#//Thanks for reminding me Starry! ^u^

[astrxealis]

www i have 450+ on my writing sb T___T <3 </3 <3

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #thank you but also i'm a bit too spontaneous me thinks >< WHBFHBHJFB I WRITE SO LITTLE THERE. most is just in my head #most is even genshin too sobsobsosbosb approx 90% of my content actually is just in my head or personal notes. not on tumblr #i prefer it that way tho tee hee. i love writing >_< mostly for myself <3 #SO LIKE lil reminder if u see this to not feel pressured to write !! writing shld be for yourself first and foremost me thinks ^^

[jaquemuses]

i’m an angst comfort GIRL so if you would be interested in writing anything maybe about childhood friends enzo and reader where it’s right people wrong time for years ( definitely mutual feelings, maybe reader always thought enzo was too good for them so they never really thought they had a chance but is oblivious to the fact that enzo was head over HEELS for them but was worried about dragging them into the spotlight as he grew more famous) until they finally end up together i’d be thrilled!! ofc no matter what thank you so much!! have a great day/night!!❤️❤️

GIRL ME TOO !!! so glad you requested it, i wrote this, hope u enjoy it ♡♡

Starry night | Enzo Vogrincic

Synopsis: Sharing feelings has always been challenging, but under the starry sky, sitting right beside his childhood friend on the eve of his movie premiere party, Enzo confesses a love that has lingered his heart since he was seven.

Word count: 1.5k

Content: Enzo Vogrincic/Reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluffy overall, no explicit content, focus on emotions, and strong affection for Enzo, references to ghibli's movies.

a/n: hi there !! i hope you guy enjoy this i pulled an all nighter just to write it lmaooo so bear with me if there's any typos or such; english isn't my first language, but I hope it's a good read!

- xoxo Kara ♡

Time slips away so quickly.

Beneath the starry sky, the weight of its passing moments engulfs you like a fuzzy tidal wave, heavy and suffocating. Sinking beneath its weight has become your routine.

A soft, resigned sigh escapes your lips, the midnight air crisp on your tongue, turning into vapor in the summer night. Beyond your sight, stars burn in tandem, the cosmos vast and immersive. The moon, tonight, is a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling tenderly, casting a soothing glow like a mother's voice.

In the familiarity of the sight, there's comfort. The moon, always there, in crescents or hidden by clouds, a constant in a changing world. What a peculiar and lovely thing it is to be under the celestial dance, where even the moon, with its timeless presence, seems to join the ever-moving cosmic ballet.

As you lay on the rooftop, the distant melody of music from the house below reaches your ears. It's a reminder of shared laughter, playful banter, and the bond you once had with Enzo. The thought of losing him, not just as a childhood friend but as this life partner makes you wanna cry right there.

Another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. Time keeps passing you by, never stopping —seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again.

and, really, it's a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you're so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it

The music serves as a soundtrack to your memories, a bittersweet symphony echoing through the night. Enzo, your companion through the years, feels like he's slipping away, and the weight of that potential loss is heavy against the backdrop of the starlit sky.

But even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life

one thing remains the same;

"Ah, there you are," Enzo's voice, honeyed and familiar, breaks the silence. A small smile graces your lips at the sight of him.

That voice...

honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges, just a little husky. Deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you're sure you'd still remember it. That familiar voice. It sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.

it sounds like coming home.

A turn of your head. it's a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. You do it as if it's the only thing worth hearing.

And Enzo is smiling, when your eyes meet his. That gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. The one that always puts your mind at ease.

"How'd you know I'd be up here?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Lucky guess," Enzo replies, his grin revealing the comfort of shared moments.

Of course, he knew. Tracking you down was his thing, always has been. Like that time when he found you concealed under a table at your twelfth birthday party or the time he discovered you teary-eyed in the woods during your school field trip.

Finding you always comes easy to Enzo. Almost like he's always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. You go south, and he follows, you go north, and he's already waiting up ahead.

"Damn, how'd you know?" you playfully pout, looking into him.

"I always know, silly" Enzo confesses softly, his eyes holding a warmth that speaks volumes. "I've known you since we were seven"

A gentle inhale passes between you as the silence settles, the moon casting its glow on your shared history.

"I thought you might be too busy with, you know, the whole famous actor thing," you admit trying to make it a joke but insecurity creeps into your words. "Congratulations on that, i always knew you'd make it"

The whole party underneath you both was for Enzo, you felt kind of stupid for leaving so suddenly, after all tonight's was Enzo's night. But before he realized it, you had slipped away, seizing the chance as soon as others grew too drowsy to take notice.

But he always notices you.

And he's worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself but truthfully it's more than that.

You look small, enzo thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. Sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you'd always go to on nights when you couldn't sleep. Together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again. Back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.

(the safest world he's ever known.)

The distance between you grows narrower, as enzo makes his way over to you - and it always does, at the end of the day. No matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. One of you always moves closer. As if it's unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other's orbit.

Enzo sits down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. It's natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. It reminds you of the gentle lapping of the ocean waves of Punta del este at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days when you were 10 and went to a trip with your parents and Enzo's, comforting and familiar. A warmth that never goes away.

The moon bathes the rooftop in a gentle glow as Enzo chuckles in response to your teasing remark. "Busy? Yeah, it gets a bit crazy, but it's moments like these that remind me of what truly matters. And you know im never too busy for you." He shifts, a thoughtful expression on his face, as he gazes at the city below.

A brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. The scent that always lingers on Enzo's skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other's clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. Cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

Leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, youet a fond exhale slip from your lips. Barely audible. And Enzo mimics it.

The silence between you is a comfortable one. Always has been. A little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long —usually you, though enzo isn't much better. But this time, he stays silent.

He's waiting. You know he is, because he always does.

He's waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. Waiting for you to say something, tell him what's wrong, explain why you're up here instead of celebrating with the others. Waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.

Enzo is nothing if not patient. So he waits, unbothered by the silence. Admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. A vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can't stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.

An insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart

—but he can't, not unless you let him.

A sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. Deep and heavy, ike a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. The silence breaks.

"En...?"

The guy stays quiet, just humming inquisitively. He avoids eye contact, showing respect. He figures you'll spill what's on your mind more comfortably without him staring.

Your fingers lightly tap the rooftop tiles out of habit. You take in a bit of the midnight air—it's got that summer taste. "Remember how we first met?"

Enzo glances at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He can't resist the urge to peek at your face, savoring your expression. Then, a chuckle escapes him. "Are you feeling sentimental?" he teases, a playful note in his voice, light and airy like seafoam. "Did you come out here just to reflect?"

The corners of his lips lift when he hears you huff, pulling your legs closer with a furrowed brow. Cheek pressed against your kneecap, you meet his gaze.

"Come on," you whine, pouting childishly, a trick you know will make him give in. "Just indulge me a little."

Enzo smiles, soft around the edges, radiating unmistakable fondness. He always indulges you. "Of course I do," he assures you.

The quiet settling between your words holds a tender understanding, a silent agreement.

"Of course, I remember. How could I forget? You broke into my backyard."

A sigh, weighty and pointed, escapes your lips. Enzo fights back a grin; his eyes dance with teasing mischief in the darkness as you shoot a glare his way.

"Okay, first of all," you begin, "I didn't break into anything. I climbed over the fence. Peacefully."

Enzo raises a brow. "That literally doesn't matter; it's still trespassing."

"I was seven years old!"

"Damn! Some of you criminals start young."

Another playful huff escapes you as you halfheartedly attempt to sound annoyed. Unsuccessful, you hide your growing smile by tucking your face into your knees. "Whatever."

Then your gaze shifts, drawn to the expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon like a moth to a flame, helpless to its charms. It resembles a giant sponge cake, reminiscent of the ones you and Enzo used to make when that was the only recipe you knew – you'd eat from the batter, and he'd scold you. Then he'd do the same when your back was turned.

A smile graces your lips. In each star, a new memory unfolds, and the warm nostalgia surrounding you makes your heart feel exposed. "I just wanted to pet Ada" you reminisce, softly rememberig how little the cat was back then.

Enzo nods, his gaze directed at you, reveling in the expression on your face – tranquil and at ease, a bit more of yourself. Effortlessly lovely, bathed in moonlight. "Yeah, I remember."

He lets the memory carry him away for a moment or two, recalling the sight of you all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. It was as if you had fallen from the sky – quiet and shy, yet with an excited glimmer in your eyes as you looked at his cat.

"You just pointed to her and expected me to understand," he continues, a grin blooming on his face, hopelessly endeared. "You were so shy back then."

A raise of your eyebrow. "Um? I'm still shy?"

Enzo gives you a look. He doesn't have to say anything – it's written all over his face. The classic Vogrincic look, the kind where you can tell he's itching to say, "Oh, really now?" The kind where he tries to appear judgmental but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, and Enzo smiles once more, utterly captivated by your joy.

"Then we watched movies at my place,"

You hum. "It was fun."

"Yeah," he agrees.

Another spell of silence descends, tender and incredibly precious. The air is cool but not enough to make you shiver – a mild summer night, gentle on your skin and light on your heart. A soft breeze tousles your hair, and in the distance, cicadas buzz – a familiar, unchanging sound.

(If only everything else could remain the same, too.)

"Do you remember what movie it was?"

A lazy smile graces Enzo's lips as he turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

"Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to make m–"

"I just wanna reminisce."

Enzo pauses, observing your gaze as it wanders across the landscape, from the moon to the distant city lights. Absentmindedly fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie, you seem a bit lost, your eyes forgotten within the depths of the endless night sky.

No more teasing, he decides, choosing a more delicate approach. He answers your question softly, as if each octave of his voice could potentially cause you harm. "Whisper of the Heart," he reveals.

A little nod follows your hum of agreement. "Thats a top-tier one."

Enzo shifts his gaze away, muttering something under his breath. Still audible, though. "Spirited Away takes the cake..."

Catching a glimpse of your unimpressed look, he suppresses a soft laugh. His teeth graze his lip gently, just enough to avoid any sting.

"You're so basic," you playfully grin.

"You just want to feel special," Enzo retorts, quick on the uptake. "And you only like it because of Seji."

"You're only a Spirited Away fan because of Haku!"

Enzo closes his eyes, leans back a bit, crossing his arms in a somewhat childlike manner – a move aimed at drawing out laughter. "I don't know what you're talking about," he pretends.

"Oh, come on," you scoff. "Do you really think I've forgotten your sudden "enlightenment"?"

"Hm? What's that?" Feigning confusion, Enzo puts a hand to his ear, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "You'll have to come closer; I can't hear you from here."

Another unimpressed look accompanies your exhale, a mix of a scoff and a chuckle. "If I get any closer, I'll be in your lap, goofball."

Enzo bites his cheek gently, holding back the words that almost slip off his tongue.

(He wouldn't mind)

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" A playful nudge meets his shoulder as you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

The banter fades away as quickly as it came. Then, smiles break out across both your faces simultaneously, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere. Doesn't it always when you're gazing at the starry sky with the one you love most?

As Enzo continues, his voice takes on that softer tone once again—the one thats only reserved for you. "I always liked imagining us as them," he confesses. "Me as Haku, and you as Chihiro."

A soft blink, and your smile sweetens like syrup. "...That's amusing," you cross your legs, palms flat against the roof, knee comfortably leaning against Enzo's. "I always thought of us as Seiji and Shizuku."

There's a distant look in your eyes, something Enzo can't look away from. Tentatively, his fingers press into the skin of his palms, and he speaks, absentminded and a bit uncertain. ".. they get married at the end, don't they?"

A pause, then your gaze locks onto Enzo's, suddenly mischievous – and he regrets opening his mouth.

"Oh?" you purr, almost beaming, closing the distance like a

predator sizing up its prey. "Oh, really? Is this a proposal, Mr. Vogrincic?"

"I'm just stating facts" he quips, hands raised in defense, hoping you won't notice the red tint creeping up his neck, hidden by the night.

"Incorrect facts," you grin. Whether you catch the blush or not, you don't mention it. "They get engaged, not married. Big difference."

Enzo huffs, small, trying to suppress a smile. The beat of his heart is faint, a gentle rhythm stirred by every move you make. He pushes back the words he longs to say. "I wouldn't mind that, either."

Once again, silence envelops you, weaving around the space between you. It's comforting, just being like this; you and your best friend under the moon's soft glow. As if you're the sole inhabitants of an otherwise vacant universe, free from space and time.

Like the night could pause and stretch on forever.

Yet, there's an unspoken question lingering. One Enzo is still waiting for you to answer. One you won't address until he does the same.

Both of you have noticed, even if no one else has – the turmoil in your eyes, the fatigue under his. Those subtle signs of stress as everything around you keeps twirling on, as the future approaches with every passing day.

"Remember how school felt like it would last forever, and now... it's all just a blur."

Enzo's eyes light up with nostalgia. "Yeah, the days when we believed we could conquer the world. Time goes by so quickly." He pauses, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "But hey, we had some pretty great adventures."

A soft laugh escapes you. "Adventures, mischief, and a fair share of detentions. I miss those days."

Enzo grins, "Our secret base, the pranks we pulled, and the dreams we shared. Life was simpler back then."

You sigh, "Simpler, but full of possibilities. Now everything feels like it's rushing by, and I can't keep up."

Enzo reaches for your hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "You're not alone in feeling that way. I miss the simplicity too, but some things haven't changed." He looks into your eyes, his gaze holding a depth of emotions.

"Yeah, your talent and that dream that's not a dream anymore En. Its now your reality, and I'm so proud of you, I'd always knew you'd make it" You said with a nostalgic smile on your face.

Deep down, you knew you'd end up losing him; he had everything to succeed in the industry.

Enzo meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart... It means a lot to hear that from you."

As Enzo utters the endearment "sweetheart," a fluttering sensation courses through your stomach, a delicate dance of butterflies that seems to synchronize with the newfound warmth in your chest. With a surge of emotions enveloping you, you can't help but wrap your arms around Enzo's body, hugging him tightly and feeling the size difference between the both of you. A murmured "of course" escapes your lips.

The moonlight paints a soft glow around you both, and the distant sounds of the party create a gentle background melody. Enzo takes a moment after the hug, collecting his thoughts, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, You know?" He starts, catching your eye. "Oh look who's reflecting now" You say as you laugh softly. "What is it?"

"These moments, right here, remind me of the times when life was simpler, and we were just two kids dreaming under the same sky." He pauses, searching for the right words.

"You know, when we were younger, I used to take you to the cinema, to the lake, even on your 15th birthday... Each time, I wanted to tell you something important, but I never found the right moment. It's been on my mind, and I'm tired of postponing it."

Your heart quickens at his words, confusion mingling with anticipation. Enzo's expression shifts, becoming more serious yet tender.

"Do you remember those times? I was trying to say that..." He hesitates a little, his eyes looking straight into yours, noticing how every single star can fit on your gaze "I'm in love with you. From the days of our childhood adventures to now, you've always been the girl of my dreams. I wanted to share my success with you because you've been my constant, my anchor."

The weight of his confession hangs in the air, and your mind races to process the revelation. Enzo continues, "I know that recently the world sees me as this actor, but to you, I just want to be Enzo. The boy you've known since we were seven. I'm tired of hiding my feelings, and I didn't want to lose another moment without letting you know."

Silence stretches between you, the memories of your shared past intertwining with the present. You're caught between the familiarity of nostalgia and the unexpected confession, yet, suddenly, some things start to make sense.

Enzo's eyes search yours, vulnerable and earnest.

"En, wait... what do you mean? In love with me? Like, as a friend or...?" Your words trail off, searching for clarity.

Enzo takes a deep breath, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. You can feel him shaking. "No I mean, romantically in love with you. Since we were kids, I've tried to tell you, but I never found the right moment."

Your eyes widen, replaying moments in your mind. "Wait, are you saying all those times – the cinema, the lake, my 15th birthday – you wanted to confess your feelings?"

Enzo nods, a mix of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes. "Exactly. I kept hoping for the perfect moment, but life just kept moving too fast"

Your mind races, grappling with the revelation. Enzo continues, "What im trying to say is you've been the girl of my dreams since i can remember. I wanted to share my success with you, not just as an actor but as the person who's been my constant through it all."

Silence envelops the rooftop, the city of Montevideo below seemingly hushed in anticipation. Enzo looks at you, his expression a mosaic of hope and uncertainty.

After a moment of processing, you break into a soft laugh. "Enzo, this is... I... i just never saw this coming... oh my god"

With a warm smile, Enzo pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, embracing the familiarity of his presence. "Its okay if you dont feel the same... but I... I've just been carrying this for so long; it feels good to finally share it with you." He says with a sad tone.

As you're held in Enzo's embrace, the vulnerability of the moment encourages you to share your own feelings. "Enzo, no... Its not that, its just that I... I never thought you'd see me that way. I always felt like you were way too good for me, like I'd never be enough, so i always thought it'll be pointless to confess because you'll end up leaving me... And its just the thought of losing you as a friend and now knowing you've felt this way for so long, it's just overwhelming."

Enzo loosens the hug, gently holding your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. "You were always more than enough. I never wanted to risk our friendship, but holding back these feelings became harder as time went on. Our friendship means the world to me, and the fear of losing you kept me silent."

Tears glisten in your eyes as you continue, "I spent so many nights up here on this rooftop, wondering if I was just another friend among many for you. I never thought I could be the one you'd be in love with."

Enzo wipes away a tear with his thumb, a tender smile on his face. "You were never just another friend. You were the one who understood me, laughed with me, and stood by me through it all. And I've been in love with you since we were kids."

The weight of unspoken emotions finally laid bare, you share a bittersweet laugh. "Guess we were both too scared to ruin what we had."

Enzo nods, his hand now resting on your cheek. "Maybe, but holding back feels like a bigger risk now. I don't want to waste any more time, not when i don't know how much of it we have left"

As the moonlight bathes both of you, you take a deep breath and finally say, "Enzo, I've always been in love with you too."

A shared understanding and a newfound honesty linger in the air as Enzo leans in and his lips meets yours in a tender kiss, a culmination of years of unspoken emotions and shared moments. In that intimate exchange, the rooftop becomes a sanctuary for a new beginning, and just for that moment: time seems to stand still.

#enzo vogrincic x you #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fluff #enzo vogrincic blurb #friends to lovers #childhood friends

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hiii pooks! 😙 I love❤️ ur writhing sm

I’ve been having such a spider man phase after watching the new spider verse movie and I was wondering what would the turtles think when they figured out reader being NY’s Spider women or spider person like they haven’t told thier turtle bf about it and stuff (live for the drama😵‍💫)

Always love you and def feel free to ignore!

I LOVE THIS thank you pookie 🤭 hope u like it 🫶🏻🕸️ u didn’t specify so I’m gonna assume you meant the rise turtles!

Rise! Leo, Mikey, Donnie, Raph x Spider-Woman! S/O

ROTTMNT x Reader

fluff! :D, fem! reader, contains swearing, not proofread

Leo

- He may not be the brightest mutant, but he is observant

- Probably interrogated the info out of you

- -> “Y/N, where exactly were you last night?” “Oh, uh…I was with, um, April.” “That’s funny…considering April was with us!”

- It didn’t really shock him to find out you had a big secret, what did shock him is what that secret is

- He’s also a little hurt that you didn’t tell him. Don’t you trust him??? But that wasn’t his biggest concern

- “Wait, so like…spider woman as in like, big mama kind of spider woman?” NO-

- You would have to really explain it to him

- But let’s be real, he still wouldn’t understand so you’d have to show him by like climbing up the fucking wall or something

- But he really does think your powers are super sick

- Laughs when you try to explain your spidey senses -> “wait, you’re serious?”

- ^ calls them your “tingly thing”

- maybe you can web his fucking mouth shut

- LOVES your suit, thinks you look stunning and super awesome

- “You know, I always said that was your color Y/N!”

- Invites you to patrol with them! (then he doesn’t have to do as much)

- thinks you’re so hot when you fight (NOT IN A FREAKY WAY YOU FREAKS) and hypes you up

- freaks tf out if he ever gets a web on him, including if you were to swing with him to get out of harms way

- doesn’t ask for them, but he can’t deny he likes the iconic Spider-Man kisses

Mikey

- would just straight up ask if you’re hiding something. Dr.Delicate touch DOES NOT PLAY ‼️

- Of course this would be something you’re hesitant about, but he would remind you that you can confide in him

- Def was not expecting THIS.

- He is asking you a million questions all at once, and will sit nicely and listen as you explain with starry eyes (stop lookin at me with them big ole eyes)

- You’re #1 fan and biggest hype man

- Thinks you’re the coolest person ever fr

- Wants to swing around on your webs with you. Around NYC, in the lair, in Donnie’s lab, on missions, it doesn’t matter he WANTS it.

- THE ICONIC SPIDER-MAN KISSES ALL THE TIME ITS HIS FAVORITE WAY TO KISS YOU NOW

- weirdly interested in your webs 🕸️

- Compliments your suit anytime you wear it around him; thinks your mask is so so cute

- ^ in his free time he’ll sketch and color new suit designs to show you (also just drawings and paintings of you in your suit)

Donnie

- isn’t going to pry any secrets from you; but he does secretly wish you’d come to him on your own.

- so you can imagine his gratitude and relief when you finally tell him what’s up

- Doesn’t really say anything about it, but he doesn’t get why you didn’t just tell him sooner. I mean, you do know he’s a hero too, right?

- he’s fascinated, he’s never seen anything like your powers before. especially because you’re not a mutant.

- really just asks questions about how it all works. Your webs, how you stick to surfaces, your enhanced senses, the whole deal yk?

- He did NOT like big mama’s webs, and he doesn’t really like yours either I’m so sorry.

- ^if he needs them, would ask to use some like he did with Big Mama’s

- It’s not you I swear he just can’t do it

- you could like climb all over his lab ceiling and walls and scare the shit out of him tho

- ^ “Y/N get down this instant! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS-“

- admires your enhanced senses and intuition of danger

- is absolutely gonna make gear for you, as well as offering to make upgrades to your suit

- wouldn’t really directly say it, but he really likes the design of your suit. it just fits you so well. (he IS going to make a purple one for you)

- would scream if you ever just dropped down in front of him to kiss him spider man style

- ^ traumatized; it’s not his favorite thing but he doesn’t mind terribly

Raph

- might take him a while to notice if something is off about you. Leo or Mikey would probably have to directly point it out for him to realize fully

- Isn’t going to beat around the bush and just asks why you’re acting lowkey shady

- really shocked, might take him a second to process even if he doesn’t really know exactly what you mean at first

- honestly he understands why you keep it a secret, just a little saddened that you kept it from him

- He’s gonna need you to really explain your powers

- “…where do the webs come out of tho?”

- would deepen your bond and connection. you can really relate to each other carrying a deep burden and the pressure of responsibility.

- AMAZING DUO with his strength and your agility

- very good hype man

- takes you on most missions and patrols, thinks you’re a really valuable asset to the team

- also calls your spider senses your “tingly thing”

- it’s not that he doesn’t like your webs, something about them just make him nervous. Refuses to let you swing him on them unless he’s in immediate danger.

- does NOT let you crawl around the lair walls, he’s scared you’ll hurt yourself

- ^ “Y/N! You’re gonna hurt yourself, GET DOWN!”

- really thinks you look so pretty in your special suit, he just doesn’t know how to say without feeling like he sounds dumb. He would DIE if it was red.

- “ I really…er, like your costume.”

- very supportive! he gets the struggle of protecting the city, but is happy you get to do it beside each other. :D

- he likes the spidey kisses, they just really fluster him

——————————————————————————

y’all I’m sorry if there is any misinformation in this don’t flame me but I haven’t seen atsv yet

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rottmnt x reader #rise leo #tmnt #rise donatello #rise mikey #rise raph #rottmnt #donnie hamato #spiderman #spider verse #spiderwoman #rise leo x reader #rise mikey x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise raph x reader #rise leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise michelangelo #rise donatello x reader #rise raphael

[mncxbe]

mhmmm, maybe stargazing together with Bram while listening too calm music? Tbh anything relaxing will do it for me ✿ (´ ᴗ｀) (here is a flower for u) Also if you do write for him, can you add that he has his full body (never thought id say something like that (｡･･｡) )

Sorry that i didn't see ur new post sooner, i was talking w friends <33

tysm for the flower sending one right back♡🌷 this was so sweet to write really melted my heart + I was listening to say yes to heaven while rereading it. perfect combo. hope you like it♡♡

°☆○

Stargazing

𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒎 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡/ he's prettier than the stars

It's been a while since Bram has last spent a night gazing up at something other than the wooden lid of his coffin, so being here with you under the starry sky felt like his new heaven.

The little, glimmering dots of light adorning the darkness above reminded him of home, his castle back in Northern Europe, the life that has been taken for him. As if sensing his nostalgia, you gently intertwined your fingers with his atop the fluffy blanket on the ground.

"You like it, Bram?" you asked softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as you peered up at him through your lashes. He simply noded in response, raising your hand to his lips to place a kiss to your knuckles.

"Mo ghrá, it's truly wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here"

His gaze returned to the sky as he relished his newly found freedom, unaware of the little surprise you planned for him. You reached for your jacket, procuring your earphones and quickly connected them to your phone.

"Hold your hand out for me, love" you asked merrily and he complied, his brows quirking in confusion when you placed one of the earbuds in the plam of his hand.

Your partner inspected the strange object, holding it between his thumb and index finger "What's this supposed to be?"

"It's an earphone, Bram. Put it in your ear"

He obeyed, placing the object in his ear and immediately tensed up at the sound of the music flowing through it.

"Incredible" he uttered in disbelief "I knew Aya had something similar to this, but hers were connected through a wire. How does this work?"

"It's called bluetooth, honey" you giggled and laid down on the soft, checkered blanket, pulling him down by your side.

Bram rested beside you, slim legs entangling with yours as you shifted closer to him and placed your head on his chest. He prayed you couldn't hear his erratic heartbeat, the light hitch of his breath when you traced your thumb along his jawline.

"You're so pretty, Bram" you said softly, his chest swelling with love at the sound of your words "Prettier than the stars"

"You flatter me, mo ghrá, but the same goes to you." One of his hands tilted your chin up so that your face was level with his, scarlet gaze lingering on your lips "You're more beautiful than a thousand constellations falling into place, my darling" His thumb brushed lightly over your lower lip before you leaned in, kissing him briefly.

Pulling away, you rested your head back on his chest. Bram's arm wrapped tightly around you, pulling you flush against his frame. The music kept spilling into his soul, a melancholic, romantic tune that lulled him into a state of pure bliss; his brain felt fuzzy, as if he were drunk on your soothing presence.

You spent the next couple of hours like this, cuddled up against one another. From time to time, Bram pointed at different stars and constellations, telling you all sorts of myths and legends that coaxed you into a dreamy state. It was beyond peaceful, beyond serene; any notion of time besides the clockwork change of songs lost into the darkness of the night. Other-wordly. All that was left was you and him.

Surprisingly enough, Bram wasn't sleepy at all- he remained wide awake until the break of dawn. Only when the first rays of light creeped up on the horizon, washing away the gleaming stars and tinting the sky a peachy pink did he shake you gently, waking you up from your short slumber.

"Mo ghrá, wake up. It's time to go home" he said softly as you rose your head from his chest, lips stretching into a sleepy smile.

"Already? Damn... I must've fallen asleep. 'm sorry love"

You looked so pretty like this, droopy eyes and languid smile, face rosy-hued by the rising sun. He cupped your cheek and pressed his lip against your forehead. "Don't worry, I'm just glad you were here with me tonight"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd bram #bram x reader #bram bsd

[redrum-alice]

A dumb TimeBomb Highschool AU headcanon...

Because I've been listening to some personal playlist reminding me of it...

So like the premise is that Ekko saw Jinx crying with her hair a mess as if someone tried to put a gum on it, etc.

...this is gonna be long bc i dont know how to write properly lol...

When Ekko and Powder got out of middle school and into highschool, he noticed how drastic her looks have changed in a course of the whole summer: a long braid reaching nearly down to her knees and some bangs proudly protruding at the side of her face. He also noticed how she often uses make up to flatter her pale features she used to despise. Above anything else, she changed her name to "Jinx" and insists him (and everyone) to call her that instead.

Ekko guessed this may be because she doesn't wanna be that "weak girl" she once was (what Mylo insults her with + "jinx") and wanted to prove something. He wanted to disagree, but she already set her mind.

Even with these changes, it doesn't change the way he sees her; a friend. They've been friends ever since kindergarten, challenging each other on who can solve math problems faster. He's the only friend she had all those years growing up.

He's aware that she may not want to be with him most of the time since both of them have/are in different cliques. But even so, he checks on her every now and then.

Jinx loves her newself, but finds it hard to get along with people because of her new personality. As much as she wants to admit she likes to be with Ekko, she wanted to stay away from her old self and any remnants of it. She eventually found "friends" that liked her style...

It was all good until...

One day, when Ekko was finishing up cleaning the chalk board after school, he heard Jinx crying somewhere at the back of the school.

She was sitting down and hugging her knees with her hair loose and messily cut off- tufts of blue hair with a gum stuck on it was on the ground. There was a scissor in her hand, opened as if it was ready cut another chunk of her hair the moment she raises her head from her knees

"Jinx?" Ekko called out gently and quietly approached her. She knew he would appear in moments like this, so she didn't lift her head anymore.

"What happened?" She felt him laying his bag aside and sitting down in front of her. He scanned the gummed hair and assumed, "Did they do this to you?"

She wanted to hit her head several times for being a fool to trust people blindly. How did she not see red flags theyre only using her to get their stuff done? She wanted to scold herself, but all her strength was spent from crying.

"Uh..we can still braid it--"

"Mom wore a braid once." Her answer stopped Ekko for a moment. "...at least that's what Vi told me..."

Ekko understood her predicament and proceeds to sit beside her. He carefully brushed her hair with his fingers and parted it in two main sections before braiding each.

"Don't worry, we'll fix it. I bet it'll even look better than before."

From then on, she began to wear her hair in two twin braids, along with hair cuffs Ekko lended her.

No matter how much she wanted to change, Ekko will always be there to make sure she's doing okay :)

...that ending was lame lmao

@starry-nights12 imma tag u as thanks for the food you bring to TB

#arcane jinx #arcane #ekkojinx #timebomb #jinxarcane #ekko league of legends #enemies to friends trope #ekko x powder #league of legends #highschool au #these two idiots are in love #Her mom would've been so happy to see her wearing braids :)

[hibernationsuit]

Starry or field for the mirco story asks? 👉👈

starry Max decides to ask the Captain about his reaction to one task on Gorgon.

i love how this has nothing to do with the word itself kfkfkfkfkf i promise it's there tho

can u see i'm super uncomfortable writing anything related to emotions btw :)

----

Captain's Quarters were colder and darker than the rest of the ship. Not the most suitable place for reading or working, and clearly not the default mode of the room. Though, maybe the Captain dimmed the lights for a reason.

He was sitting by his desk, half laying on it. Was he sleeping? Just resting? Max has seen someone write while sitting like that.

He cleared his throat. "Captain, can we talk?"

The man half jumped off his chair, spooked by the sudden question. Yep, he was sleeping. "I- wha-", he looked around and spotted the vicar. "Max? Yeah, sure, everything alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Good. That's good," he said quietly. "Sorry, I, um, must've fallen asleep while reading something."

"I have to admit, that doesn't sound normal, Captain. Are you alright?"

"Yes." An answer said too quickly, as if it's always ready to be used in conversations like this. He was clearly not alright, but would definitely do his best to hide it.

"It's just-", Max paused, looking for the right words, "You seem to, well, take miss Leonora's task more seriously than you usually do."

"She lost her husband, surely we should help her find some peace by finding his flask."

"There's something else, I can see it's bothering you." The man tried to keep his face as blank from any sign of emotions, but Max could easily see through him. Captain might have had different problems than his old 'flock' had, but he was still a human who needed help, too. Maybe even more than ever before during their travels. "Opening up may help."

"You sound like my therapist back on Earth."

"You had a therapist?"

"I-" he shook his head. "Forget I said anything about that."

"If you had one, then you surely know talking to someone would help."

"It's nothing, really, don't worry about it." He turned away to face the window and took a deep breath, assuming Max would stop at that. Was he staring at the starry sky behind the glass, or at his own, barely visible reflection, showing how sadness was slowly showing itself on his face.

"You can trust me."

"Law, you won't quit, will you?"

Max smirked. "No, I don't think I will."

He sighed and sat on the desk. "Fine. You win."

"It's for your own good."

"Yeah, yeah. Um." He paused for a moment, wondering where to begin. "Remember back in the beginning, you asked why I've decided to help Phineas instead of turning him in, and I replied that it's because I have...family on Hope?"

Max nodded. "I must admit, I thought you were joking back then. Not that I think so now."

"Don't worry, I'm not surprised..."

"Please, continue."

"Yeah, well. Um." Tobias covered his face. "Sorry, I...It's hard to talk about this, I haven't really um, mentioned this before. Not that I don't trust anyone, it's just that I..."

"...don't want to bother anyone even if it's something important? It shows."

"Smart ass. Though, that's why you're cool. You know that, right?"

"Stop trying to switch the topic, Tobias."

"Fine, fine. Ugh." He closed his eyes. "I took it too personally because it reminded me of how my wife is still back on Hope." His voice cracked, hands cletching into fists to hide their trembling, as he continued. "It felt like a punch in the gut, that I'm here and Klara's...not." He wiped a tear off his cheek and added quietly, "I miss her so much."

"I'm so sorry. I-" Max looked at him. Seeing him like this, sobbing and trembling, curled up like a sad teacup canid, wasn't something he had expected to see. Thank Law I closed the door... He walked to the desk and gave him a hug. "I shouldn't have brought this up. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, it's..." he sniffed, "I um...think it helped a bit. Maybe even feel better now..."

"Can you stop lying about your feelings for one moment?"

"No...maybe..." Tobias muttered. "Phineas called yesterday and complained about how I still haven't made up my mind about skipping the Hope. It's not that I don't want to, it's that- well, I'm afraid of what I'll find there."

"Did you ask Phineas about her?"

"After we left Edgewater, yes. He said that according to the ship logs, everything's fine. She's fine." He took a deep breath to calm down a bit, and to stop thinking about all that could've gone wrong. "But still, I'm...I don't think I'm ready..."

"Then we'll go when you're ready."

"Thank you, Max. You're an amazing friend."

"You're welcome."

"You, um, think we could...well. Talk like this more often? I think it made me feel better, honest."

"Of course," Max smiled, "Now sit here while I get you some water."

#asks #my writing #might add a drawing at some point. Might. take this thought with a grain of salt. #anyway. max finally gets to do proper 'spiritual' councelling. apparently this guy is a harder case than most of his previous flocks #the outer worlds

[mirsvintagesonytv]

I feel like 'Stay Soft' suits Yousano so much. First of all, Yousano went through so much in her life. Yet, she is a tough and strong female character. But she is also soft inside. Second, this an ISTP song. And guess what MBTI Yousano has? That right ISTP.

YESYES i agree!!! the other song I associate very heavily with her is Bag of Bones, but Stay Soft is veeerrryyyy Yosano coded it was the second song i had on my list for her.

Especially the chorus:

You stay soft, get beaten Only natural to harden up You stay soft, get eaten Only natural to harden up

I think this shows her experience in the war very well and the way that the repitition and forced exposure forced her to close herself off at a very early age. It reminds me of the way she slowly looses hope while under Mori, starting as a starry eyes little girl who wants to help and ending up basically snapping and never wanting to use her ability again. Its why we never really see her as very emotive/empathetic in the series - shes learned against being like that to save herself the pain of losing someone like how she felt for Tachiharas brother, its a defense against loss and pain. The first time we ever really show much emotion/rage truly is w her confrontation with Mori. Before that point she was always very stoic.

I think this song reflects her really well as you said its in line w her personality type, and imo the first verse really reflects the objectification she went through, only being valued for her ability and not much else beyond that.

"It glints in your eye It's why I've arrived, your sex god Here to take you where You need to go"

In the song mitski basically expresses how shes only there for others gratification and not her own, and i think in Yosano's context this matches with how she feels abt Thou Shall Not Die - thats the piece of her Mori wanted, he didnt care about her beyond that and thats something she takes to heart because it becomes her core identity until she meets ranpo and he tells her she can be more. Even past that i feel like she'd still feel that way somewhat because views like that dont leave easily. Plus how she was viewed as an angel vs mitskis "god" is very much a comparison i love, being put on a pedestal you dont think you deserve + the pressure to deliver always and the subsequent feeling of failure once you cant is veeery applicable to her character, both in her backstory at Tachiharas brothers death and in the present because its clear she feels a pressure to save the agency and keep them all alive no matter what even though its not neccesarily her responsibility to do that for people anymore.

BUT YEAHHHH!!! thank u for ur ask i rlly enjoyed u are so right !!!

Honestly Mitski x bsd is just a match made in heaven i love it bc they all have a song that fits and im just aAAAAAAA

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #mir speaks #mirs bsd rambling #mirs thoughts #bsd yosano #bsd analysis #bsd theories #mirs bsd mitski crossover #yosano akiko #mitski #stay soft #my asks #send me asks #asks answered #please send me asks i dont bite

[kaiserkisser]

HIHI STARRY PRETTY <333 HOW R UUU DID U HYDRATE TODAY? DID U EAT WELL? DID U SLEEP WELL?

I hope youre doing well and taking care of yourself!! and i hope youre enjoying your vacation as well :DD

aghsnsnehje i dont wanna disturb u but my brain randomly reminded me that you'd draw chris in a vest If i remind u on monday and i dont wanna bother u or pressure u into drawing or make u feel like ur obliged to draw it I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF THE OFFER WAS STILL UP SHSHSH 😭🙏🙏

HIHIIII MY SUNSHINEEE IM GOOD DW I DID AND I DID <3333

well im taking enough care of myself ig? dw im alright ❤❤

NO NO UR NOT DISTURBING ME BBY seeee this is EXACTLY why i needed a reminder omg bc after my mini trip and todays music class i legit completely forgot 💀💀💀 thanks for reminding me dear 💕💕 AND DW DW UR NOT BOTHERING ME OR ANYTHING i wanna do this and yes the offer is still up <333

ill try to do it tomorrow tho! Since like its already almost 11 and my mom will kill me if I don't finish my dinner quickly and sleep 💀💀

Anyways take care of urself too dear remember to sleep enough and on time okay? And u can pop into my inbox anytime you want, i love it <3 gnn maiii

#💌 letters from: mai<3 #🔮mai sunshine <3

[aetherealmoss]

Okay, hear me out, this should be anonymous bc digital footprint and shit but whatever HEAR ME OUT!!!

Soap was sexually abused in his childhood by a close family friend, a man from the military they met in church (military part optional, it'd be more for plot convenience, but church part is important)

He's an adult now, it should be fine, he's grown taller and stronger than that man ever was, but when someone far too similar to him (or, if u want that extra step of drama, actually him) appears, all that emotional stability CRUMBLES.

HE FEELS LIKE A CHILD AGAIN, LIKE THE BOY WHO BEGGED FOR PROTECTION BUT GOT TOLD OFF BY HIS PARENTS BC "XX is a good married Christian man, he's not a fag."

I just need to see Soap spiralling and diving headfirst into depression and the panic attacks that follow a single touch from any of his colleagues EXCEPT Ghost.

Because it's always Ghost, it will always be Ghost.

If this is too chaotic lmk I got very into it

It gets worse before it gets better, for sure.

thank u so much for the lovely request <;3 u can also read it over at ao3!

rating: mature

tags: #angst #slight it gets worse before it gets better #religious trauma #religious guilt #religious themes and imagery #implied/referenced child abuse #implied/referenced past rape #getting together #comforting through the worst imaginable #they argue #they solve it right after but #anger #lots of it #starry nights and coffees #witchcraft practices mentioned and slightly done #self-harm #soap bites the skin around his nails until they bleed #pierced ghost

---

Soap has always been told that anger lives in the pits of the stomach, and when it comes up to show itself, it is a monster. It is a monster that burns up from soft intestines, burns upwards and upwards and upwards until it reaches the mouth, until it bears and grows its teeth, until it sinks its fangs into the world and controls it. 

But, for him, the anger is a monster that travels fast and burns even brighter and it comes right from the tips of his fingers, up into his knuckles, and he is just like his father when he strikes first, asks later. 

When the world bares its fangs at him, Soap raises his claws, and he obviously strikes first, he knows how to find exactly where it hurts every single time and he attacks precisely there. He is entirely unlike his mother, with her cold and slow anger.

So maybe it’s some sort of karmic retribution when a man walks into their meeting room and Soap reels. He has memories of the past in the forefront of his mind, because that man he has those same eyes that haunt him, that same fucking build that once towered over him, the same sharpness on his face that he so used to adore in that fucked up way he did and even the same beard that would cut and hurt. The same cross necklace smacking his chest, God is mocking him even now, at his big age. The same military standing that he used to idolise.

It all reminds him far too much of the past. A past he has striven to forget, a past he has worked tirelessly with countless therapists to overcome, a past that should not affect him like it does just then—he feels all his organs shut down.

And he thinks, over and over again, that by his big age, he should be fine and he should be completely and utterly sane—yet his fingers twitch, his jaw sets, his breathing hitches—Ghost looks at him and it’s fucking humiliating, the way he can see right through him.

He can’t stop the memories that flood his brain—he still remembers the begging, the blood, the angry screams, the pained screams, the god, the prayers, the tears, the touches, the grandmother’s protection. He is empty of everything that is good, if he remembers the past and that man so fucking vividly. How empty of him, to be so full of someone he hates.

He knows, internally and in a very faraway part of his brain, that none of it is real. Not anymore, anyways. But his body still clams up, he is still terrified, and the world still tips and eventually crashes when Price calls out into the room. 

If there is a God, Soap will swallow Him whole, will make Him cry.

God has a mean and sadistic streak, and Soap almost laughs at the irony of the situation, and he would’ve and could’ve just ran away if it weren’t for the tears springing into his eyes and threatening to overflow. 

He hates Him.

Perhaps he would strike first this time too, of the anger won in the end. He would have God kneeling, the fucker at the tip of his knife, the world cradling a bomb.

“This is the team we’ll be working alongside for this mission,” his voice is calm and collected and he has not noticed Soap’s inner (almost outer) panic. Soap does not blame him for it, yet he wants to. Price does not know anything about his past beyond what he needed, and he did not need to know of the predator that lives in Soap’s mind. 

The man’s eyes fall on him, and he has to do everything in his power to not simply get up and walk away—or worse, pull out a gun and shoot the fucker in the face—, to ignore the pull and tug of the world wanting to tip and fall apart, even though the man has done nothing and Soap is just projecting his issues into innocent people who don’t deserve his anger. 

He doesn’t even know the man. Perhaps he is a wonderful soldier, perhaps he is not even religious, just uses the cross in honour of someone else. But his brain doesn’t care about that, and he is entirely ruled by his emotions, and the man is just old enough to remind him of a married man with wandering hands and God as an excuse for wanting someone as young as Soap had been.

He feels like a sobbing child again, asking a God he doesn’t believe in to save him because no other adult would. 

He feels like a bitter and angry child again, asking why neither God nor anyone ever saved him.

“I hope you will, at least, be cordial with each other,” because Price cannot ask for people to like each other, especially not people glued together with just the wishes of peace.

He continues with his talk, goes over the details of the mission, which Soap pays no attention to, which will bite him in the ass later on, he assumes, but he is seething in anger and fear and he knows Ghost’s eyes are on him—intensively, extensively—but he finds he can’t make his jaw work beyond its clenching and his stomach is so twisted that he feels he’s going to puke. His fingers are going into overdrive as he taps them against his bouncing leg. He wants to go back to his bad habits, to bite his fingers until they are raw and bloody. He’s so fucking tired of being afraid of men with just the right characteristics.

“—dismissed,” is the last word he catches from Price’s mouth, and he watches as everyone slowly gets up and leaves. Gaz hangs back to stay with him, touches Soap’s shoulder—

“Don’t touch me,” he demands, he is mean beyond what he needs to be, and he watches Gaz's excited face crumble. Of course, he didn’t notice anything, he was excited about another mission, about another opportunity to save the world of all its evil. Ghost tenses up beside him.

Price calls for him before he can even say anything. He’s eternally thankful for it. He’s sure he would’ve snapped even worse if he had remained, if he had asked. He doesn’t want to deal with questions. 

He can feel Price’s eyes on him. He ignores them with a ferocity only dogs should know.

He watches them move, with a perspective that makes him feel as though he is in a body that isn’t his own, watches his own body remain stuck to his chair. He feels a presence on his side, and he almost lashes out.

“Soap,” Ghost’s voice comes with a kindness he doesn’t know how to deal with, hasn’t really heard it like that before, and if he were in any other state, he would think about it for days to come. Maybe even daydream about it. But in his current state, they just make his walls come up higher, stronger. He doesn’t deal well with kindness in the face of his fucked up past.

“What?” comes his harsh reply, instead. Ghost straightens, looms over Soap instead of leaning into his eyeline, his face settles into something harsher instead, the lines of their boundaries boldens. Soap raises a hand up to his mouth anyways, starts slowly peeling away at the skin on the tips of his fingers, right besides his pretty fucked up nails, he has not done this in years. He bleeds almost instantly.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles it around his gnawing. He can almost tell Ghost wants to slap his hand away, but he thankfully doesn’t. He allows Soap a moment of self-destruction. Soap feels like he deserves that moment, that piece of self-destruction, he held himself together quite well. Is still holding himself together… well enough.

“You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Oh, aye, Lt, wish that were the case,” he wishes he could explode. At least that would be pretty. “It’s nothin’, there’s nothin’ wrong. Just leave, aye? Sure Price is callin’ ye or somethin’.” his accent lulls out stronger. He wants to be left alone, he wants Ghost to keep pushing. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do. Doesn’t know what the fuck he wants.

“Pull yourself together,” the words lull out like a bullet and he knows Ghost doesn’t even know he’s holding a weapon, but it strikes him all the same. His jaw moves all on its own, but Ghost hasn’t stopped talking. “We need you clear and sane for the mission.” he turns on his heels, leaves the room with a slam of the door.

Belatedly, Soap wishes he hadn’t left. Wishes even more that he hadn’t acted like he did. He feels like a child again, feels entirely too much like he is turning into his father, always quick to anger and quick to snap.

“Fuck.” his voice cracks around the edges. He closes his eyes, tears spill out without his permission, and he is now entirely grateful that Ghost did not stick around. He does not want him to hear the shake of his voice, does not want him to see this part of him, so shameful and entirely ugly.

—

When the sun rises and the teams roll out, Soap is cursing all the gods alive and dead and inbetween for putting him in the same fucking team as the fucker that keeps triggering his past memories. His fingers are raw and bleeding into his gloves and he questions all that there is in the world, how dare God allow this to happen to him? What kind of God even is He? 

Sure, it isn’t anyone’s fault but his own that he didn’t speak up and tell them about it or, at least, tell them to keep him far, far away from him—but who wants to admit to a past like his own, to people who supposedly admire him and his work? Not him, certainly, because he has a penchant for making life harder for himself.

His jaw is clenched and his teeth hurt from the strength of them on each other, and his hold on his gun is firmer and stronger than it ever has been before, and he knows Gaz is looking and looking at him like he’s a total foreigner in the body of Soap, with the way he remains silent through it all, with the way he gives Ghost one-worded replies whenever he needs to. There are no jokes he can tell that don’t make his heart race.

Soap really hopes he won’t ask anything, especially not where they are and not once they’re done here, because he knows his reply won’t be good, or kind, or even make sense to people who have no context.

“Soap,” he hears that man’s gravely voice, fucked through years of cigarettes burrying in his longs, and he locks up—flashes pass through his mind like he’s back there, the name is different but he’s there. “You’re clear to detonate.” and he unlocks all at once rapidly, because the mission is far more important than his triggers, and he’s nodding his head before he realizes it and he starts stepping towards the building. There’s simply something in him that knows how to fight and when and where—he knows this fight since he was very small, he carries it like a badge of honour through the ages and the years. And the fight is only outwardly when it calls for it, and it hasn’t called yet.

He doesn’t know what he’s exploding, exactly, but Price gave his orders and so did this captain, and he just knows he is and that’s all he really needs to know for the maniac inside him to feel delighted in making anything at all explode. Even though he feels he’s the one who he should explore.

He knows he’s doing something reckless when a hand belonging to that captain fucker brushes his back in a pat and a low ‘well done’ is murmured right into his ear, because the finger on the detonation finger is so very intentional and his press of it even more.

The building explodes in a beautiful symphony of sounds and colours and collapses. 

The team is only far enough for minor injuries to happen, but when his comms come back to life, his ears ring and yet he can still hear his captain’s voice, Price’s harsh voice echoes in a way that is entirely too familiar.

He should feel a certain type of regret, but he only regrets not being inside the collapsed building, so maybe he should hold off on feeling things like that.

—

“What were you thinking?” is the first thing Price says to him, because as soon as he saw him, he motioned with his hands and kept his mouth firmly shut. And now they’re back on base and it is deserted except for them. Gaz and Ghost are there too, but they definitely look like they don’t want to be. Gaz shifts his weight between his feet, Ghost holds his chin high. “Do you understand that that could’ve gone entirely wrong?”

“I didn’t mean—” he did, in some way. Price taught him all about fighting the wrongs of the world, gave him ways of aiming his anger at the right people, taught him how to bare his teeth instead of just his fists—and he knows he used it in the wrong goddamn place.

“But you did it,” Price says, with a certain firmness that has Soap reeling. He steps closer to Soap, hits his chest with a finger, Soap breathes and breathes and only hears the words spoken because they’re so fucking insane. “So you’re on timeout.”

“What?” he asks, incredulous, almost laughs at the situation. “What am I, a kid?” he feels utterly unfloored, and his hands twitch at his side, and Price’s finger imprints into his chest like a burning that doesn’t feel good, at all, and he knows Price is nothing like the man in his memories, but any touch at all has him spiralling. “Ye cannae just do that.” and he can’t because it feels like he’s back home, with his parents blaming him for someone else’s wandering hands, with his parents telling him it was all his fault and that they didn’t believe his pleas for safety.

“If you behave like one, you’re gonna be treated like one. What else did you expect?” he shakes his head, taps at Soap’s chest again and his eyes settle harder when Soap slaps his hand away. “I’m your captain, Soap, don’t forget that. I can do what I please, and you’ll listen, and comply.”

“Oh, fuck right off. Ye cannae be serious!” his voice raises beyond what he wants it to, and in the ultimate not-child-like move, he leaves the common room, stomps (he’d like to believe he walked) into his own room.

The door slams behind him, and he knows he’s being entirely insane, and he knows he did something stupid and he can and will full well admit it at a later time, but his heart is beating too fast and he’s so beyond fucking scared that he doesn’t know what else to do.

He moves through the room with a nervous fluttering of steps, he turns the whole place upside down until he finds what he wants—until his hands come across silver pentagrams and old tarot cards and random crystals, and he remembers his grandmother, and he almost starts sobbing right then and there, as he clasps the necklace tight around his neck.

He misses the only person who ever understood him, the only golden thread tying him to his lineage, the only one that he bears with pride.

He feels like life is always going to be like this, terrible and haunting and burning.

He goes through the motions of his rituals, of his vigils, of the things his grandmother taught him and that he kept close to his chest. He doesn’t care if he believes its actual protection or not—he does it all the same, finds comfort in the way the sigils come to him with ease, in the overwhelming scent of burning candles, in the prayers his grandmother made, in the protection he believes he still carries from her.

He thinks he should have a hold of his emotions far better than this, but he doesn’t and he doesn’t and he doesn’t, so he just watches his hands stain the paper sigils as he places them against each other, as he burns them, as he claims them.

When there’s a knock on his door, he thinks for half a second that it could be the man, and he knows that’s ridiculous yet he thinks it all the same—but Ghost’s voice sounds out and his heart half-settles. He swallows down the panic, places down the candle and the sigil.

“Sergeant.” knock, knock, knock. A melodious little thing.

“What do ye want, Ghost?” he’s tired and he’s angry and he’s exhausted of all this fear that he masks as anger, all this anger that comes off like fear, and his voice sounds entirely like not his own at all. He just wants to scream at someone, and yet he knows none of the people he can scream at have any fault, so he holds his tongue and his anger.

But where does he put it? Where does he put the anger, so it won’t lash out? Where does he put it when he doesn’t want to set it down, because if he does he’s going to cry.

“I’m your babysitter,” he lets it hang in the air for a little. “Let me in.”

“The fuck do ye mean, my babysitter?” he opens the door, anger brimming again and again and he’d lash out, he knows he would, if it were anyone but Ghost standing there—or at least he believes that he can hold himself back from hurting Ghost. Could he even hurt him? His words aren’t worth that much.

(he left the door unlocked, just in case, and now he regrets it.)

He shrugs, waits for Soap to step to the side before he steps inside the room, because Soap does step aside, leaning against the wall as Soap stands there, arms crossed and angry, always angry these past few days.

“Don’t know,” he tilts his head, eyes focused on Soap, and he knows Ghost knows and Ghost knows he knows, and there’s no need for all these fucking riddles, but they speak through them all the same. “Price thought you might need a handler.”

“And you’re it?” it’s ridiculous that his anger doesn’t settle into the joke of the situation, doesn’t dwindle and die out.

“Who else?” Soap thinks, doesn’t come up with anyone, and he feels the distaste in his mouth, swallows it down so he doesn’t scream out. “Exactly. Now, settle down. Stand down.”

Soap shakes his head, he doesn’t know what the hell Ghost is thinking, but he cannot possibly think he can handle Soap when he’s off his handle. 

He doesn’t move, not even when Ghost nods his head towards his bed, as if motioning him to sit down.

“What happened?”

“Ye know exactly what happened,” he says it slowly, like Ghost is stupid for even asking that.

“I know what happened, yeah, from my point of view. From Price’s. Even from Gaz’s,” he moves a hand through the air, and Soap almost flinches at it, at the similarity of movements—his father in the shape of God, the lingering hurt in his body. “Not yours, though. So,” like he’s just casually asking for the weather. “What happened?”

“It’s entirely none of yer business, Ghost.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sergeant,” he tuts, looks Soap right in the eyes again. “Because we’re both here, ain’t we? So it’s my bloody problem when you fly off the handle like that.”

“I didn’t fly off the handle—”

“No? So you put your team at risk just… for the fun of it?”

“I didnae mean to put ye in danger—”

“But you did,” Soap frowns. Where the hell are they going with this? “And I know you enough to know you’d never do that without reason. So I’m asking.” because he could be doing something else, he could be digging, he could sink his teeth into Soap’s brain and come up with all the answers he needs, that he wants.

“Ye wanna know? Go lookin’ for it,” he sees the movement of Ghost’s jaw, the tensing of his shoulders. “Cause I won’t tell ye shit, Lt, cause it ain’t none of yer business, and if ye just leave me alone, I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“That’s not gonna fuckin’ work,” Ghost tilts his head, taps his fingers against his thigh, crosses his arms after. 

Soap just brings his hands up in the air, shrugs like they’re at an impasse. 

Somehow, he feels like he’s losing this argument by losing his temper, yet he cannot hold back the way anger shimmers and burns at the center of his palm.

“Leave, Ghost.”

Ghost doesn’t move and Soap closes his eyes, breathes in and out, wrings his hands together and feels the sting and burn of his torn-up skin—it doesn’t help settle his anger, at all.

“Ghost, I’m not in the mood for this shite, alright? So just leave me alone for a fucking second and we’ll return back to normal.”

“Still not possible or plausible, sergeant,” he shakes his head. “Not when I was there when you got like this. So, spill, or you’ll overflow and get yourself killed and, Johnny, I’m not gonna watch that, or even allow it to happen.”

“And why the fuck would ye care, Ghost? So what if I’m losing my damn mind?” he knows he is an animal let loose, baring its teeth at anyone who dares get too close, his anger feeds itself off of his body and feeds him anger back. “The fuck’s that gotta do with ye? Besides any professional basis, cause what you’re doin’ here ain’t fucking professional worry or some shite like that.”

“Johnny—”

“No! I’m serious here, what the fuck are ye doing here? Price sent ye? Really? Ye expect me to believe that?”

“Soap—”

“Cause I don’t, ye know? Believe that—”

“If you let me speak,” Ghost raises his voice just above Soap’s, watches him flinch and step back. Lowers his voice again. “I can tell you why I’m here.”

Soap sets his jaw. Nods.

“I’m worried about you, Johnny,” and that is a confession he wasn’t expecting. It almost makes him break. “‘Cause I saw you in that meeting room, and I know that look. I know that look and those eyes and that fear, and I’m really hoping you’ll tell me I’m seeing shit or projecting.”

“Well, ye are. Now, leave.” he points at the door, like that will entice Ghost to step out. Ghost remains against the wall, as he has for their whole interaction. “Please, Ghost, just leave.”

Ghost taps his arm, sighs, bumps his head back against the wall.

“Why are you even being stubborn?”

“Because it’s private, alright? Ye ever heard of privacy? I’m sure ye have shit ye don’t want me to know about—”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t,” he shrugs. “You can ask me anythin’ you wanna.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit and ye know it.”

“Ask, then.”

“I—I don’t—that’s not the point!” he brings his hands up in the air, moves them around. “Why are ye being like this, honestly? I don’t wanna tell ye anything, and I’m not gonna, and I wish ye’d stop asking about it.”

“Then we’ll just stay here like good ol’ boys until you calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for lying.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he throws him the finger, mildly wonders why and then does it more firmly. He turns around so he can’t look at Ghost. If he can’t see him, Ghost can’t see him back, or some other bullshit logic like that.

He’s almost vibrating out of his skin. He can feel his hands shaking. He brings one up to his mouth and he tastes iron and smells blood immediately and yet he bites at the skin anyways. His eyes burn. Oh, he really doesn’t want to cry.

He hears Ghost moving, hears the shuffling of his uniform, the strength of his steps. He feels him looming over his back for a second and holds his breath. Then hears the creaking of the bed, the coldness of his back.

“These beds don’t get any better,” he hears Ghost mutter, almost laughs, but the laugh that bubbles up in his throat turns into a sob and he tilts himself even further away from Ghost’s line of sight.

Fuck.

His shoulders tremble, his whole body does, and he clutches helplessly at his pentagram, blood mixes with iron mixes with tears.

He feels Ghost at his back again, gentle hands on his elbows, and he’s being dragged to bed and made to sit down. He curls up, draws his body down until he’s almost chest-to-knees, and he cries because he started and now he can’t fucking stop.

Ghost’s hand is on the small of his back, making soothing sorts of motions over and over again.

“This is stupid,” he mutters to himself mostly, between sobs. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Ghost starts but Soap doesn’t let him finish, snaps up and looks at Ghost, even though he’s crying and he looks pathetic and red and blotchy.

“No, alright? This is stupid and I’m being stupid and this whole thing shouldn’t’ve happened and I’m sorry, okay? I just—he just—” he closes his eyes tightly and waits for the words to form correctly. “He looks so much like him. But it’s not him, and I keep—fuck.” he shakes his head, looks at Ghost, almost startles at the way he’s looking back at him. Like he knows. Like he understands.

He forces his eyes and head away, stares holes into the ground as he tries to stop crying.

He hiccups and takes stuttering breaths in uneven manners, feels the crawling of fear like it is a good friend, understands that his eyes are overflowing and his mind is running far too fast.

Ghost’s hand wraps around his wrist—before Soap can fight him and snap, Ghost brings it to his chest, presses his palm tightly over his heart.

“Breathe with me, Johnny,” he murmurs, voice low and calm and he has this sort of magic way of making Soap feel better with so little. It makes him feel like he’s not too far gone to be healed. “Come on. Good boy,” Soap’s chest trembles with the slow breathing, with the way his eyes still shed tears.

“Sorry,” he says between cries and breaths. “Just—I don’t know. I don’t know how to not tell Price and have this… figure itself out.” he appreciates Ghost all the same, even between the frustration of circling around each other for months at this point.

“Don’t think Price is gonna allow you in the field anytime soon,” Ghost hums at his own words, taps Soap’s wrist and presses his fingers harder against Soap’s back. The weight is comforting. It makes breathing easier again. “You’ll get an eval soon, even.”

“They know, anyway. They cleared me back then. It’s just… an episode, or something.”

“Think they’ll clear you now, too?” Soap bites his tongue, feels the inner turmoil in his brain blare. And then he shrugs.

“Hopefully,” his voice cracks and he winces. He looks back at Ghost, sees himself reflected back in his brown eyes. Feels the squeezes of his wrist. “I need a coffee. And fresh air.”

“I think I can allow that,” but Ghost doesn’t move. His jaw grinds back and forth, like he wants to say something. Soap steals his hand back, rubs both his hands over his eyes, cleans up the tears and breathes in far too deeply.

“Just say it, Ghost. What is it?”

“I know a spot.”

“What?” he laughs a little, confused, staring up at Ghost through his hands.

“Stargazing. I know a spot for that.”

“Far?”

“No, pretty close.”

“Take me there, then, warden, don’t wanna be in this prison.”

“Only a little dramatic.” Soap shrugs, gives him a watery type of grin. Soap watches as his mask folds and unfolds, hiding his smile underneath it.

Ghost gets up, turns to Soap, and outstretches his hand. Soap takes it with glee, and allows himself to be dragged up from his bed and out of his room.

—

The world breathes its tale as Soap waits for Ghost to return with their coffees. He’s checking his fingers and the damage he has done to them, face crumpled in guilt—he had worked so hard to break the habit, and he just completely fucked up his own progress. 

He supposes triggers work like that, anyways, but it doesn’t make him feel any better or less guilty or less wrong.

He supposes, too, that he was simply born wrong, that he won’t ever be forgiven for all his sins, that his birth was against the word of God and He cursed him and lodged Himself into his body to never allow happiness to course freely through it.

It’s… a tad dramatic.

He laughs at himself, shakes his head. He wishes he could rid himself of thoughts like that.

“What’s so funny?” he tilts his head back and up at Ghost, who appears suddenly, who looks utterly ridiculous with the silliest mugs in hand and that intimidating build and fucking skull mask.

“Right now? Ye are. Did ye know ye look ridiculous?”

“Thought you liked it,” he sits down next to Soap. “With all that staring you do.”

“I don’t stare,” Ghost just looks at him, and passes him his mug (this cat shaped, horrifying thing) and he looks back, and then crumbles, takes the warm mug in his cold hands. “Fine. Whatever. But ye still look ridiculous.” 

Ghost laughs, this startled little noise in the back of his throat that slips without him wanting it to. Soap delights in every note of it.

Ghost sits down next to him, just a few spaces closer than usual, and Soap bumps their knees together, then remains against the warmth of Ghost’s legs. He wants to lean further against him, but his heart unsettles at the thought of it, and his mind races in just the slightest incorrect manner. 

Soap isn’t an expert on silence, and this whole situation has been slowly eating him up from the inside-out, and he taps his bloody-bleeding fingers against his knee to maybe shut himself up.

It doesn’t work.

“I used to go to church,” he starts, slowly. “Thought it was so cool to be with my parents for a day of the week, where they wouldn’t argue, and they wouldn’t yell at me for some shite I probably did.”

“Doesn’t surprise me you were a troublemaker.”

“Aye, still am, ain’t I?”

“Exactly.”

“I was really good at it, which was totally a reasonable thing to want, I’m sure,” he shakes his head. “I knew the books back to front, front to back, talked to so many priests they knew me by name, by sin.” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, feels the rising of blood that overflows his mouth. “And then he showed up. This… cool military guy. I was… eight, maybe.”

Ghost’s hand finds his, presses palm into knuckles, intertwines fingers tightly. He sighs, both at the warmth that spreads through him and at what he’s about to confess.

“I thought he was so cool. And he would know everything, too. And he would be so willing to answer any and all of my questions. I used to wonder why,” he wets his lips, swallows the lump in his throat. Ghost squeezes his hand, a silent you don’t have to talk anymore. He works past the stoppage on his throat, anyway, because he wants to give Ghost some more of him. “Now, I know why, but back then it was all this wonder and admiration. All this… love, for some sort of fatherly figure that wouldn’t punish me for my questions.”

He closes his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s saying all this anymore. What will it help? Does talking have to help?

“The first time… it happened, I was nine. And he asked me to come home with him because he had something to give me,” he looks at Ghost. Ghost looks back. He can see the way his brows are furrowed. “I wish I hadn’t gone. I remember crying, I remember telling my parents, I remember their yelling, their punishment, like I made that fucker do what he did to me, like I wasn’t the victim in the situation. It kept happening and I—I don’t even remember half the times it happened, I just know they did, because I’d write it down. ‘It happened again’, in this pink diary I stole from one of my sisters.” he moves a hand through the air. “Dunno where it even is, anymore. I hope no one found it, don’t wanna traumatise them with the shite I wrote in that.”

Ghost inches closer, their arms are pressed together now, too, and he shivers. Ghost remains silent, lets Soap work through the words swirling in his brain, wanting to spill from his mouth.

“I know it wasn’t my fault, ye know? I went through intense therapy for this, back when I was 18 and threw myself at the army like it’d stop the church from following. The same thing happened then. A captain that was just a little too similar to him. That’s how they even found out anything happened, I mean, there weren’t any police reports or anything. Just… word of mouth, back then,” he shrugs. “Small towns, aye? People talk.”

“Yeah,” Ghost’s voice punches out of his throat, he looks like he’s the one suffering for Soap. Soap bumps shoulders with him, takes a sip from his coffee, warms up at the hotness of it, at the way Ghost knows his order even though he teases him for its sweetness.

“My nan was the only one that believed me,” he tugs at the pentagram hanging from his neck. “She was upset with God, with the church, even more with my parents, with her own son. I remember her turning to me, all anger and beauty, and saying ‘we’ll figure out our own religion, make up our own Gods, and they’ll protect ye correctly this time’. She found paganism, witchcraft. I didn’t… don’t believe in it, same as how I don’t believe in God, but I thought it was fun, and it would give me an excuse to be at her house for longer than I should. And her house would always smell really nice, and I could be a kid freely and without fear.”

“Is your grandma—”

“Dead. Few years back. Old age, or something. Fucked me up real good, too. The therapy sessions had to start up all over again and everything.”

He sighs, slowly lowers himself to the ground, bumps his head against the soft grass. There’s a pretty yellow flower at the corner of his view. Ghost’s head follows his movements, but he remains upright.

“I thought I was over it for good. I mean, Price looks nothing like him, but he’s a captain all the same and I like him, don’t feel any fear around him. And maybe I stupidly thought that I’d never find anyone like him ever again.”

“Not stupid.”

“I know. Just… I was naive. I was unaware of how much that fucked me up when I knew I shouldn’t be,” he tugs at Ghost’s hand. “I should’ve told Price, right?”

“Yeah. It’d be important for him to know. Could’ve prevented you almost killing your own teammates.”

“Sorry,” the apology isn’t even meant for Ghost, really, because all he did to Ghost was not talk to him, and compared to almost killing someone, he thinks that might be on the lower half of the importance list. He apologises anyways. He missed their banter. “I was just… so angry, and so tired of being afraid of everything and—and a part of me thought… that ye wouldn’t believe me, or just… tell me to suck it up, be a man,” he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Been in enough teams where that happened, y’know? The brain really fucks ye up, aye?”

Ghost is silent.

Soap would take offence to it, or maybe clam up all over again, if it weren’t for the tight hold on his hand, and the bright shine of the starry sky, and the moon is full and beautiful. It all feels like a holiness he can have and hold.

He closes his eyes. Breathes in the soft scent of coffee mingling with fresh and beautiful grass mingling with Ghost’s wood-like aroma.

He hears a lot of rustling, feels Ghost move, but he never lets go of his hand, so he only opens his eyes once the noises stop. 

Ghost’s bare face overwhelms his eyes.

He blinks a couple too times.

And he is entirely over the overwhelming shame religions bring, but Ghost just looks like something holy, like something he cannot have, and he craves it, craves him, wants him entirely and selfishly to himself.

“Hi?” he watches Ghost’s face break into a smile, and he is entirely enamoured by it.

“Secret for a secret.”

“The whole team knows what ye look like—” Ghost tilts his head, and Soap looks closer. There is a glint in the silver moonlight, that catches light and has Soap sitting up and getting far too uncomfortably close to Ghost’s face. “The hell is that?”

“Can’t actually have them,” Soap brings a hand up, touches Ghost’s eyebrow and glides along it, circles the glistening piercing there. Ghost lets his eyes flutter shut.

“Ye have so many of ‘em. Does Price know?”

“Yeah. Found out by accident,” Soap’s hand tracks the path of his face, of his scars, meets his nose in all its elegant brokenness, taps at the little stud on the side of his nose, flicks his septum piercing up just to watch Ghost’s face scrunch.

And then he lets his hand drop, doesn’t dare going too far, going as far as touching the ones decorating his lips. Ghost opens his eyes again, looks at Soap.

“I think my secret is far more interesting,” Soap says, frowning just a little, just playfully enough for Ghost’s brows to raise.

“You don’t look like you actually think that.”

“Well, Ghost, ye are a very interesting man,” he tilts his head. “And I already knew my secret. So…” he mumbles, eyes trained in the way Ghost’s mouth moves, the way he darts his tongue over the piercings, the way his tongue also has a flash of jewellery in it.

Ghost squeezes his hand. 

Good gods, if Ghost were the one to destroy him, he’d allow it. Follow him into broken buildings and collapsed thoughts.

“Really fucking sucks that you’re actually handsome,” he frowns at Soap’s statement, confusion written all over his pretty face. “Even worse that you’re cocky about it. How am I meant to compliment ye? Ye already know it all, it’ll feel empty.”

Ghost laughs, shakes his head. He brings Soap’s hand up and kisses his knuckles so tenderly that Soap almost falls apart.

Maybe this is when and how they break and break around each other, when and how they allow themselves to put each other back together like puzzle pieces.

“Thinking ‘bout me long enough to wanna compliment me, Johnny?”

“Oh, come on,” he rolls his eyes, pokes Ghost’s cheek to earn the unamused stare he gets. “Don’t act stupid.”

“I’m not,” Ghost tilts his head. “Just wanna hear you say it.”

“Hm,” Soap hums, sighs, lets his head fall against Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost allows him to stay resting there for a few seconds, but then he’s tugging at Soap’s wrist and placing a hand on the back of his head.

“What?” he asks, raises his brows at Ghost, delights in the little squeeze it gets him on the back of his head.

Ghost kisses his forehead. The cold metal of his piercings send a shiver down Soap’s spine. His mouth feels dry. They are so close, even closer than usual. Ghost has never given him more than a few of his fingers, and now it feels like he’s giving him his whole fucking body.

“What are ye doin’?” he asks in a low tone. He’s afraid that his words will be the ones ruining the moment.

“Gaining courage.”

“Courage?”

“To kiss you,” Soap’s breath stutters, he’s pretty sure he even gasps. He nods, feels Ghost’s lips press against his temple.

“Okay.” he allows him to take his time, because he also needs to take his own time. To take a step back and try to figure out how this happened. 

He supposes it was always coming.

Is being vulnerable a requirement for Ghost? He’ll be as goddamn vulnerable as the human body allows, if that’s the case. He’ll bare himself fully naked, mind and thoughts and body if he wants him to.

Ghost’s lips press against his eye, which automatically closes, and it feels like a kiss of devotion.

They press a kiss against his cheek, next, and Soap nuzzles into him. Feels Ghost’s smile against him.

Before Ghost has the courage to properly kiss him, Soap presses his hands against his chest. Feels his stuttering breath, the way his heart is speeding out of his chest. He places his mug down in some location that he’ll definitely forget about.

“Ghost,” he makes a face, almost like utter disgust, Soap smiles. “Simon.”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” he makes a face, this pouty thing that makes the rings of his snake bites jut out. Soap brings a hand up to his face, feels and watches him nuzzle his cheek against it.

And then he sighs, like he resigned himself to his fate, like his heart isn’t racing, like his ears aren’t blushing-red.

“Yes.” 

And Soap kisses him.

It’s this soft and tender thing, at first—the press of lips, the slight moving of mouths, the freezing of metal against warm skin, the smell of coffee on both of their breaths, the hands of devotion.

And it evolves into this needy, passionate thing, with Ghost pulling him into his lap, pulling them impossibly closer. Soap is pretty sure he bites Ghost’s piercings, tugs on them a little, and Ghost groans.

Ghost tastes like dreams and coffee and everything Soap has ever wanted, everything he has dreamed about for nights upon nights upon nights.

His hand on his hip, the other on his hair, his own on his chest and the side of Ghost’s throat, all keep him steady-unsteady, and he realizes he is slowly forgetting the ache beyond his eyes, the old scars in his mind.

If kissing Ghost can make him replace the unpleasant emotions, even if for just a moment, then he has all the more reason to indulge.

They part to breathe, and Ghost looks at him with this adoration in his eyes that makes Soap’s life feel like it’s restarting in all the right ways.

“Wanted to do that for a while now,” Ghost huffs against him and Soap hums at his words, smiles without any kind of fear.

“Me too. A long while,” he buries his head in the crook of Ghost’s neck, breathes him in like he has never breathed anything better before in his life, and tightens his hold around him, now with both arms around his torso.

“Can’t believe it took you having a mental breakdown to happen, though.”

“I make my best decisions when I’m not doing too well.”

“Don’t think that’s too healthy.”

“I’ll work it out in the therapy sessions I’m totally due, don’t worry.”

“As long as you keep kissing me, I won’t.” Soap answers by kissing his neck, buzzing in warmth at the soft sigh that passes through Ghost’s lips.

Ghost’s hands move to his hair, to his back, bury themselves in the places they belong, soothe Soap’s mind further and further.

“Do ye wanna know something?” he asks against his neck, and then pulls away from it, so he can look him in the eyes.

“What is it?” he tilts his head, speaks in this soft tone Soap will have to get used to, because it contrasts so much to his usual one.

“I think I love ye, Simon.”

“I know I love you, Johnny,” is his easy reply, the smile on his face, the squeeze of their bodies together.

There is a world in which Soap is loved, and he is in it, and he does not have to suffer alone. Not anymore.

There is love beyond the hurt. There are hands that will hold him kindly. There are sentences that can be spoken without words. There is love, right where he can reach it—and he reaches for it, embraces it with his whole body. The rest will figure itself out slowly and surely.

#mosswriting #fic request #ghostsoap fic #i loved writin this #so much #thank u <3 #requests open #taking requests #im hopin it formatted well over here

[moonjxsung]

starry baby would you give us some spoilers like an idol precomeback on what your next fics will be or what you're working on currently? love you did you keep your teeth i would want to make mine into a necklace

-🐟

YES I’ve been meaning to compile all my longer fics & requests into a cohesive WIP list and I will post as soon as I’m done for your idol precomeback spoiler !! 😌🫶 also they did NOT let me keep my teeth I’m still so sad about it wtaf 💔 my teeth 💔 rip teeth 💔 ILY BESTIE I promise WIP list coming soon soon thank u for this reminder

#🐟 anon #ask

[cloudcountry]

I am only a silent follower but I noticed you like Van Gogh a lot and I follow a pin designer over on Twitter that does cool monthly pin designs and I thought the lion design might be up your alley it reminds me of starry night :)

HELLOOOO??? THATS SO SWEET :(( THANK U FOR SENDONG THIS TO ME THE LION IS SO PRETTY !!!

#asks <3

[moonhoures]

hello moonie! i know it’s been a while but i just finished my current semester so i’ve finally got time to login heheh anyways i’m here to share my very recent brainrot that’s been eating up my brain for 3 days but i had to put aside bc of deadlines (ofc it’s kyun related) so 1, i was re-reminded at how strawberry is his fav fruit [https://twitter.com/96x1x26/status/1621118201643020294?s=46&t=7K5GlOWER2OJ1YwGhr2e2g] and 2, [https://twitter.com/everlasting1m/status/1704098850464846198?s=46&t=7K5GlOWER2OJ1YwGhr2e2g] this recent behind look for his photoshoots

ok so idk what to call this a fic idea?? it’s a p specific scenario¿¿ blurb?? in my head, so imagine this: it’s anniversary day, the day has been great, good date, good dinner he gets y a real nice flower bouquet blabla all the love and romance from our resident loverboy. you guys get home, ask him to start a bath for u while u do some light cleaning and put the flowers in a vase and all, but him being him the sweet little romance man he goes over and beyond to somehow find the time to not only set it up w a nice bathbomb, but also rose petals and a candle. kyun even finds the time to wash and prep fresh strawberries in a bowl for you to snack on (gasp how does he do it was it all a big plan??), and he uses this as leverage to allow himself to sit on the floor next to the tub saying he needs to “feed you” or “share it together” but he just wants to spend more quality time w you. so as you’re on your phone or watching a show or reading a book, you miss how he’s looking at you with his starry boba eyes like you’re not real and he’s so in love and this was not in the flow of plans but suddenly he’s just taking whatever was in your hand away, flustered as you watch him step into the bath with you, still clothed as he pulls you in for a kiss. his shirt and pants are wet and it’s sticking to his skin and his slacks look so tight poor loverboy couldn’t wait until after shower time he’s wet whining and begging to let you fuck him in the bathroom so you let him and he’s just extra lovey today constantly professing his love for you and worshipping you like the goddess you are and it’s just so new to you bc he’s usually so dominant you’ve never really seen him so desperate and whiny… and maybe afterwards you bring up how you were gonna show him this new set you planned to wear post shower if he didn’t take you then and there and he gets all pouty asking you for a show and you comply and round 2 that was supposed to be round 1 happens in bed, (but the thing is kyun swore for this years celebration to end in a more domestic and soft fluffy way bc he wanted both of you to relax as you’ve been both busy, so your plan to show up in a set was supposed to be the big surprise, but he ended up winning that game, unintentionally too)

the way my thoughts are so long and detailed but i don’t have the mental capacity nor skill to write a proper piece i can only jot this down as if i’m recalling a very detailed dream i woke up from HSHSDH anyways i did my best to communicate the vibes i was having in my brain thank u for reading til the end if u did… idk why my brain does this but these thoughts usually flash thru my mind in a sequence of still images anyways hope u have a good rest of the week love!!

- 💐

the thought of fully clothed kyun climbing into the bath to make out is something i didn’t know i needed this bad 😭😭😭 that’s so hot??? and he would just be so passionate about it, that’s what’s driving me insane 😵‍💫 like water is def splashing up and out of the tub, he’s got your face cupped in his hands, and you’re gasping in shock but he doesn’t care. he’s using that as a means to run his tongue through your open lips. god i need him so bad 😩❤️‍🩹

#💐 anon you will be the death of me one day #moon’s mail ✉️ #💐 anon #changkyun hard hours #hh: mx 🗯️ #monsta x hard hours #mx hard hours

[tenuuchlegch]

Pardon me, as I use these photos to express my absolute love for Odtsetseg’s ShB glam.

Okay, so one of the main reasons why I doubt I will change this glam anytime soon is because its dark colors do well to fit with the whole expansion’s theme. It may not be completely dark knight gothic, but the blacks and blues contrast the overwhelming light greatly. 

Secondly as to why I like it is because the whole fit just screams Odtsetseg vibes. She was inspired by Thavnair’s dancing arts, sure. However she is somewhat modest by nature, due to coming from climes that could become rather cold especially in the winter. So while the glam shows a little skin, it’s not outright showy, like the level 80 dancer set. The feathers meanwhile while not necessarily Mongolian-looking [that I know of], can be reminiscent of at least some other tribes. Plus the fact that it is on jewelry of all things is very nice.

The final reason I enjoy it is well... mainly for nostalgic purposes. My first ever game that I owned, played and completed was Dragon Quest IX Sentinels of the Starry Skies and the female minstrel armor was one of my favorite armor pieces of all time. So this outfit I put Odtsetseg in kind of reminds me of that, 

Anyway, that is all. Thank u for coming to my ted talk.

#BREAK FREE! TWO-PHASE TWO-PHASE ELECTRICITY (visage) #FROM ACROSS STARS SHADE FOLLOWS MY STEP (shadowbringers) #((can you believe only one person flirted with her in this expansion? smh))

[blakeboldt-blog]

Best Albums of 2019

Top 10:

"Jaime," Brittany Howard.

"In the Morse Code of Brake Lights," The New Pornographers.

"Between the Country," Ian Noe.

"Mint Condition," Caroline Spence.

"While I'm Livin'," Tanya Tucker.

"Father of the Bride," Vampire Weekend.

"Remind Me Tomorrow," Sharon Van Etten.

"Titanic Rising," Weyes Blood.

"Legacy! Legacy!" Jamila Woods.

"Walk Through Fire," Yola.

Honorable mention:

"U.F.O.F." Big Thief.

"Assume Form," James Blake.

"Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest," Bill Callahan.

"This Land," Gary Clark, Jr.

"In Search of the Miraculous," Desperate Journalist.

"Magdalene," FKA Twigs.

"thank u, next," Ariana Grande.

"Terms of Surrender," Hiss Golden Messenger.

"On the Line," Jenny Lewis.

"Cuz I Love You," Lizzo.

"Stronger Than the Truth," Reba McEntire.

"Blood," Allison Moorer.

"Saves the World," MUNA.

"Songs of Our Native Daughters," Our Native Daughters.

"Pony," Orville Peck."

Jimmy Lee," Raphael Saadiq.

"Dépaysé," Sinkane.

"Sound & Fury," Sturgill Simpson.

"Eraserland," Strand of Oaks.

"Miss Universe," Nilüfer Yanya.

Songs: 

"Almeda," Solange.

"Ain't Got No Money," Justin Townes Earle.

"Bad Case," Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real.

"Bags," Clairo.

“Bible and a .44," Trisha Yearwood.

"Black Patch," Kelsey Waldon.

"Blazing Highway Home," Josh Ritter.

"Blume," Nerija.

"The Bones," Maren Morris.

"A Boy Is a Gun," Tyler, the Creator.

"Burning," Maggie Rogers.

"Bus Route," Tyler Childers.

"Calliope," Cassius.

"Caught on the Inside," Ten Fé.

"Cheap Silver," Mike & the Moonpies.

"Cheatin' Songs," Midland.

"Circle Game," Pink.

"Count on Me," The Lone Bellow.

"Cruel Summer," Taylor Swift.

"Dark and Handsome," Blood Orange.

"Dark Places," Beck.

"The Daughters," Little Big Town.

"Delta Line," Emily Scott Robinson.

"Desert Man," Bat for Lashes.

"Don't Feel Like Crying," Sigrid.

"Estrella," Cass McCombs.

"Far from Home," Aubrie Sellers.

"Father," Robert Ellis.

"Fixture Picture," Aldous Harding.

"Freelance," Toro y Moi.

"Ghost," Kaina.

"Gone," Charli XCX.

"Gonna Write Me a Letter," Rhiannon Giddens/Francesco Turisi.

"Good Scare," TORRES.

"The Greatest," Lana Del Rey.

"Hallelujah," HAIM.

"He," Jai Paul.

"Heavy on My Mind," Mavis Staples.

"Hello Sunshine," Bruce Springsteen.

"Hey, Bus Driver!" Tami Nielsen.

"Hey, Ma," Bon Iver.

"Hold On," Aimee Mann.

"Hot Air Balloons," Tank and the Bangas.

"Hot Girl Summer," Megan Thee Stallion.

"Human Question," The Yawpers.

"Hungry Child," Hot Chip.

"Hurry on Home," Sleater-Kinney.

"Hurt," Gallant.

"I Don't Wanna Ride the Rails (No More)," Vince Gill.

"In the Capital," Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever.

"Incapable," Roisin Murphy.

"It's Time," Leonard Cohen.

"Jesus & Elvis," Hayes Carll.

"Lark," Angel Olsen.

"Light Years," The National.

"Lonely As You Are," Charles Bradley.

"Loose Change," Highwomen.

"Lovestained," Hope Tala.

"Lying Down," Celine Dion.

"Messed with My Mind," Molly Tuttle.

"Midnight Sun," Calexico/Iron & Wine.

"Mirage," Jessie Ware.

"Mirror in the Sky," Peaking Lights.

"Mother's Mother's Magazines," Cate le Bon.

"Nighttime Drive," Jay Som.

"No Bullets Spent," Spoon.

"On the Edge of Time," Jens Lekman.

"One More Song to Write," Willie Nelson.

"One Night Standards," Ashley McBryde.

"Open Book," Kalie Shorr.

"Patience," Tame Impala.

"A Perfect Wife," Frank Turner.

"Runner," Tennis.

"The Seduction of Kansas," Priests.

"Send Me a Postcard," Bob Mould.

"Shine a Little Light," The Black Keys.

"Sisyphus," Andrew Bird.

“Solid Ground," Michael Kiwanuka.

"Someone Else," Emotional Oranges.

"Sparrow," Emeli Sandé.

"Starry Night," Peggy Gou.

"Stay with Me," Hatchie.

"Suge," daBaby.

"Talk," Khalid/Disclosure.

"Tell the World I Do," Dee White."

That's Just the Way I Feel," Purple Mountains.

"The Thing That Wrecks You," Lady Antebellum w/ Little Big Town.

"Track Record," Miranda Lambert.

"Used to Be Lonely," Whitney.

"Virile," Moses Sumney.

"Want You in My Room," Carly Rae Jepsen.

"War in My Mind," Beth Hart.

"Water Me Down," Vagabon.

"Weeping Willow," Ruston Kelly.

"Where I Come From," Patty Griffin.

"Working on a Song," Todd Snider. 

"Xanny," Billie Eilish.

"Yellow Cloud," Trixie Mattel.

"You've Got Other Girls for That," Lillie Mae.

"Young Enough," Charly Bliss.

[pluviophile-imagines]

I associate you with the sound of rain pattering against my windows, that comfortable feeling that seeps into my bones and tells me that today is a good day to start writing. I associate you with each and every one of our shared favourite medias, but I'm especially reminded of you whenever I see something related to Shigaraki, Gojo, or twst in general at this point. You're associated with cats, the Oh Hellos, with the specific shade of seafoam green you pointed out to me that one time you wanted it as your role colour in discord, every single time I see a pretty aesthetic nature post or when the stars look particularly nice of an evening. Truth is, I associate you with almost everything in my life that brings me joy, because so do you 😌

BLAKIEEEEE I rlly teared up reading this one I can’t. Even go through the individual ones or I’ll fucking dedicate a paragraph to each one,,,, but AHHHHH thank you thank you thank you ilysm I’m so happy we found each other…

That second one 🥺 mr sir idk how u expect me to go on knowing u associate me with good writing days… starry skies I’m simply a puddle WAAAAAA

what do you associate with me?

#ask.🌧 #venexus-but-not #pluvi’s pals

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

I read ur gojo x reader for tenth time and im crying 😭😭💕💕

I wanna make u feel how im feeling rn too so here's ur Giyu imagine for today/tonight ^^ :

"...Giyu proposes to you under a starry sky,on top of a hill where gentle breeze make your hairs dance around you...

He'll stare at you in the eyes,his words deep and filled with love as he shows you the small, diamond ring."

What will ur answer be?

My answer is YES

My pretty handsome boy Giyuu proposes to me agshfdklakff I’d never take off the ring. Hold hands with him and have our rings press against each other’s skin to remind us and then I giggle like an idiot heheheheh and then he presses my hand into the mattress while intertwining fingers and it shines brightly in the corner of his eyes all the while he’s pound— 🤭

And I’m glad you’re rereading my work that much. means it’s good 😭💗 i was afraid I didn’t write Gojo that way people would enjoy him and I got scramble brain halfway through and I felt like my thoughts won’t coherent in the fic Lolol but I’m happy it still came out good!! Thank you all so much for all the love on it ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ ♡

#crimsonkenjii rambles #crimsonkenjii answers #Giyuu my beloved 💗