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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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dearest, darling, my universe — gojo satoru.

"He… he always knew what to say, didn’t he?" Megumi murmurs, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah." you reply, your voice thick with tears. "He always did." The weight of Satoru's absence presses heavily upon you, but the words on the paper offer a strange comfort, like a hand reaching out through the dark. You hold the letter tightly, almost as if you could draw him back with the force of your grip.

GENRE: post shinjiku showdown (spoilers for jjk chapter 268)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 11k words.

NOTE: my brothers caught a cold so i caught it too because that's just how it sometimes goes when you're always together. i've been writing a bunch of stuff in the mean time, cause i'm strong enough at least. but i hope you enjoy this. it took me a while to write this, but it's finally done. also, listen to iu's song love wins all while reading this. love you all!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S BEEN A WHILE, BUT THINGS HAVE CHANGED. The world feels quiet now, almost unnaturally so, as if it is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next. The grounds are empty, unlike how they used to be. The sky is heavy and dulled gray and the wind carries a strange stillness that presses against your skin.

Everything seems suspended, caught in a moment that refuses to pass, a calm that feels more like a warning than a relief. It’s the kind of quiet that settles in after a storm — not the peace that follows resolution, but the heavy, fragile silence that comes when everything has been ripped apart, and nothing has been put back together.

Your gaze searches for someone as you look towards the horizon. It takes you a while, but you smile when you find that figure again. You sighed, he’s been there awhile. But you don't blame him. You think that Fushiguro Megumi feels like he’d find peace, if he sits there to wonder what had been before. You find him sitting on the bench your husband had loved to sit on years ago, his back turned to you. He is still, his head lowered, shoulders slumped, and you can see the way his body trembles with each ragged breath.

He’s still recovering, as most are after the battle with Sukuna. But for Megumi, the wounds are deeper, more insidious. After being imprisoned by Sukuna, after having his body and mind twisted and torn apart from the inside out, he’s struggling to find his footing again. His physical scars may heal with time, but the ones etched into his soul are a different story.

You approach slowly, hesitant to break the fragile stillness that surrounds him. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but you know he’s aware of your presence. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense, the slight shift of his head as if he’s listening, waiting. You move closer until you’re standing beside him, close enough to see the bandaged bruises that still darken his skin, the way his hands are clenched tightly in his lap, knuckles white with the effort of holding himself together.

“Megumi.” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, careful not to startle him.

He doesn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, his blue green eyes shadowed and hollow. You can’t tell if he’s looking at the ruins or something beyond them, something only he can see. You wait, giving him the time he needs, the space to decide whether he wants to speak or remain silent.

Finally, he lets out a breath, slow and heavy, his shoulders sagging further. “I couldn’t sleep.” he murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it. “I could still feel it. Like he’s still here… in my head… in my body. And then my dreams…. My hands and Gojo–sensei’s eyes….”

The words hang in the air, raw and unsteady, as if they barely have the strength to escape his lips. You hear the tremor in his voice, the way it quivers with each syllable. It’s a sound you haven’t heard from him before, a vulnerability that he rarely shows, and it cuts through you like a knife. Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, so broken and raw, a far cry from the stoic, determined young man you’ve known for so long.

You can see it in the way his eyes stare ahead, unfocused, as if he’s searching for something he can’t quite grasp. The way his hands tremble slightly, even though they’re clenched tightly on his knees. He sounds lost, like he’s still fighting a battle that has no end, still trying to claw his way out of a darkness that clings to him like a second skin. His whole body seems to sag under the weight of it, the invisible chains that bind him to a past he can’t escape.

“I see.” you whisper, your voice gentle, but firm. You reach out, hesitantly, resting your hand on his arm, feeling the tension that coils beneath his skin, the way his muscles are taut and ready to snap. “I’m sorry for that, Megumi.”

He flinches at your touch, just a little, his gaze flicking to yours for a brief second before darting away again. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s torn between wanting to believe you and the insidious doubt that’s been planted deep inside him. There’s a flicker of shame, of fear, as if he’s afraid of admitting just how much he’s struggling, how much of himself he feels he’s lost.

“It’s going to take some time for all of this to go and change.” he finally admits, his voice low, almost inaudible. “It feels like… like he’s still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, waiting for a chance to come back. And then Gojo–sensei’s voice echoes sometimes, whispering… and Sukuna just….It’s like he’s a part of me now, and I don’t know how to make him leave.”

His words are laced with a quiet desperation, a plea for some kind of reassurance that you’re not sure you can give. How do you tell someone that the ghost in their mind will eventually fade when you know that kind of pain never truly leaves? How do you promise a tomorrow free of shadows when the past clings so fiercely to the present?

You tighten your grip on his arm, just a little, enough to ground him, to let him know you’re here. “He won’t win. Satoru knew that too.” you say, your voice is firmer now, more certain. “Not while you’re still fighting. And I know you, Megumi. You’ve fought through worse. You’re stronger than you think, even when you feel like you’re falling apart.”

His eyes meet yours again, and you can see the doubt there, the fear. But beneath it, there’s a spark of something else, something fragile and faint, but alive — hope, maybe. A glimmer of belief that he can pull through this, that he can find himself again. His lips part, but he seems to hesitate, as if afraid of saying something he can’t take back.

“I’m tired.” he confesses, and it feels like the weight of the world is in those two words. “I’m so tired of fighting. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

You swallow hard, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes, but you blink them back. “I know." you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I know you are. And it’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to be tired, to need a break. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, Megumi. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He exhales, a shaky breath that trembles with all the emotions he’s been holding in, and for a moment, he looks like he might break, like the walls he’s built around himself might finally come crashing down. His shoulders slump further, and he leans forward, just a fraction, as if testing the waters, as if trying to decide if it’s safe to fall.

“I….” he starts, his voice breaking, “I keep thinking about him… and about everyone we lost. And I wonder if it’s even worth it, to keep going… if I’m even worth it. I…I helped cause all this pain.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. You tighten your grip on his arm, leaning closer, your heart breaking for him, for everything he’s endured, for everything he’s still enduring.

“Megumi.” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “You are worth it. You’re worth every fight, every tear, every moment of pain. You’re worth it because you’re here, and you’re trying, and you haven’t given up. And that… that’s everything.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching, as if trying to find the truth in your words, as if he wants to believe you but doesn’t know how. His lips tremble, and for a moment, he seems like he might speak, might say something that could change everything.

But then he just closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek, and he lets out a breath, long and shuddering. “I don’t know.” he whispers, but he doesn’t pull away from your touch. He stays there, his body tense but close, and you know that for now, that’s enough.

You feel the slight tremor in his shoulders, the way he fights to keep himself together, and you wonder how many times he’s had to do this — how many times he’s been forced to stand tall when everything inside him was falling apart. You can see the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes. He’s so young, but he looks older now, like the weight of the world has been pressing down on him for too long.

You don’t say anything, just keep your hand on his arm, feeling the faint, steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. You know that words won’t fix this, won’t make the shadows in his eyes disappear. But you want him to know he’s not alone, that he doesn’t have to carry this burden by himself.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans into you, just a little, his head bowing as if the strength he’s been holding onto is slipping away. You don’t move, don’t flinch, just let him take whatever he needs from you, let him find some solace in the contact, in the warmth of another human being who understands, who has lost as much as he has.

“I’m scared.” he admits, his voice so soft you almost miss it, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m scared that I’ll never be… me again. That I’ll never be whole. That I’ll always feel… like this.”

Your heart aches at the confession, at the way his voice breaks, the way his words tremble with an uncertainty that shakes you to your core. You feel a tear slip down your own cheek, and you quickly brush it away, not wanting him to see, not wanting to add to his pain.

“It’s okay to be scared.” you whisper back, your voice rough with emotion. “I’m scared too, Megumi. Every day. But you don’t have to do this alone. You have people who care about you, who love you. And we’ll get through this… somehow. Together.”

He nods, just barely, and you can feel the tiniest bit of tension ease from his frame, as if your words have given him something to hold onto, even if just for a moment. His tired eyes remain closed, and he takes another deep breath, his lips pressing into a thin line, his brows furrowing like he’s trying to muster some strength from within.

“I miss him.” he confesses, almost like he’s ashamed to say it out loud. “I miss Gojo–sensei. Tsumiki, I…I still can’t…”

Silence engulfs you, heavy and unrelenting, settling like a thick fog between you and Megumi. He opens his eyes. You couldn’t help but see the light of devastation in his eyes, a light that flickers and fades like a dying star. It’s a look you’ve seen before, a look you’ve felt etched into your own reflection every time you’ve caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The eyes that have stared back at you have been hollowed out, drained of their usual spark, carrying the same weight that now rests in Megumi’s.

You see it in the way he looks down, his gaze fixed on some invisible point on the ground, as if he’s afraid that meeting your eyes might shatter whatever fragile composure he’s managed to hold onto. The devastation is so clear in his expression, so raw and exposed, like an open wound that hasn’t begun to heal.

But you share the same look, you think. Because you’ve both lost the dearest people in your lives. The ones who held you together, who gave you strength when you needed it most. You knew that too well — the pain, the grief that seems to expand with every breath you take, filling the space around you, making it harder and harder to breathe. Tsumiki, taken from him so suddenly, so cruelly. And now Satoru, your husband, the man who was everything — your light, your laughter, your reason to keep fighting even when the world felt like it was falling apart.

How much more can you both bear?

It feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest, an invisible force squeezing the air out of your lungs. Your heart aches with a pain that’s deep and unyielding, a pain that you’ve grown accustomed to, but that never seems too dull. It’s the kind of pain that lingers, that finds its way into every corner of your being, that refuses to be ignored no matter how hard you try.

You think of Satoru — his smile, his ridiculous jokes, the way he could light up a room just by being in it. You think of Tsumiki — her quiet strength, her gentle kindness, the way she could make Megumi laugh even when he didn’t want to. You think of how much they meant to you, to both of you, and you wonder how you’re supposed to go on without them. How do you keep moving forward when the ground beneath you has been ripped away? How do you find the strength to keep fighting when the people who gave you that strength are gone?

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, hot and heavy, and you quickly brush it away. You don’t want Megumi to see, don’t want him to think that you’re breaking, that you’re crumbling under the weight of your own grief. But maybe he already knows. Maybe he can see it in the way your hands tremble, in the way your shoulders sag just a little, in the way your breath catches in your throat like you’re fighting to keep from sobbing.

Megumi finally looks up, and when his eyes meet yours, you see the reflection of your own sorrow staring back at you. His eyes are tired, so very tired, like he hasn’t slept in days, weeks even. There’s a hollowness in them, a void where there used to be determination and fire. He looks older than he is, worn down by the battles he fought, by the losses he’s endured. And you wonder how much more he can take, how much more you can ask of him when he’s already given so much.

“I’m… I’m not sure how to do this.” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper, his words trembling on the edge of breaking. “I don’t know how to… keep going.”

Your heart tightens, and you feel a fresh wave of grief wash over you, cold and sharp like a blade. You want to tell him that it will get easier, that the pain will fade, but you know it’s not true. You know that some losses never heal, that some wounds never close. All you can do is reach out and take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently, letting him know that you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere.

“I don’t know how either.” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “But we have to try… for them. For ourselves.”

He nods, but it’s a slow, uncertain nod, like he’s still not sure if he believes you, if he believes in anything anymore. His grip tightens around your hand, almost desperate, like he’s holding on for dear life. And maybe he is. Maybe you both are, trying to keep each other afloat in a sea of loss and uncertainty, trying to find something solid to cling to when everything else has been swept away.

For a long moment, you stand there in silence, feeling the weight of everything you’ve lost, everything you’re still losing. And you realize that there’s no easy answer, no simple path forward. There’s only this — the two of you, standing together in the midst of all the broken pieces, trying to make sense of a world that no longer feels whole. And maybe that’s enough. For now, maybe that’s enough.

"I… I keep thinking he’ll walk through that door too, you know?" you finally manage to say, your voice catching on the last word. "With that grin of his, like it's all been a bad dream."

Megumi’s gaze drops to the ground. “Me too.” he whispers. "I keep hearing his voice, like he's about to make another joke… or ruffle my hair." His hands curl into fists, and he swallows hard. "I don’t know if I want to laugh or scream."

You reach out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on his arm. "It feels wrong, doesn't it? For him to be gone."

He nods, his shoulders slumping further. "I hated how he made everything a joke, how he never took things seriously… but I’d give anything to hear him laugh again." His voice cracks, and you see the tears he's been holding back start to gather in his eyes.

Your own tears brim over, and you don’t bother wiping them away. "I don’t know what to do." you admit. "I feel lost without him. I thought we’d have more time… that we could…"

"To live together?" Megumi finishes for you, and you nod, grateful that he understands.

For a moment, you both stand there in your shared grief, the silence punctuated by the distant sounds of the wind moving through the ruins. Finally, Megumi reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, worn and slightly crumpled, as if it’s been handled many times. You look at him and then to the paper. You could feel the air knocked from your lungs.

"He… he left this for you." he says, handing it over. “Ieiri–san gave this to me. He told Ieiri–san to give it to you.....if something happened, you’d be the one to need it most.”

You take the letter with trembling hands, the weight of it almost too much to bear. For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to open it, terrified of what it might say, of the finality it represents. But then you unfold it, the familiar scrawl of his handwriting dancing across the page, and his little drawing of himself on the side. You don’t know whether you were going to laugh or cry. Because, almost immediately, you can almost hear his voice speaking the words.

𝑯𝒆𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖! 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆,

𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕’𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒅. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒕’𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕… 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓… 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖, 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊, 𝑻𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒌𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 — 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒚. 𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚?

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊. 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒂�� 𝒊𝒕. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕… 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚?

𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔. 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚? 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 — 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕, 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖.

The tears spill over again, as they have these past few weeks and you clutch the letter to your chest, your heart aching with a mix of love and pain. You look over at Megumi, who’s watching you with a mix of understanding and his own quiet grief. He didn’t say a word for a while. He just let you cry, to let out the grief that you had been holding in for so long.

"He… he always knew what to say, didn’t he?" Megumi murmurs, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah." you reply, your voice thick with tears. "He always did."

The weight of Satoru's absence presses heavily upon you, but the words on the paper offer a strange comfort, like a hand reaching out through the dark. You hold the letter tightly, almost as if you could draw him back with the force of your grip.

Megumi shifts beside you, his gaze distant. You sense he’s been wrestling with his own demons, carrying a grief he doesn’t quite know how to articulate. You remember the nights Satoru would tease him, ruffle his hair, and declare with exaggerated fondness that he was the son he never had. And you remember how Megumi would roll his eyes, always with that begrudging smile, the one that said he was secretly happy to have someone who cared so much.

"I don’t know what to do." you confess, your voice barely a whisper. "I don’t even know where to begin."

Megumi looks at you, his eyes softening in understanding. "Neither do I." he admits. "But… I think Gojo–sensei would want us to keep going. He’d hate seeing us like this, stuck in the past."

You nod, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "He was always moving forward, wasn’t he? Never stopping, not even for a second."

Megumi’s lips twitch into a faint smile. "Yeah, always dragging everyone else along for the ride." He hesitates, and then adds, "But… it wasn’t just him. You kept him grounded. You gave him a reason to slow down, even if just a little."

Your breath catches in your throat. You never thought of it that way — always felt like you were the one chasing after him, trying to keep up with his boundless energy and insatiable curiosity. But maybe, in your own way, you had been his anchor.

Megumi takes a step closer, his hand hovering near your shoulder, as if unsure whether to reach out. "He always talked about you, a lot. Even when you weren't around." he says softly. "Not in the way you'd expect. He’d get this look in his eyes, like… like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have you."

You nod, finding some solace in his words. The two of you stand there for a moment longer, letting the silence settle around you, a cocoon of shared understanding. Then, with a deep breath, you fold Satoru’s letter carefully, as if it were the most fragile thing in the world, and tuck it into your pocket.

“I know.” you say gently, a faint smile on your lips. “I was the luckiest person alive too. To have loved him. To have been with him. To…To have a life with him.”

He turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. There’s a flicker of something there — a mix of pain and doubt, hope and fear. He looks exhausted, like every breath, every moment, is a battle in itself. His hands unclench slowly, his fingers twitching like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

He closes his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face. “I don’t know if I can ever be what I was.” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

"That's okay." You whisper back. "You don't need to be whole to be yourself, Megumi. It's...enough. Being like this, for now."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you see the tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He’s still so young, you think, still so young to have been through so much, to carry so many burdens on his shoulders. You didn’t want this from him. You don’t want him to live with this for the rest of his life.

“Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost a plea.

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t know.” you admit honestly. “I think… I think it might always hurt a little. But I also think that one day, the pain won’t be the first thing you feel. One day, you’ll wake up, and it’ll be a little easier to breathe. And then another day, and another… and eventually, you’ll find a way to live with it. To carry it without letting it crush you.”

He nods slowly, as if trying to absorb your words, to find some semblance of comfort in them. “I hope so.” he says quietly. “I really hope so.”

As you purse your lips into a tight line, Fushiguro Megumi turns his head slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the strain in his eyes. They’re the same eyes you’ve known for years, dark and brooding, yet now they seem dimmed by a weight too heavy for any young man to bear. His expression is weary, etched with the lines of battles fought not just against enemies but against the relentless tide of grief and responsibility that threatens to swallow him whole.

You pause, taking in the sight of him. Megumi, who has always seemed so strong, so unyielding, now stands with his shoulders hunched, his frame pulled inward like a fragile fortress protecting a fragile heart. His hands, usually so sure and steady, are clenched tightly at his sides, fingers twitching with a nervous energy.

The boy who faced curses without flinching now looks lost, as if he’s unsure of where to place his feet or how to hold himself together. You notice how his posture has shrunk into itself, his form smaller, more fragile than you remember. For a fleeting moment, he is not the stoic young man who bears the weight of the Zen’in name, but the boy you raised, the one who used to look up at you with a defiance softened by hope.

Memories rush in, unbidden and raw. You remember the first time you took his hand, how tiny it seemed in yours, and the way he stiffened, wary of your touch. It took time for him to trust you, to accept the safety you offered in a world that had been anything but kind. He was so guarded, so determined to prove that he didn’t need anyone, but you had seen through the cracks in his armor, glimpsed the boy beneath who craved comfort and understanding.

Now, as you stand before him, you see that boy again. The boy who hid his hurt behind curt words and narrowed eyes, who watched the world with suspicion, waiting for it to turn on him. You see the boy who wanted to be strong, not just for himself but for those he cared about, who believed that if he could shoulder enough pain, he might somehow spare others from it. That same boy stands before you now, but the weight he carries has only grown heavier, pressing down on his shoulders until they sag with exhaustion.

You move closer, slowly, careful not to startle him. Megumi’s gaze flickers to you, and for a moment, something in his eyes softens, just a fraction. He looks at you as if he wants to say something, but the words catch in his throat, stuck behind the fear of vulnerability. You can see the battle waging within him — the need to be strong, to keep it all together, and the desperate longing to let someone in, to share the burden that’s breaking him apart.

“I…I’m sorry for putting you through what I did.” he whispers, so quietly you almost miss it. His voice is thick, strained with the weight of everything left unsaid.

It was hard seeing Megumi this way, you think. If anything, you still weren’t prepared to seek him out. You felt ashamed that you couldn’t do much for him. As much as you were also worried that he’d put himself at your feet, kneeling and in tears. Now your worst fear came to pass, that he would be apologizing to you for something that was not his fault. And so, you took that time — a long time, to just be alone and grieve. To let your husband’s soul rest in peace.

So your heart aches at his confession, and you step closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, drawing him into an embrace. At first, he resists, his body stiff and unyielding, but you hold firm, refusing to let go. Slowly, he relents, and he collapses against you, his head resting against your shoulder. His hands clutch at the fabric of your clothes, and you feel the tremble in his fingers, the suppressed sobs caught in his chest.

“It’s okay, Megumi.” you murmur, stroking his back in soothing circles. “You silly boy. Why are you apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, hm?”

His shoulders shake, and you feel the tears that he’s fought so hard to hold back finally spill over. He buries his face in your shoulder, his body wracked with silent sobs, each one tearing at your heart. You hold him tighter, as if you could somehow shield him from the pain, as if you could gather all the shattered pieces of him and put them back together.

He cries quietly, like he doesn’t want to be heard, like he’s afraid of what his grief might sound like if he lets it out. You just hold him, letting him take the time he needs, giving him the space to be the child you know he still is, beneath all that strength and stubbornness.

And for that moment, you are back in time, comforting a boy who tried so hard to be brave, to stand tall in a world that felt too big and too cruel. You feel the years slip away, and you whisper to him like you did then, telling him it’s okay, that he’s safe, that he’s loved.

Slowly, the tremors in his body begin to ease, and he pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at you. His eyes are red, and there’s a vulnerability there that you haven’t seen in years. “I’m sorry, Gen–san.” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “I….It must be harder on you.”

You shake your head, cupping his cheek with one hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” you say firmly. “You’ve been so strong, Megumi. But you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He nods, his eyes closing for a moment as he takes a shaky breath. “I just… I miss him, Gen–san.” he admits, his voice breaking. “I miss them. Tsumiki…..I…I miss them both. And it’s…It’s my fault. If I had…”

“I know you do.” you whisper back. “I miss them too. And it’s okay to feel that way. But it was never your fault. You understand? This is not your cross to bear, hm?”

He looked at you, as though he was still unsure. But he nods again, and this time, when he opens his eyes, there’s a spark of something new there, a flicker of resolve. “Thank you.” he murmurs. “For… for being here.”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back from his face. “Always.” you promise. “I’ll always be here for you, Megumi.”

And as he leans into your touch, you realize that maybe, just maybe, he’s beginning to understand that he doesn’t have to face the world alone. That he has a family, even in the darkest of times, and that you’ll always be there to catch him when he falls. When he finally calms down, you look at him with a tender gaze. You rub the small of his back and coo towards him. You tell him over and over again that it’s going to be okay.

THINGS HAVE CHANGED IN THESE MANY YEARS. But all the same, you were still just trying to get by without your husband. Just as you have done in the past fourteen years. Sometimes you can’t believe that it has been that long. Fourteen long years without his voice, his laughter, his warmth beside you in the dark of the night. Fourteen years of waking up every morning and remembering all over again that he’s gone.

Some days, it feels like he was just here, like you can still hear his footsteps in the hallway, the sound of his voice calling your name, teasing you with that easy smile that could always make your heart skip a beat. Other days, it feels like a lifetime has passed, like his memory is slipping further away with each breath you take, each step you take forward.

And sometimes, all you have to do is look at the world around you and see how much it has changed, even without Satoru. The world didn’t stop for his absence — it kept moving, kept spinning, kept evolving. The streets are filled with new faces, new buildings rise where old ones once stood. The skyline of the city looks different, the energy of the people has shifted, and even the quiet corners where you used to find solace now feel foreign and unfamiliar.

You think about the way he would have laughed at the way the world has moved on without him, how he would have been amused at the thought of being left behind by time itself. “Can’t keep up with me, huh?” he would’ve jokes, that mischievous grin spreading across his face, his bright eyes twinkling with that endless, boundless spirit of his.

But he isn’t here to see it — he isn’t here to laugh or joke or comment on the little changes that make up this new reality. And that’s what hurts the most, you think. The small moments that go unnoticed, the daily routines that feel emptier without him, the tiny, insignificant details that made life with him so full.

You were certain that today was one of those days — a day where the past and present seemed to blur, where the weight of what came before felt particularly heavy. The morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow across the table. You watch as the young clan leader, Gojo Satoshi, sits across from you, his posture a mix of youthful excitement and a hint of nervousness that he tries to hide. His eighteenth birthday has finally arrived — a day you’ve both been anticipating with a blend of joy and bittersweetness.

For years, you’ve marked this date on the calendar, circled it with a smiley face as Satoru used to do. You remember the way he’d talk about this day like it was a grand milestone, his eyes lighting up with that familiar spark as he imagined all the things Satoshi would accomplish. And now, here it is — the day that seemed so far away, so impossible to reach, yet somehow arrived faster than you ever thought it would.

Your son had taken some time off from his responsibilities, from the pressures of the Gojo clan, just to be here with you. He’d insisted on it, saying he didn’t want to spend this day anywhere else. There’s a maturity in him that catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet strength that reminds you so much of Satoru, and yet he’s entirely his own person, shaped by all the experiences and lessons that life has thrown at him.

At times, you catch yourself taking a moment to look at him. He was the spitting image of his father. Every bit of him was Satoru. From the way his eyes gazed at you, to the way he laughs. Everything was him. You think if your husband would be here now, it would have been hard to tell them apart. But, he was all you have of Satoru. And you were still grateful for it, even if it makes you cry sometimes.

“Mom.” he begins, and there’s a softness in his voice, a vulnerability that he doesn’t show often. “I… I’m glad I could be here today. I know it’s… a lot. For both of us.”

You smile, a warm, gentle smile that you hope hides the ache in your chest. “I’m glad too, Satoshi. I’ve been waiting for this day. Your father would have wanted it to be special.”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — a shadow of the loss you both carry, the empty space that Satoru left behind. You know this day is as much about celebrating as it is about remembering, about honoring the promise that Satoru made to him, to all of you.

And that’s why you’re here, sitting at the kitchen table, a letter in your hand — a letter you’ve kept safe for years, one with Satoru’s handwriting on the envelope, his familiar scrawl that brings a sting of tears to your eyes. The letter he wrote for Satoshi to open on his eighteenth birthday, a letter he wrote knowing he might not be here to read it himself.

You hold it out to him, your fingers trembling slightly, and Satoshi’s eyes widen. He recognizes it immediately, having seen it once before when he was a child, when you tucked it away with a promise that it was for another day, a day when he was older, stronger.

“Is this…?” he asks, his voice trailing off, almost afraid to finish the question.

You nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “It’s from your father.” you say softly. “Megumi found it cleaning your father's office. It seems....your father wanted you to have something special when you're older."

For a moment, Satoshi just stares at the envelope, his fingers brushing over the edges, tracing the curve of his father’s handwriting. You can see the emotions flicker across his face — curiosity, sadness, a deep, yearning love. He looks up at you, and there’s a silent question in his eyes, one that asks if you’re okay, if you’re ready for this.

You give him a small nod, even though your heart feels like it might break all over again. “Go on.” you encourage. “Open it.”

With a deep breath, Satoshi carefully tears open the envelope, his hands steady despite the tremor you know he must feel. He pulls out the folded paper inside, and as he begins to read, you watch his face, the way his expression changes, softens, as he takes in the words that his father left for him.

There’s a chuckle, soft and low, that escapes his lips, and for a brief moment, it’s like Gojo Satoru is in the room with you both, his presence lingering in the air, his laughter echoing in the corners. Satoshi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he shakes his head, murmuring, “Of course he’d say that…” under his breath.

You can’t help but smile, a tear slipping down your cheek as you remember Satoru’s sense of humor, his way of making light of even the heaviest moments. You wonder what he wrote, what silly remark he must have made, what words he left behind to make his son laugh on this day.

But then, the laughter fades, replaced by a softer look, a look of longing. Satoshi’s eyes grow misty, and his smile wavers, his breath hitching in his throat. His hands clutch the letter a little tighter, his fingers pressing into the paper like he’s holding onto a lifeline.

“I miss him, a lot.” he whispers, his voice breaking, and in that moment, he looks like the little boy he used to be, the one who would climb into your lap and ask when his father was coming home. “I miss him so much.”

Your heart breaks all over again, and you reach across the table, pulling him into your arms. He doesn’t resist, burying his face in your shoulder, and you feel his tears soak through your shirt, hot and heavy. You hold him close, your hand running through his hair, whispering soothing words even as your own tears fall.

“I know, Satoshi.” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “I miss him too… every day.”

He clings to you, his body shaking with quiet sobs, and you let him cry, let him mourn, let him feel all the things he needs to feel. You know that this pain will never truly go away, that there will always be a part of both of you that aches for the man who isn’t here, for the father and husband who left too soon.

But in this moment, you also feel a deep, abiding love — a love that stretches across time and space, that binds you together even in the face of loss. You know that Satoru is with you, in every laugh, in every tear, in every beat of your hearts. And as you hold your son, feeling the strength of his embrace, the warmth of his love, you know that Satoru’s spirit lives on, in him, in you, in all the days to come.

You feel Satoshi’s grip tighten around you, his shoulders still trembling with the force of his emotions. You hold him closer, pressing your cheek against the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him, so familiar and comforting. He’s grown so much, become a young man with so much of his father’s spirit, and yet so much of his own unique strength.

“He would’ve been so proud of you, little dawn.” you whisper into his hair, feeling your voice catch in your throat. “Every day, he would’ve been so proud. I know he is… wherever he is.”

Satoshi pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes red-rimmed and wet with tears, but there’s a light in them — a spark of resilience, of determination, of love. “I hope so, mom.” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I hope I’m making him proud… and you, too.”

You smile, cupping his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his damp cheeks. “You are, Satoshi. You’re everything he could have hoped for… everything I could have hoped for.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and you can see the way his expression softens, some of the tension easing from his features. “I just… I wish he were here,” he admits, his voice a broken whisper. “I wish he could see this… see me now.”

You nod, swallowing back your own tears, feeling the ache in your chest grow sharper, deeper. “Me too.” you confess. “Every day, I wish for that. But he’s still with us, Satoshi. In you, in me, in all the love he left behind. And as long as we remember him, he’ll never truly be gone.”

Satoshi nods slowly, taking in your words, letting them settle in the quiet space between you. You know it’s not enough to fill the emptiness, to ease the pain that sits heavy in both of your hearts, but it’s something — a small comfort, a small truth that you can hold on to.

“Happy birthday, Satoshi.” You greeted him with a small smile on your face. “You and your papa. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, mom.”

And so, you sit together in the soft morning light, holding onto each other, holding onto the memory of the man you both loved so dearly, trying to find your way in a world that has changed so much without him. You know it won’t be easy — it never has been — but you also know that you have each other, that you have the love he left behind, and maybe, for now, that’s enough to keep moving forward.

Just as you have for the past fourteen years.

Just as you will for the years to come.

YOU DECIDED TO VISIT THAT AFTERNOON. The pond is quiet, save for the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, the soft murmurs of the water lapping against its edges. You stand at the edge, looking out at the calm surface, watching as the light dances across the ripples. The air is thick with the scent of earth and pine, and there’s a serenity here that you haven’t felt in a long time — a stillness that settles into your bones, grounding you in the moment.

This was land that Satoru bought a long time ago, back when the world was still full of possibility, when dreams felt tangible and within reach. You remember the day he brought you here for the first time, the way his eyes sparkled with excitement as he talked about the future, about all the things he wanted to build, all the memories he hoped to create.

He’d stood right where you’re standing now, his hands on his hips, looking out at the same pond with a boyish grin on his face. “This is it.” he’d said, his voice full of conviction. “This is where I’d be glad to build a family… a place to call home when everything’s said and done.”

You could hear the hope in his words, the unspoken promise of a life filled with love and laughter. He had dreams of children playing by the water’s edge, of long summer evenings spent under the stars, of a sanctuary away from the battles, away from the chaos.

And you had made that happen. For a while, you had built that family, that life, just as he’d wanted. You shared quiet mornings and loud, joyous evenings. You laughed, you loved, you lived. The memories still linger in every corner of this place, like echoes of a time that now feels so distant, so far away.

This is the place where you buried your husband — here, by the pond where he once stood dreaming of the future. It felt right, felt like honoring that dream of his, of giving him the home he’d always wanted, even in death. You wanted him to be where he’d always hoped to be, to rest in the place he had chosen for his family, his sanctuary. So you laid him to rest here, in the earth he once walked upon, beneath the trees that whisper his name in the wind.

But you chose this spot for a reason. So that he’ll always be home, so that he’ll never be far from the place he loved most. You wanted him to have peace, to feel the tranquility of the land he cherished so much. And maybe, in some way, you wanted him close, wanted to be able to visit, to sit by his side and feel his presence, even if it’s just in the whispers of the wind or the quiet ripple of the pond.

You sit back, closing your eyes, breathing in the fresh air, and you imagine his laughter, his voice, his hand in yours. You can almost hear him now, teasing you about being sentimental, about spending so much time talking to a patch of earth. But you know he’d understand. He always understood you, even when you didn’t understand yourself.

You look out over the pond, the way the water reflects the sky, and you wonder what he would think of the world now, of all the things that have changed. You wonder if he’d still choose this place, if he’d still find it as beautiful as he once did. You like to think he would, that he’d still smile and say, “Yeah, this is home.”

One day, you think. One day, maybe you’ll be here too, resting beside him, sharing this place forever. Maybe one day, you’ll find your way back to him, and you’ll get to hear his voice again, feel his arms around you, and you’ll be whole again. Until then, you’ll keep coming back, keep whispering to the wind, keep holding onto the memories that this place holds.

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the water, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. Because here, in this quiet place, he is still with you. Here, by the pond he loved so much, he is still home.

You’ve walked this path more times than you can count, but today feels different. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken words and memories that cling to you like shadows. It has been fourteen years now, and in a few days, it will be official. But it was your husband’s birthday today too, and you think that maybe that’s why. Satoshi is eighteen and your husband isn’t here to see it.

When you reach their graves, you pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The air is cool, the wind gentle against your skin, but there is a weight in your chest that feels heavier than any burden you’ve ever carried.

Two simple stones lie before you, side by side, as if they were always meant to be together — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Their names etched in the granite are stark against the soft earth, the bold characters cutting through the silence of the space around you. The sight is almost too real, too final, as if the reality of their absence is etched into the stone itself.

It was what Satoru wanted, you remember. He had told you that a long time ago, in a quiet moment, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost pleading. “Promise me, if anything ever happens… that Suguru will be laid to rest too. That he’ll have peace.”

You’d nodded then, not thinking much of it, not wanting to entertain the thought of losing him. But now, standing here, you understand why. You understand why it mattered to him, why it was so important that they be reunited in the end.

They were best friends once — closer than brothers, bound by a shared past, by dreams of changing the world together. Even when their paths diverged, even when they became enemies in the eyes of the world, there was always something unbreakable between them, something that tied them together beyond the choices they made, beyond the mistakes and the betrayals. They were always two halves of a whole, two sides of a coin that could never be separated.

And now, in death, they are together again. You think it fitting, think it poetic in a way that only Satoru could have imagined. They both found their peace here, in this quiet place, far from the chaos and conflict that shaped their lives. And maybe, just maybe, they have found each other again, wherever they are.

You kneel down, your knees pressing into the soft grass, feeling the dampness seep through your clothes, grounding you, connecting you to the earth, to this place where they both now rest. You reach out with trembling fingers, tracing the characters of their names etched into the cold granite. The letters feel rough under your fingertips, each line a reminder of what was lost, of the lives that were lived with so much intensity, so much passion, so much pain.

“Satoru.” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat. It feels strange to say his name out loud, to speak to him as if he could still hear you. But you hope he can. You hope he’s listening, somewhere out there. “I’m back, my dearest.”

“I miss you… so much. Every day. I don’t know how to do this without you.” Your fingers move to Suguru’s name next, tracing the familiar curves and lines, remembering the way Satoru used to talk about him, the fondness in his voice even after everything that happened.

“And Suguru.” you add softly, “I hope you found peace too. I hope… wherever you are, you’ve found each other again. That you’re not alone. Stay together, hm?”

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves around you, and for a moment, you almost think you hear their voices — Satoru’s light and teasing, Suguru’s deeper, quieter, both of them laughing together like they did in the old days, when things were simpler, when the world hadn’t yet shown its darker side. It’s a sound that cuts through the quiet, a memory that tugs at your heart, bringing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

You press your palms flat against the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath your hands, grounding yourself in the present, in the reality of this moment. You close your eyes, letting the tears fall freely now, feeling the ache in your chest grow sharper, deeper.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you… either of you. I’m sorry it came to this.”

But then you take a breath, slow and steady, and you remember what Satoru always said — that life goes on, that the world keeps turning, even when it feels like it’s falling apart. And you know he wouldn’t want you to stay here forever, trapped in the past, in the grief that feels like it might swallow you whole. He would want you to keep going, to keep living, to find joy again, even if it feels impossible right now.

You sit back on your heels, wiping at your eyes, feeling the cool breeze brush against your cheeks. “I’ll keep going.” you promise, your voice is stronger now, more certain. “I’ll keep living, for both of you. For all of us. But… one day, I hope I get to see you again. I hope we can be together again, somehow.”

The wind blows softly, carrying your words away, and you imagine them reaching Satoru, reaching Suguru, wherever they are. You imagine them smiling, together at last, watching over you, waiting for the day when you’ll be reunited. And in that thought, you find a small measure of comfort, a small piece of hope to hold on to.

So you stay a little longer, just sitting there in the quiet, in the space between what was and what is, letting the memories wash over you, letting yourself feel everything — the love, the loss, the longing. Because here, in this place, they are still with you. Here, by their graves, you are not alone.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure, but it’s hard. The memories rush back all at once — the sound of Satoru’s laughter, always so full and carefree; Suguru’s quiet, thoughtful gaze as he watches you both, always the more grounded of the two. You close your eyes for a moment, letting those memories wash over you, trying to hold on to the feeling of them, even as it brings a fresh ache to your heart.

“I miss you.” you say, your voice breaking on the last word. “Gods, I miss you both so much.”

Your hand drops to your lap, and you feel the sting of tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. The tears spill over, hot against your skin, and you don’t bother to wipe them away. You’re tired of pretending to be strong, tired of holding back the grief that’s been eating away at you ever since you lost them.

“I still can’t believe you’re gone, Satoru.” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I keep thinking… I keep waiting for you to walk through the door with that ridiculous grin on your face, like this was all just some terrible joke. I keep thinking I’ll hear your voice, calling out to me, asking me if I’ve missed you. Fourteen years and I still think like this.”

Your shoulders shake with a quiet sob, and you press a hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the sound. You feel the ache in your chest, the hollow emptiness that’s been there since the day he died. Every day without him feels like a wound that won’t heal, a pain that won’t lessen, no matter how much time passes.

“I miss you so much.” you repeat, your voice raw and broken. “I miss the way you used to make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. I miss the way you’d wrap your arms around me, like you could protect me from everything. I miss your voice, your smile… I miss everything.”

You take a deep breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes as if to ground yourself. “Sometimes… sometimes I don’t know how to keep going.” you admit quietly. “I don’t know how to keep living in a world where you’re not here.”

Your gaze drifts to Suguru’s grave, and you feel another pang of sorrow. “I miss you too, Suguru.” you murmur. “I know you and Satoru are probably driving each other crazy up there… but I wish… I wish you were both here with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears falling more freely now. “I’m trying to be strong, to be the person you both believed I could be.” you say, your voice trembling. “But it’s so hard without you. It’s so hard to keep going when all I want to do is just… just give up.”

You close your eyes, bowing your head, and let the tears fall, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The grief feels like it’s drowning you, pulling you under, and for a moment, you don’t know if you have the strength to keep swimming.

But then, through the haze of your tears, you feel a small flicker of warmth — a memory, a feeling, a sense of Satoru’s presence. You can almost hear his voice, playful and light, telling you to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep living. And you know, deep down, that he wouldn’t want you to give up. He’d want you to keep smiling, to keep finding joy, even in a world without him.

You lift your head, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “I promise I’ll keep going.” you whisper. “I’ll keep living, for both of you. But… one day…”

Your voice catches, and you swallow hard, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “One day, I can’t wait to see you again.” you say, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can’t wait to be with you again, Satoru. I can’t wait to hold you and tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his headstone, your fingers trembling. “Until then… I’ll keep you in my heart.” you whisper. “I’ll keep you both in my heart.”

The wind picks up once more, rustling the leaves, and for a moment, you feel a strange sense of peace, as if they’re both there with you, watching over you, telling you that it’s okay to grieve, to cry, to miss them. And as you sit there, letting the tears flow, you realize that they’re not really gone. They’re still with you, in every memory, every laugh, every tear.

“I love you so much.” you whisper, your voice carried away in the wind. “I always will, my love. Happy birthday.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but there nonetheless. A hope that one day, you’ll see them again, that one day, this ache will be replaced by the joy of being with them once more. Until then, you’ll carry them with you, every step of the way, until your paths cross again.

epilogue

In the ethereal expanse of the afterlife, Gojo Satoru was causing a celestial commotion that even the most seasoned spirits couldn’t ignore. The gates of heaven, grand and imposing, were currently the scene of an unusual spectacle. Satoru was, quite literally, throwing himself against them, trying to push his way through the ornate barriers with a determination that bordered on absurd.

Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, and Haibara Yuta were standing a few feet away, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Suguru was leaning against a nearby pillar, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Nanami was rubbing his temples in frustration, and Haibara was trying very hard not to laugh.

"How long has he been at this?" Nanami asked.

"Since yesterday." Haibara snickered in response.

"I haven't had peace these past two days." Suguru sighed.

Satoru, his face pressed against the gates, was shouting, “GAH!? Let me out! I need to get back to Earth! They need me! I can’t just sit here while they’re struggling!”

Nanami, stepping forward with a calm yet firm tone, said, “Satoru, this is not a joke. You’re dead. You’re not supposed to go back. We’ve been over this.”

Satoru turned his head, giving them a pleading look. “But they’re my family! They need me! Can’t you see? I’ve got to be there for them!”

Haibara, trying to defuse the tension, added with a smirk, “Gojo–senpai, you know you can’t just break the rules. Besides, you have to admit, your dramatic exit would probably cause a cosmic mess.”

Suguru, barely containing his grin, stepped forward with a more practical suggestion. “Look, Satoru, there’s a much better way to be there for them without causing a ruckus. You can appear in their dreams. It’s a lot less disruptive and doesn’t require you to break through any divine gates.”

Satoru’s eyes lit up with realization. “Wait, really? I do that? Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?”

Suguru shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t want to listen to me at all. Plus, you were too busy trying to create a celestial catastrophe.”

Satoru paused, considering the idea. “I suppose appearing in their dreams is a bit more civilized. But—” he added, frowning, “—can’t I just pop back in for a quick hug or something? A kiss, more preferably.”

Nanami shook his head, still trying to keep his composure. “No, Gojo. That’s not how it works. You’ve got to accept that you can't do what you want now that you're dead.”

Satoru, with a resigned sigh and the roll of his eyes, finally stepped back from the gates. He still looks like a child when he pouts. “Alright, alright. I’ll do the dream thing. But I want to make sure they know I’m there for them.”

Haibara chuckled. “Great. Just try not to turn their dreams into a circus act. They need comfort, not more chaos, Gojo–senpai!”

Satoru grinned, his spirits lifting as he envisioned his new plan. “Got it. I’ll keep it heartfelt and fun. And maybe I’ll sneak in a few tricks here and there. You know, just to keep things interesting.”

As Satoru prepared to set off on his new celestial mission, Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara exchanged looks of weary amusement. They knew that, despite his antics, Satoru’s heart was in the right place.

“Good luck,” Nanami said dryly. “And remember, no cosmic disasters.”

Satoru gave them a thumbs-up. “You got it! And thanks for the advice, everyone. I’ll make sure they feel my love, even if it’s just in their dreams.”

With that, Satoru faded into a swirl of ethereal light, heading toward the dreamscape to reach out to you and Satoshi. Meanwhile, Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara watched him go, their expressions a mix of relief and amusement.

“Do you think he’ll actually follow through?” Haibara asked, still grinning.

Suguru smirked. “If anyone can turn a dream into a grand spectacle, it’s Satoru. But I have no doubt he’ll manage to bring some comfort, too. Well, somewhat."

Nanami sighed, shaking his head. “Well, at least we’ve managed to keep him out of trouble, for now. Let’s hope he sticks to the plan.”

And with that, the trio returned to their celestial duties, knowing that despite Satoru’s chaotic tendencies, his heart was always in the right place.

And just as promised, Gojo Satoru did indeed make his grand reappearance in your dreams and Satoshi's, weaving a spectral thread through the fabric of your nightly slumbers. The dreams, much like Satoru himself, were a mix of whimsical chaos and heartwarming moments.

In your dream, the scene was set in a familiar place — a cozy, moonlit garden that felt both nostalgic and surreal. There, amidst the soft glow of fairy lights and the gentle rustling of leaves, was Satoru, his usual nonchalant demeanor softened by a warm, affectionate grin. He was seated on a bench, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with the same mischievous gleam you remembered so well.

"Soooo." he began, stretching out the word as if he were about to launch into one of his signature lectures. "Miss me much? I bet you didn't expect me to show up like this."

You could only laugh, feeling a mixture of relief and joy. "Satoru... this is incredible. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come."

Satoru’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "You know me, always keeping my promises, even from beyond. Besides, I couldn’t let you and Satoshi have all the fun without me."

He gestured to the garden around you, which seemed to glow with a gentle, ethereal light, transforming it into a place of comfort and tranquility. It was as if he had crafted this dreamscape himself, blending his penchant for the whimsical with the tenderness of his love.

As you sat together, talking and laughing, the conversation flowed effortlessly. He shared stories from the afterlife, which he portrayed with his characteristic humor and flair, recounting celestial mishaps and the amusing antics of his fellow spirits. It was just like old times, but with a surreal twist — his jokes seemed to float in the air like bubbles, and his laughter was a melody that danced through the night. And then when it was time, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close into an embrace and a kiss.

Satoshi’s dream was equally enchanting. He found himself in a fantastical setting, a blend of his own memories and Satoru's imaginative touch. The scene was a vibrant carnival, full of colors and laughter. Satoru was there, dressed in an elaborate magician’s costume, complete with a top hat and a flowing cape. He was performing tricks, pulling stars out of a hat and making cosmic confetti rain down on the crowd.

Satoshi watched in awe as Satoru performed, a look of wonder on his face. When Satoru finally noticed him, he winked and gave him a grandiose bow. "Hey, kiddo! Did you miss me? Hope you're enjoying the show!"

Satoshi’s heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of joy and longing. He approached Satoru, who enveloped him in a hug that felt strangely warm despite being a dream. Satoshi felt tears well up in his eyes, but he laughed, feeling a sense of comfort he hadn’t experienced in years. “I’ve missed you so much, Dad.”

Satoru ruffled his hair affectionately, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “I know, kiddo. I’ve missed you too. But you’ve grown so much. I’m proud of you. And I know your mom is too. You both are doing great.”

The dream continued with a playful sense of magic and wonder, filled with laughter and joy. Satoru’s presence, though fleeting, was a gift — a reminder that his love and spirit continued to be a part of your lives, even if only in the realm of dreams.

As the night drew to a close and the dreams began to fade, Satoru gave one last, heartfelt wave. “Remember, I’m always with you. In every laugh, every moment, and every starry night. I’ll be cheering you on from here.”

When you and Satoshi woke up, you immediately texted each other about the dream. And back in heaven, Gojo Satoru was pleased.

242 notes · View notes

rainee-da · 8 months ago

Note

Hello how's your day!! I wanna request fluff for the Walkis (the six critters) if that's okay... Thank you very much!!!!

URGRHRH I JUST RLLY LIKE YOUR WRITINGS HUEGSGSJAJKAK

🍀 Lay Down in Their Lap [2]

CHARACTER ❥ Lévis Rosequartz 🧲 / Charles Contini 📞 / Galuf Gargaron 👅 / Kenny Clark 🧊 / Malcolm Curtis 🪲 / Lovie Rosequartz ⚡

W A R N I N G ⚠️ R-15 for suggestive themes on some / BIG SPOILER for anime watchers!!!! / might be too OOC for you.

L É V I S R O S E Q U A R T Z 🧲

Scarlet red creeped from his neck up to his face. He stares at you with a bewildered look, unable to comprehend your 'ridiculous' request.

"H-huh?! Y-you want t-to... s-sleep... my l-lap... are you insane?! Stop acting like an idiot!" he shrieked as he scooted back to the edge of the bench.

He tried. He swears to the mightiest God or Goddess up there that he tried his absolute best to stay firm. He tried to kept a stern posture while you're looking at him like a kicked puppy.

After all, laying on people's lap in broad daylight on school ground is too lovey-dovey! too scandalous!

What would everyone think?! What would his FATHER think?!

But his resolution dwindling as rapidly as it could when you asked him again. This time fully utilizing those puppy-eyes to its maximum capacity.

"F-Fine! Just do whatever you want!" he snapped with an angry tone as he finally scooted closer and slumped his back against the bench, grabbing his abandoned book and flipping it to random page.

His mind is gearing at a rapid pace as he tried to calm his nerves, his damaged eyes now started to feel itchy. That's fine though, just act as if you didn't care and all would be fine, right?

The rumble in his mind shatters when he finally felt that soft pressure against thighs. He, embarrassingly, lets out a high-pitched low screech and he almost bang his nape to the bench.

"I-Idiot! Stop moving around so much!" he barked weakly as he squirmed in his seat, while you simply nuzzle onto his thighs. Uncaring of his outward misery.

He swears to God you'll make him die from heart attack one of these days…

He gulped, face scarlet red and teeth gritting as he stares down at your peaceful expression. His brain fixated onto your facial features, silently making it his new fixation.

His hand moves to move the strand that is in the way of your face. And his index finger accidentally brush against your lips...

Why is it moist? Can he try it-

Your face will ended up being littered with a bunch of tiny shred of paper. Because the man above you is apparently too nervous and ending up grinding down on his book with his teeth.

C H A R L E S C O N T I N I 📞

"Y-yes? Sure, sure... of course, Mama... W-what? My voice? O-oh, I'm just cold... It's winter a-after all.. Yes, yes, of course I'm using the b-blank...kkket.... you gave me... Really, I'm fine!"

The one and only Charles Contini is, in fact, not fine. His face is currently match that of a boiling hot kettle.

His body trembles, hand almost dropping his phone as he attempts (but failed) to gave you his meanest death-glare.

But you didn't care. You just swing your head on his thigh mischievously then get your head back inside his shirt, doing whatever you want.

His other hand desperately yanked the fabric of your clothes, teeth gritting and in the break of speaking to his mother on the phone he mouthed to you a word 'please', his lips is now visibly trembling.

You, somehow had managed to make him hate talking to his mother right at this moment.

"Y-yeah yeah... Mama, I reallly think I gotta-Hhhah... Y-yeah really, I'm fine... I swear I'm fine! N-now Igottagobyeeee-" click, finally the torture is over.

He exhales loudly as he plopped his body on the bed. He rolled his body to the side, forcefully ripping you out of his lap. He mumbles, "You're unbelieveable," as he rubbed his face with his palm.

You though, didn't care. You simply take a peek to his face with a smug look on your face, clearly satisfied. Fueling his irritation more.

Out of nowhere though, the tables has turned. He startling you by moving so fast and now you're pinned down on the bed, with him on top of you.

He smirked at you, tilting his head to the side. He looks so menacing... and hot.

"Mama said that I shouldn't play rough with others... but," he purrs quietly as his hand roamed to your sides, and his other hands pick up the strand of your hair and brings it to his mouth, giving it a peck.

His head leans closer, breath brushing againts the skin of your neck and he let out a low chuckle. Your reaction is simply too adorable.

"... I think a punishment is due, don't you think?"

Don't be weird lol he just tickled your sides lmaoooo of course I'm not insinuating anything hahahahhahaa-

G A L U F G A R G A R O N 👅

"I-is this okay? Are you comfortable?" he stutters nervously, both of his hand hovers awkwardly over your relaxes figure on his lap, not knowing where to put it.

On your hair? What if he accidentally yank it? On your stomach? What if he pushed on it too hard? On your chest? Uh-

He snapped out of his turmoil when you mentioned that his shaking hand is currently sweating a river, and it's dripping down on you.

"Huh?! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to please don't hate me-" please guide this poor lad. He never done this with anyone ever before. He's seriously gonna combust into acid mess!

His jitter and stutter earning him a few sore spot in his tongue due to him accidentally biting into it when trying to talk or move. It's a wonder that he managed to NOT bite it off.

His breath hitches when you grabbed his hand gently and guide it to rest flat on your hair, telling him to try playing with it as a start. THIS IS THE START?!

He swears if he accidentally hurt you he'll yank his limb off.

As the time passed by though, he started to calmed down as his mind focused on each strand of your hair. A faint blush tinted his cheek and by the time you realized it, he's in the middle of braiding your hair into a tiny parts. All the time checking your facial expression for any sign of discomfort.

His eyes rounded into what seemed like a doe-eye and his face relaxed, the corner of his mouth is quirked upwards into a small smile. He seems happy... until-

"WHAT'CHA LOOKING AT?!" He suddenly barked with eyes glaring to the side. Panicked, your head follows his direction and you saw his gang standing over there with face full of variation of expression.

Before you managed to speak your mind, your boyfriend's voice boomed across the place as he barked the word "SCRAM", making those group of teens scramble away into obscurity, almost stumbling onto each other.

"They're so noisy, I swear to God..." he mumble quietly, his eyes trailing back to meet your surprised expression. He avert his eyes shyly and he's back to his previous mode, stumbling over his word.

"I-I'm sorry, you must be surprised right?" he stated meekly as his hand silently encouraging you to lay back on his lap. "It's just my friends, they're being noisy as per usual. I hope I didn't scare you..."

Honestly, the duality of this man is mind-boggling.

K E N N Y C L A R K 🧊

"Calm down, no one's gonna now," he said nonchalantly, patting your hair without looking at you as his hand flipped through the pages of his module.

The both of you are in the library right now, and as it should be; nobody should be flirting in the library. Getting caught holding hands in itself will earn the culprit an one-day ban from accessing the library.

But did your boyfriend care? Of course not.

Because if he cares you wouldn't be in this situation right now; head pressed down onto his lap with one hand while he busying himself, studying for finals.

He reasoned that your love is his 'battery', therefore you should be 'charging him'. Whatever that means.

Sometimes he'll look down on his lap to check on you. He'll pinch on your cheek to make you look at him and he'll blow you a kiss. With a face devoid of any emotions.

Though his face seems stoic, he's actually secretly gushing inside his mind. He swears that that your misery flustered face is so adorable! That blushing cheek, wavering eyes... it brings warm to his chest.

All of that gushy-mushy inside his mind, while you're nervously checking around the room. Afraid to find the librarian striding in without any time for you to react.

The both of you have been banned from the library for far too many times. And finals week is not the ideal time for that to happen.

Noticing your distress, he closed his eyes and sighed softly. His hand relaxed and he stopped putting pressure onto your head. Giving you a chance to finally scrambled out of his lap and act normal!

But that's too boring for him.

That's why now he wrapped his hand around your shoulder and pulling you closer. Effectively making you lean on his shoulder.

But that's not enough for him, no! so he uses his hand to tilted your head upwards, making you face him while he leans closer to rubbed the tip of his nose to yours. Enjoying the reaction he earned from you.

"Rest assured, my angel," he mumbled quietly, intentionally breathing through his mouth so it would brush onto your lips. "After all, our love is always stealthy, it will flies under the radar." yikes

You might be hallucinating but you swear that you saw a glimpes of his lips quirked upwards slightly as he leans closer slowly, tilting his head, almost touching your lips...

"MR. CLARK WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN MY LIBRARY?!"

On a positive note, if you get a bad grades for final, you're free to blame him now! Yay!

M A L C O L M C U R T I S 🪲

"Are you bored, my dear?" his voice is calm and soothing as he push the strand of hair that is in your face to the side, his other hand is brushing through the back of your hair gently.

He look to the side and stares at his fishing equipment that he put up by the edge of the river. It's been an hour and no fish has taken the bait yet.

He's not surprised though. Fishing is a long, waiting game after all. Especially if one decides to not use a lure. For him though, that's what makes it even more satisfying if he managed to catch one.

You lay on the grass with your head on his lap. Moaning and groaning about 'stupid fish not knowing what a fine cuisine is'. A low chuckles escapes his mouth, muffled by the tube in his mouth.

"Well, it's indeed taking longer than usual for fish to take my bait. I'm experimenting with the new bug after all," and that made you pouted. Something that he adores the most.

He's always hesitant to bring you with him fishing, knowing that you'll not be entertained. But for some reasons you always insisting on coming along, and every time his lap always ended up as your pillow.

Not that he minded though. You seemed relaxed and content as you nuzzle onto his thigh. And that's all he wanted, for you to be comfortable around him.

Not many people can bear to look at his... face. People often stated that 'it's the face that can only be loved by his mother'.

Not you though... you seems to think that his face is ethereal, as if he's one of Michelangelo's masterpiece. He never knew why you seems to think that way... but it warms his heart.

You suddenly shrieked, almost making him jump to defensive position and activate his magic. He frantically look to the side and his eyes widened when his fishing rod had finally started to twitch.

He moves away as you woke up from his lap and quickly keep a hold to the fishing rod, slowly reeling it in and strategically stopped to not startle anything that is currently taking his bait.

Meanwhile his heart thump against his chest, hearing you yelling encouragements to him as if you're a cheerleader.

And... voila! It's a baby catfish.

He stares at the wiggling little fish at the end of of his rod with a deadpanned expression, while you currently laughing your ass off.

He looks towards your direction, and he was stunned in silence as he stares at your amused face. It was simply... beautiful.

He knew his hobby is boring for you. But if it can make you laugh like this... he hopes you'll never get bored coming along with him.

He feels serene, at peace, all because of you.

L O V I E R O S E Q U A R T Z ⚡

"Oh, Hi... sorry, but Lévis is not here" he greets you with a soft voice as you come to his room, closing the book he's been reading and giving you his full attention as you walked to his bed.

His eyes widened in surprised when you, as usual, told him that you're here to hang out with him. A faint blushes painted his cheek as he let out a sweet laugh, "Oh, of course! please, come sit by me. I was starting to get bored myself."

He never gets used to you visiting him for some reasons. Even after a year of him being sick and losing his magic, he never did.

After being bedridden, it's rare for him to met people other than Lévis. His father never even consider him exist anymore, deeming him to be a defective product.

Maybe the last time he met his father was more than half a year ago? when he dragged him to this room?

All of that didn't surprised him though, he was just happy that his brother didn't meet the same fate as him. He believes all of this happen as a karma for never tried to stand up for his brother.

For you to stick around and visiting him every other weekend though, just to hang out with him and nothing else, is never failed to surprised him. I mean, why? he was weak now, everybody leaves, why won't you?

He giggles as he scoots a bit to give you space. As per usual, you'll get on his bed and put your head on his lap. Hugging his thin thigh in a koala grip as if it's your lifeline.

The pressure was a bit too tight, but it was fully welcomed. The extra warmth from your body is radiating and creeping to his heart, warming the negative thoughts away.

"How was school? anything interesting?" he questioned while brushing his hand to your hair, and his sweet smile never fades as he listens to your story. His eyes radiating with adoration as he stares down at you.

For him, your story was always interesting. Even if all you gonna talk in your entire visit is only about the shitty new cafeteria menu you had on school, it was all very interesting for him.

If you mentioned about his smile towards you, he'll giggle and cup your cheeks before giving your lips a small peck, "It's because I love you so much. You're so cute!"

Any reactions you gave him after that will earned you more peck for him. Don't scoot away from his lap though, he'll be sad! and he'll use his entire energy if he should to drag you back to his lap.

In his weakened state, all whom stay by his side other than Lévis is only you. For him, you're the breathe of fresh air in this cramped, lavish space.

Your existence stuck in his mind, and it's what keeps him going through the day as he dealt with the illness in his body.

As he pressed his forehead on top of yours, he mutters a soft 'thank you' before sighing, enjoying your presence by his side.

He'll trade everything in the world, for you to stay by his side... forever.

By the way, Lévis is currently outside of his room the entire time, holding a tray of food, wondering if he should go in and become a cockblock or not.

I'm currently as good as a constipated bull right now And THANK YOUUUUU SM BOO I'M HAPPY THAT YOU LIKE MY WRITING! 😭😭😭 UEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Since you didn't specify what type of scenario you would want me to write, I used this prompt to write for them. If this is not what you mean, feel free to send another request!!!

I put Lovie in as a curve ball because I'm curious on how I myself would interpret a character that only appeared in the few panels. But unexpectedly Malcolm ended up being the hardest one. I paused writing for a day just because of him lol.

Anyway, thank you @doughnuts-eater for your request! Sorry it takes too long for me to write! I hope you and everyone else will enjoy this one too! 🍀

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 9 months ago

Note

congrats on 1k!!! can i have Q and 🥵?

Thank you so much! 🥰

This was ... less angsty and more smutty in my head. 😅

Guiding light

Rated: E

Words: 997

Tags: Post-Vecna; Kas!Eddie Munson; monster!Eddie Munson; rough sex; monsterfucking; angst; hopeful ending

He doesn't know what pulls him in.

He doesn’t know a lot of things, these days.

The portals have closed. Master is dead. So are his siblings. The comforting buzz of their claws and wings and voices in his head, the cold, familiar slither of their minds against his, it's all gone.

It’s dreadfully empty, all alone in his head. His mind flails like a bird the dark, released from the confines of its … house? prison? A thing with bars, he doesn’t know the word. It’s lost somewhere in the void and he can’t grasp it, doesn’t know how to reach for it. Doesn’t remember.

That’s how the golden glow flickering beyond the trees finds him - naked in the night, stumbling around without aim. He doesn’t know why he follows it.

The house is dark, half-destroyed from the ground tremors. The light pulses from a window above him. A … a tiny fire thing. A candle.

A candle to light his way, like something from a … another thing he doesn’t remember the word for, a thing with words on pages that takes you to far-off worlds, a thing that smells of ink, paper, dust. A thing he used to … love.

The distant echo of the feeling makes his head erupt in pain, makes something horribly warm bubble in his chest. He scales the wall, using his tail and wings for support, ready to snuff out the tiny light.

“There you are.”

A whisper, barely more than a breath floating on air. He whips around as if yanked by a leash, fangs bared.

There’s a … sleep thing in the corner of the room. Blankets and pillows that smell of comfort, warmth, rest - but that isn’t what makes his mouth water and his stomach churn with a terrible, primal feeling. A feeling that’s close to hunger but not quite.

It's the figure sitting on top of the thing. A boy with eyes that are bright in the flickering candlelight, eyes brimming with emotions he doesn’t know.

But he knows those eyes.

The warm thing in his chest explodes, like boiling liquid eating at his insides. He roars in pain and confusion and fear and launches himself at the boy. He wants to shred, he wants to maim, he wants the burning to stop, he wants the emptiness to go away, he wants, he wants, he wants-

Something touches his face, something soft and light. A hand. He has the boy pinned, claws digging into his shoulders, ripping through the fabric of his shirt. Fangs inches from his throat, breath hot against his pulse.

There's no fear in those eyes. Instead, those lips - soft and inviting and familiar - curl into a smile.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” says the boy, fingers slipping up to his temples, gently combing aside the tangled curtain of his hair.

He doesn’t know gentle.

Then why does he remember it?

He peels back his lips and hisses, wings flaring out, tail slicing the air like a whip.

“It’s okay,” says the boy. His hand tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, slowly, tenderly and the warm thing coils in his chest, in his abdomen. “I know you're in there, Eddie.”

The pain in his skull turns blinding white. The word … the name ricochets in the empty cavern of his mind and his chest pulls with want, so hard he thinks it might crack open.

The boy's eyes are bright like the candle. Pulling him in. His claws shred through fabric, exposing soft skin, patterns of moles like … sky things. Stars.

“Go ahead,” says the boy. “I'm here. Take what you need.”

He doesn’t know what he needs.

But he thinks he remembers.

He doesn't know gentle, but the boy does.

His claws can only leave gashes and cuts, but those hands can tease and caress. His fangs can only bite and tear, but those lips leave kisses and whispered words of endearment. He's death and destruction and cold, but the boy is warmth and kindness and life.

He shouldn’t want that warmth, but he does. And he takes it. Takes it in all the ways he knows and all the ways he remembers.

The boy doesn't stop him once. Not when he pushes inside of him with a brutality that punches the breath from his chest in a hoarse whimper. Not when the force of his thrusts makes the sleep thing … the bed … groan and creak. Not when his claws leave bruises and draw blood, not when his tail wraps around the boy's throat, leaving him gasping for breath underneath him.

By the time he spills inside of that warmth and collapses on top of the boy, spent and exhausted and finally sated, the candle has burnt to a small stub and the sky beyond the window is turning brighter. Birdsong reaches his ears and he snarls reluctantly.

“You need to go?”

The boy's smile is tired and slow, and a little sad. He's beautiful in the waxing light, skin littered in marks. Marks he left there. The warm feeling blooms in his chest again. He thinks he could get used to the pain if means seeing that smile again.

“That’s alright.” Fingers combing through his hair, lips tracing the ruined remains of pictures etched into his skin. “I'll leave the candle burning so you can find me again, now that you know the way.”

He whines, even as he disentangles himself from the boy's embrace. He doesn’t know gentle, but he still presses his lips to the long stretch of that throat one last time, fangs scraping over bruised and bitten skin.

The boy sighs and melts into the touch.

“I'll get you back, Eddie. No matter how long it takes.”

He doesn't know gentle, and he doesn’t know the person that name belongs to.

But the darkness is a little bit thinner now. And he thinks that some day, he might remember.

Steve guiding Eddie back to himself through unhinged monsterfucking? Why not?

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets

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fluff-n-cookies · 1 year ago

Note

You may call me crow anon

Idk how any of this worls as i recently joined tumblr

But can i pls ask for platonic dabi who comes looking for sister reader after she moved out years ago from the todorkoi house and only keeps contat with fyumi, natsuo and occasionally rei?

Idl man

HI I don't know Either but WELCOME TO TUMBLR, I hope you enjoy your stay. I will add you to my anon list on my rules for requests page and. I hope to hear from you again, and fun fact you are my first EVER anon so thank you, It's my pleasure.

ANNNNDD for the sake of the story the reader has pink hair.

warnings Dabi tries to commit suicide. and some swearing.

RUN. do nothing but RUN.

RUN to find her. RUN to safety. RUN AWAY from the police.

Dabi's Inner monologue rang loud, louder than any other, louder than the sound of the police and the hero's trying to catch him. so, damn, loud.

Panting, the young 15 year old Dabi, who somehow managed to dye his hair and steal food for 2 years of his life, turned a swift corner into the alley way before jumping up to climb the fire shoot, it was now when it occurred to him.

(y/n) would not be happy to see the man you have become.

he froze for a second, scared, he did his best, he tried so hard to be a hero, a hero for his older sister, for she who believed in him when none else would, but it wasn't until the scorching pain of blood polling at his eye bags that he started to move again.

oh how he admired her, and her dreams of becoming rich, dreams of being someone other than their father daughter.

too bad they were broken down and beaten everyday.

too bad that Touya had to sit there and watch his darling sister, his one and only light, be dimmed and overshadowed.

it was worse he couldn't do anything.

it was worse he just could watch.

it was painful. even more so when at 16 she told him she'll be back soon, hugged their mom good bye, handed him a sheet of paper with the Words "We'll meet again" written in shabby hand writing, took the car and never cam back again, it wasn't for 4 hours at Touya realized something was wrong, it took Rei 1 day to notice something was wrong, it took 6 days for endeavor to notice, and 3 months before he actually started to care... that his car was gone. Fuyumi asked where "big sister" went, Enji never told her, and every time she would ask Rei, Rei would just burst into tears, eventually, Fuyumi stopped asking, Natsuo thought she was still at school, and Shoto simply forgot she existed. that year was the same year he faked his death, that was the year Touya Todoroki died, the day Dabi was born.

eventually he grew tired, the police had lost him, so had the heroes so why run when you're not being chased?

Dabi came to a stop, looking around before lighting a cigarette he stole from a convenience store sighing out the smoke, the hot smoke a huge contrast to the cool summer breeze, like you her kindness was a huge contrast to the rest of the family.

no one really acted right in the Todoroki household, their they were cold and brash, or had mental issues, most had daddy issues, and all should really go to therapy, she on the other hand was softer, kinder, a soul who needed helping but put the needs of other before herself. soft words, soft pink hair (a mix of white and red, odd since no-one else had pink hair.) and the most welcoming smile you ever saw.

she was always like that,

always such an angel.

Dabi leaned on the railing of the short building, smoking, reminiscing on memories of the past.

leaning too hard, and falling.

at this point it was intentional, how one to endure such horrors, who is the deity was cruel enough to taunt him by giving him the soul he adored the most and then ripping it right out of his hands?

it was a short fall, just as it was a short building, but he didn't land on concrete instead he landed on the dumpster.

greeted by the smell of dog shit, and the feel of soggy cardboard and black plastic garbage bags.

"the hell?" he whispered a sort of surprise that came to him as he realized this was not hell, but a smaller, stinkier, hell.

he was even more surprised when he realized he was not alone.

"oh dear! sir are you alright?!" a gentle voice yelled out, she was wearing a soft (favorite color) dress, and had the kindest eyes, that was the only way to describe her.

she helped him out of the dumpster, not even looking at his face.

just like (y/n) would

"hey, stay with me, we'll go to my apartment, just hold on tight."

she didn't even mind the smell of smoke on his T-shirt.

all he remembers after that is fighting, fight to stay awake, fight to thank the angel that is his savior.

then he remembers sinking into the soft cushions of a warm red or orange couch.

like fall, her favorite season. (sorry if you don't like fall)

then the angel came back, now is when she noticed the purple scorches, the piercing blue eyes, and the little white segments near the roots.

he was sure she was going to scream, he was sure she was going to run and flee, and call the police, but instead she carried on, gave him an ice pack, checked his temperature, check for any major wounds gave him some water.

nervously, she asked "I'm sorry to be asking this but are you by any chance a endeavor hater."

Dabi chuckled fighting back the blood from reaching his eyes this was her alright.

"(y/n), big sis," blood threatened to trickle down what was left of his cheeks.

poor girl, choked out a sob, scared to even embrace him scared he'll drift away like she drifted away from him, salty tears prickled the edges of her eyes.

"To-Touya," she gulped "I-"

she pulled him right toward her, holding him tight, just like she would when they were younger and Dabi had a nightmare and was scared, except now, Dabi was truly scared, sacred of both himself and the future, scared you would poof into vapor his arms if he hugged you too tight.

"I"M SORRY" she yelled out, letting her own tears fall.

that night was spent in a shabby apartment, that night was spent together, that bight Dabi promised himself.

I'm never letting you go, ever.

I TRIED MY BEST BUT IT WAS SHITTY ANYWAYS BYYEEEE

#bnha x reader #bnha headcannons #platonic yandere #bnha fluff #dabi todoroki #dabi x sister reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #todoroki toya x reader #dabi touya #mha touya #mha #bnha #todoroki touya #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki

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bella-goths-wife · 2 years ago

Text

Crush

Yandere cullens x reader

Tw- gore, death, reader being abused, sick family dynamics, animal death

You trailed behind Jasper as he grasped your cold hand. He had always felt the need to hold your hand in busy hallways, it made him feel better. You were about to yank your hand away but your mood flipped like a switch and an idiotic smile forced its way on your lips

He always did this, whenever you felt uncomfortable he would make your mood more convenient for him.

You snapped out of it when you were bumped into by a distracted walker, she smiles apologetically and walks away while Jasper glares daggers at her. You yank your hand away and he looks confused

“I have chemistry now” you remind him “you have p.e your going the opposite direction”

“Can’t you just skip?” Jasper asks annoyed as emmet joins him and puts an arm around you

“Yeah little sis, come join us” emmet tries to convince you but you just shake your head

“Last time I did that, neither one of you defended me when Carlisle scolded me” you sighed out as you separated yourself from them

“(Y/n)” emmet calls your name and you turn your head “behave yourself, little sis”

You nodded and made your way to your class. As you stepped through the doors you noticed someone sitting in the seat next to yours.

He was a short boy with brown curly hair, he saw you and pulled a small, polite smile.

“Hey there” he greets you as you sit down “you must be my new lab partner, I’m Brad”

“(Y/n)” you greet politely and shake his hand before turning away and looking at the board

“You always sit with the cullens kids, your their sister right?” He asks and you just nod “you don’t talk much, huh?”

You shake your head. You don’t want this boy to die all because you engaged in polite small talk. You feel him moving and hear him scribbling. You don’t pay attention to him until half an hour into the lesson he tugs in your sleeve.

You turn to see a small sketch of a baby deer on the inside of brads work book. You look at him curious and find the paper to be dedicated to you. You turn your head and he just gives you a cheeky smile.

“Because of your eyes” he explains playfully “you remind me of a deer”

You blush red and hide your face from his peering gaze. He rips the page and grabs your hand before placing the paper in your palm. Your heart would have beat at the contact

“Thank you” you say flustered while he just chuckles

You try and listen to the teacher but all you can listen to is brads heartbeat increasing every time you looked at him, he was nervous too.

As the bell rang you rose from your seat but Brad takes your bag in his hands. You look at him but he just takes your hand and leads you out the classroom. As you exit the classroom your hand remains in his.

“I’ll walk you to lunch” he says as he nudges you with his shoulder “you can keep chatting my ear off”

You let out a small giggle and he gives an exaggerated shocked gasp

“She laughs” he says shocked “it’s a miracle”

“Shut up” you replied back playfully as you kept walking “so what’s the plan, woo me over a lukewarm lunch meal?”

“Who says I’m wooing you” he questions playfully “maybe your the one seducing me? With your big eyes and complete silence? Who could resist”

You let out a loud laugh but you catch yourself as you see the entrance to the lunch hall. You let go of brads hand and walk away but to your dismay he follows you, thinking it’s a game.

You approach your siblings at your usual table and they smile at you, all except Edward. He was too focused on someone behind you.

“Hey, you” he shouts to Brad who was looking like a lost puppy “come sit with us”

“What are you doing?!” Rosalie hissed out as she pulled you down to your chair before you could wave Brad away “why are you inviting a human over”

“Seems like our baby sister has a crush” Edward answers darkly “we should at least get to know the guy”

Brad sits down next to you and Rosalie pulls your chair closer to her passive aggressively. You shoot brad a pleading look to walk away but he didn’t understand, everyone at the table glares at him

“What’s your name kid?” Jasper asks with a cruel smirk

“Brad” he answers while looking at you with a smile “I’m surprised this one hasn’t told you, she’s a real chatterbox”

“He’s joking” you defend yourself fearfully at the thought of them telling Carlisle that you talked to humans

“So Brad” Edward leans closer with a menacing look “your gonna switch chemistry classes”

“Why would I do that?” Brad says confused

“Because we all don’t trust you with our little sister” emmet answers while cracking his knuckles

“It’s not like you’d ever be good enough for her anyway” Rosalie says disgusted “she’s too precious for you to even talk too”

“Fuck you” Brad seethed out as he rose from his chair and stormed off

“Why would you do that?!” You question angrily “he was a nice guy and you all sat here and mocked him”

“Behave sis, you wouldn’t want to get punished” emmet threatened

You look to the exit and make your thoughts known before turning to them

“You can’t do anything here” is all you said before you stormed off to find Brad, your siblings wanted to punish you but it was way to public

They would get you later.

———————————————————————

“Brad!” You called after him when you saw Brad emerge from the library

“Go away (y/n)” was all he said as he kept walking

“I’m so sorry Brad” you apologised and he turned to you with an angry expression “I tried to stop them”

“Fucking incest freaks” he spits out as he continues to walk away “they’re brother fuckers and they judge me?”

“I’m so so sorry” you apologised again with your head down

“Its not your fault” he sighs out “why are they so weird with you?”

“I don’t know” you admitted and he put his hand on your shoulder, you blush slightly

“I’ve gotta get to gym” he says with a smile “I’ll see you around chatterbox”

You nod and smile sadly while watching him leave. Your first ever crush and your family couldn’t even let you enjoy it for more than an hour.

———————————————————————

There’s a knock on your locked bedroom door. You look confused before Carlisle emerges from the other side.

You back away and go into the corner of the room out of fear. Your arms instinctively put your arms over your face defensively. Carlisle sighs and goes to your corner before crouching

“Sweet girl, don’t be afraid” you flinch when he caress your cheek “I’ve brought you a gift”

You look at him with fearful curiosity as he grabs your hand and pulls you up. He forces his arm over you shoulder and drags you to the kitchen

You see Brad sat at the counter with his arms tied behind his back with thick rope and a gag in his mouth.

“We’ve brought your friend home for dinner” Alice says gleefully as she puts her hand on his shoulders with her nails sticking in

“You’ve been a bad girl (y/n)” esme says as she emerges from the living room with a disappointed frown “talking to humans is against the rules”

“I won’t do it again I promise” you cry out as you go to Brad and watch him struggle against his restraints “let him go, it’s not his fault”

“He’s corrupted you” Edward slams his fist on the counter and breaks it “all he thought about when he was with you was your body, why would he be interested in you beyond that”

“It’s not like you give enough conversations to the humans to like you for your charming personality” emmet snickers out cruelly as they all tainted you

Brad furiously shook his head in disagreement as you put your head down in shame and embarrassment.

“Shall we get the entertainment” Alice squeals out while she claps her hand excitedly

They all pull you and Brad through to the living room. They forcefully pull you to the couch and sit around you but Brad is forced onto a seat in the centre of the room.

“First up” Edward announces “your punishment”

Emmet comes through with a beautiful little Robin. You knew this bird, you had connected with this bird through your power to ask it to sing for you. They knew that and you knew what came next.

You felt your connection with the bird force it’s way to the surface as it felt like your soul intertwined with its.

“You know what happens now” Carlisle sighs out as he takes the small bird in the palm of his hands, you feel the birds fear and anxiousness as tears well up in your eyes

Carlisle slowly uses his strength to crush the bird and you yell in agony. Your neck feels as though it’s the one being crushed as your head feels pulses of pain expand from your brain. As the bird lets out it’s last breath your neck forces a sigh and you feel devoid of breath even if you didn’t need to breath.

Rosalie pulls you face to lean on her shoulder while you grip your throat in pain. The pain eventually leaves but the birds dead body is left on the coffee table

“It’s okay baby” Rosalie shush’s “it’s gone now”

You cry harder and Brad looks at you terrified and confused. They pull him to face you before emmet goes behind him

“Baby sis’s first crush” Emmett laughs out as he puts his hands on brads shoulders “get a picture Alice”

The flash on Alice’s camera shocks you and Brad as you rub your eyes. The photo comes out and Alice sighs affectionately while putting it in your ‘scrap book’

Before you realise what’s happening, you see Emmett’s hands go on the side of brads face and he begins to press. Brad screams in agony as his head is slowly compressed, blood spurts out onto your face when his face is flattened. Small pieces of brain matter landed on your face as Rosalie pulls out a napkin and wipes your face gently.

“Smile sis” Alice says as the camera flashes on your shocked, terrified face.

Alice sticks the photo in the scrap book with “baby sis first ‘crush’” with crush in air quotations. You look at your face on the photo and then hear your families cruel, mocking laughter

They treat the situation as a party and dance around while laughing. You look at brads body and clutch the drawing he gave you in your pocket.

You make eye contact with Carlisle who just smirks and then Edward steps in front of you and smiles cruelly. One thought springs to mind

I need to get the fuck out of here

Hope you enjoyed :)

Love ya ❤️

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mslanna · 7 months ago

Note

Secretly pining Raphael reacting to Tav saving his life. When he asks why they did so and/or what they want in exchange for saving him, Tav very clearly almost admits that they did it because they care about him, but they catch themself and, even though it is very obvious that the both of them know exactly what Tav was just about to say, the adventurer "corrects" themself ("I did it because I- Because you're my ally."). Tav then quickly tries to excuse themself; poor thing feels awkward and embarrassed because the cambion has not made his feelings for his little mouse clear at all.

they/them Tav without body configuration character death (not Raphael or Tav) of screen death, blood read it on AO3

Tell Me Why

"They were my incubus," Raphael growls.

"I know," Tav replies flat.

"They have shared my life and bed for over two centuries."

"I know."

"And you killed them."

Tav only nods. There is nothing to add. They did indeed kill the incubus. The body lies on the tiled floor of the boudoir, red blood looking like just another ornament in the room. It is a shame, Tav thinks. It was nothing personal. Tav holds out the dagger they used to kill Haarlep to the cambion. "Enchanted," they say as if it is an explanation.

Raphael takes the dagger and scrutinises it closely; more closely than he looked at the body of his incubus. "A rare and precious item," he comments. "Few are strong enough to enchant weapons against incubi."

"It cost me a pretty bit." Tav shrugs. It cost its former owner his life so an assortment of sprains and bruises doesn't feel worth mentioning. And nightmares. But there are always nightmares ever since the elder brain.

"How much? Asking as an interested investor."

Tav shrugs their tunic off one arm and displays the scar curving around their shoulder before vanishing into the small of their back. "Nothing a good potion and healer can't mend."

The devil's eyes burn along the scar, flaring bright when it vanishes from view. "I can remove the scar, you know."

"It's a good reminder to be careful." Tav smiles wistfully. "And it was worth it."

Korrilla and Tav pieced together information painfully over the last weeks. Testing if there were alarms connected to a portal opened through Helsik had been touch and go. Sending a rat with a message attached to its foot had been close to suicide.

But they had found the alarm and where it went. And who benefited from this delicate information. The incubus had their own network of spies and indebted souls. And like Raphael, they had ambition. It is a shame. Tav prods the body with a foot.

"Here." Tav hands Raphael a bundle of letters and notes. That is more explanation than the dagger, or at least explanation of the why instead of the how. The cambion hasn't attacked or otherwise threatened them yet. Tav wants to keep it that way.

Raphael picks through the papers. Every now and then, he harrumphs with displeasure. He looks up when Korrilla bursts into the room. She catches her breath and stares at the body.

"So I am not too late. Good. They gave me the slip in Cania." She walks around the body as best as possible. One if its claws still grips the silken sheets of the bed, fingernails ripping at the soft fabric.

"Cania?" Raphael's voice is cold at the eighths hell's wastes.

"Haarlep planned to take over the House of Hope," Korrilla explains. "With a little help from their – sugar daddy."

The temperature drops at the mention of Mephistopheles.

"Better check up on any recent arrivals," Tav says into the silence. "Haarlep smuggled in their people for a while now. A list of those we could discover is among the notes."

Raphael picks out the paper and studies it with narrowing eyes. Finally he looks at the two mortals. "Good work."

"On to more pressing matters." Korrilla bows curtly and leaves the other two with the corpse.

Tav looks at the door. They should be going as well. They shouldn't be here to start with. But it is what it is. "Well, good to know I was in time." They smile brightly. "Should get going."

Raphael reaches out and stops them in their tracks. His fingers burn long marks into Tav's skin through their tunic. "One more thing."

Tav's smile turns brittle but stays in place. "Yes?" It was better than the automatic "anything" that bit through their lips. You do not toy with devils. And much less do you let them know how much you like them, especially when they do not return the feelings. Which devils can't. And Tav is deep enough into their own undoing to allow Raphael to hasten it with even more smouldering looks and lingering fingers.

"Why?" Raphael paused. "Your contract is fulfilled, little mouse. You are free. And yet you return. And now – this." He gestures at the corpse between them.

"It was you who called on me." Tav smiles at the memory. A dinner worthy of kings and queens. An evening they would never forget, getting pampered by the devil they knew. Unfortunately, not a devil they were allowed to do.

"I promised we'd dine." Raphael returns the smile. "It was only logical to repeat such an invigorating experience."

Invigorating. Not the word he used back then. Tav always suspected he enjoyed himself from the start. To finally have confirmation was encouraging. "It was nice," they agree. "Is."

"Isn't it just." Raphael hones his charm in on them. "But it is nary enough to warrant such – engagement."

If only. Tav sighs inwardly. They can't think of any good argument that doesn't look spun from thin air. Not to mention they'd all be. The devil has them on a leash whether he knows it or not. "Well." Tav tilts their head.

"Well?" Raphael moves around the corpse with predatory anticipation.

Does he know how? It isn't impossible, the devil is close to reading minds the way he puts together minuscule clues. And if he knows, what is it to him? Tav regards his hungry visage. "Maybe it is?" they volunteer.

"Still bribable with food?" He raises a brow.

"It was a good first move." Tav smiles at the memory. "I like where it led me and, well, also I car- cannot lose such a valuable ally." Tav chickens out after the last second.

For a moment it seems as if Raphael's face falls. Then the wolfish grin is back on his face. "Far be it from me to bereave you of that." He puts an arm around Tav's shoulders. "And one good turn deserves another, does it not? Let me prepare something special for our next meeting."

Fire creeps into Tav's cheeks. The devil's tone is innuendo and temptation. Hot desire shoots into their crotch. Maybe they should have said something after all. Well, there was always next time. "That's not necess-"

Raphael interrupts their squeaked reply. "My treat. You deserve. Trust me."

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #writing prompt #anon answered #sleazy second-hand car dealer #mel writes fanfic

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kidrauhlschik · 8 months ago

Text

Let The World Burn. - I.N. 2

2. Cold Hearted

In the end, he managed to forget that a king is nothing without his queen.

Part 1 & 3 will be linked in the master list above!

Pairings: Jeongin x Reader (and some love triangles among the way.) enemies to lovers, royalty au!

Warnings: ANGST, implied smut, war, aggression, anxiety, depression, death, please let me know if i miss anything... (this was heavily inspired by the song “Let the world burn” by Chris Grey.

Word Count: 2.2k

The next day, you woke up in bed alone. You were expecting your husband to lay next to you, but instead, his side of the bed was cold and empty.

Everything felt as if you were in a dream. It could be due to the sudden changes in your life, but it may also be due to the lack of stability that you were now experiencing.

After dressing yourself and pulling yourself together, you decided to seek out your husband. However, the second you opened his chamber doors, you were met by a guard, or who you thought was a guard.

"Your majesty, allow me to introduce myself. I am Bang Christopher Chan, the king's advisor and right hand man." He bows to you, "Our king has instructed me to guide you towards your living quarters until the council meeting this afternoon." He continues to look at the floor despite talking directly to you.

With a frown you express your discomfort. "Please call me YN." You say as your eyes roam the hall, expecting your husband to come out any second, hoping to at least have a conversation with him now that the two of you are married.

"I apologize my grace, but I cannot bring myself to disrespect you in such way."

"Mr. Bang, it is an order from your queen for you to refer to me as your friend. Any friend of my husband's shall be my own." For once, you concentrate on the advisor, offering him a kind smile. He was like Felix in a way. Forced to be harsh in a kind world.

"I apologize my grace... I apologize, YN..." He says your name hesitantly.

"Now, where is my husband, I want to have a word with him" You inquire.

"I apologize my... YN but our king has requested to be left alone." Chan looks nervous, his hand rest behind his back, as he does his best to not make eye contact with you.

"Yes, but your queen wants to know where he may be, please enlighten me."

At that point, Chan looks nervous.

"YN..." He starts before you interrupt him, "Bang Chan, I just want to talk to the king. Please." He finally looks at you, his face is covered with pure anxiety, unsure whether he should disobey his king or his queen.

"I am uncertain, but the king spends a lot of his time up in his study, alone. No one but his parents, the king and queen, were ever allowed to enter." He offers you an uncomfortable laugh.

"Well good thing I am the queen now, huh?" You say smuggly, causing him to actually laugh.

So he is human. You think to yourself.

"Well now, please guide me to his study." He meekly nods and begins to walk down the hall, which you take as an invitation to follow suit.

Once he walks you up to the double doors that guard the last room in the fourth floor, he stops and bows. "I apologize YN... but this is as far as I am allowed." Without giving it much thought, you nod and move forward.

Once you push the doors open, you are welcomed by open windows. The room is full of light, but the floor is covered by papers, all full of scribbles. Poems?

You pick up a sheet from one of his desks. The title reads, " Hug me".

"I want to hug you until you fall asleep Even in the morning, when I'm with you Even on the days, you had hard times..."

That is all you manage to read before the page is ripped out of your hands.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jeongin's harsh voice breaks you out of your peace.

"Jeongin I-" He stops you before you can even begin, "You are not allowed in here! Who the hell do you think you are?" All of the sudden, you are brought back to the night before, feeling like a timid deer. The king stands above you, but this time, you are behind closed doors, and although he is now a king, you are a queen as well.

"I am the queen of Rexerum. I have as much rights as you do... My king." Of course last night was a facade. He was just playing the royal game. You were foolish to think otherwise.

He was enraged. A stranger walking inside of his safe zone was not allowed, although you were his wife, you were still a stranger.

"You are nothing here." He says solemnly.

You stand tall at his words. "I am the queen." You say authoritatively.

"You may have been a princess at Eldoria, but here you are nothing but a contract, one that I would burn the second I am given the chance. If you come in here again, I will make sure you pay for it." That is it. You played nice, but he seemed to forget that he does not own you.

"I would like to see you try my grace. My father and country would love to see you betray our alliance." You stand before him. He seems to have mistaken your will.

"Christopher!" He screams without breaking eye contact with you.

Before you know it, the doors open once again.

The man you had just met opens both doors as if the king's life was in danger.

"I believe that I instructed you to take her back into her room, so please enlighten me as to why she is in my private quarters."

"I apologize Innie..." Chan gets interupted, "It is King Jeongin to you!" The king screams, which causes Chan to stay silent and look down.

"I apologize your highness." Chan bows, before he extends his hand out to you.

Out pure convenience, you nod and follow Chan. Your illusions, now mere dust, yet you hold yourself together. You don't say another word to your husband before you exit the room.

Your head is held high until you finally reach the third floor. Although you keep a straight face, your eyes betray you, letting all of your feelings out.

Felix heard your steps in the hall, so he pops his head out of his room in hopes to find you there. Much to his dismay, you look like a wreck. Eyes are swollen from tears, your face is red, and your hair is a wreck, without even mentioning that you are only wearing your morning gown.

"YN..." He starts before he spots Chan behind you. "I mean, you highness..." He bows before you stop him, "It's okay Felix. He's okay... I think." You say before you fall into his arms in tears. he holds you tight. He feels your sorrow, and looks at Chan, expecting some answers but the latter only looks at the floor.

"it will be okay my little flower, everything will be alright." He whispers into your ear as you sob.

A couple of hours later, Felix is still holding you, as Bang Chan stands in the corner of the room, standing guard.

"You knew this, I told you to not get your hopes up." Felix repeats the same sentence he has recited many times in the last two hours.

"I know but I just thought, from his letters-" Chan interrupts you, speaking up for the first time, "The letters were written by the queen."

That takes your breath away.

You and Felix are lost for words before Chan continues, "He is an amazing prince, and I am sure he will be an amazing king."

You did not intend to be improper, but you only know the king from the couple of encounters you've had.

"Is he?" You ask, "because if he is not willing to be a husband bound by his own duty, I need to know. I will be a queen of my country one day, I am the queen of Rexerum now. If your highness refuses to acknowledge me, I will make myself be known."

Felix and Chan look at each other. Felix knows you a little too well.

"Do you want to go to the garden?" He asks, before you turn your back to them.

"I will go on my own. That is an order." You say as you walk away without turning back, leaving Felix and Chan alone.

"So..." Chan stands before Felix, "When did you fall in love with YN?".

Chan asks, which makes Felix choke on air. "I'm sorry?"

"I apologize for using informal terms, but I assumed that as an advisor to advisor, you could trust me." He laughs sheepishly. "I can tell that you're in love with her," Chan says, "I will not condemn you, I can tell that your intentions are genuine. But Felix, if I can call you that, a queen will only serve a king. Me and you are nothing but dirt for them. I hope that you don't foolishly believe otherwise." Chan thought he was making a joke but Felix only looks somber.

Chan takes that as a hint. "You know what? Take the day off. I will take our queen to her appointments. How about I get you a bottle man" He smiles in solidarity. Felix only nods before he stares out the window lost in his own mind. Thinking of how he can get rid of the curse that is his unrequited love for you.

Your first scheduled meeting of the day was a war meeting. You were only to observe, and learn the strategies of the country.

You tried your best to follow along, until the strategies became detrimental. "We will rely on Eldorian soldiers to guard the path for us to gather a full army at the coast." You finally looked up, staring at the king, hoping this was some cruel joke.

"I beg your pardon?' You speak up, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. Jeongin chuckles and tries to undermine you. "Women, always thinking that they understand war huh?" He asks mockingly, hoping to get some laughs from the men in the room.

No one dares to laugh.

"My soldiers will not be a cushion for your troops." You stand in your spot, challenging the king.

"You. Are. Noth-"

"I am a princess and a queen. One day I will be the queen of Eldoria, and if you want my troops, you will respect me. I may be on your land, but my people are still only loyal to me, not you. If you dare to call me nothing once again, I hope that you late father will be proud of you breaking an alliance that he prepared for twenty years." The room stills with silence.

"I will dismiss myself now. I am grateful to the leaders that left Eldorian soil to stand with Rexerum, please carry the information that I leave behind. I will be more than pleased to hear the feedback from home." You say towards the table.

"Your grace." You bow to Jeongin, before you walk out with your head held high.

Chan, who was standing next to the king, bows and follows you, having taken Felix's role for the day.

The second you step through the doors of your room, your walls fall. Your legs no longer holding you up, causing you to crumble to the ground. Your left hand coming up to your mouth to muffle your sobs. Minho, your friend in the Eldorian court would call you a cry baby, but he wasn't here now to comfort you with his tough love. All you have now is Bang Chan. Jeongin's advisor of all people.

"Why is he so cold-hearted? Why must he choose the tough route every time? It's almost as if this alliance means nothing to him." You say between sobs.

Christopher wants to embrace your broken form, yet he holds himself back from touching the new queen of his country, only staring at you with empathy.

"My queen, YN. I apologize for my boldness, but can I speak with you in confidence?" You only manage to nod in the midst of your breakdown.

"I may be speaking with pure imprudence, but I feel the need of letting you know that the king is terrified. I am assuming, that as him, you have been sheltered. He doesn't understand the matters of the heart, only of his state. His father may have been a corrupt king, but he only taught him of what he knew. Innie doesn't understand that there is a different way to rule, and pardon my boldness," He kneels before you and grabs your hand. "I truly believe that you can change his ways. You can show him that a kingdom does not have to be corrupt. I apologize once again for my boldness, but as a friend of the king, I have my opinions." He brings your hand close to him, kissing the top of it.

"Be strong my queen."

It shocks you, Chan is the first person in court to offer their solidarity.

You can hardly muster a response, the only thing you manage to say is, "The nickname of the king is Innie?"

AN: i think im only making two-three more chapters to this story :p

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txtmetonight · 11 months ago

Text

Francis Forever

call summary ⋆ ★ The first time you’ve unofficially officially met Choi Yeonjun was when you had hit rock bottom and flailed helplessly against the dark deep waves of the drowning ocean. And now you're sinking deeper than ever.

pairing *. * Choi Yeonjun x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst

warnings *. Death, Crude Language, Panic Attacks, Bad Grammar

call duration⋆ ★ 3.4k

a/n*. * Erm I'm not very satisfied with this one but whatever cause dialogue is def not my strongest suit lol...hope you guys like it tho

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

The blearing lights of the convenience store did not do much to help your throbbing temple as you stumbled in with a hoodie and a pair of shorts. It was already nightfall, and the shining stars were sprinkled on the blanket of darkness. This was the first place you’ve ran into Choi Yeonjun unknowingly.

Grabbing the Advil and Red bull that you came here for, you stood right behind Choi Yeonjun and his bright blue hair that caught your interest for a second. You watch his delirious state help the cashier ring up his very few items before he walks out of the store. You had only caught his eye once that day.

The second time you’ve met Choi Yeonjun was by pure accident–a mistake. Failing your psychology test was purely an accident. Almost getting evicted from your apartment because you were unable to pay the rent was an accident. Losing your best friend from an illness was an accident.

Running into Choi Yeonjun with your stacks of failed papers in hand was an accident. Accidents on top of accidents continued to rot into your life, but this one was a good accident–or not you would soon later to think.

Letting the Choi Yeonjun that made his way into your life was an accident.

The third time you had encountered Choi Yeonjun, you were sure that fate had been playing her malicious cards with a sly bitten smile, on her vicious lips. Your mascara streaming down your slightly flushed cheeks, sinking into your skin as you melt into the brick wall behind you. Puddles of tears slop down along your muffled cries, the thick droplets of sorrow staining the pink blouse you wore that day.

The surroundings around you were a blur, almost like when you were seated on a carousel when you were younger, happy eyes watching the streaks of color mush into a blurry mess that made you dizzy. So, it was really no surprise that you jumped in fear when Choi Yeonjun circled his warm arms around you and that feeling of wooziness slipped away. He grounded you on that stupid fucking carousel of misery.

You cried harder finding comfort in his mellow chest, and you swear that was the last time you’ve let tears shed on yourself in such a gruesome matter–perhaps you thought.

With the nights growing darker and the morning lights blinding more than ever, you're shocked to find the wet streams land in your black attire and rather not in the hands of another that you’ve grown to love.

I don't know where to put my hands

I've been trying to lay my head down

But I'm writing this at three AM

With the nightlight on, you don’t think that you can lay your head down to slumber. A pooling of helplessness fills deep within you and you’re not sure how long it was going to take before it consumed you whole, eating you alive.

Yeonjun was your whole life. He was perfect, from head to toe, and you love him. You love him so much that it hurts. Feeling like thorns and spikes claw its way up your throat, it hurts to laugh. It hurts to talk. It hurts to cry. It hurts to feel. It hurts so much that you feel like each day you feel yourself being ripped to shreds. You think you’re on the verge of a pitfall of doom.

Every day a certain scarf is pictured to be on your neck, as if it was strangling you. On days that it was too cold for just a thin piece of fabric around your neck, onlookers ogled at the purple stained fabric in wonder–what were you doing? Yet you let them stare, Yeonjun to you was a man of remembrance, and he suffered quite much to have you be the only one to reminiscence about him–so you let others ponder about him through that scarf.

Logically illogical, you’re about to go insane, everyone knew but never had a clue when. But they would too, if all you were forced to feed on was on the scraps of the imprint of him. No not him as a person, but instead the mere shadow of Yeonjun that seeped through the cracks of your brain whenever it liked.

You wish you had met him a little earlier, given him a little more to chew into you as a person.

The day after he found you in that alley, you’ve been forced to avoid him. But you significantly remember that he was everywhere that you went. At the grocery store, in the mall, in your communication skills class, in your dreams.

And every time he had the uncanny ability to spot you but when he did, you had the skill to scurry away like a coward. You resisted and you regret it more than ever now, maybe you should’ve let him in a little sooner–a little earlier would’ve meant that you could’ve spent a bit more time with him, cherish him more.

Nevertheless, the stubborn fucker made it through your (not-so) tough defenses whether you liked it or not back then.

“I’m Choi Yeonjun and I'd to take you out for a cup of coffee...if you’re up to it.”

You don’t think your heart has ever leapt out of chest as much as it did now, but you’re hoping that the heart-attack induced scare takes your life rather than facing whoever that was.

But it doesn’t, so you’re dragged through your conscience to look up from your drawn in textbook, to meet a sharp pair of eyes that widen ever so slightly at you. “Excuse me?” You mutter, scooting a bit away from the familiar man, gasping shocks rumbling internally when he takes a step forward.

“If you want to, I’d like to take you out somewhere–anywhere you’d like.” He sighs and then pauses. “Please” The blue-haired boy adds.

“I–that’s a bit direct,” You chuckle, shutting the book shut with a tremor of your chin. You don’t know if you’re about to sob or lash out in a serious case of anxious chokes. “Please” He parrots dumbly, gulping when he starts to gather your scattered pens and pencils, which you thank him for with a small smile. “I don’t even know you.”

“Sure, you do. You ran into me with those stack of papers.” You freeze for a second and relax. “I barely even remember that.” That was a lie. He stills before laughing quietly. “Okay. I’ll get you to your front doorstep in an hour max. And wherever we go is your choice.”

Yeonjun was albeit weird, but you’re intrigued and so you turn around with the straps of your bag over your shoulder, weighing you down while you fight back a smile, walking through the various alleys of books.

He follows right behind you with a small pep in his step, still keeping a bearable distance. "I don’t know. What if you kill me or something?” He laughs at that and stops, which slows you down to a completely unmoving being.

“But I can’t even I wanted to. I’d go to jail.” He watches your shoulders shake, rumbling in silence. “Please...I don’t think I’ve ever said please to a person that many times before.” He says, eyebrows furrowing when your feet start to walk again at a faster pace.

“Where are you going, is that a yes or a no?!”

And without looking back, you shout back, “Well we’re gonna have to walk to get to whatever place we’ll be going to...no? And you choose the place, I’m a little indecisive.”

Soon enough by your side, he leads you to a coffee shop and leaves you at your doorstep in exactly fifty-six minutes, with your number in hand. And around your neck is a lilac scarf that hides your reddening flush.

I don't need the world to see

That I've been the best I can be, but

I don't think I could stand to be

Where you don't see me

By the very corner, a red booth sits in its glory. It holds about six people max, yet usually two occupy the peeling cushions. A piece of gum sticks the edge towards the window and on the bottom a very happy smiley face and a picture of a very badly sketched fox is drawn on the wood with a red pen.

On the top, packets of sugar are placed neatly in a black carton, and if you move it from its original place, you could spot two initials scratched in, exposing the sandy splinters.

Yeonjun believed that, sitting next to you was more endearing than across, because he was a man of touch. He wanted all of you, he craved your warmth and every single second not beside you were described to be feelings that mirrored the brutal actions only in hell.

So, he fixed himself to be linked arm in arm with you all times, and even while you were sipping on the drinks. He always said that he didn’t have to look at your face, as long as you were touching him in any way, he would be content and happy for the rest of his life.

You hope he’s still happy wherever he went, but you’re surely not. You’ve heard about phantom limbs before a person feels as though a missing limb was still by their side even though they had lost it through a horrific accident.

Eerie.

Yet you’re not sure what was worse. Feeling a phantom limb of Yeonjun’s who arguably was your other half, or not feeling him at all. The brush of a ghostly arm sends you through a shockwave as you jump, hiccuping down another cup of caffeine. You’ve never ever had a taste for bitter drinks, but your love insisted on his favor for them and now that’s all you gulp down.

You also trace the peeling letters, more than thrice, wincing when the wood gets between your skin. You suppose that’s what you're sobbing at recently–the pain of the blistering splinters, instead of your grieving heart at his beating love, but the others know better.

Sympathizing looks don’t go unnoticed by you, but you tend to ignore them, and it was easy when all you had to do was immerse yourself in... agony. When the waiter just told you that the cold coffee was on the house, or the old grandma gave you a distressing hug– you just must pretend to wonder why. Ho–hum.

“You’re here every single day for a month, dear. You do realize that?”

You look up and retch back a slack jaw at her words.

“I–I haven’t, I thought it’s been a few days.”

She widens her eyes, and opens her mouth to say a few words, but eventually stops herself. Then she serves you your coffee before leaving you in a deep pool of bother.

“Hey (Y/n), how are you holding up?”

When Soobin’s contact makes its way to your phone you hesitantly pull it up to your ear, but you press the answer button anyways. That night, when the devastating news had reached you, it was through a panicked call from Choi Soobin.

You distinctively recall the cracks in his voice or the blaring in the background. You could almost imagine the blue and red lights that emit much light to blind, and you could almost smell pungent smell of rust and rain.

And this time on the line with the man you could call as your brother, you’re drowned in the memories of that night that haunt you every single second of the day. You could hear the screaming in your head, and the blunt pain in your toe as you scrambled around and stubbed it.

You could feel the car keys in your hand and the driver's wheel in your fingers, steering to the hospital. Perhaps you could also taste the pure fear that coursed through your tongue, at each swipe it to at your bitten cheek and the aftermath of a bile attack that spilled on the pristine white floor.

“(Y/n)? Are you there?”

Shaking your head, you sigh into the phone, blinking back another wave of tears. You would assume you’ve cried all the liquid out of your system, but more appears when you least expect it. “Yeah, I’m here. And I’ve been fine...or maybe near it? I dunno. How are you and the boys?”

It goes silent and suddenly, you're met with sniffling that has you reciprocating with big fat globs. “Us too, I guess. I j–just can’t believe it, I don’t know how to come to reality with anything anymore. Beomgyu doesn’t even talk to me, Huening is fucking quiet all the time, and Taehyun keeps coming back dead at night, sobbing.” He weeps. You finally close your eyes and hit the sofa. “I’m so sorry” You say.

“And I’m so sorry too. I actually don’t know why I even called. I won’t bother you anymore.” Soobin mutters and you desperately want to tell him that he’s not bothering you, and to please stay, but you don’t. You instead say, “Ok, sure. Please don’t ever contact me again.” You meant the last part as a joke and you’re sure that the man on the other side knows that, yet he cuts the line as soon as your last word hits the receiver.

And just like that, you’re back to your pitiful desolation. To tell the truth, you’re envious. You’re starting to get pissed. With Yeonjun gone...you don’t have anyone on your side. Soobin has the boys, and he says that you do too, but you both know that isn’t true. Without your lover, you’ve succumbed to loneliness of yourself. You will forever live in vain alongside your life with a nasty ring on your finger and the comfort of your brutal tears.

On sunny days I go out walking

I end up on a tree-lined street

I look up at the gaps of sunlight

I miss you more than anything

“You’re perhaps the most stunning woman, I’d ever seen in my life” Yeonjun mutters against the expanse of your skin, nuzzling into your warmth as you both lay under a cherry blossom tree. You bite back and smile and flush against the bark of the tree. “That was out of no-where. What’s wrong?”

He twists a little and makes an effort to stare into your eyes–which to him wasn’t too hard, not when your eyes pooled the depths of heavens themselves, and all the beautiful things it beheld. Not when they twinkled like bright stars and Yeonjun internally promised to map out each and every gleam himself.

“Nothing much. Just making some very obvious observations. Did you know that you’re also so very very kind, and fucking gorgeous, and cook up some mean meals, maybe a little stubborn, oh and that you’re my lucky charm of a girlfriend?” He snickers, grabbing your hands to land a small kiss on your ring finger, the pads of your skin, burning against his blood-red lips.

The sunlight beams at the gesture and opens up its lovely rays for the world to share, especially for the two lovers that sit side-by side; one blushing ferociously and the other just admiring.

“Well–er–did you know that you’re the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my entire and probably ever will, that you’re so exquisite that sometimes it makes me want to puke, that you have the most loving voice anyone would be pleased to here, the same one I believe that could perfectly sing my heart’s tune to where it yearns out for you, oh and that you’re my stupidly bitchy but exquisite boyfriend?”

He scoffs at the last part but turns shy at your giggles and so he pulls at your cheeks, unable to keep himself from kissing them. Meeting you was the most wonderful thing that happened to him, and he plans to keep you around forever–if you’d let him.

It goes a little silent for a while.

Then Yeonjun coughs and subtly moves closer, your palm lain across his thigh where he’s kept it from earlier, his own fingers wrapping them against yours. “Did–did you know that you may soon be my fiancé?” Yeonjun murmurs. He watches your lips quiver for a second as you try to comprehend his words.

“I wonder how soon?” You whisper and suddenly you go quiet as you watch him stumble with his arms, clumsily pulling something out of his pocket–a ruby red box that glitters spectacularly. “Holy fuck, I–” You choke, and he just laughs at you before sincerely gazing at you. “(Y/n) I know that this isn’t the most romantic thing, and I’ll make it up, I swear! But will you marr–”

You cut him off and kiss him. You’re crying you both notice and the salty tears stream down your face, but you don’t stop them as you pull back from the lack of oxygen, heavily panting. “I–what the hell, of course I’ll marry you” You cry, and he starts to bawl as well, grasping the ring from the box so he can slip it on your finger, the same one he just put up to his mouth to smooch.

“I love you much” It was just a huge mess of blubbering tears and wailing voices but you both tackle each other to the ground, embracing one another as though it was just you two left in the damned world.

Yeonjun’s favorite trees were always the ones with the most flowers that smelt alluring because they always reminded him of you–so his first choice was a cherry blossom tree. The petals were always so magical...and they still are from the way that the branches bow down to you in grief and pity.

You take it that they also miss the same person as you, and you can’t blame them. This is the first time you’ve been here since his demise. You’re so used to the never-ending tears that you can’t even tell if you’re crying or not anymore.

Eyes scouring the ground below you, your eyes widen as a very familiar rock sticks out from the dirt, right near your shoe. You kick at it ferociously ignoring the ache that travels up your foot, but it's all worth it when the sight of purple paint flips around, contrasting it's dull background.

Feb 10...the new valentine's day! Y.J & the love of his life

Today was supposed to be your fifth anniversary–just a few days before Valentine's Day when he was too impatient to confess to you on the day itself, though he had it all planned out for months on end. He was just too sweet you suppose.

"I didn't forget, by the way Junnie. Happy Anniversary, I–I have a gift for you, yeah?" You mumble.

Your hands touch the bark and watch the little ants that scurry the ground. Your lips exhale a loud sigh before you lean down and pat the soil beneath you, nails digging into the rich brown mud. A stray eyelash irritates your skin so with the unsoiled part of your hands you wipe it on to your palm.

Taking a second you close your eyes and wish, ‘for wherever my sweet Yeonjun is, I hope him to be a cherry blossom tree in his next life, how much ever dumb it sounds’. And then you blow and grab a ring from your breast pocket. The gold band is lovely, and it was your lover’s, the one he wore on his own ring finger.

And before you have any more regrets, you place the jewel in the small hole and cover it up once more. With a piece of your heart gone with Yeonjun’s flatline, another had just been buried along with the ring; and you wonder how much of it you have left to spare.

Happy Fake slash Non-fake Valentine's day.

I don't need the world to see

That I've been the best I can be, but

I don't think I could stand to be

Where you don't see me

You stand in the heavy pouring rain staring at the sky. And you’re praying that the dusky clouds clear up; for the reason that Yeonjun might not have a clear view of the world below and maybe you.

You itch to feel his comforting gaze on you or else you just might not make it through. It’s been a while you think since all the saddening phrases said by others have eased up. The spring season has evolved into a daze of heat and the summer warmth made you feel dizzy.

But now fall is throwing itself out in the air. The sugary scent of apple pie wafts in and out of a nearby bakery. The wet-colored leaves underneath your feet serve as a reminder.

And so, the rest of the boys have been arriving at your door with freshly made pumpkin wine to share as you five bond over an early shitty Christmas movie. You started to cry when the dog passed away in the film and another four pairs of eyes chuckled at your sobs. Beomgyu supplies his comfort, but you’d rather have your lover, fiancé, and the boy too good for this world and for you.

You just want Yeonjun back.

Meeting and letting Choi Yeonjun become yours was truly an accident–but it’s safe to say that all the years you molded with him weren’t ever regretted.

And autumn comes when you're not yet done

With the summer passing by, but

I don't think I could stand to be

Where you don't see me

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oneshotnewbie · 1 year ago

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Tempting Bad - Part II

Authors Note: Way too long and a little rushed, but I wanted to put everything you asked me into this request. I tried to shorten it a bit but I didn't succeed. So sorry for that! Also parted in two parts because Tumblr did not let me post the whole thing :(

Trigger warning! This one-shot includes the topic of suicide and the plot is presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Summary: Life consists of small moments that shape us, stay in our memories and make us who we are. Often we don't even know what influence we have on other people, how we appear to the outside world and how we affect other people's lives. And this influence leaves traces

ᕚ---ᕘ

Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks red and hot from crying when you got to your apartment and slammed the door shut. Leaning against it, you painfully slid down along the wood before pulling your knees close to your torso and burying your head deep in your arms.

With multiple, deep sobs you let out your pent-up sadness that had accumulated deep inside you while you felt a noose tighten around your neck and the ground pull out from under your feet.

You tried to calm yourself, which was not easy. The only thoughts floating around in your head were thoughts of hanging your life on the hook and your own death. Sobbing and completely lost, you gave these thoughts the strength they carried within and let them win.

For weeks, you put up with everything life has thrown at you, but the ground had been torn from under your feet.

Desperate and almost in a state of panic, you got up on shaky legs and immediately searched for a pen in various drawers before ripping the paper out of the printer on your way to the coffee table.

Totally lost in your own anger and destruction, you cleared the things that were on the table with a simple sweep of your arms onto the floor. The cracking and clinking of the glasses on the parquet floor were absent in your ears, the only focus laying on the blank sheet of paper. You began to write absent-mindely and after the first word, the pen just flew across the paper.

Tears had smeared the ink between the lines, stains of them waving the paper. By now you had slumped off the couch onto the floor, one hand cupped over your mouth as you gazed into the distance in silence. Hurt with words and harmless statements, hurt with actions that brought you down.

You were rarely hurt physically, but the emotional pain caused your body to suffer as well. Why you deserved it, was uncertain. But it was cruel and you knew that pain would never go away living that way.

Meanwhile, you hurried through the apartment, trying to find a suitable place for the letter before you put it on the dresser near a picture of your sisters and yourself on one of the happy days. "I hope you forgive me,"

Whispering the last words into the void, you said goodbye to your place of rest, love and protection before you set off to carry out your plan. Walking the streets of National City among crowds, with the hood low over your face, you made your way off to a place you usually went whenever you needed to think.

A bridge with train track below, on which departing and arriving trains passed, noted by their loud noises. For the first time in forever, you felt like you were entering a foreign district, even though you had been coming her for years.

Your legs were heavy as lead and you could feel your heart trying to find a way up into your throat. Completely out of breath and trembling, you remained at the barrier and ignored the few looks you drew from joggers or walkers.

The adrenaline rushed through your body before you climbed over the barrier and were now standing on top of a two inch wide metal beam that kept you from a twenty meter free fall. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears while your hands were shaking and a lump was forming in your throat.

You slowly put one foot in front of the other. When you got to the edge of the bridge, you stopped and enjoyed the wind blowing through your hair while you spread your arms like a birds wings. "Do not do it, doll. Please"

You flinched, staggered on the iron beam, but managed to keep your balance. You cocked your head to the side to see the person standing back on the slope and studied them, quickly realizing who it was before a small smile crept onto your lips. It was one of the very few people in your life who could stop you from taking the final step. "Lee, what are you doing here?"

"Kara called me in panic, asked if you were with me.." began the CEO of L-Corp to speak, carefully taking small steps towards you. The raven haired knew exactly where to look for you, had she known the places you went when you needed space and distance. "Come down and talk to me, please"

"Talk about what? There is nothing to talk about, nothing matters anymore,"

"What is on your mind and what led you to this decision. Please, break your silence," she spoke to you urgently and pleadingly. Her usually strong and spiteful voice had dropped into a worried tone, and seemed almost choked as she whispered, "Let me help you"

A cold shiver ran down your back and made your body tremble again, but your tears had dried up. You stood still and silent, your gaze directed to the train that was approaching from afar. "The daily insults so full of hatred have destroyed my soul," your throat went dry, like you did swallowed sand while feeling a cold pressure in your chest. "I can not go on living like this"

"You have an entire family behind you that is willing to help. You just need to talk to us"

Lena´s firm words mingled with your interrupted thoughts and made you sob quietly. For a moment, you felt dizzy and though you were going to fall. But it was just an illusion that made you cling to the railing even tighter, yet it brought you to a realization.

You wanted to live. For your family but above all for what was still ahead of you.

"It will get better, Y/n…" a phrase you have been trying to convince yourself many times over the past few days but failed every time. When those words came out of her mouth, they sounded real. Honest.

Your thoughts faltered briefly and you looked up at emerald green eyes that seemed to glitter in the setting sun. "Really?" you doubted, and your trembling legs retreated to the center of the platform. Standing right on the boundary between solid ground and the abyss, you laid your cold-shivering hands on the iron concrete and looked up again, feeling the icy wind blowing through your hair and making your tears seem colder on your skin.

As soon as the raven haired saw the chance, she grabbed you with an incredible strength and pulled you over the parapet into her arms. Her arms wrapped tightly around your body, holding you close with a firm grip and breathed out a sigh of relief.

Lena laid her head on your shoulder before her eyes closed and focused on your trembling body, which seemed to shatter under her embrace. Your heartbeat seemed to slow, your breathing evened out with the steady rise and fall of your chest. There was only sobbing and a slight hiccup that broke the silence. "Shh, I am here"

And you were more than grateful for that. Grateful, that she saved you from a mistake you probably pulled through if she had not shown up.

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kosije · 2 years ago

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a/n: remind me to never write my drafts onto paper (╥_╥)

cw: hawks x gn!reader, light angst, fluff, 1.5k words, song inspo

the night is blistering, but he continues to fly because he knows he has to. thick tuffs of air leave his lips as his wings autopilot to the only thing he knows. even after a draining month of constant villain attacks and undercover operations, Hawks keeps flying. he wonders if he’s still even recognizable with heavy bags under his dull eyes and ghastly appearance. if it weren’t for the crimson wings unique to him, would he even be identifiable? the stench of death has seeped into his clothes and is carried with him like an anvil digging into his spine. cold and quiet nights like these are usually hopeless and in vain.

but only usually.

because when the familiar view of convenience stores, parks, then your apartment comes into view, a flame of relief is lit under him that keeps him going. he lands on your balcony with a less-than-graceful thump and begins to smooth out his fading jacket and gold hair. without hesitation, the sliding door is pushed open by his gloved hand. your apartment is just how he remembered it. decorated in mementos and souvenirs showing the love there is here. it mirrors you an awful lot. warm with cozy incense and furniture around- he thinks your house is the closest thing he’s seen to a home. the title so close to being something the two of you can share, but with his job, it dissolves just as quickly out of his grasp like sand and a sour feeling flashes through his body.

That feeling triples as he realizes you left your door unlocked. he checks for signs of a break-in on impulse, but everything is in place. everything except for two mugs on your counter -one full and another with lukewarm tea in it that makes his stomach flip in a bad way. In a way that has bile bubbling up to his throat, threatening to come out at any moment. But he can’t sense that a single soul has been here except you.

Had you been waiting here for someone else?

When he hears the patterns of your feet approaching, his shoulders give slightly.

“you don’t always have to be so on guard, know.”

“It’s not very safe to leave your doors unlocked,” he says, trademark smile on, but it’s much more hollow than what you’re used to seeing.

“I was waiting for someone,” you say, long-sleeved sweater bunched into the pockets of your thick pajama pants as you softly land on the doorway with a soft thud from your shoulder.

he wonders he imagining the chill that shoots down his spine and freezes him in place.

“i’m talking about you, the tea, it’s for you.” and just like that, spring has ripped through the cold world and blossomed inside the walls that make up your house. feelings he can’t articulate bloom in his throat and his sharp tired eyes look familiar and tender in the reflection of your own.

“how’d you know i was comin?”

“i heard about the victory over that villain group you’ve been going back and forth with,” you start, “i guess it was just hope.”

“sounds like you missed me,” he says playful, as always.

“not at all.”

when hawks laughs it changes the air between you two. he relaxes and picks up the tea, gingerly drinking it with a smile so faint, yet contagious enough you let one spill on your lips just alike. you lift off your place on the wall and move to hawks, gentle hands move to slide off his gloves, and jacket, then lead him to your bed. there’s a creek of metal springs as he sits on the edge, hands feeling around your comforter. your room is just like how he remembered too. warm lightning preferred over fluorescent ones. he’s always made fun of it being a fire hazard — but it’s so much like you he finds himself in it. and not just in the literal way how he can see himself in some of the Polaroids decorations, or the photo of you two in his wallet, or in the cologne you bought him that he uses every day. but in a less physical sense. like how thoughts of you are relentless. a glimpse of you is woven into any and every mundane task he does.

like when he sees a shirt and thinks about if you’d like it. or when the sunset makes pretty colors, and he wonders if you’re looking at it too. from scents, to songs, to restaurants, and movies. when he finds beauty in something, he also finds you.

you turn to leave, but his hand catches your wrist. your face is sweet and if it weren’t for the hum of your heater overhead, he thinks you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. after he lets go of your wrist, you whisper a soft promise that you'll come back, keeping his eyes fixed on you while you move around the room, pulling things out of drawers. in a few blinks you’ve changed him out of his faded suede hero suit and into soft cotton flannel pajamas with cuts for his wings. rounding the bed, you sit up against the headboard, legs, and arms open, and motion for him to join you. he doesn’t know that he’s already moved until he feels your hands on his shoulders, turning him to turn and lay on you. when he feels you knead at the knots in his shoulders and back, he lets out a pleasurable sigh, amber eyes fluttering shut as he leans his head on you.

when he opens them again, you’re smiling at him. it’s something that feels much more domestic. gentle and dreamy, not to mention the lighting doesn’t help the fact you look cherubic. but he’s not complaining.

“you’re so pretty.”

you’re a little breathless when you say it, but his breathing completely stops. with just your hand moving up to run your hand through his hair, butterflies flutter in his chest and his face goes hot. maybe the bags under his eyes weren’t as big as he imagined. and maybe his ghastly appearance was a hallucination of his sleep deprivation. you’ve always had that effect on him. making him dizzy with just words and even making him forget all the bad of the previous month and just focus on you.

his response is a kiss. re-familiarizing himself with the curve of your lips and the taste of your strawberry chapstick. the feeling is euphoric. he feels the same weightlessness of flight, but he’s still grounded-stable. he thinks of you as his rock but as he turns to face you and calloused hand falls to grip the meat of your thigh, you feel as soft as a cloud. your lips only part for air as he shuffles to get closer and closer to you, devouring you between every gasp for air. the feeling pumping through his veins is borderline confusing. something of a calm wind, or a gentle wave flowing to shore. but it touches him somewhere that leaves him dazed. and it’s not until you pull away and run your thumbs under his eyes does he realize he’s crying. he doesn’t know why, but the tears don’t stop.

and when you bring him into your embrace, whispering it’s okay, something clicks, and he’s sobbing in your arms. helpless to articulate why, with how you press soft kisses into his hair and draw shapes in his wings with your fingers, he can place one feeling.

understanding.

throughout his existence, hawks never felt like anyone could know him. just the thought of being vulnerable made him scoff. but with you, it feels organic. it makes so much sense. and as his breathing evens out, and cries turn into sniffles, the three words that leave his mouth are ones he’s sure of.

“i love you.”

the way your eyes gloss over is heightened by the lamp on your nightstand and after a beat of silence, you tackle him and leave pecks all over his face that have him laughing at the sensation. when you echo his words, they vibrate along his chin and he can feel the smile on your lips without seeing it.

“sorry, what was that?”

“fuck off.”

he’s laughing again. scoffing, you go to pull off him, but he’s bringing you back down with his wings and kissing you slow and passionately. when he breaks it, you’re wide-eyed and a rush of pride surges through him. this time when you move off him, you’re pulling him up with you to move back to your headboard and slipping under your covers. with a single feather, he turns off all the lights in your room except for your fairy lights because he loves how they shimmer off your skin. thoughts of his job and anxieties are cremated in the warmth of your presence and leave him with a lovesick high.

with you in his arms, finally resting for the first time in months, hawks thinks he’s finally figured out what it feels like to have a home. It’s bigger than an idea or a place. and there’s nothing he’s more confident of than the fact he’s found home in you. and maybe this bliss is not as unattainable as he may have thought before.

#( ☆ ) mha #( ☆ ) fluff #( ☆ ) sfw #your honor i love him #hawks fluff #mha hawks #my hero academia hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo fluff #mha x reader #mha fluff

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fxlling13 · 1 year ago

Text

Lie

Dh!master x fem!reader

Synopsis: the master and the doctor both notice how much you have changed over the past few months. And it worries them.

Warnings: abuse, physical and mental. Injuries, breakdowns, Death, murder. The master kills a man. Victim blaming . Manipulation. Probably more.

Sitting in the console room, the master put his paper down and looked up. The doctor was under the console, trying to improve on something. He honestly didn't care enough to ask. Instead, there was something else on his mind. Sitting forward, he scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"What is it? Because I can hear your brain working from here." The blonde said, not moving from her spot.

"Have you noticed anything off about (y/n)?" Sliding out, the doctor sat up and pulled her goggles off.

"Oh thank god its not just me."

Coming to stand in front of him, she crossed her arms.

"She's been attached to you. It's like everything else scares her." Her observation was indeed correct and whilst the master wasn't complaining, it was worrying.

"She used to be so confident and brave. When did it change?" He asked, looking up at his old friend. She hummed, pacing slightly to try and think clearer.

"I dont think there's any point in being coy, she's obviously the closest to you out of any of us. If anyone can find out, it's you." nodding, the master stood and cracked his neck.

"I'll try my best. Should we go pick everyone up?"

They landed in the usual spot in Sheffield. Yaz was already there, bounding in once the doors were fully materialised. The master almost laughed at how excited she was to see the doctor. Dan was next, on time as usual. Immediately, he began to brag about his date with Diane. Not bothering to listen, the master stood by the door and waited. His fingers tapped against his arm worriedly. Thirty minutes late by this point, he huffed walking back over to the console.

"We could always go forward in time, to the point she arrives?" Yaz suggested but they shook their head.

"I want to see how late she is. You two can go decide on where we go alright?" Agreeing with the doctor, yaz and Dan sat on the steps discussing.

I was practically running down the street. Well, I say running, hobbling would be more accurate. I'd made him really angry this time. Stupid mistake. I shouldn't of mentioned any of my friends. Especially not him, but I couldn't help it. Not when I'd grown so close to the master. He was always there for me, to help me get away from the hell at home. Taking a deep breath, I looked at my phone and saw I was nearly an hour late. They were definitely going to question me. I entered the tardis anyway, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Ah! (Y/n)!" The doctor cheered, rushing over to me. Giggling, I shut the door to block out the cold. I was only in a thin sweatshirt, even in the winter. Only because he had ripped my clothes to shreds.

"Sorry I'm late. Train was delayed." I lied through my teeth, praying to myself that it was convincing. Grinning, the doctor grabbed my arm and pulled me to the console. I couldn't help but wince, not expecting her to do that. Looking to my side, I saw the master stood there. He was leaning against a pillar with his hands in his pockets. Jacket discarded and sleeves rolled up, I almost blushed just seeing him. He simpered, coming to my side.

"Have a good few days off?" No. Doing my best to seem happy, I nod and told a few false stories to them.

"Well that's great! Yaz, have you decided where we're going?" The doctor asked, the pair coming to join us. The brunette suggested something and the doc got to work piloting. Suddenly, a hand landed on my shoulder. Out of reflex, I flinched harshly and covered myself from harm. But nothing happened. Lowering my arms, found the master looking at me with worry. I just laughed it off, swallowing down my anxiety.

"Everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" I responded way to quickly and I knew he thought that.

"You've got a bruise on your cheek." He pointed out, thumb brushing against it softly.

Oh no. In my rush I obviously forgot to cover it.

"Oh yeah. Funny story that. Walked right onto a door frame." All he did was nod at my fake tale. Slowly, he opened his arms.

"Come here." Not needing to be told twice, I wrapped my arms around his waist and sank into his hold immediately. How could I not fall in love? From the minute he began to travel with us, the master was by my side. He'd put himself before me no matter what.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" Even the way he spoke with me was so soft. So genuine.

"Of course."

Three mad, near death adventures later, we were gathered round the console exhausted.

"So, drop you off to recharge yeah?" My heart dropped at the doctors words but I knew I had no choice. Yaz nod, happy to get some rest. And Dan, well he wanted his girlfriend. All I could focus on was the fact I'd have to see my 'boyfriend' again. No matter how many times I tried to break up, he wouldn't let me go.

"(Y/n)? You okay?" Dan appeared next to me. I jumped, not expecting to hear his voice. He looked confused at my reaction and lifted a hand; probably to touch my shoulder in hindsight. Backing up, I felt my back hit someone's chest. I relaxed, recognising that it was the master.

"I'm fine, sorry. Zoned out." Unconvinced, Dan didn't have time to reply as we landed abruptly. Heading for the door, the doctor stopped me.

"Stay safe." Oh how I wish she knew. But they could never know. Without responding, I left and hurried home.

--------☆

Counting to ten, I took a deep breath then went inside my house. The tv was blaring, some old Hollywood movie. Realising he wasn't there, I made my way to the kitchen. It was a state as usual. Pans piled high, moldy plates and stained glasses. Plus, it stunk of stale food.

"Where have you been?" A slurred voice came from behind me. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"Answer me!" He yelled, forcing me to turn around. Having me trapped against the counter, my heart rate picked up.

"With my friends." Mistake number one. Rolling his eyes, the taller gripped my wrist so tight, I thought it might break.

"Stop lying! Are you cheating? I bet you are. You're such a whore! Sleeping with every man you lay your eyes on." Whimpering at his accusations, I shook my head fiercely.

"No I swear!" Mistake number two. Chuckling dryly, he sneered.

"Did you just yell at me? Huh, you little bitch." My body began to shake as I knew what was coming. When I said nothing, the drunk male slapped me. I fell to the floor with a thud.

"Let me guess, you were off with that man you told your mother about?" Now internally screaming at myself for talking about the master, I chose to remain silent.

"What's so good about him anyway? I bet he's just some ugly little rat. Could never be a better man than me." Anger boiled beneath the surface. Without thinking, I snapped.

"Dont talk shit about him!" Third mistake. His eyes were vacant and soulless. Saying nothing, he grabbed the wine bottle from the counter and smashed it on the edge. Glass exploded around me as I let out a scream. He held it up, ready to use.

"You're gonna regret that slut."

--------☆

Tuesday couldn't come fast enough, it had been hell these past three days. As soon as the tardis came into view, I rushed in. Everything hurt, everything was sore. I wanted to collapse and never wake up. Everyone looked at me, they all seemed to be staring. Especially the master, who stood straight upon seeing me with his brows knit tight together.

"What?" I asked confused, chest still heaving from my run.

"Your nose is bleeding." Yaz told me. Touching my nose, I found that she was right. The master stepped forward without warning and I yelped, jumping back. He froze, eyes showing clear worry. All at once, everyone moved closer. Not being able to handle all the attention, I rushed past and ran to my room on board. Going into the bathroom, I shut the door before banging my fist against it repeatedly. That man ruined everything. Why couldn't I just be happy? I turned the shower on then peeled off my clothes, it was so painful. None of the wounds were treated and they were all fresh. Stepping into the shower, I slid down the wall and sat there; letting the water run over me.

Back in the console room, everyone stood not knowing what happened. The doctor gave the master a look. He nod then turned to the humans.

"What does (y/n) do at home?" They both shrugged, not having a clue.

"She never talks about it with us. Dodges the subject mostly." Dan admitted. Sighing, the master tried to peice everything together. But, with so little evidence, it was hard. Then it hit him and god, did he hope he was wrong.

"Who does she live with?" He asked, wary of what the answer could be.

"She used to live with her boyfriend." Yaz told him, sitting on the console beside the doctor. The blonde tilted her head.

"Used to?"

"Well, she wanted to break up with him. But she still could I suppose?" Wetting his lips, the master thought over everything. It was about four months ago (for them, not him and the doctor. Time travel and all that.) that this has all started.

"When did she say she wasn't happy?"

"I dunno. Three, four months?" He looked at the doctor to see she was frowning. They were thinking the same thing.

"Go." She said and he didn't need to be told twice. The master ran down to my room, not bothering to inform the other humans. The doctor would do that for him.

Doing my best not to cry, I began to feel numb at the burn against the cuts. I'd dealt with worse. The bathroom door was suddenly thrust open, I screamed and covered myself best I could. In the entrance, the master stood there. It was too late, he'd seen it all. All the damage my body had. Shutting the door, he reached in and turned the water off; grabbing a towel in the process. He crouched in front of me, wrapping the towel around my back. His eyes scanned over every scar, cut and bruise. Without question, he pulled me into his embrace.

"What has he done to you?" Knowing that he'd figured it all out, the floodgates opened and I broke down in his arms.

"Shhh, its okay now. I've got you." Not able to respond, I just cried more. I didn't deserve his time at all, yet here he was.

"How about, we get you dry? I'll take care of your wounds. Then, I'll make sure you're nice and comfortable. Is that okay?" Nodding slowly, the master picked me up and sat me on the counter. He pulled out a clean towel, to replace the now damp one and dried me off very gently. Making sure to pat my skin with great care. After putting on some underwear, the elder disappeared for a few minutes before returning with a med kit. It was silent as he aided all the deep gashes and bruises littered on my skin. Taking my hand in his, he observed the hand shaped bruise on my wrist. It wasn't the worst injury I had, but definitely the most noticeable. I knew for a fact my back was in bad condition along with my stomach.

"He won't get away with this. I swear that. I'm going to throw him in a black hole." That comment made me giggle for the first time in ages. Smirking, the master handed me my fluffy pyjama hoodie and pair of shorts. Actually, they looked more like boxers. Either way, I wasn't complaining and put them on.

"Come on. Bed. You need rest."

"I'm fine-" a stern look cut me off. Of course, I was not fine. Instead, he carried me to my bed and sat me under the duvet.

"I'll be right back." He told me then disappeared. Resting my head back against the headboard, I took a deep breath. What was going to happen now? I was going to end up homeless. All alone. My eyes filled with tears yet again. Once everyone here found out it would be so embarrassing. They'd definitely judge, or laugh. Maybe? My head was a mess at that point.

"Hey, hey. Why are you crying sweets?" Not looking up, I heard the master speak before coming over. Something was placed on my side table, i didn't know what. His arms encased me, moving me so I was sat between his legs and leaning on his chest. I sniffled, hiding myself in his chest sheepishly.

"Talk to me (y/n). I want to help you." He tried but I just couldn't believe him. So, I shook my head at him.

"Please?" Turning myself slightly, I buried my face into his purple vest. My shoulders shook violently. Instantly, he began to rub my back soothingly.

"I hate him." I stuttered out, feeling pathetic.

"Tell me everything. I'm here for you. I'll listen." Taking a deep breath, I pressed myself against the warm male more. Though I found it hard to believe, that he'd actually be interested in listening to me, I wasn't going to pass up the chance to vent.

"It started a few months ago. He'd always been angry, he'd yell when I made mistakes or did something he didn't like. But when he started getting physical, I tried to leave. He didn't like that and he pushed me down the stairs." The masters grip on me immediately tightened after I had said that. Clearly, he was angry but I wasn't scared at all.

"After that, it didn't stop. Every time I forgot something, he'd hit me. If I spoke back, he'd hit me. If I went out alone, if I didn't clean, if I didn't cook. Especially when I spoke about you guys. Everything landed with him getting angry. And he took it out on me. Every time." I concluded, his vest getting damp from my tears but he didn't mind. Holding my shoulders, the master pushed me back and held me at a comfortable distance.

His thumbs brushed my cheeks dry, a calming look in his eyes. Before he could say anything, I spoke out my own insecurities.

"Now I'm going to be on the streets right? I'm gonna be alone again. I don't want to be alone, please. Please don't leave me alone."

"Shh, come here." Hooking his hands under my arms, the master sat me on his lap properly; head landing in the crook of his neck. Now straddling his thighs, I was much more snug against him and able to hug him tightly. His arms were almost possessive around my waist, but i enjoyed it.

"I am never going to let you be alone. Ever. You're stuck with me. And I promise you, that he will pay." He spoke softly, kissing my cheek soon after. Turning pink, I managed to collect myself a little. My body began to go a little limp in his hold, everything seemingly catching up with me.

"Are you tired?" All I could do was nod at his words, i could tell he wanted me to sleep. But I was scared.

"Can't sleep."

"Why not love?"

"Nightmares." Understanding, the master cupped my cheeks and stared into my eyes.

"Would you like me to help with that." Nodding once again, his lips pressed against my temple and I was out for the count. Once I was asleep, the master tucked me in then stood. For a moment, he pondered what to do then began his journey back to the console room. The doctor looked at him anxiously, clearly wanting to know what happened.

"I want to kill him." He told her directly, alerting both yaz and Dan. They rushed over as he came in front of the doctor. She inhaled deeply, staring at him with intent.

"Its bad?"

"Its worse than you can imagine. Tell me no or else I'm going to kill him." Quickly, the blonde started to fly her ship. Rushing around the console, she flicked different levers and pushed the right buttons. The tardis landed with a thud.

"Where are we?" The master asked, forehead lined with frustration. All those pent up feelings weren't good for the mind.

"Outside (y/n)s House." She went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Get him." Their eyes went wide in shock. The doctor was actually giving him permission to kill him. Not needing to be told twice, the master grabbed his jacket and rushed out.

Just waking up from a black out, the unsuspecting male stumbled into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. Suddenly, the door slammed behind him, causing him to jump and drop the drink. He turned and saw the outline of another man in the shadows. Out came the master, arms folded tightly. Backing up, the human was utterly confused.

"What are you doing in my house?" He slurred, eyes going up and down repeatedly. Chuckling, he walked closer and unfolded his arms, revealing a dagger in his fist. Immediately, the man sobered up and swallowed thickly.

"What's your name?" The master asked, not sparing him a glance.

"Michael." Nodding, he took another step closer as Michael began shaking.

"Hello Michael. You're going to come with me." Of course, he complied and followed the master out and into the tardis. Once on board, he was in a state if shock. But the master payed this no mind and began to fly the tardis skillfully. Once he was happy with the place they were adrift, he stalked back over.

"Before you die- and believe me, you really are going to die- tell me. What pleasure did you get out of hurting (y/n)?" Michael's face went sour, realisation setting in. He scoffed and looked away.

"Is that what all this is about? That stupid girl. For fuck sake!" Raising his brows, the master watched in amusement, as the human had his tantrum.

"What bullshit has she been spewing now? All she does is lie! Even made up some guy with a dumb name. Just to pretend anyone would actually give a fuck about her! I never hurt her! She's just pathetic." He told him, rolling his eyes afterwards. It was silent for a second before he began again and, as you can imagine, the rage was growing tenfold inside the timelord.

"I did not hurt her! Never. God she's infuriating. Are you just going to stand there? Looking at me as if I'm stupid, it's unnerving." Michael asked, making the master shake his head with a slight pout.

"No you carry on. You're only making your death more painful." The look in his eyes was that of ice and he felt his blood go cold. It finally set in. Whoever this man was, he was being serious.

"Why do you care so much?" Ignoring the question, the master tutted quietly and lead him to the doors.

"This 'guy with a dumb name'? What did she call him?"

"Uh- The master I think. Why does that matter? Who even are you?" A smirk grew on his lips, gazing at the male with a murderous glint in his eye.

"Well, I'm not made up. That much, I'll tell you." Clicking in, Michael looked extremely confused and took a step away.

"You're the master? You're real? So she was cheating! That little bitch! When I get my hands on her I'm going t-" Instantly, the dagger was pressed to his throat, cutting him off. The master pushed him against the closed door, teeth gritted together.

"You really are thick." He laughed out but wasn't happy even in the slightest. Michael let out a strangled breath, staring at him in fear.

"Never hurt someone I love. It won't end well for you." Gripping the back of his shirt, he opened the doors to reveal looming darkness.

"What's that?"

"That, stupid human, is a black hole." The master muttered, taking the dagger away from his neck. Without a second thought, he impaled Michael's waist. He cried out but the master didn't care. Instead, he drew him in closer and spoke into his ear.

"Enjoy your time in hell." With that final statement, he was thrown out into the void, tardis doors shutting behind him. Resting his head against the doors, he let out a breath. At least he knew this therapy was working. The master didn't get half as much joy as he used to. But he didn't regret it. Not at all. Feeling a hand land on his shoulder, he turned to see the doctor. She had a sympathetic smile.

"Go. She needs you." He smiled, nodding in recognition before heading back down to my room. Finding I was still asleep, he took off his shoes, jacket and waist coat, before slipping in on the free side. Carefully, he pulled me closer and relaxed as I subconsciously attached myself to him. Maybe even he could fall asleep like this.

Groggy, my eyes forced themselves open. Going to move, I found myself under something- or someone- weighted. Looking to my left, I found the master. He's was sleeping. That was odd, he never slept. Taking this opportunity, I sunk back down and buried my face into his chest. It was warm and safe.

My movements must have woke him as he stirred a moment later. His hands tightened on my waist and I quickly hid my face in his shirt.

"That doesn't make you invisible you know?"

Turning red, I gazed up at him.

"You were asleep."

"No I wasn't."

"Was." It went silent. Just staring at each other until he gave in. Casting his eyes to the beams on the ceiling, the master spoke.

"Maybe I was." I smiled and tried to adjust, get more comfortable.

"You never sleep." Carefully, the male pulled me further onto his chest, a hand still encasing the dip of my waist.

"No, I just can't sleep. There's a difference, love." Ignoring how my blush grew, I allowed myself to bask in his warmth. It felt nice. It fight oddly right. To be there, in his arms. A man I was once told to fear, to avoid at all cost. He now lay here holding me as if I could disappear. Mind starting to catch up, I suddenly remembered just how I got in this situation.

"What did you do? When I was asleep?" I asked, looking up at the master with wonder. He rolled his head against the pillow, eyes scanning my face. A hand traced the bruise on my cheek tentivley, a tense sigh breathing by his lips.

"Do you want the truth, right now? I don't want to upset you." Our eyes locked and I nod surely, letting him know I could handle the truth.

"I took Michael. I listened to his shitty lies. I let him talk, let him grow scared. Though, I could have done it for longer but I was too angry." He started, glaring up at nothing in particular. Sensing his growing anger, I reached forward and laced our fingers together. The master looked at our hands, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

"I stabbed him. I threw him into a black hole. He's in a million pieces now. Floating through space. Dead." Maybe he was expecting me to recoil in fear, or give him a lecture. Instead, I sat up with a smile. I leant down and kissed his cheek, causing his eyes to widen in the process.

"Thank you. For saving me." Even if my voice was quiet, the master grinned and sat himself up as well.

"You don't have to thank me doll. I'd do it again in a heart beat." Pushing back the covers, the master got himself up.

"Wait right here." Then, he rushed out, leaving me alone. I smiled to myself, going to the bathroom. After doing what needed to be done, I washed my hands and looked in the mirror. As much as I loved my hoodie, I pulled it off and felt more comfortable. Seeing as I was wearing a sports bra, I turned and head back into my room. It wouldn't matter, I could throw a tshirt on if the master was uncomfortable. Crawling back onto my bed, I sat on my knees and grabbed my phone. Finally, I deleted Michael's number and hovered over my photo gallery. Once I have clicked on it, my heart dropped at all the cold memories stored there. They hurt to see. So caught up in my phone, I didn't hear the door open. The master looked up and froze, eyes raking over my figure. Quickly, he shook those thoughts away and came to my side, gently placing two mugs down on the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" He asked, moving so my back was flush to his chest. I showed him my phone screen, all the photos now highlighted.

"I'm deleting all of it." Nodding, the master watched as I did so and noticed how my eyes grew sad at the now black screen.

"Dont be upset, love. Its over now." Gently, he pulled me between his legs, resting back against the pillows. My body followed his, relaxing against him.

"I made you tea." Carefully, he handed me a steaming cup of tea. I took it gratefully, blowing the steam in effort to cool it. For a while, we sat there, drinking tea whilst I listened to a few of his stories. I loved hearing about his and the doctors childhood. It sounded almost magical. Whilst the master was speaking, I looked up and found myself staring at the alien. At least now I didn't have to feel guilty about my feelings. Not that I ever did, it's not like I wanted to be either Michael in the end. The cup, now empty, was taken from my grasp, knocking me out of my daydream. The master grinned down at me, brushing his fingers through my hair.

"What's with that look?"

"What look?" I asked, eyes never leaving him. Chuckling, he let out a sigh before moving his free hand down to my waist.

"I should have tortured him more. He deserved it." His fingers danced around the bruise on my stomach, light touches almost making me shiver.

"It doesn't matter now." Still, I could see it was bothering him.

"He was never a good boyfriend, even before the really bad times." The master never stopped his hand from moving, giving me full attention.

"How so?"

"He never showed me love. I could never hold his hand, or hug him. He never kissed me. I was just an accessory to him." I explained, frowning at the memory.

"Over a year of neglect. Maybe that's all I'm worth." Immediately, the master whipped his head to look me right in the eyes. It almost made me flinch.

"Absolutely not. That man was an absolute idiot. A waste of space." He seethed, inhaling sharply afterwards.

"I would never treat you like that. I would never let you go. I'd-" We both froze as he slowly realised the weight of the words he just spoke.

"I mean. Hypothetically." The master slightly stuttered. My mouth was parted, blinking in the informed.

"I would treat you better anyone. Because that's what you deserve." A smile grew on my lips, listening as the; usually calm male, fumbled with his words.

"Not that you would be interested. Now or ever. But I'm just-" Giggling, I kneeled up, gripping his collar and pressing his lips against mine. Initially surprised, the master held onto my waist and melted into the kiss soon after. Pulling back, I was taken aback when the male pulled me into his chest. My head rested against his shoulder comfortably.

"If I'd have known that the feeling was mutual, I'd have taken you away from him much sooner." The master stroked the top of my hair, pressing a kiss to my temple lovingly. Simpering, I nuzzled in closer.

"You're here now. That's all that matters." And that was the truth. From then on, everything would get better. As long as he was by my side.

#doctor who #doctor who x y/n #dhawan master x reader #dhawan!master #sacha dhawan #dh!master

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legendrarry-main · 3 months ago

Text

An Eulogy for someone once cherished.

On the door of my bathroom wall in my old house, I drew and stuck five figures of all of the boys. I remember when moving, I tried to peel them off to take them with me to my new place. Why this memory is so vivid in my mind right now is that when I tried to peel each of them out, Liams Head got stuck on the wall, and the paper ripped like dried leaf in my hand, leaving a headless body of the young man I adored. I remember cracking jokes with my friends at that time, saying "I killed Liam Payne" in mock sadness.

It's a memory from five to six years ago, and now, as I sit on my balcony, trying to comprehend what has happened, I feel the resedue of that paper like blood on my hands.

What is surprising to me how utterly calm yet defeated i feel right now. I'm mourning. I know that I am. But more than mourning the loss of the boy that was once a part of my whole world, I'm mourning the loss of my younger self. That fifteen year old Sam would lose her shit right now if she was here. And it took me this long to finally realise that she is dead. She has been dead for a while now it seems. I can't think of any other reasons I feel so void of it all.

Underneath this layer of numbness, all I can feel is red hot anger. At the world, at the people that boy choose to surround himself with and at the boy himself for making mistakes over and over again. But that's what he was in the end wasn’t he? Just a boy. Just a little boy who didn’t get the chance to grow out of being seventeen, didn’t get the chance to have a childhood, didn’t get the chance to breathe or learn from everything.

The world had done him dirty by giving him everything he could ever ask for and taking away what he needed. And I was right there, watching, cheering him on without realizing what he was losing. Some miseries can only be repaid with death, and he repaid his just last night, around the same time I was wide awake listening to songs that weren’t his, he was out there taking his last breath and falling over the railing. The parallels are astonishing. I was sitting on my balcony too, while he was falling off of his. And maybe it happened at the same time I lit a fire to light up a cigarette when he extinguish his own.

My darling baby. My sweet little angel with eyes that reminds me of autumn leaves. You were fucked up. Broken and battered. Flawed to the nines and destructive and devious. But you were never beyond redemption. Never beyond remedy and never beyond saving. Yet, we failed to save you all the same. I wonder how you felt when you laid on that cold concrete as the blood rushed to your head. The thoughts that rippled through your mind like water, I wonder what you saw in those very last moments. I can't imagine how lonely you must have felt, how utterly defeated and devastated. Maybe you gasped for one last breath, realizing how big of a mistake it was like we all do when the first slash of a knife that hits too deep on our wrists. I wish I was there to hold your hand when you let go. I wish that I could save you.

I never got to own a band merch you know? Never could afford a cd, or a poster with all of your faces on it. Never could attend a concert of buy a song from itunes. And with this, the chance of me ever getting to see you shining bright on stages also shattered to pieces. I cannot attend a concert where you will not be there with the boys, Liam. It will never be the same.

If only this world weren’t this brutal and ugly with you. If only you’d have gotten more time and better people around you, if only you’d have had someone near you that cursed night....so many if onlys.

Did you know, you’ve not aged a single day beyond seventeen in my head?

Rest in peace, my sunshine.

You'll always be forever young. Now and forever. I will never forget you.

#liam payne #one direction

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saltsicklover · 2 years ago

Text

Fan Mail - Part 1/2?

Title: Fan Mail

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2500

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Death/Murder - Let me know if I missed anything.

-- I am writing a part 2 for this, might even drift into a part 3. I don't see it going longer than that because I struggle writing long form stories. I hope you enjoy! --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Bucky has never gotten fan mail. Ill wishes and empty threats via the postal service sent from all over the world, sure, that's old hat by now. But, a well wish or a 'thank you' have never been penned for him. Those sentiments are reserved for the real heroes, not Bucky, definitely not Bucky. At least, that's what he tells himself every time he ends up empty handed while everyone else in the tower is ripping open letters.

Every Thursday fan mail from the week gets brought to the common room of the tower. Each stack is bound together with a flimsy rubber band, each pile threatening to burst through the rubber being pulled taught against the paper. This has gone on for as long as anyone can remember, always a pick me up from the tough battles the Avengers always found themselves in.

"You'll get something, Buck, don't worry," Steve tries to sooth Bucky with a firm grip on his friend's shoulder, "The mail isn't even important anyway." Bucky can't help but huff as he eyes the bulging pile of letters in Steve's hand, his fingers gripping the mail so tight Bucky thinks they might combust under the pressure.

"Yeah, Steve, it's all good," Bucky manages, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. Neither bother to exchange another word, Steve just squeezes his friend's shoulder before heading down the hall.

Bucky lets his eyes wander over each member of the team that still resides in the room, each with at least a handful of letter's in their possession. He tries to push the uneasy feeling from his chests, the deep green envy sneaking in between the cartilage that partners his ribs with his sternum.

The next week, is more of the same, and so is the week after that. Wanda likes to curl up on one of the plush chairs in the common area, letters in her lap as she carefully opens each one. She barely lets her fingertips touch the paper, the envelopes opened carefully with her fingernail. She keeps her hold to the outside edges of the cards, like she is worried that if she touches the words they may disappear.

Sam likes to lean against the island in the kitchen, spreading the contents of each envelope out in front of him, taking each piece in like a mission report. He gets photos of women, with flirty words scrawled across the backs. Each note smelling of a different sweet perfume that always seems to give Bucky a headache as he walks by.

Clint and Natasha open their letters together, sitting on the floor in her bedroom. Laughter flowing through the open door as Bucky passes. He tries not to focus on his lack of correspondence but that's always easier said than done. He is just thankful that most of the team views their letter opening as an alone-time activity so he doesn't have to witness the joy that radiates through them with each envelope they open.

Bucky doesn't even bother to stop by the common room on Thursday mornings anymore, his brain has given up on the idea that he will get a letter, his heart following close behind.

One unusually cold Thursday, the fresh spring flowers outside threatening to wilt form the cold snap, each bundle of letters is placed neatly on the coffee table; accompanied by a singular letter addressed to "Mr. James Barnes". Steve spots the letter first as he browses over the piles in front of him. He snaps his eyes quickly back to the lone envelope and unbridled joy swells in his chest from somewhere deep in his soul.

"Bucky!" He yells, his eyes never leaving the paper on the coffee table. "Bucky, get in here!" Steve can't help but let the newfound joy escape with his words, a wide smile spreading over his face as Bucky walks into the room. The smile make's Steve's cheeks hurt, but all he notices is the grumbling coming from his best friend as the brunet trapses into the room.

"What is it Steve?" Bucky carefully pinches the bridge of his nose with his right hand, his left arm folding defensively over his body to hold the elbow of his right arm, the whole manner done without thought.

"You got a letter," Steve speaks, the words coming out in a jumbled heap from his lips. Bucky cracks one eye open at him, staring at the blond across the room from under his dense eyebrows. Excitement sparks deep in his chest, glowing like a barely lit ember deep in the darkness. Each passing second causes his excitement to grow like flame overtaking dry grass but he does everything in his power to stomp out the feeling before it overtakes him. The words hang in the air, neither man daring to move. Bucky cracks his other eye open as he lowers his hand from his face, lacing his thick arms across his chest. "Did you hear me, Jerk?"

"Yeah, Punk, I heard ya', just not sure if I believe ya', that's all," Bucky moves, each stride filling him with more anxiety as he gets closer to the coffee table. He tries to tell himself that Steve isn't just playing some cruel joke on him, and that maybe, just maybe, someone out there actually wants to write him a letter, but his negative thoughts get the better of him as he comes to stand next to Steve, a scowl burned deep into his features.

"What is it, Buck?" Steve takes Bucky's shoulder in his hand, squeezing it reassuringly with a too tight grip. Bucky doesn't bother to look at his friend, his eyes are too focused on the lone envelope sitting on the coffee table, his name scrawled across it in blue pen. Steve watches as Buck's scowl melts into confusion, his eyes trailing over the ink again and again and again, almost like he doesn't believe it's there. All the brunet can manage to do is read his name, offering his friend a slight shake of his head at the question, or maybe it's at the situation all together.

Bucky leans over to grab the letter, taking it carefully between his fingertips. Suddenly he understands why Wanda barely touches her mail, the feeling that it may go up in cinders from his touch prickles deep within his stomach. He has known all kinds of fear and anxiety, but this is a new feeling all it's own.

Steve leaves the room without a word, leaving Bucky standing there alone, the beige envelope balances delicately on his fingertips, palms facing the sky like he's begging for a answer to an unspoken prayer.

Bucky doesn't open the letter for weeks, and nobody says a word about it. Hell, nobody but Steve knew it existed until it fell out of the breast pocket of his leather jacket when he sat down for dinner. Tony wanted to tease him about it, but the warning looks that he received left him coughing up his miss sipped iced tea instead.

Bucky found himself taking in the details of the envelope whenever he could, between missions and meetings, at night before bed or in the morning over his first cup of coffee. The blue ink on the front has smudged a bit from when he got caught out in the rain, but the soft tan of the envelope and the striking depth of the ink still draws his eyes. The stamp placed delicately in the upper right hand corner was adorned with a beautiful yellow butterfly had been stamped over with an official marker for the postal service. There is no name, just a PO box located in New York City. The thought of his name alone on the envelope left a tinge of loneliness in his heart if he thought about it too long.

When Bucky finally gets the courage to open the letter, three weeks had passed. He sits on the corner of his bed, the lamp from the bedside table illuminating his careful movements as he slips a finger under the seal. Carefully, he tears it open, pulling out a couple of pieces of paper, folded over on themselves. They are the same color as the envelope, the ink the same too. He holds the paper under the lamp, letting his eyes drift over each sentence, word, letter.

"Dear Mr. James Barnes, I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to start off by saying that I was unsure about writing this letter to begin with, but my therapist says that by writing it I may be one step closer to healing, so I decided to give it a shot. You don't know me, so this might seem odd, but give me a chance anyway, please.

When I was nine, a man broke into my home, the home I shared with my grandparents. I didn't know it then, nor did I for some time, but my grandparents were holding onto some information that I later came to learn was for Hydra. My grandfather's father worked for a man named Arnim Zola, and he had stolen files from him. Those files were passed down to my grandfather.

Now I don't know that much about what my grandparents did for Hydra, or why they were holding information for them, but I do know that they were cruel and abusive towards me. They would send me to sleep, often without food for nights at at time. My grandfather was keen on hitting me with a leather belt. I won't bore you with the details. But, that night the man broke into our home, I knew from that moment that my whole life was going to change, so I hid in the coat closet while the man shot them. I know I should feel guilty for not helping them, but all I could feel was the relief that they would never harm me again. Besides, they passed quickly.

It is odd to feel so thankful for such an act of violence, but that man saved my life, and for that I am eternally grateful, which is why I write to you now. When everything with the bombing of the Sokovia Accords happened, I finally put together that the the Winter Soldier was the man who saved me.

I know that part of your life is long behind you, but from one suffering soul to another, I just want you to know that you saved me, and I can't thank you enough. I hope this is able to provide you with some sort of closure, or healing, just like I am hoping it will for me.

With warmest regards-"

Bucky can't help but read the words over and over again as a sickening feeling twists deep in his stomach. The first letter he has ever gotten as a hero, in this new life of his, is really written the darkest version of himself that he wishes he could forget. Hell, he would flay his skin open himself if it meant that he could undo his trespasses made at the hands of Hydra.

Maybe its the salt sick sweat that coats his skin or the trembling of his heart beat through his veins but Bucky feels sick. The type of sick that makes you want to wash yourself from the inside out, yet he can't stop reading the words.

He doesn't sleep that night. Or the next. Or that week for that matter. Steve is the only one to notice the sudden shift in his best friend. He urges the older man to speak, to lean on him for support but Bucky refuses, the sick feeling settling deep in his bones whenever he thinks about the letter. Maybe it's because deep down, beneath every single bit of self loathing, the acquiesce of bile soaked enmity he feels proud.

He knows he shouldn't, the brunt edges of his life too fragile, the healing too slow, but the jewel of his ego only seems to feed off of the words scribbled in that letter. Even after all of the disaster, destruction, and death he caused, something good actually came out of it, and for that he feeds the feeling in his chest- the satisfaction that drowns out the loathing.

The next letter Bucky receives comes a month and a half after the first, the PO box in the corner of the envelope the same as before. His stomach twists at the sight but his heart pounds with a sort of excitement he hasn't experienced in years.

"Dear Mr. James Barnes, I hope this letter finds you well. I hope that you have received my last letter and that you got the chance to sit down and read it. I am sure you get so much mail all the time and part of me worries that my little envelope got lost in the shuffle of it all.

I must say, though I told myself over and over not to expect you to write back, I have to admit that I am a little saddened that you didn't. I know you can't possibly write back to everyone that sends you a letter but I couldn't help but get my hopes up.

I have talked about the last letter with my therapist, and I think it helped me find a new sort of closure for that part of my life. Now, however, my heart seems to be missing something to dwell on, or possibly look forward to, which is why I am writing you again.

I hope this isn't too forward but I was hoping that maybe we could be pen pals. I know it sounds old fashioned, maybe a little silly, but it's always a 'no' if you don't ask, right?"

With Warmest Regards-"

Bucky reads and rereads the letter again, a feeling of confusion and excitement swirling together in his chest. He can feel his heart beat below his skin, pulse thrumming hard and fast. He can't help the joy that courses through him at the words on the page, simple and blue, jotted down quickly by the way the ink flows together letter to letter.

Maybe he will write back, the thought nags him every free moment that he finds himself in. It also nags him during meetings and on mission. He can't help but try picture their face, but the nothing comes to mind except a feeling of happiness, or maybe even pride, and it swells in his chest leaving him a new form of breathless.

Bucky carries both letters with him, tucked deep into the chest pocket of his jacket, or under the suit he wears for mission. The letters pressed close to his heart. He takes comfort in knowing they are there, that someone is out there, thankful for his existence. He is thankful, too.

Maybe he will write back, he tells himself just before he turns out the light to go to sleep. Maybe he will, maybe, maybe maybe.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fan fiction #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you

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