#i am in so much pain and i have nothing that stops it and i just. want to not be dealing with anything i am right now

[a-hermit-pining]

A Reflection of Him

AN: Plot bunny bunny comes to life! Warning- I bawled my eyes writing this.

Pairing: Sylus x fem reader

Genre: fluff and so much comfort

Summary: "Is that not the best thing to wish for? That the people you care for were loved, even before you came into their life?"

(I do not own these characters)

"Happy Father's Day, Dada!" Raul shrieks, launching himself into Sylus' lap.

Your husband barely has time to react before he’s tackled—first by the dogs, then by Mephisto, and finally by the twins, who have long since lost any fear of rebuke. Not after witnessing their fearsome boss being carried out of the delivery room at the mere sight of birth.

A flurry of limbs, paws, and claws moves before your eyes, a chaotic mess of yips, shrieks, and laughter. And your heart blooms at the sight.

Some pluck love like petals. Some treasure it like pearls. And some...some deserve to be smothered by it.

Then, your eldest walks in.

She stands beside you, clutching your hand, trepidation flickering in her eyes. For a moment, she is once again the little girl you let go of at the kindergarten gates.

With a gentle pat on her head, you smile, then lovingly shove her into the crowd of limbs.

He had hit his head when he first found himself on your couch. He didn’t remember much...just funny colors, static noises... Probably a concussion.

How embarrassing.

Sylus lay there, eyes rolling back as he groaned at the thrumming pain in his skull.

"Say aaa," a small voice rang in his ear before something plastic was shoved into his mouth.

Squinting his eyes open, he found a pair of familiar eyes staring back at him.

Yours, only on a smaller, plumper face.

"You have a fever," the little voice chirped, inspecting the plastic thermometer now thoroughly drenched in his saliva. "200 degrees. Don't worry, I’ll make you better." Small hands patted his head with absolute confidence.

"Lilia!" You scooped your daughter up with a sigh. "Didn't I put you to bed already?"

"But the doctor says it’s serious," Sylus croaked dramatically. "Who will treat me now?"

"Rein in your horses, mister. Lay down and do not strain yourself," you scolded, shooting him a glare as you set down the glass of water you'd gone to fetch.

"Come, Lilia. Time for bed. Playtime is over." You carried your daughter toward her room, but not before she twisted around to make the most ridiculous faces at Sylus over your shoulder.

That was how he met her.

Your daughter, who, at age four, was the only doctor bold enough to diagnose him with a 200-degree fever.

"He was a… we were in college. It was all so new… we were from the same town," you say, staring at the hazy photos of your college dorm.

"It was easier to tackle Linkon with him. And then he was gone... he couldn't bear it. People weren’t kind to him. He…" You sigh, clutching the photo tighter. "He is no more. You don’t have to seek anyone for vengeance or revenge. But if you ever hurt Lilia, I will kill you."

And Sylus knows, that is the truth.

You would kill him.

But for the first time, he does not wish for it. Not if it means leaving you alone. Not if it means becoming nothing more than a painful photograph in your hands.

"She is all I have, and I am all she has," you murmur, looking up at him. The house stands still, the only sound the slow, rhythmic tick of the clock.

Sylus flips through the album, stopping at a photo where you cradle an infant in your arms.

"I’m glad," he says finally, voice quiet. "Whoever he was, he left you with Lilia. I’m glad you were loved. And that Lilia grew up being loved by you."

He exhales, eyes lingering on the photo.

"Is that not the best thing to wish for? That the people you care for were loved, even before you came into their life?" He smiles taking your hand in his, next to a mountain of toys that Lilia had insisted on showing to him before leaving for school.

Luke and Kieran sit on tiny chairs, sipping water from plastic cups. Seated beside them is the esteemed council of plushies.

"Mr. Luke, do you like the tea?" Lilia beams, dressed in a princess gown and tiara.

Luke nods, his mask off, before turning to his twin, only to find Kieran’s face covered in stickers.

"Yes, Princess Lilia," Kieran says solemnly. "The tea is excellent. You should serve this to Boss once he returns."

It is simply delightful to witness the head of Onichynus joining the council of plushies for an exquisite tea party.

Makes for an excellent photo, too, one they manage to sneak in with Mephisto’s help.

Lilia grins, "Yes! We must! And I will ask, mommy and Mephisto to join. We can have a ball."

"Boss!" Lilia tugs at Sylus' sleeve as he carefully straightens her bow.

"Hm?" he hums, though his heart is beating wildly. Just a few rooms away, you were waiting for him, ready to walk down the aisle.

"Do you want me to sneak photos of Mommy?" Lilia asks, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "Am I not your best woman? I should do it, right?"

Standing tall on the stool, his best man is doing an excellent job of keeping his nerves in check.

Sylus exhales a laugh, shaking his head. "How much did your mother bribe you to sneak a photo of me to her?"

Distantly, he makes a note to have a word with the twins, after the wedding. They were definitely behind this. He and you had worked way too hard to get Lilia to stop calling him Boss, only for it to come right back at the worst possible time.

The room stills when your daughter hands him the papers.

You quietly pull Raul into your lap as Sylus takes them, his hands trembling.

"Happy Father's Day," your daughter says, standing before him as he reads frantically.

"People say we're both equally stubborn," she continues, her voice steady but thick with emotion. She clutches his hand. "That we're both sore losers. That we both love anything shiny..."

Sylus looks up at her, his tears unrelenting, just like hers.

"But they don’t know," she says, voice breaking, "that all of this comes from you. From the years, the months, the weeks, the days, the hours, the minutes, down to the very seconds, you have spent looking after me."

She swallows.

"It’s because... how could I not want to be like you?"

Sylus' breath catches.

"From four to sixteen, you've been here for so long... and I don’t want to call you Sylus. I want to call you Dad. I want you to be my dad"

Beside them, you sniff quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Raul’s head as he watches, wide-eyed and troubled by the sight of both his sister and his Dada in tears.

"Will you be my dad?" she asks, sinking to her knees.

And Sylus, your husband, your love—falls.

He pulls her into his arms, holding her as if letting go would break the world.

"A thousand times over," he whispers. "In every lifetime, in every form. I hope to have you as my daughter."

Tags

@perla-drg, @codedove, @crazy-ink-artist, @desiree-archive @softiepeachess @otome-addictionproblem

[white-poppie]

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ⎯⎯ Finale of the '𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇' series

SYNOPSIS — Your life was a mausoleum of sickening memories until light found you again at the end of the bleak tunnel, peering through his big cerulean eyes. Spitfires vanishing till you found your everlasting effervescent flame. And that's how it ends, because you still have your youth.

💿 — Mia and Sebastian's theme from La-la land

TW —breastfeeding, pregnancy, post-partum, grief, loss, crying (obv), jealousy.

WC — 5k

Series masterlist Moon Child ⏮ ⏸ ⏭ Now playing: Part 3

“Hey…shh..it’s okay…I’m here.” He mutters as he winces, closing his eyes while the remnants of his best friend's cursed energy remain.

The next few minutes go by Satoru holding you to his chest, silently as you sob. Now he’s sitting in the front seat of his car, the tinted windows drawn up as he regardless looks outside cautiously while you feed a hungry Tsukiko.

Satoru’s gaze falls to rear mirror, his eyes briefly catching your tender expression when you look at Tsuki as she stays latched to you and an inexplicable warmth erupts in his chest. He cranks up the AC silently, noticing you’re sweating a bit while feeding her.

You can’t help but smile as he turns up the AC, he notices these little things, the things Suguru should have been here for.

You sigh and lean on the headrest of the car, the smell of the faux leather making your head pound harder after crying. Tsuki suckles with soft whimpers, her face covered by your t-shirt. "It’s strange isn't it?" You murmur. "You are doing few of things Suguru was supposed to be doing for his daughter..."

He’s quiet for a long moment before he finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s his loss. He missed out.”

You look out of the window, tears pricking in your eyes yet again. Your eyes burn from crying, yet it seems as though gotten used to it, gotten yused to the uncomfortable warmth of excessive tears burning down your eyes.

You tell yourself you’ve gotten immune to heartbreak but image of Suguru tenderly holding Tsuki. His eyes filled with so much regret and pain like he would turn around everything if he could. It’s burned in your head. “I’m so tired, Satoru…” you whisper.

He’s quiet as he listens to you speak, his heart breaking as he hears the way your voice cracks again and how your words carry such a sense of exhaustion and pain, like you’ve been carrying burden that no one could understand. You’re not the same person that you were when you were just shy of seventeen. You’re not the same girl that he used to know at sixteen and he knows that better than anyone else..

"I feel so lost- I no longer know what I am working for. There is this anger that bubbles in me, This vile feeling of resentment towards everyone, everything...hell sometimes even towards Tsuki." You choke, "I feel so selfish for thinking all this when I have a sweet daughter. I hate myself that sometimes my mind conjures up this feeling of anger and blames this little girl who has no fault. I love her so much, but I can't help these sudden feelings."

His heart aches at the way you blame yourself, it all just feels so unfair. It feels…cruel. He can do nothing but sit here and listen to you talk it all out because you so clearly feel suffocated like you’re drowning.

"When he told me he was leaving the Jujutsu society. It felt as though my heart was being ripped apart, like I would stop breathing without him. I dug my nails into him. Clung to him that entire night. I got a call from Shoko in the morning when he had gone rogue and filled so many people. I wanted to rip my skin apart yet not wash the flesh he had touched" You sob viscerally, lowering your head in shame.

At times, it felt like you were living a bitter love song. Penelope unthreading the tapestry, grieving, loyal to gone Odysseus. Yet, ambivalent. Somedays, you unthread the tapestry, other days you beg Artemis to end it instead.

He can’t stop the feeling of pure agony bubbling in his chest, his throat dry. Your grief feels so real. So tangible. You’ve lost yourself to him. A part of you must have still been hoping he would come back, as foolish as that hope was. He reaches out to gently take your hand in his. “It’s okay…it’s not your fault.”

You gulp, wiping your tears with your trembling hands upon realising Tsukuba is done feeding, you fix your shirt, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. Her litttle features relaxed into a blissful expression after having her fill, her pouty pink lips making you smile despite your sorrows.

“Can I hold her?” Satoru asks suddenly hesitantly. The corners of his eyebrows upturned and furrowed almost adorably.

"You are asking as if you weren't the first one to hold her in the hospital." You croak out humourlessly and hand her to him and shift in the front seat beside him.

His face softens as a small smile spreads across his lips and he gives off a quiet breathy chuckle as he sees the way your shoulders soften and the small, weary smile that spreads across your face as you hand him the baby. His eyes are so gentle and loving as he carefully takes Tsuki and cradles her against his chest. The way he’s holding her, it’s so natural - as if he was born to be a father.

Your heart feels so heavy at the scene. Its supposed to be Suguru...Its supposed to be Suguru holding Tsukiko, not Satoru. But there's this swell of affection when you look at him cradle her. She's so loved...

"She looks so tiny against you." You whisper, The way they look like yin and yang makes your breath hitch. Tsuki with her black her and eyes and Satoru with his white hair and blue eyes. Suguru and Satoru—Yin and Yang—the strongest sorcerers.

His lips quirk up in a soft smile as he gently pulls Tsuki just a bit closer to his chest, his hand gently wrapping around the back of her head in a tender hold. “She really is a tiny little thing, isn’t she?” he whispers right back as he continues to softly stroke his hand across her back. “She’s so precious and fragile, like a baby bird.”

“”It’s both a blessing and a curse that she looks exactly like him.” You whisper looking at his strong arms hold the baby.

Satoru looks at you, her eyes softening with a mix of pity and affection for the child in his arms. “She really is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

Your shoulders relax you take in a shaky breath, your head pounding like a those drums from from Physical education classes that banged rhythmically. Sighing you raise your legs up to your chest and lean the seat back.

The sight of you curled up in the passenger seat of his car, the car which, you’ve just about proclaimed as your property is so domestic to him that it hurts a little bit. “You’re tired,” he says softly as he continues to cradle Tsuki against his chest.

"Mhm." You nod as you look at him, eyes fluttering. "You should give her here or you won't be able to drive."

He lets out a sigh as he reaches over to gently buckle her into her baby carrier against you. His breath stutters as his fingers brush against your arms and he finds himself gazing into your eyes before gulping and drawing back.“She’s just so tiny and cute and precious, I just don’t want to let her go.” He mutters, his voice slightly deeper than intended.

You chuckle and carefully cradle her neck so she’s leaning against your chest "She's a very charming little girl." You press a kiss to her forehead.

He watches silently as your breaths even out in a semi- lucid state before he whisper to himself in response. “Just like her pretty mama.” He utters and starts to drive to your house.

The smell in the car is saccharine, your vanilla perfume, and the oddly sweet smell that comes from babies; combined with a heady mix of breast milk and baby products.

Tsukiko and you are settled and curled into his front seat as if you belong here. It's so natural. To think Satoru is being the haven Suguru could never be, he's picking up cracks of you shattered, broken heart; you don't know what to call it, but it feels right. Unclear, whether it’s pity or friendship that makes him care so much for the girl and the kid his best friend abandoned.

You arrive back at you place as he helps you out of the car. You look at Satoru with heavy eyes, "Come in, I'll make tea." you say with a tired smile.

Initially, he thinks of rejecting, yet seeing your swollen red eyes and that weary slouch of your shoulder blades; he surrenders.

The little apartment that's less of a home but a sanctuary, its a cute tapestry of memories. Baby products are neatly kept, such as cribs, baby toys, polaroids of the baby, plants, and, in progress, a crochet baby hat on the couch and adorable little trinkets around.

But to you, as night comes it becomes a glum, cold sanctuary for the most part-- filled with reminders of Suguru. Everywhere. His large shoes were on the front door, his coat was on the rack, his picture with me was on the fridge, and his cologne was on the dresser. Almost everything of his is untouched the way it was, despite everything, you don't have the strength to throw out his things the same way he threw you out of his life.

The more his gaze lingers, his mind immediately drifts to the last time he came here; when Suguru was in your life. The house reeks of his memories. The place doesn’t look like a home, it looks like a museum that’s dedicated to the relationship you had with Suguru, almost like a shrine. The longer he looks at it, the more his chest aches. When he speaks, it comes out as a barely audible whisper. “Y/N...”

"Hmm?" You mutter slowly, tucking Tsuki in her crib. You walk back into the kitchen, your house sandals dragging across the marble flooring.

“Can I just…hug you for a second?” he whispers.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, pausing midway while putting the pan on the stove. "Where did that come from?" You ask confused, but your voice softens immediately, turning into a whisper by the end of the sentence.

"I just…want to hug you right now.” he says in a tender, whispery voice. “You look like you need it.”

You gulp, keeping the pan down and wrapping your arms around him he leans down, his arms wrapping around your waist. A shaky breath leaves your throat at how warm he feels, your throat constricting and nose and cheeks feeling warmer. You close your eyes, a silent tear rolling down your cheek.

His arms slowly snake around your waist as he wraps you in, pulling you to his chest, cradling your soft, exhausted body and holding you against his larger, firm form. His eyes close as he feels you shaking in his arms, his embrace so tender that it hurts. “It’s okay,” he whispers softly to you. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

Your chest aches at how comforting his embrace feels. You are suddenly reminded of the way Suguru used to hug you- but for the first time, I push the thought of Suguru away quickly. It’s Satoru in front of you, not Suguru.

"I’ve got you,” he murmurs right up against your ear. “I’ve got you.” He lifts his hand to brush his fingers across your hair, his fingers running across your scalp.

You feel my heart beat faster inexplicably as you raise your head up to look at him. “Satoru, I need your help.” You whisper out as you gulp, briefly closing your eyes.

“Help me…help throw his things away please, I don’t have the strength to do it alone. it’s so haunting." You choke, "I want to move on, I want get better, in a more stable mental place for Tsuki, and I can’t do that with these reminders of him everywhere…” You vent out in one breath.

“You really…want to throw away all of his things?” He asks, his voice a mix of hurt, and relief.

“No.” You reply immediately, “but what other way is there? I don’t want Tsuki to grow up with me being an emotional wreck over a man who abandoned us."

Your eyes fall over to the tiny toddler in the crib, unable to peel your eyes from the beautiful girl.

"I want to keep everything of his, to look at them and grieve for a man who’s alive. I want to keep that damn scarf of his, I don't have the strength to remove his picture from my wallpaper, and his pillow that I sprayed with his perfume and hugged to sleep during pregnancy because his smell calmed me during morning sickness. It’s pathetic I know…but how long am I going to hold on?” You choke up, tears rolling down my eyes.

He feels his breath hitch at your words. He slowly lowers his head to rest his forehead gently against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in slowly and trembles slightly as he gently pulls you into him, his breath trembling and catching in his throat again. “Oh, Y/N,” he whispers in a voice broken with emotion. “Oh sweetheart…”

For a second he wants to gather all of Suguru's things and keep them for himself on the other hand he wants to shatter everything. He's been like the same paradoxical situation as you, day in and day out. He's been a hypocrite. Telling you to move on when he could not get over his best friend. The only person he could ever confide in without being superficial, the only one who cared.

He's aching, just as much as you are. And he aches even more to see his first love so terribly broken apart by his best friend.

"I want us to heal, 'Toru." You mutter. "All of us: Me, you and Shoko. Of course the pain can never truly be gone, but we can't let our lives stagnant like this." You whisper, cupping his face in your palms, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare into his cerulean eyes.

He feels his heart skip several beats in his chest as he feels your soft, warm palms gently cupping his face, your eyes peering into his. He takes in a slow, shuddery breath and swallows again in an attempt to get rid of the aching feeling in his chest - the aching he feels for you.

His eyes glance over towards the crib, seeing the small infant that ties you to his best friend in the most undeniable way that he could never possibly compete, yet she draws him and you closer than ever. From the day he laid his eyes on her, he loved her.

He raises his hand slowly and gently rests it over one of the ones that are cupping his face, his fingers intertwining with yours. He holds your gaze for a long moment in silence, just trying to calm the thundering of his heart in his chest. He let his feelings sit in the backseat when you and Suguru started dating. It hurt, but the ache soon simmered and he accepted reality, he knew his feelings had never left and yet it didn't feel hard to think otherwise. Hell, he was ready to be Suguru's best man. He's finally letting himself be selfish.

"Toru," You breathe out shakily, unsure why you uttered his name like so. This feels like the precipice, the intermission of the movie of your life, right at the climax. These inexplicable feelings brewing in your heart are so heavy. You feel guilty, for letting yourself feel this way, for letting yourself move on-- to develop an affection beyond friendship for Suguru's best friend and your friend.

His heart skips a beat at the way you breathed out his name like so. It almost sounds like a plea, almost like a desperate beg. Toru. It never felt this good, never felt this right, for you to say his name like that. It's so good to hear the way his name sounds when it leaves your lips, your lips that he has never once touched.

His throat aches as he leans down and captures your lips against his own he's wanted this for so long. For so so long he's ached for you. Satoru knows its wrong, you're both vulnerable, but he feels like he would break and sob like a child if he doesn't embrace you. If he can't love you. Its physically impossible for him to control his affection anymore. His nose is red, eyes burning.

A gasp leaves you as you freeze, your fingers clenching into fists. You stand unable to react, frozen still. Your heart beats in a sickly rhythm at the confusion swirling in your chest.

He swallows thickly and instantly pulls back, his eyes wide as he looks into your shocked expression. He takes in a shuddery, shaky breath. He's a idiot, he's an absolute idiot. He knows you don't feel that way about him, knows you're still broken over Suguru, and yet he still kissed you.

"I-" You stutter, your heart shattering at his slightly red eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry..." You breathe out, unable to utter anything else. You want to pull him in again, to kiss him with the same tenderness. His glassy eyes make you sick, but you are not sure you can do this to him, not when you are so conflicted about your feelings...he deserves better than that.

He shakes his head adamantly, his hands trembling slightly as he gently reaches up to place them on your shoulders to keep you at a distance. He doesn’t want your pity. He can’t take your pity.

"You don’t—" Satoru whispers shakily, his eyes still burning. "You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Please, don’t pity me because I feel this way for you."  

"I don't-- I don't pity you 'Toru, not a bit. But you are not a replacement, I never want you to feel like that. I am- there is so much to heal in my heart, I don't think I can love anymore. I am so damn scared after all that I went through." You breathe out reaching to him hesitantly. "You deserve better than whatever mess I am right now."

His heart shatters even more as he feels the way that you demean yourself so harshly - you have no idea how much you're worth. You have no idea how many times he's had to restrain himself from kissing you, holding you, loving you - so many times he's had to tell himself that he has no right to try and love someone that's not his. But his heart is a fragile, weak thing in the face of your sorrow.

"Your daughter needs you," he whispers, his voice cracking a bit. "You're amazing.

“Would you give me time to heal Toru? For myself? For Tsuki? Maybe even for us.” You whisper with a soft voice. “I want to reclaim myself, I’ve lost that ambitious girl somewhere, I want to get her back before I can ever try to find love again.”

.

6 months pass by in a blink of an eye, wasn't she born yesterday? Tsuki's already 8 months old, its a bittersweet feeling. Yet somehow when you think of the times your blood used to run cold when someone mentioned Suguru when you trying to heal; it reminds you how long the year really was.

Those six months were a lifetime for you and Satoru too. He was there all along, for you and Tsuki. He watched you grow and change - every day, every moment, he witnessed the way you healed and slowly came back to yourself. And with each day that passed, the more that he found himself completely and hopelessly in love with you.   

You smile, wrapping the scarf around Tsuki as she sits in her stroller, wide-eyed, observing her mama dressed up differently. A red, velvet a line dress. It feel so weird to wear old clothes again, like watching yourself in your middle school yearbook pictures, cringing at how you looked, but feeling warm as you remember how truly happy you were.

You gulp, fixing your hair for the nth time, waiting for Satoru to pick you. You roam nervously in the apartment, wound like a spinning top and you jump when the bell rings.

You quickly walk up to the door, there he stands in his glory, in a tailored Italian suit, an Armani watch, his fluffy white hair parted at the side with a bouquet of peonies in his nimble hands.

And he freezes just as you do, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing up and down trying ti muster, suave words of praise, but nothing leaves his starstruck self.

“You look so handsome, Toru.” You say fondly.

He slowly holds out the bouquet of peonies for you as his eyes scan over you again. His voice feels weak, barely a whisper as he speaks to you. "Look who's talking."

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You say taking a sniff of the fragrant flowers. Your heart feels warm, despite the chill in the air; warm toasted bread with sweet milk tea in the sheets, an odd sense of euphoric comforting.

"Just beautiful things for a beautiful woman."  He says, finally with his flirtatious grin which causes you to roll your eyes.

You chuckle and look over at Tsuki. “Let’s wait for Shoko” It’s the first time she’d be away from you, she’s too small, too tiny, it makes you anxious for her to be anywhere except in front of your eyes. This is the first time you've ever been apart from the infant who's been attached to your hip since she was born.

"Shoko's a doctor, she'll take good care of her. It's just for a few hours, sweetheart."  He says, interrupting your thoughts.

Soon enough, the bell rings, and the tired woman makes her way in. You go over the same things, same scenarios multiple times until you feel relieved and Shoko on the other hand, exasperated.

"And for the love of god don't smoke around her," you say and finally hug her. "Thank you for doing this Shoko."

Shoko freezes as you suddenly hug her; for a moment, she feels as though her eyes are getting bleary after seeing you smile so brightly after so long. "All good..." She murmurs, unknowingly tightening her grip around you.

"Let's go," you whisper to Satoru, holding out your hand. For a few seconds, he just stands still, unable to form a coherent emotion at the sight of your hand extended to reach his. Gulping he intertwines his large fingers into your palm. the path to his car feels sacred, intimate; he feels as though he's holding you as you walk down the aisle to him. It's an exaggerated, delusional reverie that makes his chest all tight.

The ride towards the restaurant is mostly silent, with you looking out the window and watching as the world passes by like a blur. Satoru steals a few quick glances at you every now and then as he drives, feeling the familiar ache in his chest everytime he looks at you in your beautiful, beautiful red dress.

"You look beautiful, you know that?" He whispers, his voice hushed almost as if he's afraid if he speaks too loudly, the moment will be shattered.  

Your eyes soften at his reverential tone, you tilt my head, staring at him. "You've told," you answer. "But I like hearing you say it."

"I'll say it till you get sick of it," he says with a soft chuckle, his bright cerulean eyes undoing all defenses, all inhibitions. They shine so bright, like stars.

"I don't think I can ever get sick of it," You whisper. It's peaceful, you realise. Not the wild, passionate sort of love you experienced with Suguru, where the flame was brightest before it blew. But this feels like a soft light, whispering in the dark, ebbing the strongest shadows away. It draws you in like a moth to flame. This tender light ignites my very being from the dull, colourless life you were trapped in. You never realised that what you wanted was warmth; you hunted it in a spitfire, but found it in an everlasting flame.

His heart skips a beat at your soft, but honest words. The car slows down as the light turns red, and he takes the opportunity to take a good a long look at you. You are sirenesque, it takes his breath away. He finds himself leaning closer, red lights of the signal reflecting off his face. The soft jazz he put to sound fancy is all static under your gaze. He is all static under your gaze.

Both of you flinch as a car behind you honks, pulling the two of you out of your reverie. You realise the light has already turned green and clear you throat.

He lets out a soft sound before he starts driving again, looking ahead at the road to distract himself from the way his heart still pounds in his chest.

The restaurant comes into view as he parks the car with a sigh. 

You smile as he helps you out of the car. It's a fancy restaurant, the kind you'd see in old Hollywood movies where the main characters take the heroine and a cute song starts playing. You wait for your orders, and there's an awkward silence; neither of you speak for a while. A mix of embarrassment and nervousness blended in with being clueless about what to talk about.

"So...I was thinking," he begins, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he fiddles with his fingers. There is a moment of hesitation as he looks up at you for a second, his heart skipping a beat at your calm expression. He gulps and decides to say it, his words leaving him in a low murmur - barely above a whisper. "Wanna dance?"

"Dance?" You question your eyes fluttering in confusion as you look around and then back at him as if to question, 'here?'

He nods as his nervousness melts away into a small, genuine, bashful smile as he stands up and gently extends his hand towards you from across the table. "Yeah...dance." He mutter, his heart feeling a bit lighter at your innocent question.

He looks at the small dance floor in the restaurant, not even a whole dozen couples dancing on it. "Just one song." 

"Alright, until the food comes in." You smile tenderly and take his hand as the two of you walk to the small wooden flooring. You look up at him as he wraps his hand on your waist, another interlacing with yours. And the song plays, ironically enough, Mia and Sebastian's theme from Lalaland, and you roll your eyes. it's a fancy restaurant; they should at least play jazz or something. Nonetheless, you sigh and just look into his cerulean eyes, and your heart pounds in your ribcage.

He can't stop the way that a small chuckle leaves him at your eye roll. He is in utter bliss in this moment, being so much closer, so much more intimate than he'd been with you in ages: everything around them feels so surreal.

You two dance at first, for a few minutes, a sophisticated pair dance before the two of you just sway, eyes peering intently into each other. The light is dull, dim, centered just at the floor, but nothing shines brighter than his hopeful, loving eyes, and you can't help but feel like you are melting as he holds you in, swaying to the music.

He holds onto you as tightly as he can, his eyes never leaving yours, his breaths growing more labored with each passing second. He can't help but be utterly enamored by you. He can just barely hear his own voice over the sound of his own rapidly beating heart. "I love you." 

Your eyebrows furrow at his admission again, and you can't help but huff out a fond chuckle. He's so sincere, despite all, despite how torn you were, despite how you had hurt everyone, including yourself. He's been there. He's been there and made you realise you don't have to beg for someone's love. It's not transactional as it was with Suguru. "I've made you wait for so long, haven't I?" You whisper, your eyes a little bleary looking at him.

The corners of his eyes crinkle with your huffed chuckle. He smiles softly as you speak, his hand on your waist gently caressing your body lovingly. He smiles and reaches his hand up to caress your soft cheek, gently stroking your skin with the rough pads of his fingers.

"Forever." He mutters, his own eyes slightly glossing over as he looks at you. "You could've made me wait forever, and I still would've waited."

You wrap your arms tighter around him and lean up to kiss him, eyes fluttering close. He tastes like mint; its sweet, and it soothes you so. You let out a shaky breath, and he leans in and kisses you tenderly at first, but then with an adolescent vigour that has you dipping in his arms.

You can't help but giggle at his excitement, somehow, the sound gets him to tone it down, tender and soft, his fingers shaky. You part away to breathe and chuckle fondly. "You've got lipstick on your lips." You shake your head and wipe his lips clean.

"We still have a dance to finish," You say as I keep your hand back on his shoulder, and start to sway, laughing as he spins you around

Outside the restaurant after a late night tussle of the girls begging for icecream and him giving in, Suguru walks with Nanako and Mimiko. Their little hands holding the ice cream he brought, trying to not make it drip.

"Geto-sama, isn't she the woman in the photo frame?" Mimiko points out cluelessly to through the glass to you and Satoru dancing. A woman she's only ever seen through the photo frame he keeps close to him, fondly smiling at the,mystery woman that the twins love to inquire about.

"Hmm...?"

Suguru looks towards the glass, and it takes a few seconds for him to process what he sees. He sighs. It's hard to breathe, but you look so radiant it's like life is back in you. It's so different from when he last saw you six months ago in the grocery store. You looked like your world was crumbling down; you were tired, depressed and alone with his daughter you gave birth to. "Yeah." He says with a smile, his voice heavy.

"That's her."

He keeps looking at you, his smile still on his face as he stares at the sight of the two of you on the dance floor. He can't explain the feeling he has in his heart: hollow and heavy, a feeling of losing something he had and messed up so terribly. The feeling of watching you fall in love with someone else, while he still is in love with you. 

But this is different. He looks at your smiling face now, and all he can feel is a strange sense of peace. His chest feels tight, an inexplicable pang of nostalgia and loss as he watches you dance with his best friend, but the pain he feels in his chest is replaced with a strange sense of acceptance.

It feels nostalgic, you're dancing with Satoru the way you used to with him, old jazz music playing as you stood on his feet and he swayed you around, sneaking kisses on your soft lips, your arms wrapped around him. But just as he remembers these memories, he is reminded of what become of your relationship.

It hurts like crazy but still doesn't compare to the soul-crushing guilt he felt when he saw your in the grocery store with Tsukiko, the baby of his love that he left unknowingly and despite knowing her existence, he was far too gone to step up. All he can remember is the utter agony you held in your eyes when you stood with that little infant so tired, so terrified. He made you go through hell.

The two of you finally stop with the dance. You glance away for a second and freeze as your eyes fall onto Suguru. Your lips part, feeling these conflicting, wretched emotions of anger and bitterness.

He is stoic before he breaks into a smile, a content, tired smile. The smile you give to someone, a goodbye, a good-luck, a smile of nostalgia and well-wish.

You breathe out as if you feel a burden off you existence, your lips twitching up to a smile too.

He looks at you and then glances at the girls, and something in him just wants to approach and hug you so tightly, ask for forgiveness and stay like this, all of you together again.

And yet, when your lips twitch into a smile at him, he smiles back, lifting up his hand to wave softly before walking away.

Life didn't end when he left, though it seemed like it would. Sometimes, we find escapes closest to us, but grief makes us blind. Satoru and Shoko were there to help, but drowning in the agony of loss you didn't find the strength to reach. The point is, no one can help you, unless you want to help yourself.

And once its over, one day you'll find yourself at crossroads with your past again. And its then you'll have courage to look it in the eye and smile, because that's how it goes:

Aches of present become memories of past:

a testament of Our Youth.

[tarotbyjam24]

Describing you through poems

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Pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

Pile 1

A WALK

A meadow smiling in the sun,

Cows knee cleep in the stream, An elm tree waving in the wind, A silvery birch's gleam, A long white road, a rustic bridge, A brooklet gliding through, And with the sunlight on Your hair, Coming toward me-You.

DEATH

By Clarence E. Flynn

WHY do you fear me? I am your friend.

I but guide trav'lers Rounding the bend-Lead them to freedom From time and age, Help them start writing On a new page....

Seek for me never, Keep your course true-When I am needed In come to you, Then I will show you Roads without end-Why do you fear me? I am your friend.

Pile 2

i write when

i write when my heart gets too heavy to hold i write about my scars new and old. i write when i have a lot to share, but to hear it out, no one has time to spare. i write when i feel as lonely as one could be, when not tears, but the well dressed smile is what one could see.

i write when thoughts in my

mind begin to sink.

i write to share whatever i think.

i write, not with thr desire of being known, but to know the voice within my soul.

~bhoomika

I Sit Beside The Fire and Think by JRR Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen Of meadow flowers and butterflies In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will be When winter comes without a spring That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things That I have never seen In every wood in every spring There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think Of people long ago And people that will see a world That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think Of times there were before I listen for returning feet And voices at the door

Pile 3

Beauty

I like simple pleasures, Like wet hair & Clean sheets.. Pomegranate sourness, & the sweetness of ripe peach..

I like contradictions, Like rainbows after rain.. The glittering eyes of happiness, after days of pain..

A cup of hot tea, during a storm.. Living wildly and out of the norm.. I like good hearts, good art, the warmth of the sun.. The days you gave your self power, When you had none..

I like solitude, serenity, The thoughts in my mind.. And how in every tragic thing, Beauty I can find..

-Alethea Spark

Each of us are given a white canvas Some may be smaller than others. But the fact remains that it is pure, With not a single drop of colour.

As the days go by, the amount of strokes grow, With different colours and shapes. Some may be sharp and jagged And others smooth and clean.

You cant erase it or start over, But you can always cover it with a better strokes. You may even give up and want to stop at times, But you keep trying so desperately

And in the end, you can step back and look at what you have created And see that it was beautiful all along.

A masterpiece painted by you.

- C.

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem ✨

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[ssentimentals]

Hiii!! It is been a long time since i got here 🤧, I hope you are doing good. I saw the new request prompts and the number 47. Sickfic/caretaking has attracted my attention, so I was going to ask you if you could write a woozi x reader who has bad migraines and maybe it is mixed this time with back pain.

You can change it if it is too specific or do not do it if you don't feel like it!!

hiii angel, you should come here more often 💜 i am good, hope you're well too! i definitely can, thank you for requesting!

prompt: sickfic/caretaking

woozi could see it. you tried your best to hide it and he gotta give it to you - it took him few days to catch up. he hates how you go all out to help and support others, but don't let others do the same for you, always ignoring your problems because they are not 'big enough'. he knows that probability of you admitting you're in pain is as low as snow during summer, but he still tries: 'how are you feeling, babe?'

you look up from your laptop, your face illluminated by blue screen. you were grimacing few seconds earlier but now you're trying to smile at him: 'all good, just a bit tired.'

your lie falls flat. woozi is always careful, always tries not to voerstep and make you start lecturing him on whole 'i am independent and strong woman, i can take care of myself' thing but his patience snaps. without saying anything he comes closer and points at your laptop: 'save your work. save your work and close your laptop.'

you blink at him. 'what-'

'do it yourself before i take that laptop awya and just turn it off without saving shit,' he bites, not caring that his tone is off. 'you work can wait, we need to stop your migraine first.' at this your eyes widen and woozi quirks an eyebrow at you: 'you hid those pills well, baby, but not well enough.'

you have nothing to say. those migraines started few days ago and yesterday they got so bad that your eyes dtarted watering against your will. add back pain on top of that and you turned into a one big exposed nerve and you knew that your boyfriend saw right through you and your attempts to hide it. lie that you're fine is on your tongue but you swallow it, following woozi to the bedroom. you don't like admitting but it feels nice to be taken care of, to have someone else fret over you. woozi is not very expressive, but you can feel all of his feelings even when he doesn't say much. right now you know that he's worried and annoyed at your for not saying anything, for example.

'we can try cold and hot packs on your neck, which one do you prefer?' he asks in a business tone. when you get under the covers, his hands instantly smooth the blanket and he fluffs the other pillow, making sure you're comfortable. 'i'll turn off the light, do you want lavender oil? i'm not giving you another pill, i'm sure you've taken plenty already.'

'cold pack,' you answer, grimacing when back echoes in pain once you fully lie down. 'and no oil for now, i think.'

woozi nods and quickly gets to work. in few minutes you have cold pack pressed to your neck, light turned off and window open. he places cup with a herbal tea nearby and gingerly lies down. woozi is not used to seeing you like this - his usually strong girl never looks this fragile. it pains and angers him; he reaches out to take your hand in his. 'never hide this from me,' he asks quietly with a slight tremor in his voice. 'i don't want you to suffer alone. i'm always here to help you.'

'it's just a migraine,' you whisper and a sudden pain that shoots from your neck straight to your head makes you gasp. 'oh god.'

'nothing is 'just' when it comes to you,' he mutters and leans closer, worried. 'is cold pack not helping? if it's very bad-'

'give it time,' you interrupt. 'ten minutes or so. we can change it to hot pack if this one won't work.' you open your eyes, squinting at him. 'i am sorry for not telling you sooner. i thought it'd go away. didn't want to bother you.'

'you never bother me,' he instantly says, scowling. 'stop thinking that. nothing about you is ever a bother. let me take care of you.'

you sigh and close your eyes. a bit later you feel cold lips pressed on your forehead. woozi kisses your forehead, tip of your nose, both of your cheeks. you smile and lips press on yours in a light kiss. 'try to sleep,' woozi whispers. 'i will change packs. rest, baby.'

'i love you,' you whisper back without opening your eyes. cold pack helps with the tension, easing the pain. 'thank you.'

'i love you more, my strong girl.' woozi kisses your forehead once more. 'now rest. i'll be right here when you wake up.'

putting his phone on 'do not disturb' woozi lies down next to you and carefully wraps one arm around you. he'll be right here for you even if you can't ask that out loud. he'll still be here.

a/n: hopefully you liked it!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[oferwood]

It was hard enough for anyone to make their own way in the world, more so for women. The world expected nothing more of them other than to marry well and have children when there was so much more on offer. Kate, it seemed, was carving her own place within society and it was commendable. “I think you are doing well already, I hear everyone talking of your creations. Even some servants stop just to look at them, I think one said they were works of art.” Though his colleagues couldn’t afford the pieces themselves, they were always talking about them. “I never thought of pieces for men, it’s a good job you are in charge of the business and not someone like me.” He laughed, self-deprecating jokes were always taken in jest.

“No, in truth I haven’t been back to Wales in ten years, but I lived with my uncle during those years anyway.” William’s uncle Henry was his saving grace in every way. Where William's father was uncompromising in his expectations for his second born, William’s uncle knew him better than his own father. Even with the scandal in Margate, Uncle Henry never turned his back on his nephew, though his disappointment was evident. “We have lead different lives Ms. Beckett, I am the second born out of seven, and you are on your own. I know that must have been hard.” Though William had resented the constant noise within his family home, there was a comfort to it all. To live without knowing that, it was a pain he didn’t wish on anyone.

William knew it was a long shot, but someone with a business as old as hers, there was a hope that something would be known. “All I know is that she passed away,” William hesitated. It was not his news to share, but he was at a loss for what to do next. “A friend wants to enquire more about her life and what it was like in London. All I know is that she was a servant, employed bythe Whitlocks.” 

his words made her cheeks blush lightly. kate never heard this kind of compliment before, it made her feel seen and supported. "i thank you for your kind words..." she whispered before then looking down at her hands. "my father had his own style, i decided to add my own. i draw my own designs, try to add a slight feminine touch to it. however, i also try to think of collections that could fit to gentlemen." she paused before adding. "buttons for the shirt, chains for pocket watches or simply noble rings. the show is for everybody." she concluded with a sweet smile on her face. as he mentioned that he hasn't seen his family for a while, her smile slowly faded. she hoped that she didn't overstepped and made him uncomfortable by mentioning his family. "i am sorry, i hope this isn't too hard for you? an addition to the family is always wonderful news. i am the only one left now." she commented as she took a sip of her cup.

as she heard his next words requiring her assistance, kate looked at him in the eyes. his question caught her slightly off guard. usually, kate knew every single person in this town, however, emily hall didn't ring a bell to her. "oh.. i haven't heard that name before. do you know what happened to her?" she asked, genuinely willing to help him.

[buckingham-ashtray]

The Invisible Clubber........................ SMILING. CAN'T STOP SMILING. LIFE SO HAPPY. LOVE. LOVE LIFE. BEAT GETTING FASTER. CAN'T STOP SMILING. NOW JUST HARMONY. NO BEAT. MELODY. STOP MOVING. SMILE TO THE SKY. ALL STANDING STILL. BEAUTIFUL. NEVER BEEN SUCH HARMONY IN ALL HISTORY. WANT TO KISS EVERYONE. THEY WANT TO KISS ME. BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT.................

Sebastian's Story.......... Sometimes I wonder what it'll be like to die. I'll find myself drifting off, staring at something, anything and I'll stop blinking. I feel my whole body slowing down... My heartbeat... And I wonder how long it'll be broken

*Sorry that I couldn't find the source where I got this from and have no idea when this was released. If anyone has the link I will be very glad to insert it!

[mosstrades]

watching isttvg with your partner and holding their hand with the sudden awareness of how close you came to death. thinking: we are alive, we are alive, we are alive. thinking: every day we save ourselves from more and worse. thinking: for the love of god, dont let go.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake (DCU), Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Tim Drake (DCU), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Reverse Robins, first heat, Tim Drake is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Robin, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Porn With Plot, Mildly Dubious Consent, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting, Bratting, Dirty Talk, Begging, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Batkids Age Reversal, Imprinting Summary:

Dick doesn't expect to have his first heat like this. He doesn't expect to have a first heat at all.

But when he presents around Tim Drake, the Red Hood he's been clearly warned to stay away from, he imprints on Tim and Dick will do anything to be near him. Sometimes, flirting with danger is worth the price.

-

Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 1: Reverse Robin | First Heat

[heybaetae]

.

[aerticent]

my love for Maven has evolved into something and no matter how hard i try i cannot put it into words and it’s driving me crazy

[orcelito]

my heart fucking dropped here. Vash compartmentalizing like crazy, and then the reveal of him having used nearly half of his remaining life power...

using his literal life force to give himself time to bury wolfwood and recover...

for His Sake... eat and regain strength for Him...

aaaaand i started crying here for the Fifth Time at the callback to when vash and wolfwood fought over the sausage while eating spaghetti

aaahahaahahaha

and that's the end of volume 10! ahah ha ha h ha

Ha.

[camellia-thea]

i made the mistake of opening the jellycat website.

they have a jack russell now. it has one black spot across its back like jazzy.

[euclydya]

every now and then when we say something in-sys we DO still hear Allan's voice but barely so

and sometimes. they're like "QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I'M DEAD??" when,

We never DID explicitly tell anyone that, and

He is dead? He's literally a ghost. He honest to god legit for realsies died in 2019.

and he's like..,,,, "oh right! lmao sorry I forgot, carry on" JDJSMSKDMFCN??