#amber's story was just depressing

[gothsuguru]

black is the color of my true love’s hair

♡ your devotion to suguru is second to none — you would do anything for your beloved! bonded by true love, loyalty, & utter admiration, these are a few moments where suguru has been unbelievably thankful for you & smitten by your acts of love & service!

contents: f!reader, no curses au, reader is short/blushes/has hair that can be ran through with fingers! slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of depression/anxiety/self-destructive behaviors. but i promise this is a soft, fluffy fic! it’ll make sense when you read it! dividers are from @saradika! w.c: ~ 11.5k

a/n: (happy) belated birthday fic for my beloved husband! <3 the title of the fic is a lyric from “black is the colour” by celtic woman, it’s a very loving & devotional song so i wanted to do a story based on those themes! p.s. this is my first time ever writing an actual fic & it got a bit long because i got carried away, but i hope you enjoy! happy valentine’s day! <3 MWAH!

it’s a simple action, really.

you tilt your head slightly to the right and lift your face up to gaze adoringly at him through your lashes, a mirthful twinkle dancing in your eyes. a soft smirk coupled with a light blush adorns your angelic features, a precious look, which suguru has come to be utterly enchanted by due to the loving action that follows immediately after.

you catch him off guard the first time you do it.

the first time you kiss suguru’s knuckles, he falters.

it’s the way that you do it. naturally & effortlessly, as if it’s like second nature, that causes suguru to stop in his tracks and dedicate all of his attention to you.

his mesmerizing gaze is directed at you, molten gold eyes inquisitive. irrevocably fond.

he attentively watches as you softly grab his large warm hand in your small cold one. his hands are slightly rough yet supple due to his religious use of the honey-almond handcream you bought him earlier in the week.

he notices, rather than intertwining your fingers with his own and holding them, you smoothly bring his hand up to your face, wrapping your digits loosely around the perimeter of his long slender fingers.

your thumb gingerly caresses his ring finger (the one that holds a devout vow of eternal love), your featherlight touch raising wonderful shivers across his body. with the utmost care, you delicately — as if he’s made out of precious china, brush your supple glossed lips against his fingers, relishing in the coolness of his promise ring that encases both his aquamarine birthstone & your own.

your low-lidded enamored eyes never leave his affectionately curious ones — both of you preciously holding the other ones gaze, eyes locked in a staring contest of love.

utterly content with his undivided attention, you gently press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

a sign of affection.

an act, a promise, of complete & utter devotion.

his pierced eyebrow raises slightly due to the suaveness of your actions. he tries to gather his bearings, his brain fuzzy with your actions — did you actually just do that?

suguru’s amber eyes widen significantly, soft black eyelashes fluttering like raven wings against the tan of his cheek that’s blushed with a hue of raspberry red. mouth slightly ajar in surprise, his silver lip ring glints like starlight in the sunset daze of the evening, while his pierced tongue is pressed against his own cheek to stop himself from becoming a bumbling, stuttering mess.

if he speaks — he wholeheartedly believes all that’ll tumble out of his lips will be unabashedly fervent divulgances of: “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

adoration blooms out of his ribcage like a meadow of daffodils, sweetness enveloping around his heart, soft ivory petals and sage green tendrils wrapping themselves delicately over his bones. he reckons that if you couldn’t hear his heartbeat hammering out of his chest before, you definitely can now.

it’s almost as if his brain is in clouds of cotton candy, his mind in a sweet haze of shock, love, & affection when he finds himself whispering airily, “why’d you do that?”

tenderly stroking away silky strands of ink-black hair that wisp around his ethereal face, the fond smile you grace him with is saccharine sweet, “i felt like it.”

unbelievably charmed, he can’t help the giggle that spills its way out through his mouth like honey, a syrupy-sweet sounding little thing. his shaky fingers cover his rosy lips slightly as he laughs bashfully. he’s a bit shy because of it, but you don’t think a sound has ever been so melodious to your ears. you’d get down on one knee to kiss his knuckles reverently as many times as he wants just to hear his laughter over and over and over again.

the way you see it, it’s as if you were put on this earth to devote yourself to him.

like a loyal knight kisses the ring on the hand of their king with the utmost veneration, you’d do the same. without question, worshipping the ground whereupon he stands like a faithful follower would do to a cult leader. you figure in all of the other multiverses, you’re ultimately doing the same thing as what you’re doing in this one: loving him — devoutly. earnestly. passionately.

if the look of ardent rapture on your face is anything to go by, suguru might faint with the rush of pure love & endearment that flows like nectar throughout his veins.

he feels his blush bloom over his warm face which rushes towards the tips of his pierced ears, a clear sign of you flustering him.

wanting to gain back some semblance of control of the situation, he puts on a poker face, a gentleness in his eyes & a fondness in his smile still shining through. his black-nail polished thumb grazes your soft wind-chilled cheek. a beacon of warmth. a caress of admiration accompanied with a well-maintained façade of smoothness. a comforting touch for the both of you.

“well, aren’t you just so sweet.” suguru can’t help the coo that escapes his cherry red lips when you look up at him with your precious doe eyes, “my pretty little baby.”

he softly pinches your cheek, admiring the soft plush. he cradles your cheek with the same hand, & carefully smoothes down your hair that’s been strewn around a bit by the evening wind with the other. suguru pats your head in a nurturing manner in the process, another fond coo escaping him when he sees you preen at the attention he gives you, affectionately watching you revel in the flattering treatment.

your eyes widen with joy, always keening with any praise he showers you with. “i’d like to think so! now come on sugu, your pretty little baby has a lil surprise for you!” you playfully wink at him, your smile beaming like sunshine.

your warm eyes map his stunning features reverently, memorizing his elegant visage. drinking in his otherworldly beauty, as if you could never get enough.

while you openly admire him, suguru does the same to you. he doesn’t think that he’s ever been this enamored by a human being before. you’re the center of his universe, and he can’t imagine his life without you. all he can see in this moment is: you. his intense gaze holds yours as he captures both of your cheeks in his warm gentle hands, enveloping himself in your space. the perfume he bought you for your birthday invades his senses, clouding his mind in a welcomed haze.

all he can think of at the moment is: you. you. you.

all he can repeat in his mind is: mine. mine. mine.

his eyes gleam with a newfound sense of desire, wanting to show you exactly what you mean to him. what you do to him.

golden eyes turned onyx, dilated with desire, flit to your mouth. his thumb outlines your pretty lips that are begging to be devoured by his own, his right hand moving to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up so he can comfortably take control. long, slender fingers splay across your hair, bringing you closer to him, slightly tugging the strands to hear and feel you gasp against his mouth. he presses his left hand against the small of your back, coaxing you further into his body, fusing you both together. not wanting to be even a millimeter apart. he just can’t get enough of you.

it’s like a magnetic gravitational pull when he presses a soft, sensual kiss against your glossy lips. the cold metal ball in his pierced tongue explores the wet cavern of your mouth, and he can’t help but moan softly into you, relishing in your warmth.

he prays to the stars above, hoping that he can convey his sincere love, desire, & admiration for you like this. he breathes life into you and you do the same to him. kissing you with such vigor & passion, he feels like melding your lips & souls together wouldn’t be enough.

suguru burns with a hunger to become one with you.

he pleads to the universe that the intensity of his desire and yearning is relayed to you — that you crave it, crave him as much as he craves you.

with the way he’s ravenously kissing you, and how you’re excitedly kissing him back, it seems like you certainly received the message.

suguru thinks it’s a little bit funny, but very much endearing, when you run around the living room like a bumbling fawn.

you zig-zag around the counter, making sure you pick up the purse that suguru got for you on your previous anniversary, an acrylic charm of your favorite actor clinking against the metal fastenings. (another gift that suguru got you, begrudgingly he might admit, because who the hell is that toji fushiguro guy anyways…)

you double check that all the contents you need are inside: phone, charger, lip gloss, mini perfume, credit cards — AH! you run back to your room like a panther, not wanting to forget the most important thing you need for tonight!

he can’t help himself but laugh at your frazzled antics. “babe, you can calm down! we’re going on a picnic, it’s almost impossible for us to be late!” suguru admires your punctuality, he thinks it’s sweet how you never want to keep him waiting.

“FORGOT SOMETHING, I ALMOST DIED.” you rush back to him, a big goofy smile on your face.

“baby… you’re heaving.” suguru covers his mouth, trying not to giggle out loud at how out of breath you are just by running a few feet. you’re so fucking cute.

“damn…” you huff out, hands on your knees, trying to get a deep breath in. “don’t call me out like that.”

he can’t help the laugh that bellows out of him, “sorry angel, now let’s go!” he places his large hands against your back, ushering you out the door quickly, “you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

walking you towards his black mercedes, he opens the passenger side for you. with both hands on your hips, you remind him that, “it’s a SURPISE!”

after around 45 minutes of both of you jamming out to your playlist in the car, poking his cheek while childishly asking “are we there yet?” just to annoy him for fun, and ultimately being a proper passenger princess who tells him to “just trust me!” when he asks where you two are going, you both arrive to your destination.

and the sight that he sees, enthralls him. he whistles, beguiled by the view. from here, he can see how pretty and bright the stars are, it almost looks like they’re twinkling a “hello!” at the both of you. suguru thinks to himself, a picnic here at night? he’s unbelievably mesmerized at how your brain works sometimes.

he turns to face you, watching how engrossed you are in your phone, tapping away incessantly. wanting your full attention, his fingers grab your chin gently to force you to look him. he jokingly purrs, “if you took me here to kill me, i’ll have you know… sitting on my face would be much easier. much more preferred.”

you raise your eyebrow questioningly.

“because… it’s dark and we’re in random clearing.”

you stare at him blankly. “okay, you’ve hung out with me waaaay too much because i literally said that pick-up line to you last week and now you’re blatantly stealing it… like a THIEF. and also? you drove us here. who the hell is gonna drive me back if you’re dead?”

his brows furrow and he pouts, annoyed that you didn’t fall into his arms and blush because of his (your) raunchy words. he turns away from you and opens his door to leave, brattily huffing out a, “hmph. shut up, dumbass.” with his head held up high in the air, he struts away pompously to the trunk, opening and closing it loudly. a picnic basket with food you both made together in one hand, and a soft quilt of constellations made by haibara & nanami for suguru’s previous birthday in the other.

how fitting.

you loudly snicker to yourself while getting out of the car, amused by your boyfriend’s spoiled antics. while suguru is front of you admiring the view and trying to find a spot to set up, you admire the view in front of you. whistling out a, “damn…” suguru scoffs at your flirty behavior and gives you the finger. you send an air kiss back, and he playfully swats it away.

when he turns away again, you smile to yourself dreamily. taking out your phone, you click a quick candid of him against the night sky, admiring at how he almost resembles a painting.

the cream of his sweater and the contrast of his cascading ink-black hair entrances you, the silver hairpin you got him during a couple’s trip to kyoto in the top of his bun. the dangling deep violet amethyst gem glints in the moonlight, making him look even prettier. he turns his head to the left, eyebrow piercing and his lip piercing no longer in your peripheral, rather you see his eyebrow slit — a scar which you’ve softly traced over many times. his side profile allures you effortlessly, the angular bridge of his nose and the soft cupid’s bow of his lip offering up a beautiful contrast that is suguru: graceful yet strong.

shaking your head slightly, you break out of your trance.

you go back to the task at hand, opening your notes app and ticking off the word at the top of your list.

stargazing. ✔️

you remember suguru mentioned it in passing one day when you were both in the blossoming stage of your relationship. it was on his date bucket-list ever since he could remember, and of course you wanted to be the one who would take him!

you guide him over to a little meadow overlooking the city. surrounding you both are beautiful moonflowers, their sweetness enveloping your sinuses. the air is cool and crisp, and in the distance you hear the faint chirps & buzzing of hummingbirds along with the faint caws of ravens. you’re proud of yourself that you were able to find a place this picturesque. (even to this day, you still have an urge to impress suguru in any way that you can.)

both of you sit on the quilt suguru sets down, the homemade cloth providing an extra layer of cushioning that you feel atop the softness of the grass.

you’re upon the hill clearing, close enough to the city that you can comfortably drive back while still seeing a few citylights from where you are, but far away enough that the light pollution wouldn’t interfere with the date you had planned.

“it’s pretty.” suguru glances at the view, praising you while taking out the tonkatsu sandwiches, pasta salad, & chocolate covered strawberries from your picnic wicker-basket. you pick up a bag of chips and start munching on it while he lays down on his back propped up on his elbows, opening up a banana milk to sip on.

“i’m glad you like it,” your words are muffled in between loud crunches and fast chewing, “i was worried we’d be attacked by a mountain lion or a swarm of bees or some shit.” you say honestly.

he blinks. “i wasn’t worried about that.” sighing out a deep breath, he whispers, “but i am now.” he takes another sip of his banana milk in case it’s his last.

he sits up and picks up the tonkatsu sandwich, handing you the bigger half. “but seriously, how’d you find this place?”

you take the smaller half from his grasp instead, switching with him. taking a bite, you hum happily. suguru is such a good cook. he smiles at you fondly and you answer him, “i was searching up good places to look at the stars. out of all the pictures and reviews, this was the prettiest one.”

you look up at him and swear that you see an actual twinkle in his eyes.

“stargazing?” he pushes his bangs back behind his ear, leaning into your face. loudly repeating, “STARGAZING???” nose pressed against yours, an excitedly manic look in his eyes.

he throws his head back and waves his arms in the air, lamenting, “i should’ve brought my fucking telescope!”

he directs his gaze back towards you, pointing his finger at you accusingly while demanding, “we are coming here again in the future, okay? i’ll bring all of my astronomy gear: a telescope, binoculars, a constellation book, and oooooh! maybe i’ll also bring…” you unintentionally tune him out, looking at him adoringly with stars in your eyes.

this is what you wanted to see.

if you’re being honest with yourself, the best thing to experience in your life is getting to see suguru act genuinely excited. his eagerness to discover new things is infectious, and the man before you is the real suguru: dorky, eclectic, passionate.

the graceful, poised, & elegant man you see when he meets new people and the air of sultriness & suaveness he has when he takes you on fancy dates are utterly enchanting & beguiling, but you think that suguru you see before you now — the excitable nerd, is the most beautiful.

he flicks your forehead, breaking you out of your reverie. “have you been listening to a word i’ve been saying?” he scolds you while pinching your cheek extra hard.

“yeah, you want a telescope so you can look at the stars. also, you look really pretty… the stars ain’t got nothin’ on you.” you rest your chin in your hand, smirking at him, reveling in the blush that paints his cheeks. it was just the cold wind!, he’d tell you later while playfully smacking you upside the head.

you continue, “plus, it’s really hot when you’re all stern and tellin’ me off. what’s my incentive to listen to every word you say if i can get you scoldin’ me instead?” you tilt your head against your hand, grin wide, teeth bared. the masochist in you wants him to scold you even further.

he crosses his arms at you, muscles bulging out of his cream cableknit sweater. your eyes drink up the adonis right in front of you, mentally undressing him. “instead of hitting on me, how about i explain all of the constellations to you in extreme detail?” he purrs to you while biting his lip. he flips his hair over his shoulder, sultrily looking at you. you see right through him of course, knowing that he’s appeasing to your attraction to him just so he can ramble about ursa major, ursa minor, & the big dipper.

frankly. it works.

he holds his hand out to you. a truce.

you shrug. “if you do it like a hot stern professor, then sure.” you both shake on it.

he rolls his eyes playfully, trying to stop the smile that threatens to creep up on his face. “ugh. fine. be quiet and come over here.” he picks you up underneath your thighs and puts you in between his legs. your back pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. he kisses you on the head, appreciative of your indulgence of him.

you giggle cutely and move yourself down, laying your head in his lap while he softly plays with your hair. his lovesick gaze, fond smile, & warm thighs envelope your body, filling your senses with suguru. he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, an addicting contrast of his cold lip ring & warm soft lips electrifying your skin.

he pops a single chocolate-covered strawberry in your mouth, and you playfully nip his finger. he traces your lips softly and starts playfully lecturing you about the constellations that grace the night sky.

he excitedly points at a cluster of three bright stars, “and that is orion’s belt!”

you point at a bright star in the night sky a few lightyears away from it, grin unbelievably wide.

“i think you might be missing one, babe. and you call yourself the modern-day galileo. heh.” you playfully tease him.

suguru rolls his eyes, “okay first of all, i have never called myself that. second of all — excuse me?” his scoff is slightly haughty, & he can’t help the indignant laugh that escapes out of him. “alright, since you know so much — enlighten me then, what’s that one called?”

“hmm… i believe it’s sugurugeto-020390.”

suguru’s eyes widen ridiculously like flying saucers.

“what?”

you push yourself out of his grasp to hurriedly pull out a certificate from your purse and hand it to him. you sit next to him cross-legged, gauging his reaction.

“trust me, i wish i could get a better name for it, but it turns out there’s a lot of suguru geto’s in the world.”

pausing for a moment, you want to make sure that your boyfriend knows that he’s the only suguru geto on your mind.

giving him bedroom eyes, you purr, “none like you of course.”

he blinks. “what?”

your face falls comically, and you pout, “that bright star in the sky is yours.” you point at it haphazardly. “you’re the light of my life, you illuminate my life, you’re the sole star and center of my universe, blah blah blah… so i figured… ya know…!” you gesticulate wildly, and in the moonlight suguru can see the slight blush on your cheeks. your eyes looking everywhere else but his own.

you’re shy.

he can feel the sinus pressure building up against his nose and the tears glaze over his eyes.

you scratch the back of your head, trying to save face. you quickly backtrack, “i know it’s a bit cheesy and honestly, technically, this was probably a scam, but i figured it was the thought that counts and–”

“shut up.”

you look up at him in a state of shock, “HAH???”

he grabs your cheeks, his silver rings cool against your face, and smashes his lips against your own, teeth slightly knocking against yours. in his excitement, he pushes you down and straddles you, pinning you down to the grass — his body a comforting weight on top of you. he kisses you breathlessly, moaning loudly in your mouth. you can both taste the fruitiness of the strawberry on each others tongues, your own being pressed softly against his piercing. you pull away softly, needing to take a breath.

and the sight above you is one you don’t think you’ll ever want to forget.

suguru’s seductive low-lidded gaze is locked on you, parts of his bangs wisped across his face from the momentum of pouncing on you. he’s breathing heavily, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat hammering against yours, his nipple piercings slightly poking into your chest. a rosy blush spreads itself on his cheeks like a strawberry jam, and you don’t think any view could compare to the one you’re blessed to see now.

his lips are red and glossy, aching to kiss you again. you nod softly, begging him to continue. he slots his lips back with your own, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before he bites down sensually, groaning loudly when he hears you whimper. he curls an arm underneath your body while kissing you passionately, bringing you closer to him, enveloping you into his space. all you can think about in this moment is: suguru. suguru. suguru.

pulling away once more, you peer into pools of gold. with every fiber of your being, you truly believe that his eyes carry the most beautiful stars — a milky way of ochre and obsidian.

never casting your fond gaze aside, you intertwine your hand with his, bringing it to your lips, kissing each knuckle fervently.

his alluring gaze follows your devoted actions. butterflies brush their wings together inside his stomach, the flutter erupting throughout his whole entire being. he thinks that in the moonlight, underneath the canopy of stars that…

you are the most brightest.

the most beautiful.

the most meaningful.

“honey! i’m hoooooooome!”

you feel unbelievably ecstatic that you can finally get to see your dear boyfriend after two weeks of being apart!

you already have the whole day planned out, perhaps you two can get takeout from your favorite local restaurant and watch anime together! you giggle happily to yourself while thinking about how you both can snuggle and have a cozy day in.

you take your shoes, coat, & purse off by yourself, wondering if suguru is out. usually by the time you’re at the door, suguru is already there welcoming you back with a massive kiss and a “missed you baby.” softly whispered in your ear, especially if you go on a long trip…

hmm, that’s a bit odd.

now that you’re looking around…

the apartment is in complete disarray.

it looks like a tornado blew through the whole place.

you shuffle in further… and dirty dishes are piled in the sink, overflowing dangerously. suguru’s clothes, random knick knacks, and pillows are strewn about as if he threw them all in a fit of rage. crumbs litter the carpet and you see what looks to be dirt tracks on the floorboards. the laundry is stacked high and the air is stuffy, it seems like no windows were opened in the time that you were away.

worriedly, you run into your shared bedroom.

suguru is there, thank god safe & sound, but what you see breaks your heart.

he’s laid face down, the left side of his cheek smooshed into the pillow, black tear tracks staining the fabric… he must’ve cried on a day when he went out? the bedroom is filled with dirty clothes on the floor, and you’re pained to smell the stench of cigarettes in the air. it’s light… maybe he only smoked one… but the fact that he felt the need to smoke at all, shattered your soul.

especially considering he quit ages ago when he started dating you.

you walk towards him lightly, not wanting to scare him off. his eyes are open and he looks at you… but he’s not really looking at you.

“you alright there, precious?” you softly whisper.

a perfunctory question. you know he’s not. he knows he’s not. but you know he’s in no state to answer any questions that you have.

“mhm.” he hums quietly. lethargic, not even having the willpower to answer with anything but a light rasp.

you brush back his bangs, and he shudders. his hair is greasy, oil-black hair clumping together in some places, matted in others. his lips are slightly chapped, a bit bloodied no doubt from his habit of biting his lip when he’s anxious. his fingernails are no stranger to the same action, stubbed and jagged down to the nailbed, his black nail polish chipped. bright amber eyes which often have a gentle look in them have turned into a dull ochre, obsidian pupils overtaking his irises.

they’re still gentle because he’s looking at you… but if you’re being honest with yourself, his eyes remind you a bit of a black hole right now.

vacant of light.

you press a soft kiss against his forehead and leave the room momentarily, thinking to yourself if anything can be done about this situation.

you decide to shoot satoru a quick text, seeing if he can help you out a bit with what you want to do.

you breathe out a sigh of relief, a small smile gracing your face. you can always count on satoru. the man may be silly and eclectic, but at the core of his being, he’s someone who will always take care of and look out for his friends. he’s the type of person to drop anything to help those that he loves and adores.

(sometimes you think that satoru really was an angel put onto earth.) (but then you think that he was probably cast out of heaven for being a little shit.) (regardless, you still fucking love him for it.)

you walk back into the room, and lay your head against your pillow that is next to suguru’s. (it smells like him… he must’ve hugged it while you were away.)

cradling his cheek, you quietly say, “satoru’s also back from his business trip babe, he’ll be coming in about 10 minutes. how about you get a bit of sunshine with him, hmm?” he blinks slowly, nodding softly.

you hold his hand to help him up out from the bed, but he shoos you away, admonishing you slightly, “i can do it myself.”

you nod and leave him to it, mentally preparing yourself for the behemoth cleaning task ahead when he leaves.

suguru pads slowly into the bathroom and puts his hair up in a high ponytail with a hairtie he stole from you, not wanting to deal with it. he washes his face and gets a wet rag to pat down his body and underarms, not having the energy to shower. putting on a random black sweatshirt, he douses himself in your favorite cologne of his. he puts on your strawberry lip balm while popping a piece of mint gum in his mouth and with a tired sigh, he exits the bathroom, dragging his feet to where you are at the door.

he kisses your temple gently. planting a soft kiss against his knuckles, you think your eyes deceive you when you see a semblance of a twinkle in his eyes. “love you baby. i’ll bring you back somethin’.” he rasps out softly.

even in his darkest times, even when his mind is playing tricks on him, he’s still thinking of you. wanting to take care of you. desiring to show his affections towards you in any way that he can.

you simply want to return the favor.

satoru arrives at your doorstep wearing a crisp white button up and black tinted glasses, his snowy white hair shining like starlight thanks to the delicate sunbeams that hit him. he hugs suguru gently, placing a soft kiss against his temples. suguru, dressed in all black just nods his head lightly at him. he’s not really interested in going out but knows that you two will force him regardless, reminding him that getting sunshine and looking at different scenery is important.

as they get into the car and back out of the driveway, suguru waves lightly at you, eyes tired yet gentle. satoru winks at you, proud & thankful that suguru has someone that cares so deeply for his mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing.

waving them both a goodbye, you go back inside and put on your cleaning playlist, ready to get started.

the first thing you do is open up the blinds and windows, wanting to air out the stuffiness that had built up over the past two weeks. considering the fact that suguru got a tinge paler and his undereyes looked sunken, you don’t think he got even a single beam of sunshine or any semblance of fresh air in the time that you were away.

padding over to the kitchen, you begin by doing the dishes. wearing your matching baby blue dishgloves, you get to work. it seems like suguru got anxious by seeing all the dishes piled up and started using some paper plates, which would explain the overflowing trash as well. the dishes are caked with food, but soften a bit by dousing them in water along with spritzing a powerwash grease-lifting spray. you sigh happily, glad that this will make it easier. after washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, you turn your attention to the kitchen surfaces.

you wipe down the counter and dining table in circular motions with a lemon-verbena spray, disposing of any old particles of food and random dust that lay upon the surfaces. already in your cleaning mode, you start to feel a little bit more energized.

opening up the refrigerator, you see that it’s been practically untouched. unfortunately, you gag when you smell rotting veggies and fruits, promptly rushing to your kitchen cabinet to get your trash bag to toss any old food away. you mentally remind yourself to get groceries in the morning, maybe if suguru is feeling a bit better after today you both can go together!

walking into the living room, you get your cleaning towel to beat the dust out of all the furniture. usually you & suguru both start with the bedrooms, but this time you figure you’d start with the living room as it’s in a bit of a better shape than the bedroom.

after you finish beating the living hell out of your cushions, you get to swiffering, mopping, and vacuuming — humming and singing loudly to suguru’s favorite songs on your shared cleaning playlist.

you go into the bedroom and start by gathering all of the clothes on the floor and the ones in the hamper to put inside the washing machine. you look around and do the same with the bedsheets and pillow cases, rubbing the eyeliner out of suguru’s pillowcase with some makeup remover first.

cleaning out all of the drawers, you make sure to throw away any random trash and only keep what’s necessary. clutter bothers both you and suguru, so you do your best to try and minimize that. you pick up empty bottles off the nightstand and throw them away. at least he drank a bit of water.

turning your attention to your bookcase, you wipe down the multitude of pictures of you & suguru that he put in frames.

there’s a few of both of you smiling after going on cute dates — suguru’s grin unbelievably wide while flipping off the camera and holding you close to his chest as you laugh loudly. there’s ones of you gazing at him adoringly, your love for him seeping out of the picture. there’s others of him looking at you — a soft fondness in his eyes, an even softer smile gracing his lips, his affectionate gaze tuning out anyone and anything else that isn’t you. both framed and pinned to the wall are multiple candids you two took of one another when the other wasn’t looking or paying attention, bursts of love immortalized in random moments of time.

you tell yourself that the sniffle you do is just because of the dust.

clearing your throat slightly, you look around proudly. you’re done!

you spray each room with a cotton spray, inhaling the fresh linen scent happily. you light up a teakwood candle that suguru bought a few weeks ago in the living room and put a sandalwood diffuser in the bathroom, freshening up the place. you take a well-deserved shower, feeling properly clean and accomplished.

by the time you’re done, it’s around 5:30 in the evening and satoru texts you that they’re on their way and will be back home in approximately 30 minutes.

you take a can of sprite out of the fridge and onto the counter, while simultaneously placing an order for cold zaru soba noodles from suguru’s favorite local spot. you place another order at your best friend sukuna’s bakery for suguru’s most beloved dessert: matcha crepes. you figure ordering a bouquet of flowers would be a cute, fun little surprise too — anything to put a smile on suguru’s face.

you also do the same for satoru, a little thank-you present for when he comes back to his own apartment. you order a bouquet of narcissus & holly for him, internally hoping that he likes it while also ordering all of his favorite desserts from his favorite bakery! knowing with your entire soul that he will happily fill himself up on raspberry macarons, strawberry cake, vanilla mochi, chocolate donuts, & zunda cream kikufuku to his heart’s desire.

with a pep in your step, you walk back into the bathroom to get the most important part of your night started.

suguru finds his heart a bit lighter when he comes back to your shared home. he didn’t want to admit it to satoru… but he actually had a fun time eating, shopping, and listening to his hilarious stories about his shitty business trip. he’d be lying though if he said that he wasn’t most excited to see you after a long, eventful day.

in his hand are a bunch of shopping bags from stores that satoru dragged him to — clothes from your favorite stores, accessories & bags that you most wear, shoes that you need, books & knick knacks that you like — all for you. he bought a few for himself of course, but he mainly wanted to spoil you. he can’t help the small smile that creeps up on his face when he thinks about how excited you’ll be to see the gifts he got you.

thinking back on it, the guilt and shame he felt in his heart when you first saw him earlier today ate him up. he didn’t even know why he was feeling the way he was feeling so strongly. it was coincidence that it coincided with your trip, and he made sure that he would sound fun and happy over text as to not worry you. it wasn’t until a few days from when you were actually set to arrive that he didn’t even have the energy to talk or text you.

hell, he didn’t even have the energy to keep the apartment tidy or keep himself in check either. another pang of guilt hits him like a freight truck. he concludes that he’ll give you a spa day so he can clean everything up, not wanting you to worry about the mess he made.

he knows from the bottom of his heart that you’d never judge him or make him feel small for feeling the way he felt, he just feels so bad that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to greet you the way you deserved to be greeted. to kiss you. to hug you. to have a delicious dinner together and snuggle with you.

but no. after a long trip you had to come home and be worried for him. have the apartment be in disarray, have to see him be in disarray. fuck, you were worried enough to call up satoru.

he swears to himself that he’s gonna make it up to you. he swears that–

oh?

what?

suguru’s eyes widen, hands weakly dropping his shopping bags on the floor.

the entire apartment, top to bottom, is spotless.

dishes done and put away. dining table clean. living room tidy. is that… a bouquet of daffodils, his birth flower, on the counter? he also sees the bag from his favorite bakery right next to it too…

he walks around, astonished, at how you’ve made the apartment look brand new.

he reaches the bedroom and sees that the bed is made. his clothes have been clean, dried, and put up in hangers inside his closet. the nightstand, dresser, and bookcase all spotless and wiped free of dust.

a fresh smell envelopes his sinuses. he swallows the lump in his throat. did you smell the single cigarette he smoked? it seems like you aired out the whole apartment. in front of him is a beautiful sunset that waves at him from outside. a sunray beam kisses his cheeks. suguru blinks and feels something wet trailing down his face… it tastes salty on his lips. but feels so warm and sweet.

“suguru?” your angelic voice calls to him.

he turns around and sees you. fresh and clean, a beacon of warmth and illumination. a light blush dusting your cheeks no doubt from all of the hard work you’ve done.

“i ran you a bath. you up for it?” you tilt your head cutely at him, a silent plea in your eyes for him to agree.

feeling like his voice will betray him if he speaks, he nods softly. grabbing his hand, you take him to your shared bathroom, also totally spotless. your hands are soft and small in his, warm for once, because of you taking a hot shower and checking the temperature of the water for suguru’s bath. a sandalwood scent envelopes his nose, no doubt from the diffuser you put inside. he sees the romantic candles and rose petals around the bathtub and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face.

“for me?” he rasps, a teasing tilt to his voice.

“always. everything and anything i do will always be for you.” you say it seriously. genuinely.

to you, it’s a vow. an oath.

his eyes widen slightly, but he closes them momentarily, not wanting any more tears to spill. he crinkles his eyes and smiles at you softly.

“you joining me?” he undresses, taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt. showcasing his tan skin, toned abs, & muscles. his nipple piercings & belly button piercing are on full display and he giggles lightly as you ogle at his body, watching your eyes trace his numerous tattoos & piercings, absolutely mesmerized.

“maybe next time,” you smirk, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “figured i could do a little pamper session, is that alright with you?” you ask him caringly, wanting to make sure that he’s comfortable with it first & foremost.

he fears that if he speaks any louder than a whisper, the love that overcomes him will drown his airways. he rasps out a small, “yeah.”

always. anything and everything you do will always be right for me.

he gets into the bath and you try to not let your eyes trail down, instead focusing your gaze on his dragon tattoo that encompasses his entire back along with the mythological japanese creatures that trail up his arms and ribcage like tapestry. you see one of your favorites, a black and white beta fish upon his ribs, submerged underneath the water he’s in.

from this angle, you can also see your name that he tattooed behind his ear. smiling to yourself, you sit behind him, ready to begin the pamper session.

his sloshes the rose petals around with his fingers. the water is warm, is his first thought. i wish you were in here with me, is his second.

your fingers stroke his hair softly, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then you get to work, vigorously rubbing in his lavender shampoo. he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. for some reason anytime you two would take baths or take showers together, you would always wash his scalp aggressively. “this is how i wash my hair sugu! what’s a little run through gonna do? we gotta keep clean!” did clean mean damn near ripping out his hair follicles? possibly.

he’d never stop you or scold you however, he thinks it’s hilarious and an endearing trait of yours. when he washes your hair he makes sure to be as soft and careful as possible, almost lulling you to sleep. when you wash his hair however, it’s like you’re turbowashing a pickup truck. he figures this time he’ll give you a pass (he always does) considering that he doesn’t think he’s washed his hair in around a week and a half.

“gonna rinse now, okay?” he hums quietly, closing his eyes.

this almost feels like a purification process to him.

you lather shampoo in his hair once again wanting to do a double cleanse, this time a bit more softly. you massage his scalp, and he tips his head back. you start from the crown of his head, working in circular motions, using your fingertips. then you go to the roots of his hair, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering.

you push his head forward slightly so you can clean the back of his head too, massaging the pressure points in his scalp. you were always a good masseuse, therefore a deep sigh escapes him, tension leaving his body by the second. (this might be the first time in two weeks where he’s been able to breathe comfortably.) you run your fingers throughout the clean strands of his hair, humming a little tune to yourself.

“they called me.” your hands still for second, but resume back to carefully twisting the water out his silky black hair. you stay quiet, knowing that when suguru speaks he prefers to get it all out there first.

“must’ve been like, what, two days after you left?” a humorless laugh escapes him. “they always know when to fuck up my mood. i swear.”

he sighs tiredly. “they went on a whole spiel about how i need to come back home and find a ‘real job’ as a hotshot lawyer or some fancy businessman, as if i don’t run my own tattoo parlor. as if i’m not also a real fucking businessman. like, do they think i don’t make any money? that i can’t comfortably take care of us both?” he rolls his eyes, getting annoyed again just thinking about how long the same repeated conversation had gone on.

suguru’s family is relatively well-off. he’s genuinely thankful that both him & satoru never had to worry about how to put food on the table or be worried about not being able to spoil the people that they loved.

it’s just that his parents were angry that their picture-perfect little boy wanted to spread his wings… see a world that had more to offer than quiet dinner table meals filled with tension and pointed jabs at one another guised as “caring advice.”

their image of suguru started to get distorted when he first showed up on their doorstep with his gauges. an act of rebellion. he could’ve worn small simple diamond studs but he wanted to make an impression: i’m my own person. even as a 13 year old boy, i can make this decision on my own. he remembers the way his father said he looked foolish. how his mother held her hand over her heart, in shock that her little baby boy had tainted himself in such a manner. what would others say?

suguru remembers looking in the mirror after the whole fiasco & thinking: god… they’d say i look so fucking cool.

then it started with sneaking out to go on late night drives with satoru, shoko, nanami, & haibara. they’d jam out to random songs on the radio, get slurpees & snacks, and sit in satoru’s car just talking about life and their future for hours. suguru still remembers the way his bangs wisped across his face, the crisp night air purifying his soul, the stars in the sky illuminating the landscape. the world seemed bigger those days and the gang were enjoying their teenage years. enjoying their youth.

he remembers coming home, his father waiting for him on the couch, pointing to the seat next to him, forcing suguru to sit down. his father’s arms crossed, black turtleneck making his muscles bulge slightly out of his sweater, his specs on the bridge of his nose making him look so serious. suguru found it easy to make eye contact with everyone in the world, but with his father he couldn’t help but look away sometimes… so he redirected his gaze to the tiny delicate beauty mark near his fathers right eye. a small little thing that made his father look a bit more… prettier. nicer. less daunting.

“where were you?” the timbre of his father’s voice rattled his bones. he muttered those three words quietly, but it still shattered suguru’s eardrums regardless.

“out. with my friends.”

he scoffs. “some friends they are.” a deep resounding ring of utter disappointment comes from his father’s words.

suguru sneers at the man, pissed that he would even think to disrespect suguru’s choice of friends like that. “yeah, they’re the best.” not an ounce of sarcasm lacing his words. his own mood dampened, nevertheless.

he recalls stomping all the way upstairs and slamming the door with all his might. sitting on his bed and resting his head against the window pane, eyes looking up at the same stars he saw when hanging out with his friends.

the stars seemed so far away from suguru’s room.

the world looked so big. suguru felt so small.

then one day, months later, suguru kissed a pretty boy. he can’t quite remember his name anymore, just that his lips were soft and his eyes were kind. suguru’s parents found out. his dad was surprisingly fine with it… he just assumed it was a phase, he went through the same thing as his son did when he was his age. his mother however… she just acted like it never happened the next morning. as if it wasn’t just a part of who he is.

his parents thought he was rebelling for the sake of rebellion. in actuality, it was suguru’s true self coming out. he was just getting more comfortable in his own skin. he was tired of being the picture perfect beauty who always was demanded of being polite, poised, & graceful. it was always too easy for him to put on a fake smile and manipulate others into doing what he wanted for the sake of his family’s reputation, it’s what he was taught. being at that house, it felt like he was kept on a tight leash, restricted from living his life. he felt caged like a bird…

but he just wanted to be free.

all he wanted was to just truly be himself in this world.

a kiss against his scalp breaks him out of his reverie.

right… he was here with you. he doesn’t have to spiral or worry anymore. you’re here. with him.

you’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

he shudders softly, taking your hand, holding it tight within his grasp. anger laces his next words, “they also said it’s time i get into a ‘real relationship’. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle. you know that his parents aren’t too fond of you, you’re not exactly of the same… class or status as them. at least that’s what suguru’s mother told him.

he huffs out a single dry laugh, “i’m glad you’re laughing about it because i nearly popped a fucking blood vessel screaming into my phone when they said that shit.”

“my protector.” you coo to him.

a light blush tinges his cheeks. always.

he presses a kiss against your palm. “i think it just made me… spiral a bit, y���know? reminded me of when i was kid and they made every little decision for me. i mean i’m a fucking adult now — i can decide what i do, who i wanna be, and who i want to be with.”

so when he got that phone-call from them on that day he was supposed to go to some rock concert… he did the one thing he promised himself he’d never do again. he lit a cigarette, and cried his eyes out into his pillow.

while sobbing, he remembered when he was in his early twenties and he’d sleep around with anyone and everyone, smoke blunts & cigarettes, go bar-hopping… do everything the picture-perfect pretty boy would never be allowed to do under his parents roof. his family just made him so miserable that he would do anything to not think of them.

he heard your voice in his head, reminding him, that instead of continuing on that self-destructive streak, he got his shit together. art & drawing was always his safe haven, so he found himself an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, getting a job as a piercer and ultimately working his way up to being a tattooist. he owns his own place now — all his hard work & effort paid off.

his mind travels back to you. his one true love.

ever since the moment he met you, he was mesmerized by your beauty — your smile made suguru feel butterflies flutter around in his stomach, he remembers the day you walked into the parlor and how everything in that moment stopped… as if you two were the only ones in the room, as if he could already imagine a future life with you. your personality shining through like a beacon of light, and as he got to know you further, your loving words & caring actions only made him fall deeper in love.

suguru’s heart and sobs only calmed down when he thought of you. his beloved. his angel. his reason to be. he hugged your pillow a bit tighter that night, imagining it was you.

“i’m proud of you, you know.” you say it so genuinely that it tugs on his heartstrings, making his heart skip a beat.

“you’ve been through a lot of shit with your parents, but at the end of the day, you chose to follow what your heart desired — not whatever they wanted. you’re successful in what you do and you made the right decision. it doesn’t matter what the hell they say, because they don’t know the effort and time it took you to get where you are.” you say it so passionately, that suguru believes every word that comes out of your mouth. his heart racing, thankful that somebody fucking understands him.

“you’re kind. you’re caring. you’re so unbelievably loving. you’re always looking out for others and helping anyone that needs it… you’re a good fucking person, suguru. i hope you know that and realize that. it doesn’t matter what anyone else says, you are good. what you do is good. who you are is good. it’s an honor to be able to love you and be with you. i hope you know that.”

for the first time in a while, suguru turns around and really looks at you. the way you bare your soul to him so effortlessly, the way you smile so sweetly at him, the way you make him feel like he’s your one true love.

“i’m so thankful for you. i love you… and i want to be with you, too. always.” his voice breaks a little, overcome with emotion.

suguru hugs you tightly, neither of you caring about the wetness on your clothes. suguru puts his entire spectrum of feelings towards you into the hug — an apology, a thank you, and a proclamation of love.

voice a bit shaky, he laughs, “sorry for getting you all wet. i know how much you hate drenched clothes.”

“you apologizing for getting me wet? now that’s a first.” you purr playfully, glad to see him in better spirits.

a loud laugh bellows out from suguru, deep within his gut. he kisses your lips preciously, and sits back down in the water, urging you to continue.

the mood now is far lighter. the air thick with a sweet steam.

you rinse his hair and gently put his lavender conditioner through his hair. massaging it in, running your fingers through his silky smooth strands. you put his hair up in a clip for a few minutes to let the product soak in. he washes it out himself while you start the shower, making sure you put in his favorite honey-almond bodywash. he gives you a silly yet oddly sultry show when he lathers himself and he promptly comes out, steaming and refreshed. you help him do his skincare routine, softly rubbing each and every product into his skin. he towels off and sits down, hairbrush in his hand, looking at you.

“here, let’s do this first.” you blow dry his hair, taking your time and allowing suguru to lull his head back onto your front, the soft black tresses of your beloved’s hair feeling much more revitalized in your fingers. you then brush his hair, gently, carefully. the entire time, you notice that suguru’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling to himself. you kiss him on the top of his head, and he turns to kiss you back. eyes closed, his lips puckered…

but just then, the doorbell rings.

“OOH! perfect timing!” you scurry off. you leave a pouting suguru who huffs out a little “hmph.” annoyed that whoever was at the door took a very well-deserved kiss away from him.

he patters softly to the kitchen where you’re setting out cold zaru soba noodles for him along with a can of sprite and matcha crepes. all of his favorites.

you hold a bouquet of flowers. daffodils.

“for you.” you curtsy, a mirthful twinkle in your eyes. he graciously accepts them from you, a shy smile and light flush across his cheeks.

“thank you.”

kissing his knuckles you whisper, “anything for you.”

for once in his whole entire life, suguru doesn’t think he can bear to look you in the eye. your adoration is so unbelievably intense, it feels like it’ll burn a hole inside his heart. does he deserve so much goodness in his life?

“you deserve more than what i can give you. i’ll spend my whole life making sure you realize that, suguru.” you say to him honestly. “if you’ll allow me of course.”

he kisses you on the lips softly, hoping that you can feel how thankful and lucky he is that he has you. “likewise.”

he clears his throat. “okay, c’mon. i’m starving. i wanna watch that stupid show and shit talk that hot guy you like on screen while we snuggle.”

“he’s the best character, suguru!” you huff indignantly. clearly he can’t be talking about thee toji fushiguro???

“babe. he SUCKS.”

he knows you so well, he muses to himself.

he knows how your breath hitches after he nuzzles his lips against the curve of your neck, that the skin is sensitive there, but not as sensitive as your right ear. he knows that because of the way your knees buckle as he whispers soft romances to you, intense shivers overtaking your body. he makes sure that his arm is always wrapped tender yet firmly around your waist when that happens, trapping you against his unyielding body.

he knows what makes you tick. on the rare occasion that you allow your emotions to overcome you, he knows how to comfort you. he leaves you alone for a few moments so you’re able to gather your thoughts & assess your bearings, and then he invites you into his warm embrace. he lets you lay your head in his lap as he strokes your hair gingerly, easing your soul with both honest and kind words. adorning your face with soft kisses and even softer caresses. a cocoon of protection.

it seems like these days, however, he hasn’t had a proper grasp on you. you can’t hide a single thing from him, he knows that you would never willingly do so either.

it’s not like you want to anyways — not that you intend to, at least.

but it’s an aching feeling in his chest, nonetheless.

earlier in the week, you’d softly shut your bedroom door whenever you saw him, pretending as if you couldn’t see each other… as if he wasn’t there. it’s moments where he found you haphazardly digging for shit in your drawers, tucking whatever it was into your pockets and padding away softly to your room. you’d stay in there for hours, only coming out when he knocked on your door to tell you dinner was ready. he heard lots of rustling and you pretended as if you were just chilling in there, as if nothing was going on. sometimes when he knocked on your door to see what you were up to, all he heard back was an “i’m busy, baby! i’ll be out soon!” then it became even more odd, you’d quickly shut off your phone whenever he came into the room and would plaster a bright smile at him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

he sighs to himself. he trusts you. he loves you. he knows you’re not doing anything heinous.

but… why won’t you tell him what’s bothering you? don’t you trust him to fix whatever is wrong? it eats away at his mind & soul that you think you have to hide whatever it is that’s taking you from him. don’t you know that he’d drop anything for you? that’s what being in love is for, right?

his eyes peer at you from the couch, studying you. he calls out to you softly, “angel. can we talk, please?”

a statement posed as a question. he knows this. you know this. you answer regardless.

“sure.”

you walk towards him, intentionally adding a lackadaisical swagger to your steps. to fool him. you know it won’t, he knows it won’t. but suguru isn’t anything if a man who doesn’t indulge his beloved.

he pats the seat next to him on the couch. inviting. as if he’s giving you a choice, even though you know you have none at the moment. “sit next to me, my love.” his smile is taut like a string, amber eyes shut closed so you don’t bear witness to the tears that threaten to spill.

he knows you’re hiding something.

he doesn’t like not being in the know.

is it something he did?

is it something you did but are too afraid to tell him?

since when were you afraid of him?

were you always–?

in the few seconds it takes you to sit down, a myriad of questions race through suguru’s head, creating a spiral of untamable negative thoughts. you would talk to him if something was wrong, right? you both have a healthy communication and always talk things over with each other… so what’s different now? do you not trust him?

suguru chastises himself, thoroughly.

of course you wouldn’t want to speak to someone like him.

always the overthinker. always the nagging negative nancy. always the manic-depressive.

sometimes suguru fears that he acts more like a father to you rather than a boyfriend.

that he’s a bit suffocating. too intense. very overbearing.

a warm hand engulfs both of your small, cold ones. he hopes that it comes off as sweet, as caring. because he himself is sweet and caring.

at least he hopes he comes off like that.

“is everything alright, sweetheart?” a soft whisper. he speaks placatingly to you like you’re a newborn fawn and any loud noises or large movements will make you jolt and run away. “i feel like… you’ve been avoiding me recently. and…” he takes a deep breath. “listen, i don’t know if it’s something i did, but you need to tell me, okay? you have to tell me so i can make it better.”

he thinks he sounds nurturing. kind. paternal.

he also thinks he sounds so fucking condescending.

he closes his eyes and a picture of a man darts across his eyelids like an overdeveloped photo.

strict, heavy-handed, cutthroat.

paternal and protective to a fault. a man who was always “right” even when he was wrong.

an “apathetic” man who bore a child who thought too much – felt too much.

a flash of a sophisticatedly handsome man with obsidian shoulder length hair, serious low-lidded eyes, and a firm closed mouth sears itself across suguru’s brain like a charred photograph.

he flings away the afterimage as quickly as it came. pretending as if he never even thought of it.

he gulps, swallowing the fireball in his throat. god, he really doesn’t want to be like… him. having a majority of his features is enough, he does not want to inherit that man’s personality.

suguru absentmindedly rubs the slit in his eyebrow, his grip unintentionally tightening on your hands. he releases moments after, not wanting to cause you any pain.

“everything is fine with me sugu, i promise you.” you reassure him. “it wasn’t my intention to avoid you or make you feel like you did anything wrong… i am so sorry if it came off like that.” you answer him honestly. your head is tilted to the side like a little puppy, brows furrowed, upset that you made him feel like you were trying to get away from him.

“no, no no no no no, baby it’s not your fault.” he quickly grabs your cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. he brings you against his chest, hugging you tightly. “don’t apologize honey, i’m sorry… i just got into my head a bit.” he quickly placates you and kisses the top of your head. you shouldn’t be the one to suffer because he started to anxiously overthink and spiral.

he looks at the time on his watch. it’s a few minutes past midnight. you both should go to sleep… maybe you can talk it over in bed or in the morning with clear heads.

you exhale softly, shaking your head faintly. you press a delicate kiss against the corner of his lips. telling him, “give me a sec.”, you walk over and into your room.

he nods and watches you saunter away, putting his head into his hands. god… him and his big mouth… he sighs, anxiety crawling up his throat once more. he really didn’t want to upset you or anything, he angrily tells himself to apologize to you when you get back.

hearing you shuffle closer to him, he lifts his head.

in your hands is a… huge book?

“i wanted to give you this tomorrow… well technically today, but i guess it doesn’t really matter.”

he tilts his head, confused. you present him with the thing you’ve been working so hard on.

you smile at him so softly, he thinks that his heart is about to burst. “happy birthday, suguru.”

birthday…? oh god, it is his birthday.

he gently takes the present from you… it’s a scrapbook.

“don’t look at it in front of me! okay, bye!” you quickly sprint into your room, not wanting to be in the room when suguru looks at such a personalized present.

blinking, he grabs his reading glasses from the coffee table, and opens the book, flipping through each page carefully.

photobooth pictures, polaroids, kodak film pictures, movie tickets from your dates, admission tickets from amusement parks he’s taken you to, and multiple candids of both him and you - many of which he hasn’t seen.

one of them looks awfully familiar… did you take this the day you took him stargazing in the meadow? his fingers brush against his trembling lips, trying to stop himself from sobbing.

is this what you were doing?

he feels so stupid.

but god… does he feel so fucking loved.

you’ve immortalized every single moment of your relationship with him. nothing being too small for you to be excited about, carefully keeping everything.

he sees the little pressed flower of a daffodil enclosed in wax paper on one of the pages, probably from the first time you gave him a bouquet. the first time anyone has presented him with flowers without wanting anything in return. when asked about the occasion, you simply shrugged and said “just felt like it” & then quickly kissed his knuckles, zooming out of his apartment to run errands. he remembers how bashful he felt. how thankful he was. how loved that experience made him feel.

he moves his glasses upwards, wiping the tears across his lashline and the ones that stream down his face. he clears his throat slightly, and continues flipping the pages. you’ve drawn little doodles (things that he’s already planning to get tattooed on him simply because they came from you) and you’ve written beautiful, personal messages. encapsulating your adoration for suguru in the margins — genuine words filled with your love, devotion, and admiration for him.

he sniffs loudly and tries to wipe his face the best he can. he tenderly calls out your name, beckoning you over to him, and you get up out of your shared bedroom to pad softly into his open arms.

“my love.” he stands up and walks over to you midway. he hugs you so tightly while pressing your head against his beating heart, his arms protectively enveloping you. the space between you two is nonexistent, and suguru surmises that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

conveying his thankfulness and love to you, he sweetly says, “my sweet, sweet girl.” a soft kiss pressed against your hair, “you know my heart beats for you, right?” from anyone else it’d sound cheesy, but from suguru… you know he means it from the depths of his soul.

he holds your face in his gentle hands, openly divulging his admiration for you, “my little dove.” he coos so fondly, sweet candied sugar dripping from every syllable. “you’re so precious to me, you know that? i love you. i love you. i love you.” a tender kiss pressed against your soft lips between each proclamation of adoration.

you smile graciously, thankful and relieved that he adores your present and that he especially adores you. you knew out of any of your presents that you were going to give him today, that this would be the most meaningful. suguru has always been the ultimate sentimentalist, and you wanted him to know that you care for him so deeply. that you love him. adore him. that your heart beats only for him. pushing back a black tendril of hair behind his ear, you kiss him gently. both of your lips fitting together perfectly — like a lock & key.

you bring his knuckles upon your lips, preciously kissing his promise ring, ensuring to him that your love and devotion runs deep, deeper than anything in this world.

“i love you too. happy birthday, my love.” his hands are so gentle. his face is so sweet. suguru… your one true love.

if someone asked suguru to describe you in three words, he’d say you were: devoted. loyal. loving.

he has four more words of his own on the tip of his tongue that he’ll ask to you when he musters up the courage.

with a soft kiss upon the ring on your knuckles, and an even softer smile upon his lips, he lovingly breathes out, “i’ll always love you, forever.”

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Call Me biles

Stiles Stilinski Masterlist Summary: Being Coach’s daughter isn’t that bad. Of course, you're in the lacrosse team, which makes him proud and happy. But falling for the worst player (after Greenberg), going out with him in secret, and lying to your dad… That's bad. But the worst is… Ever since you started dating him, you've been calling him Biles and no one told you you were wrong. Word Count: 2080 Pairing: Stiles x F!Reader A/n: I was feeling the absolute worse today so decided to write the absolute cutest story I could to cheer me up. Teen Wolf, it's been a while! Hope y'all enjoy! Sorry for any mistake! (I wrote this with 3 hours of sleep)

“Faster! My grandma could beat you with her eyes closed, and she’s dead! You suck Greenberg! That’s good sweetie, keep going!”

Obviously, Coach was after everyone. It was understandable, Beacon Hills hadn't won a game in forever, it was almost depressing to be on this team. Other schools made fun of you when they crushed you during games. 

And Coach wasn’t only screaming at the student in his team, but at everyone in the class currently running on the field.

But obviously, when Coach spoke to you, he didn't treat you the same way as the others. His tone changed, a proud smile appeared on his face, and he began to encourage you instead of denigrating you.

Obviously. Since Coach was your dad.

You finished your lap, out of breath, and leaned over to put your hands on your knees. In the distance, you could hear your dad's voice return to its usual tone as other insults replaced the encouragement he only offered to you. 

“Is that everyone?” You looked up to see the last person finally finishing their lap and collapsing in front of your dad, face red and covered in sweat. A small laugh escaped your vigilance with a smile that you quickly hid when you saw you had Coach's attention on you. “Pathetic,” he finished as he headed towards the school, announcing that class was over.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, and, once certain that he was out of range, headed towards the poor wretch collapsed on the ground.

“Biles!” you laughed, helping him up. “You really need to improve your cardio, or we’ll get crushed at the next game!”

Once on his feet, you met his gaze and it was your turn to lose your breath as you inevitably lost yourself in the beauty of his amber eyes.

“You’re dad will crush me before,” he grimaced as he started walking towards the school alongside you. It was the first class of the day, and you knew the rest of the day would be long, especially with Lacrosse practice scheduled for the evening. “You’re lucky he’s not always on your back, you know?”

You shook your head, understanding what he meant. “He wants what’s best for me. I asked to join the team, he didn’t force me nor did he agreed I join because I was his daughter. He made me go through the tryouts like everyone else and I got no special treatments or favoritism. He just… Made a promise to my mom before she passed away, to never be the cause of my tears. He’s a great dad. Well, except when it comes to dating boys…”

Biles shook his head and sighed as he opened the door to let you enter the school first. “What about the other guys? Aren’t they mad about Coach’s daughter being on the team?”

At his question, a grimace of suffering stretched your face and you stopped walking. Biles mimicked your movement and turned to you, one eyebrow raised.

“Let’s say he made it veeeeerryyyy clear to the ones that complained. And the few ones that started rumors…” You shivered at the thought. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t wanna know,” an expression of terror was now on his face. “Alright, I’ll hit the shower, see you at lunch,” Biles quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and leaned down to place his lips on yours. They were soft and warm and even though it wasn't the first kiss you had shared, the butterflies still woke up in your stomach.

“See you later,” you watched him leave, a stupid smile plastered on your face.

Gosh, you loved that boy.

-

Later the same day, it was Lacrosse practice.

Even though you had spent time with Biles during the day, you were very excited to see him again to play the sport that bonded you two together at the beginning. And then, hiding from your father all day, always looking behind your shoulder to make sure no one was following you, spending dinner breaks in Biles' jeep to make sure no other teacher saw you together at the cafeteria…

It was grueling.

Sometimes, you wish you had the courage to just tell your dad. After all, even though he appeared rather withdrawn, he always supported you in your decisions and encouraged you to pursue your dreams. But a boy in your life?

You feared his reaction.

“Hey, Stiles!” 

The unfamiliar name, albeit with a familiar connotation, caught your attention and you turned your head towards the source. Practice had already started, but as usual, your boyfriend was on the bench while you were on the field. The person who had just spoken was also on the team, number 11 and friend of Biles, who, true to form, arrived late.

Biles jumped to his feet as if he had springs in his shoes and rushed towards Scott to whisper something frantically. You raised an eyebrow, not really understanding the reason for the secrets exchanged between the two boys, and continued playing without worrying anymore about what was happening.

-

Stiles Pov

“Hey, Stiles!”

Nervousness coursed through his veins as if he had just received a violent electric shock. The current reached his feet, and immediately he was standing up and rushing towards Scott, his stress-fueled speed almost on par with the werewolves.

“Biles. My name is Biles. Call me Biles!” Stiles quickly whispered, his hands going all over the place as if he was trying to fly away. 

Scott froze, his mouth half open, and his gaze left his friend and rested on the source of all this stress. The girl in question had stopped playing to look at them, but quickly returned to the game, shrugging one shoulder. “You know, you should tell her.”

“Are you crazy?!” Stiles' voice rose an octave, which caught Coach's attention. A quick wave of his hand to apologize, and Stiles continued the conversation in a low voice. “She’s Coach’s kid, and I love her so much, man, if she thinks my name is Biles, my name is Biles. Hell, I’m ready to change it on my birth certificate.”

Scott looked at his friend with wide eyes. “You love her that much?”

Stiles sighed, his head turning to look behind him where the girl of his dreams had just caught the ball and scored a point. Pleased with herself, her gaze immediately went to her dad who applauded her, then to him, Stiles - well, Biles, who looked at her with eyes full of affection. “You have no idea.”

--

“Stilinski! On the field! Greenberg, out of my sight!”

Hearing his name, Stiles was already standing, helmet on his head and lacrosse stick in his hands. Since he arrived, he was ready to play and radiated energy. Finally on the field, he ran towards the person he wanted to see the most and stopped next to her, smiling under his helmet. 

“Hey there.”

“Hey,” she replied, her smile just as big.

A loud whistle startled them both, but it was the calling of their names that made them break out in a cold sweat. Sweats of horror. Sweats…

Of terror.

“Stilinski! Finstock! Stop flirting and go go go!!” Coach yelled in their direction. 

Stiles shared a frightened look with his girlfriend, the fear of being found out strong in their veins. “Do you think he knows?”

“We were careful,” Y/n whispered as she ran to the other side of the field to start the practice match again. “But I can ask him after practice,” she offered, but seeing the fear in Stiles’ eyes, she felt compelled to specify “subtly, obviously.”

“Your dad scares me,” he added, getting into position.

“I know,” Y/n replied with a sigh. “I know.”

-

Your pov

The practice match was over. Although usually, playing Lacrosse managed to cure all of your daily life stresses and struggles, this time, even the sport that you knew and loved couldn’t stop the tornado of thoughts that invaded your mind.

Did your father find out about your relationship with Biles or not???

If so, you had to do everything to protect him, otherwise you were afraid for his life.

But first of all, you had to ask your father, subtly, if he had any doubts about the nature of your relationship with the number 24.

“Good job tonight Y/n! Dad’s proud of you!” 

You had just returned to the stands when Coach walked to you, a friendly pat of encouragement on the back. Usually, you would have been really delighted -your father's compliments were as precious as a treasure lost for hundreds of years- but stress prevented all good feelings from existing. For the last hour, you've been reciting what you were going to say, how to ask him, how to bring up the subject without seeming suspicious, how-

“I was thinking, hotdogs for dinner. You down?” Your father asked, cutting off all your concentration and courage to ask him. 

“Sure, uhm, dad, I uh… I wanted to-” 

“Why don’t you invite your boyfriend too?” 

You froze. Literally, your whole body turned to marble and you were stuck in the last position you had been in, mouth open, one hand outstretched towards him. Coach was putting away your equipment in your bag, completely unaware of what he just did by asking that simple question.

“Uh?”

“I think it’s time Stilinski acts like a man and steps up for his girl,” your father continued, glancing at you. Then, straightening up, he raised his voice and added: “STILINSKI! COME OVER HERE.”

Like a good soldier, Biles rushed towards Coach and you, leaving everything he was doing behind.

He was missing a shoe.

“Yes, Coach, I’m here, Stilinski, that’s me, reporting, present, right here.” With both hands on his hips, Biles looked at you, then at your father, then back at you, asking a thousand and one silent questions with his facial expressions.

“Hot dogs. You like em?” 

“Yes, sir, love them, enjoy them, delicious, delicate food, truly amazing,” Biles nodded, sweat rolling down his forehead, definitely not from the practice match that had ended 15 minutes ago already.

“Alright. You are eating dinner with us tonight. I think it’s time you stop hiding, you two, gosh,” the coach rolled his eyes and threw his arms in the air, exasperated. For your part, you were still frozen. Your father started to walk away with your sport bag under his arm but suddenly he stopped to turn towards you. “And Stiles?”

“Yes, sir, yes, that’s me, yes?” Your boyfriend responded automatically, his body straightening to form a perfectly vertical straight line.

“You should stop parking in front of my car. I have eyes. Be there for 7!”

With these words, your father disappeared into the school parking lot, where he would wait for you to go back home. But for now...

“Holy shit I’m dead, right?” 

“Wait, your name is STILES? Not Biles???” You exclaimed, turning towards him.

“Is that really what you remember from the conversation?!” 

“You’re not denying it!!”

“I’m gonna die tonight!” 

“You’re gonna be fine, Stiles!” You couldn't believe it. Not only your dad knew about your relationship, but you had completely shamed yourself by not even knowing your boyfriend's real name. “I’ve been calling you the wrong name all this time…” 

You hid your face in your hands. 

“Hey hey…” Warmth settles on your hands, and slowly, Stiles freed your face and gently lift your chin to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I kind of… liked it, you calling me Biles. It was our thing…” Stiles smiled, and damn, that smile was magical. You just couldn’t feel bad having someone so perfect near you. 

“I feel stupid,” you furrowed your brows, your expression pouty.

“If it can make you feel better,” Stiles continued, putting an arm around your shoulders to start walking towards the parking lot with you. “I’ll be dead after tonight, probably,” he added with a laugh. “And also, my real name is not Stiles.”

You stopped walking to look at him. “Really.”

“Yeah. But I’ll only tell you if I survive tonight’s dinner.”

“Alright,” you laughed as you continued walking with him, obvious relief being felt in your heart. It was so nice not to have to hide. “I think I can help with that, Biles. But…” You glanced down.

“Hm?”

“You’re missing a shoe.”

“Oh, I know.”

-

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa​​ @wickedinspirations​@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

[carolmunson]

always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 

thanks for reading. <3

[jymwahuwu]

In an unpredictable interstellar accident, the entire galaxy was impacted by Amber Lord's hammer/changed by Aha's whim's joke. You happened to be there, and under that heavy muffled sound, you and countless living beings present were instantly knocked unconscious. When you wake up, you have forgotten your past… What is in front of you is…

Their first reaction after hearing about your amnesia:

Jing Yuan: Just say you are his lost cat. After discovering that you had lost your memory and still had normal knowledge and understanding, he said "awwwwwww" in disappointment, and then took you back to the general's mansion to raise you.

Blade: =_= It’s impossible…Is this written in the script? (Then he silently made soup for the patient)

Dan Heng: Get scared and then search the knowledge base for ways to regain your memory. Then take care of your daily life gently.

Dan Feng: Frown and directly use spells to mobilize your memory.

Sunday: He was reading by the bed and waiting for you to wake up. When he noticed that you had lost your memory, he raised his eyebrows and then smiled. He claimed that you had always listened to him and were a member of The Family. He caressed your forehead as you took him at his word and rested on his lap.

Ratio: =_= There is no one dumber than you in this universe. After saying this, he began to quickly browse the research on memory. Before you regain your memory, you must wear his collar or he will worry about you getting lost like a lost puppy.

Aventurine: Hmm…? Hire the best doctors and arrange private hospital rooms. Sometimes it doesn't matter if you can't remember things from the past.

Jiaoqiu: Try to heal you and become more depressed

Moze: Keeps watching and stalking you even after you've been discharged from the hospital.

Sampo: He didn't believe it, and he put his hand into your underwear and started stroking it as usual, saying things like "friend, you can't lie to me."

Mr. Reca: Made up an entire movie story about you sleeping hundreds of years ago until you woke up today. He claimed that you were the protagonist of his movie and signed an unconditional labor contract…

[mullermilkshake]

Heeey, I few days ago i found your blog and I'm absolutely obsessed with your Yakuza!AU, and I was wondering if we can get more of Yakuza Suguru <3

Love your posts btw💞

Thanks so much!!! That's so kind of you to say, I'm literally so obsessed with the AU and there will be TONS of content to come over the next year.

I love Yakuza!Suguru so much it hurts XD

Enjoy some fluffy stuff <3

A gold band

Yakuza!Suguru x Wife!reader Tags: Yakuza AU, Wife reader, Fem reader, twin children, daughters, fluff, guilt, established relationship.

<- Back to arc masterlist

Suguru fiddled with the gold wedding band on his ring finger as the car pulled up to the house outside of Shinkuju. He was running far more than late than he anticipated, by now he was sure the girls were tucked into bed and you were waiting up for him fuming for missing dinner.

How on earth was he going to make up for this?

"Anything else you need before I go, sir?"

"No, that'll be all for tonight Miguel. Be sure to pick me up in the morning to visit the Nanami office though, you know how he likes punctuality."

Suguru opened the car door by himself and slipped out, eyeing the dingy night sky behind a torrent of dark stormed clouds just waiting to unleash its pressure over Tokyo.

Miguel leaned over and wound the window down. "Of course, should I bring breakfast?"

"No, I think I'll have breakfast with my girls in the morning, so just get what you want and head over after. Thanks for everything tonight."

"Sure thing, goodnight."

As the car drove away, Suguru drew in an anxious breath and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. By the time on his watch he had neglected to read on purpose as it would only make things worse, the time read way past the appropriate time to eat.

The depressive point being that by now, Suguru wasn't even hungry any more.

She's going to kill me for this, isn't she? Maybe. But that wouldn't be all that bad, because then he wouldn't have to deal with all this drama currently within the Ryomen clan to his name.

It couldn't be so bad to have his neck squeezed he supposed.

When he approached the front door, it was already unlocked. That wasn't ever a good sign. The lights were off besides the low table lamp in the living area, amber in the corner with warmth, and there you were sitting on the sofa with Mimiko and Nanako resting their sleeping heads on your lap.

"They wanted to wait for you to get back. Nanako threw an absolute fit because you weren't there to read them a story, so I compromised that they could wait."

"I'm sorry, dear. I never intended to be this late."

He knelt down in front of you and took your hand, feeling the same gold band on the same finger. Your body warmed it through, practically burning away at his guilt for leaving you sitting there in an empty room for dinner.

"It's alright, Miguel is quite the charmer when he wants to be," your smile was devious, more likely enough to show that Suguru wasn't in the dog house.

Thank goodness.

"I bet he can, I told him as much to tell you in person that I would be late. I'm counting on that he got his fill of dinner while he was here?"

You nodded slowly, watching the girls sleep. "He spent a little time with he girls before he was called away to the club."

The club was something he didn't need reminding of. The break in, the calculated theft and all round fuckery with Ryomen Sukuna's expectations.

Not tonight.

"So he was fooling around when he should have been working? I'll have him reprimanded immediately."

You stifled your laughter at his sarcasm, pressing your finger to his lips. "Leave the poor man alone."

The fact was Miguel loved the girls. Mimiko and Nanako adored him just as much and by this point in Suguru's life, Miguel was far more than just a fellow Yakuza.

He was true family.

"Daddy?" Nanako rubbed her little eyes and yawed, shifting her head from your lap to sit up and dangle her legs over the edge of the sofa.

"Hello Princess," He opened out his arms and pulled her into an embrace as she leant forward into him. "I heard you gave Mama a hard time when you had to sleep."

Her sleepy little head drooped suddenly as she fought to stay awake. "You were far away... and you promised to read us our book."

"I did, didn't I? I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"So I ate your cake."

"My cake?"

Scooping Mimiko up who was long since passed out in her heavy dreamed sleep, you watched Suguru stand with such a nurturing smile. "I made cheesecake. The girls demolished it and almost nipped Miguels fingers off. He was lucky to even get a slice."

"I missed cheesecake?"

He missed your matcha cheesecake for that travesty at the club? Your special cheesecake that was his absolute favourite?

Nanako stretched sleepily and clung to his neck. "Uh huh..."

Maybe it was time for Suguru to leave his Yakuza life behind and just beg you to open up a sweet shop so he could taste your baking every day. It was a hell of a lot safer. Though one shop wouldn't pay for this house or the best of everything for his girls.

A pipe dream was better than nothing.

Suguru led the way to the stairs and took each step with you following close behind him. "How about this then? I'll make sure I'm home really early tomorrow and we'll go to the children's park."

"I love the park..." Mimiko's eyes rolled open, she clutched her little doll and snuggled into the crook of your neck.

"I know you do sweetheart, if you two sleep well then maybe you can do that with Daddy tomorrow. But only if you both go back to sleep and be good," you nuzzled back into her and brought your lips to her hair for sweet consecutive pecks.

"We are good... Mama," Nanako's words began to slur.

And by the time you and Suguru reached the girls bedroom, they were out in dreamland once more. They clung to their blankets and toys sprawled across their covers and balled up close with delicate snores and breaths.

Suguru could have watched them all night snoozing away innocently, totally unaware of the horrors and disgusting shit out in the Shinjuku district.

All the unspeakable things their own Father had done.

"Don't do that."

"Hmm?" Suguru turned to see you leaving the bedroom.

"That thing you do when you feel guilty about what you do for a living. Whenever the time comes and they find out, they'll still love you. Just like I do."

"I know you do, just like you always have. I just can't help but wonder what we'll be like in fifteen years."

Will the Yakuza still be the height it had been for the last decade, or would it shift completely? Suguru had two twin girls to think about.

That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy his lifestyle. He did. He grew up alongside his sworn brother and became a man in a way that was respectful. He evolved with you right there next to him.

Still, this wasn't the life he wanted for his girls.

And it was obvious to him that you knew that too. "We'll still be a family, Suguru. That's all that matters, right?"

He only nodded and closed the gap between you to hold you close to him. "I'm sorry I was late, Dear. You and the girls are what matter most to me."

"I know, and there's still some of the night left," you pulled away just a fraction to look up at him. "I managed to sneak a slice of cheesecake away from the girls when they weren't looking."

"You know the way to my heart, don't you?"

"That's one way to your heart for sure. I just so happen to know to you like the back of my hand."

Suguru leant in and pressed his lips to yours, so short and sweet it would have melted the very foundations of the house. "I can't deny that. You're best at reading me like a book when no one else can."

"Besides Satoru I suppose."

You often joked that Satoru was a third member in this marriage. Just the thought made Suguru hide his chuckle into your shoulder as he leant down.

"Yeah, Besides Satoru."

On a night like this, Suguru knew that whatever happened, things would be alright.

Because he had his family.

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[semisolidmind]

I’m sorry if this was already asked but is MK in the twice as bad au? Since Peaches is immortal, she would probably find MK first or she finds him while her husbands are looking for her outside the palace. They find her outside playing with a little boy. Wukong didn’t think twice about adopting him, especially when he saw MK lift his staff, and Macaque loves telling him stories.

(it was, but ive been thinking about TAB mk lately so ill talk a lil more about him

so I think the last time i talked about mk in the context of this au, it was in the version where reader is killed while she and the boys are on the journey, and the boys go into a violent depression slump for the next thousand years. in that timeline, wukong finds mk as a toddler and raises him like his son (with macaque standing by for uncle duty). mk becomes an unstoppable force of nature under the monkey bros tutelage; enough so that any of the foes that posed a problem for him in the show are child's play in this au.

reader being present for mk's upbringing is one of the better timelines for him mentally. he gets to have a mom, for one. and instead of having just the brutal philosophy of the monkey warlords taught to him, he's also taught to have empathy and compassion. instead of just killing his enemies, he tries to show them mercy. it's a better outcome for everyone involved, honestly.

there's a few posts of mine that explain this modern iteration and reader's place in it, but let's talk about your scenario.)

reader goes on a morning walk. a rare occurrence, given her husband's love of sleeping in and their usual refusal to let her out of the pillow nest. but, they had an early appointment today, so reader took the opportunity to shirk her queenly duties and go visit some of the scenic mountain locals. whilst on her walk—

she finds a little monkey demon boy. just wandering the jungle, seemingly in awe at everything around him. reader isn't sure what to make of him. she takes notice of his unkempt state.

reader doesn't want to believe any of the monkeys would willingly neglect or abandon one of their children, but the boy is covered in dirt, his fur somewhat matted, and he has no clothes to speak of. perhaps he's just lost? he is very little. maybe his parents just lost track of him...regardless, reader feels the need to take him back to the cave to ask around and see if anyone can identify him.

when she calls out to him, he looks over at her, but doesn't respond. when she approaches him, he just...looks up at her, following her movements when she kneels to be closer to his height. reader asks for his name, and the boy doesn't respond. but he does step closer, his little tail twitching curiously.

reader cautiously reaches out to brush some of the matted dirt from his fur, moving the overgrown mess away from his face. he has amber-gold eyes, not dissimilar to what wukong said his looked like before the furnace. while reader ponders the similarities, the boy suddenly climbs into her arms. she instantly embraces him back, surprised but knowing that baby monkeys like to be held nigh constantly. poor lil guy, she thinks. probably missing his mama. the way his tiny hands grip her robes breaks her heart a little.

reader decides that she'll take care of him for now; he needs a bath, some food, and proper clothes, at least. reader takes off her overcoat and wraps it around the lil guy before hefting him up into her arms; he's pretty heavy for someone so small.

reader turns and heads back to water curtain cave. the little boy settles against her, tiny hands curled against her chest and his head in the crook of her neck. reader holds him close. she reassures him that they'll find his family.

after politely waving away a few embarrassing questions from some well-meaning monkeys along the way (no, he isn't her baby, she didn't leave for an hour or two just to have a baby, please stop saying that—on that note, do you know who his parents are), reader makes her way back to the cave.

she supposes she can see why they'd think that the child in her arms might be related to her; the boys' fur is a similar shade to her hair, though slightly darker (and the likelihood of her children being demons like their fathers is very high, should they ever have any).

as they get further into the cave, and closer to the palace, reader is stopped by a group of servants wondering about the child. reader explains as the monkeys (a small group comprised of aunties) look the child over, mulling over who's baby he could be. maybe this family? no, none of them have that fur color, and the face shape is different. perhaps he's from this village, on the east side of the mountain? no, none of them have had any babies yet this season, and the children they do have are all older than this one. they go back and forth like this for a while.

while reader talks, the boy suddenly perks up. he sits up and his eyes focus on something in the distance. reader turns to glance at what's gotten his attention.

ah, she sees.

her husbands have just finished their meeting, and one of them is now headed this way.

that's the king, she tells the boy. the boy says nothing, and stares at the approaching monarch.

reader understands why. the king is wearing his armor today, the gold plating glinting off refracted light coming from the waterfall. his cape and vestaments flow behind him as he makes his way toward them. he's the very picture of a noble ruler.

riiiiiight up until he notices that reader is carrying a child that looks suspiciously like her. his entire expression morphs into surprise, then gentle curiosity.

the king stops short in front of them. reader can almost see the gears turning in his head. he sees the gold eyes, the fur color...perhaps he's having a similar thought as his many subjects about the child's origins.

wukong steps into reader's space, a hand on her arm. his eyes are searching, a question on his face. where did this child come from? reader explains how she found him, and how she has yet to find any of his family or anybody who recognizes him. wukong assures her that if he has someone looking for him, they'll eventually turn up at the palace.

in the meantime, he may stay here, the king decrees. he can see that reader's gotten attached, and doesn't think separating the child from her would be a good idea. the little boy clings to reader like she really is his blood.

reader takes the child inside, getting him a bath and clean clothes, then takes him to kitchens to get him something to eat. wukong joins them, and attempts to get the boy to speak. reader feels her heart soften just a tad every time she sees her husband interact with the mountains' children.

---

no one ever claims the boy.

so, wukong and reader formally adopt the child, and give him the name xiaotian. he is soon accepted as first prince of flower fruit mountain.

wukong begins to train xiaotian to become a warrior as soon as he sees the boy lift his staff with suspicious ease. once he's old enough, he takes xioatian with him to the dragon palace. wukong won't give up his signature weapon, but he will steal another pillar for his son to weild. he trains the child to be as much of a threat as he is. despite his rigorous training regime, wukong is a very caring and playful father.

macaque becomes another guiding figure, and finds that the child loves to listen to stories. every night before xioatian settles next to reader's side to sleep, the darker-furred demon regales him with tales of his and wukong's exploits. reader chimes in occasionally, calling him out whenever he embellishes.

reader remains a comforting figure for xiaotian. he goes to her when he feels lost or upset, knowing that she could give him a gentler perspective on his problems. she's his rock whenever he's unsure. he knows that if he gets caught up in the politics of demon-dom, she'll be there to be a calming presence. he's very cuddly with her when he's small, and goes to her for hugs once he's bigger. he's very glad to have her around to help him.

xiaotian becomes a very cautious person as he grows, the ideals of his adopted sires pushing him to believe that most immortals, demons, and mortals are not to be trusted. however, reader teaches him that not every problem needs to be solved with violence.

his life is very different than what it could have been.

[broomsick]

I want to ask a question. Would Freyja be considered a Goddess of Grief? Considering her tears brought amber over Odr’s disappearance. I know that is more so the realm of Hel, (alas Freyja is a death Goddess in her own right too). I just haven't noticed that aspect delved into. And I've been thinking about it a lot.

In my grief over a recent passing of my father, I immediately felt her presence and from being so tired lately from it. I used my grief and cried as a devotional to her. Healing isn't linear and I go through a lot of bad days but her immediate strength came through after.

Of course we all experience the Gods differently, I just wanted to ask your thoughts! 🐈‍⬛🪻

I love this observation, and I absolutely agree. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm so glad Freyja has been able to guide you in your journey through grief. It's an experience that's difficult beyond words to navigate.

I've actually associated Freyja with similar concepts for quite some time. If my experience may be brought to bear, she tends to manifest in times of emotional distress, such as when you’re depressed or anxious. I suppose that’s why devotees and people who have worshipped her for a long time sometimes refer to her as a “big sister”, or any other such protective figure. My experience is the same: she’s loving and kind, reaching out to those who are experiencing intense emotions and are having trouble processing them. She will help you to feet, at your own rhythm, and walk alongside you.

Plus, you've made a very good point, and one I've always tought was too often overlooked. She is heavily associated with passing and the afterlife. In a sense, she can be regarded as a figure that welcomes the dead with open arms. While I know it's not a topic that's easy to address, the passing of a loved one can be more easily accepted with the help of spirituality. While I know different people deal with grief in different ways, that's the case for me. And worshipping a Goddess of death to help with grief is not unheard of. You're actually not the first person to ask me such a question! I think turning to figures who have a say in what goes on in the aferlife is a natural instinct for a lot of us.

Now, to make a long story short, I think Freyja could very well be associated with grief. To me, she's a tribute to the fact that emotions, both good and bad, are beautiful. She's proof that even the Gods are not immune to them. You have my sincere condolences, and I pray that no matter how you choose to navigate your grief, you have a gentle journey to healing.

[liminalpebble]

Stray (A Lokitty Tale): Winter Blues

Hi, my darlings, since we all could use a little (or a lot) of cozy emotional comfort during these difficult times, I wanted to offer you just a bit of Jotun Loki/Lokitty fluff. This does take place in the Stray universe, in the middle of the story, but you don't need to have read that series to read this.

For a quick, tl;dr summary: human lady in 70's Seattle takes in Loki (disguised as a kitty) after his D.B. Cooper stunt, adorable shenanigans ensue.

Here's the series link

Lokitty/Jotun Loki x human shop girl reader

cw: Talk of depression and loneliness (remedied, of course, by our favorite handsome icy boy). The biggest hazard is the tooth-rotting fluff. Enjoy.

“Come on!” you grumble to your elderly space heater, giving it an encouraging pat on the side. Luckily, the coils eventually rouse themselves into a faint orange glow. You breathe a sigh of relief and sit cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, staring daggers at the broken radiator which the landlord never really plans to fix.

The newly-adopted black cat pads towards you and immediately curls into your lap with a graceful slinky twist. You slide your hand gently over his silky fur, feeling the knots of your anger and frustration gradually loosen.

“Sorry, buddy,” you say to the cat, who fixes you with his stunning aquamarine eyes. “It's not usually snowing like this yet, or quite this cold. I guess the whole city is stuck inside.”

Loki gazes up at your face. Bathed in the warm amber glow, the contours of your cheeks, lips, and lashes look like a work of art to him.

She's so lovely. I hope some day I can tell her so...really tell her so.

But beneath your loveliness, he can see the circles under your eyes, the way you rub your temples and slump your shoulders, the way the growing darkness (literal and metaphorical) are weighing on you. You gather him up in your arms and sling an afghan around your shoulders, shuffling towards the window. He watches as a bittersweet grin spreads over your features.

“At least it's kind of pretty, isn't it? And at least I have you, little friend.”

He purrs contentedly as you scratch lightly between his ears on your journey to the couch. Loki watches with concern as your silence gradually turns into the telltale gasps and sniffles of tears. He flinches slightly as the salty drops hit his fur.

“Oh. Sorry, kitten,” you say, sniffing and swiping a hand across your cheek. “I just...god, I'm so tired and...and so alone. It feels like all the cards are stacked against me sometimes. My paycheck barely keeps us here...shitty as the place is. I'm just so frustrated, and tired, and angry, and afraid....and sad...and...”

You shiver. “And cold.”

His paw pats gently but insistently on your hand. You feel crazy even thinking, not for the first time, that it's as if he understands you. Those bright, clear, eyes seem so wise and perceptive. You'd swear he's trying to comfort you.

Sweet human. If only you knew how much I care for you. I'm the god of outcasts. Appropriate, I suppose, as I'm always being cast out...but not by you, my sweet human because you are special...unique. I wish I could hold you. I wish you could understand me.

And then, he considers a way. It's a way he's used cautiously only once before, uncertain of how it might affect his precious human, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He smiles to himself and nuzzles his velvety head against your arm.

Patience, human. Your savior is here, you just don't know it yet.

----

It's an absolutely adorable habit, your little naps in the evening. Or, at least, Loki thinks so. Sometimes, he'll even join you under the tattered old throw blanket to sleep against the undulating warmth of your body.

He joins you today, but not to sleep and not just to use you as a heating pad. The little cat pulls the blanket carefully up and over your shoulders by his teeth, ensuring that you're warm and comfortable (all the while cursing his lack of opposable thumbs). Then he settles himself in between the curve of your neck and shoulder, holding one delicate paw against your temple. A green glow shudders through the little creature and flutters around your head like glitter swirled in water.

----

Your vision is foggy at first as your eyes blink open. Initially, everything is a mass of pearlescent white and a pale aquamarine (a shade you could swear you know from somewhere). As your eyes open wider, and the fog clears, you begin to orient yourself to the sharpening view.

You're standing in the center of a clearing, in a dense snow-covered forest. It's a far cry from the filthy gray slush of downtown Seattle. This snow is a shocking white, glowing, even in twilight. The vast crystalline carpet unfurls beneath you as the sky above dances with northern lights. All you can think, for a long suspended moment, is that this place is ancient. You breathe in and it hits you; the complex aroma of pines and evergreens which have been there long before you were born, and somehow you know, deep in your bones, that this is a magical place.

To your surprise, you don't feel at all cold. Your body is swaddled in rich furs and draped in lush velvet, keeping you warm as you observe it all. Everything is quiet, draped in the muffling blanket of snowfall, and you feel your breathing quiet in kind.

The crunch of footsteps catches your attention as a figure moves gracefully, deliberately, towards you. It glides, back lit, from the inviting amber glow of a wooden lodge where candles sparkle and flicker in every window.

You guess that this mystery person must be over eight feet tall, broad-shouldered and sure-footed, striding through the ice and snow easily as a cape of regal black fur dances around him. As he nears, you see a pair of majestic onyx horns rising from a crown on his noble head.

Closer still, you see his skin; a striking cobalt blue moving against the snow, and his eyes; two crimson rubies cutting through dusk like stars.

Finally, he stands before you, and though you know you should be afraid, you feel only curious and struck by his otherworldly beauty. He acknowledges you with a bow and the sharp lines of his cheeks raise to show a wide, striking, smile. His teeth are as white as the snow itself.

Loki extends his huge hand to cradle yours and you feel your heartbeat kick up with the thrill of it. As it is so often with dreams, it doesn't occur to you to ask where you are, or how you got here, or who he is, or even if he means you harm. You simply trust this beautiful creature of a man before you.

“Come with me,” his deep voice invites, and you accept, taking his offered arm as if you were a princess at a ball.

---

He opens the enormous doors and steps aside for you to enter. The entire cottage (or really, more of a Viking longhouse, if such a thing were made cozy) was perfumed by a roiling fireplace, giving off a toasty, woody incense, like honeydust.

The stranger removes his hooded cloak and impressive crown. He smiles that same charming smile and runs a hand through his long hair, as black and shiny as raven feathers. It occurs to you that this regal being seems nervous, downright boyishly giddy, around you.

“Please. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing magnanimously to the plush velvet couches with their layers of warm furs and quilts. You nod and gladly obey, lulled and comforted by the heat as if sinking into a warm bath.

The giant returns with two warm mugs (one the size of a pot, and one of normal size) of something delicious and spicy-smelling, then settles beside you in the heat of the crackling fire.

“Thank you,” you say, reaching for the cup and enjoying it's warmth against your palm. Finally, your rational brain kicks in and you ask, “Where...what is this place? I'm...dreaming?”

He laughs, a deep rich baritone chuckle, and you think it might be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.

“In a sense.” The corners of his crimson eyes crinkle as he smiles and says, “Your body is asleep, yes. But I'm real...this place is real.”

“And...not to seem rude, but you are...?”

He finishes a sip quickly and politely dabs at his lips before speaking, “Oh yes, I suppose this form must be rather...exceptional...to you.”

You sigh and nod with a smile, relieved that he was the one to address the elephant (or rather, the frost giant) in the room. Meanwhile, Loki thinks that this shy smile must be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I'm a frost giant...a Jotun. King of Jotunheim, actually...not to brag,” he says with a flirtatious wink.

He chatters on genially, careful not to give you time to ask his name. “I've brought you here because you deserve some kindness. You've taken in a creature quite sacred to us and cared for him diligently, asking nothing in return.”

You're about to speak but you're momentarily distracted by the beverage you've just sipped. It might be the most delicious thing you've ever tasted; sweet and rich and spicy. You make the rather absurd mental note to ask the King of Jotunheim for his mulled wine recipe. That thought alone makes you chuckle.

“What is it, darling?”

“It's just...all so strange and...wait, are you trying to tell me that my stray cat is a sacred creature?”

“Well, yes. All cats are. But that one is very special, in particular. Some day, you'll find out why.”

He sets his mug down with surprising dexterity, considering his size, and continues in a more somber tone. He takes both of your hands in his and scoots closer. He smells subtly of mint and pine, and his mere towering presence sitting beside you, curled around you, makes you feel safe, protected.

“I know that you are in need of some kindness, some hope, and I'm here to tell you there is good yet to come. There are splendid things yet to come. I know you're exhausted, sad, and frighted. It pains me to see it, but I know you're strong.

“I don't feel strong,” you admit, bowing your head toward you lap.

His long finger slides gently beneath your chin, lifting your face to meet his kind ruby eyes.

“Please, meet my gaze. It's a pity to hid that lovely face from my eyes.”

God, he's charming. Are all frost giants just oozing charm like this, or is it only their king?, you wonder, as your cheeks begin to burn brighter than the fireplace.

He wraps one strong arm around you and assures you, “Needing some kindness or help doesn't mean you are no longer strong. Everyone gets lost sometimes. Everyone stumbles and needs some tenderness occasionally.”

You give him a wry smile. “Even you, Your Highness? I find it hard to imagine that the world could make you feel small."

He laughs, then he kisses your hand in a gentlemanly gesture that has chills running down your spine; chills that have nothing to do with his slightly chilly skin.

“Even me,” he whispers as he strokes your cheek. The comforting touch melts you into his arms, into the comfort him, of this place, and you dare to put you head on his shoulder. He strokes your back and pulls a blanket more closely around you, then says lightly, “you know I'm actually a runt, for a Jotun. I often feel small. It's all a matter of perspective.” He breathes deeply and you feel the smooth waves where you rest against him. The sound and feeling join the crackle of the hearth in a sweet lullaby of sensation.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I wish I could just stay here.”

“Ah, but you can't, darling. I'm sorry. But you can visit. You must live your life because there is so much good yet to come. In the meantime, know that I'm your humble guardian, always.”

He sees the sorrow in your eyes and decides to ease it with humor. “Besides, who would feed the cat?”

You laugh, your face lights up, and it utterly melts him.

He moves in very gently and cradles your face as your eyes close in anticipation. Planting a light chilly kiss against your eager lips, he whispers, “Time to wake up, my dear.”

-----

You open your eyes to your lamp lit living room and sigh at the vivid memory of your lingering dream. As you stretch, the cat hops away from you with an indignant little chirp. How dare you remove his warm seat!

As a peace offering, you kiss his velvety head and scratch between his ears before rising to your feet. You know it was only a dream, but it's left you feeling better, more hopeful.

Silly, you think, silly brain...putting me on a date with the King of Jotunheim. At least it made me feel better, anyway, imagining some kind of magical guardian angel.

As you cross the room, still yawning, you stop in your tracks. Right before your eyes, the radiator softly tings and hisses into life, sending warm balmy air into the room after weeks of cold. You step nearer, gingerly, as if it might be possessed. How can it possibly be fixed?

On the coffee table beside it, There's a piece of rather fancy looking antique parchment with a delicate cursive skating across its surface. You hold it up to your face and read the title at the top.

Jotun Mulled Wine (courtesy of His Majesty)

A recipe...for mulled wine...from...

You feel the wheels of your mind trying desperately to gain traction and explain this, but you're interrupted by the cat, begging to be held again.

You oblige him, holding tightly to him like a security blanket. When his blue-green eyes meet yours, you finally say, “Well kitten, this is all pretty weird. I guess I found this earlier and forgot, but it sure did give me some wild dreams.”

As you walk to the kitchen, feline in tow, you say, “Christ, here I go, talking to the cat again.” You pause and smirk playfully to your companion, “Say, kitten...did you know that you're a sacred animal?

Well, obviously, Loki thinks, I'm a god.

You chuckle at his sassy mews as you cut carrots and begin to heat up a skillet.

“I love you, you cocky little jerk.”

I love you, too, pathetic little human.

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @primrosesposts @fruityfucker @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @queenofstarsign85 @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @aesonmae @salempoe @n3rdybirdee @litaloni

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 19 Premium Story

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

nsfw talk at the end. You thought there’d be no hint of nsfw given the situation, but you were wrong

I snuck into the courthouse to look for Roger after he got arrested. Thanks to Ale’s distraction, I slipped past the security guard and found a hidden door that led to the jail cells.

When I grabbed at the bars and strained my eyes, there he was— 

Roger: …Kate. What are you doing here?

As soon as he saw me, his eyes went wide.

On the ground lay a pair of broken glasses and his face was bruised as if he took a beating.

(How terrible…)

Kate: Roger, please wait. I’m opening the cell.

Roger: It won’t open ‘cause it’s locked. It’s not easy— 

Kate: If it won’t open then I’ll just break it.

I took out the gun hidden beneath my skirt.

(Even now…I’m not ready to shoot people)

(But I can help the person I love out of a locked jail cell)

In the darkness, the muzzle flashed like lightning and the of a broken lock hitting the ground resounded.

(it’s open…!)

Roger: …O_O

There was nothing dividing us anymore after I stepped into the cell.

Kate: …

Roger: …

The moment his amber eyes, which reflected the flickering candlelight, met mine—

Kate: Roger you’re an idiot, the worst, an egoist, a show-off!

Roger: ………Huh?

Kate: What… What’s with “And lastly, I’ve fallen for you”?! Lastly means we’ll never see each other again.

Roger was dumbfounded and looked at me as if he was looking at something strange.

Roger: I might not be into the liberal arts, but I know what words mean.

Kate: If that’s the case, Why would you part with “I’ve fallen for you” or “I adore you”? If someone said those words to me, they would be etched into my mind and there’s no way they’d be final…

Roger: Is that why you chased after me all the way here?

Kate: Yes. With Ale! It was difficult sneaking in and the passageway was so dark…It was awful.

I was relieved that Roger was saved, but also annoyed by how self-centered he was…

Emotions overflowed like a muddy stream.

Honestly, I just wanted to slap him so many times.

(But this wasn’t what I really wanted to tell him…)

Kate: …Are you really, Are you really going to…just give up?

How many times have I thought back to our conversation by the train station the night I learned about his past—*

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: When you first became Fairytale Keeper, you told me about how crushed you felt by your own weakness. “I won’t despair”.

Kate: …Yes. I remember.

Roger: Even though you felt depressed, it was sweet seeing you keep looking forward and not give in to despair. I also believe that in life is to give despair the finger.

Kate: Give despair the finger?

Roger: Yeah. I went through the trouble of being born. I’m not gonna give into despair so easily.

~ End flashback ~

I still clearly remembered his profile, his gaze, and the way he smiled when he said that.

(I then learned afterward that Roger wasn’t a strong person, but rather, a person trying to be strong)

Facing despair over and over.

But now, standing all alone, Roger was being consumed by despair.

(Of course he would. The research materials that were as important as his own life were stolen and used against him…) 

(And as a result, things were following the fate of betrayal)

It was like his cursed fate was mocking him, completely denying his way of life.

(I know there’s no way for a human to make curses disappear)

(But…if you get consumed by despair, then you’re done for)

Roger picked me up all the times I was about step into despair.

Kate: …The situation may be desperate. It may be hopeless. Even so…I’m here for you. I’ll continue to believe in you.

Roger: Believe in me…I’m the Double-crossing Hunter. I could even be betraying right now, in this very moment.

Kate: You wouldn’t. Because you promised that day, didn’t you? “I will never betray you without a reason.” Besides—If you betrayed me, then it’s because I was foolish enough to trust you. Right?

Roger: …O_O

Kate: Listen, Roger. Even with your fate to betray, I believe in you.

Roger: …

(This is the first time I’ve seen Roger look like this…)

He looked so vulnerable, and his heart was bared and wounded.

(Roger, I’m still weak, but…Would it be okay if I hugged you?)

I took a step, and then another…

It was like I was savoring this distance that I hadn't had the courage to cross as I got closer to Roger.

(You’ve picked my heart back up countless times. Now it’s my turn to do the same for you—)

I hugged him with both arms as he sat on the ground and squeezed him as hard as I could.

Kate: I like you…I love you. You’re the one I fell for, so it would be a problem if you were consumed by despair.

Then I lifted my hands up to hold his cheeks.

Kate: Pull yourself together, Roger Barel! You’re the strongest egoist out there! This despair’s nothing. Just give it the middle finger and laugh it off like you always do!

Roger: …O_O Pfft…

Kate: …Roger?

Roger: Heh… Ahahahahaha! Ahhh…You really are…

—Suddenly, his lips were on mine.

Kate: Nn—...!

No hesitation and his whole heart into it…A kiss typical of an egoist like him.

(I can’t breathe when you kiss me like that)

Kate: Haaah…

Roger: You really are the best. I’ve fallen for you again, Kate.

Kate: ~~!

While my cheeks flushed, I was overjoyed by the fact that Roger returned to his original self.

(That means I can’t lose either)

Kate: Roger.

Roger: Mmm…!

I pulled his head back and kissed him aggressively.

After I pulled away from the warmth, Roger smiled belligerently.

Roger: Thanks for that passionate kiss that almost devoured me. Seems like I never had a dog, but a wild beast or something.

Kate: Hehe, now we’re even.

Roger: That so? I am a “hunter”. If you’re a fierce beast, then I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth so that I can bring you down.

He pulled me back by the back of my neck and our lips met in a kiss much deeper than before.

Kate: Nnnn.

The obscene sounds heard from our lips showed just how intense our kiss was.

I couldn’t breathe as his tongue entwined with mine. My face burned up and my vision blurred.

Roger: You’ve lost.

Kate: Lost?! What contest were we having?

Roger: The one to see who’s the better kisser.

Kate: …!

This egoist started a contest without even telling me. 

Kate: The contest isn’t over yet…

Roger: Nn…Haaa…It’s sloppy, but it feels good. Just kissing you makes me wanna cum.

Kate: That means I win, right?

Roger: Then if I make you come, I win?

Kate: Huh…Nnn

His hot tongue explored my mouth, sending sweet shivers down my spine.

(It feels so good…)

We continued our contest, stealing kisses in an egoistic way—

Just as my mind was about to go blank, Roger suddenly released my lips.

Roger: …

Seeing that smirk on his lips, I realized he was prolonging the contest.

(It’s frustrating…But, I don’t think I’ll ever beat Roger)

Roger: Well, looks like your passionate declaration of love’s woken me up. If you went through all that trouble to save me, then that means I’m needed.

Kate: Tell me what you know. Make it brief if you can.

I unconsciously stared at Roger’s face.

Kate: …

Roger: Hm? What’s up?

Kate: Ah, well… You’re back to your old self, and I was thinking…I’m happy. After all, Roger’s an egoist, proud, and pushes people around!

Roger: Yeah, sure. Is that supposed to be a compliment?

Despite being in a jail cell, we looked at each other and laughed.

(Huh, but…I think I’m forgetting something important?)

…I wouldn’t realize what it was until later.

Next

-

*Too many times. The chapter’s always open so that I can copy and paste from it. Oh, here comes another flashback to that chapter.

Is Ale safe? Is he alright?

[scarletwritesshit]

♠️ Aventurine x Reader ♠️ Under the Gun

For a man who was betting a ton of credits, he looked unusually confident.

He could just be bluffing. You hoped that he was bluffing. But, from the nightmares described by various IPC members, as well as a bit of personal experience, you had to agree that perhaps, Aventurine was indeed a menace to deal with.

Among the complaints of varying degrees, Topaz’s gripes stuck out the most. She constantly mumbled about him being a slimy, unsavory bastard, and despite the two of you being on less than positive terms, she wouldn’t wish his presence upon you in a thousand Amber Eras.

Did you ever heed her warnings? Clearly not, as you were face-to-face with Aventurine in a two-person game of Belobog Hold’em. From the dastardly look on his face, he seemed to have a plan. And that plan was to completely drain you of whatever credits you had left in your pockets with his next move.

He rested his head on his hand and smiled at you, his eyes piercing your soul through his rose-tinted glasses. Aventurine’s smirk was that of a confident man who knew what he was doing, and perhaps nothing you could do could stop him from winning this game. Keeping your composure at such a sight was proving to be a challenge, especially considering how your hand wasn’t exactly the best. Aventurine could practically see through your hand, it felt like, and he was secretly amused by the almost guaranteed loss you were staring at.  To have this much confidence, he must either have ended up with a practically unbeatable hand from the sheer force of dumb luck, or he knew how to, quite literally, play his cards right.

Or, perhaps he could see that you were not quite paying full attention to the game, and your focus lied primarily within Aventurine himself. It was a sense of morbid curiosity to see if he was as truly awful as the rumors and tales had described that inclined you to play a one-on-one private game of poker with him. To Aventurine, it was all another one of his “business deals,” and he had business of lining his pockets with the spoils of your failure.

You had put so much money in, just to see how far you could take this game, but with every credit wagered on the table, his smile grew ever more confident. Perhaps you should’ve quit early to minimize your losses, but there was something about seeing that dastardly smirk that caused you to stray from your real goal of satisfying a basic curiosity.

Or did this “curiosity” extend beyond the simple urge to meet him alone?

The realization of your impending losses began to set in, and you were looking back and forth between your awful and Aventurine’s confident gaze. You couldn’t let things end here, but you knew that he had you backed in a corner and that a second round with him just wouldn’t be possible.

“Well?” he said with a little laugh, “What’s the holdup?”

You said nothing, as you attempted to maintain a cool and collected expression to hide the despair in your hand.

“Cat got your tongue, my dear?” he said, waving his cards mockingly like a fan.

“No,” you said, forcing your eyes off of him.

“Ah, then…what’s the holdup? Thinking a little too hard, perhaps?”

You didn’t want to allude to the awful position you were in. Not to him, especially, but at this point, what more could you do? No matter how hard you looked at your final hand, all combinations of cards were beyond awful. Aventurine could play the most underwhelming hand and he would still have you defeated like a sore loser, and his smile told the entire story.

That was a face of a man who knew he had won, one that had a chokehold on you.

Shaking your head, completely defeated, you placed your cards down on the table. Aventurine was all too happy to place his down with the same smug look that had been taunting you since the very beginning of this game.

You didn’t want to see just much Aventurine won by, so you merely concentrated on your own depressing cards as you flipped them over. A pair. There was no way you were winning anything with that.

“Well… it seems like I win this one,” Aventurine said.

After taking a deep breath, you finally convinced yourself to look at his cards. You knew he had you beat quite badly, but you didn’t want to see just how badly.

Four of a kind. It would’ve taken some immense luck on your end to beat that, something that you simply did not have. And now you found yourself down more credits than you actually had.

You should’ve heeded the warning of Topaz and the others. Aventurine was not one to be taken so lightly in the very game he specializes in.

“Another round might satisfy you, perhaps?” Aventurine asked, picking up a chip and fidgeting with it in his fingers.

“As much as I would love to continue playing with you, first I need to figure out how to pay you back,” you admitted.

“Pay me back? You mean to tell me that you kept betting with credits that you didn’t have?”

You nodded your head. You knew it wasn’t the brightest idea, but hearing Aventurine flat-out expose you in such a manner provoked some sort of irritation within you. The problem was, you couldn’t tell if you were more frustrated with yourself or him.

“And in a game with an IPC member, too.  What-ever could you have possibly been thinking? Did you maybe, want to go into debt or something? Did you want me to go after you?”

You were supposed to be the one going after him, but Aventurine took advantage of your blunder and turned things against you. Except, he wasn’t curious about some rumors, he wanted to collect his rewards. And a debt you did indeed owe to him, one he was all too happy for you to owe. It was as if he was awaiting this moment the entire time, as if he had a surefire way of making sure he would end up on top.

A method such as rigging the game, perhaps.

“Go after me? In what sense?” you asked.

“Hmm, how do you think? Relentlessly pursuing you until I get what I am after? Haha, though I have got to admit, I was fully expecting you to hit me up for one more round, maybe to try and win everything back. Takes a lot for someone to finally admit defeat.”

Was he complimenting you? Surely, he couldn’t be complimenting you, if anything, it was a snide commentary on how well you’ve managed to dig yourself a hole.

“Thanks?” you said, at a genuine loss for words.

“Ah, well, I know you’re thinking that you’re going to have to pay up eventually, but I can’t help but be curious that there was something else you were after,” he said, ceasing the fidgeting of the chip in his fingers and began smiling with devious intent.

“After what, exactly?” you asked, trying to clear up exactly what he was implying.

“Something that, to you, must be more valuable than any singular credit in all of Penacony. Something that was clearly enough to deviate your focus from the game and instead direct it to what was in front of the very cards that determined your fate.”

“You mean like the chance to wipe that insufferable look off of your face?”

“Oh, if only I could believe that you would do such a thing.”

You could challenge him to yet another round of Belobog Hold’em anyways, but he was well aware that your pockets were heading deep into the negatives, and the risk of falling even further into debt was greater than the reward. Your options were ultimately limited, but you weren’t willing to back down so easily. Especially not to someone as insufferable as Aventurine.

“Want me to prove it?” you said, glaring into his eyes.

Aventurine put the poker chip that he was fidgeting with prior down on the table.

“Now you’re getting awfully bold for someone who finds themselves deep in debt. I’ll have you know, it doesn’t matter if we’re talking about my IPC duties or playing cards, because I always hit the jackpot.”

“Jackpot?” you said, snatching the poker chip out from under him. “Can you really say that with such confidence, especially when foul play is involved?”

You held the poker chip up to one of your eyes, and closely observed Aventurine through the other. His confidence was not diminished by your revolt, and his grin seemed to grow ever slyer by the moment. He either knew that, despite you catching on, he had gotten away with his trickery, or Aeons be damned this man truthfully knew how to play his cards right.

“Luck and foul play do not equate, my dear,” Aventurine said.

“Do you want to run that by me one more time?” you said, moving the poker chip down from your eye and squinting at him.

With a teasing laugh, Aventurine stated, “I said, luck and foul play are not the same, my dear.”

He was driving you to your wit’s end. Aventurine had to be hiding some kind of dirty secret to never lose in such a manner. You were determined to fight the answer out of him, whether it truly was some form of hidden skill or everything now and before was rigged. Sometimes, the best way to counter foul play was to break the rules yourself and knock the self-declared king down the hierarchy.

Aventurine would spend the entirety of the evening waving his winning hand in front of your face if that is what it took for you to back down.

At this point, you didn’t have the patience for any more of his antics.

No roundabout way of making him confess his dirty little secrets would cause him to crack any time soon. Not to mention, you were nearing the point of wanting to choke him out.

You slammed the stolen poker chip on the table, which Aventurine looked down at the cards and chips rebounding from the force.

“Getting a little feisty now, aren’t w- “

You reached out while Aventurine was focused on the disturbed table and slipped your fingers under his choker. Before he had a chance to react, you pulled him forward across the table, knocking over what remained of the stacks of chips and cards. You held him firmly in front of you, giving Aventurine almost no other option but to look directly into your eyes.

“Two can play at that game,” you said, tightening your grip on his choker.

Despite the situation Aventurine now found himself in, he was strangely calm about the entirety of it. The smile on his face, though dastardly, was tainted with some sort of twisted joy.

“Ha, I can’t say I’ve ever played a game that ended with me in such a tangle,” he said.

“That’s an awful surprise considering how insufferable you are.”

“Insufferable? Coming from you, of all people? I’d argue that you’re doing this strictly on purpose, to study my ‘tactics’ up close and personally.”

“Because I am, so I can catch you in case you try to pull a fast one on me.”

“By looking at me ever so closely? Why, I’d argue that you’re more interested in me than that little bet you claim I’ve won by illicit means.”

You tugged on his choker a bit, to try and shake a little sense into that man. However, Aventurine’s smile never dissipated; his eyes only grew more focused with a kind of hunger only a man seeking his reward could have. He should sensibly be threatening you to hand over his payment, yet he had not uttered one word of demand for his credits this entire time.

Could he actually be finding some form of enjoyment from this? Enough to forgo the temptation of the hefty balance of credits that was being dangled in front of him like an earthworm worm to a fish?

“And for a man with the promise of becoming rich, you seem awfully distracted from your bounty.”

“Becoming rich?” he said with a laughter muffled by your grip, “Oh, sweetie, I have more money than your mind could possibly comprehend. It’s not often that I get as much enjoyment out of a simple game of poker as I am right now.”

It would appear that your theory was right. Aventurine was deriving some sort of sick enjoyment from your threats. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind it if you stepped things up a notch, then?

“This isn’t a matter of it being a so-called simple game of poker,” you said, pushing aside the cards and chips that were in your way.

“It’s more of a game between us now.”

You pulled Aventurine even closer to you, close enough to where you can feel his breath on your face. Any further, and he would be pulled out of his chair onto the table, or even worse, a bit too close to you.

“Now? Are you sure that it wasn’t always between us?”

“Very clever of you to think such absurdity, though it would explain how horribly you were playing. Or, perhaps you’re just naturally awful. But I couldn’t blame you regardless, as I am quite the charmer, after all.”

“You want to repeat that, pretty boy?”

“Pretty boy. I do like the sound of that.”

You wanted to tug Aventurine even closer, but you physically couldn’t, unless you wanted him directly against your face. The most you could do is grip his choker even tighter, wearing at the leather with the sheer force of your fist.

“Quiet now, you scoundrel,” you snapped.

“Pretty boy? Scoundrel? Make up your mind,” Aventurine taunted.

He was indeed a pretty boy, but at the same time, he was a scoundrel. He had a way with words, a way with looks, and unfortunately, a way with cards.

“You’re keeping me awfully close for someone who thinks I’m a scoundrel,” he continued, “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to cheat you out of a little more than your money?”

“What could you possibly do with this quite literal chokehold I have on you?” you said.

“Repay the favor, of course,” he said, lifting up one of his hands that he used to steady himself.

You braced yourself for a hostile retribution. Repay the favor how, exactly? Did he have a genuine suspicion that you were trying to kill him? Out of sheer instinct, you grabbed your pistol with your free hand and held it directly against his head, flicking off the safety and finger almost desperate for the trigger. Even in the face of death, Aventurine did not flinch, and his smile was as dastardly as ever.

To your great surprise, he simply brushed some of the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes away. Despite the gun armed and ready to blow his brains out should he attempt something clever, he paid no mind to the imminent threat to his life.

“That’s it?” you said, completely deprived of words. “Not even with a gun aimed directly at your vitals?”

Aventurine nudged the gun away from his head, aiming it at the ceiling directly above him. You didn’t bother to reposition yourself, though you still kept the safety off, just in case.

“Oh, I know you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a thing,” he taunted.

Unfortunately, Aventurine was right. As much as he was getting on your nerves, it didn’t warrant taking his life. You slowly lowered your pistol onto the table, still keeping it close, just in case.

“Ha, you’re quite the pretty one yourself, even when you’re acting all scary. It’s almost enough to distract a man as sharp as me.”

“Almost? With the way you were eyeing me up, I could almost believe that you were too focused on me to even think twice about cheating.”

“Oh, back on that again, are we? Isn’t there something you’d rather focus on, instead of whether or not you can trust a little ol’ member of the IPC?”

Almost impulsively, you pulled him ever so slightly closer, to the point where he was agonizingly close to you. Hardly even a single inch of space separated you and him.

He was right. With him so close and in your grasp, you could care less about all of the credits you owed to Aventurine. Though, every time the topic of the debt was mentioned, Aventurine brushed it off almost as quickly as it came up. In a way, it was almost as if he could care less about what would be pocket change to him.

“Focus on what, exactly?” you asked.

“Who else, other than the bastard you have in your grasp right now? The one who you absolutely refuse to break eye contact with, the one you claim to despise so much?”

“Despise enough to not back down from, but…not enough to reject his company.”

“My point exactly,” he whispered while running his finger across your cheek, gently brushing the edge of your lips.

“Now what are you playing at?” you snapped, in an indirect way to ask for clarification on Aventurine’s intent.

“It’s something that I want, something that we both want, more than the truth behind the legitimacy of a back-alley game of poker,” Aventurine said, with a smile that suddenly went soft.

“Long story short, you mean each other. You think that our intent for allowing this game to spiral out of control was to win over each other, and not for the spoils of currency?”

“Judging by your poor performance, I’d say it’s far from an improbability.”

“And your constant diversion from the topic of the money,” you said.

“Perhaps.”

Your grip on him suddenly softened, allowing Aventurine a bit more freedom to move. Certainly, you weren’t expecting this to happen just because you wanted to fight back a little, but if that were really the case, then perhaps you were a bit too rough with him? No, Aventurine was clearly indulging himself in the pleasure of someone bold enough to step up to him. Someone who knew very well of his dangers, yet still faced him head on.

Everything about that gaze, that smile, those bastardly mannerisms of his had you so entranced.

And you so very badly wanted to put him in his place.

“Giving up already?” he said, disappointed at your sudden withdrawal.

“What? Did you want me to choke you out?”

“Ha, you like me too much. But feel free to tug me as close to that pretty face of yours as you wish.”

Obedience was not exactly what you were so eager to show Aventurine, but the chance to tug on him even more was not something you were going to pass up. You forcefully pulled him even closer, once again reducing the distance between your faces to hardly a single inch. The two of you were locked in a stare, closely watching for each other’s next move.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten too shy all of a sudden.”

“I’m not, it’s just, is this really what you want out of me, Aventurine?”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to pry out of you this entire time, sweetheart?”

It would be comedically cruel to toy with him further, but also a wait that you could no longer bear. With no resistance from Aventurine himself, you yanked his collar further until your lips met at long last. Yet, you did not free Aventurine from your grasp the entire time, but he seemed to care not, as he had finally hit the jackpot he was alluding to throughout the entire game.

Once you two had drifted apart, you rested your foreheads against each other, though your fingers were still gently hooked on his choker.

“You freein’ me now that you’ve had your fun?” Aventurine said.

Sighing, you unhooked your fingers, allowing him to relax back into his chair. He stood up, and in one swift, graceful swoop, Aventurine collected the scattered deck of cards, even snatching your depressing play right from under your nose. The chips were neatly stacked and set to the side, no longer accounting for what either party had on the line.

“What about the debt?” you said, looking at the pile of now neatly organized poker chips.

“Debt? What debt?”

He didn’t forget about those credits at all, but Aventurine could care less as he simply won something far better than any form of monetary value.

“Don’t be afraid to hit me up if you ever feel like throwin’ down some cards again,” Aventurine said.

“I can’t guarantee that it wouldn’t end with me throwing you down on the table.”

“Are you threatening me with a good time?” Aventurine said, turning to look at you with a smirk. “Because if that’s the case, why don’t we skip the card games and head straight to the fun?”

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Child Abuse, PTSD, Anxiety, Depression

A/N: Here's some more angst I'm sorry Also, sorry for this chapter being so short!! But it felt important and I kinda wanted to do more short chapters like this to help stretch the story along a bit further. But we're so close! More drama is afoot! Angst! Despair! Dun dun duuuuun...

Taglist:@bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

Chapter 13:

A Rock, A River, And A Boy With a Soft Smile

The dreams weren't constant.... but some of them were better than the first. Sometimes worse... But whatever they were, it was obvious that these dreams were connected to your soulmate... Why else would you be able to touch the boy but nobody else?

As you dreamt, more and more happened. You never saw the boy as an adult man; only ever as a child, or varying ages below 18. It took you a short while to figure out just what these dreams were.

His memories.

And they explained so much of the phantom pains and bruises you'd felt growing up your entire life.

It wasn't until tonight that you were in a different place; trees and grass surrounded you. There was a rocky outcropping with what looked like a crevice inbetween the crags.

Outside of the cave was a boulder, and on that boulder was the boy. His knees were tucked up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, his face buried as he shook, bruises visible on his arms, his clothes dirty; twigs stuck out from his raven curls here and there. It became obvious rather quickly that the boy had possibly slept out here.

You rushed over to him, compassion hitting you like a freight train and gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

His reaction was instinctive, brought on by practice of avoiding his mother's blows. The boy's arms immediately went up to cover his head, flinching to protect himself from a blow that you were never going to deliver.

"It's okay, I'm sorry!" You hushed him gently as he scrambles down into the grass to get away from you. You fell to your knees, feeling the dirt and mud cake onto your pajama pants; you held your hands out to him, showing you weren't going to do anything.

It wasn't until one amber eye peeked out at you that he finally realized you weren't his dreadful mother. He lifted his head and his eyes widened.

"Are you okay?" You asked him desperately, "Are you hurt?"

"What are you? Did he send you to mess with me?" He asked you, his voice cracking slightly in pitch, "Because making me do those... those things aren't enough? Now he's gotta... gotta..."

That broke your heart even more; he was so young. Too young to be suffering this kind of abuse, too young to worry about when the next blow was going to land. He shouldn't have to think of his home as a battlefield he had to navigate like some kind of shell-shocked soldier.

"Nobody sent me, I just... I'm here." You try to tell him.

His eyes frantically searched your body, unable to focus on any specific part of you. His brows furrowed and he swallowed.

"You... you can't see me, can you?"

He shifted to sit on his knees, looking towards your face, not quite able to place where your eyes would be. "I... N-No. You look like a... a blob."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but laugh. "A blob?"

His brows furrowed and he licked his lips, a healing cut on his bottom one making him wince a little. "...You sound funny too. I can't hear everything you say."

"I can hear you." You replied slowly, inching closer to him as he tried to piece your words together. When he didn't move away, you took it as a good sign, that he was comfortable with you. Or, well, getting there at least.

His little eyes seemed confused, and he pursed his lips. "He... didn't send you?"

"Who's he?" You questioned.

"...A bee?" He asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

You snort, sighing, "This isn't going to be a flawless method of communication, is it?"

He watched as you scooted to sit next to him, and his body instinctively leaned closer to yours. He was shivering. Cold. You were, too, but... clearly you hadn't spent the night in the woods like he had.

He swallowed deeply, forcing the chatter in his teeth away as best he could; "Y-you're...."

"Who you need me to be." You said resolutely, bringing your arm around his shoulders, tucking him into the warmer shelter of your own body.

He seemed to understand the intentions behind your words, even if he couldn't hear them clearly, sighing as his body sunk into the warmth your body bled for him.

Your hand rubbed his warm softly, and you whispered, "Why is this happening to you? Why does she do this?"

"She hates me." He told you. He didn't need to hear you clearly to know you were asking about her. His mother.

He wiped at his runny nose, sniffling. "It's my fault. I-I did something bad... It's all my fault and she... I didn't mean to do it, I swear!"

You felt your heart lurch painfully in your chest as he started to cry, wrapping both arms around him as you tucked him tighter against you, holding his head against your chest to let him cry into your shirt.

"I deserve it. I'm... I'm a bad person. I... I'm..."

Those words made you want to scream, but you kept your voice in check as you pet his hair to soothe him as best you could.

"You're not a bad person." You told him softly, kissing the top of his head as he held onto you. "You're just a boy. Who's hurting, being hurt. It doesn't make you bad. It makes you a victim."

You didn't care if he heard all of what you said to him, but you prayed he understood what you meant by the feeling in your voice as you said them.

He lifts his head to look at you, disheveled, scared, and confused. The bruises and cuts on his lip make your heart hurt and burn with the desire to get your hands on that monstrous bitch of a woman he calls mother.

His smaller hand grasps at one of yours desperately and he holds it to his cheek, desperate for more gentle touches; as if they would soothe the aches and pains left behind even when the wounds had healed and bruises had faded. His sleeve rises up and your eyes trace the faint mark of... of a flower. You couldn't tell what kind, as the bud hadn't bloomed, but...

No, it wasn't time to focus on that right now. He needed comfort. He needed you.

You sat there, unsure of how much time had passed in your little dream sequence, before he finally spoke up again. His voice was softer, this time:

"You can't do this anymore."

"What?" You blinked at him in shock. You even had to shake your head to make sure you hadn't knocked something lose somehow.

He pulled back from you, and stood up, backing away from you.

"You can't keep finding me." He says, tears welling up in his eyes once again. "I'll hurt you, too."

"Wait!" You say, reaching out for him, your heart breaking yet again as he stepped further out of reach. "What's your name?"

"I don't want to hurt you, too... not you..." He sobs softly, clenching his fists before he runs away.

You are barely able to let out a scream before the earth opens up and swallows you whole; and everything goes black.

Chapter 14: Link

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

The Forgotten Maiden || Part 2

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Character: Zhongli

Type: Angst, and tragedy

Content: You are the God of Light, you were once Zhongli’s beloved lover as he promised his full heart to you before his departure to the archon war, however, once he returned, he was injured and lost his memory of you. You figured out that he fought the god of memories and the impact of this fight affected his memories of you. 

Recently, you revealed to him your true identity in the middle of doing a request for the traveler, then left. You left him there, unknown about his thoughts.

Part one: Here

[ Please don’t repost, this is my original story. ]

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You were retreating to Guili plains, passing Wangshu in, you walked. Your heart was beating fast, as you were cursing yourself. “This…This was a mistake. I am very stupid. What happened to leaving him be?? I completely let my emotions get the best of me….” You stopped and sighed. You were almost to Mondstadt, so you stopped and sat on a nearby rock for a break. What do you do now? You blew your cover, everything you have worked for and hide from him was gone, you don't know your relationship with Lumine now, and now...you feel...regret. You looked up at the night sky and sighed. Should you disappear? Should you return to Celestia? Should you hide in yourself? What does this world have left for you now?

You looked at the ring and necklace he made for you thousands of years back and tossed it angrily. You gave up, you are done with these type of things. Defeated, done, he won't ever love you again. Never. Why try? Why wonder? Despite having the sacred contract of marriage, it will be loveless. Why? You snapped at him like a damn child. What the hell is wrong with you? Love just sucks. You slowly stood up and walked to Mondstadt, looking around and calming down from seeing your ex lover again after a thousand of years. You sighed as you stared at the ground, you were just tired, and maybe you should move on. Maybe someone else is out there for you. Maybe you can find someone new. However, within a few minutes of your walk back to Mondstadt, you felt a bump on your head, recognizing the shoes, you looked up. It was Zhongli, holding the ring and necklace you tossed not too long ago. You were dumbfounded. What is he doing here? Why? Why must you deal with this again? You immediately walked around him and walked faster away from him to Mondstadt. However, again. Another bump, he was in front of you again, with the ring and necklace.

Zhongli looked at you with the same emotionless face. He gently took your hand, and pushed the ring back onto your finger, and put the necklace back onto you. You looked at him confused. "Why...?"

Zhongli still was holding your hand, as he was looking at the ring. "It would seem that these items you tossed have my craft on it, not only that, it has my markings on it as well." He continued to examine the ring. You noticed something, he had his gloves off, and his bare skin was touching yours. It has been years since you felt his touch, despite it being such an increment of it, you were blushing and stuttering already. Zhongli lets go of your hand and looks at you. "If what you say is true, then let's make a contract, I just have almost retired from that, however, for you, I want to make an exception." You sighed, you never had any sort of contract with him, but what is there left to lose? Zhongli looked at you with his glowing amber eyes, scrutinizing you. You looked at him with a depressed face, as this was some sort of last hope. "Fine, lay it on me. Can't say I'm going to follow it because I don't care anymore, so punish me now if you so desire." He looked at you and spoke. "Is that so? Then that would be problematic -- how about you listen to my proposition, and see if you would take my deal." "Okay, Okay...what is it?" You crossed your arms, trying to not be difficult but it was hard to maintain that.

"Lets try and date for a month, I want to try and give you a chance. Get to know you, or....re-know you. If things work out, then we will decide on what to do from here." You blushed. "HUH?" You looked at him with widen eyes.

"Does that sound good?" He asked unfazed by your reaction.

"Why?" You said, doubting him entirely. "This...ring and necklace convinced me. If you happen to have more...proof, then please show it to me. The idea that I have forgotten something, even more, and important person such as a fiance, then it does trouble me to a certain degree, as I do not want to lose anymore then I already have."

You looked at him and back at your ring and necklace. "You already have lost me." You threw the used to be precious items at him and walked passed him. You said in a hateful tone, fed up and defeated.

You couldn't help it, all these feelings for years, they are coming out now. What do you do with thousands of years of emotion? Where do you even put that? As you walked away, he was standing behind you, watching you walk away from him. He was holding the ring and necklace in his bare hand, and gently squeezed it, quietly, deep in thought.

You were continuing to walk, you were almost back to Starnatch clift. You immediately regretting your actions, this was never you. Grief and loneliness has completely changed you and made you scared. You sighed and looked up at the small cabin you have built for yourself. Maybe you can take a break from adventuring and helping people, maybe you can be dormant for a couple of hundred of years.

As you arrived at your door and opened it, you feel a grab at your hand. You turned back, to see it was the same man. Zhongli. Zhongli began to speak. "Please, listen." He tried to speak with a slight tone of begging in his voice. Your heart was beating fast, you forgot how stubborn and persistence this man was, before he became knowledgeable. You forgot his true nature, as a man who commands a whole element of mountains, earth and homes. You began to pull your arm away from his strong grip. "No! I am done with everythi-" Immediately you were pinned against the wall inside your dark cabin. The only light being the moonlight, from the wide open door, however, there another source of light. That was his yellow melting lava eyes looking into your eyes. His body was pressed against hers as his bare hand with no glove was holding your chin up to him, as his other hand was on the wall cornering you. "Look at me." He whisper sternly. You blushed brightly, you really forgot how stubborn this man is. He was fully focused on you, you don't know what was going through his mind. You don't know his intentions at all. You used to read him so well before but now, you know nothing. You were helpless, feeling his ever strong body against yours, as his left leg was standing in between your legs trapping you. "Look at me and don't look away until finish speaking." He whispered to you. "I refuse to give up on this, you made a claim to me, and now there is proof that lined up to this claim. This was a claim if you knowing me romantically. Correct?"

You glared at him. "Answer me" He spoke demandingly. "Y-yes.." You kept your eyes on him as he requested.

"You don't get to make that claim and walk off from me. You have made that claim, stick to it. If you do not like my proposition then I am not leaving till we agree on one."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

The Wise wolf and The Foolish Fox

Warnings: death, animal trapping, grief, pain

🔥🔥🔥🔥

This story is more special to me than most. Why? BECAUSE MY 12 YEAR OLD LITTLE SISTER WROTE IT! 😱 I'm so insanely proud of her, and she did a great job too! I let her use my character "Wise Wolf" from the other stories I've written, and she decided to write her own "moral ending" story all on her own! I got her permission to post it here. Please like and comment so I can show her that people like it! (She'd be so excited to read positive & encouraging comments, especially since ths is one of the first official stories she's ever written) 😁😁 She's following in my footsteps as a writer, and I think she shows some great potential for only being 12 years old! Anyone else agree?

My sister chose the moral to be about "enjoying life while you have time", and appreciating the small joys it has to offer instead of focusing on the darkness and pain that often haunts us. To not worry about the future, but to enjoy the present. You'll see that the style is a bit different since this is NOT my writing!

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Wolf elegantly flew over logs and debris as he raced after the morning rays. Sunlight streamed through the forest canopy as he burst out and into a beautiful meadow crowned in light like a large golden blanket had been draped over it. Dry grass wet with morning dew crunched under his delicate paw pads.

He lunged into the frigid river, delighting in the bitter cold as he snapped at the fish that darted away from him, knowing he would never be able to catch one. Wolf splashed onto the rocky shore, shaking water from his shaggy gray pelt; droplets splattering on the rocks beneath him. He snapped at a curious monarch butterfly that had investigated his muzzle, barking joyfully as he slipped and scrambled to regain his balance on the rocks that covered the shore.

Fox had observed his strange antics, and thought him a fool. For only a fool would chase after things that they could never dream of catching, and frolic around like a pup outside the den for the first time instead of hunting. Fox had lost her 1st litter of pups to hunters, and had lost her 2nd litter to hawks and badgers, and she was filled with bitterness and emptiness.

She had howled into the wind a mournful cry of bitter rage, “What is the meaning of all this if we are all just to die and be forgotten? Why put us through all of this misery just to be swept away by Death? What is the meaning of life if life will never come without death? Why do we make friends if we shall lose them someday? Why do we try if we shall always fail?”

So Fox approached Wolf; her mind was filled only with sorrow and depression, she no longer felt joy or happiness, only pain and suffering.

“Wolf, why do you do such frivolous things? Why do you chase things you could never catch and stalk creatures that will always become aware of your presence before you can pounce? Why do you run through the meadows and trees expending all your energy that you should be using for hunting and surviving? Surely only a fool would choose to frolic around like a pup that left the den for the first time. Surely only a naive beast would play like a little pup instead of working. Surely only an idiot would waste energy catching butterflies.”

Wolf locked his beautiful amber eyes on her, and replied, “Look at the stars. They never worry or fear, and yet they might die just like the rest of us. You should savor every moment, for it may be your last. I choose to live my life to the fullest; to enjoy every moment and every success. I should ask you; why do you mope around expecting life to be nothing but misery? Do you not know that for every fall there's always a rise? Do you not understand how beautiful life is? I choose joy because I can. Life isn't short, it is quite long. You might as well enjoy the moment for there will never be another. There will never be another today. So I might as well enjoy it. After all, only a fool sees wisdom as foolish.”

And Fox barked a laugh, barely believing what she heard, “Ha! What a fool you are! I have never seen a more naive idiot in all my days! And you're younger than me by 2 years! You should be listening to me, little pup! I am no fool, and you are no genius. You are so naive with your head in the clouds! Life is nothing but cruel and unfair. Unfair in the sense that it gave me more brain cells than you!”

Wolf frowned, and turned to leave. But before he left, he threw one last thing over his shoulder, “You may be laughing now, but when death comes to take what is owed, I shall look back on my life, and I won't regret a single second of it.”

And when death came to take their lives, Wolf came peacefully, and of no regrets. For he had lived his life to the fullest, and had made far more good memories than one could count. And he joined his pack among the stars in eternal joy.

But when death came for the fox in the manner of a hunter's snare, she regretted everything. She wished that she had listened to Wolf, and that she had lived her life in full instead of living the half life she had. In her last moments, she wished that she had not been such a fool. For the Wolf had chosen hard happiness over deep depression. He may have been mocked by many because of his young age and pup-like actions, but he was indeed the wisest of them all. For age never defines wisdom. And it is better to live with hard happiness than with deep depression.

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal

[zeenmrala]

━ stay alive

summary: your depression is tearing you apart, and you do not think you can survive the night. darth maul reminds you of your strength. pairing: darth maul x reader (no pronouns used) tw: suicidal ideation, depression, trauma, mental health. angst and hope and comfort. word count: 1k a/n: this short fic is for the maul lovers who experience mental health distress and find themselves lost and exhausted in this life. for those who need a reason to stick around. it may feel impossible to stay alive, but try to survive the night. there may not be peace. but there is always hope. music: i always wanna die (sometimes) by the 1975

please click here to view international suicide hotlines.

“if you can’t survive, just try.”

Stay Alive - [Read this story on AO3]

Your body succumbs to the weight of your fractured mind. All the pain, loss, trauma and hardships that have been stacking up like rancid bricks in your skull over the long years of your life have become a burden too great to bear. The wall of sorrow has collapsed above you, raining down in crashes of devastation, pinning your body beneath the wreckage: you are anchored to the ground by the breadth of your mental anguish.

That wretched hollow ache in your chest is devouring you whole: you are imploding with despair and emptiness and the harrowing truth of your colossal depression. The tears come, streaming down your cheeks, the saltiness settling on your skin, in your ears, pooling in the skin of your collarbone. You hold yourself with your arms on the floor in a last ditch effort to keep yourself from falling apart. 

You are languishing so entirely in your misery that you do not hear him enter the room. You do not notice the muted whirr of his cybernetics, the soft thud of his metal footsteps, the glaring weight of his gleaming amber eyes. You don't register his unique midnight scent, the usually notable gravitas of his presence. The entire galaxy, including him, has slipped away into complete sorrow. 

But then he speaks, that rich velvet voice you know and cherish so dearly breaking through the oppressive cloud of sadness. Darth Maul speaks your name with a mix of concern and confusion. A wash of shame steals your breath from your lungs as your hazy mind acknowledges his presence. 

He shouldn't see you like this. 

"Why do you weep?" He asks in a rare gentle tone, his usual severity is muted. Do you really appear so pitiful?

"Leave me," you snap at him, the emotional turmoil sharpening your shame against him. You wipe your face with your sleeves, pulling yourself up against the wall at your back, resting your head in your arms, hiding. "Don't look at me."

He ignores your demands and wordlessly approaches. You hear him settling beside you on the floor. 

"Gods, it’s disgusting," you whisper, embarrassment washing over you like a tide.

"What is?"

"These feelings," you admit between gritted teeth as you shake your head. "This weakness."

He is silent, and you refuse to look at him, your face still hidden behind your arms.

"Why do I live with it?" You ask, not him or yourself or anyone in particular. The question just comes out, a stream of truth pouring from your lips. "This gnawing distress and despair. It's a constant shadow. It will never go away. There is no use in fighting it's will any longer."

"Explain.”

"I should let the waves of it take me," you whisper, your arms falling forward, your flushed and wet face revealed to the chilled air. "Let the inevitability of mortality wash me away."

He immediately understands. "To an early grave?" 

"A timely one. A just one. Perhaps it is my fate for this to consume me tonight." A pause, weighty and loaded. "I'm just so tired, Maul."

He stays silent, allows you the relief of a confession, of his listening. 

"I am defective. Broken. This rot within me is me. The part of me that has been slowly decaying has spread so deep that I have become it. The damage is done and I cannot undo it or repair it. I cannot stand it any longer."

"You suffer," he acknowledges. "There is strength in that."

You scoff. "There is no point to my suffering. I cannot harness its power like you. At least there is some purpose to your pain, a boon you can claim from it. I have nothing." You inhale and close your aching eyes. "I am nothing."

"No," he counters softly. "Not at all. Not to me."

You look at him, bask in the sweetness of those words, the unique beauty of his strange face. He returns to his silence, and does not look at you, but straight ahead. 

"Death is not what I want," you whisper, clarifying. "But what I need, I think. It is not that I want to give up, but I want...to..."

"Give in," he finishes for you. 

"Yes," you reply, the relief of his understanding both a balm and a heart wrenching revelation. "Yes."

He turns to look at you then, his golden eyes meeting yours. "The scars of your past will always be with you,” he says clearly, “they may weigh you down, consume you, haunt you. But they do not define you."

You blink, your eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion, such kindness and candour coming from him is a sweet surprise.

"It is true that I gain power from my suffering. My fear. My hatred. But all of that...it is mine. I own it. Your anguish is yours. And though you cannot rid yourself of it, it is part of you.” He reaches towards you, places a gloved palm on your chest, directly above the emotional ache. “Feel it. Embrace its wrath, note how brutal and relentless it has been. How it has battered you and worn you down over the years.”

You close your eyes and do as he says, delving into the ache, recalling the long years of pain and despair, how broken and lost you are…

“Now think of how you have endured it. That you are, despite everything, alive. What kind of person could have survived such an ordeal?”

Alive. You feel the heat of his palm on your chest, the sting of tears on your cheeks, the scent of space that lingers in the starship. You notice the cool chill of durasteel beneath your back, the beat of your heart, the breath in your lungs. The miracle of life, of experience, of tolerating the suffering and joy to this point in time.

“You have achieved that. You. The person that has endured all of that has the strength to survive another night. Stay alive. You owe yourself, - ” he pauses, moving his gloved fingers to your wet cheek, caressing your skin, “- this person that has fought and overcome so much anguish, another day.”

You lean into his touch, and his palm cradles your face. You nod softly, and almost whimper because yes, the pain is still there and it hurts and it is engulfing you entirely and it’s overflowing yet empty all at once. And it may always exist, eternal and timeless. But you have proven to yourself that you can endure it, again and again, as you have before, surviving those countless nights of misery that you have put behind you. You can stay alive. You breathe in the scent of his crimson skin, feel the weight of his strong arms tighten around you. You allow him to hold you for the remainder of the night, and you hold him in return, finding strength and the will to survive in yourselves and each other.

-

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[doumadono]

Warnings: graphic descriptions of self harm, pro hero Shoto, established relationship, mentions of depression and negative thoughts, blood

Synopsis: even as a pro hero who faced countless villains and saved innumerable lives, Shoto realized nothing had prepared him for the battle he was about to fight — one involving one of the most important people in his life

A/N: this story was commissioned on my Kofi page by @aethien11-blog - I'm sharing it with their kind permission 🌸 If you like my writing, please consider supporting me via my Kofi page

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST KO-FI COMMISSIONS

The night had draped its shadowy cloak over Musutafu, casting an eerie stillness over the bustling city. The only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves as a faint breeze blew through the trees. The city skyline glowed faintly, a haze of light pollution against the pitch-black sky. 

Todoroki Shoto stood on the balcony of his high-rise apartment, the chill night air biting through his casual clothes. His dual-colored hair, a stark contrast to the darkness, swayed gently in the breeze as he gazed out over the city he had sworn to protect. 

Shoto had just finished his shift and was savoring a quiet evening with his beloved girlfriend. Todoroki brought a steaming cup of tea to his lips and took a sip. He reflected on his life, recognizing it as fulfilling and stable.

It had been years since he graduated from U.A. Now a pro hero, Shoto was known for his unwavering dedication and unparalleled control over his quirk, a perfect balance of ice and fire. He had faced countless villains, saved innumerable lives, yet nothing had prepared him for the battle that was about to unfold very, very soon.

Celeste sat in the living room near the balcony, a gentle breeze wafting in through the open door. She was engrossed in a book, her amber eyes skimming the pages. The rustling of leaves and distant sounds of the city provided a soothing background.

Feeling the weight of her boyfriend's gaze, she raised her head, her eyes meeting Shoto's. A soft smile spread across her face, filled with warmth and affection. "Hey there," she said, her voice as gentle as her smile, and second later, she returned to reading her book.

Shoto and Celeste had met shortly after Todoroki graduated from U.A. High School. Shoto had already begun his career as a pro hero, and Celeste, with her healing quirk, often assisted heroes in need of medical care. Their paths crossed frequently in the field, and it wasn't long before Celeste noticed the deep, unspoken pain behind Shoto's stoic exterior.

Intrigued by the quiet hero who always seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, Celeste made an effort to get to know him. She saw the shadows in his eyes, the haunted look that spoke of past traumas and inner turmoil. 

As they spent more time together, Shoto gradually opened up about his troubled childhood, his complicated relationship with his father, and the emotional scars that still lingered.

The more Celeste learned about Shoto's past, the closer they grew. Her empathy and kindness slowly chipped away at his defenses, and he found solace in her unwavering understanding. 

Their bond deepened, built on a foundation of mutual respect and shared vulnerability, and before long, their friendship blossomed into a deep and loving relationship.

Celeste had been a constant source of warmth and solace in his life from the moment the two met. Her quirk, a powerful healing ability, had earned her respect and admiration in the hero community. But it was her unyielding spirit and genuine kindness that had captured Shoto's heart. She had a way of seeing through the facades people wore, helping them find their true smiles. She was a constant source of cheerfulness, radiating light and positivity wherever she went. Her laughter was contagious, and Todoroki found himself cherishing it immensely.

Yet, in recent weeks, Shoto had sensed something was off, a gnawing worry that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He had noticed cracks in her facade. Moments where her smile seemed way too forced, laughter that didn’t quite reach her beautiful eyes. He had attributed it to stress, the pressures of her own hero work weighing heavily on her shoulders. 

This evening was different. This evening, the shadows seemed deeper, the silence heavier. 

Inside, the apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. 

Shoto felt a knot tighten in his chest as he called out her name upon returning from his hero shift, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty apartment. "Celeste? I'm home." 

No answer. 

Panic started to creep in, an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. The silence that greeted him was unusual. Normally, Celeste would be bustling around the kitchen or reading a book on the couch, always ready with a warm smile. Concern tugged at him as he moved quickly through the rooms, his heart pounding louder with each step. 

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the hallway. Shoto approached cautiously, his breath catching in his throat as he pushed the door open.

Celeste sat on the tiled floor, her back against the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Her usually vibrant brown hair, with its distinctive patch of bright red, was disheveled, cascading over her face like a curtain. She wore a long-sleeved sweater, even in the warmth of the apartment, but it was pushed up to her elbows, revealing the fresh, angry cuts marring her skin.

The bright red streaks on her forearms stood out starkly against her pale, delicate skin, deep and raw. Blood trickled from the wounds, mingling with older scars, and pooled on the pristine white tiles, creating a macabre contrast. Each breath she took was shallow and shaky, her chest heaving with the effort.

The razor blade was still clutched in her trembling hand, its edge stained crimson. More blood dripped from the blade, joining the spreading puddle beneath her. Her amber eyes, usually so full of life, were distant and hollow, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her arms.

The sight was harrowing: streaks of blood had smeared across her skin where she had wiped at her tears with her hands, creating a grotesque pattern of red on her face. Blood smeared her wrists and fingers, and small droplets had splattered against the walls as well, painting the room in a chilling tableau of her anguish.

The room was silent, save for the occasional ragged breaths Celeste was taking. The sharp metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air. 

Shoto’s world narrowed to that moment, the sight of your pain cutting deeper than any villain’s attack ever could.

"Celeste..." Shoto's voice was a broken whisper, his heart shattering at the sight. He rushed to her side, dropping to his knees, gently taking the blade from her hand and tossing it aside. “What have you done?!”

She looked up at him, a flicker of recognition breaking through the haze of her despair. "Shoto... I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I didn't want you to see this." Tears streamed down her cheeks, her mask of cheerful indifference shattering. “I’m sorry, Shoto. I tried… I tried to be strong for too long… I’m just too tired.”

He pulled her into his arms, the warmth of his inner fire contrasting with the coldness of her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me help you?”

Her sobs were heart-wrenching, each one a dagger to Shoto’s heart. “I didn’t want to burden you. You’re always so strong, so perfect, so busy. I didn’t want you to see how broken I truly am.”

Shoto’s grip tightened, his voice fierce and filled with emotion. “You are not a burden. You are the light in my life, Celeste. I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

He reached for his phone with one hand, the other still holding the girl close. With a calmness that belied the storm inside him, he called for an ambulance. As he spoke to the operator, he kept his eyes on Celeste, his thumb gently stroking her cool cheek.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited, Shoto whispering words of comfort and love, his heart breaking anew with each tear that fell from her eyes. 

When the paramedics arrived, he stayed by her side, refusing to let go even as they bandaged her wounds and prepared to take her to the hospital.

The hospital corridors were a blur as Shoto Todoroki sprinted through them, his heart hammering in his chest. He could barely breathe, his mind consumed with the fear and urgency of reaching Celeste. 

When he reached the ER doors, a group of doctors and nurses blocked his path, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

“I need to see her,” Shoto demanded, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there right now,” one of the doctors said, raising a hand to stop him. “She’s in a very serious condition, and we need to stabilize her. She lost a lot of blood.”

Shoto’s eyes flared with a dangerous mix of anger and resolve, his control slipping for the first time in years. “You don’t understand. I need to see her. Now.”

“Please, we’re doing everything we can —”

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Shoto’s voice was a low, menacing growl. “I’m Todoroki Shoto, one of the top pro heroes. And if you don’t let me in, I swear I will tear this place apart to get to my girlfriend.”

The sheer intensity of his anger and desperation caused the staff to falter. They exchanged uneasy glances, clearly aware of the volatile nature of his quirk and his reputation.

“Let him through,” came a calm but authoritative voice from behind. An older doctor stepped forward, his gaze steady. “He needs to be with her.”

One of the younger doctors shook his head, concern etched on his face. “But sir, she’s lost a lot of blood and is very weak. She needs rest.”

The older doctor walked closer, his eyes narrowing with a scolding gaze. “I know exactly what happened,” he said firmly. “I’ve just come from her room. What she needs now, more than anything, is the support and love of her close ones. This is a challenging time for her, and having her close ones by her side will aid in her recovery more than solitude ever could.”

The blockade parted, and Shoto pushed through without a second glance. He burst into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto Celeste’s fragile form lying on the hospital bed. The sight nearly brought him to his knees. Tubes and wires were attached to her, machines beeping steadily as they monitored her vitals. Her complexion was sallow, and her wrists were heavily bandaged.

He couldn’t shake the image of her on the bathroom floor from his mind, the raw pain in her darkened eyes haunting him. How had he missed it? How had he not seen the depth of her despair? He had faced monsters and menaces, but this — this was something entirely different.

He approached her slowly, his heart shattering with each step. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “Celeste,” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him through a haze of pain and sedation. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she struggled to speak. “I’m sorry, Shoto. I’m so sorry.”

He sank into the chair beside her bed, holding her hand tightly, as if afraid she might slip away. “Why didn’t you tell me how much you were hurting? I could have helped you. I would have done anything.”

Celeste’s voice was a fragile whisper. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I thought… I thought if I kept smiling, it would be enough. But the pain… It was too much. I couldn’t see a way out.”

Shoto’s tears fell freely now, his chest aching with profound sorrow. “You’re my everything. Seeing you like this… it’s tearing me apart. I need you with me. I need you to fight through this.”

She squeezed his hand weakly, her eyes filled with regret and longing. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Shoto. I love you so much. I just didn’t know how to cope.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her hand. “We’ll find a way, together. I promise you, Celeste, you’re not alone. We’ll get through this, no matter how hard it is. Just… don’t leave me. Please.”

Her tears continued to flow, her fingers trembling in his grasp. “I’ll try, Shoto. I’ll try for you.”

He lifted his head, his gaze fierce and determined. “Not just for me. For us. For our future. We’ll face this together, and I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

As the night wore on, Shoto remained by her side, refusing to let go of her hand. The hospital room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft beeping of the machines and the quiet sobs they shared. It was a moment of profound vulnerability, a testament to their love and the battles they would face together.

In that sterile, white room, amidst the beeping machines and the scent of antiseptic, Shoto vowed to himself and to Celeste that he would never let her face her demons alone again. 

After ensuring Celeste was asleep, Shoto quietly left her bedside. The rhythmic beeping of the machines and the soft murmur of hospital activity were the only sounds as he made his way to the nurse’s station.

“Excuse me,” Shoto said, his voice low but firm. “Can you tell me where I can find the older doctor who allowed me to see my girlfriend?”

The nurse looked up from her paperwork, a sympathetic smile crossing her face. “That would be Dr. Hayashi, the head of the emergency ward. His office is down the hall, third door on the left.”

Shoto thanked her and followed the directions. Reaching the office, he took a deep breath before knocking. A calm, authoritative voice called from within, “Come in.”

Todoroki entered the office, finding Dr. Hayashi seated behind a cluttered desk, reviewing some files. The older man looked up, his eyes filled with a gentle wisdom. 

“Dr. Hayashi,” Shoto began, bowing slightly. “I wanted to thank you for letting me see my girlfriend. And I also want to apologize for my outburst. I know I should have contained my emotions better.”

Dr. Hayashi waved off the apology, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “No need to apologize, Mr. Todoroki. I understand your reaction all too well.”

Shoto hesitated, sensing a deeper story. “You do?”

Dr. Hayashi nodded, his gaze distant. “Some time ago, I lost my daughter under very similar circumstances. She was suffering in ways I hadn’t fully grasped until it was too late. Even as a doctor, I was not allowed to see her when she was brought in. I couldn’t hold her in my arms when she was dying.”

Shoto felt a pang of empathy, the weight of the doctor’s words settling heavily on his heart. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said softly.

Dr. Hayashi offered a sad smile. “Thank you. That’s why I insisted you be with her. I know how crucial it is to have loved ones close during such a challenging time. It can make all the difference in their will to fight and recover.”

“Thank you for allowing me to be there for her.”

Dr. Hayashi leaned back in his chair, his expression one of quiet resolve. “Take care of her, Mr. Todoroki. And take care of yourself as well. You’ll both need each other’s strength.”

With a final bow, Shoto left the office, his heart heavy. He returned to Celeste’s side, more determined than ever to help her heal and to never let her feel alone again.

The days following Celeste's hospital admission were a blur of consultations, therapy sessions, and quiet, somber moments. The hospital had kept her under close watch, her condition monitored by a team of specialists. 

Shoto visited every day, his presence a constant reassurance, his hand always ready to hold hers.

Finally, the day came when she was discharged. A psychiatrist had outlined a comprehensive treatment plan, emphasizing the importance of ongoing therapy and support. 

Shoto had listened intently, absorbing every detail, his stoic demeanor masking the turmoil within.

Celeste was waiting in the discharge area, her small bag by her side. She looked up as he approached, offering a tentative smile.

"Ready to go home?" he asked, his voice steady but soft.

She nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and trepidation. "Yes."

He took her bag, carrying it effortlessly as they walked to the car. 

The drive home was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence. 

Shoto's eyes remained fixed on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel with controlled tension. 

Celeste glanced at him occasionally, taking comfort in his presence despite the lack of conversation.

The silence was not awkward; rather, it was a shared space of reflection and understanding. Words felt unnecessary, and the quiet was a balm to Celeste's frayed nerves. She watched the city pass by outside the window, her thoughts a tangled web of emotions and memories.

As they pulled up to their apartment building, Shoto parked the car and turned off the engine. For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of the past days pressing down on them.

Shoto finally broke the silence. “Let’s go inside.” He got out, walking around to open her door. 

She stepped out, taking a deep breath of the familiar air. It felt strange to be back, as if the world outside had continued while she had been suspended in a separate reality.

Shoto unlocked the door to their shared apartment, holding it open for Celeste, who stepped inside and took a deep breath, absorbing the scent and warmth of home.

Inside the apartment, everything was as they had left it. The familiar surroundings felt both comforting and strange, as if everything had changed while remaining the same. 

Once they were inside, Shoto set down the bag of her belongings from the hospital and turned to face her. His eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with a mixture of concern and pure sadness. “Celeste,” he began, his voice steady but soft, “we need to talk.”

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. “I know.”

Shoto let out a sigh, "But first, you need to eat something. You've lost weight, and with the strong meds you're on, you need to stay strong. Come on, I'll make you some soba with peanut sauce."

Celeste sat on the high stool at the counter, her eyes following Shoto’s movements as he prepared the meal. He moved with practiced ease, boiling the soba noodles and mixing the peanut sauce with care. The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma, a blend of savory and nutty scents.

As he worked, Shoto glanced over his shoulder at her. “My mother and Fuyumi want to visit this weekend. Do you mind?”

Celeste’s face lit up with genuine happiness. “I’d love that, Shoto. I’ve missed them.”

He smiled softly, returning his focus to the meal. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. They’ve missed you too.”

Within minutes, he set a steaming bowl of soba with peanut sauce in front of her. “Eat up,” he said gently. “You need your strength.”

Celeste picked up her chopsticks. “Thank you, Shoto.”

As evening approached, Shoto suggested they sit on the balcony. 

The city was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the sky painted with hues of orange and pink. 

They sat side by side, the silence stretching comfortably between them.

Finally, Shoto spoke, his voice a low murmur. “Celeste.” Shoto took her hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care. “I know you were trying to protect me by hiding your pain, but it’s not something you should have to bear alone.”

She sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Celeste’s eyes filled with tears, and then she looked down at their joined hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Shoto. I thought if I kept it to myself, it would be easier for everyone.”

He lifted her chin, making her look at him. “Celeste. Your pain is my pain, and I want to help you carry it. We’ll face this together, but you have to let me in. Promise me you won’t hide from me anymore.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she nodded, her voice trembling. “I promise, Shoto. I’ll try to be more open. I don’t want to go through this alone either.”

He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his heart aching with a mixture of love and sorrow. “We’ll get through this, one step at a time. You’re not alone, and you never will be.”

She sobbed against his chest, the dam of her emotions breaking. “I’ve been so scared, Shoto. So scared of disappointing everyone, of showing weakness. I thought… If I kept smiling, it would be okay. But it’s not.”

He listened intently, his heart aching at her words. "I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you were struggling. I thought… I thought you were happy. And when I started noticing… It was too late.”

She clung to him, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold despair she had felt just days before. In his arms, she found a glimmer of hope, a promise of better days to come.

He held her through her tears, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “We’ll face this together. Please, let me help you.”

For a long time, they sat in silence, Shoto’s arms wrapped protectively around her. The gravity of her pain settled heavily in his heart. He knew this was only the beginning, that their journey would be fraught with challenges. But he was determined to be her anchor, to show her that she wasn’t alone.

They sat there, holding each other as the sun dipped below the horizon. The future was uncertain, and the road ahead would be challenging, but they faced it together, bound by love and a shared determination to find their way through the darkness. In each other, they found strength and hope, a beacon to guide them through the storm.

The days that followed were filled with small, tentative steps towards healing. 

Shoto made sure she attended her therapy sessions and took her medication. He was always there, a silent pillar of strength, offering his unwavering support. Todoroki watched her closely, always attuned to her moods. He learned to recognize the signs of deterioration of her mood, the moments when her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes. In those times, he held her close, whispering words of comfort and love.

One day, after Celeste felt well enough, Shoto’s mother, Rei Todoroki, and his older sister, Fuyumi, came to visit. They brought handmade mochi and other sweets, their faces lighting up with joy when they saw Celeste looking better.

Rei was the first to embrace her, pulling Celeste into a gentle, warm hug. “It’s so good to see you, dear,” she whispered, her voice full of genuine relief. “We’ve missed you.”

Fuyumi followed, hugging Celeste tightly. “We’ve been thinking about you every day,” she said softly. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” the woman added, stroking Celeste’s brown hair gently.

Dark-haired girl smiled, a little overwhelmed by their warmth. “Thank you both. It means a lot to me.”

They all settled in the living room, the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee and tea mingling with the afternoon air. 

Shoto sat beside Celeste, his hand resting reassuringly on her knee.

Rei sipped her tea before speaking, her tone soft like a summer breeze. “We won’t ask you about what happened,” she said gently. “We know it’s hard, and we don’t want to bring you back to that dark place.”

Fuyumi nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “Just know that we’re always here for you, whenever you need us. You’re part of our family, Celeste.”

Celeste’s eyes shimmered with tears, but they were tears of gratitude. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Rei smiled warmly. “Now, let’s enjoy these sweets together.”

As they shared the mochi and other treats, the room filled with laughter and light conversation. The support and love from Rei and Fuyumi were like a balm to Celeste’s soul, reminding her that she wasn’t alone and that she had a family who cared deeply for her.

Celeste began to open up more, sharing her fears and insecurities, and slowly, she started to find her way back to herself. The scars on her body, though a grim reminder of her struggle, began to fade slowly.

Their home became a sanctuary, a place where they could face the darkness together. Each day was a battle, but it was one they fought side by side, their love and determination lighting the way forward. And in the quiet moments, when they held each other close, they found solace in the unspoken promise that they would never give up on each other.

For Shoto, the love he held for Celeste was a beacon of hope, guiding him through the challenging times.

And for Celeste, Shoto’s unwavering support was a reminder that she was never truly alone, that even in her darkest moments, there was light to be found.

[hyacinthstears]

Master Post! (Asks are open! I'll gladly talk more about my AUs)

______________________________________________________________

Hiii!! as said in the meet the artist drawing I'm Cin!! (here's my Pronouns.Page btw)

I post Undertale AUs on my side blog @dumb-skeleton-au-lover and Deviant Art

I listen to an insane amount of music and have a shit ton of playlists on my Spotify

I'm a tmnt nerd and aspiring writer, animater and comic artist. I like making AUs and drawing my persona hanging out with friends and Mutuals.

I'm Obsessed with -

TMNT

Undertale/Undertale AU

Cats the musical (The original not the shit 2019 movie)

Skyrim

Dsmp (The story not the creators behind it)

Horror/Gore

I'm a Polykin! which means I believe that on a spiritual level I'm in some way something other then human (I know I'm human this is entirely mental/spiritual) If you don't like or hate on Otherkin/Therian you can still look at my art or follow me but just please don't talk to me about it. Its a form of expression and I'd rather not end up in a back and forth. (Also I vibe with Voidpunk!)

These guys are my close friends who are awesome and I love them - @theboogie-woogieman - @heefthequeef

And also some cool friend/Mutuals - @lara-cairncross - @nox-icate - @mossy-box

and here's what you guys have been waiting for... My AUs!!!

Leo's Descent

A villain AU that starts at the end Rottmnt movie. it's canon at first but slowly the hero's we we know and love begin to change. the slowly fall from grace, from beloved hero's to disturbing villains. inspired by some of my favorite horror movies and genres,

This story contains - Gore, Non-consensual body modification, Forced Drug use, abuse, physical abuse, Verbal abuse and s3lf h@rm. This story is very dark so please be in the right head space when reading it.

Leo Reference - Raph Reference

Donnie Reference - Mikey Reference (Old designs)

the brothers dynamics - Donnie and Mikey

Concept Comic Part 1 DONE

Mikey lore drop comic (that doubles as a fan comic for @lara-cairncross fairy AU)

Leo's Descent tag

Mystic Odyssey

A Crossover between Rottmnt future/Tmnt 2012/Usagi Chronicles/Iliad and Odyssey/Epic the musical and inspration taken from Sleep token... I promise I makes more since then it sounds. 2012 Leo gets sent to Rottmnt via an accident with a krang portal. He gets there and he ends up in the apocalypse future. We learn about the history of the Rise brothers and we follow 2012 Leo (now being called Odysseys) has he try's to stay alive and make it back home

This story contains - Child death, Non-consensual body modification and gore. This story is very depressing so please be in the right head space when reading it.

Story outline(Outdated)

Mikey reference

concept comic page (Featuring Leo in a coma)

Odysseys and Yuichi in the hidden city

Mystic Odyssey Tag

Rottmnt Bird AU

A simple good vibe AU where the boys got double mutated to have wings and feathers. each of them are a different type bird!

Rottmnt brother reference

Splinter reference

Donnie and Mikeys disabilitys

Donnies wings

Rottmnt bird AU Tag

Lost and Scarred

A fan fiction about the Rottmnt siblings getting sent into the 2012 universe. In the process they got turned into tots, still having all the scars from their life before. The 2012 brothers now have to take care of the tots, while trying to help them recover from wounds they don't remember getting.

This story contains - Gore, Medical treatments and Harm onto children. This story is sad so please be in the right head space when reading it.

The Fanfiction

Amber(Mikey) Fun facts

Purple(Donnie) and Blue(Leo) Fun facts

Red(Raph) Fun facts

Lost and Scarred tag

Misc AUs that aren't to fleshed out

Dark Ninpo fanfiction

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Have a nice day!! Thanks for reading my stuff, or even just this. This will be updated as my AUs get more fleshed out or if my identity any has major changes

Love you all and stay safe!!