#I forgot how to post fic it’s been so long

[the-froschamethyst4]

Ex’s and Oh’s

𖤐Paring: Ex Husband! Ghost x Ex Wife! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐AN: Sorry, it has taken me so long to post this, I've been busy and struggling with writers block for a while, it was hard to think of a way to start this story and also trying to not make it boring as well. Anyways, I hope you all will enjoy the fic version of headcanon

𖤐Based On: ex-husband-simon

𖤐Warnings: fluff, smut, language, ex's to lovers, children, kissing/making out, more use of Simon, abusive relationship,

𖤐Summary: Divorce is hard, and Simon didn't know it at all, he loved his ex-wife and did everything he could to be there for his kids

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Simon waits in the driveway for his kids, Silas the oldest child and Luna his youngest. He remembers this house his first house he's ever bought with his now ex-wife Y/n.

Y/n had given Simon divorce papers because she was always worried about Simon when he was away on deployment. When she was pregnant with Luna, she couldn't handle the stress.

He watches the front door open and his kids come rushing out, Luna hugging Simon's legs and Silas hiked his bags into the back seat of his fathers truck.

"Come on, kids," Simon says, he turns and sees Y/n in the doorway being hold by her new boyfriend, Duncan. Simon couldn't stand him.

Duncan just leeched off of Y/n. Her money, home, food, he didn't pay bills, he was basically a roommate. Y/n tried to get Duncan many jobs but he never lasted then 4 days.

That was all information from Silas and Luna.

Simon looks at his kids helping Luna into her car seat.

"Daddy, can we go to the Zoo?" Luna asked.

"Maybe next weekend," Simon tells her.

"But I wanna go today."

"Not today baby."

"Why?"

"Because...it's close for cleaning."

"The Zoo isn't closed," Silas jumps in.

"Yes it is," Simon says, looking at his son to be quite. At the moment Simon didn't have anything plan with his kids, he just wanted to relax with his children and help them with homework if they needed it.

"Daddy?" Luna looks up at him.

"Not today," he says again. He shuts the door.

"I'm sorry for the last minute pick up," Y/n walks to her ex-husband.

"It's okay.

Y/n had a meeting and she didn't trust...Duncan. Sure they're dating and all, but she trusts Simon a lot more than Duncan.

"I can't believe you asked him to do it...I'm surprised he even agreed," Duncan says, watching Simon pull out of the driveway. Duncan acts like Simon is a dead-beat father when he's not, Simon works and barely even gets to see his kids.

And Duncan doesn't even help out with the kids, the week ago, Silas needed to be picked up from football (Soccer) and Duncan "forgot" and Luna was home but locked out of the house and didn't know if anyone was home or not.

"What the hell do you mean? Simon is a good father, this isn't his first time picking up his children," Y/n says.

"But like...I'm surprised really," he chuckles.

"Duncan, he's not a dead-beat father," Y/n says.

"Sure, he is, sees his kids 40 days out of the year."

"He...works Duncan, unlike you," she says. "I need to get going."

"Can't believe you married that guy too, seems like an asshole."

"He never was!" Y/n stood up for her ex-husband but why? She's the one who gave him the divorce papers, why is she standing up for him? Because she still loves him.

Duncan was a distraction for Y/n, she still loved Simon, but couldn't bring herself to tell him that, she thought if she had a boyfriend maybe her mind will love him instead but it wasn't, she still loved Simon, and she'll defend him even if he doesn't want her to, she'll still do it for him.

Duncan also doesn't know he's a 'distraction' he thought Y/n did like him.

----------

Simon looks at his son and daughter in the rearview mirror they were eating their chicken nuggets or small cheese burger. They were hungry since Simon had picked them up around lunch time.

"How's everything?" Simon asked them.

"Good." Luna says.

"Amazing," Silas says.

"Good," Simon says as he starts to drive to his apartment complex.

Simon parked in his usual parking spot and he helps his kids out of the back seats of his truck. They head to the elevators and hit the 5th floor button going up.

Luna played with the toy she just got and Silas played with his. Once the door opened Luna headed to the apartment door and Silas walked with Simon holding his bag as Simon carried his daughters bag.

Simon opens the door and his kids rushed in going to their rooms grabbing more toys and dragging them to the living room that Simon cleaned just for them to mess it up again.

Simon smiles at his kids and jumps in to play with them, he jumps from playing Monster Trucks and Wrestling to Princesses and Pet Shops.

He likes to play with his kids, enjoying how they play and missed all times him and Silas use to play with each other, before Luna was born, he didn't play with her as much because of the divorce.

He lays on his back and Luna sits on his stomach, she pats his toned chest and was using his chest as a mountain for her Barbies to play mountain climber, he knew he had a big chest but he didn't think it was that big.

"Daddy, stop breathing it's messing with my Barbies."

"Baby, I can't just stop breathing," he chuckles which now causes his chest to bounce.

"Daddy," she groans.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop laughing, but I can't stop breathing," he smiles.

"Dad," he looks at his son, but he was looking at him upside down.

"Yes, buddy?"

"I don't like mama's new boyfriend," Silas says.

"You don't?"

"Yeah," Luna now jumps in. "He yells at us sometimes, even for nothing."

"Yelling at you? Are you sure it's just because you two might have...I don't know actually done something wrong?"

"Daddy, are you taking his side?"

"No, no, but-"

"No reason, dad," Silas says.

Simon sits up now holding his daughter so she doesn't fall and she slides down on his lap.

"I understand," he says, letting go of his daughter as she goes back to her Barbie's dreamhouse.

----------

9:00PM

His children had gone to bed now, and Simon decided to do something, something he's never done because it was never his business.

Duncan Matthews Age: 31 Height: 5'11 Job: Unemployed Criminal Background: DUI, 1st degree Stalking, Demotic Violence

"Goddammit Y/n...you're smarter than this," Simon groans.

Simon copies the link and pulls up his email, he was going to send it to Y/n. If she was unaware, which she's not, she wouldn't keep this guy around.

------------

Y/n was working late, she needed to get some files done and then she sees a notification pop up, it was from an anonymous email account.

She clicks it and then reading upon the email.

You're smarter than this with the screenshot of Duncan's police report attached to it.

She felt like she knew it was from. But she goes ahead and reads it anyways and then reading his charges.

*Ping*

Did you also know he yells at the children for no reason?

*Simon...what are you doing?* She thinks to herself.

Y/n then thinks of it, when she first brought Duncan home he was very rude to her children, but she brushed it off because sometimes her kids could be a little frustrating to deal with but she still loves them.

Duncan has also claimed that he didn't like kids and even though he knew about Y/n having kids still proceeded to be with her. Silas has brought up the fact that Duncan yelled at him and Luna a few times but Y/n thought was because they were doing something Duncan had told them many times to stop, so she brushed off again.

She now knows...she needs to listen to children more.

-----------

A Few Hours Later

Y/n was heading home now, she looks at her home from inside her car watching as the only light was on was the living room light, Duncan must've still been up.

She gets out of her car and locking it up and heading inside, she was right, he was still up, playing video games and yelling while he played them.

He was so annoying.

"Duncan, can you turn that off? It's almost midnight, and I have to go to bed to be able to get ready for work tomorrow," she says. She doesn't want to be up all night because of her dumb boyfriend always yelling at the games he play.

"Later, I'm not done-"

"Now, please," she cuts him off.

"Seriously? ALL I DO FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW I AM TREATED!?"

"DO WHAT!? YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A JOB, I PAY FOR EVERYTHING! WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE FOR ME!? YOU DON'T DO SHIT, BUT SIT HERE AND PLAY YOUR STUPID VIDEO GAMES AND I'M FINDING OUT YOU YELL AT MY CHILDREN!!! WHAT TYPE OF PERSON ARE YOU!?" She yells back.

*Smack*

A sharp pain stung on Y/n's right cheek, she holds her cheek, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

He just smacked her.

------------

A Few Days Later

Simon held his daughter and set her in her car seat. Silas buckled himself up and was ready to go back to his mothers house.

As Simon pulled into the driveway helping his kids out of the truck, the front door opened and he turns with a smile on his face ready to tell her how much fun his children had at his apartment, but he sees her face.

She looked upset, and then he sees a bruise over her left eye and a red mark on her cheek.

"Y/n?"

"Thanks for bring my kids back safely," she says, giving him a smile.

"Hey...are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me," she says.

"Hey," Simon then cups her face. She doesn't move, it was like she misses his touch and his worried face. "What...the hell happened?" He asks.

"He-"

"Oh finally you brought the kids back, how was it, rug rats?" Duncan asks coming outside and Y/n moves her face from Simon's hands.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?" Simon grabs Duncan and Y/n ushers her children inside to not witness whatever Simon is going to do to Duncan.

Simon grabs Duncan's shirt throwing him to the ground, Duncan let's out a groan when his back hits the concrete.

"SIMON!" He stops whatever he's about to do, and starts pushing Duncan down the concrete stairs.

"Get the fuck away from my family!" He yells and Duncan starts to scramble to his feet and run away from the house. Simon was breathing heavily to stop himself from chasing after Duncan.

Simon turns to Y/n and her children hiding behind their mom, they've never, never, ever seen Simon like this before, it was almost like they didn't even know him.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, Y/n.

"Simon-"

"I know...I don't need to fight your battles for you...but when I saw you standing there with bruises on your body, I just lost control because I knew he was the one who didn't, you don't just get those from nothing," he says.

"You-I could've called the police!"

"Tell him to collect his things, I'll be here when he does show up. I don't want him near my children or you ever again."

"You're not my dad-"

"So, you want him to keep doing what he is doing?"

"No."

"Then call him and tell him to collect his shit, and I'll be here to make sure no funny business happens, do you understand?"

"Fine."

-------------

It was a week later now, Simon did what he said he'll do and he stayed in the house as Duncan and few of his friends gathered his shit and left, it was easy, a little too easy.

"Don't ever fucking come back, do not ask her for forgiveness, now fuck off, all of you," Simon says, slamming the door in their faces and he watched as they left the driveway.

"That was too easy, dad," Silas says as he stood next to Simon.

"I know..." Simon bends down to his son. "I want you to keep an eye on your sister and mother, anything happens, you call me or the police do you understand?"

"Yes, dad."

"I don't need protection," Y/n says.

"You do, if I'm not around," Simon says.

"Mommy, daddy, can we go to the park? It's nice out and I want to play outside," Luna says from the living room.

"Sure, come on, go get shoes on," Simon says. Y/n looks at Simon in a 'are you serious?' type of look, she wanted Simon gone, she wanted to spend her day with her children since Duncan was now gone for good.

"What?" Simon teases.

"Mama, are you mad at dad?" Silas asked, looking up at Y/n.

"No, no, I just...I just wanted to spend time with you guys."

"You can spend time with us, with daddy!" Luna yells coming down the stairs.

Y/n looks at Simon then down at her kids. Maybe, just maybe she'll let this slide once, she's only doing this for her children.

----------

Luna was going down the slide and Silas was at the bottom of the slides arms wide open catching his younger sister from falling onto the dirty mulch.

"I'm sorry, he did those things to you-"

"Could we not bring him up, please. I'm only here for my children, I'm not here...to be friends with you, Simon."

"I don't understand what I did for you to hate me?"

"I don't hate you Simon."

"Seems like it," he rests his chin on his palm.

"I'm just...annoyed...I'm not a Princess that needs saving every time I get into trouble, I can handle myself. It seems like every time you're over here, I'm somehow in trouble and you come to my rescue," she says.

"I know you're not a Princess, Y/n...and I don't mean to come to your rescue every time, but I can't just sit back and watch someone hurt you for no reason," he tells her.

"Mama! Luna is picking weeds again!"

"DANDILIONS AREN'T WEEDS!!" Luna yells at her brother while giving the brightly yellow flowers to Y/n.

"Thank you, baby," she kisses Luna's temple as her kids went back to play.

"I'm glad you let me come," Simon says.

"Again...I only did it for my kids."

"I know."

-------------

A month later now. Simon was waiting for his kids, Luna or Silas haven't said anything about Duncan in a while, or anything about Y/n since the park.

Simon sees his kids rushing out and Luna pulled on Simon's hand.

"What, Luna?"

"Mama, wants to see you," she says.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck and I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," she says as his kids get inside the truck he goes into the house.

"Y/n?" He calls out. "Y/n?" Once more.

"Upstairs," he goes upstairs and sees at the end of the hallway, her bedroom door open, he walks to the door, peeking through seeing her in a towel and she seemed like she was getting ready for work.

"Y-You wanted me?" He asks. Y/n turns and let's him in.

"Yeah, can you tell me which shirt would go great with my skirt?" She holds up a red button up and and black on, her skirt was just a plain black pencil skirt, black goes with anything, but why is she asking him? She already knows what will go good with the skirt.

"I think they both will look good with it-but why are you asking me?"

"Because...your opinion is a bit valid," she says, dropping the shirts.

"My opinion is valid?"

"Forget it," she says, she turns her back and Simon smiles, she was asking for his opinion.

Simon walks to her, his hands gently caressing her waist. She doesn't stop him, she misses his touch. It was always gentle and soft, he wasn't demanding for her attention or anything, he just wanted to know if his touch still had an effect on her, and it did.

He kisses her neck, earning a soft moan from her lips, her hand goes to his cheek to let him keep going. Y/n then leans back into his touch, his hands going to her towel and letting it lose and fall to the ground.

She turns and looks at Simon, his eyes roam all over her body, from her breasts and her perky nipples to her thighs that were squeezing together. She didn't cover herself up like she was embarrassed that he was staring at her bare body. For fuck's sake, Simon has seen her naked body before.

Simon picks her up and putting her on the bed, moving her clothes out of the way, he picks up her thighs and moving them against her chest, he leans down and kisses her lips.

His tongue along with hers dancing around, and soon her was messing the belt of his pants. He looks into her eyes almost like he was asking for permission. She slightly nods her head, allowing him to push himself into her, earning a soft moan from her lips.

He slowly rocks his hips back and forth watching her head go back against the mattress of her bed, her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to her chest and his kissed both sides of her breasts and then started to suckle on her left nipple while his hand kneads her right breast.

Simon starts picking up the pace her moans were loud now and with every thrust, her moans would go at a higher pitch. She missed this feeling of Simon being inside her. Duncan could never do what Simon does.

Simon looks down at her stomach seeing him just barely bulging from her lower stomach. He smirks and holds her face to let her look at him as he goes a bit harder now. Her nails dug into his arm from the pleasure.

"S-Simon." She moans.

"I know, baby, I know, you can come," he tells her, with a few more thrusts she ends up coming on his dick. He smiles and pulls out watching both of their cum mix together.

He goes down and starts cleaning her up, he then remembers.

"The kids! I need to get going," he says. "I love you, and I'll see you later, sorry for this all of a sudden."

Y/n smiles, he's so flustered, he's never been like that before, she rolls on her side to watch him leave, she gets up and starts cleaning herself up and starts to get ready for work.

She missed him, she truly did. She just hides it.

[salaimoi]

i wave goodbye to the end of beginning ˚. ✦.˳· ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader sypnosis: he wasn’t what you desired anymore, but he couldn’t let you go. months passed since your bitter breakup, and yet, he didn’t stop loving you for a second. cw: slow burn. angst for the sake of angst. falling out of love for no reason fr. unrequited love. alcohol consumption (gojo only) no happy ending me thinks, or maybe somewhat. who knows word count: 3.1k

author's notes: i’m mourning gojo and so should you! so here’s a piece of an angsty fic that’s been rotting, unfinished, in my drafts since march 29. i was only gonna post a sneak peek of this and suddenly the holy spirit took over me and drove me to finally finish it??? IF U EVER READ ANYTHING OF MINE PLEASE LET IT BE THIS😭😭i’m so in love with the reader crying scene u don’t get it. the metaphors?! i outdid myself. i am so terrified of the deep ocean, and the fact that i find myself writing about it during angsty hours says a lot about me. i can’t emphasize how much i adore this fic. i just love angst sm idkidkidk

also, this is my first time attempting angst for the sake of angst as well as slow burn (?) so idk if i’ll ever come back to this. not beta read.

Time and again, this mahogany dining table was the scene of numerous heartwarming interactions – mementos Satoru wouldn’t be able to replicate a second time, even if he spent a thousand lifetimes trying to do so. Sure, it was more than easy to recreate the scene, but not the genuine warmth the two of you felt in that moment. He could go to great lengths, such as hand-crafting every single piece of furniture in the room that bore witness – carving and polishing wood until his palms became more splinters than skin. But even then, he wouldn’t come close to reliving any of those gratifying sentiments from so long ago.

All the shared laughter at his trivial attempts at comedy had caught up to you; your smiles were forced lately, and he could tell. He possessed that diamond-blue, six-eyed gaze which consistently made you feel as if he could undeniably read your thoughts, but that wasn’t the case. Even a blind person could discern the unforeseen shift in your comportment toward him, and due to this, Satoru questioned himself relentlessly. 

What if he’d said something to offend you? What if he left the toilet seat up one too many times for your liking? What if he began snoring in bed but you were too considerate to say anything about it? What if he forgot a special date? What if he tried to offer you something you were allergic to? 

What if he stopped being the love of your life...? 

It seemed as if, in a fraction of a second, all the enjoyment you once felt had deserted you, and with it, your love for him. Had you forgotten how happy you were by his side all in the spawn of a few hours, or was this the universe’s twisted interpretation of a joke?

Even if it was, you weren’t laughing.

You told yourself it was fine, that it was a mere wave of sadness that would soon pass, but instead the harmless tide you paid no mind to had brutally swept your body into a sea of despair. Before you could process your predicament, the shoreline was well out of sight – blurring with the deep blue expanse of the oceanic abyss that enveloped your mind.

The longer you fought to stay afloat, the clearer the path became for the briny water to replace the oxygen in your lungs, giving you no choice but to drown as everything around you became a pitch-black, bottomless pit – devoid of any sense of worry for you. 

It was rather often that you were accused of abandoning the ship when things got bad, and yet, here you were – submerging along with it.  

How ironic.

Even he couldn’t save you now. The solace his mere presence bestowed upon you when you needed it most wasn’t there anymore. There was no more capability of initiating conversations with him when you were the only other person in the room, causing the once-upbeat and soothing environment to give way to one of silence and uncertainty; it was as thick as syrup.

Syrup. The sugary taste of it from when you consumed it during breakfast was all but replaced by a repugnant, sour one in your mouth. A persistent echo of those homemade fluffy pancakes you had turned down remained, even though he had made them just for you — his precious girl. 

You insisted you would eat later – an obvious white lie to mask your despondency and lack of appetite – but he spoon-fed you, because in his own words, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allow my girlfriend to starve? No, that won’t do. I’ll take care of you even after I've exhaled my last breath.”

“And how would you do that if you’re no longer breathing, genius?” you asked, a wilting smile on your face that you had put on display for him. 

“Well, my dear," he retorts with a smug grin. "I've always believed that love has a way of transcending the boundaries of life and death. And as luck would have it, our love transcends the mortal realm. I will always be with you, in spirit if not in flesh.” he smiles, a twinkle of amusement behind his sapphire eyes before continuing.

“Once I've moved on to the afterlife, I'll find a way to send you sweet nothings and a box of chocolates from beyond the grave. Consider it an eternal gift.”

He declares in a complacent tone as he lounges back in his chair, head resting comfortably on the back of his hands. 

"But in all seriousness," he then adds, his tone becoming more genuine, "I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're taken care of – even if it means making sure my eternal resting place has a Wi-Fi connection for you to receive my messages.” 

Your thoughts were entirely silenced in that moment; white noise overtook the black space within your mind. How had he managed to say such heartfelt words as if they were second nature? This early in the morning, nonetheless.

Would he actually…?

You knew he would.

"But let’s not dwell on my demise just yet,” his words bring you back to the present conversation. “Until the day comes, I promise to make the most of our time together. Besides, knowing me, I’d probably haunt you just to ensure you have someone annoying to keep you company."

He finally remarked, going back to stuffing your face with the soggy pancakes that had been sitting in syrup for too long. 

And you were cognizant of the fact that you alone were privy to this side of Satoru Gojo: the mushy, gentle one who tended to his companion as if it were a god-given mandate. 

To the public, he was a stoic, impervious character who had no dread of others. To you, he was far more vulnerable than he would ever confess. 

But that wasn’t nearly enough to deter you from taking the disheartening decision made later that day.

“I can’t stay here anymore.” austere words you didn’t wish to speak, but needed to, in order to provide some semblance of closure for the both of you. “I can’t love you anymore.” 

A hushed supplication could be heard flying across the room at the speed of light once your hand reached out to turn the bitterly cold door knob, hitting against the back of your head – identical to an equally-cold shower.

“Please don’t leave me,” he immediately protested weakly. 

He approached you with cautious strides, every step causing fragmentation in his all-too-frail emotional state. Even if it was ephemeral, the mutual love between the two of you had already left a blazing watermark on his soul. His feelings for you transcended the nagging rationality that bound his mind, defying all sensible objections he had on the matter of permitting you to depart from his life. Having failed to quell the ardor her felt, it persisted apodictically until he was an arm’s length from your frame. 

And that was exactly it – the same frigid sensation your hand clinged onto emulated the one you felt in your wretched heart the moment he approached you. You’d already turned your back on him and expressed every afflicting anguish that tormented your soul, so why plead now? Now – when you already made the conscious decision to leave him behind. 

Tears neither you nor he could hold back began flowing down your features. A familiar hand lifted towards your cheek soon after, wiping the salty residue off your delicate face with his thumb. 

He never ceased to remind you how gorgeous you were when you cried, frankly because the manner in which your wispy eyelashes retained the saltine tears in your eyes resembled the delicate surface of a tranquil pond.

Every tear you shed would become the gentle water that tickled his skin as his body wafted about in your iris – an eternal reservoir he’d swim in without tiring if the heavens so permitted it.

However, this occasion differed from the rest; the once gentle waters he yearned to lay in became calamitous waves, which may lure him to the ocean’s most profound recesses in the blink of an eye – your blink of an eye. He would usually stay afloat among that innocent gaze of yours, but tonight it was ruthlessly drowning him with no lifeline in sight. 

Even after he implored that your crying would come to a halt, more pungent teardrops bled onto his fingers. An eroding desperation flowed through you, aching to hold onto something, anything, in order to cease the mental decay within your subconscious.

Thus, your own hand extended to hold his against your cheek, a glacial embrace overpowering the warmth of his skin; an identical chill tickled his spine when he absorbed the crispness of your graze, but he paid it no mind.

“Not you too…anyone but you,” he pleaded in a low voice, causing more accursed tears of yours to cascade mercilessly as he embraced you in an endeavor to sway your decision. His voice was gentle and soothing, mimicking a caress you’d never experience a second time. 

“I’m sorry.” you muttered.

Being unable to bring yourself to meet the sapphire eyes that imitated a midwinter sky so perfectly, your head lay low; the only thing visible to him was the top of it. 

It was unclear what you were sorry about. Perhaps you were sorry that you had to leave him behind. Or perhaps you were apologizing to yourself that he was no longer what you thought you wanted with every fiber in your body.

You desired more in this life, and on your game board, he wasn’t a playing piece who could frolic alongside you. It wasn’t because you didn’t fancy his company, rather it was the fact that his own strategy of playing was one that did not catch your eye anymore; it had become a monotonous rehearsal. Every move came to be a discernible one to you – even before he picked up his pawn, causing you to lose interest in the entire game itself.

That realization alone shattered his entire world.

Satoru’s head lay low all throughout as he sat on a wooden stool amidst the empty bar. It was 2 a.m. and he needed to go home, but why should he?

You wouldn’t be there to greet him – or even scold him for that matter. 

Colorless, almost lifeless, marbles stared vacantly at the picture of you on his lock screen; he consistently spoke to your picture as if he were having a conversation with it. At this point in time, it had become routine. Maybe one of these days the frozen-in-time frame would speak back to him for once?

Just once.

Where had that tender smile he’d fallen in love with gone?

Where had you gone?

On a nightly basis, the same detestable conversation from that night redounded from one end of Satoru’s mind to the other incessantly – akin to a religiously recited sermon. 

It was impractical to disregard the harsh reality that sooner or later every cherished individual he held dear to his heart willingly departed from his life – Suguru, and now you. 

If it entailed becoming a regular person, he’d give his life as a sorcerer to ensure the permanent presence of at least one individual in his life. Where was the value of possessing such prowess when one’s vulnerability in the realm of love was inescapable? 

What twisted transaction was that?

He'd even willingly forsake his divinely bestowed talents for the purpose of altering the passage of time, thereby reverting to a period where your presence was far from being nothing more than a diminishing recollection. 

Ijichi had been dealing with this side of his boss for months on end. Regardless of his efforts to encourage Gojo to put an end to this melancholic act of his, he never managed to convince him to do so. Ijichi attempted the compassionate approach, but to no avail. His optimism and patience were dwindling, fearing that this would continue on for eternity – and perhaps it would’ve if he hadn’t stepped in.

This had to end sooner or later, and for everyone involved’s sake, it had to be the former. So tonight, he opted for a sterner, and perhaps more unforgiving, path.

Your car was parked out front of the bar Ijichi had sent you the address to – forehead pressed against the steering wheel as an audible, exhausted sigh escaped your mouth. It was late and you knew this was nothing short of inane behavior. You weren’t doing this for you; you had to remind yourself that you were doing it for him, with the hope that he would ultimately find someone who would be there for him in a way that you were unable to. 

Weary, almost weak, legs lead you to enter the desolate bar. A knife prods at your chest when your eyes dart over to where Gojo was. He kept his head lowered; the only part of him you could clearly see from this angle was his back.

An overwhelming sea of emotions plagued your mind when you witnessed him in such a state. You could feel the knives twist the longer you stared at the back of his fluffy white locks. 

Months had passed since your split, and you realized Satoru’s grief and distress were indeed as dire as his assistant conveyed to you during the phone conversation. 

A tap on his shoulder was accompanied by a sweet voice that had vanished into the depths of his consciousness a long time ago. Perhaps because he didn't wish to recall the agonizing memories that came with your voice, or perhaps because he needed to maintain a pristine, untouched image of you in his psyche.

As you occupy a vacant stool one seat away from him, your attention is drawn to the half empty vodka bottle in his grasp. 

“You know, I talked to your therapist. He said you were getting sober.” 

What you said held true, except you didn’t hear it from his therapist directly; Ijichi was the one who was initially informed about that, and being the caring person he was, he relayed the details to you. Mostly because he felt as if, deep down, you still wanted to know about Gojo’s well-being.

"What are you doing here drowning yourself in alcohol?" you added, seemingly concerned for your ex-boyfriend.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and bleary from the drink. His body froze. Blue pupils dilated in a mixture of shock and happiness. It really was you. Had you come back for him after all this time? 

"What does it look like I’m doing?" he muttered, his voice bitter and angry.

Satoru detested alcohol; it always interfered with his abilities, and being the strongest meant being ready whenever – no questions asked.  After your departure, though, he grew fond of the bitter, burning feeling the liquid provided. That sweet poison was the sole substance capable of muffling the eternal pessimism plaguing his mind.

You approached him cautiously, taking the bottle from his hands and setting it aside. "Come on," you said firmly, "we need to get you home."

He wasted no time to speak what was really on his mind. Even if it was for a mere second, he had felt the sensation of your touch once more. That was more than he needed to vocalize the thoughts that tormented his sanity. Either that, or it was the alcohol he had consumed speaking. 

“Why won’t you love me back?” His words slurred, being far too drunk to care, though. 

“…You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”

“What home? The one I bought for us that YOU left me all alone in?” he deadpans, the silence following being as deafening as a scream.

Ouch. 

“My room feels so empty if you’re not there. I see your precious face and I don't know what to do.” His expression dampens with anguish before he continues – somewhat unclearly, ”whatever I do, I cam’t fubking get you out of my head amd it’s ruining me.” 

“I told you to move on a million times every time you drunk dialed me, Satoru.” 

“If that’s what you wanted, why did you continue to pick up the call?” He retaliates, eyes glazed with forbidden tears on the verge of cascading against his pale skin.

You knew perfectly well why. He knew perfectly well why. Everyone Satoru vented to about you knew why, so why continue to deny it? 

Attempting to keep your temper in check, you take a deep breath, eyes darting back and forth between the door and him. It was more than easy to run away from your problems, like you always did. But not this time.

You owed it to him to at least finally stick around long enough when things got tough. You wouldn’t put up an invisible wall between the two of you anymore, not today. 

You sigh, taking the empty seat right next to him. 

“We can’t go back to how things were. We broke up, remember?” 

“I know,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his beverage. He shook his head, his drunken state making it almost impossible to focus his thoughts or his vision. “But maybe drinking will make me forget that we ever did. Maybe tonight I can pretend we’re still together,” his voice and face etched with sorrow.

His voice trailed off, followed by another long sip of his drink. 

“You need to quit drinking yourself into a stupor, Satoru. This isn’t healthy,” you responded, voice softening out of concern. 

His eyes still clouded with alcohol, he looks at you before speaking. “I don’t know how to move on.” He admitted, voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to live without you. I loved you…and I still do.”

He silently weeps once and for all, crumbling before the love of his life. You didn’t know what else to say, so you settled on simply allowing his head to rest on your shoulder; you always were his favorite shoulder to cry on, after all. Wrapping an arm around him, you pet his head as you lull him. Instinctively, he envelops you into a warm embrace, face burying itself deeper into your chest. 

As he continued to sob like a baby, the sorcerer allowed his emotions to flow freely – months of bottling them up into liquor bottles had finally caught up to him. 

He was beyond ecstatic underneath all the melancholy; not only had you allowed him to get closer to you, but even went as far as hugging him too. He couldn't believe it. Just a few moments ago, you were talking about forcing him to move on, but now – you were actually back in his arms, where you belonged.

He felt relieved for a moment, almost to the point where he wasn't thinking properly anymore. You were finally back in his arms, where you needed to be; he refused to let go.

It felt like a fever dream, but this was all he needed. Even if you’re gone, morning come, he’ll live in this moment for the rest of eternity. 

[alchemicaladarna]

I've had a little more time to gather my thoughts after today's events, and while I do still feel sad and upset that this particular chapter has come to an end, I'm still very grateful that it happened.

I'm so grateful to all the good it has brought so many people. Helping many communities around the world unite and be able to talk to each other, breaking down language and cultural barriers just to freak out about their favorite cubitos.

I'm grateful for all the memories we made. The good and the bad. The sad and the happy. The ones where we all laughed at the silly moments and cried in the tragic ones. I'll look back on them very fondly, and I'm so glad to have been a part of the journey for most of the way.

I never thought I'd get back to watching another SMP after the dsmp ended to be honest. I was just kind of there for that server because I joined at the very end and only watched clip compilations and stuff. So when I heard Quackity was launching a server with Spanish and English speakers with some CC's who I already knew previously, I thought, huh. That's a neat concept I guess. I might not stick around for very long, but I'll check it out I think.

So I began to watch Phil's pov and vods, and I'll never forget the first time I saw an egg live- and just how their characters and stories completely captured my heart in a way that I can't even begin to explain. After that, I decided you know, I might have to stick around for a little while longer. And lo and behold, a year later, here we are.

I also admittedly didn't watch every streamer's pov so I'm not knowledgeable in every character's story, but because of you guys here on qsmpblr, I really felt like I was a part of every community when I read everyone's posts, theories, admire art, or fics people would write too.

I've switched povs a lot throughout the year and I just wanna say thank you to the Crows, Doozers, Jaiden fans (I forgot what you guys are called I'm sorry D':) and especially the Ghosties <3 for keeping me company. I genuinely feel so blessed to have interacted with all of you. Thank you for having me.

And yeah Ghosties, because of your streamer, I'm permanently stuck in that bell now so thanks a lot /j XD

To every fan, on tumblr and elsewhere, thanks for keeping this project- the characters and all the memories we made of it- alive in the fanart and fanfiction. You guys all work so hard and are so very talented too!

To every admin who was part of the project. Thank you for pouring so much love and contributing so much of yourself to the server. It wouldn't have been the same without you. Regardless of if you were a builder, an actor, a writer, etc. you made this project beyond amazing. If it weren't for you, I doubt this project would have reached the same heights that it did. Thank you for all the love, the memories, passion, and care you gave to the qsmp. You all are the best <33

A special thank you to my fellow ghosties here as well. Bad has genuinely become like, my comfort streamer this last year, and I wouldn't have discovered him if it weren't for you guys going crazy over his lore on the dash XD

Thank you everyone. Thank you admins. Thank you CC's . Thank you everybody. This was a wonderful experience and I hope this won't be the last.

This place will always hold a special place in my heart but for now...obrigada, merci, gracias, and buenas noches everyone <333

[tiny-increments]

Keeping it together (is a fine, fine line)

Summary: Matthew Murdock is (predictably) terrible at taking a vacation.

Read on Ao3

[aioliravioli-69]

Detective Noir AU

Alright, this au has been sitting around, waiting for me to finish it but chances are, I never will :((

So instead, I'll just post what I have so far

This was inspired by that one comment on the au post the author made(at this point you could consider me a stalker for the amount of hours I've scrolled through her feed💀)

First things first, none other than our main character himself, Detective Hollow!

I made him the detective in this one mainly because I was basing it off of the theory that if there was no heroine the keyholder would simply become the hero instead(don't remember where I read this but I'm guessing it was the webtoon comment section).

I also my have just really wanted to draw him in an overcoat

gonna be honest, I did little to no research going into this AU, the thing I most tried to learn about was the femme fatale so I could get a good view on how to design Buddy

Speaking of the femme fatale:

Seems like someone got caught in the spotlight!

And before you ask, yes, those are pants. Weird ones, but pants nonetheless. I swear, I hate lighting when it's from the front. Frontal lighting can go fuck itself. Please ignore the little help lines I put in

Honestly, Buddy's outfit was probably the hardest part of this one. I wanted him to look slutty, but I didn't want to make it TOO slutty, but I feel like I may have added WAYY too many folds in his pantsuit and I kinda messed up on the overcoat lol. The diamond on his chest was inspired by the diamond on the villainess key more than anything and I tried to incorporate that into his gloves too.

Anyway, have some potential outfit sketches I made:

the two I thought might come off as too slutty and

the ultimate winner of the outfit ideas

As you can see the diamond chest window and fur coat were a mut in this outfit and I'm pretty happy with the end result

Y'all know how the femme fatale usually has to seduce the main character a.k.a. the detective?

Well, y'all know me so have an extra just for you <33

But I'm not done just yet!

Remember how I said that I made Chase the hero because of the lack of a heroine in the story? Well...

I did some more surface level research(and I mean very surface level) and decided to adapt the trope of the girl-next-door archetype for him!!

Don't think it suits him, since they usually just sit pretty and wait for the detective to notice them, but they do have badass roles once in a while and I live for those!!!

The one Chase has taken on doesn't though sadly :')

I decided to go with Charlie Hollow for this one because it sounded more like something the timid and 'pure'(yuck I know, but sadly film noir movies often prop up comparisons between the femme fatale and the girl-next-door, this being one of them) girl next door would have

Overall I tried to make this one as cutesy as possible because, why not lol

Lastly(I apologise, I made this in a rush because I was running out of motivation)

The distance between Buddy and the detective sure did close QUICK-

Originally I was planning on adding Deacon as a police officer and now that I think about it I could technically fit Prunella in here as well, but I just don't have any willpower left to keep this thing alive

My art blocks been acting up recently and I can't even pick up the pencil without immediately wanting to put it down :((

I wish I could have continued this and maybe I will someday, but until then this'll just stay in my drafts

[gentil-minou]

once upon a time, 很久很久以前

Once upon a time, there lived a magical boy who was lost far, far away from home… Wei Wuxian is perfectly ready to celebrate another mediocre birthday alone when a ten-year-old shows up on his doorstep claiming to be his son. This kid is convinced everyone in his town has been dragged away from their xianxia world and cursed to live as ordinary citizens in a mundane small town, and he's certain that Wei Wuxian is the key to saving them, his other dad, and their entire world. He sounds insane, but, well, Wei Wuxian likes him. Besides, what else can he do but follow him back home? (A Wangxian AU based on the show Once Upon a Time, no prior knowledge of said show necessary)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Transmigration, of the townwide variety, Amnesia, of the nearly everyone variety, Mystery, of the shenanigans variety, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Has Self-Esteem Issues, wwx is sad and down bad, Single Parent Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, except a-yuan runs away to find his other dad, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending

Wangxian + A-Yuan + Minor Characters | WIP 4/? | 52K | Rated M

Preview under the cut

Once upon a time, there was a boy who believed he loved the world more than it could ever love him.

He would be proven very wrong.

~

Everyone loves the birthday boy.

They especially love him several shots in on Halloween night, wearing an outfit that’s little more than a couple scraps of fabric hastily sewn together in some approximation of a “Sexy Whatever”. Privately, Wei Wuxian calls it Dealer’s Choice, letting whoever he’s currently flirting with decide what it is.

It doesn’t matter; that’s never been the point of the night. Sure a birthday is meant to be spent celebrating, but that’s a bit harder to do when he doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with. It would be fine, as long as he could have as many free drinks as he could score and at least a passably decent fuck, he’d consider it a good night.

Really, when it comes down to it, it’s just another day. Halloween, yes, which makes it a moderately better one. But beyond that bit of fun that comes with picking up a pretty stranger at a bar, there really isn’t much else to look forward to. This is how Wei Wuxian expects to celebrate his birthday:

He’d saunter into how ever many establishments it takes until he finds a pretty enough stranger he can stand being around. The pretty stranger would look him up and down, dragging their eyes over his toned long legs and resting far too long at the slope between his narrow waist and wide hips. And for that one moment, he’d be the most important boy in the world.

He’d get a few free cheap drinks and eventually, they’d find their way to some back alley with its familiar stench of overripe garbage and piss. He’d let himself be pressed up against the brick wall, rough against his back; the perfect distraction from everything else. Then the pretty stranger would stick their tongue far enough down his throat so that he could pretend this day is just like any other.  

In between sloppy kisses and sub-par groping attempts, they’d get his name wrong while he’d have already forgotten theirs. They’d mutter a “Happy Halloween, Birthday Boy” like so many one-night stands before them, and he’d giggle and laugh like it’s the very first time. It’s never difficult to plaster a patented smile and play pretend. Then he’d drop to his knees and let the world fall away.

Finally, after however many drinks and strangers it would take to make him forget, he’d stumble back to his basement studio with just enough awareness to take off his shoes before passing out on his secondhand stained mattress. His dreams would be fast and incomprehensible, a mosaic of imaginary maybes and a dream of a life he’d never had.

This is how he’s celebrated the last several years, and it’s how he expects to celebrate this year as well. 

Because it’s not just Halloween and it’s not just his birthday. It’s the anniversary of his parents leaving their son behind in a dingy alley, wedged between a dumpster and a pile of soggy cardboard. Not even the barest hint of an afterthought, like maybe we shouldn’t leave this small defenseless child asleep and at the mercy of sewer rats?

But if the liquor is strong enough and the haze is just right he wouldn’t remember that until the next morning. That’s what the night is really for. Not a celebration or anything like that, but a desperate attempt at some peace away from this life of his.

Tonight will be his twenty-fifth birthday, and it might as well not be at all.

And then it will end, and November 1st will come around, and the world will keep turning like it always does.

But somehow, not one of those things goes according to plan. In fact, the universe has a completely different plan for him this year, it seems. 

Read more on Ao3

[rosyjuly]

polite company

seb/mats/mick, seb/mick | 8k, E rated | ao3 locked

Mick hadn’t thought anything of it, weeks ago, when Mats made the group chat and sent a PDF with two tickets for a Dortmund game. Now that he’s been watching Mats shift closer and closer to Seb on the couch, it’s dawning on him that he should have.

this could not exist without @andreagrimes who is also deeply unwell about our favorite almost 2m tall bumblebee. special thank you to @janinaduszejko and @prettydangrotten for betaing and fixing the plot and encouraging me to let that [redacted] [redacted] that old man (men).

[blueskittlesart]

SOMJONE TIPPED ME FOR THAT COMIC HOYL SHIT

[solardistress]

everyone who is in the stanley parable fandom should somehow get sucked into the rabbit hole of the story and or characters and or the concept the game presents . not like ohhh i looove the narratorso much heres my design and lore for them for it kind of rabbit hole where you fixate on this character that like. you are making uo backstory for to the point it deviates from canon because youve gone too far from the game details or whatever but but really aanalyze the game the moments the dialogue for just a moment . mmfind the meaning in the words . find somethin g profound in the data the papers the desks the situation as a whole . you cant just . romanticize the characters. without. like. understanding them first . tou cwnt do anything with the characters until you inderstand them at a gut wrenching level . at least brush uo on their wiki once in a while ? play the game ? every now and then ? treat stanley right ? anyway if you like the stanley parable so much why cant you tell me about 432 and their situation . how profoundly sad their existance is and how you trea t them. how about cookie9? why do you hate themm so much. because of a review ? tou antagonize them for what ? the narrators doing ? bexause the narrator what . yeah . tou cant even explain his actions . go go play the game and hav eit rewrite your brain . go down the rabbit hole and bask in the true horror and unrealism of their situation

[guiltandrecourse]

a crisp 1/3 of the first chapter of this fic . god help me

[nerosdayinanime]

real quick before i go to sleep. come morning light (you and i'll be safe and sound) by fakecharliebrown

[puppydoggraham]

MY LOVELY LITTLE NICHE WATER PARK FIC IS HERE

[reploidbuddy]

Me: I want a casual fic, this shouldn’t be too long.

Brain: We got 3 parts for it though.

Me: Yeah but like 3 short things it’s fine. Or at least 3 not-so-longs.

Brain: Ok but like try to not go insane with it, the writing juice is hard n expensive these days.

Me: yeah yeah.

The fic: 25k words in and not even halfway through

Brain:

Me:

Me: A

[besidemethewholedamntime]

hello! it has been a long year but i’ve finally written something again! i hope it’s in character and my rustiness isn’t too evident but i’ll let you guys be the judge of that :p i hope you enjoy!

no less of a devil for that

Summary: 

“Actually, sweetheart-” and at the slow, careful tone his blood freezes. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh.” His heart starts to race, panic ensuing. He runs through the checklist in his head. Jemma’s upstairs with the twins. Alya’s at school. Marnie’s at nursery. His mum is on the phone. She sounds strange but not hurt. It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s alright. Everyone is fine.

“It’s about your dad,” his mum says, and for a second Fitz thinks she’s talking about someone else. It takes him a second to make the title match the man. “I’ve seen him.”

There's the possibility for Fitz's father to make an unexpected return. Post-series featuring emotional conversations and four adorable Fitzsimmons children.

Read on Ao3  or taste the first little bit below!

Fitz’s stomach now rolls when his phone rings.

It’s involuntary, a sympathetic reaction to too many years of deception and separation. Ironic, really, that a simple device used for bringing people closer together inspires such a fear of being pulled away, but it’s just one of a long list of ironies in his life that he doesn’t think of it anymore. Besides, it’s been four years since he left SHIELD, and there’s only a very select few who have his number. Like a lot of things, he’s learned to live with it.

All the same, the nausea usually dissipates when he sees who it is, especially when, like now, he sees that it’s his mum. But today it doesn’t. In fact, it intensifies.

“Hello,” he answers, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he folds the washing. Now a father to four children, it seems to be never-ending.

“Hiya, sweetheart. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, somewhat distractedly despite the ever-growing unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“That’s good, that’s good,” his mum says, though it sounds like she hasn’t really listened to him at all.

There’s a long pause. Fitz sighs in frustration. Alya’s red sock has somehow found its way into the whites load and now the twins have nice pale pink t-shirts and jumpers and hats and towels and… the list, like the washing, feels endless.

“Look, Mum, can I ring you back in a bit? It’s just I’m in the middle of-”

“Actually, sweetheart-” and at the slow, careful tone his blood freezes. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh.” His heart starts to race, panic ensuing. He runs through the checklist in his head. Jemma’s upstairs with the twins. Alya’s at school. Marnie’s at nursery. His mum is on the phone. She sounds strange but not hurt. It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s alright. Everyone is fine.

“It’s about your dad,” his mum says, and for a second Fitz thinks she’s talking about someone else. It takes him a second to make the title match the man. “I’ve seen him.”

“Oh,” he says again, feeling his hand start to shake. He puts the washing back in the basket and lets his shoulder drop from his ear. His voice comes out strangled. “Where?”

“At my work.”

“Your wor… what, was he like a patient or something?” His head is spinning. He feels sick. All of a sudden he’s ten years old again and afraid of the dark.

“No, not like that. He… well he came to find me.”

Continue reading on Ao3!

[stormspe]

A week before the Champion Cup begins, Leon comes home to spend some time with his family. But on top of hanging out with Hop, Leon has a special surprise in store for his little brother - if Hop chooses to accept it.

Hop and Leon's relationship in Pokéspe is really fascinating to me, and I started writing this fic as a way to explore the unique aspects of it. At some point it turned into this massive beast of a story because I love writing them so much. After languishing in editing hell for months, I think it's finally ready to see the light of day. I hope you enjoy it <3

Also on FFN!

[silkchiffon]

looking at you and my heart loves the view

superstore, jonah simms/amy sosa, 2.6k

A weight lightens in her at the sight of him. Amy goes to lower the window, but she struggles with the switch, accidentally unlocking and relocking her car a few times in the process. “Jonah! Hi!” she greets him a little too loudly once the glass is down. “Hey, Amy.” If he picks up on how flustered she is by his appearance, Jonah chooses not to comment on it. He just chuckles at the repeated clicking of the car lock instead, clearly endeared by it, and points at the empty seat beside her. “Mind if I call shotgun?” (Amy and Jonah go on a joyride.)