#you're almost physically torn apart

[essaytime]

there's this awful, wretched sort of happiness that immediately gives you an existential crisis

[moondirti]

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

[silent-sanctum]

"Jotaro Kujo is Weak at His Core"

As a writer and avid character psycho-analyzer, I find this concept fascinating because I wholeheartedly agree with what OP has quoted from a "What opinion would get the community to do this? *Insert Johnny getting torn apart*" post.

Before I begin, I know some people will see this, misread it, and immediately say "lmao did we watch the same show? He's strong, badass, and can kick anyone's ass. Like do you know Star Platinum bro?". Trust me, I've seen the replies to this post and they said this same exact thing.

And I'm here to say that to said people, if you truly are not the illiterates I'd like to term you as, you'd take the time to realize that when we say "he's weak", we're not referring to his physical prowess because we know he's one of the strongest characters in the show.

If you don't like to, then you're just proving the accuracy of the last sentence: "You can't stand seeing your edgy badass image of Jotaro as vulnerable."

Pushing that aside, I'd like to expand on OP's opinion/headcanon with some depth to it and explain how exactly he's "weak" outside of being a skilled and strategic fighter.

I've learned that to be holistically healthy, one needs to develop and maintain all optimal functions of oneself: Physical, Emotional, Social, and Mental.

Obviously, Jotaro excels in the physical category. He's conventionally attractive, taller than the average male population, well-defined with a muscled build, fit as hell, street and book smart, and highly in tune with his environment making him adaptable in any circumstance.

He's "strong" in that aspect we all know at a superficial level.

However, we start to see the core problem once we strip this good-hearted man of his physical appeal:

Emotional? He believes he doesn't need to express them to others because why should he. He refuses to process them and instead keeps them behind a locked wall of stoicism and aloofness.

Social? Can't communicate to save his life. He's reclusive and doesn't know how to socialize outside of work. Guarded and skeptical around others. Too much of a workaholic to bother making new acquaintances (if he even knows how) outside of familial connections.

Mental? At 17, he went on a death crusade over Asia and the Middle East, almost died numerous times, and most likely lived with unresolved PTSD that carried over into adulthood, and further deteriorated his already poor social and emotional skills.

What do we have then? If we look past that powerful exterior of a man, we have inappropriate emotional expression, poor socialization, and constant fatigue of dealing with bullshit that relates to his trauma.

And this is what we mean by his "core": His mindset. His inner machinations. The soft spot his enemies would need to target in order to defeat or kill him, strategy-wise.

I. Emotional

We pretty much already know how this man handles emotions. And this may come off as "irrelevant" to the dudebros and the meme riders who believe "haha feelings are for pussies, I advocate for edgy autistic Florida man who don't give a fuck, elopes with dolphins, and berates women".

But believe it or not, he has them, just like any other human being on the planet. I said it once and I'll say it again: Not everyone will wear their heart on their sleeves. Some will convey emotions publicly with no issue, while others would prefer to keep to themselves.

But how does this contribute to him being "weak" at his core?

Essentially, it's similar to how someone with depression may behave (not everyone, some of them). One may appear friendly, sunny, and bubbly to everyone around them, not knowing they're actually suffering from a void that eats them up from the inside when alone.

For his case, it may look like he doesn't care about what happens to him and everyone around him, considering his nonchalant and aloof behavior, but beneath that cold exterior, he cares way too much for his family, friends, and allies. He feels too much to the point where once his allies are endangered, he would sacrifice his well-being without a second thought.

And that's an issue to him.

To him, emotions make him vulnerable and in his circumstance where enemies are actively hunting him down trying to find his weak spots, his emotions should be kept behind doors because he doesn't know how to regulate it on the outside so it's either total stoicism or lashing out.

I found someone saying this line about him that fits him so well: "He's a good person who doesn't know how to be a good person."

This is a man who means well and truly wants to help out of the goodness of his heart, but because of his inability to convey his emotions properly and is unable to pick up emotional cues, it can lead to shit tons of misunderstandings due to inappropriate tone & expression, and that can change how someone views him in the long run, thus leading to unintended deterioration of personal relationships (which contribute to the social aspect of his weakness).

I found a visual representation of what I just said above. Just to give context: The show is about a married couple who struggles to keep their relationship afloat, having to navigate through family politics, work & life balance, and miscommunications so they could find why they loved each other in the first place.

The emotionally-reserved character here with the poor communication skills is the girl. She's a CEO who just received a call, came out from work, and meets with her husband, asking him to accompany her to a doctor's appointment.

Observe how she thinks she views herself VS how others actually view her as.

Other's POV: Demanding, brash, and insensitive Her POV: Anxious, hesitant, and confused

Now remember what Araki had written about Jotaro? "He doesn't believe he must reveal his emotions to others because he thinks everyone can figure him out, leading him to be a victim of misunderstandings. Others think him to be cold-hearted, rebellious, and insensitive."

II. Social

With emotions as our base foundation to poor communication skills, this leads us to his weak socialization aspect.

In a recent quote reblog about how he was raised as a child may have contributed to his tough persona, I mentioned something about his need of "Security".

Growing up, it was mostly just him and his sweet pacifist mother Holly. Joseph couldn't have visited often (he hates Japan) and his dad is a busy musician with a packed schedule on tour. As a kid up to early adolescence, he was coddled by his mother and raised as a good student. Everything was going great for him.

[In popular headcanon] Once he passed puberty, the change to his Part 3 MC era began. People began picking fights with him and bullying him, and he began to see the world as a threat to his safety. Knowing his mother, he wouldn't rely on her to defend him against these dangers. She was too kind, too friendly, too loving for her to deal with the harsh life he now has to deal with.

So he had to be the stronger one for both of them. He already had the physical attributes for it, so why not use it to his advantage?

He got on the popular delinquent trend back in 80's Japan, integrated a couple of cool masculine-esque personalities as his own from his favorite Western and Crime media, and is then able to project this menacing aura everyone should be afraid of, to ward potential threats away from him and his mother.

But Mijin, how does this make him weak? What does this have to do with his need for security?

Think about it: The poor guy's already introverted, doesn't feel comfortable with his emotions that he can't express properly, and now he has to be skeptical with people around him because he realized how shitty society can be, which leads to intimidation that wards off not only potential foes but potential friends as well, making it look like he's anti-social.

On the outside, people are likely to think that he likes being this way when in reality, he seeks a reliable support system on which he can lean onto. Everyone with a sound mind wants that subconsciously because we are social creatures. It's part of our nature.

He's constantly fearful of his surroundings, growing even more vigilant as he ages, but he doesn't look afraid because he chooses to put on a brave face to challenge said fears instead of acknowledging he's scared. I read somewhere in an ask that's not mine that in the manga, some panels actually depict Jotaro shaking/trembling in a mix of fear and adrenaline during some of his fights.

He wants to be around people who he can trust. People who he can lower his defenses with. People who are capable of protecting him just as he is capable of protecting them. People who can face his intimidating aura and challenge it to stand on equal grounds with him or to remind him of his place when he goes too far with certain things. Hence, why he seems comfortable being with the Crusaders.

For once, he wants to feel safe.

To not feel like he has to be this strong pillar of hope that everyone depends on.

To be someone being protected, instead of the other way around where he was always the strong protector. He wants a life of normalcy where he can just be a marine biologist and a professor with a loving family he can come home to.

But that can't happen. The inner circle of friends he counted on is either dead or far away, leaving him even more fearful of the world around him. This results in even more guarded skepticism, always watchful of who's an enemy Stand user and what their Stand could do. Because of his cautious nature, this leads to minimized socialization with others.

With little to no solid support system he can count on, he has no one he feels completely secure with because he believes danger will always come to hurt and/or kill those near him. He doesn't want to burden others with the issues & responsibilities of dealing with Stand users. He wants them to live the normal life he could no longer have.

He doesn't trust in the capabilities of his loved ones when it comes to defending themselves against the amount of potential threats and dangers he has faced, and yet he cares about them dearly. So, he commits to what seems to be the most practical solution in his mind: Self-Isolation.

To be a distant beacon where danger is attracted to and away from those dear to him.

(As we see in the beginning of Part 3 where he willingly locks himself in jail as soon as he sees himself as the threat, and in Part 6 where he stays away from his family once he realizes his enemies were targeting him).

"Your family is your weakness."

All this leads him to become what Araki always envisioned him to be: A lone hero.

III. Mental

Now onto the last part, this part of the essay will focus more on the popular headcanon the community has made about him: "Jotaro has PTSD."

Considering what he's been through at only 17, it would be no surprise that he'd acquired major trauma after those 50 days. Think about it- he gets injured more times than he can count, almost dies numerous times, sees his grandfather get "killed" in front of him, and all this combined with the constant reminder that his mother's life is also on a time limit. A failure to kill DIO meant a failure to save Holly.

The amount of pressure and risk he had to endure for her (and there will still be people who adamantly believe that he hated Holly because he said "bitch" to her twice in the first two episodes).

Now, remember when I said about him having this mentality of over-independence when dealing with stressors? It was still manageable during Stardust Crusaders, but because of what had transpired in Cairo, that mindset carries on to the rest of his adulthood, more so if we consider that he most likely didn't get any therapy or treatment for his trauma.

It might be normal for a teenager to hold onto this stubborn notion of "I can do this by myself" and be casual about it, but with trauma now involved, that notion warps into a persisting belief of "by doing this myself, no one else will get hurt" (i.e. refusing help, doing solo fieldwork, self-isolation).

But Mijin, you keep saying "mentality" this, "mindset" that. What are you talking about?

There's an old Tumblr post I found that talks specifically about this in great detail, but to put it shortly: Jotaro has always wanted to do things by himself because he believes that not only will the task be done with, there would be no one else involved with it, making it better for him to cope mentally if ever shit hits the fan (tying back to poor emotional expression and insecurity in bonds).

If any injuries were to be inflicted, he would be the one to receive them, and he alone, because who knows how he'll react and/or cope when his allies are harmed instead of him over and over again? (refer to the trauma of Jotaro surviving Cairo while the majority of the team that went with him died a.k.a "survivor's guilt")

(Also, refer to how he had exhibited great distress when Jolyne was about to be struck by a rain of knives that Pucci sent)

This might also be the reason why he's more self-sacrificial as an adult: Will be the bait during the rat episode instead of Josuke, takes the brunt of Sheer Heart Attack's explosion to spare Koichi, dives straight onto a path of bullets to save Jolyne, etc.

The only possible solution so he could snap out of that belief he holds on to is that strong, reliable support system he internally needs. People who can help him without sustaining fatal injuries in the process [social]. People who he can approach to release any pent-up frustrations and inner conflicts [emotional].

If he had found those people, then he might have been able to deal and/or cope with his trauma better instead of letting it linger and change his outlook in life [mental].

But we all know how his life went in canon. One moment he's a kid playing ball with his mother, then in his last, he dies by having his head bisected by a time-altering Stand.

Jotaro is a person with a gold heart and a rough exterior. Someone who wants to help and protect his loved ones from the unpredictability of the world the best that he can. But even then, his best wasn't enough. His fear was masked with an air of strength and capability, perhaps as compensation for everything else he lacked:

Adequate processing of emotions.

Stable connection with familial, platonic, and romantic bonds.

A sound mindset that stems from effective coping for his PTSD.

We could only hope in headcanon land that he had a better chance at life in the Ireneverse where he finally could develop his inner core better and get that long-deserved break he had always wanted.

[mononijikayu]

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 𝒘𝒐��𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒚. 𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂����𝒆 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 𝒔𝒂𝒚 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.

[imloyaltoscoups]

surprise visit brings joy | yoon jeonghan

It had been almost a year since you and Jeonghan started dating, and the distance between you two felt heavier with each passing day. But tonight, you are determined to bridge that distance with a surprise that would bring you two closer together than ever before.

Jeonghan lived halfway across the world, his busy schedule as a musician often keeping him occupied for days on end. But despite the miles that separated you two, your connection remained strong, fueled by late-night calls, messages filled with love, and the promise of a future where you two could finally be together.

When you opened the door of his apartment your heart pounded in your chest as you stood frozen in the entrance, the pile of clothes and the sight of a woman's shoes sending a wave of nausea crashing over you. Every instinct screamed at you to turn and run, to flee from the pain that threatened to consume you.

But despite the ache in your chest and the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, You forced yourself to take a step forward, you're now in front of Jeonghan's bedroom door. Your trembling hands clutching your phone tightly as you dialed his number, praying for some semblance of reassurance in the midst of this nightmare.

As the phone rang, each chime felt like a dagger to your heart, the silence on the other end echoing louder with each passing second. And when you heard the familiar sound of Jeonghan's voice, a lump formed in your throat, threatening to choke you with its bitter realization.

"Whose calling?" The woman's voice pierced through the air, sharp and mocking, as if she knew the devastation her presence caused.

"Nothing special," Jeonghan's reply was like a knife through your already shattered heart, his words cutting deeper than any physical pain ever could.

With a trembling hand, you pressed the phone to your chest, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. And as you stood there, paralyzed by the agony of betrayal, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

You decided to walked towards the living room and sat on the couch, your heart heavy with the weight of betrayal. Hours has passed when you heard the door creak open. Your gaze flickered up, meeting Jeonghan's eyes as he stood frozen in the doorway, a jolt of shock passing through him at the sight of you.

He was wearing boxers, his bare chest illuminated by the soft glow of the hallway light, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in the familiarity of his presence. But the ache in your chest served as a stark reminder of the pain he had caused.

Jeonghan's mouth opened, but no words came out at first, his eyes darting between you and the woman who lingered in the hallway behind him. He seemed to struggle, his usually smooth voice faltering as he tried to find the right words to say.

"I… I didn't expect you to be here," he finally managed to stutter out, his voice laced with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step forward, his expression torn between guilt and confusion.

You watched him in silence, your emotions swirling like a tempest within you, but despite the turmoil raging inside, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him. Part of you longed for an explanation, a reason that could justify the pain you felt, but deep down, you knew that no words could ever mend the shattered pieces of your heart.

As you stood before Jeonghan, your heart heavy with pain, you couldn't ignore the evidence that lay bare before you. His stuttering attempt at an explanation fell on deaf ears as you gaze traveled over his face, taking in the hickeys on his neck, a painful reminder of his infidelity. And as you felt the woman's mocking gaze burning into you from behind him, something inside you snapped.

"Let's break up," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but each word heavy with finality as you met his eyes with a steely resolve.

Jeonghan's mouth opened, his eyes widening in shock as if unable to comprehend the magnitude of what you had just said. "Wait," he stammered, reaching out a hand as if to stop you, but you were already turning away, your heart too raw to bear another moment in his presence.

Before he could follow, the woman spoke up, her voice dripping with disdain. "Just let her go, Jeonghan. She's not worth it," she said, her words like a knife twisting in your already wounded heart.

But as Jeonghan's hand fell to his side, his expression clouded with anger and regret, you knew that this was the end. With one final glance over your shoulder, you pushed open the door and fled into the night, the sound of Jeonghan's voice shouting at the woman to leave his house echoing in your ears as tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the pain of a love that had been shattered beyond repair.

part 2, part 3

....... ≿━━━━༺JEONGHAN༻━━━━≾ .......

[ozzgin]

Baldur's Gate 3 Monster Headcanons

I have some companion headcanons I’m working on, but please tell me I’m not the only one howling for some monster content. NSFW under the cut because I’m about to be quite shameless. Hear me out, I’m on my knees. I’m talking about…

Being passed around by a pack of feral gnolls that have tracked you down by scent and just trashed apart anyone else that stood in their way. Having to hold onto their manes because otherwise you’d be slammed into the ground from their aggressive handling. You can tell they enjoy toying with you from the occasional hyena screech that escapes their drooling snouts. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t kill their scrumptious darling, but you’re sturdy enough to bear a little biting and scratching, aren’t you?

Being ravaged by a reanimated hook horror in the hollow colds of the Underdark. You had hoped you could use it in the upcoming battle, except it took a sudden and unstoppable interest in you instead. You can only dig your hands into the harsh rocky ground, your whimpers and its guttural clicking being the only sounds echoing across this cavernous place. Your flesh hurts from being held down by its sharp appendages, but other things are currently overwhelming your senses.

Feeling the cool and moist texture of the Myconid hands exploring your body, too curious about the ways of a flesh-walker and tongue-talker. The Kin Spirit that protected their circle and exterminated all threats. You have been generously rewarded for your brave deeds; nonetheless this final parting gift also satisfies their interest of getting to know a physical being to such personal degree. A fascinating sight, witnessing your reactions, as their deep unnerving voice commands you into obedience.

Squirming under the slithering tentacles of an illithid having his way with you, paralyzed under his low jarring voice reverberating against the walls of your skull. Although as he makes his way inside of you, you begin to realize you were never really under his control. The only thing keeping you in place was the dizzying pleasure. You can almost sense him smirk against your skin once the truth settles in. You're almost tempted to beg for more, but as you open your mouth you remember he has already read your innermost thoughts and desires.

Being pinned against the wall by the colossal Minotaur that suddenly rushed through the opened gates of the Outpost. You were taken by surprise and couldn’t even draw your weapon or cast a spell. Your arms are limp under the iron grip of his massive clawed hand and your plan to escape was interrupted by the feeling of your clothes being torn to shreds. It seems that killing you wasn’t his intent. The hot breath tickles your bare skin and you pray whatever is about to enter you won’t split your insides.

[tmnt-l0v3rrr]

Punishments

Yan! Rottmnt x Reader Headcanons

Warnings!!

Kidnapping, loss of privacy, being watched, forced touch, unhealthy relationships, abuse, beatings, Obsession, shock collars, and overall yandere and unhealthy topics.

Raphael

Now, he really hates seeing you upset. But, part of him remembers that if you don't learn now you never will, he is an older brother after all.

His punishments aren't near the worst of the bunch. Raph's punishments are more inconvenient than anything, not being allowed to leave his room whatsoever, doing laps around the lair, are the minor ones, they do progress the worst of the action you do.

If you try to run away you lose all and any privacy you had. Zero time alone at all, it's suffocating.

It's time for you to shower? He's right outside the curtain the whole time, he isn't afraid to look in if he hears something out of the ordinary. Bathroom? He's looking away but you can even lose that. Changing? Unless it's undergarments his eyes aren't leaving you.

You aren't allowed to face the door when you two sleep, you're kept facing the wall cradled by Raph, he'll chain you to the bed if he has to.

In summary, privacy loss is one of his most used punishments. He'd never hit you, on purpose….

Leonardo

Now, he isn't super sure how to punish someone humanely… He just isn't sure on how else to get you to listen.

For the little things, like talking back or refusing to do a dumb activity with him, he can be cold or manipulative. He could spit something at you like “Really? All I want to do is love and spend time with you and all you ever do is ignore me or be ungrateful! All I want is to love you, let me love you, dear.”

He will also pinch you for small mistakes, like say you say something he doesn't exactly agree with, Leo will simply pinch, normally on the neck, it works, his pinches hurt like a bitch. Or he'll flick you, those also hurt.

He worries, alot, so if you try to run away?

He throws a fit, screaming, crying the whole ordeal. He will get to you, lock the door on his train car. Yell, so loud your ears ring. Screaming about how mad he is, how you should never do that and how dangerous it is.

In his fit of rage, it will likely get physical.

Maybe grabbing you by the collar… throwing you against the wall, screaming at you, he'll kick your legs and bash until they bleed and are bruised.

He didn't mean to, he is just too worried about you, he can't let you leave. No matter how much it hurts.

Donatello

By far he Is the worst, he knows what you did is wrong and won't feel bad, you did this to yourself. It was your choice.

Now, almost all of his punishments are with a shock collar he made, one like he made for Leo awhile ago, but it has different settings and is remote controlled. (He can also control it with his tech gauntlet) Based on what you do is how bad the shock will be, it is normally at a 2 for small mistakes. A quick zap is it.

Now, if you try to escape? That's where it gets bad. What were you thinking?

Once he finds you, you're in big trouble. The collar will go off, the highest setting. Over and over. You'll be lugged back to where you started being shocked and yelled at.

Like his blue coded brother, he isn't too sure how to be humane. Whatever he does, it's gonna leave a mark.

Mikey

He is somewhere along with Raph, he's more disappointed than anything when you mess up badly. He is rare to punish, he doesn't want to see you in pain or upset. It's just hard for him to see. It hurts.

For small mistakes he'll give you a small scolding and that's it. Nothing to scare you. He doesn't want to scare you anymore then he already has.

If you try to escape, he reminds himself that you're human, you're scared. Your world was torn apart by him. He had to be gentle.

He will take you back to the lair, tied up with his mystic chains, leaving no room to squirm. Along with his older brother, you'll lose privacy and with Mikey, you'll be treated like a helpless child.

You can't do anything alone or without help. It's truly embarrassing. You're not allowed to even brush your own hair. Pretty much everything is taken away from you. It sucks.

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, delusional mindset, threats, overprotective behavior, isolation, abduction

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @flaming-vulpix

S/o likes to tell stories of their childhood

Shaiapouf

🎻Shaiapouf lives to cater to the needs of yours as long as they align with his own beliefs of what is right for you. He enjoys listening to your childhood stories as it symbolises to him that you trust him, something he craves to be given from you. It keeps him from using his Nen abilities to influence and manipulate your emotions to make you more docile and submissive, more susceptile to let him serve you and protect you the way he believes that you have to be protected. As someone who never has had a childhood as he has been the same emotionally and physically ever since he hatched he also shows an increased interest to find out what a normal human's childhood from your memories would look like. Whatever you may have hoped his reaction to be though, I guarantee you that Shaiapouf will only be feeling petty jealousy and theatrical horror. Every person who made you happy before his arrival is a victim of his poisoned envy and every accident of yours nearly gives him a heart attack as he feels the need to still see if you have suffered any injuries even if years should have passed. You will have to relive those experiences only in your memories though as Pouf would never allow you to do it again.

Kaneki Ken

🔲​Kaneki's childhood has been marked with hardships all over and despite the selfishness of his obsession he still genuinely hopes that at least someone as wonderful as his darling never had to suffer even half as much as he did. Initially he latches on very eagerly when you start telling stories of your childhood as the act of telling him despite having abducted you something about your past soothes his already smothering insecurities. He's an individual that loves listening to you as it is. You do set him up cruelly though, only telling him the nice and funny stories that warm his heart only to pour icy cold water over him as soon as you start bringing up stories that aren't so happy. His heart races, his breath stops and panics floods through him as stories of your near-death-encounters bring him more horror than actual horror films. His paranoia definitely has him spiraling down to be more pushy as his presence starts to be more pushy. He's afraid that you may suffer from nightmares in your sleep or that you carry with you a mental burden that he will gladly take if he can. If some of your stories should involve nearly being eaten by a ghoul though it is going to be a shot right through his fragile mentality.

Aizen Sosuke

🌫️​Aizen is a man who knows everything, a man who never enters a room without a plan and who never starts a conversation without a purpose. You're constantly torn apart between gnawing frustration and obvious terror as this man who you have never met seems to know more about your own mind than you do yourself. It's those previous experiences with the true depths of his knowledge that make you very reluctant initially to share your past with him as you suspect that he probably already knows. In fact he does but still he values the aspect of you engaging with him in conversations and other interactions as he would have no interest in you if you were nothing more than a quiet and motionless doll. Even if he outsmarts you all the time, Aizen does enjoy listening to you and he finds that though he knows most of those stories anyways it is much more entertaining to hear them from your lips. The ones that amuse him by far the most are the ones where you almost ended up risking your own life as it only solidifies you even more as someone fascinating as he wonders how fate could have possibly gotten you into many of the events you went through in your past.

Sesshomaru

🐺​Sesshomaru ususally shows very little emotion on his face and when he does reveal them they are normally always either ones of annoyance or anger. That's why you are intially very hesitant as you share stories of your past, your eyes constantly on the yokai as you are worried that he may give you a disapproving glare or coldly demand you to stop. None of that happens though and despite his lack of any reaction that makes it look like he simply doesn't care you take it. Every night when he stops his journey to give Rin and you rest as he understands that humans need sleep to replenish their energy you like to tell stories at the bonfire with Rin often your only listener who appears to actively listen and be interested. It is only once you start bringing up stories of your past that at that time could have easily cost you your life that finally elicit a reaction out of him, sharp eyes suddenly looking up. He usually asks you once Jaken and Rin are asleep if those stories were really true as if not wanting to believe that the one human he fell in love with happens to be the one who appears to be unbelievably stupid and unlucky. Hopefully you're less of an idiot now. Otherwise he may have to keep a closer eye on you.

[ssentimentals]

never a goodbye {kim mingyu}

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader

prompt: 'relationships are built on trust and i trust you' + 'thanks to you, i know what it means to love again' (this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here)

warnings: generally none, but this one-shot is about long distance relationships so thought i should mention it just in case

mingyu is not very good in physics or biology or any kind of science in that matter, but... shouldn't his heart actually fit into his chest? shouldn't there be enough space for it? because right now it seems like there isn't. right now it seems like his ribs are going to break from the pressure, like his chest will be soon torn apart, like his heart will jump out on his waiting hands, bleeding. he stares at his palms in slight confusion, wonders if his reflexes are fast enough to catch his heart if it will jump out. cause it surely can happen, right?

'do you trust me?' mingyu asks in a hoarse whisper. 'do you?'

you look insulted at being asked this question but mingyu still doesn't take his words back. he needs to hear it right now even if he never doubted you in this regard. hearing those words right now hold more meaning than ever and he needs to hear you say-

'of course,' you breathe out, sounding tired. 'you know i do, gyu.'

mingyu breathes out a sigh of relief. good, that's good. but why his heart doesn't settle? he looks at you and frowns at your worn out expression - lately, you've been looking like that almost whole time. he can't say that he's any better, because even his manager who rarely spares him a second glance as he's a simple intern, rounded him few days ago and asked if everything was okay. 'if someone is bullying you here, you should let me know,' he said in a serious voice, staring at mingyu with furrowed eyebrows. 'you look like you haven't slept in weeks.' which is actually not a very accurate estimate because in truth mingyu haven't slept well in last two months. since he learned that you were accepted to exchange program. meaning of 'exchange' fell on him much, much later, after he was done screaming his lungs out from joy and pride for you.

'mingyu,' you start, heaving a long drawn out sigh. you never said his name like that, never with so much tredipation. 'i think-'

'chicken is getting cold,' mingyu interrupts, pointing at the food on the table. 'let's first finish it.'

for a second he fears that you'll start arguing but when your shoulders slump down and you obediently reach out for your chopsticks, he realizes that you decided to spare him this one. mingyu knows full well that pushing back the inevitable talk will not make it disappear, but acknowleding elephant in the room is something he's not strong enough to do. you both eat in silence and for the first time ever this silence between you is uncomfortable, stiff; it makes mingyu want to throw plates around and leave.

'why did you ask me about trust?' your voice makes him pause. you both are almost done eating and his hand hovers around the glass of water, not gripping it. 'about whether i trust you or not? i- shouldn't it be the other way around? it's me who's leaving. shouldn't i ask that question?'

you're barely holding up, mingyu realizes. you're gripping chopsticks too tight and your whole posture screams tension. 'look at me,' he asks and you hesitantly raise your head. he holds your gaze, needing you to know that he's serious: 'relationships are about trust and i trust you.'

something breaks in your eyes but you always had a very good hold of youe expressions, so nothing is shown on your face. 'then why did you ask whether i trust you? you know i do. you know i do, mingyu!' your tone cracks and you raise your voice a little in the end; your usual self control betrays you, as your eyes shine with unshed tears. 'if it's about possible cheating from my side-'

'what?!' mingyu screeches, thrown off by the turn that this topic took. 'no i never- i didn't ask because of this.'

and oh OH, now he realizes why you look like that. now he understands why you looked insulted by his question, now he udnerstands near hysterical mood. 'i'd never question this,' mingyu reassures you, speaking slowly. 'i don't doubt your loyalty and i sure as hell hope you don't doubt mine. i don't need anyone else but you.'

and it's true. in fact, mingyu probably have never been more honest in his life than right now. whole concept of cheating is foreign to him, so far from, never entered his mind. other people are nice, sure, but they are not you. there is only one in the world and mingyu is in too deep, he can't imagine having someone else by his side. no other person will compare to you, no one will make him feel the way you do.

'i asked about trust meaning another point,' he sits up straighter and reaches out across the table for your hand. 'i meant if you trust me to do everything in my power to make this long distance relationship work.'

mingyu is not about to let some distance split you up. you are it for him, he won't give up so easily. he is stubborn and reality may be harsh, but mingyu is stronger than any challenge it may send his way.

'it's for two years,' you remind him, calmed down. you hastily wipe few tears from your cheeks and then grab his hand again. 'two full years, gyu.'

'i know.'

'it's too far, tickets cost a leg, i'll probably be able to come here like once a year.'

'i know.' mingyu nods and then to ease up the atmosphere, jokingly asks: 'are you trying to make me give you up?' when you don't even smile at the joke, he tenses. is this what's happening? 'are you trying- do you want to break up with me?'

'no!' you deny loudly, looking shocked and almost banging the table at your frustration. seeing his confused expression, you sink back to the seat, groaning. 'i don't want to break up. but i just- i thought you...would.'

'...would what?' mingyu asks, baffled.

'want. to break up. with me.'

you're one of the most logical people mingyu knows and there probably is logic somewhere in that sentence, but he can't just find it. he thinks back of his past behaviors and can't find a time when his actions could have made you think that he wants to break up. this is literally the only thing he does not want, how that conclusion even came up in your mind? mingyu is so lost in the flow of this dialogue that he can do nothing but just sit and look like a lost puppy. like a very sad lost puppy and you take pity on him, standing up and coming closer. his hands immediately find your hips - his place, this is where his hands belong - and he stands up too, looking down. your familiar scent envelops him and mingyu gives in to the urge of leaning in and burying his face in your hair, tightening his hold on you. he can stay like this forever but you have other plans, judging by the way you not so subtly move him towards the living room.

'talk to me,' mingyu asks - pleads, really - as soon as you both sit down. he doesn't let you get far, presses himself close to your side and wraps one arm around your waist. 'i don't understand, baby. explain, please, let me understand. right now i feel like you and i are talking in different languages.'

you sigh and cuddle up closer to him. your back pressed to his front, he guesses it's easier for you to talk not facing him. your hands start drawing patterns on his arm wrapped around your waist as you take a deep breath and talk: 'i don't want to break up with you, of course i don't. it's just when i think about it i get... i don't know. it's two years, mingyu. two very long years and i don't want to like- hold you back, you know? you don't owe me anything, i don't want you to feel like you have to be with me. we are both so physical and being apart will be very hard and i just thought that it's so unfair to make you- well, not make you per se, but i mean...' you shake your head in frustration and settle deeper in his embrace. your voice shakes as you let out next words: 'i just want you to be happy, you know? i don't want you to be stuck with me in our long distance relationships and be sad, when you can find someone else who will be here and be happy with them.' you start picking at his skin with your nails before you freeze. 'do you understand now?'

mingyu understands and also doesn't. he's upset - deeply, on the core level. he's upset that you think so lowly of yourself, of your impact to his life, of your place in his life - haven't he shown you enough? haven't he made you feel like you are the center of his universe? earth circles around the sun and you are his sun, don't you know that? what he has done fundamentally wrong that you question him in this way? ' just so clarify,' mingyu starts, 'you think that i won't survive two years without getting my dick wet?'

'oh my god, gyu!' you shriek, turning in his arms to hit his chest strongly. 'what even-'

'it sounded like that,' he says calmly, catching your wrist in his hand before you can hit him again. 'it really, really sounded like that.'

'not exactly like that,' you deflect, sighing. 'what if in these two years you will find someone else here but won't be able to pursue them because you feel like you must stick with me? i don't want to be the one holding you back.'

mingyu is trying very hard not to get angry here but you're not making it easy for him. he breathes in through his nose, trying to stay calm. 'are you saying that i am allowed to look left and right while you will be gone? and while you are there, staying loyal to me, i can be here looking for someone else? or-' his throat dries up at the prospect. '-are you also be..looking...'

you cover your face with your hands, groaning loudly. 'this is not- god, this is really not going well.'

mingyu nods, because hell yeah, it's going very not well. he's glad for the short pause as you plant yourself firmly on his lap, hugging him tight. it's a nice distraction from the talk and mingyu indulges you in three slow kisses, letting them ground you both to the present. to the present, in which you two are very much in love with each other and don't think about looking for any other partners.

'you know,' mingyu starts, suddenly remembering, 'i met you right when i stopped believing in love.' you perk up, your head raises from his chest and you settle it comfortably on his shoulder. 'i went through a horrible break up and i thought that if love is like this then i really don't want it, don't need it.'

you pout, hugging him tighter in attempt to reassure him. mingyu smiles at this, placing small kiss on your forehead. you two never discussed your past relationships and he would like it to stay this way, but he needs to drive his point across, so he continues: 'i never thought that love could be like ours, that it can make me feel so full, so happy. our love is so easy, you know? it's the easiest thing i know.'

he doesn't say how scared he was when he realized he's falling for you. he doesn't tell how he expected relationship with you to turn out exactly the same like his last ones, how he almost waited for the time all of it will fall apart. he doesn't mention how little by little you crushed his fears, how you made all of the love songs finally make sense. he does voice out, however: 'thanks to you, i know what it means to love again. i'm sorry if i made you feel like you can ever be holding me back. you won't, love, never. i am nervous and i am sad, yes, but more than anything i am so happy that you have this exchange opportunity and i want you to go and have the best two years in your life. i'm sure it'll be a great experience and i'm working now, my salary is not huge but hey, i can save up and come to you on my own. you know i will do it all for you, babe.'

you are crying by the end of it and mingyu knows that he's about to cry too. he can't swallow due to lump in his throat and he takes a deep breath, when you break down, crying quietly. 'if you trust me, trust me in making this work then i will, i promise you i will.' he whispers into your hair as you wet his shirt with your tears.

'god, i love you so much,' you mutter into his chest, making him smile. 'i trust you, i want this to work too, i'll try my best, i promise.'

mingyu lets few tears fall, takes steadying breaths and starts peppering your head with kisses. 'i love you, more than you think.'

he's not a crier usually, but he lets himself have this moment with you, baring his heart as well. it feels good to let it all worries that pent up last two months out, feels good to do it next to you and know that you both are on the same page. when you lean back from, there's a wet patch from your tears and dark splotches from your mascara on his shirt and you sob like a baby, making him coo at you softly. 'we will make it, right?' you ask quietly, wiping your eyes and only making a bigger mess of your mascara. 'you and i. it's not a goodbye for good?'

'it's never a goodbye,' mingyu assures you, getting a hold of his voice and planting firm kiss on your forehead. 'it's just a see you later. i promise.'

'you never break your promises,' you remind him sternly.

'and i won't break this one.'

it's a promise, an oath if you will. one that sits deep in his heart, one that he can sign with his blood if needed. one that he will never break, never jeopardize. one that he will work hard to keep.

a/n: hope this one was more fluffy than sad!! mingyu always makes me go all uwu - nini

tagging @prpldahy

[belladonnadawn]

But Daddy I Love Him

“Say they want what’s best for me. Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see. Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me.”

A day off with Andrew made you think about your domestic life and life before it. CW: mentions of sex 

It's been years after the incident, yet your heart still aches whenever your mind drifts towards it. To say that it was hell was an understatement; you've been isolated, called every name under the sun, and met with condescension from the people who ‘want to save you’. The crowd was torn between dragging you to the mud and lifting you up in their arms. It was a painful, overwhelming, and disturbing experience. But all their noises fall deaf on your ears once you're with him.

Between bated breaths and heated touches, a scandalous tryst– not unheard of; you both found something deeper, something beyond lust and desire. Your nights of passion muted any screams from the world, drowning you in him and him only. In his bed– and yours, you were two lovers lost in paradise. 

All the men you've been with pales in comparison to him. Andrew was sweet, caring, passionate, and teasing. A true gentleman. It was painfully cliché, but it's true– no one knows him like you do. And if others did, they'd understand why you loved him like you did. 

Dusk crept in, it was peaceful as both of you had your day offs. You sat on his lap, mindlessly playing with his hair as he read his book. He looks good focused, handsome as ever. Smile crept into your face as butterflies went wild in your stomach. 

“Darling?” Andrew's soft voice dragged you back to reality. You hummed in response, wearing that same love struck smile. “What do you want for dinner?” His hands gently caressed your back in a gentle manner. Even after being with him for years, you were still electrified by his touches.

“I found this new recipe on the internet. Do you wanna try?” You suggested.

“Of course, darling.” He leaned closer, sealing it with a kiss. It was as sweet and loving as always, you had to fight the urge to pull him closer, wrap your arms around him for a full on make out session. “Do you want me to cook it for you?”

“No, I want us to cook together. I want to spend as much time with you while we have our day off.” 

He chuckles, closing the book and placing it on the table. “You’re quite needy today.”

“Is it bad that I want to spend time with my boyfriend?” The title rolls off your tongue smoothly, it feels nice knowing he’s the one holding it. 

“I understand, our time together these past few days was scarce. I missed being with you too.” Andrew pulled you closer, trailing small kisses on your jaw and neck. He pulled away with a grin, “We shall prepare then so we can go to bed early.”

You were disappointed as you both pulled away as you both walked towards the kitchen, wanting more of his physical affection; but you understand that that can wait. 

The apartment was small and cozy, enough for the two of you. Life with him so far was domestic and comfortable. You remembered your parents’ faces when they knew about your relations with him. And once you announced that you’re ready to move out, they immediately protested; screaming how he might be manipulative, dangerous, and what you and Andrew had was nothing but fleeting desire.

But you were firm, almost petulant, laying all the proofs that you had. It felt like a court case, justifying everything that you could to assure them. At last, they finally conceded after you told them that once there’s a problem you’ll immediately move out. They were still suspicious, you can’t blame them, but over time you could see how they were starting to accept him as a significant part of your life– your significant other.

“What’s on your mind, darling?” Andrew wrapped his arms around your waist. “Mind sharing it with me?” 

You gave him a small smile, knowing that you can’t lie to him due to how observant he is. “It’s just things… about us.”

His brow furrowed as his face became filled with concern, “What about us?” He asked gently, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Like what happened…” 

He nodded, but you could see a glimpse of sadness in his face. “I understand, sometimes our mind wanders in places we never expect to be in. But that’s all we do, we wander not stay” 

“I know, Andrew, I just think that it still feels surreal. Living this life with you domestically was something that I never thought we could achieve, back then I thought we’ll be apart after they almost tore us to shreds. I’m happy we’re not.” You gave him a soft smile, giving his lips a small peck.. 

As you pulled away, you looked at him, blush evident on his cheeks, “I am happy too, darling.” He responded softly. You could see his eyes glance at your lips, blood rushed to your cheek as you closed your eyes and leaned closer. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt your lips touched. It was magical and passionate as you expected. His arms around you tightened, you ran his fingers through his hair. Andrew leaned closer, deepening the kiss causing you to let out a sound of satisfaction. You were both insatiable, drunk on each other.

You both catch your breath as you pull away from each other. His hands on your cheek, the other on your thigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, darling.” Andrew’s eyes half lidded, filled with desire and love as he looked at you.

For a moment you were just two lovers in the kitchen, doting on each other endlessly. The past was far enough to reach you as you both ran away to your own world– the one you never wanted to escape from. 

Pattern banner from Cafekitsune

[billiedeansbitch]

Hello, first of all i love ur work!

And i have a request, i was thinking larissa x reader, they are in bed and larissa is reading a book, r is a little bored and asks her if she can read out loud so she does it but then r goes between her legs so she’s confused and stops and r is like “keep going” and then starts to eat her out but she’s trying to keep reading until she can’t anymore cause it’s all just becoming moans. U can continue the smut or just keep it at that

Keep up the good work and have a great day! :)

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

note: I enjoyed writing and thank you! hope you're having a great day as well, anon.

warning/s: NSFW. fingering. cunnilingus.

Larissa was already in bed, reading, when you arrived from your own office after attempting to finish grading your students’ essays so you would be able to enjoy the weekend without thinking so much about work. 

You were greeted with a smile as you approached her, bent down, and kissed her lips. You pecked quickly since you were eager to get out of your clothes. You drew away and told her you were going to shower, and she only hummed before returning to her book. You left with a little pang in your chest hoping she had given you more attention, hoping that her eyes would lit up and ask if she could come and join. 

Later, after refreshing yourself, you decided to read something on your own, so you grabbed a book and settled next to her. Larissa hummed contentedly, slid her hand on your thigh, and languidly stroked the cool skin with her thumb.

The first few minutes were pleasant; you were relaxed and fine, reading the book in your hand, but after about thirty minutes, a deep longing for physical affection gnawed at your chest. It had been a long day and you were craving it dramatically.

So you closed your book, setting it aside on your side table. You drew out a long breath, almost too theatrical, hoping Larissa would take notice. She didn’t. She was too immersed.  Her lack of engagement painted a frown on your face. 

At times like this you knew better than to distract her. Reading was her escape, it was what undid the knots in the poor woman’s head from all the stress running this school. But you were getting unbearably bored and impatient. However, you still decided to give it a few more minutes. 

Your thoughts were then interrupted by her hand going further up your thigh. You paused. Did she–? You looked at her, still busy reading with her brows pushed up in concentration and then she snorted, took her hand away from you thigh to rub her temple. 

You kept observing the lines between her brows. Even reading made her stressed. So you sighed, carefully scooted next to her and rested your head on her shoulder. 

A sly smirk tugged the corners of your lips, getting the dirtiest idea. “Have I told you I love this dress?” it came out of nowhere, from Larissa’s perspective, yes. For you? No. 

“Hmm what?” she asked.

Your hand landed on her thigh. “Nothing. Will you read to me if that’s okay?” She agreed, of course, and read the book aloud. Your wicked intention was still concealed from the woman’s eyes.

She read the page and moved on to the next. Her voice was like a feather caressing your ears, and you listened, truly listened to her but no matter how interesting it was, your mind still drifted to the sheer blue dress she wore, “It's  so sheer I can see the outline of your nipples.”

You traced the swell of her breast. She gasped, lips falling apart.

You turned to her after not hearing her speak, “Why’d you stop? Keep reading, please. I love it when you talk.” 

She looked at you, confused. You nestled your head on her chest and wrapped your arm around her waist. Nevertheless, she cleared her throat and read the words but soon her mind was torn and her body became warm, tingling with anticipation and felt her nipples getting sensitive and hard against the soft material of her nightgown.

You kept caressing her side, made several sensual comments about her choice of clothing, how it gave away the curve of her body, how her chest was barely covered, how it made you feel certain things while ushering her to continue everytime she would halt to catch her breath.

“You feel so tense, love. Are you okay?” Larissa could hear you mocking her even if the way you said the words were far too soft and laced with concern before pointing out that her nipples were hard causing her cheeks to be flashing red, her grip on the book became tight. 

“Don’t break it apart.” Larissa whimpered as your lips touched the shell of her ear, your fingers rolling the hardened nipple through the diaphanous material. 

You breathed her in, taking in the fragrance of vanilla and peach, “Keep going.” you husked when she stopped reading, her breath becoming shallow. She was losing control over herself. She should have known the moment you set your book aside and planted yourself beside her with that kind of spark in your eyes that you were plotting something. 

You pecked the spot behind her ear. It made the heat in her face more apparent than ever, that even her chest was glowing and sweat was forming despite the cool air.

Deciding toying with the woman was enough, you pressed your lips to her shoulder one last time before you repositioned yourself in between her legs and pulled her with vigour so she was now lying completely on her back, a yelp pushing past her lips. “Keep reading, please.” you said with a mischievous grin, entertained with how your woman was gawking at you.

It didn’t take you long to pull her underwear from the neverending length and kiss your way up from her calves to the inner thighs, to her centre that was glistening pink, aching and ready, covered by a thin patch of blonde hair. Her smell aroused you, it was so distinct in the air you breathe.

She was so fucking wet and you smirked. You smiled, feeling the victory tugging at each corner of your lips. 

Larissa bucked her hip, impatient for you to take her, you didn’t waste more time. The tip of your tongue licked the path of her slit from the bottom to her clit, swelling with need. Larissa became all moans and whimpers as you continued giving her cunt the attention it desperately needed, flicking it back and forth, left to right, making tight circles, before delving into her entrance the best you could with the length of your tongue.

In the midst of fucking her senseless with your tongue, you heard a clunk. You looked up to see Larissa with her head back against her pillow, both hands massaging her perky breasts, no book in sight.

You ate her out until her legs were shaking, thighs were closing hard against your head and you held her back, pushed her them apart and continued to slurp and suck the juices out of dripping wet cunt, her hands fisting on the sheets. When Larissa couldn’t take it anymore, she yanked you by the hair, your fingers easily replacing your tongue in the process. 

Larissa kissed you with fervour, sliding her tongue in your mouth, trying to taste herself. And she moaned into your mouth as you filled her in once more, her cunt saturated with more cum.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” 

The woman stayed silent, still caught up in the high of after-sex. Fuck, she was so sore and overstimulated. 

When you came back from the adjacent bathroom with a damped wash cloth, Larissa didn’t move an inch from her position. You cleaned her up, she whined when the cloth grazed her clit, “Oops, sorry.” you kissed her thigh, and continued wiping off the mess from her skin.

“I love you.” she finally said, wrapping her arm around you and scooting closer to rest her head on your chest. “I love you more.”

And soon, Larissa was asleep, snoring lightly against the skin of your neck. There was truly no better way to take out the stress from her than eating her out. 

[itsscromp]

Freedom within arms reach

Inspired by @rogertaylorswift most recent comic that she wrote and drew, so here you shall receive, it's been far far too long since I did Rocket. Word count:616

All Rocket has known since the day he was created, was pain, sadness and hardship. He was broken down, torn apart and placed back together all for the name of the high evolutionary's sick experiment. It made him fearful of any touch that came his way, even if it was simply a nudge of the shoulder when passing by someone or a handshake.

But deep down, he wanted to feel a warm embrace of someone he trusted, someone he knew who wouldn't be able to hurt him or exploit him. It was all he wanted in the whatever timeframe in his life that he has. One night it all came to a head.

After a very brutal mission, you could see how rocket was so tense, his body as stiff as a wood plank. "Rocket... You ok Buddy ??" You frowned lightly.

"M'fine humie, just leave me be" He twisted around, not facing you. "Don't ya need to check the calibrations on the bowie ??"

"I was... But I saw you just standing here... Are you sure your ok ??"

"I SAID I'M FINE....." He shouted, you knew that something wasn't right, So for now, you just sat across from him. Letting him take his time and gather his words, but you didn't see that he ever so slowly scooted closer to you, wanting to be near you. You always comforted him in his time of need.

One of the ways you show your love languages was physical touch, but you knew that rocket never ever since you two met liked touch, but maybe... if you just held your hand out and see how you go. So you did just that, reaching your hand out to him.

He saw your hand and instantly tensed even more, He wanted to shift away immediately, hide in his room. But he thought otherwise for a little bit, you knew were just trying to help him. So he ever so slowly and hesitantly lifted his hand onto yours, gently taking it.

He held it for a little while until you gently rubbed your thumb on the top of your hand, The feeling soon returned to rocket, the feeling of wanting to be held in a safe embrace. It was with you, your best friend. So he gently scooted a bit closer, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin.

"Can... Can I pet you ??" You asked, hoping this could calm him further, but also knowing he didn't like being treated like an animal. But to your surprise, he nodded.

You moved your hand slowly to his head, gently dragging your fingers across his head, he slowly sighed, as if in contentment. "Talk to me dude, What's on your mind" You asked him.

He explained the recent frustrations over the missions, some parts were almost all too familiar to him, triggering memories that he kept locked away. You listened to each word he said, not judging. After the rant, he looked up a you, with a soft familiar rocket smile. "Hey y/n..."

"Yeah ??"

"You're a good pal... you know that ??"

You smiled at him. "I know"

But then he grew hesitant. "I... Could... Could I get... A hug ??" He finally got it out.

You softly nodded, opening your arms up for him, waiting patiently at his pace. To which he slowly stood up, slowly moving to your embrace, wrapping his tiny arms around your neck. You wrapped your arms around him in return, keeping him close and secure, You didn't see it, but a full proper smile formed on his face.

To know that he was safe and secure, It was the best thing he could know.

[becausesomething]

Maybe in another Life - ZoSan OneShot

just a smut and touchy oneshot after getting into the zosan zone and got obsessed! 🚬x🗡

-Wake up, mosshead!

Zoro just opens one eye and yawns.

-You're the only one awake and I could use some help cleaning up the mess that Luffy and the others left in the kitchen.

-tsc, I'm woken up to play maid?!

Sanji lights a cigarette to ease his irritation and having to swallow his pride to ask for help. But also suppressing emotions he struggled to ignore.

-There is a bottle of sake from the special stock waiting for you.

Zoro gets up, grabs his swords and heads to the kitchen, without thinking or looking twice at Sanji.

As usual, they divided the tasks naturally and helped each other. Zoro had finished tidying up the dishes and sits at the table, while Sanji finished cleaning the counters.

-More sake Ero-Cook !

-I'm not your employee, marimo, go get it yourself!

Zoro snorts, but gets up and goes to the cupboard to get another bottle. As he turned to go back to the table, Sanji, who was passing by, bumped into him. Their faces are very close and the tension they both feel is noticeable.

-Are you blushing for me, nosebleed boy?

-Shitty swordsman, be aware of personal space!

Zoro, in the heat of the moment, grabs him by the waist and leans him against the closet, supporting himself with one hand.

-Those lips...

-What do you think you're doing, idiot?

Zoro continues to look at him intensely, without letting him break his gaze. In that moment of tension, Sanji loses his temper and begins the kiss that would change his routine. As he had imagined, Zoro's lips, despite being rough, were delicious to feel, especially with that sake flavor. For Zoro, that kiss was necessary, he needed to have those thin, soft lips against his. What was supposed to be just a kiss ended up in both of them prolonging that moment so desired and repressed. Zoro lets go of his waist and moves away from him, picking up the bottle he had placed on the counter and sitting back down at the table.

-Will you accompany me, er-Cook?

Sanji, still glued to the closet, takes a few seconds to assimilate what had just happened. He puts his fingers to his lips, lets out a smile and prepares to light a cigarette as he walks to the table.

That spring night, when they had left Arabasta, emotions finally spoke louder than shame. Words that were never said, because actions spoke louder. During the day they continued their constant rivalry, but when night came and the rest of the gang went to rest, they both allowed themselves to let their guard down and enjoy each other's company.

(...)

Sanji wakes up and doesn't see Zoro anywhere, his heart pounds with fear. He goes looking for it and that's when he finds it. Standing, with torn clothes, covered in blood, and a lifeless look. "Nothing happened", those words cut deeper than knives or glass. That vision of the person he was beginning to love caused a pain he couldn't understand, but he didn't want to feel it again.

(...)

-Dumb browns, I missed you in bed.

Zoro finds him standing on the deck looking at the sea that night when the moon was not shining.

-You're an idiot, an idiot swordsman.

Zoro tries to grab him to steal the kiss, but is stopped by a kick from Sanji that almost hits him, if he weren't faster even though he was injured.

-tsc, what's wrong with you?

-You. The way you took that pain and are here  you are looking for me, as if you weren't all hurt.

-I only did it to save you, to save us all!

Zoro, taking advantage of being more muscular, grabs Sanji by the arm and in the movement of pulling him towards him, steals a kiss from him. A kiss that for Zoro was a drug to calm the physical pain. A kiss that for Sanji was bittersweet, because it was also a drug that he couldn't get enough of. When the lips come apart, their eyes meet, but soon Sanji looks away again to the sea and lets go of Zoro.

-Zoro-kun

The only sounds that could be heard were the waves hitting the ship and their hearts beating hard.

-I don't think I'm able to continue this...

Sanji lights a cigarette and expels the smoke, avoiding Zoro's surprised look.

-The pain of thinking that I had lost you when I woke up, the anguish of having found you in that state, the weight of knowing that you are too much for me.-I knew you were an idiot, but not as much as a weak-ass cook.

(...)

After Sanji finds Zoro in Sabaody, his heart doesn't fit in his chest. It had been two long years of living a miserable life and the thought that helped him overcome that hell was that his idiot mooshead was still alive, so there was still hope in trying to remedy the terrible mistake he had made. He just didn't expect to find a completely different man in front of him.

-I thought a lot, all this time... I still have feelings for you. No, I mean, what I felt never went away, no matter how much I tried to deny it or bury it. When I look at you... I still feel butterflies. I can't describe how happy you make me.

Sanji closes his eyes, feeling emotional as he remembers all the moments they both spent together. Zoro crosses his arms and looks him in the eyes.

-Listen Cook, ... Sanji ... After you rejected me ... more than two years ago ... I got over how I felt about you.

Sanji exhales deeply, in an attempt not to be crushed by those words that hurt like knives.

-Sorry - says Zoro, placing his hand on Wado.

-Damn, maybe in another life - says Sanji, lighting a cigarette and looking passionately into Marimo's eyes one last time before facing the rest of the gang.

-Maybe... Ero-Cook - says Zoro who is already ahead, hiding his expression.

english is not my first language, even thought I use it more than my native tongue. I try my best to adapt it 🫣

[shalomniscient]

i love to believe that persons with giant dicks are actually severely inexperienced in bed as almost no one can take them properly for safety reasons or just because it goddamn hurts to be stretched so much no matter how much lube you apply and how much preparation you do, so they didn't have many opportunities to flex their monstrous size. there might be an exception in case this person has an established relationship with someone who finally takes the risk of getting fucking torn apart and this kinda provides them with certain experience but... if it's just some affair then there's gonna be some problems. (i would prefer to assume that big dicked characters do not assail anyone, so there were no situations in which they made some one take them with force)

can you imagine almost virgin zoya? that's fucking hilarious. you unbuckle her pants, a literal fucking anaconda springs out of her underwear and slaps your face and... nothing happens. you're trying your best to put it in your mouth or something but your jaws just physically cannot accommodate to something this thick. trying to take it up your pussy? well a few inches might slide in without any harm but going any further can send you straight to the hospital. taking it up your ass? don't even think about jesus christ.

so, what are you gonna do? there's a great and safe option though – milk zoya with your cute fingers! put on a show, whisper things in her ear, let her kiss you roughly and buck her hips into your welcoming palms (you'll need both of them to grab at least a half of her dick). zoya sure is possessive and rough and tough, so the idea is she's always a top. but for one night she might become a service top, you know... just for one night before you two figure out how to make her tremendous size work. moreover, your pretty hands are doing a majestic job, so... why not? just let the tip slide into your mouth (no further!), suck on it harshly, don't suppress your moans, lick the shaft occasionally, kiss the whole length affectionately throughout the process and this little (hell no it's huge) handjob might become one of the best experiences in your lives.

– milk nonnie

milk i need be inside your brain rn HOW do you come up with these ARGHHHH THEYRE SO GOOD IM GOING CRAZY ??? ok but imagining zoya’s reaction once she finally bottoms out in you after spending months slowly prepping… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 she’s never been able to do this so she’s nutting immediately sorry 😔😔😔 milk i think you’re opening my eyes (or fucking prying them open with a crowbar /pos) to girlfailure zoya…………… we’re entering dangerous territory here gamers

[chocoenvy]

Hi there! I love your mommy Signora post, but ofc I love all the mommy fics hehe💕

But what happens in the day to day life with mommy Signora once reader got over the shock a lil bit?

I headcannon that maybe Signora can bring them around the palace and feed them Snezhnayan food? Maybe find out they have a fav and would have some as back up in case.

And maybe little creator would be angry at anyone who talks bad about her fire moth mama?

Keep note that you don't have to do this if you're too busy okay? Stay hydrated and rest well💕

hi im sad rn so i have to project apologies for making you hurt in advance <3

Child of Fire, Raised in Ice

warnings: fluff with an angst ending, sagau, a child (that is ten but turns 11-12 throughout this) is considered god, mild blood, death

6,115 words

There was no separating you and your mama. Ever since the day she had found you in the snow, held you with such tenderness. Despite being considered a "big kid", you still imprinted onto her like you were a young child. Growing by her side, soon enough in your pre-teen years.

Still, you stuck by her side. No matter how old you got.

This was a side of Teyvat you had never dreamed of seeing. Each of the harbingers, in all their horror and glory, and a new ideal against the gods. Signora, who you thought was so bad and evil, was now your hero.

Was this brainwashing? Were you too young and naïve to understand fully what was happening? Maybe, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were safe. Signora was safe.

All the harbingers found it odd, Signora's behavior. How she didn't ask for anything from you in return, and yet your young mind already had an understand of give and take - of goods and services - was eager to please her.

"I can help!" "Do you need me to help?" A smaller hand holding onto her coat, you were basically her shadow. But you were desperate to be helpful.

Signora was scared to let you go alone, despite your exalted status, there were those that would hurt you to spite her, and those with a hatred for gods that extended beyond reason. Despite her insistence she had no earthly attachments to you - that this was merely business - she would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to you.

But she wouldn't be by your side forever. So slowly but surely, she helped you grow. To no longer rely so heavily on her.

Running errands to Childe first, who always had a soft spot for kids. He became your friend quickly, your brother. A familiar and friendly face to go to when you didn't have Signora. Next was Arlecchino, brash and sadistic, but had a calm façade. You grew close with her at a slower rate, but eventually caught yourself growing fonder of her. Asking to visit the orphanage, making care packages for the kids, playing with those your own age.

Signora watched you grow physically and mentally with a fond smile. One that no one had seen in centuries.

You became quite famous in the Zapolyarny palace quite quickly. Going from being always a step behind Signora, to always a step ahead of her. Sometimes even running ahead to greet someone you knew - such as flinging yourself into Capitano who merely gently patted your head. Or excitedly shouting something to Pierro, always eager to see his nod of approval when you've done something worthy. You'd always seen Signora give reports to him, so you attempted to keep your conversations the same as that. You failed miserably, but it was funny to see you talk so formally and informally at the same time and tacking "sir" onto the end of all of your sentences. Until one day he finally caved and told you to just call him Pierro.

Despite your image of Signora changing drastically from what you used to think of her, Dottore never really changed in your mind. His smile freaked you out, almost like if you got too close he'd snatch you up and tear you apart. Like the magic tricks you'd see of people being torn apart, but you didn't think he'd be able to - or want - to fix you.

You thought your wariness was warranted. Which caught the attention of The Damsel.

Oddly, you were never afraid of Pierro. He reminded you of the nice old men that were from your old home, and despite everything, when you got close to him, he smelled like one of your male family members. He reminded you of home.

However The Damsel was the opposite. She smelled of nothing but the ice cold tundra, she appeared sickly, weak, but her voice was powerful.

Her first words to you were, "You think the Doctor is so frightening? What has he done to you so far?"

You couldn't see her eyes, but her voice sounded as though she was awaiting a grand story, an utterly horrid story, like she wanted to tear you apart and see the deepest and darkest parts of you.

"He-he's scary looking," You pouted, distressed.

A dainty giggle danced in the air, and the sound made you relaxed against your better judgement.

"Am I scary looking?" She leaned down a bit, the height difference not being that much, but it felt like she was towering over you.

You blinked, throat tightening and mouth flapping open and closed. You felt Signora's hand touch your upper arm before the words tumbled out of your mouth, "A wendigo." You realized what you just said and fumbled to fix your mistake, "A pretty wendigo! Wait-! Uh-!"

Even Signora snickered at the comment. The Damsel giggled, "Perhaps you're not far off from the mark. Call me Columbina. A child of Signora's is a child I shall protect."

Suddenly, Dottore didn't seem as scary anymore.

You were slowly but surely becoming more and more independent as the months passed, almost seeming like you were a mini-harbinger with how often you hung around them. Everyone was still aware of your "godhood" but that was overshadowed with over half a year of you being at the palace. Over half a year after Signora had saved you.

"Fair Lady, your grace." One of Signora's personal servants entered Signora's study, where the two of you were sorting through important paperwork and writing reports to officials, townsfolk, and the Tsartisa herself.

Signora nodded for her to speak.

"The Tsaritsa has requested their grace's presence."

Those words sent a shiver up your spine, you glanced nervously at Signora but her face was completely neutral.

"Thank you, we'll be on our way immediately." Signora stood from her chair and the servant scurried off.

"Signora-"

"You'll be okay." Her smile was so uncharacteristically warm. A smile that melted away the snow, a smile that saved you when you were dying in the cold.

You opened your mouth to say something doubtful, to argue or protest, but you didn't, "...okay..."

She grabbed your hand in hers, and it was warm, and she led you to the Tsaritsa. To the heart of the palace, a place you had never been.

Signora had told you a handful of times that the Tsarist was aware of your presence in the palace and condoned it. That when you had passed out in her arms after she had saved you, the Tsaritsa herself had made sure you had healed at your bedside.

You didn't ask why, throat closed up and mouth dry. You never questioned why. Signora was safe, she'd tell you all you needed to know, and what you didn't need to know... was fine by you.

"Here," Signora slipped her hand out of yours, pushing you forwards towards a staggeringly tall door, "I will be right here-"

"Why can't you come with me?" You looked up at her with wide fearful eyes, barely managing a shaky breath in and out.

Signora's eyes softened, a sight you and one other lost to the snow has seen, her hand on your shoulder tightened and she lowered herself to your level, "The Tsaritsa has not requested me, remember we are living in her palace, in her land. She would never put you in danger, and neither would I." She cupped your face and lifted your wandering eyes to hers, "You believe me, right?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

She patted your cheek, "Good." A rare moment of fondness, she pressed her lips to your forehead softly, "Now go, don't keep her Majesty waiting too long."

You nodded, Signora's gentle and warm touch leaving your form. The cold surrounded you as you pressed your palm to the handle of the door. The cold spread throughout your veins, freezing your lungs and heart.

You used all your might to push the heavy door open, squeezing past it. It shut with a thud behind you.

You kept your eyes on the ground, barely wandering to fully take in the room.

You could feel her Majesty's presence, but you'd never formally met her before. How were you supposed to greet her? Were you supposed to greet her? What titles should you use? She was far scarier than any of the harbingers, you couldn't tell if your limbs were shaking from the cold or pure fear.

"Raise your head, child." A deep, baritone voice came from the throne, jostling you out of your frozen state.

You followed her command immediately, raising your head to meet her eyes- were covered. Her eyes were covered.

Her height was staggering as well, she must've towered over everyone in the palace including the harbingers. Her throne was completely made out of ice too, everything in the room as well. If you weren't careful, you'd slip and fall.

On her stoic face, the ghost of a smile played at her lips.

She stood from her throne, a grand and intricate dress falling gracefully behind her as she made her for you.

You could feel each step in your chest, the dread building up. You bit your tongue to stop tears from welling in your eyes.

She gracefully swooped into a kneel and grabbed your hand with surprising gentleness. Her hand, despite bearing a glove, was ice cold and pulsated with power.

It made you dizzy, the pure cryo energy in one human body and the power of three gnosis in her possession.

"It's an honor to formally meet you, your grace." Her deep voice reverberated in your head.

You stumbled on your words, "Y-y-y-you too your majesty." You squeaked.

She chuckled, "No need to be so formal, you've lived in my palace for quite some time now, haven't you. I know you well."

"You've been... watching..?" The question slowly died on your throat as you realized the absurdity of it. You were in her palace, her home territory. Of course she'd be watching you.

"I have. Everything that goes on in my home I am aware of. Not only in the palace, but in the whole of Snezhnaya." She answered with a smile, one that seemed oddly sinister, "There are many things I wish to tell you, many questions I believe you have. Those will all be answered in due time, you are still far too young for all of these dealings." Her hand slipped away from yours and you felt the blood flow resume - you hadn't even noticed it had slowed.

"First," An intricate box materialized itself in her hand, the same way the Traveler's weapon would appear and disappear on command, "I want you to know, your grace, that these are yours." She opened the box and you gasped, nearly tripping on the ice in your shock, "I have gathered two of the other archons' gnosis as well as my own, and soon to be all seven, all to give to you. I understand that this must be overwhelming which is why I don't expect you to accept or take them." Her smile grew and you swore you saw fangs peak out, "I merely want you to know that these are here for you, all you must do is call for them and they shall be yours."

"Why-?" You choked out, shock grasping at your throat, "You've worked so hard-"

"That is something that you must find out on your own." She closed the box, her smile ever present, "Snezhnaya has no room for tears and childhood, you've had to grow up faster than you could've ever imagined. I will give you some more time, but when you feel that spark of childhood extinguish, come to me."

"H-h-" The world spun, "H-How will I know?"

"You just will." The box disappeared from her hands, and in the same place Signora had left a warm and gentle kiss on your forehead, The Tsaritsa had done the same, chasing away whatever warmth lay on or underneath your skin. "Goodbye, child, it was wonderful meeting you."

You nodded, "You as well."

You scurried out the door, and just as she had promised; Signora was there.

Signora noticed the difference your meeting with the Tsaritsa had made immediately. You were shaken, your eyes had the beginnings of the frozen tundra in them.

Signora knew she wouldn't be able to preserve the warmth of your innocence and childhood forever, and it seems the threads of the Tsaritsa's grand plan were making themselves seen.

However, you still melted into her touch, smiling so widely when you saw her. Even with your ever-growing independence, you made sure to always stick next to her. You were never out of her sight, and that childish smile still remained when you saw her, or Childe, or Capitano, Pulcinella, Pierro, even Arlecchino, Columbina and Dottore got to see your childish smile. You were happy, and that was all Signora could ask for.

"Signora! Signora!" Your childish voice resounded through the halls.

"Yes, yes I'm right here dear, what is it?"

"Look!" You held out your hands to her, they were cupped together and on top of them rested a pyro moth.

Signora's eyes widened in shock, "Where did this come from?" There was no way you'd know these belonged to her, she had only ever used her cryo powers around you. Except-

"I don't know! It just kinda showed up, I think it likes me!" You smiled ear-to-ear, "It kinda reminds me of you, it's the same warmth I felt when you found me, you know?"

Signora hummed, her gloved hand coming up to lightly touch the wing of the moth, "I see." She smiled warmly, "Well, since it likes you so much, make sure to take good care of it."

You nodded enthusiastically.

Signora seemed to have been unaware of how close she had gotten to you. She knew her moth only had one objective: to watch over you.

Perhaps it was a good thing.

-

"What do you mean?!" You screeched, the moth that had shown up just a few days before fluttering distressed at your shoulder, "You're going away?" You whined, clutching onto her dress, "Why are you just telling me-?"

"(Y/n)." You froze at the use of your name, "You are still aware of the fact that I am a harbinger, this was going to happen eventually, I have a duty to the Tsaritsa and Snezhnaya. I must go, you know this. Everything has been set up, all that's left is for me to grab the gnosis and come right back. You understand."

It wasn't a question, and it wasn't a statement you would argue. You nodded miserably, stray tears falling down your cheeks.

Signora sighed, "Please don't cry." Her hands cupped your face and wiped away the fallen tears, "The other Fatui have taken care of most of the work, it will be quick and I'll come right back. You can be a big kid for a month can't you?" She smiled encouragingly

You sniffled and nodded, "I- I think so."

"Good, thank you, (Y/n). And if you don't think you can be a big kid there's always Childe and Columbina and the other harbingers." Signora smiled, "You can visit the orphanage with Arlecchino, do whatever you want. So long as you stay safe and keep Little Ayin with you. Understand?"

"Yes Signora!" You saluted like one of the Fatui underlings, Little Ayin fluttering encouragingly around you.

"Good!" She patted your head, "Now come on, you can follow me to the boat but you can't come with me."

You grinned, holding her hand and leading the way to the front doors of the palace, "Don't worry! One day I'll become a harbinger and be able to come with you to all of your missions!"

"Really? Will you be the 12th harbinger?" Signora asked ammused.

"Nope! I'll be first!"

"And what of Pierro?"

"He'll be retired. He already has back problems."

Signora snorted, "Don't be saying things like that so boldly, you might make an enemy of Pierro." She ruffled your hair playfully.

It didn't take long enough to reach the boat. You squeezed her hand, almost silently begging her to not go.

"I'll see you soon, (Y/n)." Signora smiled.

You flung yourself into her arms, "See you soon!" You pulled back with a grin, barely managing to hold back the tears.

Signora softly smiled, grasping your hands in hers. You felt her place a solid and cold object in your hands. She closed your hands together and patted them, "I'll be back in a month. Make sure not to cause the others too much grief."

You grinned, "No promises!"

She nodded and pulled away, you stopped yourself from chasing her warmth. She boarded the ship and you watched as they prepared for travel. You stood there the entire time as they prepared to leave, and then followed the boat as far as you could until they were too far at sea. Not for a second did you stop waving at Signora until the boat was out of view. Your hand fell to your side slowly but definitively.

"(Y/n)."

You swallowed down the tears and turned to grin at Arlecchino, "Yes. We should go home."

Arlecchino nodded, walking beside you.

You kept your hand next to Little Ayin, the other grasping whatever item Signora had entrusted to you.

"You look miserable." Arlecchino commented, "Come with me to the orphanage, it's been a while since your last visit."

You glanced up at her, and nodded, smiling softly, "Sure. Just- once we get there do you think I could have a moment to myself?"

Arlecchino gave you an undecipherable look, "Of course, (Y/n)."

Once at the orphanage, all the kids who you had grown close to over the past year swarmed you.

But just as she had promised, you were allowed a moment to yourself alone.

You took the item from your pocket and inspected it.

It was a locket. You stared at it, dumbfounded, your confusion doubling at the clearly Mondstadt design of the locket.

You opened the locket and a folded piece of paper fell out. However the picture in the locket was... Signora? And a man?

"Who..." You diverted your attention to the small piece of paper, unfolding it to read the message, "Dear (Y/n), I'm sorry for never having the strength to explain to you in person. Ask Pierro about the locket. I shall tell you more once I am back. -Signora"

You stared dumbfounded at the piece of paper and locket you now had in your hands. Was this even Signora? Maybe it was a family member of hers? But why would she give this to you-?

"(Y/n)?" There was a knock on the door, "The children are getting impatient."

"Oops! Coming!" You turned around and rushed through the door, past Arlecchino.

Immediately a genuine smile tugged at your lips as you spend the day at the orphanage, with those you could almost call your family.

-

You couldn't sleep in the orphanage. You and the kids had played for hours on end, a distraction from Signora's absence. However you refused to sleep there. No matter how inconvenient or spoiled and bratty you sounded.

Thankfully, after some pushing, Arlecchino relented and took you back to the palace even though it was well after midnight.

Being in an orphanage and staying there after Signora had left... you couldn't do it. Not after you had been ripped away from your other family.

"You know, I'm starting to really hate agreeing to babysitting duty." Arlecchino huffed, grimacing.

You snickered, "Did Signora ask you to babysit me?"

She sighed, "Not explicitly, but she did enough passive aggressive hints for me to get the message."

You giggled at the mental image, "Well you won't have to worry about me tomorrow, I have plans in mind to bother another Fatui member." You grinned sadistically, a grin you've seen on Arlecchino before.

"May the Tsaritsa help their soul then."

-

You hunted down Pierro as quickly as you could the next day, following him around like a lost duck.

"Is there something you need?" He asked gruffly.

"Yes, but it'd take up a lot of your time."

He sighed, "Is it important?"

"Yes." You stared up at him with wide, child-like, yet gravely serious eyes.

His visible eye searched yours for a moment, as if noticing something that wasn't there before. Maybe there was.

Pierro nodded, "Alright then, come with me."

He turned and briskly walked towards his office, you scurried after him, gently holding onto his coat so you could keep up with him.

The locket and note were held in your pocket, and Little Ayin was snuggled against your neck comfortably. Signora was still, in a way, with you. She'd come back in a month, and you'd be here waiting for her. You'd be able to ask all the questions you want about the locket and the couple in it.

He opened the door to his office and held the door open to allow you inside, "Go ahead and have a seat." He shut the door and sat opposite of you. With a rough sigh, he said, "So, what is it that you need to tell me?"

You pulled the note and locket out of your pocket, laying it on the table in front of you.

"Signora gave this to me before she had left." You looked up at him, searching his expression.

For a moment, confusion and shock made his eyebrows furrow, before they became neutral. Almost as though he had expected this.

"I see." She gently grabbed the note and read it, nodding to himself.

Opening the locket, he turned it so it faced you, the couple staring at you. The woman's smile one you had seen before.

"This was 500 years ago. The woman is Signora, and the man beside her was her husband, Rostam."

"Husband?" You sputtered, Little Ayin resting on your shoulder solemnly, "She has... why did she never tell me?"

"Because he is no longer with us." Pierro said, his eyes meeting your steadily, like he was telling a story that had already been finished. "He was once a Knight of Favonius, and after the calamity of Khaenri’ah the Knights were tasked with purging the monsters that had emerged. Here, Rostam had died. Signora had been at the Akademiya in Sumeru studying while he had died, and when she returned to find him dead she went insane. Swearing to burn away the world and cleanse it."

You remained silent, staring at the picture of such a happy couple. Unsure of what you should be feeling.

"I believe," He said carefully, but retaining all the power in his voice, "That she hesitated on telling you because of how much it hurt her. I never expected her to tell you at all." His hand gently came up to pat the top of your head, and you didn't realize all the tears that were falling onto your lap. "Rostam was Signora's family. The only one she had. I believe she sees you the same way now."

You screwed your eyes shut and curled in on yourself, sobbing into your hands.

"I-I want her back!" You wailed, "I don't- don't want her leaving." You hiccupped, "I miss my old family, she's-she's all I have."

"She'll return." Pierro said so assuredly that you couldn't help but believe him, "You must have faith in her. She's captured two gnosis successfully. She will return with one more. Trust me when I say this is just as painful for her as it is you."

You nodded, sniffling. Reminding yourself over and over that she would return.

-

The first night on the ship, Signora had cried. She cried like she had just lost someone, cried like her first night in the Akademiya. Like she was alone for the first time in a long time.

It was the longest and hardest month she'd had in centuries. It was foolish - stupid of her to get so close to you. She feared that history had a habit of repeating itself, and she was petrified for the latter half of her history repeating.

But you were in the Zapolyarny Palace, under the protection of the Tsaritsa and the harbingers. T here was no way you would be hurt while under Her Majesty's care.

But her subordinates could see her stress, how she was snappier and any semblance of leniency she had shown in their homeland had evaporated. She chalked it up to this being an important mission, the most important one since last year when she and Childe obtained the Geo Gnosis. Of course, any leniency allowed by her could put the whole mission in jeopardy.

She'd get this mission finished with soon. At this point all that was left was to take the damn thing and go home.

-

"Filthy rats... all of you!"

She was desperate, insane, a witch.

All the heartbreak she went through after she lost Rostam, the pain and fear you felt when you awoke in this world to never see your family again, you would not feel it again. She had to go back to Snezhnaya, she had to go back to you-!

In the end, she did make it back to Snezhnaya. In a casket.

-

"Pierro! Pierro! She's here! She's here!" You squealed, bounding out of the palace.

"(Y/n)..." You were too excited to notice his odd tone, "Slow down."

From the day he had told you of Signora's past, you kept the locket around your neck. Even if you never knew Rostam, if he made Signora happy then he had your approval.

"Come on, Little Ayin! Why are you so slow?" You gently but hurriedly scooped the strangely forlorn fire moth into your hands. "I thought you'd be more excited for Signora's return." You giggled, running through the snow even before the sun had begun to rise, Pierro following slowly behind.

You waited at the dock, "How long will it take for them to be here?" You questioned Pierro, staring up at him with wide and excited eyes.

Pierro watched the child-like nature flutter with hope in your eyes. He sighed, "The report said they'd be here by sunrise."

"How long until sunrise?" You bounced on your tippy-toes, stretching your neck to see as far out into the ocean as you could.

"Far too long, child, it's 3 in the morning." He patted your shoulder hardily, "And you've been up since midnight."

"I just can't wait!" You grinned.

Oh how Pierro was dreading the morning sun.

-

Quite a few Fatui were gathered around the docks, and of course, you were the first to spot the boat carrying Signora.

"There! That's her! That's her!" You screeched, pointing at the boat.

But no one cheered.

You didn't think to question it, Pierro having to hold you back from sprinting up the plank laid down from the boat to the dock.

You saw ginger hair and a red scarf at the top of the plank.

"Childe? What's he-?"

You felt your heart drop to your feet and then somehow tumbling even further away from your grasp. Your stomach churned and twisted. You wanted to throw up and cry out your insides.

Childe didn't smile at you when his eyes met you, as he led a group of people carrying a human-sized box off of the ship.

You broke away from Pierro's grasp, hitting his hand away from you when he reached for you.

"(Y/n)-!" He barked after you sternly.

"Childe!" You crashed into his front, holding onto the front of his shirt even though he towered above you, "Where is she?"

His eyes somehow managed to look even more dead, hope chased away long ago.

Fear grappled your heart, stopping it's beating entirely. You shook him, your voice raising dangerously, "Where is she Tartaglia!"

He shakily inhaled, pity in his dark blue orbs, an ocean swallowing you in the beginnings of grief. He closed his eyes and turned his head to look at the box that was being carried by six Fatui.

"There."

"..."

There was silence, quieter than the deathly snow at night, waiting for its next victim. Your limbs and organs stopped working, halting their movements to stare at the box.

"Stop lying." You whispered.

"I'm not-"

"She's not!" You choked, shaking Tartaglia desperately, "You're lying!"

"(Y/n)." A firm hand gripped your shoulder, Pierro softly yet firmly said, "Please-"

"Did you know?!" You whipped around to face him, eyes wide and pupils pinpricks, breathing erratic - angry - and tears falling furious from your eyes.

"... yes. We got a report-"

"Why didn't you tell me!" You screeched, pushing him away from you and backing away, your hands clenched as fists at your side.

Pierro lowered his hand with a frown, "Because we knew you wouldn't believe us and that you'd react like this."

"She's not- she can't be- she's still in Inazuma you just left her behind. You- you-" You choked on your words and sobs, crying into your sleeves.

You clutched Little Ayin to your chest, its warmth the only comfort.

Without even realizing it, you were running, your name being shouted from behind you before stopping. But you kept running. And running.

And running.

-

You were once again lost in the tundra, snow billowing past. Except now you were accustomed to it, and attuned to the world in a way you nor anyone else could begin to imagine.

However one thing remained the same. You had lost your home. Your family. Once again, it had happened.

You fell into the snow, curling into a pathetic, sobbing ball. Crying into your arms and knees and hands until you couldn't feel your body. Everything was numb, even your heart and mind.

There was no point, no reason, no rhyme or love or life.

You wailed into the snow, into the tundra and wild of Snezhnaya. You screamed and cried like a wounded animal, begging and screaming for someone to bring Signora back. To bring your family back.

Your prayers were only slightly listened to. A warmth floated by your ear and you jerked away. You were laying on your stomach, face numb in the snow, until Little Ayin encouraged you to roll onto your back as it laid on your chest. Right where your heart was beating erratically.

It brought warmth throughout your chest and your raised your hands to gently hold it. Your wails and sobs turning into pitiful sniffles and whimpers. It was as though a limb had been torn off you and you were desperately trying to convince yourself you could reattach it. That you'd still have it good as new.

That Signora would come back. She'd come back she promised she promised, they all promised, she'll come back one day.

You gulped in breathes of cold air, stabilizing yourself in the warmth you pretended was Signora's hand. When suddenly the temperature dropped even more. Your tears turned into icicles after they fell, your entire body numb.

You didn't even move your eyes when you saw a pair of hands come up to wipe at your face. When they moved away, you saw tear and blood stains.

"Dear, you've certainly made quite a mess of yourself." It was the deep baritone of Her Majesty, yet despite that you couldn't bring yourself to care. Your heart didn't jump in recognition and neither did your eyes widen. You lay there motionless.

"Come, it is far too harsh out here for a wounded heart." She easily picked your limp body up, Ayin still laying against your chest, its pulsating warmth weaker than ever.

-

The Tsaritsa noticed a pattern within her kingdom. The cycle of love repeating endlessly, so everlasting even the Raiden Shogun would be envious.

How cruel this cycle was to her subjects and even the ruler of them all. To allow attachments to grow and fester and wrap thorns and roots in one's heart only to have them brutally torn out. Leaving you with nothing but scars.

Right now you were a bleeding wound, not even the most adept and knowledgeable would be able to know how to help you.

Not even the Tsaritsa, who had seen and experienced this pattern countless times, did not know the solution.

But she knew different outcomes. She merely awaited to see which one you would set down.

-

The day of Signora's official funeral you were much quieter. The harbingers gathered around her cold casket. You had grieved alone with her corpse some days earlier, pretending her hand was grasping your own and she was hugging you closely to her chest. That you were missing your old family as she comforted you, back when you were younger and more of a crybaby.

That she'd allow you to be weak again, to be a crybaby again and weep for what you missed.

She had never responded to your questions about her and Rostam.

Her cold casket didn't burn bright red like Little Ayin. It was white in the white snow and ice. Columbina sang with a smile, the other harbingers bickering. Your hand rested against her coffin.

The creeps of the Tsaritsa's power made themselves known, frost creeping their way through the building. You comforted the cold metal of the coffin the same way her hand comforted you. Perhaps you could pretend that somewhere, somehow, she could feel it.

Little Ayin fluttered away from you, landing on the fallen pawn on the chessboard.

"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade..."

The words from Pulcinella's mouth made you sick. Your teeth grit in anger.

The traveler had defeated The Fair Lady in a duel before the throne. Childe's words were engraved into your very mind, anger burning through your veins. It was customary for her to be executed after their fight by the shogun.

The harbinger's heartless and stupid words made it worse, your gaze flickering between them like a caged animal ready to strike. You tapped your finger against the coffin, willing yourself to believe it was empty.

"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics." Pierro stepped out of the shadows, the frost spreading across the floor away from you, "Right now you have no captive audience."

You unclenched your fist and stood straighter as the harbingers gathered around her. Blood dribbled from your palm where you had cut them with your nails.

Little Ayin rested on her coffin, and it burned away. Your last source of her warmth gone. You had to bite your tongue to keep from crying or yelling.

Pierro's every word hung in the air like the ending of an act to a play. And at the end of the act, the entire building was encased in ice. Never to be disturbed again, Signora would rest in absolute peace.

"As was Her Majesty's benevolence."

But it wasn't until after you had returned to the palace, with a demand to meet with Her Majesty, when you realized she was no where near the vacinity.

The Tsaritsa hadn't frozen Signora's burial site. You had.

"Your Majesty." You faced her, head lifted to meet her eyes.

"Yes, your grace?" She responded with a wicked grin.

"I am no longer a child." Your eyes resembled her eleventh harbinger, Hell having greeted you firsthand, "My birth mother and family cruelly torn away from me, and my mother from this world now dead. My childhood is dead and I wish to accept the gnosis."

Your eyes, wide with youth, were steadfast and set in determination and - the Tsaritsa amusedly noticed - rage.

She grinned, fangs peaking from behind her lips, "Then... I am sorry...to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world. Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn? Then, burn away the old world for me. That is all I ask of you. Surely you can fulfill it."

The box materialized in her hands and you reached to take it.

"I will burn away the old world." You said through gritted teeth, your knuckles turning white from your grip on the gnosis, "I will cleanse this world, and I will kill the traveler."

The Tsaritsa nodded, her smile never faltering, "Then welcome to the Fatui, your grace. I know you shall become a wonderful ruler for the new world, and a vengeful soldier for your lost mother."

The patterns that love followed truly were amusing.

[stuffeddeer]

small insinuation of self harm

Dazai realizing he loves his s/o, telling them, and then wanting to tell the world ! He's very dramatic, so he repeats it religiously at the agency - a mantra that follows him everywhere :))

Until afterwards when he's alone in his apartment, heart beating out of his chest and feeling especially anxious. What's wrong with him? He didn't do anything differently today than he normally does...

He thinks hard as to what might be causing this, when the door opens and you step in. Oh, he's anxious about you.

But why? He loves you! He's quick to say it as you close and lock his door, and the feeling suddenly returns.

Oh.

He feels a sudden urge to break up with you, loosen contact, drive you away - Does he love you? He didn't want to tell anyone else (he did, he regrets it now). What happens if he falls out of love? Why did he do that? His chest just keeps squeezing, keeps constricting — feeling almost as though he was drowning in his thoughts. A moment of reprieve is granted only by the gentle placement of your hand over his heart.

"Are you alright?"

A few deep breaths and Dazai's heart rate is back in his control. Yes, he loves you, he thinks. But saying it is too scary.

Dazai just looks at you, a war tearing between his brain and his heart, unable to decide how to feel. His brain wants him to vanish: pack up and leave you forever so he doesn't have to deal with this vulnerability. His heart, however, wants to pull you closer. Never leave you, never let you out of his sight, always keep you within six feet of him to protect and love— and like you.

You pull his head onto your chest, cradling it in one hand as the other cards through his hair. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Dazai knows. But telling you he's not actually sure he loves you after his huge breakthrough what was merely the night before feels cruel.

It took a lot for him to open up and admit that, and he's not sure he can open up and admit that he regrets it. He should leave you - you deserve someone better, someone who can shout from the rooftops that you're theirs. But selfishly, he wants to hold you close and let you sooth him.

Seeing him still so torn, not moving as you hold him, causes a frown to come onto your face. All you want is for him to be happy and healthy and loved, and you'd thought you had a 66.67% success rate (you're working on the health thing). Like Dazai had moments prior, you wrack your brain for a change, and quickly land the same place he did: his love for you.

You smile softly, maybe a little sadly, and pull him closer until he's sitting on your lap. "Osamu," you press a kiss to the crown of his head.

He says nothing, just staring blankly. This is the hardest he's ever had to work to keep his heart in check, to stop the frantic beating. Is it hot in here? Should he take off his coat? Why can't he tell everyone he loves his partner? He does love them, he does.

How are you supposed to approach this? If you say you don't have to love me, he could go on the defensive. You just want him to relax. "I'd never force you to do something against your best interest."

Dazai meekly nods. Of course not. You always focus on him and his needs, emotionally and physically. You pack him lunches so he doesn't skip it at work and force him to eat dinners with you most nights. He just now notices the plastic takeout bag on the table - you must have brought that in when you first arrived. You want what's best for him, and he loves you for that! Doesn't he? Does he?

"I don't want you to force yourself into doing anything— saying anything you aren't ready for yet."

Dazai shuts his eyes tightly. Of course you figured it out. Feeling anxious, his heart beats desperately as he relinquishes control, not caring if you notice. Several soft apologies begin to fall from his lips quicker than you can stop them. The turmoil of this is eating him alive, and he hates it. Is running still an option? Does he even want to? The only thing keeping him from opening up new scars tonight is the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He's not sure if he'd leave even if you made him.

Fuck, but staying is so hard. His hands move up to tightly grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching it up between his fingers in hopes to ground himself.

You say nothing, allowing Dazai time to collect himself. Minutes pass, the food you brought likely cold now as Dazai just breathes in your embrace. A small growl from your stomach pulls him from his head finally, a small smile on his face as he looks up, seeing an embarrassed blush decorating your cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry!" Suddenly you're burying your head in Dazai's chest, seeking solace from your embarrassment. You trust him, love him enough to let him comfort you, just as he does you. A groan comes out of your mouth as your hands cover your face.

Dazai chuckles, pulling your head up before gently removing the hands covering your face. Your shoulders fall as Dazai's smile makes you relax. Whatever's bothering him won't go away over night, but you'll always be there to help.

"Come on, let's go eat," Dazai says, voice much calmer than it is when he's loudly boasting about his s/o at the agency. You don't mind. You like this version of Dazai all the same.

He loves you, he's sure of it. He just needs some time to properly accept it before yelling it from the rooftops - and you're more than happy to give him that time.