arms unprotected despite how thin they are. He's frowning, and when you get closer you see that he's exhaling and inhaling with a thoughtful expression, there's something troubling him even though you can't figure it out.

You reach his side of him and look for a small place to sit, he still has n't realized that someone else is with him, he's still absorbed.

— No girl today? What a loser. — You wake him up and make him jump in his place. — The boys are gone.

— Shit, girl. You really scared me.— He puts his hand on his chest, exactly on his heart. He gives you a half-shot of his eyes, they're freshly red, and you grimace silently. — She's gone too.

— Who? — You cross your legs, and your fishnet stockings catch on a tile out of place. — Shit, they were new. — You moan and realize that you are freezing.

— Luckily for you, buying another one is not difficult. —Now you are the one who frowns while exhaling a considerable amount of smoke.

— Are you okay, Matty? — You don't know why you use his name, but sometimes it helps to bring him back to reality. You look at him when he shakes his head and laughs sarcastically, his curls are out of control and half of them are hanging over his forehead, but he has not bothered to fix them, his white t-shirt he has small red wine stains on it. You can't help but worry about him even if you don't know what you're really into, he's one of the people you love the most and seeing him so subdued burns you more than the glass you drank ten minutes ago. He starts to close his eyes and breathe easier, or so you think. — Hey, I'll take you home, come on.

— Honey, look at me. It's a fucking party and I'm smoking alone. — Speak in the deepest voice, seriously about the subject. Well, that hurts. — Come here. — He hits the jacket that falls on her knees so that you can rest your head there.

He knows that you will not refuse, perhaps because the jacket will keep you warm, because you are tired or because you are very busy and worried. About him you will do everything he asks. Then he drops his head there and slowly rests his legs on the pavement.

Matty's head is about to explode, and not necessarily because of the amount of cocaine he has consumed, although a significant part of it is a factor. He's grateful to have his head against the wall, although he doesn't remember how he got to that position. because he knows that otherwise he would do anything that would ruin the whole environment, no matter how small and silly it was. Lately he's screwed up more things than he's done right, but maybe this is what he longs for most in his life, that when all this terror and this endless nightmare is over (he's more convinced that it won't) you'll still be there, close to him, to support his head or lean on him.

Silence becomes your best friend over and over again. All he wants to do now is cross his hands below your waist and hold you for as long as he is allowed. But he doesn't, his hands are dirty and he couldn't afford to dirty his girl like that, he feels in the depths of his being that if he touched you even a millimeter he would ruin you to the core.

Basically the same feeling he had about himself several weeks ago, he couldn't take the responsibility of taking away all of your shine and everything that characterizes you as his favorite person. He is drugged and drunk, perhaps more than ever, but in this same hazy state he has discovered that perhaps the reason why he continues doing things without stopping is because it is a barrier to his feelings, it inhibits him from being able to think rationally and from being able to feel, It makes him believe that everything is possible, except being able to have you.

You remain motionless on his lap when you begin to close your eyes and he takes the opportunity to look at you, giving himself every detail, capturing the scene forever in his memory: look at how your locks fall on your forehead, how your chest rises and falls every time you you breathe, and the subtle smile on your lips that is the product of drunkenness that also causes a satirical laugh and then dies in its own tranquility. He also notices when you open your eyes, noticing his determined look and you raise an eyebrow in question.

— I need to die, now. Can we go now? — You whisper, also struggling to hold the moment for as many minutes as possible.

— One more and we'll leave, love. — The nickname causes a cerebral shock throughout your cortex, but you hide it with the freezing air that runs through there and you pass him the lighter that has fallen on the floor.— I'll wake you up... maybe in seven minutes? I can't count. — The two laugh and for a second they hold each other's gaze, shining and reflecting on each other.

— Promise? — You ask, and you raise your little finger.

— Promise. — He intertwines them and it's convincing enough for you that you soon go back to sleep, leaving your hand outstretched. Matty has no intention of breaking that contact, so he takes it upon himself to enjoy the seven minutes like this, usually blowing out some hair that obstructs her view of him.

When he is halfway through the fateful cigarette, he lets out the longest snort of the day. He feels the same as he did in Robbers' video. No, it's nonsense. That song was never written for you, but maybe he's relating it to others.

Oh, but it's automatic, the scene where he's on her lap in timeout, the thought that he could never let you go even if they were apart, everything he's begged for you to stay and all the times you haven't. was able to turn back. All those times when he was the cause of your suffering, when you ended up in the hospital due to his failure, when he wasn't there the day your father left, and how later you said he was fine and that it didn't matter.

Maybe you'd actually sum it up to something like I love you, don't you mind? Because nothing could happen above that, you loved Matty as if he were your other half and even if he meant suffering more than anything else, you accepted it because you preferred to have him than not. But you knew that those opportunities were nil, nothing more would happen with him and the almost kiss a few weeks ago had made it clear.

On the other hand, Matty had started to cry. The taste of the tobacco was now a mixture of salt water and nicotine.

— Time to leave. — He says it slowly, extinguishing the remains against the cement and drying the trace of his face.

They both get back together after a while with some effort. Then you extend your hand to him so you don't lose him in the crowd when you have to cross it. It takes some effort, but you manage to breathe in the fresh air and see the light from the post outside faster than you thought.

—Can I sleep at your house today? My house is...complicated. — The hands of you two let go as both begin to walk along the brick pavement of Manchester. There's a small ringing in your ears but you nod, he's not in the state to show up at his house.

— Yes. — Your direct word calm him to the point that he adopts a calm that does not allow him to see a loose cable in the street and trip over it. — You can't walk, at least not like this. — You say, reaching out to him with concern. — Here we go, big boy.

You grip his wrist tighter, trying to provide some stability, until he changes his grip and runs his hand around your waist, wrapping it around it and pulling you as close to him as he can, seeking to get you inside of him. When he moves his fingers he notices the temperature of your skin.

— You're cold, put on my jacket, please. — He brakes and looks at you defiantly, without losing that tone of chivalry.

— It's okay, we're close to my house. — You comment without paying attention to his frown. Then you see the light about to be left at the beginning of the block and break your hold under his watchful eye.

You run, always holding on to him until the central point of the park that you are crossing. Since you have his hand in yours, you spin him around a few times while neither of you can stop laughing.

They both feel like they are floating regardless of any other part of the world or any other matter. If they both touched their hearts they would discover that it is stronger than ever.

He caresses your cheek and takes the opportunity to smudge an eyelash. Then they melt into an embrace completely overflowing with desperation, love, affection, and the need to freeze there forever. Eternity in this line sounds incredible.

— I'm very glad to have you. — You murmur in his ear, and then you give his a kiss on the cheek. You don't need and don't want him to answer, so you decide to run to the door of your house and wait for him there.

Tomorrow he won't remember this, so it's okay, you tell yourself.

Tomorrow he'll remember every part of this, living it second by second, then it will all come flooding back to Matty breaking him deeply.

Then he arrives at your front door and between some silly jokes and some tripping objects, like your brother's toys or some discarded slippers, you make it to your room, although you need to use your supporting weight to carry Matty inside.

— I'll bring a glass of water and a hangover pill. — You tell him and disappear from your own room.

You go down the stairs and it seems that you also go down to reality.

What the fuck are you doing? What has happened and why hasn't you stopped sooner? You put your hand to your head in frustration and drink water, then fill another glass and look for the pills. Tomorrow you will not only have discomfort from the drink.

You return to the bedroom, opening and closing the door carefully. The scene petrifies you, he is sitting on the white back of your bed, taking up as much space as he can. Then he looks at you, and smiles at you as if he were a child who had just been caught being mischievous. You feel like you could die of lovey-dovey right now.

— I'm going to the bathroom to put on my pajamas. — You open the closet and take out the largest T-shirt you can find, then the pijamas that are clean. — Use this. — You stretch out your arm and he catches the shirt along with a pair of shorts, internally you wish he would finish before you leave the bathroom.

Being used to the routine, taking off your clothes and removing your makeup doesn't take you more than five minutes, just enough for him to scan every corner of the room after changing with quite some effort. He smiles when he sees the box full of Polaroids of you and the entire band, and then feels like he's dying a little more when he sees the self titled car at the head of your furniture.

You open the bathroom door and he needs to swallow hard to keep from stumbling. Even in your pink heart pijamas you look just as spectacular as you do in your black miniskirt and boots.

—You seem very....funny— You scan it and you laugh when you see how short the clothes you gave him are. Then you realize that the mattress is not here, but you don't want to go out and look for another one. —Does it bother you if we sleep together? —It's nothing you haven't done, but it still requires a certain degree of difficulty to ask.

He denies sweetly and moves away as far as he can when you get on your bed, there is an unbearable barrier between the two of you.

So, he lets it out. Something internally takes over him.

— You are my favorite person in the whole world, my love. — He try to whisper it because you force yourself to believe that he thinks you're sleeping. He doesn't manage to whisper it anyway, and you hear his voice begin to crack and his heart begin to pour out. Your greatest fear comes to light when the way he speaks condemns it, you've seen too many movies to know what's coming.

No. He can't do this to you, you can't bear that tomorrow he will forget about this entire night and you must pretend that for a moment it makes sense that he also loves you the same way you do. You want to believe that he dreams of you too.

— Don't do it, Matty. Please do not do it. — You say to him with all your strength, while a swirl of water begins to grow in the sockets of your eyes. —Just... don't.

— Why? — He whimpers and staggers in his speech, he's taking it all on herself not to show you that he's breaking into miles of pieces.

— Because you're high, very high. Tomorrow you won't remember anything about this night and you won't be able to pretend this never happened. — You turn slowly, and then you wipe away the first tear that runs on his eyelid. — I really wish things could be different and that you would make this confession when you're not high.

For a moment he stops talking and you think you've won the battle and that there is a temperance that calms the threat. But he falls apart.

— I love you. I've always loved you and I can't stand another damn minute without telling you. — Tears simply fall down both of their cheeks and soak the pillowcases. You shake your head non-stop in a negative way.

He can't just let go now, at the moment when you're most emotionally vulnerable, so that tomorrow he can go off with the first girl he finds. In the long run it has always been like this, he gets over it and you are still there with a broken heart and forever devoted to him.

—Go to sleep, Matty. — Your request breaks him a little more, the tone destroys him although it is not very strong. — Do not make it harder.

He shifts uneasily, but he also understands that he can't force you to feel the same way. What he doesn't know is that if he just said he wouldn't leave tomorrow, you would run into his arms.

But he doesn't do it, nor does he close his eyes to fall asleep. He's there, watching your every move still. You sigh, unable to bear it anymore, maybe tomorrow you will suffer from it but maybe if you let go now it will be easier to overcome.

— I love you too. The same way you do it. — You kiss his head one last time and murmur one last goodbye before turning to sleep. — And it's been an ordeal for me all this time, because you feel it more when you're high and I feel it more when I'm sober.

Apparently your brain works fast and allows you to fall into some dream where this whole story is happier before reality can attack you.

And that's how they finally fall asleep, the both with their hearts in each other's palms, with more scars than before.

Finally, everything gets comically better when you wake up a few hours later and there's no sign of Matty in your entire room.

Just make out that the glass of water is empty and the pill is not there. You laugh sadly before going to sleep without letting yourself cry again, he doesn't remember anything from the night before.

i won't apologize for this. however, thanks for reading <3 let me know what you thought or if you liked it.

Etiquetas: @cxcx75

[fluff-a-nutter]

Tickletober Day 15- “Are You Ticklish?”

The question caught Pomni off guard, considering who it came from.

“U-Uh what?”

Kinger blinked at the jester girl whom he’d pretty much adopted as his daughter in the circus.

“Was my question unclear? Sorry, let me repeat that.”

Kinger inhaled as if he was about to ask the question at the top of his lungs. Pomni was quick to stop him before the entire circus heard him.

“No! No, I heard you, Kinger. I just- well, it caught me a little off guard.”

Kinger exhaled the breath he’d been holding, no doubt to scream his question.

“Ah, I see. So?”

Pomni blinked.

“So, what?”

“Are you ticklish?”

Pomni was torn between answering truthfully or denying the fact the she was in fact, extremely ticklish.

Kinger seemed to pick up on her hesitation.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, Pomni. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Kinger laced his fingers together in front of him, patiently waiting to hear Pomni’s response.

Pomni was quiet for a bit longer. Kinger seemed genuinely curious. And it was rare for her to see the more lucid side of the chess piece character like this. What harm could telling him do?

“Eh, yeah, I’m pretty ticklish, but please don’t tell anyone! Especially Jax.”

Kinger blinked his bug like eyes at Pomni and didn’t respond immeasurably, causing the young jester girl to wonder if he had gone back into his less sane state again.

Just when Pomni was about to ask if Kinger was okay, he spoke.

“Queenie and I used to have tickle fights, y’know. Although I usually came out on the losing side.”

Pomni found herself leaning towards Kinger as she always did when he’d talk about his wife. He reminded her of an old grandpa who had dementia, but once and awhile, when it was just the two of them, jester and chess piece, he would have a lucid moment, often about his wife.

“Really? No offense, but I didn’t think you were ticklish, Kinger.”

Kinger chuckled fondly, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, you’re the only one besides my wife and probably Caine who knows. But boy, Queenie and I would have fun.”

Pomni watched as a wistful, melancholy expression crossed her friends face.

“You must miss her a lot.”

Kinger sighed.

“I miss her terribly. Every single day.”

Pomni hated how down Kinger looked, so she decided to do something bold (hah, she could be brave an assertive! Take that Jax.)

“Kinger…. Erm… would you, like to be tickled? By me?”

Kinger looked a bit surprised.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Pomni smiles. Normally she’d be on the receiving end of tickles, but right now she wanted to make her friend smile.

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Kinger thought for a moment or two before saying,

“Alright. What harm could a little tickling do? But I must warn you, I’m very ticklish.”

Pomni giggled and scooted closer as Kinger spoke.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She waited for Kinger to lift his hands bed she carefully poked his side. She hadn’t expected much of a reaction considering he had a very thick robe, but almost instantly Kinger jumped back with a laugh.

“S-Sorry.”

Pomni said, waiting for Kinger to give her the okay to continue.

“It’s alright. I’m just not used to it anymore.”

Kinger scooted back into place and nodded at Pomni.

“Go ahead, I’m ready this time.”

Pomni smiled at him and tickled him again.

This time, Kinger laughed and squirmed, but he didn’t pull away this time.

She kept this up for a few minutes, laughing along with Kinger. A real, genuine laugh echoed through both of them until they both collapsed into the pillow fort, gasping and chuckling.

“Hehey, Pomni?”

“Yes, Kinger?”

“Thank you. You made me feel like my old self again.”

Pomni smiled.

“No problem Kinger. I’m glad you had fun.”

“Yeah, and Pomni?”

“Hmm?”

“Where did you say you were ticklish?”