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scarletwinterxx · 2 days ago

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i only think of you, will we be together soon? - choi seungcheol scenario

soooo hellooo ~ this is just a quick epilogue/pt 2 of the seungcheol scenario i wrote, you can read it here. I just thought i should atleast write their first kiss🥺🥺🥺 and it's soooo cute. anyways i hope you like it🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It was an unusual sight—Seungcheol sleeping in on a weekend.

Usually, he'd be up early, either at the gym or getting a head start on errands. But today, he was sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, the blanket barely covering his bare back. His room was dim, the only light filtering through the gap in his curtains.

When you let yourself into his apartment, calling out his name and getting no response, you knew exactly where to find him. Quietly opening the door to his bedroom, you peeked in, finding him sound asleep. His hair was a mess, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Creeping toward the bed, you carefully climbed onto it, trying not to wake him too soon. Then, without warning, you flopped onto his back, draping yourself over him like a blanket.

"Cheol," you called softly, your voice sing-song as you poked his shoulder. "Wake up~."

He groaned into his pillow, his voice muffled but clearly displeased. "Five more minutes..."

"Nope," you chirped, wiggling a little to get comfortable on top of him. "I need you to drive me somewhere!"

He cracked one eye open, groaning again as he turned his head slightly. "Where?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

"The dog café!" you announced, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I’ve been wanting to go, and you promised you’d take me!"

He sighed dramatically, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace?"

"Because you’re Seungcheol, and you love me,"

The smile on your face growing, since that moment at the beach there's this blanket of unspoken feelings that doesn't really need to said because at the end of the day he knows you and you know him.

At that, he cracked a small smile, though his eyes were still closed. "You’re lucky I do."

He shifted beneath you, effortlessly flipping over so you were lying on his chest instead of his back. His arms lazily wrapped around you, trapping you in place.

"Cheol, you’re supposed to be getting up," you protested, though you didn’t try to move

"Mm," he hummed, pulling you closer. "Five minutes. Then we’ll go to your dog café."

"That’s what you said before!"

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win. But as he held you, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into comfort, you figured maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

After Seungcheol finally got out of bed (which, in reality, took more than just five minutes), the two of you headed out to the dog café you’d been pestering him about all week. He still looked groggy as he drove, his hair tousled and his hoodie lazily thrown on.

"You’re lucky I like dogs," he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you excitedly bounced in the passenger seat.

"You’re lucky you like *me*," you shot back with a grin, hugging your knees to your chest as you turned to face him.

He just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

When you arrived, the café was bustling with happy barks and wagging tails. The moment you stepped inside, a small golden retriever puppy trotted up to you, wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might take off.

"Oh my God, Cheol, look at this baby!" you squealed, crouching down to pet the dog. The puppy immediately rolled onto its back, demanding belly rubs, which you happily obliged.

Seungcheol stood nearby, watching you with a fond expression as you giggled and cooed over the dog. "You’re worse than the dogs," he teased, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me? They’re adorable!" you retorted, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

He crouched down beside you, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his voice softer now.

You spent the next hour playing with various dogs, from energetic beagles to sleepy bulldogs, while Seungcheol alternated between joining in and watching you from a distance. At one point, a particularly bold corgi jumped into his lap, and you nearly cried laughing at the sight of big, tough Seungcheol awkwardly trying to balance the squirming dog.

"Cheol, you look so cute," you teased, snapping a picture on your phone.

He gave you a mock glare. "Delete that."

"Nope," you said, grinning mischievously.

When it was finally time to leave, you reluctantly said goodbye to the dogs, practically dragging your feet as Seungcheol led you back to the car.

"Happy now?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for you

"Very," you said, your face still lit up with joy.

As he got into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at you, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re such a kid."

"And yet, here you are," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head again. "Yeah, here I am," he said softly, as if to himself.

Then, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, he added, "Let me know when you want to go again."

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you played it off, leaning your head back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "You’re the best, Cheol."

He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face as he drove you home spoke volumes.

Since he went with you to the dog cafe, it only felt right to go with him too if he wants to do something he likes. Unlucky for you, Seungcheol lives an active lifestyle.

Seungcheol chuckled as he watched you trudge behind him on the trail, your arms crossed and a dramatic pout plastered on your face.

The usually peaceful sound of nature was interrupted by the crunch of your footsteps and the occasional sigh you let out. He stopped to let you catch up, turning to look at your grumpy expression.

“You hate it that much?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You nodded like a child, your bottom lip jutting out even more. “I hate it,” you grumbled. “The bugs, the sweating, the uphill part—ugh, especially the uphill part.”

He laughed softly and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You could’ve just said so, baby. I wouldn’t have forced you.”

You shook your head, looking down at the ground. “But you wanted me to join you,” you mumbled. “And you always try out my hobbies, so I figured I should try yours too.”

Seungcheol’s grin softened into something warmer as he stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. “Yah,” he said, his tone tender, “you didn’t have to do this just for me. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” you argued halfheartedly, though your pout betrayed you. “I’m just… not enjoying it.”

That made him laugh again. He bent down slightly to meet your eyes. “Let’s turn back, hmm? We can go grab something to eat instead. How does that sound?”

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“How could I be upset when you’re this cute?” he said, pinching your cheek lightly. “You tried for me, and that means a lot. But next time, I’ll make sure we do something we both enjoy.”

You smiled, your pout finally replaced with a more genuine expression. “Okay. But no more hiking.”

“No more hiking,” he promised, taking your hand as the two of you turned back down the trail. “But I’ll probably still tease you about this for the rest of your life.”

“Cheol!” You groaned, and he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening as he led you back toward the car, already thinking of how to spoil you for putting up with his hobby.

It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons when the group was hanging out at Jeonghan’s place, sprawled across his living room in varying states of relaxation.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping on your drink, while Seungcheol sat beside you, one arm casually slung across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was some grand announcement. “Are you two, like, officially a couple now?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting to Seungcheol. He didn’t even flinch, just let out a small exhale through his nose as if he’d been expecting the question.

“I mean...” he began, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before settling back on Jeonghan.

“What kind of answer is that?” Jeonghan said, feigning exasperation. “You either are or you aren’t.”

Seungkwan, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, hyung, spill it. The suspense is killing us.”

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of Seungcheol’s hand now fully resting on your shoulder. “I—uh—” you stammered, unsure of what to say.

Seungcheol finally turned his head to look at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Whatever she wants us to be,” he said simply, his tone steady but laced with something unspoken.

The room went silent for a beat before Jeonghan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “That’s not an answer, Cheol!”

Seungkwan burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “I swear, you two are impossible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Seungcheol just chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder in reassurance.

“I think we’re doing just fine,” he said calmly, shooting Jeonghan a pointed look that clearly said, *drop it.*

Jeonghan raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you two.”

As the conversation shifted to another topic, you glanced at Seungcheol, your lips twitching into a small, shy smile. He caught your gaze and leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got this... whatever *this* is.”

And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed.

Later he drives you home, the hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the space between you and Seungcheol. The evening air was cool, and the faint smell of his cologne lingered in the car, you fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, the fabric too big for you but warm and comforting, much like the man sitting next to you.

“So…” you started, your voice timid, breaking the silence. “Are we like… what are we…”

You trailed off, unsure how to word the question that had been buzzing in your head since Jeonghan’s teasing earlier.

Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his expression calm, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the armrest. “You don’t have to overthink their question,” he said gently. “No rush…”

“Yeah, but I want to know too,” you mumbled quietly, almost shyly, cutting him off before he could finish.

His grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction, and he let out a soft exhale. He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, finally turning his full attention to you.

You were twiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric. That familiar pout was back, the one he could never seem to resist.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You peeked up at him, your eyes big and vulnerable, and it hit him again—how deep he was, how there was no getting out of this even if he wanted to.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

You nodded, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously.

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady on yours. “You’re…” He hesitated for a brief second before letting the words fall out. “You’re the person I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You’re the one I’d drop everything for, no questions asked. And you’re the only one I want sitting next to me, wearing my jacket, pouting at me like that.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his sudden honesty.

“So, what are we?” he continued, his lips quirking into the smallest smile. “We’re whatever you want us to be. But if it’s up to me…” He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “We’re already everything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. “Cheol…”

The light turned green, but he didn’t move the car immediately, his eyes still locked on you. “So?” he prompted, his tone lighter now. “What are we, Y/N?”

You gave him a shy smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I think we’re everything too,” you whispered.

He grinned then, that dimpled, boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “Good,” he said simply, as if that was all he needed to hear.

And with that, he shifted gears and drove on, the air between you lighter but filled with an unspoken promise.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around you both as Seungcheol walked you to your apartment. The city was alive in the distance, but here, on the dimly lit stairs leading to your door, it was just the two of you.

You stopped at the top, turning to him as he stood a step below, his broad shoulders at perfect height for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers naturally found their way to the ends of his hair, twisting the soft strands between them.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes warm and fond, his dimples making an appearance as he gave you that small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet but teasing, like he already knew what you were going to say.

You smiled back, tilting your head slightly as if studying his face. “Nothing,” you said, your voice soft, your heart full. “I love you.”

For a moment, his smile faltered—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming warmth that bloomed across his chest.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned closer, the space between you shrinking as his lips brushed yours in the softest, most tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was steady and gentle, like the beginning of something infinite.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.

You couldn’t help but smile again, leaning into his touch, your forehead resting lightly against his. “Good,” you whispered, your fingers still playing with his hair.

His lips quirked into another grin, his dimples deepening. “Good,” he echoed softly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Then he kisses you again.

And in that quiet moment, on the top of those stairs, it was as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was just you, Seungcheol, and the unspoken promise that this—whatever it was—was everything you’d both ever need.

#fic #story #svt #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen scoups #seventeen fluff #seventeen x y/n #svt imagine #svt fluff #svt scenario #choi seungcheol #seungcheol imagine #seungcheol scenario #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol boyfriend #scoup imagine #scoups fluff

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mononijikayu · 20 hours ago

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don’t they know it's the end of the world (cause you don’t love me anymore) — geto suguru.

You blinked, the knot in your chest tightening as you took in his face, his solemn expression that didn’t match the usual carefree look he wore. Was he already saying goodbye in some way? You shook your head slowly, the smile coming to your lips, though it carried a mixture of sadness and certainty. "Sugu, how could you even think about that?… I could never forget about you." “It can happen, you know. Life happens.” He smiles in a small timid manner. Your voice was soft, but there was no doubt in it. "No, you’re wrong. You’re the most important person in my life. How could I forget someone like you?"

GENRE: alternate universe - canon divergence;

WARNING/S: gen, afab! reader, angst, fluff, friendship, friends to lovers, eventual romance, slice of life, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, sad ending, physical touch, pet names (sugu, buttercup) mentioned character death, depression, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, internal conflict, post-hidden inventory at the end, letting go, break up, meeting each other again, depiction of childhood, depiction of romance, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, depiction of depression, mention of internal conflict, non! sorcerer reader, sorcerer! suguru;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: im soon back at university, so im rush writing everything and so im exhausted all the time too. so if im not updating, its because im probably regretting my life decisions. though, in any case, i will still publish as much as i can. im about two/three finished with valentines fics, but im tortured by sukuna because i have a standard with him and i can't escape it. anyway, i wrote this for suguru's birthday. he would have been thirty-five today!!! i hope you enjoy this fic!!! i love you all!!! see you on the sixth!!! <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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IF YOU COULD DESCRIBE WONDER, IT WOULD BE BEING BY SUGURU’S SIDE. No one else could understand it, you like to think. What the two of you had, it was certainly a language made for two. It was a life that was built for the purpose of being known by you both. And you like to think that he feels the same way too.

You and Suguru had been together since you were kids, bound by an unspoken connection that neither of you ever questioned. Because, there was nothing to question about it. Nor could words even describe it all. It was too unique, too intriguing. And yet, it only belonged to the two of you.

It all started on a warm afternoon at the school playground, where laughter and shrieks filled the air as children ran around in endless games of tag. It was a long while ago, and yet it felt like yesterday to you. You could feel your eyes twitching as you watched from where you stood, permeating with desire and anxiety.

You had been standing alone for a while, just a bit near the jungle gym, watching all the kids giggle and run about, with the zeal of youth dashing along with them.

As you watched them there with eager eyes, you kept wishing you could join in too, you wished you could run amok with joy too. But that heavy weight of fear blossoms your hesitation. It held you back from a lot of things, including making friends.

Yet, why wouldn’t you feel like this? You were new in town, and you didn’t know these kids. You didn't know any life lived in this place before you had come. Everything was new for you, as much as you were sure it would also be new to them.

How would they even react to you, knowing you aren’t a familiar face they were already comfortable seeing? How would you interact with them, anyway? It’s not like you could just jump in and smile and just jump in easily? This is a sea and if you plunge so deep, you could drown. And you didn’t want that to happen. Not here, not when you were starting a new life.

But then, that’s when he found you.

"Why are you just standing here?" a voice asked.

You turned to see a boy with dark hair, a little messy from running around, and warm, curious eyes. He wasn’t out of breath, despite the wild chase of tag that had just ended. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his tiny shorts, and he looked at you like he was trying to figure you out.

"I….I don’t know how to approach them." you muttered, kicking at a loose pebble. "I’m not sure how to come and tell them I want to play too, so I….."

Suguru blinked, then without hesitation, he grinned and reached out a hand to you. "I see…..Then let’s play together! I don’t care if you’re slow. I’ll just run at your speed, if that would make it easier on you."

Your eyes swiftly widened, surprised by the easy kindness in his voice. "Really?"

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "I’ll even let you tag me first."

That was the beginning of everything, that was certain.

During recess, the world belonged to just the two of you. You ran hand in hand across the playground, unbothered by who was faster or slower. You hummed little tunes under your breath, and he giggled at the way you always skipped a step ahead before doubling back to him. You hopped, he ran, and sometimes, in the joy of it all, you tripped over each other’s feet and tumbled into the dirt.

And if one of you scraped a knee? The other sat down beside them without hesitation. If you fell, Suguru would plop down next to you, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I’m not playing if you’re not playing. That’s just how it is!

And you would do the same for him, because what was the fun in anything if he wasn’t right there beside you?

Nothing was ever quite complete without each other.

It wasn’t a good day unless you were together.

Even as you grew older, nothing changed.

The playground turned into quiet walks home, but your hands still found each other without thinking.

"You still hold my hand like we’re kids, Sugu," you teased one afternoon, fingers laced together as you walked home. The sun hung low in the sky, spilling warm golden light over the quiet street. Your shadows stretched long behind you, linked together like a promise.

Suguru glanced down at your hands, his grip tightening just slightly. "Yeah? You don’t like it?"

You smiled, squeezing back. "I never said that, you know!"

His grin was soft but sure, a mirror of the way he had always been with you. "Good. Because you’re still my favorite person."

And really, wasn’t that all that mattered?

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IF YOUR BIRTHDAY COULD BE A HOLIDAY, SUGURU WOULD MAKE SURE OF IT. Your birthday has always been special, you know that much. But now more than ever, especially because, for as long as you could remember, Geto Suguru had been by your side for most of it. Now, it was even more special than before.

The years blurred together in a collage of memories: the laughter, the excitement, the simple moments that felt so big when they were shared with him. There were so many pictures, pictures of the two of you, year after year.

You were always together. His presence in every single one, a steady anchor through the passing time. One that was the only constant throughout the world that keeps on changing.

Whether it was the early mornings, when you both rushed around the house, throwing together last-minute gifts for each other in the midst of the chaos of birthday preparations, or the quiet evenings spent chatting under the stars, those moments were always colored by Suguru’s unique way of making everything feel more important.

He never treated your birthday like just another day. To him, it was an event, something that deserved to be celebrated with the utmost care. After all, it was the day you were born—the day you were with him. And to Suguru, that meant the world.

He didn’t just show up for your birthday.

No, he took it as seriously as he would a test.

He planned it meticulously, down to the smallest detail, as though the day had to be perfect.

"I thought you might like this, buttercup!" he’d say with a grin, always just a little too proud of whatever thoughtful gift he managed to get you, even if you’d both picked it out together the day before. "I’m pretty sure you’ll love it."

And every time, no matter how simple the gift, the thought behind it always felt like the most meaningful gesture.

On your birthday mornings, you’d wake up to the smell of something delicious. The pancakes, bacon, whatever it was that he knew you’d love, always cooked with that special touch that made it taste even better. He would rush in, hands full of wrapped presents, bright eyes sparkling like a child eager to see your reaction.

"You ready?" he’d ask, bouncing on his heels.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight— Geto Suguru, the one who always had his life together, who always so composed, turned into a ball of excitement for just one day.

Even in the evenings, as the day began to fade and the sky turned dark, you would find yourselves sitting together outside, wrapped in blankets under the stars. He’d listen to you talk about the year that had passed, what had changed, what had stayed the same while you both sat in comfortable silence, the kind only the two of you shared.

"Make a wish, okay?" he’d say when it was time to blow out the candles, the way he’d always said it every year. But there was something about the way he said it then, with that little smile on his face, as if he already knew your wish without needing to hear it.

Suguru didn’t need grand gestures. For him, it was always about the little things, the way he made sure your favorite song was playing when you entered the room, the way he’d insist on carrying your cake even though it was ridiculously heavy, the way he refused to let anyone else help you with the birthday prep, because it was his job to make sure everything was just right for you.

And he didn’t think it was just about the day itself. To Suguru, your birthday wasn’t just a celebration of your life; it was a reminder that you existed, that you were here, and that the world—his world—was just a little bit brighter because you were in it.

Every year, as he gave you your gift, no matter how big or small, you could always see that gleam in his eyes. The beautiful gleam that said. "This is important. This is you, this is us, and I’m going to make sure you feel special, because you are."

For Suguru, your birthday wasn’t just another day in the calendar. It was the day you were born—his day to remind you just how much you meant to him, and to celebrate the fact that, all these years later, you were still by his side.

And when you looked back at all the memories, all those years of birthdays spent with him, you couldn’t help but smile. They weren’t just your birthdays, they were his to celebrate too.

He celebrated them just as fiercely, just as passionately, as if it were his own day to remember. Because, to Suguru, every birthday spent together was a blessing. And he never took that for granted.

But this year, it felt different.

Not because of the cake or the candles. Not because of the way your friends sang off-key, their voices melding into a perfect disaster. No, this year was different because, when the party had quieted down and the night was winding to a close, Suguru handed you a small, neatly wrapped box.

He was sitting beside you on the couch, his beautiful lilac eyes watching you closely as you held the box in your hands, the soft rustle of paper the only sound between you. You could only look at the beautiful box in front of you for the longest time. He clears his throat.

“Are you really not saying anything?”

You looked at him suspiciously, fingers hesitating over the ribbon. "You didn’t have to get me anything, Sugu."

"I wanted to, buttercup." he said simply, nudging the box closer. "Go on, open it."

So you did.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, the light catching on the fine chain, making it shimmer. But what caught your attention was the tiny charm hanging from it—a miniature book, small enough to rest in the center of your palm, its metal etched with tiny details that made it look like it had real pages inside.

You blinked up at him, surprise evident in your expression. "Sugu…"

He looked uncharacteristically shy, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s nothing fancy, but… I thought it’d be nice. Y’know, for us."

"For us?" you repeated, tracing your fingers over the book charm.

Suguru nodded, watching your reaction closely. "Yeah. Because we always read together. Because of all those afternoons spent sharing a book, arguing over who gets to turn the page first—"

"You always turn the page too fast, you know." you interrupted with a pout.

"And you always get distracted by random things in the margins, buttercup." he shot back, smirking. “We’re both not good at it.”

You huffed. "That’s called appreciating the details, Suguru."

"Sure, sure." he laughed, shaking his head. "Anyway, that’s the first one."

You tilted your head. "First?"

He reached over, taking your wrist gently in his hands as he fastened the bracelet around it, his touch careful, warm. "Every birthday from now on, I’m giving you a charm. One for each year. Something that means something to us."

Your breath caught for a moment.

"You’re serious?" you asked, looking up at him.

Suguru met your gaze, his expression unwavering. "Completely." Then, with a lopsided grin, he added. "You’re stuck with me for a long time, you know."

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. Everything about you just felt warm, especially when you looked at it, knowing he put a lot of thought on this beautiful present. The bracelet felt light on your wrist, but the promise it carried felt heavier. This was solid, real, unshakable. Just like your relationship with him, ironclad for all your lives.

"Good." you said, squeezing his hand before letting go. "Because I wouldn’t want it any other way."

And back then, with Geto Suguru beside you, his promise wrapped around your wrist and his warmth wrapped around your heart, you believed it.

You really, really did.

══════════════════

ALL BIRTHDAYS ARE HAPPY, WELL THEY SHOULD BE. But this morning, this birthday of yours, it was not something that just truly felt odd. You had tried to put it off, knowing that it wasn’t the right place or time to talk about it. You could feel it, you know you do. Something was wrong with your best friend.

Geto Suguru had been unusually quiet all day, even when he was trying to be casual and jolly, smiling at you. But you knew there was something going on and you couldn't put your finger on why. The excitement of the day had dulled a little, as the two of you moved through the motions of cake and presents, but something in the air felt different.

It wasn’t until later that afternoon when everything changed.

You had walked him to the train station, like you always did, ever since he moved to another part of the city. Though this time, there was an unspoken weight that drowned between you, a heaviness that neither of you could shake. Geto Suguru, usually so confident and carefree, seemed distant, his usual smile a little more strained.

"I got in." he said, as the train pulled up to the station, his voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow carrying the weight of his words.

You paused, unsure of what he meant at first. "Got in?"

He nodded, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze. "To Jujutsu High School. I’m going to Tokyo."

Your heart skipped, the reality of the situation sinking in like ice water.

He was going to leave you, you were going to be separated.

Your Suguru was heading to Tokyo to train, on the other side of your world.

For the first time in years, you wouldn’t be by each other’s side every day. The thought was almost impossible to process. Not when you had been together for so long, just being bubbles in each other’s circle. Your lips parted, you wanted to say something. But you didn’t know what. You were too stunned to speak.

"Wait, you’re leaving? When?" you whispered, your voice suddenly became small.

“Tomorrow.” He whispered, his tone almost blossoming with shame. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t….I didn’t want to ruin the time and I didn't think it was going to come any time soon, but it just….”

"But… but today’s my birthday, Sugu."

Suguru gave you a sad smile, his hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I know. I’m sorry. But it’s not goodbye forever, okay? We’ll keep in touch, I promise."

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it hard to speak. Suguru was your rock, your constant. The thought of him being so far away, in a completely different city, felt like the world was shifting beneath your feet.

He took a step closer to you, lowering his voice. "I didn’t want to leave without giving you something special." He pulled out a small box from his pocket, holding it out to you.

You took it from his warm hands, your eyes brimming with questions. When you opened it, a soft gasp escaped your lips. Inside was a new charm for your bracelet—a delicate purple colored buttercup, its petals etched with such fine detail that it looked almost real. It was beautiful. And soulful. Almost glistening as brightly as his eyes.

He smiled gently, a warmth in his eyes as he slipped the charm onto your bracelet. "It’s a buttercup," he said softly. "My nickname for you. So I thought…I thought it would be perfect."

You stared at the charm for a moment, the lump in your throat thickening. "You still call me that…"

Suguru’s smile grew tender. "Always will. And whenever you look at it, I want you to think of me, okay? Think of me often."

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill and smiled back at him. "I will, Sugu. I promise."

He pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close for just a moment longer than usual. "Take care of yourself, alright? And don’t forget—I’m just a train ride away. Osaka is not that far. So when you need me, call me. Okay?"

“Okay.” You squeezed him back, trying to imprint the moment into your memory, trying to hold onto the feeling of him next to you. "I won’t forget. I’ll think of you every day."

Suguru pulled away slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face. "I know you will."

The train’s loud engine roared to brutish life, and the sound of the wheels on the tracks made your chest tighten even further. You watched Suguru stand by the window.

His beautiful face illuminated by the soft afternoon light as the train slowly started to pull away. Your feet felt rooted to the ground, your mind racing with so many things you wanted to say, things you didn’t know how to say.

But before you could stop yourself, something inside you snapped. You took a step forward, then another, and then you were running, your heart pounding heavily in your chest, your breath coming faster as you pushed yourself harder, faster, chasing the train like you could somehow outrun the fear that gripped your heart.

"Suguru!" you called out, your voice shaking, but loud enough for him to hear.

He turned around in surprise, his eyes wide as he saw you running toward him. The train was moving faster now, but he didn’t hesitate. You could see how his face lit up with a mix of disbelief and hope, his hand pressed against the window.

"Sugu!" you shouted again, your heart racing even harder, your legs moving as if they had a will of their own. The distance between you seemed so large, but you weren’t going to stop.

He leaned closer to the window, his hand now reaching out, as if trying to touch you through the glass. You could see the concern on his face, his bright lilac eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but it made you move faster, faster than you thought you could.

When you finally reached the side of the train, you stopped just short of losing your breath. You pressed your hands to your chest, feeling your heart pounding, and you looked up at him, eyes shining.

"I love you, Suguru!" you blurted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Geto Suguru froze, his eyes wide in astonishment, as though he hadn’t expected you to say it—that particular thing, not now, not like this. You watched him, your heart hanging in the air between you, waiting for his reaction, wondering if you had made a mistake.

But then, his expression softened, and a smile broke through the surprise. It wasn’t just a smile you see. It was his smile, that beautiful smile that only belonged to you. The one that made everything feel like it would be okay, no matter what. He nodded slowly, a little chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned closer to the window, as if pulling you in even from a distance.

"I love you too, buttercup!" he said, his voice full of warmth, his eyes soft but certain.

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy was lifted, the weight of the unspoken tension, the distance between you, all of it faded into the background of that moment. You smiled back at him, breathless but relieved, and the world around you seemed to slow down.

The train started to pick up speed again, and Suguru gave you one last look, his smile still lingering as he waved.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the train.

"I will!" you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll always think of you."

And with that, the train pulled away, leaving you standing there, heart full, the buttercup charm on your bracelet gleaming softly in the fading light.

That train carried your heart with him.

But you were sure that you held his heart here too.

You looked at your buttercup charm, smiling.

“Come back to me soon, okay?”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT HOW MUCH HE HAD CHANGED. And all he could do was wish that you didn’t see it, that you would never find out the truth. All he could pray for was that you didn’t notice the light in his eyes dying or the bitterness of the taste from the curses he was forced to consume still on his tongue.

Geto Suguru has always been a powerful force of nature, a rock withstanding everything in his way. In a way, he was also your rock, your steady presence in your life. No matter what was happening around him, he was there, unwavering, holding everything together with that quiet strength of his.

But recently, something in him had started to shift. Something he wasn’t prepared to admit to just yet. Ever since Amanai Riko’s death, the change had been subtle at first, there were those small signs that he was struggling, pulling away just a little more each day. But now, as the days passed, it became harder to ignore.

Geto Suguru was slipping.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

He didn’t know how to be more than this.

He didn’t know the way out of it.

He found himself lost in a fog of thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate, his emotions tangled in a web he couldn't find a way out of. The burden of loss weighed heavily on him, crushing him in ways he didn’t know how to handle. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let you see it. Not today. Not on your birthday. Not on your last day together.

He had made it a point, from the moment you walked into the room, to be the Suguru you knew. He plastered on that familiar smile, spoke to you like everything was fine, and made sure the day went on like any other.

But the moment you looked away, or when you laughed, or when he caught you looking at him with that softness in your eyes, a heaviness settled deep in his chest. He wanted to say something, to tell you what was really happening, but the words felt like they were caught in his throat, unable to escape.

You had no idea what he was battling inside.

And he couldn’t bear to burden you with it—not on your special day.

It was the evening, the sun sinking low in the sky, and you both sat together on the balcony of his apartment, watching the colors in the sky shift from gold to deep blue. The breeze was warm, and you had your head resting on his shoulder, the same way you had for years. You both sat there in a comfortable silence, but Suguru’s mind was anywhere but there.

"I’m really glad we could spend the day together, Sugu." you said softly, your voice like a melody that brought him back to the present. “Thank you for coming to visit me, even with your busy schedule.”

Suguru nodded, his smile barely there as he kept his gaze on the horizon, afraid if he looked at you too long, you would see the cracks he was trying to hide. "Me too, buttercup." he said, but even to his own ears, the words didn’t sound right. They didn’t carry the weight they should have.

You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, the way he wasn’t fully present. He wasn’t the Geto Suguru you knew, the Sugu who would always make you laugh, who would hold you close and whisper silly things to keep your spirits high. He was distant, almost like a shadow of himself. And you knew he hated it, even without saying it to you.

"Sugu." you said quietly, sitting up to look at him, your hand gently touching his arm. "You okay?"

Suguru flinched, the question catching him off guard. He gave a small, forced laugh, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. I’ve….been very busy."

But you didn’t buy it. You knew him better than anyone else, and you could see the lie in his eyes. But he wasn’t ready to talk, not now, not on the day that was meant to be yours, not on the day that he wanted to protect you from his own chaos. He didn’t want you to see him like this, not when everything was supposed to be perfect.

He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to be the Geto Suguru you deserved, the Geto Suguru that you love, the Geto Suguru you knew. But the weight of the world felt like it was crushing him from the inside, and he didn’t know how to hold it together anymore.

You reached up to touch his cheek, the gesture so simple but full of the warmth you had always shared. "Sugu… you don’t have to hide from me. Not now. Not ever."

He froze at your touch, his lilac eyes shutting softly, even for just a brief second. He wanted to let it all go, wanted to break down in front of you, but he couldn’t. Not like this. Not today. He swallowed hard, the words choking him before he could even say them.

"I’m fine." he repeated, but there was no conviction in his voice. “Really, buttercup. Don’t worry so much about me, okay?”

You didn’t push him further, but the sadness in his once bright eyes told you everything you needed to know. He was breaking inside, but he didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want to talk about it just yet. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. And especially not on your last day together.

"Okay." you whispered softly, leaning back against his shoulder once more, both of you falling into silence again.

But Geto Suguru knew. He knew that you would always see through him. And as you sat there, so close, yet so far from what was really happening, he couldn’t help but feel like he was losing grip on everything. He thought he was losing himself, you, on the life you had dreamed of sharing.

And so, the night passed in a quiet sadness, Suguru’s heart heavy with emotions he couldn’t quite express. Tomorrow, he will leave. Tomorrow, everything will change. He knew that all too well. By sunrise, you wouldn’t recognize him anymore. By sunrise, he wouldn’t be your Sugu anymore.

But for tonight, he would hold onto this—hold onto you, and pretend that everything was okay, just for a little while longer. He thinks he could pretend one last time and keep you with him, enjoying the need of warmth that only you could understand.

The evening air was still, the world outside quieting as the stars began to prick the darkening sky. You sat together for a little while, as you waited for the train to come. Geto Suguru’s silence was heavy, but there was a soft, almost palpable tenderness in the way he was beside you. It was always that way, when he was beside you. Even when you were kids.

But the silence was a new thing. This silence was so loud, and yet so deafening. Yet you also didn’t bridge the gap. At least not tonight. He didn’t need it right now and you can tell. You just took a deep breath and waited, staring off the train tracks.

Your Suguru seemed lost in his own thoughts, his calloused fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the railing in front of you, his lilac gaze ever so lost in the faraway space. To the place you could not follow.

But you knew it was just his way of trying to hold everything in. Then, after a moment that felt like eternity, he broke the quiet, his voice soft but steady, like he was trying to make it sound casual when it wasn’t.

"I got you something, buttercup." he said, his hand reaching into his pocket. You looked up at him, noticing the faintest tremor in his fingers, but you didn't comment on it.

He pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box, offering it to you with a look that was a mix of hesitation and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words. "I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something… meaningful. Like always."

You took the box from him, your little heart fluttering a little in anticipation, not knowing what to expect. Slowly, you unwrapped it with much care, your tender fingers gently peeling back the layers until you saw what was inside.

It was a charm, delicate and beautiful, with a tiny forget-me-not flower carved into its surface. The petals were soft, yet detailed, their edges just slightly raised as if to give them life, to make them feel real. The forget-me-not. It was simple but meaningful, and somehow, it felt like it held everything unsaid between you two in one small, fragile flower.

Suguru’s voice broke the moment, barely above a whisper, but heavy with emotion. "I want you to always remember me, buttercup." he said, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t place. "No matter what happens, no matter where life takes us, never forget about me."

You froze for a heartbeat, confusion washing over you at his words. Never forget about him?

The thought didn’t make sense. Geto Suguru was more than just a memory; he was the person who had shaped so much of your life, the one who had been there for you through everything. He was your everything. How could you forget him?

You blinked, the knot in your chest tightening as you took in his face, his solemn expression that didn’t match the usual carefree look he wore. Was he already saying goodbye in some way?

You shook your head slowly, the smile coming to your lips, though it carried a mixture of sadness and certainty. "Sugu, how could you even think about that?… I could never forget about you."

“It can happen, you know. Life happens.” He smiles in a small timid manner.

Your voice was soft, but there was no doubt in it. "No, you’re wrong. You’re the most important person in my life. How could I forget someone like you?"

Suguru’s lilac eyes softened at your words, the weight of the moment easing just a little as you spoke. His chapped lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but he only let out a quiet, relieved breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time that evening.

He reached out, gently placing the forget-me-not charm on your bracelet, his fingers lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. "I just… I need to know you’ll always remember. Even when we’re apart.”

"I will, I promise." you said, your voice firm, the sincerity in your words reaching the deepest parts of him. "I’ll always think of you. Every single day, every single hour. Even the seconds. I’ll always remember you, Suguru. You’re too important to forget."

“Is that so?”

You hummed, smiling at him. “Hm. Because I love you.”

For a brief, tender moment, Suguru’s eyes seemed to shine with something that wasn’t just sadness but relief. It was as if the weight of the unspoken fears, the guilt, and the pain he’d been carrying had finally started to lift, just a little. He smiled, a real, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes.

"Good," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "That’s all I need to hear."

And there, under the stars, with the sound of the world fading into a quiet lull, you both sat together. You didn’t need words to fill the silence that had settled between you. The charm on your bracelet was a promise, a symbol of everything you had been through, everything you had shared, and everything that was still to come.

"I love you too, buttercup." Suguru whispered, his voice barely above a breath, but the words carried so much weight, so much meaning that it felt like the whole world had shifted in that instant.

You didn’t hesitate, not for a second. "I know, Sugu. I know." you replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, a smile that only he could make appear.

It was a statement, but one that wasn’t born out of arrogance. It was the truth. The truth that had been there all along, between the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the years of growing together. He was your constant, just as you were his.

And you had always known, known in the very marrow of your bones.

he loved you too. More than anything in life. More than the universe could know.

Suguru didn’t immediately respond. He simply stared at you, his gaze softening with an intensity that almost made it hard to breathe. He shifted closer, his hands rising slowly, as if afraid that if he moved too fast, you would vanish in an instant. His fingers brushed against the curve of your jaw before they settled on your cheeks, warm and grounding.

His touch was gentle, the weight of his hands steady against your skin, as though he was afraid to touch you too hard, afraid that any sudden movement would make you slip through his fingers.

His gaze never wavered from your face, and for a long moment, it was like the world faded away. There was nothing but the two of you, him, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence, and you, feeling like the universe had shrunk to this moment.

Suguru’s eyes searched for yours, his expression both tender and filled with something deeper, something that only someone who had loved you for so long could understand. It was as though he was memorizing every detail of you.

The way the light caught in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the soft flutter of your lashes when you blinked. He took in your features like he was afraid they would slip away, like time was running out and he couldn’t afford to miss a single second of it.

His thumb traced the outline of your cheekbone, the movement so soft it almost tickled, but it was full of reverence. As if you were something sacred to him, something irreplaceable. As if you were the most important pearl of the world, shining in front of him, making him your sea.

"You’re so beautiful, buttercup." he whispered, and the words held so much more than just a compliment. It was the way he said them, as if he had seen every side of you—your strengths, your flaws, your heart—and still, in every corner of it, you were beautiful to him.

The simplicity of the words took your breath away, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You just looked at him, feeling the weight of his love like a gentle embrace, like it wrapped around your heart, holding it safe in his hands.

You didn’t need to speak to feel the truth of it all. This moment, this space between you, felt like the entire universe had conspired to bring you to this point, where everything you had shared and everything you had yet to share hung in the balance of this silent exchange.

Suguru leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the way his body was still, but there was a pulse of something deep inside him, something he wasn’t fully ready to let go of, not yet. And in that breathless, delicate space, you let your own heart speak.

"I love you, Sugu." you whispered back, your voice trembling just slightly, but filled with a certainty that made everything else fade into the background.

His hands cupped your face a little tighter, his thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world. "I’ll never forget you, buttercup." he murmured, almost as if he was saying it to himself, but you heard it. “You’re everything I am. Everything I breathe.”

The weight of it hung in the air, and though his words were bittersweet, you felt a flicker of hope in them.

"I’ll never forget you either." you whispered, your voice steady and sure, despite the turmoil swirling within you.

Because you knew that no matter where life took you both, Suguru would always be a part of you. No amount of time or distance could change that. “You’re my everything too.”

You leaned into his touch, your foreheads pressing gently together, the warmth of his hands grounding you both in the moment. His lilac eyes closed for a beat, a soft sigh escaping him as if he, too, was trying to hold on to this feeling, trying to commit it to memory just as you were.

And for that brief moment, there was no goodbye. There was only the now, the shared stillness, the love between you both, wrapped up in the quiet understanding that no matter what happened, you would always carry each other with you.

He moved his face closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead. The kiss was light, like a promise, a silent vow that this love, this sacred bond between the two of you, it would never truly be broken, no matter the miles between you.

Suguru’s lips linger on your forehead for a moment longer, a soft, lingering warmth that makes everything else feel distant, as if time had slowed down just for the two of you.

The world outside the station, the sound of the train tracks, the noises of the city, the ticking of the clock, everything seemed muted, fading into the background as you both existed in this fragile, perfect bubble of quiet.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes soft but laden with an unspoken weight. He looked like he wanted to say something more, something important, but the words never quite formed.

Instead, he just studied your face, as if he was trying to memorize everything about you. Every little memory of you, your bright expression, the way your long hair fell around your face, the way your eyes held a kindness that had always been there, even in the most difficult of times.

“I’ll miss you.” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, a subtle crack breaking through the calm facade he’d been trying so hard to maintain.

You nodded, your heart aching as his words sank in. The truth was, you would miss him too, more than you could ever put into words. You couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without him so close, without his constant presence to steady you.

The thought of the distance between you both made the space around you feel colder, as though the warmth of his touch was already slipping through your fingers.

“I’ll miss you too, Sugu. More than you know.” you whispered back, the truth of it making your voice tremble just slightly.

He smiled, a sad, bittersweet thing, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw once more, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

"Just remember, buttercup." he murmured, his eyes soft but intense. "No matter where we are, no matter how far apart we get, I’ll always be with you. I’ll always be there, in everything we’ve shared."

"I know." you said, nodding again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And I’ll always carry a piece of you with me. In my heart.”

Geto Suguru’s breath caught at your words, his eyes glistening as if he wanted to say something more, but the emotion was too much, too overwhelming. Instead, he just leaned in and kissed your forehead once more, gentle but full of all the feelings he couldn’t quite express.

“I’ll be waiting, buttercup.” he whispered, his voice low, but there was a fierce determination behind it. “No matter how long it takes. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You looked up at him, your heart full, eyes brimming with something that could have been tears if you let it. You didn’t speak for a moment, just held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle into you like a warm, comforting blanket.

Finally, you smiled through the lump in your throat, the quiet sadness blending with something softer, something hopeful. "I’ll come back to you, Sugu. I promise. So come back to me too, okay?"

The words hung between you, a promise sealed in the silence that followed.

He can’t promise something like that to you, not like this now.

By sunrise, he can no longer come back to you, never again.

And yet, he still does, he lets this promise be unfulfilled.

He lets this moment be a little white lie to keep your smile.

Suguru nodded, a small, hopeful smile on his lips, but his eyes, those dark, familiar eyes, held a quiet ache. He didn’t say anything else, just stayed close, his hand still on your cheek, his presence steady even though the moment was winding down. The night was still, and it felt like time was slipping away too fast.

“I should go, buttercup.” Suguru said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "But I’ll see you again, right? You’ll visit me when you can, won’t you?"

You nodded, already knowing how much this meant to him. You smiled tenderly at him, you smiled at him like you loved him. You smiled at him like he deserves to have it. And yet he doesn’t. The devil does not deserve such a thing.

"Of course I will." you reassured him, reaching up to touch his hand, the one that had stayed on your cheek. "I won’t let you forget about me."

His smile grew just a little, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of peace in his eyes. "I could never forget about you."

And with that, he gave you one last kiss on the forehead, light and full of everything unsaid, full of everything you would carry with you in your heart. He pulled back slowly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your hand.

His fingers lingering for a moment longer, as though reluctant to let go. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and made his way toward the door. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want this to be the last time. But he had to. He had to go.

He let himself step into it, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, you felt the weight of the world shift. The quiet that followed his departure felt louder than any noise, and yet, somehow, you knew you’d be okay. You’d carry him with you, just like you promised.

The night grew darker, but the small forget-me-not charm on your bracelet caught the light, reminding you of everything you had shared. It was more than just a memory, it was a piece of him that you could hold on to, no matter where life took you both.

Geto Suguru was always going to be a part of you. And no matter the distance, no matter how much time passed, you would never forget him. He was the most important part of your life, and that would never change.

Two days later, you got the call.

He had gone missing, his parents were gone.

And you?

You had lost the love of your life.

That was his goodbye.

══════════════════

epilogue

A LONG TIME HAD COME AND GONE, BUT IT STILL FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY. Seven years had passed since Geto Suguru’s defection from the jujutsu society, since the time he turned away from everything he once held dear. Time had blurred the edges of the past for everyone except him.

He had tried to move on, he knew he had to. He had all but tried to bury his memories deep enough so that they no longer haunted him. But there were days when everything came rushing back to him.

The horror on his parents faces that night, their deaths at his own hands, the ones he had betrayed, the village consumed by blue flame. And then there was you, the love he had lost and left. The one he had let go and fly away.

From the shadows, Suguru watched you kneel before the graves, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet cemetery. You were gentle with the flowers, your movements soft as you arranged the bouquets on the gravestones, your fingers careful as they brushed away the dust that had accumulated over time.

He had never imagined, in his darkest moments, that he would see you here—so close, yet so far away from everything he had become. But there you were, tending to the graves of the parents he had killed, as if it was something he had never been able to do. You were doing it for him, in a way, even though you didn’t have to.

He had heard the stories about it all. He had to keep his tabs on you, he just couldn’t stay away, even now. Throughout the years, he heard whispers of how you had married, how you had continued on without him, a life of your own.

He had known that it was bound to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier. To see you with a ring on your finger, a life that no longer had a place for him, a life that had moved on while he stayed stuck in his past.

The soft rustle of the wind moved through the trees, and that was when you turned your head, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You blinked, as if you weren’t quite sure you were seeing him, but then there was no mistaking it.

Geto Suguru was standing there, just outside the cemetery gate, watching you with that same quiet intensity that had always been his. The world seemed to hold its breath as you slowly rose to your feet, the weight of his gaze pulling you in.

He didn’t speak at first, not knowing what to say.

After all this time, what was there left to say?

He had left you and you had suffered.

What could someone who broke their promise say?

You walked toward him, your expression unreadable but steady, your steps purposeful. As you got closer, he noticed the glint of sunlight on your finger, and his breath hitched before he could stop himself. The wedding ring.

It was a beautiful thing, one could say. But when he looked at it, it was all but a bitter ugly, disgusting thing. It was a reminder of the life you had. A life he had never been a part of, a life he had given up on when he made the choices he did.

You stopped in front of him, your gaze unwavering. You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face, almost as if you were still trying to figure him out after all this time. "I didn’t think you’d come back here." you said quietly, your voice thick with something he couldn’t place. Maybe it was sorrow. Maybe it was a relief.

Suguru felt a pang in his chest, but he swallowed it down. "I didn’t think I would either." His voice was rough, almost foreign to him after so many years of silence, but the words still carried weight. "But... here I am."

Your gaze flickered to the bracelet on your wrist—the one with the forget-me-not, the buttercup, the book charm. It was a silent progression that told a story. A long forgotten story, one that only you and him could remember. It was at one point his story. His presence, his absence, his love. And now it wasn’t. Not anymore.

That Geto Suguru is dead.

All that remains is an imposter.

All that remains is a devil.

"I never took it off." you said, a small, sad smile playing at the corner of your lips. "You told me to never forget you. I thought I would, after all these years... but I never could."

Your fingers traced the charms lightly, the memory of the years that had passed between you both lingering in the air like a ghost. "I couldn’t take it off, Suguru. Not even when it felt like I should."

He couldn’t quite hide the sadness that flickered in his eyes at your words, but he didn’t look away. He had been the one to leave. He had been the one to make all the wrong decisions, and yet, somehow, you had never given up on him. You had never completely forgotten him.

Suguru reached into his pocket slowly, his movements deliberate, as though he were unsure of his next step. He pulled out a small charm, delicate and beautiful, white chrysanthemums this time, it was an offering of something new, something that said goodbye and hello being said like it was the same word. He held it out to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"For you." he whispered, his voice barely audible, but full of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. "I know it’s too late. But I want you to have it."

You took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for just a heartbeat before you looked down at the charm in your palm. The white chrysanthemums were soft, intricate, and they reminded you of the fleeting nature of everything. It was full of the memories, the love, the pain.

You smiled, a bittersweet curve of your lips, your heart heavy with a mixture of emotions that you had long buried. "Sugu….Suguru." you began, your voice steady but thick with something he could almost taste. "For so long, TYou wanted to be remembered. But now... you want to be forgotten."

His heart clenched at your words, but he nodded slowly, as if he had already known, as if it was something he could never change. "You deserve better than to remember a ghost of someone long gone, buttercup." he said, his voice soft but full of the kind of finality that only a ghost could understand. "You deserve a life that’s yours, not one haunted by me."

The distance between you seemed so vast in that moment, even though you were standing right in front of him. The years had stretched that gap wide, and yet, in this final moment, you both understood each other completely.

You stood there, the weight of his words heavy between you both, as the space around you seemed to quiet. The cool breeze rustled the trees, the only sound in the air, but even it felt like a distant whisper against the rawness of the moment.

You opened your mouth, a million things on the tip of your tongue, but none of them felt right. Your heart was full of so much you couldn’t put into words. A thousand emotions flooded your chest/

And yet, you felt an aching kind of clarity in his request. You hadn’t expected it. You hadn’t expected him to say those words, to say that he wanted you to forget him. To leave him behind as if he were nothing more than a faded memory.

He stood before you, his back slightly turned, but he didn’t move away. His eyes, those dark, familiar eyes, were locked onto the distance, as though he was already gone in his mind, already on his way to somewhere far from this place, from you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering over his face, trying to catch any hint of a smile, of the warmth that had once been there between you both. But it was gone. Everything had long perished to nothing.

The man in front of you wasn’t the same person you had known all those years ago, and deep down, you knew that neither were you. You had both changed, time had done its work, and the world had swept you in different directions.

"So, if I see you again—" you started, unsure of where to take the conversation, unsure of whether there even was a conversation left to have.

Suguru’s smile was sad, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it tugged at your heart more than anything else. “Pass by, buttercup.” he said, his voice so soft, so worn. "Don’t look at me. You shouldn’t remember me. Just...."

Let me go. He thinks to himself. Don't love me again.

The simplicity of his request hit you harder than any words of anger or resentment could have. You shouldn’t remember me. He was asking you, begging you, to forget him. As though he was a shadow, a passing thing, unworthy of your attention, of your love, of your memories.

For a moment, you just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind spinning with the weight of it all. You wanted to shout, to argue, to tell him that he was wrong—that you couldn’t just erase him from your life like he was nothing.

But the silence in the air, the finality in his tone, made you hesitate. It wasn’t anger you heard in his voice. It wasn’t even regret. It was something else entirely. it was something deeper, something rooted in the pain he had carried all these years.

“I can’t just forget you.” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The truth was raw and simple, and it echoed in your chest as it passed through your lips. "I’ve carried you with me for so long, Suguru. I can’t just erase you from my life."

Suguru turned his head slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t guilt or anger, but something quieter, something softer, as though he was bracing himself for the weight of what he had just asked you to do.

"You don’t need to carry me anymore." he said, his voice barely audible, each word dragging with the weight of a thousand regrets. "I don’t deserve to be remembered. Not by you. Not by anyone. I’ve become someone else, someone I never meant to be."

His eyes drifted to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost... defeated. "I hurt too many people, and in the end, I hurt you too."

Those words hung in the air like a star waiting to fall from the sky but they didn’t sting, nor did they cause you any pain. Instead, they felt like the closing of a door, the end of a chapter that had been written in too much pain. You felt your heart ache, but you understood. You had mourned it long ago and this was just the end. The final bow.

You understood because, deep down, you had always known this moment would come. You had always known that one day, Geto Suguru would fade from your life, not because of time or distance, but because he had made himself into something unrecognizable.

You stepped closer, closer than you had been in so many years, the distance between you two now defined not by physical space but by something more profound, something that time had created. Your hand reached out but you stopped. You had to. You knew you can't do this. You purse your lips into a flat line.

“I see.” You whispered, barely audible over the deafening silence between you. It was as if the world had swallowed your words before they could reach him, and the weight of it all pressed down on your chest like a heavy fog.

"I'm sorry." you murmured, feeling the familiar sting of regret in your heart.

But the words felt useless now, just as they always had when it came to him. Too many apologies, too many unanswered questions. It was all too late. Geto Suguru shook his head ever so slightly, his dark lilac eyes never leaving the distance beyond you, his voice low but firm.

“Don’t apologize to me.” he murmured, the edges of his words soft but carrying a weight that made your heart ache. "I should apologize…"

His eyes finally met yours, and for that brief moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded that he had never allowed anyone to see.

“Buttercup, I’m letting your hand go.” he said, and his voice cracked on the last word, like it pained him to even say it.

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, threatening to spill, but you fought them back, the lump in your throat making it harder to breathe. It was too much. Too much to lose, too much to let go of.

“I know.” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it all more real. The finality of his words clung to the air, and you wished you could take them back, take him back, but the truth had already been laid bare.

“Goodbye, buttercup.” he said, the words both tender and final, and they fell like a stone into the abyss between you.

“Good… good-bye, Suguru.” you managed to choke out, your voice shaking but steady enough to carry the weight of the moment. Your lips trembled, but you didn’t dare look away from him. There was nothing more to say, nothing more that could fix the pieces that had been shattered between you two.

Geto Suguru gave you one last look. It was so brief, so fleeting, like the last ray of light before the darkness settled in. His gaze lingered on you, a final connection between two souls that had once shared everything but now, they were a thousand miles apart.

He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t look back, not once.

He simply turned, his figure growing smaller and smaller as he walked away.

Your heart tightened, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. There was no running after him anymore. He had already made his choice, and you had to respect that, even though it felt like a piece of you was being torn away with every step he took.

His footsteps were quiet against the earth, a soft rhythm that carried him further into the distance, further away from you, from everything you had ever known. And you stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to make sense of the emptiness that filled the space where his presence used to be.

You watched him disappear into the horizon, the last connection between you both unraveling like a thread slipping through your fingers. But this time, you didn’t chase after him. You didn’t need to. You didn’t have the strength anymore.

There were no more promises, no more hopes of reunion. This was the end of the story that had once been yours, the final chapter in a love that had burned so brightly but had faded into the past. The world had changed, and so had you.

You would never see him again. He would never hold your hand again, never smile that gentle smile that had always made you feel like you were home. And you could feel the weight of that truth pressing down on you, but it didn’t break you.

It was the end of that world. Of the two of you, of the way you had been, of everything that once felt like it was meant to be. And so, you let go. You let go, even as it hurt, even as it felt like the most impossible thing in the world.

You couldn’t love him anymore. Not like you used to. Not in the way that kept him a part of your every thought, every moment. You couldn’t carry that burden with you forever, and you couldn’t make him stay.

As he disappeared completely from sight, you finally exhaled the breath you’d been holding, a quiet sigh that seemed to carry away the remnants of him still lingering in your chest. It wasn’t easy. It would never be easy. But it was the only way forward.

You took a slow step back, your feet heavy with the weight of all the years you had spent loving him. You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew one thing for certain. You had to let him, or you'll both suffer more.

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xyywrites · 2 days ago

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Heya @quiven! Yes this is a tricky thing to write about.

(for me personally, the hardest things to write are the simplest, mundane, everyday occurrences) Depending on the context this is how you could write silence,

1. A minute passed. Then five. No reply from the other side.

So quiet it was almost unnatural—as if the universe had swallowed every last sound, leaving only a void of unspoken secrets. At this point she wasn't sure what she was waiting for anyways. An apology? A confession? A whisper of hope? All the while, she could hear the tic-tic-tic of the clock, the distant laughter of children playing outside, the hum of traffic. Yet the sound she most longed to hear was.....

(I imagined the woman holding a corded landline phone here, old times, maybe she's a school teacher)

2. The air grew thick with the things unsaid. As if they were both afraid. Afraid of what they might bring into existence by naming that delicate, unspoken longing that hovered between them.

3. His silence was a bruise. Purple. Tender. And she kept pressing it to check if it still hurt.

4. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. Spending years in each others' company, they could read even the slightest shifts in expression. How a twitch of an eyebrow meant annoyance, how ....

5. He froze mid-sentence, words caught in his throat, choking him.

6. The phone rang, unanswered. One ring, two ring, three—by the fourth—even the quiet had grown teeth.

7. He’d always hummed while he worked. A habit she'd always found annoying. But now she missed it.

9. She’d always hated quiet. It gave her thoughts too much room to scream.

10. .....Each breath felt like swallowing glass, sharp with the truth they’d rather bleed out than speak.

Silence isn’t passive. It’s a loaded moment — a held breath, a coiled spring, a grenade with the pin pulled. Give it purpose. Is it awkward? Heavy? Comfortable? Threatening?

The context matters. The context guides the imagery.

(this was a comment on my post: The power of Silence in Dialogue)

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writing-mlm · 20 hours ago

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hi !! saw you write for criminal minds and would love to see something with spencer reid !! there aren’t enough male reader fics for him out there. personally i’m a sucker for reader being used as bait for an unsub with spencer getting jealous and taking care of reader afterwards if they get hurt. but no worries if you don’t want to write that specific scenario, i would just love to see any spencer content at all lol. i love your writing and hope you’re having a great day !!!

The stress of a married man

Summary: Spencer doesn’t like the fact that his husband is out there; his husband doesn’t like the fact that Spencer’s worrying. Pairing: Post-prison!Spencer Reid x Male!Reader wc: 2.4k Tags/warnings: reader used as bait, blood, attempted drugging, kidnapping a/n: while what im referring to won’t be a part 2, just now I wrote 2 separate fics for this request. i’ll try and push it out before next week and it’ll be around 20k words… and a marvel crossover…

Spencer didn’t want this. It’s stupid. It’s beyond stupid, it’s dangerous. He doesn’t care that there’s logic behind it— why should he? Not when you’re putting yourself in danger just to speed up a case, not when there are other solutions.

He twists the cap of the marker as he strains, trying to think of said solutions. None are coming to his head; none that are useful anyway. He gnaws at the inside of his cheek when his eyes dart over to you; sitting in a chair getting your appearance tweaked to fit the victim pool more. A fake mole under your eye, changing your eyebrows a little bit. You’re wearing clothes they’d found in a nearby Ross, stuff that he knows you’re itchy in because they haven’t been washed yet.

Your feet are pushed into shoes a size too small, he can tell because you’re sitting without putting pressure on them and they’re laced too loose. If you run with them they’ll go flying. Maybe that’s for the better, he quickly decides.

He doesn’t see the irony in his worry. The same Spencer who walked into a train and took off his bulletproof vest when the UnSub had a loaded gun? The same Spencer who made Hotch kick the snot out of him? Caught himself on fire and in the middle of an explosion? Stab himself and frame the other guy in prison— that Spencer Reid? Yes. Because he’s him and you’re you.

First name Spencer, middle name Risk himself for everyone else, last name Reid didn’t want you to hurt. He didn’t want you tossed in the back of some guy's van and hauled to wherever. He didn’t want you to experience the torture the other victims are going through firsthand. He just didn’t.

But you’re smiling with Tara, agreeing to let Luke slip a tracker into the thrifted bracelet you planned on keeping because it looked nice. You’re listening to Emily’s specific instructions carefully, you’re understanding the dangers that you’re about to face.

And dammit you’re still agreeing to go through with it.

“Be careful,” He’s almost pleading— no, he is pleading. He absolutely cannot keep himself composed like the others are. He can’t.

“I’ll be alive,” You tell him, messing with the clunky jacket that fits the same way a child wearing their dad's jacket fits. Lightly, you punch his shoulder. “Don’t go worrying about me; this is my specialty, Walter.” He nods, tucking his hair behind his ear because yes, it is. You had transferred from the Hostage Rescue Team after getting your degree.

He doesn’t even care that you’re using his middle name. He doesn’t catch it, in fact. He just caught that you said you’d be alive when he asked you to be careful.

“Just…” He closes his eyes, opening them when he pictures the worst. You’re staring at him from behind a paper cup of water, eyebrows raised because you’ve never seen him so worked up. So nervous before; it’s stressing you out.

“I’ll come back, man. Don’t sweat it, please. You’re making me nervous,” Shit, he blinks an apology and wrings his hands. He doesn’t want to throw you off your game any more than he already has and backs off.

You watch as he walks away, heading back to his drawing board. He messes with the marker cap again, this time chewing on it. It’s a set he’d gotten that day, only used by him, so he’s not worried about germs or anything of the sort. Meanwhile, you move over to JJ to go over the plan seeing as she’s going to be the bartender.

The plan is simple. You’re going to hang out at a local bar, the one flying the highest American flag and that has some stupidly adorable couple trivia night going on but you aren’t going to play. You’re going to sit at the bar, rolling your eyes when someone gets an answer wrong because it was so obvious even a moron could get it right. You’re going to nurse a stein of sparkling apple juice dyed to look like beer. And you’re going to get the attention of the man killing people.

Currently, you’re still on the eye-rolling part. The questions are hard, you have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about but you can hear Spencer through your earpiece saying the answers without catching himself.

A guy approaches you as you’re taking another sip of your drink. A white man, probably in his fifties to sixties, dressed as if he was a professor, and on the shorter side. So far, this is the guy. You smile as he takes the newly vacant seat next to you, his eyes immediately traveling to the jacket around your chair.

“Can you believe they don’t know the fifty-six element?” He huffs after no one has gotten the answer right and the announcer presses the loud buzzer.

“Barium,” Spencer immediately tells you.

“I know,” You scoff. “Who doesn’t know what barium is?” The man looks delighted by your answer and orders a beer. He doesn’t care what brand, just says beer and drums his fingers on the wood until JJ brings him one. He thanks her without any condensation, no sweetheart, or even a lingering look. He says a simple thank you, miss. And hands JJ a crisp ten-dollar bill.

“The youth these days,” He shakes his head as half of the trivia goers don’t get the answer to who made the laws of motion right. “They’re spending too much time learning nonessential things like provocative dancing and texting abbreviations.”

“You’re so right, sir,” You sigh. “I’m glad my grandparents raised me better.”

“Oh, please,” He laughs, holding his chest. “Call me Vince. I’m sorry for forgetting my manners.”

“It’s quite fine,” You smile. “I’m Kyle.”

“Well, Kyle,” He smiles back. This is the part where he’ll have you look away and he’ll slip something into your drink. You’ll look back and he’ll cheer for something. It’ll be strong based on the videos, you’ll be stumbling within three minutes. But even before that, he’ll talk you into leaving the bar so no one can notice. “Whaddya say about a game of pool?” He points to the pool table behind you.

You look, spotting Luke and Emily pretending to pay attention to a group of frat guys playing a game. Spencer tells you that he’s slipped the pill inside and you turn back to Vince.

“It seems crowded,” You shake your head.

“Well, cheers to two smart guys left in a modern age of idiots?” He holds up his beer and you laugh, nodding with your bottle. The drinks and you pretend to drink it. You feel it on your upper lip, it’s fizzy and you swallow your spit to make it seem real. He watches until you set it down and runs his fingers over your ear.

“How about some fresh air?” Pretending to be bashful, you get up and follow him out. He’s not aware that Luke and Emily follow, too.

Spencer watches from the van's cameras as you walk out of the bar. Vince has his hand on your waist and he’s talking about things so well it’s almost convincing. But he’s saying surface-level facts as if he’s only read the summary but not the full text. He doesn’t like how Vince speaks into your neck and how his eyes seem to gleam when you start to pretend to stumble.

You prepare yourself as you hear the red car. Because once you do, he charges you into the side and it’s enough to send someone who’d been drugged to the ground. So, you lay next to the car, pretending to fall in and out as he opens the trunk. You hear the duck tape being pulled and he steps back into your view.

“All you youth are still driven by lust,” He says, holding your face and then applies enough to cover your mouth. He puts you on your stomach and your arms strain as he ties your hands behind you. Honestly, you’re glad he’s counting you as a youth. You know the youth surely doesn’t because boy, you’ve stopped getting carded at bars years ago. Your ankles are the next things he tapes before you’re tossed into the trunk.

Your head hits a pipe and you groan as he slams the door closed. Rolling onto your side, you feel the car start and work on finding the knife in your pocket. The blade flicks up— it had been pinned to your pants just for this— and you work on cutting your way out. He hadn’t done a lot of layers, just three so you’re out of it quick enough.

His car stops, at a red light, because the car is still buzzing and he’s still listening to music that hasn’t been on the radio since there was a transatlantic accent. You take the time to rub your forehead before the car lurches forward. Working on the ankle tape, you hear the line between you and the others cut. You’ve officially entered the dead zone. They’ll track you using the bracelet from here on out.

—

It’s nearly an hour before the car stops. It’s been twenty since Spencer joined Luke in the SUV. Being trailed by local PD and two ambulances with their lights off, he messes with the FBI windbreaker jacket folded on his lap. It’s yours, it’s tailored to your arms and the collar is worn from where you continued to flip it up and down. You’ll probably want it, it’s chilly out and only getting colder.

He hopes you’re only cold because of the weather.

“It’s up ahead,” Luke warns before he parks the car. They can’t risk the UnSub hearing the cars so they’ll have to walk the rest of the way. He nods, fixing his gun as they climb out. The others are close behind and separate. JJ and Rossi go left, Emily and Tara go right, while he and Luke go straight.

The driveway, if you could call it that, to the barn, is nothing more than grass that’s been driven over so many times it doesn’t grow straight anymore. They’re sickly shades of green compared to the bright green elsewhere. He looks up, seeing the car you’d gotten tossed into, and adjusts his grip on his gun. His heart hammers, pleading that you’re okay.

A barn comes into view, the lights are on and Spencer shudders. There’s the smell of pigs nearby that makes his stomach twist before he changes his focus. The doors are ajar— some blood is on the handle. He doesn’t touch it, but it’s wet. He sees the light reflecting on it. Luke gives him a look, holds up three fingers and Spencer nods.

He gets to two before the door gets thrown open.

They jump back but it’s only you. You’re standing tall, one hand on the doorframe and the other gripping your pocket knife. His shoulders sag at the sight of you alive and able to stand before he looks at your face.

“You’re bleeding,” Spencer immediately has you in his grip, wiping the blood from your nose and lip with his shirt. It’s a lot, but considering it’s a nosebleed that’s to be expected.

“Got dropped on my face,” You explain through a wince. “The others are in the barn— they need medical. I patched their wounds as best I could with whatever was lying around,” Luke nods and radios for the ambulance to make their way up.

“And Vince?” Luke looks inside the barn and whistles. “Shouldn’t have been worried, then.” He knocks your shoulder with his fist and you wink.

“Yeah, he really wasn’t strong. He dropped me twice, once on my face and then on my back. I think my head hit a rock—“ Again, Spencer’s hands are on you as he checks the back of your head. Luke chuckles and you roll your eyes, messing with your wedding band tattoo. “I kicked the shit out of his face and then hogtied him.” You wait for a beat before looking over at Spencer. “No hogtie facts?”

“You have a shallow cut on your head, it’ll leave a small scar.” He says instead and opens up the jacket. “You should sit, we can deal with the others.” He drapes it over you and you smile, rubbing his matching tattoo.

“Okay,” He smiles and watches as you walk to sit on a log before heading inside with Luke. He looks at the man still tied up and then looks at the knife in his hand before walking closer. The man is wriggling and trying to speak, both of which he makes a point to ignore.

He saws at the tape before it lets go and quickly handcuffs Vince, ripping the tape off his mouth as hard and fast as he could manage with his shaking hands. Vince starts speaking but Spencer simply lugs him up from the ground in one fluid motion.

“Shut up.” He walks Vince out and tosses him over to the local PD before he finds you again. You’re helping the lady of the victims into the ambulance, setting the thick wool blanket over his shoulders.

“I told you to sit down,” He sighs and you spin around, hands up to show you weren’t doing anything. “Baby, you’re injured, please.” He grabs your hands and kisses your neck, hoping it’ll sway you.

“EMT said it's surface level and just a little bleed, nothing to fuss about.” He ignores the first part as he steals a kit from the ambulance, checking the inside to make sure he has what he needs.

“I’m fussing,” He beckons you over with two fingers and you huff, following him to the SUV where he sets you in the passenger seat. You watch, head on the seat as he carefully puts the items on the dashboard and cleans his hand with wipes.

“It’s cute that you’re worried,” You smile, eyes flickering between him putting on a pair of gloves and his face. “Maybe now you’ll stop being so reckless during cases.” Leaning over, you kiss his cheek but he moves back in for a kiss on the lips.

“I don’t know about that,” He smiles and gently holds your chin. “Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?” You roll your eyes but he doesn’t move so you sigh.

“Yes, doctor,”

#x male reader #x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #matthew gray gubler

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shiny-jr · 2 days ago

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I know "FROM: Diasomnia" is kinda old now but the line "I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions (in the world?)" something like that? But that line is something I come back to sometimes. It's such an intriguing thing for him to say, especially after what he did/said in the impostor AU "This... this cannot be my player!"

It's alright if not but I was hoping you'd comment on the kinds of mindsets they have as they're writing? Unless it's spoilers!! But it's just so? ?? Like where are they coming from with this? Is it just sheer delusion/desperation to appeal at this point or is there motivation behind it? I ask because of Silver's comments about the two older fae possibly knowing something he doesn't.

I also wanted to say that your imposter series totally inspired me to get back into writing fanfiction! I just gotta get my head in the game 💪(ò_óˇ) And I totally relate to that other anon!! It's all just so interesting!! I love self-aware/meta stuff like that, it's totally itched a scratch I barely knew I had!

SECOND ASK: "Add on to FROM diasomnia ask BUT is it possibly that Malleus and Lilia believe the player will forgive them (before the rest, at least since they went from murder to guarding the ramshackle dorm unasked) because they knew about it for the least amount of time and they think it'll give them more leeway?

(Which, for me, it just might give them more leeway depending on how everyone else is behaving. Aaugh!!! What a nightmare to be stuck in!! It's so fun to think about all the different motivations/desires that the characters are acting on and how they might've all interacted with each other over it"

MY RESPONSE: I'm honestly surprised that people still read that series, and it has been a hot minute since I updated it, haha... Don't worry, I've been working on drafts for it again. Not much, but something, if that's any sort of comfort for those that somehow do remember and enjoy that series.

Anyways, I usually don't like to comment too much on my own work. Sometimes I will, but it's not often, as I don't like to state "no, some of y'all are wrong, this is actually what I meant" because, well, it's boring in a sense? It ruins the fun, in a way.

I like others to have their own opinions and thoughts, which is why I don't often elaborate on stuff and leave it open ended for that purpose. I will say though, that the imposter AU/letters have the characters acting more "delusional" or "unstable" compared to my other AUs.

#shiny speaks #we just got a letter wonder who it’s from #twst imposter au

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shurup-overt · 1 day ago

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don't ever let go of what's beloved

these bastards made me cry! THRICE!!

@mari-lair I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart, also this will be LONG. I'm sorry skdjkls

SPOILERS UP TO CH27 BELOW

(not super detailed but still can ruin the experience)

I'VE FINALLY read ycit after half a year of putting it off it just because I "didn't like the idea of akane being dead&doomed" skslsks I was wayy too superstitious. anyway I'm glad I stopped being stubborn

IT WAS HELL OF A RIDE (positive) and I finished it (27 chapters at that moment) looking like nene in ch107

I'm not even joking

where do I even begin.

the amount of research and thought and love poured into the fic is INSANE. it's always so nice to feel the author's passion through the work and this one overflows with it.

am I being too sappy? I dunno, I speak what's on my mind lol!!

as I said, it's noticeable that it's written with so so much love to the characters and this love is INFECTIOUS!! I didn't know I'd get attached to aka, so fast too. it's like my thought process was almost the same as teru's all the way through chapters 0-20 lmaoo

a small digression from the main topic - the thing is, what I wait for the most in tbhk is a flashback about terukane's first meeting & how the glasses were made. ofc there's always a possibility they were made by teru just for fun and as a way to make akane owe him (although this might be ooc) but the possibility of it is thankfully really really small because teru looks at them and handles the topic very gently. too gently for it to be just a forced prank. also akane has been keeping them with him on his bead near his head while sleeping (not even the bedside table or smth! who the hell keeps their glasses with them on the bed at night?? <- comes from a glasses person)

so, especially because of teru's wording ("he said he wanted to live his life like he used to"), I've been STRESSING over the possibility of akane BEGGING teru for help there, like what if he was struggling with switching forms at first and hence wasn't seen by students? what if the clock keepers didn't explain him almost anything about the supernatural world and so he was scared and confused? what if teru cornered him there and he had to prove he's human? (by the warmth of a touch?) what if he cried? what if teru comforted him? (or tried to lol) what if there were more struggles??

and so I was soo glad to see this topic being expanded!! I know it's an au and all (and the contract's gone worse here) but what I mean is, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks about it!! reading akane's backstory was Painful As Heck but really Good.

my godd I wish the boy had some comfort. I can't look at ycit akane because I start tearing up immediately.

"I hope akane managed to use the bill" "I hope the seals helped at least a bit" I HOPE SO TOO. JESUS. THE POOR BOY WAS LEFT ALL ALONE WITH A TERRIFYING KNOWLEDGE AND THE TWO DIDN'T EVEN SAY GOODBYE TO EACH OTHER PROPERLY

and his backstory hasn't even been fully revealed yet. I feel like I'll die when that time comes. shaking

alright I don't wanna whine here too much now moving on-

this idiot. /affectionate

the attention to the smallest details!!!!

the amount of canon things implemented?? HELLO? I mean it's natural to expect a canon character act according to canon but it's the first time (I think??) I've noticed SO MUCH small facts THOUGHT THROUGH and carefully weaven into the fic to fit the narrative perfectly. sometimes they're really small and almost insignificant but it's like finding easter eggs!!! it fills me with so much joy to feel the love to the kids through the writing (I repeat it again ahahaha). teru's complicated (VERY MUCH SO) feelings towards his father, akane liking raspberry sweets, akane (and aka) liking when pride of a certain someone ( ^^ ) shatters in front of them and their facade falls, teru itching to jump headfirst into research as soon as there's a reason to mess with exorcist tools and invent something (oh I so adore this in canon I can probably ramble about this a lot), teru being eager to play in the snow, teru covering his face when he cries!!!! and that's just the things I remember right now THERE WAS A LOT MORE

it all makes me point at the screen with an "AH!!" expression and think "YES THAT'S MY BOY/GIRL!!"

YAKO AND TSUCHIGOMORI TOO!! I was so glad to see yako being involved so much and her character handled perfectly with all her traits and quirks and sillyness /affectionate hehe I love her so much and although tsuchigomori hasn't showed up as much, reading the scenes with him was a delight as well

also when I said about the passion, I meant not only the love to the fic's main cast, but also the passion to analyze the og medium itself as a whole. (am I making sense? I don't want to sound too creepy) explaining myself: take aka: his character, his quirks, his abilities, his drama, worries and experiences - for it all to be as deep and believable ( = excellent) as it is, it was necessary to take all the smallest bits about ghosts' and supernaturals' mindset we have in canon, be it hanako or sousuke or mitsuba etc, analyze it, and make aka one of their kind but still very much unique and closer to akane than to them, even though he doesn't remember being him. even if you didn't do what I said entirely on purpose, I'm just amazed by how aka is written. it's awesome

squeezes him.

thank you for being the extremely stubborn "leech" you are. mwah

aidairo sadly have given us very little info about exorcism and supernaturals in general (I'm biting the table as we speak) and the way you still took the crumbs, thought them through, added bits here and there, and made it all work perfectly is just amazing. I was overjoyed to read about mimics, other kinds of supernaturals, how spiritual energy feels, how touching a ghost feels in detail, weakening seals, blood pacts, boundaries, etc etc. it's like it's all canon, it doesn't make the reader question it whatsoever, so well-made. I'm clapping.

the description says you've never written a teru pov before and I'd say you nailed it from the very beginning!! you understand his mindset so deeply, reading your works is the best experience. the picky bitch in my ear never goes "he would not say that" and instead is just as amazed as I am

the first chapters before the bonding are HEAVY as heck. they're extremely hard to binge read but I mean this as a good thing. they're extremely painful by just how realistically they are written, so good you can't help but sync with teru and feel the same emotions as he does. And his life is SHIT at that moment so I was SUFFERING with him both the first and the second going through the chapters :'D again though, it's not bad, it's the opposite - it makes the happy moments thrice as good and the overall bonding brings A LOT of warmth. I feel like it healed me in a way after punching me in the stomach 10 chapters in a row

also I love it so much just how much the fic focuses on teru's everyday life before the manga's main plot. I mean, well yeah, it's a 14-15yo teru pov, but still. so detailed, filled me with warmth.

*slaps roof of ycit* this bad boy can fit SO MANY fun ideas and good concepts in it

seriously, the range is insane. a questionnaire, a quarrel (multiple), siblings talk, beach episode, dancing, hugging, both crying, possession?? hello?? BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! summer festival, sleeping on the other, fighting for the other, fighting together, even working in food service together (aka the thing I'd expect out of a trkn fic the least lol). the list goes on. and despite how bizarre and random it sounds out of context, nothing from it feels like a filler, everything fits into the plot perfectly. I have no words mari how are you doing that

ever since I've read the bloodpact chapter, I was worried about how encounters with mimics will go from now on because now aka can go anywhere and, how it was stated before, aka's and a mimic's energy feel the same… the boys will need to come up with a strategy of some sort (which is tricky if mimics learn from the memories) ourghh makes my head hurt! but in a good way. or will mimics struggle picking a target between aka and teru now? what if they're weaker when faced by multiple opponents because of that? that would be fortunate. anyway! mimics leap at the target eventually, so that eases the task. and whether the boys encounter them or not, they will have each other's backs, and it warms my heart.

I've wanderend off the main topic again, oops. as you see, the fic made me think of all sorts of things lol and it's an incredibly good sign.

what if teru did take a picture of the swing set in ch13…..... ourghh I don't even know if it'd be better or worse...... it's over now though, so I'm glad either way

and ch27 has destroyed and rebuilt me several times I think .

I drew this before ch28 but then it came out and oh boy. I don't even know what to say. Good for them. so proud of them

I HAD SEVERAL SONGS FOR THIS but I don't want to make this too overwhelming so I've tried to pick the faves among faves (still kind of failed so . no pressure)

Bullet by Saint Motel (lyrics) for teruaka

The Song with Five Names a.k.a. Soapbox Tao a.k.a. Checkmate Atheists! a.k.a. Neospace Government (A.K.A. You Can Never Know) by Will Wood and the Tapeworms (lyrics) for aka - this one may be too extreme. it kinda clicked for me but I might be delusional

quiet room by ewe (has eng subtitles) for teruaka - makes me feel things similar to the ones 'therefore you and me' does

Yakusoku no Overture by Toki Shunichi (akane's VA hehe) - I haven't found a full version of this arrangement on youtube but it should be on spotify? or other streaming platforms I'm pretty sure? sadly, I've only found a russian translation (as unusual as it is lol) so I've tried to adapt it in english here, hope it looks right!

I might be delusional here sdslkds but what's certain is that I enjoyed the fic all the way from the start. thank you for creating this, truly

p.s.: please let me know if I made you in any way uncomfortable. I myself didn't expect to write so much; I only wanted to express my gratitude but this might be overwhelming. (I'm a very anxious person so I felt like I needed to say this sdskldj) you aren't obliged to respond in any way and this isn't me asking you to continue working on the fic. just saying thank you for the things you've made

that's it! wishing you a great day :)

#THIS DECEMBER I'LL REMEMBER WANT YOU TO SEE IT WHEN I DO UUUOURGHRHR #ok I'm normal #consider this an ao3 comment but uhh with pictures #jshk #tbhk #terukane #minamoto teru #aoi akane #go read ycit if you haven't

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staticscreenwriting · 1 day ago

Text

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card.

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming.

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.”

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful.

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do.

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck.

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.”

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under.

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks".

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home.

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands.

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!”

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar.

“Yeah, I’m back.

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing.

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Did you get hurt?”

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time.

“Good. It went good.”

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did.

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony.

“Geez, you guys are demanding.”

“Well — did you bring us something?”

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods.

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder.

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!”

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will.

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.”

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.”

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that.

“ Nah. No issues.”

“Good.”

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.”

“It smells great.”

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?”

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.”

“Thanks.”

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.”

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air.

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things.

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue.

“Have you ever been to Paris?”

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night.

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?”

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start.

“I uh — no. Never.”

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.”

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.”

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.”

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.”

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches.

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?”

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.”

“Do what?”

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.”

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did.

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.”

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright.

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.”

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss.

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.”

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day.

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone.

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow.

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it.

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them.

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants.

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.”

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?”

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.”

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?”

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior.

“Who’s it from?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, so (Y/N).”

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?”

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.”

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?”

“You! Old and scared!”

“I’m not scared!”

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it.

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?”

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?”

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!”

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record.

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand.

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even.

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now?

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad.

“Did you wanna knock or — ?”

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile.

“Uh, yes.”

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.”

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off”

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up.

“No way! The stranger! You found it.”

“ I did.”

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.”

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man!

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them.

“Sure.”

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet.

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?”

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change.

But words fail him. They always do.

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare.

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “

“You’re not.”

Wow, so eloquent.

“I’m not?”

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once!

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?”

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment.

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things? Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones?

“It’s not you.”

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.”

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor.

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.”

“I’m not grumpy”

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.”

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t.

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.”

“Why?”

“Cause it’s none of your business.”

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.”

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!"

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.”

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk.

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.”

“Why do you think I did something?”

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye”

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape?

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera.

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film.

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn.

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.”

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.”

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?”

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much.

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move.

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age.

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!)

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.”

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse.

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation.

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress.

“Joel?”

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator.

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!”

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?”

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.”

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.”

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?”

“Please just fucking kiss me.”

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft.

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her.

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

#jolapenosdearuary #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller imagines #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us fanfiction

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romanhughesy · 1 day ago

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GRAVITY - andrei svechnikov x fem!reader

summary: you meet in spring. andrei is confident, easy-going. deeply casual. summer’s long, but you’re around again when andrei comes back in the fall and ‘casual’ shifts into something fonder, something taking shape around the edges. a mid-season injury brings things to a breaking point, but the longest night only comes once a year.

wc: 3k

warnings: suggestive (like pg13), angsty?, emotionally unavailable!reader<3

a/n: im so sorry it’s late, but this is my fic for @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, written for @sydnikov !! i LOVE your writing and was so inspired by your preferred tropes/figure skating background, so i hope you love it!! ive never wrote anything quite like this before, so feedback is 10000% encouraged bc this is also my first fic in awhile :’) title is from ‘gravity’ by my queen tinashe, that song and her other song ‘cross that line’ PERFECTLY describe the relationship i was trying to capture here.

somewhere along the way– far too late– it becomes apparent you and andrei misunderstood each other. maybe even from the very first moment.

on an unseasonably humid early spring night, in a dark gritty bar with shitty lighting and shittier beer, a spark ignited between the both of you. he approached you, half-drunk and put up to it by the rowdy teammates commandeering a booth with a great view of the bar. of you and your friends. he offered to buy a round of shots for everyone– if your friends would take them back to the booth and leave the two of you at the bar. your girls, who absolutely did not need anymore shots, practically ran across the bar with the tray; not before elbowing you and patting your shoulder, of course. maybe one hockey player could fly under the radar, but certainly not this one, and the table full that were now hosting your friends were the talk of the little bar. even some of the other girls nearby looked at you enviously; like you’d been chosen, or won some sort of prize. it was an unpleasant kind of feeling that you tried to shove aside in favor of easy, tipsy conversation. after talking around the elephant in the room for a minute, the liquid courage helped you decide to name it. you praised his performance in their game earlier that evening. months later, you can still remember how his smile took over his face, wide and prideful.

“thank you, pretty,” he slurred, shuffling a bit closer, “i can teach you how to skate good like me.”

you also remember your own prideful scoff, rolling your eyes on pure instinct. that unpleasant feeling sharpened. “i could carve you up, svech.”

his jaw dropped, the disbelief seeming more honest than his boastful smile, somehow. “you play? you are… small.”

“i’m a figure skater. i coach, too. maybe i should teach you to skate better.”

andrei’s wolfish smile came back in full force then, large hand draping over yours on the sticky bar. “perfect figure skater– pretty and small. i’m sure you skate well, but not like me.”

he raised his drink to signal the bartender, but you slid your hand from underneath the bar to rest on top of his and tapped the back of his palm lightly, stealing his attention with a head tilt.

“should we go and check out each other’s skills?”

one night set the stage for a loose kind of routine, spring nights slipping away in the back of seedy bars, in andrei’s bland luxury apartment; bodies coming to an understanding on rumpled grey sheets in his california king bed. your friends wouldn’t shut up about him, but you insisted there was nothing to tell. and there wasn’t. neither of your lives had room for anything more than what you already had. when he was gone, or just not around, your life passed by more or less the same as when he was there. you weren’t going through the motions to pretend there was anyone else, to him or to your friends, but you knew where you stood. and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. what you and andrei had was good, easy. you didn’t want a boyfriend anyway, so why would you complain about a steady hookup who wasn’t getting attached?

as the days got warmer, the nights got shorter, and andrei’s games became more meaningful. he slipped away— as much as you can really slip away when you aren’t being held at all. he more or less disappeared from your life once their second playoff series went south, and you refused to give chase.

summer was a blur. long days full of early morning practice, the smell of the ice invigorating your senses and bringing relief from the oppressive heat. it was a year too hot to be outdoors much, so you holed up, binging reality tv and redecorating your bedroom. your friends brought you out of your shell every now and then with a couple of weekend beach trips and many more coerced nights out. they’d switched from seedy sports bars to cocktail lounges, or dance clubs, and were good enough to not mention why, at least to your face. things felt simpler this way, dancing into the night with a rotating cast of strangers and cutting out early with the excuse of your sunrise rink time. you started landing a new trick, and even the heat couldn’t dull your mood about that.

seemingly in the blink of an eye, the dog days of summer had passed, and banners started cropping up around downtown boasting the shiny newcomers and fan favorites returning to town for training camp. you saw andrei’s face on the house-sized poster hanging on the outside of the arena and pretended to yourself that you’d never met him, because, really, what else were you supposed to do? go back to that same bar, with your same friends, and pretend you knew him at all?

well, you did do that– not of your own volition, to be sure– and he was there, because of course he was. you saw him the second you walked in, tall, broad and smiling, just like you remembered. you pointedly looked away, sharp eyes almost daring your friends to say something, but they didn’t have to.

you were fumbling through your purse to pay for your drink when he approached from behind, resting his hand on the bar. your bodies weren’t quite touching, but you were enveloped by his stature.

“you can put all of their drinks on my tab,” you could almost feel the vibrations of his deep voice through your chest. your friends raised their eyebrows, but said nothing, taking their drinks and deserting the bar. that deja vu, memory-on-the-tip-of-your-tongue feeling washed over you, heightened by his next words.

“how was your summer, pretty girl? mine was long, without seeing you.”

you sidestepped his hold to be able to look up at him, to take his features in for the first time in awhile. in person, that is. there was a boyishness, an almost clumsiness, about him like this that never came across in his media. you tried not to let it persuade you.

“i landed my axel for the first time.” you answered, not bothering to address his flattery.

“triple?” andrei asked, eyebrows raised.

you rolled your eyes. “i’m an amateur, andrei. not all professionals can land a triple.”

his eyes flashed, that challenging look that always dragged you in, “i’m a professional. i bet i could. i do lots of hard things.”

“i doubt you could even stand on figure skates, much less jump.”

he tilted his head, and you felt pulled back in time, “can i show you my skill?”

“andrei…” you tried to pull your gaze away from him, but he grabbed your hand, gentle as can be, and you locked eyes with him again.

“please, pretty girl. i missed you.”

looking back, you still aren’t sure what you thought he’d say, but it wasn’t that. the shock stirred up some of the unpleasant feelings of the past few months, the severed connection that was barely tangible to begin with. you lightly scoffed, “yeah, right.”

“i did. i’m glad to be back, to see you tonight. let me show you.”

what else could you say to that?

so you let andrei take you home, and tried to tell yourself you were just imagining the difference in his behavior, projecting softness, maybe even fondness, where there was only lust. tried to explain away his gentle hands on your cheeks, your hips, his quiet praise and adoration. you slept over, that night, and tried to turn a blind eye again in the morning. and again a few days later.

as fall crept in, the two of you start texting more often, meaningless chatter and jokes, and began foregoing the pretense of having to go out to the bars to “coincidentally” meet up. he’d ask to pick you up after leaving the stadium most nights he was in town, and more often than not you’d stay over. andrei didn’t seem to mind that you were often gone before he woke up; flying across the ice to try and leave your emotions behind, heart crawling a little further up into your throat every day. you knew it was unnatural, yet you couldn’t help but try to build your walls a little higher with every step you took forward towards something different with andrei. you just couldn’t help but feel like letting your guard down would be a fatal mistake.

his time on the road helped, in a lot of ways. it gave you a sense of normalcy, you went out with your friends and didn’t look over your shoulder. you could give andrei a bit of a cold shoulder over text and pretend he was the busy one, the one not responding. until he came back to town and kissed you breathless in his sports car, taking off your jacket with his big but deft hands and mumbling into your neck about missing you while he was gone.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like him— certainly not that— but it was hard to feel like you stood on solid ground when his life moved at such a fast pace. he never intentionally made you feel small, but his world, spanning millions of miles and millions more dollars, was dizzying, and so entirely divorced from whatever you two had that you still felt as though you didn’t know him, really, even though you held all of these small pieces of him close to your heart. you felt constantly at a loss, not sure how to best express yourself in any given moment, caught between honesty and protecting your feelings, unsure how to do both at once. the leaves turned, then fell, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were also waiting for the other shoe to drop.

andrei, apparently, had none of the same hangups. he was simple, straightforward and never shy to go after what he wanted. his interest was more than clear, but you could never bring yourself to ask just how far it went. he never asked you to go to dinner, or one of his games, and even though you guys weren’t just hooking up, in fact there were a couple of hangouts late fall without having sex at all, you couldn’t find any other name to call whatever you two were doing. so you stopped trying.

somewhere around the first frost, things changed. andrei had his first injury of the season, having to sit out a short road trip, and you found yourself out of your depth with the version of andrei that reminded you of unpleasant early-summer heat. you didn’t know how to comfort him, scared to cling or insert yourself unnecessarily into his personal life, so you thought you should just mirror his attitude. maybe that’s what brought things down.

one late november night, you started shrugging back on your clothes after leaving the bathroom until andrei’s voice, thick with sleep, gave you a momentary pause.

“where are you going?”

you looked up at him, and immediately regretted it. his high, strong cheekbones were softened in the dim light, eyes dark and confused, but you refused to believe the furrow of his brow held any traces of disappointment

“home. i have an extra-early skate tomorrow.”

“you know you can stay here,” andrei assured in a low voice, but you just shook your head and sat at the edge of the bed to put your socks back on.

“it’s fine, andrei. it’s not that late.”

he sat up fully, then, long arm reaching across the bed to try and touch you, but you were too far away.

“what’s going on?” andrei asked, not letting you answer before another question sprung from his lips. “why are you not comfortable with me?”

you froze, looking up slowly but deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“it’s nothing. i’d just rather be at my place tonight.”

“it is something,” he insisted, voice still quiet, but more firm than you’d ever heard him speak to you. “you don’t want to be honest with me. why?”

“i’m being honest with you,” you argued, even though you knew it wasn’t true. “why are you upset? it doesn’t matter.”

“i like spending time with you. i’m alone, i’m hurt, and you make things better.”

it somehow stung, the sweet words only serving to remind you what he could say instead, what you wished he’d say.

“we spend plenty of time together, svech. i can’t put my plans aside for you just because you couldn’t travel with the team.”

you didn’t have to read a different emotion into his furrowed brow any longer, it was set in a very clear frustration, now.

“don’t say that, don’t call me that,” he insisted, “what did i do? why are you angry?”

you stood, at that, pulling your sweater over your head hastily. “i’m not angry. you’re the one making this a big deal.”

“you are leaving and trying to hurt my feelings. i am just trying to figure out why.” he rose from the bed, trying to catch your wrist as you went to button your jeans, but you took a step back.

“we already fucked, andrei. you had plenty of my ‘quality time’ for tonight. i’m leaving, now.”

he stepped into your space, shaking his head and grabbing both of your wrists, not forceful, but firm.

“this is not about sex, pretty. you know it’s not. why are you saying this?”

“well, that’s all we have. we’re not dating, i’m not your girlfriend, so you should call someone else if you need comfort.”

it was his turn to take a step back, then. dropping your wrists, hurt clear as day across his face.

“that is not true. we cook together, work out together, watch movies together, talk on the phone while i am gone. is it all just about sex, to you?”

your insides twisted, hurt and anger shifting into a kind of guilt, a panic. you’d been so painstakingly, yet fruitlessly, trying to protect your own heart, trying to push yourself away. blind to the fact that the whole time, he was reaching out to you.

“i… didn’t want to ask for something you couldn’t give,” you hedged, eyes down and picking at your nail beds.

andrei shook his head again, but his expression softened, closing the gap between you.

“i have been trying to date you since i came back, beautiful. but you have been hiding from me, even when you’re this close. i’ve been waiting on you.”

you stared up at him, eyes wide, hands dwarfed in his grasp. you couldn’t even begin to find the right words to say.

“let me show you, gorgeous,” he continued, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek. “let me cherish you how you deserve.”

“andrei…” you breathe. he bends down, captures your lips in a kiss so tender it makes tears well up in your eyes.

“it’s okay, pretty. we’re okay.” he kept mumbling assurances to you in between soft kisses all over your face, across your jaw and down your neck. you couldn’t contain your sigh as his faint stubble brushed against your neck, hands finding a gentle perch on his broad back. andrei pulled back the slightest bit, soft smile and mischievous eyes making your heart flutter.

“can i show you, my darling? or do you need to go home?” he teased, hands absentmindedly trailing up and down your sides.

“please, drei,” you plead, hand stretching up to the back of his neck to pull him back down to you. andrei doesn’t move a muscle, his own strength so much greater than yours, but you couldn’t complain because you got to watch his soft smile grow, eyes alight like he just scored the greatest goal of his career. he lifted you with seemingly no effort at all, laying you back down on his grey sheets, hovering above you, bicep bulging next to your head. it was distracting, but you couldn’t look away from those gorgeous eyes, locked on yours.

“can i come to the rink with you in the morning? want to finally see how my pretty girl skates. probably puts me to shame.”

you were pulled from your daze at that, searching his face and finding nothing but openness, happiness, satisfaction. but you still can’t help but ask, “are you sure? it’s an open skate. people will see.”

“see you ‘carve me up’?” andrei joked, caressing your face. that spring night felt so far away, a version of you that could never conceive of where you would end up. “i don’t care. just want to see you.”

you couldn’t hide the shock on your face. the pit in your stomach hadn’t exactly subsided, the heaviness of wasted time and self-admonishment lingering, but you tried to push it aside, letting yourself reveal a gap in the armor you’d woven so tightly around your heart. you wouldn’t be able to just let yourself fall overnight, but you could do this. you could give him an opening, a glimmer of warm sunshine on a cold winter’s night.

“sure, but we’ll need to go to bed soon. it really is extra early,” you conceded, hand raising to brush some of his hair back from his forehead.

his sweet smile turned that wolfish, boastful grin you knew too well, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“soon? maybe not, pretty girl. i have been waiting for this. might take awhile. but don’t worry, i know great stretches for sore muscles we can try in the morning, too.”

and, well, what else could you say to that?

———

#the winter fic exchange 2k25 #andrei svechnikov x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #as37 #andrei svechnikov fic #carolina hurricanes fic #nhl player x reader

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gooobraghhh · 2 days ago

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hello. chill if nah but do you want to share some advice for teasing/flirting w people? I know this guy, trans, loses it every time I call him "good boy" or "handsome" but I'm running out of tricks!! But he's so fun to teaseeee I don't wanna run out

I mean it depends on the person but if he’s into that kind of thing I can tell you other stuff he might enjoy, leaning more praise because of the examples you gave me. Pretty boy, an actual pet name like puppy, doggy, pet, or something, or like a overly cute nickname based on his name are some options to incorporate. Something id suggest is kind of dropping something teasing on him very suddenly in conversation. Innocently asking him to do something and then being like “aww what a good boy, you’re so good at doing what you’re told” is an easy example/ way to set it up. It’s just super cute to watch them get all surprised and clearly turned on.

Another thing I enjoy for teasing is like a demeaning compliment. Situation dependent but something like “it’s a good thing you’re so handsome/ cute because you’re not the brightest, puppy” after he like doesn’t understand a thing or makes a little mistake. Maybe if you helped him with something random you could say like “what would a pet like you do if I wasn’t here to take care of you”. These are just examples in the nature of what you’re going for, you’re gonna need think of little comments based on what’s happening in your conversation and cater them to what the guy likes. Also think about whats gender affirming when you’re choosing what to compliment and insult. For trans men I usually like to insult their intelligence since being like a dumb blockhead is just kind of a guy thing and usually won’t actually hurt any feelings, I’d lift them up in like appearance (handsome, cute, pretty etc), usefulness/obedience, (good job, good boy, what a good listener,you take it so well etc), or any other trait you know that specific person would enjoy being complimented on.

I’d also suggest possessiveness if everyone’s comfortable. My puppy, My pet, My pretty boy. Be a good boy for me, touch yourself for me, cum for me ( obviosuly more risqué but just add for me to most commands). I find most people enjoy the security and feeling of being wanted that comes with possessive talk and it just makes the praise all the more addictive.

Another thing is if hes responding very positively start making him directly participate. Who’s good boy?, you’re really so desperate for me huh? Tell me how bad you want it?. Just prompt him to respond. Either he does it and it’s adorable and embarrassing or he sputters out because answering is too embarrassing for him and you get to watch him get all flustered. Works well for some degration to, “you’re really such a slut huh?” Or something similar so that he either agrees or pathetically tries to deny it while still actively getting turned on which you can make fun of him for. It’s kind of little conversational trap.

Also keep in mind tone for all of this, I think that kind of condescending, patronizing, overly sweet tone is my go to. It’s kind of like everything he is doing is so cute but in a way thats actively demeaning to him. You don’t have to do that though. A Genuine sounding sweet voice can be very fun if you incorporate a bit more degration. Like someone sounding 100% sincerely nice while they’re calling you degrading names and making fun of you is super hot. Just find what works for the both of you. If it’s flirting over text then there’s only so much you can do but writing out the occasional condescending “awww” or telling him how irl you’re giggling at him can kind of bridge that gap. But like say those things honestly, don’t make up how you’re reacting just share it with him if it’ll add to the dirty talk.

Anyway hope this all helps, break that guys mind for me <3

#trans nsft #t4t nsft #mtf dom #mtf nsft #ftm nsft #gooobraghhh asks

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loveandpeaceanddoughnuts · 22 hours ago

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Hiiii I recently found your account and love your writing.

Would you be able to write something angsty for Levi where the reader gets seriously injured while out on a mission? I’d like it to be really angsty but whatever you want to do I’m good with!

Hi lovely anon, thank you so much for your kind words and this request!! I've dabbled in angst here and there, but this is definitely the darkest I've gone. I was surprised to find I really enjoyed writing it! Maybe there's more angst in my future hm...

Anyways THANK YOU again for sending this, I love hearing from readers and love requests! I'm sorry that it took me so long to get back to you, I hope you still see this and that you enjoy it if you do!

don't fall away from me: Levi x Scout!Reader angst

[tw: hurt/no comfort, heavy angst as requested!, injury/gore, spoilers for No Regrets, mentioned (not actual) vomiting // wc: 2k // ao3 // set before the fall of Shiganshina]

It wasn't often that you and Levi were separated for missions these days. A combination of luck and called-in favors from the Captain meant that most days and nights you were by each other's side, sometimes worse for wear, but together, at least.

But luck didn't last forever, and Levi wasn't all-powerful. You had been sent on a long-term mission beyond the walls, leading a troop of Scouts to establish an outpost farther than the Regiment had ever been able to put down roots. It was risky, but if successful, would pay off immediately, filling in new corners of the Eldian map. Levi stayed behind, part of Erwin's private detail as the Commander lobbied for more funding.

Levi hated it. Hated the pompous bastards he had to deal with, the tasteless displays of wealth in the inner walls, and worst of all, that it kept him from you. But you had reassured him as you always did, strong arms around his neck and soft lips against his. "I'll be home soon, Levi. Wait for me." He saw your squad off, raised his hand in a stern wave, watching until you and your horse disappeared over the horizon.

It wouldn't last forever, he reminded himself. You were tough. So was he- a few weeks away was nothing in the grand scheme of things. And he'd seen you take down enough titans to know that they should be afraid of you. The memory made his chest swell with a quiet pride. You were a damn good soldier, and you were his. He'd make sure to remind you of both when you came home.

That was the hope that kept Levi patient as he waited out the weeks. Once the political posturing was over, he took his stress out on the spiders that had taken up residence in the rafters of the scouts' barracks. Hange was heard laughing quietly to Moblit that HQ was always cleanest when you were away. Luckily for them, Levi didn't overhear, too busy chasing his worry away with a dustrag.

The morning of your squad's return dawned clear, the sun cresting the Walls like it anticipated your arrival as much as Levi did. The Captain had been up before then- fussing over his hair and straightening his cravat needlessly, wanting to appear cool and calm when he rode out to meet you. You were sure to tease him otherwise. It had become something of a game to see who could spot the other first at your homecomings, waiting just inside the gate or, if impatience got the best of you, riding out to meet the other on some pretense.

He sipped from the teacup between his fingers, hiding a smile as he thought about the look on your face. Your eyes always lit up, your grim on-duty expression melting into relief, excitement- love, when you saw him again. He was almost sure it was love. Little as he knew about the subject, anyway. Hoped it was, would've prayed it was if he had any faith. Because Levi loved you. He hadn't admitted it yet, but the weeks of separation had shown him just how much he had grown to rely on you, to cherish your shared moments, the light you shone in the dark corners of his life.

Maybe he didn't need to seem cool and calm, this time. He allowed himself to believe that you'd missed him as much as he missed you. That certainty carried the Captain to his horse, through the gates, out on a hard ride through the outskirts of the walled city, until he saw the blurry forms of your squad through the morning mist. His carefully fixed hair fell back into messy bangs across his forehead as he urged his horse faster, his body taut with both exertion and excitement. You were almost home.

He searched for your face in the crowd of green-cloaked soldiers to no avail. Maybe you were scouting ahead, or keeping watch from the rear. He shook off the icy tendrils of fear that crept down his neck. Surely that was all. Levi looked to the rest of your squad, but they didn't meet his eyes. Some of them limped, some held bandaged limbs, others leaned on their comrades. The tendrils turned into choking vines.

Levi reared his horse in front of the ragged procession and leveled them with a glare. "Where is she?" Silence. He gritted his teeth, his voice a sword. "I won't repeat myself."

A single Scout stepped out from the ranks. Levi recognized her as a young recruit; this would have been one of her first missions. She gestured at a covered wagon hitched to the horse behind her. "She saved us, Captain." The girl's voice wavered, then broke. "We wouldn't be here if she hadn't-"

Levi didn't know if she finished her sentence. He was already off his horse and shoving past her, his mind a wall of white noise. Somehow he was standing beside the wagon, ripping the cover back with shaking hands-

In the days and weeks that followed, every Scout from that ill-fated mission would swear on their lives that the Captain maintained his composure in that moment. Whether in solidarity or out of the fear that came from watching the collapse of something unbreakable. Every last person there that day would deny that they ever heard Levi sob.

The sound tore from him helplessly, choked horror in the back of his throat. Your bloodless lips were parted, your hair strewn across the packs of gear they’d propped you on. Your arms lay limply atop a rough blanket that hid everything below your chest. When Levi reached for your hand, pressing it to his cheek, you were cold. He whispered your name, but you didn’t stir.

With effort, Levi tore his gaze from your body and whirled on the soldier that had revealed you. “Tell me what happened.”

In fits and starts, she managed the story. It had happened so fast, she said, the night watch asleep in the newly constructed outpost, the early sunrise revealing a trio of titans surrounding the camp, all teeth and eager eyes. 15m class and hungry, scrabbling at their tents, waking up to a nightmare.

You had slept in your gear- Levi clenched his fists against a sudden surge of nausea. You always teased him about his habit, sleeping sitting up or fully clothed, ready for anything. But out there, on your own, you had done the same. Did you think of him as you fell asleep? The girl was still speaking, her gaze far away. You had sprung into action, using the titans themselves as anchors to fly at their nape out there in the vast flatness of the wild.

You dispatched two quickly- of course, Levi thought, of course she did- but the third- the girl stopped to drag the back of her hand across her mouth, swallowing a dry heave. Levi had to resist the urge to shake her, to make her keep talking- but she soon continued in a whisper.

"The last titan caught her in it's teeth. It was a blur, we didn't see, only heard a- heard a snap, and a scream... we cut it's Achilles tendons, brought it to it's knees, and she fell..." The scout trailed off, her jaw working soundlessly as she remembered. "The wound, wounds- they weren't clean, sir." Her voice was a strained apology. She wobbled, clearly spent, and Levi turned away.

He stepped back toward the wagon where you lay. Levi took a slow breath, reaching into the depths of himself to find the strength to look at what hid beneath the blanket. He peeled it back, hissing through his teeth when the fabric caught on patches of drying, tacky blood.

It took a moment for Levi to process what he was seeing. Your lower body was a torn mess of crimson, contrasting hideously against the stark white of exposed bone protruding from your mangled calf. He could see the titan's attack written on your flesh- the purpling crush of teeth along your thighs and the shredded aftermath of those jaws tearing down to your ankles. The smears of dirt and gore told him how you were dragged along, out of the titan's clenching jaw, off the battlefield.

This is a dream. A nightmare. Levi told himself, clinging to it with a childish desperation that he thought had been beaten out of him long ago. He tried to swallow but his throat had gone cotton-dry. His tongue cleaved mute to the roof of his mouth. This isn't real.

He blinked, and suddenly it was Furlan in your shredded uniform, or you in his. A dizzy panic clawed up Levi's chest. He shook his head, looked away and back- and the scene changed. The hollowed pallor of your cheeks was that of his mother's corpse, a dim memory of hell. He thought he might be sick, thought wildly that he couldn't vomit in front of the other Scouts, couldn't let them see such filthy weakness- but that was forgotten when you opened your eyes.

You stared blindly at the wide, wide sky, and Levi saw Isabel in your place. Not again. Please, not again. He watched your chest rise and fall like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth, like he was the one willing it to continue. Please.

"Le-vi...?" Your voice shocked him into sanity. He cupped your cheeks in trembling hands.

"I'm here, I'm here," he rasped. "I've got you. Stay with me."

You slowly dragged your fingers through the blood on your uniform, then held them in front of your face. You didn't seem to understand where it came from, what had happened. Levi moved into your sightline. You reached for him, but your head lolled and your arm fell back in the next instant. Levi caught your hand and lifted it the rest of the way, pressing your bloody fingers to his lips.

"I'm here," he repeated, fixated again on the defiant movement of your chest as you slipped back into unconsciousness. "I'll protect you."

The other soldiers were shuffling about, some trying to quiet their nervous horses. Levi forced himself to inject authority into his voice, to project some stability on the surface as he crumbled within, never taking his eyes from your face. "I'm riding back with you. Let's go."

Eager to go home, the camp moved quickly at his order. Someone hitched Levi's horse to the wagon were you lay, seeing that the Captain wasn't about to leave your side.

Your body seemed to shift before Levi's eyes, a mist poured into the shape of the ones he had already failed, already lost. Their corpses laid atop yours, or beside you, or sprawled at your feet until he forced them away, the sight of your breathing like a talisman. Your blood dried and flaked on his cheek, but he hardly felt the itch. His cravat lay abandoned on the filthy floor.

Every jolt of the wheels made him grit his teeth, fighting down a surge of rage at the horses, the stones that made them stumble, the ground itself for not softening for you. He wanted to carry you home himself, wanted to tear off his own legs and offer them up for you. He wanted to wake up.

He spoke to you, the words pouring out, unstoppable. Vows to protect you, spiraling into impossibility- he'd kill every last titan to make sure they never touched you again, he'd give you his blood to replace what you'd lost, he'd burn down the world to keep you warm.

Confessions that had never passed his lips before, spilling into the space between you, overflowing helplessly in a whisper you couldn't hear. "I love you. Did you know that? Could you tell?" He choked on it. "I fucking love you. I didn't want to, but I do, and I need you to come back, so I can tell you to your goddamn face."

He couldn't stop touching you, kneeling at your side, his legs long gone numb. He brushed the stringy hair from your forehead, warmed your hands in his, smoothed the blanket back over your wounds. When there was nothing left to do, he did it all over again, repeating the words until they hung in the air and piled over your body, still breathing, only just.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Please.

#esperanza requests #esperanza answers #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi angst #aot angst #hurt/no comfort #injured reader #heavy angst #aot levi #aot oneshots #traumatized levi #captain levi

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