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exitingmusic · 4 days ago

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Still Yours? (Suguru x Reader)

Warnings: slight yandere, no smut, angst, depression, slight self-harm/ suicidal thoughts, good ending

A/N: lot similar to my Caleb fic but too damn bad its my own work so I can plagiarize myself, enjoy + REQS OPEN

WC: 8.7k

Tensions were high. It had been almost 2 weeks since you had been trapped with Suguru, locked away with no contact from the outside world. He had captured you not long before and when you didn’t cooperate, he took matters into his own hands.

Now, today, he’d be going to visit his cult. After 2 weeks of not seeing their leader, he figured there might be a few questions at least. It was just a simple visit, only to placate his mindless followers.

He approaches you, a tight smile on his face as he takes your hand. “I’m about to leave, it’d be nice if we could have a meal together.”

You yank your hand away, snapping, “So I have to listen to you even when it comes to eating and drinking now?”

Hurt crosses his expression as you turn on your heel, heading for the living room. He follows you, standing in front of you as you sit on the couch and scowl up at him.

“Your life has threats around every corner. The people who are after you, who want to hurt you, they should all just disappear.” Leaning forward, he presses his hand against the cushion beside your head. “You’re only safe when you’re by my side.”

A gentle smile tugs at his lips, the soft feeling not reaching his cold eyes. It falls quickly though when you respond, “I’d rather face danger head on than live ‘safely’ like this! I don’t need you—“

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?” he says, cutting you off with a disbelieving laugh. Leaning forward, he grabs one of your wrists. “Alright. What do you need? You can tell me. We can return to Kyoto if that’s what you want. If you want to return to the past, we can find a house and live together.”

His voice turns pleading as he continues, “I’ll decorate it with everything you could ever want, it will have the most beautiful, stunning gardens you’ve ever seen. No threat will ever be able to find you again. I’ll protect you forever.” His words are soft, his eyes so familiar and yet so wrong, somehow. A slight smile curves his mouth, so normal and yet different that it makes your heart ache.

“Suguru, I lived this long without you, I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be a bird locked in a cage, even if it is with you,” you pleaded, carefully watching his every reaction.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and closes his eyes, clearly struggling to remain calm and not snap. He rubs the bridge of his nose and takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself as he opens his eyes again to look at you.

“You think I care about your freedom or free will right now? The only thing I care about is protecting you. The rest doesn’t matter.” He runs a hand through his dark hair and paces away from you, his expression conflicted. “Why do you even want that freedom when you could have safety here, with me?”

“Am I just supposed to stay here, acting happy all my life? Surrounded by the same walls? The same things? Never see or talk to anyone else?” You continued, your voice raising, “because I can't do that Suguru, no matter how safe I'd be. I couldn’t stand it.”

His jaw is clenched tight, the anger in his words barely contained. He turns and takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and pull you up from the couch. “I don’t give a damn how ‘happy’ you are, or if you feel ‘trapped’. I just. Need. You. Safe.” His hand tightens on your arm as he presses close to you, every line of his body tense at the argument.

“It doesn’t matter if I lock you up or keep you under my watch,” he says, his gaze pinning yours as he growls, “As long as you’re safe, nothing else matters,” he mutters, releasing your arm, but still standing close enough to tower over you, his violet gaze locked on yours. “Why can’t you understand I’m doing this because I love you? I can’t let anything happen to you, no matter the cost.”

You didn’t recognize this man in front of you, eyes hard and cold, determined to clip your wings and trap you in this gilded cage. You weren’t angry at him, no, it just hurt seeing the boy you loved so dearly so detached and uncaring, towards you no less.

Anger fading, you look at him with saddened eyes, “You're not my Suguru.”

He freezes, staring at you, looking like you stabbed him in the chest before his expression hardens again, the air growing tense as he says, “What are you talking about?”

His hand gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up so he can search your expression as he says, “Of course I’m the same Suguru, your Suguru. The one who’s been here, protecting you, worrying for you, and who loves you. Who else could I be?”

“My Suguru wouldn't have done this. He would've happily followed me to the ends of the universe to keep me safe and happy. He wouldn't lock me away…” you said defiantly, raising your chin.

He releases your chin and steps back, something cold hardening in his expression. “Your Suguru, huh? He sounds like a spineless, love sick idiot who’s willing to risk your life for you to be happy.”

He begins to pace in front of you, his expression turning bitter as he says, “You think he would’ve preferred letting you run around, putting yourself in danger, all because of what?! Your happiness?”

“But I loved that Suguru, I still do. I couldn't give a shit if he was a spineless, love sick idiot. He was my Suguru and I'd have him no other way,” you say loyally, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I loved walking around the city with him, I loved going to cheap convenience stores with him, I loved staying up late with him, talking about every subject possible.”

He freezes, something painful flashing across his expression before he quickly turns from you. One of his hands clenches into a fist as he snaps, “Well that Suguru is dead and gone.” He’s stiff, his shoulders are tense, a muscle in his jaw moving as he stands silently.

Even though he’s turned away from him, your face doesn’t hide your disappointment, “Clearly,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You can’t help the sliver of satisfaction that you feel as he clenches his jaw, teeth gritting.

“So why do you keep talking about him? He’s dead, and everything you want doesn’t matter anymore.” He turns and walks towards you, standing just in front of you with a bitter, cold expression. His voice is fragile as he asks you, “Why can’t you stop talking about him and see me?”

You hold no anger, only pity for him, “Because you’re trying to force me to see you, to choose you over everything else in my life. You’re making yourself the bad guy.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter and harsh. “The bad guy? Is that what you think I am?”

‘Suguru’ cups a hand on your chin, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are hard, no trace of the soft, loving you used to know.

“Let me tell you what I think, sweetheart. I think your judgement is clouded by sentiment. Your idea of who your old Suguru is has blinded you, your idea for who I should be.”

That was your breaking point, “Well maybe it’s because I’m locked in this house and now I’m not allowed to see my friends, to go places, hell, I’m not even allowed to go outside,” you spat, glaring up at Sugu- no, Geto.

He scoffs and gently pushes you back down into the couch, his expression angry as he says, “You expect me to care? You’re not miserable. You’re not hungry, you’re not uncomfortable. You have everything here, but all you can focus on is that you’re missing your freedom, like some kind of animal.”

He shakes his head and looks away, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’re lucky I even let you have this much. You could be locked up, actually locked up in a cell with no contact.”

Your eyes narrow, an expression of disgust on your face, “You’re right my Suguru is dead,” you grit out, brushing past him to your room.

His jaw tightens, annoyance clear in his expression as he yells after you, “And what does that mean? Your Suguru is dead, sweetheart. This is the only version of me you’ll ever have now.”

Turning back, you bare your teeth, “I might not die out there, but I sure as hell will wither away in here. Thank you, Geto, I feel so safe,” you spat the title out venomously, slamming the door, paying no mind to his recoil at the unfamiliar name.

He lets out a low growl and slams a hand on the door, his voice rising in a sharp, cold snap. “You’re going to open this door right now.”

“We don't all get what we want,” you say, voice empty as you glare at the door. “Remember? Safety over happiness?”

He steps back and takes a deep, calming breath. With sharp, angry strides, he walks into the living room and sits on the couch, every movement radiating anger.

“Happiness will pass,” he grinds out, his gaze cold as steel fixated on the wall. “Safety is permanent.”

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Over the next 2 days, fury is the only thing you feel, it consumes you. You don’t sleep, don’t eat, you can’t breathe from the anger running through your veins. After the first couple of hours, your room is completely trashed, everything that decorated her room was either broken or on the floor. Your books were bent, pages torn out and crumpled. Your plants were turned on their sides, pots broken as soil spilled out. Pictures of the two of you in school, along with Satoru, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara were shattered, drawings you had made of each other, laughed over were taken out of their frames and torn to pieces, the frames crumpled and dented. The pretty vase of flowers he got you? Smashed to pieces, the petals shredded and stems ripped. The pillows and blankets you bought together? Ripped, the stuffing leaking, just how your pain leaked oozed from every pore. The jackets, shirts, and sweatshirts he gave you were tossed in the hall. Every gift he ever got you was either broken, ripped, shredded or shoved away from your sight. Everything you enjoyed was broken beyond repair.

The only thing that remained untouched was a model kit that the two of you spent nearly a week on before he defected. It was also the first time he ever kissed you, right as he placed the final piece, he turned to you and his lips pressed softly to yours, murmuring as he let you keep it.

Now, you couldn’t even look at it, but you couldn’t bear the thought of crushing it, so it sat on the windowsill, hidden behind the blinds that were always shut tightly, preventing any glimpse of the outside.

Geto didn’t do that, you did. You couldn’t bear to see freedom so close, yet so far. The sun would shine on the grass and trees outside your window, birds flying over and nesting in the big oak tree in the back. Each night, when the sun set, the sky would be ablaze with the most vibrant pinks, purples, and oranges. Wispy clouds trailed their fingertips through the sea of the sky, curling around each other and floating whichever way the wind carried them.

You felt like a caged animal, being taunted by having to watch your freedom and life slip past right in front of you.

On day 2, you realized that your anger wasn’t getting you free. Defeated, you fell back onto your mattress, a heavy weight on your chest, like this invisible force was smothering you.

You couldn’t cry, it was like the comfort of tears had forsaken you as well as the life you were once so excited to continue alongside your friends.

You just felt so empty, the anger had burned out all of your motivation, all of your feelings, leaving you a hollow, blank shell.

A part of you died with Suguru when he disappeared back in school, coming back as someone you could barely recognize. Eventually you moved on from his disappearance, but a part of you stayed back, unable to forget about the one person that meant so much to you, who understood you, who took time to learn each side of you.

When he came back, your mind was tricked by his physical appearance and you didn’t notice that the tenderness and joy had all been leached out, leaving behind his shell, fueled only by his negative emotions.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, lost in your own mind before the door opened. Even though you didn’t look, you could still sense he was standing there.

You didn’t react, not when he sighed at the mess, not when he came closer or when he peered at you.

“Come, I made you food,” he says stiffly, eyes sweeping over the crushed memories, precious items that weren’t too special to anyone except you.

Standing up, you avoided his eyes and walked past him, shoulders curled inwards as you sat down in front of the plate set up for you.

You couldn’t even feel your hunger, your mouth didn’t water as the scent of his Zaru Soba filled the air. Sides of vegetables and sauces sat alongside the dishes.

You ate robotically, the food turning to ash in your mouth. Normally when you ate his cooking, you’d be shoveling it in your mouth as fast as possible, trying to eat as much as you could before you got a stomach ache.

But normally you wouldn’t be locked inside.

You could tell Sug-, no, Geto was a little concerned as he watched you eat slowly, completely blank, a harsh contrast from your torn apart room.

He cleared his throat, “Is the food okay?” Geto asks, his voice hesitant.

“S’fine,” you muttered, staring at the plate.

He didn’t try to talk to you again but he sat there, watching you with sharp eyes.

After you finished, you took your dishes over, rinsing the residue off and setting them next to the sink before you went back to your room, shrinking away from the windows, like a phantom.

And that’s what you were, a ghost, a wraith. A spirit that haunts the halls of the house, staring blankly for hours on end. And wherever you drift, the curtains fall shut, clouding the house in darkness once more. Darkness that was reflected under your eyes.

You grow paler, thinner, your hair messy and clothes hanging off your body like rags. You only ate when he made you, only slept when he made you, only spoke when he asked you something. All your other time was spent locked in your mind, staring off into space.

Geto had attempted to bring you back to life. He had cleaned up most of your room, replaced books, framed new pictures, and bought you new pillows and blankets. He tried to talk to you, tried to get you to do things together, but you only responded with simple answers or refusal.

He tried to get you to cook with him, playing music while he waited for you to come out of your room and help him or even just sit at the counter. He tried to give you new plants, but you never watered them, your room was already too dark for them to live long. He gave you all the comforts you could want, but nothing changed.

A cage was still a cage no matter how pretty it was.

Only you couldn’t bear to look outside of it.

You could tell Geto was getting frustrated, he stopped trying to sweet talk you into spending time with him or having a conversation. He stopped putting so much effort into cooking, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. He stopped trying to breathe life into your room, stopped adding old pictures, stopped setting plants on the shelf, leaving the other ones to wilt away.

It was ironic, you and the plants were both wilting away from the sun, dying slowly.

Like usual, you were laying on your bed, looking at the ceiling and imagining the bright blue sky and the fluffy clouds with birds flying overhead, trying to bring you some comfort, to ground you and to bring you some form of happiness.

It had been months. Five months since you’ve been outside, five months since you’ve seen anyone but him, five months since you’ve seen anything else but the same walls.

You missed it. The smell of the outdoors, fresh air, grass, and earth, just like you missed other people. You missed the students too. Missed Yuji’s enthusiasm, Megumi’s dry wit, and Nobara's complaints. You missed the simple moments too, Shoko yelling at Satoru for sticking his hands in her business yet again, Nanami’s grounding presence, hell even Ijichi’s nervous demeanor.

But they weren’t here. So you held onto the memories, just like you did when Geto left.

You didn’t care anymore, you barely ate, just laid in bed, numb. Your hands were bloody from how often you picked your cuticles, your nails were just nubs, bitten down to the skin. Every time anything would scab over, you picked it immediately.

It was a reminder, a reminder that you were still real, that you could feel, no matter how much you didn’t want to. No matter how many times that she felt like she wasn’t here, the pain would bring her crashing back down.

Geto watched your slow retreat over the next few months. As much as he tried to talk to you, to coax you back to something like your old self, he made no ground. You were like a shell of your former self, just a hollow echo with no fire in its soul.

With every week that passed, he grew more and more desperate. He tried bringing your favorite foods in, tried to talk you into listening to music again, but none of it had any effect. He spent less and less time with his cult, just staying near you, watching you. He tried to keep a blank expression around you, but as the months passed and he noticed that you were beginning to wilt away, the hard lines in his expression would soften to concern. He attempted to give you things to do, books to read and such, but every time he was met with either you ignoring him or just reading the words without actually comprehending them.

By the time a couple of months had passed, your old self was gone, replaced with this empty, soulless shell.

After another month, he was at his wit’s end. You never talked, you never attempted to do anything, you were just a shell. All your fire, your brightness, your life, was gone.

He watched over you constantly, his worry and agitation growing. It was like he was taking care of a robot or a puppet, rather than the person he loved.

On one particular day, he stands in front of you with a conflicted look on his face as he says, “I can’t keep doing this.”

You just walked by him towards your room, “I told you.”

He follows you into the room, his expression hardening as he says, “Don’t you even care anymore? You’ve given up on everything.”

“No, I don’t care.”

He scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms. “Damn it, you’re not even going to try and fight this?” he says, his voice sharp and bitter.

You sigh, finally turning to him, “There’s no point.”

He goes silent, his gaze fixed on you, taking in your changed appearance. There was a time when he would’ve admired everything about you, how fiery you were, how full of life.

Now, now you were thin and limp and lifeless. Like a puppet without its strings, he felt like he’d broken you down to nothing but a shell of your former self.

After a few moments, he lets out a sigh and mutters, “You look terrible.”

“I'm safe,” you say simply, her words having no bite, just as lifeless as you. Crawling into bed, you faced the ceiling.

He squeezes his eyes shut as you speak, his heart twisting in his chest at your tone. He’s never heard you sound so lifeless before, so dull, almost like everything inside you has died. His hand gently shifts to the nape of your neck, his touch almost tender.

“This isn’t what I wanted. You’re acting like a doll, not like yourself.”

You turned away from him, “My safety matters most,” you say robotically.

He falls silent. It was a statement he had said, and yet…

He sighs and closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Safety isn’t everything. What’s the point if you’re left miserable?” he said tiredly.

You didn’t bother agreeing, not when it took him this long to understand.

He runs a hand through his hair and scoffs, anger rising in him. “You’re supposed to argue! You’re supposed to get mad at me, yell at me!”

Geto’s hand clenches into a fist and he looks down at you, irritation filling his gaze. “You’re not this, you’re supposed to be all bright and happy, damn it!”

“I tried,” you mutter.

He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You tried? Hah. You didn’t even fight it in the end, you just let yourself crumble and now I’m stuck with this-“ he waves a hand at you, “-this empty husk.”

You gave him a tired look, “I can’t fight forever.”

He sighs and shakes his head, his expression growing cold. “Bullshit. You could’ve kept fighting, you could’ve still been resisting but instead you just… gave up.”

His lip curls into a sneer, his anger flaring. “You just gave up and let me break you.”

“I just wanted to go outside,” you say, your voice broken as you turn towards the closed curtain.

His expression twists into a scowl, his anger still there but more muted. He takes a step forward, his gaze on you as he says, “Outside? That’s what this is about? You want to go out there? Do you have any idea what’s like for you outside? Why do I have to keep you here? It’s for your own safety. Can’t you see that?”

“I don’t want to live anymore,” you whisper, completely and utterly broken.

He’s taken aback, his anger instantly vanishing into thin air. He stands there in stunned silence, his jaw clenched tightly. The words hit him like a freight train, each syllable a sharp stab into their chests. He knew, he knew he’d driven you to the brink of depression, but hearing it out loud… he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there. “You don’t mean that,” he finally murmurs.

Geto comes forward and kneels at the side of the bed, reaching out a hand slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll scare you away. He gently brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his touch a tender, gentle one. “You can’t mean that,” he says again, his voice quiet and broken, “Tell me you didn’t mean that.”

You shake your head, “I’m done.”

He takes your hand in his, clasping it firmly on his own. His eyes lock onto yours, pleading. “Don’t say that. You’re not done. You’re just lost, I can help you find your way back, I can fix this, I can fix you.”

You avoid his gaze, “I don’t think anyone can.”

He refuses to believe that, his grip on your hand tightening as he says firmly, “I can. Anything that can be broken can be fixed. You’re just… confused. I can help you, I can fix you.”

“It’s been months.”

He can’t deny that, and he knows it. It was his fault, his fault that you were like this. Still, he shakes his head and looks you in the eye, determined. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. You’re broken, and I’m going to fix you. I don’t care what I have to do.”

He releases your hand and stands, towering over you with a determined expression. “I will fix you,” he repeats firmly, his jaw clenched tight. “I just need to find the right method. I’ll fix you. You just have to let me.”

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whispered shakily.

He scoffs, his impatience flaring. “You don’t get to decide that. I know you’re in there, somewhere, you’re just hiding! You’re just…” He rubs a hand down his face, his frustration growing as he tries to find the right words. “You just need to be reminded of what you had. What we had.”

“I had a life.”

He looks at you, his expression hardening. “You have a life. You’re alive. You’re living, breathing, safe. That’s what matters, not you going out and running risks.”

“There’s nothing left for me,” you say, picking at your bloody hands, trying to ground yourself.

He grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him as he says, “Are you listening to yourself? We’ve been through so much. You are my world, my everything. I love you with all my heart. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand?”

Your gaze snaps to him, eyes hardening, “Why can’t you understand me?”

He shakes you a little, his fingers almost digging into your shoulders. “I’m trying!” he growls out, his anger flaring again. “But you’re just so damn stubborn, refusing to listen and understand what I’m doing is for your own good.”

And just like a flip of a switch you turn away from him, the little emotion and vulnerability you showed vanished, tucked away and extinguished.

He’s left standing there, your expressionless body turned away from him. Frustration, irritation, anger, helplessness, guilt, all well up inside him. In a moment of blind frustration, he grabs a nearby pillow and lets out a yell as he throws it across the room.

You don’t react, don’t flinch, you just lie there, already retreating back into the corner of your mind.

He stands and stares at your still body for a few moments, his chest heaving. He wants to shake you, to yell at you, to get something back, any semblance of you, his best friend. But you’ve already retreated back into your emotionless shell, leaving him standing there and feeling more powerless than ever.

He falls to his knees and presses his palms to his eyes, his mind spinning as his emotions overwhelm him. The guilt in his chest is threatening to choke him, the sight of you lying there, barely even alive, all his fault. At that moment, he doesn’t feel like a man, much less a powerful sorcerer. He just feels like a boy who had broken the woman he loved into nothing. The woman who loved him even when he didn’t deserve it. The woman who had always been there, her presence steadying him ever since they were his.

You try to drown him out, picking at the peeling scabs on your fingers, staring at the covered window.

He drops his hands from his face, his expression tired, guilt, frustration, and even self loathing filling his gaze. He rises slowly and comes to stand by you, his movements almost wary. He eyes your body on the bed, so thin and pale, and his hand automatically comes out to touch your hair like he’s done a hundred times before, but he hesitates, his hand hovering just above your head.

Without warning, you feel his arms around you, picking you up. You don’t ask, don’t protest, don’t even move, just lie there in his arms, eyes staring straight forward.

He picks you up bridal style, one arm under your thighs and the other under your shoulders. Your frame is too light in his arms as he heads out of the room with you. You’re limp, pliant as a doll, as he carries you through the house.

He walks outside and down the porch steps, his footsteps quick and precise as he walks across the lawn to the other side of his sprawling property.

As soon as the fresh air hits you, you tense, squinting at the sun.

You were outside.

You were outside for the first time in nearly 6 months. It was better than you ever could’ve dreamed. The smell of grass and fresh air fills your senses. You could hear the steady pace of Geto’s feet as he walked through the field, could hear the chirp of the birds, could hear the rustling of leaves in the wind. The warmth of the sun shone on your skin, a sharp contrast from the artificial temperature of the AC or heater.

He sees tension take over your limbs, your gaze squinting up at the sunlight. He’s hit with another wave of guilt, realizing that this might be the first time in months you’d been outside, in the sunlight.

Your eyes dart around, observing everything you can, eyes wide like this was your last chance to take it all in.

He carries you to the big oak tree at the end of his property, overlooking the hills and valleys towards the sun that was slowly sinking towards the horizon.

He gently sets you down in the shade, sitting a little bit behind you, leaving you to soak up what you’d been missing.

Instantly, your hands thread through the grass, clutching it like a lifeline. Your eyes are glued to the scenery in front of you. Rolling hills of all shades of green, from a deep hunter to a pale lime, trees and shrubs scattered the valleys, framing the thin silvery stream running down the middle. Wildflowers and weeds dotted the fields, their bright bursts of yellow, purples, oranges, and reds making the crystal sky so much clearer. Big fluffy tufts of white floated leisurely along the heavens, breaking up the sun into bright patches, shining on the bright grass below.

You're so absorbed in looking around that you don’t feel the tears dripping down her face, hands shaking from your tight grip on the poor grass.

Once you let in a shaky breath, he pauses, eyeing you like a ticking time bomb. His eyes widen as the realization hits him, watching the tears roll down your cheeks. He hadn’t seen you cry in years, ever since you had gotten your heart broken as a first-year. In all the time he knew you, you’ve been strong and fiery, fighting against the challenges that life handed to you. He can’t remember the last time he saw you cry, and seeing you now… he hates the sight of it.

He moves closer, his arms encircling you, his chest firm against your back. He leans you against him, his chin resting on top of your head. He murmurs softly, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re outside.”

In your moment of weakness, you lean back into him, tears coming faster as you choked out, “It’s so fucking pretty.”

He can’t stop the frown on his expression as you cry, your body shuddering. It hurts, more than anything else, seeing you cry. He pulls you closer, one of his hands gently stroking your hair as he murmurs, “It’s just the same old trees and grass. You’ve seen them before.”

You shake your head, unable to express the rawness of your feelings, only able to clutch his arm as you sobbed. Your relief at being able to feel the world again, it was overwhelming. But so was the fear, the fear that it’d be snatched away again.

His frown deepens as he watches you, feeling even more guilty as he continues to hear you cry. He pulls you into his lap, one of his arms around your waist, keeping you pressed against him. His other hand continues to stroke your hair, his voice quiet as he murmurs, “It’s okay… cry it out, sweetheart.”

You nestle yourself back into his chest, unable to tear your eyes away, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He follows your gaze, staring out at the horizon, a pang hitting his heart as he’s reminded of how you used to look at everything with wonder. His arms wrap a little tighter, his chin resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, “And to think… you’ve been living without this for months.”

You flinch slightly at his words, sniffling and trying to hold your sobs in.

The bitter irony of the situation hits him harder than anything. Months of keeping you safe, of keeping you inside, all to keep you protected, but now just the act of you sitting outside is enough to bring you alive. He turns his gaze back to you, taking in your tear stained face, his jaw clenching tight in frustration at himself and this whole situation.

You nod, getting distracted as you see the birds flying overhead, going to their nest in the tree above your head. Letting out shaky breaths, you try to stabilize yourself, not wanting to scare the creatures away.

He shifts closer to you, keeping a slight distance, but still within arms reach. He follows your gaze to the birds and grimaces again.

His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he asks, “You want to get closer to them, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, your voice a rasp, “No, I don’t want to scare them away.”

He lets out a soft huff, his gaze softening as he hears your raspy voice again. It’s the most he’s heard you speak today, if not in days, weeks even.

He watches you for a few moments, noticing the slight tremble in your hands, before his voice is soft, almost pleading, “You’re trembling, darling.” His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out to comfort you, but he restrains himself. “Let me hold you. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

His voice has a hint of desperation in it now, seeing the tremble in your body. It pains him to see you like this, especially considering it’s all because of him.

He moves closer, slowly, his hand hovering over your shoulder, “Please. Let me hold you, sweetheart.”

“I just need to see,” you plead, voice cracking.

He clenches his jaw, closing his eyes to keep himself from losing it when he hears your words. He knows you’re not just talking about the birds, that this is about needing space, needing freedom.

And it kills him.

He reaches out anyway, unable to stand the sight of your trembling hands. He gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you back, positioning you so you’re leaning against his chest. He holds you against his chest tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He buries his face in your hair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to regain control of himself.

He can’t help the broken words that escape him as he whispers, his voice strangled, “Oh sweetheart, what did I do to you…?”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his chest tight as he feels your body tremble against his. His voice is desperate as he speaks, his heart feeling like it’s being shredded with every word, “Please, please, please don't be like this anymore. I need you to smile, to laugh, to yell at me, anything at this point. That blank look, the silence… it’s killing me.”

“I’ll try, just- just don’t keep me in there,” you beg.

He lets out a choked noise, his hold on you tightening a bit. He’d do anything to bring the life back into your eyes, to hear your voice.

His voice is strained as he says, his head resting on your shoulder, “Anything you want, sweetheart. You won’t be locked in anywhere again, I promise. Just please… stop being like this. I need you back… you.”

He shifts, gently turning you so you’re facing him. His eyes roam your expression, taking in the tear tracks, the broken eyes, the trembling body. He lifts his hand, gently wiping at your cheeks and wiping away the tears. His voice is a strangled plea as he says, his fingers tracing your cheek tenderly, “Please… stop crying.”

He reaches up a hand, gently wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “I hate seeing you cry,” he murmurs, his expression still full of guilt as he continues, “That’s not how it’s supposed to be. You should smile, not sit here sobbing.”

He gently turns you around, tilting your chin up to see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I couldn’t cry before I came out here,” your voice broke, “I couldn’t even feel anything.”

He shakes his head and holds you tighter, guilt continuing to build inside him. “You shouldn’t cry like this… you should be happy, enjoying the fresh air. Not crying over the very simple things I’ve taken away from you.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, resting his head on top of yours as he continues stroking your hair. He murmurs, “I knew you’d be happy to be outside, I knew it’d be different… I just didn’t know it’d be like this. I didn’t think you’d be crying like your world finally came back. I just-“ his voice breaks off as he tries to find the words to say, guilt and frustration and regret warring within him. He takes in every detail of your form, and the guilt washes over him in waves. He feels like he’s broken you, even as he holds you tightly in his arms.

His grip on you almost becomes bruising as he speaks, his voice rough, “You’re free, darling. You’re safe. I won’t ever lock you away again, I promise.”

The guilt is so strong he’s nauseous, trying to keep himself together as he keeps you in his lap, trying to savor every second of this. Knowing that you probably hate him, but can’t even fight him in this moment, just sitting there and crying and staring out at the world he locked you away from. He knows that he’s changed your life forever, and he can’t even blame you for hating him right now.

You pause, hiccupping and debating your next words, “Thank you… Suguru,” you say hesitantly, lingering a bit longer on the syllables of his name. Syllables you hadn’t said in months, hell, you hadn’t even let yourself think of the name unless it was about the old Suguru.

Suguru’s eyes widen in surprise, and he almost doesn’t reply for a moment due to shock. He didn’t think he’d be hearing you saying his name, let alone thanking him. He takes a second to swallow the lump in his throat, his voice hoarse as he murmurs, “You’re thanking me…?”

The sun starts to slip below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze. Magnificent reds and orange and pinks lighting up the pale sky, dark clouds acting like smoke. It almost looked like the sun was melting, setting the green, lush valley on fire below.

Your sobs slow to hiccups, body shuddering.

His hand continues to rub your back gently as he feels your sobs slow down, the sound being replaced with hiccups. He presses a gentle kiss to your head again, his hold on you still tight.

He murmurs quietly into your ear as he speaks, his voice still ragged, “That’s right, just breathe, sweet girl. Take deep breaths…. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

He cradles you against him, holding you tightly as you rest your head against his chest. He buries his face in your hair again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His thumb rubs your arm tenderly, the motion gentle and almost soothing. He sits there silently, listening to the sound of your ragged breaths slowly even out.

Suguru’s suddenly hit with the realization that he’ll most likely have to bring you back inside eventually, and he lets out a silent grimace at the thought of it. A heavy feeling settles in his chest, the thought of making you go back to that emotionless, depressed shell of yourself making him feel nauseous. He tries to ignore it, shoving that thought away and focusing on his hand stroking your hair. He takes in a deep breath and murmurs, “Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” You murmur, nearly half asleep against him, watching the setting sun.

He takes another deep breath, steeling his nerves and continuing, his voice low and steady. “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

Suguru gently turns your chin to face him, taking another deep breath and looks you dead in the eye, his gaze fierce and determined as he asks, “If it wasn’t for me, if you were free to do whatever, go wherever you wanted… would you leave me?”

You hesitate, afraid that he wouldn’t like your answer, “If I could do whatever I wanted, I’d stay with you, just not holed up in the house forever.”

He relaxes fractionally, the tense lines in his expression smoothening just a bit, but his jaw is still clenched tight. His next question comes out hesitant, like he’s afraid of the answer. “You… would stay with me, but not if I kept you inside like this, correct?”

You nod, not knowing what else to say.

There’s an undeniable sense of relief in his expression, a weight seemingly lifted off his chest at your response. He takes another deep breath, his voice a low murmur as he continues with the questions. “So, if I told you I’d let you go out as long as you promise me you’d come home every night…?”

“Then I’d stay,” you whispered, afraid to get your hopes up.

Suguru watches you, his gaze sharp and serious. He lets out a shaky exhale, feeling almost like he’s on the verge of a panic attack with how fast his heart is racing. His hand is shaking on your chin, but he manages to keep his expression as steady as possible as he continues, “No matter what, you promise you’ll come back. You promise you won’t disappear.”

“I promise,” you murmur, your voice shaky with hope.

His hand on your chin slowly relaxes, as if a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He holds your gaze for a few more seconds, staring at your face intently. After a moment, he pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice hoarse as he murmurs, “Okay, thank you.”

Your face lights up and you spin around, crushing him in a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Suguru.”

He lets out a surprised huff, but his body immediately relaxes, and he wraps his arms tight around you in return. He burrows his head into your shoulder as your arms cling to him, his own hands gripping your shirt in a vice-like grip. For a few moments, he just sits there, revelling in the feeling of you holding him tight, those words you said bouncing around in his head. He was finally getting you back, even though it wasn’t much, it was still progress.

He’s on the verge of sobbing, but he manages to compose himself, instead holding you tighter and asking, “You swear you’ll come back? Every night, you swear it?”

Nodding frantically, you refuse to let go, your face buried in his shirt.

Suguru lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes clamped shut as he leans down and presses his forehead against your hair. He murmurs into it, his voice low and hoarse, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve done that to you.”

His body is tense against yours, his arms holding you tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He continues his murmured apologies, a mix of guilt and desperation lacing his words. He continues to bury his face into your hair, his voice now rough and hoarse. “I never should’ve done that to you, I should never have kept you locked up and trapped like that. It was never meant to be that way, I just… I just wanted to keep you safe, but I ended up destroying you. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You're nearly too dizzy from your newfound freedom to respond, barely choking out, “S’okay, we’re okay, I’m okay.”

He can’t help it, a harsh sob escaping from his lips at your words. He can’t stop himself as he pulls you closer, burrowing his head into the crook between your neck and shoulder, his words coming out choppy and broken as he speaks through his tears. “No, no, it’s not okay, it’s not okay. I was supposed to be your protector, but I ended up hurting you worse than I probably protected you.” Suguru’s hold on you tightens even more, almost borderline painful in how much his fingers dig into your flesh. He’s crying now, full on crying, something he hadn’t done in years. He presses his face into your neck, his entire body shaking as he murmurs through his tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You were slightly surprised at his clinginess, but nonetheless, you gently raked your fingers through his long hair, trying to soothe the broken boy holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him here.

Suguru buries his face into your neck, his breaths coming out in hiccuping sobs, his tears wetting your skin as he continues to mumble, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s completely crumbling in your arms, the strong, stoic facade he had for the past months shattering and crumbling to pieces. He buries his face into your neck, his body shaking uncontrollably, his shoulders heaving with sobs as he holds onto you like a lifeline and repeats his apologies over and over again. “Please, please… don’t leave me... please don’t hate me, I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry…”

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I ain’t going nowhere,” you soothe, your voice hoarse from your own crying session.

He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck as he tries his best to quell the sobs still escaping him. His breath is hot and ragged, his grip on you still painfully tight. He manages to control it enough to stop the sobs, now he’s shuddering slightly as he whispers, “I’m so sorry. For leaving you, for trapping you. Just please, I’ll be your Suguru again. Just don’t leave me, don’t hate me.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, no matter what you do,” you admit, voice shaking. “C’mon, you wanna go inside? It’s getting dark and cold out.”

He lets out a shaky exhale at your words, a wave of relief and gratitude passing over him. He takes a moment to collect himself, before letting out a deep exhale and nodding, his voice still trembling as he murmurs, “Yeah, let’s go inside…” and begins the slow process of detaching his limbs from around you and standing up.

Suguru lifts you up like you weigh nothing, both of you leaning on each other and hands interlaced as you head back towards the house.

He carries you most of the way, refusing to let you get your feet muddy, pausing as he holds you in the living room, “Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart? Where do you want to sleep?”

“Your bed, just leave the window and door open… please,” you murmur, barely opening your eyes.

He nods silently, his grip on you shifting slightly so he can readjust his hold. Suguru then begins walking down the hallway, making his way to his room. Once in the room, he walks to the bed and gently sets you down on it, shifting a bit so he’s sitting next to you. He pauses there, simply looking at you for a few seconds before speaking, “I’ll get the window and door, alright darling?”

You nod, curling into his bed and inhaling the scent of him.

He stands, reluctantly letting go of you so he can walk around the room, opening the window and the door before turning back to you.

He looks at you again, hesitating for a few moments before murmuring, “I’ll be right outside. Just… call for me if you need me, okay?”

You sit up, confused, “Where do you think you’re going?”

He pauses at that, looking at you for a few moments before answering, his voice soft, “Just outside the room, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you, I’m just… staying out there, in case you need me.”

“Damn right you're not leaving me again, now get in the bed,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He lets out a soft huff of laughter at the command, his heart feeling just a little lighter at the bossy tone you were using.

Suguru walks over to the bed and slowly lays down across it, staying as close to the edge as he can, still keeping his distance from you.

You huff, amused at his cautiousness. You scoot over and pull him towards the center of the bed, staying close to him just like you did befor- no, don’t think of that, he’s here and you’re free.

He lets out another soft huff, unable to fight the small smile that appears at your actions. He slides across the bed until he’s directly next to you, though he keeps his hands to himself, not making any move to touch you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, resting your head on his chest, using him as a squishie.

He tenses momentarily at your sudden move, before relaxing and letting you wrap yourself around him, a soft huff escaping him, “You ripped all your pillows so you're using me as one.”

You shrug, holding him tighter, “Maybe.”

Suguru chuckles, “Don’t worry, we can go to the market sometime this week, maybe go shopping or out to eat and I’ll get you more, a bunch more, We’ll go wherever you want, however long you want to stay.”

Letting out a content hum and melt into him, closing your eyes.

He slowly relaxes further, his arms slowly lifting and wrapping around you in turn. He holds you against him, one hand gently resting on your back and the other in your hair, his fingers running through the soft strands. Suguru’s hand runs down your back in tender motions, his touch tender, almost worshipful as his fingers softly trace across your back. He listens to your breathing, letting it soothe his nerves, his grip on you slowly tightening as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

“Thank you,” you whisper, half asleep.

He pulls you closer to him as you speak, his breath shaky as he absorbs the weight of your words, the feel of your body against his, how you’re willingly staying in his arms, how you say his name.

His grip tightens even more, almost painful, desperate to know that this is real, that you’re not going to disappear. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, his words quiet, barely more than a whisper, “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

As you drift off, he closes his eyes, listening to your soft, even breathing. The sound is like a balm to his soul. He lets himself doze in and out of sleep, too happy to see you like this to allow himself to rest completely.

His arms loosen a bit, enough so he can maneuver his body so that his entire upper half is wrapped around you, almost shielding you from the world itself. And he would continue to, he’d continue to shield you from the harsh world, but, he wouldn’t imprison you, wouldn’t try to tame you. He’d let you burn, even if you incinerated him, he’d die with a smile on your face. Because he was your Suguru, no matter what could happen.

#suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #suguru #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jujitsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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exitingmusic · 5 days ago

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JJK Men's "Problems" In a Relationship

Warnings: just angst :(

A/N: Sorry there's no Yuji, he's just a green forest in my opinion so I couldn't find enough to write about him. (REQS OPEN) (my poor baby choso...)

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Gojo Satoru

This man is good at everything, and I mean everything.

Not only is he the most powerful sorcerer, he's 6'4, great at basketball, plays the guitar, and is just naturally smart.

It's also one of the reasons he's such a childish adult. Not just because he was forced to grow up fast but also because he's good at and above everything, so it all bores him.

So, this man is easily a womanizer, because it doesn't matter to him. He's above it all, isn't he?

And if you bring this up, he isn't serious, because he never is. Gojo also grows bored with relationships easy, accidentally breaking girls hearts along the way.

He isn't looking for a long time relationship. He's looking to be valued and desired. Because that's what he's used to, that's what he expects. But regular affection will never be enough.

Just like hobbies, he grows bored with relationships too, affection leaving the moment your relationship grows stable, already over the exciting part.

Maybe he'll have some regret when you leave, or, he'll find some other poor girl, spoiling her with gifts and affection before the cycle repeats.

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Geto Suguru

Geto needs to be right.

Like, its practically a requirement for any friendship or relationship he's in.

The more you argue, the more strained your relationship is with him and the more tense he is around you.

It doesn't matter if you have a whole essay with creditable sources and loads of cites, he won't swallow his pride and he'll still argue with you until you give in or give up.

He sees it as if he admits he's wrong, he's weak, it's a chink in his armor that he never takes off, especially around you if you argue.

He's too proud to admit he needs you, to admit when you're right, or to admit when he needs help.

Geto could be dying on the street and be reluctant to call you for help, if he does at all.

Secretly, he does need you to support him, his ideas. If you poke holes in his beliefs, then he'll only shut you out further, drowning in his own mind and bitter thoughts.

He won't beg you to come back as you walk out the door, won't chase you down, won't admit even to himself that he sees you everywhere.

He'll die before he admits anything, even to himself.

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Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna is arrogant.

He's so arrogant that he convinced himself that he doesn't need anyone, that his mere presence is a blessing.

He lets people come to him. Why should the King of Curses chase anyone down? Lower people do the simple tasks for him.

If he even feels a speck for you, he won't address it. Maybe you'll come to him, he'll make you a concubine, close enough to his body, but no where near his heart, just like it's supposed to be.

Maybe he'll give you extra gifts, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll acknowledge your presence today, maybe he won't.

Each day is different.

It's like your his favorite shoes. One day worn around for all to see and the next shoved away, like he can't even be bothered to put you on.

It doesn't matter, you should feel grateful that he even spared your life, much less let you stay in the palace or have a day on his arm.

He ignores you, ignores any feeling he has. The King doesn't have feelings.

Which is why he's confused why he feels a spark as he watches blood drip from your broken, lifeless body.

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Nanami Kento

Nanami doesn't feel.

He doesn't feel the mind numbing daily routine.

He doesn't feel the long office hours where he sits at a desk for hours, working a job that doesn't even matter. He doesn't feel when he walks back into his house, late, as usual.

The man doesn't even acknowledge your smile as you show him the dinner you cooked him.

He barely tastes his favorite meal, cooked flawlessly, made with your love and concentration.

He doesn't notice your strained smile as you sit next to him, the air tense and quiet.

Nanami doesn't bother to talk much as he goes to bed, just lying next to you without a word, a bit too much distance between you two to be unintentional.

He doesn't dislike you, he just... doesn't feel like trying.

And each day, the distance between you widens and the silence grows, becoming stifling whenever you get the chance to sit down together.

Again and again, day after day he repeats the cycle.

He didn't know when acknowledging you felt like a chore. He didn't know when your relationship grew so dry, so meaningless.

But he wasn't bothered enough to fix it.

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Toji Fushiguro

Toji was sharp.

His eyes were dangerous and his words were daggers. Always capable of ending something, a limb, a life.

They were the worst when they stabbed right into the places that hurt.

Toji knew, he knew your secrets, your hopes, your dreams, and your fears. That only gave him more weapons to use in an argument.

And each one dug a little deeper in your heart.

No matter what you did, there was always something he had to argue about.

It didn't matter that you didn't question his location, what he was doing, who he was with.

There was always something you did wrong, always something you could've done, should've done, should've known.

Maybe you were too soft for his world, for him. You were too easily hurt to be with someone like him.

You were just a liability, a burden.

And the worst part is he didn't hesitate to remind you.

Maybe he'd hold you after, tell you he's sorry at most, all until he felt like arguing again.

But there was no one to argue with when he woke up to your absence.

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Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi wasn't there.

He might've been there physically, but not emotionally. He never was.

What was the point of being vulnerable when someone would always take advantage of that? To hurt you deeper?

He knew firsthand from his father. But he wasn't aware of how much that impacted his relationships.

He had never grown up watching his parents be happy and in love, didn't know what it took to maintain a relationship.

So how was he supposed to be open and caring to you while not being vulnerable?

He wasn't.

Megumi never outed his feelings, never expressed himself. Which only led into a pool of over thinking, a rabbit hole of what ifs.

Because if you really meant that much to him then why couldn't you tell? How did you know that any of this was real?

So, he took you on dates, walked with you, the simple things. But, there were no deep talks, no meaningful conversations, no feelings expressed.

Which is why it was so easy for him to stay composed as he watched you walk away.

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Choso Kamo

Choso was oblivious.

How was he supposed to know all of the complex situations and issues that came with being in a relationship?

He didn't know how much his blunt words hurt you. He didn't know that his words hurt deeper than anyone's around him.

He was like a child. The compliments were always genuine, simple but so much that they mattered more than anything.

But the same thing went for his insults. He didn't mean them that way. He didn't know how his brutally honest statements hurt more than him lying to you.

How was he supposed to know that the girl was flirting with him? She had just come up and told him he looked good. It was simple, the intention going right over his head.

Choso wasn't the best at reading body language either. He didn't know whether you were mad at him or your phone.

He didn't notice you get slowly beaten down by his misunderstandings, his simple words. How could something so basic have such a drastic effect?

He didn't know what you meant when you said you were leaving, watching as you packed your bags, thinking you were staying at a friend's house.

Just like he didn't know why you didn't come back.

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exitingmusic · 8 days ago

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I cannot possibly explain how ENRAGED i am bc tell me why theres a new Rafayel event, right? So I was rlly excited bc he's my absolute favorite right? AND TELL ME WHY I GET XAVIER INSTEAD???? LIKE I DON'T MIND HIM BUT I WAS SO DAMN EXCITED BC RAF LOOKS SO PRETTYYYYY AND I DIDN'T GET HIM????? also I don't spend money in the game so now I'm gonna have to grind to even get 1 of his memories. Infold, when I catch you GODDAMN ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????????????????????????????

#rafayel x reader #love and deep space #love and deepspace #lads #lads rafayel

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exitingmusic · 13 days ago

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I can't lie, earlier I nearly started crying because The Frost by Mitski came on and I couldn't stop thinking about how the lyrics were literally Gojo.

Like hello???? It's him talking about Suguru. It doesn't matter if you ship them or not but they're best friends or at least Suguru was Satoru's. And now he's dead and he has all this pressure on him to be the strongest, to be a teacher so he doesn't have any time to mourn his best friend?

Like out of all the characters he deserves a happy ending.

The frost, it looks Like dust settled on the world After everyone's long been gone But me, I was hidin' Or forgotten, the only one left Now the world is mine alone

With no one, no one To share the memory of frost (oh) Out the window this morning (oh) After you're gone (oh) And the house is mine alone (oh)

You're my best friend Now I've no one to tell How I lost my best friend The frost, it looks Like we've been left in the attic But you're not here to see

It's just witness-less me

#gojo saturo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #jjk #gojo #suguru #satosugu #satosugo #gojo satoru x reader #Spotify

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exitingmusic · 13 days ago

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I would give Sukuna the most sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death dropping, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotizing, heavenly, astonishing, leg trembling, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath, "I can't take it much longer" breaths getting quicker, twitching throbbing eyes shut lip biting, back arching, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up spit upon spit tongue twisting ground tip-talking against month sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit from the to and lick to the bottom deepthroating mascara dripping down my face, slower then faster faster than little faster then perfect pace twisting mouth around each side, hands in my hair brutally using my mouth, spiritually enlightening chakra balancing, mangekyo sharingan unlocking, golden light like a halo around the top, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final release head ever. And THEN l'd let him pound me so hard into the bed and use my body as though it doesn't belong to anymore that he literally throws me around and does as he please. I wouldn't argue, I wouldn't raise a word, no sir, not to daddy, absolutely not. He could ruin me, corrupt me, hit me, choke me, tie me up, bite me, I would absolutely encourage everything he does as long as I get a smidge of his attention and love. This man could make me fuck myself on his fingers and I wouldn't argue even if I ended up passing out, he could bruise me up and laugh at me and I would take it just to listen to him praise me. I would take him for 50 rounds in 60 positions cause never back down never what???? NEVER GIVE UP and I am not giving up to screw me till my mind becomes nothing but subservient to him. 😋

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exitingmusic · 13 days ago

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#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #jjk #gojo saturo #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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exitingmusic · 15 days ago

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Gang I have some serious questions...

So, for our husbands with 2 dicks, how does that work?

Like do they have 4 balls? Or does each dick get 1 and there's a total of 2? Or does one just have no balls? Positioning, how? Are they smushed and there's like no room between them and their butthole? Or is one like higher up near his stomach? To they have the exact same features? Is it possible for one to get hard and the other doesn't? Is there a difference between the two? Or are the just the same?

Like these are important questions

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exitingmusic · 16 days ago

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Sukuna who fell in love, the powerful King of Curses, immune to all, except one

Sukuna who fell because you wasn't afraid of him. Not of his four eyes, or four arms, or his cold personality

Sukuna who brought you with him, trained you, protected you until you could protect yourself

Sukuna who acted like you were an extension of himself, one that deserved the utmost respect

Sukuna who proposed casually, not wanting a huge crowd and had no need for an extravagant gesture. No, he just needed you to say yes

Sukuna who wanted to marry you in private, away from threats and prying eyes

Sukuna who even though your relationship was private, let everyone know he was yours and you were his

Sukuna who you ruled alongside, yet he didn't shield you from everything, just showed you the world and held you when it was too much

Sukuna who was ripped from your grip one day, sealed away by his, and now your, enemies

Sukuna whose falling empire couldn't protect you anymore, so you ran.

You ran and ran and ran, living life on the run, searching for any way to bring back your husband

So what if he was a murderer? He was your husband and he would never lay a finger against you

Besides, it was a wife's duty of course

Until you were captured too

A decade or two was a good run from the sorcerers, but they spared no mercy for you

And so you were sealed away, vanishing from history for nearly 1000 years

Until...

Your husband was freed

Once Sukuna heard of your imprisonment, he was beyond furious. Hell, he nearly destroyed Yuji's body in his rage

But, Sukuna bided his time, laying low just under the surface, acting as if he had no interest in finding you

Sukuna was careful, manipulating young Yuji's mind, sparking curiosity of the demon's past, rising questions in his mind

Sukuna absorbed every drop of information, searching for any clue of where you were trapped

He pieced each fact together, hiding it deep in Yuji's subconsciousness

Until one day Gojo gave him a bit of unintentional information, telling Yuji of the 'haunted' Inunaki Tunnel, so overrun with curses that it was practically a suicide mission. Gojo was so focused on convincing Yuji not to go that he gave Sukuna the final piece of information he needed

So, Sukuna waited. He waited until they had a mission in Fukuoka and while Nobara and Megumi were fighting, he slipped away.

He traveled constantly, refusing to stop and let the limits of his human host deter him from his wife.

Sukuna ignored the internal fight Yuji was giving him, driven by a cause that was etched in his very bones.

If he stopped he'd fail you once again.

Sukuna could tell Yuji was piecing together the pieces, the manipulation, the desperation.

But he couldn't give a shit.

Single mindedly, he marched, breaking down the barriers of the tunnel and blasting through any curse that dared stand in his way.

The closer he got, the more he could feel you, it was as if your souls were calling out to each other, desperate to finally be reunited.

He tore through a section in the tunnel, one that the sorcerers put up to deter any humans.

It didn't matter now.

Sukuna took in a shuddering breath as he stared at the box in front of him, set inside a stone coffin.

His wife was in a plain box?

He snarled, his wife deserved a thousand times greater splendor then a simple box.

Sukuna tore open the lid, gently unraveling the scroll inside, revealing a ring, the very one he gave to you when he proposed.

The paper disintegrated, practically dust that swirled around in the dim light of the cave.

Dust swirled around, forming the silhouette of a person.

Sukuna's lips curled into a smile, a rare presence of emotions as he watched his wife form before him.

He kneeled, taking your hand in his, pressing his forehead to your palm.

"Welcome back, my queen."

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A/N: I might be taking a short break from LADS, I started watching JJK and this is my first fic for it so... but lmk if i should do more

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen x you #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen

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exitingmusic · 21 days ago

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i want to bite his bicep

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exitingmusic · 24 days ago

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Im sorry but if Caleb cooked anything for me (especially fish and chips) I'd suck him out of his soul. Shaved, bare, whatever he wants, whatever position, anything, anywhere, any kink. I'm there.

(I had some fire fish and chips today so...)

#caleb x reader #lads #love and deep space #love and deepspace #caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x mc

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exitingmusic · 25 days ago

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Jus some artists that remind me of the LADS guys

Zayne - Mitski 1000%/Billie Eilish/Lord Huron/Bon Iver

Rafayel - Taylor Swift/Hozier/The Marías/Shawn Mendes/Tame Impala/Fleetwood Mac/MARINA/Adele

Sylus - Lana del Rey/The Smiths/Frank Sinatra/Saint Avangeline

Caleb - The Weeknd/The Neighborhood/Radiohead/Deftones/Arctic Monkeys/Ghost

Xavier - Chase Atlantic/Cigarettes After Sex/Beach House/Mac DeMarco/sombr/Kate Bush

These obv aren't all the artists these are just the main ones I listen to

(Also Ill post more its just I'm on vacation and I don't have my computer + I hate writing in my phone)

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exitingmusic · 1 month ago

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Mutual Benefit (Prologue)

AN: Just the prologue for now... (1-4 chapters probably, I'll make a masterlist later + lmk if you wanna be tagged)

Warnings: war?, death, arranged marriage

WC: 800

For the past century, the kingdoms of Alvana and Remondra had been at war, one gaining leverage over the other before the pendulum swung back in the other’s favor. Tens of thousands of soldiers died on both sides, fighting on the line between the kingdom’s, dying to try to gain just an inch of land. The land they fought on was ruined, covered with the bodies of the dead and dying, letters from their wives and children clutched in their hands as their empty eyes stared up at the gray sky.

The kingdom of Remondra was much larger, having conquered many other civilizations but its land was harsh and barren. The soil was rocky, strong winds killing any plants that managed to survive thus far. It was a warrior kingdom, the children raised to fight from the time they could walk. Their army was full of young men, barely out of boyhood before they were marched off to the warzone.

However, the kingdom of Alvana was rich in soil, their food plentiful and hearty with enough population to concentrate on other specialties. Their people were skilled crafters in metalworking, perfecting the deadly swords and armor their soldiers wore into battle. In their kingdom, everyone was a soldier, even their own prince who led them into the worst of battles.

For a while, it seemed there was a stalemate until the crown prince of Alvana was killed, the general of Remondra spiking his head with a stick as a warning. Slowly, they were pushed farther and farther into their own territory, the people frantically searching for a way out of their collapsing kingdom.

Now, fifty years later, Alvana was shattered, their small population cramped and crowded, disease sweeping through the population. The healthy split between providing food for the armies or fighting against the Remondrans.

Now, the king was searching for allies, the neighboring countries shying away from the threat of facing Remondra.

However, the king and queen of the neighboring kingdom, Sentica, were assassinated, their only son, Sylus, inheriting the throne. He was vulnerable to threats inside of his own kingdom, the sharp-tongued, power hungry nobles all vying for power under their young, new king. But, he gripped his power with an iron fist. He was ruthless and cold, shutting down any hopes for the nobles to gain power.

Sentica was a rich and powerful country, their strong military and rigidly patriarchal government a force to be reckoned with. The king of Alvana saw this and seized the opportunity. A king would need an heir, a queen, otherwise, his rule would be for nothing.

He offered his daughter to the king, promising to possibly unite their kingdoms in the future for military assistance.

To his surprise, he accepted.

You were married a week later, sensing your fathers need as well as your people’s.

It was safe to say you were terrified. You heard dozens of stories about the cruel man who held the continent's strongest military in his hands. That he was a monster, a vampire, the devil himself.

So it was quite a surprise when you walked down the aisle to see a handsome, well-dressed man. He had a swoop of white hair over his forehead, his skin sun-kissed and muscular. His eyes were piercing. They were studying you, sweeping over your appearance, eyes like drops of blood.

You were intimidated by him but you kept walking, the stiff, fluffy dress uncomfortable, just how your hair was pinned back tightly, heels bruising your feet and makeup caked heavily onto your face.

You’d never worn something so uncomfortable, especially on your wedding day? Who chose this?

As you walked down the aisle, you saw the nobles from his court dressed in similar finery, women with tight corsets and frills and men in layers and layers of expensive fabrics,

So that was why. They wanted you to fit in.

As you stood in front of the king, you looked him squarely in the eye, your gaze cool.

A slight smirk was on his face at your defiance, inclining his head slightly.

The officiant gave you vows to say, pledging your allegiance to the king, but strangely enough, there wasn’t one to your people.

There was a servant that slid a ring on each of your fingers, bowing deeply as he scurried off.

There was no kiss, no warm smile, no sweet words, just the cold acceptance that you were doing this for your kingdom’s benefit. You weren’t going to get a fairy tale, love story wedding, you were going to help your people.

Sylus studied your blank expression, lips pursed, eyes darting to his shiny ring.

He put a hand on your back and steered you out of the ceremony, not bothering to attend the reception.

And so you were married.

#sylus love and deepspace #lads #love and deep space #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus lads #sylus x you

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exitingmusic · 1 month ago

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Im in the mood for some fantasy au...

Also I NEED to write fantasy for Rafayel i love him too much

(Btw they'd all be 1-3 parts depending on how much detail...)

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exitingmusic · 1 month ago

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Second Chance (Pt. 2)

(Sylus x reader)

(Part 1)

AN: Okay I actually love this :) lmk if you want a req tho (can be read as stand alone or as 2 parts) Also see if you can get all the references there's 2 songs and 1 book i think ;) thanks to @jae-mie and @beaconsxd for telling me to cont. this

Warnings: slight angst?, divorce, idk?

WC: 2,000 EXACTLY AGAIN

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. No, not at all.

You couldn’t believe you were visiting your ex husband after nearly two years apart after seeing him once, once. It didn’t matter that he took you home or still remembered your bedtime routine or had looked at you like his world had finally been set back on its axis.

That was the part that shocked you the most. Even after you walked away, ignoring his texts and calls, even after you blocked him and shut him out of your life, he still looked at you with those ruby eyes, like you were the very reason that allowed air to flow into his lungs, that you were his own personal elixir of life.

But beneath that was a sea of regret, his own eyes reflecting the deep wounds he carved into you, an endless storm of pain.

And that is why you found yourself outside his house at 11:20, his coat in your arms, still carrying his scent.

You hesitated before you knocked, half tempted to leave the coat and run, but the image of Sylus made you freeze, tugging at your heartstrings. You could imagine him standing in the doorway, looking at the coat. His lips would be pursed and there would be a slight flicker of disappointment before he shut the door, his face perfectly blank again, any trace of emotion gone, just like your chance.

Before you could change your mind, you knocked.

Mere seconds after you knocked, the door flew open, revealing Luke with Kieran peering over his shoulder.

You couldn’t see their faces but could tell they were smiling wide.

“Ah, Mrs. Boss, welcome back finally,” Luke said, an odd tone in his voice.

Then it hit you, you didn’t just leave Sylus, you left them too. Cutting off contact with everyone, too hurt to think about the twins you left behind. Through your relationship with Sylus, you grew close with them, teasing your husband that you already had kids and that they were growing up so fast.

What kind of mother would cut off their kids?

Not a good one certainly.

Yet, they wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug, ignoring any lingering emotions of regret on your face.

Kieran pulled away, chuckling, “Boss Man’s in his office.”

You smiled at him and nodded, not trusting your voice to respond as you walked through the halls.

It was almost a physical pain to wander through the house. The once decorated walls with pictures of you and Sylus were stripped, bare besides some black and red colored abstract art. All of your books and plants were gone, hell, even the blankets and pillows you laid on were missing, the air almost stale. It was as if every trace of you was wiped from existence. There was no longer were there trinkets scattered over tables and shelves and no longer was there clutter, every item it seemed was frozen in its place.

It was like when you left, you took every feeling with you, leaving the house you found so much joy in empty, vacant except for its solemn owner, waiting for someone who might not ever return.

As you went up the stairs, you noticed his door was open, a sliver of light peeking through, illuminating the shadows of the long hallway. It was a habit he’d done for years, ever since you commented how lonely the halls seemed, devoid of any light.

You stepped inside, your gaze falling on the man at the desk. Sylus didn’t notice you enter, his head bowed over his work, hair uncombed, falling over his forehead.

Clearing your throat, you set his coat on the back of the chair gingerly, almost afraid of interrupting the silence.

He looked up, expression blank but his eyes, oh those eyes. Those beautiful gems gave away every feeling. They changed as soon as they fell upon you, he was surprised you’d come, but relieved, staring at you like you were his oasis.

“You came,” he said, his voice unsteady.

You put on a tight smile, looking anywhere but his piercing gaze, “Of course, you left your coat.”

Sylus studied you, “Sit down.”

You complied instantly, perching on the edge of the seat, folding your hands in your lap.

“I don’t blame you,” he says quietly, “I understand what you wanted, no, what you needed now. You didn’t need me to buy out whole stores for you or take you to fancy restaurants or to go to fancy gatherings or conquer the world. You just needed me to stay, to be Sylus, not the leader of Onychinus, just your Sylus.”

Looking up at him, your surprise melted at his expression. He looked like a starved man, eyes hungry and pleading, desperate for whatever scraps you’d give him.

You stared at him, mouth agape, not having the words to express your inner turmoil, to show him how deeply his words affected you.

A flicker of understanding passed through his eyes, gaze softening. He stood and walked over in front of you, kneeling in front of you.

“You are my way of life, of living, every breath that flows through my lungs is yours, every time my heart beats it beats for you. You consume my every thought, every regret, every word that leaves my lips is of your essence,” he looks at you tenderly.

The way Sylus looks at you is worshipful, like you were a goddess and he your devout follower.

“I do not deserve you,” he whispers, lowering his head and pressing his head against your knee, practically bowing. “But every action will be me trying to earn you, earn your attention, your praise, your time and affection.”

Breathless, you tilt his chin up, hand running through his hair lovingly, “You will never have to earn me. You have had me ever since you met me, you never fell short of deserving me.”

Sylus shuts his eyes hard, his shaky hands running over your calves with pure adoration.

Leaning forward, you cradle his face in your hands, studying the light reflecting over his skin, his hair casting long shadows.

Gently, you trace your thumb over his cheek, watching as his lips part, eyes opening to study you. He raises a hand, pushing back a strand of hair from your face as he leans in, eyes questioning.

You give him a barely perceptible nod before he ever so gently presses his lips against yours, giving you time to back away.

When you don’t he braces his hand on your thigh, softly tracing circles against your skin.

The feeling of his lips against yours is so painstakingly beautiful that it made you press into him, hands holding his shoulders, fingers running through the hair at the base of his neck. It was everything you needed and more. The sensation of him with you again healed something in you that you didn’t even know was broken.

Sylus kissed you slow, almost trying to memorize the feel of your lips and body. He was trying to make up for the past two years of nothing, make up for trying to perfect you while you were together. Make up for all the skipped dates and coming home late, slipping into bed and leaving in the morning.

His hands were shaking, running down your arms and threading his fingers with yours that were still holding his face. Sylus shudders, leaning his forehead against yours, breaking the kiss.

“How are you real?” He breathes against your lips, “How did I get so lucky?”

Sylus gently runs his fingers along the back of your hands, leaning up to connect your lips again, this time fiercer, like he was less afraid of scaring you off.

You could feel the raw emotion he was pouring into your lips, his need, his craving, his desire. He poured out all of his emotions down your lungs and as you kissed him back, you took his emotions and pushed back. Not with force, but with a gentle pressure, turning that burning need into assurance. Assurance that you’d stay, that you wouldn’t walk away.

He pulled away, reaching and pulling a ring out of his pocket, not just any ring, your ring. The same one he had proposed to you with when you were laying in the field, flowers decorating both of your hair, entwined in your clothes. You still had those flowers, dried and framed, shoved somewhere in your closet.

But it was also the same ring you threw at him the night you left, saying if you weren’t perfect enough for him then you certainly didn’t deserve his ring. His eyes were frantic, regret sinking in as he realized the meaning of your words.

The ring was made of silver, black cuts creating a semblance of scales. The centerpiece was a diamond cut pinkish ruby in the center, black spikes twisting around it like horns. It was a ring he said had been in his family for generations, a very dear heirloom.

He gently slid it back onto your finger. It still fit like it was made just for you.

Sylus gently cupped your face, “I never stopped being your husband, even if you were no longer my wife, I was still yours. I just wanted you to come home and shout at me. To come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart if you insist. Just come home.”

“I did,” you whispered, “I came home, to you. You are my home.”

There was an indescribable emotion in his eyes, something like hope.

“Don’t walk away again,” he begged, “I won’t survive if you do it again.”

Your gaze softened, “I won’t ever leave you. Hell, you’ll get so sick of me being attached to your hip.”

Sylus chuckled half-heartedly, “That’ll never happen.”

With his words he kissed you again, like he was making an oath, like he was promising you. Nothing would ever touch you, no one would be able to hurt you, hell, if they ruined your day, their whole life would be ruined.

Sylus was a man of actions, not words. He was showing you how much he loved you, how dear you were to him.

You felt the wet drop of a tear and were surprised to realize it wasn’t yours. No, as you pulled away you saw Sylus’ eyes full of tears, jaw clenched at the force of holding them back.

Gently, you slid off the chair and sat in front of him, taking his trembling hands in yours and intertwining them, pressing them together.

His face crumpled and he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, his powerful body bent over, surrounding and holding on to you like you were what kept him sane, what kept him tethered to this cruel world. And for the first time, he was seeking shelter in someone else, letting them see his vulnerability.

You could feel his tears soak your shirt, his body shuddering. Gently, you unlaced your hands from his, one combing through his hair and the other running over his back.

“You’re okay,” you whispered against him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

With your words it almost seemed that he cried harder. The fearsome leader of Onychinus was unused to such kind words, such gentle words, such genuine feeling. It was as if it broke something deep inside him, a dam he used to keep his stoic persona.

He hadn’t let himself cry since you left, only throwing himself into work, scrubbing the house clean of any trace of you, but not entirely. Your old bedroom was shut tightly, and inside was all of your belongings, all your clothes, anything dear to you that wasn’t taken. Sylus couldn’t bear to see so many reminders of you, the star, the sun that shone so brightly on his dark existence.

But now, he let himself break.

As long as it was in your arms.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #dragon sylus #sylus lads #lads #love and deep space

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exitingmusic · 1 month ago

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Second Chance

(Ex- Husband Sylus x reader)

(Part 2)

WC: 6k EXACTLY

Warnings: mentions of drugs, drinking, black market, slimy nasty men (tsk, tsk), divorce

AN: I know i haven't been too active lately but I've been prepping for exams but (not to brag) I cranked this all out today in like 3ish hours hehe also lmk if yall want a pt 2

Your fingers curled against the glass in your hand, the amber liquid shimmering in the harsh lights of the auction house. You were standing on an upper deck, watching the dirty men on the floor, young pretty things on their arms, clad in as little clothing as possible.

You had yet to take a sip of your glass, unsure of what was in it besides the alcohol. The auction house was dangerous, especially for a lone woman. Drugging someone’s drink was the nicest thing that could happen to you.

The dress you were wearing was relatively simple, and quite modest compared to the mere scraps of fabric the young women wore.

You were not here to find a rich man, you were here to make a deal.

Your boss, Rafayel, was a black market art and goods dealer and recently, he had made connections with some powerful people, powerful enough where it would be too risky to actually show up, which is why he sent you.

He had given you dozens of warnings, don’t drink, don’t eat, don’t talk to people unless you knew 100% you had the upper hand and wasn’t being poisoned.

Still having roughly a half an hour til your deal, you decided to wait up here, able to see all of the exits and all of the dirty scumbags.

It might be an auction house in name, but it was really a black market. Valuable weapons, information, and technology were all being discussed, as well as the young women attached to the men’s arms, freely traded to the highest bidder.

Luckily, there weren’t many people on the upper deck, most choosing to dabble in the illegal trades and bartering going on downstairs.

Tonight was supposed to be simple. You’d wait until 9:38 then slip into one of the locked doors along the hallway where you’d meet a group of private art collectors and dealers who would seek to buy a dupe of a famous painting from Rafayel, stealing the real one and replacing it. They’d underestimate you easily, only interested in your body, distracted as you scammed them out of their money.

The dress you chose tonight was perfect for it. Black, short, tight, with a low neckline and a slit in the side, showing just enough skin to tempt but not enough to bore. Perfect to distract men enough to scam them out of information and their money.

Not many people had approached you in your many adventures here. No one would to a lone woman. You could be a prostitute, or more likely poor, which was far worse to the men here.

But now, a presence sidled up next to you. You refused to look at them, not going to give in. But then, his voice, smooth, rich, and all too familiar slides through the air like a serpent.

"Now, now. I didn’t expect to see a kitten at the auction."

Sylus.

Your jaw clenches involuntarily, instantly recognizing the voice. It was the same voice that lured you in years ago, when you were much softer, much more naive. You fell for his attention, his sweet words. You shined as bright as a star, soaking up all of the luxurious life and the comfort he brought you. Sylus had taken you in, took you to all those fancy balls and meetings and let you humiliate yourself each time. Each time letting you fend for yourself and leave you out to bleed at the sharp verbal weapons of those slimy, powerful men and their jealous young women. He let you believe you were special, that he’d protect you, he was just showing you what his life was like. But it went on, even after you were married. He’d take you out, poke at all your weaknesses, publicly, showing your emotions, your makeup smudged, you looked weak? All unacceptable. He turned you cold, unfeeling, locked in your own skin.

He had confused you. In public Sylus acted cold, leaving you to your own devices, but in private, he was tender, gave you anything you asked. Each time you came back from an event, you were mentally and physically exhausted from the verbal sparring and the torturous clothes and heels. You’d collapse on the couch, sighing, Luke and Kieran giving you pitying looks. You ended that marriage, walked away. You were a star that had been extinguished out, too cold to burn any longer.

And you weren’t going to fall for the same trap again.

Sighing, you turned around, scanning him with cold indifference.

Sylus stands there, just as you remember him. A sharp black suit hugs his frame, all power and danger wrapped in elegance. His red eyes glint under the low light, the same look of charm and menace that always lurked beneath the surface. His hair glinting in the light of the fluorescents, the silvery strands casually waving, framing his sharp face beautifully. He hasn’t changed. His face was built of such cruel beauty that it hurt to look at, no, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Well I wasn’t planning to see a past mistake here,” you say coolly.

A smirk tugs at the corner of Sylus’s mouth, his gaze roving over you just as you did to him.

"A mistake, huh?" he mocks, his lean frame moving closer, his presence as imposing as ever. "And here I thought I was the best decision you ever made."

You arch your brow, carefully adjusting the strap of your dress, “Which ended how again?”

He stops in front of you, the scent of him familiar and unwelcome all at once, his red gaze pinning you in place. Sylus lets out a low chuckle, his words tinged with cruel delight. "Oh, you know how it ended. With divorce papers and a lot of tears, if I recall correctly."

Shrugging casually, you play indifferent, “All temporary.”

His smile sharpens, his gaze narrowing on her. He steps closer, nearly invading her space. "Temporary?" he scoffs. "Divorce tends to be a pretty permanent thing, sugar."

“I sure hope so.”

His smirk grows, his eyes turning impossibly colder. His eyes that you once got lost in but now only reflected how damaged he left you. It was ironic, his eyes, the color of life, had shattered yours.

"Oh, darling," he says, his tone almost mockingly sweet, "you don't sound too convinced. Hoping I’ll come crawling back, begging for another chance?"

It was your turn to scoff, a hint of anger in your voice, “You’d never so much incline your head, much less lower yourself to that.”

He leans in closer until they're nearly nose-to-nose, the air between them crackling with tension.

"You're right," he whispers, his voice a mixture of arrogance and mockery, "why would I beg for something I had in the palm of my hand once before? No. If I wanted you back, I'd make damn sure you'd come back."

You bared your teeth, eyes narrowed as you spat, “Glad we’re on the same page then.”

He raises a hand, his finger lightly tracing the line of your jaw, a possessive gesture that feels more like a threat than a caress, his other hand taking the alcohol out of your hand and placing it on a nearby table, his fingers sliding underneath yours.

"Oh, we're on the same page, alright," he murmurs, his gaze locked with yours. "You've made it clear that you're never coming back to me. But I wonder, do you ever lie awake at night, dreaming about what could've been? About the power we could've wielded together?"

“You flatter yourself,” you say, tone smooth and emotionless again, “Quite bold of you to believe I think about whatever fragments of our marriage ever existed.”

A scoff of disbelief escapes him, his gaze hardening. "You underestimate me, sweetheart," he shoots back, the edge in his voice sharpening. "You might think you've put me in the past, but you're wrong. You might not be heartbroken, but you're sure as hell haunted."

You scoff, “Only thing I miss is your money.”

He grins, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Oh, sugar, I know you missed more than that." His hand drops from your jaw, sliding down your neck and resting on your waist, tugging your closer against his body with a force that speaks of a familiarity they both deny. "You used to burn for me, didn't you?"

Glaring at him, you dig your nails harshly into his arm, “Things only burn for so long.”

The sharp sting of her nails into his arm only seems to fuel his arrogance, his hand on your hip tightening. He leans in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"Oh, you were always full of fire and sparks," he murmurs, his words a mix of taunt and memory. "Too bad it never quite burned bright enough to keep me satisfied."

You flash him a sharp smile, tearing his arm off of your waist, “I’m sure you’ll find another thing to ruin.”

He lets her go, his expression hardening. His gaze locks with yours, a strange mix of irritation and something like regret flashing in his eyes.

"Ruin? Or perfect?" he replies, his voice smooth as silk. "I always had a knack for finding things, and people, in desperate need of a little... refinement."

You laugh, the sound harsh and cold as you take another step back, “Not everyone wants to be perfected,” you spat with fury.

His gaze sharpens at your reaction, his own annoyance flaring.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawls, his tone as smooth as ever, "everyone needs a little direction. A little... guidance. And let's face it, you were a raw gem when I found you. I just added a bit of polish."

“You tried to polish it too much and ended up breaking it,” you said, jaw clenched with quiet fury.

For a moment, his mask of confidence slips. He looks stung by your words, his face betraying a hint of vulnerability. But just as quickly, he composes himself, the smirk back in place. "Break you? Or bring out the best in you?" he counters, the words half-mocking, half-defensive. "Sometimes, a few cracks are worth it for the masterpiece that remains."

You look at him, gaze shuttered, “I’ve really been feeling my best self I guess.”

The sarcasm hits him harder than he expected. The smirk on his face falters again, replaced for a brief moment with a flash of guilt or shame.

But he quickly shoves it aside, his expression hardening.

"You always had a mouth on you," he mutters. "A mouth that used to be good for more than just smartass comments."

Your expression flashes with disgust, partially at his words and partially at yourself, “I guess I know where your priorities lie. I’m sure there’s enough other people willing to suck your cock,” you spit, turning on your heel and walking down to the auction floor.

He watches your walk away, a mix of anger and something like regret tightening his jaw.

"Damn it," he mutters, his gaze tracking you until you disappear into the crowd, your words and presence leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Sylus stands there for a moment, but after a beat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and follows you.

He weaves through the crowd, the auction already in full swing. The room is filled with a buzz of chatter, the air thick with tension and excitement. Fat, old, balding men eagerly eyeing the women walking around or glaring at their other rivals.

He spots you easily enough, standing off to the side, gaze fixed on the various items up for bid. Sylus moves through the crowd until he's standing behind you, his presence an unignorable force. He doesn't speak; he just stands there, watching you with an intensity that's almost unnerving.

His gaze roams over you, taking in every detail. The curve of your neck, the way your dress hugs your figure, the determined set of your jaw. He should walk away. He should leave you alone. But he can't.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rough. "I remember the way you looked at me the night of our wedding, you know. So full of hope and excitement. You looked at me like I was your goddamn world."

“And yet I needed to be ‘perfected’,” you say quietly, your voice bitter and cold.

"You were inexperienced, naive," he retorts, his voice hard. "The world we live in doesn't care about hope and innocence. You needed to be toughened up. I was trying to make you stronger."

Your eyes didn’t leave the items, refusing to look at him, “Great job.”

His fingers itched to touch you, to force you to look at him. But he resisted, knowing it would only fuel the flames of your anger. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from your ear.

"I did my best to prepare you," he murmured, his voice dark and deep. "But you were never really cut out for the life I live."

“Then why have you been following me all night?” You spat, studying a priceless glass piece in front of you.

His eyes narrow at your words, a mixture of irritation and something else that he can't quite place coursing through him. He takes another step closer, invading your personal space, his presence overwhelming.

"Curiosity, darling. Call it a lingering fascination with all those flaws and weaknesses I know you have, begging to be exploited."

Your lips purse with disapproval and disgust, “Of course.”

His gaze darkens at your disapproving expression, his arrogance and ego itching for a fight. "Naturally," he repeats, mimicking her cool tone. "Or would you prefer I say I couldn’t help myself? That you looked too damn good in that dress, and I just had to follow you?"

You scoff, jaw clenched, “I’d prefer if you left.”

He can't help but scoff as well, his irritation growing.

"Right," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Leave you alone at a high-end auction, surrounded by criminals and shady characters. That sounds like a brilliant idea."

“Isn’t this what you were ‘perfecting’ me for, huh?” You spit, finally turning to glare at him, “And besides, this isn’t the first time I’ve been here.”

You weren’t lying, you had been here dozens of times on your bosses account. Sometimes small jobs, simply observing other deals taking place but sometimes having to play the part of a naive little girl to appeal and extract information from the men there.

You can see Sylus’ expression flicker to one of surprise, “I never brought you here.”

“I know,” you say simply, glancing at the clock.

9:35.

His brow furrows with suspicion, “And why would you ever come here?”

“To make connections,” you say simply.

His frown deepens at your words, his gaze hardening.

"Connections, huh?" he repeats, his tone flat. "You do realize the kind of people you're making those connections with, right? They're not the warm and fuzzy type, sweetheart.” He studies your face closely, his gaze calculating.

He scoffs. "And what kind of business are they offering you, hmm? Are you making friends or just looking to fill the void I left?"

Your expression turns cold, narrowing your eyes at his audacity, “Throw all the insults you want, but don't think I'm out here whoring myself about.”

He clenches his jaw at her words, the implication sending a wave of unwanted emotion through him.

"I didn't say you were," he retorts, his voice low and tight. "But let's not pretend there isn't a certain... appeal, shall we say, to the kind of attention you're likely getting here. You were always a damn good looking woman. It's not a shock that men would take note."

You scoff, brushing past him, “Excuse you, I have a meeting.”

He feels a twinge of irritation as you brush by him, his hand shooting out to grip your arm, pulling you back towards him.

"A meeting, huh?" he repeats, his voice edged with something akin to anger. "Care to let me know with who?"

Baring your teeth, you speak in a condescending tone, “Information isn’t free, you should know that, Sylus.”

And with those words, you disappear in the locked door with the number 036 on it and gears whir as it locks behind you.

Sylus’ eyes narrow with frustration and sits down in a chair near the entrance, picking up a glass of liquor and downs it, eyes locked on the door that swallowed you up.

He wasn’t concerned, no not at all. He wasn’t concerned that his ex-wife was becoming more involved in criminal activity than he was. Of course not.

The lies he told himself didn’t stop him from waiting on you, eyes locked on the door and glaring at anyone who dares to approach him, he had no time for distractions.

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As you stepped into the meeting room, your eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Rafayel’s discussion room. A long, mahogany table was centered perfectly with a mini bar in the back, expensive whiskeys, rum, wine, and brandy were laid out on the table, already opened and poured.

You took your seat at the head of the table, leaning back and crossing your legs, not bothering to fix the way your dress rode up. It was all calculated and just like clockwork, several pairs of eyes flew to the newly exposed skin.

A drink had been already poured for you, not like you’d drink it anyway. It was only a prop, something to add to the suspense and to increase the tension in the room.

One of the men narrowed his eyes at you, or more of at your chest, “Are you Rafayel’s escort?”

Smoothly, you leaned forward, folding your hands on the table and ‘accidentally’ giving him a better view, “Something like that. I will be his representative tonight.”

He fell into your trap, eyes darting downward with more intensity, oblivious to the straining of the buttons of his shirt.

With much more of this, they’ll go flying across the room, you thought dryly.

Yet you held still, no matter how much your skin was crawling from his gaze. You would not flinch, nor shy away.

The man with a receding hairline next to him cleared his throat, passing a folder to you with classified papers inside. He was skinny, almost alarmingly so and appeared to have no weapon. No threat.

You opened the folder, descriptions of certain paintings and locations and prices jotted down along with names and times. You leaned back, pretending to look over the folder and offers, propping it up with your crossed legs. In reality, you were letting the hidden camera behind you capture every detail, Rafayel no doubt peering through.

Each man looked at you expectantly as you scanned the information. The bracelet on your wrist vibrated each time you turned the page. One buzz for yes, two for not a chance, and three was telling you to negotiate a higher price.

It seemed you’d have a lot of negotiating to do.

It didn’t matter in the end. If you didn’t come to a consensus before 10:15, then you’d leave unless they changed their minds.

Clearing your throat, you set a few of them down, “These are do-able but not for that amount.”

The few men paying attention frowned and started to argue but you held your hand up, silencing them with a simple gesture.

“Do you want a realistic dupe or not?” You asked, voice calm but commanding.

Now you’d never admit it but you were channeling your inner Sylus. Watching him through all of those deals and meetings certainly paid off in this business. Walking in and commanding the attention, reading people’s body language and the art of temptation were all things you learned from him.

Over the next 20ish minutes, the men were tripping over themselves to try to settle on prices, desperately trying to please whoever they were sent here by.

You practically didn’t have to do anything, only watching them up the prices astronomically, oblivious to how little profit they’d be making later.

One of them started catching on though, but before he could stop them, you raised your hand again, “Done.”

The men let out a sigh of relief, glad they had made the deal, unaware of the scam.

You stood, folding the papers in the folder and left without a word, they could find their own way.

Closing the door behind you, you sighed, satisfied and proud.

As you exited, you saw Sylus sitting in the chair in front of the door. He smirked, tilting his head and standing up.

“You seem awfully smug, sweetie,” he drawled, “I assume it went your way?”

You didn’t even have to answer, the door opening again and the men came out, looking slightly shocked and irritated, their expressions widening as they saw Sylus, darting back to you, looking a little scared.

Sylus’ face grew cold, looking at them with disdain as he took a step closer, right behind you continuing to glare at them until they were out of sight. Safe to say, none of them looked at your body.

After they left, he spoke again, “You got what you wanted?”

“I did,” you say, a hint of pride in your tone, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

He cocks an eyebrow at your words, curious.

"Did you now?" he says, his voice low. "Care to share what it was you wanted? If it's good enough to leave that lot looking so upset, it must've been worth the wait."

“Information isn’t free,” you repeat, taking a few steps away to hand the folder to your boss.

Rafayel quickly scans the documents and gives you an approving smile, “Your money’s already transferred.”

And with that he vanishes.

When you turn back around you nearly slam into Sylus’ chest. He looks down at you with an amused expression, but his eyes are sharp, “Who was that?”

“My boss,” you say simply, stepping around him to sit on the couch, grabbing a glass of alcohol from one of the trays, checking it thoroughly again.

“Why are you doing that?” Sylus gestures to your examination.

You shrugged, “I ain’t getting drugged.”

He watches you laugh, a mix of irritation and familiarity flitting across his face.

"And why do you think that, huh?" he mutters, his tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "You just assume every bastard here is out to drug you?"

You look at him condescendingly, “Sylus I just came out of a meeting with some very powerful people who look very angry about the outcome, what do you think?”

"I think you're being paranoid," he retorts, his voice edged with irritation. "You think every high-powered person here has time to mess with you?"

“When they know who I work for? Hell yeah,” you say, tilting back your head and downing the glass.

He watches you down the glass, swallowing hard as his eyes linger on your exposed neck.

"And who do you do business for, then?" he asks, his voice low and a hint of curiosity in his tone. "You seem to have connections here, sweetheart. I'd like to know who exactly you're in bed with."

You frown, clearly irritated, “I already told you, I’m not whoring myself out to the highest bidder.”

His mouth quirks into a bitter smile at your irritation, his gaze hardening.

"Right, right. You're just here making connections out of the goodness of your heart, are you? You think I'm dumb enough to believe that?"

There's true anger in your eyes as you glare at him fiercely, “I think you're dumb enough to believe I’m a slut.”

His eyes narrow at your words, his own irritation flaring up. "Oh, don't play the victim here, sweetheart. Don't act like I don't have a right to be concerned" he snaps, his grip tightening on your wrist once again, pulling you up to stand. "You're out here, making deals with God knows who, putting yourself in these situations. What am I supposed to think?"

“And why would you care?” You spit out, tearing your arm away, not missing the crescent shape craters in his arm from earlier.

His hand closes on empty air as you tear your arm away, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"You think I don't care?" he says, his voice sharp. "Sweetheart, don't be naive. I may be many things, but I have never stopped caring about your stubborn ass."

“Then you should know better than to think I spread my legs for whomever pays,” you hiss.

He scoffs, clearly not believing her. "Oh, I know better, do I? Well, forgive me for having doubts, sweetheart. You've been making a lot of new friends today, haven't you? Who's to say these friends aren't expecting something in return?"

“They can’t lay a finger on me,” you snarl.

He narrows his eyes, his expression hardening even more.

"Oh, really? And what makes you so sure about that, huh? Are they just sweethearts, these new friends of yours? Or do they have a different way of paying debts?"

You roll your eyes, “Sylus, I can handle it, I’ve been doing this for a while.”

He crosses his arms, a scowl on his face, “Well are you trying to get yourself killed or what? People will target you now.”

“And you think they wouldn’t if I was your wife?”

He pauses at your words, his irritation fading for a moment.

"No one would have even dreamed of touching you if you had stayed with me," he says, his tone low. "But you were the one who left."

“Because I didn’t appreciate being humiliated and lied to daily,” you grit out.

He scoffs at that, his irritation returning once again.

"You call it being lied to, I call it keeping information from you to protect you. There's a damn difference, sweetheart"

“Sylus, I’ve been doing this since we started talking about divorce, I’m doing fine.”

His eyes narrow at your words, the irritation flaring up again. "And when exactly were you planning to tell me that, huh?" he says, his voice sharp.

You shrug, “Well I wasn’t planning to see you here, much less talk to you. So probably never.”

He scoffs at your indifference, his expression hardening even further. "So, you were just gonna go on and keep this little secret from me, huh? Even though you damn well know this isn't the life you're meant for?"

You bare your teeth, pissed, “What about my potential? Isn’t this why you tried to perfect me? So I could be strong?”

He scoffs, "There's a damn difference between trying to perfect you so you could be strong and watching you throw yourself into danger you aren’t equipped to handle."

“Well too damn bad for you,” you hiss, “I’m not some science experiment you can change and test to fit your liking.”

He sneers at your words, his irritation turning into anger. "You think I wanted to change you? You think I wanted to shape you into something you're not? I was trying to toughen you up, sweetheart. Make sure you could stand up for yourself in a world that'll eat you alive."

You cross your arms, voice cold, “Well I guess you got what you wanted.”

His jaw clenches at that, anger flaring even further. "You think this is what I wanted? You think I wanted to see you put yourself in danger? You think I wanted you to throw yourself headfirst into the exact damn life I was trying to keep you away from?"

“Look Sylus, I’m done arguing. You can either leave or shut up,” you retort, sitting back on the couch.

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I'm gonna stay right here and watch over your stubborn ass," he snaps.

“Then drop the conversation,” you spit.

He grinds his teeth, irritation etched into every facial feature. "Fine," he mutters. "But this ain't over, sweetheart. We're not finished discussing this." He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall as he studies you. His expression is still a mix of anger and irritation, but there's something else swimming in his gaze that he's doing his best to conceal. It's almost like... concern.

You just pick back up your drink, trying to pull your dress down to cover your legs.

Sylus watches you sit down, his irritation fading slightly as he notices the effort you're taking to avoid exposing herself too much. He can't help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his tone flat, "You're going to draw attention, sitting like that. And judging by the way men are looking at you it won’t be the good kind."

“It never is,” you mutter, sighing and sitting more proper, more calculated, putting on a facade of comfort.

He watches as you shift, adopting a more calculated and formal pose. He recognizes the facade you’re putting on, the same one you used to use whenever they went out together.

He feels a pang of familiarity, mixed with a hint of guilt. This is what he made you into.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his irritation transforming into something mischievous. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't you? Trying to drive the other men crazy?"

You sigh, crossing your arms, “Well first of all it helps with business. They see what I want them to see, a pretty little girl that can be easily manipulated. It helps them underestimate me and gives me an advantage. Secondly, I enjoy seeing them get pissed when they realize they can only look and not touch.”

"You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to use your body like that just to get what you want."

Sighing, you just take a sip of your drink.

He studies you, his concern growing. "You've changed, sweetheart. You used to be so innocent, so pure. Now look at you, using your body to get what you want, drinking like there's no tomorrow..."

“Wonder what happened,” you mutter against your glass.

He meets her gaze, his expression serious. "Don't act so surprised, sweetheart. I know damn well that I played a part in who you are now. And I'm not proud of it."

“Hmm, surprised you’d admit it,” you say bluntly.

He grimaces, his irritation mixing with some kind of bitter sense of acceptance. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm just full of surprises today, huh?"

He notices your hands holding the dress shut. Sylus wonders if it's because you feel vulnerable for some reason or maybe it's because you know how much the damn dress is showing off.

“What?” You hiss at him, “What am I supposed to do?”

He studies you, his amusement fading, pushing off the wall, taking a few steps closer, his gaze fixed on you.

"You're acting like a goddamn blushing virgin, trying to cover yourself up like that," he mutters, his tone a mix of irritation and something else.

You glare at him, clearly uncomfortable now that you don’t have any reason to show off.

He sighs and tosses his jacket in your lap, sitting down next to you and throwing his arm over the back of the couch, glaring at the wandering eyes.

You fix the jacket so it covers your lap, now able to sit comfortably without having to worry about anyone.

Sylus takes you in, his gaze lingering over your body covered in his jacket. He can't help but feel a mixture of pure satisfaction and affection bubbling up inside of him. It's a feeling he thought he had buried and forgotten, but somehow it's resurfacing faster than he can handle.

You aren’t paying attention to him, only sipping on your drink and scanning the room.

He observes you, your gaze still focused on the room around them. He can't help but feel a pang of loneliness at her disinterest.

He clears his throat, trying to get your attention.

“Hm?” You ask, turning to him.

He straightens, relieved that you’re looking at him. “Nothing," he mutters, his voice gruff. "Just wanted to see if you were paying attention."

You hum, “Well you have it.”

He lets out a scoff, his irritation dissipating slightly, "About damn time."

You frown and take another sip of your drink.

Sylus watches you take a sip of your drink, the frown on your face making him feel a pang of guilt. He clenches his jaw, his irritation morphing into something else. "You shouldn't be drinking that much," he grumbles, his tone slightly softer than before.

“It’s only my second,” you correct.

"That's still too much," he mutters, his tone more concerned than irritated now.

You raise an eyebrow as you bring the glass back up to your lips, taking another small sip.

He scoffs again, irritation and concern warring with each other. "You really shouldn't be drinking that much," he grumbles, his tone firmer now.

Grinning, you take another sip, mirth swimming in your eyes.

He scowls at you, frustration replacing concern. "Damn it, sweetheart, you need to stop drinking or you're gonna mess something up," he snaps, his tone harsh.

At his tone you frown, gingerly setting the glass down on the table, the temporary happy mood gone.

He freezes, noticing your expression change. His frustration fades into remorse as he realizes he's ruined the brief moment of playfulness. "Sorry," he mutters, his tone more gruff than sharp.

You don’t look up at him, expression betraying your disappointment, though it doesn't show on your face, he can still sense it. You were having fun, and he ruined it, just as he'd done so many times before.

Your hands toy with each other, staying quiet.

Sylus stills beside you, his gaze locked onto your hands, specifically the shiny ring on them. The engagement ring he gave you years ago, just moved onto a different finger.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, half hoping he didn’t hear it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetie,” he says softly, his tender voice feeling like a shot to the heart.

Sylys stands up, gently pulling you up, his hand tugging your dress down, covering you up.

“C’mon, let me take you home,” he says gently, tilting your chin up and settling his jacket around your shoulders.

You let him lead you outside, maybe you were tired, or slightly tipsy, or just still missing him, but you don’t protest, not when he hands you a helmet, or drives you home on his bike, or how he cradles you in his arms.

All you do is relax in his arms as he gently takes your key out and unlocks the door, helping you take your dress off and remove your makeup, putting on your skincare and getting you into sleep clothes, some shorts and one of his old shirts. It was as if nothing happened, like you were still together, like everything was still okay. If he was surprised you kept his clothes, he didn’t show it, only tucking you into bed like you meant something to him, like you meant everything to him.

You were half asleep by the time he finished, head lolling against his shoulder as he laid you down, smoothing back your hair and kissing your forehead.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

And then he was gone.

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In the morning when you woke up, you almost believed you had dreamed of it all, but the heavy black coat near the door proved the opposite.

He had hung up your dress and put away your shoes, a crisp envelope on your dresser with your name on it.

Sweetie,

You can come return my coat at 11:30. Be on time.

Yours, Sylus ♡

(Also the twins miss you.)

So there might be a good chance you’d be out for the day.

Actually, there would be a 100% chance.

#sylus lads #sylus x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #lads #love and deep space #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace

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exitingmusic · 2 months ago

Text

Yours

Caleb x reader

Warnings: suicidal ideas, depression, slight self-harm, language, obsessive Caleb (slight yandere, not too ooc), lil bit of angst :)

AN: This is a pretty long one I've had in my drafts and the beginning isn't great but I swear it gets better I SWEAR I'll do the HC after this I just really wanted to write this before I forgot :)

WC: 8.6k

After a big argument with Caleb about him locking you in his house, tensions were high. He was leaving tomorrow for a new exploration mission with the Farspace Fleet, but you refused to let yourself be upset that he was leaving again. Not when he had locked you up. Not when he had given you sleeping pills instead of medicine so you wouldn’t sneak out.

He approaches you, a smile on his face as he takes your hand. “I’m about to leave, it’d be nice if we could have a meal together.”

You yank your hand away, snapping, “So I have to listen to the Colonel even when it comes to eating and drinking now?”

Hurt crosses his expression as you turn on your heel, heading for the living room. He follows you, standing in front of you as you sit on the couch and scowl up at him.

“Your life has threats around every corner. The people who are after your power, who want to hurt you? They should all just disappear.” Leaning forward, he presses his hand against the cushion beside your head. “You’re only safe when you’re by my side.”

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?” he says, cutting you off with a disbelieving laugh. Leaning forward, he grabs one of your wrists. “Alright. What do you need? You can tell me. We can return to Linkon if that’s what you want. If you want to return to the past, we’ll rebuild our old house and move in together.”

“Caleb, I lived this long without you, I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be a bird locked in a cage, even if it is with you,” you pleaded, carefully watching his every reaction.

“Am I just supposed to stay here, acting happy all my life? Surrounded by the same walls? The same things? Never see or talk to anyone else?” You continued, your voice raising, “because I can't do that Caleb, no matter how safe I'd be. I couldn’t stand it.”

Caleb’s jaw is clenched tight, the anger in his words barely contained. He turns and takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and pull you up from the couch. “I don’t give a damn how ‘happy’ you are, or if you feel ‘trapped’. I just. Need. You. Safe.” His hand tightens on your arm as he presses close to you, every line of his body tense at the argument.

Anger fading, you look at him with saddened eyes, “You're not my Caleb.”

Caleb freezes, staring at you, looking like you stabbed him in the chest before his expression hardens again, the air growing tense as he says, “What are you talking about?”

His hand gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up so he can search your expression as he says, “Of course I’m the same Caleb, your Caleb. The one who’s been here, protecting you, worrying for you, and who loves you. Who else could I be?”

“My Caleb wouldn't have done this. He would've happily followed me to the ends of the universe to keep me safe and happy. He wouldn't lock me away…” you said defiantly, raising your chin.

He releases your chin and steps back, something cold hardening in his expression. “Your Caleb, huh? That sounds like some kind of ideal to me. He sounds like a spineless, love sick idiot who’s willing to risk your life for you to be happy.”

“But I loved that Caleb, I still do. I couldn't give a shit if he was a spineless, love sick idiot. He was my Caleb and I'd have him no other way,” you say loyally, your voice quiet but unwavering.

He freezes, something painful flashing across his expression before he quickly turns from you. One of his hands clenches into a fist as he snaps, “Well that Caleb is dead and gone.” He’s stiff, his shoulders are tense, a muscle in his jaw moving as he stands silently.

You hold no anger, only pity for him, “Because you’re trying to force me to see you, to choose you over everything else in my life. You’re making yourself the bad guy.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter and harsh. “The bad guy? Is that what you think I am?”

‘Caleb’ cups a hand on your chin, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are hard, no trace of the soft, kind boy you used to know.

“Let me tell you what I think, sweetheart. I think your judgement is clouded by sentiment. Your idea of who your old Caleb is has blinded you, your idea for who I should be.”

He shakes his head and looks away, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’re lucky I even let you have this much. You could be locked up, actually locked up in a cell with no contact.”

Your eyes narrow, an expression of disgust on your face, “You’re right my Caleb is dead,” you grit out, brushing past him to your room.

His jaw tightens, annoyance clear in his expression as he yells after you, “And what does that mean? Your Caleb is dead, sweetheart. This is the only version of me you’ll ever have now.”

Turning back, you bare your teeth, “I might not die out there, but I sure as hell will wither away in here. Thank you, Colonel, I feel so safe,” you spat the title out venomously, slamming the door, paying no mind to his recoil at the rank.

He lets out a low growl and slams a hand on the door, his voice rising in a sharp, cold snap. “You’re going to open this door right now.”

“We don't all get what we want, Colonel,” you say, voice empty as you glare at the door. “Remember? Safety over happiness?”

He steps back and takes a deep, calming breath. With sharp, angry strides, he walks into the living room and sits on the couch, every movement radiating anger.

“Happiness will pass,” he grinds out, his gaze cold as steel fixated on the wall. “Safety is permanent.”

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Over the next 2 days, fury is the only thing you feel, it consumes you. You don’t sleep, don’t eat, you can’t breathe from the anger running through your veins. After the first couple of hours, your room is completely trashed, everything that decorated her room was either broken or on the floor. Your books were bent, pages torn out and crumpled. Your plants were turned on their sides, pots broken as soil spilled out. Pictures of Caleb and you, drawings you had made of each other, laughed over were taken out of their frames and torn to pieces, the frames crumpled and dented. The pretty vase of flowers Caleb got you? Smashed to pieces, the petals shredded and stems ripped. The pillows and blankets you bought together? Ripped, the stuffing leaking, just how your pain leaked oozed from every pore. The jackets, shirts, and sweatshirts he gave you were tossed in the hall. Every gift he ever got you was either broken, ripped, shredded or shoved away from your sight. Everything you enjoyed was broken beyond repair.

Even the plushies weren’t safe from your wrath, a couple being so dented from how many times your fist flew into the soft material. The only thing that remained untouched was a dinosaur model that the two of you spent nearly a week on before he “died”. It was also the first time he ever kissed you, right after he placed the final piece, he jumped up, excited, pure joy on his face as Caleb spun you around and next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.

The Colonel didn’t do that, you did. You couldn’t bear to see freedom so close, yet so far. The sun would shine on the grass and trees outside your window, birds flying over and nesting in the big oak tree in the back. Each night, when the sun set, the sky would be ablaze with the most vibrant pinks, purples, and oranges. Wispy clouds trailed their fingertips through the sea of the sky, curling around each other and floating whichever way the wind carried them.

You felt like a caged animal, being taunted by having to watch your freedom and life slip past right in front of you.

On day 2, you realized that your anger wasn’t getting you free. Defeated, you fell back onto your mattress, a heavy weight on your chest, like this invisible force was smothering you.

You couldn’t cry, it was like the comfort of tears had forsaken you as well as the life you were once so excited to continue, adventuring around the planet freely, meeting people, fighting wanderers and just having the freedom to make your own decisions.

You just felt so empty, the anger had burned out all of your motivation, all of your feelings, leaving you a hollow, blank shell.

A part of you died with Caleb when he vanished in the explosion, coming back as someone you could barely recognize. Your mind was tricked by his physical appearance that you didn’t notice that the kindness and joy had all been leached out.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, lost in your own mind before the door opened. Even though you didn’t look, you could still sense he was standing there.

You didn’t react, not when he sucked in a breath at the mess, not when he came closer or when he peered at you.

“Come, I made you food,” he says stiffly, eyes sweeping over the crushed memories, precious items that weren’t too special to anyone except you.

Standing up, you avoided his eyes and walked past him, shoulders curled inwards as you sat down in front of the plate set up for you.

You couldn’t even feel your hunger, your mouth didn’t water as the scent of his braised chicken wings filled the air. Sides of wonton soup, Har gow, and stir fry sat on the counter, all your favorites.

You ate robotically, the food turning to ash in your mouth. Normally when you ate Caleb’s cooking, you’d be shoveling it in your mouth as fast as possible, trying to eat as much as you could before you got a stomach ache.

But normally you wouldn’t be locked inside.

You could tell Cale-, no, Colonel was a little concerned as he watched you eat slowly, completely blank, a harsh contrast from your torn apart room.

He cleared his throat, “Is the food okay?” The Colonel asks, his voice hesitant.

“S’fine,” you muttered, staring at the plate.

He didn’t try to talk to you again but he sat there, watching you with sharp eyes.

After you finished, you took your dishes over, rinsing the residue off and setting them next to the sink before you went back to your room, shrinking away from the windows, like a phantom.

And that’s what you were, a ghost, a wraith. A spirit that haunts the halls of the house, staring blankly for hours on end. And wherever she drifts, the curtains fall shut, clouding the house in darkness once more. Darkness that was reflected under your eyes.

The Colonel had attempted to bring you back to life. He had cleaned up most of your room, replaced books, framed new pictures, and bought you new pillows and blankets. He tried to talk to you, tried to get you to do things together, but you only responded with simple answers or refusal.

A cage was still a cage no matter how pretty it was.

Only you couldn’t bear to look outside of it.

You could tell the Colonel was getting frustrated, he stopped trying to sweet talk you into spending time with him or having a conversation. He stopped putting so much effort into cooking, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. He stopped trying to breathe life into your room, stopped adding old pictures, stopped setting plants on the shelf, leaving the other ones to wilt away.

It was ironic, you and the plants were both wilting away from the sun, dying slowly.

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It had been months. Five months since you’ve been outside, five months since you’ve seen anyone but him, five months since you’ve seen anything else but the same walls.

He watched your slow retreat over the next few months. As much as he tried to talk to you, to coax you back to something like your old self, he made no ground. You were like a shell of your former self, just a hollow echo with no fire in its soul.

With every week that passed, he grew more and more desperate. He tried bringing your favorite foods in, tried to talk you into listening to music again, but none of it had any effect.

He tried to keep a blank expression around you, but as the months passed and he noticed that you were beginning to wilt away, the hard lines in his expression would soften to concern.

He attempted to give you things to do, books to read and such, but everytime he was met with either you ignoring him or just reading the words without actually comprehending them.

By the time a couple of months had passed, your old self was gone, replaced with this empty, soulless shell.

After another month, he was at his wit’s end. You never talked, you never attempted to do anything, you were just a shell. All your fire, your brightness, your life, was gone.

He watched over you constantly, his worry and agitation growing. It was like he was taking care of a robot or a puppet, rather than the person he loved.

On one particular day, he stands in front of you with a conflicted look on his face as he says, “I can’t keep doing this.”

You just walked by him towards your room, “I told you.”

He follows you into the room, his expression hardening as he says, “Don’t you even care anymore? You’ve given up on everything.”

“No, I don’t care.”

He scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms. “Damn it, you’re not even going to try and fight this?” he says, his voice sharp and bitter.

You sigh, finally turning to him, “There’s no point.”

He goes silent, his gaze fixed on you, taking in your changed appearance. There was a time when he would’ve admired everything about you, how fiery you were, how full of life.

Now, now you were thin and limp and lifeless. Like a puppet without its strings, he felt like he’d broken you down to nothing but a shell of your former self.

After a few moments, he lets out a sigh and mutters, “You look terrible.”

“I'm safe,” you say simply, her words having no bite, just as lifeless as you. Crawling into bed, you faced the ceiling.

He squeezes his eyes shut as you speak, his heart twisting in his chest at your tone.

He’s never heard you sound so lifeless before, so dull, almost like everything inside you has died. His hand gently shifts to the nape of your neck, his touch almost tender.

“This isn’t what I wanted. You’re acting like a doll, not like yourself.”

You turned away from him, “My safety matters most,” you say robotically.

He falls silent. It was a statement he had said, and yet…

He sighs and closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Safety isn’t everything. What’s the point if you’re left miserable?” he said tiredly.

You didn’t bother agreeing, not when it took him this long to understand.

He runs a hand through his hair and scoffs, anger rising in him. “You’re supposed to argue! You’re supposed to get mad at me, yell at me!”

The Colonel’s hand clenches into a fist and he looks down at you, irritation filling his gaze. “You’re not this, you’re supposed to be all bright and happy, damn it!”

“I tried,” you mutter.

You gave him a tired look, “I can’t fight forever.”

He sighs and shakes his head, his expression growing cold. “Bullshit. You could’ve kept fighting, you could’ve still been resisting but instead you just… gave up.”

His lip curls into a sneer, his anger flaring. “You just gave up and let me break you.”

“I just wanted to go outside,” you say, your voice broken as you turn towards the closed curtain.

“I don’t want to live anymore,” you whisper, completely and utterly broken.

The Colonel comes forward and kneels at the side of the bed, reaching out a hand slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll scare you away. He gently brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his touch a tender, gentle one. “You can’t mean that,” he says again, his voice quiet and broken, “Tell me you didn’t mean that.”

You shake your head, “I’m done.”

You avoid his gaze, “I don’t think anyone can.”

He refuses to believe that, his grip on your hand tightening as he says firmly, “I can. Anything that can be broken can be fixed. You’re just… confused. I can help you, I can fix you.”

“It’s been months.”

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whispered shakily.

The Colonel scoffs, his impatience flaring. “You don’t get to decide that. I know you’re in there, somewhere, you’re just hiding! You’re just…” He rubs a hand down his face, his frustration growing as he tries to find the right words. “You just need to be reminded of what you had. What we had.”

“I had a life.”

He looks at you, his expression hardening. “You have a life. You’re alive. You’re living, breathing, safe. That’s what matters, not you going out and running risks.”

“There’s nothing left for me,” you say, picking at your bloody hands, trying to ground yourself.

Your gaze snaps to him, eyes hardening, “Why can’t you understand me?”

And just like a flip of a switch you turn away from him, the little emotion and vulnerability you showed vanished, tucked away and extinguished.

You don’t react, don’t flinch, you just lie there, already retreating back into the corner of your mind.

He stands and stares at your still body for a few moments, his chest heaving. He wants to shake you, to yell at you, to get something back, any semblance of his beloved and fiery girlfriend. But you’ve already retreated back into your emotionless shell, leaving him standing there and feeling more powerless than ever.

He falls to his knees and presses his palms to his eyes, his mind spinning as his emotions overwhelm him. The guilt in his chest is threatening to choke him, the sight of you lying there, barely even alive, all his fault. At that moment, he doesn’t feel like a man, much less a military colonel. He just feels like a boy who had broken the woman he loved into nothing. The woman who loved him even when he didn’t deserve it. The woman who had always been there, letting him cry on his shoulder ever since they were kids.

You try to drown him out, picking at the peeling scabs on your fingers, staring at the covered window.

Without warning, you feel his arms around you, picking you up. You don’t ask, don’t protest, don’t even move, just lie there in his arms, eyes staring straight forward.

He walks outside and down the porch steps, his footsteps quick and precise as he walks across the lawn to the other side of his sprawling property.

As soon as the fresh air hits you, you tense, squinting at the sun.

You were outside.

You were outside for the first time in nearly 6 months. It was better than you ever could’ve dreamed. The smell of grass and fresh air fills your senses. You could hear the steady pace of the Colonel’s feet as he walked through the field, could hear the chirp of the birds, could hear the rustling of leaves in the wind. The warmth of the sun shone on your skin, a sharp contrast from the artificial temperature of the AC or heater.

Your eyes dart around, observing everything you can, eyes wide like this was your last chance to take it all in.

He carries you to the big oak tree at the end of his property, overlooking the hills and valleys towards the sun that was slowly sinking towards the horizon.

He gently sets you down in the shade, sitting a little bit behind you, leaving you to soak up what you’d been missing.

You're so absorbed in looking around that you don’t feel the tears dripping down her face, hands shaking from your tight grip on the poor grass.

Once you let in a shaky breath, he pauses, eyeing you like a ticking time bomb. His eyes widen as the realization hits him, watching the tears roll down your cheeks. He hadn’t seen you cry in years, ever since you had failed that test before you graduated. In all the time he knew you, you’ve been strong and fiery, fighting against the challenges that life handed to you. He can’t remember the last time he saw you cry, and seeing you now… he hates the sight of it.

In your moment of weakness, you lean back into him, tears coming faster as you choked out, “It’s so fucking pretty.”

You nestle yourself back into his chest, unable to tear your eyes away, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You flinch slightly at his words, sniffling and trying to hold your sobs in.

He shifts closer to you, keeping a slight distance, but still within arms reach. He follows your gaze to the birds and grimaces again.

His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he asks, “You want to get closer to them, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, your voice a rasp, “No, I don’t want to scare them away.”

He lets out a soft huff, his gaze softening as he hears your raspy voice again. It’s the most he’s heard you speak today, if not in days.

His voice has a hint of desperation in it now, seeing the tremble in your body. It pains him to see you like this, especially considering it’s all because of him.

He moves closer, slowly, his hand hovering over your shoulder, “Please. Let me hold you, sweetheart.”

“I just need to see,” you plead, voice cracking.

He clenches his jaw, closing his eyes to keep himself from losing it when he hears your words. He knows you’re not just talking about the birds, that this is about needing space, needing freedom.

And it kills him.

He reaches out anyway, unable to stand the sight of your trembling hands. He gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you back, positioning you so you’re leaning against his chest.

He holds you against his chest tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He buries his face in your hair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to regain control of himself.

He can’t help the broken words that escape him as he whispers, his voice strangled, “Oh sweetheart, what did I do to you…?”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his chest tight as he feels your body tremble against his. His voice is desperate as he speaks, his heart feeling like it’s being shredded with every word, “Please, please *please* don't be like this anymore. I need you to smile, to laugh, to yell at me, *anything* at this point. That blank look, the silence… it’s killing me.”

“I’ll try, just- just don’t keep me in there,” you beg.

He lets out a choked noise, his hold on you tightening a bit. He’d do anything to bring the life back into your eyes, to hear your voice.

He gently turns you around, tilting your chin up to see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I couldn’t cry before I came out here,” your voice broke, “I couldn’t even feel anything.”

“I just-“ his voice breaks off as he tries to find the words to say, guilt and frustration and regret warring within him. He takes in every detail of your form, and the guilt washes over him in waves. He feels like he’s broken you, even as he holds you tightly in his arms.

He holds you tighter at your words, his chest tightening at the sound of your voice. Your words are like a dagger to his heart; the way you try to reassure *him* with them instead of the other way around.

His grip on you almost becomes bruising as he speaks, his voice rough, “You’re free, darling. You’re safe. I won’t ever lock you away again, I promise.”

You pause, hiccupping and debating your next words, “Thank you… Caleb,” you say hesitantly, lingering a bit longer on the syllables of his name. Syllables you hadn’t said in months, hell, you hadn’t even let yourself think of the name unless it was about the old Caleb.

Caleb’s eyes widen in surprise, and he almost doesn’t reply for a moment due to shock. He didn’t think he’d be hearing you saying his name, let alone thanking him. He takes a second to swallow the lump in his throat, his voice hoarse as he murmurs, “You’re thanking me…?”

Your sobs slow to hiccups, body shuddering.

His hand continues to rub your back gently as he feels your sobs slow down, the sound being replaced with hiccups. He presses a gentle kiss to your head again, his hold on you still tight.

He murmurs quietly into your ear as he speaks, his voice still ragged, “That’s right, just breathe, pips. Take deep breaths…. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

He cradles you against him, holding you tightly as you rest your head against his chest. He buries his face in your hair again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His thumb rubs your arm tenderly, the motion gentle and almost soothing. He sits there silently, listening to the sound of your ragged breaths slowly even out.

Caleb’s suddenly hit with the realization that he’ll most likely have to bring you back inside eventually, and he lets out a silent grimace at the thought of it. A heavy feeling settles in his chest, the thought of making you go back to that emotionless, depressed shell of yourself making him feel nauseous. He tries to ignore it, shoving that thought away and focusing on his hand stroking your hair. He takes in a deep breath and murmurs, “Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” You murmur, nearly half asleep against him, watching the setting sun.

He takes another deep breath, steeling his nerves and continuing, his voice low and steady. “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

Caleb gently turns your chin to face him, taking another deep breath and looks you dead in the eye, his gaze fierce and determined as he asks, “If it wasn’t for me, if you were free to do whatever, go wherever you wanted… would you leave me?”

You hesitate, afraid that he wouldn’t like your answer, “If I could do whatever I wanted, I’d stay with you, just not holed up in the house forever.”

You nod, not knowing what else to say.

“Then I’d stay,” you whispered, afraid to get your hopes up.

Caleb watches you, his gaze sharp and serious. He lets out a shaky exhale, feeling almost like he’s on the verge of a panic attack with how fast his heart is racing. His hand is shaking on your chin, but he manages to keep his expression as steady as possible as he continues, “No matter what, you promise you’ll come back. You promise you won’t disappear.”

“I promise,” you murmur, your voice shaky with hope.

Your face lights up and you spin around, crushing him in a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Caleb.”

He’s on the verge of sobbing, but he manages to compose himself, instead holding you tighter and asking, “You swear you’ll come back? Every night, you swear it?”

Nodding frantically, you refuse to let go, your face buried in his shirt.

Caleb lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes clamped shut as he leans down and presses his forehead against your hair. He murmurs into it, his voice low and hoarse, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve done that to you.”

You're nearly too dizzy from your newfound freedom to respond, barely choking out, “S’okay, we’re okay, I’m okay.”

He can’t help it, a harsh sob escaping from his lips at your words. He can’t stop himself as he pulls you closer, burrowing his head into the crook between your neck and shoulder, his words coming out choppy and broken as he speaks through his tears. “No, no, it’s not okay, it’s not okay. I was supposed to be your protector, but I ended up hurting you worse than I probably protected you.” Caleb’s hold on you tightens even more, almost borderline painful in how much his fingers dig into your flesh. He’s crying now, full on crying, something he hadn’t done in years. He presses his face into your neck, his entire body shaking as he murmurs through his tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You were slightly surprised at his clinginess, but nonetheless, you gently raked your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe the broken boy holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him here.

Caleb buries his face into your neck, his breaths coming out in hiccuping sobs, his tears wetting your skin as he continues to mumble, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s completely crumbling in your arms, the strong, stoic facade he had for the past months shattering and crumbling to pieces. He buries his face into your neck, his body shaking uncontrollably, his shoulders heaving with sobs as he holds onto you like a lifeline and repeats his apologies over and over again. “Please, please… don’t leave me... please don’t hate me, I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry…”

“Shh, you’re okay baby, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I ain’t going nowhere,” you soothe, your voice hoarse from your own crying session.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, no matter what you do,” you admit, voice shaking. “C’mon, you wanna go inside? It’s getting dark and cold out.”

Caleb lifts you up like you weigh nothing, both of you leaning on each other and hands interlaced as you head back towards the house.

He carries you most of the way, refusing to let you get your feet muddy, pausing as he holds you in the living room, “Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart? Where do you want to sleep?”

“Your bed, just leave the window and door open… please,” you murmur, barely opening your eyes.

He nods silently, his grip on you shifting slightly so he can readjust his hold.Caleb then begins walking down the hallway, making his way to his room. Once in the room, he walks to the bed and gently sets you down on it, shifting a bit so he’s sitting next to you. He pauses there, simply looking at you for a few seconds before speaking, “I’ll get the window and door, alright darling?”

You nod, curling into his bed and inhaling the scent of him.

He stands, reluctantly letting go of you so he can walk around the room, opening the window and the door before turning back to you.

He looks at you again, hesitating for a few moments before murmuring, “I’ll be right outside. Just… call for me if you need me, okay?”

You sit up, confused, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Damn right you're not leaving me, now get in the bed,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He lets out a soft huff of laughter at the command, his heart feeling just a little lighter at the bossy tone you were using.

Caleb walks over to the bed and slowly lays down across it, staying as close to the edge as he can, still keeping his distance from you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, resting your head on his chest, using him as a squishie.

He tenses momentarily at your sudden move, before relaxing and letting you wrap yourself around him, a soft huff escaping him, “You broke all your plushies so you're using me as one.”

You shrug, holding him tighter, “Maybee.”

Caleb chuckles, “Don’t worry, we can go to the arcade sometime this week, maybe go shopping or out to eat and I’ll get you more, a bunch more.”

Letting out a content hum and melt into him, closing your eyes.

He slowly relaxes further, his arms slowly lifting and wrapping around you in turn. He holds you against him, one hand gently resting on your back and the other in your hair, his fingers running through the soft strands. Caleb’s hand runs down your back in tender motions, his touch tender, almost worshipful as his fingers softly trace across your back. He listens to your breathing, letting it soothe his nerves, his grip on you slowly tightening as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

“Thank you,” you whisper, half asleep.

He pulls you closer to him as you speak, his breath shaky as he absorbs the weight of your words, the feel of your body against his, how you’re willingly staying in his arms, how you say his name.

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