#it felt too ooc for either of them to say it at the end there - but the reason fuuta calms down is he realizes that yuno said

[mvrlqni]

in ho protecting fem¡reader when she gets attacked during the fights that break out at night?

IN YOUR ARMS

pairing — hwang in-ho/young-il x reader

synopsis — when screams and people being murdered during the night could be heard, in-ho finds himself staying close, protecting you from other players, especially from one who has constantly been nagging at you.

warnings — blood, violence, murder, swearing, age gap, 20’s reader, 40’s in-ho, spoilers for s2, ooc!in-ho, soft!in-ho, obsessive!in-ho, might have mistakes

wc — 1.5k

AN — made him a tad bit obsessive bc he’s hot

from the very moment in-ho had laid his eyes on you, he was taken aback. you seemed so delicate, pure, and everything just seemed good about you.

and that was when he promised himself he would look after you.

he would allow himself to get distracted by you, his sole purpose was to find out gi-hun’s plans but he would always manage to find ways to include you. especially in conversations that didn’t even relate to you.

yes, he knew it was unprofessional of him, favouriting a player when the games were supposed to be fair and equal but he can’t help himself when he would mouth off to the guards to give you extra food, he even had them pack you your favourite meal after he found out what it was the night before.

in-ho was becoming obsessed with you and he let it happen.

that night after another voting had been done which ended in a tie, a fight had broken out between the two sides. men came out from the bathroom with blood coating some of their tracksuits and in-ho watched as your eyebrows furrowed, that look you did that had him weak in the knees, making you look as if you were a kicked-aside puppy.

soon both teams were gathered on their own sides, the both of them counting down how many players they have.

“two out of five. that means they lost three people.” a girl informed you all, whilst another—player 380 spoke up.

“then we have a better shot at winning the vote tomorrow.”

“hey, it’s 48 against 47.” jung-bae whispered. “as long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win by one vote!” he exclaimed and everyone around you agreed quietly.

you glanced towards in-ho, or as you knew as ‘young-il’, and whispered to him, a smile plastered onto your face. “hey, we’ll be going home tomorrow…aren’t you excited?”

young-il snapped out of his gaze and looked back at you. there was silence before he smiled back and nodded. truthfully, in-ho couldn’t imagine letting you go, he would find you either way.

the PA voice spoke up along with the sound of a school-like bell ringing. “attention, please. lights out in 30 minutes. all players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

after a few more words with everyone on your side, you all separated from each other. however, as the other group separated too, you could see them staring back at you all as they walked, gi-hun having noticed this as well.

you shivered and felt as your body slowly began feeling uncomfortable, but your hand was soon grabbed by young-il as he offered you a reassuring smile and walked with you.

before bedtime, you were sitting with your group as usual. “those bastards are acting suspicious. it’s like they’re up to something.” dae-ho began and you quickly nodded in agreement.

“right? they were staring at us the whole time when they walked past, gave me the shivers…” you mumbled as young-il patted your shoulder while jung-bae scoffed.

“whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it’ll all be over.”

“you think we’ll be okay? they say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier.”

you looked down and fiddled with your fingers before looking back up to gi-hun when he spoke. “once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us.”

in-ho watched as you did that face again. his heart thumping in his chest as he did, completely ignoring everyone else as they spoke.

“really?”

gi-hun nodded. “because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.”

“so what do we do?”

in-ho focused back on the conversation, shifting slightly before voicing his thoughts. “let’s attack them first. they’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. we can use it to our advantage. we’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

“that’s right. it’d be better to attack them first. we have more women and elderly on our side, if we get attacked we’ll be at a disadvantage. attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.” 049 began with a player agreeing before gi-hun interrupted.

“we can’t do that.”

in-ho feigned confusion and stared at gi-hun. “but we have to get out of here. you said it yourself, saying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

“that doesn’t mean we should kill each other. that’s exactly what they want us to do.”

furrowing your brows again, you leaned in a bit and looked at gi-hun with that confused look of yours. ““they?””

“those who created this game. those who watch us play. if we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.” he explained.

“where are they?”

gi-hun looked up causing the other players and you to do the same, except for in-ho. “up there.” he looked back at in-ho and continued. “on the upper levels are the rooms they control the games from. the man in the black mask is their leader. once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

in-ho pressed on, finally hearing gi-hun’s plans. “how are we going to fight them? they have guns.”

“we’ll fight them with guns too.”

“…um, but we don’t have any, mr gi-hun…”

gi-hun glanced at you and nodded. “we’ll take their guns.”

“from the masked men?”

gi-hun nodded again at the other player as in-ho spoke once again. “that’s too dangerous. even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.”

“what then?” gi-hun retorted looking around at everyone whilst he continued. “are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? is that what you want, young-il?”

the two stared each other down before their attention was put onto hyun-ju. “do we…stand a chance?”

“we do if we catch them off guard. out of everyone, they’re the ones who would at least expect us to attack first.” you nodded along and listened. “this is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“how are you going to take their guns?”

you couldn’t help but think how serious young-il seemed, almost as if he was interrogating gi-hun.

“once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance.”

“lights out in five minutes.”

a lullaby began playing from the speakers as the timer ticked, counting down the five minutes.

as soon as the lights turned off, young-il had taken your hand and got you underneath the bed.

screams erupted from your side and you flinched, staying close to young-il while covering your eyes.

it was dark and the screams didn’t help along with the sounds of people getting stabbed, a small whimper left you and young-il gently shushed you.

unbeknownst to both of you, a man who had been constantly harassing you as his way of ‘flirting’ noticed you underneath the bed and had dragged you out.

you screamed as a hand wrapped around your throat and tightened itself, the man in question wielding a broken piece of glass.

young-il’s eyes widened as he immediately got out from underneath the bed. “y/n!” he called out, a snarl leaving his lips as he caught sight of the man.

he punched the man and shoved him away, causing the man to let go of your neck and groan.

you breathed heavily and looked at young-il, watching as he managed to kick the man against the bunk beds.

“you fucking bastard!” the man exclaimed, getting up and charging at young-il with the shard of glass. he only managed to graze young-il with it before being pushed back again, young-il’s grip on the man’s hand was tight as he pushed the glass away from his face and out the players hand.

disarming the player, young-il swiftly bought the man back down, smashing the players head against the bunk bed frames as he did, repeating the same thing.

you looked away as you heard the man’s skull crack, a small groan leaving you before you looked back. “young-il, that’s enough!—”

young-il was completely focused on killing the man, he was already dead by this point but he was fuming with rage seeing the man’s hands wrapped around your neck.

only after a few seconds did young-il stop, dropping the man’s dead body on the ground, blood quickly pouring from the wound. his head was smashed in and the blood covered young-il’s clothes and face.

he breathed heavily before looking back at you, grabbing your hands and bringing you back underneath the bed. “are you alright?” he asked, concern laced in his voice and you nodded.

despite the fact that you’ve just seen this man kill another you couldn’t help but find him more attractive—he did kill the man for you after all…

young-il let out a sigh of relief and you gently caressed his face, a small cut on his cheek from the glass. “your cheek…”

he blushed lightly before letting out a chuckle, grabbing at your hands again. “i’ll be fine, just a small graze, no?”

hesitantly nodding, you stayed close to young-il, his presence almost making you forget that there were people getting murdered just above you.

he kissed your knuckles and wrapped an arm around you. he’ll never let you get hurt and he’ll kill any bastard who even tries to hurt you.

[good-beanswrites]

If you're still taking requests, could I ask for Futa finding our that Yuno was lying about getting beaten up in her first interrogation?

You sure can 👀👀👀👀 Omg, I'm a fake 02-03 fan, how have I never thought about that moment before? I assumed he'd know eventually, but for someone who's so honest (and likely already has issues with a disloyal friend group) an actual confession would be so painful... Thank you so much for the request, it reminded me how much I loved writing these two ;--;

“I can’t believe it!” Fuuta laid across Yuno’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Ooh~ is this about Shidou-san?” Yuno stepped out of a pair of shoes, grabbing another. She walked back and forth with accessories she’d requested or borrowed from the others. After scrutinizing them in the mirror, she’d try on something else. 

“Of course it is! Why aren’t you freaking out about this?”

It was a rhetorical question, she knew. This was one of those times Fuuta wasn’t really listening to anything except the rant in his own head. It could be annoying, but between him and Mahiru, Yuno actually enjoyed the chance to sit back and let someone else take over the conversation. 

“He comes out of his interrogation, casually laughing about the warden being young and kicking him, then expects us to be okay with it? That makes four out of five interrogations someone got hurt! It’s a good thing I showed them they can’t fuck with someone like me, eh? But a pushover like Shidou gets abused and laughs! Argh!” 

Fuuta sat up suddenly, trying to find somewhere to put his anger. He caught Yuno’s eye through the mirror. “There’s no way this is legal, locking us up with some violence-crazed warden! You know what I just keep thinking about, every day?”

Yuno gave a small “hm?” knowing he’d tell her anyway. She turned her eyes away, pretending to fix the ribbon in her hair. It was becoming less and less enjoyable to sit back and let him talk, this time. She was starting to see where this conversation would end. She knew what she needed to do.

“I just keep thinking, what are we going to do about Mahiru?”

“What do you mean?”

She was met with a dumbfounded look. 

“We can’t just let her go in there by herself! Haruka and Shidou have some size and strength on Es, so like a coward they only showed a bit of force. But they know you and Muu were much smaller and weaker, so they really took it out on you both. I mean, I could hear Muu crying during her interrogation, and she came out still sniffling. Whatever the hell happened, it can’t be good. Just think of what’ll happen to Mahiru if we leave her alone in there! I’ve started thinking about what we can do.”

She laughed, picking up a headband. “Fuuta, you can’t do anything. It’s not like you’d be able to break in during the interrogation. I’m sure Mahiru-san will be just fine.”

“You can’t be sure, in a place like this. I’ve been thinking about this! I was even talking to Kotoko, and we think it’s possible to sneak in beforehand.”

“And if you get caught? What if you get Mahiru-san in more trouble?”

It was all she could think to say. She knew the truth had to come out eventually, but if there was a chance she could calm Fuuta down and avoid a fight altogether, she’d take it. Yuno wasn’t afraid of him. However, just because he was all bark and no bite didn’t make his bite any easier to handle. If she was putting the pieces together correctly, it still did end up killing someone…

Instead of slowing down, his face lit up with even more intensity. He leapt to his feet, appearing behind Yuno in the mirror. “See, that’s where my backup plan comes in! We’ll get the others involved. An interrogation will be the perfect time to stage a riot because –”

“Oh, Fuuta.”

“– I mean it! How are they and that stupid rabbit going to stop all of us, huh? It’s high time we stood up to this injustice! Give that brat a taste of their own medicine –”

“Just, listen for a second.”

“– We won’t use any violence or anything! Unlike them, we’re above that. Just give them a good scare, and demand that they –”

“Fuuta.”

“What?” He sounded exasperated, but paused to let her speak. She hadn’t raised her voice; he was learning to tell when she was serious.

“There’s... something I need to tell you.” Her tone made it clear that this would be a pretty weighty confession. Annoyance flashed across his face, like is now really the time for this? 

Yuno turned to face him. She reached for his hands, knowing the wonders a bit of physical contact can do. Fuuta just rolled his eyes as he tore his hands away. She was constantly reminded that her usual tricks didn’t work on him. She also reminded herself, however, that it was a relief. She didn’t feel like holding hands now.

“I… I wasn’t honest about my interrogation. Es didn’t touch me. They were actually really calm, and we had a good conversation. They didn’t want the others to hear that and just walk all over them, so I promised to tell the story they came up with. I heard Muu talking, and she didn’t face any violence either. She was just scared.”

“You – she – what?” Fuuta sputtered on his words. His face turned a few shades redder than it already had been in his excitement.

“The lie wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, or drag out this long. Definitely not to the point of inspiring a prison riot, oh god. I felt bad that you even went after Es because of it–”

“Yeah!” His voice rose. “I stood up to them for you! I coulda gotten punished for that!”

“No, Es knew why you did it, so I’m sure they never would have –”

“You can’t be sure!” He turned to pace the cell, emotion leaking out in sudden pitches in his voice, or a hand jerking up in wild gestures. “So when were you planning on telling me? Or were you just going to lie to my face for another few months?”  She could see the gears turning in his head – all the arguments and comebacks and insults he was formulating. “And what else have you been lying to me about?” 

That’s when she noticed that the look in his eyes wasn’t one of rage. Nor was the blood in his cheeks. Though he was indeed angry, he was also dealing with the embarrassing truth of being lied to for months.

“I haven’t lied about anything else,” she assured him. She bowed her head. “And I won’t. I’m so sorry. It was supposed to be something quick that everyone forgot about. Once they had their interrogation and had their own impression of the warden, no one would think about it.”

“You expect me to believe a shitty excuse like that? Why would we all just forget?”

“Fuuta…” She smiled sadly. “Everyone did forget. You’re the only one who still talks about it. You’re the only one who’s done anything in response. I felt so guilty you’d put yourself out like that, for me, someone you barely met.” 

Yuno paused. She hadn’t meant to use any flattery to steer the conversation. She was supposed to just tell him the truth and leave it at that.

But this wasn’t flattery. She was still speaking the truth. “Everyone else did exactly what I expected, except you. You stood up for me. I don’t take that lightly, okay? I’m grateful.”

Fuuta’s eyes burned with more fury. He jabbed a pointing finger at her.

“You’re right!” 

“...eh?”

“Those bastards didn’t do a single thing! They heard a young girl got abused and they just let it happen? They tried laughing it off? How dare they!” He whirled around. “Oh, I’m gonna give them a –”

Yuno grabbed the back of his uniform “You aren’t going to do anything. If you get everyone riled up now, it’ll be for nothing, remember? But you can’t tell. I still promised Es I’d keep their secret through the first trial.”

“Tch, you don’t owe them shit.”

“If you tell, you’ll get me in trouble. Please.” She let go of him. “Can I trust you with this?”

He kept his back to her. “You didn’t before.”

“You’re right.” She wasn’t the type to waffle around with excuses.

She started putting away her things. It was almost mealtime, and she didn’t have the heart to continue, anyway. Through the mirror, she watched Fuuta hang around the doorway. His expression shifted through emotions that Yuno couldn’t quite put her finger on. All his fire was fizzling out.

“Just… you swear it won’t happen again?” 

“I swear.”

Fuuta nodded. Then, a grin. “And you swear I can tell them off after this trial ends?”

She returned the smirk. “One promise at a time, ’kay?”

[obbystars]

Drown in the Deep

Synopsis: Drown your sorrows away into the deep dark ocean where it can’t be found. Feel its cold embrace and let the water in. Maybe then, you’ll see him again when you no longer feel anything.

CONTENT WARNING: The reader very much intends to die/get themself killed, detailing how they’d love to drown in the abyss.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Possibly OOC / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not but they are living together / Angst (Hurt w/ eventual comfort) / Death + blood (not the reader despite the synopsis and content warning) / Not really a happy ending honestly

(This is VERY self-indulgent I love hate Sebastian. Also a bit of experimentation and playing around with his character. I’m not so good on romance stuff, so I hope what’s here is to your liking. Also rewrote some parts A LOT due to idea change/read up on lore and realized things didn’t add up here. I think I’ve got most of it covered though. Anyway I love how a few runs of playing Pressure for the first time, I died to A-60 HAHAAAAA kill me.)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

A chance to be freed from your criminal record, and a reward worth to last for a very, very long time. As they always say, “High risk, high reward,” and the risks were certainly high. You could very much die. It was a chance anyone crazy enough would take.

But you didn’t sign up for this for the reward. You didn’t care about it in the slightest. To you, this would be an easy way out. An escape from this dreadful life fate had decided for you. So here you are, sitting in a submarine with three others in silence. There’s no telling on how deep you’re going, they never bothered to tell you how exactly far it was nor the possible dangers you’ll be facing. You’ll welcome anything if it means you won’t wake up again.

Still, you wondered why things went the way it did. Everything was fine until your partner was framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Nine murders, to be exact. You were there for the trial. You saw and heard everything. You kept your cool throughout all of it. You were hoping, praying to whatever god is out there to show them he was innocent. None of it mattered in the end.

After the trial, you went straight home, not even bothering to listen to your family who was also there. By the time you entered your shared home and locked the door behind you, you stood in silence for a while. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that very moment. You felt hot tears beginning to swell up, and your vision beginning to blur. Your legs eventually give out and you fell to your knees. You muffled your sobs with your hand as you curled up on the floor.

You couldn’t get yourself to calm down for a while. You don’t even know how long you were laying there once you feel your tears dry up and the sound of your heart beating rapidly leaves your ears. You don’t know what to do.

He was imprisoned and sentenced for execution for the nine murders you know he didn’t cause, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t there when it supposedly happened. You couldn’t prove anything. You were powerless to do anything.

Many early mornings were spent struggling to even leave the house, let alone the bed itself if you even managed to drag yourself to bed. You were too exhausted to even try for most. When you did manage to begin your day, you quickly became aware that everything is so much more irritating. People talking to you, certain noises you hear, how your food tastes… You just wanted to go back home and waste away.

As for majority of your nights, they have been spent just curled up in bed and crying until you eventually exhausted yourself. Gripping anything that resembled or had traces left of him and holding it close, hoping just the mere fleeting scent of him lulls you to sleep. Feeling the cold and empty space beside you and being reminded he’s gone, as if the reminders from your family weren’t already enough.

You know your family has been trying to contact you, sometimes even coming to the house, but you’ve ignored them every time. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to talk, to hear, or to even think about them. You just wanted to be left alone.

A few years had gone by since then but you didn’t feel any better than before. You weren’t sure if you felt worse. Maybe it was because you felt numb nowadays.

Before you knew it, you soon find yourself behind bars. What you did, you don’t know. If you really did it, you didn’t care. You don’t know how long your sentence is, but you don’t care. You don’t know if whatever you did caused any deaths, but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You just wanted to drown in your despair, and this… “job offer” seemed promising. Retrieve a crystal deep inside a facility hidden in the deepest parts of the ocean.

To be so deep underwater to where the sun does not shine, to drift endlessly as water fills your lungs and it becomes so unbearably cold. To where you can’t feel anything anymore, not your body nor your emotions. To just feel the cold water and see nothing but darkness as the water pulls your body to wherever it so desires. Perhaps your remains could become the next meal for whatever lurks in the ocean’s abyss. Your body would never be found. You’d be gone without a trace.

So you signed up, knowing they don’t expect you to return. You don’t either. You don’t plan on getting that crystal, and you don’t plan on returning alive.

The shotgun shell directed at your neck on the diving gear given to you seemed promising as well.

If there is an afterlife, maybe you can see him again there. That sounded nice. You just wish you weren’t sent down with three other people. You never thought it’d be so hard to die in a place where risks of death were incredibly high. Perhaps it was because they wanted to use each other to get the reward for themselves, so they kept each other alive as long as possible. Covering each other’s eyes when the shark was outside the window, turning off another’s flashlight when an odd black figure appeared in the dark, saving each other from the creature inside the lockers… They weren’t going to let such easy bait be killed so easily, not this early.

Still, you strayed close behind as they often checked if you were still there. You kept your head low, until you heard another pair of footsteps from behind you.

Strange… The other three are already in front of you… And they’re just looking through drawers for anything useful.

The footsteps are getting louder and faster. You turned around just in time to see a strangely humanoid, armless figure running at you. It yelped the moment you locked eyes on it, immediately turning tail and running away.

“What the hell was that?!” One of the other expendables exclaimed.

Both of you walked back into the previous room to see where it possibly came from. There was a hole in the wall, shaped exactly like the creature they just saw.

“So they’re really in the walls, huh…” they then lightly punch your shoulder, “Hey, good job. I didn’t even hear it until it made that weird sound before it ran off,”

You say nothing.

“Come on, let’s keep going,”

You looked at them as they rejoined the others then back at the hole. You wished you didn’t turn around.

After a few more doors, the lights suddenly flickered. The one closest to you grabbed you and had you hide in a locker. Maybe they picked up on what you’ve been trying to do. You did willingly look into the eyes of the shark just outside the window, and they had to cover your eyes and drag you along with them. You also opened a locker that was already occupied by a strange creature coated in black and, what you assumed were, purple eyes. You hoped they’d leave you behind to be devoured by it, but you were pulled out and was patched up as best as they could do it. The damage wasn’t too severe, but still. There just had to be a spare medical kit in the room.

Maybe you weren’t being so discreet about it.

There were only three lockers in the room you were currently in and none in the room prior. They pressed on to the next door ahead. You were about to open your locker to step out into the path of the oncoming creature, but it zipped by you in an instant. It was much faster than what you’ve been dealing with.

You hear the others leave their locker followed with a quick flash of the flash beacon. You slowly step out of your locker and follow them into the next room to meet up with the other person. The one in front of you pulled out their flashlight, but ended up tripping over something. You stopped walking as they shine their light over what made them trip.

It was the one who ran ahead to find a spare locker. There was no blood or any signs of injury, but they weren’t moving and their eyes were still wide open. The other two tried to get them to respond, even shaking them, but they remained unresponsive. It was almost like they were just left an empty shell.

You restrain yourself from speaking as you would’ve called them an idiot for giving up a hiding spot in favor to make sure their bait stayed alive for a little longer, only to get killed in the process. Only 27 doors have been opened. Surely not all of you can survive much longer.

By the 35th door, one of them had used a code breacher to open a door without the keycard. Once the door slid open, a large creature with a smiling grey mask was seen on the other side of the door. Before they could react, it lunged towards them and instantly killed them on the spot before retracting their hand as it gets caught in the door while it was sliding shut. The blood splattered all over the floor and even reached you and the other expendable beside you.

By the 47th door, the lights flickered as you searched through a room off to the side. You can hear what you can describe as a distorted chorus faintly echoing down the hall, and soon a loud scream followed with multiple banging against a locker. The noise stopped as you walked to the door leading back to the path you’re supposed to take and you only see the aftermath. A fresh pool of blood and a destroyed locker. There was no body. The creature responsible is no where to be found.

You were alone now. Finally.

You kept your head low as you continued on, not bothering to search through the drawers for anything. Your body is starting to ache at this point. You opened the 50th door leading into a dimly lit corridor.

“Need to stock up?”

You looked up as you see the vent’s cover fall over. You turned around, then back towards the vent. You can see the next door ahead that requires a keycard, but you can’t find it from out here. You didn’t have a code breacher either as the others you were previously with had used them up.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” the strangely familiar voice beckons.

Had he not spoken twice, you would’ve thought you were hallucinating. Or maybe you are right now. A sort of “false hope,” so to speak. Not to mention how you can just barely recognize the voice. You’re having a hard time processing it after everything.

With no where else to turn, you walk to the vent and slowly crawl through. The room was dark, but lit up as you made it to the other side. You managed to get a good look at him, not exactly expecting some sort of fish-human hybrid.

“Ah, there you-” you see how his smile quickly disappears and his eyes widened once he sees you.

You only stare at him, tilting your head slightly to the side. He looked like he had just seen a ghost which wouldn’t be so far off considering what you had to witness for the past 49 doors, but why was he looking at you like that? He cautiously lowered himself down, close enough to your height but still far enough for some space.

You instinctively, though slightly, moved away as his hand moved closer to your face. That was until he finally spoke.

“[Name]..?”

You stepped back upon hearing your name leave his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…?”

Then it finally registered in your head. You’re not just hearing things, that voice was his.

Your eyes widened, now feeling his cold hand against your cheek, “S-Sebastian?“

“Yes…! Yes!” He nods, smiling widely, “It’s me!”

You couldn’t hold back your tears at all. The moment he confirmed it was really him was what finally broke down your walls. The last time you had cried this much was when he was to be executed. You had to hold onto his hand to keep yourself standing. He seemed to sense that as his third limb pulled you closer to him and held you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed until his grip on you got a bit too tight.

“W-Wait, Sebastian-!” You cried, “Let go!”

He gasps, immediately pulling away. You winced as you gently rubbed your arm. You looked up at Sebastian again and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re still alive. I have so many questions. Can I-?”

Sebastian stops you there, “Hang on. Before I get to answering your questions, I have one tiny question for you,” he suddenly towers over you as he yells, “How the hell did you get here?! And why the hell did you sign up for this?! Didn’t they tell you the risks? That you could very much die?”

You jumped at his sudden change in tone and almost fell back. His tail had went to cover the opening of the vent in case you ultimately decided to make a run for it. What do you even tell him? That you signed up just to die? No other reason. How could you tell him that?

“I-I… Well, yes, they did. I just- It’s because…” you don’t know what to say.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands. You swear you heard a hiss in his voice, “Of all people, why did you have to end up here?”

“I signed up for this because…” you paused, “Specifically because I wanted to die. I knew what I was getting myself into, Sebastian. They didn’t tell me anything specific,”

“Of course those idiots didn’t…” He scoffed, “They don’t expect you or the others to return,”

“I never planned to. I couldn’t care less about this so called crystal they told me I was supposed to retrieve,” you looked away, “Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did to end up here… Maybe I did something that killed a few people, or maybe I was framed like you,”

Sebastian calmed down a little and had moved back as you spoke. He repositions himself so that his back was against the wall and his tail would nudge you towards him.

“You said you signed up with the intention to die here,” he then says, “Why?”

You sit beside him as his tail slightly curls around you, “You were sent for execution and confirmed to be dead. I just couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t see you,”

His looks at your bloodied clothes and noticed bandages through some of the holes in your uniform. He points to it, “Are those..?”

“It’s from this weird black tentacle creature in a locker. It’s nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He muttered a name you didn’t quite catch and he quickly moves on, “And the blood?”

You shake your head, “It’s not mine,”

He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It was finally your turn to ask questions.

“Sebastian, how did you survive?”

“Was picked up by Urbanshade before I was supposed executed. Guess they decided it’d be better if I was officially declared dead,”

“And you became this during that time?”

“You could say that. It’s, uh… It’s a long story,”

He doesn’t want to discuss it and you knew that was the case. So, you didn’t question it further. You have a good feeling you may have an idea now that you noticed a document on the table. Whatever was in there might have the answers to most of your questions, but you’re not sure if you even want to read it if he lets you. The mere thought of what could be mentioned in there makes you sick.

There’s still one other that you desperately want an answer for.

“We’re… not leaving this place, are we?” You questioned, not looking at him, “At least, I’m probably not thanks to this diving gear… One shotgun shell pointed directly at my neck, and if I even try to take it off, tamper with it, or leave this place,”

You stopped there. Both of you knew. Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, “I can get both of us out of here. I just need more time,”

More time. How much more time before your body can no longer keep going? You want to believe him, you really do, but you really might actually die here.

How ironic. You came here because you wanted to die. You watched the others die before your very eyes without much of a reaction. All of a sudden, you feel your stomach drop.

You’re afraid to die.

[monimccoythings]

Double Trouble

I'm just saying that Wolverines have litters of two-three cubs or so I've heard. This poor man wasn't ready. While I work on my other wips I'll release this short drabble to the world.

tags: slight ooc!Logan (he freaks out a bit), pregnancy fic, f!reader, happy ending.

Twins.

The word repeated itself over and over in his head like a broken record.

You were having twins.

He stared at the screen in utter silence, looking like a fucking idiot. Twins. Two whole ass babies. Two more new additions to the family. He blinked quickly, several times, still not completely processing the news.

It all made sense now, why you looked bigger than the average pregnant woman, why he had heard more than two heartbeats and had rushed you towards the ER thinking that maybe there was something wrong with your hearts.

Fucking hell. He had already mentally prepared himself for one baby, how was he going to manage two?? He was barely an adequate father for Laura, how would he manage with two new babies?? What if he wasn't good enough? What if he was a terrible father? What if they hated him? Whay if YOU hated him? He wouldn't be able to live with that.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, someone was calling his name, but the voice looked so far away and drowned by the constant ringing in his ears. The hand shaked his shoulder and he looked up at your face. So pretty, so sweet, his little wife.

She looks concerned.

No.

He doesn't want you concerned. It's not good for the babies. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to be dragged into his pity party. You were too good for him.

"Logan, it's is going to be okay, alright? I'm here." Your mouth was forming words, but he could barely comprehend them. Had you always smelled so sweet? So enciting? The light from the fluorescent tube was enveloping you like a halo.

Your hand moved from his broad shoulder to his cheek, he found himself leaning into it. He always found confort in your touch, so soft and warm.

"Babe, I know you're scared." He opened his mouht to argue. "No, listen. I know this was unexpected, fuck I'm freaking out myself; we didn't plan for this Logan. But we will pull through together, like always." You gave him your sweetest smile, despite being terrified yourself. He could smell it on you.

Logan gave you a lopsided smile, or at least he tried to. His large hand covered yours. For a couple of seconds it was the two, no, four of you, all alone against the world.

He had always thought of himself as undeserving of love, happy endings weren't made for him. He either outlived them or drove them away. But now, now he had a chance. He could grow as old as he could with you, raise your kids in peace. No one would go after you, no threat against mutantkind would rip you away.

Two, three, four babies, who cared? As terrifying as that sounded he had been given this gift and he got to share it with you. He would manage, you would manage, as you two always did.

His breaths became steadier, much more calm than they had been moments before. Logan's eyes went downwards, to your belly, which was the current home of your future kids. Just the thought of watching them grow and develop filled him with a warm feeling barely known to him.

He didn't know why, but he was sure everything would be alright.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟒 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara can’t find the dvd anywhere and gojo has a decision to make

wc. 4k

tags. fluff, angst (kinda), reader is described as fem, possibly ooc gojo (my bad), cliffhanger-ish, any spelling mistakes blame on my cats, possible plotholes

a/n. several things to address: firstly my description of dvds and how they work ARE SO FLAWED IK DON'T JUDGE. secondly, look I get how rct works so not everything I say is accurate but like this is also about 2d men so who's to judge. finally I'm not too sure about this chapter so if its shit lmk BUT I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT <333 ily all but I do have upcoming exams so the ending(s), won't be posted till possibly early February as I have to get back to studying :(

previous part / final part / series masterlist

“guys we’ve lost it.” nobara pushed up her mattress, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she peered beneath the wooden slats. all there was was her suitcase and a bag from an expensive shop she’d convinced gojo to buy for her. “it’s gone. poof. here once and now it’s not.” the ‘it’ in question being the dvd they’d treasured for the last few weeks (well, yuuji and nobara anyways).

after gojo had taken the dvd – unbeknownst to the first years – nobara had ended up sleeping for the next fourty eight hours, and then afterwards spending several days catching up on the classwork she’d missed. she hadn’t had the time or energy to force her classmates into another movie night so now here they were, almost a week since it was last touched, finally realising its disappearance.

“do you want me and megumi to come help?” yuuji asked tentatively as he heard her curse as she dropped the mattress back down. nobara sighed, glancing around at the chaos she’d created. her room was a mess – drawers half open and half her clothes and books on the floor in case the dvd had slipped into a pile by accident. 

“it’s not in my room,” she said adamantly, pushing her hair back from her face in frustration as she struggled to piece together the final moments she had with the dvd. she could remember sending megumi away, beginning her little day of research and even some of the videos she watched (the arcade and the christmas reunion), but then she fell asleep and everything was hazy from there.

“when was the last time you had it?” megumi asked and nobara felt her eye twitch like she hadn't retraced her steps a million times already.

“the first day i was off sick. i was watching a few–”

“without us?” the pink haired sorcerer cut in with a gasp.

“what else was there to do?” nobara argued back with no bite but he quietened down nonetheless. 

a moment of silence settled between the three as each tried to figure out where it could have been misplaced or who could’ve accidentally picked it up. if nobara had dropped it somewhere outside of her dorm, could one of the older years taken it?

nobara was brought out of deep thought by yuuji flippantly asking: “did you watch any after sensei came to see you?” she froze at the implication of his words. at no point could she recall their teacher ever coming in to check on her – it had always been either yuuji, megumi or maki. 

“what?” 

several hours later, the three first years found themselves huddled on the benches, nobara in the middle and the boys either side of her. in front of them were the second years and gojo – the latter having said something to annoy maki as yuuta held her back from making a swing at their laughing teacher. the second year teacher was off ill today so the larger class meant that the three had a distraction as they tried to figure out what their next step was – if they even had one at this point.

the assumed facts were as such: the first years were no longer in possession of the dvd, and gojo had it. though there was little doubt that this was true, it didn’t stop them questioning the possibility – after all, megumi had pointed out, there’d been no alter in his behaviour whatsoever since the minute he’d checked on nobara. surely, even the strongest would be noticeably affected by a disk that immortalised a happiness and innocence he’d never be able to return to.

but then again, maybe this was just another thing that separated gojo from the rest of society. being the strongest came before all else, he didn’t have the time to mourn resurfaced memories.

“maybe he just doesn’t have it,” yuuji suggested.

“he has to,” nobara reaffirmed. at this point they’d exhausted all other options about where it could possibly be and surely they would have heard if one of the older years found what they had. “would he tell you if he had it?” she asked megumi.

“no,” megumi said quickly, shaking his head and leaning back on the bench as he looked over at gojo, “we… he wouldn’t talk to me about that. about them.”

“could we steal it back?” yuuji offered and nobara debated duct taping his mouth closed.

megumi scoffed, shaking his head, “he has six eyes. even if we tried, he’d know for sure it was us.”

“he already knows it was us,” nobara countered, not that she agreed with yuuji’s solution by any means. “which is why i don’t get why he hasn’t said anyth–”

“oi, you three!” the first years jumped apart from their circle, hearts pounding as gojo appeared before them with a smirk toying at the corner of his lips and his hands clasped behind his back. “whoever beats maki in hand to hand combat gets the day off tomorrow!”

“yuuji if you win, i’m taking your day off,” nobara called out as she trailed behind the aforementioned boy running to the centre of the field. 

“okay!”

unsurprisingly, all three first years lost against the second year. megumi came closest to winning but when he tried to use his cursed technique, gojo countered it, catching him off guard and giving maki the opportunity to sweep him off his feet with her staff.

gojo found himself still laughing over megumi’s shocked expression as he fell flat on his back as he stepped past the threshold of his office. even after all he’d taught the boy in combat, with no cursed technique it was hard to overcome the zenin girl’s strength and skill she’d mastered to take on her own clan.

he let out a small sigh as the door locked shut and, for the first time that day, he was alone with his own thoughts.

dropping down into his office chair, gojo crossed one leg over the other as he pulled open a drawer. on the top of a pile of unread paperwork for the higher ups was the dvd the first years were so fixated on. 

he wasn’t stupid; he knew eventually they would figure out he had it and, unlike himself, they’d been way less subtle once they’d put two and two together. yuuji’s speech had tripled in speed, nobara was way too keen on being anywhere but where he was and megumi… gojo couldn’t forget the guilt and hurt in the teenage boy’s eyes after telling him you were gone. it was here again, had been for several weeks, and it was only after stumbling upon the disk in nobara’s room that he’d understood why.

gojo gritted his teeth together as he held the disk up between shaky fingers. it was pathetic, he scolded himself, it was just a bit of plastic with memories lasered into divots in a never ending spiral. it wasn’t worth the heartache.

if he looked closely enough, he could see shoko’s name written on the centrepiece in faded black sharpie. after gojo had stumbled upon the old camera several years after graduating from jujutsu high, shoko had taken back the camera to transfer all of the old clips onto dvds and given him, herself, nanami and you your own copies. he couldn’t even remember where his and yours were anymore, in fact he’d pretty much forgotten about their existence until a week ago.

he wasn’t sure where shoko had lost the dvd for the first years to get their hands on it but he hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to her about it. he hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything more than just spin the disk between his fingers, cry about it for a bit, and go back to pretending he didn’t have the last remnants of his youth in his drawer.

gojo glanced between the disk and the laptop on his desk. it was the last step he needed to take to hear your voice again. it had been on repeat for the last week in his mind; you uttering his name and that innocent question, would you last beyond your teenage years?

he missed it, missed you so bad.

raising megumi was a lot harder without you there; you were his favourite after all, bridging the gap between the two when they bumped heads with their contrasting personalities. gojo was all rainbows and giggles and megumi was everything but. you were a happy medium, creating a balance that maintained order in the home you shared. it was a peace that megumi deserved after losing his parents.

gojo clicked his tongue, reaching across to press a button that opened up a space for the disk. slotting it in place, he clicked the device shut and held his breath as he waited. it took several seconds for the files to load and then there he was again, back in those fields under the large weeping willow that was your spot.

the video was paused, exactly where it had been left, except this time gojo could actually see the screen.

your face wasn’t in it, just his. his glasses were off – balanced on your head if he remembered correctly – as he used your lap as a pillow. one of your hands was holding the camera while the other was held over his eyes to block any sort of light. the only thing he could make out was your cursed energy.

you were nearing the end of your first year and whilst gojo was growing more powerful, he was also growing more and more reliant on his glasses to stop himself from becoming so overwhelmed with the constant information he received with his six eyes. he’d overworked himself that day, as he so often did, hence why you’d dragged him away from the school to the seclusion of the tree. 

your questions about the longevity of your relationship weren’t meant to hold deep meaning, you just wanted to take his mind off of the headaches. gojo would choose thinking about you over the searing pain in the back of his head any day. yaga said that once he had a better understanding of his reversed curse technique it wouldn’t be so bad but until then it was just about riding it out.

gojo snorted at the notion. his reversed curse technique only marginally helped. you were what got him through the days when he’d lock himself in his bedroom with blackout blinds pulled down, hiding under his covers till he felt like he could function in society again.

he didn’t unpause the video, however, instead clicking onto the main tab with all of the files stored. 

lifting up his blindfold and dropping it down onto the desk, gojo took a deep breath before he began scrolling. unlike when the first years were simply searching for the ones with their favourite thumbnail, gojo was specifically searching for the ones he knew focused on you.

he needed to hear your voice again, to play it on repeat until it became so ingrained into his skin he could feel your touch.

gojo halted the cursor over the familiar date of your birthday, clicking on it without a second thought as the video filled the screen. it buffered for a moment, giving him a view of the dorm he’d practically spent three years in (despite yaga’s constant complaints and reminders that dorms were segregated on gender).

in the corner of your room was a stack of plushies that he’d won for you at arcades, and your walls were covered in photobooth photos and polaroids of your group of friends. his personal favourite was the polaroid you had pinned just above your desk. it was the two of you on new years eve sharing your first kiss of the year, sparklers in hand and the faint pink of a firework in the background. on the bottom of the polaroid was haibara’s handwriting as he’d scribbled on the date and a small smiley face.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!” seventeen year old gojo sung in the video, swaying the camera side to side above a pile of duvet and pillows. you were somewhere in the middle, half asleep and trying to push yourself deeper into the comfort of your bed and further from whatever the screeching was in your room.

you’d never been a morning person whereas he, on the other hand, had a reserve of energy that never depleted. it was what made getting up at the crack of dawn on your birthday so much more entertaining for him. even as an adult, when the two of you lived together in the comfort of your own apartment, he would either force you to stay up until midnight or gently nudge you awake at 4am to tell you he loved you.

“satoru,” you whispered groggily when you gave up trying to ignore his awful singing, lifting your head up just enough to meet his eyes. he would have done anything to see you physically before him instead of watching you through the lens of a camera. to be looked at with love as you did and not a mix of fear and respect. “if yaga catches you–”

“i’m just singing happy birthday to my girl,” his younger self dismissed, plopping down onto the bed next to you. he preferred your bed over his, a softer mattress he used to argue when shoko would complain about him showing up at your shared dorm several nights in a row. that particular birthday, he was pretty sure she’d been sent on a training mission over in kyoto. gojo’s hand came into frame as he ran a gentle hand through your hair, giving it a little pat when you quietly hummed at the contact. “he can’t hate on me for that.”

“yes he can,” you retorted, rolling your eyes with a tired smile. gojo felt his chest tighten – two years without waking up by that very same smile after almost a decade of having it everyday.

“i’ll blame shoko,” gojo shrugged with a grin, kicking his legs up onto your bed, despite your small protest that he was taking up all of your space. like you weren’t just as clingy as he was.

you huffed out a quiet laugh, your elbow digging into your pillow as you rested your head in your hand to stare incredulously at your boyfriend. “shoko forced the strongest sorcerer of the modern day to enter the girls’ dorms? uh huh.”

“woah woah, i’m the strongest of all time baby, i don’t do second best,” he corrected, leaning down to give you a peck on the forehead. you scrunched your nose up at the contact, but even through the viewpoint of the camera, he can see how your eyes dropped down to his lips.

“i know you don’t,” you smiled and gojo dropped the camera down as he moved to give you your first real kiss of seventeen. present day gojo sucked in a breath, willing for himself to get through at least one several minute video of you until he started crying.

the kiss ended all too quickly as gojo shoved the camera back into your face, the flash causing you to squint and squeeze your eyes closed. “now smile and say cheese, you’re seventeen!”

“woo!” you cheered half heartedly, giving in to his infectious excitement. blowing the camera a tired kiss, you shuffled yourself back deep beneath your duvet. “now can i go back to sleep?”

“as long as i can stay.”

“fine,” you dragged out, though you both knew you wanted him to just as much. yaga be damned. the video ended several seconds later and an odd silence filled his office. 

he’d only ever watched several of these videos once or twice – back when he still had you to curl up into his side and reminisce with him and laugh at nanami’s old haircut. if he was being honest, he didn’t even remember he’d recorded that (though he was glad he did).

gojo was more confident this time when he scrolled, his hands no longer shaking as much as they had been as he smiled at the life he once had. a life with you and geto.

this time he stopped at a thumbnail with the three of you; gojo holding up the camera high as the three of you posed like it was a photo. it was at one of only a handful clan events you had attended together, with both you and geto as gojo’s plus ones. he and geto were in matching suits and you were in a floor length dress that he’d spent way too much money on (but you looked so pretty when you tried it on he couldn’t not get it for you).

“hi this is mtv,” you clapped your hands together, “and welcome to my crib.” his younger self waved his hands around in the background (geto was recording), showing off the spiralling architecture that cost more money than fathomable. 

gojo quietly laughed in his office. the politics of clans and these events were the last reason he’d ever chosen to attend them. seeing you all dressed up and running around buildings with a million rooms were right at the top. his favourite had to be when both the first years, shoko and utahime had also been in attendance, but after haibara’s death, hanging around with the clans that upheld the institution that killed their friend seemed distasteful.

“this is my in house art museum collection.” you led geto along one of the vast corridors, pointing into a room with dozens of framed canvases of art from all across the globe. “this is where i come in for inspiration and to truly just feel art you know?”

“i wasn’t aware you had skills beyond stickmen,” geto interjected and you raised both your middle fingers at him.

“art is subjective, di–”

“woah, i have standards to uphold here,” gojo cupped a hand over your mouth, stopping any expletive leaving you. you hummed in annoyance and the white haired sorcerer grinned, nodding his head over to a partially opened door. “we don’t need to argue when we have a whole cinema room to ourselves.” gojo remembered the stain of red lipstick you’d left on his hand when he let you go (you’d refused to kiss him all evening because of your makeup).

the cinema room was massive: rows and rows of sleek leather seats that looked out of place when compared to the aesthetic of the building. this was someone’s home, though it looked like anything but.

“this is my cinema room,” geto held onto the back of one of the chairs as he loosened his tie. he lowered his voice as he leant closer to the camera gojo was now holding. “we used to have two but daddy converted the smaller one into a sauna so now we only have this one,” he said with an upturned nose, and you could be heard giggling in the background at his faux disgust.

you nor geto were from the same wealthy background as gojo was and loved to poke fun at his high status background.

“oi!” an official that was supposed to be watching for any curses or curse users that tried to sneak into the event pointed a light into the cinema room. “you kids shouldn’t be back here!”

gojo laughed, throwing the camera to geto as he grabbed your hand and led you quickly down the stairs to another exit at the bottom of the stairs. geto turned off the recording once he’d grabbed a hold of the device in favour of focusing on not being caught. it wasn’t like there would be any real consequence – they were with gojo satoru after all.

the white hair sorcerer smiled as he thought back to the rest of the night. obviously, you’d all managed to get away – though he had suffered your wrath at the fact your legs weren’t as long as their’s were and you were running in heels. two strikes, but he’d made it up to you by taking you out for ice cream instead of going back to hear the speeches.

it wasn’t an exaggeration to say gojo would have done anything for you then. 

gojo swallowed a lump in his throat as your last interaction came to mind. you were arguing, as you had been in the weeks up until megumi’s birthday as he inched closer and closer to being old enough to enrol in jujutsu high.

the only wish he’d ever refused to fulfil: keeping megumi away from jujutsu.

“he’s our responsibility.” you were yelling at him, desperate for him to understand your point of view and he was walking away. dodging your anger by going wherever his legs took him – anywhere but where you were. “we need to protect him. we can’t protect him if he becomes a sorcerer too.” 

“i can,” he insisted, halting in his place to turn and look down at you. his cursed technique was activated, though there was no need for it to be, and all it did was frustrate you further.

“i nearly died today!” you countered, pointing to your neck with a faint scar. shoko’s reversed cursed technique was almost perfect, but not even that could fully erase the deep lacerations that had almost taken your life. “where were you? you can’t be everywhere and help everyone at the same time. it’s just not possible.”

“i can try.” his jaw was tight as he responded through gritted teeth.

“and if that’s not enough?” you didn’t need to see his eyes to know his were locked directly onto yours, daring you to continue. he wouldn’t hurt you, would never dream of it, angry or not, but how could you of all people doubt him? “what then gojo satoru?” you uttered his full name like it was an insult, “you may be the strongest but he’s not. i’m not. we’re mortals compared to you.”

“you’re my family,” his voice broke.

“yu and suguru were family once too.”

gojo clenched his fists at the memory, at the reminder he walked out after that. you were trying to get him to see your concerns, and he’d taken that as you blaming him for the outcome of your close friends. that was the last time he ever saw you; tears welling up in the corner of your eyes at his insensitivity, at his inability to admit that maybe, just maybe, he too was just a mortal. 

everything you said was logical and made sense – he had almost lost you that day, having not initially received the message that you had needed backup as he was preoccupied with his own mission. by the time he had arrived, the curse had its claws dug deep into your skin and it had taken everything in him not to use hollow purple and bring the entire infrastructure down in seconds.

despite all he’d done to save you that day, he’d still lost you. he’d only delayed the seemingly inevitable by mere hours.

megumi sat up in bed at the sound of two knocks on the door. he highly doubted it would be yuuji since the pink haired sorcerer had only left several minutes prior, saying something about needing to meet panda. 

to his surprise, gojo stood before him, hands in the pockets of his pants as he half smiled at the younger boy. 

“is itadori here?” megumi hesitated before shaking his head. “good,” gojo held up the missing dvd, “we need to talk.”

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if ive missed anyone im so sorry send me a little reminder &lt;3

[xyfanficarchive]

here, have some incredibly personal laios x reader hurt/comfort, written as therapy in the form of reader insert bcos i was sad today, might be a bit ooc idk man :)

————————————

“You know, I actually love when you ask me for things, when you tell me you’re feeling down, or if I’ve upset you.”

You raised your red-rimmed, apprehensive gaze to meet Laios’ eyes, clear and completely earnest as he smiled at you. Weakly, you tried to return the expression. It didn’t feel very convincing.

“It makes me feel like you love me and trust me. That you trust me enough to be honest - that you trust me to comfort you, to do better by you, that you believe in me and my ability to meet your needs, that you believe I can be there for you in a way that makes you happy,” he elaborated, reaching his hands out and taking yours. “I feel valued.”

You flitted from golden eye to golden eye, searching his expression desperately for any inconsistency, any unfinished edge, any loose thread that would unravel his perfect honesty and found none. Your frail smile faltered. He was like the life-giving sun, but you felt as though you were in the desert being beat down by his radiance. You wanted to shrink away, and your shoulders hunched. Oh that sentiment was so nice, and certainly he meant it. But that just meant it would hurt exponentially more when he was done with you, when he finally realized-

“What’s going on? What are you thinking?” He stooped his head closer to yours, and tears welled up in your eyes, your lips parted in a wince as you shook your head. Laios’ brow furrowed. “No, something’s wrong. This is what I mean: I want to help you, you want me to help you, but I can’t unless you tell me what’s going on! So please just tell me what you’re thinking!” The urgency in his voice struck you like an arrow through the heart.

It wasn’t like you could be much more humiliated than you already were. It felt like it was already over, it was going to blow to pieces either way. Your thoughts felt slippery as you gathered them as best you could, your vision starting to blur. You turned your gaze downwards, you couldn’t even look Laios in the eye as you drew a shaky breath in.

“You say that, but,” your voice was quiet, “you don’t understand - we’ll both regret it when you realize…” The words caught, you couldn’t say it.

“When I realize what?” He insisted.

The few seconds of silence felt like an hour. Then, quiet as a whisper, you admitted, with much difficulty: “My needs… my feelings… I’m really hard to deal with… I'm too much... You’ll realize I’m a huge fucking burden, and then you won’t want me anymore!!” You sobbed, and before the tears could fall you covered your face with your hands and hung your head, feeling two inches tall, feeling so deeply embarrassed and ashamed to the core of your being. You wished you could just disappear.

"You think I don't already know you're a burden?"

The words shocked and pained you so deeply you stopped crying, eyes shot up in gape-mouthed, grief stricken disbelief as you recoiled. He was fast with it. All these years, nobody had ever affirmed your belief so directly, nobody had ever stated it so plainly. You'd heard many empty platitudes that were hard to believe, precisely because in the end they had always proved you right - whatever you needed the most, whenever you needed it the most, you were always left in the dust, alone and despairing, and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for your blind hope.

You saw his face change - he cringed, looking extremely pained, and with panic started to explain: "D-Don't get me wrong! Agh..." For a moment he held his brow in his palm, then took a deep breath, composing himself before he continued. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"Everyone's a burden, aren't they? Just thinking of my friends - Marcille is really picky and particular. Chilchuck is way too proud and secretive, and he drinks a lot. Falin is my little sister, so I have to be there for her, look out for her. And Senshi... Well, Senshi seems to have a lot figured out already." He paused, and broke eye contact for a moment to look at the floor. "And we all know how I am..." His tone was incredibly loaded, and your heart broke because he was the brightest and most vibrant being you had ever met, having faced a lifetime of hardship and betrayal and still coming out the other side so true to himself.

He leaned in closer to your face. "The point is, though, they all have needs - and they know how to ask for help when they need it! You only ask for help when it becomes an emergency. If even then." His expression softened. "I know you have lots of needs. I know because I've worked really hard to meet them, without embarrassing or scaring you by asking. And it meant a lot of thinking, constant planning, lying awake at night wondering, asking everyone for advice... It's tiring work." He went down the list and you broke his gaze, looking downwards. You felt low, ashamed at all the trouble you've caused him, all because you tried to be no trouble at all. What a right mess you've made.

"Hey, look at me," his hand came up, fingers resting so gently on your jaw, and your watery eyes obliged. "I did it because I wanted to! It makes me happy to see you happy, or fulfilled, or relieved, and to know that it's because of me! I did all of that because I love you! But I can’t keep up with all that hard work all the time. I don’t think it’s fair.” You had been fending off the tears as you listened but now the dam broke again, hot as they rolled down your face, and you sniffled as your nose clogged up. “So can you please help me help you easier? Would you please help me love you like that?” His eyes were glassy now as he looked down at you.

The cry came out of your throat as a whine as Laios took you in his arms, embracing you tight while you sobbed into his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt around his back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy,” you repeated through the tears and he shushed you, holding you while you cried it out until your gasping, hiccuping breaths slowed and calmed.

It was hard to say what you needed to say next, because you had to admit you were wrong about something you had believed so deeply for most of your life. It wasn’t easy to fully give up the idea that had kept you safe for so long. “I’ll try to be more honest about my feelings… and to ask for help before it’s too late…” Still in his embrace you lifted your head to look up at him, and stared into his eyes with intensity. “It’s terrifying, I won’t lie. But… I trust you.” How couldn’t you trust someone who was so deeply genuine as he was?

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead between your brows, and your eyes rolled closed. When he pulled away you turned your head and pressed your ear to his chest. “I want you to be happy. I want this to work. I love you so much,” he said, and you felt the words rumble against your cheek.

“I love you too,” you murmured, lulled by the sound of his breath and heartbeat.

[bomber-grl]

Grell Sutcliff Dating Hc! —☆⋆｡𖦹🖇️

Pairing(s): Grell Sutcliff x Gn!Reader

Disclaimer! I’ve only watched the anime and I’m semi aware of how she’s mischaracterized (according to others(?)) in it in comparison to the manga. So, these hc are solely based on the anime

We’ve seen how she is when she’s interested in someone and so just imagine her in an actual relationship 💀

She’s constantly fonding over you at minimum and spouting profanities you’d rather not have to hear again at most

I mean the fact you’re together is obviously because you matched her freak

Anyway, the more surface level of her personality is her constant coddling, hugs, and overall lovey dovey self

If anything it’s just her reaction to hot people which i can’t even blame😭

Now, if you’re more shy leaning Grell thinks you’re so cute

The urge to trap you in a bone crushing hug deepens immensely

However, if you’re more bold and straightforward she’ll really play into it

Again, everyone just disregards when she’s like this so she really falls head over heels x 2

And if you pick her up? Deceased x2

Obviously she’s glad to have you around for practically forever if you’re a divine being but if you’re human

The angst 😭

You’re the first person she’s every genuinely connected with and felt understood by

Especially with her identity

So I imagine you dying had crossed her mind a few times before but the thought was too painful to ever actually continue thinking it

So the day that she saw your name amongst the people she had to kill- two words

Mental breakdown

Either you choose to die by her hand or kys to become a grim reaper, literally the only solutions

It’s like that one audio where it’s like “bye Abby, I’ll see you when you wake up, and if you don’t wake up, I’ll still see you cause I’m gonna meet you in heaven or whatever

Sorry I just realized these are supposed to be relationship hc and not so gruesome 😭

Anyway, regardless of your race (?) Your relationship is still very much existent and there’s nothing grell or you could do about it

I mean I mighttt be going boarderline ooc like the the far depths sort of level but if you’re in a committed relationship and anyone alludes to you trying to leave her

Let’s just say we hope they don’t or she’ll be extra possessive to a crazy extent💀

Also if you’re constantly surrounding yourself with grell then you’re bound to interact with Ciel and his lot

So what I’m trying to say is, you’re like that one stereotypical couple with over the top PDA where it’s sickening to them

Also if you don’t like it (pda) she’ll be a bit sad but she’ll try to respect it

Now if you’re a romantic she’s constantly happy

Especially when you go out on a picnic, get her nice things and do silly things like carry her

Despite these “happier” moments there’s eventual solemn topics (like her death) that she talks about with you

I mean she’s sharing personal things with someone she trusts but it’s still nervwrecking

Also, you Can’t tell me Grell wouldn’t absolutely defend you with her life(?)

Even if it ends with her being trampled 💀

[sun4ki]

“So young and pretty, it’s too bad they passed”

- In my room _ By insane clown posse

Aeon of light!Gn Reader X various Hsr women hcs

Characters (Ruan Mei, Kafka, Robin, Himeko, Black Swan, Natasha)

Gn Reader being forgotten Aeon of Light, keeping their distance around any human life as they wandering peacefully around the universe. Having great and powerful strength, only to be degraded by other, stronger Aeons. They hid their identity but that would soon change as these women found Gn reader and took them in...

Warnings: slight ooc? MEN OR HOMOPHOBIC DNI

Author's note: first fic post like actually :p hope you like this! I'm open to criticism and improvement! Sorry for bad English, its not my first language and im dyslexic :(

Ruan mei

The scientist who found you wandering all alone in the secluded zone, the poor Aeon got lost and ended up in the Herta space Station..

Lucky for you, That was the day Ruan Mei visited. You explored the Secluded area, seeing a lot of these critters around.

feeling curious you picked up one of them, only to hear mechanical noises of a door being opened behind you. You turned around seeing the Scientist who created these critters herself. . .

“How interesting . . “ the scientist spoke to herself in a monotone manner

Eventually Ruan Mei soon took you in, doing some simple experiments for her study.

“Hold still , this would be less painful if you stop with the unnecessary movement .”

You could only sit and watch idly as the scientist takes some blood sample from you for her research on an extraordinary being like you

Kafka

Kafka found you during one of her missions, She took you in, saying how it was “destiny’s plan”, how both of you were destined to meet eventually. . .

Elio had already told her it was part of her “script” meeting with you and bringing you with. . .

The stellaron hunter knew you could be a great addition to their team— I mean just imagine a powerful yet forgotten Aeon of Light in the stellaron hunters team ?! Not to mention you would also be a great sparring partner

“You’re pretty strong Y’know ?

Great for me to test my skills on without you dying ~ “

Jokes aside Kafka is actually very gentle and caring about you, aware of the fact you don’t know a lot about how humanity lived (considering you kept your distance around them), she would teach you how to blend in and live a life like the rest . . .

Robin

By the time you got to Penacony, you were immediately drawn to this ethereal singing . . .

When you saw Robin for the first time, you were mesmerized by her beauty as she sang. . . Her looks reminded you one of an Angel, a beautiful one, you couldn’t take your eyes off her

The two of you became fast friends, Robin would guide you around Penacony, she was like your tour guide, showing you around the dreamscape.

Robin was actually very supportive about your whole Aeon of Light thing, and just like Kafka, she would often accompany you and teach the ways to live like the rest

her brother Sunday doesn’t actually approve of you though , he’s suspicious of you and Robin’s relationship but ether way Robin would ensure you he means good

“Don’t mind my brother . .

He’s just concerned about me . .”

Himeko

Himeko found you in one of express’s trailblazer missions right after they left penacony, Himeko took it upon herself to take care of you, aware of the fact you still felt unsure about the rest of the members

The navigator would often let you sleep in her cabin, accompanying you as you would always feel comfortable in her embrace . .

It’s not a surprise you would avoid any contact with the other members of the train. . Either way, when the others set out for another expedition, you would stay behind with Himeko, making sure Himeko is protected and safe at all costs . . .

Maybe because you’re close or maybe because she reminds you of a certain someone in The past you can’t quite identify. . (Doing this cuz i miss murata himeko)

“You’re clingy sometimes you know..?

Who knew the Aeon of Light could act like a clingy love sick puppy at times ?”

Black swan

When you enter penacony, you haven’t seen black swan just yet. . She would be keeping an eye on you from a distance before actually revealing who she is . . (She gives me stalker vibes idk)

She finds you intriguing . . She would observe how you behave for a few days or so and by the looks at it- you clearly don’t know how to act properly around others let alone socialize . .

That’s when the Memokeeper decided to step out of her “bird hide” enough with watching you like a delicate bird unaware of her keen eyes

“What’s an interesting being like you wandering all alone in this dreamscape ?”

Black swan would look into your memories aswell . . Witnessing your past . . Aswell as the memories of being degraded by other Aeons and being forced to live in the shadows of the universe to be left and forgotten. .

“What a poor birdie you are . .” The woman would whisper

“Don’t worry dear ~ I’ll make sure to take care of you ”

Natasha

As soon as you got to Belobog, you were immediately sent to the underground. . .

Let’s just say the guards gave you a not so “friendly” Welcome, which lead to fighting- a lot of fighting-

The fight eventually forced you to be sent to the underground

Natasha was the first to find you, you met her while she was doing some errands . . . Seeing that Natasha was actually kind and gentle with you, you stayed by her side, helping her in the clinic and with the kids

Eventually, Natasha introduced you to the other wildfire members, you started helping in the underground, being a big help in taking care of the people there, like the underground’s guardian.

you would help with the wildfire’s fights, often getting all bruised up since you force yourself to not use your full power.. but whenever you do, atleast you have your trusty doctor to patch you back up

“Just be careful next time okay sweetie?” She would often tell you

Little side note: i was actually supposed to add acheron and stelle lmfao but i got busy and keep forgetting to write their part haha, i will add them though if any of you want a part two. You can also recommend other characters to add ^^

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 1/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Ch. 1: Fallen Angel

Summary: After a new drug rendered Homelander both powerless and amnesic, he gets saved by someone blissfully unaware of who he is.

Shoutout to @blindmagdalena who did the impossible: Making me simp for this guy. Your writing is simply impeccable! 💌

Warnings: Injury, blood, lots of exposition, not proofread

Notes: Hurt/comfort, OOC, pre-canon, Scientist! Reader, idc about logic gaps (I will cry if you point them out to me)

Four days already, and he still hasn't woken up.

Winter in the Canadian Arctic was rough, with the polar night bringing permanent darkness, as well as severe snowstorms that could last up to a week.

Luckily enough your old radio communication system was still functioning, so you were at least able to request a few necessities in advance: Food and water for another person, a doctor of course...

...and clothes for the guy you had to cut out of this ridiculous costume to patch him up properly.

Leaning back in your chair, you take some deep breaths, unable to concentrate on your work. Your glance unwillingly wanders back to the man lying on your bed, still unconscious.

Who knows how long the weather will cut you off from help arriving? You just hope he will make it until then.

Maybe it's for the better, though - since whoever had done this to him could still be out there wanting to finish the job, too.

It bordered on a miracle that he landed so close to your research station, when you were outside to notice at that. And the storm followed only shortly after you managed to pull him inside.

That man really had more luck than anything, even while having been messed up like this.

You watch him until you're sure he's still breathing and not in any discomfort, once again catching yourself admiring his handsome features.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was a literal fallen angel that crashed from the goddamn sky, right into your little front yard.

Damn it, the loneliness that came with this job made even your thoughts pathetic...

Well, to your defense, you've been raised pretty isolated your whole life, with parents being a doctor and a scientist that were devoted to spend their work at the most remote areas of the world.

It surely was a unique childhood with lots of traveling, and you were mostly spared the soulless corporate-controlled bullshit that was modern society. To add to that, your parents were never fond of using electronics for more than practical reasons. Not that there was internet connection where you lived either way.

All in all, while you obviously know about supes in general and might even have heard about Homelander the brief time you spent in civilization, the last time you've actually seen his face on a magazine or some sort was decades ago - and you didn't care enough to remember.

So it was no wonder that you were completely oblivious to who exactly was lying in your bed this whole time.

Sighing, you close your laptop with a dramatic gesture before making your way to the kitchen unit. You pour yourself a coffee to fill your rumbling stomach, having rationed the food in favor of your new involuntary roommate.

Having followed the footsteps of your parents - yet without proper funding - you led this mission all by yourself. At first it was bearable, since an elder native couple came to visit and assist you from time to time.

But your work demanded you to stay secluded from human intervention, deep in the mountains with the next tiny village being half a day march away. And now that winter made traveling scarce due to the dangers, the idea of some company certainly wasn't so bad.

You almost felt bad for being excited about him being here - whatever had happened to make him end up here was exactly the oppsite of great, after all.

Even though the emergency power aggregate was whirring loudly, the sound of strained groans reaches your ear - not the first time those past few days. So you immediately rush over to the man's side, pouring him a glass of water and dissolving some painkillers in it.

"It's gonna be alright" you assure him, unable to tell if he can even hear in this state. Blood is seeping through the makeshift bandages, making you realize you should probably reapply them soon. Maybe after the meds had some time to release their effect...

...however, just when the cup touched his lips, two icy blue eyes snapped open, making you wince.

"Don't touch me, fuck!" a raspy voice snapped at you, quite understandable in his situation. He pushed you away from him, causing you to stumble and fall as the glass scattered on the floor right next to you.

"Whe-where am I? And who the fuck are you?!"

"Who the fuck am I?" You felt almost offended at the accusation in his look, having to remind yourself that the person in front of you is in fact in an exceptional situation. "You're in my house. I found you injured in the middle of nowhere. So I should be asking you!"

His face fell in shock at the realization, internal struggle present in his features as he finally whispered - no, whimmered "I...can't remember..."

Racketing his brain around to make sense of the situation, he stumbled across his own words and repeated "I-I-I-I can't remember!"

"Can't remember what exactly?" You spoke more softly now as you got up, tentatively approaching him. He on the other hand jumped up from the bed, panic increasing with every passing second.

"Anything! I-I don't know who I am- shit, what happened?!" He was shaking, muscular chest having as he started to hyperventillate. You hesistantly put your hand on his back, feeling him tense at the sudden contact. "Please don't move too much. You're injured."

Only now he noticed the medical wraps around his chest, abdomen, left arm and both legs. Hell, his whole body was aching but the adrenaline wouldn't let this stop him from standing up, pacing around the small room.

Being overwhelmed with the situation as well, you decided it was best to tell him everything. "D-don't freak out, but we're in the middle of the arctic." Having a feeling that he wouldn't believe you - fair enough, though - you opened the door, revealing a snowy landscape. The doorway was already halfway buried under a snowy blanket, and the heavy winds were biting his exposed skin. "We'll have to wait until the storm settles. And even then, with your injuries you probably won't make it to the nearest village."

There was a long pause of silence between your explanation and his response, blinking at you in both disbelief and despair. "...if you don't know me, then how the hell did I get here?"

"My best guess is that you're a supe" you shrugged, hoping his memory loss didn't also affect his general knowledge. You pointed towards the torn bodysuit in the bin, stating matter-of-factly "You literally fell out of the sky. Even with the snow absorbing part of the impact, you should be dead - especially with those injuries."

Not really good at comforting someone, huh, you internally scolded yourself. Yet you gave it your best to calm him down and sign your goodwill.

"Sit down or your wounds will reopen." After a brief moment of looking at you all forlorn and maybe even a little distrustful, he accepted your help. You led him back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to each other as support for him to stay upright.

"Doesn't feel like anything about this body is 'super' right now..." he joked bitterly, rubbing his sides. You chuckle sympathetic, carefully patting his back in reassurance. "Maybe you don't have access to your powers because of the amnesia? I'm not quite sure how any of this works."

"Yeah, maybe..." His eyes were now locked on you, forcing a weak smile as he finally took a proper look at you. "You still didn't tell me to who I owe my life."

"Me?" as inappropriate as it was for the situation, he did manage to make you flustered just by that - and it didn't really help that he was still only in his underwear, testing your decency not to stare. "Oh, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. I'm an ecologist. Been here for eight months to document the effects of climate change on the biome, and-"

"Climate change?" he rose an eyebrow at you, "There's a goddamn snowstorm outside, woman."

Oh. He was one of those guys. Note taken.

"Anyways" you changed the topic to not provoke a pointless discussion, still unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. "Do you at least remember your name?"

The man clutched the ragged costume you had handed him, forcing his exhausted self to remember something, anything at all...

...but every time he tried, there was a sharp pain in his forehead that tore him away from the memories locked away somewhere in his brain.

And smehow, no matter how insane it might sound, he felt like this was his own mind's subtle warning to better keep it this way.

"I think...my name's John" he ultimately stated, rubbing his temples as his face contorted in pain. You continued rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him, whispering "Hey, don't overdo it. Focus on healing first, and then we'll see if anything else comes back. Alright?"

John nodded mutely, and you gifted him an uplifting smile, cheering "Well then, nice to officially meet you, John! Feel at home as long as you need."

He shook your hand almost symbolically, feeling almost hopeful knowing that despite the grim situation, he was supported by such a kind stranger.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm all in your hands."

_____

A/N: This was written on my phone at 1am, so please bear with me. The next chapters are gonna be better.

[Part Two]

[starcharmed]

"Nothing's New"

In which your partner is never going to pay attention to you, because they’re too focused on their dead lover

Bell’s notes: “writer bell goes too far with this fic-” im /j no ones gonna say that, angst powers pls work tho, like im asdlkfjawel;fjsd;jf;lska, i cant write dude, let me like, plan this out in my head before writing nonsense, LIKE BRO, feral over angst LORD, 100k likes and you get part 2 /jjjj, growling i love angst, MWHAHAHA, sorry ely, yuka, mhie, snob, and zee if you read this 😔😔😔, i listened to “IT Girl” while writing this 😋, got carried away with Ayato’s part oopsies, i believe Guizhong for the ladies but whatever 😔😔😔, cut out Wanderer & Childe in the end because i’m TIRED, not proofread

Story details: Ayato lowkey a bitch, scratch that highkey, reader has self-doubt, Neuvilette doesn’t mean to be mean he just ISSS, GUIZHONG DID NOTHING STOP MAKING HER THE ONE IN BLAME IN THESE ZHONGLI SCENARIOS, oh and I couldn’t be bothered with Xiao’s part like a quarter through he’s such a flexible yet straight character, it’s the way you can tell when I got lazy with each part, chance Xiao & Zhongli are gonna be ooc as i’ve never written anything but short headcanons for them before

Characters & Triggers: Ayato, Neuvilette, Xiao, & Zhongli;  reader has self-doubt, mention of death, mention of martial neglect

Reader details: female reader in Ayato’s part is explicit. female reader in Neuvilette’s part can be interpreted with the way you read it. the other parts, however, shouldn’t have a specified reader type. reader’s personality, race/ethnicity, height, physical descriptions, or anything of the sort is not mentioned. if anything is let me know and i’ll edit it. 

Ayato: No surprise the Yashiro Commissioner doesn’t pay attention to his new wife, the one that he didn’t marry first. You knew that he didn’t love you, and most likely never would because you were, in fact, the second pick. Actually, it was probably in the hundreds based on the amount of marriage arrangement offers Ayato had gotten considering he was one of the biggest figures in Inazuma. It didn’t matter, but he most likely picked you because your clan was a small one to put it lightly, so he most likely chose it, and you, because it wouldn’t be a hassle with the press. But of course, he would choose the person and clan that seemed, “easy”. It hurt seeing some of the people’s sympathetic stares, such as Ayaka’s, Thoma’s, and a few of the older women working in the estate. You got used to the lack of greeting from Ayato when he got off work, the lack of warmth beside you at night. You found it hilarious, although you were hysteric at the time as you had just found out that Ayato was off that day and neglected to see you, that he never, ever laid down in the same bed as you. It doesn’t matter no matter how hard you work around the estate, how long you sit up doing his work, which you soon quit once he yelled at you like a homeless dog, or even the distinct flower you made out of one of Ayato’s favorite sweets that he ignored. Not even a glance at your general direction, either. After a while, you decided to do some digging on his past wife, only to find out that she was in fact near perfect. Perfect reputation, perfect everything, to put it shortly. Shortly after asking Ayaka what happened to her, by pulling the sad, guilty wife card, you found out she was a victim of an assassination attempt that turned into a success. Of course, Ayato and his perfect wife would only be torn apart by death. It was poetic, and it made you sick. So what were you to do but endure the slow torture that you and Ayato’s marriage was? After all, nothing you could do could change how he felt about you. 

Neuvillette: The famous hydro dragon, at least to those who knew his ‘secret’. His past lover, unfortunately, died before him, no doubt to his immortality. Of course, you would soon die, maybe in a few decades but, hey, it wasn’t like he would miss you. You could only wait awake at night as Neuvillette went to fix himself his own meal, despite you staying up to cook him one and await for his return from work. It’s not that was the only time he never paid attention to you, after all the man had most likely been grieving his wife for centuries at this point in time. So what were you to do besides stay and watch this man be emotionally constipated around you? Why did he even marry you in the first place, then? It couldn’t be because his past wife resembled you, and it certainly wasn’t because you both acted the same. Was it because he needed someone to cling to? I mean, you weren’t exactly someone who seemed to not fit the criteria of a compassionate co-worker who would comfort Neuvillette in his times of distress. Did Neuvilette only come to you because you were his way of grieving? It would make partial sense, to cling to the nearest piece of comfort to help with the pain of loss. It made you feel like nothing but an object meant for his emotional wants, but in reality, that’s all you ever are and will ever be to him. 

Xiao: The famous adeptus long ago, had someone close to him. Shame they fell to waste during the archon wars, along with the other adepti. It was no surprise that everyone familiar with Liyue stories knew about the two of them together, which unfortunately included you. It didn’t pain you that much until your oh-so-loveable boyfriend got distracted by two kids playing with a Xiao lantern and one of her. After that, it only devolved into more. The lack of visits to your room in the inn, the lack of responses whenever you left your little notes for him near your meet-up place, and the extreme lack of thank-you-notes whenever you left Xiao almond tofu. It didn’t matter that you started to skip and completely ignore doing all of these things just to see if he would notice because the adeptus failed to appear in your room just to check in to see if you were okay. This behavior was unlike him, at least in the sense of him completely ignoring you. The only answer you could think of, that logically made sense, of course, was that he was reminded of his past loved one because of the run-in with the lanterns you two had while out in Liyue. So in terms, he seemed to disconnect with you because of the memories of his past significant other? You knew the adepti didn’t die peacefully, you could tell that much from the stories, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that also applied to Xiao’s past lover. There was nothing you could do about it though, because if you knew Xiao, he wouldn’t talk about her to you nor push her aside for you.

Zhongli: Guizhong. Of course, you were familiar with the name, everyone in Liyue was. Everyone might be a stretch considering the visitors and children, but the point’s been made. Morax and Guizhong were close. Close in a sense of possibly having relationship affairs but that was only explicit to you because of the way your lover would glace at glaze lilies. You couldn’t call him your lover, could you? Not with the way he would hum to the glaze lilies, the way his eyes would also drift away from you whenever you talked as you took strolls through Guilu Plains, and the way he would opt to tell stories of specific tales of his time as Morax, ones that included Guizhong in some way. It got to the point where you had to make up tasks that you had to do daily just to get away from the walks you two took, not to hear the different-yet-similar stories of Morax and totally not Guizhong. It was childish of you to be doing so, you had yourself convinced, as you couldn’t blame Guizhong for any of it. She had no part of this besides well, besides being your number one stressor for the past few weeks. It was tiring yet somehow for the sake of not wanting a glare or side-eye from Zhongli about his stories, which you never thought you’d get that tired of hearing, you kept your mouth shut, despite how hard it was. You knew it would only take so much more, though, before you said something about it. 

[axnqel]

ⓘ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ I will do anything for you, babe.

─ pairing .ᐟ homelander x fem!psychiatrist!reader

─ synopsis & word count .ᐟ being hired by Vought as the psychiatrist for the seven wasn't exactly what you'd envisioned for your career. and captain patria falling in love with you? yeah, that definitely wasn't on the bingo card either. you liked him—God, you liked him more than you'd ever admit—but loving him? loving him felt impossible. it was like trying to hold onto a storm; no matter how hard you tried, it always slipped through your fingers, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake. | 4.0k words.

─ content warning .ᐟ slight ooc homelander, talks of narcissism, obsessive behaviors, homelander tweaking out, lwk stalking...., reader being quite literally the complete opposite of homelander, slight arguing but tbh it's lwk one-sided, angst, hurt/not really comfort, ending can be interpreted differently tbh, takes place somewhere in season one i guess.

─ c speaks .ᐟ tiktoks gone and i had over 100 homelander edits and i was only able to save 21. this is what happens when no one turns on their saves. in mourning fr. (edit: i deleted the app when it got banned. yes i know, biggest mistake because now its back??? like omigod), also try to spot the lana songs i referenced by name !!

Vought Tower was intimidating on your first day, though you’d never admit it out loud. The glass walls, the sterile halls, the feeling that the entire building is watching you—it all felt like stepping inside a gilded cage. You weren’t naive; you knew this job wasn’t going to be easy. You’d read the reports, seen the news, and done your research. The Seven were powerful, untouchable, and deeply dysfunctional.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done anything similar to this before. You’d worked as a trauma counselor for too long and needed something new. But although this wasn’t that different from your previous job, the paycheck Vought offered you was obscene, and the idea of helping anyone navigate that kind of mess was almost too good a challenge to resist.

Still, the reality of it was a little more… intense.

“Try not to take anything personally,” Ashley Barrett chirped, with her tangy-pitched voice and her heels clicking too quickly down the hallway as you struggled to keep pace. “They can be… uh, strong personalities.”

Well, that’s lovely. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, clutching your notebook tighter. Strong personalities. Sure. That sounded like Vought’s PR-approved way of saying absolute trainwrecks and fucking maniacs.

The first meeting was set in the briefing room, a sleek conference space with a long table that was seemingly just for show. Fortunately for you, this was just an introductory meeting, and you had extra time to prepare for the sessions you would have with the supes later.

You weren’t expecting them to show up all at once—if they even showed up at all. But as you stood near the head of the table, straightening the folder in your hands for what felt like the thousandth time. the door swung open.

And there he was.

Homelander didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. It was the first thing you truly noticed about him. Perfect posture, perfect suit, perfect smile that somehow felt more threatening than polite. His presence swallowed everything else, leaving no room for anyone else to breathe. And when his sharp blue eyes landed on you, it felt as though the world was closing in on you.

"You're the shrink?" he asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Psychiatrist," you corrected, keeping your voice steady.

He chuckled, low and quiet, like he'd already decided this was going to be fun—for him, anyway.

"Welcome." He said, his eyebrows raising as he walked over to the chair at the head of the table.

You stepped a few steps over, but that clearly did nothing as he subtly scooted closer to you.

My, did you need so much strength for this job.

The job was not easy. In case that wasn't already clear. Getting the supes to cooperate was like talking to a wall. You didn't want to coerce them into spilling out every detail of their life, but you weren't expecting them to be so grounded. Maybe your judgement was just clouded from what the media showed you about them.

Luckily, your office was a calm contrast from the chaos exhibited in Vought tower. The decor was intentionally neutral-earthy tones, soft lighting, and a simple desk with your tablet, folder, and notebook resting on top. A pair of comfortable chairs sat across from each other, meant to foster openness. Yet, the calm facade of the room was tested by the personalities that walked through the door.

Maeve was... okay. She was sweet, closed off, and knew exactly when to stop talking. PR training had clearly blinded her.

Black Noir was quiet—obviously but did exchange a couple words through his notepad.

A-Train was clouded and very insecure. However, that didn't change your resentment for his attitude towards you. Goodness.

The Deep pissed. you. off. But you kept a professional demeanor. His misguided attempt to flirt with you and the exaggerated confidence almost made you want to punch a hole in the wall. Ha.

Starlight might've just been your favorite yet. She was sweet and willing to talk, and her soft voice made you feel safe.

However, when the clock struck 6:00, and Homelander walked into your office on the dot, lord, you might as well have fainted.

It wasn't that you liked him or idolized him. You barely knew of him. Of course, you'd heard the name here and there, but to be frank, you never kept up and your family didn't give two shits. But the way he carried himself and spoke to you, it made your heart clench.

He was surprisingly so open to speaking, but the more he opened his mouth, the more narcissistic he seemed. If you could diagnose him with a God complex, you would. He acted like some million-dollar man, though he truly was. It just seemed he wanted to be in charge wherever he went.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I want to hear about how you're doing and how I can... support you." You kept your expression neutral, though your pulse quickened.

Homelander's smile widened, but there was an edge to it. "Support me? That's cute, but I'm fine. Really. The question is, how are you holding up? First day on the job and all." His tone was so friendly and polite, it confused her.

And it went on like this every session. He would come at 6 P.M. on the dot every Friday and the atmosphere in the room would become so charged. His presence was so magnetic, and his smile was disarming, yet the more he talked, and the more you listened, you started to feel some kind of way. Not anything you could explain, as ironic as that seemed.

And there was no kidding he felt something too. But your feelings were nothing compared to his.

He felt a burning desire for you the minute he walked into that conference room and looked you straight in the eye. He was willing to give himself up for you, and it felt so weird for him. Never in his many years of living did he ever feel this way.

Plus, you were just some ordinary woman. There was nothing special about you to the ordinary eye. You weren't a superhero or an entrepreneur. At the end of the day, you were just a psychiatrist, trying to make it through the day. If that was the case, then why was he so drawn to you?

He didn't understand—no—he couldn't understand.

And as time went on, this desire only grew stronger. Mutually.

Homelander began to fixate on you, quite unhealthily for that matter. It started innocently enough: more frequent eye contact in your sessions, lingering in the doorway of your office, showing up early for your sessions, or even walking you out of the tower at the end of your shift.

Being around you was like a balm for the constant chaos in his mind.

To him, you're unlike anyone he's ever met: calm, kind, and so completely human it fascinates and unnerves him. You were the complete opposite of him, and he never thought he could be attracted to that.

He's always managed to be in a relationship that was, while short-lived, with someone who elicited every ounce of his personality. Someone who was just like him. And maybe that was a good thing, who knows? But it only confused him more.

At first, he tries to justify it. You're his psychiatrist. His shrink. Nothing less, nothing more. You're meant to listen to him, to care about his feelings; he tells himself it's just your job.

However, as time goes on, he starts wanting needing more. He's tired of the patient-doctor dynamic. He begins asking personal questions, sometimes invasive, using his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on your conversations with others, and justifying it all with the idea that he's "protecting" you. Problem is, he doesn't really know what he's doing. He's just trying to convince himself that his actions are worth being justified.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the shift in his behavior and try to keep the professional boundaries. You remind him, gently but firmly, that the relationship is strictly therapeutic. But it felt like you were telling yourself that rather than the captain himself.

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Homelander brings up after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.

You shifted in the cream-colored plush chair, your eyebrows raised with confusion. "I'm sorry?" You spoke questioningly. The two of you were just speaking about his narcissistic tendencies and now he's asking what your favorite ice cream flavor is? How bad was his attention span?

Homelander smiled, but it had that edge to it. So much so, you couldn't even tell if it was genuine. "What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Come on, you've gotta have one." He tilted his head as he continued to stare at you, his gaze never averting.

The question was simple. Innocuous, even. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?

But somehow, it felt like the world had slowed down the moment he asked it. What?

You blinked, the words tumbling through your heads as if he'd said something infinitely profound. It was the question itself—it was the way he asked it. The casual tilt of his head, the way his lips curved in that perfect, effortless smile, like he wasn't aware of the absolute devastation he left in his wake. His eyes—bluer than any sky or ocean you'd ever seen—were locked on you, so unrelenting it felt like he could see straight through your skin. He could.

Your throat tightened, a mix of awe and panic, as if he'd plucked every coherent though from your mind and left you with nothing but the ridiculous, overwhelming knowledge that this man was impossibly beautiful. Lord.

It was embarrassing! Really. You weren't some love-struck teenager, swooning at the mere sight of him. But God help you, that's exactly what it felt like.

"Uh..." you stammered, your brain working overtime to catch up to the question. You barely managed to form words; your voice softer than you intended. "Mint chocolate chip. I guess."

His smile deepened, and for a split second, you thought he might laugh. Not in a cruel way, no, but in that teasing, playful way that made your chest tighten even more.

"I love mint chocolate chip." He said, and you swore the warmth in his tone was just for you.

And just like that, you were lost.

You walked into your office the next day to find a tiny red cooler on top of your desk, with 4 jars of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Homelander starts requesting more one-on-one sessions than originally planned. At first, he frames it as a necessity. "You know, it's stressful being me," he says with a tight-lipped smile during one session, leaning back in the chair like he owns the room. "I think I deserve a little extra... support."

You can't exactly argue. After all, this is your job, right? If he wanted extra support, he would get it. Simple as that. But even in those early days, there’s something about the way he watches you that makes your skin prickle—not with fear, not yet, but with the awareness of something unspoken hanging in the air.

It’s manageable, at first. He talks vaguely about the pressure of being perfect, about always having to put a show for the cameras, the crowd, and his fellow teammates. He doesn’t give you much, but to be fair, he doesn’t have to. You’ve worked with people similar to him before, people who hide their vulnerability behind bravado.

What surprises you, though, is how much he seems to want you to understand him.

And he clearly won’t stop until you do. Or until he makes you feel the same way he does.

It’s late—too late for anyone to still be in the building. You’ve been working late, reviewing session notes and preparing for tomorrow’s meeting with The Seven. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, and the silence of Vought Tower felt heavier than usual.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice him at first, not until his reflection suddenly became clear in the glass of your office window.

“Burning the midnight oil?” His voice was smooth, casual, but it startled you all the same.

You turned, clutching your chest. “Homelander—God, you scared me.

He stepped inside, uninvited, and you immediately noticed the difference in his appearance. His cape is slightly askew, his hair less perfect with strands falling into his face, and there’s a tension in his posture that you can’t seem to place.

“I was in the area,” he says, brushing off your concern with a shrug. “Thought I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

The statement threw you off. “I’m… fine,” you said carefully, unsure of where this was going. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here for that.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not trouble. You know, I think you’re the only person in this whole damn building who’s honest with me.”

There’s a rawness to his words that takes you off guard, but before you can respond, he’s already moving closer, standing just a little too close. His gaze felt heavier than usual, like he’s searching for something in you—validation, comfort, maybe both.

"You really care about people, don't you?" he asked softly, almost as if he's testing the waters.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully. "I do. It's why I got into this field. I want to help."

He tilts his head, his smile sharpening into something darker, more knowing. "Even people like me?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You meet his eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. "Especially people like you, Homelander."

"John." He corrected.

You furrowed your brows. "Sorry?"

"Call me John."

The first kiss didn't come softly—it was a collision.

It happened after one of your most intense and deep sessions. Homelander's mask slipped completely; his usual smirk replaced with a vulnerability so raw it made your chest ache. He's sat across from you, his hands gripping the edge of the chair as if he's afraid he might fall apart.

"I don't know how to stop," he admits, his voice low and trembling. "This... this thing inside of me. It's like... it's eating me alive."

You're not sure what to say. For all your training, for all your professionalism, you're still just a person. A person who feels too much.

"You're not broken, H... John," you whispered, even though you're not sure you believe it.

His eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, there's silence. Then he's standing, closing the distance between you in a single heartbeat.

"Don't say that," he says, his voice sharp but desperate. "Don't lie to me. You don't really understand—no one understands. But you... you're different."

Before you can stop him, his lips crash into yours. It's not gentle—it's needy, almost frantic, like he's trying to our everything he can't say into you. You feel the weight of his emotions in every movement, every shiver of his breath against your skin.

And for a moment, you let him. You kiss him back, your fingers curling into his suit as you let yourself drown in the intensity of it all.

But then reality hits, sharp and cold. You pull away, your breath hitching.

"This... we can't," you stammer, stepping back. "Homelander, this isn't right."

He doesn't respond immediately. His gaze is locked on you, his chest heaving. Then, slowly, a smile curls across his lips—a soft, unsettling thing.

"You felt it too," he says quietly, and there's a glimmer of triumph in his tone.

You shake your head, and the pounding of your heart is like music to his ears. "This can't happen again," you whisper, but even as you say the words, you're not sure you believe them.

You tell yourself it was a mistake. That it was a moment of weakness, nothing more. But it doesn't feel like a mistake. Not when you catch Homelander looking at you during your sessions, his gaze heavy and unrelenting.

"I scare you, don't I?" he asks one day, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

"You don't scare me," you reply, though your voice wavers.

He leans forward, his expression softening. "I should." He says, almost gently.

There's a part of you that wonders if he's right. If you're being reckless, selfish, delusional. But then there's another part of you—a darker, quieter part—that craves him. That loves him. Even though you know you shouldn't.

And that's the part that keeps you up at night.

You notice it the next morning—the way your mail seems disturbed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in your hallway. It's subtle at first, easy to dismiss. But it only gets worse.

You find flowers on your doorstep. Your favorite, in fact. There's no note, but you know exactly who they're from.

When you confront him during your next session, he doesn't even try to deny it.

"You don't have to thank me," he says, smiling like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"John, this isn't... appropriate," you say, your voice firm but uncertain.

"Appropriate?" He echoes, his smile fading. "After everything I've done for this country, for this cruel world... you're worried about what's appropriate?"

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. But his words stick with you, planting seeds of guilt and confusion that take root in your mind.

You're sitting in your apartment, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to shake the feeling that you're being watched. The soft hum of the radio fills the space and before you know it, he's there, standing on your balcony like he belongs there.

"You left the curtains open," he says, his tone teasing but his expression serious.

"John," you say, standing quickly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he steps inside, his gaze locking onto yours.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he says, his voice low and raw. "You're all I think about. Every second of every day. And it's driving me insane." He's practically fed up. He could kill you, get it over with and maybe then everything will go away. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that's not the case.

You should tell him to leave. But instead, you let him close the distance between you again.

When he kisses you this time, it's softer, slower, but no less intense. And once again, you let yourself get lost in it.

The kiss ends too soon, leaving you breathless and unsteady on your feet. Homelander—or rather, John, as he’s insisted you call him—steps back just enough to study your face. His expression is unreadable, a mixture of triumph, longing, and something darker, something that makes your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice almost tender. “I’d never let anything happen to you. No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.”

You can’t stop the chill that runs down your spine at his words. There’s sincerity in them, but also a quiet promise, one that doesn’t leave room for argument. It’s like he’s already decided what your life will look like, as if the idea of you existing without him is unfathomable.

“I’m not afraid,” you lie, stepping back, trying to regain your composure. “But this… this isn’t right, John. You know it isn’t.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, the mask slips. The vulnerability you’ve seen in your sessions flickers, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder, more calculating.

He doesn’t like being told no. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense, in the flicker of irritation that passes through his piercing blue eyes.

“But it feels right,” he counters, taking a step closer. “Doesn’t it? You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too. I know you do.”

You want to argue, to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. Because the truth is, he’s right. You do feel it. That pull, that connection, that overwhelming magnetism that makes it impossible to think straight when he’s around. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and daring yourself not to look down.

“This isn’t about what feels right,” you say finally, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “It’s about boundaries, John. About professionalism. And this—whatever this is—it crosses every line.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, slow and deliberate, like he knows something you don’t.

“You’re scared,” he says softly, almost sympathetically. “Not of me. Of how you feel about me.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Because he’s not wrong, and he knows it.

“I think you should leave,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… this isn’t going to happen, John. It can’t.”

His smile falters, and for a split second, you see something raw and dangerous flash across his face. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods, his expression hardening into something more familiar, more controlled.

“Alright,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over. You know that, don’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is watch as he steps back out onto the balcony, his cape billowing behind him like a shadow. He pauses for a moment, turning to look at you one last time.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice soft but laced with something unspoken. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there.

You collapse onto the couch, your heart pounding in your chest. The room feels impossibly quiet without him, the weight of his presence lingering even after he’s left. You tell yourself it’s over, that he’ll leave you alone, that you can go back to your life and pretend none of this ever happened.

But deep down, you know better.

The following days pass in a blur. You throw yourself into your work, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles every time you pass a reflective surface, the way you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

The flowers keep arriving, always your favorite, always without a note. And every time you see them, you’re reminded of his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

And then, one night, you find a letter slipped under your door. It’s written in his handwriting, neat and precise, and your hands tremble as you read it.

I’ll wait as long as it takes. You know where to find me.

You fold the letter carefully, placing it in the drawer of your desk. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you don’t care, that you’re not waiting for him to come back.

But as you sit there in the quiet of your apartment, staring at the faint glow of the city lights outside your window, you can’t help but wonder what it would mean if you did.

Would it be so wrong to want him? To give in, just once, and see what it feels like to be completely consumed by someone like him? Or would it be the beginning of the end, the moment you lose yourself to something you can never take back?

You don’t have the answers. Maybe you never will. But you can’t deny the tiny, treacherous part of you that whispers: what if? What if it was easier? What if loving him didn't have to be so hard? Would you still do it?

And somewhere out there, in the shadows of the city, he’s waiting.

© axnqel ─ all rights reserved. our work is not to be reposted, translated or plagiarized anywhere.

[venerawrites]

Ooh my goodness I saw your post about Sasuke bringing back his S/O from the dead and the brainrot worms just immediately clocked in 😵‍💫 Please please give us a short fic about it! Specifically with the side effects//struggles of bringing someone back from the dead like memory loss, struggle to speak bc of either the previously mentioned memory loss or simple damage to their vocal cords (Ooor I mean, if you wanna go deep into angst bringing out the fact cognitive abilities being damaged at least for a while and the amount of pain they'd feel so they're dependent on him is also fair game)

Another fact that is just VERY angst filled is if they're brought back against their will but unless Sasuke let them go they're stuck there forever

I'll leave it up to you to decide how you wanna go about it though! thank u for your absolute god-like work as always! muah! 😚

author's note: Our brainrot worms must be in sync because the moment I saw your request, this fic basically 'wrote itself'! Thank you so much for the idea and I really hope I did your request justice! <3 <3

warnings: Sasuke is a bit yandere and maybe ooc, but isn't he always? ; death; revival; blood

Wanna know a secret?

People used to say that there was a never chance for me. That with everything that happened - the massacre, the lies, the hatred - I was always bound to become a monster. Poor little boy that witnessed the slaughter of his own family and spend years chasing the shadow of his brother, while slowly drowning in his own self-pity and anger.

But the truth is that it wasn't Itachi or Konoha that made me that way.

It was you.

You, who broke through the walls I've been building for years, leaving me raw and exposed. You, who believed that I could've been... should've been different. You gave me hope, you made me believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for me.

For us.

And suddenly you left me. All alone, like I always have been.

I know you are not going to like what I am about to do. If you were here, you would tell me that this isn't the way. That I am not the person I was before that I am making a mistake by trying to bring you back. You would look at me with those innocent eyes of yours, before lacing your fingers with mine and tell me that I have to let you go.

But you are not here, are you?

Not yet, at least.

And you know I can't let you go. Not now, not ever.

If the cost of having you in my arms again is my soul, I would pay it. If it means burning the world and the heavens, then so be it. I will destroy it all - time, death and everything that separates us - till nothing remains but you and me.

. . .

i.

"-Edu Tensei is the only way-"

The cold edge of Sasuke's blade pressing against his throat was enough of unspoken warning for the white-haired male to know this was not the right answer to the demand he had just received. Closing his eyes, he tried to steady his breathing without letting his composure crack.

This was far from the first time he found himself on the receiving end of Sasuke's anger. Yet this time it felt... different.

Kabuto has spend enough years with the Uchiha to understand how he worked. Despite his cold and stoic demeanor, he had always possessed a dangerously short fuse. The slightest provocation, especially if it was connected to his past, was enough to ignite an inferno of rage. The Yakushi man has observed his evolution firsthand - from a grumpy boy hungry for revenge to a deadly shinobi, who kept swinging back and forth on the edge of his crumbling sanity.

The ninja that stood before him was a version of Sasuke that he has never seen before. There was no fire behind his gaze, only empty, glowing voids, so cold that Kabuto couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Unlike the last time he saw him during the war, he looked cold, calculated and controlled.

Too controlled for the white-haired man's liking.

"Sasuke, you have to understand there are limits-"

"I understand more than you think", Sasuke interrupted, his right eye glowing with the Sharingan, while his left one remained hidden, "If Edo Tensei is your only answer, then I have no use of you. You are wasting my time."

The blade was lifted only for a second from Kabuto's throat before it flew toward his Adam's apple. He felt the cold tip slicing his skin, a few drops of warm crimson red blood falling on the floor.

"Wait!", Kabuto blurted out, his head falling back against the wall in a desperate attempt to create some distance between his body and the sword.

Sasuke's hand immediately stopped, but the cold metal did not move away from the cut it has created. Instead, it stayed in place, getting painted in red, while Sasuke his head in a silent command for Kabuto to speak.

"There may be another way...", the Yakushi gulped, his voice barely above a whisper. The Uchiha leaned forward, his only visible eye narrowing just the slightest as he studied the older man's face.

Looking at him almost two years after their last battle, Sasuke felt the bitter taste of anger and desperation mixing in his mouth. How could Kabuto, of all people, be the only person who could help him bring you back? The idea of having his sleazy hands touching your body, experimenting on it... The mere image of him being close to you made him naseous.

Yet he was the one who came here and demanded help. Much to his displeasure, he had no one else to turn to. Orochimaru had left the village, but even if he was here, it was the case that his student has surpassed him long time ago.

"I am giving you ten seconds to explain, before I slash your throat and hang you on this wall to bleed out."

The threat was clear and final, making Kabuto nod his head in a weak agreement. Once the blade was removed from his throat, his fingers immediately moved to touch the cut from which there were still dripping red drops. He pressed his hand against his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, while his mind rushed through different possibilities of how to handle the situation.

On one hand, just like Sasuke, he was pardoned for his crimes and was given a second chance to rebuild his life in Konoha. He was a carer in the local orphanage and for the first time since he could remember, he felt somewhat... satisfied. It wasn't his dream job, but it was a job and it was the first step to clearing his image.

On the other hand, he was wise enough not to underestimate the things an Uchiha is ready to do, especially in the name of love.

"It is not a technique I've ever tried before...", Kabuto finally said, his fingers tightening around his throat, "It is a theory I was working on right before the war started. It goes beyond a simple reanimation and unlike Edo Tensei, it does not have any limitation. Once they are back... they will be fully back."

"Fully back...", Sasuke repeated, testing the words on his tongue. The snake-like man in front of him nodded his head, his free hand lifting up to fix the glasses on the tip of his nose.

"With their own will, thoughts and emotions", Kabuto confirmed, one of his eyebrows raising just the slightest, "It will be as if their death never happened. But.."

"But what?", he snapped through gritted teeth. Of course, nothing was ever simple or straightforward with the white-haired shinobi. For all the knowledge and skills he had, he never made anything easy, even when he was serving other people in the past. And while he successfully managed to convince Konoha he has changed, Sasuke had enough experience living and training with him to know the truth.

A snake will always be a snake.

And the mere fact he didn't seem to even try to convince him not to meddle with the world of the dead, was enough of a sigh that his heart remain to be just as dark as it was in the past.

"Like I said, this technique works only in theory", Kabuto said slowly, his gaze moving between the two different eyes of the Uchiha in front of him, "The person that comes back may not... be the one they were before. It may also have consequences not only on them, but on everything and everyone around. Disturbing the natural flow of life like this-"

Sasuke clicked his tongue, his mouth twisting into a displeased frown.

"I didn't come to you to listen to half-hearted warnings and lectures on balance of nature", he snapped impatiently, "Do it or I will find someone else who will - and you know well enough what that means for you."

Almost as if to prove the seriousness behind his threat, the blade pressed itself against Kabuto's throat once again, before moving to the side, successfully cutting a fine line against all four knuckles of the his fingers that were still pressed against his first wound. The man let out a loud hiss, his hand jerking away instinctively.

"I will need time to prepare", he muttered, his jaw clenching in a weak attempt to try and keep his mind away from the stinging pain, "Two days at least."

Sasuke let out a small 'hm' sound, his brain processing the proposed timeline. Every ticking moment without you already felt like a whole eternity passing. Two days was too much, especially since it involved the risk of Kabuto deciding to share his demand with other people. Not that he didn't plan to deal with Konoha soon enough for what they did, but now, for the first time, there was another priority other than revenge - and that was you.

"You have one", he said with finality, before turning around and starting to walk away.

One day. Even for a man who was used to deal with challenging situations and impossible deadlines, this was hard to achieve. Kabuto watched the Uchiha's retreating figure, his chest and head both feeling heavy with the realisation of what he is about to do.

. . .

ii.

From a far, you looked peacefully asleep. The moonlight that managed to find its way into the room was reflecting through the glass that covered your body, pale highlights dancing across your face and chest. Your fingers were crossed on top of your chest and for a second, Kabuto could swear he could see it moving up and down, as if you were breathing.

He blinked once. Then twice. Yet the illusion did not repeat itself.

He made a few cautious steps toward the see-through casket in the centre on the small hall, his eyes narrowing as he got a better view of your body. Your flawless skin, your carefully combed hair, your neat kimono - Sasuke's determination to bring you back the way he remembered you was clear in every detail. Kabuto had no idea how the dark-haired male did it, or even from where he got such precise knowledge about body preservation, but the sight in front of him was a pure imitation of life.

Almost flawless.

"Is that your work?", he quietly asked, his voice ringing with notes of both admiration and wariness. He kept his distance, his eyes scanning every inch of visible skin, searching for any signs of mistakes in the Uchiha's method. There were none. No signs of decomposing, decay or any imperfections. Putting aside the fact that your skin looked paler than it should be, the sight in front of him was a perfect replica of you, completely untouched by time.

Faint footsteps sounded behind him and he turned his head only to see Sasuke approaching the casket from the other side. He didn't pay any attention to Kabuto, as his gaze was focused on you, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes traced every line of your peaceful expression, before his only hand lifted and placed itself on top of the cold glass, right above your face. His fingers twitched, slowly dragging themselves down, as if he was trying to reach out and cradle your cheek.

"It is", he finally responded, his voice unusually calm and almost... soft? Kabuto looked at him with unease, before he moved his attention back to you.

If he was scared of Sasuke yesterday when he had his blade pressed against his throat, he was both terrified and baffled now. It was no secret the Uchiha harboured deep feelings for you - he had met you right before the war and since then he always tried his best to keep you away from harm, even during the times he was one of the most wanted criminals by every Hidden Village. You had been his pillar of support and light through the darkest times of his lives - from his pursuit of revenge on his brother to the brutal realisation of all the lies he has been told through the years. Even during the war, his main motivation was not so much to prove himself as capable leader for Konoha, than keep you save.

Ironically, he actually succeeded. He managed to keep you sheltered from all the horrors and blood the ninja world had to offer. Shortly after he was pardoned, he brought you back to his home village, much to the surprise of all of his fellow shinobi. He never introduced you as officially 'his', but everyone knew you were holding a great significance for him. You were not only his save haven, you were everything - his home, his purpose, his future...

All till the day some Leaf ninjas took you away.

It was Sasuke's fault, really. He knew that the past could not be erased, yet he foolishly believed he may be given the chance to start anew. The wounds he had inflicted to both the village and the people there were wide open and despite the years and his actions during the war, they never truly healed. Beneath the surface of the reluctant acceptance he had received by all the villagers, there was mistrust that changed his whole life in just a few seconds.

He remembered the event quite vividly, despite his attempts to erase it from his mind. Every waking moment it haunted him like a nightmare, clutching its claws into his body and soul and refusing to let go...

You laughing in the kitchen, while he watched you with admiration from the kitchen table, his fingers nervously playing with the small ring box in his pocket.

The two shadows which crossed across the wall almost too fast for him to react.

Sounds of broken glass. Table and chairs thrown to the side.

The sound of his name leaving your lips before you threw yourself behind his body, a chocked out gasp leaving your lips once the sword meant for him pierced your chest.

The way his heart stopped inside his chest, his hand moving almost automatically as he brought the last remaining intruder down before he collapsed next to your body.

Your lifeless eyes, who continued to stare at him, a small tear escaping from one corner and landing in his trembling palm.

Kabuto watched as Sasuke shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. The Uchiha casted one last glance to you, before he clenched his jaw and stepped away from the casket. His steps were rushed and urgent, showing his desperation to pull away from the the memory of that day and his failure to keep you safe.

Silence filled the room and for a while the snake-like man could not hear anything but his own breathing. While not one famous for showing sympathy, there was the tiniest spark of pity inside his eyes as he watched the broken man before him. It was then he understood it didn't matter what he said or how much he warned him about the potential risks involved.

Sasuke Uchiha, the man who was always been swaying on the delicate edge between reasonableness and insanity, has officially lost himself to the latter.

All because of you.

"We need a sacrifice", Kabuto finally said, his body moving toward the small table in the corner, where he left his bag earlier, "A life for a life. You did an outstanding job with preserving their body, but again I cannot guarantee what the side effects may be-"

"You will have your sacrifice by the end of the night", Sasuke interrupted, his usual cold and collected composure back in place. Before the white-haired shinobi could say anything else, he was left alone with the chilling feeling of two cold eyes staring right at his back.

. . .

iii.

The first thing you felt was the cold.

Not just in the air around you - it was inside your skin, creeping its way through your veins. The feeling was if you were being chewed alive, yet once you tried to open your mouth, you found unable to move. Your limbs felt heavy, the muscles - unable to respond. Your mind was slowly crawling its way out of the dizziness, yet your body refused to respond.

Then, you heard it - the faint sound of something moving on top of you and then a muffled voice saying something. You tried to focus on it, forcing your senses to sharpen. The words started to sound clearer and clearer till eventually your brain grasped them.

"Open your eyes."

The words echoed around you, ringing inside your head as you tried your best to do as told. The coldness inside of you felt like a heavy anchor which kept pulling you down while you desperately tried to break through the surface. The voice kept repeating the same thing over and over, becoming louder and clearer.

Suddenly, almost as if a bolt of electricity ran through your spine, your body jolted, your chest raising high in the air as you gasped for air. Your lungs felt like they were on fire as they expanded, the painful sensation spreading through your chest as you chocked in the mix of a saliva and cold air.

Something warm pressed against your cheek and it took you a good minute to realise it was someone's hand. Your eyelids, despite still feeling like stones on your face, fluttered open only to be met with a piercing and blinding white light coming from somewhere above you. Everything felt so distant and muted, as if you were waking up from a dream that has lasted all eternity.

The hand on your face moved, its touch gentle as you felt it cupping your jaw. You blinked rapidly against the harsh brightness, the world around you slowly emerging out of blurriness as a face came into focus above you.

A man. Tall, with sharp features and straight black locks reaching his shoulders. Only one of his eyes was visible, black like onyx and staring at you intensively. He had a few days stubble covering his chin and cheeks, while dark bags decorated the area under his eyes.

Who the hell was that?

And why was he looking at you like that?

You tried to open your mouth, but no sound came out as all you could do is let out a quiet gasp. The man's expression shifted slightly, a spark of concern flashing though his tired face. His fingers moved down from your chin, across one of your arms, before taking your hand in his. The longer he remained touching you, the more panicked your attempts to breathe became.

"It's alright", he murmured softly, his dark brows furrowing as he watched you struggle beneath him, "Just focus on breathing. Everything is alright."

Everything, however, was not alright.

Sasuke watched you eyes flicking between him and your surroundings, the feeling of panic evident in the way your chest rose and fell erratically. He could feel your fingers tensing under his while you slowly started to get control of your limbs, achieving nothing more but a few stirs. The expression on your face, however, was what hurt the most - it was one of pure fear and terror, almost like the day they took you away from him.

"Shh, stay calm", he whispered, yet his words seemed to have the opposite effect as he noticed your weak attempt to squirm away. His jaw clenched as he watched you struggling to come back fully to your senses.

Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

Of course, Kabuto has warned him that there will be side effects. That you may be disorientated at first and have problem with moving on your own. He expected you not to remember certain things, like the day you were killed of even some minor events from your life. What he didn't predict, however, was the possibility that you may not remember anything, including him.

His hand withdrew from yours and he casted a fiery glare at Kabuto who was sitting in the corner of the room, rapidly writing something on a piece of paper.

"You said you could bring them FULLY back."

The white-haired ninja did not look up immediately, instead focusing in finishing the report he had started once he saw the first signs of life appearing. In any other event he would probably give more of his energy in addressing the Uchiha's rising anger, however now he felt like he was the one with an advantage. Sasuke may be one of the strongest shinobi alive, but he had nothing on Kabuto's knowledge and skills, especially when it came to the delicate science of reanimation. His experience as the best student of Orochimaru and the man who managed to perfect jutsus like Edu Tensei gave him a dangerous sense of confidence, even in the face of a heartbroken lover who was ready to do anything to bring their soulmate back.

"I did", Kabuto said at last, his voice unusually calm as he attached the pen to the top of the paper before putting it away, "I also told you there will be side effects and you need to be patient. Not that it has ever been your strong suit..."

Sasuke let out a small scoff, his lips curling in disdain as he got to his feet and starting walking toward the other man. The urge to trap him in a genjutsu and force him to experience every single horror he had ever inflicted on other people was growing like a wildfire inside of his chest. Perhaps it was even a fitting punishment for a monster like him, way more deserving to be trapped in a cycle of his own sins than allowed to live peacefully working in an orphanage.

The Uchiha stopped a mere foot from the desk, his fist clenching by his side in an attempt to stop himself for reaching out and doing something he may regret later.

"Fix it."

Kabuto lazily lifted his eyes, one if his eyebrows rising slightly above his glasses.

"Fix it?", he repeated unimpressed, "You speak as if I am a handyman fixing an object. This is a human we are speaking about--"

The words seemed to strike a cord and Sasuke's hand shot forward, slamming onto the desk right next to Kabuto's head. His breathing was sharp and uneven, his anger radiating from every fiber of his being.

"You don't get to act all high and mighty, Kabuto. We have been knowing each other a little too long and a little too well for you to pretend that you can actually consider a person as anything other than an experiment."

Kabuto froze, his eyes instinctively shifting toward you and meeting your gaze. From where you were laying, the scene looked almost like a distorted dream. You heard voices, yet you couldn't understand what were they saying. The fear continued to run inside your veins like a paralyzing venom, leaving you completely helpless in the company of these two unknown men.

The truth was that Kabuto did not care about Sasuke. In fact, given everything he has done, it served him more than right to lose you and rot in guilt and grief all his life. But Kabuto had to agree that he had a right - maybe he was not the best person to be giving him a lecture of the difference between an 'object' and a 'human'. After all, in his eyes they were all the same.

But not you.

You were special. Different. You were not just a mere experiment, far from it actually. You were the culmination of everything he had worked for, the result of years spend in studying, experimenting, theorizing and manipulating. You were the proof he achieved what every great scientist had longed for - a way to cheat death. Completely.

Of course, he wouldn't leave the job half done. Not when he was so close to perfecting his greatest achievement. In his mind, he couldn't even think of the last time he felt so excited and so... alive. Whatever reservations he had because of Sasuke or his recent pardon by Konoha were now forgotten. Instead, all he could see was you. Breathing, blinking, looking around. Your existence defied nature and he felt a strange satisfaction knowing he had achieved what everyone else, even Orochimaru, deemed impossible. It was all way too different from any type of reanimation he tried before.

"The connection between their body and soul is still fragile", Kabuto finally muttered, his golden eyes still locked with yours. Slowly, he stood up from his seat, moving around the dark-haired Uchiha as he approached you. His steps were quiet and measured, as if he was trying not to scare you even more. Tilting his head to the side, he found himself in a strange trance.

"It's a delicate balance, the one of life and death. It can easily tip, especially when one lack patience and appreciation of this beautiful process. I told you this is not just attaching a soul to a vessel, it's about understanding and repairing the bond that connects them. It's about creating a..."

He knelt beside you, his face just centimeters from yours. Edu Tensei has always given these void and empty black eyes to the subjects it revived, an ugly imperfection that reminded that they were not truly alive. But yours... They were just like they were supposed to be when you were alive. Despite being unfocused, there was a spark of life in them.

"... miracle."

As Kabuto finished his sentence he reached out to touch your face, before his wrist was harshly grabbed by Sasuke.

"Don't touch them!"

The air in the room seemed to suddenly grow tenser as you watched the two men hovering above you. Any trace of softness that Kabuto's expression held till now disappeared as he furrowed his brows, his snake-like gaze turning toward Sasuke.

"I fear your demand may be unreasonable, Uchiha. I can't help them, if I am- "

"Your job is to figure out a way to fix your failure and finish the job I asked you to do", Sasuke interrupted impatiently, his grip tightening, "You can do that from your desk."

Kabuto tilted his head, his jaw clenching as he held his ground in the little staring contest he found himself in. After a minute, he roughly pulled his hand, before taking a step back.

"Very well then."

Without another word, he returned to his desk and started to gather the scattered tools he had left in a disarray earlier. He could feel two pairs of eyes burning at the back of his neck, but he refused to acknowledge any of them.

'Such a strong body, yet such a foolish mind', he thought as he put everything in one corner and then simply turned around toward the door. Once again, Sasuke has proved himself incapable of understanding, let alone appreciating, the power of science and what one can achieve with it. Instead he remained a big strong brute, driven by impulse and incapable to open his mind to all the wonders in his world.

As he stepped out of the room, Kabuto glanced back one last time over his shoulder, his golden eyes focusing on yours. He gave you a small smile, almost a friendly one, before shutting the door behind him.

. . .

iv.

The following weeks were like an eternal nightmare, from which neither of you could wake up.

Every day blended into the next, leaving nothing behind by growing frustration and thinning remains of patience. Time felt frozen in this place, as if all three of you were trapped in a constant loop.

For you, the world was a blur - everything was new, yet somewhat familiar. Even the small things, such as walking or playing with your hands, felt foreign and out of place. It was almost like you got into a foreign body and you were left with no choice but to learn how to work with it. It took a full week for you to gain full control over your body, but when you did, it still felt like an insignificant progress.

And what if you could walk, run and do everything you were doing before when your mind remained a dark fog with no clear direction or sense of self? Fractured images kept flashing before your eyes every now and again, leaving you more and more confused. Some felt like memories - stuff that actually has happened once upon a time - but some felt like nothing more than a dream your brain has created in attempt to escape the boringness.

On the other hand, Sasuke was always around. He slept in one room with you, he took you out so you can breathe some fresh air during the day, he brought you food, books and random trinkets to entertain yourself. He rarely kept his distance, and even when he was, you could feel his watchful gaze on the back of your head.

At first, he terrified you. His energy was dark, even sinister in a way. Yet you couldn't help but feel a strange feeling of a familiarity. Sometimes, when you thought he was not looking, you glanced at his profile, studying his face and trying to put the puzzle pieces together of who is he to you. He was a cold man, rarely talking or even responding when you asked him questions, yet he always hovered protectively over you.

And then there was Kabuto. A total opposite of Sasuke.

He was nice - always gently smiling at you, asking if you are okay. There was always a strange softness in his eyes, one that you wouldn't expect from a man with snake-like features like himself. Sometimes he would catch you by yourself and he would make the time to sit down and chat. Most of the time it was about mundane things - the weather, random interesting facts and when he was in a good mood, stories from his past. It took a while for you to be able to reply given your throat burned like an inferno every time you tried to produce any sound during the first week, but slowly you started to respond. At first it was by short words such as "yes", "no" and "do/don't", but soon you started to form full sentences till you relaxed enough to even laugh at some of his silly jokes.

Yet, despite his gentleness and understanding, your inner instinct was screaming at you to be careful. You couldn't tell exactly what, but something with him was ... off. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on you too long for your liking or the way his smiling mask quickly shifted into something more sinister when he thought you were not paying attention, but something was making your skin crawl every time he was near you and Sasuke was not.

"What is the relationship between you and Kabuto? Are you... friends?", you asked one night, breaking the peaceful silence that had settle between you and Sasuke. He was sitting on the opposite chair of you, calmly reading a scroll while your attention was focused on the playful dance of the flames in the fireplace.

Sasuke didn't look up immediately, instead using the extra minute to gather his thoughts before he lifted his eyes toward you. His expression remained blank, as it always was around you, but you could see the slightest tension of his shoulder muscles.

"Allies", the answer felt somewhat dishonest as he remained staring at you, "For now."

Picking the strands of the soft rug under your fingers, you searched his face, expecting him to provide a further explanation. Like always, such explanation never came. Instead, his focus returned to the scroll in his hands, his eyes dancing across the piece of paper as he pretended to be very invested in what was written in it.

"But you don't trust him, do you?"

The man snorted at your assumption and you immediately took it as confirmation of what you have suspected. The two have never outright fought in front of you, but there was always a certain tension in the room when both of them were in it. Sasuke always seemed to move closer to you when Kabuto was nearby, his lonely hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to react at any given moment.

"Trustworthiness and usefulness usually do not go hand in hand", he said finally, his eyes boring into yours as he started to carefully roll the scroll. You kept your gaze locked with his, unsure what he meant by his answer. It was clear that the the 'usefulness' was somehow connected to you but you still couldn't make a real sense of it. No matter how many times you asked either Sasuke or Kabuto why were you being kept here and why you were subject to so many tests and 'treatments', you were always met with the same answer : "Don't worry about it, it will all come back to you."

"What happens when he is no longer useful?", you asked as you watched him get up from his chair and walk over to the small bed in the corner of the room. While his constant presence around you bothered you at first, you appreciated that he kept some form of distance unlike Kabuto who often was too close to you for your comfort.

For a moment, you thought Sasuke would ignore your question entirely as he just started arranging his blankets and pillow, not showing any interest toward your questioning.

"Then he will be dealt with."

Deep inside you knew that his words should make you feel uncomfortable, worried even. Kabuto has always been kind to you, and it sometimes even felt like he cared for you, in his own strange way. If it wasn't for him, you may still be laying on that cold metal table you woke up on, unable to move or speak.

Yet you couldn't ignore the feeling deep inside your gut that there was a reason for Sasuke's warning. You felt guilty questioning the white-haired male's intentions, but you couldn't shake the feeling he was looking at you as an object opposed to a human. He has been very open to you - he had told you up quite a lot about his own past, including his experiments with people - but instead of appreciating his honesty, you found yourself fearing him. Perhaps this is why you found yourself trying to stay attached to Sasuke's side more often.

Or maybe it was because of these damn flashing images that keep popping in your mind.

Recently they have been coming more and more often. Sometimes they came and went so quickly, it was impossible to catch them. Other times, the lingered, dragging you into a world of unfamiliar faces, places and events. Every time you tried to make sense of them, put them in some kind of order in your mind, they kept blending, creating an even thicker fog of confusion in your head.

You never told Sasuke or Kabuto about it. With so much conflicting emotions and hidden motives, it was hard to tell which one you could trust and which one you could not. One thing you knew for sure - none of the two men were entirely honest. Sasuke, with his cold and collected behaviour, was surely knowing way more than he was letting on about who you were and how did you end up in this labyrinth of broken memories and sense of self. The kind gestures of Kabuto, on the other hand, felt almost disturbing as his eyes followed you like a pray around the hideout.

You were trapped in a rabbit hole of questions, falling deeper and deeper every time a new face or place popped in your mind. The only certainty you had that in this place you had only person you could trust - you. And you had to do everything in your power to get yourself out.

. . .

v.

One moment you were gazing at an old photograph, your brows crunched in confusion, the next one you were on your knees, your hand muffling the loud sobs that threatened to leave your lips.

The image you held in your hands was not one you've seen for the first time. In fact, you have seen it countless of times during your stay here. You have found it accidentally under Sasuke's pillow one day when you were cleaning around the room and while you never asked him about it, you periodically reached out for it, studying it. You were in the middle of it - lips stretched in a wide grin and eyes closed, while a small key was dangling from your pointing finger. Right behind you was Sasuke - his hair just a little bit shorter than now, showing his mismatching eyes who looked directly down at you. His lips were curved into a soft smile, while hand gripped the side of your stomach.

You had reached the conclusion that you and Sasuke were in some form of relationship a long time ago. Were you simply lovers or something more serious? Were you married? Did you had kids? You didn't know, but you were sure the little glances that he threw your way now and the way he was constantly hovering over you was not things a casual boyfriend would do. So it wasn't the image of you two that triggered this intense reaction in you.

It was the window behind you in the photograph.

The small wooden kitchen window, to which you have not paid any mind till now, but now you couldn't look away from it. The same window you were facing while you were putting away the dishes the day you...

died.

Your knees buckled after you as suddenly you were hit with ton of forgotten memories. One after the other, they kept filling your brain with a rapid speed, making you grip your head with both hands in attempt to stop it all.

Inaho Village. Your parents and brother. Bloodshed.

Growing up with your grandma. Healing lessons. Fire.

Sasuke. Sneaking around before the war.

Moving in together after the war. Konoha.

Death.

.

You were supposed to be dead.

The sudden realisation made your head spin and you fell on your bottom, your eyes filling with tears. The memories kept coming, your tears kept flowing and you could swear time froze.

For how long have you been sitting on this cold, bare floor? It may be a minute, it may be an hour. Or even two.

The sound of a door opening caught your attention and you lifted red, puffy eyes only to meet the shocked ones of your lover.

"Sasuke, what have you done?"

cc artwork: Leo Pold

[iwishthebestforyou]

OUT OF TOUCH — 🥀

fic inspired by the song out of touch

content: angst, knew they had didn't have enough time so didn't confess x thought they had enough time so didn't confess,

scara x reader

maybe ooc

cw: Death, loss

chrysanthemum 💐

—

Entering the hospital room of his childhood bestfriend, the room smelled faintly like antiseptic, it wasn't the empty room or the odd decorations on the wall that got his attention first— no. It was the flowers that were in full bloom sitting on the windowsill, soft petals bathing in the sun that almost seemed too bright.

It was so like you to carry flowers around. For some odd reason, you have a very big interest into flowers, flower language- everything of that sort, carried them in notebooks, bags, in your hands, everything flower related was always nearby, he always found it odd and never really asked other than some teasing comments, but now, at this situation he wished he did.

The memories that always seemed so little value suddenly seemed to be worth alot, the times where'd you would tell him about flower language, bringing him bouquets- even pressured him to take care of his own flower that only bloomed since you were always reminding him to take care of it

Scara stood in the doorway, just staring into the room, his fists clenched by his side's, eyes focused on the patient who was just resting there, you've gotten smaller, paler and those bright eyes were closed. The white around him was starting to irritate him, white walls, white everything. White always suited you, just not in this setting.

It wasn't supposed to be this bad. He knew that illness of yours has been there since the start but- you've always lived with it, you've always brushed it off, so why now? Why now are you failing against it? You've always been so strong.

He swallowed hard as he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in, speaking the first few words even after standing there for what felt like an eternity. " ...I'm here. " His voice cracked saying it, there wasn't any mockery, sarcasm or anything laced in his words like it usually would have.

Your eyes opened almost immediately hearing his voice, their lips curving into a faint smile, a happy but a tired smile. " Your.. your here. " They whispered, voice filled with something he couldn't decipher.

Scaramouches gaze flickered back to the flowers on the windowsill, still blooming despite the situation. You must be magical, since how are those flowers still alive? The rest of the hospitals flowers have either died or been replaced by plastic. Yours is the only one alive. He forced a nod and stepped inside " Yeah.. " he murmured, his throat starting to feel clogged. " I came, y/n.. "

Scaramouche sat down on the chair beside the bed, his hands trembling as he continued looking at the flowers, they were vibrant, so full of life just bathing in the sunlight. It felt cruel. Like those flowers were mocking him, mocking you. You were once as bright as those flowers too, always shining and full of life, but now your barely even holding onto that life. he looks at your weaker form and his heart clenches, the contrast was too much for him to bare.

" ...You didn't have to.. don't you have practice today? For that concert. " You whispered, voice soft and strained. Despite your condition, your voice was still filled with that familiar warmth. "And I know how much you hate hospitals."

He gave a bitter laugh, though it just came out like a broken exhale " Yeah? Well, you didn't really give me any other choice. " He replied, trying to sound lighthearted or atleast bring back that usual sarcasm in his voice. But his voice crack at the end betrayed him.

You chuckled softly, the chuckle quickly turning into a cough. Both sound and sight made him flinch, but you still smiled at him, smiled at him despite of how much pain you were in, trying to reassure him it was okay, you were fine. But that smile only worsened his anxieties. You weren't okay, they both knew that.

You were the only one who looked at him without any anger, someone who looked at his heart and not just his mean, hardened exterior. He never got to say it, but you mattered alot to him. Maybe even the only person that was close to him.

Growing up, there wasn't much he could claim as his, not his family, not the sense of belonging, not friendships. Everything was fleeting— be there for a second and leave, that was everything and everyone around him. But you? Your friendship? Was the only thing he could call his own, the one thing he had for himself

And now that too, something he thought would last an eternity was slipping away, just like everything around him always did. He never really was lucky huh?

" But to be honest, I'm glad you came .. I was waiting for you, you know? " You said softly, gaze at the ceilng " I thought you wouldn't, but I understand. You hate goodbyes. "

His chest tightened, guilt clawing at him but also a surge of anger " Don't say that. " He muttered, cutting her off before she could continue. " This isn't goodbye. "

You gave a him a look, a look that broke him more then he already was, a look of bittersweet acceptance and it made this stomach churn. " Scara.. " you said, voice barely above a whisper " You know it is. We both know. "

His chest tightened even more and he felt like he was losing his a ability to properly breathe, hands clenched tightly digging into his palms as he struggled to keep himself to calm. " Stop it. " He said harshly, his voice trembling. " You don't get to decide that, your going to beat that fucking illness,  you always have. "

You didn't reply immediately, your gaze softening even more as you looked at him again. " The flowers are blooming. " you said, catching him off guard.

He blinked, confused by the sudden change in topic. " What? "

" You know, the chrysanthemum.. " you continued, eyes turning to the flowers that sat so prettily on your windowsill. " They mean goodbye in flower language. "

His breath hitched and for a moment, he couldn't speak. The weight of your words suffocating him, the hopeless tone in your voice.

" They're beautiful, aren't they? " You whispered " I always wanted to leave something beautiful behind, even if they're just flowers. "

" Stop, " he said again, voice cracking " Just shut up.. stop talking like that.. stop talking like your leaving. Your going to stay, then- then we're going to go back to how things were. I'll even let you make fun of me, okay? "

You laughed sweetly, the sound bittersweet. " It's okay scara, really, I've made my peace. "

But he hasnt. And he wasn't really to let go, not yet. Not ever.

" Don't say that.. " he didn't even realise the years that started to form. He didn't cry. But, how could he not at the situation? His voice breaking with every word. " Don't.. Please don't say that. "

You reached out weakly, your hand brushing against his. Your touch was so gentle, so light. It shattered something inside him. He'd rather how you were before, hitting him and throwing things at him then whatever this is. " It's okay. " You murmured you words barely audible with the soft hum of the machines surrounding you. " I'm getting tired.. I hope you don't mind if I go to sleep. "

He nods and you smile, your eyes closed, breathing steady but faint. He sat frozen, eyes locked onto your peaceful face.

He didn't move. He didn't speak. The silence in the room grew heavier, pressing down on him like a heavy weight.

A trembling breath escaped his lips and he lowered his head, starting to breath heavily as his vision blurred, he couldn't properly breath anymore, hands covering his face, shoulders starting to shake and silent tears streamed down his cheeks, quiet sobs as tears soaked his hands. He didn't make a sound, didn't dare disturb that peace of yours.

It was the first time in years he left himself cry, and it hurt more than he thought it would. It felt so unfair. Everything felt so unfair, he only had this one thing and even that's been being taken away.

The blooming flowers on the windowsill blurred through his tears, their vibrant colours with your pale face gave a cruel reminder to him of what he was going to lose.

For now, you were still here. Still breathing but he couldn't stop the overwhelming dread gnawing at him, knowing this peace won't last forever.

So he let himself break as you slept, completely unaware that the stoic, rude and usually sarcastic bestfriend of yours was breaking right beside you.

A few days pass by, and tonight felt oddly colder. Harsher and even more darker, a few people inside the room silently sobbing as the day finally came, the day he dreaded so much. Scaramouche remained seated beside you, his gaze fixed on you, as if silently begging for you to just magically get up and laugh at him, to tease him for being so emotional. But your breathing was growing fainter by the second.

He didn't dare move, he couldn't even think properly.

" Scara..? " Your voice, softer than before, weaker than ever and more fragile.

He leaned closer, his chest tightening " I'm here.. " he whispered, his voice hoarse

Your eyes fluttered open briefly, the corners of your lips curving into a soft faint smile. " Are the flowers still blooming? "

His breath hitched. Of course, it's about the flowers again. His chest ached at that question and he nodded, his eyes betraying the composure he was trying to hold. " They're alive, blooming like how you wanted it to. "

You exhaled a shaky breath, smiling at that. Seeming to finally fully come into terms on whats gonna happen. " That's good, i'm glad.. "

Scaramouche clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to atleast stay strong for you. Atleast not let you pass seeing a frown on his face.

The heart rate monitor was beeping slower and slower, the nurses put their head down.

Please. Please. Don't take them away. He dosent believe in miracles, but please- if that's what it takes to bring you back to your old self then please.

Please don't do this to him. Please.

He was spiralling, tears starting to form as you broke the silence with a whisper, so faintly that it was barely audible.

" Take.. take care of the flowers. I'll see you.. someday "

Beep.

Beep.

Nothing.

Your eyes were shut, and this time they didn't open at the sound of people talking or his voice. They just stayed shut, the sound of the monitor flat lining pierced through the air as choked sobs from friends and family came from behind him, his own tears and sobs filling his senses, nurses and doctors looking down.

" No, " he whispered, his voice breaking and his heart torn into pieces, there was so much he had to say, there was so much time he thought they had- so he didnt say anything, he didn't wanna believe that the time was slipping from his fingers.

He reached for your hand, gripping it slightly but it didn't have that warmth anymore, it was cold. Too cold. His body trembled as the realisation hit him like a tidal wave. You were gone.

More nurses entered the room, voices quiet and respectful, muttering apologies and condolences, but he barely registered their presence, feeling numb and his eyes focused on you.

Cruel.

Your too cruel.

A few weeks later, he was helping your family take your belongings from the hospital room. It was too cold, emptier. He stood by the windowsill, just looking around on the tiny pieces of you that you left behind.

His eyes took notice of the chrysanthemum, his fingers brushing against them, the flowers you cared so dearly for, the flowers that were wilted, petals lifeless.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, the sound harsh and hollow. " The flowers.. they're wilted. " He muttered, his voice breaking. He broke the promise you left him with, but then again, he was never good at the keeping promises thing.

His chest ached as he picked up the pot, looking at it, holding it so fragile like it was an extension of you. He couldn't cry, no, you wouldn't want him to cry. But his vision blurred and the tears started rolling down anyway.

You were gone, and yet, despite it all he could feel you, your smell, your interests still scattered all over the room. The memories that clung to every corner in his mind, he still had so much to tell you, still so much to do, still so much to talk about, so much things he couldn't say.

He set the pot down carefully, brushing a hand on the dead petals " You said youd leave something beautiful behind, " he whispered. " But what am I supposed to do now when your not here to remind me to take care of it? "

The words echoed in the empty room, the weight of your absence pressing down on him.

And for the first time in his life, scaramouche wish he believed in miracles. Because if he did, maybe he could've atleast had that hope that he'd maybe see you again, even if you were just a flower.

But alas, just like that flower has wilted, you did too. But maybe that beauty you wanted to leave behind wasn't the flower, but the memory of you.

I'm sorry if it's just yap, I was just bored and spilled my feelings in hehe it feels a bit self indulgent

[liquidcatt]

your boyfriend writes a letter to come to terms with your death

cw: angst, maybe ooc, slight comfort, mention of car accident, grieving process, no happy ending, implied s*icide, lots of tears are shed

My dear Y/N,

It's been a few years since your passing. I struggled to write this so I apologize if it sounds like I’m rambling. I want to get this off my chest right now before I regret not doing it later. 

Before I met you, I was not a fan of Christmas. Like, at all. It brought back memories from my childhood. Memories that reminded me of a different time before life showed its ugly face. Memories that I use to look back on with contempt and melancholy. Memories that honestly I would wish to forget. Memories that basically made me not want anything to do with it at all.

I remember it like it was yesterday: I got invited to an early Christmas party by one of my friends and I saw you being dragged through the crowd by your sister, wanting to introduce me to you. I was aloof with you at first as you weren’t too into the holiday spirit either to even have a casual chat with me. But as we talked, however, I felt myself being drawn to you. Like someone was telling me that you were one. And they were right. Some say it was a slow burn romance in the making, but screw it, I didn’t care. Seeing your face turn bright red when I asked for your number before you left so we could keep contact was the highlight of the night. Honestly it felt like I was in high school all over again; asking the cute girl next to me in class if she wanted to go out with me. I don’t regret that night and I’m glad you didn’t too. 

Every Christmas with you was so different, I was so happy to share it with you. We’d watch all those cheesy Christmas movies and sometimes do little commentaries on how stupid they were. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” was always blasting on the radio as we drove home from dinner. On certain nights, I’d get into my winter clothes excitedly so we could go outside to see the snowflakes fall from the sky, feeling their wet kisses land on my cheeks. Your family was so fun to be around. Your parents were a little old-fasioned, but I was happy they welcomed me with open arms. I even got to meet some of your young cousins; they were so adorable, I hoped that we would've started a family as well. I will always cherish those memories of you. The memories that made me remember my childhood and how much I took them for granted. I wish I could tell myself that things would get better and that I would find my soulmate. 

But as they say, life showed its ugly face yet again, only this time it took you away from me forever. Your mother woke me up one day, screaming on the phone and told me that you had gotten into a car accident. I can still hear the sound of her crying echo in my mind. I hate it so much. It was raining heavily and they said your car had slipped off the road and crashed into a nearby tree. You died on impact. Seeing your body in the coffin was like something out of a nightmare. It had to be right? My mind kept screaming that you were just asleep and that this wasn’t real. But it was. You were dead. I wanted to console your parents, but I held my tongue and stayed silent. After that, things were never the same.

To ease the pain, I watched all the movies that we use to snuggle together. I’m listening to your favorite Christmas songs over and over again, singing my heart out like you did. The ugly sweater you gave me one year to match yours is still hidden away somewhere in my closet. I have no desire to wear it unfortunately. My friends try their best to cheer me up during this time, like visiting the places you used to frequent and eating at your favorite restaurants. They’d also check up on me to make sure that I don’t do anything stupid. Yeah right. Like I would ever. I’m too much of a coward to even try. I’d visit your family once in a while to chat with them. Your parents told me that I was always welcome in their home, but it does little to heal the gaping wound in my heart. They let me have some of your belongings as they didn’t have the heart to get rid of them. The grief of losing you took a toll and I can see it on their faces. You and your mother look so alike, it was almost like talking to you again. The wrinkles on her face get worse and worse every day. I swear she looks like she had been crying for a long time and I can’t blame her. Your dad is a hard-working man. He worked a lot to make sure you got everything you wanted. And your sister, I never got to thank her for introducing me to you. She has no idea how much I would’ve loved to get married. The more I see them, the more guilt I feel festering in my throat. I feel like I let them down; I felt like I let you down. 

But that’s not what I’m writing this letter though. No, I’m writing this letter to tell you that these past few years were some of the best and I wish that I had more time to spend them with you. The truth is Y/N, you made me love Christmas again. And I miss it so much. I miss you. I miss being excited to see the presents nestled under the tree waiting to be opened. I miss the ornaments on the tree you would decorate as they swayed slightly like they were waving. I miss holding your hand as we walk the streets at dusk admiring the Christmas lights hanging on the houses and shops. I miss making cookies with you even if they didn’t always turn out perfect. I miss falling asleep next to you on the couch as we struggled to stay awake to see Santa. As long as I was with you, everything was okay. You were what Christmas was always about: being with the people you love.

What’s even the point of celebrating it anymore? I know that you would tell me that you wouldn't have wanted this. You’d hold me in your arms cupping my face to wipe away the tears, saying you wouldn't want me to be sad. No way in hell that would you have let me stay cooped up in my room either, shut away from the world. You’d tell me to be happy and remember you in a positive light. You’d want me to celebrate Christmas with everyone who loves and cares about him. But you aren’t here to tell me any of that. You're gone. And I have to accept that.

As I’m writing this, it’s only a few more hours until Christmas. This year has gone by so fast. I bought a small, white cake at the last minute at some store nearby that's open till midnight. It was the cheapest one I could afford as I’m short on cash right now. It’s plain, but simple, just how you would’ve liked it. You didn’t care if anything I bought was expensive or not. 

I still live in the apartment we shared together. This ‘home’ that was once full of radiance and mirth for a time is now replaced with a dark, melancholy ambience. It’s so different without you. I have trouble sleeping because I instinctively turn and expect to see you laying next to me. The other side of the bed is cold, I miss looking at your peaceful face while you slept. I took a picture of the cake and sent it to your family and some of my friends. They all loved it and I’m sure you would’ve too. 

There’s so much more I want to say, but this is all I'm able to get out. If you're looking down from heaven right now, always know that I’ll always keep a piece of you in my heart until my dying day. I love you and that feeling will never change. Merry Christmas Y/N. 

Love you always, Your boyfriend

Kageyama, Tendou, Tsukishima, Akaashi, Suna, Kuroo, Ushijima (+ your fav)

a/n: One of my managers at work had a daughter who died that loved Christmas and it was never the same for her :’(

[kolyubov]

Say your French goodbye

✧ pairing. pm!dazai x gn!reader

✧ word count. 1k

✧ contents. angst? petnames (sweets, darling), ooc pm!dazai.

✧ author's note. hai :3 this may be written kinda weird because i'm experimenting with my writing !! hopefully it's still enjoyable <3

Dazai wishes to enjoy this moment; you lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around your form, breathing slowly against his chest, your eyelashes resting against your soft cheeks, your lips parted just slightly— he's holding back from just grabbing your face and pampering you with kisses, aching to feel that softness against his lips.

But he can't. He can't even let himself enjoy your presence, trying to warm his whole being; his soul.

It's wrong.

He knows he shouldn't be this attached to someone.

When he lets his guard down, allowing himself to enjoy the company of another human, life takes them away from his path one way or another.

It's always been like that.

—

Your couch feels much more comfortable than his bed, naturally, and your apartment seems too colorful for his eyes in comparison to the cold steel walls of the container where he “lives”.

He wonders what you'll think if you ever find out about his questionable lifestyle.

“Osamu…”

Dazai's attention is almost immediately back to you, watching as you snuggle and rub your cheek against his chest with your eyes still closed. The way his name sounds coming from your lips has his heart skipping a beat… He’s ashamed you’ll feel how pathetically it beats for the sound of your voice alone.

“Something's wrong?” He whispered, not wanting to break the small moment of peace for you. His fingers slowly ran through your hair, twirling it a little at the ends. “Ready to go to bed, darl’?”

His uncovered eye was hard on you, carefully analyzing your body language for any indication that you felt uncomfortable.

“You're pretty silent… Is something wrong?” You ask, and Dazai doesn't answer your question, only letting his head fall back against one of your couch's pillows; his lips part for a moment, and just as he is about to speak, he closes them again.

All of this is wrong…

He knows someday you'll be ripped off his life, he can't avoid that fate that awaits him, but Dazai is more afraid of you ending up hurt because of his fault. Considering his position as an executive of the Port Mafia, many could use you in order to threaten him.

For your own good, he should let you live a quiet life.

Dazai places his hands on your waist, firmly pushing you off him to lie on his side instead, “Sweets, it's kinda late. Why don't you go to sleep, yeah?”

When he briefly glanced at your expression, you were facing him with a pout on those lips that he couldn't take his eyes away from.

“Why don't you stay? You can sleep here, on the couch, or if you're comfortable enough, maybe in my bed!” There was no hidden meaning behind those words, you really wished for him to take a rest for once, “We can even have a slumber party!”

“Ehhh… I don't have any pajamas and sleeping in a suit is…” He trails off as your hand reaches out for his arm, but he’s already pulling away and sitting on the edge of the couch, not facing you.

“I'll lend you my clothes! I have some oversized pieces that could fit you.”

Dazai rolled his eyes, amused by your attempts to make him stay. He didn’t want to keep inventing more excuses in order to avoid staying, but knowing how stubborn you were, being honest won't work either— If anything, it'll be much harder for him to leave that way.

When he was just about to get up, ready to leave and maybe disappear forever before fucking up your life, your arms wrapped around his waist from behind, trapping him with you.

“Please, stay…” You murmur against his back. The softness of your plea has him biting his lower lip anxiously as a storm builds up inside his head. He is a heartless mafia executive, so why's it so easy for you to grip his frozen heart and melt his resistance away?

Dazai's hands rest above yours, kindly trying to push them away, but your grip was strong— He wouldn't want to use too much force accidentally. The last thing he wishes to do is hurt you.

“Darling, I'm busy. You know how the mafia works. Can you take those cute hands away and let me go?” Seeing no answer from you, he gave your hands a few pats, “C'mon, or do you want Chuuya to punch my face for being late again?”

With that, he felt your grip soften, leaving him the opportunity to stand up from your couch. When he turns around to face you, a small chuckle escapes him at the sight of your defeated pout.

“Will you come tomorrow too…?”

Dazai purses his lips and looks away. Conflicted.

Both his mind and heart were arguing whether to stay and appreciate these moments with you before everything comes to an end or be selfish, spend more time with you, and put your life in danger for being in a relationship with a mafioso.

His presence is nothing but an inconvenience.

Maybe he wasn't meant to love, maybe he was never meant to care for another human being, at least in the way you cared so sweetly for him. He doesn't get along with most people after all.

“…Sure.” He replies, his voice soft as a hand reaches for your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin for a few seconds, enjoying the lasting moments.

Before he could leave, you pull him for a hug that leaves him stunned. Everything stops; his breathing, his heart, his mind— All because of your sudden display of affection. A hug was something he wasn't used to. It took him a while until his arms wrapped around your body, letting you melt against him.

No words were coming from any of you, just calm breathing and small caresses over each other's back in your dimly lit living room. The embrace lasted for a few minutes until you pulled away. Your eyes meet his, trying to see through him, wishing you could just tell him everything your heart yearns for.

“Take care, Osamu…”

Dazai gave you one last small smile, squeezing your hand in his hand before walking away, opening the door of your apartment, not glancing back, as he disappeared in the dark.

Maybe, one day, he'll figure out how to make his life less miserable; someday, he could let himself enjoy your presence without fearing the consequences of his existence.

Maybe one day he'll change.

© 2024 kolyubov — Do not copy, repost, or recommend my works on other platforms. reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

[gay-dorito-dust]

syzoth fluff hcs ? 😩😩 i love himmm

This is so ooc for him but fuck it. 🦦

Imagine if you will, you’ve been noticing that Syzoth was having trouble sleeping due to either his cold blooded nature and or nightmares that forced him to relive the trauma he’s suffered through. You’re heart broke for him and being the kindhearted and patient person that you were, you offered up the suggestion of being his personal heater but completely understood if this was too uncomfortable for him to do as of right now.

Syzoth, never use to such treatment from anyone -never less his own kind- decided one night, when everything was starting to take a toll on him, to take you up on your generous offer but he was so stiff and awkward in going about it that when he does get to your room. He either ends up dozing off across from you out of respect for your personal space or just straight up watches over you the entire night due to his unwillingness to wake you up from your slumber.

He’s such a sweetheart.

You’d wake up to see him slump over, fast asleep and you couldn’t help but smile at image of him standing/ sitting awkwardly in your room throughout the night as you would then scoot closer to him and drape your cover over him, immediately waking him up, making you freeze in place but upon realising that he wasn’t in any danger, Syzoth would close his eye again and instinctively cuddle up to you, basking on your warmth.

This soon becomes routine for the both of you as there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t cuddle up to one another with Syzoth leeched off of your bodily warmth by burying his head into the checks of your neck as he clings onto you like a lifeline, whilst you had finally felt that Syzoth had grown comfortable enough for you to rest your hand upon his back in order to keep him close. It melts your heart that whenever you go to pull yourself away, Syzoth immediately pulls you back down and practically caged you with his arms and legs as to keep you tethered to him because your warm and he doesn’t wanna let that go.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up one day to him cuddling against you in his reptilian form. Give his snoot a lil kiss for me while your at it will you?

Upon hearing Johnny making Syzoth laugh one time, you’ve deemed then and there that he had to have the prettiest laugh that you’ve ever heard in your life. So much so that you try your damn hardest to make him let out a little chuckle or wholehearted laugh. All in order to hear the most prettiest sound to ever grace your ears.

Syzoth would be made aware of what you were doing after the first couple of tries by Johnny who was watching the whole thing from afar, finding your attempts humorous and the confused puppy dog look on Syzoth’s face even more humorous.

‘They’re trying to make you laugh dude.’ - johnny

‘Why? Why would they want to hear me laugh?’ -Syzoth

‘They think your laugh is cute.’ - johnny.

‘They find my laugh cute?’ - Syzoth, absentmindedly smiling at the thought.

‘They aren’t exactly subtle about it for starters.’ -Johnny, seeing you rummage through a beat up joke book, muttering ‘that’s jokes shit.’ Or ‘hehe, that’s a good one’ under your breath as you make a list of jokes to use for later.

So now whenever you try to syzoth laugh, he does so but not because the jokes are remotely funny, well some of them are with their straightforwardness but others go over his head, he’s laughing and smiling because of hard you’re trying to make him laugh and smile to the point the determined look on your face is enough wrangle a chuckle out of him. Syzoth thinks it’s very sweet that you adore his laughter, but finds you even sweeter when you do manage to make him laugh and he gets to see how your face just lights up from it in victory.

I genuinely don’t think that anyone has thought his laugh as amazing as you do, so needless to say you’re genuine comments towards him make his fucking day worthwhile. So he tries to reciprocate that kindness by adamantly sticking by your side and protect you from any and all danger, despite knowing that you could protect yourself but hey we all want to be protected by someone so we don’t always have to have our guard up 24/7. Which is exactly what you and Syzoth are to one another.

Johnny once teasingly called you both the others ‘emotional support buddy’ and it kinda just stuck from then on given how much time you spent together.

Will Syzoth use his power of invisibility to mess with you? The answer is always an defiant yes. He’s a secret menace. You can forget playing hide and seek - a game of which Syzoth knows next to nothing about- with this little cheat. For he wins by default because of his ability. Which you’d then have to explain to him how it goes against the rules because not everyone can do that and even if they did, it would only make the game unplayable. So a new rule would have to be implemented that Syzoth was prohibited from using invisibility to win.

It doesn’t matter whether your easily scared or not at all, Syzoth with use his invisibility to get ahead of you from time to time. So I wouldn’t put it past him to use his invisibility to sneak in some kisses upon your forehead, nose, cheeks and if he’s feeling particularly mischievous that day; you’re lips.

You could be looking for the bastard and he’s following behind you invisible, trying his hardest not to laugh whenever you look over your shoulder, not knowing your looking directly at him before looking forward, calling out his name once again. God forbid he ever steps on a creaky floorboard as it was a 50/50 toss up for him, it could either make you shit yourself or give you a hint as to where he is while you’re actively looking for him. However Syzoth trusts his ability enough to not make that vital mistake.

Will he use it to surprise you with back hugs? This goes without question but yes he absolutely would.

I think I’ve gone on long enough so I’ll end this here.