#my pain feels irreversible

[d4hlia]

to be sad is to be darkly beautiful, and that sad dark beauty looks like pain and storminess and gloom and grey and blue and suffering. and that sad dark beauty sounds like whispers and broken voices and white lies and regret and hurt. and it feels like things will never be okay again.

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Very happy I'm going back to therapy next week

[pepprs]

so deeply in hell

[feferipeixes]

vent

[burinazar]

wondering how many more people in my circles i've accumulated enough Recommending-Things-To Credit to throw the hole show at them because i am dying for more sickos to show my things to

that 'write for an audience of thirty sickos' tweet is like aspirational to me because if i had that many (especially if a couple were like, Concrit-giving Sickos) i'd be really happy and not even slightly wish for a bigger audience. but it seems i can at most pull three-to-four sickos at a time and the prior sickos orbit away before new sickos come. Where Are My Thirty Sickos

[bluebayard]

hi friends how are we doing!!! sorry i died things were bad for a bit there!! they're still not good actually but

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Something profoundly funny about getting snap memories where I adore and dote on my candle tattoo when I look back on it today as one of my worst decisions

[jegheterkerry]

i went to the dentist back in october, for my semiannual cleaning. everything was fine, but they always ask if there's anything bothering me. i mentioned some sensitivity bordering on pain between my last two teeth on the right side when i floss. "like i can feel the thread touching a nerve, or something sensitive in the tooth, when i pull it back up." they had me open up and look around, tapping the tooth. it didn't hurt during any of that, or during anything else, like when i ate or drank, or touched it with my tongue.

she concluded that i was traumatizing my gums. i was flossing too hard back there. my pain was self-inflicted. i just had to be more gentle, kinder to my teeth and gums, my self.

so now i think about that every time i floss. i use a little less force now, and i do feel less sensitive. but mostly i just think about how much of my pain is my own fault.

[morikosa]

REMORSE

SUMMARY: He doesn't realize how valuable you are until he loses you.

Things could have been different. If he had stayed home, you would still be alive. You would still be alive…

''My love… p-please don’t go''

Gojo froze in his tracks, feeling your delicate arms wrap around his waist from behind. Despite himself, a small flicker of surprise coursed through him, momentarily halting his steps towards the door. Your trembling voice reached his ears, filled with desperation and a plea for him to stay.

"I-I will prepare a dinner for you, my love… p-please don’t go,” you whispered, your lips pressing softly against his back in a tender kiss.

For a brief moment, the gentle touch and your plea tugged at a minuscule fragment of buried empathy within him. However, he quickly squashed that flicker of compassion.

He twisted his body to face you, his expression turning cold and unyielding once again under his blindfold. He roughly pushed your arms away from his waist, forcing you to release her grip on him. The action was swift and unforgiving.

“Your feeble attempts to keep me won’t work, y/n.” he spat, his voice laced with cruel indifference. “I have no use for your pitiful displays of affection. I am leaving.”

He turned away from you, resolute in his decision. He regretted his words at the moment he saw the pain and sadness in your eyes. But he couldn’t show it, he couldn’t show any sign of weakness.

After all, he was the strongest

With a last glance, he walked towards the door and left you. As he crossed the threshold, his heart remained hardened, untouched by the anguish he left behind. 

...

He was a terrible husband. He didn’t pay any attention to you. But he wanted to change that, so he bought you a bouquet to make it up to you, and today he was going to take you out to dinner. He was going to fix everything, you were going to be happy together.

“My sweet wifey~, I thought we could have dinner today, husband and wife–”

Upon entering the house, Gojo was met with an eerie silence that sent a chill down his spine. The door wide open, the lights on – everything seemed off. As he stepped further inside, his heart raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. The scent of carnage enveloped him, the heavy air thick with tension.

Then he found you.

Lying lifeless on the floor, your limbs twitching slightly as the waning moments of your life escaped from you. Blood pooled beneath you, the crimson liquid staining the once pristine floors with its haunting presence. A profound sorrow washed over him, accompanied by a wave of guilt – a bitter taste in his mouth.

The flowers he had intended to apologize with dropped from his grasp, the vibrant colors now tainted by the horrifying scene unfolding before his eyes. He watched in horror as you struggled for your last breaths, your fragile body betrayed by the curse that sought to end her life.

The irreversibility of the situation dawned on him at that moment - her fate was already sealed, your time running thin. Tears welled up in his eyes as realizations flooded his mind; regrets of his callous behavior, anger, and neglect came racing back and consumed his conscience.

If only he had stayed... if only he had paid attention.

Gojo fell to his knees beside you, reaching out tentatively to steady her limp form. “Y/N. Stay with me,” he pleaded, a foreign word in his vocabulary. “Please, don’t go.” His tears fell in torrents, landing beside hers on the muddied ground.

“Who. Who did this to you-”

His hands shook as he cradled you close, your warm breath steadily fading in his embrace. The pain of losing you was like a dagger piercing his heart, a relentless torture he could never escape.

What was the point? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t even protect his wife?

At present

Gojo stands before your grave, a solemn figure with his head bowed low. The air holds a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze caresses the surrounding trees. The weight of his loss rests heavily upon his shoulders, his heart burdened with a mix of grief and regret.

“Hey, it’s me again,” he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion as he addresses the earth beneath him. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know… I’m doing my best, even though it feels impossible without you here.”

His fingers trace the engraved letters of your name on the tombstone, his touch both reverent and pained. Memories of your time together flood his mind, each a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The weight of his remorse for not cherishing those moments to their fullest becomes evident in how his shoulders slump and his breath hitches.

“I miss you, more than words can express,” he admits, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. “I wish I had realized sooner what you truly meant to me. I wish I had been a better husband and person for you… worthy of the love you had for me.”

His grip tightens on the flowers he brought, his knuckles turning white. He places them gently upon your grave, his gaze lingering upon the fading petals.

Tears glisten in his mismatched eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “I love you, and I always will. I’m sorry I realized this so late. Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace. And just know… you’ll forever have a place in my heart.”

With a final, lingering look at your tombstone, he puts the bouquet on your tombstone and turns away.

He will live a lifetime with the pain of ruining the perfect future he could have had with you.

[goldengalore]

Ready

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants kids. Y/N isn’t sure what she wants. Feeling pressured to make up her mind, she agrees to something she’s not ready for.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: Hello! It’s been a while. This fic is based on this ask I received forever ago. Enjoy :)

***

Y/N has always been on the fence about having kids.

As a young teenager, she assumed she would have them when she grew up, fell in love, and got married. Social norms, along with her own childish naivete, made her believe that this was the only path one could take in life. Having children was the next logical step to marriage, which was the next logical step to falling in love.

And then she matured and realized that life is not nearly as cut-and-dry, that having kids is a choice, not a necessity, and that she can absolutely go her whole life without having any if that’s what she wants. This realization came as a relief but also felt somewhat unnerving because how is she supposed to know what she wants? She is quite possibly the most indecisive person on the planet, so it’s no surprise that she has bounced back and forth between wanting and not wanting children throughout her entire adult life.

On one hand, she thinks of her friends who have kids and how their lives have become utterly consumed by the little humans that require their constant care and attention. There is just so much that Y/N wants to experience and achieve before settling into a life like that.

Not to mention the horrors of pregnancy. It’s not exactly a walk in the park, having to carry a human life inside of you for nine months and then give birth to it. The health complications, the irreversible bodily changes, the sheer, agonizing pain of childbirth.

And yet, on some days, she fantasizes about becoming a mother, of holding a tiny life in her arms and nurturing it into a full-grown adult. An important character in these fantasies has always been the sweet, thoughtful, loving partner by her side who takes equal responsibility for their child. This person was always a faceless individual—an idealistic depiction of the kind of partner Y/N hoped to find someday.

And then Harry came along.

Sweet, thoughtful, loving Harry who, unlike her, was always sure of his desire to have kids. For him, it was never a question of whether he wanted them but a question of when.

That moment finally arrived for him a year ago. But Y/N wasn’t sure if she felt ready yet.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked her one day. “I don’t mean that in a judgemental way. Bringing a child into this world is scary for anyone, including myself. I’m just curious to know what your specific concerns are.”

“Well, there’s the usual stuff, like whether or not I’ll be a good mother—”

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother.”

She smiled at him, then continued, “Or whether my kids will be able to have a good future with so much chaos in the world...” She trailed off hesitantly.

“But there’s something else,” he said, gently urging her to share what was really holding her back.

“I… I’ve always been terrified of the idea of having to raise a child alone, either because something bad happens to the father or he leaves out of the blue or we break up and I’m left to take care of this child by myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I… I’ve never been able to shake this fear.”

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous to me. I was raised by a single mother, so I know it’s not an easy job.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckle, never breaking eye contact. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You know that, right? We’re in this together. We’re a team, always.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Well, I’m alright with waiting until you feel ready. I want us both to feel ready before we jump into this.”

In the six months following that conversation, the topic would crop up several more times, like after Harry saw her interacting with his godchildren at a party or they walked past a cute baby in a stroller at the grocery store. Y/N didn’t mind discussing the topic. It gave her a chance to ponder and become more comfortable with the concept of motherhood.

Yesterday, Harry returned home from a month-long movie shoot in Sweden. Y/N surprised him by showing up at the airport. What he doesn’t know is that she has another surprise in store for him.

While he was in Sweden, she decided to go off her birth control and now wants to try for kids.

She plans on telling him later tonight once they get home from their friend’s birthday party. They’ve been all over each other tonight. That’s what being apart for a month does to them. Hell, even a week apart is enough to turn them into a couple of horny teenagers that can’t keep their hands off each other.

“You look so hot in that dress,” Harry whispers in her ear, half-joking because they both know this is his fifth time saying that tonight.

Emboldened by a couple glasses of wine, a tipsy Y/N whispers back, “I want you to put a baby in me.”

His eyes widen. He chuckles. “That wine bringing out your wild side?”

“I’m serious,” she states, glancing around to double check that no one is within earshot of their conversation. “I went off my birth control a month ago, after you left for Sweden.”

He stares at her blankly, like her words haven’t quite sunk in.

“H, I’m ready to do this.”

“Really?”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“We’re doing this,” he says as it finally sinks in. He kisses her wine-stained lips. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N can hardly keep her composure on the way home. Harry appears to be in the same boat, as he keeps sneaking glances at her while driving, his hand caressing her thigh. While he’s always been a responsible driver, she can sense the impatience in his maneuvers tonight.

Once they’re home, it’s almost a race to the bedroom. Harry gently pushes her onto the bed and climbs on top of her.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to watch you walk around in this dress tonight”—he runs a hand down her front—“and not be able to bend you over and just slip my cock into you?”

She moans as he cups her pussy through her dress with a firm hand. He lets her grind against it for a minute before pulling away to take off his clothes. She follows suit.

Soon, they’re back on the bed, sharing another series of ardent kisses. By the time he goes down on her, she’s already dripping wet and he licks it up as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in days. Her hips grind against his tongue like they did against his hand just a moment ago. It doesn’t take her long to orgasm.

He shifts up the bed to hover over her body. He kisses her again while lining up his cock with her entrance. As he slides into her, she feels a slight discomfort from being stretched open for the first time in a month. He pulls out and pushes in a little deeper each time to let her adjust until he fills her up completely and she’s too immersed in pleasure to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says, starting to pump in and out. “Gonna come inside you, yeah? Gonna come deep inside your tight little cunt and fill you up, put a baby in you. Is that what you want?”

Those words flip a switch in Y/N’s mind. She makes an involuntary noise that makes it seem like she’s agreeing with him, so he picks up his pace. Just as he finishes inside her, the terrible realization dawns: She is not ready to have a baby. Not at all.

“I love you,” Harry whispers in her ear, his body resting flush against hers as he comes down from his high.

Tears spring to Y/N’s eyes as she realizes what she’s done, what they’ve just done. When she doesn’t reciprocate his statement, he lifts his head to look at her. A tear escapes her left eye at that exact moment.

Concern furrows his brow. “Lovie? Hey, what’s wrong?”

She just shakes her head while staring at the ceiling.

“Y/N.” He caresses her cheek, urging her to look at him. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Did I go too—”

“We shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake,” she says in a trembling voice.

“What are you talking about?”

She tries to sit up. Harry moves out of her way.

“I’m not ready, H. I’m not ready to have a baby.”

His face falls. “I— But— Then why did you say you were ready?”

“I don’t know… To make you happy?” She covers her face and hears him sigh heavily.

“Y/N, you can’t— You can’t lie about things like that just to make me happy. It’s not like we were deciding what to have for dinner. We’re talking about having a baby, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know that. Of course I know that. But I just— I see the disappointment in your face every time we talk about this, every time I tell you I’m not ready. You seem so sad, Harry. I hate it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not able to hide my emotions as well as I thought I could. That still doesn’t mean you should lie to please me. I thought we were past foolish antics like this.”

She squints at him. “Foolish antics?”

He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like—”

She turns away from him and gets off the bed.

“Y/N.”

She shuts herself in the bathroom. For a brief moment, a part of her resents him. Resents him for being ready to have kids before she was. For bringing it up so often. For making her feel as though she needed to lie about being ready just to make him happy.

But now, as she stares at her teary-eyed reflection in the mirror, she knows she has to take responsibility. She is the one who led him to believe that she was ready when deep down, she knew she wasn’t. He never once pressured her to make up her mind or acted like he loved her any less for not wanting kids yet. He never made her feel any type of way about it. He has done nothing but be the supportive, understanding partner he’s always been. It was her who doubted that. She let her own paranoia get to her.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

A few moments later, he knocks again.

“Please, lovie? I’m getting worried.”

Finally, she opens the door. He takes in her red, puffy eyes and tentatively places his arms around her, only pulling her in when she steps into his embrace.

They stand there silently until he says, “Why don’t we head over to the pharmacy and get you a morning after pill?”

She agrees, so they get dressed and head out. The ride to the pharmacy is a quiet one. Every time she glances at Harry, his eyes are focused on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and he appears deep in thought. It’s the complete opposite of their ride home from the party, when he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. She tries to think of ways to break the silence, but nothing feels appropriate. The last time she felt so awkward and unsure about what to say around Harry was when they first started going out and she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

When they get back from the pharmacy, she swallows down the pill with some water and they head back to bed.

***

Y/N: Hey H, you on your way home? Hope you’re hungry, I made your favourite for dinner 😊

H: I have a business dinner tonight. Mentioned it this morning

Y/N: Oh! Sorry I forgot about that. I’ll save some in the fridge for you for tomorrow

H: Sure, thanks

Y/N stares at the message. She can’t tell if she’s reading into things or if Harry’s replies really are as dry and aloof as they sound. Her propensity to overanalyze everything makes it difficult to know. Ever since the incident in the bedroom a few days ago, it feels as though Harry has been avoiding her. Spending long days at the studio, coming home late at night when he knows she’ll be asleep, giving short replies, taking longer to text back. They haven’t had sex again since then either.

After scrutinizing their text conversation for twenty minutes, she comes to her senses and realizes that she can’t keep going on like this. It’s driving her crazy. What she needs to do is talk to him. But he’ll most likely be tired when he gets home.

At first, she thinks she’ll sit him down tomorrow morning and talk it out. But when he walks through the front door just after eleven o’clock that night, she can’t help herself.

She stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea, when he enters. The dark circles under his eyes are noticeable. He has been willing to sacrifice his sleep just to avoid being around her any longer than he has to. Her chest constricts.

“Hey,” he says, placing his phone and keys on the counter. “You’re still up.”

“Can’t sleep.” She stares down into her half-empty mug, the remainder of the tea quickly growing cold.

“How come?”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“About…?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at him. “About whether or not you’re upset with me and how I can fix it.”

He frowns. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“Because of what happened a few nights ago.”

His frown dissolves into something different—sympathy? Guilt?

“Y/N, I’m not upset with you about that.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like it. You’re gone before I’m even awake and you come home when I’m going to bed. We’ve barely talked or kissed or cuddled in the past few days. I know you haven’t been that busy since you got back from Sweden, so… I don’t really see any other explanation.”

He stares at her wordlessly for a long time before speaking. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. But it’s not because I’m upset with you. It’s because I’m upset with myself. I feel like I pressured you into doing something you obviously weren’t comfortable with. I never saw myself as someone who pressures people into doing things they don’t want to do. So, I suppose I’ve been feeling some shame and guilt about it… and then avoiding you because it’s hard to face these feelings.”

Y/N sets her tea on the counter. She never could’ve guessed that Harry felt this way. She was so convinced that he was mad at her, it didn’t even occur to her that he might just be feeling guilty about it all. After how long she has known him, it should have been obvious that the latter is more consistent with his character, but her anxious brain wouldn’t even let her consider that possibility. She walks over and wraps her arms around him.

“H, I had no idea you felt that way.”

He squeezes her tightly, resting his chin on her head. She turns her head to the side so that her cheek is against his chest.

“To be honest, there were times I felt pressured when the topic of kids came up,” she says. “But a lot of that pressure was created by my own fears and insecurities. I just hated disappointing you over and over. I was scared your feelings about me, about us, would change if I kept saying I wasn’t ready.”

“This hasn’t changed how I feel about you or us. Y/N, I want you more than I want kids. Way more. If you decided one day that you don’t want them at all, that still wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

She pulls back to look at him. “Are you sure? That’s a dealbreaker for a lot of people.”

“Well, not for me. Not when it comes to you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, he lifts her up onto the counter and stands between her legs.

“So. What did you get up to today?” he asks, planting a kiss to her collarbone.

She rests her hands on his chest. “Hmm, what did I get up to? I hardly remember anything other than obsessing over this whole situation.” She laughs.

“Aw, lovie, I’m sorry I had you all stressed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. Help you relieve all that stress.” He peppers kisses along the side of her neck and jaw.

She sighs softly and closes her eyes. “I would like that.”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[deer-diary-from-hell]

Redesigned all of the Dandy world (+my take on the game)

”But Liam/deer didn’t you alr posted these-“

you didn’t see anything.

HEADCANONING TIME WWOOOOO

I like to think that ALMOST all of the toons just think they’re just playing a game of tag while collecting ichor like it’s a “capture the flag” thing. It’s in their blood (or ichor) to just be a bunch of childish and playful creatures, they are MADE for kids so it’s not really out of character of them to NOT think that twisteds are dangerous let alone kill them which cause them to see things differently (literally)

(still talking about this👆) If you start the game at first it’s all bright and colorful like something you would see out of a kid’s show, there’s happy music playing in the background all fun and games! Until you get hit by a twisted and lose a heart. Thats when the reality kicks in. Music stops as the colors slowly go back to the sad reality of an abandoned studio/daycare. These twisteds weren’t playing.. they were trying to kill you. This effect is irreversible even if you go back to full health. The shine in their eyes are gone. They aren’t laughing anymore, this isn’t funny. They’re scared.

(Note to self, each toon will have a traumatized look on their face after getting injured and will stay traumatized even after being healed+also applies to a toon when they witness a death of another toon)

I like to think that the twisted are like a “Failed” version of a toon, a toon that wasn’t the exact replica of itself so, it was locked away in the underground as it contorts into it’s biggest flaw(s) might design the twisteds if I feel like it.

If a toon witnessed another toon getting hit they’ll still be oblivious but concerned for their fellow friend

The twisteds prob growls and snarls due to their throats being filled with nothing but ichor, constantly leaking from their mouths as they try to kill you out of jealousy that YOU don’t get to be thrown away like a broken toy and instead cherished by children while they were called a mistake and now you’re going to experience the same pain they went through.

on a lighter note, the toons stole the clothes they’re wearing from the lost and found shortly after being abandoned and threw away their old clothes.

dandy needs those tapes so he doesn’t turn into a twisted. He wants to protect his friends from himself.

Ichor while being dangerous can be used to bring back a dead toon, only dandy knows this. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the toon doesn’t remember how they died after being revived

All toons are asexual. (Gets booed off the stage)

Do you think toons are desperate for interactions after being abandoned for god knows how long.

Astro, Vee and Shelly are the ones who don’t have the “fake reality” sight going on and knows that they’re actually in danger although for Shelly she’s sorta in denial (and ig Teagan and Rodger too? But the both of them just thinks that the twisteds aren’t really that dangerous and thought they wont kill their fellow toons)

might add more hcs soon but prob in later posts

Guys please ask for hcs for any toons you like please I’m begging on my knees I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING.

[n0cturn4]

Was it worth it?

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader Summary: In his arms, with the last breath of life Word Count: 948 Music: Hurt Like Hell - Madison Beer

The abandoned building loomed in dark ruins, like a monument to oblivion, its peeling walls and partially open ceiling letting in only scattered drops of the rain outside. The dense shadows of dusk seemed to hold a vigil around us, and the heavy air carried the smell of rust and dampness, so thick it felt as if time itself was trapped there, holding everything stagnant except for the pain.

And then, in the middle of that desolate scene, my eyes found her. She was leaning against the wall, pale, her trembling lips shaped into an expression of exhaustion that no battle could explain, one hand pressed against the open wound on her torso. Blood slipped between her fingers, slow and dark, as if each drop was being pulled from the very essence of her. My heart clenched at the sight, realizing this was no longer one of the many wounds we healed in silence. This was something far deeper, a kind of sacrifice that should never have been hers to make.

She lifted her eyes to mine as she sensed my presence, her face marked by an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, an exhaustion that burned into the soul. Yet still, she managed a tremulous smile—a smile that, somehow, seemed more of a farewell than a greeting. Leaning against the wall, her frail and fading body seemed to struggle against an invisible weight pulling her down, as if the simple act of continuing to breathe demanded every fragment of strength she still possessed.

“Why…?” The question escaped my lips in a whisper barely audible, tearing through the oppressive silence surrounding us. I moved toward her, each step heavy, each movement carrying the weight of what I knew I couldn’t fix. I knelt by her side, my knees pressing into the dirty, damp ground, but none of that mattered. I was so close that I could see the contours of the bloodstains on her clothes, the dark color I knew so well but had never wanted to see there, on her.

She tried to speak, but the sound came out weak, sliced through by the pain. Her lips trembled slightly, and I saw hesitation in her gaze, as if she was afraid to let me know everything that was inside her. I touched her hand, feeling the warmth of life slipping between our fingers as she struggled to find the words. There was something solemn and irreversible in her eyes, as if she had already accepted a fate I still refused to see.

“I… I wanted to protect you, Dad.” Her voice was faint, a breath barely reaching my ears, but every word carried the determination of someone who knew that sacrifice was inevitable. “I knew the risks… knew it would be a one-way road… but I didn’t care. It was my choice.”

I felt my throat tighten, swallowing hard, trying to contain the unbearable weight now crushing my chest. There, in the middle of the shadows, with my daughter fighting for each second of life, the mantle of Batman felt useless. I was nothing but a father, and watching my daughter fade in my arms was a suffering no battle could prepare me for. I held her hand tighter, as if I could anchor her to life, as if I could convince her to stay.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My words came out shaky, almost like a murmur of despair. “I should… I should have protected you… should have stopped you… never should have let you walk down this path.”

She gave a faint smile, that sad and tired smile that bore a courage I had never seen before. Her eyes, even weakened, met mine with a depth that destroyed me inside. She knew, knew everything, and still, she looked at me with an acceptance that felt greater than any understanding I could have.

“Was it worth it?” The question escaped my mouth almost without thinking, a mixture of pain, guilt, and the desperate hope that, somehow, her words could relieve me of this weight that seemed to crush my soul. I needed to believe that all of this wasn’t in vain, that everything she had endured had a greater purpose.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Her trembling hand touched my face, a final gesture of affection, and when she spoke, each word came out in a whisper laden with unshakable strength:

“It was worth it, Dad… it was worth it, because I would do it all over again, just to know you’re still here. I was never just your daughter… I am your shadow, and that is my part in your legacy. You gave me purpose. Now, you have to go on, even if I’m not here. You have to keep Gotham safe… that’s the path I chose, for you.”

She closed her eyes, and her hand slipped softly from mine, leaving her last breath to escape her lips. I remained there, holding her in my arms, feeling the weight of loss rooting itself within me, a profound emptiness taking over what had once been a simple desire to fight. The rain outside seemed to intensify, as if the city mourned the loss of a silent heroine, a warrior who had sacrificed herself for something greater than herself.

For a long time, the only sound that filled the space was that of the rain, like a sad melody merging with the emptiness left behind. And I knew, there and forever, that this sacrifice was the greatest Gotham had ever demanded of me—a sacrifice I would carry with me for the rest of my life, a sacrifice that, as she had said, was now an inseparable part of who I was.

[tojikai]

Permanent Mark⁺ : FORLORN

Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Permanent Mark Masterlist

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.

He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.

I’ll make things right. I shouldn’t be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. I’ll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That I’m coming home with her. That I’ll never leave again. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

“She didn’t make it.” 

Satoru’s steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoru’s wristwatch is still the loudest. 

It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like she’d been awake all night when they’d only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it. 

Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.

The doctor’s words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling “You fucking bastard,” He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, “Y/N, let me see my Y/N.” It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.

He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you. 

The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.

He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that they’re seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing you’d remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.

And Satoru… the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.

The last thing you’ll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love. 

Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that it’s true unless he sees you. But even if he does…his brain and his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.

“Y/N.” He called out one last time before closing his eyes. 

—---------------------------------

Earlier

You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.

Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.

You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:

You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone else’s home. 

Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didn’t work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short moment—a split second even—your flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash. 

And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldn’t move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.

You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb. 

If you are, this is going to be your second death today. 

—---------------------------------

“Just let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,” Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.

His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents weren’t as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind father’s eyes, he couldn’t find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your father’s last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:

“I hope your guilt doesn’t consume you as completely as my daughter’s love for you did to her.”

Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you weren’t the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasn’t the only one he broke. It wasn’t just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn future’s lamentation too. 

Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. “Come to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.” Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.

The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.

Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. She’s a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. She’s a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of I’m sorry’s.

Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.

She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldn’t have mattered how long but he never did. “I’m sorry.” He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. “Will you be fine?” She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that he’d change his mind.

“No, but it’s alright.” He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. “Whatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.” She knows that he’s not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.

How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her? 

She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someone’s heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.

The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.

Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldn’t talk to Satoru. She’d find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then she’d leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, it’d be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesn’t allow for much time for rest.

Just like how it doesn’t allow enough time for mourning. 

“You need to start continuing your life. You’re just insulting Y/N being like that now.” She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldn’t answer his phone. It’s almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him. 

“Do you know where Suguru is?” He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. It’ll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. “Do not try to talk to him.” That’s the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.

Suguru didn’t want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctor’s words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadn’t provoked it, you wouldn’t have left and driven drunk. He’d sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?

The last time he’s been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didn’t see it as much, his mind wouldn’t think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldn’t remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking you’re just somewhere far away, working at your mother’s company.

“You don’t get to feel sad. You don’t get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.” He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. “You don’t get to feel sad after what you’ve done, Satoru.” Suguru fears that even after years, he’d still feel resentment for his friend.

“If you weren’t planning on treating her well, you should’ve just let me love her instead, Satoru.” He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. “If you weren’t planning on keeping her, you should’ve just left her alone.” He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.

The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.

He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldn’t find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.

He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. “Live well, Satoru. Y/N wouldn’t want you like this,” He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out. 

It’s so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.

Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. “It shall pass,” The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, “You’ll feel better with time.” It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesn’t understand that what he needs can’t be found in this world.

He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasn’t a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you. 

His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. It’s no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold. 

He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the table—some had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacket’s pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.

These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time he’d visit, he’d take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. It’s his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.

Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. It’d be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago. 

It is during these times when he remembers how you’d spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, he’d dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.

As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you. 

Permanent Mark Masterlist

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"anything" - emily prentiss x liaison!fem!reader

summary: you take an unnecessary risk out in the field

wc: 1.4k

cw: flangst? typical cm violence, but mostly just mentions, pre-establish relationship!

this is my first emily fic plz lmk if u like it!

A steady beeping slowly drags you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you take in the hospital room around you. The first thing you notice is the source of the beeping, from the patient monitor beside your bed. Then the pain hits you like a muffled train wreck, crashing into you but hitting a wall, so it doesn’t hurt quite so bad. They must have you on some strong medication, because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. The worst feeling of all, though, comes from your abdomen, and when you shift in the bed, it aches and this weak little whimper uncontrollably escapes you. 

“Don’t move,” the velvet voice beside you warns. You didn’t even realize Emily was in here, that’s how knocked out you feel. When you turn your head, you see she’s got the chair pulled up as close to your bed as it can go, her elbows connected to her knees in a C-shaped hunch. “You’ll pop your stitches, and it still wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done today.”

You hear the sternness in your girlfriend’s voice and feel the color drain from your face. She always said you could never control your face, at least not around the people you love. In family interviews, or talking to the press? You could be stone-cold, unreadable. But once you’re comfortable around someone, your visage has a mind of its own. 

“I’m-”

“I know, you’re sorry,” Emily scoffs. Her voice reminds you of bitter, dark chocolate right now. She’s clearly irritated, but remains by your side loyally. That’s how you know she loves you. “That doesn’t change the fact that you made a thoughtless, reckless decision.” 

“I was actually going to say that I’m not sorry,” you huff, groaning softly as you move your rear back to sit up a little. Emily leans back in her seat and her jaw hardens. “Maybe I did act on impulse, but you would have done the same thing.” 

“You disobeyed Hotch’s direct order to stay put,” Emily’s chocolate eyes darken, and she rises from her seat, towering over you with her arms crossed over her chest. “And it got you shot.”

“I thought you were in trouble,” you grumble, your voice just barely above a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You and Hotch and Morgan all went in different directions, and I heard a scream and a gunshot from where you had gone,” you rattle off, your words all stringing together from the drowsiness. 

You recalled the vast farmland property where Garcia had nailed down the Unsub, how Hotchner didn’t want to wait on SWAT to show up because the guy’s endgame was so close to playing out. He killed at exactly noon with every single one of his victims, so the team had three minutes to find this missing girl. 

“And I couldn’t just stay put, Emily, not when I thought you’d been hurt,” you wring your hands over the top of the scratchy hospital blanket, your knuckles going stark white. “I couldn’t just wait to see what had happened. I couldn’t be helpless like that, not when I thought you might be hurt.” 

Emily’s got her eyes closed and she’s breathing in and out sharply, like she’s forcing herself to calm down, to filter through her initial thoughts so as to not say anything irreversible. “But Hotch told you to stay put,” she repeats in a defeated murmur, lifting one arm to run her hand through her hair. Her fringe is all over the place, and you’re just now noticing the dirt on her milky white cheek. She’s not rested since the farm, you realize, not even taken a second to wipe the dirt off her face. 

Guilt pours over you like a rainstorm, and you feel angry, frustrated, self-reproaching tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I didn’t do it to scare you,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, Em. I’m sorry that you had to worry about me like that. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant knowing that you were okay.” 

“Don’t Em me,” her voice cracks and you see tears start to fall from her eyes. She must be so tired. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but you can tell from her posture, from her expression, that she’s not had a moment of respite since she saw the bullet take you down. 

You recall the look on her face - horrified, when she hovered over you, lying in the dirt. She shot the Unsub directly after he shot you. Hotch and Morgan made it in time to help the victim out of her ties, so she ran over to you the second the Unsub was down. 

“What were you thinking?!” she shrieked, lifting your shirt only to find blood oozing from the hole in your stomach. 

“I thought…” you murmured breathlessly, your eyes immediately feeling heavy. 

“Someone get a medic over here now!” she shouted, holstering her gun and pressing her hands onto your stomach. You woke up in the ambulance a little bit after that, but were too hazy to say anything. 

All you remember is Emily crushing your hand between both of yours and muttering something under her breath repeatedly. "Stay with me, baby." You hear it now. "Please don't go."

You reach gingerly for her hand as she stands over you now, unable to stretch your arm out too far for fear of popping a stitch. She helps you out and shuffles forward a step, sitting back down in her chair and pulling it next to the bed. Your fingers grasp hers, and then your palms are flush together. “I’m still really pissed at you,” Emily says. “So is Hotch. Says he has half a mind to take you off active duty altogether.” 

You purse your lips. Surely that’s not totally true. “Well, then he’d have to deal with the press on his own, and he’d want to rip his hair out,” you say. Emily squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. 

“I think he’d do it if it mitigates the risk of you getting shot,” Emily admits seriously. 

“It’s just a graze,” you grumble. Emily’s glowering at you again, and you concede. “A graze that required emergency surgery, but still a graze.” 

“Baby, I don’t think you know what a graze is,” Emily says. “They had to remove a bullet from your stomach. That’s not a graze.” 

You feel your cheeks tingle as they turn pink and you shrug your shoulders, pretending to be none the wiser. “Tomato, tomahto,” you wave your free hand nonchalantly. 

“You feel okay right now? D’you need any more pain meds?” Emily asks, the caretaker in her taking over, despite her frustration towards you getting into this situation in the first place. 

“I’m alright,” you say quietly. Emily’s eyes, beautiful orbs of brown so dark they’re almost black, float down to where your wound is. “Em, hey,” you insist, and those eyes snap back up to yours. “I’m alright. Promise.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are,” Emily chastises with a sigh. 

“How long are they keeping me here?” you ask in a feeble attempt to change the subject. 

“Probably just a couple of days,” she says, lifting your knuckles to her lips and kissing them gently, like you’re made of fine china, like you could shatter at any moment. “Everyone wants to see you. I told them you probably wouldn’t be up for visitors until tomorrow,” she says. 

“That’s fine,” you agree, leaning your head back against the pillow. Whatever medications flowing through the IV in your wrist has you feeling very low-energy. “And how long are you gonna be mad at me?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little in an attempt to earn some sympathy points. 

Emily shakes her head a little, but you see the faint uptick of her mouth that gives her away. “At the very least, however long it takes you to recover,” she jokes halfheartedly. 

“Does my punishment come with a ban on kisses?” you ask, tugging her hand with your own. 

Emily leans forward in her seat, her lips mere centimeters from your own. “That would be a punishment for me, too, and I didn’t do anything wrong,” she teases, then pecks your lips briefly. 

Your eyes are feeling heavy, and you heave a small sigh. “Love you, Em,” you say softly as the room goes dark. “Do anything for you, Em.” 

“I know you would, baby,” Emily sighs as well, but you feel her thumb swiping over the back of your hand. “That’s the problem.”