#sometimes you need to have grace for your past self

[burnmywholelifedown]

what did rina sawayama put in hold the girl? cause it keeps hitting like a drug. it's probably the trauma let's be honest.

[yandere-daydreams]

i'm being forced by myself to make a proper post for this poll. may gojo reign as a codependent king for years to come.

Cuteness Aggression With The Yan!JJK Boys.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Mahito, and Sukuna.

TW: Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, and Implied Non/Con.

Gojo is near-violent. Expect to be constantly covered in bruises from his habit of full-body tackling you whenever he notices you're wearing one of his shirts or curled up in his bed or quirking your lips in the way he's never been able to resist. Tends to hold onto you for a while, too, keeping you pressed against him while he squeals and coos about how adorable his partner is, making you sound like more of an especially beloved pet rather than a live-in captive. No amount of squirming will distract him, either - he's going to be there until someone literally pries him off of you which, because there's a good chance he's already got you locked up tight in that luxury penthouse of his, isn't going to be anytime soon.

Geto is more used to receiving affection than dulling it out, so he doesn't really know what to do with himself when he's suddenly overwhelmed with the temptation to wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stop laughing in a way that makes his heart want to beat out of his chest. In the end, he sorta just,,, picks you up and starts carrying you around like a giant cat. Maybe pinches your cheek when you inevitably start complaining and ask to be put down. Cult members who ask why you've been slung over his shoulder for the past hour and a half are immediately done away with and curse-users don't fair much better.

Nanami, as the only (relatively) emotionally-regulated person on this list, takes it in-stride. He tries not to force affection onto you, so he'll settle for a few headpats and maybe a kiss to your forehead, if you aren't absolutely terrified of him at that point. If you catch him in a more vulnerable state, either injured or exhausted, he might be a little more forceful - wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you against his chest, where he can hold you until you eventually give-in and stop struggling, but at least he tries to hold himself back. Sometimes. Maybe. If you're lucky, that day.

Toji is almost as bad as Geto, but not quite as awkward. He tends to scoop you up, drag you away from whatever you're doing, and lay you down where he can pepper your face with kisses and whine when you shove at his chest. He usually lets you go after a few minutes, but it's in your best interest not to squirm too much until he does. He'll just smirk and kiss your neck and say something about how precious his little sweetheart is being, today. The fondness-motivated aggression is short-lived. What he'll do if you give him the idea that you might need more of his affection won't be.

Mahito is twice as unhinged as Gojo and only half as self-conscious. His only saving grace is that, by the time he gets genuinely overwhelmed by something you do, you're going to be used to weathering his constant attempts to suffocate you via forty-five minute hugs. When he realizes how cutely you wince when he pokes a fresh bruise and decides he has to dig his teeth into your shoulder and refuse to let go about it, you'll probably be too used to his ""affection"" to do anything other than sigh and make sure he doesn't severe anything important, this time.

Sukuna is, in his defense, rarely gentle about anything, so you really can't expect him to have a gentle reaction when he sees what an adorable reaction you wear as you wait for him to take his first drink from the chalice you laced with you most recent poisonous fixation. You can kick and thrash all you want as two of his arms loop under yours and pull you onto his lap, as he cups your face and shoves tongue down your throat and wonders aloud if you taste as endearing as you look. He always keeps you by his side, but for the rest of the day, he won't be satisfied unless you're practically on top of him, riding on his shoulders or straddling his thigh. He'll even drink your deadly little elixir straight from the bottle, if you ask him to. It won't work, but you know, it's the thought that counts and all <3

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Led by candlelight

Blurb: You and Eddie are close- closer than what most people call ‘friends’ and there’s no hiding the affection for you have for one another… despite what your peers say about you.

Pairing: Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Book a dental appointment because your teeth are about to rot from how sweet this shit is.

-

divider by @cafekitsune

You and Eddie grew up together, your parents regularly said hello to one another and engaged in riveting conversation from time to time and you would always seek Eddie out on the playground. Even back then you two were inseparable. You would always long to hold his hand, just because you could and he would let you. He would always let you.

High school hasn’t been kind to Eddie, the long hair adoring his handsome face wasn’t for everyone’s taste. No one cared that tattoos are only a form of self expression and that they don’t automatically make you a ‘devil worshipper’. Jean jackets were considered ‘poor taste’ and overall your peers treated him like trash- he was the freak of Hawkin’s High… and it shattered your heart to see him commit to the role, because you knew him. You knew how hard he had it, his home life and everything in between and you saw right through his act. You saw his pain.

Eddie never let the tormenting affect his mood when he was around you. You were his sweetheart and he would be willing to bow down to death himself if it meant he could see a smile grace your face. He opens doors for you, he’ll pry your dented locker open for you whenever you need your books for your next class, he’ll walk you home- right to your front door! And he won’t leave until you get inside safely. Sometimes, he’ll even surprise you with underground concert tickets, even when he can’t afford them, just because he knows how much you love music and how you are always longing for a little bit of trouble and rebellion. He looks after you when you guys watch horror movies together, holding your hand and passing you pillows to use to block your vision from the screen when things get a little too frightening- And yeah, he laughs at you and he teases you about it but he treats you with such kindness that it makes your heart swell to even think of it. Kindness that he deserves to feel, too.

So, tonight, you decide that you want to show him how thankful you are for him. For everything that he is, and that he represents and everything that he does for you. You have Robin and Steve arrange a get together with Eddie, but in reality it’ll be you there instead at the location- ready to surprise him. Eddie thinks that they are going to explore a creepy abandoned house just out of Hawkins but when he gets there he’ll be met with a home cooked meal, lit by candlelight. In the past months, and in your years of knowing one another, you’ve come to notice that Eddie doesn’t cook. Not for himself, not at all, really and you can’t help the tears that prick your eyes when you think of your best friend, who you love so much, living and eating from cold tinned food every night. He deserves more. He deserves the world and you wish you could give it to him.

You are serving him ‘the world’ in the form of some red wine that you stole from your dad and some spaghetti bolognese. You chose spaghetti for 1 of 2 reasons. Number 1 being that everyone loves spaghetti, and number 2 being that it’s a pretty hard dish to fuck up- so it was the safest option. Plus, you paired it with garlic bread which you know Eddie is an absolute sucker for. He loves it when you bake some for your regular movie nights together so it would be borderline criminal to not supply some.

The clock is ticking and you are starting to get nervous. Darkness has clouded the sky as it succumbs to the night and you’re beginning to wish you brought more than three candles. Nonetheless, they do provide a gorgeous warm glow within the house which you still can’t wrap your head around why no one is living here. It is quite remarkable on the inside.

You take a few deep breaths, your mind clearing as you wait to see Eddie’s vans headlights glare through the foggy windows, which they do, sooner than you had expected and now you are contemplating on bolting out of the back door and sprinting away. You pace back and forth, the worn out floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you fight to regain composure. This is just Eddie, your Eddie- the Eddie you adore. He won’t hurt your feelings.. he won’t laugh in your face. It’s Eddie…

The front door whines on its hinges as Eddie enters inside, causing you to stop in your tracks like a deer in headlights. Dried rose petals decorate the floor leading to the small table you had acquired especially for this occasion and Eddie’s jaw hangs loose at the sight, his voice clearly having abandoned him.

“S.. surprise!!” It’s hard for you to smile with how nervous you are, your face keeps on twitching and Eddie can sense your discomfort, however, he can gauge that this is a different type of discomfort. You’re really anxious, “I cooked.. for us! It’s nothing fancy but I thought hey! Maybe Eddie will really like this and.. and so I just threw this together because well.. because uh.. I..” in your panic you hadn’t even noticed Eddie secure the front door and walk towards you, but he had, and now he is standing with his arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against his chest.

You sigh softly, the smell of his cologne immediately acts as a relaxant and you feel like you can finally breathe in his embrace, “I want you to know how much I care about you.” You admit, your soft voice muffled by your busy buried in his t-shirt. Eddie holds you there for a moment, stroking your hair before he pulls away to see your face, his eyes searching yours.

“I already know, Sweetheart.” His ring clad thumb swipes across your cheek, “I have always known. You’re my person, remember? And I’m your Eddie. Always.” Your eyes flutter closed as you lean more into his touch, nodding meekly in agreement with him. Your heart has calmed in your chest and you suddenly get a whiff of the hot food waiting for you both on the table.

“You brought garlic bread, right?” Eddie quips, a grin forming on his face, “Cause’ if not then I’ll have to draw the line in this friendship.” You nudge his shoulder lightly, giggling at his remark as you pull a tinfoiled plate from your picnic basket.

“Do I look like a sadist to you? I would never see my Eddie go without his beloved garlic bread. Never!” Your hand finds your chest as you mime defensiveness and Eddie’s head falls back as he laughs, taking a seat at the tiny table across from you.

“Y’know, if I had know that you would be here waiting on me.. I would have dressed up a bit more.” He plucks at the Hellfire t-shirt that he is wearing and you look at him, doe eyed and oblivious.

“But you look great.” Your smile is so sincere and warm that it makes Eddie’s knees weak and he has never been more happy to be sitting down than he is right now. He wish you knew the affects you had on him.

“And you look stunning, Dove.” He glances at your outfit, “As always.” He quips with his classic Eddie charm and you begin to peel the tinfoil from the plate in your hands, trying to hide the growing heat on your face.

“Stop it.” You don’t mean it- you never do. You place the plate on the table, perfectly situated between the both of you and you hope that the garlic bread is enough to distract him from your love-sick grin, but it isn’t, “The food might be a little cold, I do apologise.”

“This is fine dining compared to what I usually have,” He twirls his plastic fork in the dish, “You don’t have to worry about me all the time.” He takes a gracious fork full of the spaghetti, a string of pasta slapping his face on the way in which causes your mouth to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Holy shit-“

“What? What is it?” Your smile fades.

“This is fucking delicious!” Eddie rolls off of his chair, parading around the room before he suddenly comes to cup your face in his hands, “You are a miracle worker!” His lips press against your forehead and a confusion stricken look possesses your face as Eddie bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

“What? What did you-“ Your fingertips swipe at your forehead and when you glance at them you see the red sauce staining your skin, “Eddie!” You pout at your best friend who is laying on the floor, his arm shielding his face as he chuckles relentlessly. You can’t take it, you have to retaliate and the only thing nearby? A piece of the garlic bread. You launch the delicacy at him and an eerie silence fills the room as the bread thuds onto the floor, but you don’t get scared, you get excited. You get so pumped with butterflies that you are already on your feet and ready to run away from him if need be.

“Was that- the garlic bread?!” Eddie bounces up to his feet, his eyes wide with shock as he looks at you, “Ohhh, ohhh- Now you’ve done it. Wrong move, princess.” He glances at the spaghetti and your heart drops. Your fight or flight kicks in and you are running away from him before he has the chance to cover you in spaghetti and meat sauce. You are in a fit of giggles as you fight to climb the raggedy old staircase, your feet nearly betraying you as you reach the top. Looking down to see Eddie closing in behind you laughing as he does.

“I’m sorry, Ed’s! I’m sorry!” You’re squealing as he corners you in one of the empty rooms, your hands outstretched in front of you to try and keep him at arms length.

“You insult the bread… you insult me.” He shakes his head, his curly brown hair bouncing as he does, “How could you do this?” His eyebrows scrunch and his lips downturn into a frown as he attempts to trick you into feeling bad, “I thought we were friends-“ He sniffles before he makes a sudden movement toward you, ready to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, however…

“Wait! Wait!-“ you scream, stopping him in his tracks. He quirks an eyebrow and his hands land on his hips ,”I brought dessert.”

He takes a step away from you, “I’m listening.”

You’re choking on your own laughter as you try to think of an escape plan, however in moments like these, when you are faced with Eddie Munson- you just have to go with the flow, “It’s called, ‘eat my dust’.”

You sprint past him and you hear him groan behind you as you leave him standing in the room but it doesn’t take long to hear his footsteps thumping toward you. Eddie is faster than you, but you got a head-start.

This time, when Eddie catches up to you, he avoids negotiation all together. Grasping your waist he flips you up and over his shoulder, carrying you back to the main room where your dinner has definitely gotten cold. You thrash in his arms, swaying back and forth with every step that he takes and eventually you give in. You accept the fate of the sauce.

Eddie plonks you down on your seat and you squeeze eyes shut, bracing for impact… but the impact never comes. You reopen your eyes to see Eddie looking at you, his brown eyes are rounded and they reflect the love you carry for him. He is kneeling on both of his knees in front of you, his hands in his lap.

“I wanna tell you something…” He trails off and your heart sinks to your stomach, this sounds serious, “Gorgeous.. I have loved you since we were 9 years old. Hell! I probably loved you before then, too. And.. and you don’t got to say anything but you should know. You deserve to know that I, Eddie Munson, am in love you with. Hopelessly in love with you. I’d do anything for you- but I just couldn’t keep this from you. Not anymore…”

Silence wrapped around you like a thick blanket, caging any words deep within your chest- but you were going to tell him, even if it choked you to death, even if it fucking killed you- you weren’t going to let him walk away.

“I love you.” Your voice is a wheeze as you fight to let the words free, “God, I have loved you for so long, Ed’s.” Tears glisten in your eyes at the intense wave of emotion that consumes your entire body, “You are the only person I ever want to be around. The only person who knows me- truly knows me and.. and I want this. I want us. Forever.” Your vision is blurred but you smile at him, hoping that he is smiling too, and once the tears fall from your eyes you realise that he is. He is beaming.

“Us? Forever?” He edges closer to you, coming to rest between your legs, “I’ve never wanted anything more, baby.” And just like that, the kiss you have dreamt about, wrote about, fantasised about- is happening. It’s happening and you could float with total happiness.

You and Eddie. Forever.

It has a nice ring to it…

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas (lmk if you want added!)

[harmoonix]

Eye of the hurricane

(Short Astrology Observations)

🌪️- Chiron in Scorpio/8th or Chiron in Scorpio Degrees [8°, 20°] can be afraid to be intimate with their partners, or they can be anxious when it comes to intimacy

🌪️- Sun/Uranus/Neptune in the 12th house are half between the worlds, with one foot in the real world and with one foot in their subconscious world/spiritual

🌪️- Moon aspecting Pluto can sense energies for example they can have sense when they're being followed or watched by others

🌪️ - Chiron in Pisces/Chiron at Pisces Degrees (12°, 24°) and Chiron in the 12th house will have to end some karmic pain/wounds from their past lives in this current one

🌪️ - Neptune in the 1st house can get into a state of realization a bit harder than others, they usually tend to dream with their eyes open

🌪️ - Uranus aspecting asteroid Psyche (16) will make the native so much intuitive. Having these aspects will feel like a lightning striking the sky.

🌪️ - Psyche in Taurus or in the 2nd house can make the native gracious/ they can be blessed by Venus with grace/elegance and romance

🌪️ - People with Pluto aspecting the ascendant can get hate and envy without a reason, they're like in the middle of the fight and still the one who gets blamed 100% times

🌪️ - Saturn in the 12th and 6th house have a hard time to focus on themselves, in their lives they mostly focused on others instead of themselves and that can cause a chaos between soul & body

🌪️ - Ceres (1) in the 1st house is already a big indicator that you need to nurture yourself, you could've have been hurt a lot in your past and that caused pain in your life

🌪️ - Mars in air and fire signs (yang energy) wil feel very attracted or pulled in by the men around them. Is not like you are attracted by them but you rather are pulled in their circle of energy

🌪️ - Mars in the 11th house will be that friend who laughs when you do something wrong but still supporting you in some friendly way

🌪️ - Mercury in the 7th house cannot function in a relationship where there is not communication a lot. Omg guys please stay away from people who don't like to communicate their feelings because you'll get hurt so much

🌪️ - Mercury ascendant in your persona chart can indicate how are you at your best when you're communicating/expressing yourself fx Leo Rising may like to talk about self esteem and that will make them feel better

🌪️ - Destinn asteroid (6583) in Libra or Taurus cand end up being in a place predominant with fashion/art/style/glamour

🌪️ - Air Risings feel like a breeze of air in your life, they won't judge you or pull you down but rather they will be staying supporting always and they're so open-minded everything

🌪️ - Midheaven in Sagittarius or in Sagittarius Degrees (9°, 21°) can have luck when choosing for a career/job because Jupiter rules that specific house of theirs

🌪️ - Venus in Capricorn/Venus in the 4th/Venus in Cancer house can look after an traditional relationship and traditional household

🌪️ - Sun at 4°, 16° 28° degrees (Cancer Degrees) when they get hurt sometimes these natives try to manipulate people emotionally

🌪️ - Mars in the 3rd house may enjoy riding cars/motorcycles/bicycles/ etc.. Or they can find satisfaction in these things

🌪️ - Cancer Moons or Moon in the 4th house. They can try to be like their mothers but they could also get the toxic traits from their mothers aswell

🌪️ - Pisces Sun/Moon/Rising/Midheaven natives can be so indecisive when it comes to choosing the right path for them, because they can have more options to choose from and it can end up promising

🌪️ - Juno in Pisces Degrees (12°, 24°) or Juno in the 12th house are looking for a lasting romantic relationship, they want to feel romantic and make their partners to feel the same

🌪️ - Moon aspecting Venus (all aspects), i can't find the perfect words to describe this but, they can search all their lives for their partners and it can get pretty sad if they lose the hope for finding "the one" fated for them

H a r m o o n i x

[pressplay-if]

demo (prologue + ch.1, 56k words)

cog forum post

You are one of the most famous yet mysterious characters of the 21st century rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. You and your friends formed a band, and after years of practice in a garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It’s a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has disappeared from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/possibly stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac… and all sorts of music-related drama.

TW: themes of mental illness, unhealthy relationships, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, SA-related trauma

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Stevie is tall and skinny with light brown skin and extremely long, curly black hair which she always wears in a wet look. She has big, dark brown eyes and a soft face.

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.

Paul is very tall, broad-backed and thickly muscled with light skin, shoulder-length slicked back brown hair and bottle green eyes.

Paulette is of average height with an hourglass/slim thick figure. She has dark brown hair with parted bangs and light blonde strands dyed into it. Her eyes are bottle green.

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Angel is of average height and build with a warm beige complexion and long black hair. He has a square jaw with an occasional five o’clock shadow and brown eyes. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Lincoln (m) is short and lean, with an angular face and wavy blond hair. His eyes are cobalt blue. 

Lincoln (f) is petite and tan, with a youthful, round face and chin-length blond beach waves. Her eyes are cobalt blue.

Others:

Maddox Wells (m), drummer

Another one of your oldest friends. You don’t much like to talk about what happened with him.

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they used to try to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean, to be honest.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

Addendum: NSFW alphabet masterlist

Zima pt. 1 and pt. 2

Stevie

Lincoln

Angel

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Please consider reblogging <3

[quimichi]

do you still do twisted wonderland requests? if so can i request self aware dorm leaders being called "good boy"??

『 ↳✧･ﾟ CALLING THE DORM LEADERS YOUR GOOD BOY ;

Dorm Leaders x Creator!Reader

Riddle - Off with your head!

"Do you enjoy your tea?"

"Mm. The tea is most delicious, Yuu. " Riddle speaks with the utmost sincerity, his words sweet and grateful. Even though his tea cup has long been empty since he finished it, he holds it in his hand, his gaze fixed on it lovingly. He looks up at you, his head still bowed in worship, adoration. He smiles, his eyes warm and bright, all of his adoration and fondness directed towards you.

"Im glad my good boy likes his tea" you smile warmly at him before sipping at your own tea again. Riddle's smile widens, and he bows his head further.

Your good boy.

He looks up at you, his worship and fondness directed towards you, and he speaks, his voice soft and low.

"Thank you, Yuu. I adore you, you know?"

"I adore you, Riddle" his face flushes as he sits before you. He bows his head and lowers his gaze like he always does at your touch, but, with his skin now slightly red, he smiles softly to himself.

He shifts slightly. This feels so safe here.

"As long as you adore me, Your Grace… I am complete." At least one person treats him right in his life, unlike HIS MOTHER.

Leona - The king, huh…?

"Enjyoing your nap?" "Huh?" Leona glances around. He was indeed enjoying a peaceful nap before the sudden voice. Leona is often sleeping when you see him, but that is partly because he spends most of his time in your room. He sleeps there more than anywhere else.

He stretches, his limbs feeling heavy as he wakes up. He yawns, and nods his head as he responds. "Oh, yes. I was." "Did my good boy at least sleep well?"

"Yes," he says immediately, a flush spreading over his cheeks. He hates how much emotional control you had gained over him in the past month's. And damn you for calling him that…"I did."

He is embarrassed to admit that his night had been pleasant and pleasant dreams had come to visit him while he slept. His dreams are often full of your voice, your face, and sometimes even your touch.

These thoughts send his heart into overdrive in an instant. Fuck you for making him falling for you. You damn herbivore.

He is utterly enraptured by you. There's a strange glint in his eyes, an intensity that burns deep into his soul. Need, greed, want.

"Hm," he nods slowly, the only word he can manage before turning around in your bed and going back to sleep.

Azul - How poor and unfortunate you are

Azul's eyes flicker with uncertainty, but he would never hesitate to obey your instructions. Come closer to you…its simple, yet so hard. "Yes," he whispers, and he rises to come to you. His feet are swift and silent as he crosses the space separating you, his eyes ever vigilant for your every command.

"Sit with me" you said gentle. Despite whatever doubts Azul may have had moments before, they are quickly forgotten as soon as you command him to sit. Without another word, he lowers himself to sit beside you in obedience. His lips curve into a small smile as he gazes at you, happy to be near you.

Luckily Jade and Floyd aren't around, if they would, he already would've been teased into the ground.

"Youre my good boy aren't you Azul~?" with your hand on his cheek, your hot breath on his ear, who is he to say disagree. Once again, Azul flinches at your approval, but he can't disagree. "Of course, Yuu" he answers in a soft voice.

He smiles at you, and you can almost swear he's a child in his demeanor. He is utterly and completely devoted to you. Your approval is like the sun in the sky to him.

"I'm your good boy."

Kalim - Sing, dance!

"You seem tired" your soft voice lurrs him to you, he wants nothing more to lay in your arms now. "Yes," Kalim mumbles before trailing off. He blinks as if the idea hadn't occurred to him before. That party maybe was…a little to much

Yet, the moment the thought comes to him, it is the only feeling that consumes him; he is consumed with the weariness of his day.

Kalim's eyelids close, as if he has only now realized that he should have been sleeping this whole time, and he leans forward to rest his head on your lap.

"I… wish to sleep," he whispers, "with you…"

"My good boy can finally sleep now" At your command, kalims's eyes flutter closed, and he allows himself to settle into a much-needed sleep.

The only sound he emits from that point onward is a low, contented hum as he falls into the deep, peaceful slumber that you have granted him. After all his favorite pillows will always be your thighs. You wouldnt mind sitting there all night just for him to rest comfortably, although Jamil would lecture you both the next morning.

But Kalim couldn't care less, as he falls asleep with the lovliest words ever said to him echoing in his mind, good boy

Vil - Every rose has its thorn. But isn't that part of their charm?

"Rough day?" Of course he had a rough day, once again Neige seems to be better fkmor everyine else again. He didn't get the model job he so long waited for "Yes," Vil replies, gracefully dropping in front of his mirror. There is a tension to his tone, as if there is something he wants to say but cannot bring himself to admit. He looks up at you, his gaze sharp and piercing as if trying to gauge some kind of mood.

He gently removes his make up before he speaks again "I cannot… I mean…"

"I," Vil tries again. He bites his lip, and his gaze flicks back to his thighs. His fists are clenched, and he fights back the urge to punch something, anything, to let out the frustration.

His voice is barely above a whisper, but you can hear him. If only he could articulate what needs to be said. If only he did not choke on his words, as if something is caught in his throat.

"How long," he rasps, "until I'm worthy enough for everyone?"

You careful went over to him and hug his back while looking into his eyes trough the morror, "My good boy, youre more than enough for me.." Vil sighs, the sound of release escaping his lips. He can feel his chest loosen along with the tension that he'd been holding onto, and the anxiety that had been building up seems to melt away with the hug.

Nobody in this world is as perfect as you.

Idia - Dun-da-da-da-dun! Level up!

"Are you busy right now?" Idias eyes flick up from the computer screen, startled as he hears your voice. He doesn't dare to speak unless he is spoken to, he feels like if he'd start the conversation instead odf you it'll turn out horrible.

His expression is one filled with worry; worried that you find him inadequate, worried that he'll fail you. The weight of all his worries is starting to become too much for him to handle, and it shows on his face. "I uhm…was just fighting the last boss on this quest"

"Would you mind if i watch?" Idia looks up at you, eyes wide.

He can barely breathe, such is his joy at the possibility of spending time with you. He nods, a soft smile breaking out on his face. He seems so different than the introverted person everyone knows him — he's softer, happier, and more at ease now that he's with you. "Whoa, my good boy is so goof at this" you mumbled to yourself, but you also made sure he heard you. He deserves the praise after all

Idia's eyes fill with shook, but they spark with joy when you praise him. His smile only broadens, to outstanders it may look, manic.

The way you're soft voice was calling him that had his heart pounding for you for eternity.

Malleus - You aren't afraid of me. But I'm starting to become afraid…of losing you.

"Did you enjoy this walk?" "M-Yes, indeed…" Malleus mumbles, his body nearly melting at your touch of your hands touching. The soft sound of his voice is almost enough to make you forget that you've already reached Ramshackle. For a moment, he seems almost… bashful. When he speaks, he glances down at you with soft, adoring eyes.

It takes you a moment to realize that his cheeks are still flushed pink- it's rare to see such a reaction from Malleus. In fact, you've never seen him look quite so… flustered.

"Im glad my good boy enjoyed himself"

"You… you think I'm your good boy?" Malleus murmurs softly, staring down at you from beneath his eyelashes. His voice is almost a purr in its softness. "You want… you want me to stay with you forever?"

Malleus is trembling in your hold, but it has nothing to do with his anger or anything, its excitement. He cannot muster the energy or strength to do anything but stare down at you, breath hitching. Your question has turned his thoughts to mush. His mind is elsewhere entirely-- but with you nearby, he isn't opposed to staying as close as he can.

"Marry me…" he breathes.

"Wha-"

[celestialtarot11]

Astro Post 🪽

Hi lovelies! A new astro post for ya’ll! Hope ya’ll enjoy! Feel free to like comment and reblog with your feedback, or thoughts. I would love to hear! 🤍

divider creds: @fairytopea

Cap moon babies…it takes us a while to figure out who we are amongst the chaos. I think its important for Cap moons to experience living alone, outside of trauma because its necessary for our development. We crave stability and order, and when we live in an environment that isn’t conducive to that, we get unstable within ourselves. That being said: cap moons need to be alone at some point to figure out who they are instead of constantly saving people around them, or adjusting their personality to reduce backlash. Love you cap moons 🤍 (including me)

Pisces moon, ya’ll be similar to cap moons too. Its easy for yall to get stuck to your environment because it feels safe. It feels like its your only “checkpoint” to everything feeling real. So much that when you enter the real world it feels like a dream. Doing day to day things can trigger dissociation, because you only really felt alive during the traumatic moments. Pisces babes, please if you can create a safe space for yourself to grow outside of trauma. Just like cap moon.

And I think this goes for everyone regardless of astrology.

Aquarius placements, the need to feel unique and special can become tedious. Aquarius placements feel this way to feel chosen, and validated in their community after being neglected. Sometimes perfectionism can get in the way of Aquarius loving themselves truthfully, because they want to project an image of accuracy. So much that people can’t make out anything wrong about them. If they have neptune affliction to their personal placements, its almost about: “an illusion,” “i was never really there,” “and you cant find anything wrong with me if i never existed.” And some of them own this insecurity and work with it. Aqua placements, regardless of your past you will always be chosen by your higher self and spirit 🤍 you have someone rooting for you: you. Your future self.

Leo sun women, you don’t have to dim your light to seem more “mature,” “smart,” and “poised.” You are the light your inner child needs and anyone who stifles that, is also stifling the love you share to your inner child. Think about it. Your joy is your inner child, you get excitement from the littlest of things and having someone constrict that: means they are lessening the relationship you have with yourself. Don’t stick around with people who rain on your shine! Stick with others who shine with you. Leo sun women are so connected with their heart and inner child, that relationship is strong. Of course it can be weakened with trauma and pain, but Leo sun women need to be surrounded by those who uplift them!

Virgo placements knowing when something isn’t right and then dissing their intuition. Virgo pls, in esoteric astrology you’re known as the messenger of intuition and divine order! Gemini is the process of expressing it, but Virgo is the vessel to receive it. You guys know whats up immediately, and have a strong sense of internal navigation. You guys know where to find and create safe spaces if theres none, and your intuition knows if someone isn’t up to any good. Save yourself the villain arc, and trust yourself babes 🤍

Aries rising libra on the descendant, many others expected you to be poised, graceful, and humble to the point of neglecting who you are to fit in. Aries rising I think, always knew they weren’t the type to just “fit in,” since they were young. They knew they’d be open, outspoken, authentic and honest. Even if it shook people, which isn’t the same as being blunt: it’s called being truthful. And the truth scares people who avoid it. As Aries rising grows older they hone their personality that is honest, bold and confident, and releases the codependent part of them. 🪽🤍

Extra 🤍

Paid Readings 🪽

PAC Readings 🪽

[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget. 

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

Please consider reblogging if you like my work!

[jasntodds]

Burial Plot [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Summary: Jason thinks back on memories of your relationship

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, mentions of injuries, self-deprecating thoughts (jason), mentions of previous homelessness, mention of addiction (not jason or the reader), mentions of blood, character death, open ending

Words: 8,451

A/n: Dayseeker dropped Replica and Burial Plot really did something for me (again). If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

The cold Gotham breeze nips at Jason’s cheeks as his hands grip the ledge of the roof so hard the solid concrete almost wants to collapse at his feet. The streets are busy below him, the streetlights and buildings illuminating the otherwise dark and gloomy city. Something here manifests and metastasizes into something cruel and unusual, a type of suffering that almost brings the city pure and unfiltered joy. It’s something about this city that feels unbearably cruel sometimes.

Gotham always felt like it was filled of poison with no antidote so maybe that’s why Jason always managed to find himself back in the dreary city.

It’s how he always saw himself, drenched in poison, ruining everything around him even when he desperately tries not to. It’s as if he was cursed from the very beginning and the more he tries the more he messes up. Even coming back from the dead didn’t seem right since even Bruce wanted nothing to do with him. It took him so long to even get into the family’s good graces again because even when he would try his hardest, it always blew up in his face. So, to Jason, there had to be something wrong with him.

But, then, there was you.

Jason remembers the first time you had a proper conversation. You'd met a handful of times prior but never really talked past the usual pleasantries. Dick had asked for your help on a mission even when Jason insisted they had enough help with the other bats and a few of their tag-a-longs. But, Dick insisted.

----

“Red Hood.” You’d snickered through your mask as you watched Jason on his stomach watching the building in front of you through binoculars.

“Something funny?” Jason quipped back with a gentle force of annoyance.

He could do this himself. He did not need to be teamed up with anyone and he had no clue why of all people, he was teamed up with you. You didn't even know each other. At least Jason knew the other bats and their ability and capabilities. You were an unknown factor in this even if he trusted Dick's opinion on you. He knew he could do this himself...in peace and quiet.

“Irony.” You’d stated back. “Red Hood. Joker. Boom.” You shrugged dramatically, earning a glance from Jason. You couldn’t see it through the helmet, but if looks could kill, you’d have been dead on the spot. “It’s not a very threatening name.” Your voice was nonchalant it made Jason want to groan for ten minutes.

“Excuse me?” Jason shook his head.

“I mean…Red Hood." You stated again, just as casually as before. "Not very threatening for a guy who decapitates people and blows people up.”

Jason moved the binoculars from the helmet and looked back at you. “Okay, so what would you have suggested then, huh?” Jason questioned and he’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t somehow both annoyed to hell and back and also, a bit intrigued about where you’d go with this as you knew anything at all about him.

“I think it would have been hilarious if you kept the Robin mantle actually.” Your voice had been airy and filled with amusement as a smile reached your eyes.

Jason had to bite back his own snicker. “Don’t think anyone would else would have.”

“Well, that’s cause they have shit senses of humor. I mean if I hear Dick say one more pun tonight, I think I’ll have an aneurism.”

“Yeah.” Jason lets out a chuckle this time and you felt as though you had won something from it. “His jokes are the fucking worst.” Jason almost groans through the helmet. “But yours aren’t much better, princess.” Jason stated before picking up the binoculars again to go back to watching the building.

A genuine smile came over your features. “I know.”

Jason's eyes had softened when he’d glanced back over at you. Something about how you held yourself during the stakeout, the ease of the conversation and you bringing up his death. He knew your fighting style, knew about your powers. He knew what you could do and how well off you were and how you were able to perfectly handle yourself. But, the ease of you held yourself on that rooftop was as if everything else were going to be easy for you even if it wasn’t. It was interesting and a bit fun.

“How’d Dick rope you into this anyway?” Jason had asked as he kept his eyes on the building.

“I had nothing else to do.” You laughed softly.

It was true. You didn't and Dick asked. His jokes might be bad but he was always one of your best friends so you'd always help when he asked. But, it wasn't all that big of an ask when Dick mentioned Jason would be helping, too. Maybe you had asked to be teamed with him instead of Steph or Tim this time.

“How about you? Dick said you don’t do the team thing very often.” You asked.

“Had nothing else going on.” Jason had chuckled softly. “If Dick was asking me and everyone else, I felt like I had to help." Jason stated even if he didn't really mind helping out his siblings.

“That’s nice of you.” You’d said.

“It’s nothing.” Jason keeps his eyes on the building you were supposed to be watching.

It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t the least bit intrigued by your friend’s brother. Dick talked about him often enough. You knew stories about The Red Hood. Jason Todd had almost seemed interesting from your perspective. The misfit son who gets brutally murdered and comes back to be, somehow, more of the misfit troublemaker that pisses everyone off. Hero turned anti-hero (you’d refused to call him a villain). It was tragic but he still comes back and instead of deciding to make innocent people suffer like most other people would do if they were him, he decided to just do something about it. Maybe his methods are a bit extreme and maybe he’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s doing something for the greater good. That’s not all bad and you’d always thought that was still better than him doing worse or doing nothing. You’d always thought that made him more interesting, more admirable.

And, maybe it doesn’t hurt that he’s kind of pretty with the blue eyes and white streak of contrast amongst the rest of his black hair.

“So…” You cleared your throat.

Jason looked back at you and then back to the building. “What?”

“Are you always so broody?” You asked bluntly as you moved your eyes back to him.

“I’m not broody.” Jason snapped. He was not broody, he was just busy.

“Kind of are.” You’d smiled with confidence.

“We’re supposed—“

“Blah blah blah." You waved him off because you knew exactly what he was going to say. "I know. We are. We can do the stakeout and get to know each other.”

You were not bad company. But, you were blunt and talkative. Jason didn't really know what to make of it, really. This small conversation had shown him that you would ask and say whatever crossed your mind and he has learned that is not always a good thing. Though, your bluntness and how casual you were about the whole thing was a bit intriguing. This was a job, however, and Jason did not come to make friends with Dick's friend.

“Who the hell said I wanted to get to know you?” Jason had snarked back.

“Ouch.” You huffed as you started feeling a little disheartened. “That was mean.” Your nose had scrunched under your mask.

“Look, princess, we’re on a job. That’s all it is. Don’t take it personally.” Jason shook his head and he didn't intend to hurt your feelings but this was supposed to just be a job.

“You can't me princess and one minute it sounds fine but condescending the next. That’s weird. And the job doesn't have to be boring. Doesn’t silence ever bother you?” You’d asked and it was that question that always irked him.

It’s silent a lot for him. He’s used to it but silence is still deafening. Since getting into the good graces with the family finally, it hadn't been as bad. There was usually someone calling him or something he needed to tell one of them. But, silence can eat at him still. It bothered him, just not on a mission or a job. Silence there was always fine though he didn't think that was entirely the point of your question.

“I’m sorry.” Jason muttered. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. Just wanna get this shit done.” He hadn’t looked back at you once.

You were still intrigued by him. You still wanted to get to know him even if he didn't want to get to know you yet. It wasn't some secret Jason was guarded. That was fine. It didn't really bother you. So, maybe it was dumb then but you decided to just go for it.

“Wanna grab something to eat after then?” You asked bluntly, getting Jason’s attention.

“What?” Jason asked quickly as he turned his head to look at you again.

“Like food?” You quipped. “You and me. Food, get to know each other.” Your voice had sounded a little more nervous this time.

"You actually want to get to know me?" Jason questioned. "Thought you were making conversation."

"Well..." You shrugged softly. "Yeah, conversation but I also want to get to know you. You seem fun." You'd managed to pull off a cheeky smile with your last sentence.

Jason had actually laughed. “I seem fun?”

“Are you an owl?” You quipped back as you matched his laughter. “Yeah, Red Hood seems like he’d be fun." You urged. "Get food with me.” You shrugged softly as hope echoed into your eyes.

Jason almost said no. Lately, he regrets not saying no. He should have. He swears left and right, up and down, every piece of him should have just said no. But, he thought you were pretty and funny and interesting. It’d been a while since Jason just got to know someone. He thought it would have been nice and you had so much hope in your eyes, he wasn't sure he could have mustered up a no if he really tried. There was something about you that made him interested enough to just get food. That would be all it would be. Just food. A no was never going to be an answer.

“Fine but I pick the place.” Jason stated before he looked back at the building.

You’d beamed from under the mask, a rush of heat coming to your cheeks. “Okay, Red.” You nearly laughed. “I trust you.”

----

Jason's legs are trembling and it's getting harder to breathe. It is as if his own memories are strangling him from the inside out, a desperate attempt to suck the life out of him one last time. He used to look at that night with a sense of fondness, almost nostalgia because of how far the two of you had come in three years. But, now it's just tainted memories haunted by the vision of you and the false concept of Jason Todd being allowed to be happy.

He remembers so vividly you telling him you trusted him as if it were somehow something so easy for you. You trusted him and you barely knew him. Jason knew then Dick likely told you some stuff about him, Steph, too probably. Maybe the other bats if you ever asked but under no circumstances should you have just so blindly trusted him after meeting him a handful of times, this having been one of the only actual conversations you had. But you did and something about it made Jason both want to jump off the roof and fall right onto the concrete below him and make his heart melt from his chest.

He thinks about it for just that single second, it was nice. It was a silly thought, he swears it was. No one should trust him because people trust him and then they get hurt, right? That’s how the story goes. In one way or another, they get hurt. Maybe it’s Jason doing the hurting in his typical self-destruction way or it’s worse. But, they get hurt. You trusted him and he thinks that’s the exact moment he should have evacuated. That night changed everything because he didn’t. He didn’t evacuate like he had all but been trained to do. He went to get food with you.

----

“So, tell me about you, Jason Todd.” You had grinned wickedly at him as you pointed a limp french fry at him from across the booth.

Jason shook his head as he leaned back. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” You shrugged and the grin never left your face. “What do you like to do for fun?” You asked so sincerely Jason had burst into a fit of laughter.

It echoes through the small diner. Booms off the booth and the glasses. You’d thought it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His nose had scrunched and his head tilted back. The laugh was hearty and somehow soft. It fit him so well and he seemed so genuinely happy.

“What I do for fun? That’s what you want to know?” Jason quipped back as he caught his breath.

“I’m sorry that question wasn’t up to your standards?” You had laughed back and Jason felt his heart skip a single beat.

“No, not that. Of all things you could ask though, that’s what you want to know?” Jason asked.

“Well, yeah.” You’d answered easily. “I know what you do for a living. So, what do you like to do when you’re not doing that?”

There was something so honest and sincere about how you’d asked, Jason almost felt comfortable laying it out. His interests are his and in a way, he always likes keeping them a little close to his chest. Some things he doesn’t tell everyone but others…it’s okay that they know but they’re his. But you were eating your fries, just waiting, filled with hope.

“I like to read.” Jason stated simply as he plucked one of his fries from his plate.

“Oh! Like what?” You asked with eyes wide as you put an elbow on the table to lean in. Dick said Jason was guarded so you didn’t think you’d get too much out of him tonight but you were so relieved you got something from him.

Maybe you’d had a crush on him from a distance for a while.

“Uh..” Jason offered an awkward chuckle. “Like Jane Austen.” Jason shrugged. “Mary Shelley.”

You shook your head in surprise. “Not what I expected.”

“Yeah, yeah--” Jason had started to wave you off.

“No, I mean, I dunno. Thought it’d be like…Godfather-type books. Or something.” You were the one who offered an awkward chuckle that time. “I love Frankenstein.” You'd said it softly with a tender smile and Jason felt relieved.

Jason had asked you what it was about Frankenstein you liked so much and you just went on a whole ramble about it. Jason hung onto every word as if your voice was the sound of his favorite song played on repeat. He just...listened and something about the way he smiled made your heart jump and spin. You may not have had the excessive amount of trauma Jason did but...there was always something that felt comforting when someone let you ramble and he did. Not once did he seem bored or disinterested and then you got to watch his face light up when you asked him why he liked Jane Austen and what his favorites were.

It was Jason's turn to ramble and it wasn't much at first but the more he got going, it was like the more excited about it he got. His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he got a little more dramatic and he relaxed a little in his seat. Jason didn't get a lot of chances to really ramble about his interests, not like this. But, you gave him that in the little diner booth and it felt comforting. It felt nice. It was fun and he'd have been lying if he said he didn't really enjoy it. And the more you asked about his interests and participated in conversation, the more comfortable he felt.

He was still guarded but you shared some interests so it felt easier to let the conversation go where it wanted, bouncing back and forth between some of both of your favorites and hobbies. It felt good to let go for a few hours. You wanted to get to know him and as it would have turned out, he was really enjoying getting to know you, too.

“What else do you do for fun?” Jason asked as he rested his elbow on the table, now a few hours into this getting to know each other thing.

“Ask broody men out to get food.” You’d laughed that was more of a snicker as if you were proud of yourself for the comment and it got Jason to chuckle right back.

“Oh, so I’m just a meal ticket tonight?!” Jason had asked with sarcasm.

“And a conversation!” You had defended, the both of you laughing.

“I am so hurt.” Jason had said it dramatically, easily.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Your eyes had widened with sarcasm. “How will you ever recover?” You faked a whine, a hand over your heart and then Jason gained this smirk.

Jason knew it was getting to be early in the morning and you'd have to end this whole thing soon but that did not mean he didn't want to continue getting to know you. You were right. This was fun and maybe he liked your company after all. He liked how easy you made this whole thing seem. No part of him really wanted this to end so he decided to go for it, just as you did.

“What are you doing Thursday?” Jason asked bluntly.

It caught you off guard and it took everything in you not to burst at the seams. You hoped Jason didn’t notice.

He did.

“Uh…” You stuttered with a gushy smile. “Nothing, I don’t think.” You bit the inside of your cheek to try to calm down the smile while you failed miserably. “What’d you have in mind?”

----

Tears are hot on Jason’s cheeks as he remembers that night as if it had just happened. His teeth are clenched so hard they might just shatter right through his gums. His breathing is quick and everything starts to ache.

You had been so happy that he asked you to do something with him, he never thought twice about taking it back. The thought could have crept up on him and he would have shoved it into the darkest corner of his mind because the idea of disappointing you nearly shattered him. He didn’t even know you but there was hope and kindness and sarcasm and you were funny. You didn’t care. You told him Red Hood was not scary. You looked at him with kindness and hope, two things most people do not look at him with and he felt important for those four hours in that booth with you. So, he decided to take that risk.

Risks are a part of his daily life. They are usually calculated and you had told him they were not always calculated in a way that was really all too beneficial to him. The odds were never on his side very often. But that’s just part of the job, something you did understand. Jason was used to risk. His whole life had been one risk after the other just to survive. He was good at taking risks and showing them he didn’t care. This was a risk he wishes he never took though. Showing you these parts of himself and finally letting his guard down. He regrets that risk because he had just done what he always does and wouldn’t have caved about it, none of this would have happened because you would have given up. He bites his tongue as he remembers the exact moment he wanted to flee and decided not to.

----

You were on a rooftop in Crime Alley, not too high up and below you, Jason was kneeling in front of a few kids. You were not spying on him. You were supposed to meet up together while you were in Gotham, this was the spot but apparently, the kids had other ideas. He was just kneeling down to their level, no helmet and a smile beaming back at them. The two kids who couldn’t have been older than seven, looked at him like he was their hero. Jason was not the scary Red Hood who blows people up with c4 or the guy who will decapitate people to get what he wants from other people or the guy who might as well be a sharpshooter and is not afraid to display it. They do not look at him like a weapon. They look at him like he will protect them and he is so kind.

You’d been on a few dates over the last few months, nothing too serious even if neither of you were looking or talking to anyone else. It was nothing too serious even if you both talked nearly nonstop and maybe you couldn’t stop thinking about each other. But, it’d only been a few dates and you didn’t know each other too well yet and that was okay. But, something you had learned was that Jason is very kind. He is a huge asshole but he is so kind. Innocent people, kids, he is nice to them, far nicer than most people are. Jason Todd can and will kill people but he is not as ruthless and calloused as other people think he is and maybe have convinced him he is. So you had sat on that rooftop and watched him with those kids.

He laughed at what you would only assume were bad jokes and Jason never let the smile fall from his lips. It was just the two kids at first then there were five and then ten. He somehow had gathered a group of kids who were just interested in meeting the Red Hood. One of them had a scraped knee so you watched as Jason pulled out a bandaid from his tactical belt. You couldn’t make it out but you did see it was purple and black. He spent an hour just entertaining these kids before they finally decided to disburse.

“Kids, huh?” You had asked once your feet were on solid ground.

Jason quickly turned around, a quirked brow raised as he looked to the roof. “How long were you watching me?”

“Well, I’m never late so…” Your mask covered your smile but he could tell by the way you looked down and the crinkles by your eyes you were smiling. “You’re different with them.” You stated, blunt as always.

“Well, they’re kids so….” Jason said, unsure what your point would have been.

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean…kids…the, uh, the homeless, sex workers, addicts. You're different. You’re different with people here.” You pointed it out because you'd noticed before.

This was your third time in Crime Alley with Jason and he was always different here. It was always rooted in an understanding and a genuine kindness and empathy for things people have dealt with. He never treated someone differently because of their circumstances and instead, he fought for them. You'd seen your fair share of people being cruel to kids and the homeless, sex workers, addicts, the poor. Jason just isn't. Jason gave you a little more faith in humanity.

Meanwhile, Jason could never wrap his head around your bluntness. You never cared how something sounded or how it came off. You just said what you were thinking. That scared him. And made him feel at ease. He knew he would never have to question your intentions but he also had absolutely no idea what you were thinking.

“Grew up here.” Jason pulled in a breath as he rested the helmet on his hip. “I know what it's like.” Jason admitted and it was a small sliver of information he gave up willingly.

You had nodded softly. “Yeah, uh…Dick said you grew up here. Shit was hard for you until Bruce caught you.”

Jason had let out this sort of scoff that was almost a chuckle as he looked up to the sky and then the right. You couldn't tell if it was something bitter in him that was turning or something pleasant. You'd have put your bet on something bitter if he'd asked.

“Yeah, something like that.” Jason looked back to you, shifting his weight.

Dick had warned you to be careful. It was not to be mean towards Jason by any means. It was more because Dick knew Jason tended to push and self-sabotage things. He wanted you not to pry too much too quick. You knew you’d likely have to ask him direct questions if there were things you wanted to know but you knew not to pry too much. You didn’t want to scare him off but it’s been a few months and a few dates and you were curious about it. You wanted to know what made Jason Todd, Jason Todd.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You asked and you were cautious, something you never really were when asking him things.

Jason had hesitated for a second. It was not a secret. He just prefers to not talk about himself and there was a little bit of something bitter thinking about all of it. Thinking about his life in Crime Alley brings back to him meeting Bruce and then dying. It brings him back to coming back and the way Bruce looked at him like he were a monster before throwing a baterang at his neck. It was the way Jason couldn’t figure out why they couldn’t just forgive each other. It brings back bitterness and pain he can’t quite explain. But, it wasn’t all bad and if he were being really honest, he kind of really liked you. Maybe he could tell you some things about it. You'd yet to give him any reason to not tell you so he decided to take that risk and let you into a small part of his world.

“What’d ya wanna know?” Jason asked before he put the helmet back on.

“Uh…” You weren’t sure if he’d be okay to talk about it so you were unprepared. “Whatever you wanna tell me.” You stated simply as you closed the distance between you.

“Well,” Jason cleared his throat. “It wasn’t all bad.” Jason managed a chuckle before he started telling you things about growing up here and things about his parents, helping you better understand him as a person while also allowing Jason’s trust in you to grow.

----

He stands on this rooftop, desperately begging to go back in time and take the risk back. He wants to fall back to three years ago and rip that night from the both of you. You will be disappointed but that is significantly better than this. Jason swears it is better than this. He can not have you. That is fine. You will do better, you will find better, you always deserved better. He wants to go back and take everything back.

His hands are gripping the cement as if that’ll send him into the past and it only makes his chest feel like it might split open and spill his heart out. He'd dig his own hand into his ribcage and rip his heart from his chest if it would fix any of this. Jason's hands shake with his grip and he would do anything, sacrifice anything he could just to go back. He wants to take it all back even if it’ll hurt you because he remembers that time you told him you had a crush on him.

----

“How long?!” Jason had scrunched his face, confused and insane amused.

“Like a year.” It was more of an awkward giggle that you let out. “I don’t know!” You threw your arm out dramatically, almost regretting telling him. You knew he would be teasing you forever over it now.

“You’ve liked me for a year?” Jason chuckled. “Fucking why? You didn’t even know me!” Jason repositioned on the couch, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he faced you.

“That was part of the fun!” Your eyes had widened as you defended yourself. “I don’t know. Something about the white streak of hair and broad shoulders and…” You pulled in a breath as you shook your head at him, more to try and tease him. “I don’t know. I thought you seemed interesting.”

Dick introduced you at one of the Wayne party things they had at the manor. You were so nervous you could have died right then and there. It really was something about the white streak of hair and the broad shoulders, the thick thighs, and the way his eyes were so damn pretty you could have combusted. His canines were a bit sharp so it looked like he had tiny fangs when the sun hit them just right. Jason didn’t say too much but you thought he was pretty. And you caught glimpses of him throughout the day, laughing with his siblings and rolling his eyes at Bruce and helping Alfred with some of the food. He was big and tall and a little intimidating but not when he was just existing with his family and you found that interesting. The crush went from there.

“Was this before or after Dick told you about me?" Jason had raised a brow, still trying to fathom why you were so interested in him without having had a single conversation.

"After." You answered simply. "He told me all of your stories pretty early on into the friendship. Got to hear all about the kids of Bruce Wayne and company." You stated with a soft smile.

"Why then?" It was a genuine question he had. "And why didn't you say anything for a year?" Jason probably wouldn't have said anything at all if it were him but he's surprised you waited so long since you never seemed to hide any of your emotions.

"I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it." You laughed softly, looking down for a second before looking back to him. "I didn't see you often, thought maybe it'd fade but it did not." You scrunched your nose as your smile grew. "But, uh, I don't know. Dick told me you died and how and…that you guys didn’t get along to put it lightly…since you came back. At first. You were all good then now but it took awhile. But then I meet you and…” You shook your head. “You didn’t seem…mean or…threatening. I don’t know.” You could feel the heat start to burn your cheeks.

You had only heard the story from Dick's point of view at that time. You've since gotten Jason's side but only hearing Dick's was different. There was anger and a sense of betrayal even if it wasn't rightfully placed. It was as if Jason being brought back brought back all of their guilt and grief, too but they never had any way to deal with it. They didn't know where to put it so they put it on the person that caused it, in a roundabout way. It wasn't right and it wasn't right what Jason was doing either. It was just a mess of miscommunication and the inability to move on. Dick spoke fondly of Jason by the time you met, but he told you about all of it so despite his kind words about Jason, you thought maybe he'd be a bit mean and cold and broody and intimidating. But he was not. He was warm and kind and he looked happy. You found it interesting that after everything, Jason was not a cold and cruel person.

“Hey, you can’t go around saying I’m not threatening.” Jason had given you this teasing grin. “You’ll ruin my rep.”

You let out a snort. “Didn’t you just save like a litter of kittens from a car, gave the driver the dirtiest look I had ever seen, and then wouldn’t leave the shelter until they told you they would be fine? Did you not just do that two days ago? Did you not call today to check on them?”

“I’m sorry, should I have let that dickhead hit the kittens?!” Jason asked in horror.

“No!” You let out this laugh that Jason nearly melted into. “I’m just saying, it is not me saying you aren’t threatening. It is going to be those kittens. They’re gonna tell all the other kittens and they’re gonna show up here and then you’re gonna have beef with Selina. I don’t think that’s something you want.” You shrugged casually, trying to withhold your own laugh.

Jason’s booming laugh consumed his entire apartment. “I did not realize saving those kittens would have such a butterfly effect on my relationship with Selina.”

“Shut up!” You groaned as you tossed your head back.

“Okay can we go back to you having a massive crush on me for a year?” Jason eyed you with big doe eyes, mocking you.

“I hate you.” You deadpanned.

“No, you don’t.” Jason pulled in a breath as he gained a giant smile. “Because of your crush on me.” He batted his eyes at you and you wanted to kiss the growing smirk right off of his lips.

“Yeah, I hate you actually. You suck.” You crossed your arms and gave him a fake pout. “My feelings are hurt and everything!”

Jason chuckled before he grabbed your hand from your arm. “I hurt your feelings?” Jason questioned with disbelief, knowing damn well he did not.

“Yes, you did.” You struggled desperately not to break into a fit of laughter as Jason pulled you into his lap.

“You look really hurt.” Jason nodded his head sarcastically, his eyes looking up at you and you thought you'd melt into him.

“I am!” You said it dramatically as a laugh slipped from your lips.

“Right.” Jason nodded his head, his hands coming to your hips. “I am so sorry, could you ever think to forgive me?” Jason questioned with so much sarcasm, you thought he’d start to lose his composure.

“I don’t know.” You answered with a dramatic pout.

Jason let out a laugh. “Your big ole crush on me won’t let you stay mad at me.” Jason leaned toward you, his eyes dodging to your lips.

“You are insufferable.” You stated quietly.

“Sure.” Jason muttered before his hand came to your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. “So insufferable.” Jason muttered against your lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You rolled your eyes and Jason did not waste a single second more to complete the request.

----

Jason remembers how happy it all was. You were like this beam of light in his life and for once, it didn’t seem so damn grim. Half the time, he didn’t care if he came home or not. But then you started dating and he fell so hard for you that he didn’t think he’d ever stop falling. And suddenly, there was this big reason to come home every night. The loss of him for you would hurt, even if it were momentary. And…he liked being able to come home to you on weekends when you'd stay in Gotham. He liked having someone to come home to. He liked being happy and having a reason to be happy.

Half that time he didn’t care if he came home or not and that caused its fair share of fights. Jason's breath shakes in the cold breeze as his chin quivers, remembering the fights you'd have about it. There were never many because you just didn't fight. Jason would sometimes push and pull, try to sabotage things and you always just called him on his shit, rarely ever even raising your voice at him. But, these fights happened because you cared about him and Jason didn't know what he was supposed to do with that. He was never entirely sure if he could carry it even though you became one of the most important people in his life. He thought you'd leave, maybe, until the last time you fought about it. As tears spill from his eyes, he remembers the last fight you ever had about him being careful.

----

“Why the fuck are you mad now?” Jason groaned from the bathroom as he cleaned up the first aid supplies.

“I don’t fucking know, Jay. Why the fuck would I be mad?!” You yelled back, storming through his apartment. Everything felt too tight, too hard, too much.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have fucking asked!” Jason yelled back as he followed you into the living room.

You didn’t normally fight and if you did, it was small stuff. Not this. This felt big. It had scared him because as much as he loved to push, he didn't want to lose you. It was never about him, it was always about you deserving better than him or deserving more. But, he almost felt paralyzed at the thought this fight wasn't going to be like the others. He thought you'd finally had it.

“Maybe that’s the problem.” It was more a mutter but Jason was close enough to you not that he heard it.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Jason questioned and he could feel his heart breaking into pieces through his throat.

“Maybe you should fucking know why I’m pissed. But you don’t. Did you ever consider that is the problem, Jay?”

It was not that you were even mad. It was that you were worried about him. You'd just cleaned up a few really nasty cuts again and that was fine. You didn't mind. He always did it for you, too. It was part of the job. It was how frequent it happen and how nonchalant he always was about the whole damn thing. It terrified you and you'd told him over and over. He was normally a good listener but...not when it came to this. And it hurt.

“You were fine earlier! Now you’re not?!” Jason looked to the ceiling in frustration. “I am not a damn mind reader!”

You nearly pulled your hair out. “I am not asking to be a mind reader!” You screamed back at him as tears burned your eyes. “I am asking you to fucking listen to me!”

“I do listen--”

“No! I get it.” You caved, bringing your voice back down but it is far more in frustration. “I get what you do. I am not asking you to give it up. I am asking you to be careful.” The last few words had come out as a plea and the fury and annoyance Jason had disappeared.

“That’s just part of the job.” Jason tried to defend softly this time.

“We both know you can be more careful, Jay.” You said it so candidly that Jason felt guilty for not trying harder. You were right. “Uh…I, uh, I had a nightmare a few nights ago.” You confessed. “And, uh, it was about you. And I’ve been thinking about it ever since because it felt really real. And then today…it just…” You shook your head. “This has been…the best year of my life.” You admitted as your chin started to wrinkle and your bottom lip quivered. “Because of you so I think…about losing you and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Jason almost felt frozen because he couldn't tell where this was going to go and he wasn’t sure where he wanted it to go. The only thing he did know was that he didn't want you worrying so much about him and he felt guilty for putting it on you.

“I know it’s part of the job.” You nodded easily. “I know. I do it, too. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.” You admitted. “And I just…I wish you would be a little bit more careful because I love you.”

Everything froze for Jason. The idea of being loved is almost something he had chased for so long, he never thought he’d get it. He always chased it only to bite it when it comes close to him. It’s scary. The idea of someone loving him and him loving someone else. What if he fucks it up like he’s done to everything else? He couldn't believe he hadn’t fucked this up yet. You’ve clocked him self-sabotaging a few times, he hadn’t in a while but you caught it. You swore he never needed to because you liked him for him. You didn’t care about the dark and scary shit inside his head or the things he’d done. That never mattered to you because he is kind and a good person. He never could believe it but he chose to trust you anyway. And now he was standing here and he had no idea what to do because he could run but the idea of that made him want to burn through the floor.

“What?” Jason finally got out.

“I love you.” You said it again, honestly. It wasn't really how you wanted to tell him. You knew you would eventually but Jason can be a little skittish so you only wanted to do it when you thought he was ready to hear it. You were not sure if he was ready but you couldn't hide it from him anymore. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way.” You nodded your head even if you didn’t think that was the problem. “Or if you’re unsure if you can say it. I just…I wanted to tell you so maybe…” You had let out a breath. “You’ll know why I worry and I want you to be more careful. I know that…this might not go the way we want in the end but…I just want you to try.”

He thought he didn’t deserve you. He did not deserve that sort of kindness or care or worry but you offered it so easily. You offered it to him as if it was the same as taking a breath. You offered an understanding with it. It’s something even Jason didn’t think about much, you being the one that didn’t make it home. He pushed it away because he felt like he might fall into the center of the earth if that would happen. It would be earth-shattering to him if it were you. You were at least careful when you would go on patrol and he did think that would help, to know you tried to come home to him. It is not fair to not offer you the same deal.

Jason closed the distance between you and you didn’t think he’d say it back which was okay. It would hurt but he had told you so much. Ever since that night months ago when you asked about his childhood, he had told you so much. You knew about being homeless and the things he has witnessed even as a child. You knew. You knew the horrors he had encountered through his life and if it were you, you weren't so sure you would offer those words. But just because he may not be able to say them, did not mean he did not deserve to know how you felt. That did not mean he did not deserve to know people loved him and they wanted him to stay alive. It would hurt but you thought it’d be fine because you knew he loved you.

“I’m sorry, princess.” Jason stated, his voice rough and honest as a hand came to your cheek. His thumb rubbed over your cheek as you nodded against him. “I’ll be careful.” He stated. “I didn’t know.” He admitted.

“I know.” You started back, eyes locked on his. They were red and his eyes were a deep shade of blue like he was on the verge of bursting into tears. “That’s why I told you.”

“Promise, I’ll be more careful out there.” Jason nodded down at you. “I, uh…” Jason pulled in a breath. “I love you, too.” He said carefully but honestly as a gentle smile came to your face.

“Was hoping you did.” You nodded back at him. “I’m sorry for getting so mad. Just worry.”

“It’s okay.” Jason pulled you into him, his arms engulfing you. “I know you worry. I’m sorry for yelling back.” Jason apologized, placing a kiss to your head.

“Can we just get takeout?” You let out a soft laugh, looking up to him. “We can eat and watch some bad reality TV.”

Jason let out a laugh. “What food were you feeling?”

----

A sob rips through Jason’s throat, clawing its way into the cold of Gotham’s air. His legs give out before he can catch a breath and he collapses onto the pavement of the roof. It all hurts. Every piece of his body is aching and crashing like it never should have made it this far. His arms and legs shake as he turns to rest his back against the ledge. He pulls his legs to his chest as his face becomes soaked in his own tears. His lungs start to burn with every sob as he can’t get a full breath in. The world around him starts to spin and it all hurts. Why does it have to hurt so much? He loves you and he will always love you and it will always be painful.

----

Lightning ripped through the sky and you were handling yourself as you always did. You were good on your own. But that night, five days ago, was different. It was different because it was not some big bad that would be the cause. All of that was going so well. It was a simple mistake. Wrong timing. An accident.

Jason had been fighting one of the goons, a nasty fistfight. The goon had some sort of training. Jason was confident, he’d beat him he put up a hell of a fight. It was a hell of a fight until it turned more brutal, getting more physical with punches and kicks, the goon picking Jason up and trying to throw him across the lot. It was getting messy while you were dealing with one of the metas. You were throwing lightning bolts as fast as you could manage while minding where Jason was. It should have been fine because you’d done this before. But, Jason tripped.

He tripped over something left on the ground and that gave the goon enough of a gap to grab him. When he was grabbed, Jason was thrown right into a pile of glass and metal just as you were throwing a lightning bolt in that direction at the meta. You missed Jason but you hit the reflective metals, sending the bolt back to you.

You went down immediately and Jason stopped breathing. The goon and meta took off while Jason was back on his feet, rushing over to you. Panic had flooded his body in that exact instant. You went down hard and the lightning threw you back. He knew.

He pulled your body into his lap, checking for a pulse and trying to feel if you were breathing only to find nothing. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely hold you in his lap.

He called your name with a tremble of his voice. “Come on, you gotta wake up.” He said it quietly, trying to keep himself together, desperately still trying to find a pulse. “Wake up.” He said it more sternly that time as he shook your head lightly.

You were lifeless in his lap and he was at a loss. What is he supposed to do?!

He moved to put your back on the ground and he started CPR before he used the comms to get ahold of Oracle. He told her what happened as he performed CPR, desperate to bring you back to him. You had to come back, right? It was your own lightning bolt. How can you be killed by your own powers? That sounds like such a rip-off. And Jason bit his sobs back because it shouldn’t have been you. It couldn't be you. It was supposed to be him because he needed to be more careful. He didn’t have powers. He already died before. He put a bomb in his helmet. It was supposed to be him to go first but you were not breathing.

You wouldn't breathe.

He tried and he tried until the other bats started showing to offer some help. He tried and tried and tried and it wasn’t good enough because the lightning was too much and he was clumsy. He fucking tripped and he slipped and that was it. It led you to getting hurt. It led you to getting killed. It is all his fault.

----

Jason’s hands cover his face as he keeps sobbing, nausea filling his stomach. His stomach is in agonizing pain and he can’t bear to even attempt to pull himself together. What is he supposed to do? It’s his fault. He can never forgive himself for it and he knows it. You deserved better and he should have just said no three years ago. Had he just turned you down, you’d be alive and off somewhere living your life. Had he just been more careful. It doesn’t matter that everyone has tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault because he always sees it that way. And he misses you.

He wakes up and he misses you and that’s if he can even get any damn sleep. He wakes up and he misses you and he tries to eat and he misses you. Bruce comes over to check on him and he misses you. He sees some of your stuff littered over his apartment and he misses you. His entire chest feels like it might cave right in every single second of every day. It’s as if he is dragging his feet from one minute to the next with no real destination or desire. He moves because he has no choice. He just wants the pain to stop. He wants you back. You didn’t deserve to die.

How he is ever supposed to move on from this? From you?

The memories he once looked back on are now tainted with pain. And that is the only thing he has left of you. What is he supposed to do?

How is he supposed to live with the pain of losing you?

Hands rest on Jason’s knees, gentle and soft, gathering Jason’s attention. Jason’s own sobs were so loud, he entirely missed the presence of another person coming onto the roof with him and he missed the sound of footsteps approaching and then stopping in front of him. He missed it all and not a single part of him even cares. But, he looks up anyway and his breath catches in his throat as his eyes widen. How?

“Jay?” Your voice is quiet and broken with the sight of him.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

[servantofthefates]

Any god, spirit or entity can speak through tarot.

Think of tarot as an iPhone. A device for communication.

Phone, Messages & WhatsApp connect you to somebody else. Notes, Calendar & Voice Memos allow you to speak to your past, future, higher self. Instagram, TikTok & YouTube allow you to observe others. Netflix, Apple TV+ & Prime Video show you the depths of your own and others’ consciousness.

And your tarot deck is Siri. She exists in herself and speaks with her own voice. But she draws all the information she provides from your own input and from that of others.

That is why you need to invoke the higher power you believe in before a reading.

Because just as Siri will automatically search a database for the answer to your question, tarot will automatically search for a source who can respond to your query.

And sometimes, the one that is around is not so kindly.

Mischievous spirits love to lie. Whether to scare you with a tragedy that will never actually happen, or to give you promises about blessings that are not really destined.

There are also those who mean well but know nothing. For fear of disappointing you, they make things up, resulting in readings that are not resonating.

Gods and goddesses are unlike any lurking spirits or lost souls. They are divine royalty. They come only by invitation. And they do not grace everyone with their presence.

The Fates heed my call because I have been introduced to them by my elders. They recognize my bloodline and sense my faith in them.

Who do you believe in? Who do you think made you? Who do you deem to be the one helping you?

Call upon that power. Forget the others.

[slytherinshua]

SCOUPS WITH AN OLDEST CHILD S/O

genre. comfort. headcanons. warnings. this is honestly so messy, not rly sure how well it flows or how good it is so sry abt that. mention of burnout, academic stress, self doubt, etc. pairing. scoups x reader. wc. 548. request. requested by 🌱 anon a/n. even though i'm the youngest i kind of relate to a lot of these especially academic ones :( to everyone who feels this way not just oldest children, know that you're all doing amazing and i'm so proud of you just for being you, you don't have to be perfect all the time, and your achievements don't reflect how valuable you are as a person

as the oldest in Seventeen himself, Seungcheol would probably be all too used to the stress and pressure of setting an example and living up to people’s expectation

especially since he’s also the leader and has to represent Seventeen to the public, he deals with his own share of pressure

he hates that you have to feel that way too, but he would be the best person you could ever ask for to help with it

he knows that some days you just need extra kisses and cuddles and encouragement

he knows that even just him saying that he’s proud of you is enough

he doesn’t need to be over the top, he just needs to be there for you

he’ll especially try to do extra small things for you

“grades don’t define your self worth”

he’s repeated that so many times to you that now it’s constantly circling in your head

and it’s been so helpful for you to give yourself a little bit of grace

of course it doesn’t always work— some days are just shit and it feels like everyone in the world is disappointed in you and that no matter how hard you try, it’ll never be enough for them

sometimes it even feels like Seungcheol himself is also disappointed in you

when you tell him, he washes the thought away so quickly, it’s almost as if it was never there to begin with

he’s always proud of you, no matter how much you do in a day

instead of looking at your achievements— your grades and projects and work— he looks at your every day life

he’s proud of you when you wake up in the morning and shower

he’s proud when you eat 3 meals a day and actually get dressed enough to feel pretty

he’s proud when you do the things he knows are so hard but so necessary

Seungcheol is always so observant as well

he can tell immediately when you get uncomfortable around your family or friends

he knows when you feel like they’re judging you

and he’ll make up an excuse to take you home every time

even just an reassuring smile from across the room from him can allow you to breathe and relax

when it comes to studying when you absolutely cannot take breaks even if you want to, Seungcheol will make sure to be right by your side as much as he can

one thing he’s best at is being able to make you laugh even when you’re stressed

sometimes Seungcheol doesn’t think that he does that much to help

he’s sure that he could do so much more and he would in an instant if you needed it

but he already does so much more than any other person you’ve ever had in your life

the smiles, the laughter, the encouragement, the closeness, the comfort, the stability

he’s relentless at times when it comes to you taking care of yourself (depriving you of kisses is his best method for making you take care of yourself) but it’s exactly what you need and you couldn’t be more thankful to him for it

Seungcheol slowly but surely did everything that no one else had been able to do in the past: he made everything feel okay

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars

[ivestas]

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant. 

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group. 

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you. 

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.” 

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!” 

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally. 

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease. 

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?” 

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that. 

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission. 

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc. 

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm. 

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds. 

So you just did that: focus on them. 

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough. 

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms. 

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”  

You did just that—retreat. 

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more. 

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding. 

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn. 

You lifted the arm, examining the wound. 

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise. 

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications. 

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together. 

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view. 

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?” 

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face. 

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak! 

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly. 

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.” 

You expected—wanted—him to berate you. 

But he didn’t. He was kind. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.” 

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood. 

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost. 

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?” 

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly. 

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.” 

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!” 

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.” 

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.” 

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed. 

“Gimme your arm, kid.” 

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.” 

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly. 

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar. 

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand. 

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly. 

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded. 

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy. 

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...” 

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?” 

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.” 

You laughed. 

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?” 

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.  

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you. 

They really care. 

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.” 

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[batsycline69]

Chapter Four: Darker Than Death

Summary: Jason chases the past and sets fire to the future

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 6,274

Content/warnings: angst, descriptions of injuries, Jason's self-destructive tendencies

SERIES MASTERPOST | PREV

Four months pass like lightning streaking the sky. Suddenly, you’re a staple in Jason’s life.

Soft kisses on biceps in the middle of the night. Mornings spent eating breakfast over your small kitchen table. Lunches in his station at the shop. The scowl on your face when Jason pulls out a dictionary to prove the word he played in Scrabble is real.

He didn’t think he could be happy again. After everything—the things he’d seen; the things he’d felt—it didn’t seem possible.

You gave him back something he thought he’d lost forever. You’re hope and future. Something to fuck up. Something to lose.

Jason knows what he looks like to the people on the street. It’s hard not to when he’s jarred by himself in the mirror sometimes. A big, brooding mass of man when once he was just a boy. He didn’t get a say in his dip in the Lazarus Pit, but the skin is still his own, adorned with in he chose and scars that he earned.

But no amount of ink nor callous nor scowling can actually protect him from the wounds that still have never healed. His never ending anger got the better of him today. A close call with Batman and Nightwing left him feeling bolder than ever. He went to visit the Joker.

Beating the Joker bloody with a crowbar didn’t have the cathartic impact he’d been hoping it would. The sight just made his stomach churn. He buried the flurry inside of him as he tied the Joker up, leaving him to sit in a closet for a few days. Until it’s time to bring him into play.

The rising sickness, cold and burning all at once, doesn’t go away. Distance doesn’t help. He still feels trapped there even when he’d been the one in control.

He doesn’t remember going to his apartment and changing. When he comes back to himself at your doorstep, he isn’t Red Hood. Just a boy in a soaked t-shirt shivering in the rain.

The door to your apartment building is inches away from his face. His hand is on the doorknob. It’s locked; he realizes now that’s what pulled him out of his head.

Rain falls down around him. It lands heavily on the shoulders of his jacket. The sound hammers on rooftops, onto the rusted cars parked out in front of your building. It splashes on the already soaked sidewalk, rushing into the sewers Jason knew so well. It’s always fucking raining. He would hate this city if he didn’t love it so much. If this city wasn’t in his blood just as much as Sheila’s.

Tears slick his face. That feeling in his stomach is still there, and he feels like he’s buried beneath earth all over again. The world is pressing down against him. He can hardly breathe.

His feet carry him to the back door of the building. The memory of picking the lock open is shoved into a corner at the very back of his mind. Safe memories fail to see the light of day now, yet he seeks safety just by being here. He needs you, though he hasn’t yet fully put it together yet.

Jason fiddles with the lock with less grace than usual. His hands tremble as he works, but even filled with tears, he’s focused. Maybe a little more so than necessary. He’s overly aware of the weight of his gun. Just as aware as he is he shouldn’t have brought it here. His mind is such a mess. What if he hurt you?

Part of him itches to turn back. The laughter echoing in his ears pushes him forward.

The wood floors creak beneath his feet as he moves through the otherwise silent halls. He pauses in front of your door. His nails bite into the palm of his fisted hands, trying to find the bravery to knock.

Bravery.

Once upon a time ago, he ran across the rooftops of this city fighting goons twice his size, reassured by his mentor, a less than perfect man who demanded perfection. He thought his bravery made him untouchable.

So much for that.

He knocks. You don’t answer.

It’s 3 AM; of course you’re going to be asleep.

He should have never come here. He hasn’t even thought about what he would say when you ask why he’s such a wreck. Just like anything real in his life, it’s not like he can tell you the truth. You wouldn’t know what to do with the truth; he kidnapped the guy who killed him back when he was just a little robin. His mind feels too syrupy to come up with a good lie.

He realizes with sudden clarity he never should have gotten this close to you. Sure, he’s been planning his takeover of Gotham’s underground for years, but plans go sideways. What if the Joker gets out and finds out a connection between Red Hood and you? He can’t even stomach the thought of you with a single scratch on you, let alone in the sort of condition Joker would leave you in.

The lock clicks on your door.

Undoubtedly, you’d spotted him through your peephole standing there. When the door opens, your tired eyes are swimming with concern.

“Jason? Is everything okay?” Your voice is thick with sleep as you blink him into focus.

He feels terrible. He wants to say he’s drunk. Tell you he wasn’t thinking. Free you of his bullshit. Instead, he sniffles pathetically.

The door creaks softly as you hold it open more. You’re a lifeline for him now, the one thing that’s keeping him from sinking back into that bottomless grave, and he pulls you against him. His grip is tighter than it probably should be, but if you have a problem with it, you don’t say.

You hold him like something precious.

He hates himself.

“Come on. Come inside.” Your voice is soft as you gently usher him in. “You’re soaked.”

Streetlight from outside diffuses through the raindrops on your window. It’s the only light offered in your darkened apartment.

He stands in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you rummage around the clothes piled on top of the old floral wingback chair in the corner. You pull out one of Jason’s t-shirts, the material washed and worn until the fabric was soft.

Cotton clings to his skin as he peels his shirt off.

He hears a soft gasp as his vision is obscured.

“What happened to you?” you ask, horror cutting through your exhaustion like a knife.

Bruises—fresh ones—scatter across his skin. He hasn’t seen them yet, but he feels them there. Normally, he’s pretty good. Keeping his clothes on when he knows there’s damning evidence. The less he has to explain, the fewer lies he has to keep track of. Tonight isn’t a normal night. His head is barely on straight.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. He tugs the shirt down, obscuring whatever injuries you see.

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Did someone hurt you?”

God, you’re so sweet. You care about him, and you really shouldn’t. Right now, there’s a fire in your voice; you’d go up to bat for him against anyone. All the more reason to keep you out of the line of fire.

“It’s nothing,” he snaps.

“The hell it is. Jason, what is going on?” Your voice is demanding as you take another step closer. Your reach out to touch him, but you stop as if you would hurt him. You are afraid to hurt him.

He huffs and goes out to your living room, his large frame hunching in on itself as he falls into your couch. His head hangs for a minute before he looks around. He’s always found your apartment peaceful. Blankets tossed over the arm of your threadbare secondhand couch. Bookshelves stuffed with crumbling paperbacks. Feels more like a home than his place ever has, but it’s still no home of his.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” he sniffles.

You follow him out, pausing a few feet away from him. “We don’t have to cover everything tonight.”

The certainty in your voice is too brilliant, too forgiving; some things feel like they can never be spoken about. Should never be allowed to see the light of day.

“I dug up a lot of past today.”

He hopes you never understand him because that means you understand how it feels to die. What it means to come back from that. And what worse fate could he curse someone to? He never wants that cold to find you in the middle of the night and shock you awake just to confirm your heart is still beating.

“What do you need?”

The couch dips as you sit beside him. His arm winds over your shoulders, pulling you to his chest so he can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. “Just this,” he says.

So you stay that way. He cries, and he thinks about how he shouldn’t be doing this to you. He feels better because you’re here. No matter how hard he tries not to, he can’t stop thinking about how fucked up it is that he gets to feel better while making everything worse for you. He’s going to ruin your life, and he hasn’t even given you the opportunity to know that.

A few more minutes pass. Your apartment is silent apart from his sniffles, but those, too, die down eventually. Just the rain remains, pattering against the glass.

“Shouldn’t have woken you up,” he says when he’s finally composed himself. There’s a resolution in his voice that had been lacking before. He hopes you don’t ask how he managed to make it to your door.

You shake of your head pull away from him to look into his eyes. “Don’t say that. You didn’t want to be alone. That’s a good enough reason to wake me up.” Your voice is just as firm.

Doubt crosses Jason’s face. You wouldn’t be saying any of this if he wasn’t selfishly withholding the truth from you. You’d already met Red Hood, and you didn’t want him inside of your apartment. He shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. He has no right to wake you up when you’re safe and asleep in your bed. He doesn’t deserve to seek your comfort just because he can’t face his ghosts.

Your palms are warm as you gently hold his face. The pad of your thumb wipes off his tears. “I care about you,” you say. “You aren’t burdening me by letting me help you.”

For one single second, it crosses his mind to open up. You’d think he would have totally lost it, but he could open up. At this point, it almost feels as if it doesn’t matter; he’s decided this won’t be able to last.

Even now, you know very little about him. Neither of you have put a label on what you have, but there’s a bind between of you. You’ve become a feature in his life, as often as he can allow such a thing. He’s gotten comfortable with your presence, and comfort can always be taken away from him. There’s benefit in staying unattached.

He laughs bitterly. “I don’t wanting you biting off more than you can chew, sweetheart,” he says. His thick fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek.

Your lips quirk up into a weak smile, but your visible concern doesn’t wane. “I’m pretty tough,” you reply.

Jason turns his head and presses his lips into the palm of your hand. “I know you are.”

But tough isn’t always enough against the people who come after him. Not even when you sign up for it. And you sure as shit didn’t sign up for this.

Most days, you make him feel like he’s soaring. When he takes you out on the bike—Gotham blurring around both of you as your chest presses into his back—he sometimes feels like he’s too giddy to drive.

That feeling, he thinks it’s love, but he can’t accept that. He’s been telling himself he doesn’t need love. He doesn’t need family. But he can’t convince himself he doesn’t need you right now.

One day, Batman is going to catch up to Red Hood. Jason is planning on as much. But if that plan somehow backfires, he could lead Batman right to you. He can’t curse you to a fate where your path intersects with Bruce Wayne. Jason doesn’t want your life any more tainted than he’s already made it.

He can handle losing you if he’s the one that calls it quits. He can handle losing you if you hate him over whatever lies he has to tell to make you slam the door in his face. But he can’t handle losing you over the truth, especially if it’s Bruce’s version of the truth. The very idea of you siding with Bruce in all of this makes his skin crawl.

“I care about you, too, you know,” he finally says. He looks at you in your pajamas, the softness of sleep still etched onto your features. His voice feels to gruff to be speaking to you. He takes your hand between both of his, lowering it down into his lap. He doesn’t want you to hear the finality in his voice.

You smile, though your face is sad. “I know.”

“Why’re you so nice to me?” he asks. You were supposed to just be some client. He was supposed to tattoo a dead bird onto your arm and say goodbye. He did everything right; he was a detached asshole. And yet, something about you broke him open, like playing the right notes on the piano to get into the Batcave.

Like a soft breeze, your laugh brushes across his lips. You’re close to him now.

“Didn’t we just establish that?” you ask, looking up at him with an even softer expression than before.

“I’m serious,” Jason says. “Why did you even bother giving me a chance?”

What makes me worth saving?

There’s a beat of silence. Your eyes study his. He doesn’t doubt you can see the tears still lingering, threatening to spill at the first kind thing you have to say to him.

“I mean, you were a dick for a little bit, but I could tell you felt bad about it.” You look him over carefully, your lips still tugged into that meager smile. “I don’t think you’re as bad as you think you are.”

He sighs and hangs his head. His grip on your hands loosens, like he’s offering you freedom. “You’re giving me too much credit,” he says. His voice rumbles up from his chest. He has to speak quietly or else he’d be yelling. All he can imagine is the Joker getting his hands on you. The thought alone makes him feel so sick he can’t stand to look at you.

As hard as he tries to stay with the kindness in your eyes, his mind starts to wander.

The floor had been so cold; he remembers it now. He acts like he’s not afraid of dying—maybe he isn’t—but he remembers how it feels to die. He remembers how dark it is. How bitter. Laughter rings in his ears. Blood in his mouth, bile stinging at his throat. There was nothing peaceful about it. Nothing peaceful about choking on his own blood. There was no ‘slipping off’; there was only a flash, the rush of heat, a deafening blast, and the screams of the mother who had sold him out.

“Why would I stick around this long if you weren’t worth it?” you ask.

“It doesn’t count when you’re used to fucked up relationships.” He breathes a bitter laugh like it doesn’t feel like acid. Like it’s effortless to put you down. If you believe it is, maybe you’ll ask him to leave.

He’s good at this, sabotaging relationships. Even though he thinks the world of you, he can summon up the words to make you question everything about the last four months. Doesn’t matter if Jason admires how much cruelty you’ve faced. Doesn’t matter if he finds wonder by the fact you still somehow stayed kind after that. He knows just what to say to plant a seed of doubt that will only continue to fester from here.

There’s a long silence. You’re not looking at him anymore. He wants to take it back, but he knows he can’t. That’s why he said it.

“Why are you trying to push me away right now?” Your voice is soft. He can barely hear it over the rain beating on the pane of glass behind you.

“I’m not pushing you away. That’s just the truth.”

“That’s bullshit,” you say. Your voice is low, but volume does nothing to lessen the severity of the chill. He’s used to your warmth. “You’re not that much of an asshole.”

The deeper he sinks into this character, the more he wants to to run out of the room. He’s ruining the one good thing he’s had since he came back to Gotham. He’s throwing away his one actual shot at happiness.

When he looks at you, he’s looking at a future he’ll never know. Baking cookies just because you mentioned in passing you wanted some. Slipping apology notes underneath your door when he pisses you off so much you won’t respond to his texts. Telling you he loves you; whispering it in your ear when he holds you on bad days. Telling the truth because he could finally fully surrender himself to you.

The truth, Jason likes to imagine, feels like the gentle release everyone likes to describe death as. Peace. A boy blown up isn’t at peace; he’s a poltergeist. But a man who can surrender and accept the death of a life he’d taken up, like a crab molting its shell to find something more comfortable, can rest. If he was brave enough, he could adapt again. Maybe make a life that offered a truce between him and this world.

“Ever consider maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do?” he asks. He buries the thoughts of your warm embrace. So many graves in his mind, all smelling of petrichor and freshly turned earth.

It rained the night he clawed up to the surface of Gotham. He doesn’t remember much about that night—doesn’t remember much before Talia got to him—but he remembers the smell. Dirt was everywhere, until suddenly, he smelled the rain. Drops fell into his parched mouth as he gasped for air.

His eyes squeeze shut, overly aware of the sheets hitting your window. Your silence doesn’t help.

“Please,” you scoff. “Do you think I just conveniently haven’t noticed you dodging topics the past four months? Just because I’m the only one who’s been open about my fucked up past doesn’t mean I’m the only one with it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you’ve got more going on then you’re telling me. The fact that you have secrets isn’t a secret to me. You can have things you don’t want to talk about, but don’t show up at my doorstep looking for help and snap at me when I give it to you.”

Jason doesn’t want it to end. He wishes he was just a little bit more selfish so he could will himself to hold onto you. He wishes his path wasn’t paved with blood so he could guarantee your safety.

But he can hold onto you for one more night.

He lays his head down in his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. It’s not a lie, but tomorrow he’ll tell you it was. His fingers tangle in his hair, and he finally looks up at you. You don’t look happy, that’s for sure, but you don’t hate him.

Tomorrow, he’s going to have to do this for real. Tonight, he just wants you.

Your eyes are fixed on him for a while before you respond. “Thank you for the apology,” you say. “You’re right. You can be a dick sometimes. But I think that shows you how intentionally I choose to be around you,” you say.

If you knew the truth, he imagines you poking fun at him for saying you were the one with fucked up relationships. You’d call him a hypocrite if he ever gave you the chance to.

“Let’s go to bed.” The words are clipped. You don’t look at him. “You’ve had a long day.”

“You’re gonna let me stay?” There’s hope in his voice when there shouldn’t be. You should turn him out, send him back into the rain; he deserves it more than the comfort of your bed.

You give him a look. “People usually say the worst stuff when they need someone the most,” you say. “Something you learn when you’re used to fucked up relationships.” You stand up and offer out your hand for him.

He follows as you lead him into your darkened bedroom. Sheets are rustled and tossed back. His stomach twists at the display of your rush to his aid. There’s so much more out in the world for you, even if he wants to sink into you until there’s no more him left.

Before you, he’d grown comfortable in harshness. The darkness didn’t feel unique because it was everything he had for years. And then there was you.

He’s going to know what life without you is like. But not getting to see you sat at your kitchen table, grinning at him sleepily over a cup of coffee in the morning is better than never seeing you again because someone got their filthy hands on you.

You guide him towards your bed. One last night to lie next to you and share your body heat.

Jason shrugs off his leather jacket. He misses the soft rustling of it hitting the floor; his eyes are fixed to the sight of your skin as you get into bed. The yellowish glow of city light slips in through a crack in your curtains.

The sheets rustle as you climb in. Jason still stands at the bedside for a minute more. You won’t look at him, and he’s glad. Goodbyes he’s not yet ready to say are written all over his face.

After a beat, your eyes do seek him out in the darkness. The sheets are pulled up to your chin, and Jason is trying to remember it all, even if he can tell you’re still upset.

The bed shifts with his weight as he lays down beside you. You face him. He doesn’t look away. He shifts a little closer, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulls you to his chest. If he were a better man, he would apologize right now. A real one. But if he means it too much, you’ll never believe him in the morning. He can’t afford to not be convincing.

Jason holds you. He presses his lips to the crown of your head and shuts his eyes. More than anything, he wishes he could enjoy this moment.

In another life, he wonders if maybe this is how things are all the time with you. He can hold you without worrying about what dangers he’s putting you in. Guilt might not gnaw at him. Jason curses him even if he doesn’t even exist because who else can he blame? Fuck that guy. Fuck his happiness.

You fall asleep in his arms. He feels like he’s taking advantage of your trust by even holding you right now, but he can’t will himself to let you go. He has hours left of this, and he can’t imagine wasting those moments by sleeping on the far side of the bed.

You have a strange dream, the kind that fades from memory the more you try to chase them.

In the shadows of what you remember, you see a red helmet, one like your dangerous friend wears. You found it laying on the ground in an alley. You searched out in the darkness for a face—his face—only to realize you were all alone, standing in a green mist.

Weeks had passed since your masked friend picked the lock to your apartment so you could get inside. Weeks since he’d sat on your fire escape only to never be seen again, but for some reason, he’s visited you in your dreams.

Your dream dissolves, but fresh worry blooms in your chest as you look at the empty spot on the other side of the bed where Jason had been only hours earlier. His words come back to you.

He was grieving something last night. Thinking of the loss in his voice leaves a chalky, bitter taste in your mouth. Instinctively, your hand smooths over the rumpled sheets where he’d been when you fell asleep. They’re cold.

Sunlight spills through the crack in your curtains. A rarity for Gotham. Last night’s downpour has been reduced to puddles in the dips of the sidewalk. You naively choose to believe that maybe this brand new morning has changed things. The finality in the air last night has been swept away like a shadow by the brightness of the day.

Even if it ends up hurting your feelings, you hold onto this hope like a wilting flower. It gets you out of bed.

The smell of something sweet fills the air as you poke your head out of your bedroom. Jason stands at your stove. His broad shoulders curl over a skillet, spatula in hand. Dark curls stick up in every direction. His t-shirt from last night is rumpled with fitful sleep. He looks up from the pan, his eyes straying on you as you approach.

“Smells good,” you say, stepping out.

“I made coffee,” he says, nudging his chin to the percolator on your counter top.

He carries his sleep deprivation well; you’ve heard about the sleepless nights he spent in Europe while he was traveling. You know some nights he stays up late with his friends you’ve never met. They’re a bad influence, he told you once. You asked him if he thought he was a good influence.

You kiss his shoulder as you walk by, your hand ghosting over his tattooed bicep. “Thank you, honey,” you say, still trying to get a handle on the situation. Still clinging to hope that this is a new day.

Except you see Jason tense out of the corner of your eye.

Instantaneously, your mouth goes dry. Today might be a new day, but nothing has changed. There’s still tension in the air. Jason’s mind is elsewhere, and wherever that is, you don’t seem entirely welcome.

Your body feels rigid as you try to pour your coffee, playing pretend like nothing’s wrong.

You like Jason; woozy, youthful joy swells in your chest when he holds you. He keeps you warm from all manner of coldness Gotham offers. Being around him is secure, safe in a way that goes just beyond the fact no one even gives you a second look when you’re next to him.

It feels like the day you met, but far worse. Because being pushed away some tattoo artist is one thing, but that’s not Jason anymore. He’s not just some guy who gave you a tattoo. You’ve spent more nights with him the past month than without him. He came to you sobbing last night because he needed someone, and you answered the call. So what changed?

Cup of coffee in hand, you sit at the small kitchen table pushed up against your wall. You watch him as he cooks; his mossy eyes are always decidedly fixed down.

Your finger traces along the deep divot in the table. Sunlight spills across the scarred wood; you can’t help but feel like you’re being mocked. Miraculous sunlight in Gotham at the moment where the light feels like it’s being sucked out of the room.

A few minutes later, Jason brings a plate of pancakes, a bowl of diced strawberries, and syrup to the table, setting them down in front of you. You’ve always believed Jason makes food in place of the things he’s never told you. You wonder what unspoken words your breakfast is supposed to represent.

“Looks great,” you say. Your forced cheerfulness sounds like exactly that, but Jason doesn’t make any indication that he noticed. He acknowledges you as he takes the seat on the opposite side of your table.

You stare at the plate in front of you, forcing yourself to eat even though your appetite has dissipated. It gives you something to do. Without a task, you’d just sit there, trying to figure out what went wrong.

There’s silence. Sunshine doesn’t fill the void the way Gotham’s rain does. The tension makes the pancakes less sweet. Or at least you imagine it would, but you haven’t actually tasted a single bite.

More than anything, you want to ask about last night.

Jason’s bloodshot eyes, the desperation with which he held you, is stuck to you in a way you don’t know you can brush away. Jason, who keeps himself so well guarded behind the walls he built up, was exposed last night. You saw something in him, something you’d never seen before, and wanted so badly to understand it.

You want to say something, but you don’t know how without maybe making things worse. Don’t want to dig up skeletons any more than he’s admitted he already has.

The truth is you do know so little about Jason’s past. Any number of things could have sent him to your door last night. You’d been so exhausted, you hadn’t even thought to question how he’d gotten inside. You content yourself to thinking he’d followed in after someone.

“I think we should call it,” Jason says. He doesn’t even look up from his untouched food.

You look up from your pancakes, red strawberry juice smeared all along your plate. “Call what?” you ask. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you’re hoping your willful ignorance will maybe somehow change his mind.

“This.”

This. The undefined thing going on between the two of you for the past four months. The thing that has made home feel like home again. Someone who gave a little more sense to the Gotham you’d once known so well that had been destroyed, uprooted, just when your life was.

You feel your jaw muscles tense, your teeth clenching together to try to lessen the emotional blow. It doesn’t work—you knew it wouldn’t—but you figured you would try. “Is this about last night?” you ask.

“No.” His response is quick. If your head wasn’t reeling, you would maybe pick up on how rushed it really was, but you don’t.

You’re silent, waiting for an explanation you know isn’t coming. So you do what you know to do; you grasp at straws, hoping maybe you can fix this. Hoping maybe there’s a problem you can solved that will keep Jason here.

“Okay, then what’s it about?” you ask.

The kitchen chair creaks as Jason leans back. His skin is golden with the light crossing over your table. You see the rosemary and lilies on his arm and think of his work permanently etched into your body.

You will carry a piece of him with you forever, no matter where either of you goes.

“It’s not about anything. This wasn’t supposed to be serious.”

“I deserve more than that.” The words are clipped and harsh. More than you really mean them to be, but you’re still trying to make sense of all of this.

Things had been good. Really good. You laughed with him and relished every time you heard his clandestine laughter in return. He comes over when you’ve had a rough day and are fed up from work. You’ve cried in front of him, and while you’re sure saying he was happy to do it is a stretch, he did it without complaint. There may not have been a label on what you have together, but Jason is right; you don’t feel casual.

You love him.

The realization crawls up your throat like bile, like you might say the words at the absolute wrong time and make everything worse.

“Fine.” He looks up at you, his face hardened in a way you don’t recognize. His eyes are hardened. Not guarded like when he wouldn’t talk to you during your first appointment; they’re cold. He’s never looked at you like that before. “I’m sick of this shit. The monotony. You don’t want to live the same goddamn day over and over again.”

You stiffen. Somewhere a few blocks away, a siren wails. His gaze doesn’t waver. You’ve never wished for him to look away so badly. Under his gaze, you feel trapped. Uneasiness creeps up your spine.

For some reason, your first date comes to mind. You think of Jason at the arcade machine, the way he’d held the plastic gun so steadily.

“So why’d you come here last night then?” You struggle to keep your voice steady, but now feels like the wrong time to show any weakness.

Once, you thought Jason looked at you like a prey animal. In the tattoo shop, when he first came out thirty-five minutes late,he stared you down like he was trying to making sure you weren’t going to run in the direction. But even then, he was studying you more than anything, a habit of his you’d grown to recognize.

This is something else entirely.

“Because I’m a lonely, fucked up guy. Is that what you want to here? The warmth of your bed was better than none at all.”

Anger and agony stir in your chest. Muscles taught, jaw hardened. You can’t even stand to look at him for a minute. “So, what? We’re just done? We’re broken up?”

“We’re not broken up because we were never together,” Jason snaps.

Another silence settles between the two of you, this one charged.

“I guess that makes things more simple,” you reply, your voice low. You feel your face burning. What had you been thinking? You knew from the start he was bad news. You’d known it, and you ignored every sign anyway.

Silence settles between the two of you again. Jason doesn’t look up at you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

God, you should have seen this coming, and yet it still doesn’t make sense. Things were good. Things were working. Until they weren’t. Until you ended up here. Now you’re at a total loss for words.

“Alright,” you say when he doesn’t speak. “Well, thanks for breakfast.” There’s no point in hiding the bitterness in your voice. What do you have to lose, right? He wants nothing to do with you, and you’ve just wasted months of your life stupidly, childishly believing that this was something that could actually work.

Jason doesn’t move right away. His dark brows are knitted close, but it doesn’t quite look like anger. The scar running through the brow makes him look more severe. You can’t imagine what kind of harsh truths he’s withholding. But you can’t look away. You think about running your fingers through his hair. You think about tracing the ink on his skin. You think about how empty your lunchtime will feel now because you’re not going to be swinging by the shop, a bag of takeout in hand.

This whole time, you’d just been a phase to him. Just another passing name he would forget in a month when he meets someone new. Someone better. Someone less acquainted with fucked up relationships, maybe. The point being, they aren’t going to be you.

And why should it matter so much? What’s four months? You barely know each other, right? Besides all of the times he listened to you spill your guts and probably kept waiting anxiously for you to shut up. All the while, you had managed to convince yourself this was actually going to be anything. You were mortified.

“I think your jacket is still in the bedroom,” you add pointedly as he keeps staring at you. Hopefully he’ll get the hint because you don’t think you have it in you to actually tell him to leave.

He stands, the chair sliding against the wooden floors of your apartment. Silently, he walks to the other room. It takes a few minutes for him to come back out. You’re so busy trying to make sense of all of this, you don’t notice.

When he reemerges, jacket in hand, Jason lingers by the front door. His eyes are fixed to the floor before he finally looks up at you.

“Bye,” he says.

Not see you later because he won’t. He doesn’t plan to. He’s done with you.

His eyes linger on you. He looks sad; you’ve gone and made him feel guilty because you thought you had more of a place in your life than you really did.

“Bye,” you say back, your voice rough.

Not it’s been nice knowing you because you can’t bring yourself to say the words. Not I think meeting you changed my life because you don’t have the right to that claim.

Jason doesn’t look back as he closes the door behind him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

[harmoonix]

♡ Thank u, next ♡

♡♡♡ (Astrology Observations) ♡♡♡

✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇

🪷 3 Asteroids chosed by me in their home element:

♡ ASTEROID AMOR [1221] (Being in love with love) ♡

Asteroid Amor in Water Signs = Amor in Water signs love with a deep passion about their partners, they are their partners soft place and care. The native may feel very connected with their partners

Asteroid Amor in Fire Signs = Amor in Fire Signs burns like the flame of love crushing their hearts, they are the type to do everything and risk everything for their partners. Very strong/confident/powerful partner vibes who is ready for everything

Asteroid Amor in Earth Signs = Amor in Earth Signs is full of grace and nature, they are the sweetest when it comes to their love signs and know how to make someone to feel satisfied

Asteroid Amor in Air Signs = Amor in Air Signs comes like a melody about love, charming and chatty about their love life, they're the type of person who can compose a song for their partners or to have something that reminds them about their lovers

♡ ASTEROID LUST [4386] (Sensuality is within you)

Asteroid Lust in Air Signs if full of charisma, they have this aura of wanting to be the one who starts a conversation with them first, they are so flirty in their words and can possess a very sexy voice

Asteroid Lust in Earth Signs are the natives who give "dominate me" vibes, they will give you the moon and the stars, they like to spoil people and to make them feel satisfaction

Asteroid Lust in Water Signs are enchanting as a sirene, they will enchant people with their innocent looks, they crave for more and more, they'll make you to want more of them to have them in your soul forever

Asteroid Lust inf Fire Signs full of passion, full of joy, they're like hottest flame in the room, catching everyone's attention and making them curious about you, they'll be so intimidated by your presence

♡ ASTEROID APOLLO [1862] (Adoration) ♡

Asteroid Apollo in Water Signs have mesmerizing eyes, sometimes they can be tired eyes but they are still mesmerizing, very magnetic yet soft to touch hard to reach

Asteroid Apollo in Earth Signs have that gorgeous hair, gorgeous looks, they have a thing for fashion and keeping themselves pretty 24/7,

Asteroid Apollo in Air Signs receiving attention and adoration for their sensual beauty, their voice, their heart is full of love ready to share it with the world

Asteroid Apollo in Fire Signs adore to be in the spotlight, to take the attention, striking personality that can catch new people coming in their lives

✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧

+ Some Short Astro Observations:🪷🪷🪷

🪷 - Cancer & Pisces placements tend to give wrong people the 2nd chance in their life

🪷 - Scorpio Moon/Moon in the 8th house can have a hard time to trust people, they just don't wanna get hurt anymore

🪷 - Uranus in the 7th house could've had more relationships in the past, somehow it can be chaotic to think back in the past for them

🪷 - Capricorn Placements/10th house don't like to be disrespected, especially when they treat people with so much respect

🪷 - Chiron in the 10th house/Capricorn are protected by karma when it comes to their career/job

🪷 - Leo Placements really know how to love themselves correctly when they need that self love

🪷 - Pluto or Lilith (h12) aspecting Sun can get envy without even realizing, there is something about you that people envy

🪷 - 6°, 18° degrees on the ascendant can have a fragile body/ they can also be more aware of their body than others

🪷 - Moon in the 10th house hate/dislike to show other people their emotions

🪷 - Saturn in the 6th house harshly aspected can make you to lose motivation fast/ or to be lazy at times

🪷 - Chiron in the 1st house or aspecting the ascendant can be an another indicator of having an fragile body

🪷 - Saturn in the 12th house/Pisces and Saturn at 12°, 24° degrees loves sleeping a lot

🪷 - Chiron at 1°, 13° and 25° can struggle with their anger/anger issues, and with patience aswell

🪷 - Eva asteroid (164) aspecting Sun are such a beauty, and their beauty lasts for ages/decades, they are so feminine

🪷 - Neptune in trine/sextile/conjunct Uranus can make you more spiritual or "awaken" spiritually, you may also have a really great intuition and possibly passion for astrology

🪷 - Sun or Moon aspecting Saturn harshly can sometimes go in a depressive state of mind, like having this depressive mood following them

🪷 - Chiron aspecting Moon can have some wounds/pain with their mom/ and from their childhood

🪷 - South Node in the 9th house/Sagittarius can feel very disconnected/detached from Religion/Some of them can suffer form religious trauma

🪷 - Chiron in the 12th house can feel very disconnected/detached from God for example or having this feeling as that God doesn't help them

🪷 - Chiron in the 12th house is also an indicator of having deep traumatic wounds that have to end in this life

🪷 - Aphrodite (1388) in Gemini/3rd house or aspecting Mercury has a really shooting voice

🪷 - Aphrodite (1388) square or opposite Venus can have a hard time to commit their feelings or to understand what they truly feel for their partners

🪷 - Mars in the 6th house can really be good at sports, especially if you do daily sports or physical activities

✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧

Honestly, the end of an era. Especially the 2023's era, because with December coming soon we have to say goodbye to this year.

How have you been guys? I hope you are doing great and don't forget to take care of yourselves and to eat, drink, give yourself the love you need

✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧ » ◇ « ✧✧ » ◇ « ✧ » ✦ « ✧

I hope everyone who reads my notes has a blessed Sunday ☀️ Celebrate the Sun today!☀️

Thank you. Next

☀️ H a r m o o n i x ☀️

[averageallogene]

You sister, who always have had everything she wanted, isn't happy Ayato chose to marry you.

So, on your wedding day, she sneaks into the groom's preparation room to try and convince him to marry her instead.

Ayato ♡⊹˚ Familial woes (SFW)

fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst with a good ending. cw for toxic family relationships.

4k words.

notes. I just cannot write something that isn’t past 3k words SORRY LMAO. But anyway, so it begins~ Thank you for all the wonderful ideas, I will do my best to write out each scenario in due time! Sorry if it isn't as angsty, if that's the case I'll try to make up with the others... I hope I do Ayato justice in this one <3.

Since I'm back home these prompts will be written on my laptop, hence the fancier formatting. Anyway, Enjoy! ✧˖°.

Coming from a prestigious clan has its ups and downs, yet [F/N] has managed to withstand most obstacles that appeared in her wake. Despite not being one of the tri-commissions, her family was held in the highest regards, including herself as the eldest daughter of the clan. Thankfully however, despite all the restrictions her lifestyle imposed upon her, she still had one good thing on her side - having an elder brother, she wouldn’t have to inherit all the pressure he did. It sounded dismissive, she herself knew so, yet the heart wants what it wants. And even for someone as self-disciplined and honorable as she, surely she could indulge, couldn’t she?

[F/N] had worked hard for her reputation, ensuring her clan kept its prestigious namesake whilst strengthening the bonds with other houses that would prove to become fruitful. With negotiation came alliances, and with alliances the stability of Inazuma was kept. Above all else, she knew, much like her brother, that this was what was to be first and foremost on their priority list. Two of the three children of their house upheld such responsibilities, save for their youngest sister. She, who didn’t have many expectations to her name when compared to her siblings, ended up living a much more desirable lifestyle - in short, she was pampered throughout her life, the apple of their father’s eye. Even in his deathbed, she was promised much more of their share, given everything to the palm of her hand whilst the other siblings were expected to simply cope with such reality. Even when their brother would inherit the Clan as well as all its responsibilities, both felt as though she had won in conquering their parents’ hearts.

[F/N] managed relatively well. Even as her sister grew up taking the spotlight from her whenever she got an ounce of attention, even as she had to work thrice as hard to receive a crumb of the recognition her siblings would get from their parents, she acted with grace that only corresponded with everyone’s expectations. An example of a noble young lady, she was perceived as. Even as her heart would often ache, anger boiling just underneath the surface, she covered it down as the long sleeve of her kimono would hide her bitter expression. She could deal with her sister, she had to. Years of hiding her distaste resulted in a skill that would prove useful in the future, [F/N] becoming able to hide her true emotions rather well. 

Their brother ruled their household impeccably, perhaps more so than even their father had while he still lived. [F/N] was there to aid whenever needed, it being mostly to advise him on important decisions and to communicate with their allies whilst he tended to his other duties. And being good with people, she performed her obligations rather well, becoming well acquainted with many important people and even forming friendly bonds with some. One of these was none other than the Kamisatos, including their young daughter of whom [F/N] doted on. In her, she’d found the younger sister she’d always wanted, offering her advice whenever needed, as well as sometimes offering her the company she craved - at least, whenever their busy schedules would allow them to. [F/N] had watched Ayaka grow from within, pride beaming in her chest as she became a fine young lady herself. It was of most importance for them to support one another, knowing full well how stressful their positions could be; it made their lives a little more bearable, knowing they had the support of someone outside of their immediate family. 

It was through this growing friendship that [F/N] became acquainted with Ayato, Ayaka’s enigmatic older brother and the ruler of the Kamisato household. Much more distant and calculating, it was seemingly difficult to come closer to his heart as the man held most within arm’s reach. Still, [F/N] remained cordial, not expecting much to blossom from there. Friendly interactions were more than enough, keeping the alliance of their clans alive. 

To Ayato however, it was much different. His experienced eyes watched, blue gaze lingering on the finely dressed figure as she often hid her elegant expression with her long sleeves. He noticed how she smiled without much light whenever she was within her clan’s walls, contrasting vividly when compared with how her expressions were genuine whenever accompanied with Ayaka and even Thoma. Ayato noted how she genuinely cared for his sister, offering her wise advice when regarding personal matters he could only figure weren’t of his caliber. And later, a few springs later, he studied how she’d come by more and more often, seemingly seeking refuge within the Kamisato residence whenever her position would allow. To Ayato, [F/N] wasn’t difficult to figure out, yet he couldn’t help but begin worrying for his sister’s friend.

“Thoma,” He’d beckoned his housekeeper, watching as he quickly obliged and approached. Even as he read through the stack of papers, he carried on the conversation. “Ayaka has expressed interest in inviting miss [F/N] over for the evening, yet is there any particular reason for it?”

“Oh,” He sighed out briefly, expression furrowing slightly as he gave his Lord a crack of a sympathetic smile. “Lady [F/N] has been quite down recently, so my Lady wished to offer her a safe space to rest for as long as needed. I-Is that something she should reconsider, my Lord?”

Ayato simply shook his head. “No, it’s quite alright by me; I just couldn’t help notice how she’s been coming over more often. Now, Miss [F/N]’s presence is more than welcomed, of course, yet I wondered how come she seems so gloomy these past few days.”

“Nothing seems to escape you, my Lord,” Thoma chuckled out, before sheepishly offering him an explanation. “Lady [F/N] has a… Rather tumultuous relationship with her siblings, more so with her sister. Apparently, she recently ruined [F/N]’s engagement to a wealthy noble of another house, and her brother did little else but attempt to brush everything under the rug before their reputation were to be stained. She’s been understandably annoyed by the situation, expressing anguish that her sister wasn’t properly punished.”

Ayato’s expression faltered ever so slightly, his hand lowering the paper he read. He’d heard of the news, as gossip traveled fast throughout Narukami. Yet he surely hadn’t heard of the ever so slightly important detail of her younger sister being the cause of such a ruckus. In all honesty, the Commissioner had simply thought she’d been the one to break off the engagement, rightfully so in his mind - they simply had little in common, so there was little chance of the marriage succeeding in the first place. 

“I see… If you happen to see her later, please inform her that she can remain here as long as she wishes.” He finished off with a small smile, accompanied with the dismissal of his friend before resuming his duties. 

It felt bad to overstay their hospitality, yet [F/N] found it difficult to refuse. Not after her anger made her nearly explode, as well as watching as her brother dismissed her more than justified anger. She’s just never going to change, he’d reasoned as to why he didn’t even punish her for meddling in her engagement, practically telling her to move on. In truth, [F/N] couldn’t exactly say she loved her fiancé, but he certainly wasn’t a bad match, at least from the little she knew of him. Well mannered, good temperament, friendly enough, a reputation similar to their own. Honestly, it had felt like she’d hit the jackpot when considering she would most definitely be married off to whomever her brother thought was the most ideal choice. She’d just gotten her mind set that he would be her husband, and her sister just had to insert herself in between them and whisk him away for her own satisfaction. [F/N] was forced to watch as he was wooed by her beauty and charms, becoming nothing short of her boytoy and wallet as she was pitied as the disgraced woman who was abandoned. Gossip was cruel, and she wished nothing more than to remain hidden away in the Kamisato Estate for a little while. 

Ayato received letters, [F/N]’s brother inquiring of her whereabouts as well as demanding her return. Amidst his pile of papers they were just too easy to lose, shrugging his shoulders as he feigned ignorance. Ayaka’s and Thoma’s presence were great in helping her cope, her mind forgetting the trash fire of a family she had for a little more than three weeks. However amidst the duties she had to do, as well as the way she would often give her brother advice on which decisions to make, her presence was beginning to weigh in her clan’s house.

“I should probably return soon,” [F/N] had sighed as she sat on their courtyard, Thoma offering her his company as he served her tea. “My brother will probably make a foolish decision without me there to weigh in the options.”

The blond man chuckled, passing her the fine ceramic cup. “It’s a shame, Miss [F/N]. Your presence in the Kamisato Household is a breath of fresh air, after all.”

“Thank you Thoma, I’ll most definitely miss being in such a peaceful place.” Her gaze turned to the distance, watching with melancholy the beautiful view their courtyard offered.

“You’re always welcome to stay for longer.” Ayato’s voice was suddenly heard, the pair turning to him as he made his way across the wooden floors to the table where they sat.

“Oh,” [F/N] breathed out, head lowering in respect. “Lord Kamisato, I-”

“Please, no need for such formalities. You may just call me Ayato” He offered her a small smile, one seemingly genuine enough as his eyes glimmered with the sunlight. “A friend of Ayaka’s is a friend of my own. She holds you in the highest regard, you know?”

[F/N]’s face bloomed with a lovely shade of pink, nervously laughing as she looked down. “Oh, that girl… She’s just too kind.”

“Are you insinuating she’s overselling your qualities, Miss [F/N]?” He teased, watching with humor as her face contorted in hesitancy and horror. 

“What? No, of course not- No, I mean-”

“Perchance she wishes to play matchmaker?” His smile grew more sly, finding her stuttering at his remark quite adorable. 

Thoma chuckled quietly, watching the two of them as he rather awkwardly stood there. “My Lord, please…”

“Right, I jest.” Ayato let out in a breathless chuckle, ceasing for the time being as he watched her expression soothe back, the blush still very well present. “Still, Miss [F/N]. You are more than welcome to return, if your family ever causes another ruckus.”

Her genuine smile looked beautiful, her sleeve not covering her face as she would’ve often done during their first encounters. It had been enough to engrave itself on Ayato’s mind, even as she returned to her family estate to once more fulfill her duties.

It was the beginning of something more. No longer did [F/N] visit the Kamisatos for Ayaka and Thoma, she now visited to see Ayato, as well. Even when he wasn’t there to see her, which happened more often than she’d like, she would still inquire how he was doing, hoping he’d be alright and not overworking. Her care for him was endearing, and Ayato found himself making small excuses every so often to leave his working station, wishing to welcome [F/N] to their estate instead and indulge in a philosophical conversation, or perhaps even a game of shogi. Under the blooming sakuras they would converse, and despite the apparent fleeting moments they were, those closest to Ayato could definitely notice the slight shifts in his demeanor - the Commissioner was, after all, not one to allow many into his heart, yet his soft spot for [F/N] was as obvious as it could be. 

Suspicion was quick to rise, especially for [F/N]’s siblings. However, [F/N]’s obliviousness was what boiled her brother’s frustrations, wondering if the Commissioner simply sought a plaything in his sister and not something serious. His hurries to find a match for her were in vain though, for just as he believed the answer was in reach, the news came to him through one of his many advisors - one aside from his sister, of course.

“M-My Lord, that might not be a good idea.” The older man stuttered, before breaking the news that was believed to be obvious. “Lord Kamisato is courting Lady [F/N], after all.”

In truth, it had blindsighted [F/N], for she couldn’t believe it for quite a while. Having developed a small crush on the Commissioner, she’d hastily reminded herself it would never develop into anything more. After all, her status required her to marry for benefit first and foremost, and something as worthless as love wasn’t in a noble’s interest. In his place, however, Ayato thought it was just the perfect arrangement - he was not only going to court someone he deeply cared for, their alliance would prove more than beneficial. His opponent, ahem, [F/N]’s brother, would have no rational argument against their marriage. 

The news was quick to spread across the land of lightning, and everyone was ecstatic for the Yashiro Commissioner. Ayato was a fine young man, an even finer leader, and his marriage to someone of such a high status as [F/N] was bound to please most. Like he’d calculated, despite not being how it was planned, her brother had no possible way of opposing his request to marry his sister. Ayato was, after all, in a higher rank than their own clan was. It was an honor, something he could not refuse. 

And as such, [F/N]’s future was bound with Ayato’s, and she couldn’t be happier. Their relationship progressed quickly, and even before their wedding, he arranged for her personal belongings to be promptly brought to the Kamisato Estate, where she would live. He couldn’t be more dismissive for appearing to go too fast, far too worried to finally bring [F/N] away from the pressure and unhealthy behaviors of her siblings. 

One who was far too flabbergasted by such turns of events was none other than her sister, the very same woman who’d taken her previous fiancé to only ditch him after she’d squeezed him for most that he was worth. She’d noticed the smile [F/N] had directed to her before leaving their Estate for good, escorted by samurai issued by her fiancé before turning her back to her. A sense of humiliation had overcome her, never having quite liked the bitter taste of defeat. To her envious gaze, it felt as though [F/N] had won for the first time in her life, and she wasn’t going to let her win the war.

The Kamisatos were more than courteous whenever [F/N]’s sister requested to visit. Ayaka was especially hesitant, yet Ayato let her come by without much trouble, assuring his lover he’d never allow her to cross any boundary. There was a certain distance between them, and [F/N] had no reason to ever doubt her lover. Her friends were all suspicious of her motives, watching as she blatantly faked happiness for her sister.

“You’ve ended up in great hands, big sister!” She’d praise, her voice dripping with hidden venom as she gazed around the luxurious estate. “You’re very lucky, you know?”

“Yes, I’m fully aware.” [F/N] would answer calmly, Ayato watching with amusement as she gave her a forced smile. 

“No, I do believe I’m the luckier one here.” Ayato would intervene, publicly choosing to lace his hand with her own, soothing his lover’s anger all the while studying the way her sister’s expression shifted. It was his own way of assuring he was serious about his decision, yet that seemed to, regrettably, only fuel the fire within that devil of a siren.

Preparations were underway, and before long, the day had finally arrived. Her sister’s attempts at wooing Ayato had fallen in deaf’s ears, the man feigning ignorance as his gaze was focused on none other than his fiancée. It was comical to watch as she quietly grew desperate to win the feud, yet at the same time it only brought on more anger and awkwardness to those around them. In his place, however, Ayato simply waited, knowing exactly well when an enemy wished to strike. He’d kissed his bride before leaving to prepare for the ceremony, quite curious to see her in the bridal wear that had been arranged for her as he himself was prepared. 

There was still some time before the ceremony would begin, and as such he stood in the present room, making sure he looked presentable enough for his own wedding. He breathed in slowly, finishing arranging his sleeves before hearing as the shoji doors opened behind him.

“Ah, Thoma is that you?” He called out, before turning to watch as a familiar figure eyed him. His expression shifted to slight surprise, watching as [F/N]’s sister carefully walked after closing the door behind her. “Oh, apologies for the confusion. Anything I can help you with?”

“Lord Kamisato…” Her voice lowered softly, approaching him as she fluttered her eyelashes slowly. Her kimono dripped from her shoulder slightly, a clear attempt at seduction being ployed as he remained still, not engaged in the slightest by her attempt. “Actually, there is something you may help me with.”

“Oh really?” He hummed, uninterested as he deployed all the remaining patience he had for the girl before him. With a small sigh he continued. “Then do speak, what is it.”

She came closer, uncomfortably so, her body pressing against his as she placed her hands against his chest. Giving him a concerned look, her expression twisted as she sighed dramatically, shaking her head as she voiced her opinion to him.

“My Lord, I simply cannot watch someone of your own stature marry someone as… Rowdy, and unworthy, as my sister.” She nearly wept, grasp holding onto him tighter before she continued. “She wishes nothing more than to use you to benefit our own house, she has no consideration for anyone regarding herself.”

“That is… Quite the accusation.” His voice grew cooler, arm lifting to carefully pry her away from himself. His hold was quick, as if dusting himself off of unwanted dirt, giving himself distance between the two of them before he continued. 

“I wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t true, my Lord.” She dared lie to his face, eyebrows furrowing before she stated she had proof. Ayato scoffed inside his head, watching with hidden amusement as she reached into the cleavage of her kimono to reveal a folded piece of paper. “Please, see for yourself.”

Deciding to humor her for a moment, Ayato picked up the letter, carefully unfolding it before having a quick read. Presenting itself as a love letter to another man, [F/N] apparently spoke of her plans to quickly dispose of Ayato after their wedding, inheriting most of the fortune before quickly disappearing with the lover to whom the letter was concerned. She bit her lip in her place, watching as he read it through before she came closer once more.

“She’s not worthy of you, my Lord.” She placed her hands onto his chest again, head resting against him as she eyed up at him. “She wouldn’t ever love you as someone like you deserves… Please, reconsider this before it’s too late. Consider someone that would treat you right… Like me.”

His gaze shifted, calculating and apparently still processing the information. Thinking she’d caught him in the perfect moment, she continued, hand sliding upwards his chest as she locked eyes with him.

“Lord Kamisato, unlike her, I would support you like a dutiful wife should. I would be able to bring much more to the table, and I’m certain my brother would much rather have our union take place. [F/N] simply wouldn’t know how to please anyone as a wife-”

“I’ve heard enough.” He cut her short, his expression fading to reveal a scowl, a raw portrayal of his emotions for once. His hand was quick to grip her wrist, yanking her away from him with enough care as to not hurt her, but still bringing his point across. He watched as her face shifted to surprise, now her being the one caught off guard. “In fact, I’ve had enough of you.”

“B-But, my Lord-”

“Silence.” His voice grew louder, watching as she flinched in her place. Ayato’s hand shook the measly forged paper she’d given him as proof, scoffing in her face. “If you truly believed a simple forged letter and your word would be enough to deter me from my fiancée, you insult me even more than what I had originally thought.” 

“Are you suggesting I’m lying?!” She gasped with hurt, Ayato curtly replying.

“Precisely what I’m insinuating. Forgive me for believing my fiancée instead of her meddling sister who cannot for the life of her be content for her flesh and blood.” It was his turn to approach her retreating figure, his voice growing harsher as he finally snapped on his lover’s behalf. “Now listen, and listen carefully for I will only warn you once.”

Her eyes widened as her lips trembled, suddenly feeling much smaller when in front of his imposing figure. Never would she have thought someone would speak to her in such a way, rendering her riddled with fear to even attempt to think of an argument. Ayato’s cold presence felt suffocating, leaving her in an hesitant state to even attempt to leave her current predicament.

“I’ve been long enough with [F/N] to know of your true intentions, and they don’t carry a single ounce of goodness. You only covet what isn’t yours, and I cannot even describe how I despise people like you. Those who cannot be happy for those who are closest to them are the absolute worst of people, and I want nothing to do with you aside from the formalities our clans require from us. I will only be cordial to you whenever others are around, so lest you want me to give you a new one, only appear before me when there are others around me. Understood?”

“I-I… I…” She couldn’t even bring her words out, Ayato repeating if she’d heard him. “Y-Yes-” She hiccuped.

“Good. Now, you will attend this wedding, and you will be on your best behavior. If you have nothing good to say to my wife, I do not want you anywhere near her. Now begone from my sight.”

Ayato had never watched anyone scurry away from him in such a pathetic state, sighing in frustration as he rubbed his fingers against his temple.

“Goodness. What a brat.” He murmured under his breath, the sudden cough catching him off guard.

“I knew it couldn’t be good the moment I heard my Lord raise his voice…” Thoma awkwardly chuckled, bringing him a freshly brewed cup of tea to soothe any possible nerves.

“Ah, so you’ve heard.” Ayato sighed, promptly thanking him for the tea before taking it carefully. “Do not speak a word of this to [F/N], yes?”

“I heard nothing.” Thoma nodded his head with a kind smile, offering him to adjust any creases of his ceremonial garbs before the wedding were to begin.

Despite the hushed incident, the wedding went on without any kind of drama or dispute. [F/N] was honestly surprised, noticing how her sister remained in her seat, eyes averting the happy couple as her brother forced her to indeed attend the ceremony, instead of ditching it like she would’ve preferred. After all, he didn’t want any ill will between the two clans, and without knowing of what she had done, he saw no reason as to why she shouldn’t attend.

“She’s been awfully quiet…” [F/N] had whispered to Ayato, who’d given her his ear as he’d tilted his head to her. Glancing back to see her sister remaining on her seat rather angrily, she glanced back at her now husband with a narrowing gaze. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He feigned ignorance, though his enigmatic smile gave it away. “I only asked her cordially to enjoy our wedding.” He justified himself, his hold on her hand tightening as his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

[F/N] could only shake her head, her bright smile being something Ayato wouldn’t do just about anything to protect. She sighed quietly, a silent thank you being given to him as she was now able to enjoy the rest of their wedding alongside him, together starting a new chapter as a strong and prosperous couple.

Needless to say, [F/N] found a great amount of joy in sharing with her family every little bit of good news she had, watching with pleasure as her sister festered in her unfounded jealousy she’d brought on herself. Ah, including the surprising, albeit still more than welcomed, pregnancy that soon followed their wedding, of course.

[writethrough]

The Only Destination

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Sometimes you can’t stand all the noise and the people. You want to run and hide, but you don’t know where to go. Until you spot the one person who you’ll always run toward.

Warnings: Language, overstimulated/sound-sensitive Reader

Word Count: 1638

A/N: So, I definitely did not mean to go over a month without posting a fic, but the creative juices have been sparse. Thankfully, I think they're slowly coming back.

This started as a Shy!Reader fic and turned into this. And I didn't use pronouns (I think), but I use the word "perfume." Just an FYI. Hope you enjoy it! (Also, I can't remember what gifs I've used already, so I'm just going with my heart from now on.)

Moodboard by @steph-speaks

Rubbing your chest, you force yourself to keep your hand there and not travel to your throat. There are too many people around. They’d think you’re trying to hurt yourself instead of self-soothe.

You’re mostly on autopilot as you down the remainder of your drink. It seemed the normal thing to do as you search for somewhere with fewer people—less noise.

Someone walks past you a little too close, and you want nothing more than to scrape your nails down your arms to stop the breeze.

It’s so fucking crowded. As if everyone is placed in just the wrong spot. You have no privacy, no space where you can go and breathe.

The kids splashing in the pool, the grill sizzling, the laughter and talking, it’s too much.

Your last saving grace is to go inside and find a bathroom, flee to a confined space, and hope you don’t feel caged—until you spot Billy. And your feet move before your mind can fully process what you’re doing.

He’s sitting on the edge of a lounger, watching the kids even though they all know how to swim.

You’re squeezing your fingers, scratching the back of your hand unconsciously as you walk toward him.

He glances your way, looks back to the kids, then returns to you when he realizes who you are. His brow pinches once he sees your face and the shift in your eyes.

He doesn’t move, only waits for you to get to him. You stand there, lifting your lips into what you hope is a smile, but when he doesn't return it, you know it isn’t.

You're unsure what you want to do but know Billy’s where you need to be.

But he knows.

He slowly places a hand over yours, tilting his head to the lounger in a silent “sit.”

You do, grateful to not stand there, feeling like all eyes are on you.

You slide your fingers through his absentmindedly and tuck yourself into his side, just behind his back.

He tightens his grip, scanning you.

“You wanna go?” he asks quietly, ever so slightly hunching toward you, hiding you from the others.

You don’t know.

You don't know what you want, and you don’t know what to do. And it makes you wish you could shut your brain off, but it keeps going. And the only thing that you know is that Billy makes you feel a little better. Like you don’t wanna crawl out of your skin.

You put your other hand on your intertwined ones and press your mouth into his shoulder, needing to feel as much contact as possible.

“Okay,” he whispers into your temple. “I’m right here.”

His thumb grazes your knuckles.

You concentrate on it—the warmth of his skin and the remanence of smoke. You hate the smell, but right now, it’s entirely him. It pushes your frayed nerves aside and ironically lets you breathe easier.

After a few moments, you open your eyes—not realizing you closed them—and meet Billy’s.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, slightly embarrassed by how you pushed yourself onto him.

You inhale deeply and let it out before sitting up, still close enough that your hips touch.

“What do you need?” He keeps his voice low. You can't express how much that means to you.

You're not as on edge as you were, the shouts and laughs don’t make you tense as much, but you know if you move it'll get worse. You just need a minute…

“Can we go somewhere? Just for a bit?” It finally feels right to speak, like the words won’t get stuck in your throat and hurt your ears.

“You good to move?”

You like how he doesn’t say “yes.” He gets to the point—listens to your words and body language. And when you nod, he leads you to the side of the house surrounded by trees. 

When you can’t see anyone and the voices are muffled enough, you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his neck. His arms encircling your shoulders feel like a barrier between you and everything else.

You search for the dip of his spine, and your fingers twitch along it. The press of his cheek on your head comforts you.

He doesn’t sway or shift, only holds you with the steadiness you crave. 

And when you lift your head, he waits for your arms to loosen so his can, too.

You’re still touching each other as your eyes meet. Billy's hands are under your shoulder blades, yours on his ribs.

He waits, knowing too many questions will throw you back into that state. All you have to do is say the word, and he’d drive you home. He’d fill everyone in later and collect your stuff while you got in his car. He’d stay with you if you wanted, sit in your living room while you lay in bed, or stand together in your kitchen the rest of the day if it kept you grounded. Whatever you need.

You’re tracing the tattoo on his side without realizing it, and his chest clenches a little at how he's the one you sought out.

“Can we sit on the swing?” Your voice is slightly hoarse like you’re forcing it to stay hidden.

He glances toward the bench swing and nods when he knows no one’s there.

Again, he leads you, holding the swing steady so you can settle into the cushion first. As soon as he sits, you pull your legs underneath you and lean into his side.

You’re far enough away from everyone that they’d have to walk over to talk to you but close enough to watch as Will pushes Jonathan into the pool.

Billy’s arm is around your waist, hand secured on your hip. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he tilts his chin to whisper in your ear.

“Okay if I swing us?”

Slowly, you nod. And Billy gently rocks you both, waiting a few moments to see if you want him to stop. When you don’t say anything, he relaxes, kissing your head and keeping his lips there for a few moments longer.

It’s a gesture that makes you want to cry. You can feel the tears welling. If you focus on them, you know they’ll fall.

“Thank you.” Your meek tone makes him squeeze your hip.

“I’ve got you.”

—

You stayed there for almost an hour before you asked Billy if he could drive you home.

When you arrive, the thought of him leaving feels like one of your limbs is being ripped off. You want to hold yourself so you can try to keep your body intact.

But you don’t know how to ask him to stay. It’s like the words are stuck in your throat. So, you sit in his car for a moment. You can feel him looking at you. And you’re trying to force air into your lungs when he breaks the silence.

“Can I stay tonight?”

You nod, eyes soft in a way that tells him you’re still feeling like an exposed nerve.

Once you’re inside your apartment, you head straight into the shower. You’re not sure if you despise yourself or everyone at the party more, and you need to wash it all away.

Billy’s in your kitchen brewing you tea. Whether you drink it or not, holding the warm mug will comfort you.

He sets it on your nightstand. Then, strips himself of his shirt and shorts, climbing into your bed.

Yours is softer than his, and it smells like you. Whatever perfume you use always makes him a little dizzy—in the best way. 

There are photos scattered around. Some on your dresser and desk, one on each nightstand, and one peeking out of the top of the book you’re reading.

He opens it and smiles almost immediately.

It’s you and him at his birthday party. The first one he had since his mom left. You threw it for him. Surprised him and everything—cake, streamers, presents, the whole nine.

Jonathan took this one—among many others. You’re in Steve’s kitchen facing each other. Your hands are in mid-motion as you tell him a story, smile wide and eyes bright. And he’s grinning.

It’s obvious how he’s leaning closer to you—like you’re in your own bubble. And he’s happy he didn’t catch Jonathan taking the picture, or he’d have moved away. He would’ve pretended he wasn't enthralled by you. At that point, he didn’t realize what he felt for you.

You walk into the bedroom then. The smell of your shampoo drifting over.

Wordlessly, you settle into your side and sip your tea. You close your eyes for a moment. Breathe. Then place the mug back.

He’s about to ask you if it’s okay when you slip down and press yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pushing your face into his side.

He almost blushes. You’re so damn cute.

“Can you read to me?” you ask.

“I don’t read smut for free,” he teases.

You bury your nose in his side. “It’s not that.”

He chuckles, resting his arm around your shoulders and propping the book on his lap.

He reads five pages before you’re out.

When he realizes you’re asleep, he puts the book down and looks at you.

You’re so relaxed, eyelashes fluttering as you sink deeper and deeper.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve your trust. By some miracle, you feel safe with him.

Maybe…Maybe he doesn’t have to turn out like Neil.

Carefully, he lays down, pulls you onto his chest, and buries his nose in your hair.

He could stay like this forever.

The longer he breathes you in, the more sure he becomes.

You’re it for him. And it’s time he tells you.

Taglist: @moonlightfountain, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose-q

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.