#being with the person who makes you feel safe

[harmoonix]

🪄Dark Hour🖤

- Astrology Observations -

Having Venus in your 4th house can make you automatically to attract people with traditional values even if are not traditional yourself

Libra Risings can have it hard in relationship since their 7th house is ruled by Mars (Aries) which rules over war and conflicts

Cancer Placements can turn out to be manipulative if you do them wrong or if they simply just wake up and say 'lets be toxic today' and im not talking about all cancer placement natives

The dark side of a Venus in the 12th/Pisces Venus is that they tend to idolize their relationships/partners a lot, making a lot of scenarios in their head

Virgo or Cancer Venus may have a 'savior' complex in their love relationship, like trying to save themselves or trying to find someone who can save them

6th house Sun or Moon may have lots of encounters with animals, is like animals feel some kind of "calling' from you

Gemini/Leo/Taurus/ Venus may like to cosplay/playing the role of a character matches a lot with their personality

If you have unevolved Virgo Placements, you may hate when people disagree with you or when ppl come witn a counter-argument for you

Mars in the 8th house can get crazy if they don't get physical touch. Some might crave it and not have it 100% all the time

Moon in the 10th house feels like everyone is watching every single emotion of yours and may react to your sensitivity. You may get called 'over sensitive'

Moon in the 8th/12th house can struggle to talk about their feelings if they are surrounded by people with a toxic energy

Scorpio Moons can also struggle with 'feeling love' especially if they never experienced that properly. Don't press them to show their love for you early in a relationship let them feel safe first

Leo Chiron is a placement where they may nedd attention from others but not that type of "spotlight attention" rather just to be seen and understood by others

The dark side of Taurus Placements is that they tend to be very greedy and I talk here about their finances and money, of course if they are unevolved

Uranus in your 10H can make you change/switch your job more than once or twice, and can indicate having a confusing time with choosing the right job

Moon in your 2H can talk about 'working with love' and putting your heart into everything you do. You get rewards for your kindness

Unevolved 10th house placements can turn really materialistic if they have the chance, looking only for money and that's it

Capricorns are used to expect the worse in some situations since they have been thru multiple such situations in their lives

Uranus in Aquarius generation can be attached to technology 24/7. In love with technology, their phones are their world

Gemini and Virgo Moons are the first indicators of someone having anxiety/stress/panic attacks/overthinking

Pisces Placements but mostly Pisces Suns/Risings can use escapism a lot, trying to create their own reality in their head rather than living in the actual one

Scorpio Venus/Mars natives, some of their hidden fears can be betrayal/getting cheating on. This can possibly be one of the reasons why they can attach fast to people

Saturn/Pluto/Moon in the 8th/12th houses the planets become more dark in these houses, getting

Cardi B has a crazy chart because she has BOTH Jupiter and POF in the 7th house and is still still coming to the man who cheated on her??? (Never mind her Venus in the 8th house explaining everything)

A water sign in your 11th house can indicate you can understand people deeply and attach to them emotionally

Earth signs in the 1st house can indicate you tend to put a lot of pressure on themselves, being hard on themselves, criticizing themselves sometimes quite a lot

Mercury - Moon aspects natives can get therapeutic with other people, they like to talk about deep stuff with others and tend to share a lot from their live experiences

Jupiter in Sagittarius can be a good placement if you want to explore the whole world or just simply travel Jupiter can help you to manifest that

Jupiter - Mercury or Saturn in harsh aspects tend to be close-minded or afraid to open to new things/learning or knowing about them (I'm talking for the aspects generally not the people)

Moon or Venus at 5° or in the 5th house can make you have a baby fever more when you're young, like in your 20s. Wanting to be a young parent (this does not apply to all)

Mars or Neptune in the 11th house tend to attract people easily with their energy/personality. People get interested about you too

North Node aspecting Saturn in harsh aspects is not easy, actually is a very challenging position in your chart

North Node in the 8th or 12th house tends to live intense lives or have intense life situations, even near death situations

✨️�� Hope you all have a good Monday 🤍✨️

Harmoonix ✨️✨️✨️

[wolvietxt]

★ cozy mornings with logan

you woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside, sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. stretching out, you turned over, half-expecting logan to still be asleep, but the other side of the bed was empty. that wasn’t unusual. he was always up early, starting his day before the sun even fully rose.

what was unusual was the smell coming from the kitchen. a mix of coffee, something sweet, and something cooking. sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and smiled softly. logan wasn’t much of a breakfast person—usually, it was coffee and maybe a quick snack before he headed out—but the smell of whatever was in the kitchen was unmistakably homemade. curious, you slipped out of bed and padded quietly down the hall.

when you reached the kitchen, you found him there, standing by the stove with his back to you. the sight made your heart warm a little. he was wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt, but his hair was still a bit mussed, like he hadn’t even bothered to fix it after getting up. his movements were careful as he flipped something in the pan, and you couldn’t help but smile at how focused he looked.

“morning,” you called softly, leaning against the doorway.

logan turned, eyebrows raising slightly. “you’re up.” his voice was low, that familiar gravelly tone still soft from the early hour. “i was gonna bring this to you.”

“bring it to me?” you teased, stepping closer. “since when do you make breakfast?”

he huffed, turning back to the stove. “since now, apparently.” there was a small stack of pancakes already sitting on the counter, along with a pot of coffee and some fresh fruit.

“smells amazing,” you said, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. he didn’t stop what he was doing, but you felt him lean back into you a little. “what’s the occasion?”

“no occasion,” he muttered, flipping the last pancake before turning off the stove. “just… figured i’d do something nice.”

the simplicity of his answer made you smile even more. it wasn’t like logan to go out of his way for things like this. he showed affection in different ways, quieter ways—like checking to make sure you were safe or silently offering you his jacket when you were cold. but cooking breakfast? that was new.

“you’re sweet, you know that?” you said softly, your cheek pressing against his back as you hugged him a little tighter.

he scoffed. “yeah, well… don’t get used to it.”

but you knew he didn’t mean it. you could feel the warmth radiating from him, could tell by the way his muscles relaxed under your touch that he liked this, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“come on,” he said, brushing your arms off him gently as he moved to plate the pancakes. “sit down. i made coffee too.”

you laughed quietly, taking a seat at the small kitchen table as he brought everything over. the pancakes were stacked high, golden brown and fluffy, and the coffee was already poured in your favorite mug. “you really went all out,” you said, still a little surprised by the effort he’d put in.

“figured you’d like it,” he shrugged, sitting down across from you with his own plate. “you deserve a good breakfast.”

the sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat. you reached across the table, your hand covering his for a moment, and he gave it a small squeeze before pulling away, already cutting into his food.

the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that only comes from being completely at ease with each other. every now and then, logan would glance up at you, making sure you were enjoying what he’d made, but he didn’t need to ask. you were more than happy.

“these are incredible,” you said around a mouthful of pancake. “who knew you could cook?”

he smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “don���t expect this every morning.”

“oh, i know. this is a rare treat.” you grinned, kicking his foot lightly under the table. “but i appreciate it.”

he didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, his smirk softening into something almost like a smile. after a few minutes, he finished eating and leaned back in his chair, watching you polish off the last bite.

“you always do this,” he said suddenly.

you raised an eyebrow. “do what?”

“eat like you haven’t had a decent meal in days.” there was a hint of amusement in his voice, but also something else—something soft and affectionate.

you laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “well, it was really good. what can i say?”

he huffed again, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he stood and grabbed both your plates, setting them in the sink. “you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, shaking his head. “c’mon. let’s go sit outside for a bit.”

you followed him out to the porch, where the early morning sun was just starting to warm the air. you sat beside him, leaning into his shoulder, and he let out a quiet sigh, wrapping an arm around you.

“don’t get used to this either,” he grumbled softly, but you could feel how content he was, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he held you close.

“don’t worry,” you teased, snuggling into him. “i’ll take what i can get.”

and there you stayed, wrapped up in each other as the morning unfolded quietly around you.

general taglist : @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @k1t-k4ts, @icurushasfallen, @eddxemxnson, @nickiinator

@chamomile-tea420, @rooroen, @spitfy, @cannon-writes, @platinumblondeedition

@cloudcandyala, @v3lv3tf0x, @california-boys-and-sun, @harleyyquinnsgf, @lemoanaid

@notacleangirl, @jabberwokee, @aetherthetrashpanda, @schrodingersjigsaw, @sylaswrites

@t0mmy-th3-gh0st, @correnz, @fvhs-things, @kallmeweirdhprroe, @dugiioh

@thugbiscuits, @rosiahills22, @cassehtwah, @whxtewolf, @mystcrium,

@bluevclvet, @angellreads, @babey-fruit-bat

[dalishious]

Zevran Arainai is an Underrated Delight

There is so much depth to Zevran Arainai’s writing that is often overlooked in favour of either sexually objectifying him or ignoring him altogether… which is kind of ironic, considering that’s how so many people in his life have treated him within universe. And then, of course, there’s the biphobia directed at his character back when Dragon Age: Origins first released. He was a joke in many Gamer Bro circles about how they killed him for flirting with their male protagonist. It’s such a shame, really. Because personally speaking, Zevran is one of my favourite characters in the entire Dragon Age franchise.

Zevran’s introduction to the game immediately sets him apart from every other character who is capable of joining the party. He first appears as an enemy; an assassin hired to kill the Warden by Loghain, the Warden’s political opponent. You immediately have the option to either kill him, or add him to the party roster. Zevran does not initially join the Warden’s cause out of the goodness of his heart; he does it because he knows that the Antivan Crows who essentially own him – which we’ll get to – will kill him for failing to assassinate your character. This really paints his original placement within the group’s dynamics in an interesting light. No one really trusts him; Alistair and Morrigan both outright voice this. Zevran himself believes he is only safe with the Warden so long as he makes himself useful, per how he sells his worthiness to the Warden when trying to convince them to let him join. There’s tension there that really makes getting to know him extra interesting, because before anything else, you need to build trust. So, when he’s finally ready to start revealing parts about his personal history, you the player really get to feel like you’ve earned something special from his character.

Zevran’s mother was Dalish, but fell in love with an elf from the city and left her clan behind. Unfortunately, Zevran’s father was assassinated, leaving her with nothing but his debts to pay. She turned to sex work, until she died giving birth to Zevran, and all that debt fell onto him in turn. Zevran was raised by the sex workers in the brothel his mother worked at, until the age of seven, when the Antivan Crow Guildmaster Talav Arainai bought him for seven sovereigns; one of eighteen children made into “compradi” (recruits) that year. In his training, Zevran was tortured in a variety of ways, and in his own words, “taught to know nothing else but murder”. Of those eighteen, Zevran was one of two who survived the training, the other being a human boy named Taliesen. Then, a woman named Rinnala (“Rinna”) was placed into House Arainai from the Azul Contract that dictated the Crows were to take in unwanted bastard children of the Antivan Crown. For a time being, Zevran, Taliesen, and Rinnala worked well together as a professional and romantic trio. But when Zevran and Taliesen were tricked into believing Rinnala betrayed the Crows in an internal Crow scheme, they killed her. When they learned otherwise, Zevran took it particularly rough, combined with the realization of how little he himself mattered, too.

The trauma that Zevran has experienced is something he often makes jokes about, or speaks detached from. I’ve been called out many times on doing the same thing with my own trauma, and I know it’s a pretty commonplace response in others as well. That makes it feel all the more real; his responses are so authentically relatable. It’s also in a way, I find a little therapeutic to get to comfort a character whose survival mechanism has been to downplay his trauma for so long. The Warden is able to tell Zevran that what he’s been through sounds horrible, and even though Zevran tries to excuse things as not being that bad, you gain significant approval from him, just for showing him sympathy. Sympathy is something he’s severely lacked in his life. For all Zevran jokes about his traumatizing experiences, they clearly left a mark on him. Zevran eventually admits to the Warden that he did not actually anticipate being able to kill them, and that what he really wanted in taking on the job was to die. Again, sorry to get personal here for a moment, but I too have attempted suicide, and honestly I still struggle with ideation sometimes. And yet again I must say that I find something really beautiful in a character like Zevran, who is able to find peace and happiness on the other side of surviving such a thing.

As for Zevran’s romance… oh, Zevran’s romance path is such a delight. He is so multidimensional in that he’s very flirtatious and fun, while also showing genuine vulnerability in time. He admits that his role as a Crow meant he was encouraged to use seduction as a tool. His only experience with a true relationship ended very poorly, with Rinna’s death and a wedge forming between him and Taliesen, who he is eventually forced to kill too in the game. One of my favourite moments in the entire game, is when you invite him to your tent and he says no… and if you accept his consensual rights, that is what changes everything for him and the Warden’s relationship. Zevran feels safe and loved, and he gets to be happy. As of Dragon Age: Inquisition, a romanced Zevran is still at the Warden’s side, too, if they’re alive.

I love Zevran Arainai so much. He truly is an amazingly well done character, and deserves so much more respect and interest than he gets.

*Sourced from in-game dialogue and World of Thedas vol. 2

[eupheme]

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

[epione-xx]

BOUNDLESS ☆

Small fragments of lights decorated the ceilings. Hot hands laid on your waist as he rubbed soothing circles into the skin.

You and Damian danced under the fairy lights of your room, it was soothing, special. It made you feel like the world couldn’t touch you both.

You lay your head on his strong shoulders, smiling warmly as you felt his arm fully wrap around your waist.

“Princess, are you sleepy?” It was teasing but also slightly concerned, he didn’t want you falling asleep on top of him and not in bed, were you would be comfortable, warm and safe.

A sleepy hum echoed out your mouth as you slowly pull away, the swaying stopped and he looked down into your it beautify eyes, the eyes he saw in his dreams, the eyes that confronted him so much. They were so full of life and love, love for him.

You had been his rock in all his hard times. Even when he left for every mission or life changing journey, at the end of it all was you. Arms wide open and ready for a hug.

“Let’s go to bed” his arm is under your knees in an instantly as he pulled her into a princess carry, holding her close to his chest as he walked over to the bed by the window. He placed her down and pulled out her chair before he tucked her in. He slides next to you, reaching an arm around your waist as he pulled you to your chest.

You hear his heart beat, it’s lulled and calm, just the way you like it. You enjoy when he’s so calm with you, it makes you feel special.

Being fair you are special, you’re the only person who can break his walls down. Who can make him smile and laugh and cry. The only one he can be himself with.

He’d love you to the end of time, the end of his life, the end of the universe. To Damian, you were everything. The morning sunshine that bronzed his skin, the chilled wind that blew past him to cool his face down, the perfect egg in a pan of broken yolks, the perfect melody.

In each other arms, you both fell asleep, holding onto one another like it was the only thing keeping you breathing, like you were magnets that cousins be pulled apart. Damian’s lulled breath was like a melody of lullaby’s that only your ears could hear, and your weight was the only thing that made Damian felt safe and secure in his sleep.

You were you, you were his, he was yours. It was perfect, boundless and forever.

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 6

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their apartment, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The soft light highlighted the simple, yet cozy space they had made their own—a sanctuary that was their little world, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Knox was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the tension building between his parents.

YN stood near the window, her back turned to Azriel, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as she stared out at the city, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Azriel could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, and he knew that this conversation was inevitable. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

He had taken the week off, needing to be with his family, needing to be with her. After overhearing Cassian and Mor talk about their little spying expedition on YN, he had made the decision quickly, without hesitation. But now, as he watched YN’s back, he wondered if he had acted too impulsively.

“Why did you do it, Azriel?” YN’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness of the morning. It was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that Azriel recognized all too well. She was holding back, trying to keep her emotions in check, but he knew she was upset. “Why did you take the week off?”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I wanted to be here with you and Knox,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use the support. I wanted to make sure you both were safe.”

She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt. “Safe?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Azriel, we’re not in immediate danger. You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself and our son without you hovering over us.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Azriel replied quickly, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was protective—maybe too protective, especially now that their lives were more complicated than ever. He crossed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to take hers, but she stepped back, putting more space between them.

“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’re here because you don’t trust me to handle things on my own. You’re here because you think you need to shield us from everything—even from your own family. But Azriel, I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this, constantly looking over our shoulders, constantly hiding.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew she was right. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt this deep, unrelenting need to protect her, to protect Knox, to be there every moment in case something went wrong. The thought of losing them—of anything happening to them—was more than he could bear.

“YN, I’m not trying to smother you,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the desperation he felt. “I just… I need to be sure. After what happened yesterday, after knowing they were watching you—I can’t just leave you both alone and hope everything will be fine.”

Her eyes softened slightly at his words, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a sadness that made Azriel’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to gather her thoughts before she spoke again.

“Azriel,” she said more gently, “I understand why you feel the way you do. I do. But this… this isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep living in fear, can’t keep reacting to what might happen. We need to trust each other, trust that we can handle things—even when you’re not here.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right, but it was so hard to let go of that instinct, the one that told him he needed to be there every moment to protect them. He had been living on the edge for so long, constantly aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to step back and just… breathe.

“I do trust you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I trust you more than anyone, YN. But I’ve spent centuries living in a world where letting your guard down, even for a moment, can cost you everything. I’m sorry if I’m overbearing—I just can’t lose you. I can’t lose our son.”

YN’s expression softened further, the tension in her posture easing slightly as she stepped closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You won’t lose us,” she said firmly, looking up at him with a gaze full of determination. “But you have to let us live, Azriel. We can’t keep hiding in the shadows like this. I need you to believe that we can handle this—together.”

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. YN had always been strong, far stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for. And Knox—he was still so small, but Azriel knew his son would grow up to be just as strong. They didn’t need him to shield them from the world; they needed him to stand beside them, to be their partner, not their protector.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

She smiled at him then, a small but genuine smile that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, Azriel. Always.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the simple act grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered. “Always,” he echoed, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Outside, the sun continued to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, as if to remind them that there was still hope, still a future to be had, as long as they faced it together.

In the crib beside them, Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny wings fluttering as he stirred from his sleep. YN pulled back from Azriel with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to their son. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she murmured, moving over to the crib to pick Knox up.

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with love as she cradled their son in her arms. Knox blinked up at her, his small mouth forming a perfect little ‘O’ as he looked between his parents. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around YN’s waist as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Knox’s head.

“We’ll be okay,” YN said quietly, more to herself than to him, as she rocked Knox gently in her arms. But Azriel heard the conviction in her voice, the belief that they would find a way through this—together. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it too.

---

River House was alive with activity as the Inner Circle gathered in the spacious sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light across the room’s plush furniture. Cassian was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his wings half-draped over the sides, while Rhys sat opposite him, leaning casually against the backrest of a couch. Mor and Feyre were nearby, quietly sipping their tea, and Amren was perched on the window sill, her sharp eyes watching everyone with mild disinterest.

As usual, the meeting started casually, with updates on Velaris, news from the courts, and the usual banter. But something was different this morning, an undercurrent of curiosity running through the group. Azriel’s absence was becoming more noticeable, especially given his sudden declaration of taking a week off—a rare occurrence.

"So, does anyone else find it weird that Azriel's taking a week off?" Cassian said, breaking the silence. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. “I can’t remember the last time that happened. Not without a reason.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. "It’s not like him," he admitted, his voice smooth. "Azriel rarely takes time for himself. He’s always working, always looking for the next mission or lead. But a whole week off? That’s new."

Mor nodded in agreement, her lips quirking in a small smile. “Maybe he finally realized he needs a break,” she said with a light laugh. “Even shadowsingers need to recharge once in a while.”

Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow arched in thought. "He didn't seem like anything was wrong the last time I saw him. Do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling us?"

Cassian sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how secretive he can be. But a whole week off? Something doesn’t add up.”

"Maybe he met someone," Mor suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe there’s a secret lover involved, and he’s just been keeping it from us.”

At that, Cassian snorted, his wings shifting behind him as he chuckled. "Azriel? Keeping a secret lover from us? That sounds about right, actually. He’s good at hiding things.”

Rhys tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “He’s been acting strange lately. Not just with the time off, but before that too. More secretive than usual. And those late-night disappearances…”

Feyre leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think he’s hiding something serious?”

Rhys let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the couch. “Could be. Azriel’s not one to share things unless it’s absolutely necessary. If something’s bothering him, he’ll bury it deep.”

Mor crossed her arms, glancing between Rhys and Cassian. “Do you think it has to do with the place we went to in the Hewn City? The woman—YN—she seemed close to him. Could it be related?”

Rhys’s eyes darkened for a moment, as if recalling the encounter at the pleasure house. “Possibly. He did seem more… comfortable there than usual. And she did say something about going back after maternity leave. Perhaps Azriel’s more involved in her life than we thought.”

Cassian shifted, his expression turning more serious. "You think he's involved with her?"

"It’s possible," Rhys said slowly. "But Azriel’s careful. If he’s keeping something from us, it’s for a reason."

Amren, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke, her voice dry and laced with boredom. “Whatever it is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. No point in speculating about his private life.”

Mor glanced at Amren, then back at the others. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things. If he’s tangled up in something, we should know. Especially if it affects us or the missions we’re planning.”

Rhys gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward the window as if he were already piecing things together in his mind. “Agreed. But we give him space. Azriel’s earned that much.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, but if he disappears again, I’m dragging him back here myself.”

The group shared a small laugh, but the lingering tension remained. Azriel’s absence weighed on them more than they were willing to admit, and the mystery of his sudden break gnawed at their collective curiosity.

As the conversation lulled, Rhys’s gaze turned distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He could sense there was more to this story than what met the eye. Something was going on with Azriel—something deeper than just taking time off.

But for now, they would wait. And watch.

---

YN walked into the pleasure home, the familiar scent of incense and low hum of conversation filling the air. She had grown accustomed to the atmosphere over the years—the darkened rooms, the hushed voices, the hidden glances exchanged between patrons and the workers. Tonight, though, something felt different. Her nerves were on edge, her mind still unsettled by the feeling that she was being watched the other day at the market.

As she adjusted her black silk dress, ensuring it clung to her in all the right places, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do, and there was no room for distractions. She glanced around the room, scanning the faces of the patrons lounging in their seats, drinks in hand and their eyes on the stage where the night's entertainment had just begun.

And then she saw them.

At one of the booths near the back, sitting comfortably as if they belonged, were Rhysand and Cassian. But this time, they weren’t alone. Their partners, Nesta and Feyre, were with them. The sight of the group made YN pause for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as recognition hit her. It was them—she had felt their presence before. They were the ones who had been following her at the market just the day before.

She played it cool, forcing a neutral expression onto her face as she straightened her posture. Whatever they were doing here, she wasn’t going to let them know that she had figured it out. She was already too involved in the tangled mess of Azriel’s secrets, and the last thing she needed was to attract more attention from his friends. Especially Feyre and Nesta. If they even had the faintest idea about her connection to Azriel, things could go downhill fast.

With a calm smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward their table. Her heart raced beneath her composed exterior, but she kept her movements steady, her steps measured and graceful as she approached the group.

"Good evening," YN greeted them, her voice smooth and professional as she came to a stop by their table. "What can I get for you tonight?"

Rhysand, ever the picture of charm and elegance, offered her a polite smile. His violet eyes met hers briefly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Nesta’s shoulders, while Feyre, sitting next to Rhys, regarded YN with an air of quiet observation.

“We’ll start with a round of drinks,” Rhys said, his tone casual, but YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, as if he were sizing her up. “Something strong.”

YN nodded, jotting down the order even though she didn’t need to. She had memorized the menu long ago. “I’ll be right back with that.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind racing as she made her way to the bar. It was no coincidence that they were here again, especially after what happened at the market. Rhys and Cassian had come to the pleasure home with Azriel once before, and now this was their third visit in such a short time. It couldn’t be a casual night out—it had to be something more.

Harvey, her bartender friend, raised an eyebrow as she approached. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her shoulders.

YN forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Fine. Just...unexpected company," she muttered as she handed him the drink order. Her mind was spinning with questions, but she knew better than to discuss anything in the open.

As Harvey prepared the drinks, YN leaned against the bar, trying to steady herself. She had to stay calm, keep up the act. If Rhysand and the others were here for information, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not about herself, not about Azriel. Not about Knox. They still had no idea about her and Azriel, and she intended to keep it that way.

After a few minutes, Harvey slid the tray of drinks toward her, and YN lifted it carefully, balancing it in her hands as she returned to the table. She felt their eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile practiced and professional.

"Here you go," she said, setting the drinks down in front of them. She noticed how Feyre’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place her.

"Thanks," Cassian said, his voice gruff but polite. Nesta glanced up at YN briefly before turning her attention back to her drink, uninterested in the small talk.

As YN set the last glass down in front of Rhys, she caught his gaze again. His expression was calm, unreadable, but she could sense the questions lurking beneath the surface. She had been in enough rooms with men like him to know when someone was trying to figure out a puzzle—and tonight, she was the puzzle.

Before anyone could say anything further, YN gave them a small nod and turned to leave, her pulse quickening as she walked away. She had to be careful now. Whatever game they were playing, she was already too deep in it. And with Azriel out on his week off, the last thing she needed was for his inner circle to find out about Knox—or their relationship.

As she walked back toward the bar, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were watching her, but she had survived worse. She just had to keep her head down, play her part, and hope that they wouldn’t dig too deep.

But the nagging thought wouldn’t leave her: Why were they here again? And what, exactly, were they hoping to find out?

YN stepped through the door of their small apartment, her body aching from the weight of the day. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind raced with endless thoughts—who had been spying on her, why the Inner Circle kept showing up, and what it all meant for her and Azriel. She had kept her cool at the pleasure house, but the constant pressure of pretending everything was normal while being watched was wearing her down.

The familiar warmth of home wrapped around her as she shut the door quietly behind her, but the tension in her body refused to ease. She dropped her bag on the floor, her gaze flicking to the couch where Azriel sat, barefoot and bare-chested, with only a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was leaning back, a book resting in his hands, though the moment she entered, his golden-brown eyes were on her, sensing her frustration without needing to ask.

“Rough night?” Azriel asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the book and set it aside, his attention fully on her.

YN gave a small nod, too tired to speak. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making her feel like she could collapse right there in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, and Azriel immediately got up, moving toward her with a fluid grace that belied the exhaustion she knew he carried too.

He reached for her gently, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver. It was the way Azriel’s hands worked with such care, as though she were made of something fragile, even though he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t.

When he unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, YN let out a long, shaky breath. Azriel’s presence was grounding, his hands firm yet tender as he guided her to the couch. He sat down first, pulling her with him until she was lying against his chest, her legs draped over his as she settled into his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, and YN could feel some of the tension in her body begin to melt away.

But she still felt overwhelmed—by the spying, by the uncertainty, by the weight of the past few days.

Azriel knew. He always did. His calloused hands moved to the scars on her back, the ridged lines that traced where her wings had been brutally clipped when she was only nine years old. It had been a trauma that never left her, not in all the years since. Even though she had healed, those scars still carried memories she couldn’t shake. And Azriel knew how much they haunted her.

His fingers brushed lightly over the scars, tracing the familiar pattern as he began to massage the tense muscles beneath. The pressure was just enough to ease the knots that had formed in her back, and YN couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. He always knew how to take the pain away—both the physical and the emotional.

"Talk to me," Azriel murmured, his voice a quiet invitation. "What happened?"

YN closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the soothing motions of his hands carry her for a moment. “I think they’re watching me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I recognized Rhys and Cassian at the pleasure house tonight, and... they’ve been following me. I know it.”

Azriel’s hands paused briefly before continuing their gentle rhythm. He didn’t ask who “they” were—he didn’t need to. He had already suspected the Inner Circle’s involvement, though hearing it confirmed made his chest tighten.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about them.”

But that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at YN. There was more—the weight of being watched, the fear that their secret might be exposed. The fear that her past, her clipped wings, her life at the pleasure house, and everything she had built with Azriel and Knox would come crashing down.

“They don’t know about us, about Knox,” YN continued, her voice trembling slightly as she curled in closer to Azriel. “But if they keep following me... I’m scared they’ll find out.”

Azriel’s arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent reassurance. “They won’t,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Knox. You’re both safe.”

YN buried her face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside her. She believed him—she always did. Azriel had been her anchor, her protector, the one person who had stood by her when no one else would. But even with his promises, the weight of everything still felt like too much.

His hands continued to work at the knots in her back, his fingers gentle yet firm, easing the tension from her muscles. YN let out a shaky breath, feeling her body slowly relax under his touch. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink deeper into the safety of Azriel’s arms, the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a cocoon.

For a few moments, it was just them—their shared silence, the unspoken bond between them. Azriel’s hands never stopped moving, soothing the aches and pains that had built up inside her. His presence was her sanctuary, the one place she felt truly at peace.

And for now, that was enough.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

There's three more chapters left and I think I might make a sequel but not with the mmc you think it is.... But the drama unfolds in the next chapter

[thementalshawty]

Short PAC What ‘Era’ Of Your Life You’re In Right Now 😘

Haylowwwww my babies, you seen not only did I post a YouTube video which I know I finally got to do it’ll be at the bottom of this so look at that two readings in one, 😂! This is a reading I felt pulled to do for you guys really quick I felt like mistress Isabelle brooks from drag race feeling myself entering a new era and I wanted to spread that with you guys so choose from these iconic ladies who had and created so many eras and figure out just where you are in your life right now.

Pile 1

Your Card: The Twins

I’m seeing that you’re in your yin yang individual era right now, your glow up era I’m hearing that for your pile 1 glow up, your aura is vibrating high and you wanna protect yourself, you’re learning all aspects of yourself and you’re doing it in a safe haven or you’re attempting to get into a safe zone so you can explore the dual sides and natures of you! You’re judging yourself and holding yourself up to a standard that may not be you, comparing yourselves with your siblings maybe? Also if you’re in a relationship that is tense right it could be because of some trauma that THE BOTH OF YOU, need to deal with in order for your relationship to be harmonious. You’re your compassionate era “I see you twin.” I heard that, that maybe for some of you, idk, but I see you giving the benefit of the doubt more, being more caring and thoughtful to the other person, ending old habits and cycles that have been stopping you from having a loving relationship. This era you’re in is all about healing, balance, compassion, and reconnection! Glow up Era fashooooo!

Pile 2

Your Card: The Patron.

Well to put it just like that, you’re in your patron era, your guiding hand era, mentorship era. You’re definitely the voice and mind someone needs right now in order to get through this thing called life, I’m feeling like it could be you being the mentor or you gaining one. I’m also seeing that you’re in your either endorsement deals era or sponsoring the world era, you’re either giving or receiving some kind of financial investment and I’m seeing that this is new project era vibes as well hunty! I’m hearing what ever you but to do you gon eat it up HENNYYYYYYYYYYYY! I’m living for this era that you are entering you’re in your empowerment era and not just for you but for this new person coming into your life, be open minded, they may not be romantic but this connection is important for the both of you whether you’re receiving or giving the guidance. Learning era baby!!!

Pile 3

Your Card: The Astronomer

So baddies lol, I see that you here are getting more into your taboo era. I’m seeing that you guys will be discovering a lot about yourselves spiritually, you may even connect closely with your higher self, through dreams for some of you. Connecting with the stars is really important for you at this point, you may even be learning more about your astrology charts and shit right now, stars are aligning for you baby and you’re gonna find out why! Whatever shit you’re dealing with too at this point you’re in you’re gaze in to the future era cos the solution is not in the past, it’s in the future and you need to look there because I’m seeing what you doing right now to solve it ain’t working, time for new ideas. Be open to new suggestions to follow them like is gospel trust YOURSELF! If you’re feeling what someone is saying is not right trust me it ain’t! You are in your high priestess/hierophant era babies do not allow anyone to make you feel like you can’t trust yourself! Your gut is leading you right my babies this era that you’re entering is a whole new you! A glow up but this involves only you, as the other likes involved other people. You got this babies!

That’s all that I’m getting for you guys, let me know if you like these eras reading in the comments and I will try to do them periodically.

[pretty-little-mind33]

uhhhh please tangerine lemon and handler/agent!Reader playing scrabble or monopoly to relax but it's so incredibly not relaxing

this sound so damn fun! enjoy! for fem!reader

~ * ~

"You're a fuckin' cheater," Tangerine hisses as he sulks on the floor. He had completely given up on being a civilized person once the game had become heated. His hair is messy from the constant re-arranging and he keeps loosening his tie like it's suffocating him.

Somehow, It tends to always become heated when playing monopoly with the Twins, so you aren't surprised by Tangerine's manic state. Lemon rolls the dice, ignoring his brother as he delicately moves his thimble.

He's winning.

"Next fuckin' time, I'm the fuckin' bank. I can't trust you for shit," Tangerine piped up again, groaning in frustration as Lemon passes his properties, safely landing on the starting square.

"Paying up, double this time," Lemon smirks as he reaches into the bank and taps his index on the starting square.

"Oi! No! Since when is it double if you land on it?!" Tangerine argues, grabbing the bank and sliding it towards him on his side. Lemon yanks it back, his eyes dark as he sends Tangerine a glare.

"Since forever," you add quietly, organizing your property cards. Tangerine sends you a glare.

"Whose side are you on, love?"

You shrug and smile, still very sleepy. "The winning side so this can be over with and I can finally sleep," you reason with a yawn. You're completely losing the game but it doesn't matter. All you wanted was a relaxing evening.

You should have never let Lemon suggest monopoly.

Tangerine grumbles something under his breath, seeing how sleepy you've become. He does feel bad since the mission has been stressful, mostly because of him, and now he's stressing you out again.

"C'mere," he mumbles as he leans against the sofa, opening one arm so you can move closer.

You happily shift over and sink your nose into Tangerine's chest as your eyes flutter shut. His hand finds your head, massaging a gentle circle with his hand as you hum, feeling yourself drift into sleep. The game has completely slipped your mind.

"Y/n, it's your turn," Lemon hands you to dice.

Tangerine takes them instead. "She's with me now."

"That's not how that works," Lemon begins.

"One more word from you and I'll shove these monopoly bills so far up your ass you'll be coughing up fake money for days," Tangerine quips, his voice eerily calm.

You wince at his vulgarity, but you're too exhausted to speak up, as you tighten your grip around his sleeve and watch through the slit between your eyelashes as Lemon scrunches up his nose and hits his brother's shin from underneath the coffee table.

"Bastard," Tangerine hissed and clutches his leg.

"Fuckin' language!" Lemon scolds, eyebrows scrunched.

Tangerine kicks him right back, hitting the small table with his knee and scattering some monopoly money onto the carpet. His movement causes you to hum and he freezes, looking at your sleepy state.

"You fu—"

"Shut up," Tangerine whispers harshly, snapping his head towards Lemon as he rests his hand on your head again. Your breathing has slowed and your eyes are fully shut. "She's asleep."

Lemon calms down, slowly picking up the bills as he sends his brother a knowing look. Tangerine is stroking your hair, the game completely abandoned as he focuses on you and making sure no one disturbs your slumber.

"Fuckin' whipped as shit," Lemon mutters, cleaning up the game as he suppresses a smirk. "I win, ya twat," he taunts but Tangerine isn't even listening.

His gaze is locked onto you, watching your chest rise and fall. You look so peaceful and his stomach flips. He knows. He knows instantly that Lemon isn't the one who won.

No. Because how could Lemon have won when you're the only prize that truly matters? And you're not Lemon's girl, you're his girl.

He's fuckin' won.

[loser-otaku-girl]

answering @maskedrealities questions

to be part of the jirai community u should be mentally ill (this is not me saying u need to become mentally ill if ur not im saying its prob not a safe space for u if u do have good mental health). most people in the community dont wanna get better and dislike ppl w good mental health in our spaces. this is a space where we can all be messed up together.

you can leave the community whenever. id suggest leaving if u want to get better because often being in a community full of illness (and other stuff) can make it harder to heal.

me personally i wouldnt tell others to join the community especially if theyre mentally sound (or like not mentally ill, doesnt sh, doesnt have bpd (or any other disorders that can be heavy do deal with just bpd is the most common among us (u also dont have to have bps obvi))), ect cuz that can mess them up. but if there is someone you know who wants a community to be themselves in that fits the jirai lifestyle/ideals id say tell them about it but dont force them to join.

my fav parts of the jirai community is having a place to be insane without being judged.

hopefully that answered all ur questions and if anyone has any other questions just lmk!

and if u want to add anything feel free cuz i have not double checked what i wrote...

[rekino2114]

Would you do domestic headcanons with fem sukuna and reader as parents

Fem. Sukuna and you as parents

A/n:Thank you for requesting this, soft villains give me life energy

Sukuna did not want a child and she told you that clearly whenever you showed interest in it, she didn't want to deal with the burden of having to take care of a human being, not to mention what an eventual pregnancy might have done to her fighting prowess, it was much better to just stay only with you for eternity.

That was until she started noticing something. Whenever you two were walking around other people, the mothers always hugged their children in hopes of protecting them, she thought it was foolish. If she truly wanted to kill them, then their parent's protection would have done nothing to shield them, so then why did they do it?

Did they love their child so much that they were willing to do any possible thing to keep them safe and alive even when they knew it wouldn't work?.....even throw away their own life. Sukuna's parents had never given her any kind of love, and as such, she couldn't understand why mothers would do that. Why did they not run? Why were they willing to do that? She was truly confused

Sukuna watched from afar as mothers hugged their children as they smiled when they spoke, as they gave them soft praise and affection whenever they listened....was this true love? She could see it in those women's eyes they felt very similar to how she felt around you it was love that she had never received as a child herself

She eventually realized that she wanted to be like those women. She wanted to have a child, maybe because of a subconscious wish to fix her own mother's mistakes in raising her or maybe because she wanted the gratification of raising someone who could continue her bloodline, nevertheless one night while you were in bed together she told you her desires and you agreed giving her what she wanted right there and then.

In general, sukuna is......not the best mom. She takes a rather...spartan approach to parenting, raising your child to be a fighter more than a person, but thankfully, she has you to fix that, reminding her to show her love to them which was unusual at first but as she got used to it she took quite a liking to it, hugging your child tightly with her four arms as she did to you often made her heart flutter and feel nice in a way she thought only you were capable of.

She often just leaves uraume in charge of taking care of your child. They always cook for all of you anyway and are actually quite good with children. You always help them whenever you can, especially when sukuna is outside, probably fighting, if she isn't though then you practically force her to take care of your kid, it's not that she doesn't want to she's just kinda bad at it.

While she may call them brat a lot and be mad at them when they lose a fight, you can still see she's genuinely trying her best to be a good mom, giving them affection and smiling with genuine happiness whenever around them (you should have seen her when they said mom for the first time, she swear she didn't cry but her four swollen eyes say otherwise) she loves your child as much as she loves you and she wishes nothing but to make them as strong as she is while still making sure they have a good upbringing and life.

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Less 📱☕️

Alexia Russo x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

You meet your online girlfriend "Less", only to discover she's secretly Alessia Russo, the famous footballer.

You sat in the café, sipping your drink, glancing nervously at the clock. Today was the day you were finally meeting her, the girl you had been talking to for months. She went by the name "Less" online, and you had hit it off from the start. It felt like you could talk to her about anything, and she had this charm that was impossible to resist.

But there was one thing that always nagged at you: Less never sent many personal photos. Sure, you had seen a few selfies here and there, but they were always casual, nothing overly revealing of her life. She claimed to be a private person, which you respected. After all, she made you feel safe enough to open up, and that was all that mattered, right?

You stared out the window, lost in thought when you heard the café door open. You turned instinctively, and your heart nearly stopped. Walking in was someone you never expected to see in a place like this.

Alessia Russo

You recognized her immediately. She was one of the brightest stars in women’s football, and you had seen her play countless times. But what was she doing here?

Before you could process the situation, she looked right at you, her eyes lighting up. She smiled, a smile you knew all too well. Your heart skipped a beat, confusion flooding your mind as Alessia Russo, the Alessia Russo, made her way toward your table.

“Y/N?” she asked softly, her voice familiar yet completely shocking.

You blinked, struggling to connect the dots. “Less?”

She grinned sheepishly, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Surprise.”

You sat there, speechless, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening. Less, the girl you had been talking to for months, your online girlfriend, the one who you thought was just a regular person, was Alessia Russo, one of the biggest football stars in the world.

“I... I don’t understand,” you stammered, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “You’re... you’re Alessia Russo?”

She shifted on her feet, a hint of nervousness in her expression. “Yeah, I know. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to see me as... well, as ‘Alessia Russo the footballer,’ you know? I wanted you to get to know me.”

You stared at her, still processing the fact that the Alessia Russo was standing in front of you, the girl you’d grown close to, the one you’d shared so many personal moments with. And now, she was telling you she had been hiding this huge part of her life.

“I wanted to meet you like this, in person, so I could explain,” Alessia continued, sitting down across from you. “I’ve never done this before. I didn’t want my job or my career to change the way we talked.”

You could see the sincerity in her eyes, and it was hard to stay mad if you were even mad at all. Mostly, you were just shocked.

“So, all this time, you were hiding this?” you asked quietly, trying to make sense of it.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t want it to affect the way you saw me. I love football, but I wanted you to get to know Alessia, not ‘Russo.’”

You sat there, staring down at your coffee, feeling a mixture of emotions. It was hard to be angry, because in a way, you understood. Being Alessia Russo meant she had the world’s eyes on her. She didn’t get to live like a normal person most of the time, and she probably feared that once people knew who she was, everything changed.

“I get it, I think,” you said after a long pause. “It’s just... a lot to process. I didn’t think I’d be meeting a famous footballer today.”

Alessia chuckled softly, looking relieved that you weren’t storming off. “I’m still the same person you’ve been talking to for months, though. I still care about you the same way, and nothing’s changed in that department.”

You met her eyes, despite the shock, this was still the girl you had fallen for. The person who had made you laugh on long nights, who had listened when you needed to vent, who had shared parts of herself with you. That hadn’t changed.

“So... you’re not just some random girl who likes football,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

She laughed, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I guess not. I was going to tell you. I just wasn’t sure how.”

You leaned back in your chair, still processing everything but feeling a lot less overwhelmed. “It’s a bit crazy, but I guess I can’t be mad. You’re still my Less.”

Alessia’s smile grew wider, the tension finally easing between you two. “Exactly. And I’m really glad you came today. I’ve been wanting to see you in person for so long.”

Despite the whirlwind of emotions, you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ve been wanting to see you too. Even if you did leave out one tiny detail.”

She laughed, looking at you with that soft, affectionate gaze you had come to know through your video calls. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You shook your head, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders. “You better. But... I think I can forgive you, Alessia or should I still call you Less?”

“Call me Less” she said, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch, and smiled softly.

[kpislby]

𝑊hen you’re uncomfortable — 𝐵𝑛𝐷

content! - fluff // warnings : none

𝒋aehyun —

you were waiting for jaehyun at your usual spot in the café when a group of guys at a nearby table kept glancing at you, their whispers and lingering looks making you uneasy. you tried to distract yourself, pretending to scroll through your phone, but the feeling of being watched made your heart race. you shifted in your seat, wishing jaehyun would hurry back. every second felt longer, and their stares more invasive.

jaehyun returned with your drinks and immediately noticed the tension in your posture. his eyes followed your uneasy glances toward the guys, and without saying a word, he put the drinks down. he gently took your hand and stood up, his expression soft but protective. “let’s go,” he said quietly. you didn’t have to explain anything—he understood. jaehyun led you outside, his hand never leaving yours, his presence grounding you as you walked away from the uncomfortable situation.

𝒔ungho —

you were at a family gathering with sungho, surrounded by people you didn’t know very well. someone’s questions had started to get a little too personal, and you felt cornered in the conversation. they weren’t being rude, but the probing questions made you uncomfortable. you smiled politely, trying to steer the conversation away, but it wasn’t working. you wished for a way out but didn’t want to make things awkward.

sungho, noticing the subtle discomfort in your expression, came up beside you. “hey, do you want to get some fresh air?” he asked casually, offering you an easy escape. you nodded, grateful for the excuse, and sungho gently took your hand, leading you outside. as soon as you stepped into the cool air, he gave you a comforting smile. “you don’t have to go back in if you don’t want to,” he said, making sure you knew that your comfort was his priority.

𝒓iwoo —

you were at an art exhibit with riwoo, enjoying the displays, when someone in the crowd brushed too close for comfort. at first, you thought it was just the busy space, but the same person seemed to keep hovering near you. every time you tried to move away, they were there again, making you feel trapped. you glanced at riwoo, feeling uneasy, but unsure of what to say.

riwoo noticed the shift in your mood and immediately stepped closer, his expression serious. “what’s wrong?” he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the room for the source of your discomfort. when you subtly pointed out the person, riwoo didn’t hesitate. he took your hand firmly and pulled you toward another section of the exhibit, putting as much space between you and the stranger as possible. “let’s go somewhere quieter,” he said, his protective nature kicking in as he kept you close.

𝒕aesan —

you and taesan were at a busy street festival, weaving through the crowds, when you started to feel overwhelmed. the noise, the heat, and the sheer number of people pressing in on you made it hard to breathe. you tried to stick close to taesan, but every time someone bumped into you, the discomfort grew. a few people didn’t seem to respect personal space, making the experience even more suffocating.

taesan noticed the shift in your energy and immediately moved closer, positioning himself in front of you as a barrier. he leaned down and asked, “want to leave?” his tone gentle but full of concern. you nodded, grateful that he understood without needing a full explanation. with his arm protectively around you, taesan guided you through the crowd, making sure you felt safe until you both found a quieter spot to relax.

𝒍eehan —

you and leehan were out at a local park, relaxing on a bench when you noticed someone sitting nearby, staring at you for a bit too long. at first, you tried to brush it off, but the longer it went on, the more uncomfortable you felt. the stranger’s gaze never wavered, making your skin crawl. you shifted awkwardly in your seat, glancing at leehan, who was mid-conversation, hoping he’d notice.

leehan quickly caught on to your unease and followed your gaze to the stranger. without drawing attention to it, he placed his hand over yours, squeezing gently. “do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked softly, his concern evident. you nodded, and leehan immediately stood up, helping you to your feet. as you walked away, he kept close to you, his arm brushing yours, silently reassuring you that he was there.

𝒘oonhak —

you were at a house party with woonhak, the music loud and the room packed with people. at first, it was fun, but then a group of strangers started crowding your space, their conversations turning obnoxious and uncomfortable. one of them kept getting too close, his jokes a little too personal. you laughed awkwardly, trying to inch away, but the unease was hard to shake off.

woonhak, always observant, noticed how tense you’d become. he leaned in, his voice soft against your ear. “want to take a break?” he asked, already guiding you toward a quieter corner of the house. without making a scene, he placed a hand on your back, offering silent support. his calm presence was enough to make you feel safer, and as you caught your breath, you knew he’d stay close until you were ready to rejoin the party.

perm tl - @orimuraa @seodgaf

𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 🧾 : hellurrr !! i posted twice today 😭😭 these are just so fun to make.. i can’t stawppp

[lady-phasma]

Idk if this is a insensitive question, but how do you deal with ageism in fandom space? I'm in my late twenties and people already make me feel so weird about still caring about certain things, calling us hags and such, it's really depressing

Hi nonnie!

Not insensitive at all! First, hugs. I am so sorry that you have had that experience.

Please don’t let it get you down too much. If you don't follow me or are a new follower, let me give you some background. I don't allow bigotry or hate of any kind on my blog. That has the effect of also dramatically decreasing rudeness in my sphere. I got the nickname auntie for a few reasons, but one is because I'm older than a lot of folks. I embraced it. Especially when I realized that people needed a safe space in some fandoms. (The nickname originated as "writing auntie" but auntie stuck.)

So how do I deal with ageism? BLOCK. If anyone makes you feel old (seriously late 20s is so young!), block them. How do I not take it personally? That might be the more accurate interpretation of your question. I look at my nerdy tattoos and smile. I watch my blorbos and favorite shows and write smut. I check my notifications for all the people who get joy from my posts, fics, and gifs.

Honestly, I think it gets easier to not give a fuck when you get older because, for myself at least, the march of time is inevitable, so we might as well enjoy the things we enjoy. I literally do not give a shit if someone has a problem with me being 41 and in fandoms on Tumblr. I have 30 years' experience writing fanfiction. I have a whole-ass life off this blog. And I need my fandoms because they make me happy and that's a precious thing in life.

So, if I had advice to give you it might be this: just hold on. When you hit 30 you will probably stop caring. Until then, block them, post even more, do nerdier shit, and make yourself happy. The best way to deter people who want to make others miserable is to show them that they can't do that to you.

[blackenedsnow]

I love ur writing so much could I maybe request p1 slowly learning to love and be loved 💔

p1 dude learning to love and be loved ; headcanons

WARNING: Emotional detachment, slow emotional healing, and mental health struggles.

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for your kind words! This is sooo sweet and I had so much fun writing this.

At the beginning, Dude is incredibly distant.

He’s been hardened by everything going on in his head, unable to trust anyone, and it takes time before he even acknowledges your presence as something more than just another person in his life.

He avoids eye contact, rarely speaks, and his body language is closed off.

He flinches at touch, even a casual hand on his shoulder can cause him to stiffen.

He’s not used to physical affection and struggles with it, associating touch with pain or vulnerability.

You notice this and take things slow, giving him space while offering gentle reassurances that you’re there for him.

The first step to breaking through his walls happens in small ways.

You notice that he tends to neglect himself—skipping meals, isolating for days, or losing himself in his own thoughts.

You leave food for him, make sure he has a clean place to rest, or leave a blanket for him when it gets cold.

Even though he has that coat on all the time.

He doesn’t thank you at first, but you notice him slowly accepting these gestures, even if he doesn’t show it outwardly.

There are rare moments when you catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

Maybe it’s late at night when the weight of the paranoia becomes too much, and you find him staring out into the darkness, lost in thought.

You sit next to him, offering silent company.

He doesn’t say anything, but the fact that he doesn’t push you away is progress.

Trust comes slowly for him.

The first time he starts opening up to you, it’s not in the form of deep conversation but in subtle actions—he lets you sit closer to him, or he allows himself to relax slightly in your presence.

It’s a process of him realizing that not everyone wants to hurt him, and you’re someone who’s there to help, not judge.

Dude doesn’t know how to love anymore, not in the traditional sense.

But with time, he starts showing his affection in his own way—he might fix something for you, stand by your side, or give you something meaningful to him, even if it’s small.

He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but his love is shown in quieter ways.

If you’re having a tough day, he’ll sit beside you in silence, offering his presence rather than words.

His touch remains tentative, but over time, you notice him reaching out—a hand on yours, or resting his head on your shoulder when he feels safe enough to do so.

His biggest fear is losing the one person who has stayed by his side.

The thought terrifies him because he knows how fleeting happiness can be.

When you notice him getting more protective, it’s not out of possessiveness but fear.

He doesn’t know how to express it, but the idea of losing you is unbearable to him.

It takes time for Dude to fully accept that he deserves love.

Even after he begins to care for you, there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind—why would anyone want to be with someone like him?

But as you continue to show him patience, understanding, and unconditional support, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s worthy of love after all.

There’s a moment when the emotional walls he’s built start to crack.

Maybe it’s after a particularly difficult day, or when his fear catches up to him, but he finally lets his guard down in front of you.

He doesn’t say much, but he leans into your embrace, allowing himself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

It’s then that he realizes just how much he needs you.

Slowly but surely, Dude learns that love isn’t about perfection or being strong all the time.

It’s about support, about being there for one another, and allowing someone to care for you, even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

You’re the person who teaches him that love can be a healing force, and while it’s not a magic fix, it’s a step towards a brighter future.

Dude may never be the most emotionally expressive person, but he’s learned how to love and be loved.

He starts to accept that it’s okay to rely on someone else, and while he may never fully leave behind his paranoia, with you by his side, he begins to find peace in the idea that love doesn’t have to hurt.

[python333]

what's a noise to an eardrum? — python³

― ― ― ―

synopsis you've been on a mission for a while, and instead of going back to your quarters after coming back, you head to ghost's.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters simon "ghost" riley.

word count 2.2k

warnings ghost's pov, 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], sleep deprivation, bad cliches, bad writing, might be ooc

note hey gang!!! i think i got all the warnings since this is pretty lighthearted considering what i usually post, so enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!

Ghost was sitting at his desk―in his own sleeping quarters, since it’s technically past curfew and he doesn’t need any trouble from recruits about him being in his office after hours, the annoying little shits―typing away at his computer, trying to get a report on his latest assignment done before going to bed.

He’s had a little bit of trouble sleeping lately. Not to say that it’s your fault, but it’s definitely your fault. He doesn’t necessarily need you around to go to sleep, but since you volunteered for a mission a week ago, he’s been a little on edge. Originally, it would’ve been Soap and a few other sergeants heading out to a small town in some country down in Central America, but you took the place of Soap after Price had explained the mission. 

It could technically be done by one person, he’d said in short, but it’s quicker to send out a squadron than a single soldier.

You weren’t the best sniper they had, but you had enough experience with it for Price to approve of you going with one other person to keep watch of you. The long duration of the mission was really to be blamed on how often your target had been moving, leaving you with little room to take any shots. It wasn’t too important of a mission, however―as long as you didn’t miss your target in the end―so Ghost is sure Price is glad that he only had to send out one soldier instead of around six or seven.

Still, despite how there was little to no chance of you coming out of this mission in multiple pieces, Ghost found himself worried; something he, admittedly, feels for a lot of the soldiers here. His worry for you is different, though. Maybe it’s an age thing. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s seen you grow over the years that you’ve been here, and how close you’ve gotten to going from a Private to a Lance Corporal. It’s a relatively low rank for someone in the 141, which only makes him―dare he admit it―prouder. A weird feeling lingers in his mind when the word proud comes to mind as he thinks of you, but he ignores that feeling, instead opting to focus on the report he so desperately wanted to finish.

Despite his usual sleep aversion, he finds himself wanting to sleep for once.

Just as he gets to the middle of his report, he hears a knock at the door. Before Ghost can even say anything, he hears the door open, and his head whips around to see who would decide that it’s a good idea to enter his room without his permission. Though, all of his confusion and building anger dissipates the moment he sees that it’s you. Fresh from medical, he can safely assume, seeing the various bandages and bruises on you, and that odd too-clean smell that’s sticking to you. You look so exhausted, it’s almost funny. Almost. 

You close the door behind you and Ghost turns his head back to his laptop. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you, but it’s a little harder to when you look so disheveled. He hears a few footsteps, then the squeaking of bed springs, and a sigh before the rustling of bed sheets. In the faint reflection of his computer screen, Ghost can just barely see you getting comfortable under the covers of his bed, seeming to fully disregard his presence. He doesn’t mind, though. He gets it; that feeling after being on guard for so long, not sure how much of it you can let down even though you’re back on base, and that strange structureless feeling where you wish you had bones but only feel like flesh. 

It’s odd, put simply. When Ghost thinks of the feeling, he thinks of the age-old question, if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The feeling is like a constant questioning of what you’re experiencing, the wonderance of whether or not you can feel safe if the safest you’ve ever felt is a feeling lost somewhere beyond you. If you lose a feeling, was it ever felt? If you lost safety, were you ever safe, or, as Maslow would put it, were you always missing that basic need? Ghost knows plenty about missing safety. He knows that his mind blanks when he tries to think about the last time he felt safe before the 141. 

He knows that you know plenty about missing safety, too. Not a lot, because you never say enough to clue him in on just how much you’re missing, but he has his suspicions. Some are confirmed, others mere theories, but still―he knows you well enough. That’s why you’re in his room, not saying a word, just breathing heavily into his pillow and trying to garner warmth from his blanket. He can see you staring at him from the bed. He’s sure you want him to say something, and because it’s you that’s looking at him, he does.

“Back already?” Ghost asks dryly, drawing a small huff out of you. 

“Soap said y’missed me,” you reply, making Ghost scoff, “when he visited me in the infirmary.” 

“Too big of a mouth on ‘im,” Ghost saves the draft of his report, deciding to just save writing it for another time, instead closing out of the program and hovering his finger over the power button on his keyboard, “don’t know how y’managed to understand him.” 

You hum and sit up in Ghost’s bed, the blankets rustling again, and as Ghost’s screen goes black, he turns around to see you sitting up with the blankets wrapped around you like a jacket. He blinks at you, before raising an eyebrow at your position.

“Ruinin’ my blankets?” he asks, though sounding barely offended, “After walking in unannounced besides that little knock?”

“Ruin’s a pretty strong word,” you argue, “and it wasn’t a little knock. It was loud. Practically echoed off the walls.”

Ghost can sense your sarcasm from a mile away, but continues to play along, leaning back in his chair. You look a little more tired covered in blankets, he thinks, those dark circles under your eyes are a little more pronounced. He sees them a lot. Those darkened semi-circles that he used to think were just a part of you, some kind of skin condition, but later realized they were a product of your sleep deprivation. It would’ve been his first thought had he not always seen you with the bags under your eyes, but after going on leave with you―a few months ago, back to his small house, after you had admitted that you preferred staying with him to going back to your dingy apartment―and witnessing you getting proper rest, seeing those circles get a little lighter, he knew that it was more of a sleep issue. 

He’s gone through his fair share of sleeping problems. He still goes through them; everyone in the military does, he’s sure. Ghost used to think that he took the brunt of it, compared to the rest of the task force, not because of the missions but because of what came before the missions. He’s changed his way of thinking since then, has opened up his mind a little more beyond the idea of suffering more than someone else in a specific sense, but he still had that feeling that he took on the majority of nightmares. The word “nightmare” feels a little juvenile for him, but until someone creates a better word for the repulsive things he sees after closing his eyes and just barely drifting asleep, that’s what he’s stuck with. 

“You better hope y’didn’t wake anyone up with it, then,” Ghost hums, “I doubt anyone wants to be awake right now.” 

He sees a small smile grow on your face and small spots of blood arise from beneath the cracked skin of your lips. 

“Everyone here sleeps like a rock as far as I know,” you reply, before pausing, considering, “maybe except for the guys who came in a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll be gone by next month,” Ghost tells you, his tone almost reassuring, “I don’t think they can handle any of… this.” 

“You don’t think they can handle your bullying?” you scoff, making Ghost huff out a small laugh, “Weak.” 

“Not everyone’s as strong as you, unfortunately,” Ghost hums sarcastically, getting up from his chair and walking the short distance over to his bed where you’re sitting. Automatically, you move so that Ghost can sit down next to you.

You’re both silent for a little bit. Ghost can see the few healing bruises on your face a little clearer here. Small dark yellows and reds on the sharper points of your face, the parts where the bone is a little closer to the skin, particularly your cheeks and a few over your jawline and near your chin. They’re a bad look on you, not because Ghost doesn’t think you can handle yourself, but because he knows that you can handle yourself, so the only way you could’ve gotten those bruises is if you were forced into a corner. He would consider that they were an accident, somehow self-inflicted, but he knows better than that. 

“Are you tired?” Ghost asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.” There it is.

“And for the few days that you did sleep?” He thinks he knows the answer to this too.

“I don’t know if you can really call it that.” Bingo.

It’s not surprising to him. Not only has he been on enough missions with you to know how hard it is for you to sleep outside of the base, but he’s managed to get you to actually tell him about your sleeping struggles. He knows. He watches you subtly kick off your boots, letting them fall over onto their sides, as if you could read his mind and know what he’s going to request next.

“Lay down,” Ghost puts a bare hand on your clothed shoulder and lightly pushes at it, prompting you to lean back onto your side, settling into the bed with the blankets still wrapped around you.

Ghost doesn’t mind the lack of blankets he’s getting. As long as you’re the one hogging them, he finds it easier to go without them, strangely enough. He lays down onto the bed next to you, his head naturally above yours, and neither of you bother to change positions. He doesn’t attempt to pull the blankets from you, and you don’t try to move away from him, the both of you simply existing together in one small space with nothing interrupting you two. A thin layer of air, similar to the blanket covering you, seems to cover the both of you, not trapping you together but instead comforting the both of you. The air feels woven from Ghost’s thoughts, yarn strewn from his cerebral cortex, emotions run through an invisible loom to create the beautiful quilt that covers the both of you. 

Ghost’s hand comes up to thumb at the edge of his balaclava, and he pulls it up the tiniest bit, but then pauses to think.

He knows that if you just turn your head up the tiniest bit, you’ll see his face. The blonde stubble peeking out from under his skin, the small dent forming in the middle of his nose from the constant wearing of his balaclava, and possibly the most embarrassing of all, that small smile he wears that pulls at his already cracking lips that draws blood on occasion. Despite all of this, he pulls his face covering all the way off, and tosses it onto his desk. Your face doesn’t move an inch despite how obvious it is that some kind of fabric has hit the desk. 

He considers saying thank you, but Ghost doesn’t deem it necessary. You’re so close to sleeping that he doesn’t want to risk ruining your chances by talking to you. So, instead, he just brings his arm over your side and lets his hand reach up into the nape of your neck to toy with the small hairs tapering off there. They’re short enough that he’s essentially just brushing his fingers against the skin of your neck, but he assumes you don’t mind, considering how you continue to not move. You stay still peacefully, soft breaths leaving you as your body starts to actually relax.

So you weren’t lying about your lack of sleep, he thinks, his own eyes slowly closing, not that I thought you were, anyway.

Your breathing creates the perfect white noise to him. The vibrations emitting from your larynx that escape your mouth reach his ear canals, where they bounce off of his eardrums, and move down from his middle ears to his inner ears where the nerve endings that live there turn the vibrations into electrical impulses and are translated by his brain into actual sound. The translation sounds like more than just a simple sound, though; it’s like your breathing is translated into actual words rather than breathing, words like safe and guarded. Those small vibrations bounce around in his ears and turn into syllables, then eventually whispers, then firm speech. 

Those words are like music to his ears, as cliché as it is, and he cherishes every word he hears―more than he’ll ever let you know.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

"if i say i miss you, i know that you won't.”

Summary: Cillian looks back at all the mistakes he made in his marriage. Writing to a wife that never came home after he realized too late he was the reason she ran away. Will one last letter change everything?

Warnings: Resentment, mentions of divorce, marriage problems, yearning

Tapping his cracked finger tips against the cold wooden table, fit snuggly to the side of the wall of the kitchen just beside the window. Cillian warmed his hands, cusping them around the simmering cup of honey tea while he scanned the same script for the ninth time. The words and acts blurring together in a silhouette of scattered thoughts.

He tried to focus to the best of his ability but the autumn sun peered in through the sheer blinds, pulling his depressed, tired eyes away from the scripture. It was at that point in the season the leaves started to fall in their poetic state, scattering across the front lawn and dwindling over the cracked sidewalks.

"Hm.." He hummed to himself whimsically as he watched a young couple walking happily hand in hand together down the street, involuntarily caressing the golden band that fit snug to his finger for the past fifteen years.

It felt like just yesterday his wife was wrapped in his arms, stealing the warmth of his body, her hair flowing freely over his shoulder while their legs were intertwined between the cotton sheets. Her head tucked between his head and collarbone while her plush, delicate lips pressed against the veins of his neck.

She had the giggle that would make any sorrowful man smile gleefully, so infectious, so pure. He missed it immensely.

It had been nearly a year since he saw the woman that took his last name. Marriages were a funny thing, the divorce statistic rising increasingly fast with each passing day. He never dreamed that he would become a part of such a number, not ever.

Her scarves still lay on the hooks behind the door, her remnants of clothes and shoes still decorating the once shared flat, only reminding Cillian that he was living with a ghost of a person who was still living, just not with him anymore.

The media pressed on the topic repeatedly in nearly every interview he did, questioning what was really going in his marriage. Being the private, family man he was, he dismissed these questions immediately, only wanting to stick to questions regarding the projects he was currently working on.

They slowly began to fade away, much like his wife as time passed. Speculations ever so often here and there when he was spotted out walking Scout by himself, never having taken the wedding ring off.

Papers were never signed, but in a way the void in the house crept into his gut, often causing him to just sit in the car, staring at the fortress that was supposed to be his safe haven. The house no longer feeling like home as much as it was a reminder of how his lifestyle slowly pushed her away.

No one talked about how celebrities still had their battles and money was just but an object. Cillian would have thrown it all away for her if he knew it would end with his wife disappearing and never coming home, leaving him a simple letter of her decision to leave.

Gulping, he wiped at his dreary eyes as tears were bearing down against the waterline of his baby blue eyes, desperately seeking an escape from the bottled up emotions Cillian avoided for so needlessly long.

She was a writer, a damn great one in his eyes but their schedules never aligned and the first book signing she had he couldn't push back a date for an interview. He hadn't asked her how it went, merely promising he'd make it up, yet he never found the time to do so.

Their love life diminished at a rapid pace, the date nights not so frequent, while every conversation lead to arguments, inevitably leading to mental exhaustion and her needing space away, time to think.

Their careers didn't align, and neither were willing to put their lives on hold for one another. She had missed out on so many oppurtunities to publish anymore, even passing on a job to be a writer for the times. She hoped this would fix the problems in their relationship, not realizing until far too late how many phases of her aspirations she passed on because of him. She refused any longer to sit around and wait for Cillian to find the time for their marriage, for her. He honored and respected her for that but the days soon turned into weeks, leading to months, leading to Cillian living how he was now.

The picture frames stared back at him every day, making him feel like a fool for not making time for her, for never fighting harder for their marriage and disregarding her hopes and dreams. The flashbacks of all the intimate moments warmed his heart, the arguments and feuds eating at his bones like acid did to a surface.

Stumbling into his office, he opened the left hand drawer, pulling out a pen and paper, sitting down like he did every week before he began to write, hands trembling each time as he held the pen.

" My love,

I write this with letter to you with good graces in hopes of you coming home.

I understand I've poisoned our love, I was so careless with your kindness, your strength, and your selfless love.

To you I'm just a man, but to me you're all I am. I once said I could never imagine my life without you in it and that holds true to this day. I realize our marriage wasn't perfect, no marriage is. However, I refuse for us to be some statistic we always said we would beat.

I find myself losing who I am every day you are away. I'm still trying to convince myself you are coming home, though I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, if you resented me even after how long it's been. Still can hear the creaks of us dancing on the patio, can still see your subtle eyes gleaming in the orange of the sunlight.

I understand the pain and hurt I've done to not only us but to you. I don't know if you read these letters but I won't be a bother any longer..

I just need to say, I still wear this ring every day and our love will never come off of this finger. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you and not a day will go by where I am not madly still in love with you. I need you, I need us.

I just wish for a chance to prove to you, my love, that I can be, I will be a better husband to you than what I was in the past.

Regardless I wish all the best to you.

Kindest Regards,

Cillian"

Licking the slit of the envelope, Cillian debated on whether or not this would work, but he refused to give up hope that one day she would return.

Clasping the mailbox shut, he noticed the paps walking toward him and scuttled back inside.

The weeks passed agonizingly slow after he mailed the letter.

The fifth night of the third week Cillian was sat in the recliner, lamp glowing over the table at the same script making notes of what could be changed or what expressions and mannerisms he should expose in the scene when a glare of light flashed through the window.

He hadn't thought much of it and tried to ignore that skip of his heart and the empty hope that it could be his wife until the sound of a car door closing echoed outside the house.

Like a young boy in love, nervous for his first date he hurriedly ran to the window in a rush of anxious optimism, pulling the curtain open hastily. All hope diminishing from his body, heart breaking when he noticed it was just the new neighbor's car pulling into their driveway.

Something told him she was never coming home.

The following night his assistant was doing the final fit for his red carpet premiere for "Small Things Like These", brushing at Cillian's hair until she gave him the thumbs up that he was ready to go.

Before exiting the room she tugged at his arm gently, eyes beading with sincerity and utter care and concern when she asked,

"She still hasn't come home has she?" What was he supposed to do, lie? Clearly nothing has changed in his life, nor did he even mention you anymore. Still trying to navigate through life without you by his side. With a simple sigh, he scratched at his forehead, unable to find the words, nor want to have to admit aloud that he didn't know where his wife was or if she'd ever be coming back.

With a simple look of hopeless confusion, Cillian rested his eyes sighing and changing the subject respectfully, mentioning how she should grab one of his jackets since the weather was supposed to decline into a chilly wind later on in the night. Holding the door open for her to follow him out to the car, she dropped the subject, merely nodding at his comment and mumbling a sincere thank you.

He smiled for the cameras upon arriving, playing the role of a successful actor and not allowing the prying voices to get a reaction out of him when they made comments about her, his one love.

She never wrote back. He still held onto her belongings unable to bare with separating from them. Never daring to take the ring off of his finger even if she didn't wear hers anymore.