#but the guilt from their past actions is very much there and it's the question of

[silverspadesss]

whether i’m talking about dreamworks’ or neverafter’s puss in boots, one thing is clear: they both relate to little lion man by mumford and sons.

[hannieehaee]

hi good morning! (or afternoon or evening)

how about a svt scenario thing where you’re an idol (and dating them) and you get injured by a crazy saesang that’s obsessed with your s/o?

basically, y/n is an idol in a popular group and at a fansign event, a saesang rushes towards her and attacks her, injuring her with smth (there’s blood) and vroom hospital etc etc. how would svt react?

idk this has been my brain-worm for the past few days

thank you 😊 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

a sasaeng attacking their idol!reader gf

content: mentions of stalking, mentions of being attacked, mentions of injuries, mentions of hospitalization, reader is an idol, a lil angsty, etc.

wc: 1559

a/n: thank u so much for ur request! sorry for the delay hehe (these scenarios are assuming ur relationship is public knowledge btw <3)

masterlist

seungcheol -

no one had ever seen him this angry. even his members kept away from him upon noticing his furious demeanor after getting a call from your manager informing him that you had been taken to the hospital to tend to some bruises and scratches you had undergone after one of his stalker fans had quite literally jumped at you from across the table, having made themselves pass as your fan. would not comment on it publicly, simply choosing to cut his promotions short and taking a quick break to tend to you. the only thing to alleviate his anger would be your presence and knowing that you were now safe. would demand both pledis and your own company enforce better security, incredibly frustrated that you even got a single scratch on you due to their negligence.

jeonghan -

not being one to hide his emotions from fans, he would express frustration at it, mentioning it on live when consistently questioned about it. would state his disappointment, but would make it clear this was directed at fans who knew their actions were morally wrong. he would probably not do much about it other than make sure your security amped up, not wanting to get in the way of your own idol career or draw more attention to this, but having your security as top priority. would put extra focus in babying you and tending to you at any and every moment he was off work.

joshua -

he'd be very emotionally affected by it. you'd be able to tell by his quieted down demeanor after the incident that he felt put off by any public appearance, thinking that anyone around him could be a crazed fan who wanted to inflict pain on his loved ones. would continue schedules as normal, but his personality would remain tame for a while, while he recovered emotionally from the guilt he felt at indirectly putting you in danger. he'd feel extremely apologetic towards you, even if you told him you were fine and did not blame him for any of it.

jun -

his lighthearted demeanor would shift immediately. he would take a hiatus, taking you with him to china so he could have you to himself for a month or so. would not care about any repercussions to his idol career, considering your safety the top priority. would become serious for a while, only bringing back his loving and playful personality when interacting with you or any of his other loved ones. would never speak about this publicly once he came back from break, simply acting as if nothing happened. he would've had to demand both your company and pledis amp up any and all security for you the moment you came back from your own hiatus.

soonyoung -

the usually lighthearted and silly boy would turn stoic for a while. he'd never express his frustrations outwardly, but would now feel a constant sense of disappointment at both himself and at any crazed fan who would ever dare even think of putting their hands on you. would be super apologetic to you, begging you to not end it because of this incident. the only thing that would calm him down would be your reassurance that it'd take far more than one obsessed fan to drive you away from him. would dedicate all his free time to you and take on a more protective attitude towards you.

wonwoo -

would probably go on a short hiatus. you were one of the most important people in his life. he had kept the relationship secret as much as he could, but after dispatch outed you two as a couple, you had begun to receive more threats than usual. now not only from your own stalker fans but from his too. would be absolutely devastated he was the cause of your pain. he could never leave you out of his sight again, feeling an innate need to protect you. would stay gone and just be with you for a few months before returning to his idol duties, never speaking publicly about what happened.

jihoon -

pure disgust and annoyance. the same way he calls out sasaengs on live for pestering him with calls, he would bring this up too. saying that he's tried to ignore it but that some things go too far. would feel bad if any other carats felt uncomfortable by his scolding, but would feel so incredibly frustrated the love of his life was put in danger due to someone liking him way too much for safety. scared you might feel like this is too much to deal with, but would respect if you decided the relationship was just not worth the pain. would thank you immensely the moment you told him he's worth all hurdles, that you simply needed better security.

seokmin -

it was rare to see seokmin angry, and he had never been this angry. fans would be able to tell after the incident that his demeanor had shifted completely. would take him about a week or so to go back to his bubbly self while in public, having gotten the scare of his life when he got a call from your manager claiming that an obsessed dk fan had launched at you at a fansign, makeshift weapon in hand as they managed to mangle some of the skin of your arm before being swiftly taken away by security. he wouldn't go on hiatus, but he'd spend every passing minute with you as he apologized and reassured you no one would ever hurt a hair off your head ever again.

mingyu -

would also go on a quick hiatus. he hates calling out crazed fans, knowing it only incites them to do deranged things like this even more, being aware that they'll do anything to get a reaction out of him. so he wouldn't give them one. he would simply step back from idol duties for a while, joining you in your own hiatus as you emotionally (and physically) recovered from the attack. would try and give you an out, telling you that if dating him put you in danger then maybe you should reconsider your options, he would always love you but he would understand. would feel instant relief the moment you cursed him out, telling him a few injuries were not enough to drive you away. he'd swear to never let you out of his sight again.

minghao -

another member who would be extremely angry. would do his best to stand by you and show his support towards you even if it meant putting your relationship even more into the public eye. you would be his one and only priority. he would bring it up at some point in an interview or statement, airing out his frustrations at sasaengs who thought of him as anything more than an idol. would put a brake on fan-idol interactions even more now, now even toning down most of his fanservice to avoid fans getting the wrong idea that he'd ever look their way when he had you.

seungkwan -

just absolutely terrified. he'd never felt more fear in his life than the moment his manager informed him of the news that you were in the hospital due to one of his stalker fans attacking you. would feel incredibly guilty and beg you for forgiveness as he visited you at the hospital. the only relief he felt at the situation would be your insistence in telling him you were fine and that this would not break your relationship. he'd become overly attached and protective of you, demanding his own company to provide security for you, claiming that this was a personal issue and that he would not rest unless you were as protected as possible.

vernon -

would be brooding and cold for a while. he would've dealt with the situation behind the scenes, not wanting anyone to see his reaction, knowing that acknowledging the situation publicly would only cause more crazed fans to try and do the same. he'd back away from the public for a while, only participating in any mandatory schedules and even then he would keep himself hidden in the back as much as possible. would feel a little guilty for technically punishing all fans when it was only a few who acted like this, but would need some time to recover from having put the love of his life in danger.

chan -

this was brand new territory for him, so he would feel absolutely taken by surprise. he never would have imagined someone to try and come after the love of his life, much less under the claim that it was for his own good. no words could describe the guilt he felt at seeing you at the hospital, scratches in your face showing the damage the fan was able to inflict before security pulled them away. would curse at your security team, claiming this couldve been way worse, and that they risked your life. would also apologize for his part in it, knowing that if he was out of the picture this never wouldve happened. would take a short break from idol activities to spend a week with you holed up at a safe location, spending the entire time showing you how much he cared for you and how he would protect you from now on.

[youngbounty]

Something I noticed in The Boy Wonder #3 is how it shows Damian’s envy for Tim. It isn’t like with Jason, who believed Tim was a replacement for him. This is Damian wanting what Tim has and feeling unworthy because he doesn’t have it. It’s only in this issue that we see the shadow of Ra’s saying “weakness.”

The first time this is heard is when he’s with Tim talking about their plan. The narrator goes over how Damian is only working with Tim due to his failure to capture the demon in the last issue with Jason. This is the first time we see Ra’s shadow saying “weakness.” This is referring to Damian’s need for a chaperone or what he thinks is a chaperone. As readers that keep up with the Bats, we know Batman is only using this to teach Damian and Tim to work as a team.

The second time is at the gala when Tim is talking with Penguin, who offers him food and riches. Damian clearly despises this and finds Tim’s actions abhorrent. In Damian’s mind, Tim is using his father’s wealth to dulge himself in greed and gluttony. Those that keep up with the Bat comics know that Tim is putting on an act to extract information. However, Damian doesn’t see that. We see the shadow of Ra’s saying “weakness” once again, referring to Tim’s actions and why Damian refuses to participate.

The third time is when Damian leaves to do Robin work and Tim refuses to tag along. He questions Damian’s trust, believing he feels guilty for cutting the man’s head off, but questions if Damian feels bad because it is wrong or because he got caught. Ra’s shadow says “weakness” once again, showing a deeper meaning of what Damian considers “weak.” Even just feeling guilt or questioning his past guilt is considered weak in Damian’s eyes.

The final time is after Tim reveals his favor with Penguin was an act to go after the demon Damian is after. Damian confronts that he only made the incorrect assumption of Tim because he felt threatened by him, wanting to be more worthy than him. This time, Talia’s shadow joins in and we see a shadow of a dejected Damian. He feels greatly ashamed more for allowing his insecurities drive his choices instead of working with Tim or trusting him. Even his mother would disapprove, who ironically was the one who taught him the disgusting nature of gluttony and greed.

These show the root of Damian’s feelings toward Tim: envy. He feels this way because Tim has everything he wants. This makes sense when you consider the past comics. Unlike Jason or Dick, Tim is much closer to Damian’s age. He only got recently adopted, but was Robin way before when his parents were alive. He is not the blood son of Batman and was defeated easily by Damian, yet still has Batman’s trust and worthiness Damian doesn’t have. Tim isn’t broken like Jason or decided his own legacy like Dick, Barbara or Stephanie. Even when Dick took Batman’s mantle, Damian was expected to take it after he was older.

As a result, Damian sees himself as weak, unworthy and undeserving of the Robin mantle he was given. It feels that he only got to be Robin because of his eldest brother, not his father. Damian wants approval, he wants to be worthy of what he’s given.

From here, we see Damian pushing Tim out of the way to save him. It gives him the question he’s been ignoring, likely the very question he took as weakness: would Damian put his life on the line for another, then be strong enough to remember who he is when others try to force him on a different path?

Juni Ba makes it clear that Damian wants only approval he never truly had. His tension towards Tim was never out of hate, but jealousy. It’s only once confronting his insecurities that Damian is able to show us that he never hated Tim. That is his brother he will always put his life on the line for.

[marcsburnerphone]

Wish to make up

Captain John price x f!reader

Summary:being johns’ wife has been full of security and safety and you never thought he’d be the one to taint that.

Warnings: angst,(hurt/comfort, 141 task force loves you, price is full of guilt, reader is struggling to process her feelings, they makeup

Finally a part three.

——————-

You woke with heavy arms draped around your waist. The memory of falling asleep is nonexistent just like your want to continue to lay here. You’re frustrated and still deprived of sleep and it’s all because of the man laying happily beside you. With dainty hands you carefully lift his arm and slip out of bed setting it right beside him. Tip toeing out of the bedroom without waking him was light work, what wouldn’t be light work is getting into your car and driving to your best friend's house which also happened to be Gaz’s sister. Were you making this a bigger deal than what it should be, maybe? But are you going to manipulate yourself into acting like it doesn’t hurt, no? Time and space is what your mind was chanting. Maybe that’s what it would take cause he apologized already, even left base to do so but still that icky feeling that sticks to your heart like honey is becoming like a second tissue. With keys in your hand and house slippers on, you make your way to the door confident that you’ll be fast enough.

“Where are you going?” Confidence isn’t always key.

“I- I um I’m going to lanes.” You say turning to face him at the end of the hallway.

“Why?” It’s blunt and laced with pure confusion.

“Cause I want to.” Your eyebrows creased at the obvious answer.

“You never leave when I come home.” His eyes don’t look away from yours for a second, you're actually not even sure if he’s blinked in the past two awkward minutes.

“Well John, the circumstances on this arrival are very different.” He hums in response waiting for you to say more but when you don’t he continues.

“What can I do?” He asks exasperated.

“What?” It’s your turn to return that same energy.

“I'm not sure what I can do further than apologize and come home to show you I’m truly sorry for my actions so now I’m asking what more can I do?” He looks more slouchy than usual, actually than ever John usually holds his head high and his shoulder back right now he just looks tired.

“I just need some space John and time cause I too don’t know what you can do.” Those words shred him apart. He finally looks away and to the side door that leads into the patio.

“Just a little till I calm down or something.” You're trying to make it sound a little less heavy.

“Or something? So should I leave then.” He’s anxiously chewing on his lower lip, something you’ve cursed him for in the past.

“If you’d like but this is your home also.” He laughs and it’s absent of humor.

“How long?” He asks.

“How long?” You return his question confused.

“How much time and space are you asking of me?”

“I’m not sure?” Truthfully you weren’t.

“For fucks sake my love.” He whispers and it’s killing him.

“We’ve just never been in this position before so it’s new and confusing and I’m angry but I love you but it hurts and it’s so unlike you to make me feel this way so I’m sorry but this is the consequence of your own actions and I won’t be the one to apologize, now can you please move your car cause I’ve just noticed your blocking me in.” You couldn’t have even left if you wanted. Oh does god have his ways of working.

He silently walks past you grabbing his keys off the rack by the door and swiftly gets into his car, starting it and backs up signaling for you to exit. You’re now sitting in your car starting it wondering if this is how you should be handling this. But nonetheless you leave and he pulls into your spot. When you get home you figure then you’ll have your thoughts pulled together and you’ll work it out like you know you can.

———-

“Lane but you don’t understand he yelled at me like I wasn’t his wife or any respected person.” It’s been an entire hour of you crying then getting angry at the whole situation again to your poor friend.

“And has he ever done it before in the past three-four years?” Her eyebrow is raised but her tone is soft.

“No but that’s not the point; he's done it now.” The sass in your tone makes her smile.

“Did he apologize?”

“Yes.” You say bluntly.

“So you're punishing him for losing his cool, which he is wrong for but then he apologized and if I remember this right he also came to apologize in person and he’s never done this before.” She’s simply stating facts.

“Well when you put it like that.” You whisper looking out of the open window.

“You're not looking at the bigger picture. I’ve been married, divorced and now remarried. And what I’ve learned from it is love and marriage is a gift but hard fucking work.”

“You had a first husband?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah ages before Dan, his name was Lucas and he was my first love. He was an angry man though I was always doing something wrong in his eyes and all hell broke loose when he was upset. I don’t think he ever once apologized for it though, I did though every single time.” You can tell but the creases between her brows still hurt from it.

“I’m so sorry.” Your worries probably look so stupid in her eyes.

“Dan and I have gotten into it before and it was his fault, something similar to your situation. I had accidentally spilled coffee on his work desk one late night when I brought it to him, it soiled some papers and he lost it. I worried that I was dating Lucas number two till I saw the look in his eyes when all was said and done. He looked devastated, I mean absolutely torn. He apologized immediately and cleaned up the mess he apologizes to this day for it. Sometimes all people can do is apologize because words can’t be taken back but trust can be rebuilt and we love them so much that forgiveness is the only option to moving forward.”

You hum and smile at her warm gaze that’s now laid upon you.

“Do you ever get scared he’ll do it again?”

“No and even if he does I know his heart. We’re human for Christ's sake. I've also said some hurtful things to him when I was stressed. But we know each other and don’t take it in vain.”

The pause in silence is carried in like a warm breeze as you sit and let her words soak in.

“Now if John does it again I’ll kick his ass.” It’s sincere.

You laugh with your entire being at that cause Lane has always kept her word.

“Well in that case I guess I can forgive him.”

“He loves you darling. I’ve known John Price since Gaz first introduced me to him maybe 8 years ago and that man has never looked at or loved someone as gently as he loves you.”

“Was I foolish to make such a big deal out of it?”

She laughs

“No, I cried for a whole night non stop when Dan yelled at me and that whole night he was the one to hold and comfort me. I even told him to just leave to pack up and go but he stayed and was patient and caring and that’s when I knew that man is my forever.”

“John held me this evening while I slept. He actually didn’t want me to leave but still moved his car when I asked so I could go.”

“That man wouldn’t stop you from doing what you wanted even if it’d hurt him.”

“I should go home now, Thankyou for listening to me. I'll come by tomorrow and tell you how it went.”

“Okay honey you get home safe.”

————

On the drive home you just let yourself think. Think of all the times you’ve given John attitude and even the time you’d called him a stupid wanker when he accidentally threw your expensive facial cream that he’d bought away and how he’d taken it with a grain of salt and got you a new one. How the one time you’d scraped the side of his brand new truck and cried to him while explaining what happened and he’d laughed and gotten it repainted the next morning. You’d thought about how so perfect your husband has been, so perfect that you forgot he could be human.

When you pulled into the driveway your heart dropped at the sight of his empty Parking spot. Had he really left? I mean sure your invitation to stay wasn’t so welcoming.

You put your car in park and cried. Cried at how he hurt you and did the only thing he could which was apologize then you cried at how he left all because you basically implied that that is what you wanted and cried about how much you just wanted him to hold you now.

Your car got too cold to sit in so you made your way to the door and inside, unsurprisingly John turned the heater on for you. A cup of tea would surely soothe the hurt.

You sat at the kitchen island sipping from the mug you’d hoped would cure the heavy feeling in your chest. He didn’t even leave a note or a text but then again you told him you needed space.

Lost in thought your forehead pressed to the cold counter, tears slipping mindlessly from your eyes the sound of keys jangling by the door made your head perk up.

Heavy footsteps made their way towards the kitchen when no other than your husband walked in carrying two grocery bags.

“John.” You blinked so heavily relieved at the sight of him.

“Jesus love you scared me.” He doesn’t jump or give any indication that you’d scared him other than the words.

“You didn’t leave.” Your bottom lip quivers and you beg for the tears to stay in your eyeballs.

“Have I ever left without saying goodbye?” He says, setting the bags down and slowly approaching you with caution and softly cupping your face.

You said no more and leant into his strong chest. His arms immediately wrapped around you pulling you in tight. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as a warm scruffy kiss was planted on your temple.

After what felt like forever you parted from him and looked silently into his eyes.

“My love I’m desperately sorry, I’ll say it for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes I just-”

“I know.” You cut him off and caress his cheek lightly as he turns his head planting a kiss to your palm.

“You don’t have to forgive me.” He assures you.

You pull him towards you urging him to kiss you. He complies with no complaints and when your lips meet it's like every speck of worry in this universe fades to none.

“Lane has a way with words I can assume, just like her brother.” John mutters when you pull apart. You laugh and lean your head onto his chest just a bit below his heart listening to the soothing rhythm of it. He sways the two of you side to side and somehow he makes it feel like the earth spins just for you

——————

The holidays have been rough and oh god am I exhausted but nonetheless I can’t Thankyou enough for reading, commenting and showing me an unbelievable amount of support my heart is with you guys.

Comments and reposts are always appreciated <3

@floffytofu @fictionallifestuff

[meowkunas]

"Come here." Yuji slips a hand onto the small of your back and tries to bring you next to him instead of letting you trail along behind him. The crowd surrounding you doesn't let him.

"You okay?" You mumble, somehow managing to bump your shoulder against his. You're used to Yuji's doting by now, but he's strangely focused on you today.

He doesn't respond. The noise of the crowd seems to disappear into the background as you catch sight of his facial expression — a tenseness between his brows and a vacant look in his eyes, plus he's not even looking in your direction. It's a sign that he's been running on autopilot with you for at least the past ten minutes. You curse yourself for not noticing it sooner.

You try again. "Yuji?"

"Huh?" He turns back to meet your gaze. Whatever internal stress he's been working through is replaced quickly with a smile. You wouldn't have known he was faking if you hadn't caught his facial expression before. How many times have you missed something like this? "Just don't want to lose you in the crowd!" He says cheerfully, curling his hand into your shirt and then splaying his fingers out repeatedly. A nervous action. One of many that you're still figuring out.

"Yuji." You say, managing to guide him through the crowd to a quieter corner. "Are you okay?"

He hesitates and his gaze shifts from your face to a spot behind you. "Mm."

"That's not an answer."

"I know, I know! I'm just thinking."

"About?"

Yuji shrugs his shoulders, shifting his gaze away.

Don't do this. You want to say. Please burden me with whatever it is you're worried about. Please don't—

It feels difficult to swallow. "Do you want to just go watch a movie instead?"

"No way!" His eyes are wide, almost panicked. "You've been wanting to go to that dessert place forever."

Shaking your head, you reach forward and cup his cheeks between your palms, squishing slightly so that he's forced to look at you. "And it'll still be there tomorrow, and hopefully, the day after." You pause, whispering your next words. "Not asking for me right now, Yuji. Do you want to go today? Right now?"

He seems to deflate slightly at your question, but hesitantly and so slowly, he shakes his head. You catch his eyes flicker and you know he's about to come up with an apology, churned from the guilt he feels from burdening you with this, and perhaps, for wrenching away whatever happy moment he thinks he's stolen away from you.

"Okay." You say, simply.

Sometimes it's impossible to tell what he's thinking. Sometimes he gets very quiet and vulnerable. Being constantly loud and friendly covers that stark difference a bit too obviously. It's at times like this that you wish you could say the words directly into his brain so he gets it quicker.

I'm here. I'm here. Yuji, focus. I'm here. There's only so much you can do.

"Let's go." You murmur, sliding your hand into his.

This will have to do.

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

here’s why the situation with bismuth says a lot about rose’s dynamic with pearl

surprisingly, the bismuth episode says a lot about rose’s feelings for pearl.

rose kept many secrets, but pearl carried some of the heaviest ones. at first, rose felt guilty about the fact that pearl was keeping such big secrets for her.

but by the end of the war, rose was keeping a huge secret from pearl

“we thought you’d been captured. or worse, shattered.” — pearl, bismuth

rose knew how close pearl was to bismuth, but she lied to everyone about what happened, claiming bismuth had been lost in battle. she even acted “worried sick,” as pearl describes when bismuth comes back. for thousands of years, pearl believed bismuth was probably dead.

as we know, rose was deeply ashamed of herself and her past. she believed that everyone around her was better than her & she also really admired pearl. the guilt of lying to pearl was overwhelming, but rose was very afraid to tell pearl the truth. she also couldn’t bear the thought of losing her… but at the same time, the guilt made her feel unworthy of being close to her.

this guilt caused rose to become avoidant and distant—not because she didn’t care, and not because she didn’t trust pearl.

she didn’t trust herself. she couldn’t imagine a life without pearl, but she also felt like all she did was cause pain and she was terrified of hurting pearl again.

rose’s dishonesty (and being too afraid to tell pearl the truth) is also very related to rose’s trauma on homeworld. when it was known that she messed up, rose would be met with pain (punishment) or abandonment (being locked in a tower). rose trusted pearl, but taking accountability scared her because on homeworld, these situations never ended in anything positive, such as forgiveness and fixing things for the better. rose also believed she deserved to be abandoned if she messed up. self-compassion was something rose struggled with deeply.

pearl, on the other hand, didn’t understand rose’s avoidance and hesitancy until much later, after learning the truth about bismuth

before this, pearl was insecure & she struggled with self blame. this is tied to her homeworld trauma—the belief that her worth is defined by what she can do for others. she wondered if she had done something wrong and she questioned whether she “wasn’t good enough” for rose to love her as much as she loved rose.

but rose was very, very in love with her; it’s been confirmed that their love was never unrequited, so it’s funny that some people in the fandom assume this before thinking about bismuth

rose never distanced herself because she didn’t love pearl; she did it because of guilt and shame. she did it because she didn’t believe she deserved someone who made her so happy.

& here’s something interesting: pearl continued to love rose after she found out the truth. she showed no signs of wishing she left her. in reunited, she thought everything i do, i do it for her while she was fighting. she would never see this action as being okay or defensible, and she likely felt some bitterness for awhile which is understandable. but she never stopped loving her, nor did she want to abandon her.

by the way, i think that lying about bismuth was one of rose’s worst actions. i don’t think this makes her a bad person, especially because she felt guilty about this lie. i just hope you guys know that this analysis isn’t me trying to justify what she did. it wasn’t okay! the whole purpose of writing this is just to show that rose really was in love with pearl. her behaviours are never from a place of not being in love with her—they’re from a place of having her own issues and feeling undeserving of love from someone like pearl.

[blankiebloo]

So weak.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort

Wanderer has never been good at comforting people, so now that you're sitting in his lap, crying into your hands about how rude people have been, he just sits there awkwardly with his hands on your waist—not knowing what to do. He's tried to comfort you to the best of his abilities, by gently rubbing your back up and down, shushing you gently, anything he could think of, but it didn't work.

With a sigh, he finally decides to speak. "You're kind of weak, you know?" His words shock you, your sobbing subsiding as you raise your head and look at him.

"What..?" You mutter, looking at him hurt and like you're about to start sobbing even harder.

He lets out a soft scoff at the sight of your face, bringing a hand up and stroking your hair slowly. "Pff- See? Pathetic. You chose to only listen to me once I said something rude; is that how you are with everyone?" He questions, speaking with a mocking tone that doesn't match his sweet actions. "If the only way you'll listen to me is if I'm making fun of you, then I suppose I'll have to call you weak everyday."

You sit there in silence for a moment, before let out a quiet sniffle and crying again. Wanderer goes stiff, looking at your face and then looking away, feeling guilt rise inside of him.

He calmly rubs up and down your side, as well as pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Sorry.." He whispers, moving his hand from your side to your chin and moving your head to look at him. "You're not weak, but could you just listen to me?"

You comply and look at him, waiting for him to say something, but he's silent for a while—just staring at your face. Something about you being vulnerable just makes his heart ache and his cheeks turn pink, this feeling of love he feels that he would've called filth in his past life—yet he cherishes now with you.

With a groan, and a roll of his eyes, he cups both of your cheeks and wipes away your tears away, staring into your eyes with a soft look in his eyes. "You're not weak, [Name], you just care too much about how others think of you." He speaks softly, his words of comfort being a slight shock to you. "You're quite strong, and very persistent—heck, you've dealt with my insufferable ass long to this point. You just need to see how... amazing you are." He seems to cringe a bit at himself when he compliments you, it's a weird thing to hear from him specifically.

Even with how odd it is to hear such kind words from him, it makes you feel better, a soft smile showing on your face as you hug him, catching him by surprise. "Thank you, Wanderer," you mutter, practically squeezing him in your hold. He looks back at you with surprise, his cheeks going bright red out of embarrassment as he reluctantly hugs you back.

"Tch... whatever." He grumbles, looking off to the side, to keep him from staring at you for too long.

A/N: Hi, back at it again with the random short fics. Anyways, I think Wanderer would have a hard time comforting someone, especially since he tries to act all tough all the time.

As always, if you have a request for me, please check this out first! Have a wonderful day/afternoon/night everyone! ~Blank!♡

[miyacults]

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them���Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

[silaslich]

May I make a request for a sequel to "In A Grave so we feel safe"? Something about it scratches an itch in my brain just right. Idk why, I think I just like it when you make 'im mean. 🫣🫣

Our skin starts to rot

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Summary - following from this. Simon hangs around despite the way he treats you like he can’t stand you. The feeling is mutual- to a point.

Wc - 3.8k

Cw - 18+, MDNI, GHOST IS NOT NICE, reader also is not nice, vomiting/purging, referenced/implied drug+alcohol abuse, coercive behaviour, mention of past trauma, smut, fingering, oral (r!receiving), kinda better dynamic toward the end but not really

Your fingernails scrape harshly over the roof of your mouth, and when you look into the bowl of the toilet- you see red.

You gather what’s left of the bile and blood in your mouth with your tongue and spit. Wanting rid of it. Needing to be rid of every last bit of it. All the shame and the guilt and the anxiety, it’s all churned up in your stomach, bought back up with whatever you’d managed to eat last night. Tears sting your eyes from the force and effort of purging, your spine bowed as you grip the white porcelain. Everything hurts. Your body aches. There’s a headache that is pounding like a drum behind your eyes.

The weight of his stare falls over you and so does the shame. You hear him sneer.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” He doesn’t sound as concerned as he should be considering the subject of his question.

There’s a broken laugh that’s hiccuped from your lungs as you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

“Would it matter to you if I was?” There isn’t anything he can say to make this okay, you’d be happier if he didn’t answer at all. It doesn’t even take him a second to think.

“No” it’s clipped. There’s no emotion there.

You nod to yourself but you don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. There never is. Holding a conversation with him is futile. It’s a waste of fucking breath.

He moves away, you can tell by the sound of his feet scuffing across the floor. Finally- you’re left alone. Allowed out of his sight. Not because he’s concerned, or because he cares. It’s because he wants the control. He knows that you like your own space. He knows that you don’t appreciate it when he lurks over you like a shadow. That’s exactly why he does it. It’s a tactic, like everything else he does, it’s calculated. He’s smarter than he looks- you’ll give him that.

He’s smart enough to know that, no, you aren’t pregnant. And there’s a very low chance of you being able to fall pregnant. You’ve had an IUD placed for as long as you’ve known him. He’s questioned you enough times about it before. Pinching the device under your skin, smirking when you wince at the pain. He’s asking to embarrass you, begging you to ask the question of what would happen between the two of you if you were in-fact pregnant with his child. He wants you to know that he wouldn’t change. That it wouldn’t make him step up or start to think about his actions.

He’s exhausting to be around, frankly, it’s a living nightmare. You thought you’d miss him. After Price had sent you packing there was a tiny part of you that really thought that you’d miss having Simon near. He’s different here than he used to be back on base or out of country. Maybe that’s because he had the others there, perhaps he didn’t want to let his true colours show for all to see. He clearly thinks very little of you, that and your opinion of him. He couldn’t care less about how you see him, how you perceive him. That does sting, just a little bit.

The water cools your skin as you wash your face, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes and brushing your teeth until your gums feel sore. This is the routine now. When he’s here at least, walking on eggshells in your own home, pretending that he doesn’t bother you as much as he does. You’re lying to yourself, and doesn’t he know it.

You emerge from your bathroom and tread back to your room to get ready for work. In the few months since he’d come crashing back into your life you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on it again. It’s rubbish money and the hours are even worse but it helps in its own ways. You’re back to some sort of normalcy, outside of Simon and his whole existence within your life. It’s good, you hate to admit, your colleagues are nice enough and the job itself isn’t hard at all. It’s stable. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Stacking tins and organising pasta on shelves hadn’t been a career aspiration of yours- but you’re alive.

The need for relief is better managed, if you can say that. It’s not always pretty. Some nights are better than others. Your drinking is controllable and the painkillers no longer have a death-like grip on your mind and needs. Sometimes it’s hard to stay afloat, to resist the urge to drink yourself to the point you can’t stand upright or crush tablets between your teeth and rub them into your gums with your tongue. It’s a slippery slope. You can only climb so high before a strong enough wind blows you back down, but growth is growth in your eyes. There’s a noticeable pattern too, it’s always worse when he’s around. He hardly helps the issue. He raids your cupboards and empties your work bag onto the floor every night to make sure you don’t have anything he deems as contraband. As if you’re a child.

The ironic thing is, that he wouldn’t care if it killed you, not really. Not deep down. It might inconvenience him, sure, but it wouldn’t affect him in his daily life. He’d move on to the next unfortunate soul. Hell, you’re probably not the only one he’s seeing, he’s probably already got someone else on the back burner for when you do eventually fuck your liver to the point of no return. It wouldn’t surprise you at all. Not from him.

You get ready and dress for work and head to the hallway that leads to the front door to grab your bag, you’ll sort lunch out at work, because you can hear him in the kitchen. It’s as your key slides into the lock that you hear him still in whatever he’s doing, you bite your tongue.

“I’m off to work” your voice sounds so foreign in your own ears.

There’s a few seconds of drawn out silence and you take that as your cue to leave. Then his voice cuts in again-

“Come ‘ere” it’s rough from his throat. Not yet warmed up since he’d awoken.

You grip the door handle, you could walk out so easily, pretend you haven’t heard him, but it’s hardly worth the aggravation. You leave your key abandoned in the lock and turn to make your way through the living room and toward the kitchen. It’s there that you find him leaning his hip against the counter, a mug of coffee steaming away in his hand, he’s looking right at you as you enter the space.

“Everything okay?” You ask, a brow raised. You’ll be late if he isn’t quick with whatever he wants. He raises a brow back at you.

“I said come ‘ere” he tilts his chin, eyeing up the space directly in front of him.

You blink long and hard to hide the way your eyes want to roll in your skull. You’ll definitely be late at this rate. You do as he wants, nevertheless, stepping right up to him and stopping when you feel the steam from his coffee under your nose. Practically black, as he always has it, barely a drop of milk and no sugar. He’s looking at you in that way that always manages to make you feel so small. Not physically, because that’s already a given. But small in the way that he sees you as inferior to him in every single way. You likely are, but he doesn’t have to make it so obvious to you.

“What is it?” Your temper shortens, just slightly.

His eyes narrow, he notices the shift. His free hand lifts to the side of your face, running a rough thumb over the apple of your cheek, it’s a tender gesture. On the surface level.

“Come and see Price” his voice has softened, just that little bit, the way it does when he wants you to do something he knows you won’t want to.

He wants you to believe he’s on your side. It’s immediate the way you shake your head, he hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Simon- we’ve already talked about this” your patience is thinned to almost nothing. He could have said something earlier, long before you’re walking out the door to catch the next bus.

“Yeah, and you’re not seeing it from my perspective” he eyes you from over his nose, again, making you feel small. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“When do you ever try to see things from my perspective?” You raise your chin, if he wants an argument over this, you worry he’ll get what he’s after.

He brings his mug to his lips, staring at you from over the lip of it.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever stooped low enough to see things from your point of view, sweetheart” you can’t see his lips but you’re convinced you’d see a smirk there if you could. Your fists clench at your sides.

“I find that very hard to believe” you know little of Simon’s past, but you know enough to know that he is indeed lying. It’s another tactic, another way to get under your skin and piss you off. For his own pure enjoyment.

“Yeah? Try me” he lowers his mug and places it on the counter. His full attention on you. He folds his arms over his bare chest, his tattoos right in your line of sight.

There’s only so low that you’re willing to go, but whatever you say- you know that Simon will have something worse to say about you. That’s just a given with him.

“No no you’re right” you wave him off, stepping out of his space and turning to face the windows across the living room.

A beat of silence.

“Tommy was the druggie, right? Not you”

It’s audible, the way his jaw clicks. You don’t move.

“That’s right” his voice is flat, but you know him well enough to know that he’s annoyed, pissed beyond belief. Maybe not at what you’ve said, but that you’ve dared to say anything at all.

“Means I know a lost cause when I see one” you hear his body shift, the way his right shoulder clicks. Adjusting his stance.

You nod, silently. That’s his perception of you. It hardly rings true, a few months ago? Maybe. Now? You give yourself enough credit to know that you’re doing the right thing. Keeping this job. Not crawling back to Price. It settles the nagging feeling in your chest. You’re trying, at least. Making an effort.

“Why are you still here?” Still- you don’t turn to face him.

You keep your eyes glued to the way the world ticks by outside the window, there’s satisfaction in knowing he can’t see just how unbothered you are at his words. Before, you would have given him what he wanted and cried. Would have screamed and shouted in his face. An accusing finger pressed into his chest. You’d spat at him, once. Then he’d grab you and pull you close, pressing your snotty tear-stained face into the flesh of his chest and make a spectacle of soothing you. Telling you how he forgives you, how he knows it’s the booze and drugs talking- not you. He’d say that you’ll feel better in the morning and tug you into bed or towards the nearest waist-level surface and fuck you raw and slow and everlasting until you’re a puddle of nothing. Dumb and boneless- everything he already believes you to be.

He makes a noise. One that if it were translated into English, it would sound like ‘what the fuck are you on about?’

“I asked you why you’re here”

“Yeah, I heard you” his tone stiffens, it’s clear he doesn’t have an answer for you, therefore- he won’t answer.

There’s a few moments where the silence tells. There’s the sound of a car horn blaring outside and the birds that live in the gutter above your window chirp and sing, it’s the way life just keeps humming away- despite everything. Despite it all.

Simon moves and you stay stood still. You turn your head, watching out the corner of your eye as he walks toward you, he doesn’t look you in the eye. Instead looking out of the window as you had been. You follow his line of sight, watching the same cyclist ride past as he does.

“You treat me like shit y’know” you don’t know why you’ve said it. The thought had just been there, at the front of your mind and the tip of your tongue.

He turns his head, just slightly, to look at you. You feel his eyes- they burn.

“I treat everyone like shit” he returns his gaze to the glass, hands slid into the pockets of his trackie bottoms.

You laugh. It breezes past your lips so easily, so freely. You turn your gaze to him, noticing the way his jaw hardens when you do.

“No you don’t” you don’t take your eyes away from his face. You can’t.

For a moment you remember who he is- what he is. And in that moment you find yourself feeling sorry for him. Maybe he deserves more credit, because he could treat you a lot worse, realistically. It’s the one thing you tell yourself when he’s around, that he could be so much worse. It’s not a defence, no, it’s a lifeline. He’s suffered as you have and maybe that’s why you let him treat you the way he does, because that’s what you think you’re worth. Rough hands and sharp words and glaring eyes. It rolls off your back better these days, it’s easier to shrug off.

Simon hums, he’s caught out and he knows it.

“No- no I don’t” he rolls his shoulders until the right one cracks- again.

You bite the tip of your tongue. There’s so much you need to say to him and it’s never the right time or circumstance. You walk on eggshells around him because you can’t deal with the consequences of his temper and his irrationality. For someone who commands a platoon and leads so naturally, he’s the most pig-headed man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to hear your opinion or listen to you explain your point, even if he knows you’re right and he’s wrong.

“Why are you really here?” You’re still looking at him and your chest squeezes when he casts his eyes to the side, barely eyeing you. You’ve always loved his eyes.

They soften, if only slightly, it shows he’s considering the question. That he might not shrug it off like he does everything else.

“I don’t know” Simon’s voice carries that lilt to it, the one that reminds you of the man you’d first welcomed into your home- into your bed. Soft voice and attentive hands. Like he could actually stand being near you.

For a few seconds, it’s as if the world outside stops. The birds aren’t chirping and the traffic has cleared. Even the breeze stills, there’s nothing but the sounds of the both of you breathing. Out of sync. Always.

There’s a weight that dislodges from your chest. You didn’t realise you’d been carrying it for so long. Ultimately burdened by it. You haven’t got any answers, none that would clear away the ache in your heart when he looks at you in that knowing way. But somehow, there’s a satisfaction to knowing that he’s as lost as you are, the same way that you don’t understand why you let him stay- he doesn’t know why he stays either.

He stiffens slightly when he feels you at his side. Head and left shoulder pressed into his ribs and arm respectively. He quickly slackens his muscles, leaning into you slightly.

“We’re as bad as each other” the words are a little incoherent, your cheek smushed against his arm.

You’re not bothered if he hears it or not at this point. It wouldn’t matter. You only know he’s heard you by the way he sighs, craning his neck to lean the side of his head against the top of yours.

“I’m afraid I’m worse” he says it matter-of-factly. It’s the truth, to him.

“Much worse” his voice dies away, slightly. Not as though he’s embarrassed by the words, but perhaps because he knows you’re acutely aware.

You’re fully aware that he’s worse than you, in every sense of the fucking word. You’ve been sugar coating things, telling him what he wants to hear instead of what he needs to hear. He can appreciate that to a point. But he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need the softness. That sentiment had been beaten out of him long ago, long before the Army sank its claws into him too. He knows what’s right and what’s wrong, it’s as if he doesn’t have the ability to physically stop himself from doing and saying things he doesn’t mean. In a military setting he can be loud and brash and rude; it’s his job. He spends his days as someone else’s superior, telling them when they can and can’t piss, telling them where and when they will die- essentially.

It’s hard for him to kick that habit when he’s out of that setting. When lives aren’t on the line. Yet, you’re right; he doesn’t treat Price or Gaz or Johnny that way. He can’t explain why, and that’s worse than if he could. He’s just a bad person, that’s what it ultimately boils down to at the end of the day.

It’s all he can think of as he takes you by the hand, watching your wide eyes watch him; pushing you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. Somehow, it’s different, for reasons he can’t think of. Simon Riley has never been a religious man-

Is this what repenting feels like?

He handles you differently, in his own way. The way he thinks he knows how. When he removes your clothes he’s no longer chasing something, that deep-dark spot in his vision that blurs his rationality is gone.

It’s too late for redemption- to prove that he can be something he’s not; because he can’t. He’d be lying and you know that, so you won’t ask that of him, you wouldn’t expect it either.

He holds your gaze as he presses his lips to the mound of your pussy. He watches how your chest heaves, sucking in air through your mouth, like a deer in headlights. This is so foreign from him, the tenderness, the gentleness of his hands and his mouth. No gnashing teeth or bruising fingers. There’s only featherlight touches- to begin with.

Simon warms you up the way he should. Sliding his tongue through the lips of your pussy, gathering the wetness he finds already there- he hasn’t even started with you yet, not really. There’s a slight smile that creeps up the side of his mouth at that. You tell him how much you hate him, but he has this effect on you; that in itself calls your bluff.

He listens to the way your breath stutters, feeling the way your hips cant into the wait of his mouth when he slows down or stops completely. Your juices are smeared across his lips and down his chin, he rubs his face into your pussy, slathering himself in your wetness. He wants to smell you on his skin tomorrow when he leaves, because he will leave, if you really want him to.

“Oh- oh fuck” he plucks these sounds out of you so easily.

He curls two thick fingers into the tightness of your cunt, reeling at how easy your pussy sucks him in. So needy. So eager for anything he’ll give. He watches his digits disappear, barely wanting to take his eyes off of yours but needing to visualise the feeling of your tight hole sucking him in, clamping like a vice around his fingers as he fucks them deeper inside of you.

“There?” He asks, curling his fingers, watching you nod your head wildly.

“So wet f’me” his voice drags, drunk on your pussy.

It’s like electricity hits his bones when he presses his mouth to you again, lapping at your clit while he continues to pump his fingers into you. Matching rhythm. Swirling his tongue, beckoning you with the wet muscle in his mouth, luring you to the edge. When you curl your fingers into the length of hair at the top of his head, that’s when he’s really spurred on. Letting you rub your pussy all over his face, burying his nose in the mound of flesh there, nipping teeth when you get too bold for his liking- because he’s still in charge here.

“Soo desperate” he tries to be cruel with his tone but it goes right over your head.

He feels the way your walls clamp around his fingers. The way your breathing grows ragged, sloppy thrusts of your hips against his mouth and tongue, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge as Simon fights to pull you there.

“Oh- a-a fuck Si” you’re a stuttering mess. “M’close-”

You’re practically gushing when you cum. He laps at you like he hasn’t before, listening to cries of his own name that bounce off the walls. The sounds of your pussy oozing against his mouth make his cock leak in his boxers. Hard and untouched. He stutters his hips, seeking any kind of friction.

There isn’t any; but watching and feeling you squirm under him like this is a new found thing. He’s had you on your back more times than he can think to count. Yet, none have felt like this- not even in the early days when things were right between the two of you.

Maybe it’s because things have indeed shifted, that maybe you’ve solidified your belief that you deserve better - that this might be it for him.

Even when you almost pull his hair from the roots, riding his nose as he rides you through your orgasm. Your spine arching off the sofa cushion, needing more despite the fact that he’s given you everything.

“Oh -Simon” it’s hissed through your teeth. He’s doing too much now, clamping his fingers into your thighs, not wanting to let go.

It’s the greediness in him. He wants too much of everything, he has no control. There isn’t that little voice in his head that tells him he’s had enough, that he’s done enough. Not that he would listen to it.

He finally lets up, leaning back on his heels, still knelt between your thighs. Eyes watching yours, you’re staring up at the ceiling. Eyes hooded, lips agape, breath ragged- he can’t help but think you look beautiful.

So why has he never said it before?

He leans his cheek against your thigh, eyes still watching your face, then you feel them- feel his gaze. Your eyes snap to his and for a moment, you look remorseful. Then you open your mouth to speak-

“We’re still not friends”

[aventurineswife]

anon who requested the IPC worker x Aventurine where reader faked their death :D

a part 2 would be cool, how you go abt it id up 2 u but if u would like any ideas…it could maybe have a flashback of their fakeout death and Aven’s reaction, and then flash to the present where he tries to leave IPC to live domestically w Reader, but they get killed for real in the process (i’m angst #1s lover) and now Aven is stuck in the IPC 😭

“At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home” | Part 2

Summary: Memories of your past with Aventurine resurface, unraveling the intense moments that led to your faked death. A flashback reveals the night you made the harrowing decision to disappear, showing how it shattered Aventurine’s world. Torn between loyalty to IPC and his love for you, Aventurine is ultimately willing to risk everything for a future together. However, when he attempts to leave the IPC, tragedy strikes, claiming your life in reality this time. Now, Aventurine must face an eternity of regret and entrapment within the very organization you both sought to escape. Bound to the IPC, haunted by memories of you, he is left yearning for a life he can never have.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, fake death reveal, intense emotions, love and loss, tragedy, betrayal, hurt/comfort, forbidden love, character death, emotional breakdown, regret, forced separation, internal conflict, bittersweet romance.

Warnings: Intense emotional themes, character death, grief, betrayal, mentions of violence, flashbacks, guilt and regret, dark themes, potential tearjerker, unresolved trauma.

A/N: AHHHH!!! 😭 THAT'S SO MEAN BUT SO GOOD TOO?! MY BABY!!! 🥺💔

(Part 1)

The memory clung to Aventurine like a shadow—one he could never shake. He could still recall every detail from that day years ago, the day he’d thought he’d lost you forever. In his mind, it was as if he were back there now, reliving the dreadful series of events that tore you from his life.

It had started with an anonymous tip. He’d been in the heart of IPC headquarters, surrounded by the opulent furnishings and hushed power plays that were his world, when he received the message. The vague words scrawled across the screen still felt burned into his mind: An unexpected death in IPC’s ranks. Don’t ask too many questions.

At first, he’d dismissed it as some cruel joke or an attempt to provoke him. But as whispers circulated, he’d felt an ache that reached far deeper than any professional ambition or loyalty to the IPC. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His fingers shook when he finally demanded details from an IPC informant. They had tried to placate him with silence, then with excuses, before finally leading him to a private room where they produced a list of names lost in action. His eyes landed on yours.

His heart had shattered. And in that moment, the world he’d so carefully built around him crumbled. The IPC, his title, every ounce of the strategic power he wielded felt like a joke, a hollow nothing in the face of your loss. Days bled into weeks, then months as he clawed through records, files, and whispers, desperate to uncover anything that could prove this had been a mistake. Eventually, after countless sleepless nights and fading hope, he resigned himself to a cruel reality: you were gone.

In the present, Aventurine had all but lost himself in your kiss, his hands cradling your face as if afraid you might disappear again. But now that he’d found you, he couldn’t imagine letting you slip away. You’d barely finished promising him you weren’t going anywhere when he whispered urgently, “Come with me. I'll leave the IPC. We can start over, together.”

The idea hung in the air, and the look on your face said you wanted it as much as he did. The life you’d built in hiding had given you some solace, but nothing compared to the warmth that had returned the moment you’d locked eyes with him again.

“I want to, Aventurine,” you murmured, your voice soft with hope but tinged with caution. “But you know, you leaving IPC isn’t going to be that simple.”

He gave a wry smile, the familiar gleam of his gambler’s spirit returning to his gaze. “Since when have I ever played it safe?”

It was settled. Together, you and Aventurine began planning a final escape from IPC, the promise of a quiet, shared life filling every unspoken moment between you.

Weeks later, the two of you were ready. Aventurine had secured falsified documents, disguises, and even an old shuttle that he’d salvaged and reprogrammed to slip through IPC scanners. His heart thrummed with excitement as he held your hand, the two of you ducking into back alleys and secret passages within IPC’s labyrinthine halls, moving closer to the shuttle bay with each step.

But just as freedom felt within reach, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Aventurine,” called a smooth, calculating voice—a voice he knew well, belonging to his superior within IPC, one of the few who could see through his every bluff. “Going somewhere?”

A team of armed operatives closed in, blocking your escape route, and Aventurine felt his stomach sink as he saw the trap closing around you both.

“What’s this?” he asked smoothly, masking his fear with a cocky grin as he positioned himself protectively in front of you. “A farewell party?”

His superior raised a brow, her gaze shifting to you before returning to him. “Leaving isn’t an option for a Stoneheart. Surely you know that.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting your eyes, silently urging you to stay close, to trust him just one last time. “Then let me make it clear,” he replied, stepping forward, his voice steady. “I’m done with IPC. And if you want me, you’ll have to get through us both.”

In the ensuing chaos, you and Aventurine fought with everything you had, desperate for one last chance at freedom. But just as you were about to reach the shuttle, a shot rang out.

You stumbled, a look of shock crossing your face as blood bloomed from your side. Aventurine’s heart seized. “No,” he whispered, catching you as you collapsed into his arms. “No, no, please… we were almost there.”

Your eyes met his, filled with a quiet acceptance he couldn’t bear. “It’s okay, Aventurine,” you murmured, your hand weakly reaching to touch his face. “I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give you the life we dreamed of.”

Tears he’d fought so long to hide spilled over as he held you, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, no, please don’t… I can’t do this without you.” But even as he clung to you, your grip grew weaker, your breaths fainter.

When your hand slipped from his cheek, Aventurine was left cradling your lifeless form, his vision blurring as grief consumed him. He’d lost you once before, but nothing had prepared him for the agony of losing you again—for real this time.

In the end, IPC dragged him back, broken and hollow, the final remnant of his old life slipping through his fingers. He returned to the office and his title as a Stoneheart, each day haunted by the love he’d sacrificed to leave the IPC, each night dreaming of a life he’d never know.

And so Aventurine remained, a prisoner of the world he’d once called his own, but now bound by grief—a gambler who’d lost his most precious wager.

[waldau-archived]

Hi love, can I request for Chan X reader, with the trope f2l?

here you go anon! this became WAY longer and a bit angstier than i expected (4k?? i thought i wrote like 2k), but it's all happy! hope you like it :) and here's the video in question. title taken from _WORLD by svt.

gender neutral reader. warnings: chan is initially tipsy.

won't let you down | 4,007 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this is the last time, chan tells himself, but he very well knows it's a lie. just like the past few times he's ended up like this, head resting against the scruffy but comfortable material of junhui's sofa, while seungkwan takes his phone from the table in front of him, unlocking it to call you.

it's happened enough times now that seungkwan finally knows the password to his phone, not that chan has anything to hide. he tries focusing on what seungkwan's saying to you, but there's a pleasant buzzing in his ears, and it would be a good environment to sleep if not for a) the angle of his neck against the aforementioned sofa and b) the music playing in the background, lee dokyeom trying to match the choreography while balancing a shot glass on his palm.

"there," seungkwan says, pushing the phone back into his hand. "try not to fall asleep till they get here."

easier said than done, especially when chan is much more of a lightweight than seungkwan is, even if he can hold his alcohol well. chan pockets his phone and tries adjusting his head a bit more comfortably. when he closes his eyes, he feels sleep tug at them, but it's not enough to knock him out fully.

a little jolt of guilt runs through him when he realizes tonight is your designated night in — you like having time for yourself, whether it's to catch up with old friends or make time time to check out vernon's movie recommendations. you shouldn't have to pick chan up from something that's his own fault.

he thinks about how you never once complain about what you do for him. there’s always an amused smile on your face, defending his tipsy self from his older brothers while you manoeuvre him out of the room, a steady arm around his shoulders, the way you let him rest his weight on you even though he’s so much more muscular than you are, and the way you sometimes let him loop his arm through yours as though you’re a couple—

he stops at that.

seungkwan's great when it comes to feeding his delusions, talking about how you definitely like him and that chan's the only one not seeing it, that he's kind of an idiot for dragging it out this long, that he should put everyone out of their misery and ask you out already.

again, it's easier said than done. chan's not like seungkwan — outgoing, with no hesitation when it comes to finding something out. chan doesn't act till he's absolutely sure about something, always thinking about the long-term consequences of every little action. and he could put everyone out of their misery by asking you out, but he’s not prepared for the misery that’ll ensue when you don’t answer the way he hopes you will.

unfortunately, there’s no proper way for him to ask you, his best friend, if you like him the way he does you.

chan just lets the buzz in his head drown out the thoughts crowding up. he will find the answer one day, somehow. he has to. just...not tonight.

he must have fallen asleep sometime between thoughts of wonwoo on the karaoke and you, because his eyes blink open to the sight of you kneeling in front of him, a concerned look on your face.

and gosh, does he hate it. he hates seeing you concerned when you look at him. he's still never gotten used to how your smile has been making him feel, and he doesn't think he ever will.

"hey," you say softly, moving to rest your hand on his thigh. an involuntary shudder passes through him, and you take your hand off before he can say anything. he mourns its loss almost instantly. "seungkwan said you had a bit too much to drink. you okay?"

the tattletale. chan stretches his neck and winces when a spear of pain strikes the left side of his head, going as fast as it came. "mm. look who’s talking."

you frown at him. "how much did you drink, chan?"

"i...don't know." it's true — he lost count after the first six shots. everything else was drowned out by being forced to sing on the karaoke or watching minghao try his hardest to sing some korean classics from the early nineties. it was fun, but there’s always the regret that follows the fun, and it’s strong this time. he looks at you apologetically, hoping his face is enough to make up for the words he can't say.

if he were a neon signboard, he wonders what the words above his head would be every time he looked at you — i'm sorry? for loving you the way i do? or i love you? but i've never been able to say it the way i mean it because i'm afraid of losing you.

you sigh and stand up. "get up," you say gently, giving him your hand to steady himself.

it's not the first time you've danced this dance, but it still makes chan's heart beat as though it's never happened before. it's muscle memory from here — he stands up on his feet, wobbly for a few moments till you slide an arm around his waist to hold him in place, his arm around your shoulders.

you’re wearing the hoodie he’d given you for your birthday. he can feel it before you see it, a drunk grin spreading across his lips. you look good in everything you wear, but this? chan’s weak.

you fuss about his hair looking messy and run your hand through it twice, fixing it to your liking. then it’s the default goodbyes, the promises to text everyone once he's reached home safely, and to hydrate himself so that he doesn't wake up the next morning wishing he'd never woken up.

but he doesn’t have to worry about all of that when he’s with you. you always make sure he’s taken care of, and it’s the only thing on his mind when both of you stumble out of junhui’s building, the cold night air making chan shiver and freeze for a second. his hand catches on the fabric of your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” he says, suddenly feeling nervous to meet your eyes. you shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“did you do something i should be worried about?”

“i…no?”

“then why are you apologizing?”

“i always do this.”

"and i always do this," you say, opening the door of your car and gesturing for chan to get in. "you're speaking as though i mind."

"i'm drunk. you should be sleeping. and...wait, you don't mind it?"

“no,” you say patiently, slotting your key into its place and starting the car. “we’ve had this conversation before, too. i don’t mind it. it’s not as if you don’t look out for me when i’m feeling down. i don’t know anyone else who would watch my favourite movies with me even when they’d rather be doing something else.”

"that's because you're my best friend," chan says, almost cringing at how earnestly, how easily, those words come from him.

"do you understand why i don't mind now?"

it's easy to give you anything, but chan still gets bashful about taking anything from you. he's much better at it than he used to be when you first met. he just huffs in response.

"what would you do without me, channie?" you ask, pulling out of your spot. it's an innocent question, slightly teasing, but chan takes it seriously. do you have any idea of what that nickname does to him?

"i don't know," he says honestly. "i don't want to know."

you sigh fondly and flick his thigh. "don't get all serious on me. i'm not going anywhere, and you know that."

sometimes chan wonders what you’ll do if you ever find out about what he feels for you. you’re too kind to let him down directly. maybe you’ll give him some time to get over you, so that you could go back to being friends again. or maybe, a cruel part of him thinks, you’ll cut him out of your life for good. neither option sounds good.

he can either take a step and watch the glass break, or never take a step and never find out what could have been. he’s precariously balanced in the middle, surviving on the quiet moments he has with you, moments that could be something more.

"i love you," he says, his words abrupt and almost harsh in the silence of your car.

"just because i'm driving you back home?"

or he can be right in the middle, where you don't understand how his love you is different from yours. it's not the best place to be, but he gets to be true to an extent.

"you know it's not just that." see through me, just this once?

"i do," you say, not looking at him. "i know." again. maybe next time.

it's muscle memory again, when you open the door to your apartment, flicking the lights on as chan clumsily kicks off his shoes. it’s not long before he’s had a glass of water and a tablet you pressed into his palm, not moving till he had it in front of you. he types out a clumsy i’m home now text to the group before he chuckles at the realization — none of his friends once assumed he was going to make it to his own place.

with his face washed and the headache dulling to a slight throb, he’s pretty close to passing out on your bed. he almost whines when you tell him you have some work left to do.

with the door shutting behind you, chan pulls the covers over himself, vaguely aware of how uncomfortable it is to sleep in skinny jeans. it’s not like you’ve never shared the same bed before, but it’s the first time he’s slept by himself in your bed. and the first time he’s been here since he’s realized his feelings for you.

chan tosses and turns as he tries to will himself to sleep, straining his hears to see if he can get any hints about how much longer you’re going to take. you’ve somehow not made him take his jean jacket off, despite the fact that you usually insist on making him remove that “atrocity” of an item before sleeping, but it’s what keeps him warm when he pads out into the living room to see why you’re still not done.

"...do this again," he hears you say into your phone. you're standing in the middle of your living room, looking like you've been pacing around for a while now. "i can't. i can't keep pretending everything's okay. this is like, what, the fourth time in the past three months?"

do what again? and who are you talking to, so late at night? chan wants to ask you if there's anything he can do, even though he knows nothing about what's wrong, but you speak again. he tries not to make too much noise as he takes a few steps ahead.

you groan into the phone. "what do you mean, drop hints? what do you think i’ve been doing? i’ll lose my mind at this rate. and i just can't tell him i can't keep picking you up from your parties every time you get drunk because i— hey. that's not the issue here. you know that."

chan's stomach drops.

there's no one else you pick up from parties, that much he's sure of. but you've been counting? and you're...annoyed by it, but you're too kind to say that to his face? he feels like crawling out of his own skin.

you sigh. "i'll try telling him the next time he's awake and feeling better, okay? no promises."

chan's already turning back to head to your room, mortified with every step he takes. he shouldn't even be here. he should be on the couch.

how long have you been feeling that way, without him knowing? how much longer will you be this nice to him until it inevitably slips out?

it’s not long before you slip into your bedroom, closing the door behind you without making too much noise. chan hears the clink of your toothbrush being put back into its stand and the sound of the light being switched off before you pull the covers and settle in.

chan tries to slow his breath to make it look like he’s sleeping, because he’s way too high strung for this. your conversation with whoever it was is still running through his head. probably one of his friends, and he can’t even be bothered to speculate about who it could be.

“chan?” you ask, breaking the silence in the room. he pretends to blink his eyes open but knows you’ve caught him when you ask, “not able to sleep?”

“not tired,” he says, voice cracking in between. you’re on my mind is far more damning than saying he can’t sleep.

“did i wake you up? i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s not that,” he says, a bit hastily. “just…had a bit too much to drink. i could run now if i wanted.”

“well, it’s a good thing i’m not going to let you.”

chan lets out a little chuckle. if only you knew what effect your words have on him.

“can i…?” you ask hesitantly, before he feels fingertips touch his own. he immediately locks his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand. it’s one of your ways of calming down when you’re stressed, and chan thinks he gets why.

feeling a bit brave, he lets his thumb stroke the skin of your hand. he does it till he feels your breaths even out, grip on his hand loosening. even when that happens, it doesn’t let go. he can’t.

but he has to, eventually.

seeing you sleeping gives him some time to collect his thoughts. he could just leave right now, before he makes thinks weird by overthinking again. he needs time to understand what you meant when you said you couldn’t keep doing it and yet you’re the one who held his hand to help him go to sleep.

surely you’re not going to be upset when he leaves a little earlier than he usually would, when he sleeps over at your place?

yet it feels like luck isn’t on his side when he pushes himself to get up, immediately hindered by a creaky spring in your mattress. your hand twitches at that, and he gets up in one swift motion to prevent any noise.

but when his hand is on the handle of your door, he hears his name being called out weakly. questioningly. he stays silent, hoping you won’t get up.

“are you leaving already?”

“just…forgot i left my light on. in the bathroom.”

“right.” he can’t see your face in the darkness of the room, but he knows you’re unimpressed right now. it is a weak excuse. “come back here, please?”

chan is powerless if you ask him something. against his best interest, he walks up to you slowly, standing near your bed.

“don’t do that,” you say, shifting to switch on your bedside lamp. “you look like a sleep paralysis demon without the lights on. sit here,” you say, patting the side of your bed.

something’s going to happen, chan can tell. he just doesn’t know if it’s something he should be looking forward to or not.

“i shouldn’t disturb your sleep, you know?”

“no. what you shouldn’t be doing is acting weird. you’ve been acting weird all night. did i do something?”

you look serious, chan realizes. there’s a small frown on your face chan wishes he could thumb out, or maybe even press a kiss to, to make it go. that’s what the problem is.

“you’ve done nothing,” he blurts out. “all me.”

“all you what?”

“it’s nothing.”

you sit up to push the covers off of yourself. “chan, you’ve been meek around me all night. i’ve never seen you do that. i’ve never seen you doubt yourself the way you did tonight. you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

and how is he supposed to do that, when it could be the very thing that could lead you to never talk to him again?

“it’s my fault,” he settles for saying. “and i’m working on it. i promise you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“are you sure you can’t tell me about it?”

“positive.” i don’t know what would happen if i did.

you don’t look satisfied, but you let it slide. “are you still not tired? do you want to watch a movie? make something? pancakes, if you’re hungry?”

chan can’t help the laugh he lets out. you always think about him, even if you’re the one losing your sleep here. it’s the catalyst to the last lock on his words breaking.

“i love you,” he says, and the remaining words tumble out naturally like they were made never to be apart. “i love you, and i’ve been trying to tell you for way too long, and i think i missed my chance, because you clearly don’t like me.”

“i…don’t like you? and you love me? chan, what?” you ask, scrambling forward, hands resting on his thighs again. he doesn’t shudder, this time. lets his words come out the way they’ve been slowly forming in him, like a storm that’s been brewing for a while. all that will be left to see is the aftermath.

“i heard you say you wanted to tell me something when i felt better, and that you couldn’t keep doing…it anymore. if you didn’t want to waste time picking me up from parties, you could have just said that.”

“oh,” is all you say.

chan deflates. “we’re…not supposed to have secrets from each other, right? why couldn’t you tell me that before?”

“chan—”

“it sucks that i had to overhear you say that. i thought you trusted me enough.”

“chan, listen—”

“i’m not scared, if that’s what you think. i—”

“lee chan!” you exclaim, suddenly taking his face between your hands. he’s rendered speechless. “listen to me?”

he can do nothing but nod, looking into your eyes. you’re looking into his own.

“lee chan, i love you. do you hear me? you’re my best friend in the whole world and i meant it when i said i’d love you no matter what. but i also love you the way you think i don’t.”

chan’s brain short-circuits to the point where he doesn’t even remember what he was talking to you about, for a few moments. “you…love me?”

“i do,” you affirm. “i have, for a while now, and i never thought i’d get a chance to say it.”

it feels like a weight is being placed on him but also being removed at the same time. the weight of your love seeping into his skin through your hands holding his face, through your cold skin that he always wants to keep warm, through your eyes that are looking at him nervously, waiting for his next words, through your breaths that sound a bit shorter than usual.

the loss of the weight of uncertainty feels like the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

“you love me,” he says. testing. confirming.

“so much, chan, i— i’ve been trying to tell you every single time i picked you up from one of those parties—”

“—that’s what you were trying to say?”

“i— yes.” your hands let go of his face to cover yours, and he’s never wanted to see your face more than he has now. he gently pulls your hands off to make you look at him, and what he sees is real. it’s not you letting him down gently, it’s not you pretending, because he knows you too well for that.

and now he knows that you love him just the way he loves you.

“you weren’t supposed to…why did you even hear me talking?”

now it’s chan’s turn to become shy. “i just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to come back. i couldn’t sleep.”

“silly,” you say, flicking his forehead gently. you tuck some of his hair behind his ear, and your expression becomes serious. “but i want to, chan. i want to take care of you because you’re my best friend. i like doing it. i— i love you, and i’ll always be there to take off your makeup and listen to you talk and cheer you up because i love you so much.”

chan knows. he knows about every little thing you do for him, and he hopes you know how he’d do anything you asked of him. he doesn’t even need to say anything to get you to understand what he’s feeling right now.

“so…you love me,” he says, teasing, because of the glare you give him. “how long have you loved me?”

you shake your head resolutely. “you’re going to have to wait a while to find out.”

“but what if i wanted to know now?” chan pulls the best puppy face he can, and it works because you sigh and pull him back into lying down with you, his head in your lap, looking up at you.

“you really want to know?”

“yeah.”

“it’s embarrassing.”

“that’s even better.” chan wraps his arms around your waist when you attempt to push him off. “i’m sorry,” he laughs, holding on to you. “please tell me.”

“i think…i think i’ve loved you since that night you fell off seungcheol’s bed because of how hard you were laughing. that night really cemented it for me. there really hasn’t been…anyone else for me, since then.”

the quietness of your voice makes chan’s throat constrict. “there hasn’t been anyone else for me, either, ever since i met you.”

you blink. “that long?”

“no! i mean— i didn’t think about dating ever since we became friends, and then not thinking about dating became thinking about dating you, and then—” chan pauses when he sees a smile on your face. “what?” he asks, a little self-conscious. “did i say something wrong?”

“i’m so glad i love you, you know?”

chan can’t take the way your face is straight and you’re just grinning at him like you didn’t steal his heart at an ungodly hour in the morning. “stop,” he mumbles, pressing his face into your stomach. “i’m really tired right now.”

“oh, now you’re tired?”

it take a little bit of moving to get yourselves under your covers again (chan’s jacket now sits on the chair by the desk, courtesy of you), and this time he has an arm around your waist with your head on his shoulder. it feels absolutely right.

“chan?” you ask, the single word drawn out in a way that tells him you’re on the brink of sleep again.

“hmm?”

“promise i won’t wake up to an empty bed again?”

his heart squeezes at the reminder. “promise. i’m not going anywhere. i love you.”

you don’t need to say it back, because he feels the smile you press into his skin.

"so? what does it feel like?"

“hm?” chan shifts in your embrace to look up at you. there’s really nothing better than coming home after a long day of practice, taking a shower and cuddling with you in bed, with you kissing his forehead. he feels really sleepy, but he tries staying awake for your question. “what does what feel like?”

“knowing what it feels like to like someone?”

ah. you watched the video, then.

“it feels…” it feels like everything, if he’s being honest. the best of all worlds. like the world sings every time he wakes up. like even the most mundane things like doing laundry and setting the table have a greater purpose, because he gets to do it with the love of his life.

“it feels like i’m lucky to be alive, because i get to love you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[denial-permanente]

Hi Mrs Edge. You answered a question for me some time ago, and it gave me so much to think about. I saw you reposted it recently, and I wanted to give you an update, and ask another question.

We do have an FLR, and I keep my husband locked all the time. I rarely came from intercourse in the past, so this was not a problem for me. After reading about you enjoying the Ranger so much, we decided to try it for ourselves. It turned out that I enjoyed it quite a bit, much more than either of us expected. I discovered that being "in control of the action" allowed me to have regular orgasms that I did not have from PIV with my husband, so "Foxing" became a normal part of our lovemaking.

That led to my keeping my husband locked for longer and longer periods, without any "reward." And as you can probably imagine, when I would allow him a "reward," he would be so sensitive that he would barely last a minute inside me before finishing. Since after coming I just want to lay back and snuggle, I decided that it was too much trouble to look for the key, unlock him, and then have him clean up the mess after he was done. So I finally told him that I really had no more reason to unlock him, and that I didn't imagine myself allowing him inside me anymore.

So as you can imagine, my husband is freaking out over the idea that he is now in a "No pussy" FLR marriage. I don't really feel guilty about denying him, because he did ask for all this, and this is where we ended up. Although sometimes I feel a little guilty that I don't feel guilty, do you know what I mean?

Anyway, I wanted to ask you about this. How did you deal with your own guilt (if you had any) over permanently denying your husband? How did you manage to convince him that this was a good thing? And how was he able to cope with it?

Thanks again, 💋 Mistress Karin

Hi Karin - I remember your post. I was wondering if I would hear from you again, and thank you for giving me an update. You seemed to have a lifestyle that was similar to how my husband and I started out.

Here is the original question.

You have a lot going on here. To begin with, I do know what you mean about feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. 😅 My husband really allowed me to be selfish and for a while I would stop and wonder why I was okay with it and if I "owed" him for spoiling me. All I can say is that time will tell. Eventually I just took it for granted that he was totally okay with pleasuring me and that he really was satisfied when I was satisfied. I used to ask him if he was okay but I guess eventually I just stopped asking and listened to him tell me how he felt. And while we don't have an FLR, we're in a very similar situation. He committed to this... to giving me all the control knowing that we could end up here. And that's where you are with your husband. I think a lot of men have this fantasy in their heads that their wives will become some kind of sexual dominatrix and don't know how to cope when we REALLY take over and tell them what we want. Your husband probably didn't expect to be in a "No pussy" relationship and now has to figure out how to cope with it.

The other thing that you have going on is that your husband is probably a little (or a lot!) freaked out that making love... intercourse... is more enjoyable now that he is "foxing" you with the Vixskin Ranger. My husband has said that a lot of men have this deep rooted primal fear of not "being good enough" in bed... wondering if their wives are thinking about someone else or wishing they were with men who were "bigger" down there. And while they can be good in bed... loving or creative or passionate or whatever you like... they can't make themselves bigger, so they tend to obsess over it. 😅

So right now your husband is freaking out that his own penis wasn't "good enough" to make you come. His worst fear... that he is being "replaced" is coming true. Even though the Vixskin attached to him he probably has in the back of his head that "he" wasn't enough and he is no longer in control of any part of his situation.

Worse (for him) ... now that you've discovered something "better," he gets unlocked less and less which makes him more and more sensitive. He is losing whatever ability he had to give you any pleasure with his own penis. So he's not just freaking out that you have turned this into a "No pussy" FLR... he is also freaking out that even if you allowed it he couldn't "measure up" to his replacement.

I know there are some couples who do "foxing" and who give a name to their Vixskin. That kind of plays on the "being replaced" fear that many men have. If your husband secretly enjoys the idea that may be a way to make his freaking out more exciting.

We aren't into that... I just prefer to think of the Vixskin as my husband's actual penis, and that's how he has learned to think of it as well. I don't know if that's good or bad but it's how I feel the most comfortable. He "copes" with being "locked and replaced" by learning how to enjoy the pleasure that he gives me. He says that he's still freaked out but has found a way to make it erotic in his head.

And of course a lot of men just get freaked out by the whole idea of "no pussy" in their relationship. If your husband is more freaked out by the "No pussy" aspect then you could probably help him by allowing occasional "rewards" like unlocking him and just using your hands. I have mixed feelings on this. On one hand I think it's okay to give your husband some rewards to keep up his spirits. On the other hand (😅) by using just your hands it might emphasize your "No pussy" rule, which could just make him more aware or focused on it. Certainly, by sticking to your "No pussy" rule he will be always re.inded that you are in charge which is probably what you want. I know that when my husband comes in his cage, it feels good for him... but it also reminds him that this is the only way he's allowed now. Again... the idea is both hot and scary for him at the same time.

For me... it really took a few years for me to feel comfortable that my husband was really enjoying this. Even though he committed to it years ago I needed some time to see how dedicated he was and know that even during those times when there was stuff going on with them family or whatever that he wasn't going to freak out and ask to be unlocked. And I have to say that a big part of my own comfort was a result of watching how he handled himself over the years. I know that even though he wanted more... he proved to me that my own pleasure was the most important thing in his mind. Once I could see that I just all sense of guilt or feeling sorry and have been able to just focus on what I enjoy.

Please drop by more often to let me know how you're doing.

[highvern]

Track 1: All of the Girls You Loved Before - Taylor Swift

“All of the girls you loved before, Made you the one I've fallen for // Every dead-end street, Led you straight to me”

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: established relationship, past jealousy

Length: ~500

Note: First part of the Mixtape Series! Wooooo! Very fun to write and looking forward to everyone's reactions to the other parts of the series. Stay tuned!

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy!

Mixtape Series: Me & You Masterlist

main masterlist

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

“I’m fine, Cheol.”

Seungcheol taking you out to celebrate your promotion quickly devolved into an awkward dance around the elephant in the room.

One of his exes sat across the room, dining with a man around her age. You recognized her from pictures before you and Seungcheol started dating, when you were barely even friends and neither of you knew how perfect you were for one another.

“Are you sure?”  Seungcheol asks for the nth time, guilt trickling across his face. 

“Of course I’m sure.” You confirm, squeezing his hand wrapped in yours across the table.

Seungcheol heaves a heavy sigh. The last thing he ever wanted was for you to think he would care about someone else. You knew it wholeheartedly. Seungcheol didn’t see anyone beyond you since your first date years ago.

The number of women he’d dated or hooked up with in some capacity had been a tough pill to swallow at the beginning of your relationship. A run in with one of them years ago was the catalyst for the first fight of your budding relationship, leaving you both in limbo at what to do. You hated feeling jealous and insecure because of it but Seungcheol assured you there were no lingering feelings; and he backed his words up with actions that proved he was sincere.

Eventually, you were something close to thankful for your boyfriend’s past partners. Thankful they taught Seungcheol to navigate love; the good, the bad, and the ugly. For helping him mature into the man sat in front of you. Seungcheol, who from day one let you know where you stood, who didn't leave you questioning his intentions, and enthusiastically pursued you in a way you had never experienced before. The one who doesn't take you for granted and still manages to sweep you off your feet after years together. The man who argues with you, not against you when you disagree; constantly reminding you that you're a team and you'll figure it out.

Seungcheol, who lets you baby him as much as you want because his past relationships didn't give him the space to rely on his partner. Who shares his fears and doubts even if it makes him feel vulnerable, knowing you're there for him through everything and he no longer needs to shoulder his burdens alone.

All of the events of his past led you both here. Engaged, happier than you've ever been, with a man who couldn't been more perfect for you.

“If you want to leave we can. I’ll find somewher–” 

“Baby, if I got upset every time we ran into someone you dated, we’d never leave the house.” You joke.

“I didn’t date that many girls!” Seungcheol pouts in a way that’s more than ridiculous for a man his age.

“It doesn’t matter. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

Leaning forward, you wait until Seungcheol comes close enough to whisper, “Because they led you to me. And I’m the only one you want, right?”

“Of course.” Seungcheol whispers back.

“So when I say I don’t care, I really don’t.”

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[invertedheaven]

If You Really Love Nothing

chapter 14: both us beneath our love part. 1

chapter index | next chapter

“What about kids?” Your voice echoed in his mind

He remembers the day you asked that unanswered question, he’d simply replied ‘what about them?’ Before getting interrupted by your phone ringing, your co-worker asking if you could cover her shift and he’d never been more thankful for someone interrupting his time with you because that was the most terrifying question you could ask. He knows you knew that, which is why you never had the nerve to ask before.

It was a polarizing thought, he’d never particularly cared for the idea of having kids in fact if he really thought about it he detested it, he couldn’t imagine being around an ill mannered bratty kid that had no intellect-- he’d already dealt with yuji. Yet the mere lilt of your voice when you asked and the look in your eyes made whatever resolve he had melt, he remembers the way his eyes slightly widened in shock at the way that if the conversation continued he would’ve said yes to you. He would’ve said yes to anything you ask— only you. He didn’t want kids no but if it was with you? He thinks he understands why it’s something couples would aim for. He never considered himself one for such banal and mawkish thoughts in nature— this behavior was simply unbecoming of him.

Thinking his biggest threat would’ve been gojo when it was in fact himself. It’d been 2 days since he’d confronted you. The past two nights he barely slept, his dreams plagued with memories of you, moments he’d lived with you almost like watching an old home video. Yet, instead of the memories playing out in the way he remembers, it would end with you spewing out the words ���im pregnant’ and then the memory switches as if someone changed the channel on a tv. It becomes too much and it feels like a merciless onslaught of his inescapable guilt— even in dreams he can’t get away from the fact that you had tried and he had failed you in that aspect. So his pathetic attempts at a good nights sleep were quickly laid to rest, instead opting to just count on caffeine and spite to function.

It was christmas today, he didn’t have work and he noticed as he sat on the living room couch, for the first time in years he was alone. After he’d broken up with you he’d gone back home and spent the holiday with yuji and his grandfather, not that it’d ever be anything important. It was barely a holiday in his eyes, in yujis eyes too probably. He’d merely drop by maybe grace them with presents (money) and eat whatever food was made.

The living room filled with a silence that swallowed him whole. He could feel the way it wrapped around him, he hadn’t even turned on the lights— no curtains open, he just sat in the dark cradled by the mind numbing solitude created from the consequences of his own actions. Instead of using this time to reflect he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of anger pour over him.

Sukuna had barely seen yuji— the brat skillfully avoiding him (not that sukuna wanted to speak with him) but it was the idea that yuji was treating him like the bad guy.

Sukuna didn’t even have to check to know yuji was with you, and it made him seethe. Yuji hadn’t even bothered to ask or tell him that he wouldn’t be home. What was so great about being with you and gojo anyways? Yeah, the fushiguro kid was there but surely that wasn’t the only reason his brother was practically living with you. He thinks maybe its airi? The name still rattles around his head in a foreign way.

He still hasn’t wrapped his head around the fact that he has a daughter and maybe it makes it easier that he hasn’t seen her— that he knows nothing aside from her birthday and name. It’s easy to separate her from his life now and the weight of her importance. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, he wanted to know what she looked like at the very least, surely you’d posted some pictures. Maybe that would be his attempt at getting his foot in the door. Sure it’d cost his pride but at this point did he even have anything left? He left it on the doorstep of your home the moment you closed the door in his face, the echoes of your hollow laugh ringing in his ears.

“Fuck it” he mumbles to no one but himself as he opens up his phone, navigating his way to your social media profile he’d unblocked weeks ago. He notes that now it shows that yuji follows you— not that hes surprised.

It was still private and before he could really think twice about whether it was a bad idea he requested, even if he regretted it he couldn’t un-request— you’d get the notification anyways. He sat anxiously for what felt like hours (but was merely 45 minutes) waiting for you to accept— you finally did but you didn’t follow him back. He’s not sure why he expected you would maybe because he hoped you’d have been just as desperate as him even if he didn’t have any posts— you’d still be nosy, right? He was dead wrong but he refused to linger on the thought for too long not when he’d been given a small glimpse into the life you’ve built without-- in spite of him.

The most recent picture is two hideous drawings he assumes his kid and some other talentless bum (probably gojo) drew but as he reads your caption he chokes back a laugh much to his dismay.

“airi and yuji’s submissions to the louvre” you’d tagged yuji in the picture and he commented that his didn’t look nearly as good airis. Sukuna thinks yuji should have some shame for having the art skills of an elementary aged student but thats neither here nor there. The humor and lightheartedness of you and yujis interaction brought him back down to earth, back to the position he was in.

The post after that is what makes sukunas heart sink to the pit of his stomach. He’d felt an uncomfortable feeling of… sadness? guilt? He didn’t know what he felt other than his heart clenching at the image in front of him. It seemed to be an older picture of you— pregnant, sleeping with your head on gojos shoulder. Gojo had taken a selfie from a higher angle so it was clear to see you were pregnant, the white haired idiot was smiling throwing up a peace sign as you remained blissfully unaware. Before the feeling of seeing you pregnant can even settle in his conscience he notices theres another picture to swipe to.

He doesn’t really process it.

He can’t recognize the emotion he feels in this exact moment.

A small child, with shoulder length pink hair laid her head on gojos arm, not tall enough to reach his shoulder, asleep quite similar to the pose in the picture of you and gojo. While gojo made the same exact face, sukuna swore if he’d eaten anything it surely would’ve risen up into his throat.

Jealousy, pure unadulterated jealousy seeps through every bone of his body but even more than that he feels heartbroken. Different than the state he was left in after he’d broken up with you— this was a pain he couldn’t place. It didn’t have a category in his mind he could rationalize it with, no past experience, no similar moments... nothing.

It took him quite a while to tear his eyes away from the image, still not thinking its real, to read your caption under the post

“happy birthday toru, we love you <3”

Yeah, that was the nail in the coffin for him he thinks, he doesn’t even want to open the comments. He doesn’t even want to accept the caption, he knows and understands he’s in no position to blame you for getting closer to gojo. He knows he led you to that but that doesn’t make reading it any easier.

He didn’t think he’d ever envied gojo as much as he did now, gojo had you something sukuna himself didn’t have. Gojo had airi, someone sukuna didn’t even know. The white haired idiot had simple moments like that— the ones that sukuna could never really imagine for himself anymore… not after the break up. The memories of it lingered in his mind anyways like the way whiskey lingers on your tongue.

He knows he’d follow you around your apartment, just to see you, just to hear you. How he’d have to hold you when he’d fall asleep at night just to feel the rhythm of your breathing to help lull him to sleep.

He liked to cook— it was something he found calming and he knows he was good at it but none of it mattered until he had your approval until he made you try the first bite and the gleam in your eyes as you looked back up at him had him making more each time. Anything to keep that look on your face, as if he’d held your entire world in his palms.

He needed to hear you humming to yourself as you did miscellaneous tasks— painting your nails or begging to pluck his eyebrows to ‘clean them up’ and he’d always pretend to hate it but there was nothing he desired more than to hear you humming above him as you straddled his lap at just the right angle to tilt his head slightly back as you plucked out the unruly hairs.

You’d always unknowingly pouted when they’d give you the toppings you don’t like on your burger, asking him with pleading eyes if he’d eat them. He’d always say yes, even if it didn’t go with what he ordered.

Yes, yes, yes. Over and over and over again he’d say it a million times in his mind no matter how much he’d deny it to you or told you no he knows without a doubt he did anything you asked. You knew that too after a certain point, that his terse “no’s” after you’d asked him for a favor always meant yes, you always found it funny how he couldn’t just say yes to begin with.

Sukunas thoughts come to a halt as he moves onto the next post and is met with his own eyes staring back at him.

Her eyes were red— he didn’t get a chance to see that in the picture where she was asleep, but they were his eyes, her hair really was his exact shade of pink, she even had his nose but her smile— she had your smile.

But everything about airi was him. He felt sick— actually nauseous.

It’s a picture of airi smiling wide holding a book with a white rabbit on it, her hair is down but she has two pink bunny shaped hair clips in her hair on each side of her head, she’s wearing a pink hoodie that has a small white rabbits on it. He thinks is this what parents usually feel? An overwhelming sense of protectiveness? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a shift in his objectiveness. She finally had a face to her name and he feels whatever poor strings of apathy snap.

“airi is better off without you” yujis words played in his mind as he read the caption for the post

“airis current obsession is bunnies if you can’t tell”

Rabbits? Sukuna scrunches his nose. What did they even do? As far as he knows they don’t even make noise— you cant even take them for walks. What is so appealing about them? Do kids really find such mundane and weak things interesting? But he finds that he wont be able to say that to airis face (like any reasonable adult) 

He nearly laughs at how strange his thoughts are so vulnerable for a being he’s never even met— who hasn’t even been on this earth for 5 years. He feels his sanity grasping at straws. Sukuna can’t prove you right, he can’t be who you think he is, who you hid airi from. His pride would simply not allow that, he needed to prove you wrong— an even bigger part of him wants to make you regret even thinking so lowly of him.

But the idea of parenting is something beyond him. He thinks back to yujis toddler years with a grimace on his face, the kid was a handful… he still is. This is a door he can’t open and not enter. If he does this theres really no going back. He’s not even sure whats holding him back, its not like he’s living a life where he’d have anything to lose. He’s already lived the single life, he’s done the whole “carefree” thing and nearly the entire time he was miserable because he didn’t have you. Maybe its the idea that you’d hold it over his head if he came back around, maybe its that you’d be right somehow in the end, if he’d come crawling back to you it’d be you winning. Or if It ended up being too much for him the whole notion of ‘fatherhood’ and he chickens out. Either way you read him like a book and it made him sick.

What is the first step in parenting anyways? It’s not like he had any amazing examples in his life and its not like its something he studied. Sure, the pictures of airi may have chipped away at his selfish attempts at living freely but what is he supposed to do after that? She probably cant even hold a conversation its not like he’d be able to talk to her. And everyone must be out of their goddamned minds if they think he’s gonna stoop so low as to baby her, he surely wasn’t going to color or draw pictures with her like yuji did, it’s just not who he is, right?

Sukuna turned off his phone as the image of his daughter burned into his eyes, a small petty part of him feels some sort of satisfaction that she looks so much like him. It must’ve sucked for you, to see him every time you look at airi— he tells himself its the smallest win he’ll take. He threw his head back onto the couch staring at the barely visible ceiling. He hasn’t looked at the time, the past two days he’s been on autopilot, time being something that no longer had meaning as he knew no matter how much of it he had— it wouldn’t make him any less scared.

Scared?

Had he really just admitted that? He snaps his head up and rubs his face, that couldn’t be it. Not even when that asphyxiating feeling of failure filled his brain— the way smoke filled a house on fire. With no way out, consuming everything in its reach, ruining whatever he had left to cling to. His face felt hot as he realized he was fighting back tears, he can’t even remember the last time he cried, there was a stinging feeling building up in his dry eyes. Dry from the lack of sleep— he knew that, and yet the sting felt personal, like it came from the fact that everything he has known and lived by is slowly incinerated by airis existence.

If he accepts her, if he accepts that he’s a father, he will no longer know himself. He will no longer know the person he’s been, he’s built. Everything he did on his own without help from his useless parents.

If he accepts her, he has to be what he didn’t have— what he didn’t know. Its been easy to avoid the memory of his parents and his childhood— living life as a less than perfect brother and grandson. Its been effortless to go through the motions of his life with the rules and morals hes set for himself without having another being dependent on him.

If he accepts airi, he rejects himself.

And somehow if he rejects airi, he still rejects himself— the version of him that he swore he’d never be. He’d never be jin or kaori, thats what he’d told himself long ago.

His ideologies being compromised by such a small human life. A raging war between his mind and soul brought about by his own progeny.

Something only possible because of you— it was always going to be you.

-----

Your living room was filled with an oppresive silence as airi, gojo and megumis voices were muffled in the next room over. The three of them were in the kitchen attempting to make “dessert”, you wanted to smile as you heard megumi reading all the instructions while gojo and airi massacred whatever the recipe was supposed to be

“2 cups of flour” megumi deadpanned and instead of a response all you heard was airi squealing with laughter

“Oops” gojo said seconds after

Megumi did not necessarily want to watch gojo and airi pour more than 2 cups of flour into a bowl, and laugh it off as if it wouldn’t make the dish inedible but he knew you and yuji needed to talk, and free of distractions— the distraction in question being the three year old with endless energy.

He didn’t mind too much because the more megumi thought about it he did feel a sense of sorrow for yuji. Megumi knew his father, he remembered him albeit all of it a little fuzzy but even when he was alive Toji wasn’t the most present, work paired with never getting over the death of his wife— these were things megumi knew all too well about his father. So when he passed away, megumi didn’t know who to grieve, its not as though he was an amazing father that was meant to be grieved in such a sense yet megumi could remember the rare moments where he knew toji cared in his own capacity.

So when gojo adopted him and you came into the picture not too long after, he didnt think he could see you guys as parents especially considering how young you both were. He thinks adults are supposed to know what they’re doing as he recalls the times gojo burned their breakfast or would argue with him over board games and which board piece they would use.

You also had a playful dynamic with gojo that helped feed this sense of immaturity that megumi saw in the both of you. He didn’t necessarily view it as a bad thing but it helped frame what box he placed you guys in, much more akin to older siblings than parental figures. He knows in a sense the three of you grew up together, and it was bittersweet to look back on.

Looking at yuji, megumi has never been so thankful for his life now. No matter his bickering with gojo or your occasional prying of megumis emotions, he knew he could turn to the both of you for anything. Even if he might not want to admit he’d need help at any point, you and gojo showed nothing but endless bounds of support and care— Megumi quickly realized yuji didn’t have that.

Sukuna is clearly a mess if megumi could judge (and he did) he wasn’t exactly a “good” brother in traditional senses. Sukuna clearly did care for yuji just not in a way he needed. In a sense megumi understood how with the help of airis existence, yuji could turn to you in moments where he needed emotional support. As if he’d found a place of comfort within the walls of your home— your found family, yuji felt as if he belonged.

All of this to say he’s glad you still let yuji come over, even if it wasn’t easy for you. He knows the past two days have been a lot and he didn’t know how to help other than maybe spend more time with airi so she wouldn’t go to you. You clearly tried to act fine for airi but to Megumi and gojo it was clear your entire demeanor changed. The kindness in your smile when you talked with airi, the tone in your voice, and the patience you’d had were dulled enough that megumi wondered if airi realized too— that you were different. It was only two days but they felt so long and bleak when you held such impact with your presence, yet he couldn’t blame you because who would expect you to be okay?

And he cant even imagine what it was like for yuji having to deal with sukuna on top of his own emotions. It felt awkward to pry beyond a ‘you okay? ’and despite the fact that this is his home and you are family in this moment he cant help but feel like a spectator— he wonders if this is what yuji feels.

————

The past two days you’ve tried so hard not to sulk in your self deprecating thoughts, at the end of the day you knew it’d come down to this. The moment you’d decided not to tell him anything even after seeing him in person, you’d accepted this would be the outcome. You know you shouldn’t feel bad for yourself— for a situation you put yourself in but you can only rationalize so much. You don’t even think you're hurt about why Sukuna’s upset all the comments he’d thrown at you, you’re more hurt at the idea that he’s upset with you at all (no matter how immature that sounds because why wouldn’t he be upset) it just wasn’t something you were used to. You knew you were different than everyone else to him— you don’t know why the smallest part of you expected that now.

Every hour, minute and second ever since the night he found out has been dragging on as if you were stuck in an endless loop. You don’t know where you stand with sukuna anymore, you’d long since accepted he didn’t love you anymore— it took you a year after your break up to accept it. The night he came back had given you a small sense of hope that somehow he was going to stay

That he still loved you

That he wanted to be with you

That he regretted it

You awoke to the jarring reality that you’d never see him again. Crushing whatever small insignificant hope you’d held onto.

You resigned yourself to the restlessness your heart felt. Even if your days were busy, even if you were in pain from your pregnancy, even if you had Megumi and gojo to distract you— when the sun set, you could only do so much to stop the thoughts that raced around in your head. Your dreams plagued with him, you’d come to dread the nighttime.

And then your baby was born, and somehow every thought of him dissipated the moment you’d held her. Her warmth as you held her, hearing her finally cry after you struggled with your labor— you don’t think you’ve ever known a love like this. But that momentary bliss after your birth had burst when reality came crashing down again. You didn’t love airi any less— not in the slightest its just that moment made it so easy to forget him, it was just you and airi. The 9 months you’d carried her, all for that serene peace you’d never experience again— the peace that despite the pain and exhaustion, it was irreplaceable.

The months and years went by and you couldn’t look at her without seeing sukuna, and how for every milestone and all the restless nights of her newborn phase you’d wished he had been there. Her first steps, first words, her teeth finally growing in. All those moments you’d try to capture every second of, wanting more than anything to have him to share it with always thinking that maybe you could show him one day.

An eternal feeling of guilt gnawing at the back of your mind even in your happiest moments, it took its toll on you. So in some weird twisted way— even if sukuna chooses to never be around at least he knows and what happens next is in his hands.

Even now as you sat across from yuji, a relentless headache taking over your senses, a sharp stabbing pain in your temples and a throbbing pulse behind your eyes— it was exhausting. You were immensely grateful for gojo and megumi as they took every opportunity to lighten your load when it came to airi. You knew that being a parent meant no breaks, you understood that and tried to tell yourself that, but you just weren’t present. Whenever airis gaze would find you all you could see was her fathers eyes that you couldn’t bare to be in the line of sight of.

No matter how much you think you’ve changed and how much of a person you’ve become outside of sukuna, somehow everything always traces back to him, you mull over this as yuji sits on the couch next to you. You’re glad he still wanted to come, you told Megumi to make sure to let yuji know he was still welcome— a part of you knew he’d say yes, you don’t think yuji would miss an opportunity to be away from sukuna.

The moment yuji arrived he apologized profusely to you for not being able to give a heads up about sukuna, that he wasn’t the one that told his brother about airi, and that he tried to stop him. You reassured him as kindly as you could— no part of you wanted yuji to feel responsible for the turn of events that occurred. It was a mess he didn’t need on his plate, he was just a kid and you hoped that sukuna understood that too.

Now as you sat in the all too silent room trying to think of how to open up the conversation you could see the slight anxiousness written on yujis face.

“Is everything….” You struggled to finish the sentence because you knew the answer so asking if everything was ‘okay’ seemed futile

Yuji shrugged answering your unfinished question “I’ve been avoiding him”

You slowly nodded with a solemn look, which yuji noticed

“We kind of got into an argument when we got back home but its not just that— im really disappointed in him”

You feel the urge to take some blame it wasn’t just sukuna and you didn’t want yuji to feel that for his brother— if you could ease that you would try

“Im sorry yuji, I wish I would’ve handled it differently, I know that now and-“ you stopped talking as you watched yuji fervently shake his head

“Its not that” yuji mumbled, he cleared his throat before continuing the look on his face written in uncertainty as if he didn’t think he should say more “I had a feeling for a while… longer than I cared to admit that my grandfather was lying to me about my parents— but I didn’t want to think about it too long”

Your brows furrowed, as far as you could recall yuji said his parents had passed away, before that you knew very little about sukunas family situation he never talked about it and you quickly stopped trying to pry as you realized your persistence meant nothing.

“Sukuna told me that night, that my dad is still alive”

Your eyes widened, not missing the way yujis voice wavered

“My grandfather lied and said he died, I guess to make it easier” yuji sighed out as he ran his hand through his hair anxiously “y’know sukuna hates our dad”

You nodded your head slightly and you blinked away the tears that threatened to make their presence known, you heart ached at the idea that this is something yuji barely discovered but that this is something sukuna was sitting on and never shared, a version of him you didn’t know.

“I knew he didn’t like talking about them, but how evasive he got about the topic made me think it was rooted in some sort of anger” you mumbled “I tried to learn more but” you trailed off with a shrug

“He hates them both but I guess our dad a little more since he’s off being a deadbeat somewhere” yuji clarified

You nodded in understanding waiting for yuji to continue

“Long story short I compared him to our dad and I don’t think that sat well with him” yuji murmured

You let the silence hang heavy between the two of you for a moment, you cant imagine how hard that was for yuji to find out but even worse what sukuna must’ve felt to hear that. Even after everything theres always voice in the back of your mind that tells you to care about him, no matter how much you know he doesnt deserve it.

“Im so sorry yuji, I hope… you’re okay” you didnt know what to say in all honesty

“I don’t want that for airi” yuji spoke up with a hint of realization in his voice

You remained silent not entirely sure what he meant

“She deserves better than that so if my brother decides to not be in the picture… please don’t think I wish to be absent too”

You're speechless you’re not really sure what you expected but for yuji to so clearly draw a line between him and his brother, you hope for yujis sake sukuna gets his shit together.

“She should know that not everyone related to her dad sucks” yuji mumbled

You could hear the insecurity in his voice, as if he’s trying to convince himself of that, but you can understand his sentiment, in a way hes right. Worst case scenario is that sukuna really does choose to be a deadbeat, its easy for a child to blame themself for not being enough for the parent to stay and in turn they start to resent the blood relation to said parent, even if it isn’t inherently bad.

So maybe just maybe with yuji around she can see that her fathers side isn’t completely hopeless— you know he’d be an amazing uncle too. All of this of course being worst case scenario.

“You’re a great kid yuji” you reassured him “you’re not just your blood, I hope you know that”

Yuji looked at you with uncertainty

“I mean it!” You smiled “sure you’ll have some characteristics, some genetics” gesturing to his hair “but you’re still you’re own person outside of that, especially when you’re trying so hard to be different— to be better than what you know”

Beats of silence filled the space before you continued “and you know you’re always welcome” you know you’ve told him so many times before but you cant blame how doubtful he feels about it

You looked to yuji to find that he was staring straightforward with a glint of tears in his eyes, you wouldn’t comment on it though. Yuji fiddled with his fingers as he just nodded, as if the nodding would stop the tears from leaving his eyes

“I think he just needs time” you whispered “I cant blame him… its a lot and no matter how much I wish that he’d be more eager or that I handled it better, this is who he is” you shrugged “still sucks though” you added with a humorous tone

Yuji huffed out a laugh “tell me about it”

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were interrupted by a shrill laugh coming from airi and the sound of glass breaking

“Gojo” was all you could hear megumi say in a reprimanding tone

you and yuji snapped your heads to the direction of the kitchen then back at each other bursting out laughing

“I better go check on that” you said after calming down “are you okay though?”

Yuji nodded, feeling more at peace than when he arrived but the idea that at the end of the day it was all up to his brother left him feeling a sadness he couldn't shake

-----

You and gojo were sat on the living room floor building airis kitchen set (he was building you were reading the instructions) while airi watched her current favorite movie. The boys retired to megumis room to set up the new console as well as his headset, he looked as enthusiastic as he could get which means gojo had done good this year. Of course yuji got his gifts too, 2 new sweatshirts from some brand he really likes as well as some gift cards for a game him and megumi play, something about forts at night (you have no idea) you felt as if parenting aged you by 20 years, pop culture very quickly becoming unfamiliar as it was it easy to get lost in what your daughter most appealed to. Your life was no longer just what you liked, you had to adopt whatever interest airi had in the moment— no matter how many times the movie, show or song was repeated.

“You holding up okay?” Gojo asked quietly, noticing you’d been relatively quiet most of the night

You hummed “sukuna requested to follow me”

Gojo shot you a surprised look “when was this?”

“Earlier, when the kids were opening the gifts I didn’t want to say anything”

You were taking pictures of airi and her new toys when you got the notification, heart stuttering as you read it. A sense of sadness washed over you, the idea that he’d being seeing airi for the first time and it wasn’t even in person. You obviously had pictures of her up as well as pictures with gojo and megumi, family pictures were almost your entire feed. You doubt sukuna would take that well, but its also not his place to judge he hasn’t been there and you have to remind yourself of that when guilt threatens to swallow you whole. It feels as if you’ve gotten caught stealing something, the idea that he’s watching and you can almost see the look of disapproval in his eyes.

“Did you let him follow?”

You sighed “yes… only because I think he’s trying to find out more about her” you threw your head in airis direction as she sat distracted on the couch engrossed in the movie while brushing her new dolls hair “I don’t want to stop him from that”

“Makes sense” gojo spoke “did you follow him?”

“No, why would I?” You said dryly

“I don’t know, I just figured you would” gojo shrugged

You can understand how maybe past you would’ve wanted that, to know everything he’s been up to but now you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when you had much bigger things on your plate, you didn’t want to see the life he was choosing to live over his daughter, as petty as that sounded.

“A shame, I wanted to be nosey” gojo joked trying to lighten the mood

“Trust me i know you would” you mirrored his tone

Gojo thinks he could say he knows you better than anyone, sukuna included. Sukuna knew the past you, one that so very little of remains… you didn’t change in any negative way, you’ve just matured. Gojo likes to think he’s matured alongside with you, you’ve both navigated the preteen years of megumi (the most feared phase in gojos opinion). Airi was also something you’d learned to navigate together and maybe a small part in the back of his mind was scared that if sukuna came into the picture, it’d be easy for you and airi to forget about him. Even if thats absurd and simply not true, especially considering gojo isn’t in any place to feel that way, at least thats what he keeps telling himself. In many ways he knows everything he’s done and just from how much he loves your daughter, he could qualify as a stepparent. He knows he said he didn’t want that title, he still doesn’t want it, he knows it isn’t something you’d want either but its hard to pretend like a parental sense of care for airi wasn’t formed on gojos end.

Sure, he could be the uncle that spoils her or riles her up he didn’t hate that at all but maybe because so much of his life has been focused on you and airi for the past few years the idea that it could change at sukunas behest makes gojo more anxious than it should. Gojo wouldn’t come to regret everything he’s done but he would come to fear that he’d lose the family hes gained. It wasn’t traditional by any means but it was all he had and something he’s worked so hard to nourish.

Thats how he knows you were hurting more than you let on, usually the mood in the house flows around you, you don’t even know it but to him and the kids they’re just lucky enough to be in your presence. They subconsciously turn to you, like you always have the answer even when they know it. He doesn’t mean that you do everything for them and they never lift a finger, but more so to know you was to be loved. You had such a way of loving those you cared about, that it made people want to be better, to be what you thought of them. So when your mood isn’t what it usually is he finds every way possible to cheer you up, but in times like these where virtually nothing could help he’s left grasping at straws. It invokes this complex in him that he’s not enough to be there for the people he cares about most, a feeling he’s all too familiar with.

He knows your conscience is eating you alive, you keep thanking him and telling him that you dont say it enough (you do, he has since lost count) and in the back of his mind he knows your thanking him as a replacement for an apology because you know he wont accept one from you. There is nothing to apologize for in gojos eyes, everything he has done has been because he wanted to, and no matter how many times he reiterates this, you don’t accept it.

“Do you think he’ll reach out?” You voice appeared faintly in gojos mind as his thoughts were racing, he hadn’t realized you asked him a question

“I can’t say but” his voice trailed off trying to find the right wording “if he does, its better if he sorts it out whatever he’s feeling first”

You threw him a curious look, interested to know what he made him think that

“C’mon we’ve known the guy for ages, that look in his eye the night he came was something I’d never seen before” gojos voiced sounded almost stern “that kind of look wont go away overnight”

Gojo didn't want airi to be looked at with such anger, he didn't want you to be looked at that way either but he knows that in some sense sukuna would think he was entitled to that anger.

But airi didn’t deserve that at all, in any sense. You knew gojos words were true, as much as it shattered you. 

————

2 days turns into 5 and it’s almost been a week. Tomorrow was New Years eve and the new year was looking more and more bleak in your humble opinion. Starting out January like this wasnt something you particularly desired but if that was how it was until sukuna decided to speak then so be it.

You try to go about your days normally but you’re nearly jumping at any notification your phone gets, thinking at any moment it could be him. Airi becomes more clingy as she realizes you’re distracted, she doesn’t know by what but she certainly knows that whenever she rants in what she believes is full cohesive sentences (but whats most definitely a lot of toddler nonsense) she has to repeat what she said because you didn’t hear it the first time.

So she increases how much she follows you around the house, and even when megumi and gojo tried to distract her it wasn’t enough anymore. Sure, gojo was funny and megumi was patient but when she noticed that the second either one of them sat down to play with her, you’d leave the room or go quiet, she began to search you out.

It’s strange how it only took a few days for her to notice your strange behavior, in all honesty you thought all the attention everyone was giving her would’ve been enough.

And today was one of those days Airi trailed behind you as you enter your room

“what’re you doing?” She asked excitedly

“Im gonna look at some old pictures” you responded

“Mmmmm can I see?”

“Sure you can” you smiled as you picked her up, placing her on your bed, she began to look around your room as if looking for something, as if she hadn't been in here hundreds of times before. You watched her for a moment, intrigued by her behavior before grabbing the book from your closet and sat down next to her.

It wasn’t much just a simple black scrapbook with a few stickers on it, years ago you’d insisted on having physical pictures to look through especially of airis toddler years.

You were sure she’d lose interest after the 5th picture but she just kept asking “who’s that” every time you pulled out a new photo, even if it was clear who it was. They were old pictures of you and your friends in high school a couple of candid pictures of you and gojo, a ton of you and Shoko (you missed her so much and you try not to think about how proud but sad you are that she’s a successful doctor in a whole other city) and quite a few of you and geto.

Airi giggled when she saw a picture of you wearing gojos old sunglasses and gojo trying to take them off your face

“toru?” She asked as she pointed at the guy with white hair, she was finally recognizing he was the only one who looked like that

“Mhm he was megumis age here” you replied

She nodded but you’re not too sure she understood that concept of age, she understood a birthday because of the gifts but really thats the only indication of age in her mind, plus she only knew it existed when you told her about it 

Your smile dropped as you moved onto the next picture, you thought you had put it in the box of sukunas things he’d forgotten. You’d never gotten rid of, just in case airi were to ever become curious (is what you told yourself). The box remained unopened for years in the garage, you refused to acknowledge it so the picture in your hands was like getting a bucket of ice cold water dumped on you.

“Who is that” airi asked as she pointed at the man in the picture

You looked at the picture of you and sukuna on the day you both graduated from high school, you had a look of shock on your face as you looked up at him, you can still hear him and his question so clearly.

You didnt know what to tell her and your mouth felt dry and your eyes stung a bit, after a few seconds she asks the question again

“Thats my old friend” you replied, in a saddened tone Airi looked at you as she heard how you didn’t sound as excited as you did with the other pictures, but you moved on quickly. You distracted her with a younger picture of megumi holding her a few days after she was born

“Thats you and megumi” you pointed at the baby

“Thats me?” She asked happily

“It is” you giggled as you admired her smile

The moment was ruined as your phone started ringing, reading the caller ID your smile left as quickly as it came

next chapter

[kcwriter-blog]

The Theme of Forgiveness in Cole’s Personal Quest

The theme of The Veilguard will be regret. But there is more to getting past regret than just deciding to get over it. To experience regret is to experience shame and guilt. It is to feel sorry for causing pain. It is about penance and forgiveness.

While I don’t know how that will play out in The Veilguard, I believe we see some of those same themes in Cole’s personal quest, Subjected to His Will. As Trick Weekes wrote Cole, Solas and presumably the quest, I think there are aspects of it that could be relevant to Rook and Solas’ arcs in Veilguard. Since there are potential spoilers, I will put the rest under the cut.

The quest revolves around the question of whether Cole should become more like a spirit or more human. There are pros and cons to each, and I really don’t think there is a right or wrong answer. What is interesting is how very Old Testament that section of the quest is.

Cole, Varric, Solas and the Inquisitor find the man responsible for the real Cole’s death. Cole’s immediate reaction when confronting him is, understandably, anger. It’s not so much that Cole wants revenge as it is that he feels he must seek it. The man was responsible for the real Cole’s death; therefore, he must die. Basically, an eye for an eye.

It’s an interesting set up because we aren’t being asked to decide whether the man will die. As Varric points out, no one is suggesting that. We are being asked to decide how Cole will heal. Will it be by exacting revenge or by offering forgiveness.

One thing we always overlook during the quest is the ex-Templar himself. We don’t consider his feelings. Feelings he has been living with since the day the real Cole died.

What we know immediately is that he is an ex-Templar. He wouldn’t be buying black market lyrium if he wasn’t. We also know how harsh a life that is due to Cullen and Samson’s backstories. As the Templars wouldn’t care about the real Cole’s death, he wasn’t kicked out because of that. Which means he probably left the order because he couldn’t stand to be reminded of what he had done. He regrets it. He is sorry.

So, on one side we have a man who feels so guilty, he leaves the order, subjecting himself to a precarious existence because he can’t forgive himself. On the other, we have the person harmed by his actions, seeking recompense.

Cole has two options. Or rather, we are given two possible paths for him. If the Inquisitor sides with Varric, he is offered the opportunity to exact revenge. This helps Cole grow but I would argue it is the easier option. Vengeance is simple. It makes us feel better right away. Forgiveness is much, much harder.

Why then does Solas advocate for it? Because forgiving someone who is truly repentant is an act of compassion. Cole is a spirit of compassion. To become more of what he once was, he must find compassion in himself.

And it is hard. I love the imagery of the scene where Cole confronts the Templar. The man realizes his sins have caught up to him. He sinks to his knees in front of Cole. Now he is at Cole’s mercy. At which point Solas steps in and asks Cole to feel the man’s pain.

Solas is asking Cole to empathize with the man, to try to understand not why he did what he did, but how he has felt every day since then. He wants Cole to understand that the man has been punishing himself. He has been doing penance. It isn’t working because he cannot forgive himself. He needs to be forgiven by the person he hurt.

Once Cole understands that the man has been punishing himself, he no longer feels the need to kill him. Forgiveness is Cole’s to grant or not grant. He has that much power. He chooses to forgive and in so doing frees them both.

While both ways of resolving Cole’s situation are valid,I believe that withholding forgiveness does not do Cole any good. All Cole learns from the experience is that taking a life for a life doesn’t solve anything. That doesn’t mean you heal. It just means you accept. Cole will never truly be free of the knowledge that the person he tried to help died. He was too late.

I should add that this doesn’t help the Templar either. He remembers what he did and apologizes because he fears for his life. Afterwards? He thinks the person he kills lives which means all he has done since then was pointless. That can lead to bitterness, resentment and possibly him hurting others because of it.

Now what does all this have to do with Rook and Solas? Well, Solas is carrying around about a thousand years worth of regret and guilt. Rook is probably carrying some also. Both for something they did that was supposed to save the world and ended up making things worse. They both will need to heal which means they will both need to find or accept compassion so they can forgive themselves.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hi um ask I ask for Nobel as a father. Like what would he name his kids/ how many kids and just how he would be as a father. If it’s not to much to ask please and thank you. Ps I love your work

Hiya~

I know that this is a very recent ask, but I was in the mood for some soft family/dad vibes (maybe or maybe not because of a Tumblr mutual and their fave), so this just inspired me.

Contains: Papa!Nozel, he's being protective, caring, and protective. Includes 3 small snippets at the end after a general description of Nozel as a father Snippets: Nozel x reader (implied f!reader) Other warnings: none

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Nozel as a father would be a combination of stern, highly protective, and somewhat easily guilt-tripped by his kids.

He wouldn't exactly coddle his kids, but they would be short of anything. He has certain expectations and wants his kids to try and become strong and capable, and he is a very solution oriented father, because he is still unsure of how to express a lot of his feelings. Despite having grown better at it over the years.

If his kids have a problem with something, he'd try to find a solution and very concretely fix a problem. For him questions that have to do with mana are the easiest, because his affinity is very difficult to control, and he had to hone it a lot, since he was, in terms of affinities, the underdog as well. As long as it is a problem involving an information topic, he most likely has a solution, or knows from where to look. It is a way for him to show love, since he didn't receive that kind of support himself after Acier's passing, and he knows how it feels to have to do such things by oneself.

He would have zero tolerance against someone insulting or hurting his children or spouse, which stem from his past and his former wrongdoings. These cause him to jump to rescue perhaps too early, and this time his anger and harsh words would be directed towards the perpetrator, because he doesn't want to be the person he was anymore and is trying to desperately to shake it off. Or push it away. Even if it was long in the past, it does tend to surface when he feels strongly. He would stand between whatever it is and his kids, rather than let them be hurt in any shape or form. He has lost too much, caused too much, and while he meant well in the past, he doesn't want to repeat his former actions. So, he does the opposite.

And because of that, he can also be guilt-tripped easily by his kids. If one of them even insinuates that "dad is mean!" he would stop in his tracks and do any damage control he can in that moment. Essentially, his kids would pretty easily be able to wrap him around their finger.

He is also a very present father. From the very beginning of the children's lives.

The names he would give his children would be soft, renowned and prestigious. And they'd be of french or latin origin, starting with the letters L, N or M.

He'd like to have a few kids. Maybe 3 or 4 ideally. But that would be negotiable.

---

You make your way to the nursery, yawning, your steps wobbling ever so slightly.

The room is just behind the door to your grand bedroom, to keep the baby close, and yet, sometimes, it feels so far. Which makes you think about just having the crib next to your bed, but people say that the baby has their own room. The magical device, telling your if the baby is crying, should suffice.

But still... as you wrap your arms around your body, as if hugging yourself, trying to comfort yourself, you can't help but think about how much you'd like to just keep them close. Next to your bed. Even if it meant going against recommendations.

Your hand lands onto the cool metal handle of the door, and you enter into the room, expecting it to be empty.

But... it isn't.

You stop. And look at the figure standing next to the crib.

Moonlight makes his silver hair glimmer, and his head turns ever so slightly at the sound of you entering, but not enough to turn his eyes away from the crib.

"Was the baby crying?" You ask, as if a whisper. Not sure why, but it seems to make sense in the moment. Why else would he be there, as if comforting, guarding, being ... present.

"No," he replies with a whisper of his own as his hand rests on the edge of the crib. "I just... needed to be sure."

"Sure of what?" You ask with a slight frown as you start making your way closer to him.

"That... everything is okay..." he admits with a hushed tone. But in that tone there is something mixed into it that you've... heard maybe once or twice before.

It is something that doesn't quite fit into his mouth. Something that seems so out of place when it comes from him.

And that something was fear.

He sounded like he was afraid. Afraid of walking in and finding... that he wasn't there when he was needed, by his family, by those for whom he'd gladly give his life. Those that meant the world to him.

----

"No, we're not getting a cat," he said before taking a sip of his coffee at the breakfast table.

"But daaa-aaad!" The little girl with silver hair whined, looking imploringly at her father.

"No buts," he stated. "Pets are a distraction. And furthermore felines are more in accordance with the House of Vermillion. Which we are not. Once you grow older, we can discuss falconry."

"You're so mean!" She shouted with a pout and crossed her arms as traces of tears rose into her eyes.

A few quiet sobs broke through the air as the only sound.

The little girl, no older than five, was looking straight ahead of herself, not seeing the breakfast on her plate.

Until the silence was broken by a different kind of a sound. "What kind of a cat were you thinking about?" He asked with a small sigh, as a barely audible giggle escaped from you.

----

"No one disrespects my family," his tone like ice and daggers combined as he peered down his nose in a manner that only royalty can. "Not even you," he said, words laced with disgust as Damnatio simply sat there.

"I am only telling you what I hear," he stated blankly. "She could use more tutoring with her writing."

"Her penmanship is perfectly satisfactory," Nozel stated as the little girl stood behind her father's back.

"It is fitting for her age group," Damnatio agreed. "But it isn't remarkable either," he added.

"If you were not the legislative representative of the royal houses, I would sue you."

Damnatio's expression stayed the same. "Unfortunately I am," he sighed.

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casually tagging: @kalolasfantasyworld @koneko-pi