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gallusrostromegalus · 22 days ago

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I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #sosuke aizen #kaname tosen #gin ichimaru

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astraeus-tree · 17 days ago

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Disparities Between Our Souls

Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Pairing: Reader x Miguel O'hara

Neglected!Reader who is transported into the ASTV universe and becomes a spider before being transported back to Gotham with their beloved

Idea -> Prologue

You were the oldest child of Bruce Wayne but came to the manor after Dick and Jason

You grew up with your aunt who took you in after your mother died soon your their birth

As time passed, your aunt's health worsened and she wasn't able to sustain both of you anymore

Searching through things to sell for money, she comes across a letter addressed to her from your mum, and in the letter she finds out that you are a child of Bruce Wayne

You get a blood test, it's positive and auntie decides to take her chances and send you off to live a better life as the child of a billionaire

At first it seems alright, not exactly the best but at least you had money and some company

You find out about the vigilantism a few months into their stay at the manor

Unfortunately, it's also a few nights before Jason's death and you are left to deal with overwhelming emotions alone after his death, especially when Barbara is soon found with her legs ruined by the same person who murdered your dear brother

When Tim comes you're pushed to the side even more as Bruce focuses on training him and Dick stays mostly at Bludhaven

Steph comes soon after him, but she wasn't really apart of the family and she always focused on proving herself to your father

Cassandra was introduced not long after, you wanted so badly to bond with her but with her inability to speak first few months, a language barrier was set between you two, and when that was eventually fixed, there simply weren't any opportunities to connect

Jason's return is unexpected and you want so badly to greet him with a hug, but you are pushed away

Damian is introduced and you can see the hate in his eyes as he explains that you're a liability to the family, unable to defend yourself should (when) a threat arise

You want to move out of this manor, clearly you were not welcome here anymore, but even though you were the child of Bruce Wayne, you yourself were not rich and finding a safe apartment or house in Gotham would cost you a fortune

Most of their funds also went to support their auntie as wellInstead, they opt to stay in their room at all times, moving with the shadows within the mansion, anything to stay away from their family's sights

During all this, your auntie is left with an illusion of you living a happy life

On a normal night, you wake up to excruciating pain in your arm and your body as heavy as lead

You can do nothing as heat overtakes your body, your vision is blurry and your breaths are short and quick

You think you see a colourful circle that looked oddly like a portal in the corner of their eye, but you couldn't tell if that was your mind was deceiving you

You didn't have time to decide as you passed out soon after

5 years later

You swing around the spider HQ to your darling’s office, food in hand

“Miguel, I have food for us”

You two were enjoying you food when an unknown and strange portal opened near them, you thought it looked familiar but you couldn't place your finger on it

Miguel put his hand in front of you, shielding you from whatever could come out of the portal

But instead of something or someone coming out, you two were sucked into it instead and dropped off into another world, presumably

The place you were dropped was dark, gloomy, rainy and oh-so familiar

You turned to your partner, pulling your mask over your head and urging him to do the same

“We have to get home. We cant stay here.”

Relationships and Ages (Pre-time skip)

Bruce (TBD)

His neglect for you was not intentional, but when he has a city to save at night, and basically run at day, there isn't much time to spare

Especially when he has to focus on training the other children so they don't harm themselves in the field of vigilantism

He loves you, he does, but he has to focus on what is more important

Dick (23)

Perhaps if you were introduced earlier, you two would've been closer, but unfortunately, you didn't, you came when he moved to Bludhaven, when he was focused on making a name for himself other than "Batman's Robin"

He has no major feelings for you, you are his older sibling and that's it

Jason (20)

You two were close when he was Robin, to him, you were the perfect older sibling, someone he could rely on

The only qualm he had was that he had to keep the vigilantism a secret from you, there were so many times he had almost spilled the secret out when he was talking to you

After his death, he still loved you, but he was afraid to see your reaction when you finally saw him

To him, you were innocent, a civilian needed to be far away from the crime lord, Red Hood, as far as possible to keep you safe

If only he knew how much damage he had done by doing that

Tim (18)

You didn't really get to bond

With Tim busy training as Robin then it turning to solving cases, he was spread thin

His free time was mostly spent napping anywhere he could, and that often meant you had no time to spend together

You two had no strong relations to each other, but you did admire Tim for his wits sometimes

Damian (10)

He was excited at first, to have somebody also be the blood-child of Bruce Wayne, but when he saw you, he was utterly disappointed

To him, his harsh words to you was him preparing you for the real world

Perhaps he still had hope for you, but for now he couldn't understand anything but hatred

Duke (16)

At the time of your disappearance, he wasn't introduced to the family yet

However, he knows of your existence due to the news

Babs (24)

You two were friends before, being the same age and all

But she soon became too busy with business of Oracle to focus on your friendship

Perhaps you two could rekindle that friendship, but for now there's barely any feelings held towards each other

Steph (19)

You two never really had time to bond, as said before she was just too busy with other stuff like her father and proving herself

If given the opportunities, you two could probably be close friends, but sadly you two weren't

Cass (20)

Your only sister in the family, you had hope that you two would be close, but with the language barrier it was hard to do so

When you were taken away, you two were forming a friendship, although it was definitely in the early stages, it was there and it was blooming

Alfred (Idek)

He was there sometimes and he wasn't there other times

He was busy working behind the scenes and keeping the manor clean

But when he was cooking, you would sometimes join him and it'd be a quiet, almost silent, bonding time

Wow this ended up being way longer than I thought

Ironically enough, as I was editing this, the fanfic/ao3 curse hit me and I almost got into a car crash. We are all good tho, no one got hurt and the cars are mostly fine!

Please let me know your thoughts! I'm not sure if I'll actually write this since my motivation comes and goes but if there's someone out there who really wants me to, I might continue it

Btw Bruce is older than canon, so pls don't think he had reader as a teen 😭, I swear he was at least 18. Speaking of ages, they aren't really important, they are just mostly there as my guidance in writing should I ever need them

Most of my DC/Batfam knowledge comes from fanon stuff so if they're ooc or they aren't that well written, my apologies. You're welcome to point any mistakes out and I'll try to fix it <3

If you can tell that I don't know the batgirls that well, I apologise again

This is my first time posting an actual story on tumblr so pls go easy in me

Have a great day/night <3

Edit - Fixed minor spelling mistakes

This was inspired by all the Neglected!Wayne fics, specifically Undoing Fate by Rizzanon, Ghosts of the Past by Nebulousmoon3990 and Not Your Classic Vigilante by Detectivemervelingcomics

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akanemnon · 2 years ago

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TWIN RUNES MASTERPOST

Because of the limited amount of links you can put into a post, you can find the links to each page in these sub-posts:

To be continued...

FAQ under the cut!

TWIN RUNES MINI COMICS

Glasses - Frisk Dance - But nobody came - An acquired taste -Smalltalk - All You Can Eat - Page 75 EXTRA - Page 84 EXTRA

AFTER RUNES:

Not-To-Do-List - Beach Episode - Salute the Frick - Morning Routine - The Universe is a Hologram - Trick as a Treat - Taste the Painbow - Dungeon Doofus - Tour de Nope - Explosive Start - Conveniently shaped... - Sibling Bonding - Home for Iinfite Avoidance

PRE-RUNES:

Fallen down - First steps - Press [C] - Eye opening - Whatstheirface - Acid reflux - Connection issues - Normal Human Behavior

______________________________________________________________

TWIN RUNES - FAQ

What exactly is this AU about? Twin Runes is essentially a comedic crossover AU between the universes of Deltarune and Undertale. No fancy nicnacs. Just the characters being their chaotic selves. But there might be some darkness lurking up ahead... ____________________

When is the next comic? The comic updates most Sundays at 6:30 PM Central European Time. ____________________

Why is this AU called Twin Runes? The name is more or less a play on the typical naming format of most AU's by featuring the "Runes" part. There are no literal Twin Runes. The whole name is more of a stand in for Undertale and Deltarune as parallel worlds. Hence the "Twin" part. ____________________

When does Twin Runes take place? This AU takes place between a hypothetical Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 of Deltarune. On the Undertale side of things, it takes place post neutral route just as Frisk was about to deliver Undyne's letter to Alphys.

How many pages are there going to be? The script for this comic estimates that the comic is going to be 137 pages long (if I don't make any major changes). ____________________

Is the Player a thing in this AU? The Player(s) lost control over both human children as soon as Frisk entered the world of Deltarune. Essentially, the reader takes on the role of the Player. You have no influence on the outcome of the story anymore. All you can do is watch. Both Kris and Frisk refer to the Player as "It" and "the THING". ____________________

Is there going to be a Weird Route? Due to the lack of Player, all choices made by Kris are now their own. How to engage in battle all depends on Kris, and not the Player. Because of that, there are NO DIFFERENT ROUTES. There is only one route and that one is based on Kris' choices. Because of the lack of save points, there is no "what-if" scenario. ____________________

When Chapter 3 and 4 are released, will it affect the story? Any chapters after Chapter 3 won't affect the story in the grand scheme of things. Twin Runes created a new timeline so to speak. ____________________

How old are the characters in this story? Frisk appears to be around 9 years old. Kris thinks they're 14. (Both Frisk and Kris don't know their actual age.) Chara died when they were around 10-11. Susie is around 15-16 (she was held back once) Ralsei appears to be the same age as Kris. ____________________

What's up with Kris' and Frisk's hair? The red bits of their hair is more or less a representation of their souls. That in turn is also why Chara doesn't have that feature. They are soulless. It's a stylistic choice. ____________________

What's that thing on Kris' chest? It's a scar they got from tearing out their soul.

And why do they have weird lines all over their body? Both Kris and Frisk's anatomy resemble that of ball-jointed dolls. They appear just as markings across their bodies. Think of them as elaborate birthmarks. Kris and Frisk are still made of flesh and blood, but are in fact hypermobile. The reason as to why they do is still a little secret :) People here like to refer to these markings as "puppet limbs". You can get a better look at them and the scar in this artwork

Why does Kris have braces? This is why:

Are old art, comics and asks from your blog part of Twin Runes? Unless stated otherwise, all art that was made prior to the start of the comic are not canon to Twin Runes. That mainly includes the old asks. __________________

Why is Dark World Frisk green? Frisk changes their main sweater colors with Kris when they enter the Dark World.

Could other ghosts see Chara? (pre Darkner transformation) No, only Frisk and Kris were able to see Chara. ____________________

IS KRIS NOW FRISK'S COUNTERPART OR CHARA'S???? :) ____________________

Where are Jevil and Spamton? Are they in Castle Town? The Fun Gang have already fought these two in the previous chapters and added them into their inventory. Outside of that little dream sequence, neither will be making an appearance. ____________________

Is anyone from Undertale Yellow gonna make an apperance? Outside of a tiny cameo from Clover (that has no greater bearing on the story) no one from Undertale Yellow is going to make an appearance. ____________________

Is (insert character here) gonna go to the Dark World/underground? With the way the story is going to play out, only the main group will be heading to this new Dark World. The rest of the story will be taking place there. I want to keep the story focused and not involve too many characters. ____________________

How did you come up with the idea of Twin Runes? Twin Runes is an offshoot of a separate script I started in 2023. The concept of this script is similar to Twin Runes, but turned on its head. The funny moments in that script made me continue what now is the start of Twin Runes. I pretty much just wanted to see if I am actually capable of drawing a comic to begin with. So... in a way Twin Runes is my first attempt at a comic ever. If I ever finish Twin Runes, then I know I can tackle turning that mammoth project of a script into a comic too. In the grand scheme of things these two projects are sister series. They have A LOT in common and even share similar plot elements. When Twin Runes is over you will automatically also know certain mysteries of The Other Script. ____________________

What is The Other Script? As of this moment I call The Other Script: "Lost in the In-Between". At its core it's an inverse of Twin Runes. I.e. Kris falling into the underground and being aided by Frisk on their quest to return home. The story is considerably more grounded than Twin Runes and so are the characters. Though they do have their silly moments from time to time. The overall mood of that script is a lot darker in nature and it's a 200+ page passion project of mine. ____________________

Is there x ship in Twin Runes? The focus of this story is not on shipping. If it's in the game it will very likely be mentioned or brought up, but that's about it. ____________________

What pronouns do the human children use in this story? THEY/THEM FOR ALL OF THEM WITHOUT ANY EXCEPTIONS. That is what they are in this story. This is not open to interpretation. Please respect that. If this is a dealbreaker for you, then unfortunately this story is not for you.

___________________________________________________________

ABOUT FAN CONTENT

Am I allowed to make fanart? ABSOLUTELY! You are very welcome to make fanart if you feel like it. Please let me know if you do by tagging me, so I can share it with everyone to see so that you get the appreciation you deserve! ____________________ Can I use the funny faces you draw for memes or for stuff like memes or for profile pictures? That's what they're here for! ____________________

Am I allowed to translate the comic and post the translation to a different site? For transformative work like this, please ask me beforehand. If I have given you my permission, please link the original work with the proper credit given. ------------------------

Am I allowed to dub your comic? Just like the point above, please ask for my permission first. That is just common courtesy. -----------------------

If I have gotten your permission to create content off your comic (dubbing, translations, etc...), am I allowed to monetize it? NO. I don't make any money off this comic either, as it is purely fan content.

______________________________________________________________

ABOUT ASKS

Asks will open after a new comic has been released. I will queue the questions from Monday until Friday. Once the queue is full, asks will close. Your questions will then be answered over the course of the week.

Try not to submit multiple asks. If necessary, just keep everything in one post.

Keep in mind that I receive AL LOT of asks. There is no guarantee that every question will be answered.

Questions containing spoilers will not be answered on principle. Wouldn't be as fun if the surprise was ruined, right?

Before leaving an ask (mostly for everyone who's new), please make sure to read the FAQ section above. A lot of times your question might have been answered already.

I love memes and dumb jokes as much as the next guy, but try not to spam

It probably goes without saying, but please stay civil. I want to give everyone the respect they deserve, and naturally like to be treated the same way.

Please be mindful about drawing requests. It is understandable if you're eager to see a certain character drawn in my style, but I do not like to be bombarded by requests. The more it happens, the less likely I am to do it. Be kind and ask nicely.

I don't take unsolicited comic ideas.

Don't use other people's posts that I reblogged to ask me questions! It has happened before and I do not wish to see this!

This isn't an ask blog. The comic has a script that will not deviate. Reader interaction with the characters won't be possible due to the overall "no Player" subplot.

Please do not ask me to put your characters into the story. Like I said, the script is already finished and I'm quite happy with it. Your characters are in better hands with yourself and your own stories. Please have respect for mine.

______________________________________________________________

ABOUT SUBMISSIONS

The submission box is for FANART ONLY!

It is meant for those who do not want to submit their fanart to their own blogs, in case they feel scared or intimidated to do so.

ASKS AND REQUESTS THAT ARE SUBMITTED THIS WAY WILL NOT BE ANSWERED.

Please wait until the ask box opens. You can read more on how asks work in the section above.

______________________________________________________________

REFERENCE SHEETS

The following are ref sheets of characters that don't have established Dark World forms yet (as of writing this comic). The list will be updated as soon as a new character enters the Dark World. Here you will also find references of characters that might appear as surprise cameos, or maybe even completely new faces...

______________________________________________________________

FULL ART

#twin runes #twin runes masterpost #masterpost #deltarune comic #comic #deltarune au #crossover #undertale #my art #FAQ #frequently asked questions #important #please read #deltarune

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mononijikayu · 5 months ago

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ikaw lang— fushiguro megumi.

"Thanks. he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad. You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.” “......You didn’t need to—” You shake your head, smile even wider. “But I want to, okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, First Love, First Meeting, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Hugging, Mention of Injury, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Blood, Depiction of Medical Aid, Fushiguro Megumi is In Love, Sorcerer! Megumi, Non-Sorcerer!Reader, Megumi and Reader Are A Bit Older;

WORDS: 6.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this song is really cute. i should rest after this because ive been writing all the other poll related works and my eyes hurts. i might open commissions some time so i can get new glasses 🤔 but anyway, i hope you like this as much as i do. i love you so much 🫶

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

:•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:

HE WONDERS WHAT HE DID TO BE THIS HAPPY. Fushiguro Megumi often finds himself lost in thought, trying to piece together how he ended up with someone like you as his lover. It’s a mystery to him, one that he turns over and over in his mind, especially in the quiet moments when he watches you from across the room.

The two of you couldn’t be more different. Megumi has always been reserved, the kind of person who prefers the solace of a quiet corner, away from the spotlight. He’s never been one to seek attention, content to blend into the background, observing rather than participating.

And then there’s you, today. The person he loves the most.

You, who are the complete opposite of everything he thought he needed. You walk into a room and light it up effortlessly, drawing people to you like a lighthouse in a rough storm. Your presence is magnetic, radiant—wherever you go, you leave a trail of warmth and joy, like the sun casting light on everything in its path. If the sun existed in Megumi’s universe, it would undoubtedly be you, the brightest star in his sky, illuminating even the darkest parts of his world.

Sometimes, Fushiguro Megumi wonders how someone like you could ever be drawn to someone like him. He’s not flashy, not outgoing or overly expressive. But then, you’ve never needed him to be. From the moment you met, you saw something in him that no one else did. You didn’t mind his quiet nature; in fact, you seemed to appreciate it, to cherish the way he found comfort in the shadows while you thrived in the light.

Every time Megumi sees you, his heart races uncontrollably. It’s a feeling he can’t quite describe, this mixture of awe and disbelief that he’s lucky enough to have you by his side. You have a way of making him feel things he never thought possible—emotions that run deep and wild, far beyond the calm exterior he usually shows the world.

And whenever you flash him that smile, the one he loves so much, he feels his composure slip. His face turns scarlet, his heart stumbles over itself, and he panics slightly, wondering how he’ll ever survive the intensity of his feelings for you.

But what truly leaves Megumi breathless are your eyes.

He’s always been captivated by them, even before he realized he loved you. There’s something in the way your eyes shine that draws him in, that makes him feel like he’s seeing something otherworldly. When you look at him, it’s like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Your eyes are windows to your soul, reflecting every emotion, every thought, every ounce of love you hold for him. And Megumi, who is often so unsure of himself, finds a sense of peace and belonging in those eyes. They are his sanctuary, his guiding light, the proof that he’s not alone in this world.

Sometimes, when you catch him staring, you’ll tilt your head and ask him what he’s thinking. And every time, Megumi struggles to find the right words, because how can he possibly explain the way you make him feel? How can he put into words the overwhelming mixture of gratitude, love, and fear that courses through him whenever he’s with you? All he knows is that, in those moments, he’s reminded of just how extraordinary you are, and how incredibly lucky he is to have you.

You are the sun in his universe, the brightest star in his sky, and with every passing day, Megumi falls deeper in love with you. And even though he’s not always able to express it, he hopes that when you look into his eyes, you can see just how much you mean to him—how much he adores every part of you, and how grateful he is to share his life with someone as wonderful as you.

Each time you raise your head and let Megumi gaze into your eyes, he’s struck by how they seem to shimmer with an otherworldly light. It’s not just the way they sparkle, but the depth and complexity they hold within them, as if your eyes contain entire galaxies, full of stars, planets, and endless mysteries.

To Megumi, your eyes are like a universe unto themselves—vast, beautiful, and impossible to fully comprehend. He can never quite find the words to describe the wonder they bring him, because, in truth, they’re unlike anything he’s ever known. They’re out of this world, something magical and extraordinary that he’s lucky enough to witness every day.

And every day, Megumi is reminded of just how fortunate he is to have you by his side. There are moments when he’s caught off guard by the simple yet profound realization that someone as remarkable as you chose him.

He’ll be lost in thought, or caught up in the routine of daily life, and then you’ll look at him, your eyes meeting his, and all those thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. In those moments, nothing else matters—just the connection between you, the unspoken bond that ties your hearts together.

Megumi finds that the most beautiful part of his day is when you look back at him. Your eyes, shining with a brilliance that words can’t quite capture, speak volumes in a language only the two of you understand. They tell him of the abundant love you hold for him, a love that fills his heart with warmth and light.

He’s always been shy, a little reserved, and sometimes he struggles to put his feelings into words. But when you look at him with those sparkling eyes, he wishes he could find the courage to tell you just how much it feels like heaven on Earth when you let him see the hearts hidden behind the bright beam of your gaze.

Megumi knows that you’re patient with him, that you understand his quiet nature, but sometimes he worries that he doesn’t show you enough how deeply he loves you. He wishes he could be more expressive, that he could find the words to tell you everything he feels.

But when words fail him, he hopes that you can see it in the way he looks at you—in the way his breath catches, in the way his heart races, in the way he’s completely and utterly captivated by you.

To Megumi, your eyes are not just beautiful—they are a reflection of the love you have for him, a love that he treasures more than anything in the world. Every glance you share, every moment your eyes meet his, is a reminder of how lucky he is to have found someone like you. And even though he may never fully grasp the magic you bring into his life, he knows that he will spend every day trying to show you just how much you mean to him.

To Megumi, it feels like stars might actually be falling from the sky, captured in the light of your gaze. Every moment he gets to see those eyes, he feels like he's witnessing something otherworldly, something that makes all the differences between you melt away, leaving only the overwhelming love he has for you.

Even though Megumi isn’t always good with words, he sometimes wishes that you could simply look into his eyes and just know that he loves you more than anything in the world. He hopes that you no longer feel the need to ask over and over, like you used to, because the truth is, you’re the only one he has ever truly loved—and the only one he ever will.

But sometimes, a nagging doubt creeps into his mind. He worries that his quietness might not be enough to convince you of how much you mean to him. He fears that he’s not doing enough to show you just how deeply he cares, because he struggles to express his feelings out loud. Yet, despite those fears, Megumi is determined to try harder, to find ways to show you his love so that you never have to doubt it.

If there were a way, Megumi wishes you could look into his heart and believe without a shadow of a doubt that you are the only one his heart has ever loved. And as he gazes at you now, he silently hopes that you can feel the depth of his affection in the way he looks at you, even if the words aren’t always there.

Fushiguro Megumi vividly remembers the first time he saw you for the first time. That was that day, during middle school. It was an ordinary day, and he wasn’t expecting anything to change. And for that change to be for the best.

He was known for being a bit of a loner, someone who kept to himself and occasionally got into trouble for his rebellious streak. He wasn’t exactly a model student, and most people gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get involved with someone who had a reputation for being a delinquent.

But then there was you, when you were younger.

He had just been reprimanded by one of the homeroom teachers for getting into another fight—something that had become more common as he struggled to navigate the challenges of his teenage years.

Or rather, just the annoyance he had for people he considered to be cruel, horrible people. But he supposed he was also angry, frustrated with the world, and on the verge of lashing out again when you approached him.

You were new, just transferred to the school, and Megumi was sure that you, like everyone else, would steer clear of him. But instead, you walked right up to him, your eyes full of concern rather than fear or judgment. You were like the sun blocking his eyes when he met you. You changed his whole world that day, he likes to think.

"Hey! Are you okay?" you had said softly, your voice calm and soothing. "Oh no, you got some dirt on your shirt—is that a cut on your side?"

Fushiguro Megumi had been taken aback for a long time. The last time must have been when Gojo said he’s taking him and Megumi in. There were very few things that had Megumi fazed, stuck in his tracks, and at a loss for words.

Perhaps the act of kindness being shown to him was one of those points. But he doesn’t think you’ve blamed him. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that—without the underlying wariness or caution. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged, trying to brush you off.

“I’m fine.” he muttered, his tone gruff, hoping you would just drop it and leave him alone. "Don't worry about me. Move on."

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you stood your ground, your eyes filled with a concern that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if you could see right through his tough exterior, straight to the part of him that was hurting, and you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed. You shook your head, your hands reaching out to gently tug at his sleeves, drawing his attention back to you.

When he finally looked at you, he was surprised to find that you seemed more distressed about his well-being than he was. There was a softness in your gaze, mixed with a quiet determination that caught him off guard.

"It doesn’t look like it! See? It hasn’t stopped bleeding. you replied gently, your voice free of any reproach, but filled with genuine worry.

Megumi followed your gaze to the cut on his arm, a wound he hadn’t given much thought to in the heat of the moment. But seeing the concern etched on your face made him pause.

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, before speaking again. "But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I just… I just wanted to make sure you’re alright."

“Don’t worry about me—”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of your concern, and it made something inside Megumi’s chest tighten. "At least maybe let me help you clean that nasty cut."

Megumi blinked, taken aback by your persistence. He was used to people either ignoring him or chastising him for getting into trouble, but you were different. You weren’t trying to fix him or tell him what to do—you were simply offering to help, to be there for him in a way that no one else had been. It was a kindness he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

For a moment, he considered brushing you off, telling you he didn’t need any help, that he could handle it on his own. But something in your eyes stopped him. There was a sincerity there, a genuine desire to take care of him, and it made him realize how rare it was for someone to care like that.

"Fine." he finally grumbled, though his voice had lost its earlier edge. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze, instead focusing on the ground as he added, "But it’s really not that bad."

You didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t push him further. Instead, you smiled—a small, relieved smile that made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to. "Let’s just get it cleaned up, okay?" you said softly, leading him to a nearby bench.

As you carefully tended to his wound, Megumi found himself stealing glances at you, wondering why you cared so much. You were new to the school, new to his world, and yet here you were, going out of your way to make sure he was alright. It was strange, but also… comforting.

"Why do you care?" he asked quietly, surprising even himself with the question. It wasn’t something he’d meant to say out loud, but now that the words were out there, he couldn’t take them back.

You paused, looking up at him with those kind, worried eyes. "Because you deserve it." you replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone deserves to be cared for, you know?"

Your words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Megumi didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought of himself as someone who deserved kindness, especially not from someone like you. But hearing you say it so matter-of-factly made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You took Megumi to the nurse’s office, your concern evident in every step you took. He had tried to brush off the cut on his arm as no big deal, but you weren’t having any of it. As you entered the office, you headed straight for the supply cabinet, rummaging through it to find the emergency kit.

Megumi watched you with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. His face was tense, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment clearly visible. He had never been one to draw attention to himself, especially not for something he considered minor. Yet here you were, focused and determined to make sure he was taken care of.

You pulled out the first aid kit and set it on the counter, your hands moving quickly and efficiently. “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up,” you said, your voice steady and reassuring.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the fuss you were making. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. It’s just a scratch,” he muttered, trying to downplay the situation.

You gave him a stern look as you began to clean the cut. “It’s not just a scratch if it’s bleeding. Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been taking care of everyone else, so let me take care of you for once.”

He sighed, though he couldn’t help but feel a little comforted by your persistence. As you carefully applied the antiseptic and bandaged his arm, Megumi stole glances at you, noticing the focused expression on your face. Despite his initial resistance, he was grateful for your concern.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time.

You glanced up at him with a small, reassuring smile. “I know, but I want to. You’ve always been there for me, and it’s only fair that I return the favor. Besides, you look like you’re in no condition to argue right now.”

Megumi managed a small, appreciative smile despite his discomfort. “Thanks. I guess I’m just not used to this… kind of attention.”

You finished wrapping the bandage and patted his shoulder gently. “Well, get used to it. Because I’m not going to let you get away with not taking care of yourself. And don’t think I won’t be checking on you if you ever get hurt again.”

He looked at you, the tension in his face easing as he met your gaze. “I’ll try not to get hurt then. Or at least try to let you know before it gets this bad.”

You laughed softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth. “Good. And remember, if you ever need anything—whether it’s help with a cut or just someone to talk to—I’m always here for you.”

Megumi’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and affection. Even though he had tried to downplay the situation, your unwavering concern made him feel valued in a way he hadn’t felt before. He knew that no matter what happened, he could always count on you to be by his side.

As you finished bandaging his cut, Megumi felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, or the way you didn’t push him to talk about things he wasn’t ready to share. Or maybe it was just because you were there, offering your help without expecting anything in return.

"Thanks....I guess." he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad.

You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.”

“......You didn’t need to—”

You shake your head, smile even wider. “But I want to, okay?”

He didn’t know how to reply. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re a weird one.”

“EH!? But I’m not!”

As the two of you sat there, the world seemed to quiet down around him, leaving only the gentle presence of the person who had somehow managed to slip past his defenses and show him a kindness he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Megumi didn’t know what to say. He was used to people either avoiding him or giving him grief for his behavior, but you were different. You weren’t trying to lecture him or push him away. You were just… there, offering your kindness without expecting anything in return.

From that day on, you always treated him with the same patience and understanding, even when he continued to get into trouble. You never judged him, never scolded him. Instead, you listened, offering support when he needed it and giving him space when he didn’t. You seemed to see past the rough exterior, recognizing that there was more to him than just the delinquent reputation he had built.

At first, Megumi didn’t understand why you were so kind to him. He didn’t think he deserved it, and part of him expected you to give up on him eventually. But you never did. No matter how many times he got into trouble, you were always there, offering him a smile or a word of encouragement.

Slowly, he began to soften around you. He started to look forward to the moments when you would seek him out, your presence becoming a source of comfort in his otherwise turbulent life. You became his anchor, the person who made him believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

It wasn’t long before Megumi realized that his feelings for you had grown into something deeper. At first, he had tried to convince himself that what he felt was simply gratitude, an appreciation for the way you treated him with such genuine care and respect. But as time passed, he found himself thinking about you more and more, his thoughts lingering on the little moments you shared.

Like that time in the library, when you had insisted on helping him with his homework. Megumi had been struggling with a particularly difficult problem, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to solve it. You had noticed his struggle and quietly slid your chair closer to his, gently guiding him through the problem with a patience that both surprised and comforted him.

“There, see? You’re getting it!” you had said, a bright smile lighting up your face as you watched him work through the problem.

Megumi had looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside him had shifted. It was the way you had been so kind, so encouraging, without a hint of judgment or condescension. The way you had treated him like he mattered, like you genuinely wanted to see him succeed. It was a feeling that was foreign to him, yet it warmed him from the inside out.

Another moment had come when the two of you were walking home from school. It had started to rain unexpectedly, and Megumi had cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. But before he could worry too much, you had pulled out your own and held it over both of you, smiling up at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, let’s share. Can’t have you getting soaked.” you had said, your voice cheerful despite the downpour.

As the two of you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally, Megumi had felt his heart do a strange little flip. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way the raindrops clung to your hair, how your smile remained unwavering despite the weather.

In that moment, something had clicked for him. It wasn’t just your kindness that drew him to you—it was the way you made him feel safe, understood, and… cared for.

The realization had hit him one afternoon when you both were at the park. You had been talking animatedly about something, your hands gesturing as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Fushiguro Megumi had been content to just listen, watching the way your expressions changed with every word. And then, without warning, you had turned to him, catching him completely off guard with a look of such warmth and affection that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“What?” you had asked, laughing lightly when you noticed the way he was staring.

Megumi had opened his mouth to respond, but no words had come out. Instead, he had felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him—nervousness, excitement, something that felt suspiciously like hope. It was then that he realized: this wasn’t just friendship or simple admiration. It was something deeper, something more.

He liked you. A lot.

The thought had sent a rush of warmth through his chest, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. Megumi wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. But as he looked at you, standing there with that bright smile on your face, he knew one thing for certain—he wanted to be around you, to make you smile like that as often as he could.

“Nothing.” he had finally managed to say, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” you had asked, tilting your head curiously.

Megumi had hesitated for a moment, but then he had decided to be honest, even if he couldn’t say everything that was on his mind. “About how… I like spending time with you.”

Your smile had grown even brighter at his words, and you had reached out to lightly punch his arm in that playful way you always did. “Well, I like spending time with you too, Megumi.”

And just like that, Megumi had known that he was done for. He liked you—really liked you. And even though the thought scared him, it also filled him with a strange sense of happiness, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. From that moment on, Megumi couldn’t deny it anymore. He liked you, and he wanted to see where these feelings would take him.

Looking back, Megumi often finds himself reflecting on how profoundly different his life might have been if you hadn’t approached him that day. It was a pivotal moment, one that he now sees as the turning point in his journey.

Before you, he had felt like a perpetual outsider—misunderstood, labeled as a troublemaker, and largely ignored by those around him. He had been resigned to his role, to the way people saw him, without much hope for change or growth.

But then you came into his life, a beacon of kindness and patience in a world that had been mostly indifferent. You saw something in him that no one else had—a potential for change, a person worth caring for. Your approach had been gentle but resolute, offering him a friendship and understanding that he hadn’t known he needed.

You didn’t judge him for his mistakes or his quiet demeanor; instead, you reached out to him with a genuine concern for his well-being. It was this unassuming kindness that started to crack open the hardened shell he had built around himself.

Now, years later, Megumi often wonders if he would have ever found the strength to change if it hadn’t been for you. He thinks about the way you had treated him back then, how your unwavering support had slowly begun to reshape his view of himself.

It was as if you had quietly whispered to him that he was worth something, that he had the potential to be better, and that there was more to him than just the surface-level troubles. And in doing so, you had planted a seed of hope and self-worth that gradually grew into something stronger and more resilient.

As the two of you sit together now, the evening sun casting a warm, golden glow through the window, Megumi can’t help but be reminded of how far he’s come. The comfort and familiarity of your presence have become a cherished part of his life.

He often steals glances at you, unable to fully comprehend just how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side. The way you’re sitting there, so effortlessly at ease, makes his heart swell with a deep affection that words can hardly capture.

You’ve caught him staring more than once, and each time, you respond with that soft, knowing smile that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a smile that reassures him, that reminds him of the love that started on that day in junior high, when you saw him not as a problem or a troublemaker, but as someone worthy of care and respect. That smile, simple yet profound, continues to be a source of comfort and joy for him, a daily reminder of how much you mean to him.

In those moments, as he looks at you and sees the warmth in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips, Megumi is filled with a deep sense of gratitude. He thinks about how his life might have been different without your influence, and he realizes just how much you’ve changed him. The love he feels for you is rooted in that initial connection, and it has only grown deeper and stronger with time.

Megumi knows now that the love he has for you began with that first act of kindness you showed him, and it has only been enriched by the years you’ve spent together. As he sits there beside you, basking in the glow of the setting sun and the warmth of your presence, he can’t help but feel that he has found something truly extraordinary—something that started with a simple gesture of care and has blossomed into a love that he never thought possible.

You lean in slightly, noticing how quiet he’s been. "Megumi. Oiiiiiii, Megu–Megu~ Gumiiiiii!”

He sighed, looking at you. You have energy again, after resting. “What is it?”

“You truly okay?" you ask, your voice gentle and inviting.

He hesitates, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbles, looking down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "Just thinking about the past. Nostalgia."

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection. You smiled. "You’re always so cute, Megumi.” You sighed, as you reached out gently to touch his hand. ”You’ve been staring at me all evening. If you have something to say, you can tell me, okay?”

Megumi swallows, gathering his courage. "It’s just… your eyes…" he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re… really beautiful. And just…..you. I think how lucky I am to be with you.”

You blink in surprise, not expecting such a heartfelt compliment from him. "Oh, my beloved Megumi." you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you."

Megumi slowly looks up at you then, his own eyes filled with a tender sincerity that makes your heart flutter. He took a breath before letting his eyes wander at the sight of you, his beloved marvel. His wonder in life. He gives you a faint smile.

"When you look at me like that… it feels like I’m seeing stars." he continues, his voice growing softer, more vulnerable. "Like… every time I see your eyes, it’s the most beautiful part of my day. And… I don’t know how to say this right, but… it’s like there’s love shining behind them, so much that it feels like heaven."

Your heart swells with emotion, and you squeeze his hand gently. You lifted his hand to your lips and looked at him tenderly as you pressed your lips against the top of his hand. He doesn’t know when his heart will calm down. But when it’s you, he doubts if it will ever happen.

"Megumi, that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me." you reply, your voice filled with warmth. "And just so you know, when I look at you, I feel the same way. You make every day feel like the brightest one I’ve ever had. Because when I look at you, I ask, ‘how did I deserve this boy?’ Because, you’re too good to me.”

He smiles shyly, his blush deepening as he takes in your words. "I’m glad….that you feel like I do too." he murmurs, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"I always will." You reassured him, grinning at him lovingly.

"I… I’m not good with words, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. Every time you look at me, it’s like… it’s like I’m the luckiest person in the world."

You lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You don’t have to say much, Megumi. I can see it in your eyes too." you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “That’s more than enough for me, know that. Okay?”

Megumi’s heart swells, and for a moment, he forgets about his usual shyness. "I love you." he says softly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Your smile widens, your eyes shining even brighter. "I love you too, Megumi." you reply, your voice filled with the same sincerity and warmth that he sees in your gaze every day.

And in that moment, with your hands intertwined and your eyes locked, Fushiguro Megumi knows that there’s nothing more beautiful than the love you both share. And he truly believes that. He thinks that you’re the love of his life. And he has no intention of letting you go.

Megumi's heart races as the words hang in the air between you. He's never been the best at expressing his feelings, but something about being with you makes it easier—like the words come naturally when you're around. You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again, your own filled with the same warmth and love that makes his heart flutter.

"You know, Megumi." you start, your voice soft and affectionate, "I always feel like I’m the luckiest person too. Because even when you're quiet or shy, I can feel everything you don’t say in the way you look at me. It’s like you’re telling me a million things with just a glance."

He bites his lip, trying to find the right words to respond. "It’s hard for me to… say things out loud sometimes. And it’s hard to be honest at times." he admits, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again. "But when I’m with you, it feels different. Because when I’m with you, I’m just….me.”

You smile at him, a soft, understanding smile that makes him feel even more at ease. "You don’t have to say everything, Megumi." you reassure him. "I can see it in your actions, in the way you care for me, and in those beautiful eyes of yours. You’re always telling me how you feel, even when you think you’re not. I love that about you, don’t worry.”

Megumi blushes, the compliment making him feel a mix of embarrassment and joy. "You… you think my eyes are beautiful?" he asks, his voice small, almost disbelieving.

"Of course I do." you reply, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re so expressive, even when you’re being quiet. I can always tell what you’re feeling just by looking into them. Your eyelashes too. They’re always pretty!”

His breath hitches at the closeness, your words making his heart swell with emotion. "I… I’m glad you think that." he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "Because… When I look at you, I see everything I could ever want.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and you close the small distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It’s soft, sweet, and full of the love that you both share, a love that needs no words to be understood.

When you pull back, you see that Megumi’s face is a deep shade of red, but there’s a small, content smile on his lips that makes your heart soar. "You really know how to say the perfect thing, don’t you?" you tease lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

He chuckles softly, his shyness momentarily forgotten as he looks at you with nothing but affection. "Only because it’s you." he replies, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "You make it easy."

You both sit there for a moment, just enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. Megumi’s hand is still entwined with yours, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if to remind himself that this is real—that you’re real, and that you’re his.

"I never thought I’d be this happy, you know?" he admits quietly, almost as if he’s afraid that saying it out loud might break the spell. "But with you… it’s like every day is a dream."

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the boy who, despite his quiet demeanor, has given you more happiness than you ever imagined. "Then let’s keep dreaming together, Megumi." you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. "Because I never want this to end."

The warmth of the setting sun bathed the room in a golden hue, casting a gentle glow that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Megumi and you were nestled comfortably together, sharing a quiet sense of peace that had settled between you. This was paradise, Megumi thinks. This was heaven on earth. You and you alone, in his arms — he could not ask for anything more.

Megumi glanced at you again, his eyes reflecting the soft light. “What good did I do to be with you?”

You tilted your head, smiling at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection. “Why do you say that? What makes you feel that way? You did everything good. You do deserve me."

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… you’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t really know what I needed. I was so closed off and messed up back then. But you saw something in me, something I didn’t even see in myself.”

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his cheek to lift his gaze to meet yours. “I saw a person who needed kindness and understanding, and I’m really glad I could be there for you. But you did the hard part, Megumi. You changed and grew, and that’s all you.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And now, every day with you feels like a gift. I keep thinking about how different things could have been if you hadn’t come into my life. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Well, I’m glad I did. And I’m glad you’re here with me now. It’s like we were meant to find each other, don’t you think?”

Megumi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it does feel like that. I keep thinking about how we met and how everything just seemed to fall into place after that. It’s like you were the missing piece I didn’t know I needed.”

Your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned closer. “And you were the person who showed me what it means to be patient and understanding. We’ve both learned so much from each other.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’ve made me a better person. I feel like I’ve become more open, more willing to trust and care. It’s all because of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. “I’m just glad I could be a part of your journey. And I’m excited for everything that’s still to come for us.”

Megumi returned the hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “Me too. I want to make sure I’m always there for you, supporting you just like you’ve supported me. I don’t want you to ever doubt how much you mean to me.”

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know exactly how much I mean to you. And I’ll always be here for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

As the two of you sat together, the warmth of the setting sun casting a gentle glow over the room, Megumi felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. He knew that with you by his side, every day would be brighter, every challenge more bearable.

And as he looked into your eyes, he realized that the love he felt was a constant, reassuring presence—one that made everything feel right in the world.

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bensolosbluesaber · 2 years ago

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Nowhere to Run: Part 1 (Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader)

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader

Warnings: Hints of suicidal ideation on reader’s part, Fang stuff (Miguel uses fangs on reader), Chasing, Miguel is maybe ooc (I only saw the movie once and was mostly trying to keep from audibly moaning every time he was on-screen), Miguel and reader fight - he does some damage, Poison, Wounds, Not edited (but I will come back for some minor edits later on), Let me know if I missed anything

Summary: After the collapse of your universe, you resort to jumping around the multiverse to survive. Evolution gave you the powers needed to escape your universe. Technology of your own design stopped the glitches. But you haven’t found a way to escape the man relentlessly hunting you across every universe - Spider-Man 2099. ~2,500 words

Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending

A/N: This is for all of us who watched the Nueva York chase scene/train sequence and thought ‘when do I get to be Miles?’ This is dedicated to the Miguel O’Hara editors on TikTok - you guys are doing god’s work over there (especially with the captions). There shouldn’t be any spoilers in here beyond what was shown in trailers, but tread as carefully as you feel you need.

EDIT: Part 2

A persistent tingle deep in your mind vibrated madly the closer Spider-Man 2099 was to you. It was your Spidey-sense warning you of danger. For the first few months, you managed to stay several universe’s ahead of the terrifying Spider-Man variant, but after running for months with no one to help you, dodging the Spider-Person in each universe, and growing more exhausted with each portal you opened, 2099 was catching up.

He was catching up quite literally. The man was a few blocks behind you, pursuing you through the streets of a Queens in a universe you had never seen before. Buildings were built into trees. The entire city was a perfect symbiosis between nature and technology. It was beautiful, but there was no time to appreciate it. The time on your wrist ticked down. Seventy-six seconds. Seventy-five.

You shot out another web. It caught a window, and you took a sharp corner then another trying to lose the hunter.

Seventy seconds until you could safely open another portal. Well safe was a relative measure. Ideally you would allow a full day between jumps, but if you only had twelve hours, well then odds of survival rose to about fifty-fifty. Anything less than twelve hours and implosion was basically guaranteed.

Sixty-eight. You extended your legs for more momentum, rolled in the air, shot out two webs and used them to zip forward. Sixty-two. 2099 was fast, faster than you. You didn’t dare to look back to see if he was still in pursuit.

He protected the multiverse, kept it from collapsing in on itself, and you put the entire web of connection at risk just by being alive outside of your universe. You didn’t begrudge 2099 for what he thought he had to do. Maybe it was true that your presence could cause a universe to collapse, but you were careful not to stay for too long, not to interact with the Spider of that universe, not to fight any super-villains. If he could just understand that you were careful, that you didn’t want a multiversal collapse anymore than he did, maybe he would be reasonable.

Then again, maybe not. He was relentless, and from what little you had heard of Spider-Man 2099, he wasn’t one for talk and negotiation.

Fifty-five. You dived down, shot another web, swung again. You could never go back to your world’s boundless emptiness and not another living soul. That thought kept your exhausted muscles working. Fifty. The void was all that remained of your collapsed universe, a void in which you could not die but where no one else could live.

Forty-eight. Forty seven. This block was all future, half-built apartment buildings.

Thirty. You’d long ago lost your suit. All that remained was the mask that obscured your face. You must look ridiculous swinging around in stolen street-clothes: a baggy sweatshirt, leggings, dirty sneakers.

Twenty-one. Nearly there. Just a few-

A solid mass of muscle stole the breath from your lungs and flattened you into a cement wall. Claws shattered the cement beside your head into a fine gray powder. A hand closed around your throat, and you were crushed between the blue and red clad Spider-Man and the wall.

He was pure muscle. This was the closest you’d ever been to 2099, and his sheer size was terrifying. The red lines on his mask narrowed with his eyes as he studied you.

Eighteen. You pushed at his broad chest, struggling desperately to fight him off, but he was enhanced too and probably well-fed and rested - two things you were not.

“Stop fighting me,” 2099 growled into your ear, his voice a deep rumble that you felt in his chest.

“I won’t go back.” You choked out the words while you planted a knee against him and tried to kick him away. Your efforts were utterly useless. Quite literally, you could feel muscles rippling across his chest and arms as he held you against the wall while you trid to wriggle free.

In the corner of your eye, you watched the red numbers tick down. Six. Five. Was it even possible? It had to be.

2099 brought you forward then slammed you into the wall again. The impact made your head spin. The red lines of his mask doubled and tripled. He was trying to get something around your wrist.

“Hold still!”

Two.

With the last vestige of strength left in your body, you brought a hand to his face and shot a wad of webbing at his eyes. He growled and stopped his attempt to hand-cuff you - or whatever he was doing - to wipe the webbing away. For a second he was distracted. You imagined the glowing golden portal. Closed your eyes. Energy sparked in your body, coursed through your veins and arm. You shot a web at the wall behind you. It shimmered gold, dim gold, but still gold.

There was a moment where you thought it hadn't worked. Then the wall crumbled away and you felt wind whip you backward as a bright gold light filled the space. 2099 reached for you, claws extended. Four knife-like talons dug into your shoulder, ripping through the ratty sweater, digging into your skin, and tearing four long bloody stripes into your flesh as the portal drug you away..

You planted both feet on his stomach and kicked him off. A bright red web shot out from 2099’s hand to tangle in a tree. The last thing you saw was 2099 falling then catching himself before you tumbled away from him and toward a new universe.

It was raining on this new Earth. Actually, ‘raining’ was a bit of an understatement. It was absolutely pouring, and you were soaked before you hit the ground. Hard.

You hadn't been as focused as you needed to be, and the portal had opened in the sky and dropped you ten feet to the roof of a towering building in some universe’s version of New York. You couldn’t tear the mask from your face quick enough as you gasped desperately for air. 2099 was strong, and he’d smashed you half a foot into solid cement.

Your ribs ached. So did your head for that matter. But it was the dull ache spreading across your shoulder, down your arm, and seeping through your muscles like liquid fire that really made you afraid.

The gray of your stolen sweater was soaked in crimson blood. Carefully, you pushed the stained fabric over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit!

Beneath the torn fabric, your skin glowed a sickly, dare you say radioactive red - the same red as 2099’s suit. His talons must have been poisoned, and now that poison was making it’s way through your body, causing unknown damage and immense pain. There had to be a lab on this Earth. Right? If you could only get there, you were smart enough to whip up an antidote.

But as you stood, it was obvious that you wouldn’t be going anywhere. The poison was potent and fast-acting. Insanely, you wondered if it was really poison or if you should be calling it venom. It didn’t matter, because a moment after gaining your feet, your legs failed. You careened forward and nearly smashed your head again, only just catching yourself before slowly laying down in the rainwater.

City lights sparkled in the distance and reflected in the puddle forming around your head. Purple and blues and few bright yellows. Not a bad view if this was how you died. If only the poison weren’t so painful. You wanted to scream, but you lacked the strength.

A familiar tingle shot across your spine a second before the bright gold light of a portal obscured the reflection of the city lights. No! He was so close when you jumped universe’s. He must have tracked you; no wonder he hadn't bothered to chase you through the portal.

You scrambled backwards weakly, your feet struggling for purchase on the slick roof as the broad shouldered man appeared. He was wreathed in gold light. You couldn’t jump again, couldn’t even stand, could barely drag your body through the rain as Spider-Man 2099 strode closer.

“Nowhere to run,” he said. His voice was flat, like he took no pleasure in finally having you trapped.

“I won’t go back!” You tried to sound tough, strong, but your voice cracked over the words. “There’s nothing there. I can’t. I’d rather die than- than go back to nothing. 2099, don’t send me back”

Your fingers felt the ledge of the building and empty air beyond it. Poison. Fall. The clawed Spider-Man. A slow descent into madness trapped in the empty and endless remains of your home universe. A fall seemed fastest. But you didn’t want to. You were scared. You didn’t really want to die. Your shoulder throbbed and head filled with fog. The skin was glowing such a bright red you could see it in the corner of your eye.

In the brief moment you hesitated, he was on you. 2099’s red webs wrapped around your chest, and he yanked you forward and away from the ledge. You crumpled at his feet, and he just stared down at you through that mask. His blue and red mask swam in your vision as you stared up at him. Was it the rain that was so cold? Or was it the poison? No, venom. Poison? Venom?

2099’s face got bigger as he knelt beside you.

“What is this?” He pulled at the torn sweater, his gaze falling on the bright red mottling your skin.

Miguel O’Hara had never seen his claws damage anyone like this. There was no venom in them… unless in whatever universe you had come from something about them was venomous. It was possible. His fangs were venomous, that he did know.

Miguel pulled off his mask, the adrenaline of the chase fading while he watched you struggle for life. He’d meant to stop you, take you back to base, figure out where you’d come from… not kill you. He ran his tongue over one of the fangs protruding from his mouth.

The next thing you knew, 2099 was sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap. It might have all been a dream, you couldn’t tell. The lights were so beautiful. Your head lolled to one side, your whole body limp as a ragdoll in his muscular arms. His face filled your vision and blocked out the pretty lights.

He had a strong jawline, dark curls, sharp cheekbones, a broad nose, and were those fangs? And were his eyes glowing red? Yes, two orbs as red as the suit and your poisoned skin shone down at you. He was pretty too. This had to be a dream. The monster chasing you couldn’t be so handsome. You blinked, eyes unfocused. Your Spidey-sense was going wild, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fight. 2099 was warm, and you could go to sleep right here.

He shifted your body again so your side was pressed against his chest. “2099,” you whispered weakly, pathetically.

“I’m sorry for this,” he whispered in that low growl. Now it was tinged with what almost sounded like real regret. “It’s the best I can think of.”

He guided your head to rest in the curve of his shoulder, face turned toward his neck. One hand brushed hair away from your neck, the other wrapped around your waist. His fingers were no longer clawed, and his movements were gentle as he held you close, muscles tensing underneath your body. The expression on his face was tender. It seemed impossible that this was the same man who had made you his prey for months.

“Don’t panic now,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to your neck. “Stay still.”

You were barely aware of what was happening. His lips were warm, then four sharp pricks stung the base of your neck just above your collarbone and the deep poisoned wounds. Panic tried to rise in your throat, but you weren’t conscious enough to really process that a man currently had his fangs sunk into your throat. He drew back and spit out bright red poison, then bit into you again. Then again. And again.

Miguel was exceptionally careful with you, holding you perfectly still and being sure to sink his fangs into the same spot each time so as not to mark your skin any more than necessary.

Slowly, the world began coming back into focus. You were exhausted, but the poison was being was successfully being leeched from your system by his fangs. Brown curls were the first thing you became aware of, then the almost unnatural warmth coming from the man beneath you, then the cold pricks on rain on your back, then... then that something was biting you. Before you could wrench your head back, a large hand cradled the back of your head. You desperately tried to struggle as you realized what this vampiric Spider-Man was doing to you. The muscles in his arm flexed as he held your head still.

2099 pulled his fangs from your neck, spit bright red then let go of your head. You sat up quickly. The movement made you dizzy.

“I know you’re scared.” Miguel could see the fear in your eyes. He nodded to your still glowing shoulder. It was dimmer now and hurt less, but it was still obvious poisoned. “But this is working. Let me help you.”

You were looking him right in the eyes, the glowing red eyes, and though you didn’t trust him, you knew instinctively he was right.

“Okay,” you breathed lowly.

You laid your head on his shoulder. Miguel could feel how your whole body trembled, but whether it was from fear or cold or something else entirely he couldn’t tell. When his lips touched your skin you whimpered. That was fear.

Miguel still had one arm around you, but he took your hand in his free one, interlaced your fingers, and squeezed once. Then he sunk his fangs into your neck. It stung a bit but didn’t really hurt. Now that your were conscious, you could feel the poison being drawn toward the spot where his mouth connected to your skin. That didn’t really hurt either. It was like stretching a sore muscle - a satisfying pain that ultimately brought relief.

2099 drew back to spit out his poison. When was the last time you’d touched someone like this? A touch that was more than an accidental brush in the street - or a purposeful one so you could steal someone’s wallet. 2099 was your enemy, your hunter. He was dangerous. But he was saving your life and holding you so tenderly it made your chest ache.

“Once more,” he promised.

His fangs brushed over your skin for the last time. You pulled your hand from his and splayed your fingers across his chest. 2099 brought his now free hand to your poisoned shoulder and pushed the ripped fabric apart.

Miguel watched the last of the poison be pulled from your veins as it filled his mouth. He spit it out then turned back to study how your body was pressed against him.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. Then panic hit and you jerked back, still sitting on his lap but with your face now safely away from his fangs. “You- you’re going to send me back. 2099, please don’t.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Miguel.”

Miguel. 2099 had a name. Of course he did, but hearing it made him seem so human. And his face was handsome. That was no venom or poison induced hallucination. The man was beautiful.

“And no. Not yet.”

“My universe collapsed. There’s nothing for me to go back to.”

His red eyes softened as they met yours.

“We won’t send you back to an empty universe,” he paused, and one side of his lips twitched up. “You ran because you thought I’d send you back to a void? I see I have quite the reputation.”

Miguel lifted you to your feet easily. He set you on your feet and tapped the watch-like contraption on his wrist. You leaned against his muscled chest for stability. Even without his poison, you were still wounded and tired and malnourished. A portal spiraled out in front of you both.

“You promise not to send me back there?” You looked up at Miguel. He squinted at the portal’s bright light and tugged the mask back over his face.

“Promise.”

To be continued...

Part 2

A/N: Part 2 will be a little time jump, and we’ll actually see Miguel and reader get into a relationship!

My Masterlist

Taglist (Want to be added? Click here.) -

@copingchaos @n1ght5h4d3-24 @paintmekala @chaoticevilbakugo @janebby @chaoticevilbakugo @weirdo125 @roseqzpd @bitchyglitterfox @m0nster-fvcker @romanarose

Won’t Tag: @janebby @marvelescvpe

If you want taken off, just let me know! I took a guess on who might be interested.

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galedekarios · 1 year ago

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thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

#thinking many thoughts #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #gale x tav #tav x gale #otp: a soul that steels my own #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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aventurineswife · 1 month ago

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After seeing Sunday playing piano in his trailer, i started thinking about sunday with a pianist!reader. Maybe they'd play stuff together or maybe even the reader is better than him and he's flustered or smthn... The brain wormsss gahh

A Duet of Souls

Summary: In the quiet of the Astral Express observatory car, you and Sunday share a moment of connection through music. After playing a soft, melodic piece on the piano, Sunday reveals his own secret talent for playing, and the two of you engage in a duet. As you play together, the music creates a peaceful, intimate atmosphere that allows Sunday to relax and open up.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Duet, Connection, Intimacy, Vulnerability, Reflection, Piano, Bonding, Quiet Moments.

A/N: HE SO PRETTY WAHH!! ☹️😭 (I'm still loyal to aven), tell me why cure just played while I was editing this 💀... (The fact I was thinking about it like: “Imagine Spotify plays CURE lol”)

The Astral Express was more than just a train; it was a floating sanctuary in the vastness of the universe. You often found yourself lost in the sounds of the stars, the subtle hum of the tracks beneath your feet. It was on one of those nights, after a long journey, that you were drawn to the quiet, gentle hum of a piano.

The observatory car was empty, save for you, seated at the gleaming instrument. Your fingers moved across the keys, creating a soft, melodic tune that resonated in the quiet. You had always been passionate about music, but here, in this strange world of stars and limitless possibilities, the piano seemed to speak to you in a way no words ever could.

You lost yourself in the music, your fingers dancing across the black and white keys, weaving a complex, intricate melody. The notes floated through the air, blending with the whispers of the universe.

It was then that you heard footsteps behind you.

“Your music is... quite mesmerizing,” a smooth voice said.

You turned slightly, seeing him standing just beyond the door — Sunday. His usual composed expression was softened by the subtle warmth in his eyes. He wore his signature tailcoat, the dark blue and white contrasting sharply against the golden details. His halo hovered faintly behind his head, casting a soft, ethereal light across the room.

You smiled, a little taken aback by his sudden appearance. “Thank you. I was just letting the music take me somewhere.”

Sunday stepped closer, his gaze shifting to the piano. “I see... I must admit, I’ve always admired music. I’m a bit of a pianist myself.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I didn’t know that. I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

Sunday chuckled softly, his gaze flickering to the piano as though the instrument were an old acquaintance. “Perhaps not now. I’ve mostly played alone, but I do enjoy the art.”

You smiled, motioning toward the bench. “Well, maybe we could play together? I’d be curious to see what you can do.”

His eyes gleamed with intrigue, though there was a slight hesitation in his posture. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with you,” he said, but the playful edge to his tone betrayed his amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, a challenge in your gaze. “Let’s make it interesting, then. How about a duet?”

For a moment, Sunday seemed lost in thought. The idea of performing with someone — sharing a space so intimately — was a foreign concept to him. But then, with a quiet breath, he stepped forward and sat beside you, taking his place at the other end of the piano.

You began to play a simple piece, one you knew well, but with an underlying complexity to it. Sunday watched your hands move with focus, almost studying the motions. His fingers hovered above the keys, unsure.

"Just follow my lead," you said gently.

Sunday nodded, his fingers finally pressing down on the keys. At first, his melody was hesitant, almost tentative, but as he picked up the rhythm, his playing became smoother, more fluid. You adjusted to his pace, blending your pieces together as if the music were weaving a story.

For a while, you both played in sync, the melody ebbing and flowing like a gentle tide. The sound filled the room, and for the first time, Sunday seemed to relax, his usually stoic expression shifting to one of quiet enjoyment. He looked at you, an unspoken appreciation in his eyes.

After a while, the music slowed, coming to a soft, lingering end. Sunday sat back, a small smile gracing his lips. He was uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze still on the piano keys.

“You were right,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “That was... enjoyable. You’re an extraordinary pianist.”

You blushed at the compliment, shrugging slightly. “You weren’t bad yourself. You caught on faster than I thought.”

Sunday’s smile widened, though there was a hint of something deeper in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said, his voice carrying a touch of playfulness. “But I believe I still have much to learn from you.”

You laughed softly, feeling the tension ease between you two. “I’d be happy to teach you more. Music is meant to be shared, after all.”

He nodded, the glimmer in his eyes softening. For a moment, there was a rare vulnerability in his gaze, one that you could almost touch if you reached out.

Sunday leaned back against the bench, eyes still fixed on the piano. "You know," he mused, his voice quieter now, almost wistful, "there is something... comforting about this. Music has a way of drawing us away from the noise of the world."

You met his gaze, recognizing the deeper meaning behind his words. "It’s true. In a way, music can be its own form of escape. A place where everything else fades away."

Sunday nodded, the faintest of smiles returning to his lips. “Perhaps, in the end, that’s all anyone really seeks — a peaceful refuge from the world.”

There was a moment of silence between you two, filled only by the soft echoes of the piano’s last notes.

"I suppose," you said softly, your voice matching the contemplative tone of his, "but maybe there's room for more than just escape. Maybe there’s room for growth, too."

Sunday looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if pondering your words. Then, with a soft chuckle, he stood, offering you his hand.

"Perhaps you are right," he said, his tone gentle but thoughtful. "I look forward to exploring more with you, both in music and... in other ways."

You took his hand, feeling the warmth in his grip, and stood together in the quiet afterglow of the music, a sense of shared understanding lingering between you both.

In that moment, the universe didn’t seem so vast, nor so cold. With music, with each other, there was warmth. There was connection. And in Sunday’s gaze, there was the faintest glimmer of hope — a hope that, perhaps, even in his dream of peace, there could be room for something more.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday #music #duet #connection #intimacy #vulnerability #reflection #piano #bonding #quiet moments

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celaenaeiln · 11 months ago

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in like a one person gets one, who would dicks soulmate (platonic or not idk) be? i’ve asked this to several ppl and the answers are usually wally, donna, or jason though i’ve seen some ppl say slade, roy, and bruce.

Anon your ask has literally been haunting me at night. I thought I knew the answer but then you hit me with a Donna!! But between Bruce and Donna, I can't decide so I'll just present a case for both.

Bruce

Bruce and Dick are soulmates on a cosmological scale. The DC universe ordained them to always find each other because they're quite literally a fated pair.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight Issue #23

Bruce: The only regret is that I'm out there alone. It felt good having someone at my back, being part of a team...but no sense wasting time wishing for something I'll never have.

Dick: He's cool, dad...d'you think we'll ever see him when we play Gotham?

The universe literally brings them together no matter the circumstances.

Convergence Issue #4

"The bond between you and Bruce Wayne echoes in every reality."

I don't think there's any stronger evidence for Dick and Bruce being soulmates than this.

But if that's still not enough I have more-

The Multiversity: Guidebook

In Bruce's world he lost Dick and in Dick's world he lost Bruce, but still in the end they somehow find each other. In every universe that has Batman, if someone is his partner it's always Dick.

In the medieval ages world-

Batman: Dark Knight of the Round Table Issue #1

The world of "A Christmas Carol" with Ebenezer Scrooge -

Batman: Noël

In a world where Bruce is a doctor at Arkham -

The Batman of Arkham

Dick is always there as his second.

Here's another interesting but depressing fact: In worlds where Dick Grayson has died as Robin, Bruce Wayne has never taken in another Robin.

This is because on top of the fact that Dick and Bruce as fated to meet, Dick means the entire world for Bruce. Like sometimes Bruce will come across a case with a child involved and the first thing he'll think about is Dick.

Batman: City of Madness Issue #2

Bruce's mind and life is literally consumed by Dick Grayson on a cosmologically spiritual level.

Donna

Donna is Dick's soulmate on a twin-sister spiritual level. Dick and Bruce are two halves of a whole, yin and yang. Dick and Donna though are one person. Their relationship is like taking paint and mixing it together to get something new. Like in those comics where two people look at each other and there's a "zing!" and suddenly it's an instant connection. That's them.

Titans (2016) Special 1

additionally:

Titans (2016) Special 1

New Titans (1988) Issue #89

Dick and Donna have no secrets. They're like a jigsaw puzzle, their pieces fall right into place.

He's always there for her-

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #38

They're so special and integral to each other that when an evil witch erases Donna from everyone's memories, there is only one focal point for her. One focal person for her throughout the years. Even though he doesn't remember her, Dick literally goes back in time with his future daughter Mar'i to help Donna, his soul-sister-

The Titans (1999) Issue #25

In every. single. moment of Donna's past Dick appears again and again to comfort her and be her pillar from Robin to civies to Nightwing. In the "Who is Donna Troy" Arc, as the story goes from the origins of Donna to the present, it becomes very clear that Dick is her centerpoint.

They're the definition of soulmates.

She knows him better than anyone else and he knows her. She even had him walk her Donna the aisle for her wedding. He was given that honor because of who they are to each other.

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #42

I...

just-

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #50

to love like that...

They're made for each other.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #donna troy #wonder girl #troia #robin dick grayson #dc titans #titans as family #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!#koriandr #starfire

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gwens-love · 3 months ago

Text

A Touch of Fate

Summary: In a quiet village, you’ve always felt the phantom touches of a soulmate a bond that usually belongs only to witches. One autumn evening, a chance encounter with a mysterious figure changes everything.

Warnings: Emotional Themes

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: a bit shorter but oh well.

~Agatha Harkness x fem!reader~

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Growing up in a quiet village, you often heard tales about soulmates, an unbreakable bond that connected two people in ways mere mortals could only dream of. Only witches had such connections, though. To everyone else, they were just old fables passed around for entertainment. You were ordinary, with no magic or power. Yet, ever since you were young, you’d felt soft, phantom touches on your skin a brush along your cheek, a warmth on your hand. The sensations were fleeting but left a strange longing in their wake.

As you grew older, you chalked it up to imagination, but those touches never stopped. They became a part of you, leaving you with an inexplicable feeling that somewhere out there, someone was reaching out to you. Still, you’d accepted you might never understand why.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

One crisp autumn evening, restlessness pulled you to the edge of the village, where a little river wound its way through the landscape. The air was cool, and the gentle sound of the water flowing over stones accompanied you as you wandered along the riverbank, following a quiet feeling that fluttered in your chest.

You knelt beside the water, running your fingers through the cool current, when suddenly that familiar warmth enveloped your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked down, startled, as the sensation grew more pronounced, as if someone were brushing their fingers against your skin.

Then, out of the shadows, she appeared.

Dressed in layers of dark purple, flowing fabric that moved like shadows among the trees, a figure stepped forward, her brown hair cascading around her shoulders, shimmering in the fading light. Her presence was magnetic; there was an undeniable allure about her that pulled you in. She held herself with an elegance that spoke of wisdom and experience, but her eyes deep and playful were filled with a youthful spark.

“Well, well,” she said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “What do we have here? A lost soul wandering these woods?” Her voice was rich and melodic, laced with both humor and a hint of something deeper, something inviting.

You felt your heart race as you met her gaze. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else out here,” you replied, trying to mask your surprise at how drawn you felt towards her.

“Neither did I, darling,” she said, stepping closer. “The names Agatha Harkness dear, lovely to meet you.” Her voice softened, carrying a warmth that soothed the chill in the air. “Something told me I’d find someone special tonight, and I feel like I did.”

As you stood there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was different almost otherworldly. The way she moved, the elegance of her presence, sparked a mix of curiosity and intrigue within you.

“There’s something about you,” you said, glancing up at her. “You feel… ancient, like you belong to a different time.”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Ah, darling, there’s a reason for that. I’m a witch.”

The revelation hit you like a jolt of electricity. “A witch? But I thought those were just stories.”

“Most people think so,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “But magic is real, and so are soulmates.” She said with a little smirk

“Wait, soulmates?” You felt your heart race, the words igniting a spark of hope and disbelief. “Why are you telling me this? Are you saying that we are soulmates?”

Agatha’s gaze softened, filled with warmth. “Yes, my dear. The moment I saw you, I felt it a connection. The universe chose us.”

You struggled to process her words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “But I’m not a witch. How could I have a soulmate?”

The woman’s smile widened, her expression playful yet sincere. “Oh, sweetheart, magic often defies the rules we set for it,” she said, her tone rich with affection. “Sometimes it chooses those who need it most, even when they don’t fit the mold.”

“But I’m just a regular person,” you protested, shaking your head. “I’ve always thought that soulmates were for witches. It can’t be true.”

The woman’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “You may not wield magic in the traditional sense, but there’s a power in your heart that is undeniable,” she said gently. “Feelings are magic too, my dear. Your ability to love and to connect is a strength that many overlook.”

The air between you felt electric, the world around you fading as you stood before her. She took another step closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Let me show you that your heart is just as powerful as any spell.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, a sudden rustling in the bushes nearby startled both of you. The momentary tension shifted your focus. “What was that?” you asked, glancing toward the sound.

Her demeanor changed slightly; the playful sparkle in her eyes transformed into something more serious. “Stay close to me,” she instructed, her voice firm. You felt the warmth of her presence, grounding you even as a sense of unease crept in.

The rustling grew louder, and you exchanged anxious glances. Then, emerging from the thicket, a creature scurried into the moonlight an ordinary rabbit, its nose twitching in curiosity. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and she chuckled softly, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had come.

“See? Just a harmless little thing,” she said, her laughter soothing your frayed nerves. “But it does remind me that the world can be unpredictable.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth return to the air around you as she stepped closer again. “What were we talking about?” she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued once more.

“About how I’m not a witch and how it isn’t possible for me to have a soulmate,” you replied, the weight of your earlier denial still hanging between you.

Her head tilted slightly, her expression thoughtful. “The universe has a funny way of bringing people together,” she said. “You may not see it yet, but this bond is a gift, and it exists for a reason. Perhaps it’s to show you that magic is not limited to spells and potions but is found in connection and love.”

Her words resonated deeply within you, stirring something long dormant. “I want to believe that,” you said, looking into her eyes, where warmth and understanding glimmered. “But it feels too good to be true.”

“Ah, darling, sometimes the most beautiful things do feel that way,” she replied, her voice low and reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Sometimes we have to allow ourselves to embrace the extraordinary.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the forest clearing. The air was thick with tension as you and Agatha stood facing each other, the world around you fading into a hushed silence.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “That you’re my soulmate.”

Agatha smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes the universe has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

“It feels like a dream,” you admitted, taking a small step closer. “A beautiful dream I never want to wake up from.”

She held your gaze, her expression shifting to something deeper. “Then let’s make it a reality.”

Your heart raced as the space between you narrowed. “Agatha, I”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her finger brushing gently against your lips. “No more words. Just feelings.”

You nodded, breathless. The intensity of her gaze held you captive, and you could feel the warmth radiating between you, drawing you closer.

“Can I?” she whispered, her voice low and inviting.

“Yes,” you breathed, every part of you yearning for the connection.

With that, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers. The kiss was soft at first, exploring, tasting then it deepened, a rush of warmth and energy enveloping you both. Her hands cradled your face, and you melted into her embrace, losing yourself in the moment.

Time seemed to suspend as the kiss lingered, filled with unspoken promises and the magic of newfound love. When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Agatha’s eyes were filled with delight.

“Now that,” she said with a teasing smile, “is magic.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Fin <3

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha x reader #mcu #marvel

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doctorsilverhead · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do TFP Optimus x reader x Bay Optimus, please? I don't know how to pull this scenario but having both the leaders is a dream come true aaaaaa!!! 😔🫶🏻

Soft Spot (TFP Optimus X Bay Optimus X Human Reader)

The sun had set over the vast expanse of the Nevada desert, casting a warm glow across the Autobot base. You stood on the observation deck, gazing up at the twinkling stars that adorned the night sky. A gentle breeze caressed your face, carrying the faint scent of desert flora.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind you, and you turned to find the towering figure of Optimus Prime approaching. His azure optics shone with a gentle radiance, and a warm smile graced his metallic features.

"Enjoying the evening, [Your Name]?" he inquired, his deep baritone voice resonating within your very being.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. "It's beautiful out here. I never get tired of watching the stars."

Optimus moved closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. "The cosmos holds countless wonders, and yet, the beauty of this planet never ceases to amaze me."

As you gazed up at him, a familiar rumble caught your attention. Turning, you saw the sleek form of the Bay Optimus Prime rolling towards you, his alt-mode gleaming under the moonlight. He transformed, his powerful frame unfolding with fluid grace, and stood beside his counterpart.

"Greetings, [Your Name]," he said, his voice rich and commanding.

You found yourself caught between these two magnificent beings, your heart racing with a mixture of awe and affection. The TFP Optimus reached out, his massive hand gently cupping your form, while the Bay Optimus leaned down, his face mere inches from yours.

"We have been drawn to you, [Your Name]," the TFP Optimus murmured, his optics shining with a tenderness you had never witnessed before.

The Bay Optimus nodded, his gaze intense yet filled with warmth. "Your courage, your compassion, and your unwavering spirit have captured our sparks."

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you found yourself enveloped in the embrace of these two legendary Primes. Their energy fields intertwined, creating a harmonious resonance that enveloped you in a cocoon of pure, unconditional love.

As their metallic forms pressed against you, you felt a connection deeper than anything you had ever experienced before. A bond that transcended physical boundaries, a union of souls that defied the boundaries of species and reality.

In that moment, you knew that your destiny was forever intertwined with these noble warriors, and your heart swelled with a love that knew no bounds. In this dance across dimensions, you discover that love, in all its forms, is the truest form of magic, a force that binds the universe together, making even the impossible, possible. And in the heart of this cosmic ballet, you stand, a testament to the power of love that knows no bounds, a bridge between worlds, a beacon of hope for all beings, human and machine alike.

pt 2???

#optimus prime #bumblebee #dark deception #decepticons #megatron #transformers #optimus prime x reader #transformers au #transformers bayverse #transformers g1

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lay-z · 6 months ago

Text

I'm sad for some reason I think I'm getting close to getting my period, so... I'm yearning for a fictional man and I'm hurting, because I can't have him 🥺❤️‍🩹 Also, I'd like to explore some slow burn type of romance and keep Simon's past traumas in mind! Pairing: civvie!F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Reader is demisexual; cussing; tw: mental issues; insecurities; slow burn; awkwardness; humor Word count: 3.5k The one where two broken people connect.

You've already decided that you've given up on finding, not love, but companionship.

You've given up on love a long time ago, long before you'd reached your late 20s.

An old, creative and gentle soul, weighted down and scarred by childhood bullying, constant criticism by your family, societies bloody beauty standards and things you suffer from which you didn't even know how to describe let alone name in your youth.

Demisexuality? Body dysmorphia? Eating disorders? Anxiety? Insecurities, so deeply rooted, that they border on self-hatred?

And no, you never went to therapy – no. Gods, no, because if you go to therapy, you're mental, right? And how can your poor mother tell the rest of the family that you're mentally unstable? That something is wrong with her little, darling daughter? Hm?

So, no therapy, because your hyper-independence got your back. You're used to that, learned it in your younger years; always there for others, but no one ever stepped up for you, except yourself. Yet you're cursed to be an empath, so you never stopped caring for others, even if it killed you inside.

Giving. Giving. Giving. Tearing yourself apart to please and give up the love that brimmed in your kind heart. Never receiving anything good and soft, like some cheap whore, until there was little left of love to give.

Now you've turned cynical, cold, and lonely – or that's what you keep telling yourself to keep the façade up. Hiding behind humour and feigned nonchalance, because you're an entertainer. Always have been. You would've been an amazing actress, but when you were younger, your mother told you that you could never be the love interest, so why bother go to acting school and actually do something you enjoy?

You rarely wallow in self-pity anymore; only occasionally, right before you get your period and your hormones make you feel sad and depressed, make you break and hate yourself. Quiet and in secrecy, in the safety of your dark bedroom, or in front of the bathroom mirror – just to play out a sad scene in your delusional mind. Probably with a fictional man, someone who'd never hurt you – in your alternate universe.

Accept. Adapt. Overcome. Repeat.

It isn't ideal, but you've found coping mechanisms that work for you, albeit some unhealthy ones and you've survived so far. Emphasis on survived, not lived.

You're so deep in your thoughts, on the brink of dissociation, that you don't even realize you've been staring – again.

Your eyes flutter briefly, focusing back on the here and now until you realize what or, rather, who you have been staring at like some creep.

Fuck.

It's that man with the skull mask, not a ski mask, but a balaclava – you've googled it the first time you'd seen him around the café. You'd even researched if face coverings like that are illegal in the UK – turns out they're not, unless you refuse to take it off when a police officer orders you to.

He's staring right back at you; dark brown eyes unblinking, skin around the eye holes covered up by some black smudge – combat or war paint, probably. Sitting at the table right across from you by the cafés large windows; incredibly out of place for such a soft and quaint establishment. Nursing a tea, looking menacing and intimidating with his massive physique and black clothing, yet his eyes hold something more than stoicism in them. You know, because you see it yourself when you look into any mirror.

Bottled up emotions, a myriad of them, simmering just below the surface like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt someday.

You narrow your eyes then, force yourself not to tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy would do, because you don't want him to know that you're actually perceiving him this time – and not merely daydreaming and brooding like you usually do. Cursing internally, when you eventually lose this staring competition that you've completely just made up in your mind, because his eyes are too intense and he's obviously immune to social awkwardness, you reach for your lukewarm matcha latte, taking a small sip as you turn your head away to stare out of the large shop windows, pretending to watch passers-by.

You force yourself to focus on the shitty UK weather outside, resting your chin on the back of your hand, elbow propped up on the cheap table. Rain and wind and colourful leaves grazing the wet pavement as the seasons start changing and autumn begins creeping in. You like autumn, prefer it over summer every year – and your mind begins to drift again, distracted by random strangers outside, grey clouds in the sky and fat raindrops pitter-pattering against the windows.

Meanwhile, his eyes never waver from you, and Simon catches himself wondering, what you might be thinking about now.

Time passes, and you try to keep your routine up – going out for a coffee once or twice every week, so you won't die of loneliness or isolation. At least, the café is nice, the baristas as well, it's not far from your flat and it's usually not that crowded nor busy.

Or so it was during summer.

Now, all people want to do is drink their coffees and teas inside, apparently, since the temperatures have dropped, along with the leaves.

After ordering your matcha latte, you turn around to see that your favourite spot by the window has been occupied in the past six minutes of standing by the counter. If only the lady in front of you had ordered her bloody tea and biscuits a smidge faster, but nah, you're not that lucky.

Groaning internally, you move to the table across from your fave, pulling one of the two plastic chairs out with more force than necessary because you're petty and annoyed. It's loud – not too loud, actually, but louder than it usually is – and you curse yourself for going out. You should've just stayed in this afternoon, curled up on your couch, playing some Baldur's Gate or so.

Some minutes pass after receiving your hot beverage and you've managed to drown out the noises and successfully ignore the sudden hubbub around the café.

That is until you notice a looming presence next to you; aura thick like molasses and prominent like the smell of gasoline, you don't know if you like it or not. It does catch your attention, though, and you turn your head to the left, eye-level with his denim-clad crotch, perhaps a little too close for the acceptable social standards.

Furrowing your brows in both confusion and offense, you have to tilt your head back and lean back in your chair to meet his eyes. How can those eyes be soft and aloof at the same time?

"Uh, hi?" You say then, brows still furrowed; not a greeting but an out for him to excuse himself for getting too close and fuck off again.

"Yer in me seat." He counters bluntly, voice incredibly rough and accented and muffled by the fabric of his mask as he gestures at the table with his gloved hand and holding a small coaster with a steaming cup of tea on top of it in the other one delicately. It looks comical and stupid, yet somehow endearing.

You're dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at him in disbelief before finding your wit again, nodding your chin at the two chatting women sitting at your favourite table.

"And they're in mine," you say matter of factly, "If we go by that logic." You add dryly, picking up your latte, because the conversation is surely over.

He stays by your side, unmoving like a marble statue, dark eyes flickering somewhat nervously between you and the empty chair across from yours. Simon doesn't know how to properly interact with a civilian anymore; let alone a female civvie, and he ponders for a moment if he should just leave again, have a cuppa at his own flat.

But Simon's therapist had advised him, pleaded with him, to at least try and make a friendly connection with someone outside of his military comfort zone and well, here you are. At least your face is familiar already and you look harmless...safe.

"May I...sit with ye, lass?" He almost grits through his teeth, doing his best to ignore the way his heart beats hard against his ribcage as he waits for your rejection.

You pick up on the vulnerability in his voice, his demeanour, as if asking costs him some courage; truth be told, it would cost you some, too. Perhaps it's the fact that you've become silent acquaintances over the past few weeks; meeting up at this place without even meaning to. Each of you alone, always.

You stop in your movements, lifting the rim of your mug just to your lips before lowering it again, holding his gaze without taking a sip.

Sit with me? You muse to yourself, surveying him up close briefly and for the first time, at least consciously. He shifts on his feet some, heavy black boots – always boots, always layers of dark clothing, always the skull balaclava, no matter the temperature.

However, despite his looks, despite his authoritative and all-consuming aura and your better judgement, you nod once, cursing your intuition and empathy, nudging the empty chair away from the table from beneath it with your foot – a wordless permission, or perhaps an invitation?

And Simon exhales a long breath through his nose, jaw unclenching slightly as he gives a curt nod, sets his tea on the table and takes a seat on the offered chair. Easy.

And that is that.

The next time you're at the café, you breathe a sigh of relief to find it relatively empty for the time, except for some elderly customers and students working in silence on their laptops.

You're delighted to find your favourite table empty again and you order your usual matcha latte with coconut milk before eagerly sinking into the chair at 'your' table with a contented sigh and a good view on the people and life outside the cosy café.

Then your peace is once again disturbed by the soft clink of a tea cup being placed on the table, followed by the empty chair across from you scraping over the old hardwood floor, before he slips into the seat with a quiet huff.

"Your table is free," you tell him immediately, leaning to the side to look past his massive frame at the unoccupied table behind him.

"Aye, I know," he responds gruffly, folding his forearms on the table while he looks outside the window, "Figured we can ah safe space by sitting together." He suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though internally, Simon's stomach is clenching with nerves and anxiety. He despises feeling awkward and being in situations he cannot control.

Yes, it does feel incredibly awkward, but deep down you're too nice to tell him to fuck off, because he hasn't given you a reason to do so. When you were forced to share a table last time, you sat in somewhat comfortable silence, though you'd definitely finished your drink faster than usual back then before uttering a polite goodbye and slipping away.

"I guess so," you mutter in return because he's already sat down anyway.

Silence ensues, but you can't ignore the sudden tension of unasked questions and the pressure of social interactions. Then, it's too quiet in the establishment, and you both suddenly and silently hate it.

"Ye enjoy observin' people?"

His question catches you off guard because he sounds genuinely interested in you answer, and it's unnerving.

"Yeah, you could say that," you answer curtly, crossing your legs at your ankles under the table and leaning back into the cheap chair to feign nonchalance, even though you're currently anything but, "I find it relaxing."

"That's...strange," Simon retorts, quirking an eyebrow behind the safety of his balaclava, because he does that, too, and he never thought you'd blatantly admit that. Is people watching a thing among civvies? Then you shoot him an offended look and he can't help but cringe internally.

"Didn't mean it like that, lass." He assures you in a mumble, eyes flickering down to his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.

Your first instinct is to mock him for his silly mask, ask him if he's a thug or cosplaying as one or some hooligan, but you bite your tongue, because you know better, and you feel like he could make you regret your sass. Especially if one of those assumptions proofs true.

"And what do you always do around here, hm? Never see you read a book or newspaper, let alone play with your phone," you ask instead, not even hiding the accusatory undertone as you turn your upper body towards the window. You're involuntarily dismissive, because it's been a while since you talked to a stranger like that, let alone a man.

"Same as ye, lass," he grumbles, "Thinkin', observin'...enjoyin' the peace." As if internal peace could ever be achieved in his case.

There's another moment of awkward silence and your mind is racing, riddled with anxiety, though unbeknownst to you, so is his. Simon is so out of his element and yet he forces himself to stay, unless you blatantly tell him to fuck off – which, deep down, he hopes you will.

"You're not some creep are you? 'Cause I swear, I'll clock you if you try anything or follow me home after this," you tell him with an edge to your voice, like you mean it. You're not opposed or afraid of violence. You grew up with older brothers and cousins.

Simon snorts at your threat, genuinely. He's taken off guard by your fierceness and he's absolutely sure you're serious about this, and he hates to know that he's capable of taking you down if he wanted to, even if you'd fight tooth and nail. It makes him feel guilty, makes his gut twist and churn because of those dark thoughts coming up in his brain like some black pest, even though he'd never ever do anything to hurt you.

"'m not," he assures you, eyes flickering over to study your face, your expression. You look tense and standoffish, and he can't help but admire that; to know that you're not afraid, that you can take care of yourself if push comes to shove.

"Name's Simon." He offers it like an oblation, a small yet important piece of himself, putting his given name and some trust into the hands of a stranger, and asking nothing in return.

You're once again dumbfounded and yet your mistrust and suspicious nature get triggered; squinting your eyes as him, your heart and brain are in utter turmoil.

"Didn't ask," you eventually retort coolly, like a proper arsehole, even though, deep down, it hurts yourself, hurts you to be rude like that, especially as you see something flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise? Hurt? Anger? You can't tell, but he leans back in his seat, gives a curt nod, accepting your snappish response just like that, and you think he'll leave, but he stays seated.

"I'm...sorry," you utter suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of your grey oversized hoodie, "That was...unnecessarily rude." You admit with a deep sigh. But was it, though? He's a stranger, some bloke with a mask, who just randomly decided to sit with you and introduce himself–

"It's fine, lass," he says, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts with his deep gravelly voice, "A reasonable reaction, really."

It is, Simon thinks. He might have questioned you about your thoughts on self-preservation and your survival instinct, if you wouldn't have reacted the way you just did.

He contemplates lifting his mask to finally take as sip of his tea, but like always, it costs him every ounce of courage to do so while you're looking at him so shamelessly with your alert eyes and that slight frown on your face, and Simon rubs his gloved palms over his thighs below the table to soothe himself as you keep scrutinizing him.

But then you utter your name in return, albeit hesitantly, and his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, noticing the hint of curiosity in your eyes.

You don't see him, Simon, for several weeks after that and after some contemplation, you decide that he must've found a new café to hang out at or perhaps he got arrested eventually. You don't care either way.

But then, why do your eyes keep flickering around the shop whenever you drink your matcha latte? Why do you stare at the empty chair at his 'favourite table'? Why do you keep wondering what happened to him?

You don't want to accept it, don't want to acknowledge it, but deep down, you actually enjoyed having a proper chat with him the last time you saw him. When he so randomly decide to sit with you and introduce himself. You swiftly fix the slight purse of your lips as your mind keeps pondering about this stranger and you force yourself to enjoy your hot beverage until you can get back home and feel accomplished for actually having spent time outside your comfort zones, namely your flat and workspace.

But it's lonely. Always lonely.

In those few moments you'd shared with Simon, despite the awkwardness and that uncomfortable feeling of being perceived by someone, you'd realized that something has been missing in your life. Perhaps you should give your parents and siblings a call back; perhaps you should answer all those ignored messages in your phone; messages that have become less and less, because the people closest to you will eventually stop reaching out. You know that spiel already, yet you're having so much trouble actually pulling yourself out of this hole of self-isolation, a hole that's become suffocating, draining the colour from your life while you keep telling yourself that you're fine, that you want it this way.

"Lass?"

His voice cuts through your overthinking mind like a hot knife through butter and your eyes immediately find his gaze, that unwavering, piercing stare of his.

"Simon," you say in return, more like a greeting if it wouldn't be for the shocked pitch lacing your voice. You can faintly see his tired eyes crinkle slightly as he rests one gloved hand on the backrest of the empty chair across from you and you wonder if he's smiling behind his mask.

"Remember me name, aye?" He asks gruffly, almost playfully, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his chapped lips beneath his mask as he pulls out the chair, waiting for your permission.

"Tsk. Obviously," you answer with a scoff and an eye roll before giving him a short nod. "No tea?" You remark as he sits down without it, raising an eyebrow as you sip on your own drink.

"Err, no. Not stayin' for one," he answers, shaking his head, "Was jus' in the area," he lies, "Figured I could drop by and say 'ello." He adds with a shrug, feeling utterly stupid now, because Simon definitely was not in the area.

He came home from a deployment last night and wanted to check on you for some reason, see if you're still coming here, see if you’re doing alright – but of course, you are.

"Mhm," you hum affirmingly, though more suspicious than ever as you survey him. You want to spit out Why?, the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re somehow too distracted by his overall appearance.

The paint around his eyes has faded, as if rubbed and smudged too many times. He smells an awful lot of tobacco and something else you can't quite pinpoint. Even in his usual attire of some type of black jacket or hoodie, jeans, boots and his balaclava, he looks terribly dishevelled and messy.

"Where have you been?" You find yourself asking before you can stop your mouth from moving. "If you don't mind me asking." You add casually, for good measure.

“Deployed.” Simon answers offhandedly, sounding colder than he intended to, and you do pick up on the shift in attitude; he doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” you retort with a nod, though your curiosity is sparked, and you click your tongue, pondering, before you confuse him as you let out a little snort.

Of course, he's a fucking soldier, you muse to yourself, should've figured that out myself.

You can practically see him raise his eyebrows in confusion, noticing how the fabric of his bloody mask shifts slightly.

“Ye laughin’ at me for servin’ me country?” He asks and desperately hopes that you pick up on the teasing tone in his voice, though it’s still hoarse from barking orders at his men for days on end.

“No,” you answer uncharacteristically soft, flashing him a rare genuine and sheepish smile, “I always wanted to join the military myself.”

Simon doesn’t know if it’s the smile you shoot him, catching him off guard, because he’s never seen that expression on your face before, let alone that sudden twinkle in your eyes as you admit that you’ve thought about enlisting in your past, but he suddenly feels even more intrigued by you; this secluded, lovely civilian in front of him, and he finds himself asking then,

“Why didn’t ye enlist?”

Perhaps he should get that tea after all.

Part 2 ?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #simon riley x you #pic is mine #slow burn romance

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blackpensils · 3 months ago

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Don't know where this came from. Read a story on Ao3, got inspired and spewed this out. I've never written for Transformers before so don't know how accurate this is but I don't know what to do with this so thought what better place to share it than this hellscape of a website (/p).

Tropes(?): arranged marriage because I'm a sucker for that shit between enemies. MegOp (tfa universe), sort of canon compliant if you squint hard enough but it's kinda short so don't squint too hard or you'll hurt your eyes.

He rolled his shoulders and adjusted the magnetic clamps attaching the long, and unnecessary heavy, cloak to his body. A cloak that normally should have been white, by not just Autobot standards, but also Iaconian, and Optimus, having been forged and brought online in Iacon, lamented the fact that the cloak he now sported had to be purple. Apparently it was supposed to be symbolic.

~~~

The reflection of the mech looking back at him was almost too foreign for Optimus to be able recognise it as being himself. It was his blue helm, his rotating optics as they scanned over his ludicrous but traditional get up and his red chassis that was covered in finely painted purple lines and curls. Delicate and every turn and swirl deliberate as they traveled from the centre of his chassis, right above his spark chamber, up his shoulders and down his arms. The painter had tried to insist Optimus should pain his thighs as well, saying that the purple would contrast wonderfully against the silver metal and that it would hold intimate implications. Optimus had refused.

That made Optimus snort and when he brought his optics back up to his face, his faceplate was scrunched up in a frown.

He looked almost right. Cloak billowing behind him in an almost majestic kind of way, making him feel a little like the Primes of old when they weren't just a military title but one granted by Primus himself, and paint decorating his upper torso with the usual lines and curves. Even his faceplate had purple paint across the cheeks and down from his bottom lip to his chin. Optimus had to admit that he did look like someone who was about to partake in his very own Conjunx Ritus, almost.

If it wasn't for the purple.

In Iacon the two participants in the rite would be cloaked and painted in white. To symbolise the purity of their love for each other and their connection to Primus, or something or other like it. Optimus didn't actually know the details. He'd never been to a Conjunx Ritus before.

It wasn't just any shade of purple either, unfortunately. Because Optimus might have been able to handle a light lilac or a deep rasin. But the fact that the shade that now decorated his frame just so happened to be Decepticon purple just made his spark tighten and made it impossible to forget that his… his conjunx was…

Optimus shuddered as his processor couldn't even finish the sentence without making a chill travel throughout his frame. Filling up his inner lines with ice instead of energon and making his spark twinge painfully in his chassis.

A Conjunx Rite was supposed to be the happiest moment of a mech's life. The day they joined forever with the love of their life and promised to cherish and protect their partner, their conjunx, for as long as they lived. A moment that most bots only ever did the once and never did again because the pain of losing a conjunx was so hard on the spark that taking another one was like replacing a part of your very soul. Trading it in for a replacement to fill the hole they left behind. Something that wasn't necessarily frowned upon or illegal in any way, but that definitely would've gotten a few judgemental glances thrown your way.

Yet here Optimus stood in a preparation room in one of Iacon's Chapels, looking at himself in the threeway mirror and meeting his own hollow optics. There was no happiness there when he looked down and saw himself dressed in the infamous Decepticon color and feeling like he was about to walk out onto that altar and meet his own demise.

Because his—Optimus had to physically swallow to get the words his and conjunx to actually form in his processor—was none other than Megatron.

#transformers #transformers fanfiction #transformers animated #tfa #megop #optimus prime #megatron #tfa optimus prime #tfa megatron #tfa megop #//i don't know what to do with this but there is 15k more words to this that I did not share and it gets raunchy #like are they robots or rabbits kind of raunchy XD #but like damn I don't know enough about transformers lore I think to feel comfortable sharing this #or sharing more of this I guess?#might genuinely delete this later when I get my brain out of the gutter and decide not to embarrass myself online

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hindahoney · 2 years ago

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If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

#there are so many other words but i use these all the time #add whatever you want!#jumblr #frumblr #jewblr #yiddish #hebrew #jewish #jewish culture #j tag #jew tag

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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l’amour de ma vie — geto suguru.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that." He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Not Safe For Work (NSFW), R-18, Angst, Toxic Love, Romance, Break-Up, Situationship, Toxic Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Lack of Communication, Dysfunctional Relationship, Hurt/No Comfort, Depression, Emotional Distress, Emotional Manipulation, Disassociation, Anticipatory Grief, Smut, P to V Sex, Bathtub Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Smoking, Depiction of Dysfunctional Relationship, Depiction of Unhealthy Behaviours, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Cigarettes and Smoking, Depiction of Disassociation, Mention of Physical and Or Bodily Harm, Mention of Murder, Mention of Blood, Mention of Character Death, Mention of Future Events;

WORDS: 9.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if i should be honest, i think this little thing surpasses pretending as always and the other woman in terms of the sad meter. i really enjoyed writing this because it was just raw and emotionally revealing. if anything, this is my current favorite. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did and still do!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kayu's playlist, side 1500;

EVER SINCE YOU MET HIM, HE FELT LIKE HOME. You and Geto Suguru had always been inseparable, two halves of the same whole from the very first day at Jujutsu High.

While the world often paired him with Gojo Satoru — the two of them known for their strength and partnership — there was something between you and Suguru that ran deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. You were his mirror in ways Satoru could never be. You understood him not just through the bond of shared power but in the quiet moments, in the spaces between battle and duty.

Where Satoru reveled in his god-like strength, you and Suguru shared the burden of understanding the world’s cruelty, the cost of being sorcerers. There was an unspoken connection between you two, built on a mutual respect for the world’s darker truths and the weight that came with protecting it. You saw him, truly saw him, in ways no one else could — not even Satoru.

It happened slowly, you're falling in love. It wasn’t some grand, sweeping romance but rather a quiet thing that grew over time, unnoticed at first. The little moments where you stayed back after training, talking under the stars, your conversations deep and philosophical, both of you sharing dreams, fears, and the weight of what it meant to bear the responsibility of a jujutsu sorcerer.

It was in the way he’d find you after a tough mission, silently standing by your side until you were ready to speak. The way his eyes softened just for you, in a way they never did for anyone else.

There was no sudden realization, no epiphany — just the slow warmth of knowing that his presence had become as necessary to you as breathing. You would exchange a glance across the room, and in that look, you would know what the other was thinking. It was as if your souls were entwined, slowly knitting together over time.

Suguru had always been cautious, thoughtful, but with you, his walls seemed to fall away bit by bit. He didn’t have to hide the weight of his worries, the questions that plagued him late into the night. And in return, you shared your own vulnerability, your own doubts, the moments of quiet despair that came with your duties.

Your hands would brush against each other during missions, the brief touch sending sparks through your veins, but neither of you spoke of it at first. It was too fragile, too precious to put into words. But those touches lingered, the brief glances became longer, and soon, the silences between you were filled with the unspoken understanding of what you both felt.

You fell in love in those small, stolen moments — not all at once, but in the way his gaze lingered a little longer on you during training, the way he would seek you out even when there was no reason to. You noticed how his voice softened when he spoke your name, how his laughter felt more genuine when it was with you.

It was gradual, this love. It wasn’t fireworks or grand confessions. It was a quiet, persistent thing, growing slowly but steadily, as natural as the rising sun. And before either of you truly realized it, you had become his other half — not just in battle, but in everything.

And Suguru, who had always carried the weight of the world so heavily on his shoulders, found solace in you, found love in a way that didn’t need words or declarations. You were his mirror, his equal, the one who truly understood the depths of who he was.

And he, in turn, became yours.

The change was subtle, barely noticeable at first. It was in the way Suguru’s shoulders relaxed when you were around, the way his eyes would light up just a little more when you spoke. Your friendship, already so deep, had slipped effortlessly into something more intimate without either of you acknowledging it out loud. It was as if neither of you wanted to disturb the delicate balance, afraid to name the thing that had grown between you for fear it might shatter.

You began to spend more time together outside of missions and training. You’d sit side by side in the library, poring over old texts or discussing jujutsu theory long into the night. On rare afternoons off, you’d find a quiet corner of the campus to sit and talk about everything and nothing — your pasts, your dreams for the future, your shared frustrations with the world you were tasked with protecting. In those moments, the world seemed smaller, more manageable, as if it was just the two of you in it.

There were no grand gestures between you and Suguru, but the small things added up — the way he would bring you tea without asking, knowing exactly how you liked it; the way you’d patch up his wounds after a particularly difficult mission, your fingers lingering on his skin a little longer than necessary. He’d watch you as you worked, his gaze soft, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

And you? You found yourself looking forward to the moments when it was just the two of you, when the weight of your roles as jujutsu sorcerers could fall away and you could just be. You knew you were falling for him, slowly but irrevocably, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t need to. What you shared with Suguru was natural, inevitable, like the slow blooming of a flower.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after a particularly grueling mission, that something shifted. You had been injured — not seriously, but enough to warrant Suguru’s concern. He had stayed by your side, helping you back to your room after Gojo had left to handle the debriefing. You could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw was clenched, his usual calm exterior cracking just slightly.

“Suguru, I’m fine. Really.” you said softly, trying to reassure him as you sat on the edge of your bed. “It’s just a scratch.”

But he wasn’t listening, his eyes dark with worry as he knelt in front of you, his hands hovering over the bandage on your arm. “You shouldn’t have taken that hit!” he muttered, his voice low, almost angry. “I should have—”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Hey.” you said softly, your voice drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “It’s not your fault. We’re a team, remember? We look out for each other.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and something shifted between you. The air grew heavier, charged with an emotion neither of you had spoken aloud but both of you had felt for a long time. Suguru’s hand moved to cover yours where it rested on his cheek, his touch warm and firm, grounding.

“I don’t want to lose you, you know that....” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “I can’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching slightly as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. “You mean too much to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him, your own feelings rising to the surface, too powerful to ignore any longer. “Suguru…” you began, your voice soft, but he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’ve been falling for you, doll.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession was something too fragile to say aloud. “Slowly, but completely.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the truth of your own feelings spilling over. “Me too.” you whispered back, your hand still cradling his face, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I’ve been falling for you too.”

There was a brief moment where the world seemed to pause, where everything else fell away — the missions, the responsibilities, the looming sense of duty that always seemed to hang over you. In that moment, it was just you and Suguru, the quiet intimacy of your confessions binding you together in a way that was both new and familiar.

Then, as if some unseen barrier between you had finally crumbled, Suguru closed the small distance between you and kissed you, softly at first, his lips tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips met his, a flood of emotion rushed through you, and you kissed him back, your hand tightening slightly on his cheek as your other hand found its way to his shoulder, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, neither of you in a rush, savoring the moment as the truth of your feelings settled between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Suguru rested his forehead against yours once more, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

“Maybe we were always meant to find each other like this,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t known he was capable of.

You smiled, your heart full as you whispered, “Maybe we were.”

From that moment on, things between you and Suguru were different — but in the best possible way. The love that had been quietly growing between you had finally been given a voice, and while nothing about your relationship was rushed or flashy, it was solid, rooted in years of friendship and understanding.

You were two peas in a pod, and now, you were more than that. You were his mirror, his equal, his partner in every sense of the word. And together, you faced the world — not just as sorcerers, but as something more.

THINGS QUICKLY CHANGED. With all the highs came the lows, and you could trace the exact moment you began to lose Suguru. It was the day Riko Amanai died. Everything shifted after that. Geto Suguru had always carried a weight on his shoulders — the responsibility of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the burden of protecting the weak from curses that never seemed to end.

But after Riko’s death, that weight seemed to grow unbearable. You saw it in the way his eyes grew darker, the way his silences stretched longer, how the light that had once shone in him began to dim.

Where once his passion burned brightly, there was now only a smoldering ember, flickering weakly in the face of despair. The laughter you used to share felt distant, a memory that seemed almost foreign in contrast to the ever-present heaviness that hung over him.

He had always been quiet, thoughtful in his approach to life, but now that stillness took on a different shade — it wasn’t contemplation or a moment of rest, it was something far more unsettling. It was the beginning of withdrawal, of detachment from the very things that used to anchor him.

He no longer met your gaze in the same way; when he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing through you, as if he was trying to find something beyond the present — something that would ease the ache in his soul.

Conversations that had once flowed freely between you both became strained, stilted, weighed down by unspoken pain. He started questioning everything. Not openly at first, but in quiet, haunting ways — in the pauses between words, in the way he’d linger before answering, as though the truth was too bitter to speak out loud.

You knew Suguru was strong, resilient, but Riko’s death had shaken him in a way that left him fractured. It wasn’t just about losing someone; it was about what she represented — the possibility of something better, something worth fighting for. When that was ripped away, so too was Suguru’s belief in the world he had dedicated his life to.

And as that belief crumbled, you could see him beginning to unravel, piece by piece, day by day. His sense of purpose, once steadfast and clear, became clouded by doubts and questions, and you feared that he might never find his way back.

There were moments when you caught glimpses of the Suguru you used to know — fleeting sparks of the person who still believed, still fought. But they were just that: moments. Each one shorter than the last, like the dying flickers of a candle on the verge of being snuffed out.

It was in those moments that you knew you were losing him, and no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, he was slipping through your fingers. And you were helpless to stop it.

At first, you tried to reach him. You stayed by his side, offering your hand, your presence, anything you could to help him through the storm of grief and guilt. But Suguru had already begun to slip away, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t pull him back.

The moments of warmth between you grew fewer and far between. Where there had once been easy conversation and soft smiles, now there was a distance — a hollow space between you that seemed impossible to bridge. Suguru, once so attentive, now drifted away even when you were right next to him. You’d talk, but he’d be somewhere else, his thoughts consumed by something darker, something you couldn’t touch.

It drained you, the slow unraveling of your relationship. The pain of watching the person you loved most in the world grow cold, distant, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on. But you stayed. You stayed because you meant it when you told him he was the love of your life. You stayed because you couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning him in his darkest hour, even if he no longer wanted you there.

And he didn’t. You could see it in the way his gaze no longer softened when it landed on you, in the way he brushed off your concern with short, clipped words. He no longer sought your comfort. When he was hurting, he turned inward, shutting you out completely. And yet, you stayed, clinging to the hope that somewhere deep down, the Suguru you had fallen in love with was still there, buried beneath the grief and the anger.

But it wasn’t just grief. You could feel the bitterness growing in him, a festering resentment toward the world that had demanded so much from him, toward the system that had failed Riko, that had failed all of you. He stopped talking about your future together, stopped talking about anything that wasn’t steeped in cynicism and frustration. He was changing, and you could feel it, a slow and terrible shift that left you standing on the outside, helpless to stop it.

The breaking point came in quiet moments, little by little, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You weren’t the love of his life. You weren’t his anchor, his equal, his partner. Not anymore. Suguru’s love had been replaced with something else — an obsession, a mission that consumed him, left no room for you or the bond you had shared. He became fixated on a world where the weak didn’t have to suffer, where sorcerers like him weren’t forced to bear the weight of protecting humanity. His ideals twisted, hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.

And you watched, heartbroken, as the man you loved disappeared into that darkness.

Even when he pushed you away, you stayed. You stayed because you loved him. You stayed because you believed, deep down, that there was still some part of him that loved you too. But with every passing day, it became harder to hold onto that belief. The way he looked at you had changed. There was no warmth, no affection, only a distant coldness that chilled you to your core.

You would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling while Suguru sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts, the space between you stretching wider and wider until it felt like you were in different worlds entirely. You could feel the end coming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

Because he was the love of your life.

But you could no longer say the same for him.

Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

The nights were the hardest. You would lay beside him, and though the silence between you was heavy, it was in the quiet moments leading up to those encounters that you found a semblance of the closeness you had lost. When Suguru touched you, it was almost like a desperate attempt to reclaim a part of himself that was missing — a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

When he made love to you, it was a paradox. It was as if he was trying to find solace in you, to fill the void within himself, even if the effort often left you both raw and aching. His movements were urgent, almost frantic, as if he was trying to escape from the pain that had consumed him. His touch, though sometimes rough, was filled with a fervor that betrayed the depth of his emotions, a desperate reach for something he had lost.

You would lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust a mix of pleasure and pain. Even as tears streamed down your face, even as your body shook with a mix of conflicting emotions, there was a strange sense of connection. It was in these moments of vulnerability and rawness that you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved — even if it was through the prism of his own desperation.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with yours, and the room was filled with the sound of your shared intensity. It was as if the pleasure was a balm for both of you, a way to soothe the fractures that had formed in your relationship. His hands gripped you tightly, his body moving with a fervor that spoke of a deep-seated longing to feel something, anything, that resembled the love you had once shared.

In those moments, when the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was the connection between your bodies, you felt a bittersweet semblance of closeness. Even as his pleasure mingled with your own tears, there was an undeniable intensity to it, a shared experience that temporarily bridged the emotional chasm between you.

But even as you felt him inside you, lost in the throes of passion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was also a form of self-medication for him — a way to numb the pain, to forget the pieces of himself that were missing. It was as if he was trying to patch up the voids within him, using you as a vessel for his own fleeting moments of relief.

And so you continued, both of you lost in it, in a dance of pleasure and sorrow that seemed to provide a temporary escape from the reality of what had become of your relationship. The intimacy, though deeply painful at times, was also a reminder of what once was, of the bond you had shared — a bond that was still there, hidden beneath layers of grief and change.

As he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, his body tensing above you, you could feel the release echo through both of you. And though the moment was fleeting, it was a reminder of the connection that still lingered, however strained and fractured it had become. You lay there, both of you panting and spent, the silence of the room wrapping around you once more, the echoes of your shared experience lingering in the stillness.

In those moments, you clung to the hope that despite the overwhelming changes, there was still a part of Suguru that needed you, that loved you in the only way he knew how to express now. It was a painful paradox, but it was all you had left — the bittersweet solace of feeling loved through the remnants of a passion that once defined your relationship.

Suguru’s pace never faltered, his body pressed relentlessly against yours, each thrust deeper than the last. His eyes were half-lidded with a raw, burning need, his hands never loosening their grip on your trembling body.

Even as your voice broke into breathless cries, your hands clutched desperately at him, grounding yourself in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through you. He was utterly lost in you, consumed by the devotion he had promised — his worship of you unending, fervent, and wild.

Your body ached with the pleasure of it, shaking beneath him as he continued even after you had come. He was relentless, his hips driving against yours in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine, each movement feeding the fire that burned between you. You felt overwhelmed, consumed, your body unable to keep up with the intensity of his desire, but you didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Suguru….” you whimpered again, your voice cracking, barely able to speak as his thrusts grew rougher, more desperate. “Please…”

But whether you were begging for more or for a moment’s reprieve, even you didn’t know. He responded with a low, guttural moan, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

His eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he murmured in a voice thick with lust, “I need you… I need you more than anything. You’re everything.”

Your heart pounded, his words igniting something deep within you as your body gave in completely, surrendering to him as if you were both caught in the grip of something sacred and sinful all at once. He pushed deeper, each thrust taking you to the edge of what your body could handle, the pleasure blending with a delicious ache that left you trembling against him.

The thunder outside roared, masking your moans as his worship grew more fervent, his devotion unrelenting. Your body shook beneath him, every nerve alight as he claimed you over and over. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours as he took you higher, his pace unbroken, his rhythm fierce and untamed.

Lightning flashed again, casting the room in harsh light, illuminating the way his muscles strained as he drove into you, his face twisted in both agony and ecstasy. His voice, hoarse and filled with desperate reverence, reached you between the booming thunder. “You’re mine… only mine.”

The words broke something in you, your body shaking as the pleasure surged through you once again, your cries swallowed by the storm. You clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body collapsing into his as the intensity of it all took you to the brink of delirium.

Suguru wasn’t far behind. His movements grew frantic, his body trembling with the effort of holding back as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a low, primal groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his release washing over him as he collapsed into you, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in a haze of exhaustion and bliss, the sound of the storm outside slowly fading into the background. His breath was heavy against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “Take it. Like the good girl you are. Take it.”

YOU WEREN’T GOOD AT BEING ALONE. Not even after ten years had passed. Somehow, the only way you could still feel his presence was in those moments of intimacy. When everything else seemed fractured, when his eyes were distant and his heart seemed closed off, it was in those fleeting, intense connections that you could still sense a glimmer of the man you had once known.

Even after he left and defected, becoming Jujutsu society’s enemy — and in a way, your own enemy — Suguru still sought you out. It didn't matter that years had passed, or that he had crossed lines no one could return from. Ten years later, you still let him in. You still let him ruin you.

You told yourself you wanted to care. To be angry, to be disgusted, to shut the door on him the moment you saw his familiar silhouette lurking in the shadows. But the truth was, it was hard to care.

Even with the blood on his hands — the blood of innocent people, of those you once fought beside — you let him ruin you. Because you loved him. You always had, and some part of you suspected you always would, even if he didn’t love you anymore.

And maybe that was the most painful part — knowing that his love had withered into something twisted, something tainted by his bitterness toward the world. But you? You held on to what once was, clutching it desperately, as if it could somehow bring back the man he used to be. The Suguru who laughed with you, who shared quiet nights under the stars, who believed in protecting the world no matter the cost.

Now, all you could do was lie back in the tub, bright bubbly water enveloping your body, offering a moment of warmth in a life that felt increasingly cold. You have been there for a long while now. But you didn’t have the energy to leave. You’ve been on a mission for a whole three days, and you had nothing left in you. Nothing but bitterness and perhaps, the energy for a smoke.

All that was left in you was the will to smoke the cigarette between your fingers. You watched it burn lazily in your grasp, a thin stream of smoke curling up. It was addicting, to watch it dancing above the tip like fleeting memories. Fleeting, unattainable memories that you couldn’t quite grasp with everything in you anymore.

Your vinyl played those rough melodies, the loud boom of it filling the cramped, claustrophobic bathroom with anything but peace. Somehow the chaos was all that kept the thoughts in your head out. It was all that let you breathe. It was almost peaceful — almost enough to pretend things were normal. Chaos, you think, was the only thing that made your life have harmony. Even if it kills you softly.

You can only ever look up at him, leaning against the doorframe. Your deep, dead eyes looked at him as though there was still light in them. As though there wasn’t any resentment, any grief. As though there was nothing but emptiness. Perhaps all that will ever be left behind in them were those tired tenderness.

That brutal acceptance of what he was, what you had become to each other. You took a deep hit of the cigarette, taking in the smoke as though it was the oxygen you needed. His gaze never left yours as the smoke snarled through your face.

Suguru could only ever return the gesture, though you could see the deep set of fatigue etched in the lines of his face. His once-bright purple eyes, the ones that used to light up with hope and purpose, now seemed dull, as though the weight of his choices had drained the life from them. He, just as much as you, had become soulless. Lifeless. Walking corpses. Nothing more, nothing less.

His purple haze lazily traveled over your body, taking in the curves, the skin glistening under the dim light. But there was no lust, no hunger. At least, not that you know of. These days, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But you suppose, his eyes tell more than his mind does. As empty as they were.

All you can see in him was acceptance, even if it was just a flash of a moment. That same old tired familiarity. He had seen you like this countless times before — vulnerable, exposed, both physically and emotionally. And yet, somehow, this moment felt different. More final, more resigned. More exhausted. More empty. Each and every time, you think it gets worse. But you suppose that’s just what it is.

He didn’t say a word, and neither did you. What was there left to say? You had given him your love, your body, your trust, and in return, he had broken you. Over and over again. But still, you let him. Because no matter how far he had fallen, no matter how many lives he had taken, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away.

You watched him as he stood there, wondering if he ever thought about what you could have been — if, in another life, things might have turned out differently. But you didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. You don’t wanna think about it anymore. Instead, you took another heavy drag from your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs as the silence between you stretched on. Only the loud chaos of the vinyl remained, and maybe, the tap water’s flow on the sink.

You wondered if he was going to stay the night, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. Either way, you would still love him, even as he ruined you again. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you always did. And some part of you suspected that deep down, you didn’t really want it to stop.

You exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching as it twisted into the air before dissolving into the dimness of the room. His eyes lingered on the ash filled with water before returning to your face. For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but the silence between you stretched on, thick and heavy.

"Suguru." you finally broke the stillness, your voice quiet but steady. He blinked, as if hearing his name after so long startled him. "What are you looking for? After all this time, why come back?"

His gaze faltered. You could see it in his eyes — the hesitation, the wariness. He didn’t want to answer, not fully, not truthfully. "I don’t know, if I’m being honest." he murmured after a pause, his voice hoarse. "Maybe I’m just… tired."

You offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "We’re both tired, Suguru. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here. Why do you always come back."

He pushed himself off the doorframe, moving closer to you, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the horrendous music. His large fingers brushed the edge of the tub, his eyes tracing the ashy bubbles floating on the surface.

"Do you ever think about what we could’ve been?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You took another drag from the cigarette, the embers glowing brighter in the dim light. "I used to." you admitted, staring down at the water. "But thinking about it didn’t change anything. What we are now… it’s not what we could’ve been."

His expression tightened, a shadow of regret crossing his features, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt beside the tub, his fingers trailing through the warm water. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt intimate — too intimate for what you had become.

"Suguru." you said softly, not meeting his eyes. "We’re not the same people we were ten years ago. You know that."

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, I still find myself here. With you."

You looked at him then, really looked at him. The lines of exhaustion, the hollowness in his once-bright eyes, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. He was a stranger now, and yet… he was still Suguru. The man you had loved, the man you still loved. Even after everything. And you hated it. You hated everything about it. You hated him. And yet….and yet, you loved him all the same.

"I don’t know how to stop coming back to you." he admitted, his voice raw. "I don’t even know if I want to."

You sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Maybe you’re not supposed to," you said softly, flicking the ash from your cigarette into the water. "But that doesn’t mean this is healthy. For either of us."

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was soft, familiar, and you closed your eyes against the warmth of his palm, against the flood of memories his touch brought with it. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things were different, that you hadn’t ended up here, in this cycle of love and destruction.

But when you opened your eyes, reality came crashing back.

"Suguru," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "You ruin me. Every time. And I let you."

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "I know," he said, his voice breaking. "I know. And I’m sorry."

You laughed softly, bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry doesn’t fix anything. It never has."

He lowered his head, the exhaustion in his posture more evident than ever. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can."

You took a final drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it slowly. "Then maybe," you said quietly, "you should stop trying."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a sadness that ran deeper than words. "And if I don’t know how to let go?"

You reached out, your fingers brushing his, before pulling away. "Then we’ll keep doing this. Over and over again. Until there’s nothing left of either of us."

Suguru stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his guilt, his regret, in the silence that followed. You wanted to believe he would leave this time — that he’d walk away and never come back. But you both knew the truth.

He wouldn’t.

And neither would you.

The splashes of the bathwater almost seemed to compete with the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding, creating a symphony of intimate noise that filled the cramped space. The small bathroom was alive with the sensory chaos of your passion. The ashy, bitter, bubbly water in the tub surged over the edges with each of your movements, cascading down the sides and creating a pool of frothy suds around the base.

Geto Suguru, relaxed and reclining against the porcelain tub, looked every bit the picture of serene indulgence. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, a reflection of the deep, contented sighs escaping his lips. His usual composed demeanor was softened by the way he surrendered to the moment, his purple eyes half-lidded as he took in the sensation of your body pressed intimately against his.

The rhythm of your bodies moving together created a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock in a silent room. The sound of the water mixing with the echoes of your shared breaths and whispered moans painted a vivid picture of the intense connection between you. Each splash and ripple seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, adding a physical dimension to the emotions that were already swirling around the small space.

In this confined setting, every movement was magnified, every touch felt more pronounced, making the experience all the more enveloping and consuming. The heat of the water and the warmth of Suguru's body combined to create an almost intoxicating environment, where the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the sensory overload of the moment you were sharing.

Your fingers clutched the rim of the tub for support, knuckles turning white as his hands gripped your waist, guiding your hips with a slow, deliberate pace. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with lust and something darker — something that lingered between desire and destruction.

Geto Suguru’s gaze was heavy-lidded with passion, with pleasure. His tired eyes never leave your face with every moment. His lips parted slightly, releasing a low groan as your movements quickened, water splashing violently around you. It was intense, almost punishing, the way you moved together — like you were trying to drown out everything else, the pain, the guilt, the past. In these moments, nothing else existed.

He let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening as he thrust deeper into you, sending another wave of water crashing against the sides of the tub. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, mingling with the music still softly playing in the background. It was a strange contrast — the gentle melody against the raw, primal intimacy unfolding between you.

"Fuck…" Suguru muttered, his voice rough, barely audible above the splashing water. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I can’t… stop."

You gasped in response, your body arching against him as he pressed deeper, harder, his movements becoming more desperate. There was no tenderness, no softness — just need. Need for you, for the release, for the fleeting escape from the weight of everything that had come between you.

But even in the heat of the moment, you felt the familiar ache creeping back in, the realization that this wouldn’t change anything. You were caught in the same cycle, both of you — tangled in a web of love, regret, and ruin. And even as you lost yourself in him, in the way he filled you completely, you knew that this would never be enough to heal the wounds you both carried.

Your breath hitched as he buried himself deeper, your thighs trembling with the intensity of it all. His name left your lips in a soft, broken whisper, and for a moment, it felt like you were both on the edge of something — not just release, but something far more terrifying. The edge of losing yourselves to each other completely.

But as your climax built, the water splashing and your moans blending with the music, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not at that moment. You leaned down, your lips brushing his as your body shuddered around him, and in that fleeting second, it was just the two of you — all the pain, the guilt, the love, suspended in the air between the breaths you shared.

Then, with a final, desperate thrust, everything shattered.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure finally subsided, the water still sloshing gently around you both. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as the fog of lust cleared, reality settled back in — heavy and suffocating. You stayed there for a moment, leaning against Suguru’s chest, your breath still ragged, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

But as his hand slid up your back, a soft caress, something inside you broke. This couldn’t continue. Not anymore.

You slowly lifted yourself off of him, your body protesting the movement as the water rippled in your wake. You stood up, the warm water dripping off your skin, but you felt cold inside. Turning your back to him, you grabbed the towel from the rack, wrapping it around your body, trying to create some distance — any distance — between you and what had just happened.

"Suguru." you said, your voice quiet but firm. You still hadn’t turned to face him. "This can’t happen again."

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting. You could almost hear his thoughts, the confusion, the quiet disbelief. He probably thought you didn’t mean it. That you were just saying it because the guilt always hit harder after intimacy.

You turned to face him then, your eyes meeting his. His expression was calm, though there was a flicker of something — maybe sadness, maybe frustration — in his eyes. "You have to stop coming here," you continued, your voice shaking slightly. "This is… it’s destroying both of us. And I can’t do this anymore. I won’t."

He shifted in the tub, his elbows resting on the sides as he sat up, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to understand where this was coming from. "You don’t mean that," he murmured, his voice low and even. "You always say you’re done, but you never are."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "I know. I’ve said it before. But I mean it this time, Suguru." You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "This… whatever we’ve become, it’s not love anymore. It’s pain. And I can’t keep letting you back into my life just so we can tear each other apart."

He ran a hand through his wet hair, his jaw clenched as he listened, his gaze never leaving yours. "You still love me," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s the problem," you replied, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I do still love you. I think I always will. But that’s not enough anymore."

You stepped closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tub, your hands gripping the porcelain, your face inches from his. "Every time you come back, I let you in because I hope… I hope something will change. Maybe, this time, you’ll stay. Or that you’ll choose me over whatever it is you’re chasing. But you never do. And I can’t keep living with that."

Suguru’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, just as quickly, his usual calm mask slipped back into place. "You think I don’t want to stay?" he asked, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place — regret, maybe, or guilt. "You think I don’t miss what we had?"

"Then why don’t you?" you shot back, the frustration and heartache boiling to the surface. "Why do you always leave, Suguru? Why do you keep coming back, only to walk away again?"

He didn’t have an answer, and in that silence, the truth was louder than anything he could have said.

"I can’t keep doing this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I need you to go. And this time, I need you to never come back."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw the same brokenness in him that you felt in yourself. But instead of pleading or apologizing, he stood up, the water dripping off him as he stepped out of the tub. He grabbed his clothes, moving quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Suguru," you called after him, your voice wavering. "Please. Don’t make this harder."

He paused at the door, his back to you, his head tilted slightly as if considering your words. Then, without turning around, he muttered softly, "You always knew this would end like this."

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the quiet room.

You stood there for a long time, the sound of the bathwater still rippling behind you, the music still playing softly. But the space felt emptier now, colder. You sank to the floor, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, feeling the weight of his absence settle in your chest.

This time, you told yourself, it was really over. But as you sat there in the silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had truly meant it. Or if some part of you was still waiting for him to come back.

YET WORDS ARE EASIER THAN ACTION. And you know, you were born to be a liar. Both of you were. And in the quiet aftermath of Geto Suguru's departure, you knew deep down that the promises made were nothing more than echoes of empty words. The truth was, you weren’t ready to let go, and neither was he. The cycle, though painful, was one you both knew too well — and you were trapped in it, unable to break free.

As the door closed behind him, you sat alone in the bath, the water now cold and stagnant, reflecting the dim light of the room. You stared at your own reflection, the tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes mingling with the water’s surface. The silence felt heavy, oppressive, a reminder of the lies you had told each other and yourself.

Hours later, long after the bubbles had dissipated and the water had turned colder than ever before, you heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. He was back — just like always. The moment you heard it, a part of you felt a twisted sort of relief mixed with the sting of knowing you’d once again fall into the same pattern.

Suguru walked in, his face a mask of the same weariness you’d seen before. He didn’t say a word, but the silence between you was charged with the understanding of what was to come. It was a dance you both knew well, and despite the hurt, there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of it.

You stood up from the tub, wrapping yourself in a towel, and looked at him, your expression a mix of resignation and reluctant desire. "You came back." you said, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

Suguru nodded, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "You knew I would."

You swallowed hard, fighting back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. "I did. I guess I always do."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe forgiveness, or understanding, or just the old connection that seemed to bind you both together, no matter how hard you tried to sever it. "I’m sorry," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "For everything."

You shook your head, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Sorry doesn’t change anything. It never has."

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, his touch as familiar as it was painful. "Then why do we keep doing this?"

You didn’t have an answer. Instead, you reached out and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. "Because we’re both liars," you said quietly, your voice breaking. "And we both know it. We lie to ourselves and each other about what this is, about what we want. And then we repeat it. Over and over."

He nodded, a resigned look in his eyes. "Maybe we’re just afraid of being alone. Or afraid of facing what we’ve become."

You turned away from him, walking slowly back to the edge of the tub. The cold, wet surface felt distant now, a reminder of how you’d tried to distance yourself from this pain, only to find yourself pulled back in.

Suguru followed, his presence heavy and unsettling. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You sighed, looking at him over your shoulder. "We do what we always do. We pretend. We tell ourselves that this time will be different. Maybe, somehow, it will all work out."

He came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace, his warmth mingling with the coolness of the room. "And then what?"

You leaned into him, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence despite the turmoil it brought. "And then we repeat. We rinse and repeat. Until we can’t anymore."

The space between you was filled with the heavy weight of your shared history, the cycles of love and pain that had come to define your relationship. As his lips brushed against your neck, the old familiar spark of desire reignited, even though you knew it was just another fleeting escape from the reality that awaited you both.

For now, you let him hold you, let the old patterns resume. You knew you’d fall back into the same routine — the lies, the hurt, the fleeting moments of connection. And as he began to kiss you softly, you resigned yourself to the truth you both avoided: that the cycle was far from over, and you were both too entangled to break free.

And so, you parroted the same lies, whispered the same promises, and let yourself be swept up once more in the inevitable repetition.

THAT DECEMBER RAIN WAS A PARADOX TO THINK ABOUT. You began to think that maybe, just as much, the rain was just like your love for Geto Suguru. And maybe, that’s the only way to describe everything about these past twelve years of being a prisoner to love. An inescapable, rough paradox.

When Suguru made love to you, it was a rough paradox. His touch was both urgent and tender, driven by a desperate need to escape the pain that had consumed him, yet somehow still managing to convey a deep-seated longing for connection. His movements were frantic, as if he was trying to fill a void within himself that could never truly be filled. It was as though every thrust, every caress was a plea for solace, for something that would make him whole again.

As he pressed into you, you could feel the raw intensity of his emotions, a tumultuous mix of pleasure and anguish. His touch was sometimes rough, but there was a fervor behind it that betrayed the depth of his feelings. It was a paradoxical experience — he sought to find relief in you, yet his desperation often left you both feeling more exposed, more raw than ever before.

You lay beneath him, feeling every inch of him as he moved, every thrust an amalgamation of pleasure and pain. The contrast between the physical sensations and the emotional turbulence was almost overwhelming. As his body pressed against yours, you could feel the heat of his desire, his need to escape from the emotional abyss he had fallen into. Each movement was a reminder of the complexity of your relationship — the way it was interwoven with both intense pleasure and deep-seated hurt.

Tears streamed down your face, not just from the physical sensations, but from the emotional weight that seemed to press down on you both. Your body shook with the conflicting emotions that came with these moments of vulnerability. The pleasure was undeniable, but it was mingled with an aching sadness, a realization of the cyclical nature of your interactions.

Yet, despite the tears and the pain, there was a strange, bittersweet sense of connection. In these moments, you felt his pleasure, his need, and somehow, you still felt loved. It was a love expressed through the prism of his own desperation — a love that was as flawed and tangled as the relationship itself.

His breaths were ragged, his movements increasingly frantic, as if he was trying to drown out the pain that clung to him, that clung to both of you. His hands gripped your hips with a fierce urgency, his gaze locked onto yours as if trying to find something in your eyes that could make everything right again.

Despite the intensity and the pain, there was an intimacy in these moments that was deeply profound. You could feel the depth of his need, the rawness of his emotions, and the connection that persisted even through the chaos. It was an unspoken understanding, a shared experience that bound you together in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As he reached his climax, his body trembling above yours, the release was a mixture of relief and sorrow. You could sense the fleeting solace he found in these moments, the temporary escape from the anguish that had become a part of him. And as he collapsed against you, both of you panting and spent, the room fell into a heavy silence.

In the aftermath, you both lay there, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the weight of the cycle you were trapped in. The connection was palpable, but so was the realization that, despite everything, you were both still searching for something — something that might never be found. And as you lay there together, the intimacy of the moment was tinged with a poignant sense of resignation, the awareness that, even in your deepest connection, you were both still haunted by the same demons.

In these moments, you were reminded of the paradox of your relationship — the way it was both a source of comfort and a reflection of the pain you both carried. And as you lay there, holding each other, you knew that despite the rawness and the tears, you would continue to navigate this cycle, searching for solace in each other, even as you remained trapped in the same, unending pattern.

You both lay naked together, the warmth of your bed now replaced by the chill of the room. The silence was heavy, filled with the echoes of your shared vulnerability and the weight of what was to come. Suguru’s body was pressed close to yours, his breath warm against your skin, but the intimacy of the moment was overshadowed by the gravity of his next words.

“Satoru and the Jujutsu society…..” Suguru said quietly, his voice carrying a determined edge. “I’m declaring war on them tomorrow.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your heart raced. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and resolve. “You know I can’t let that happen,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’d have to kill you before I let you get to Satoru. You know that.”

Suguru’s lips curved into a sad, knowing smile. “Maybe it’s better that way, don’t you think?” he said softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and acceptance. “Maybe it’s better that you and I can’t be on the same side in this.”

The finality of his words was crushing, and tears began to stream down your face. You felt an unbearable ache in your chest, the raw pain of knowing that the love you had shared was leading to this inevitable end.

“Why did you have to make a home in my heart like this?” you asked through your sobs, your voice cracking with the depth of your sorrow. “Why did you have to become such a part of me?”

Suguru laughed bitterly, a sound that cut through the room like a knife. “I should ask you the same thing, hm?” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “Why did you let me in? Why did you give me a place in your heart when you knew how this would end?”

The room fell into a profound silence, the only sound the soft, stifled cries that escaped you both. The weight of your shared pain and the knowledge of the impending separation hung heavily in the air. The love that had once brought you together was now the source of your deepest anguish.

Suguru’s voice broke the silence, soft and filled with a tenderness that seemed out of place in the current turmoil. “I love you, with everything in me.” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you the most in the world. And if there is a next life, I hope….our rebirthed souls would be happy together.”

You looked at him, your heart shattering at his words. The intensity of his love was clear, even in the midst of the devastation he was about to bring. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, to find some last shred of comfort before the end, but the reality of his decision was unchangeable.

Suguru rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He dressed quietly, his back turned to you as he prepared to leave. The finality of his actions was palpable, and you could feel the end drawing near, a dark and inevitable conclusion to everything you had shared.

As he opened the door to leave, you felt an overwhelming sense of finality. This was it. This was the end. There was no going back, no more second chances. The love you had for each other had brought you to this point, and now it was tearing you apart.

Suguru looked back at you one last time, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. Then, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

You sat there, alone in the silence, the tears flowing freely now. The emptiness of the room felt like a reflection of the void left in your heart. The weight of his departure, the knowledge of the impending conflict, and the finality of his words all combined to leave you in a state of profound sorrow.

As you wept, you felt the crushing realization that this was truly the end of everything you had known. The love, the pain, the shared moments — all of it was over. And as you cried out the last remnants of your heartache, you knew that you would carry the weight of this loss with you forever.

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