#He's such an ugly little thing I love him so much

[wriokitty]

if you hold me without hurting me (you’ll be the first who ever did) — ft. sylus

synopsis: sylus is too causal with accepting pain. you don’t like seeing him hurt, so the best solution you can come up with is seeing him in pleasure

❤︎ word count: 2.4k words — it’s a miracle i kept it this short

❤︎ before you read: female hunter reader ; mature content. not suitable for minors ; not an established relationship but implied romantic connection. idk it’s complicated LOL ; injured sylus ; described blood and injuries ; evol inhibitors to make his injuries a bit more serious ; not proof read : hand jobs ; banter ; that’s pretty much it just wanted to write him cumming

❤︎ comments: i am posting this 3 mins before i need to leave for work this man has me hustling before my hustle rip

The safe house is quiet. Not including the sounds of Sylus’s low, pained grunts as you dress his wounds, it’s quiet. You’re quiet, and it’s unsettling—on a typical day, you’re more than half the noise.

(In a good way, of course. Sylus is not a liar by any means, and saying he doesn’t like the constant sound of your voice as you talk would be a ridiculously big lie. He values the truth in things.)

It means you’re brooding. Sulky, petulant brooding. He’ll just have to fix that, he thinks—and soon, too.

“I’ll have to trouble you a bit longer, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breaking the silence as he glances at his arm.

You glance up and stare at the damage: a stab wound to his abdomen, a gash on his arm, and ugly, unwelcome bruises littering across soft, slightly tanned skin.

You frown. It borders on a scowl. He watches as you carefully stitch the wound closed on his lower belly with precise fingers. (Faintly, his mind registers that you’re good at this. Too good at this. He doesn’t like the implications of that—not for his own case and especially not for yours.)

“Does it hurt?” You mumble, finally.

Sylus is not a liar by any means, so he hums, titling your chin up and forcing you to pause. “Yes,” he says truthfully. You’d never guess he was in pain just by the look on his face—but there are always signs if you look close enough.

Sticky, sweaty skin. Deep, labored breaths. Slumped posture that’s so far from his usual tall, towering stance. He looks just a bit tired, too. Like sleeping (something he rarely does enough to be considered healthy) would be his ideal course of action right now.

You frown at his admission. “I told you not to get so close,” you huff, “you never wait for me.”

He chuckles. Deep, slow. Every time Sylus laughs, you’re reminded how powerful he is. How even through the sound of his amusement alone, he sounds important. Wealthy, too, if you’re being honest—he laughs like the rich. But that’s always amused you more than it’s impressed.

“You seem rather distraught, love. Dare I say….you’re concerned?”

“You’re too smart to act this stupid,” you spit.

He grins. It’s large, wide, and all too smug for someone who’s under your hands as you mend back torn skin. Gently, he hums, “so the kitten bears her fangs. How cute.”

Your mood is getting increasingly worse. Sylus knows that—but sometimes, he’s a little selfish. Pushing you harder, cornering you against the wall with smart words and sly teasing is the only way to make you open up sometimes.

And, well, Sylus is no liar. He can’t say he hates getting under your skin entirely—it makes you look at him. And he likes your attention. But more than that, he likes knowing you care.

“You don’t think I’m capable,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes.

“And when did I say that, Miss Hunter?”

“You don’t have to say it, I just know. Otherwise, you’d listen when I tell you to wait,” comes your agitated reply.

Sylus does not wait for you. He jumps into a fight without letting you step foot onto the battlefield. Most times, it’s a minor form of irritation on your end when you’re itching to get in a good few hits. Sometimes, like now, it makes your emotions saturated in every form of distress.

Anger. Sadness. Regret. Panic. All of it simmers and simmers until you feel you’re overflowing with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

He pays the price today—one sloppy dodge of a blade, and it impales his lower abdomen with precision, lacing him with something. Something that evidently is rather good at repressing his evol—he can’t fight nearly as well let alone heal.

You can’t help but feel useless. More than anything, under appreciated. Maybe, if he’d waited just a moment so you could have covered him, then maybe your night would end with less blood on your hands and less pain on his.

“You’re also too bright to act this dim,” he says lowly, voice just a bit tight with pain. You tighten his stitches, and he doesn’t even grimace despite the clearly unpleasant sensation.

“Do tell me,” you glare, “just what am I being dim about?”

“If you think I don’t recognize your capabilities,” he drawls, studying the knife that once tore through his flesh slowly. It’ll be analyzed at the base. You’re certain he’ll figure out just what the blade was laced with and trace it back to its origins soon enough. He sets it down and meets your eyes—deep, rich crimson bleeding into your gaze. “Then maybe you’re not as good at seeing the bigger picture as I thought.”

“That you’re a smug bastard who likes to prove you’re better on your own?”

“That I care about you,” he says plainly. “I can handle it. It’s better you than me.”

“You could have died,” you hiss, “if I wasn’t there—”

“I’d have lived either way,” he says smugly. “Killing me is a rather difficult thing to do. Inflicting pain, on the other hand….well, at least it keeps things interesting.”

Your face drops. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so right. You can injure him all you want, but he heals fast enough that he’s here to stay. Like an annoying thorn that keeps pricking you as you pick roses. Like a weed that just keeps growing back the more you tear them from the ground. He comes back. Annoying as he is, he comes back. And you don’t mind that so much—you think you might even need it that way.

But it always hurts. He bleeds red just like any other person. Grimaces here and there despite how accustomed he is to the agony. Somewhere along the line, his pain became yours.

And you can’t help but be hyper aware of how much you despise it.

“I hate when you’re hurt,” you whisper.

“I’ll live,” he soothes, cupping your cheek and swiping a stray tear with a large, callused thumb. You shiver, pouting slightly at the words. “I’ve had worse.”

“But you still feel the pain.”

“Can anyone really avoid that, sweetie?” He raises an amused brow.

Before he can open his mouth to add more, you lean closer, careful not to hurt his wound as you press against his chest and bury your head into his neck, pressing a light kiss to the skin.

His breath hitches, and you think you’ve finally gotten through that thick, stubborn front of his.

“If it hurts,” you murmur, “then I can make it feel good.”

He shivers—barely, of course. But he shivers. It’s a small win. “Oh?” He asks carefully, his good arm curling around your waist to keep you in place. “And how so?”

You press a lingering kiss to his jaw. Your lips are not strangers to Sylus. They know him as well as he knows them too, but you’ve always danced along the edge of more than friends and less than lovers. One second, you think you’ve crossed over the line with graceful steps, the next you fall ten steps back.

Right now, you think you don’t care. Line be damned and whether you’re just friends or lovers, you couldn’t be more unbothered.

“I don’t like when people touch you,” you admit, “not at all. But especially not so….rough.”

“Mmh, jealous are we? Don’t worry, you’re the only one I willingly let touch me,” he grins. You roll your eyes, watching as he shuffles back to lean against the couch and relax.

“I should be the only one who touches you,” you say with an air of petulance.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, placating your mood, “then show me something more gentle,” he whispers.

You smile. It’s the first one of the night, lips curling against the shell of his ear as you breathe, “oh I intend to.”

Just like that, your hand trails up his thigh, carefully tracing along the inner edge of his leg before your palm roams over his crotch. There’s a bulge forming as if on command. Your ego boosts just a little—for all his strength and endurance, one brief, mere little touch from you forces his body to react against his will.

“Is this really where you should be putting in all your effort?” His breath hitches, and the tips of his ears flush a pretty, soft little pink, “my arm still has an open wound, you know.”

“You’ve had worse,” you repeat his words back to him, “but let me show you better.”

It’s quick work, unblocking his belt and unzipping him just enough to gently pull out his half-hard cock. You glance down, smiling at the small bead of pre cum that leaks from the tip, forming a kind little opportunity for you to watch him squirm as your thumb grazes his cockhead to collect it.

You smear it along his length as you slowly stroke him to full hardness, and he offers you a shaky little huffed out, “fuck,” under his breath.

“Does that hurt, too?” You hum, nose pressing into his jaw as you kiss his neck.

“No,” he sighs, melting into you, “no it feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“Do you see how nice it is when you just trust me?” You scold, “now apply this to the battlefield, too.”

He chuckles deeply at that, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to fuck his hips into your fist—his stitches are still fragile enough that he doesn’t want to risk tearing them. Instead, he has to trust that you’ll give him what he needs, all on your own.

“I’d rather get hurt and be spoiled like this,” he mumbles, “than risk anything happing to you. Seems like a better option if you ask me.”

“So stubborn,” you click your teeth.

Sylus is not a liar. You know that. If he says you’re capable, then you believe him—and if he says that he’d rather take the brunt of injuries and the pain that comes with them just to finish a fight before you can be involved, you know it’s not a lie. But you don’t always like the truth. You don’t like knowing he uses himself as a shield of sorts for you, as some wall between you and pain or maybe even death just because he can. Just because he heals. Just because he thinks he should.

You don’t always like the truth. Sometimes, you’d rather live in a lie.

So you tell yourself he thinks you’re less than him. That you’re lacking and beneath his approval and you have something to prove—so your hand tightens around his thick, reddened cock and you stroke fast. Quick and to the point.

Enough to have him groaning with an arm instinctively moving to cover his eyes as he throws his head back—only he hisses, feeling the stinging tug on his gash as he moves.

You hum, guiding his arm back down as you cup his cheek and murmur, “careful now. You’re hurt—I wonder whose fault that is.”

He rolls his eyes at the comment—but one swipe of your thumb through his slit has them rolling back in pleasure before he can glare at you. “You’re rather smug today,” he huffs, “do you like seeing me defenseless, sweetheart?”

“Not for the reasons you might think,” you say sweetly, grinning as you peck his cheek. Right where you cut him the first time you met. Right where you think you’ll always have to soothe so he knows you didn’t mean it.

Not anymore, at least.

“You’re far from the innocent kitten you seem to be,” he grins, huffing out a soft laugh as it tapers off into a light, breathy moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to make you forget the pain?”

“Oh yes,” he grins. Suddenly, a wave of red wraps around your hand and forces your grip to tighten. “I’ve forgotten I was injured at all.”

His evol, you realize—it’s back.

You stare at the gash on his arm—crimson on crimson as the flurry of his power replaces the blood, leaving behind soft, healthy skin. Not a scar left behind. Not a trace of pain. Not even a faint line of where torn flesh mended together and became new.

He’s had worse, you remember. And he comes back from it every damn time.

Still, you think—you’re going to give him better.

“I don’t want you hurting because of me,” you breathe, leaning into his chest and pressing your weight against him without worry, now. Your hand fists his shirt as his arms wrap around you and keep you close.

Your hand glides along his girth between your bodies, working him up slowly, slowly, slowly until it all feels like it’ll come crashing down all at once. His breath hitches as he lets out a light groan of your name.

It sounds pretty on his tongue. You’re more determined to pull nicer sounds from him, too, so you kiss under his ear lobe, sucking gently on the skin and feeling him let out a soft, labored gasp.

“Will you spoil me like this every time I’m hurt?” Sylus breathes.

You scowl and hiss, “no. Absolutely not. Then you’ll just get hurt more.”

He smiles smugly at the retort, biting his lip as you squeeze your fist around him tighter. “A smart little kitten, aren’t you? Sharpening your claws.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like me enough to worry. I think that says enough.”

“Asshole,” you glare.

He’s shameless, you think. Because the insult brings him to the edge, his mouth falling open to a beautiful face of bliss, body quivering under you in soft tremors of pleasure. Sylus is beautiful. Dark, rough around the edges, and uncut stone with sharp corners. Beautiful enough to want, dangerous enough to slice your fingers if you don’t know how to touch him properly.

You admire him as he spills into your hands, his lips desperately searching yours as he leans closer and pulls you into a kiss, heavy breaths pouring into your mouth as he gives himself to you.

“Good,” he pants, “you…you make me feel so good.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be here for,” you murmur, “so you don’t have to feel pain.”

You stroke him through his orgasm, until he’s soft and pliant and limp under your touch. Gently, you stroke his cheek with a thumb as you cup his face. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes.

“As capable as you are,” he says quietly, “I like the idea of you spending your energy in other fields of expertise. Sue me.”

“I should,” you purse your lips. “Sue you for all you’re worth.”

“It’ll be worth the troubles,” he says smugly, “you’ll get quite the sum if you manage to.”

And he’s not a liar, either—so you scoff at his smug, truth-telling grin before giving his curved lips a small peck.

Girl . Idk

[pricetagged]

idk I just torturing simon and I love the idea of him—at some stage of his life, idk maybe immediately after he's declared dead— not having anywhere to stay.

His residence in Manchester got gutted and sold, greedy estate agents and solicitors picking it apart as soon as they got the death notice.

He could rent hotel rooms. Stay in the barracks. But sometimes he just needs—space. Familiarity. Simon Riley is dead and buried, but not buried deep enough.

So he goes back to his old house. He knows every nook and cranny. Knows which floorboards creak and which doors get stuck. He'll just cosy away in the attic and come out when the new tenant is at work, no problem. Barracks-living, only the other person won't know. It'll only be for a few weeks at a time—

—but he catches sight of you. The new tenant. Sweet little thing who saw the ugly, empty shell and decided it was for her.

Not a lot of money, no. But you've tried to make a home here. Decorated over the gouges and scars, filled the empty spaces with little signs of life.

You've taken such good care of the place. You're taking such good care of it, all by yourself. Off to work in the morning, and home late at night when it's far too dark and he knows the latch isn't as secure as it should be —kicked and shouldered too many times when his mum would work the courage to kick out his da—

So you need him. You're not saying it in words, but what is he meant to think when he sees how you leave the windows open all through the day and night? When you shuffle about on your weekends with only a playlist or podcast for company?

You need him. Good thing he's already there.

Go read this thing by gougie if u like the 'there's someone living here' thing - they do it sooooo much better

[burrowkit]

Ah, on phone so this’ll have to be ugly and quick. I’ve got a jealous cat.

Over the last year or so, I’ve finally done it. I’ve grown in power. My ability to heal has extended to all life and souls.

I have raised my armies.

They kicked me out. They told me I wasn’t needed. That they could survive on fast potions thrown together by idiots.

They have no idea how much time and effort it takes to make each potion! I had crafted each healing effort, carefully tailoring them for each member of our party.

Like Carl. Thanks to me, his eyes were fully restored, and then some.

And Sean. Sean, Sean, Sean, Sean, Sean. His wheelchair fell apart, and he was a captured by our enemy. Their enemy.

When we recaptured him, they’d mangled his ears badly enough to never hear again.

Or so they thought.

I’d carefully healed his ears, enabling him to hear from great lengths.

And the leader. Rick. Real rich if him. A potion doesn’t cure a pile through the brain!

But you know who could? Who already did it once for him?

Yeah, that’s right. I did.

He was on the brink of death. By all common sense, none of them should have survived.

But they did.

Over the last year, I’ve been consumed with enacting my perfect revenge.

I head out, the world seemingly to twist and twirl to make travelling that much quicker. My power weaves into the world around me. Into my very being.

I know where they’ll be.

It seemingly takes me no time to reach them.

I prepare my attack, watching their cabin.

I wait until it’s dark, summoning all the predators of the woods. All the ones I helped bring back from the brink of death.

At least THEY know loyalty.

We approach the cabin. It’s surrounded.

I open the door, my loud argument prepared.

The words die in my throat.

They weren’t hiding in this cabin to scout out their next mission.

Around them, I see marks of a dead parasite. One incapable of being destroyed by a healer. Only by the death of all those around it.

I move forward, careful not to touch the parasite itself. Its magic is dark, so I shouldn’t be able to heal it. Still, I dare not chance it.

Rick, the gun in his hand, his face frozen, eternally unable to decompose due to the toxins in the parasite, in an expression of complete grief.

Sean, slumped into his wheelchair, as if he… collapsed. As if he were once a doll held by strings which were now… cut.

I look for Carl, finding him just by the kitchen door, a gunshot there.

The temptations to bring them back are there. Despite my hatred. My plans…

Of maybe because of my plans. I want to bring them back just for that.

I turn back to the table, and find a single journal. One written my Rick.

I skim it quickly, terrified of lingering.

I find the note for the week before I was ‘dismissed’.

Carl could see the enemy in the distance, attempting to watch us. Sean said he could get closer to listen in.

I read the next note.

Sean brings troubling news, their latest attempts to thwart us involve a parasite. I’ve perused Jane’s books. I’m so sorry, Jane for touching them. Forgive me, I had to know what to look for.

Next page.

Carl says he sees what Jane’s books have described. But worse. Sean fears for our safety. This parasite… it loves to prey on those that run from it.

We cannot leave. We can only prepare. It’ll hunt our group until it kills us all.

Another page…

Lying to Jane is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She’s the only one who can defeat The King. She does not yet know of the parasite. She can run from it. She won’t know she’s leaving it behind, nor that the rest of our fates are tied.

And the final one…

If you’re reading this, Jane. I am deeply sorry. You were like our little sister. You have gifted us each a gift we were unworthy to receive. And yet, we used these gifts to ensure your safety.

We lured the parasite here, trapping it with us.

I will do what I must to prevent it from chasing after you. It needs a host. It cannot survive long outside of a living host.

Please forgive us.

It’s dated for a month after I left.

After I was thrown away… no. Not thrown away like trash.

I was shoved into a life boat and told that I wasn’t needed to keep the ship running and here… now I’m back with my armada…

The ship I was on has sunk. Destroyed. A leak in the hull no one shared with me.

They kept the burden to themselves.

They traded their lives for mine.

Tears roll down my cheeks, and I leave the cottage, willing flame to lick it clean. To wipe away the remains of a fierce parasite.

Fire. A simple trick I learned as a child to cauterize a wound. Now?

Now, I’m ready to burn the world down.

To take my newfound abilities to destroy those that wish me and my loved ones to perish in terrifying ways.

“Let’s kill us a king,” I inform my army, walking past them.

They howl and cheer in the way they can. One of them nudges me, encouraging me to ride on it.

I take the offer.

After all, it always looks more terrifying when the villains arrives on a wolf.

And me?

I’ll be the villain to the tyrannical king who was once the hero of these lands.

I just hope that when all is said and done…

I can be seen as a hero to his villain.

As I ride, I let my magic nudge around the destroyed cabin, encouraging the forest to swallow it in plant life.

What better way to guard their deaths than by wrapping them in one last bubble of my healing magic?

“To slay the king!” I shout.

My army returns my shout in the way they can. I grin, relaxing slightly.

No one should ever have to lose what I lost. Not at the cost of trying to do right in this world.

Your a healer and was kicked out of the hero’s party because “Healers aren’t needed, just use potions”. You become powerful using your hate and distain for the hero’s party as a driving force. Only to learn, they kicked you out to protect you

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

[yandere-daydreams]

Secretary birds specialise in knocking down and pinning their prey to the ground and immobilise it and Suguru is no different, though today his quarry of choice is hunted for a different purpose. He had seen you many times from a distance using his keen eyesight and powerful wings to watch unnoticed as you went about your daily routine.

Cobra!reader who is rough and reckless, always top of the food chain and always can rely on venom in a fight.

Secretary Bird!Suguru who engages you in a fight and once you're on the ground wastes no time in getting on top to pin you down

not completely immune to the venom himself he secures your mouth with a muzzle so as not to risk incidents in future

Even bound and secured you haven't given up but that's okay, Suguru has plenty of time to teach you that your true place is below him... besides, cobras can lay more eggs than a secretary bird...

tw - hybrid au, non/con.

hmmm perhaps i will take a dip after all. just a little one though.

i think it's a matter of perspective. you think of yourself as the strongest thing on or below the ground - not particularly physical imposing, but equipped with a venom potent enough to paralyze a full-grown giraffe and cocky enough to make a show out of it. you spend your days lounging in the sun, filling your stomach with cool water and warm prey, and generally being a menace to whatever living creature happens to be nearby. you're less of a snake and more of a pest, but don't worry - geto finds it endearing.

geto knows he the strongest thing on, below, or above the ground. what's more, he chooses to spend his days watching you. there might've been a time he thought of you as prey, something to be beaten and consumed, but recently, he's taken on a more charitable mindset, come around to the idea of domesticating what he can't bring himself to devour. you might struggle against it, might thrash you tail and bare your fangs and call him such ugly names as he pins you down in the tall grass, but all your attempts to bite him do is earn you a harsher touch and your own wrist forcibly impaled on those vicious little teeth of yours. by the time he's done with you, you're a sniffling mess, wallowing in your own self-pity and unable to so much as blink as the byproducts of his love drip from the slit in your scales. you aren't a very good mate just yet, but that's alright.

he's sure you'll make a wonderful pet, in the meantime.

[ihaznoclue]

You're not like other people [Part 2]

Looks like people wanted part 2 and I'm all here for it >:>

Part 2 of you're not like other people (Shadow x Reader)

Pairings -> Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Warnings -> Maybe a little bit of violence, Panic attack, Family issues

Note -> Not everything is perfect until your abusive family finds you but fear not! Shadow is there to protect you like he promised

Genre -> Angst to Fluff

Shadow the Hedgehog

It has now been a couple of weeks since Shadow has been found by you, Shadow was a huge help around the house as he helped do the dishes with you

Cleaned with you

Made the beds with you

Swept the floors with you

He also learned on how to do the washing by himself

You loved his company and he loved yours

You and him were going so well together as his trust for you start to rise as he started to like you more and more as you showed your sweetness towards him which you'd did the moment you found him on the ground in the grass field

Shadow was loving it here, the peace and quiet and that nothing was going to bother you two

But Shadow still has yet to know your past and the truth about you, your past was terrible and you never wanted to live how you lived when you were younger

Your abusive family hated you with their guts as they always loved to call you the 'mistake'

The 'mistake' that caused the family to go down hill the moment you were born, but you weren't spoiled like your siblings nor loud like them

They just hated you because you were sensitive and quiet and that you didn't do anything to stick up for yourself

So that gave them a reason to cause your childhood a living hell

By the time you turned 20, you ran away. You did some jobs along the way until you saved up enough money to live on your own and have a little peace for yourself without anyone hurting you or causing chaos

You loved it, you loved not having to get hit or hurt for making the smallest mistakes

Then you found Shadow and he helped you ever since he started to like you, he helped so much you always had free time to do something for yourself

Shadow was there to help and protect you like a delicate flower, a flower that is worth protecting and saving for

Today was a lovely day as you went out to pick some flowers that was near your house, Shadow was just in the house doing some last minutes chores to finish once you get back

You were out for a while and that caused Shadow fur to stick up, it always did that when danger was around. He immediately went out to go looking for, you said you were just going to pick up some flower to decorate your house a bit.

But you were out for nearly 2 hours. He began to shout for you by screaming out your name, the flower field was not far from here so he used chaos control to teleport there to only find you and a bunch of random people.

He didn't know that they were your abusive family trying to get you back, he saw a man stomping up to you as he slapped you across the face.

Shadow snarled as his quills stuck up, he then used one last teleportation to teleport right in front of you causing the woman to scream who was your mother

"Ew! What is that ugly looking creature!?" You huffed as you rolled your eyes

Shadow's ears flicked at that but it didn't bother him one bit as he is used to name calling

His ear was pinned flat as he snarled at the people "I am Shadow, the ultimate life-form. If I see you hurting Y/N again, you will regret it" Shadow huffed as he growled

Your mum was terrified as your father was in shock, your mother started to pull your father away as he started to shout at you

"You will regret leaving this family, DO YOU HEAR! If it wasn't for that thing, I wouldn't of dragged you myself! You were a mistake! A MISTAKE!" Your father shouted once more

You were trying so hard to not cry, not in front of Shadow who was now worried for you as he clung his hand to your pants, his ears were still flat on his head to show that he was worried for you

The wind blew, moving the flowers around you and causing your hair to swoosh behind you as your eyes teared up a little

"Let's go back home-" You said as you plastered a fake smile on your face

Shadow nodded as he held your hand in yours as you both walked back to the house, you couldn't believe that your family found you after all this time they wanted you back

For what?

To torture you..

To Bully you...

To make you actually think you're a mistake that you shouldn't live anymore from all the suffering you've been though...

Shadow noticed your mood chance as he tugged on your hand causing you to come back to reality from thinking too much

You looked in front of you as you noticed that you are both back home, you got your keys and opened the door as you and Shadow went inside

Shadow was still worried about you after what just happened to you, he could see the slap mark becoming visible as he went to go grab a wet cloth to sooth the slap on your cheek

While Shadow was gone to grab you something, you broke down as you slide down on the wall as your curled up into a ball sobbing

This wasn't the first time this has happened, you've had many panic attacks when you were living with your family, they didn't care to help you as they just pretended your weren't there

No-one cared to help you

No-one...

You were losing it, you thought you were free and unchained but today was the worst of all

They found you..

You didn't actually think they were going back to find you again..

Were they going to hunt you down even if it meant hurting you..

Were you just a toy to them?

All these thoughts covered your mind as you couldn't think anymore, your crying became more and more louder, your sobs reached Shadow as his ear flicked at the helpless sound from you

He dropped everything and ran back to you to see you in a bad state as you couldn't stop

Shadow didn't really know what to do, but he remembered that Maria said something about what to do

'Stay with them until they know that you are there for them, holding their hand and comfort them until they calm down'

Those were the words he remembered so he slowly and carefully sat down next to you causing to you relax a bit

He held his hand out for you grab, which of course you did. He could feel you shaking just from holding your hand, your breathing became shaken and short

He started to panic

'Take some breathing lessons with them, Breath in and out'

Shadow knew what he had to do, he brushed some hair out of your way as he cradled your face in his hands, his hands were warm and soft

Your eyes were blurred by the tears, you sniffed as you looked at Shadow

"I'm here for you.. Try to take deep breaths in and out with me. Can you do that?" He spoke in a soft tone that caused you to calm down a bit

You nodded, your face was still cradled as you followed his instructions as you breathed in and out with him until you fully relaxed

"There you go.."

"Sorry I didn't mean to crash out like that" You apologized

Shadow tilted his head in confusion on why you were apologizing to him about having a panic attack

He shook his head as he gave you a gentle smile, lifting your head up a bit

"You don't need to be sorry, It happens" Shadow spoke as he brushed his thumbs over your cheek to get rid of some tears that fell down

You sniffed as you wiped away your tears, your face looked red and puffy from all the crying you just did

"How about we go somewhere more comfy, I bet the floor is very uncomfortable right now"

You gave out a little laugh as you stood up from the floor, you and Shadow walked to your bedroom as you both laid down on the bed

Shadow had your head on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thumping. He also didn't mind you playing and touching his chest fur, but you couldn't resist it was too fluffy

You were getting quite sleepy from all the chaos that happened today and maybe from Shadow stroking your hair softly with his fingers

After a couple more minutes you fell right asleep, Shadow looked down to see your peaceful sleeping face as he gave a smile, leaning down to give you a little kiss on the forehead

"Rest well my love, I will protect you forever"

Shadow then fell asleep a few minutes after

AHHHHHHH

-A<3

[formosusiniquis]

never anything but sharing

For @genderthings Robin Gender Week Day 1: Sharing Pronouns

T | WC: 2123 | Genderqueer Robin (and also Steve) | Gender Identity; Fluff and Humor; Period Typical Discussion of Gender | AO3

The door of the Harrington house is unlocked when Robin storms through it. The only danger it would have any hope of delaying is seven unruly and unthankful children; today especially Robin appreciates that Steve has stopped making that effort. It makes it a lot easier to storm in and pull him off the couch by the hair and drag him into the nearest bathroom.

“Ow, Robin! The part is in the mail, the truck will be running by Sunday. Ow!” He doesn’t stop complaining until she has them in her favorite full-sized bathroom with the ugly tile and jacuzzi tub.

 He’s Steve, Robin’s Steve, so he doesn’t glare so much as pout as he runs a hand through his mussed-up hair, pretending that he’s tender-headed even though he knows Robin knows better. “You’re worse than Henderson, you had to bike to work one day.”

“First of all, don’t ever say that to me. But do you think I dragged you in here to talk about our truck, this is serious.”

He crosses his arms in that way that tries for bitchy but these days lands closer to fondly disgruntled. Parental, maternal, in that way that suits Steve. “Okay well seriously start talking then. I think you ripped out a clump.”

Robin takes in a breath, using the exhale to force out the thing that had worried itself in there like a burr at 11:57 that Saturday afternoon. “Someone called me sir at work.”

Robin can feel the slow track of Steve’s eyes as they take in the outfit. The wide-shouldered blazer and the pants in a different but complementary plaid pattern. Underneath is a t-shirt and, with the biking, Chuck Taylors had been a must though the thrifted, wingtip, dress shoes had called out from the closet begging to be worn instead.

“How do we feel about that?”

Always we. Steve hadn’t even been there and it’s a them problem, it’s easier to think in terms of them and we.

“She wasn’t looking at me from the front,” Robin says. That feels important to stress for some reason. Do they look like a sir from the front? Probably not, and Robin isn’t sure what the emotion that’s sitting below the breastbone at the thought of that is. 

“I was reshelving in Romance and she came up behind me and was all…” Trailing off all Robin can do is gesture, flapping hands leading away from a body that has become a source of confusion.

Arms still crossed, lazily now, relaxed. Cool and lean in the way Steve can be but only when the effort is accidental. He nods. “Oh, that makes more sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Steve’s hands on their shoulders, Robin is turned toward the mirror with Steve just behind in a blink. “From the back you have the same haircut as Byers.”

“You take that back right now.” Robin watches as their mouth moves in the mirror.

“It’s better, cause you steal my product. But when you don’t let me style it, it can get a little Byers-y.”

They’re in the ugly bathroom with the seafoam green tiles that have the print that makes no sense for a bathroom but Robin loves. That’s the only reason the counter beneath their fingers is bare. That it doesn’t have the accusing army of mousse and hairspray that has been slowly infiltrating the Buckley house.

“So you’re saying since I have a Byers-y haircut-”

“Not the whole haircut, just from the back and just sometimes.”

“That’s the only reason I’d be called sir.”

Steve slouches against the wall by the mirror. There’s a careful nothingness to the way he’s looking at them that means he saw something Robin didn’t mean to show. That he heard something in the forced sarcstic lilt in her voice.

“Do you want to be called sir?” The forced casualness extends to the question.

It makes Robin feel hysterical. Get prescribed a visit to the seaside, the real remedy is a good vibrator hysterical. “I’m a lesbian, Steve. That’s- I’ve always been a lesbian, it’s the one thing- So I can’t be a sir or a he-”

“Why not?”

The guidance-counselor-calm is infuriating, even as they make that mental note to add that to the list of things Steve could be good at if he wanted a traditional job. Robin could teach music, band, they wouldn't be broken up.

“Because..? Because it’s too much, isn’t it?”

He cocks his head to the side, circling Robin and their problem carefully.

“It’s not all the time, right? We’ll share.”

“What?”

“We’ll share.” Steve repeats, moving now to settle into the massive jacuzzi tub. Lounging for real in its dry basin now that, in their mind, the problem has been solved

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Robin has to be careful in refusing. The two of them don't disagree. Trying to do it now tastes like ash on the tongue. Bitter and wrong.

“Why not?” Steve challenges. Brow raised in a way that hints at something bitchy like the girls at the last slumber party she’d been invited to, before she was too weird, right before someone got the dare that they’d asked for.

“That’s my shirt you’re wearing and you stole my favorite jeans last week. You’ll borrow my he and I’ll take your she and it’ll be fine.”

“Those aren’t the same thing, that’s not those words mean something.” Robin pleads. Begs Steve to be rational because Robin can’t be. Biked the five miles here faster than anyone ever has. Broke landspeed records and possibly the sound barrier powered by the feelings caused by a single word.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve says gently. But it’s Steve and gentle gives way to a catty eye roll and, “I saw that kangaroo song as a kid too, he will mean Robin sometimes and she can mean Steve and other times it’s the otherway around. It’s fine, Robbie.”

It’s Steve, Robin has to remember. Always remembers because Steve is something they are as aware of as their arm or leg or spleen. Intrinsic.

Steve would burn Hawkins to the ground for them: Robin, The Party, anyone close enough to be family.

What then would it be to him? To claim Robin’s errant she. He is Steve Harrrington. Hawkin’s perfect son. The Keg King, the reformed prep. Perfect in his John Hughes-ian glory. Everything a perfect corn-fed, Midwestern boy should be.

“But it has to mean something, you can’t just say that we’ll share because you want me to feel better.”

“When have I ever lied to make you feel better? I just told you when you don’t do anything with your hair it looks like Jonathan’s.”

“Yeah, and you’re the kind of freak who understands what Nancy sees in him.”

“And it isn’t his hair. Our whole friendship is based on saying what we really think, even when it’s annoying.”

“I thought it was based on you inability to resist doing your Miss Piggy impression.”

“Robin.” The stone seriousness of it drops Robin to their knees in front of the tub. Close enough to Steve that big hands can cup their face. “I love you. This is your moment, so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's fine.”

“It's fine.” Robin repeats.

“We’ll share.” Steve says.

“We’ll share.”

“You're a sir.” she says.

“I’m a he.” Robin says, “Today. Today I'm a he.”

“How does that feel?” She asks him.

“Good? Good. Oh my god Steve I don’t know how to be a he. This isn’t stealing your red sweater-”

She shrieks, “I knew you had my sweater!”

But it isn't going to distract him from the bigger picture. “I can’t just slip into your guy thing like it’s your clothes, you know that was the point.”

Arms crossed, she pouts, “The point sounds like you’ve been stealing my clothes.”

“Steve!”

“You don’t have to be anything to prove that you are something. Sometimes you’re a he, you don’t have to know how to shotgun a beer or something to prove it. I will show you the right way to do a keg stand, that’s a point of pride. And you should know how to fix up the truck, change a tire, to help you pick up babes.”

It's not the worst point ever made. Probably because some of it -- the first part, not the part about car maintenance as a tool of seduction though that has its merits too he supposes and it has a butch quality that is appealing -- is familiar.

“I hate when you quote me at me.”

“When did you tell me you were going to teach me to change a tire?”

“You know what I mean, dingus.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Steve says through her smile, “how else am I supposed to give you advice?”

“I love you.” Its the truest truth Robin can come up with at the moment. So true it's an understatement. Love too simple a word for what he feels right now and about Steve.

“I love you too.” She says back, and Robin knows its the same kind of feeling. “And you’ll love me even more when I teach you how to scale a trellis.”

“Why would I need to scale anything, why can’t I just go in the door?”

“It doesn’t have the same Prince Charming feeling. Girls love that stuff.”

“How many times have you fallen off the side of someone’s house?”

“Not as many times as you’re going to, Vickie’s house is laid out like a nightmare.”

He settles into the tub next to Steve. The oversized jacuzzi a tight fit for both of their bodies, but Steve lets him settle into her side like she doesn’t care that the faucet is digging into her shoulder. In sync, Steve lifts her head up enough that Robin can rest his in the space where shoulder and neck meet. The sound of Steve’s heartbeat in his ear gives his a steady rhythm to settle into after the flustered panic it had worked its way up to. Share, they can share.

Some things they can share.

He sits up enough to look Steve in the eye, a half-hearted glare that she wouldn’t buy for a second on his face. “Why have you been scoping out Vickie's house?”

“For you, obviously.” She says, rolling her eyes just like Robin had imagined. “I had to figure out the best point of entry.”

“It's not a siege.”

“It's breaking and entering, and it's embarrassing when someone catches you and it doesn't look cool. Trust me.”

“Some more expertise that you're sharing?”

“I'll share anything with you, Bobbin.”

He hears what's underneath that promise. Their bond forged in chaos, in danger, in blood, in fear. But it was honed in moments like these: honest, sincere, still frightened sometimes but touched by love and laughter.

“Even your green henley?”

He hopes she hears how he knows that Steve would do or give anything for him. His shirt, his time, his bathroom, his life. 

Whatever life may mean at that time. The actual thing, defending and protecting them all from whatever the next great evil is, or the more metaphorical life, marriage and it's safety net that they’ve discussed.

“Even all my best clothes when you have nothing in your closet you could possibly share too.”

“Welcome to the time honored tradition of girlhood, the friend that’s borrowing clothes from you is doing it for a reason. I’ll teach you how dress sizes work next time we’re at the thrift store.”

“Yeah okay, but who’s going to teach you that?”

She’s smiling as she says it, and the tub is too small a space for them to get a good fight started. Grief, the teasing kind, something they’ve always been good at sharing. So he takes his lumps and settles back down into the cradle of the tub and Steve’s arms that he moves elbows first. Let’s them share how unappreciated that dig might have been, the truth in it neither here nor there. 

They’ll lay here for a little bit longer, letting the moment settle. Sharing their space, their time, their breath, and probably the gossip from his day at Family Video without Steve. When the time is right, they’ll leave the bathroom and share a meal, maybe the couch or the bed. It’s just what’s right, like Steve so often is. What’s a pronoun or two among all of that.

“I know how to find a dress that fits. Just like I know that the kangaroo song is about pronouns. How do you remember a cartoon from when we were kids but not the thing they were singing about?”

[theocddiaries]

[At the Wachowski's house, the family, along with the Robotnik-Stones, are in the living room watching TV] Maddie: I love watching family videos, it warms my heart. Knuckles [bursts out laughing while pointing at the TV]: Hahaha! Look at how hard the red one fell off the swing! Weakling! Rouge: Knuckles, that's you. Knuckles: Huh? That's me? Well, I think it's dishonorable that you all laughed at me like that, then… And the one in the dress, is that also me? Amy: That's me! Look how cute I looked! I remember that day; Maddie took me shopping for dresses, and we had so much fun! Shadow: There’s Mr. Stone opening his café for the second time. Stone: I didn’t know you kept that video! Amy: What’s wrong with the camera? Who’s pushing the one recording? Everyone: Eggman. TV!Robotnik: Get that crap off my face unless you want me to shove it down your esophagus! Robotnik: Why was I like that? Knuckles: Eggman, you’ve always been that ugly. Robotnik: I meant grumpy and yelling! Shadow: Ivo, you’ve always been like that�� Robotnik: Liar. Rouge: He's right! [stands up, grabs a feather duster to mock Eggman’s mustache, and imitates him]: "Hedgehog! Pass me the remote, I have an IQ of 300 but no idea how to use my arms!" [Everyone but Eggman bursts into laughter. Sonic leaves his spot reclining on Shadow and grabs the feather duster to place it under his nose like Rouge.] Sonic [mimicking Eggman]: "Stone, blow on my coffee, because I'm too clever to do it myself." [A phone rings. Everyone keeps laughing as Eggman crosses his arms.] Rouge [answers the phone, still imitating Eggman]: "Who dares to call me?!" Robotnik: I don’t know why you're laughing; I don't sound like that. Rouge [speaks normally]: No, no, Abe, it’s not Eggman, it’s Rouge. [Everyone laughs even harder.] Rouge: Yeah, sure, I’ll be there soon. [hangs up]: Well, guys, I’ll see you later. Sonic [imitating Eggman]: "Use your wings or buy some sneakers; you’re interrupting my seventh nap of the day with those heels!" Robotnik: Well, she does! Stone: Ivo, it’s just a joke. Robotnik: It's a bunch of lies! I’m an adorable middle-aged man! If I was yelling in that video, it’s because I was having a bad day… Tails [switches to another video]. TV!Shadow: Happy New Year, Ivo! TV!Robotnik: Happy crap on a stick. [Everyone glares at him.] Robotnik: …What? I hate Christmas. Tails [plays another video]. TV!Stone: Ivo, look, Shadow baked a little cake! I’m thinking of selling it at the café. TV!Robotnik: Why? Do you want to go bankrupt? That thing is ugly as hell. And the cake is even uglier. Robotnik: …Well, it’s easy to judge when you didn’t see how atrocious that cake was! Sonic: What are you talking about? His cakes are perfect. Tom: Are you talking about the coffee one? That one is so good. I’m getting a slice later. Maddie: No! Buy a whole one! It's amazing! Stone: It's our best seller! [Robotnik snatches the remote from Tails and switches to another video.] TV!Tails [crying uncontrollably] TV!Knuckles: Eggman, hurry, lend me your communicator! Tails fell, and he lost a tooth! TV!Robotnik: And if he keeps bawling like that, I’ll knock out the rest! [Maddie and Tom glare furiously at Robotnik.] Robotnik: …What?! They interrupted my nap! Sonic [mocking]: The seventh? Robotnik [turns off the TV]: Why didn’t anyone tell me I was this unpleasant?! Shadow: Because every time we tried, you’d get unpleasant and yell at us… Maddie: Ivo, if you don’t want to stay that way, I took some classes on keeping calm. They’re great for when you work with the public. I can help you if you want. Robotnik: Do you think I can improve as a person?? Maddie: Of course. Robotnik [flips the group off]: Screw you all, you mocking jerks! I’ll be superior to all of you on every level from now on! Tom: Well, your sister was right in her wedding speech about you liking lost causes… … The joke sounded less harsh in my head…

[luvvictoria]

A gate to hell

+ pairings. suguru geto x f!reader/satoru gojo x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, cheating, betrayal, dark romance themes, love triangle (more like a square), secrets and lies, eventual smut

+ status.on-going

+ official playlist.by victo

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part

+ a/n. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !! Also, this is the last chapter of my fanfic, thank you so much for reading this shit, and also I'm very grateful for the amaizing people that had been here from the beggining , I love you so much guys and I'm thankful for your support !

These secrets in my head Oh, how they burdened me These secrets in my head Burdened with urgency If I tell you one or two or three Can you keep them a thing between you and me? Dirty secrets

Days following Yo’s arrest were a never-ending nightmare of fear and guilt. Satoru, who had always taken pride in being the protector, the one others could rely on, now found himself drowning in a sea of doubt. The weight of betrayal from Haibara’s arrest and Suguru’s actions had shattered everything he thought he knew about the people closest to him. The walls around him seemed to be closing in, and he could no longer escape the suffocating feeling that his world was crumbling. Each day, he questioned whether Suguru would betray him too. The constant gnawing suspicion wore at him, a shadow that followed him wherever he went, refusing to let him rest. The more he thought about it, the more it ate away at him. Was Suguru — his oldest friend, his closest confidant — capable of the same treachery?

Satoru withdrew, his isolation growing as he distanced himself from everyone. The dread inside him was all-consuming, clouding his mind with doubts and fears. His mind kept spiraling, replaying everything that had happened. The betrayal felt personal, a brutal gut punch that he couldn’t shake off. He had always seen Suguru as a brother, someone who would stand by him no matter what. But now, he was left to confront the ugly truth: Suguru had been hiding his true nature for so long, and Satoru had been blind to it. His heart ached with the realization that the person he had trusted most in the world was no longer someone he could rely on.

Suguru’s actions, once unfathomable, now seemed inevitable in hindsight. The carefully crafted mask Suguru had worn for years was finally slipping, revealing the darkness beneath. What Satoru had once believed to be loyalty, friendship, and shared purpose now felt like a twisted game that Suguru had been playing from the start. And the worst part was that Satoru had played along, unknowingly complicit in Suguru’s manipulations. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant weight in his chest that refused to be ignored.

But nothing could have prepared Satoru for what came next — the cruel revelation that shattered what little was left of his trust in Suguru. [Name] had uncovered Suguru’s affair, the betrayal deeper than Satoru could have imagined. The love they once shared had been a lie, a web of deceit that had spun around them without their knowing. [Name] walked away, their heart broken and trust destroyed, leaving Suguru alone in the wake of his own selfishness. The breakup was explosive, a violent eruption of emotions that left nothing but a trail of broken promises and shattered hearts.

Suguru, now left to face the consequences of his actions, fell apart. He withdrew further into himself, the pain of his choices too much to bear. His world, once filled with power and control, had come crashing down around him. He had lost everything — [Name], Yo, Haibara, even Satoru — and he didn’t know how to cope. His mind was a swirling storm of rage, regret, and fear, and in his desperation, he turned to drugs and alcohol, seeking an escape from the chaos he had created. But even as the substances dulled the pain, they couldn’t silence the growing emptiness inside him. The weight of his own self-destruction was suffocating, and he couldn’t outrun the darkness closing in on him.

Satoru, despite everything, still felt an unshakable pull to help Suguru. The anger and betrayal that festered inside him couldn’t erase the years of friendship, the brotherhood they had once shared. So, one night, when he found Suguru passed out in a filthy bathroom, surrounded by smoke and empty bottles, Satoru’s first instinct was to help. It should have been satisfying, seeing Suguru unravel, paying for his mistakes. But instead, Satoru felt a deep, hollow sorrow. Suguru was beyond saving now, a man broken beyond repair.

But when Satoru approached him, Suguru’s eyes snapped open, wild and manic. A surge of energy radiated from him, and before Satoru could react, Suguru lunged at him, attacking with a rage that sent a shiver down his spine. The years of friendship, the trust they had once shared, meant nothing in this moment. Suguru was no longer the person Satoru had known. He was someone else, consumed by the darkness within him. Satoru managed to defend himself, escaping with only a few shallow scars, but the intensity of Suguru’s rage left him shaken.

“Enough,” Satoru muttered, backing away, his voice low, laced with a mix of fear and sorrow. He was ready to leave, to walk away from the destruction that Suguru had become. But just as he turned to go, a dark, mocking chuckle echoed from the kitchen. “Did you think it was that simple?”

Satoru froze, the familiar voice sending a chill down his spine. Sukuna. His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of footsteps approached, each one a reminder of the danger he was in. Before Satoru could react, everything went black, a sharp blow to his head knocking him unconscious.

When he woke, his head throbbed with unbearable pain, and his surroundings were unfamiliar. He was tied to a chair, his arms bound tightly behind him, unable to move. The air was thick with tension, the silence deafening. The only sound was the harsh, guttural voice of a man yelling at him, demanding answers.

“Where is the money?”

Satoru blinked, trying to focus through the pain. His mind was clouded, disoriented, but he recognized the voice. Suguru. He turned his head slowly, his stomach sinking as he saw Suguru standing in front of him.

“You’ve taken the hardest hit,” Suguru said, his voice cold, calculating. “You’re quite the fool.”

Satoru’s chest tightened, the truth sinking in with a crushing weight. Suguru was no longer the man he had trusted. He had become something far darker, a force that could not be reasoned with. The betrayal was complete.

“Suguru…” Satoru whispered, his voice barely audible. His throat was dry, but the question hung in the air. “What the hell have you done?”

Suguru’s smiled, cruel and triumphant. “I realized Haibara was making a fortune,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “I had to play him, control him. I scolded him, but that’s just how it is. It’s a boyish thing, really.”

Satoru’s mind raced, his thoughts jumbled. Haibara had always been paranoid, always speaking in riddles, warning of the danger that loomed over them. He had told Satoru once, "I think the guard is onto me." Suguru had manipulated him, pushed him into a game he couldn’t win. Haibara had been right to be suspicious.

Suguru’s laugh was dark, bitter. “I told him he’d be in trouble for years. He should’ve just told me where he hid the money. But he didn’t trust me. He knew I wasn’t the most trustworthy.” Suguru leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “You’ve been his best friend since you were kids. It was clear he’d tell you. Come on, I know you’re nervous. Just tell me where the money is, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Satoru’s stomach churned. The pieces were falling into place. Suguru had orchestrated Haibara’s downfall, turning him into a pawn in a game he couldn’t possibly win. And now, Satoru was caught in the web, trapped by his own misplaced trust.

“Tell me where the money is,” Suguru repeated, his voice eerily calm. But the madness in his eyes betrayed him. “All the cash is in the garage on Porumbacu Street. " Suguru looked at Satoru and said, " Thanks, bunny. And here’s a little secret to end on a good note.” Suguru paused, savoring the moment, before leaning in closer. “I know my ex-girlfriend was cheating on me with you.”

Satoru’s heart stopped. The shock of the revelation was enough to freeze him in place, his blood turning cold. But before he could react, Suguru’s finger tightened on the trigger.

The shot rang out.

And in that moment, Satoru realized that everything — every decision, every betrayal, every lie — had led him to this. He was trapped in the darkness, in a place where he couldn’t escape, where there was no way out. The last thing he heard was Suguru’s voice, cold and triumphant, before the world went black.

Satoru’s final thought was a quiet, painful question: Was this the end of everything they had once been?

The news hit like a punch to the gut. It was as if time itself had stopped, the world coming to an abrupt halt. The words echoed in [Name]'s ears, a relentless, hollow thrum that drowned out all other sound. Satoru was dead. The announcement flickered on the screen, flashing in bold red letters: “HOMICIDE.” “INVESTIGATION.” It was as if the entire universe had shifted out of place, the ground beneath her feet slipping away. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was tight, as though someone had reached into her ribcage and was slowly squeezing the life out of her.

This couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be.

But the cold, hard reality was there, staring back at her from the television screen. The images blurred together — Satoru’s name, a face too familiar now in the context of death. The world seemed to twist, contorting into a shape that made no sense. A cruel, nightmarish reality that she couldn’t escape. Her phone buzzed incessantly, vibrating like it was a part of her own pulse, but she couldn’t answer.

Not now.

It felt like her limbs had gone numb, her thoughts slow and heavy, as if they were trapped underwater. She couldn’t keep up. Riko’s messages flooded in, frantic and worried, then Utahime’s, the words twisted in agony. Even Haibara’s sister reached out, her text an insistent call to action. Everyone was asking the same question, and none of them had the answer. Where is Satoru? Why haven’t any of us heard from him?

But [Name] knew. Deep down, she knew the answer. They had all felt it long before the truth had come out. The dread had settled into their bones, an unshakable feeling that something was terribly wrong. It had started with the betrayal, the cracks forming in the people she had once trusted with her life — Suguru and Shoko.

That was only the beginning.

The sickness had slowly crept in, worming its way into their lives, and now... now, it had culminated in something she couldn’t have possibly prepared for.

Her mind was a maelstrom of confusion, guilt, and sorrow. She had felt the shift before, seen the signs, but had been too blind, too unwilling to acknowledge them.

How had she not seen it coming?

How had she not known what was happening?

How could I have missed the warning signs?

Satoru had always been the one to protect everyone. He had been the strong one, the leader, the one who took care of them all. And now he was gone. Just like that. She wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but her voice was trapped in her throat. Her chest constricted, suffocating under the weight of a pain she couldn’t express. She couldn’t even bring herself to stand, to move. Her body felt like it was made of stone.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she stared blankly at her phone. Her hands were shaking as she clutched it, the cold screen reflecting the tears she hadn’t yet allowed herself to shed. The messages were piling up, one after another, desperate, worried. Her heart ached with each vibration, each plea for information, each wish for Satoru’s safety. But there was no answer. There would never be an answer again.

She had called him so many times. Her voice, hoarse from the hours of pleading, leaving message after message, desperate to hear his voice, to know he was okay. Satoru, where are you? Please, call me back. Please let me know you’re safe. She had texted him, sending one message after another, never imagining that each one could be the last. She never thought that the silence would stretch on forever, that she would be left here, holding on to a phone that now felt like a cruel reminder of her failure.

The silence had been deafening, and now, she was left to confront the cruel, inevitable truth. Satoru was gone, and she hadn’t been able to save him.

The weight of that realization crushed her, pushing the air from her lungs. It was as if someone had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart, leaving a gaping hole where it had once been. Every part of her ached — her body, her mind, her soul. How could this be happening? How could Satoru, the one person who had always been there for her, be taken so suddenly, so violently?

But as the truth settled in, something darker began to twist inside of her. It wasn’t just that Satoru was gone — it was how he had gone. He had been murdered. And it hadn’t been random. It hadn’t been an accident. No, it had been planned. Calculated. The feeling of betrayal was suffocating, the idea that Satoru’s death was a direct result of the treachery that had been festering for so long. It was as if the people she had trusted most — Suguru, Shoko — had all conspired to bring him down. But why? What could have driven Suguru, someone who had once been Satoru’s closest friend, to do something so monstrous?

The questions circled in her mind, faster and faster, like a whirlpool that she couldn’t escape. Why had Suguru done this? What had pushed him to this point? She had known Suguru, or at least she thought she had. She had trusted him, had believed in the bond they all shared. But now, she realized how naive she had been, how little she had known. Suguru had been playing a game all along — one that had cost them everything. It was his hand that had pulled the trigger, his twisted need for power, for control, that had led to Satoru’s death.

The guilt ate at her. If only she had known. If only she had seen the cracks in Suguru, had recognized the signs sooner, maybe things could have been different. Maybe Satoru would still be here, laughing with them, reminding them that everything would be okay.

But now, it was too late. She had lost him. And with him, she had lost a part of herself. The guilt settled like a weight in her stomach, heavy and relentless. She couldn’t escape it. It was her fault for not seeing what was happening, for not recognizing the signs. For not protecting him.

Tears began to fall, hot and unrelenting, as she finally allowed herself to break. She cried for Satoru, for the loss of someone who had meant everything to her. But she also cried for herself — for the person she had become, for the mistakes she had made, for the trust she had misplaced.

She cried for the world that had fallen apart around her, for the future that had been stolen from them. And she cried for the person she had loved and lost — Satoru, the only one person she could never have imagined living without.

Her mind raced with memories of their time together — his voice, his smile, the way he had always been there for her when no one else was. She could still hear his laughter echoing in her mind, a sound that now felt so distant, so unreachable. She would never hear it again. And that thought, that brutal, final realization, shattered her in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

The world had turned dark, and she was left in the shadows, questioning everything she had ever believed in. All the people she had trusted, all the bonds she had built, seemed like fragile illusions now. Suguru’s betrayal had torn everything apart. And the only thing left in the wake of Satoru’s death was emptiness.

And a question: How could she ever forgive herself?

It started with Utahime.

She had always been the one to keep them grounded, the one who could hold it all together even when the world around them was crumbling. Her sharp wit, her unyielding calmness — she was the one everyone turned to when the chaos became too much to bear. But when the news of Satoru’s death sank in, even Utahime couldn’t maintain the facade. The weight of it, the loss of their rock, had cracked something deep within her. The steady hands that had once kept their world from spiraling now trembled with fear.

It wasn’t just the loss of Satoru that shattered her, though. It was the looming fear — the knowledge that they were coming for her next. She knew it was only a matter of time before they hunted her down. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she would be spared. They had already taken so much from their group, and Utahime was a threat, too close to the truth.

Utahime didn’t want to face it. Didn’t want to be hunted. She had tried to run, tried to escape before it all came crashing down, but there was no escaping Suguru. He always knew where they were. Always watching, always controlling. He had been playing them from the beginning — pulling strings, sowing distrust, and making sure none of them could ever be truly free. Suguru was the puppet master, and Utahime was just another piece on the board.

In the dead of night, when the air was thick with dread, Utahime had called [Name], her voice thin and strained. It was the sound of a person who had realized too late that they were already caught in the web.

"[Name], they’re coming for me," Utahime’s voice cracked over the phone, and it sent a chill down [Name]’s spine. "I can hear them. I’ve made too many mistakes. They know everything. They know I was trying to escape… I'm sorry…"

The call abruptly cut off, leaving only static in the air. [Name] stood frozen, phone still pressed to her ear, unable to shake the image of Utahime, so strong and defiant, now reduced to a woman broken by the ghosts of her own fear. That was the moment [Name] knew it was already too late for them all.

She didn’t wait. [Name] rushed to Utahime’s apartment, heart pounding in her chest. With every step she took, she felt the darkness closing in, felt the weight of everything spiraling into chaos. She didn’t know what she would find when she arrived, but she already had a sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same.

When she reached Utahime’s apartment, the door was ajar, swinging on its hinges like a silent warning. The quiet of the place felt wrong — too still, too heavy. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, but she pushed the door open, entering the apartment.

The moment she stepped inside, the smell hit her. It was suffocating, thick with the metallic scent of blood. She choked on it, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but her feet carried her forward, deeper into the apartment. The silence was deafening, oppressive. It clung to the walls, to the floor, as though it had become a part of the very air.

And then she saw it.

Utahime’s body sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide open in shock, frozen in an eternal expression of terror. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if she had tried to scream, to call out for help — but it had been too late. Her body was a lifeless, crumpled shell, the once strong woman reduced to a victim of a fate she had tried so desperately to avoid.

The blood pooled beneath her, dark and sticky, a stark contrast to the pale blue of her skin. There were marks on her neck, deep bruises, like fingers had wrapped around her throat and squeezed the life out of her. But it was more than the physical wounds. It was the absence of life — the absence of the person who had once been their pillar.

[Name] felt her legs give way beneath her. She sank to her knees, her breath catching in her throat, fighting the overwhelming surge of grief and guilt that threatened to crush her. How had it come to this? How had they all been brought to this end?

But as her eyes drifted to the walls of the apartment, she realized it wasn’t just her friend’s body that had been left behind. There was something more sinister, something darker. Words were scrawled on the walls in jagged, uneven letters. Scratches. Messages from Suguru and Sukuna. A taunting, mocking reminder of how powerless they had all become.

You should have seen it coming. You’re all fools. You’re all mine.

The final message was etched across the mirror in Utahime’s bathroom, where she had likely spent her last moments, looking for a way out, a way to escape the suffocating truth. It read:

You'll never escape, Utahime.

[Name] closed her eyes, tears slipping down her face as the weight of the loss settled deep within her. She wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but there was nothing left. No one to fight for her, no one left to fight with her.

She knew, deep down, that Utahime was gone. And soon, they all would be.

But Suguru — Suguru had made sure of it all. He had been playing them, manipulating them, controlling them from the shadows. And now, in the wake of Utahime’s death, [Name] knew with chilling certainty that there was no escaping the nightmare. There would be no reprieve, no salvation. Just darkness.

A silence deeper than any grave.

And in that silence, the reality began to settle over [Name] like a thick fog. This was only the beginning. Suguru and Sukuna had already taken one life. They would take more. One by one, they would tear apart everything she had ever loved, until nothing was left but the broken remnants of what they once were. Dirty secretes

Riko was next.

She had always been the calm one — the strategist, the one who kept her cool in the midst of chaos. In a world teetering on the edge of ruin, Riko was the one who always had a plan. She was the pillar, the one who gave others the sense that maybe, just maybe, they could outsmart their way out of any disaster. But no one had ever accounted for Suguru’s twisted mind, or Sukuna’s unrelenting thirst for destruction. No one had anticipated how far they were willing to go.

Riko had always kept her distance. She had been smart enough to know that staying too close to the storm could pull her into its deadly whirlpool. She had tried to keep out of the mess, knowing full well that her sharp mind made her a target for those who couldn’t tolerate anyone smarter than them. It wasn’t that Riko had feared them — no, it was something deeper. She had known, instinctively, that Suguru and Sukuna would never stop until they had burned everything to the ground, and anyone who could challenge them would be reduced to ash.

But Suguru had planned for this. He had been watching her from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. Riko’s attempt to distance herself, to play her own game of survival, had only made her a more intriguing target. She had never thought she would be caught in their web, but now, she would be just another piece in their sick game.

It happened so quickly. Riko was sitting alone in a small, dimly lit café. The aroma of coffee mixed with the hushed conversations of strangers, and for a brief moment, she could almost convince herself that life was normal again — that the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on her every second of the day. But that fleeting sense of peace was shattered the moment Sukuna walked in.

He didn’t even need to say a word to announce his presence. His dark eyes swept across the room, and it was like the world itself held its breath. Everyone else in the café was too absorbed in their own lives to notice, but Riko saw him the second he stepped through the door. She stiffened, her sharp instincts telling her that the calm of the moment was an illusion, and something much darker was lurking just beneath the surface.

The second their eyes met, it was over. There was nowhere to run. No way to hide. Sukuna closed in on her with an air of finality, his steps slow and deliberate, each one echoing in her chest like a death knell. She tried to stand, tried to leave, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. The walls of the café seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with every passing second.

He cornered her against the wall, his expression cold and cruel. There was no compassion in his eyes, only the gleam of a predator. He didn’t say anything at first — just looked at her with the faintest smirk curling on his lips, as if savoring the moment. And then, in the most casual manner, he whispered something that chilled her to the bone.

“You should’ve known better, Riko,” he said, his voice a smooth, deadly murmur. “You thought you could escape this. But no one ever does.”

Riko’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing. She had always been a step ahead, always calculated her moves carefully, but this… this was different. This was a game she had no control over. She was just a pawn in Suguru’s twisted scheme, and Sukuna was the executioner.

Before she could even react, Sukuna struck. It wasn’t violent, at least not in the way she had anticipated. There was no dramatic flourish, no drawn-out struggle. Just a swift, silent motion. The sound of her own breath escaping her chest as she crumpled to the floor.

Her blood stained the floor of the café, hot and sticky, mingling with the dust and dirt of the world around her. She had never thought it would end like this. Not Riko. Not the one who had always had a plan, the one who had known how to stay calm in the face of danger.

But Riko was gone.

And in the blink of an eye, the world seemed emptier. The absence of her sharp mind, her quiet strength, left a hole that was impossible to fill. She had been more than just a friend. Riko had been a stabilizing force — a person who kept them all tethered to reality when the world threatened to tear them apart.

Now, with her gone, the silence was deafening.

[Name] didn’t know when she had started crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The weight of Riko’s death pressed down on her chest, suffocating her, making it hard to breathe. It felt as though the world itself was collapsing in on her, one piece at a time.

The loss was sharp. A jagged, painful cut deep into her heart, and it hurt in a way she couldn’t describe. She had known they were all in danger, but she never thought it would happen so quickly. Never thought they would lose Riko—the one who had always been there, the one who had kept them grounded.

But now, she was gone. A memory.

[Name] couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how easily it all fell apart — how their once tight-knit group had become nothing more than a series of broken fragments, strewn across the floor like shattered glass. Each death, each loss, was a weight that dragged her down, deeper into the abyss.

And still, Suguru’s shadow loomed large over everything. He had orchestrated this. He had taken Riko from them. He had taken everything from them. And the worst part was, he was enjoying it. Every moment of this twisted game, he was savoring the chaos. Savoring their pain.

[Name] wanted to scream, wanted to rage against it all. But what was the point? She was just another pawn, just another piece in Suguru’s sick game. No matter how hard she fought, it would never be enough. No one would ever be enough. Not while Suguru and Sukuna were still breathing. Dirty secrtes

Nanami had always been the rock. The one who kept his head level even when everything else seemed to be spiraling out of control. He had a way of grounding the others, of finding the quiet in the storm and bringing them back to reality when their emotions threatened to overtake them. But in the end, even Nanami wasn’t immune to Suguru’s manipulations. He had always been sharp, always seen through the lies, but this betrayal was something he hadn’t been prepared for. And it was something Suguru had orchestrated with chilling precision.

Nanami had been investigating, pulling on threads he never should have touched, uncovering secrets that Suguru had worked tirelessly to bury. When he finally pieced it all together, the weight of it crashed down on him like a wave, drowning him in the sheer scale of the betrayal. Suguru hadn’t just been playing the group — he had been playing both sides. And Nanami wasn’t stupid enough to think he could keep it quiet.

So, he did what anyone with a shred of honor would do: he confronted Suguru. They met in the dead of night, somewhere far from prying eyes. Nanami stood tall, his back straight and his jaw clenched, but his eyes... his eyes were full of rage. Rage at the man who had once been his friend, his brother in arms. Rage at the realization that Suguru had sold them out, that the bonds they had shared had been nothing more than a facade.

“You’ve lost everything, Suguru,” Nanami said, his voice cold, but there was a tremor underneath it — betrayal, heartbreak, the unmistakable weight of loss. “You’ve betrayed all of us. You think you can just walk away from this? That we’ll let you get away with it?”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, but Suguru just looked at him with that twisted smile. It was a cruel thing, something Nanami hadn’t seen before — something that made his skin crawl. Suguru wasn’t just breaking their bond, he was toying with it, enjoying the destruction he was causing.

“You think you still matter, Nanami?” Suguru’s voice was sharp, but there was an underlying venom to it that made Nanami’s stomach turn. “You think you’re better than me? You’re just a puppet in a game you’ll never understand.”

Those words cut deeper than anything Nanami had ever heard. It wasn’t just the anger in Suguru’s voice, but the way he seemed to look down on him — dismissive, condescending. Like Nanami had never mattered. Like everything they had fought for, everything they had built together, had been a joke.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Nanami could feel his chest tightening, a knot of emotions — anger, regret, disbelief — building up until it felt like he might snap in half.

"You've gone too far, Suguru," Nanami said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity behind it was undeniable. He was tired. Tired of pretending that everything could be fixed, tired of trying to hold on to something that was already broken beyond repair.

Suguru didn’t respond with words. Instead, the sound of a gunshot rang through the night like a death knell. Nanami didn’t even have time to react. The bullet pierced his chest, and his body crumpled to the ground, his hand grasping at the wound as if he could somehow stop the life from draining out of him.

His vision blurred, the world spinning around him, but there was no fear in his eyes — only regret. He had known this was coming, had known that Suguru was too far gone to be saved, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It wasn’t just the physical pain — it was the emotional weight of everything they had lost. The years of camaraderie, the trust, the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could turn around.

As Nanami’s life slipped away, his final words were lost to the silence, swallowed up by the night. He wanted to scream, to fight, to make Suguru understand that this wasn’t the end they deserved — but all he could do was gasp for breath, feeling his world slip away.

Suguru stood above him, his face unreadable. There was no joy in the act — just a cold, detached finality. He didn’t even look down at the body he had just created. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving Nanami to bleed out in the shadows, the echoes of his final moments fading into the darkness.

Suguru didn’t need to say anything. The silence spoke volumes. He had won. Dirty secrets

Shoko’s death was perhaps the most personal, the most painful. She had been with Suguru longer than anyone else, and their connection had been one of trust — at least, that’s what Shoko had believed. She had seen the boy he used to be: kind-hearted, brilliant, always thinking five steps ahead but never losing his humanity. Or so she had thought. But as the years passed, that boy had faded, replaced by someone colder, someone consumed by ambition and darkness. And yet, despite the changes, she had clung to the belief that the old Suguru still lingered somewhere deep inside.

It wasn’t a blind trust. Shoko was too intelligent, too sharp to overlook the warning signs. She had seen the cracks in his facade, the inconsistencies in his words, the growing shadow in his eyes. She had heard the whispers of betrayal, felt the weight of his absence during their most vulnerable moments. But she had hoped — foolishly, desperately — that her faith in him would be enough. That she could pull him back before he crossed the point of no return.

That hope shattered the night she confronted him.

It wasn’t a confrontation born out of anger, but heartbreak. She had pieced the truth together carefully, methodically, each discovery cutting deeper than the last. The lies he had spun, the alliances he had forged with their enemies, the sacrifices he had made without a second thought — they painted a picture of someone she barely recognized. And when she stood before him, her voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and disbelief, it wasn’t just a plea for answers. It was a plea for him to remember who he had once been.

"Why, Suguru?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why did you do it? To us? To me?"

Suguru didn’t answer immediately. He stood there, his expression unreadable, his eyes cold and calculating. The silence stretched between them, suffocating. For a moment, Shoko thought she saw a flicker of the boy she used to know, the one who had always protected her, stood by her. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a smile that was more a weapon than an expression.

“You should have known better, Shoko,” he said, his voice soft but laced with venom. “You should have never trusted me. But you did. And now look where we are.”

The words felt like a physical blow. Shoko staggered, the weight of his betrayal crashing down on her. She had trusted him with everything — her life, her secrets, her heart — and he had torn it all apart with cruel precision. Her chest felt tight, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the enormity of the situation sank in.

"Was it all a lie?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything we shared, everything we built… Did none of it mean anything to you, just like it didn't matter with her?"

Suguru’s gaze didn’t waver. "What we shared was a necessity, Shoko. Nothing more. You were useful to me, and now you’re not. That’s all there ever was."

Her knees buckled, but she refused to fall. Not in front of him. She had always prided herself on her composure, her ability to keep her emotions in check, but now she felt like she was unraveling. How had she not seen this coming? How had she allowed herself to be so blind, so vulnerable?

But even as the tears threatened to fall, a part of her still refused to give up. Maybe she could still reach him. Maybe there was a chance to save what was left of the man she had once called her closest friend.

"Suguru, you don’t have to do this," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "You can stop this now. You can still come back from this. Please."

For the first time, something shifted in Suguru’s expression. A flicker of emotion — regret, hesitation — crossed his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the icy resolve she had come to dread.

"It’s too late for that, Shoko," he said, stepping closer. "It’s too late for me. And it’s too late for you."

Before she could react, before she could process the finality in his words, it happened. Quick, brutal, and utterly devoid of mercy. She felt the sharp, searing pain for only a moment before her legs gave out, her body crumpling to the floor. The world blurred, her vision darkening as she tried to focus on him, to make sense of what had just happened.

As the life drained from her, a wave of emotions overwhelmed her — anger, sorrow, regret. But most of all, there was a profound sense of loss. Not just for herself, but for the man Suguru could have been, the man she had once believed in with all her heart.

And yet, even in her final moments, she couldn’t hate him. Despite everything, despite the betrayal and the lies, she still remembered the boy who had been her friend, her protector. And it was that memory she clung to as the darkness closed in, as her world faded into nothingness.

When Suguru finally walked away, the room felt colder, emptier, a void left in the wake of her death. But for Shoko, the fight was over. And for Suguru, it was just another step into the abyss.

Dirty secrets

[Name] was the last. Alone, vulnerable, betrayed by everyone she had once called a friend. The weight of it all bore down on her, pressing against her chest like an iron vice. The people she trusted, the connections she had nurtured, the memories she had cherished — they had all crumbled into ashes, leaving her adrift in a sea of deceit and pain. Suguru’s manipulation had been meticulous, a web spun so tightly around her that she hadn’t even realized she was trapped until it was too late. His control over her mind, her heart, her very sense of self, was absolute.

Now, standing in front of him, she barely recognized the man she had once loved. His face, once so familiar and warm, was a mask of indifference. His eyes, which used to hold unspoken promises, were cold and calculating. It was as if every ounce of humanity had been stripped away, leaving behind a shell that thrived on cruelty.

Suguru tilted his head, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down her spine. It wasn’t a smile of affection or amusement; it was the kind of smile that predators wore when they knew their prey had nowhere left to run. His voice, soft and almost gentle, cut through the tension like a blade.

“You know,” he began, each word deliberate, measured, “I knew all along. You thought I didn’t know? You thought I didn’t see? I knew you were cheating on me with Satoru. I knew.”

The accusation hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Cheating? Satoru? The words didn’t make sense. Her mind raced, trying to piece together how Suguru could twist reality into such a grotesque lie.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her pulse roaring in her ears. Finally, she found her voice, trembling but defiant. “You’re insane,” she said, her tone laced with a mix of disbelief and fury. “You’ve twisted everything. You destroyed everything.”

Suguru’s smile didn’t waver, but something flickered in his eyes — a spark of satisfaction, as though her pain was exactly what he wanted. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring its kill.

“You’re nothing but a liar, Suguru,” [Name] spat, the words tumbling out before she could stop herself. Her voice cracked, a mixture of rage and sorrow spilling over. “You destroyed everything. You destroyed me.”

For the first time, Suguru’s smile faltered, but only for an instant. He laughed softly, a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room. When he spoke again, his voice was low, devoid of any warmth. “You think I care?” he asked, his tone almost mocking. “You’re nothing now. You and Satoru were both just distractions. Fleeting moments in a life that was never meant to be.”

The words cut deeper than any blade, slicing through her resolve. Her hands clenched into fists, trembling as she tried to hold herself together. But she couldn’t. Not this time. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. There was a desperation in her tone, a final attempt to reach the man she once knew. “You loved us. You loved me. I know you did.”

Suguru stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, without warning, he raised the gun in his hand. The sight of it made her breath hitch, but she didn’t move. She didn’t beg. She met his gaze head-on, searching for any trace of the man she had loved. But there was nothing.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly, almost sadly. “I never loved anyone.”

Before she could react, the gunshot shattered the silence. The pain was immediate, searing, blinding. She crumpled to the ground, her legs giving out beneath her. The world tilted, her vision blurring as she clutched at her chest. Warmth spread beneath her fingers, sticky and relentless.

The physical agony was nothing compared to the emotional devastation. As she lay there, gasping for air, the memories came rushing back — the laughter, the stolen moments, the promises they had made. Had it all been a lie? Had she been nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game?

The emptiness consumed her, a void that swallowed every ounce of hope she had left. And yet, in her final moments, there was clarity. She saw Suguru for what he truly was — a broken man, consumed by his own darkness, incapable of love or redemption.

Her thoughts drifted to Satoru, to Utahime, Riko, Nanami... Shoko , to the friends she had lost along the way. They had all been caught in the same web, victims of the same betrayal. And now, as her world faded to black, she realized the truth: none of them had stood a chance.

As the sound of the gunshot faded into the suffocating silence of the room, Suguru stood over [Name]'s lifeless body. The weight of the moment pressed against him, heavier than anything he had felt before. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to look down at her, at the blood pooling beneath her, at the expression frozen on her face — a mixture of shock, pain, and something else. Betrayal, perhaps. Or maybe pity.

He exhaled shakily, his fingers still gripping the gun. The room was deathly quiet now, save for the faint ringing in his ears. The power he had felt moments ago, the cruel satisfaction of having the last word, was already crumbling. Instead, a hollow emptiness began to creep in, swallowing him whole.

“You’re nothing now.” His own words echoed in his mind, mocking him, taunting him.

Suguru staggered back, his knees threatening to buckle. He turned away from the sight of her, but it didn’t help. Her face was seared into his mind, her voice still ringing in his ears. The memories came unbidden — her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the way she had trusted him even when he didn’t deserve it.

For a fleeting moment, he had believed his lies, convinced himself that none of it mattered. That none of them mattered. But now, standing in the aftermath of his choices, the truth was undeniable.

They had mattered. She had mattered.

Suguru clenched his jaw, his hand trembling as he raised the gun again, this time pointing it at his own temple. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. The weight of everything — the betrayal, the deaths, the lies — pressed down on him, suffocating him. He had thought he could live with it, thought he could keep going, but now he knew.

There was no moving forward. There was no escaping what he had done.

“You always saw the good in me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. “Even when there was nothing left. You were wrong.”

He closed his eyes, the gun cold against his skin. Images flashed behind his eyelids — Satoru’s grin, Shoko’s quiet kindness, [Name]’s unwavering faith in him. The people he had destroyed, the ones who had tried to save him.

A single tear slipped down his cheek. For the first time in years, the mask cracked, and the full weight of his guilt crashed over him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though he knew no one could hear him.

And then, with a final, resolute pull of the trigger, Suguru ended it.

The sound echoed in the empty room, a final punctuation to a tragedy that had been unfolding for far too long.

When the silence returned, it was absolute. No one was left to bear witness, no one to remember the laughter or the love that had once filled these spaces. Only the echoes of what had been, and the hollow reminder of what was lost.

In the end, Suguru had destroyed everything, including himslef.

The room was still. The bloodstains on the floor, the discarded gun, the silence — it was the final tableau of a story that had unraveled into tragedy.

No heroes. No redemption. Just echoes of what could have been.

As the last light of the setting sun filtered through the cracked blinds, it painted the room in hues of red and gold, a cruel mockery of peace.

And in the stillness, it became clear: this was the end.

A gate to hell, and no one had made it out.

[obscureother]

the f/o wheel said. . Gerik next :0

What do your f/o's hugs feel like? theyre very warm and secure. . for you. for him, part of it is still fearful of you disappearing or leaving him, but once he is married to you, they no longer hold so much of that fear. theyre only very loving and soothing. .

What are your favorite dates to have with them? tho im not normally much of a fancy dinner person, something about gerik would make them more comfortable for me. . though preferrably a little set up at home, and then afterwards we play piano together or listen to records. uvu

What are their favorite dates to have with you? he likes a similar thing, tho he likes to perform for me sometimes too. to show me things, he likes to share the arts. he'll show me works he's done or starting on, be that art or music, or talk to me of plays or operas from his era. he likes to teach the culture :0

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you? the whole phantom soundtrack- no, obvi. for him. . classical music, tho i dont know very many specific ones. tho there is ONE (1) lindsey stirling song (not the poto melody-) that she did, i think its crystallize, that i think either sampled or accidentally used a few notes from Phantom that are unmistakable and cant be unheard once you hear them and i think of him EVERY time in those.

What's the height difference between you and your f/o? He is one of my tallest f/os :0 he is 6'3!! so if we go from 5'4" right between me and s/i 1 only a couple inches apart he is like. . 12 i- thats a whole foot. i didnt need to count that on my fingees, hold on. .

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you? he is good. . 6/10 i think. tho he is very lovey wherever you go, he doesnt like to go out in public much for obvious reasons, nor does he want to be overbearing on you in front of people. on the inside he wants to kiss and hold and squeeze and love, but he holds back til you get back to the little sewer house he has. he sneaks lots of kisses tho. . and keeps his arm around me all the time uvu he is so happy jgdfk <33

What's your favorite feature about your f/o? he's gerard butler- /j i think his hugs tbh, he's very cuddle-able uvu look at him. he would give good hugs. his deformity is not the worst of the phantoms out there, but there is something endearing about him looking like he got microwaved right next to his very handsome other half of his face. he's kind of. . cute "ugly," but not really. <33

What do you think they smell like? c a n d l e . probably like lake water. for my own sake, he finds ways to get clean water to bathe in so he doesnt smell like SEWER. tho he might sometimes when he's depressed cos he gets too sad to take care of himself. but of all the things in the world, that man smells like freaking candles. candles and old, dusty fabric. the kind that you huff dust and you go "actually this is nice. this is not so bad. *coughs.*"

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love. his music omgg. . he writes songs for his loved ones. he writes his heart out, just like he does christine. . he draws them, he makes little versions of them, he makes them kith his little self :0 kind of creepy? yes, unless you also like him, then its kind of like "awhh thats cute. ." he will make outfits, he'll do makeup, anything so his partner feels lovely and pretty just like how he sees them, all the forms of creative expression he does for me or s/i 1 :0

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them? oh yes. he will not sleep anywhere else. he wants to cuddle all the time and he is good at cuddling once he is let to. i love to cuddle him, he's very warm and soft. . he'll hum me to sleep, give kisses, brush through my hair, he's very tender and touchy for sleepy time.

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o? for me, it is just that he is one of the softest phantoms i perceive of them. he is, though temperamental and passionate, very tender and sweet and just very cute as he is. there is also something neat about him as an f/o specifically, not the character or the adaptation or anything, but the f/o version that lives in the dome in my brain. . he glows gold?? i dont like gold normally, but his aesthetic is gold and dark, but he has this. . aura on him, of gold sometimes. very cool. . i dont know how he got it or what for, but he does that sometimes. he doesnt know how he's got it either.

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have? ngl very similar to how he is with christine, but less. . convoluted?? he tries to help me keep going on my own passions and is very supportive, then when we come home, all he wants to do is love on and cuddle. odd for me to think of it as it is, he sort of. . worships his lover at the same time he is sort of that "im your angel, i take care of you" thing going on. not something im used to but he's very sweet. .

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day? he sings to me, or gets me to listen to music he knows comforts me. or he will read me stories or show movies that he knows i like. . lots of caresses or petting from him. very warm hold. .

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like? yeah, he likes to hold hands. he'll do it whenever i want, all i have to do is just grab his hand. uvu sometimes he'll offer it when we're walking somewhere or they arent busy with something as he does use them a lot.

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc) he loves to give kisses :0 he will give kisses ANYWHERE. he will give them on the hands, face, lips, and shoulder tho the most. . in a nonsexual way, he also gives chest kisses or kisses hips when he is laying or leaned below me somewhere. very tender he is. .

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them? yes, i like to give him kisses uvu i give him kisses on his face, both sides when we're on our own so he doesnt get uncomfy when i lift off his mask from time to time. he gets forehead kisses, temple kisses, hand kisses. . sometimes i give him chest kisses to make him swoon a little. uvu

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o? i like to get him to do drawing or piano games with me :0 where we build off each other and do something silly. he will start off with like. . a lovely little sketch of something vague, and then. . i give it stick legs. dot eyes. and it looks like a goofy collision between comedic youtube animation and freaking glorious masterpieces. for something less silly, we do sometimes do nothing but sit and listen to music together. . it is nice too. .

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one? he calls me pretty french words i dont know the meaning of pdfs <33 some of them are related to heaven or angels i think, which totally go the opposite of where i normally tend towards, but. . for him. . it is an exception. . 💛 he does help me cope a tiny bit with aesthetics that make me uncomfy because he is halfway the opposite of my comfort aesthetics but he makes them not uncomfy for me. .

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them? i tend to call him the things you would normally call the phantom of the opera, ngl. . angel or angel of music, opera ghost, things like that. like. . spooky-angel kind of things lol. i dont know how well to explain that. . there is also the whole thing of him being "potato," but thats lore for another time lol. i normally compliment him on everything tho. there is always something about him i like. i like his outfits, i like the way he looks with or w/o the mask or little wig thing, how he is built. . he is handsome in lots of ways that he does not realize, some of them not physical at all. cos lets face it, he's not built like leroux or lon chaney lol.

I want everyone to have the chance to ramble about their romantic f/os, so I'm gonna make a reblog game where yall can answer the plethora of questions I'm gonna toss down. Any of the questions you want to answer, as little or as much as you'd like!! I'll read them all. PR.O.SHIP DNI!!! AT ALL! GET OUT-

SO!! SELFSHIPPERS! RIDDLE ME THIS:

What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

What are their favorite dates to have with you?

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you?

What's the height difference between you and your f/o?

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

What do you think they smell like?

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love.

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day?

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc)

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them?

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o?

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one?

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them?

Okay I can't wait to see some answers!! Feel free to reblog as many times with as many f/os as you want. ANYONE CAN PARTICIPATE! SEEING THIS POST IS AN INVITATION FOR YOU!!

People I'd like to see answer this off the top of my head (but don't have to!!): @moxanji-real @one-winged-dreams @lovesickvalentines @graveluvr @clawingatmy-enclosure @starshakez @jpeg-indulgence @everynya @tropgothships @selfshipping-tboy @amelielovesamaris @pixel-comfort @fl0ralsxgar

[shmisky]

So... Another thing that makes me love the post-Weirdmaggedon Stans dynamic so much is the tension caused by the fact that Stan’s enormous inferiority complex and lingering resentment at Ford have nowhere to go anymore. Knowing how strongly those two repress emotions, it’s just a matter of time before unresolved issues start to rear their ugly head.

What do I mean by that? Well, just look at Stan’s behavior in Weirdmaggedon, hahah. My man was just utterly done with Ford. I do believe he had a right to be at least somewhat petty after the way Ford treated him, but no one can question his resentment. It’s really incredible how all that seems to just... conveniently disappear... the moment Ford changes and apologizes and invites him to sail away together.

Or does it?

I don’t think it does.

I think Stan still has a lot of reasons to feel inferior in relation to Ford. Not that he should, but. The fact he was declared the town hero and saved everyone in Weirdmaggedon wasn’t that much of a triumphant moment for him if he said, “guess I was good for something after all!” as he had his memories erased.

Through the series, we learn that Stan is very sensitive regarding his inferiority complex towards Ford. He is easily upset by, angered by, and fueled (out of spite) by Ford’s perceived and/or implied superiority in any way, shape, or form.

Again...

And again...

And again...

He’s always trying to prove his worth, to others and to himself. Is he even convinced of what he’s trying so hard to prove? I find it interesting that he says he’s not always the bad twin, instead of simply saying he’s not the bad twin at all, period.

And then there’s the fact Alex said that, while Ford is smarter and fitter and would always win a physical fight against Stan if they were sober, Stan could win it if they were drunk and Ford was a bit off his focus — because Stan wants to win against Ford way more badly than Ford wants to win against Stan. After all, Ford doesn’t have an urge to prove himself.

Ford’s character was literally designed to be, in Alex’s own words, the biggest chip on Stan’s shoulder that the writers could think of. So of course Stan acts petty all the time. Not only is Ford an ungrateful asshole, but also (in his own mind) an ungrateful asshole that just happens to be better at everything! Stan was once the brawn to Ford’s brain, but he can’t even be that anymore because Ford is stronger and badass now and... and doesn’t need nor want Stan... at all...

But wait! Ford apologizes for all his mistakes and thanks Stan and invites Stan to sail away together! Everything is fixed now! 🩷

Except Stan didn’t go to therapy. Except Stan seemingly thinks that having his mind erased was his biggest accomplishment. Except Ford pulled Stan back into the extremely codependent dynamic of their childhood.

The way Shmebulock the Gnome describes the Stan twins even after Weirdmaggedon is... not ideal...

And while one could go and say that their dynamic is just going to revert back to their childhood dynamic, I’ve defended previously that no, it very likely won’t (for all these reasons), and, in what concerns Stan’s inferiority complex and need to feel useful, Ford now 1) doesn’t need his help defending himself physically, 2) is in better health conditions than Stan and his dentures, orthopedic pillow, hearing aids, girdle, etc, and 3) is much more confident 🦚

The thing is that, now, Stan can’t just act petty, like he started acting ever since Ford’s display of ungratefulness. Because Ford, now, isn’t being an asshole anymore. Ford is being nice. Loving. Supportive. They’ve already made peace.

I can see the little moments slowly piling up on top of one another, and Stan continuing to repress, repress, repress his feelings. It’s okay, Stan, who cares if Ford is better than you? You’re together, that’s all what matters.

Until it finally blows up in the most inconvenient of moments like it did in Weirdmaggedon.

[zainnaprollyloveslevi]

"My Kind of Heaven"

Simeon X MC (Married)

Summary: Simeon, your husband, has traded his celestial title for you. Now, you have to live with that fact as it haunts you in your everyday life. On top of that, insecurities lead you to say things and do things without thinking it through. However, your husband is determined to prove to you why you are worth every sacrifice.

Warning: SPOILERS!!! Angst to fluff! The narrator is a bitch. INSECURE MC. Nonbinary Reader/MC

Word count: 2.2k

Extra: Might be ooc. I haven't played the game in a while, and I don't know much about Simeon.

Sunlight sifts through the fabric of the curtains. Wind softly grazed the fabric, mimicking the motions of breath. The room felt warm, comfy, like home. You've been through a lot, you deserved this moment of peace. Your bed was soft and huge, because it was made for two. However, your husband has already left the warm sheets, now it's all for you to occupy. Simeon left for work ages ago, you stay at home most of the time.

How could you even consider going outside when you look like that?

You stretch your limbs, looking at the digital clock on your bedside table. It's 6:32 in the morning. It's time to get up. You slowly push your upper body to sit up right, still feeling a little groggy. However, your hunger overridden your desire to stay in bed. Legs dangling over the side of the bed, you were met with the mirror. It was weird, having a mirror right in front of your bed, but Simeon gently persuaded you to get one installed. It was huge, it took up your wall. You hated it.

Simeon, your husband, was a gentle soul. How could he not be? He was a former angel. An angel who loved you so much he set his heavenly wings on fire, losing his angelic title, all for you. Well, he didn't set them on fire literally, but it might as well have gone in that direction. You felt guilty. He would've stayed an angel, not running some cafe in the human world, providing for you. Sure, he was your husband, but he was so much more before this. He was an angel, now…

…he's just some guy married to someone who's better off six feet under.

You chuckled at that thought, looking at the floor, at your feet as it dangled off of the bed. He loved you, so much so that he married you. You said yes, not because you loved him too, but because it was all you could give back to the heavenly soul who sacrificed everything for you. That doesn't mean you don't love the man, you just hate yourself so much it overrides every other feeling you have for anything else.

Who wouldn't? Look at you. Mediocre. So mediocre you blend in with the background. There's nothing special about you. Your features don't work well with each other, if beauty standards were measured numerically, you'd be a negative.

And they are measured numerically. Mostly by people who think they can put a price on physical features. It doesn't matter if you're smart, kind, or talented. If you aren't a piece of ass, you're a nobody. You hated the thought, you hated entertaining It. It's the reason why you were so insecure. Every classmate, every peer, every user on social media, they all managed to out-shine you.

The only achievement you have is the fact that you're married to a former angel.

You gaze down at your hands, sitting palms down on your lap. What ugly, dry hands they were. You look at your thighs, what an ugly shape. You look up at the mirror. What a hideous creature you are. No wonder you were constantly rejected and pushed away by the people you adored. You chuckle sadly, sarcastically, a hint of anger vibrating in your throat. You were angry at the world for looking prettier than you, you were angry at the arrogant people who got away with everything just because they had a pretty face, but most importantly…

…You were angry at yourself.

You finally found the courage to stand up, feet weakly carrying you closer to the mirror as if this was your first time walking. Your eyes were glued to the eyes in the mirror, staring right into your soul.

What a hideous creature you are. This is what an angel sacrificed his holy title for? Pathetic.

Angry eyes stare right back at you. Is this what he would look like if he realized the monstrosity he married? Is this the way Simeon looks at you if he took off the rose-tinted glasses and looked at you and all of your repulsive glory? You managed to press a hand onto the mirror, palm flat on the smooth, clean surface.

You don't deserve this moment of peace.

You don't deserve jack shit.

This feeling of self-loathing, you always had it ever since you were young. It only grew stronger and more hateful when you found out Simeon was no longer an angel. You are the reason for an angel's fall, all because you needed to “stabilize your power”?

That makes you unsightly and weak.

The more you stare at your reflection, the more the flesh and features mold into one, the ugly creature you always have envisioned yourself to be emerges from the depths of your mind. You hated yourself, more than anyone could ever hate you. Why did you agree to this marriage? Why did you keep him trapped with someone like you? Here on earth, no longer something great, something like you. Stuck to take care of an overgrown baby, whining and crying about the way they look. You don't deserve a husband, you don't deserve him, and you definitely don't deserve a life.

“Love?”

A voice pierced through your train of thought, the illusion your hateful mind started to bring to life dissipated with only one word. You turn your head to the door, a tall figure standing by the light, a worried look on his face.

“MC, what's wrong?”

Simeon, still as ethereal as the day you met him, stood by the doorway of your shared bedroom. The ring glistened due to the rays of the sun shining through any vacant space surrounding him and the doorway. You stand up straight.

“Simeon.”

Your voice betrays your need to act composed.

“You're still here…”

It wasn't a question, it was an expression of surprise. You were so sure he left at around 5:00 am to prepare the cafe for opening. He steps forward, letting more sunlight in. Were the days always this bright?

“The new hire insisted he open the cafe, so I took this opportunity to plan a little us-day for us.”

His smile was soft, his words were gentle, an angel.

“Are… are you sure that he can handle the cafe on his own?”

“Well, Luke is there. They'll be fine.”

“You left a child to take care of the new hire?”

“No, love, I left the new hire to take care of the child.”

He smiles. You can't tell if he's joking or If he's being serious.

“Simeon, that's dangerous! What if something happens?!”

“Luke is a big boy now. He is more than qualified to work the shop. They'll be fine, love, I promise.”

He walks towards you, placing a hand on your shoulders before hugging you gently but tightly. Your chin rests upon his chest while he rocks you left and right, as if he's trying to sway you to sleep.

“...let me take care of you first.”

He lets the palm of his hand rest onto your head, fingers resting through the strands of your hair but not brushing through them. He hums.

“Are you having those thoughts again?”

You relax your shoulders. Sure, he has lost his celestial powers and rights but that doesn't change the fact that he has this naturally calming effect.

“... how did you know?”

“I know who I married, love.”

He plants a soft kiss onto your head, swaying you gently. A guilty pang fills up your heart. You don't deserve this.

“If it weren't for me, you'd still be up in the celestial realm with luke.”

There was a minute of silence, as if giving you a moment to say everything you needed to say. When you fell silent, he speaks.

“Heaven is not a place.”

“Huh?”

He smiles, letting go of the hug to look at you, hands resting on your shoulders. His eyes look right into yours.

“...It's when I look at you. Heaven is when I wake up each day to feel you next to me…”

He gently takes his hand and rests it upon the side of your face, rubbing your cheeks with his thumb.

“... I'd trade the entire world and myself if it meant I could spend even just a minute with you, my dear.”

Suddenly, he squeezes your cheeks with one hand, frowning a little.

“So don't ever blame yourself for my quote unquote fall. Blame me for wanting to be within your presence for more than just a day as if I need you to breathe.”

Those words, as sweet as they are, weren't enough for you. You brush his hand away from your face, letting your gaze drop down onto the floor.

“Stop it. Stop being so nice to me, Simeon.”

He takes a step back and straightens his posture and stance. He realizes that words from the heart won't be able to sway you.

“Look at me. Look at who you sacrificed yourself for!” You gestured to your face. “You wasted a good thing for some asshole you thought was pretty enough to wear a ring with!”

The words spill out of you. His expression is calm and composed, yet you can tell he's listening to everything you were saying. You continue,

“Wake up, Simeon. You're no longer an angel, you're a nobody.”

You can only hear yourself breathing. You don't know why you said that. Why are you self-sabotaging the one good thing you have? Do you hate yourself so much that you think it's okay to force others to feel the same? To hate you with the same exact loathing you have towards yourself? Would it be worth it?

His expression doesn't falter, his stance the same, but his voice changed.

“You're wrong.”

He responds, you scoffed. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was he that foolishly in love with you that his common sense flew out the window? Maybe it disappeared along with this celestial status.

“Angel or not, I am somebody.”

He takes a step forward, it wasn't a statement, it was said as an argument.

“I am the owner of the now popular Cafe down the road, I have made several friends at the market, I am the legal guardian of a very good kid named Luke- who will one day become the best guardian angel there is!...”

He keeps stepping forward, you retreat. “Simeon, I'm sorry-”

“... I am friends with the CEO of the Ritcher Hotel Group who is also next in line for the Devildom throne, I had my brothers taken away from me as I stand by and watch them fall, I was one of the exchange students for a program in the Devildom where I fell in love with a fellow exchange student who I am married to now- and speaking of which-!”

He stops just right in front of you.

“I am your husband.”

Silence follows as you stare into his eyes, longing for you to understand.

“... I am a lot of things, my dear. You are too.”

He looked down at your hands, they were tense. He takes both of them and raises them to level with his chest, they soften.

“You are so many things that it saddens me to think that you don't see it.”

He plants a kiss to your thumb,

“You were a confused human who always needed help.”

He kisses your pointer finger,

“You were a stubborn human who always got themselves into trouble.”

He kisses your middle finger,

“You are an excellent student of magic, Solomon can attest to that. And finally…”

He kisses your wedding ring.

“You are my wife, the amazing person I have the pleasure of marrying.”

He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, his gaze locked on the ring.

“All these lives, all these souls, all these worlds, and yet fate…”

He looks up at you, a smile on his face.

“...led you to me.”

You couldn't say a thing, you didn't even realize that you were on the verge of crying until tears started rolling out of your eyes. He wipes each one away.

“Hate yourself all you want, I'll be happy to remind you of how loved you truly are. You're not beautiful because you look pretty, you're beautiful because you're so kind and considerate.”

He chuckles,

“Almost a little too considerate.”

“Simeon, I'm sorry!”

You hiccuped, holding his hand as he wipes your tears away, he shushed you.

“It's alright. Do you want to spend the day here? We don't need to go outside. If there's something I can get you, I'll go get it for us.”

Your heart swells, melts, and cries. Your husband, your beautiful husband, loves you more than words can describe.

“What do you want for breakfast, love? I'll make it for you. My sanctuary, my heaven.”

[cloudedwonder]

yandere stalker! oc (fern) x reader ──★ ˙🧷

“i fucking hate you.” you spat at him. he recoiled at the harshness of your words, his forehead creasing as he responded.

“that’s a bit cruel, angel. you know that’s not true.”

he said, grabbing onto your arm with soft palms. you tried to push him away, but he kept his grip steady, staring at you either an expressing so hurt that it was enough to fill you with guilt.

and yet you reasoned with yourself. this man wasn’t your friend, he wasn’t your partner and he wasn’t anybody you should trust.

he was a stranger to you. an infatuated stranger who had broken into your home ‘oh-so-long-ago’. he thought you were his, and treated you as a trinket rather than anything else, and yet he stared at you with so much hurt, as though your words held any affect on him.

“we don’t say things like that. we don’t, my love!”

he sounded frantic as he reprimanded you, slightly tightening his hold on you. you squirmed against him, kicking your legs, but he pushed you onto your side and wrapped his arms against you.

“but it’s true! i hate you, you ruined my life!”

you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. his face softened at the sight, and he learnt forward to kiss them before they met your chin. you cringed at the feeling of his damp lips meeting your skin, and he snuggled his chin against your neck, sending vibrations down your throat as he spoke.

“you’ll upset me if you say things like that. i made both of our lives better. you just don’t realise how much i’ve helped you.

you’ll thank me one day. you’ll weep tears of joy, and you’ll beg for my attention. you’ll devote yourself to me the same way i do to you, you’ll see!”

he let out a little giggle, his frame lightly shaking as he did so. you suddenly felt so trapped between his arms, as though her were trying to deprive you of air. he seemed to come to his senses once realising this, slightly his head away from you but keeping the rest of himself positioned the same.

“i love it when you cry. it’s like little diamonds falling from your eyes. i can’t believe your tears are all for me. you make me so lucky, angel.”

he leant forwards again, this time placing his face so near yours that you could feel his breath colliding with yours. he smelt like peppermints, warm breath meeting your lips as he gazed intently towards you.

“can you hear yourself? the cute little sounds you’re making? you’re quivering like a little lamb against me, and i get to be the one to love you and to comfort you.”

he moved one of his hands to your hair as he combed through it softly. the tips of his fingers met with your roots, giving it a calm massage as though he’d done the motion thousands of times.

he stared at you with a thoughtful tranquility. part of you yearned to speak, to push him away and to continue yelling, and yet you sank into his touch.

there was no way out of it, you knew that much. you went limp in his arms, which he seemed to appreciate as he gave your cheeks another kiss.

“you’re such a good girl for me. you’ve calmed down from your tantrum now? i knew you had it in you.”

and yet you were still so filled with despair. you swallowed your sobs and he watched you do so intently. he didn’t seem bothered by the ugly sounds or faces you made, rubbing his nose against yours with a smile on his face.

“i bet you feel better now, yeah? now that i’ve let you calm down?” ──★ ˙🧷

[skyfallscotland]

Things I loved about Onyx Storm, in no particular order 🖤⚡️

This is an addendum to my overall review post—there’s also one about the things that I didn’t like here.

I do love ride or die riorgail, even if their characters didn't feel quite right to me (dare I say fanon-esque?). In any case, threatening people for the one they love? 10/10, would eat it up every time.

The dragons being every rider's first love? It won't be a surprise to you if you've read BRV but I adore this take so much.

She was the first to choose me, to elevate me above all others, the first to see every ugly side of me and accept it all, and every single person in this fucking canyon will die before they remove a single one of her scales.

Ok then!

And Violet?

“You see, that’s my little one.”

I'm crying!!

Tairn and Andarna? Like that's her father!!!

“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”

Their every interaction made me:

Except for this one, which had me tearing up!

Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

Then there's Sgaeyl—mother!!!

“You are an inconvenience for which there is no adequate measurement.”

She wasn't talking to Xaden all book (v upsetti spaghetti) but she still would defend him with her life because she's mum!!

“Tell her the truth. He loathes her,” Tairn suggests. “As does Sgaeyl. The life-giver is lucky she wasn’t scorched this morning, though I do believe Sgaeyl is still contemplating her options.”

Speaking of mothers, I both hated and loved the Hedotis chapters. I really enjoyed them, I thought they were fun, Violet channeled the twin she doesn't know she has (lol iykyk) which was in my opinion out of character for her (threatening someone's kids???) but despite the lack of character growth to get there, I still really enjoyed this sequence for all its emotional aspects.

“How does she”—he points to the door—“ deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night? I am the fulfillment of a contract for her. Nothing more. I don’t give a shit how she looks at me, or whatever bullshit she undoubtedly spewed at you. The only reason we’re in her house is because she’s married to one of the triumvirate, and I have no problem using that to get what we need.”

I don't know how chocolate cake is still his favourite food because that would ruin me. (It just did).

Violet's protectiveness in this sequence was everything though! 😭 Fuck you, Talia!

“What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.”

Onto other characters, Ridoc is still hilarious and honestly his humour and one-liners saved my reading experience from being downright terrible, same with Cam—sorry CamLAEN! (lol)

Once again, I really thought she might kill Ridoc for a second there (this is very much a flipped Iron Flame re-write in some aspects lmao) but thankfully for everyone involved, she didn't.

"Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“ you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us… us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Confirmation everyone knows about the lightning storms.

The representation—as someone living through Australian summer, I really appreciated that POTS was represented more thoroughly in the hot climate of the Isles, though it was still never actually touched on (I think there could have been a line in there explaining why it was relevant/what was happening in her body and that she wasn't just tired) but still, happy to see it there and (don't take this the wrong way but) maybe to see Violet struggle more, just a little.

Then there's Dain.

Dain! My boy, my baby. He was 110% done with everyone and I'm so here for it. He was going through it!

“Was that a compliment? What the fuck is going on?” Dain asks, his gaze flying to mine. “Did you give him something?”

Dain puts both hands up, palms outward at his chest. “How in all that’s holy am I to blame for this?”

“Love wasting my time,” Dain mutters, then shoves the small booklet I recognize as the language compendium for Unnbriel into the chest pocket of his flight jacket.

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.

I also got my wish for him and Sloane, which was unexpected but appreciated! (I created tags for not one but TWO of the ships in this book and I am so stoked about it!). It also makes Rebecca's TS song choice of The Prophecy for him make a lot more sense.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Xaden calls up at Dain as he dismounts, but my focus firmly locks over Brennan’s shoulder. “Following her ass,” Dain replies.

“I don’t coddle first-years anymore, so train. Your. Signet.” “Asshole,” she whispers, and the flush in her cheeks deepens.

I love them, your honour. I would read whole books about them.

Speaking of—

“What the fuck are we going to do with that thing for the rest of the trip?” “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters.

These two (three?) are iconic and I want more of them. I want Mira recovering from her injuries and Drake coming to check on her and dumping a kitten on her chest, and Mira pretending she doesn't like Broccoli but secretly finding her comforting and letting her stay (and him, too, because it's love).

Professor Riorson. God this was ridiculous and I hated it, but it made me laugh.

The normally sweet drink tastes bitter in my throat.

Absolutely fan service but I'm positive it made us all groan aloud at the same time, which was amusing.

“Agreed,” Ridoc says. “And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”

Also, fan service, which, did I like it? No, but I laughed at (because otherwise I'd cry so).

And then there were lines like this, that made me absolutely tear up and hit me in the feels:

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“ and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it.

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”

So yeah, even if my overall experience was messy and chaotic, and perhaps not the best it could be, I did still love parts of it and find some of it enjoyable. I'm trying to change my mindset for a re-read, but I think it's best if I have some space before I try again.

In the meantime, what was your favourite thing? 🖤

[cornflowershade]

popping in because I can't resist a fashion conversation hehe. i think for me it might be ray 🤔 (i promise this isn't just bc he's my favorite fk character okay)

I enjoy the cool patterned button downs!! (seriously where do they find those for these shows??) and have a deep need to steal his fuzzy black sweater (someday i'll thrift one like it. i haven't given up 😂) He's such a great combo of patterns and texture and floof and snazziness. Of fitted little jeans [thanks to @scrumptiousstuffs 's tags for reminding me of them, had to edit and give that a nod lol] with looser fitting shirts. There's something graceful about him and he leans into a 'pretty' aesthetic that I quite enjoy. and yes i also love that it's very gay I even like his lil western tops haha!

I would also steal some of Sand and Bison's shirts ngl.

Kant might win for variety to be fair, he has a range of clothing items/styles going on that most fk characters don't, and i appreciate that he obviously spends time making outfits! I mean yeah Ray/Sand and Bison (who wins for accessories category—love my necklace boy - apologies to ray's cute little earrings) also make outfits but. Perhaps not with the complexity Kant does? Like yeah Kant does pay attention to tiny patterns/textures and even silhouettes sometimes, look at the ep1 bowling outfit! Maybe Kant has just had more time to play around, he is the oldest character of the bunch after all. Though I don't think the simpler outfits are worse by any means—or even that they're as much 'simpler' as they first appear. those other characters have distinct vibes for sure and when I enjoy their clothing picks I typically enjoy them more than Kant's, which is obviously just my style preference coming into play. (And imo when Kant flops. He really flops lol. But hey at least he's trying things.) They're all curating their looks with a lot of intention.

But anyway, yes, it's Ray for me. Like can I have his vibe pls. (And if I were to pick a couple, it's SandRay. They both have a fun aesthetic going on and I love how it works so well together while being like. Opposites. Ray who leans glamorous and Sand who leans grungy.)

I'm sure I could dig deeper into all the characters and rank some specific looks* which might change my overarching opinions [if I notice their bad picks starting to outweigh the good ones from my memory lol] but off the top of my head these are the thoughts. *should i do this actually? i might be too lazy tbh BUT i would definitely rank outfits if any were submitted to me haha

Here's a question though: what's the worst clothing item an fk character has ever worn. the most roast-able. bc off the top of my head it has to be Sand's vampire 'You Suck' shirt (sorry my guy. your style overall is quite nice and i've even tried emulating your vibes in some of my own outfits but what WAS that fashion choice. i don't care if it's some obscure band tee either it's ugly lol)

This might come across as a very random ask but I wanted/curious to know, which First and Khao character do you think has/had the best wardrobe? 🙂please you can choose from any of the characters they have played so far in any of their shows 😇

The single best clothing moment of any of FK's characters has been Gaipa's gay little boots. Just look at his little waddle 🥹

But in general, I think the award for Best Dressed goes to Kant—which is ironic considering the tantrum we threw after the initial fitting. He's had some flops for sure but overall his wardrobe is solid and he clearly tries which is more than I can say for most of them.

[morningfawns]

Kinito my beloved little freak

Bonus NUH UH gif: