#I’m depressed and angry enough about living as it is

[dontflirt]

the kpop space is so tiring

[seasonallydefective]

Something that happened twice now in my life is able bodied people saying they want to help me, that they’ll take care of me in some capacity, coaxing me into situations where I end up reliant on them in some way, and then getting ANGRY and violently trying to get rid of me when it’s clear that my chronic health issues are difficult and not going anywhere.

And this isn’t a thing I’ve ever downplayed. Like many people suffering chronic illness, I have days where I seem pretty functional, and days where I need a mobility device or just plain can’t get out of bed. I also have days where I am putting all my energy into getting things done that Need to Get Done, but at the expense of everything else (I can work, but then I’m not going to have the capacity for conversation or feeding myself later that day). This is my normal. I’m pretty vocal about how much it sucks.

So when able-bodied people tell me that I’m being a downer, that I’m just laying around and doing nothing for my health, that they don’t see me actually trying, that me being honest about how I’m feeling is hard on them and they don’t want to deal with me any more …

It’s all really impacted the way I view myself and the treatment I feel like I deserve. Especially since these weren’t people I had some emotional distance from — this was a long term partner and a friend who called me family.

And just pure proximity to me was enough for them to decide that I’m a burden, my illness is my fault, and I deserve to have nothing because of it.

[arthur-r]

anyway i’m going to try again at sleeping but i’m angry and i think that’s fair!!!! and i’m upset that my frustration about not having answers or anyone listening to me, is supposed to prove that it’s all emotional and in my head. like trust me i know how it feels to have symptoms caused by brain. and i know how it feels to have symptoms caused by physical activity. hint: if it stops when i sit down, it’s not a panic attack. i fucking know myself and i’m tired of people acting like i’m an emotional crybaby for wanting my physical issues to be acknowledged. i work through this everyday and get told that i’m lazy or i have a mental block. and i’m tired of being misrepresented and misunderstood.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

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[stsgooo]

Haunted.

✩࿐ summary: geto had suffered enough, why should he let you go too?

warning(s): suicidal thoughts/idealizations, death, poor coping mechanisms, gn!reader, depression, isolation, description of violence, angst no comfort, curse!reader, cult leader geto things, character study vibes, not proofread (sorry). wc; 15.7k

pairing(s): geto suguru/reader, geto suguru/gojo satoru/reader (briefly), geto suguru/gojo satoru

a/n: hii, been a while since i’ve written an x reader fic so hope this abides by everyone’s standards :) as i finished this, i realized that this probably should've been multiple parts because of how long it is, but it was too far gone at that point. anyway, i hope you enjoy and if you don't i would rather not hear about it!

available to read on ao3. | divider 1

I. 2005

SUGURU WAS SURE YOU HAD A DEATH WISH.

Out of everyone, it seemed as if you had some crazy switch in you that just flipped during a battle. It was as if you got tunnel vision and your every move was erratic, death the only option. It did not matter to you whether you lived or died. Saving others was your main and only goal. That scared him to death.

You were powerful. Powerful enough where you didn’t need to go all out on every curse that even hinted at having some type of power over you or others. Yet you always found yourself in Shoko’s room, sporting one cut too many, and a bright grin as if you weren’t pushing the limit. You would wave away any and all concern with that smile.

I’m just fine, you would roll your eyes at their worry. Really, you guys, stop fussing so much.

Suguru had argued with you about it before. Both of you had been sent on a mission to some elementary school, few kids had gone missing. You found the curse, and the kids, and a fight ensued. It was nothing crazy. Not until you practically served yourself on a platter for the curse and told Suguru to run away with the kids. Of course, he didn’t leave. What kind of friend would he be if he just let you die? What kind of sorcerer would he be if he just ran away while you were torn limb by limb? He’d be a failure of a sorcerer and a failure of a friend.

It bothered him. It enraged him how easily you threw your life away for others. A hint of danger and you were willing to get yourself killed over it. The complete disregard for your life in the first year that you all knew each other irked his very soul. Your behavior was worrisome. It confused him.

The buildup to his fight with you was a lot to unpack in itself.

The car ride from the hospital the kids were at was silent. Filled with a tension that unsettled his heart and he was sure unsettled your mind. You made no attempt at small talk or passing a good job, it was just silent. He silently thanked you for it. Because he was sure if you spoke then, he would’ve blown up. He would’ve said horrible things. So he silently thanked you for your silence, your silent allowance to let him think. You even fell asleep and Suguru couldn’t help but ask himself how you could sleep so soundly after such a close brush with death.

Three days later, he could tell Satoru and Shoko noticed the tension.

He knew they noticed it the moment you two returned. Your clothes soiled, face covered in mud and blood, hands all too shaky. Maybe it was the way you walked away from his side to great them. Or it was probably the way he glared at the wavering smile on your lips as you told them everything went fine. It was most definitely that.

Shoko was weary of it. At lunch, she’d sit between him and you. Her words were light as she teased and prodded, but never dared to ask the serious questions. She kept the air free of the awkwardness or the anger brewing. Shoko was kind like that. She was optimistic.

Satoru, however, wasn’t.

Although he seemed to abide by the silent rule not to ask you questions, he was practically grilling Suguru any given moment. He asked what happened. Why was Suguru so angry? Why were you acting so standoff-ish? Had something finally happened between you? Did Suguru get rejected and was he throwing himself a pity party? There were so many things that he threw out into the open like it was silly. As if Satoru derived some entertainment from the tension.

Do you ever notice they’re ready to get themselves killed for others? Suguru had thrown out to Satoru a week after the mission.

Satoru’s eyes lost the amusement and his smile dimmed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. Of course I have. His voice was ridiculously serious and slow, extremely distant. As if recalling something he pushed to the back of his mind often. His attention had cut back to Suguru and shook his head. Man, it’s best to leave this alone. Trust me. Sensei will say something soon enough.

Suguru couldn’t help but worry that their first year teacher’s talk wouldn’t come soon enough.

Things just didn’t make sense to him. He just didn’t understand why you would be so willing to throw yourself into death like it was a blanket on a cold night. Sure, they’re meant to save people, but it didn’t mean death. Not everything had to be final. He feared that you just didn’t know it.

All of it came to a head when all four of you were placed on a mission three weeks after.

At this point, it was apparent that you both were avoiding each other. Different topics that neither of you wanted to address made headway into your dynamic. Distanced you both from one another like it was a bubble. A shield protecting you both from uncomfortable and frankly angry conversations.

But you did it again.

Sure, this time the curse was too much. Things weren’t looking too great for them. But the moment Suguru noticed you were missing from his and Satoru’s side, he felt panicked. He knew what was coming and knew what you’d say.

You caught the curse off guard as you jumped from the top banister, your large hammer at the ready. You shouted something along the lines that they should get out of there. But Suguru nor Satoru dared to run away. He watched, in horror, as you vanished into the curse’s mouth. As he was ready to summon his small arsenal of cursed spirits, the thing was cut from the stomach. Then you got its head.

There was silence as you stood amongst the carnage. Covered in the things purple goopy blood. Then you turned to them with that smile and Suguru lost it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls and converging on you. You looked shocked, eyebrows raised and faltering away from the pride to the confusion. He took in a shaky breath as he felt the built up anger from the past three weeks finally come up. “Do you have to throw yourself into danger like that?”

You frowned at him, then pathetically gestured at the curse. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Suguru pressed his hands against his face, letting out a deeply annoyed groan. “That’s not the point! The point is you threw yourself into its mouth! Like it was nothing!” He pushed himself forward to at least close the distance a little. Despite hearing Satoru’s soft protest, he needed to look you in the eye.

Your irritation was apparent as you furrowed your brow. “It doesn’t matter! Seriously, what’s your issue lately? You’ve been a complete asshole since that mission we went on. I thought you were just feeling bad for those kids, but you’ve acted completely different towards me!” Suguru could only clench his jaw at your obliviousness. There’s no way, right? There was absolutely no way you didn’t see what you were doing to them. To him. But when you said your next words, that thought was out the window. “Okay, so I threw myself into the middle of things, but so what?”

So what? So what. So fucking what?

Suguru felt something deep within him snap. As if there was a car underwater and the glass that was keeping the passengers safe suddenly cracked. His emotions, his clear mind, were the victims of the drowning. Buried deep under your ignorance.

“So what?” He snapped, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he regarded you with unsettled rage. “So what? Are you serious? Like, are you dumb or are you just playing with me because I seriously can’t tell right now!”

You flinched at his tone and he could hear the shift of rubble behind him. “Suguru, hey—“ Satoru tried to de-escalate the situation but he was ignored.

“Excuse me?” You uttered, glaring up at him.

“Whenever we go on missions, you’re the first one throwing yourself at the thing like it isn’t serious. As if there’s not a high possibility that you’ll die! Every single time.” Suguru had a finger against your chest now. He wasn’t even sure when he had reached out, but he could feel the curse’s blood on his fingertip. It was cold and thick. Uncomfortable. But you were covered in it like it was nothing. Everything was nothing to you. “So, I’m asking you: are you dumb or just acting like you are?”

Your eyes were narrowed as you regarded him. “I know it’s dangerous, but sometimes that’s the only option.” Was all you had to say in response.

“You shouldn’t be the first one to die every time!” Suguru was desperate for his point to get across. For you to understand that it wasn’t the matter that it was dangerous— it was the fact that you were so willing and ready to have everyone live without you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You frowned.

Just understand I care. That if you were to die right in front of my eyes, I’d lose it. I’ve only known you for ten months, but I can’t imagine a world where you’re dead. You’re one of my best friends— the first friend I ever made, please don’t make me live longer than you. Were all the selfish things that Suguru wanted to say. That he should’ve said.

Instead, he asked, “Do you just want to die?”

There was a very long silence that kept them all from moving.

The question was posed and he could see it in your eyes. Could hear it in the words you didn’t speak. You looked away from him, shame settled on your face. Suddenly, you looked small compared to your usual large and boisterous self. Have you always been this small? Or was this something he was just realizing now?

It settled in his mind, suddenly, that he was right. His assumptions, rash and brazen, were right.

It made him queasy, lightheaded, as he stared at you.

“Y/N…” He uttered with a pale face. He desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp your shoulder— make some type of contact. But his limbs wouldn’t move. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing or blinking. His mind just repeated the one fact he knew over and over.

You wanted to die. You didn’t care if you died out there, alone, because it was all the same to you. You were waiting for death as it was waiting for you. Like an old friend. You wanted to die.

Suguru felt the overwhelming urge to cry as it all settled. “You want to die?” He couldn’t help the whisper as he stared at you in horror.

Your cheeks were a deep crimson red, tears pooling in your eyes as you took a step back from him. “It-It’s not like that.”

Suguru slowly shook his head. “Y-Yo—“ You shouldn’t feel like that. Is what he wanted to say. But what good would that do? You knew that. You probably prayed you didn’t every day.

“I just— you guys are so important to the school and-and to me! If you guys died, they’d be scrambling and a lot of people would probably suffer. But if I died, then who would even care—?”

“I would!” Suguru couldn’t help the tears that collected in his eyes. Here he was, almost 16, crying in front of you. But he needed you to know he cared. That life wouldn’t be the same without you gracing it. He reached forward, grabbing your hands in a vice like grip. “I would care! If you died I would be miserable and I would miss you like crazy. Don’t say no one would care because, if it doesn’t matter that I care, then everyone would. You’re important to everyone. You matter.”

Your eyes were on him now, wide and unsteady as you regarded him with confusion and disbelief. “Suguru—“

“We would all care. Satoru would be so annoying without your stupid quips. Shoko would be miserable if there wasn’t anyone to get her cigarettes when she forgets. And I…I would lose it if you were dead. I would. I would lose my mind, I’d do something crazy like… like leave everything behind.” It felt wrong to say. To put such weight on you, but he needed to know the role you played. How important you are. He clenched his jaw in determination, eye contact unwavering as he squeezed your hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear on it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you.”

“Better than anything I could say.” He heard Satoru utter behind them, then the tell tale yelp that came after Shoko slapped him upside the head.

You didn’t let that distract you as you fell forward into his arms. Clutching at his uniform as you let out a small cry. He held you up and listened as you dumped years worth of pain into his chest. Suguru couldn’t ever recall seeing you like this before. He never really wanted to see it again. You didn’t say anything in response to his rather embarrassing ramble to you. No, not to that.

Instead, all you said in return was, “thank you.”

II. 2006

Suguru was in love with you and Satoru.

He realized it the afternoon in Okinawa, all of you walking through the aquarium as Riko pointed out various fish that she knew too much information about. Of course, he wasn’t listening. He was much too focused on you and Satoru. The both of you had snuck away to a gift shop— proclaiming that you needed mementoes and souvenirs for your friends back home. You adorned an octopus hat while Satoru had various fish stickers pressed to his cheeks. You both more resembled children on a field trip than highly esteemed sorcerers.

Suguru loved it. He loved you both.

It was a sudden and rather scary realization.

It came over him as you placed another sticker on Satoru's face. The both of you releasing absurd laughs that had no business sounding so lovely. He could feel the small smile blossom on his own lips as Satoru argued that he'd have the "gooey stuff" all of his face later, which made you promise to help him clean it off with a rag. Then you placed a delicate kiss against his cheek. It was so nonchalant, something they should all be used to, but it was always so jarring. Satoru stared at you with wide eyes behind his glasses, then he grinned. Wide and devious.

Suguru's heart soared.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to grab both of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. To promise his heart and his life to you both. It would be easy. It would be mere second nature to him. Suguru may just be realizing how deeply he loved you and Satoru, but he was almost sure that he'd felt this way since month five of your first year.

Surely, it shouldn't be a surprise. You three had been getting bold lately. Shoko was even commenting on it. The late nights in your room, the both of them curled up at your side. The domesticity of one of you returning to your dorm and being greeted by the other two. You all had a routine. A promise to come back through the door and have another fight of arguing over what's for dinner. Or something obscure that he wouldn't put up with with anyone else.

He just wanted to tell you and Satoru that he finally feels normal in the world. With you both by his side. That when he has your skin pressed against his, he feels like he could take on the world. That Satoru makes him feel childish and free like he couldn't be when he was a kid. That his kisses were sweet and soft. He just wanted to tell you that he loved you.

But Suguru saw your eyes stray away from Satoru's and the smile faded away. "We have to give her a choice." You said suddenly.

Both Satoru and Suguru moved their attention to Riko. The girl was standing in front of a expansive tank, watching in amazement as the fish zoomed by. The girl unaware of their watchful eyes as she turned to Kuroi and asked her to enjoy the fish too.

Suguru and Satoru had acknowledged that you were probably the last person who should be on this mission almost immediately. It wasn't that you weren't well fit for it, or that you would be too detached, or not want to get involved— it was that you had warmed up to Riko immediately. The girl had become your shadow. She asked about your technique and how "two idiots" like them were able to be in your presence. She amused you and you amused her. Then she asked you what you thought about her merger and you told her you thought it was something you shouldn't get involved in.

But Suguru and Satoru saw it in your eyes. They knew what you thought the moment Yaga had said the word "erase".

You wanted to save her.

"I knew you'd say that." Satoru snorted, leaning back against the tank they stood before. His eyes rolled upwards to look at the dolphin swim pass across from them. "You're always meddling."

You glared at him. "I don't meddle!"

"You do." Satoru said fondly. "What did I say, Suguru? They'd meet the girl and meddle, right?"

You snapped your eyes to Suguru who shyly stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "You did say that." I did not. Suguru used kinder words— like you cared about Riko and you'd probably not want to see her throw away her barely lived life for Tengen-sama.

You pouted, picking at the railing next to Satoru. "Am I that predictable?"

"Only because we know you so well." Satoru teased with a small smile. Then his eyes cut back to Riko who was gradually making her way further down the area. As much as Satoru would deny it, Suguru could tell that he'd come to grow fond of the girl as well. "What do you propose we do, exactly?"

Now Suguru was looking back to you. He could see the shock in your eyes as they snapped up to Satoru— as if you couldn't believe he was playing into whatever ideas you were tossing around. There was a spark of hope in your eyes and Suguru had to look away to prevent the smile that wanted to spread across his face. Instead, he'd let his heart do that weird skip it usually did whenever you and Satoru were particularly adorable.

"All I want is for her to have a choice," Your voice was compassionate as you started. The look in your eyes distant as you turned your attention towards the small tank in front of you three. The portioned tank that had different beta fishes separated. Together they're deadly. Apart, they find peace. Riko had explained. "The way she's talked about everything... the merger with Tengen-sama— that's what she was born for. She's proud of it. But given the choice, she wanted to spend her last day with her friends. She wanted to go to school and hang out with them because she knew she'd never see them again. Instead of really wanting to do this, she's just doing it because she feels like she has to. Where's the freedom in that?"

Suguru smiled softly at you. "So we give her a choice." He agreed with a small nod, finding satisfaction with the brightness in your eyes.

"We'll have to fight Tengen, you know that?" Satoru kept his eyes steady on Riko as he questioned the two of you. Both of you blink, obviously not having considered that detail. "They'll put up a fight— probably other sorcerers too. Freeing Riko might mean we leave Jujutsu High."

Suguru let his mind wander. Would he really mind if the three of you left? Not really. If the three of you have to fight Tengen-sama, then he'd gladly fight them by your side. If you both wanted, he'd destroy the world. Then gladly live his final moments with you both at his side. That was a fact that he knew to be true in his soul.

"I'll gladly do so." You answered without hesitation. Of course you would, you self sacrificial fool. A bitter part of Suguru said. There was no question that you'd put your life on the line for Riko. "If her choice is to live life, then I'll fight Tengen."

"And you'll win?" Satoru asked.

You raised an eyebrow. "We're the strongest, aren't we? Us three?"

Something about your words made Suguru 100% sure that he wouldn't allow you both to walk alone in the world. Together, there wasn't anything you three couldn't take on.

Satoru finally turned from Riko to stare at you with a self assured smirk.

Oh, Suguru thought with a stutter in his heart. He'd already made up his mind before you did.

"Well, well! I thought you were above all that we're the strongest crap!" Satoru teased, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you rolled your eyes. "Don't be so entitled, Satoru. You're making Haibara and Nanami feel less than, Satoru. You sound ignorant, Satoru. Look who's high and mighty now!"

"Oh, stop!" You pushed his arm away, but your smile was fond. You turned back to the beta fish. "Sure, it's a little entitled, but right now, I'm being nice."

"Thank you, thank you, my beloved royalty." Satoru dramatically bowed before you. You uttered something about him being dramatic, which went ignored. The white haired sorcerer reached over and slapped Suguru's arm, peeking at him fondly from behind his glasses. "Suguru, bow for your deity!"

Suguru was about to decline, until you spoke up. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Don't do that." Suddenly, he felt inclined to follow suit.

Both of them were now bowed behind you, uttering their dramatic praises as you blushed, attempting to ignore them as people walked pass and stared. Suguru peeked up at you as you watched the beta fish swim around. In that moment, he prayed that nothing changed.

Things weren't right.

Things weren't right but you were so calm.

Silently, Suguru could only shoot a thankful glance in your direction as the elevator creaked under the strain of four people. He could tell you were worried but your expression was determined to stay pieced together. Satoru was above ground, fighting against that man— Suguru couldn't think about it. It was too much in the mess of things.

The elevator came to a screeching halt and there was no hesitation on your part to push the doors open. You seemed quicker, your movements a little stilted as you exited the elevator and, instead of looking at the three behind you, you kept your gaze on the various entrances. He could tell you were irritated. He could tell you were worried. Or nervous.

No, you were scared.

His attention turned towards Riko and Kuroi who were exchanging a heartfelt, tearful goodbye. They clutched onto each other— Kuroi told her to be brave and Riko promised she would. Then they separated and Suguru promised that he'd come back once everything was done to escort Kuroi to safety.

The trek to the Star Corridor was long and quite.

There wasn't much Suguru could say to comfort you because there wasn't much he could reassure himself with. His worries for Satoru were overbearing in his mind and he couldn't try and fool himself into trying to bear the weight of your anxiety as well. Both of you knew this, so you didn't dare try to comfort one another.

There's nothing wrong. Everything's going to be okay. We're the strongest. Satoru will join us once this is over. Were the things Suguru soothed himself with.

"Is this...?" Riko uttered as they finally broke through to the outskirts of where Tengen homes themself.

"Yes," Suguru confirmed as he came to a stop beside the younger girl. "We're just outside of where Master Tengen resides. This is the country's base for primary barriers. The main hall of the tombs of the Star Corridor."

"Basically, it's their home." You said flatly, coming to Riko's other side, your eyes moving over the vast area. It was quiet, dark, and looked isolated. Nothing that brought any welcomeness for the eternity to come.

Suguru tried not to let his gaze linger on the woeful look painting your face now. He cleared his throat and pointed. "Go down the stairs and pass the gate. Then head toward the base of that huge tree. It's protected by a different barrier than the one around Jujutsu High. Only those invited may enter. You'll be protected by Master Tengen until the merger."

Riko's expression turned sorrowful as she followed the path Suguru paved with her eyes. This was the end. Her fun and the little life she lived was at its finish. She clenched her hands at her sides and made a move to continue forward, without them.

"Or we can turn back and go home to Kuroi."

Riko's eyes snapped to you. Your eyes were compassionate and a small smile graced your features that was more reassuring than any words that could be spoken. She looked a little pale, but the glow of hope suddenly appeared.

"What?" The girl uttered.

You turned to her fully, keep your expression soft. "When our taecher assigned us this mission, he used the word 'erase'. It's like, deep down, he knew something was wrong with this and, for a muscle guy, he doesn't usually beat around the bush." You looked like you wanted to chuckle at your own jab at Yaga, but didn't have the energy. Instead, you sighed. "I talked to Suguru and Satoru and we all came to the decision that if the kid who is the Star Plasma Vessel should refuse the merger then we call it off."

Riko's eyes widened even further and tears were on the cusp of falling as she stared at the both of you.

"We're the strongest," Suguru offered gently, offering a closed eyed smile to the girl. "No matter what you choose, we promise to protect your future."

Riko's lips quivered as her eyes bounced between you two and the vast nothingness of Tengen's home. She took in a shaky breath. "Ever since I was born, I've been told I'm special and different. Being special was normal for me. I've survived till now by staying away from danger... My parents died in a car crash. I don't remember it. I'm not say or lonely anymore." She started to fiddle with her hands as her words grew more unsteady. You moved to press against her side, hands rested against her shoulders. "That's why... with the merger, I thought I'd be okay... leaving everyone. No matter how painful it became, I believed that, some day, the sadness and loneliness would disappear."

"You just need the right person." You uttered to her, her eyes snapping up at you as tears silently streamed down her face. "You need that one person to prove that there's beautiful things out there— that there's kindness and love. I know. I understand, Riko."

The girl bursts into tears, a trail of snot ran from her nose as she shook with her cries. "I want to stay with everyone a bit longer!" Her voice seemed to echo around the two of you. "I want to go to more places and see more things with everyone! More!"

Both you and Suguru smiled softly. His hand reached out while you squeezed her shoulders. "Riko, let's go home." He beckoned her forward.

"Yeah!"

Suguru registered the shot last second, but it was too late for him to truly do anything.

He's never quite seen anything like it.

You were smiling, you looked free from your worries for one second.

Then you were falling. Your face slack and eyes blank. You fell against the ground with a deafening thud. Blood pooled around your head, chunks of your brain scattered across the ground. Your eyes.

They're so blank.

Suguru barely registered Riko's scream. His eyes couldn't leave you even as the girl screamed and screamed, hands clutching at her head as she stared at your body beside her.

You were just speaking a moment ago. You were smiling. How could this happen?

Your eyes are so blank.

"Y-Y/N...." Suguru uttered, eyes wide and face pale.

He felt sick. He didn't feel right. This wasn't right. Why were you on the ground? Why were you bleeding? Why can't he move? Why can't he breathe? Are you going to get up? Please get up.

Riko continued to scream. She just wouldn't stop. Her once hopeful eyes were now reduced to horror and terror as she smeared the blood covering the side of her face. None of it hers.

It's yours.

Your eyes are blank.

What are you doing? Get up. Get up. Smile. Just breathe. Get up. Please, I'll do anything. I'll listen to you ramble about those books you love so much. I'll buy you those disgusting snacks you crave. I'll do anything for you.

Please don't die.

Your eyes are blank.

"Oh," groaned a voice that rattled Suguru's soul. "I missed."

Suguru slowly turned his head to stare at the man. The one that had stabbed Satoru through the chest and had talked to him like an old friend. The one that was now standing, clutching a gun in his hand, pouting as if he was amused by his miscalculation.

As if your death was something he hadn't accounted for.

"How..." Suguru's voice doesn't feel like his own. It feels like he's out of body. As if something else is controlling him. He felt something warm on his cheek, but he couldn't reach for it. His limbs felt heavy, his hands cold. What was happening? Why did everything feel so muddled? "How'd you get here?"

Still, Riko screamed.

Still, your eyes were blank.

The man frowned. "How...?" Suddenly, he chuckled and pressed the side of the gun to his temple. "I see. I killed Gojo Satoru."

Suguru was swarmed with an unfamiliar feeling of rage. You and Satoru had once praised him for his ability to remain calm and level headed when things seemed to crumbled around all of you. He was the voice of reason— your moral compass. The map that lightened your way.

Suddenly, he felt like he was reduced to nothing but rage and this empty feeling in his chest.

Your eyes are blank.

Gojo Satoru is dead.

"I see..." Suguru growled, his eyes unmoved from the man across from him. "Then die!"

III. 2007

Suguru didn't feel right.

Although, he hadn't felt right for 11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds.

He hadn't been right since the moment you dropped dead.

Your eyes were blank.

He wasn't enough to fight against Fushiguro Toji. The man had ruthlessly downed him then killed Riko. It was like it was nothing. He came, he killed, then he left.

Suguru had laid amongst the rubble of Toji's doing and stared into your blank eyes. He still wasn't sure how long it was. He couldn't move and he could barely breathe as the blood from his chest trickled to the stone and concrete under him. Your eyes stared lifelessly into his own. Endlessly. A never-ending staring contest that he pleaded to end.

The entire time he laid on the floor of Tengen's barrier. His mind only repeated one thing.

Please get up. Please be alive. Please get up. Please get up.

Your brains had scattered across the floor and your eyes were unmoving but he spent so much time just pleading with you to snap out of it. He thought he was enough. He apologized for not being enough.

Please get up. I promised to prove it to you.

There was a point he passed out. He could remember thinking, thankfully, that he was going to die. And he swore he heard your gurgled call for him.

Then, he woke up.

Shoko had looked distraught. He could still remember the way she eyed him wearily through red rimmed eyes. Cautious as she told him that you were dead. As she told him Satoru was gone.

Gone. But not dead.

Suguru had, very briefly, rejoiced in Satoru's survival.

Shoko said she cleaned your blood off his cheek.

Suguru hated her for a while after that.

He didn't stay at the infirmary for long. Despite Shoko telling him that Yaga wanted to see him and that he shouldn't move around yet, he dragged himself away. He dragged himself to the cult. He dragged himself along the side walk with his mind flashing with images of your blank eyes.

Was that all death was? Nothingness? Did it comfort you? Did it welcome you? Was it everything you imagined?

His mind wouldn't rest.

He could remember as he entered the building. As he heard the resounding and endless applause. He mindlessly entered and was meant with a never-ending crowd, parting as they just clapped, and clapped, and clapped. It rumbled through his ears, bouncing around his brain.

Your eyes were blank.

When the crowd parted, he remembered the clench of his heart as Satoru, bloodied and blank, appeared. He carried Riko's body in his arms. Lifelessly moving forward. His eyes stared right through Suguru.

"You're late," Satoru had teased blankly. His voice distant and flat. It missed its usual punch. "No.... I guess your're early."

Suguru remembered the confusion that washed over him as he stared at the one he loved. "Satoru... is that you...?"

What happened to you?

"It looks like you saw Shoko." Satoru had sounded like he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. Or he didn't care. "Is Y/N there right now?"

Suguru didn't have the heart then. He could remember silently apologizing to you, but he hadn't thought Satoru could handle the news of your death amongst this room.

"Shoko fixed me up fine." His eyes had moved to Riko's limp hand and he felt sick. Her screams were still in his mind. He almost threw up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who messed up. Don't worry about it." Satoru had easily deflected.

Suguru couldn't handle the clapping. They just didn't stop. They clapped, and clapped, and clapped.

Your eyes were blank.

"Suguru," Satoru's voice had stopped him in his tracks. His voice was so detached and so odd. Suguru couldn't handle much change then. He couldn't handle hearing Satoru so different. Not then. "Do you want to kill them all?"

Suguru could remember the shock that shook his body. Could remember the bitterness that immediately followed. The realization that he would love nothing more than to unleash the worst on these people and sum their deaths up as their lives— useless.

"Suguru," He had sworn he heard your voice, distorted and all too sweet. His back stiffened and his eyes widened. "Do you hate them, Suguru?"

He did. He hated them. He wanted them all to burn. He wanted them to suffer. Suguru would've loved nothing more than to have heard all of them plead for their lives. To have the same terror that Riko had when she realized her life was coming to an end. To have that same blank look in their eyes as you had.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's pointless." Suguru had shot down emotionless. He still wasn't sure if he was answering that tiny voice in his head or Satoru, maybe it was both. Who really cared?

"Pointless, huh?" Satoru walked past Suguru and started to make his way outside. "Does there need to be a reason?"

"Of course, it's important." Suguru had easily answered. "Especially as Jujutsu Sorcerers."

11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds later, he believed that was all bullshit.

It surprised him how much and how little could change in a year.

The way everyone seemingly returned to normal and he was left in the past.

Suguru felt like his life was now segregated into two sections: Before the Star Plasma Vessel assignment and after the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. Before and after you.

He realized, quickly and bitterly, that the after you was worse than the before.

Before he knew of your existence, he was happy to be alone. He embraced the fact that kids at school thought him odd, unapproachable. That they would whisper about his habits behind his back. He was happy to know that no one wanted to be around him. It meant they didn't see what he saw. He didn't know anything else.

But the after you was considerably worse.

You had given him that breath of fresh air. That love that he had unknowingly reached out for his entire life. The way you and Satoru had touched him, he didn't even know his heart ached for that type of love. He didn't know he was depraved until you showed him.

He hated it. For a moment, he hated you.

In the first weeks after your death, he felt angry. He was bitter. Even as Satoru rubbed his back in bed. Even as he told Suguru it wasn't his fault. Even as everyone told him that you would hate to see him like that. He felt a hatred. A regret.

For months, he hated you.

He'd ignore topics centered around you. He ignored the day that Shoko and Satoru cleaned out your dorm for a new first year. He was stagnant and blank at the funeral your family held. When everyone walked up to recall memories about you, he didn't. He just listened and he thought that none of them truly captured you. They said you were kind, that you were funny, that you went our of your way to help whoever needed it.

If it was Suguru up there, he would've said you were selfish. That you always put your life on the line when it wasn't needed. That you were arrogant. That you could really make him worry.

But he loved you.

That's what he hated most. Isn't that the worst?

He hated that he loved the way he missed your hugs, your reassurances. He hated that he missed worrying about you. That he wouldn't ever see you again. That he wouldn't join you on a mission and be forced to listen to Yaga or fellow students worry about your sanity. He missed that sometimes you would play into Satoru's words, like saying the three of you were strongest together.

"Hey," Satoru called from across the training yard. Suguru barely looked up. "Have you lost some weight? Are you okay?"

Satoru became "The Strongest". His abilities were starting to blossom and it allowed him to work by himself. The higher-ups sent them alone. And Suguru hadn't felt more confined in his life.

"I'm just a little tired from the summer heat." Suguru easily explained it away, his hands buried deep within his pockets. "It's not a problem."

"Maybe you had too much somen noodles?" Satoru asked, niavely.

"No," Suguru wanted to snap at him. "It's the fact I can't eat without feeling sick. I can't taste anything except the fucking vomit of the curses. I hate it. I hate it. I'm always sick. I'm so hungry. But I can't eat."

Instead, he sighed. "Maybe."

The curse population was springing up like maggots. Everywhere and all consuming. The summer had been busy and Suguru truly was tired. In his heart, he started to blame the mess of last year for the increase of curses. It was easier to blame that than nothing. It was better to put a face to his suffering rather than blame himself.

The repetitiveness of his life was becoming crushing.

An endless cycle of exorcism and consumption.

Exorcise. Consume.

You had once asked him what curses tasted like. Under a beautiful tree and a beautiful night sky. You stared at him from your place on the ground. "Suguru, what does it taste like?"

"It's a taste nobody knows." He had explained. "Like ingesting a rag used to wipe up vomit."

Exorcise. Consume.

"Oh," You had uttered, a heavy frown on your lips as you pondered on it. "I'm sorry."

Exorcise. Consume.

He didn't need your pity then. But it had been nice. It felt nice for someone to pretend they understand the disgust, the bitter tang. He pretended that it helped.

"Thanks."

Then, you asked, "Would it help if you had mints?"

No. "Yes."

That first Christmas you all spent together, you got him mints. And, despite it doing nothing, he still popped one in his mouth every time. False hope that something could push down the disgust he had for his technique, for what he was considered special for. What lengths he went to save people.

For what?

Every since that day, the day you and Riko died, it's been running through Suguru's head. That everything he saw, Toji, your blood, your brains, the never-ending applause of the cult members— it was a hideous evil known to everyone. What he saw wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Still, knowing that, he protects them as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

"We can't lose our way." You had reassured one day when the curse you and him were fighting was particularly ruthless. It had killed so many people that the both of you hadn't been the same for weeks. "Don't lose your way. We just have to follow through with our duty as sorcerers."

The thunderous applause took over that of his heart.

"Monkeys." Suguru uttered in the shower. The first time he whispered it. His eyes unmoving from the wall as the water trickled down, down, and down.

Your eyes were blank.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

His hand clenched above him. "Fucking monkeys."

He snapped the water off and robotically dried himself off.

Suguru felt like he was merely living through the motions. That he was being guided other peoples words and the wind itself. He was merely a leaf being blown away. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to ground himself and force himself to take the wheel. To be in control. He could only watch on.

He found himself hunched over on the bench near the vending machines. He barely acknowledged the rain that poured outside. It was one of those days. Those days where the weather matched his mood and made it considerably worse. Maybe he could get away with hiding inside his dorm. Being curled on the bed and not appearing until the rain was well gone— when Satoru couldn't ask him if he's ate.

He closed his eyes in defeat. How could loneliness possibly feel worse now than it did then? He'd been alone for years before. Why was it worse now?

"Hi! Mister Geto!"

Suguru's eyes snapped open and dragged upwards. "Haibara..."

You liked Haibara. You said so on his first day. When he enthusiastically introduced himself to everyone— gave his blood type and his family history. You had laughed for twenty minuets. You said that Haibara was like a breath of fresh air. He had no idea what he was getting into and he was happy. Suguru said you were looking into it too much. You didn't agree. Then you invited both him and Nanami to join you all on a trip to Shinjuku.

You liked Haibara. He was sweet.

You liked Haibara. So did Suguru.

"Hope all is well!" Haibara continued, seemingly ignorant to the war raging on in Suguru's mind.

You liked Haibara. You trained him. He was sweet.

So did Suguru. "What can I get you to drink?" Suguru asked, pulling some change from his pockets.

"I couldn't possibly—" Haibara's eyes glanced at the vending machine then his eyes brightened. "I'll take a coke!"

Suguru couldn't help the little laugh that broke through his lips. Amusement in his eyes for the first time in a while as he gently dropped the change into the junior's cupped palm. Haibara pratically skipped over to the vending machine, dropping the coins in, and retrieved his coke.

Fully expecting him to carry on with a thanks, Suguru was a little surprised that he sat down beside him and smiled big.

"My mission tomorrow is pretty far away." The boy started, wiggling with excitement.

Suguru smiled softly. "That so? I'll be expecting a souvenir then."

"You got it! Something sweet or savory?"

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

This was the normal. It felt refreshing for everything to be so normal. A silent agreement amongst the second and third years to get everyone who asked a souvenir from their respective mission areas. It made for interesting foods or items. Silly things that he could place on his shelf or for him to take a bite and Satoru to steal the rest. Usually complaining about how no one ever gets him anything. Just like Okinawa when you picked that hat—

Your eyes were empty.

Suguru's smile faded away.

"Haibara..." He spoke, not entirely aware if his junior was speaking before he was. But Haibara's eyes moved to him with curiosity. He bowed his head once again. "Are you okay with being a Jujutsu sorcerer? Doesn't it bother you?"

Immediately, the junior took the question seriously. His chin rested between his finger and thumb, eyes narrowed in thought. "Hm... good question..." He uttered, a vague pout on his lips. "I'm not really the type to think too hard about things..."

"I don't think we should underestimate Haibara or Nanami." You had defended the two new boys against Satoru's beratement one day. Your eyes cut to where they were practicing against Yaga's cursed dolls. "We all started somewhere. I'm sure they'll surprise us one day."

"Giving my all toward something I know I can help with is a great feeling!" Haibara finally answered, snapping his fingers and looking at Suguru head on.

Suguru couldn't help the way his eyes widened. For whatever reason, his answered shocked him. It was a pure answer. Further proof that Suguru was different from everyone else. Proved that he was slowly losing a part of himself. Haibara hadn't been graced with the same tragedy he had. He didn't know the cruelty of people and was still hopeful.

"I see..." Suguru uttered, looking away once again.

"You're right." Spoke another voice that neither of them know. Both of the boys looked over to the woman that stood a few feet from them. She was tall, long blonde hair and she wore a smile on her face. "Are you Geto? What kind of girls are you into?"

Your eyes were blank.

He only stared in return.

"I like girls with healthy appetites!" Haibara answered happily.

Suguru frowned. "Haibara."

"It's fine!" He turned to Surguru with a bright light in his eyes. "She's not a bad person. I'm a pretty good judge of character!"

Suguru felt something in his chest shift.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

"You say that while sitting next to me?" He uttered, sparing the junior a sidelong glance.

"Of course!" Haibara didn't hesitate.

The woman laughed, resting a hand on her hip. "He was being sarcastic, kid!"

No, I'm not. Suguru almost felt compelled to say. But he didn't have the energy. There wasn't any point in arguing with this stranger either. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Something he would happily continue to stay true.

Embarrassed, Haibara excused himself with the woman quickly taking his spot. In an instant, Suguru drew back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is he your junior? Such an honest and cute kid."

Suguru couldn't help the distasteful glare he sent from the side. "As a jujutsu, he shouldn't be so trusting." He said bitterly.

The woman looked a little discouraged by his little jab, but continued on. "And you, Geto? Are you going to answer my question?"

"Answer mine first— who are you?"

The woman raised her chin, a small smirk on her lips. "Special grade sorcerer Yuki Tsukumo. Ring a bell?"

"You're the...?"

Yes. Yes, it did. Suguru thought bitterly.

He could distinctly recall you rambling on about Tsukumo. On how you wished you could be like her. Someone highly recognized and didn't care what the higher-ups said— just lived her life. To Suguru, it sounded like Tsukumo was kind of a failure. But to you, it was as if she was a symbol of something amazing. Proof that something that was suddenly attainable to you.

Suguru had been convinced you just had a crush on her.

"Nice! The what?"

Suguru clenched his jaw at her interruption of his thoughts. "The no-good special grade who doesn't take on any missions and just bums around overseas." He informed her flatly.

The woman's smile slipped away and she pouted heavily. "I hate Jujutsu High!" She fell back, her elbows rested on the back of the bench. She sulking. "Just kidding. But I'm not lying when I say we don't see eye-to-eye. What they do here is treat symptoms. What I want is to get at the root cause."

Suguru couldn't help perking up with interest. "The root cause?" He asked slowly.

"I don't want to exorcise curses after they appear. I want a world where curses don't even exist."

He stared at her in shock. A world without curses? He felt like he could almost rejoice. His heart gave a little skip and he almost felt like things were normal.

"How about a little lesson? Tell me, what are curses anyway?"

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Curses are created when cursed energy leaks from humans. It then gathers like sediment and takes form." He answered easily. It was something taught in their first year, something everyone knows.

"Excellent," Tsukumo encouraged, nodding. "If that's the case, there are two ways to create a world where curses no longer exist: one, eradicate cursed energy from all humanity. Two, teach humans how to control their cursed energy. The first one's not a bad idea. There was a model case for it after all."

"A model case?"

"Someone you're familiar with: Zen'in Toji."

Almost instantly, Suguru felt an anger rush over him. Toji. That was someone else that he tried to avoid thinking about. Usually, it only led to thoughts darker than when he thought about you. He thought about the various things he would've done to Fushiguro if given the chance. The slow and torturous death he would've given to him if he had the chance. He doubted it would eat away the hatred in his heart, but Suguru would take anything to have him suffer as you did. As he did.

"There have been several cases where heavenly restriction has reduced a person's cursed energy to normal levels. But to eradicate one's cursed energy completely... I've searched all over the world, and he's the only one who's ever done it. But that's not the only thing that's interesting about him. Despite not having cursed energy, Zen'in Toji was able to sense curses using his five sense. By eliminating all cursed energy, his body became sharpened to the point where he developed a resistance to curses."

A part of Suguru really wanted to tell Tsukumo that he didn't care. That monster died and he was glad to hear it. Even if he was the only way to get rid of curses, he was overjoyed that the man was dead now.

"Don't feel bad about losing him." Suguru scoffed, face blank. "I wanted to research him but he blew me off. It's too bad he died."

You smiled at Riko. You held her shoulders. You were going to take her home.

Your eyes were blank.

I killed Gojo Satoru.

"Cases of heavenly restriction are few and far between. So my focus is on two." Tsukumo seemed completely unaware of Suguru's mind raging on while she spoke. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Did you know, jujutsu sorcerers don't give birth to curses?"

That snapped Suguru out of his thoughts. He slowly dragged his eyes to stare at the side of the woman's head as she carried on.

"Of course, that's excluding cases where sorcerers become curses after death—" Do you hate them, Suguru? "—The amount of cursed energy that leaks from sorcerers, compared to from non-sorcerers, is extremely low. There is a difference in how much we consume and use cursed energy because of our profession. But the real reason lies in how it flows through us. For sorcerers, it flows heavily within us. If we're talking general terms— if every single human became a jujutsu sorcerer, no curse would ever be born again."

Suguru's world as he knew it, paused.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Those people. Humans. Non-sorcerers. They created the world that killed you. They created a world where he was alone.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"Then why not just kill every non-sorcerer?" He asked softly, not daring to lift his head or eyes from between his feet.

There was a silence between the two of them that made him tense up. He said something wrong. But why didn't it feel wrong? Why didn't the suggestion disgust him or make him sweat? Why did it feel like an idea that was meant to be said?

"Geto," Tsukumo finally spoke, voice slow and calculated. "That is an option."

What?

"In fact, that might be the easiest route!"

Suguru slowly lifted his eyes from the floor and stared at the woman next to him with wide eyes. Now, he felt it. He felt the sweat on his brow. It's an option. "What?" He uttered, tilting his head to try and meet her eye as she stared into the distance. "Um..."

"Weed out non-sorcerers and make them adapt to a jujutsu sorcerer based society. In other words, forced evolution. Kinda like how birds grew wings. Using dear and danger as a catalyst."

It's an option. Suguru couldn't shake his stare. He was holding his breath and just staring at her.

"But," There it is. "I aint' that crazy."

She looked amused, but she didn't know him. She didn't know his feelings and the fact that he hated—

"Do you hate non-sorcerers, Geto?" She asked it sincerely.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

His eyes went back the floor, ashamed. "I don't know." He started with a whisper. "I used to think jujutsu sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers. But recently, I've been doubting whether non-sorcerers are worth fighting for. The preciousness of the weak. The ugliness of the weak. I can no longer tell the difference. The part of me that looks down on non-sorcerers.... the part of me that tries to resist that feeling...."

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

"If being a jujutsu sorcerer is like running a marathon, then the finish line is too unclear." Suguru placed a hand against his forehead, hairs tangled between his fingers. "I don't know what I really feel."

"It's understandable, you know?" Suguru glanced at her with a frown as she eyed him contemplatively. "You watched your friend die, right? It's never easy. Messes you up. I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

You don't.

"Death and mourning something can really conjuring some nasty things in your mind. Like killing non-sorcerers— you want to take that anger out on someone. The anger for your friend's life being taken away." She explained it like it was so easy, as if she knew his next steps when he did not. "But looking down on non-sorcerers... resisting that feeling... those are just possibilities you've thought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you still have to decide."

The conversation didn't lead to anywhere else and Suguru was feeling himself grow more tired the more he stayed away from his dorm. He was about to excuse himself when Tsukumo asked for him to follow her out. She didn't say much on the way out and Suguru was grateful for it.

The woman got on her bike and waved at him. "I'll see ya! I was hoping to say hi to Gojo as well. Bad timing, I guess." She slid her goggles on. "As fellow special grade sorcerers, let's all three of us get along, okay?"

Suguru gave her his best smile, which wasn't much. "I'll send you regards to Gojo."

Tsukumo smiled, starting up her bike. She was about to ride off when she looked back at him. "One last thing. Don't worry about what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel. Whether there was another vessel or another vessel was born— whatever happened, Tengen is stabilized."

He didn't think it possible, but his hatred grew. Tengen is stabilized.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Tengen is stabilized.

Suguru bowed his head as she drove off. "I figured."

What the fuck had you died for, anyway?

Haibara was dead and he'd seen the body. The entire time Suguru thought of you.

As Nanami attempted to hold back tears, as he explained that they were caught off guard by a special grade, Suguru saw you in Haibara's place.

Both of you victims of a system created to protect people who weren't grateful. Who didn't even know you exist. People who had spared both of you not a single glance despite being so caring, so selfless. Who were they to put this unbearable burden on everyone's shoulders then act like you were different?

Haibara was sweet. You liked him. So did Suguru.

Haibara was dead. So were you. Suguru felt hatred build in him.

As he stared at Haibara's bloodied face, he had thought one thing: who would suffer for this death?

Gojo completed the mission. Gojo exorcised the curse. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.

Gojo.

Why should Gojo be the one wrecking havoc? When it was Suguru that was filled with rage? When he was the one that wanted nothing more than to harm the ones that caused this all?

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"What is this?" Suguru asked slowly, staring at the sight before him.

Two girls seemingly coward away from him. Their faces bloodied and bruised. The cage that contained them offered no comfort. Just the cold hard ground and the darkness. They shook under his gaze and he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He couldn't turn around and question the people behind him. He did not know what he'd do if he looked them in the eyes as they explained themselves.

"What do you mean? These two are responsible for the incident, right?" Asked one man.

Suguru clenched his jaw. "No, they are not."

"These two possess strange powers and often attack the villagers."

This was of your own creation.

"I already dealt with the cause for the incident."

"My grandchild nearly died because of these two!" Protested the elderly woman as if she realized that Suguru wasn't going to believe these two were responsible.

The blonde child leaned forward. "That was because they—"

"Shut up you monsters!"

"Your parents were the same! I knew we should've killed you when you were born!"

As the two adults berated the children, Suguru came to a decision. His heart was no longer torn in two. As he stared at the girl's, his resolution was made.

He lifted his finger and a shadowed curse sprouted. "It-It'll be okay..." The girls stared at him with wide eyes, almost relieved. If he were a different man. If he in a different mindset then, he would've cried over the relief that washed over them. "Do...Don't worry... it'll be o-okay."

He ignored how familiar the voice was, how familiar the words were. He'd grown used to finding something that wasn't there in the curses he had collected. The fact that the ones he barely manifested were the ones that sounded like you the most.

Suguru turned around to the villagers and smiled. One that he hadn't managed to conjure up in some time.

"Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?"

The two followed him out and Suguru wasn't sure what words he said, what movement he made, but he could see the horror in their eyes. As he manifested his beloved curses, the one people like them had created, he felt an anger bubble up. Emotions that he had desperately pushed aside in an attempt to continue his life were now running their way to the forefront of his mind.

The grief of losing you. The anger of the complete disregard of you life by the society as a whole. The fact that there was nothing left of you now. Nothing—

"Suguru, do you hate them?"

His body stiffened. His wide eyes dragged from the horrified, begging people before him, to over his shoulder. The shadow that loomed over him now.

He'd read about this before. It was some obscure book he found while researching previous curse manipulators. It talked about various things that he used to prove to Yaga that he was learning something. One section had piqued his interest, but it was never information that he'd use in random day-to-day. Vengeful spirits. Usually, this only happened after sorcerers die without jujutsu being used against them. Their very soul and spirit is corrupted and transformed into something horrible. Something darker than who they truly were in life.

As Suguru stared at the spirit before him now, he knew what he had inadvertently done to you. The way your large body curled around him, wisps of what should be hair floating above you, your body clad in an open and flowing kimono. What caught his eyes the most, were your own eyes. Despite being almost invisible, he was relived. They were not blank. Instead, they looked like they burned with the rage he had held back for years.

It was as if you were the extension of his very soul.

"It should be noted that if you find yourself attached to a vengeful spirit: You must establish a clear master/servant bond. As the spirit is attached to your own soul, they musn't be allowed to overcome you. If exorcism is not an option, then create a clear set of rules. Summon them only when necessary. Vengeful spirits are not to be taken lightly."

"Suguru, do you hate them?" Your eyes did not leave his.

This time, he didn't hesitate nor lie. "Yes."

He heard them whimper in fear.

You moved unnaturally, but he didn't care. "Do you want them to die, Suguru?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Your hand rested on his shoulder and he didnt even care if your talon like nails dug into his flesh. He watched, awestruck, as you turned your feral gaze onto the cowering villagers. "Can I hurt them for you, Suguru?"

Despite your state, despite what it meant for him, he couldn't help but feel the warmth blossom through his chest. He basked in the feeling of your brushed against his shoulder.

"Yes."

An unnatural smile creeped over your face and your shot forward, now clutching your katana.

All Suguru could think was: you're back.

"Suguru....what have you done?"

Geto adjusted his gojogesa with a emotionless mask over his face. The bags that had adorned his eyes for the past year were mostly gone. He was finally able to eat. His mind wasn't constantly ringing with that thunderous applause or the thud of your body. Instead, he was free. There was silence.

Except whenever you spoke.

"Where did you get that energy? Suguru, answer me!"

He had seen Gojo a week ago. He had said his goodbyes, vaguely masked as threat. Geto knew what they were now. Enemies by default. He knew it couldn't be long before the higher-ups found out about the village— known exactly what he'd become that night. He was a curse user.

God, was that a great feeling.

Geto was giddy that night. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt with his freedom. The happiness he felt as he held Nanako and Mimiko in his arms, trekking through the woods to the main street where he dragged them to his parent's house. That whole situation had been something in itself. Their anger, their confusion, the heartbreak for not understanding their son anymore.

Geto had simply taken what he needed for the twins, then left you to take care of his parents.

"You feel it, don't you, Gojo? You see them."

There was an assortment of things that Geto found himself doing after he defected. He suddenly found himself in the place of taking care of two twin girls that clung to his clothes and followed his every word like he was the Buddha guiding them towards enlightenment. There big eyes screamed the thank you's that he did not need or would accept. Still, he could tell that they were trying to prove that they were useful to him. Whatever that meant coming from a pair of 6 year olds.

The second thing he'd started was taking over the Star Plasma Religious Group. Although he heard they had disbanded a year prior, it appeared that they were just absorbed by another money hungry fool scamming them for every last cent they had. Not that he was about to go bad mouthing other people's methods for something he was about to do himself. It was surprisingly easy to take over a religious group when you had a vengeful spirit hanging off of you. The men, although easy to get on his side, he still killed. There was no point to their existence now. Not when he had his own plans outside from worshipping the likes of Tengen.

The last thing he was taking care of was you.

"....What did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. They're was always with me."

Geto's adventure back into the books covering vengeful spirits was actually welcomed this time around. As a younger student, he hadn't really cared to think about what would happen to him if he happened to die in a terribly normal way. But now it was something he regarded with the utmost fascination. The different descriptions of vengeful spirits made him ponder exactly what you were.

Violent and seeking revenge. Sad and lost. Unaware they're dead and seeking guidance. Plague that spreads death, leeching off certain hosts. Clingy, they seek approval from the attached for their actions. These spirits had a connection with the host in their life and feel something unfinished in their death.

He could remember the look in Gojo's eyes as his eyes strained to look over Geto's shoulder. The fear and the realization that washed over him. The anger in his eyes as he seemed to grieve over not only Suguru, but you as well. The waver in his voice as he asked Geto what he had done. It almost made Geto feel bad.

Almost.

Gojo had his life laid out for himself. The higher-ups knew what they could do with him. He was practically bred and born for his role amongst everything. He'd live and die the jujutsu society. Something that always unsettled Suguru, but something Geto accepted. He came second. Last compared to jujutsu.

At least he had you. It was you and him first. Then Gojo. He could make this work again. He wouldn't let anything happen to you again.

Geto shifted his attention elsewhere as he flattened his robes.

God, he really did look the part now, didn't he? Except, maybe, the hair. But he wasn't doing anything about it.

"This place is still a religious group to the public, are you okay with that?" Asked one of the nameless faces that Geto would encounter in his life.

He over looked the stage before him with a flat expression. "As long as I can collect curses and money, that's all right." He reassured.

The man frowned, looking at Geto with some vague confusion. "Are you really going out there like that?"

He let a grin spread across his lips. "Why not? Bluffing and looking the part is important."

"Master Geto..."

He spared the twins a soft glance, a reassuring smile gracing his features. He reached down and ruffled their hair gently. "Be sure to watch closely." He whispered to them, watching with a warmth in his heart as they smiled and giggled at one another. "Have they gathered?"

"Directors, representatives. The chairman. And a lot more money waiting."

Geto grinned, taking the microphone from the man, and making his way out onto the stage.

The last time he'd been in the building they were giving a thunderous applause for Riko's death and, by extension, yours. He had been waiting a year to see them all again. To look them in the eyes and find a proper way to make them suffer. To make them feel the same fear or suffering that you and Riko had in your last moments.

"Can everyone hear me? Thank you for waiting, I'll keep this short." He announced as he came to a stop before them all. Nameless faces, judgmental side eyes, questionable whispers to one another. They did not remember Suguru. But he would make sure they remembered Geto. "As of this moment, this group is mine. We'll have a new name as well. You all will obey me."

Instantly, there was a scattered rise of opposition in the crowd.

Geto's grin faltered as he listened to the various questions of exactly who was he made their way to him. He could hear the anger and the confusion. His frustration heightened.

"Well, isn't that a shame." He dragged a hand over his face, eyes grazing the crowd before he grinned one more. He tried to look as inviting as he could, waving a hand at one man in particular. "Mister Sonoda! Could you please come up to the stage? Yes, that's right, you!"

As the older man stood from his seat and hobbled his way up, Geto narrowed his eyes. Despite his smile, his eyes couldn't hide the contempt and the hatred he had for the man before him. He could see that he noticed in the way he faltered on the steps. But pushed through and stood by Geto's eyes.

He made eye contact with Sonoda, then— "Y/N."

He found it easy to summon you. To watch you tear away at the man who had so brazenly ordered Riko's death. To listen to the garbled expressions of hatred you exclaimed as you tore his enemies limb-by-limb. It felt like it was some form a justice. To finally see the horror in their eyes, the blankness of it all. Bittersweet for him to watch.

However, he couldn't stand there and watch you in awe forever. He had people to take under his control.

Geto turned his attention back to the crowd. Satisfaction grew in his chest as he saw the horror and shock fall over their faces. Easily, Geto threw the microphone away.

"Now then, let's try this again." He scowled at the crowd, feeling you loom over his shoulder once again. He used his thumb to brush away some of the blood. "Obey me, monkeys."

III. 2015

"Are you mad at me, Suguru?"

Things had been going smoothly for Geto in the past eight years.

The cult, because that's what he considered it, was running finely. Those who owed money, gave it to him, or else. Those who followed, followed with loyalty, or else. Those who served no purpose, were dealt with. He had created a normal amongst the congregation. A standard that he himself had wanted to watch them scramble to keep. A constant state of panic or devotion for them that fed into his, honestly, growing ego.

Things like his family kept him rather humble.

The girls had grown accustomed to their lives with Geto. They seemed to thrive and love under his care. All of them had grown to a routine that they cherished with one another. They even seemed accustomed to you. The fear and confusion of others wasn't found in their eyes or hearts. Geto never properly explained what happened after death if certain things didn't take place, but they understood anyone. They knew you were important to him— by extension making you important to them.

The other members of the family— Laure, Miguel, Manami, Toshihisa— had a vague understanding of exactly what a vengeful spirit entailed. Although, they weren't jumping at the opportunity to really talk about it. Laure had attempted once, but the conversation died out quickly due to the look on Geto's face. The man was quick to drop the topic once he saw the expression painting the leader's face. Allegedly, he looked ready to kill.

Earlier that day, though, Miguel was braver. And Geto was in a far clearer mood.

"How did it happen?" The man's deep voice asked gently from where he sat across from Geto. Once the confusion set in of his sudden question, he raised an eyebrow at the apparent shadow rested behind his chair. "How did they get cursed?"

Geto himself had thought about it for years. He wondered what point you had been damned blessed to be attached to his soul even after death. It took him a long time. In the mix of things, death and decay, the sharp turn of his ideals— he had barely any time to really think about what made you this spirit clinging onto his life.

Some books said that it could be the connection shared by the host and spirit before death. Others said that hosts had the ability to curse the spirit themselves. That their desperation and their inability to let go was the true reason that sorcerers would live on as something horrible. Something completely opposite as to who they were in life.

He had pushed the thoughts away before they could ever really come to fruition. The possibility that he had been the one to create you into this. The thought alone was enough to twist his stomach. So instead he ignored it. He lived in blissful ignorance.

"Just happens sometimes after death." Geto answered flatly, turning his attention back to his book. He knew there was curiosity amongst his family to know things about you. Afterall, you were considered a part of the family, but there was simply no room to have conversation with you. You either grew hostile or confused and sought Geto out for answers. "Sorcerers whenever they're killed by a non-curse way or something another.

"Hm," Miguel's hum had remained unconvinced as his eyes trailed back to you. As your fingers hovered over the corner of the seat, but you didn't peek out. "There was a couple in my village back home. They were considered the ideal relationship at the time— I was a kid and thought so too. They were kind people. I always enjoyed getting special treatment from the wife, she was like a mother. She was one of the only other people I ever met in my home country that could see curses. Everything was good. But then her husband went and died from sickness. There was something different from the moment she died. She went a little crazy and one day she went and got real angry. Then— boom, there's her husband. But he was different. He was like yours."

Geto hadn't really known what to make of that rather non-sensical story at the time. He had just stared at Miguel before nodding slowly in return. "That's tragic." He wasn't interested in the possibilities.

"Nanako told me it was hard on you when they died." Miguel carried on as if he hadn't very visibly paused for Geto to speak his heart out. "Said that you said it was the reason you're the way you are now."

There was moments where Geto felt frustration with the twins. Their willingness to be so open with the family. Their ability to talk about their emotions so easily. The fact that they couldn't keep a secret for their lives.

The conversation about you had come up when the house was particularly restless and they were morbidly curious. They asked what you were like alive. What he was like as a kid. What the both of you were like in high school. How did you die.

He had looked off distantly and recalled the details— although he left out the gorey, unlikeable parts. He left in the parts where he was sad, that he had a hard time. He explained it in a way that kids like them could understand and use later to make sure they didn't end up the same way. Isolated and full of hatred.

Then, he made the mistake of mentioning Gojo. Their questions fell on deaf ears as he wished them goodnight and tried to drown out the memories of his youth.

"Don't get on her case about it. She's was just curious what certain things meant." Miguel must've taken his silence as anger because he stared at Geto with pleasantly narrowed eyes. "Have you ever considered exactly what happened to them?"

The question wasn't hostile or had any nefarious undertones.

He might as well had threatened Geto though.

Your eyes were blank.

"Please get up."

Geto had quickly excused himself, claiming that he needed to head to bed. He didn't miss the disappointment in Miguel's eyes or the fact that he had tensed up as you drew closer. He didn't want to think about it. What had taken place before, during, and after your death. He didn't need the questions—

"Please get up."

Tonight he couldn't escape it.

Eight years worth of questions and mystery filled his mind. The things he didn't dare address or ponder upon.

Sitting against his headboard, staring blankly into the darkness, he knew exactly how things ended up like this.

Him, a pathetic boy, staring into your lifeless eyes— he had begged for you to be alive. He had laid there with tears in his eyes, a pain in his chest, and a wavering plead breaking from his lips. Before he had fallen unconscious, he reached out his hand.

He reached out his hand.

Your eyes were blank.

Geto knew that he had cursed you. That his pleads and desperately attempt at touching you one last time had somehow damned you. He didn't need to know how it worked. He just knew that it was his fault.

The disgust in Gojo's eyes, the heartbreak, the shock. It was all things Geto deserved. For he had robbed you of the eternal rest you deserved.

The tears collected in his eyes and, for the first time in eight years, he felt a heavy bought of regret press against his chest.

He's known you longer dead than you were alive. Two years of his life had ruled onto the next eight. He had let his grief blind him. He was desperate to not let you go. To keep up some illusion in his head that he would be able to keep you there. To not let you fade away.

Selfish. He'd never been selfish before your death.

"Suguru?"

Your voice, distorted and garbled, was not something that he wanted to hear in that moment. Whatever reason, you were beside the bed now, head rested against your arms. He barely spared you a glance as the tears spilled over.

Selfish. Here you were now. Some weird sense in you to come out and comfort him. He had done this to you. An eternity to comfort him.

Selfish.

"Suguru, are you angry?" You sounded concerned, an odd sound that it didn't seem to fit you now.

Geto clenched his jaw, flexing his fingers. "Only at myself." He uttered.

You inched forward on the bed, a heavy frown spread across your face. "Why are you angry at yourself?"

He finally dragged his eyes to you, lids heavy and face almost as lifeless as your own. "I cursed you." He said it quietly but it felt extremely loud in his empty room. He looked for any realization in your eyes, any type of anger directed at him, but there was nothing. You just stared in return. You should be enraged. "I cursed you. Don't you understand what that means?"

Still, you didn't look angry.

"You saved me—"

"No, no, I didn't." Geto interrupted, closing his eyes in mild irritation. "I didn't... save you. I cursed you. I-I cursed you to stay by my side as I kill. As I kill in your name, you should be angry, Y/N."

“But… they’ve hurt you.” You say it with such confusion and sincerity that it makes him sick.

It’s then that he realizes what this all meant.

If you were alive now, you would look at him with all the rage in the world. You would damn him. You would be disgusted. If you were alive you would probably try to get him to see it all differently. You would tell him that staying with Gojo would’ve been better than this isolation, than this constant feeling in his chest. You would’ve known better than him.

It was then that he realized that he still blamed you for a lot. He wasn’t sure if things would be the same if just Riko died. Or maybe if you all had lived. Would he still be drawn to the same fate only later? Sometimes he was hopeful that he would be the same. Other times he wished he didn’t. All of it led to one thing: his anger for you.

There were some nights he would stay up and think about what you would do in his position. You would forgive them, try to use death as a chance to grow. You were much kinder than him. Or maybe you would be driven insane. None of you had quite tasted death until that mission. You probably would’ve handled things much differently than him if you had seen where Haibara ended up.

Bitterly, Geto thought, you probably would’ve given up.

Your sadness was always prone to taking you down. To whisper those forbidden and nasty things to you until you just wanted to bleed. You admitted to him and Gojo once that you didn’t even think you would make it to high school once. It scared them both, but you always got back up.

Yeah, you wouldn’t handle the sadness.

With a clenched jaw, Geto reached out and held your face. “I made you into this. You only kill and feel that way because that’s how I feel. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you hate me?” He so desperately wanted you to see it from his point of view. He wanted the logic of it all to hit your brain and for you to finally finish what Toji and Gojo couldn’t— properly kill him.

However, just as you were in life, you would never take his life.

“I don’t care about those things.” You uttered in that distorted voice, those eyes of yours filled with emotions that he couldn’t hand pick. “Have I done something to upset you, Suguru?”

"No." Geto answered without hesitation. He pinched his eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I just want you to understand what this is."

He could feel your nail ghost over his thigh. "I understand."

Geto didn't believe you did, but he didn't have the energy to fight you. Not anymore. A part of him would always long to have a good long argument with you. But now it felt different. It felt as if it were all fabricated.

You were too agreeable now.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me.

But he supposed this was his punishment now. For being so desperate.

He rested his hand on top of your head. "Thanks for listening, I guess."

He can deal with the guilt later.

IV. 2017

Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

At least, a part of him was aware that death with a very high likely once he looked Gojo Satoru in the eye and declared war. Maybe even before that as he overlooked the mess of blood and limbs Rika had left behind at the elementary.

Either way, Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

"Hey," You had spoke one day as the three of them lounge in the courtyard. You had your uniform jacket open and your hair loose from the headband you wore to keep it out of your face. A good memory if it weren't for your next question. "Is it good to live a dishonorable life and have a honorable death, or a honorable life with a dishonorable death?"

"Huh? Why would you ask that now?" Satoru had pouted.

You had shrugged. "I mean, Yaga-sensei says that to be a sorcerer we'll have to live with our regrets, but he never talks about honor."

Satoru, in true fashion, rolled his eyes at you before taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Because it's a bunch of self righteous mumbo-jumbo." He had said through a mouth full.

"Whatever." Your eyes dragged to Suguru. Your face had blossomed into a soft smile. "What do you think, Suguru?"

Suguru had frowned, biting on his lower lip as he thought. "I think what we all consider honorable varies. At the end of the day, you'll have to look back on your life yourself and decide whether you lived it worth wild." As you and Satoru stared at him with raised eyebrows, he shyly shrugged. "Don't worry about how honorable or dishonorable you'll be to others— just live a life that'll make you happy."

While you stared at him with someone akin to awe, Satoru stared blankly at him before bowing. "Truly inspirational, Suguru-sama, please invoke more of your wisdom on us!"

You had defended Suguru fervently as Satoru crowed against your assault. Then, he had been unwavering in his beliefs.

Now, Geto Suguru, stumbling down the ally with a missing arm, knew that all was bullshit.

There was nothing honorable or dishonorable about death. It was all a matter how people viewed you at the time. No one would be truly satisfied with their death because there would be a long list of things they wished they had done or hadn't done in their life.

As Yaga had said, they would all die with regrets.

His plans to obtain Rika had been rooted from a place of pure selfishness. His need to find alternative needs that didn't include using you in the most indescribable and unforgiveable way. He knew, deep down, that if he had used you the way that he planed to use Rika's powers— he would never forgive himself.

He hadn't even wanted to use you against Okkotsu Yuta. But that kid was something else. Most definitely a protege of Gojo Satoru. He could recall the caught off guard look on Okkotsu's face once you appeared. The confusion and the shock that overtook him as you wrapped yourself around Geto Suguru. He had uttered something that made the man falter.

"You're like me?"

There were so many things something that could mean.

You're like me: you're cursed with a love by your side, permanently protecting you against things that you didn't think were dangerous.

You're like me: someone had died so close to you that couldn't quite detach themselves from your soul.

You're like me: you cursed another because you couldn't accept that death was final?

Yes, Geto Suguru bitterly thought as his drive to kill Okkotsu grew. I did.

Now, Geto Suguru couldn't even feel you brewing with his soul. He didn't even think there'd be a difference if you ever left him. But there was this odd sense of loneliness deep within him that made him sick (definitely had nothing to do with the intense blood loss). His stomach churned as his mind silently cried out for you.

Was this true death? Nothing left to hold onto, just the memories and emptiness?

You're like me: you can't live without them.

Geto Suguru fell against the wall of the alley with a bitter scoff. Of course he couldn't. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he spent the last 10 years attach his very life and soul around you. Tried to act like a big boy whenever he was asked what he would do if he was freed from this curse.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Your eyes were blank.

"You finally made it," Geto Suguru snorted as he shifted his eyes over to the looming figure feet from him. "Satoru."

There was something so jarring seeing him now.

Compared to when he arrived a month prior, Gojo Satoru lacked those bandages around his eyes. Those blinding and once comforting pair of sky blues were staring into his very soul blankly. Did he realize that he wasn't coming to say goodbye to you? To free you from a monster like Geto Suguru? That he had actually used you in a last ditch effort to obtain Rika?

He was sure he was aware now.

"You'll be the one to take me down, huh?" He kept a hold on his shoulder as he dragged his eyes away from Gojo Satoru to avoid the unbearable guilt that overcame him. Years of regret and what if's overtaking his mind. "How's my family?"

As long as Nanako and Mimiko were safe, he could die without regret.

"They all got away. Kyoto was your doing too, wasn't it?" Gojo Satoru's voice was as telling as it was 10 years ago. As saddened and angered as the day he had walked away from it all.

"Yeah, unlike you, I'm a kind person. You sent those two here knowing I'd defeat them.... just so you could trigger Okkotsu's growth." He had been thinking about it since the moment Okkotsu's eyes had darkened. The unbearable grief that took over the boy as he eyed his unmoving and bloody friends.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's called trust. People with beliefs like yours wouldn't kill a young sorcerer without reason."

Geto Suguru laughed. "Trust, huh?" He couldn't help the amusement flow through him. After all these years... "I didn't realize you still felt any connection with me."

His counterpart responded with a scoff. "Suguru." It was said with the weight of a thousand lonely days— as if Satoru had thought the same. As if nothing had changed. The man clenched his jaw, ducking his eyes from view as he spoke once again: "Any last words?"

Geto Suguru drew in a heavy breath, things were really getting hazy now— almost feather light. "No matter what, I'll always hate those monkeys." His words were said with the disdain and hatred of the past ten years. Then he thought about where he was 10 years ago. The grief and the isolation that overtook him. He grew quiet. "But it's not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu High. It's just that in this world... I couldn't wear a heartfelt smile."

Satoru stood there in silence. Seeming to take in the words carefully.

"Anything else?" He uttered.

Suguru frowned, ducking his head. There was one thing he had been thinking about for the past two years that grappled him in the most unnerving ways. "Do you think they'll forgive me?" His question was soft and barely there— he was barely there himself anyway.

Satoru scoffed, except it sounded more fond than before. "They were always too forgiving of us. If you're worried about your purgatory being apologizing to them for eternity, then you're fine— it'd be too easy anyway." He joked softly, except his blank expression didn't quite add to the comfort or joke of it all.

I'd spend the rest of time apologizing. Suguru fought the urge to say.

"I figured."

"Suguru," Satoru took attentive steps forward, crouching down to his level. Their eyes met and there was something almost tangiable in that gaze of his. "I love you. I forgive you."

Suguru couldn't help the shock that flushed over his body. As the pain seemed to leave him completely, he used the last bits of his strength to show Satoru a true smile. The only one he could really conjure.

"You could at least curse me at the end."

As Satoru stared at him, as Yuta Okkotsu celebrated with his friends the victory and their safety, and as Suguru took his last breaths, his eyes trailed over Satoru's shoulder.

You stared back with a kind smile. Looking more alive than you had in the past ten years, you wore the clothes you had the day you died, your normal boring uniform. Suguru hated to admit he missed seeing those terrible uniforms.

"Suguru."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {1}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: A year after losing your husband to an F1 crash, his teammate comes by and regrets never coming to check in on you. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression, mentions of blood, alcohol WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

It doesn’t matter how long the night may seem, dawn will find a way to fight the darkness and break in a new day. Another day without him. 

365. It had been 365 days since he left this world for an eternity among the stars. Even now, a year later, you struggled to say his name without spiraling into the abyss where you wished you could join him. 

“Racing is my oxygen, I need it to survive.” That is what he had said whenever someone asked him if he was thinking about retiring.

“I hate you,” you murmured to the picture of your wedding day, the bright smiles something that hadn’t been seen inside these four walls for a year. 

You could almost hear his mocking laugh and you sighed at the truth, you could never hate him. He was your other half, he completed you. You hated that he had left you and the emptiness that had remained in his absence.

“I miss you.”

A knock sounded at your door and you dragged yourself through the silent house to see what had been delivered. You didn’t want to have to interact with anyone, let alone on a day like this one. “Just leave it on the step.”

“Y/N?”

You stumbled at the voice and froze, wondering if it was too late to climb back into bed and pull the covers up over your head and hide from the world. 

“Please, Y/N, open the door,” Lando called out.

They had been teammates. They had been friends. The three of you had spent so much time together the media joked Lando wasn’t third wheeling but a part of a throuple. 

Your hand trembled as you reached for the stiff deadbolt, the harsh scrape evidence of how long it had been since it was last opened for a grocery delivery almost two weeks ago. 

After the funeral, everyone else moved on with their lives while you were left with dozens of decaying bouquets and sympathy cards that could never replace your husband. For a while there were phone calls and invitations but leaving the house had become daunting and eventually those had stopped entirely. You couldn’t blame them.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered as you opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you pointedly ignored his question. 

He shuffled on the doorstep as he shifted his balance about. “It’s the memorial unveiling today, I thought you might want someone to drive you.”

If you could feel anything, you might have felt angry. “I didn’t know there was an unveiling.”

“Shit, seriously?” He ran a hand through his curls that had grown longer than he used to keep them. “You should be there.”

He carefully stepped around you and into the house, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the stale air before he frowned. You couldn’t remember when you last opened the curtains, preferring the dark where you could sit in his shirt and pretend he was still with you even after his scent faded from the material.

Lando stepped into the kitchen next, opening the fridge and cupboards to find them almost empty before slamming them closed. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said lamely as he stormed across the room to grab your shoulders. “I’m fine. I was going to order groceries today.”

“This isn’t fine, Y/N!” He sighed and released his grip so he could pull you into his arms. “I should have come by sooner.”

You froze as you felt the first human contact in months and felt his heartbeat against you, the rhythmic thump enough to jolt you back into control and you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m not your problem, Lando.” You turned to the door that was still open, his comical Fiat Jolly parked in the drive. “You should go.”

His head dropped as he slowly walked past, pausing only a moment to say something before he thought better of it and shook his head, closing the door behind him. 

The road noise in the retro pastel blue car was too loud to hear anything when Lando’s phone rang so he pulled over into the next parking lot off the busy streets and found Oscar’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hey mate, what’s up?” 

“Where are you?” his teammate asked in a hushed tone. “The ceremony starts in five minutes and you’re the one who actually drove with the guy.”

Lando stared out ahead at the shop space he had pulled into and saw it was a food mart. “I’m not going to make it.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?”

“I’ll talk to you later, tell them to start without me.” Lando hung up without a goodbye and rushed out of his car, an apology sent to his friend in heaven. 

There was no knock at your door this time, there was just the quiet scratch of the pot plant moving across the concrete step before it was unlocked and swinging open. 

You didn’t even have the energy to rise from the bed you had crawled back into, there was only one person who knew where the spare key was hidden. He pottered around in the kitchen and you heard the doors opening and closing before his bare feet padded softly down the hallway. 

“Coming in,” Lando warned as the door creaked open and he stepped into your room. “I hope you’re wearing something.”

Before you could ask why he gave you the answer and ripped the blankets off the bed. Cold air rushed in and you shivered as you pulled the hem of your husband’s shirt further down your thighs. The orange and grey pattern on the shirt caught Lando’s attention and his eyes turned down before he turned away and opened the closet.

You weren’t sure if he was expecting to see one half empty but you hadn’t been able to box up a single item. You were clinging onto them, and the memory they represented, for dear life. 

He grabbed a casual dress he had seen you wear before and tossed it over, the soft cotton covering your legs. “Get dressed.”

“Lando!” He had already disappeared back down the hall and you groaned as you rolled off the bed and onto your feet. The material hung loose around your body in a way it hadn't before and the dress was no longer flattering as you stood in front of the mirror. 

It was the first real time you had looked in the mirror and you barely recognised yourself. Your skin no longer glowed, your hair was knotted and unkempt and your eyes held no life where they were sunken into your face.

Needing to try salvage something of your dignity, you tried to brush out the knots but the handle snapped and you stared at it in disbelief. Sudden rage hit you as you failed at such a simple task and you threw what remained of the brush at the mirror, shattering the image but somehow making your reflection more true to how you were feeling.

“Y/N?” Lando skidded to a stop, barely missing the shards of glass on the carpet. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you admitted aloud for the first time and your legs gave out as reality crashed into you. “I miss him so much.”

You didn’t feel the glass slash your legs or the sharp pain as they stabbed your knees. You didn’t feel the warm blood seeping into the carpet or Lando’s arms as he picked you up. You didn’t feel anything but the overwhelming sense of loss like a fist squeezing your heart from inside your chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Lando murmured as he sat you on the kitchen side and cupped your face. “I’m sorry I wasn't here.”

“I’m not your problem,” you reminded him as you shook his hands off your face. “You were his friend and I’m not an inheritance.”

“I’m your friend too. A shitty friend, but I’m going to fix that,” he said as he looked down at your bleeding knees, “starting with this.”

He went to the cupboard above the fridge to find nothing had changed and the first aid kit was still on the shelf you struggled to reach, but he easily did. You tried to get a bandaid from it as he placed it on the benchtop beside you but he moved your hands back and gave you a warning look.

“This might hurt,” he apologised as he broke the top off a saline bottle and started to rinse the blood away. “There’s some glass stuck in there - maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going back there, especially not today,” you said with a lick of venom and a shake of your head. “There’s whiskey in the back of the pantry, just give me some of that.”

He seemed dubious about the idea but knew how stubborn you could be and exhaled a resigned sigh before getting the half empty bottle. He looked at you through the clear glass, above the sloshing amber, and you could feel the judgement in that stare.

“I have trouble sleeping.”

He didn’t give you a response as he handed it over before getting a chair to sit on, placing your foot on his knee so he could try to get the glass out with a pair of tweezers. To be honest, you were numb to everything and didn’t even need the alcohol but you gulped greedily at the spiced whiskey. 

“What’s that?” you asked as you noticed a pot on the stove, steam softly billowing up, and then you noticed the mouthwatering scent. 

“Vegetable soup. You need to eat.”

“When did you get so mature?” The joke fell flat as he looked up and you saw the depth of his own grief that he let escape from where he had buried it.

“A lot has changed in a year.”

There was no appropriate response to be said so you took another swig and felt the warmth of the alcohol hitting your empty stomach while he continued to pull shards of glass out.

“All done,” he said as he gathered the rubbish and left you to inspect the bandaids plastered all over your knees and skins too.

“If you ever look for a change in career, nursing isn't the answer.”

His lips curled up with a small laugh as he checked the pot and gave the soup a stir. “You’re meant to say thank you.”

“Thank you, Nurse Norris.”

Lando returned to where you were sitting after lowering the heat on the stove and tapped his finger on the stack of mail beside you. He picked up an envelope with the F1 symbol beside the return address and flipped it over before seeing almost a dozen others just like it. 

“Your invitation is probably in one of these.”

“Did you know there’s a clause in the contracts for ‘surviving spouses’?” You laughed bitterly and tipped the bottle back, no longer feeling the burn of the alcohol rushing down your throat. “They send a cheque every month, the very people who killed him and I want nothing to do with, and if it wasn’t already bad enough, they send it in his name.”

Lando looked at the envelopes and frowned. “Seriously?”

You took the top one and ripped through the seal to show him the cheque address to René Gauthier. On and on, you tore them all open and Lando swallowed deeply as the mess grew.

“Do they think €10,000 a month is going to make everything better? Nothing they do can bring back my husband.”

“Nothing can fix what happened,” he said as he wiped your cheeks that you hadn’t noticed were damp with tears. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier but they brought in new regulations this year, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sometimes I wish he hit those officials,” your voice broke at the whispered confession. “He would have had to live with that guilt, but at least he would be alive. Oh god, I’m a terrible person.”

René had been labelled a hero for the manoeuvre he had done to save the lives of the officials that were in the wrong place. He had put himself into a wall swerving away from them and while they had walked away unscathed for their mistake, your husband had died for his. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re not a terrible person, Y/N,” Lando reassured you as he pulled your hands away from where you had hidden your face in shame. 

The alcohol had hit your system and you closed your eyes as the room swayed, your words falling unfiltered as your head spun. “Racing was his life, Lando, but he was mine. I don’t know how to live without him.”

The bottle disappeared from your fingers and you lifted your heavy eyelids to see Lando putting it on top of the cupboards out of your reach. 

“You find a way to live because it's what he would want.” He scooped you up off the counter and your head fell into the crook of his neck without resistance. “You find a way to live because we’ve already lost too much. I’m not going to lose you too.”

Click here for part two.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: charles leclerc x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: life is too heavy to carry, thankfully your boyfriend will carry it with you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of mental health and suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, heavy topics so please read at your own discretion

𝐚/𝐧: i’ll be honest this is self indulgent and i know i said i wasn’t writing but idk i feel so low and thought writing about how im feeling might help? ive struggled with mental illness my whole life so i find writing it out in a way i can enjoy helps…i hope it helps others that are in need of it too<3

Life is painful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s dark and gloomy, heavy and hard to carry, life is painful. Okay well maybe not for everyone but for you it was, and it was draining, exhausting really trying to survive each day instead of living like everyone else. Truth be told you’d struggled with mental illness for as long as you can remember. In high school the suicidal thoughts came into play and you had fallen into a place no one deserved to fall.

You’d hear people tell you to smile, cheer up, get outside and take in the fresh air, but they don’t understand. They don’t get the internal pain one feels when they deal with depression and anxiety, unless you live it: you don’t get it.

So yes, life was painful but there was an ounce of sunshine in your life and it came in the form of Charles, your boyfriend of exactly three years. The man who broke through the storm to bring you blue skies and calm waters, the man who held you tightly as you cried for a break, aching for a moment of peace within yourself. Charles was a gift, you were sure of it: he was too.

“my love…?”

His voice was soft, delicate as it filtered through the dark bedroom, eyes filled with concern as he looked at you huddled under the blankets, almost willing them to swallow you whole

“hmm?”

It might not have been a word but Charles would take it

“can I get you anything? do you need something?”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of covers shifting, your head peaking over the duvet

“y-you please”

Hearing your voice break was enough for Charles to promptly move from his place in the doorway, lifting up the covers on his side of the bed before settling down and pulling you into his side, letting you virtually melt against him

“okay, okay i’m here, it’s okay amour..”

“it-it hurts”

“i know baby, i know it does…but it will only hurt for a little, i promise you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but how many years would you have to suffer before it truly felt like you would never know how to feel okay.

“it’s hard to be here”

Now this caught Charles attention right away, having known your past with depression and even suicidal thoughts, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of you being anywhere than right here with him

“listen to me baby, i know it hurts, i know it’s hard, but i promise you i will help you find your sunshine, i will help you find your happiness”

He paused shifting to rest a hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping at a stray tear on your cheek

“i love you with everything in me, and i will do whatever i can to help you through this, if you need me to carry more of the weight, let me, if you need a shoulder to lean on more than usual, do it. you are my entire world baby, i won’t ever leave you out in the dark to take this on all on your own..”

Letting out a soft sniffle you looked up at him, always appreciating just how much love he held for you in his eyes alone

“why, i-i’m so sad a-all the time”

“because i love you. it doesn’t matter if your angry, happy, sad it’s part of you, i love all of you no matter what, and i am not going anywhere”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead letting you have a minute to just digest everything he was saying

“pinky promise?” you asked softly, holding your pinky finger out which brought a soft smile to his face

“pinky promise baby, always.”

Nothing else needed to be said as you curled yourself further into his side, his arms only tightening on you, as if to keep you from slipping away from him. Charles knew words only helped so much, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you blue skies back. Even if it took days or weeks, even months, Charles was going to be right beside you, every step of the way.

Life might be painful, but you never had to go through it alone again.

[strniohoeee]

because matt is so tough lately can you write something about reader trying to show him her love with cutesy thing but hes just tough and even snaps at her for lil things and one time reader starts crying and tell him how she feels and matt feels bad and apologize and then some fluff

Can’t You See?

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N can’t understand why Matt is being such an ass to her. She’s going through her own stuff, and tries her best to be the best for Matt, but it just not good enough🩶 I also combined it with this request reader starts getting depressed but matt is an idiot and doesn’t notice and even makes it worse by being angry always than nick and chris talk to him and then he makes it up with fluffy ending

Warnings⚠️: Matt is an asshole in this which is not at all how Id think he’d actually be, but I had to do it🤭 Hope yall enjoy🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: Mark My Words- Justin Bieber

So you heard it all before

Falling in and out of trust

Trying to rekindle us

Only to lose yourself

But I won’t let me lose you

And I won’t let us just fade away

These past few weeks I have been at an all time low mentally. It’s been getting harder and harder to pull myself out of bed and get stuff done. I hated this feeling because it destroyed my life outside of my head.

At first Matt was understanding and even tried to help me, but this wasn’t something he could help me with. This was my own battle. I had to try and fix myself. I hated to put this on him and his brothers because I didn’t want them to stop what they were doing for me.

I often removed myself from them, focusing on myself when I got like this. They always checked up on me, but I made it clear I was okay on my own.

Most days I would wake up and shower and just sit in bed for hours staring at a wall or scrolling on my phone. Often forgetting to eat or drink water. At first they tried to help me, but then they went on with their lives doing what they needed to do, and I didn’t mind. That was until Matt started getting upset

I was once again sitting in Matt’s bed today in complete darkness curled up in a ball looking at the wall just thinking. It’s crazy how fast time goes when you’re not paying attention. Suddenly the door opened the lights flickered on causing me to squint

“Have you gotten up at all today?” Matt asked bluntly

“I have” I said in a whisper

“Are you just going to sit in bed everyday and mope around?” He asked opening his closet to change his outfit

“I’m not moping matt” I said not even looking over at him

“Yes you are, I’m trying to get you to get up and go out, see some light, and all you can do is lay around and stare at the wall” he said scoffing at me

“You’re being a dick” I said to him

“I’m not I’m being honest, and you clearly don’t like honesty” he said looking through his closet

“I’m going through something right now, and I’m really struggling to feel better, so you coming in here and barking at me isn’t helping” I said to him

“So get up, like force yourself up and let’s go do something. We can go for a ride or to the boardwalk or even to eat….just something” he said

“I don’t want to get up okay, you don’t get it” I said back

“I do get it. Do you know how many days I wake up and I want to roll over and stay in my room, but I can’t because I actually have a job to do and content to create” he replied back

I turned over completely appalled at his words

“Actually have a job? We both have the same fucking job you fucking asshole” I said looking at him

“Well look who’s putting in the work and who isn’t” he said looking over at me

“You’re such a fucking piece of shit when you want to be” I said rolling my eyes

“I tried to be there for you, but this has been going on for so long, and it’s exhausting trying to help you” he replied slipping his shirt on

“No one fucking asked you to help me I said I got it on my own. I’m so fucking sorry my depression is taking such a toll on you” I said getting up from the bed

“It’s upsetting to just see you lay here and waste your days away” he said looking over at me

“Can’t you see?…..YOU JUST DONT GET IT” I yelled the last part at him

Opening his door and walking out slamming the door behind me. I was fuming and I needed to get out of the house immediately.

I grabbed my purse and my car keys from the table

“Hey you okay?” Nick asked me as I walked into the living room

“Yeah I’m fine your brothers being a dick” I said

“Classic Matt” Chris responded

“Where are you going?” Matt suddenly asked from the kitchen

“I’m leaving” I said with my back to him

“This is what it took for you to get up? Was an argument? It’s shocking how upset you get over small things” he responded

“Matt shut the fuck up” Chris said to him

“I’m not mad I’m disappointed that you of all people are acting this way towards me” I said finally looking over at him

“I was just trying to help you” he said

“Whatever I’m going” I said turning to walk down the stairs

“Where?” Matt asked

“Away from you. I need space from you” I said

With that I walked down the stairs and hopped into my car deciding to drive back to my apartment. Once I got home I decided to shower and listen to music while I cooked something for myself

I loved Matt but his communication skills were horrible. It’s crazy that this small argument put some drive into me to start doing stuff. I was filled with so much anger and hurt from Matt. This was not who he was, and I wasn’t sure if he was going through something himself, or if I was genuinely making him upset.

I allowed myself to hurt and cry in the comfort of my own home. Scared that this would cause our relationship to end, but also scared that it could be something I wanted too.

I slept it off that day, and hadn’t spoken to Matt in three days. I would text Nick and Chris letting them know I was okay, and that I wasn’t too sure what I wanted to do as far as our relationship.

Another three days went by, and it was a good week now since I last saw Matt. Around the fifth day he started to call me, but I ignored his calls, truly needing this time to think.

On the eighth day I felt better, and I really missed Matt. I wanted to make things up to him and make things right. I decided to go on a small shopping spree for him and write him a cute letter attached to a new stuffed animal I got him.

After shopping I decided to head over to the triplets house letting Nick know I’d be over shortly. He left the door unlocked for me. I made my way to their front door letting myself in.

“Hi guys” I said walking up the stairs

“Heyyy you’re back” Chris said

“I am” I said giggling

“Are you feeling any better?” Nick asked me

“I feel much better. I think I just really needed those last days to think about everything and figure out what I wanted to do” I responded

“Are you breaking up with his bitch ass?” Chris asked laughing

“No I came to apologize to him” I said

“Apologize to him? You didn’t do anything wrong” Nick said

“I feel like I shut him out and I lacked communication with him, and that’s why I want to say sorry” I told him

“Aww okay” Nick said

“He’s in his room” Chris said

I nodded and walked over to Matt’s room, opening the door to see him lying on his bed scrolling through his phone.

“Matt” I said shutting the door behind me

“Baby” he said getting off the bed and coming over to kiss and hug me

“I missed you” I said kissing him again

“I missed you too” he said looking down at me

“I brought you gifts to say I’m sorry” I said smiling at him

“Oh yeah?” He said nodding at me

I gave him the stuffed animal and the bags of stuff. He walked over to his bed placing the stuffed animal on his bed and sitting down to look in the bags

He pulled out shirts and beanies and a new necklace

“Why’d you get me this?” He said his mood suddenly changing

“Well to say I’m sorry for not talking to you” I said

“You sit around moping and then suddenly you feel better to go shopping? This is all so expensive, why'd you waste your money?” He said looking at me

“What? I’m confused right now” I said shaking my head

“You don’t talk to me, but you think buying me expensive stuff is going to fix us?” He said

“Matt, are you joking? I came here to apologize to you for not opening up to you and taking your advice. I wanted to spoil you with my hard earned money, and this is how you treat me?” I said scoffing

“I just wanted you to talk to me not do this shit” he said putting the stuff back in his bag

“I don’t know what happened to you Matt, and I’m sorry if you’re going through your own issues right now, but this is not you” I said shaking my head

“I’m fine” he said sternly

“You’re clearly not you’re snapping at me for no reason” I said

“I’m not snapping” he said

“You know what Matt. If you don’t want to be with me just say that, okay? I’m over this! I’m leaving” I said walking out of his room

I walked to the living room and Nick stopped me

“What’s going on?” He said reading my demeanor

“I don’t know what’s going on with your brother but that’s not the guy I fell in love with” I said clenching my jaw

“What’s wrong with this kid?” Chris suddenly said

“I don’t know, but I’m over it. I’m leaving” I said huffing out a breath

I left their house and headed back to my place. Even more angry than our first initial fight. Why was he being such a fucking dick?

Nicks POV

“Matt what the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked him

“Nothings wrong” Matt said scoffing

“You’re being a complete fucking dick to Y/N, and she didn’t do anything to you” I responded back

“She just makes me upset sometimes with how she does thing” he said back

“So then like an adult you use your words. You don’t just lash out like a child” I told him

“I didn’t lash out like a child” he said getting upset

“Yes you did, and you get upset easily. You need to figure your shit out, or she’s going to leave you, and I wouldn’t be shocked if she did” I told him

“You know what fuck you” he said and stomped to his room

Matt had sat on his bed running his hands through his hair looking down at the bags of clothes Y/N had got him. He let out a sigh and leaned back, suddenly landing on a stuffed animal and hearing a crunch of paper

He furrowed his brows and reached behind him, he pulled the stuffed animal out, and saw a note attached to the front. It read Matt with a heart next to his name.

Matt opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. He began to read and his facial features softened

To my beautiful boy,

I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to upset you, that's not what I intended. I’ve been struggling with my own depression, and it’s not something I want to put on you or your brothers because I know you go through so much daily. I appreciate you being there for me, and being my shoulder to cry on. I love you. I’m sorry if you’re going through anything yourself, and I haven’t given you the comfortability or time to express yourself. You haven’t been the same these past few weeks, and I hope it’s not something I’ve done. I care for you and I worry for you, and even though your words hurt me the other day I can not hold it against you. Deep down I know you’re fighting your own demons, but I just want you to talk to me. Our communication has been awful lately, and I’m not sure why. Please know that I’m always here for you no matter what. Rain or shine I’ll be there for you my love. I just want us to be how we used to be happy and in love. I love you with my whole heart Matthew!

Sincerely,

Your biggest fan

Matt immediately shot up, his heart falling to his stomach. Immediately he felt the guilt and disgust wash over him. How could he be so mean and awful to you? You have been there for him through thick and thin. You were his rock and he was treating you horribly

Matt jumped up immediately grabbing his keys, and running out to head over to you. In a hurry he walked down the stairs shouting to his brothers he’d be back home soon.

He got in the car and immediately started his way over to you. How could he hurt his baby? His number one in life. He was so hurt he couldn’t even focus on anything else. About 20 minutes later he arrived to your apartment complex, walking up to your floor and knocking on your door

You opened the door with saddened eyes, and a confused look on your face.

“You’re my everything. I have never wanted anything more in life than you. I have been the worst boyfriend to you during a time where you needed my support the most. You didn’t deserve to be spoken to the way you were. And for that I can not forgive myself for. I was a piece of shit and you tried to be understanding. If you no longer see a future with me because of how I acted I completely understand that” Matt said looking me in the eyes

“Matt? I….” I couldn’t even form a sentence I was shocked

“I love you, and if you don’t want to see me right now I get that. I will give you space and I will leave” he said turning on his heels to walk away

“Matt wait” I called out to him which caused him to turn back around

“You were a piece of shit and the things you said were awful, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I know deep down you're struggling with your own issues, and if you don’t want to talk about them that’s fine, but just know communication is key, and it goes both ways” I said looking at him

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry” he said letting his head hang

“It’s okay Matt, come in” I said pulling him in to my apartment

“It’s not okay. I was horrible to you and I don’t deserve you” he said sitting down

“Don’t speak like that. We deserve each other, you just have a hard time communicating, and I understand that” I said walking over to him

“It’s just seeing you so hurt and depressed made me so angry because I couldnt bare to see my baby struggling and not feeling like you were able to come and talk to me. It hurt me, and instead of talking to you about it I let that hurt turn into anger” he said

“I’m sorry for completely shutting you out of my life for those past few weeks. It wasn’t right, and that was a time I needed you the most and I just pushed you so far away” I told him

“I promise to communicate with you about how I feel so we can work everything out, I don’t want to fight with you” he said pulling me into him

“And I don’t want to fight with you either Matthew. I love you” I said smiling at him

“I love you too” he said letting a tear fall from his eye

“Don’t cry my love it’s okay” I said pulling him into me

Matt completely broke down in my arms

“It’s not okay I hurt you and I can’t live with the fact that I said such awful things to you” he said in sobs

“This will make us stronger as a couple okay, we now know how to go about our issues without it boiling over” I said petting the back of his head

“I’m sorry….im so fucking sorry” he said pulling away and looking at me

“It’s okay, I love you okay” I said wiping his eyes and looking at him

“I love you too” he responded

I pulled Matt in and kissed him. It was a deep passionate kiss. A kiss that we so badly needed.

Matt laid in my arms the whole night as we spoke to each other. Talking about our feelings and how we wanted to change. He listened to every word I said carefully and I did the same

Matt was my ride or die, and I could not live without him.

The End

Alright guys I hope both people who requested this imagine enjoyed it! I loved writing this one! And I hope yall enjoyed it 🤭🤭🖤🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[i-hate-what-ive-done]

Hey, I’m recovering from anorexia, you should too. Do not scroll away, you need to here this.

(Tw for the tags, ignore them. I just needed reach.)

Imagine waking up 5 weeks from now, still starving. Still dying. Still su1c1dal and depressed. You can see yourself like that, can’t you? Fine, but what about 5 weeks from now? 5 months? You won’t be alive by 5 years if you keep starving and self distrusting. This disorder will kill you, and do not say “good, I want that” because that is not you saying that. That is your disorder.

I understand you, and we are sick. Your thinking you’re just becoming healthy, you think you’re becoming worthy and lovable, you think you’re becoming beautiful and handsome. Well you are wrong. You have always been healthy, beautiful, handsome, lovable and worthy. This disorder is making you believe you never felt/were these things so it can make you believe that happiness/beauty/worth/control=skinny. Anorexia is a sick, twisted liar. It is not your friend. It dose not make you feel good.

Anorexia lingers before and after it’s truly here. It will shame your food, clothes, hobbies and family until you break and crumble into anorexias arms. Anorexia not only hurts you, but everyone around you too. Have you noticed how distant you and your friends are? Your family? Yourself? Anorexia thrives in isolation. It will make you angry and sad so you lash out at people, it will make you fear having fun with others, it will torment you and the people you love. It is hard to recover because anorexia is trying to break you just like before.

Are your grades dropping? Is your work becoming sloppy on the job? Do your sentences make sense? Obviously not, you are dying. Your body dosent have the energy to make you function properly. Your organs are failing, your heart is slowing down, your brain is malfunctioning. How many damn times must I say this? You are dying. You have something to live for, a sibling, a pet, a friend, a unfulfilled wish, work, graduation, hobbies, getting better at something, trying something new and even recovery. Do not let this pathetic parasite kill you.

Asking for help is horrifying, sometimes dangerous, but recovery is possible. You need to recover, you are thin enough, you are sick enough, you have been hurt enough. It’s time to live. So take that little energy you have left and get help. I’m doing recovery on my own, so if solo recovery works for you then that’s okay, as long as your recovering. Killing anorexia isn’t just eating a fear food or eating when your hungry, though. Recovery is embracing every insecurity, seeing where this truly started, healing our relationship with food, family, our body and how people have treated us. It will hurt and you will relive every trauma that started this, and it will be hard to not relapse when this time comes, but listen to me and not the voice screaming.

Recovery is worth every ounce of pain. Your fear, your guilt, your trauma’s? all gone. It will never disappear, but it will become a better memory. It won’t hurt to remember. It won’t hurt to be alive. I’m sorry this has happened to us, I love you. Never give up, hope is not gone, recovery is waiting for you on the other side. You are ready.

(national suicide prevention hotline.) 1-800-273-TALK

(national eating disorder hotline) 1-800-931-2237

(National alliance on mental illness) 1-800-950-NAMI

(Anorexia and related eating disorder hotline) 1-888-375-7767

(Substance abuse and mental health hotline.) 1-800-662-HELP

(National domestic violence hotline.) 800-799-7233

(National sexual abuse hotline.) 1-800-656-4673

[thefemalejoker42069]

okay this is gonna be a bit of a long rant (with some SA and CSA mentions so pls don’t read if that will be too much for you rn) but I’ve been thinking a lot about the “male loneliness epidemic” lately and I have some Thoughts ™

we live in very isolating, depressing and scary times. we live in a hyper-individualistic capitalist hellscape that seems to punish people who need community support. and I truly believe that we as humans should try to help each other out in the ways that we are able to.

but I lose 100% of my empathy for lonely depressed men when they start using their own personal issues as an excuse to peddle ideologies that advocate for rape, pedophilia, child marriage, sexual slavery, and even murder of women and girls. I don’t fucking care how sad you are, if you advocate for other humans beings to be subjected to the cruelest treatment possible then you either need to get serious help or die (and not take anyone with you when you do).

you do not have a fucking paramount on suffering. you are not the only ones who experience loneliness. I know you think women get to just pick and choose whichever romantic partner/friends we want, but that is false, and also being seen as nothing but a sex object by men is so incredibly isolating too. that’s not real love and connection, that’s only being valued for what we can provide for men. so many people feel so alone and it genuinely is a big problem.

I was raised in an extremely misogynistic cult that preaches that grown men are not responsible for anything they do to little girls bc “they’re wired that way.” I had very bad things happen to me before I was even old enough to realize what it meant. and you know what the excuse always is? “well it happened to him when he was younger too so he can’t help that he does it to you.” I learned very early that male suffering is viewed as more important than the suffering they inflict on innocent people. and despite going through this, despite seeing nearly every woman in my life go through something similar, despite all of this, I still would never ever sympathize with any ideology that preaches rape, slavery, sex trafficking, pedophilia, white supremacy, etc. and that doesn’t make me some super hero, it makes me a mildly normal person.

so no, nobody “pushed” you into your evil ideologies, nobody made you do that. if true suffering at the hands of the opposite sex is really the root cause of inceldom then almost every single woman I know would be the most insane incel you’d ever meet in your entire life. but they’re not, even though many of them are lonely and long for true companionship, none of them feel so angry and entitled to it that they want to murder and rape men or little boys. not a single one. the root cause of inceldom is, and always has been, male entitlement. men who were raised to believe the world and every woman in it exists to serve them in some way, but then grew up and realized that actually nobody is owed sex and you don’t get to force women to marry you and have kids, because we are human beings who deserve to be happy too. and this makes them so mad that they start thinking it’s okay to do whatever they want to whoever they want, because after all, nobody on planet earth could ever suffer as much as incels do when a woman tells them no.

I’m fucking sick of it. stop saying “they pushed me to this” and start taking even an ounce of accountability for your deranged, entitled mindset.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Favorite

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Female Reader

Summary: Santi figures out that Frankie came and saw you last night before he got a chance and makes you pay for it.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Mature Content, Exes Reuniting, Favoritism, Jealousy, Revenge Sex, Competition Kink, Praise Kink, Manipulation, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Come Eating (Accidental), Female Orgasm, Vaginal Intercourse, Woman On Top, Multiple Orgasms

Word Count: 2.8k+

A follow-up to FIRST

Read more of my stories HERE!

The expected pleasantries with Santi are cut short as you lead him into your living room, the warm glow of the table lamp doing little to hide the mark his best friend had deliberately left on your neck for him to see. You silently watch his handsome features twist into a frown as he begins going through all five stages of grief in a matter of seconds, depression staying just long enough before denial quickly counters it.

“What is that?” He touches you as if he hadn’t stopped doing so for years, as if it were only a matter of days since he last walked through your front door and kissed you goodbye.

“It’s nothing.” You lie in order to keep his hands on you, to relish in that feeling of him physically caring for you like he did so long ago before he up and left. His fingers are warm against your skin, rough and calloused as they press into your cheek, turning your face to get a better look at the mark. It takes every ounce of self control for you not to touch him back, not to fall into the muscle memory of your intimate relationship that you never really had the chance to get over.

“Nothing, huh?” He rotates your face from side to side, placing his opposite hand on your shoulder to keep you steady as he carefully inspects your new bruise. “It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing.” He loosens his grip on your chin.

“It’s just…” You wrack your brain for some kind of story to feed him, one that you might even believe enough to properly convince him of as well. Maybe you got distracted while you were curling your hair? Or maybe your massage therapist got a little carried away when they tried to do the new cupping technique? Or maybe…?

“Did Frankie drop by here last night?” He interrupts your thoughts with a slightly worried tambre. “Because he joked about coming over here after he dropped me off, but I didn’t think he was fucking serious.”

He looks up at you with those eyes, those eyes that could easily make you spill your guts within seconds of staring into your soul with their deep mahogany hue. Eyes that could lull you into a false sense of security, pulling you in just close enough for you to forget everything else around you. Eyes that could soften your heart at its hardest, change your mind, or make you agree to do things you normally wouldn’t want to do. Those eyes of his were much more powerful than you ever really gave them credit for.

“Did he come to see you?” He asks again, barely blinking.

Only you don’t answer; purposefully averting your gaze from his hypnotic stare. Maybe if you don’t look at him he won’t be able to see the truth that’s undoubtedly painted all over your face.

Silence.

He laughs to himself and brushes his palm over his face. “Aye pendejo,” he whispers under his breath. “I should’ve fucking known.”

“Santi, look, I…” you start without knowing where you could possibly finish.

“What? You think I’m fucking stupid?” Anger rears its ugly head as the tone in his voice starts to escalate. “You let him in here just like last time, huh?” He snaps his fingers before pointing in the direction of your bedroom. “Just like that? You let him slip in here even when you knew I was coming over here tonight?”

God, he looks so fucking good when he’s angry. There’s something about him getting all hot and bothered over another man beating him to the punch to get into your bed, even if it was his best friend; even if it had happened before. That territorial look in his eyes brings his face that much closer to yours, his full lips parting as they quickly fill with blood.

“You and I aren’t together anymore,” you remind him as his palm remains on your shoulder, his thumb gently brushing against your clavicle. “And how the hell was I supposed to know if you would actually come over tonight instead of just disappearing like you did last time?” You match his volume and intensity. “Huh?!”

More silence.

“I deserve that.” He hangs his head so you can clearly see the silver streaks as they weave into the rest of his charcoal curls. “Look, I know we’re not together anymore. I do. Of course I know that, but I just thought…” he sighs, pausing for what seems like an eternity. “But Frankie? Again? Really? No wonder he was asking who I was texting!”

“You can leave if you want to,” you goad him, bringing your face in closer with a tone you know will challenge him just enough to stay.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head and takes a second to chase away the disappointment by pushing you back up against the wall, keeping his grip tight on your shoulder. “He’d like that, wouldn’t he? Have his way with you without any repercussions?” He licks his lips as he stares at your hickey, running his thumb across your discolored skin. “Marking you like that.”

You can’t help but let a triumphant grin cross your face as you watch that seed of competition begin to grow within him, pounding through the veins in his temples as he stares at you intently.

“It doesn’t matter, anyways,” you say as his lips draw closer to yours. “He may have gotten here first, but that’s only because he knows that you’re my favorite.” You slide your knee up between his thighs, gently nudging his growing bulge as his lips part mere centimeters away from your own.

“Your favorite, huh?” His whisper dampens your lips as he smooths his palm across your shoulder until it reaches your neck, squeezing just affectionately enough to excite your senses.

Now we’re talking.

“He doesn’t know my body like you do, Santi.” You cup his face and stroke the stubble along his cheek as he continues holding onto your throat. “He doesn’t take his time with me like you always do, or put in the work to make my body crave you the very second that I see you...”

“Shut up.” His kiss cuts your words short, that all too familiar taste of cheap beer fresh on his tongue as it parts your lips with a hunger that rivals that of your early years together.

You find yourself nodding into his lips without uttering another word, bringing both hands up to cradle his face as he slides his other hand beneath your shirt. You moan into him as he palms the muscles in your lower back, pulling you in close to warm your core against his. You can feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, thumping in his chest as the heat between you begins to rise.

“How many times did he fuck you, last night, huh?” He lets go of your throat and pulls your shirt off, dropping it at your feet before quickly kissing you again.

“Just once,” you answer breathlessly, the shade of your lipstick now tinting his lips as he kisses your chin and jaw.

“Mmm, so fucking lazy,” he mumbles into your neck with a slight chuckle. He suddenly shifts his weight and turns around with you, pushing you backward onto the couch. Forcing you to sit down in front of him, he digs his hooks into you one more time by locking onto you with those blackened, lustful eyes. He smirks and slowly starts unfastening his belt, pushing his pants down his thighs at an agonizing pace while you carefully watch him with bated breath. “Show me the rest of your body, baby.”

Chills run down your spine as you nod again in response, watching him free himself from his clothes, his girth always a sudden shock to your system no matter how many times you’ve seen it before. You can feel the moisture begin to pool between your thighs as you find yourself instinctively doing as you’re told, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. You still can’t believe how lucky you are to have spun his jealousy around, unable to look away as he spits on his palm without breaking eye contact, stroking himself in such a languid, gratuitous manner.

“Let’s see how wet you get for your favorite, aye cariño?” He steps out of his shoes and pants before kneeling down in front of you.

The sight of his face between your thighs is almost more intoxicating than watching him stroke himself, his hooded lids adorned with lashes that brush your delicate skin as he presses kisses into your knees all the way up your inner thighs. Those eyes of his finally close as his mouth reaches your needy center, a muffled moan leaving his lips as he eagerly tastes your arousal. A ripple of pleasure moves its way up your body, pulsing through your core and up into your spine as he licks a slow, torturous stripe up your soaking wet length.

“Just what I thought.” He runs two fingers up and down your puffy lips before spreading them apart, focusing solely on the dew that clings between them. “You get this wet for Frankie last night?”

“No,” you can barely breathe your answer as he dips his fingertips into your entrance to collect the evidence, spreading it up and over your clit.

It isn’t until just now that you remember Frankie’s words from before: ‘I want him to taste my come when he goes down on you tomorrow night’; a promise that sounded more like a threat at the time. Was it possible that Frankie could still be oozing out of you even now? Changing the way you taste to your former lover? Or had your own juices been enough to disguise the remnants of his release as Santi painstakingly splays you open?

Guess you’ll never know.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He raises an eyebrow as he runs his fingers back down, delving them deep inside your walls without warning.

“Never,” you admit with a gasp, holding your breath as the ridges of his calloused fingers glide over that special spot inside, pushing and pulling against it as his thumb rubs slow, tantalizing circles into your swollen bud.

“Good.” His tongue quickly takes over again, greedily lapping up your slick in a perfectly blissful pattern, his spit now mixing with your sex and Santi’s release as it drips out of you and down the crevices between your cheeks.

His unmatched oral skills nearly send you into a dreamlike state as that ripple from before spreads throughout your entire body. It wades through your nervous system, expanding in diameter as it reaches new heights and widths, washing over you in varying waves of delight. The rhythm of his fingers speeds up as your hips roll into them, instinctively moving with the rush of ecstasy he sucks into your clit by eventually pulling it into his mouth and past his teeth.

Without even stopping to take a breath, his mouth massages that last bit of pleasure into your deliciously sensitive bud without an ounce of mercy. His groans vibrate against your skin as your body trembles beneath him, succumbing to his expert ministrations as you find yourself drowning in the euphoria that only he could deliver in such a skilled, efficient manner. You cry out his name as that delectable feeling rips through you in a matter of seconds, bursting through every vein and artery in your body until the waters inside you eventually ebb to a calm, still state.

“I almost forgot how beautiful you look when I make you come.” He finally says, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as your moisture glistens across his face.

“Jesus,” you huff, nearly jolting away as he pulls his fingers out, grazing them over your clit one more time before rising to his feet. “I almost forgot how good you are at that.”

“Better than our boy Frankie?” He sits down next to you on the couch and grabs onto your hips, pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion.

“Are you kidding?” You try to catch your breath as you settle onto the tops of his thighs, not yet ready for his cock as it stands at full attention against his stomach. “He didn’t even do that for me.”

“Amateur,” Santi whispers before kissing you, taking the time to spread your flavor into every corner of your mouth as his hands delicately venture up your backside and into your hairline.

You could almost convince yourself that things were how they used to be when you’re facing him like this, kissing each other as if you’re dying to know what each other tastes like for the very first time. You could get lost in the smell of his sweat and cologne that haven’t changed in all these years, relish in the warmth of his hands as they caress your shaking muscles, and delight in the distinct taste of his kiss. If you tried hard enough, you could almost convince yourself that you still slept together in the same bed, lived in the same house and ate your meals at the same time together; but all that had come and gone. All you have now is this.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” you mumble to bring yourself out of that unhelpful line of thinking, playfully running your fingers through his hair.

“Of course I do, I taste like your pussy.” He nips at your bottom lip before kissing you again, giving you another opportunity to savor that tartness between your legs before suddenly pulling away. “Now why don’t you hop on and prove to me that I’m your favorite.”

Wow.

Trying your best not to act too shocked at his words, you nod and lift your hips off his thighs as he grabs hold of himself at the base, stroking the few droplets of precum over his shaft as he takes you in. He looks up as you move your pelvis forward, grinning from ear to ear as you attempt to line yourself up with him, only he keeps moving against you.

“You wanna act like a little slut, huh?” He glides his cock across your overstimulated bud before lining up with your entrance, watching your mouth fall slack with each pass as every neuron in your body ignites again. “Well, you’re my little slut.” He brushes over it another time, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head as bright stars start flashing in the background of your vision. “Right?”

“Right!” You moan as he finally guides himself into your entrance, pulling you down with his other hand on your hip.

He groans as you slowly envelop him, your freshly lubricated walls already contracting around his girth as it stretches you out more than Frankie ever could. With a whisper of your name, his breath quickens as you take him in completely, your thighs now flush against his before you gather the strength to sit up again. He smooths both hands up and down your spine as you begin to ride him, mewling his name against his forehead as those stars become brighter behind closed lids.

He squeezes the base of your neck as he bottoms out again, thrusting up into you with a sort of frantic desperation you’ve never seen in him before. Every buck of his hips forces those stars in your eyes to become brighter, to shine in blinding shades of different colors as they spin around on their axes. You hear him grunt something in Spanish, the last of his sounds becoming more breathy as he sends pulse after pulse of heated pleasure shooting up through your nervous system until his thrusts force your body to convulse around him.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he lets slip as he pulls you down one last time, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing against the walls of your living room as he spasms and twitches inside you with a pathetic growl.

“I love you, too,” your innate reaction to his words comes without thinking, your current state hijacking any common sense that might make you respond differently.

Instead of correcting himself or apologizing, he leaves his words hanging in the air, just as naked and bare as he is now as he finishes spilling himself inside of you. He kisses you even deeper, pulling you further into him as if to merge the two of your bodies into one until his thrusts eventually slow to a complete stop.

Continuing to ignore his sudden confession, he rests his head against your chin and guides his palms over the curves of your body as the aftershock of your shared orgasm phases through you both. He hums the tune of your favorite song as he continues smoothing out all the gooseflesh that had formed on your skin until both of your breathing has steadied.

“I’m sorry I left.”

[thesunshineriptide]

Twst Headcanons: They get sent to your dimension (part 1 - Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle)

Characters: Riddle, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, Azul, Jade, and Floyd

Tw// vomit, depression, existential crisis, mild body horror, swearing

(Part 2 - beginnings)

Crowley had found a way to send you home. It was sappy, and wizard-of-oz-y, but it was near sure fire.

Alice had once come and gone from a looking glass, but only after her friends of wonderland let her go. And surely, your friends would want what’s best for you, right?

The love you gave to night Raven college touched many loves - you defeated seven overblots, after all, and saved lives over and over again. So the best way they could thank you would be to give you what you wanted after all this time.

Crowley organized it fairly formally. There was a party, courtesy of Kalim’s insistence, followed by unveiling a large mirror and having you stand before it. You were told to think of home - your family, your life before twisted wonderland - and once you had the picture in your mind, a spell was cast to lock it in so you wouldn’t get lost on your way home.

After that, a procession began. It started with the dorm leaders coming to thank you, then the vice dorm leaders (or pseudo vice dorm leaders, and Floyd), and then began your closer friends. The power of so many powerful magic users was enough to get the mirror powered, glowing brightly a shining silver.

Grim was next in line. He looked heartbroken, and almost angry. He said he was happy for you - he didn’t need a henchman, he was the Great Grim and he could do fine on his own. But he hadn’t come to terms with what was going on. Not until that very moment in line.

“I don’t want you to go, (Y/N)! What will I do without you? I’m your family too, right? Stay!”

The mirror pulsated - in a single breath, Grim had messed up the spell. Before you had time to even respond, a burst of energy rushed forth from the mirror.

And as soon as the light faded and the screams died off, everyone looked up in horror to realize what happened.

You were gone…but so were they

Riddle:

* Riddle was first in line to say goodbye. As the first overblot, and a dorm leader, and a close friend, he wanted you to know he supported your decision to go home.

* What he didn’t expect was Grim’s declaration, nor the tug at his chest that followed

* Suddenly, he was falling. He felt something he couldn’t describe leave him, dissipate into the air. It felt like the opposite of the overblot, and he hated it.

* He would have screamed if it hadn’t stopped as suddenly as it had started, and suddenly he was laying on the floor, dizzy, and having a hard time focusing on his surroundings.

* He immediately tried to sit up, only to pass out again.

* He’s out like a light, man, dude hasn’t slept in three days to begin with and now? He’s drained. Portals are exhausting

* When he does wake up, it’s to Trey shaking him gently

* “Riddle? Are you alive?”

* The room is oddly quiet, but Riddle realizes it’s because they’re alone in this room.

* Wait, who’s room is this?

* A child’s, maybe? There’s a lot of plushies…

* No, wait, he remembers-

* Wait, IS THIS YUU’S ROOM?

* What happened???? Trey??? Explain???

* Upon finding out he’s stuck in a world with no magic by talking to you, he’s gonna try his signature spell

* Everyone else is going to groan, snicker, or sit silently as they watch him

* “It’s okay, Goldfishie, performance issues are nothing to be ashamed of.”

* “Floyd, I swear on the seven, when we get back, I’ll have your head.”

* “Kinky.”

* He is NOT happy about being in a different world, Yuu, please help him

* Once he has everything explained to him a little better, he’s headed for your bookshelf

* He may also ask you for a cup of tea

* He might/can/will start cleaning your house if it’s not in order

* “This is not a proper way to live, Y/N. According to th-“

Trey:

* Victim number two was standing a couple inches behind Riddle when the portal sucked them in, and somehow managed not to pass out during the ride.

* However, he did see the inside of a wormhole and suddenly popped out the other side in a different world, so maybe passing out is a blessing.

* When he came out the other side, he caught himself during his landing and stumbled a few feet forward. Before he really had a good chance to look at his surroundings he heard screams coming closer from behind him, saw Riddle laying passed out on the floor, and worked as fast as possible to pull him out of the landing zone.

* Which was a good call, because soon after a pile of 6’ft tall guys landed right about there.

* He helped untangle the mess of limbs in a pile on the floor and took stock of everyone.

* Alright so there’s riddle, Leona, him, the twins, Azul, rook and vil, Jamil and Kalim, Idia, malleus and Lillian, Ruggie, aaaand…

* You! There you are.

* So…this is your home? Interesting.

* He’ll take stock of everything he sees, because he’s currently in survival mode.

* This isn’t the first time NRC students have been stuck in a different world, he knows how this works by now-

* Oh, hey, you look sick. Here, sit down, and - is this cup okay to use? Okay, cool, one second, I’ll fill it.

* Huh

* Wait…

* He tries to fill the cup with cold water using his magic. He doesn’t know where your kitchen is, after all, and…

* Huh.

* His magic isn’t working.

* And now that he’s thinking about it, some of the guys did look…different.

* Right, this is a world without magic.

* Okay.

* Right.

* Cool

* Don’t panic, Trey, it’s fine

* If you could get to their world without magic, then it’s possible for them to get back, right?

* Right?

Leona:

* Leona isn’t quite sure what happened, he just remembers that one second he’s saying goodbye, then he’s in pain, then he wakes up somewhere unfamiliar and feels weird.

* Everything somehow sounds both quieter and louder at the same time, and all his joints feel achy

* Overall, he feels like he was hit by a bus, and tries to go back to that sticky sleep state he was in before.

* And then he feels something weird.

* Someone’s pinching his ear.

* But…that’s not where his ear is supposed to be.

* “Herbivore? What the fuc-“

* He opens his eyes and is face to face with Yuu, who is staring at him like he’s grown three heads

* “(Y/N), what are you doi-“

* Why are you holding his mouth open

* What the fuck

* Why are you- are you touching his teeth?!

* “Leona, I have bad news.”

* Upon hearing that all his lion traits are gone, he’s flipping his absolute shit.

* Excuse me?! Yuu?! Fix this. Now

* Oh, and we’re stranded in a different world without magic? Great job. He should have left you stranded in his world instead.

* He’s gonna need a minute to cool off.

* It’s best to approach next time with something to eat, and hold it out as far as possible

* He may not have fangs anymore but he will still bite you.

Ruggie:

* Ruggie takes everything surprisingly well.

* See, at first he’s pretty freaked out.

* His body is different than before and he’d really like for it to go back to normal, please

* He’s checking over himself in the mirror to see what’s missing and what stayed.

* He doesn’t appreciate anyone commenting on it

* But once he’s done freaking out, he starts asking questions about your world.

* Turns out your world isn’t that different. Even though there’s no magic, it’s not all that different from where he’s from

* So with a few books, some snacks, a few dollars, and a nap, he’s good to go.

* If he’s gonna be here for a while, and it’s pretty safe to assume that they’re not gonna be back in a bit, he wants to immediately ingratiate himself to you

* He’s not even really worried about the magic part. He never really relied on it anyway

* Oh, look, you have some laundry. Let him take care of that, Y/n, it’s no problem, really. Isn’t it nice to have someone help with chores? And he can make some food for cheap.

* His ability to take it in stride is almost entirely because for the first day he assumes it’s a dream.

* Day three he has a bit of a breakdown

* After his breakdown he starts acting a little more normal, again

Azul:

* The screaming everyone heard in the portal was mostly him.

* He’s seeing universe after universe, timeline after timeline, colors that don’t exist, and it’s scaring the piss out of him

* He’s another one who didn’t pass out, but he’s clinging to Jade like his life depends on it (it may have, if he kept flailing he might have ended up in a different universe)

* Meanwhile Jade just has a surprised pikachu face the entire time

* When they finally get through the portal, the fish mafia end up puppy-piling on the floor, with Azul stuck between Jade and Floyd.

* Unfortunately Floyd is unconscious and on the top.

* Trey, you’re his savior, he owes you.

* He’s finally on his feet, and his legs are shaking beneath him

* He looks like he’s gonna throw up. He thinks he may have seen god.

* His glasses are also missing, now.

* They might have been left behind in the multiverse.

* He’s catatonic for a solid twenty minutes, mumbling to himself while curled in a ball, staring at the floor.

* Nobody can get his attention until eventually he calms down enough to snap out of it.

* Trey is handing him a bottle of water, telling him to drink.

* He does

* He has to rush to the bathroom, because he couldn’t keep it down

* The minute someone else is around, he’s trying to act normal and like it doesn’t bother him

* “Oh? Well, we went to the land of the dead, this is nothing?”

* He’s lying, it’s a lot.

* He realizes, sometime in this, that his glasses are missing.

* He tried to summon them

* He is confused and alarmed when he can’t.

* He keeps trying. He looks like he’s snapping a beat

* He is literally going to have an ulcer if he can’t get a handle on this situation.

* Please, god, why doesn’t he have his magic.

* Oh….oh! Nobody does

* It makes him feel a little better, in a sick way, that nobody else has magic.

* He’s still anxious though.

* Please make him sit down. Cover him with a bunch of blankets or something he cannot handle this.

Jade:

* Jade has a pretty thick skin, yknow? But…

* Okay, yeah, this is a little much

* He’s not really one to express emotion to begin with, so his reaction that seems impassive is really just him being surprised

* He’s still processing what Grim said when he’s falling through a portal

* He’s processing the fact that Azul is clinging to his arm, and Floyd has him by the ankle, and that he’s falling in a portal to another world by the time they land

* His face isn’t totally shocked, but more…frozen?

* He’s can’t really identify what he’s feeling. It’s not scared, anxious, or angry. He isn’t happy, nor sad, but it’s something else…

* Wait, hold on, his mouth feels weird.

* Huh.

* His teeth are different.

* Okay, interesting.

* Oh look, Azul is having an existential crisis.

* And Floyd is passed out.

* Alright.

* He isn’t really responding because he wants more information, so as soon as he’s up his face is blank again.

* He’ll help out with whatever he can in the same way that Trey is, but he’s also completely content to leave everyone lying on the floor.

* He’s watching and listening to everyone’s reactions before he’s allowing himself to make his own.

* But also, you probably won’t see it.

* It’s not until late at night when he thinks everyone’s asleep that he finally lets his facade drop. He’s contemplating everything and he thinks Floyd is asleep again when he feels a tap on his shoulder

* It’s Floyd.

* And on his other side, there’s you.

* “Are you okay?”

* He’s a little choked up, but he just nods silently.

* “Do you wanna go for a walk? There’s a forest not far from here, I can drive you over and wait until you’re done if you need some time to think.”

* Floyd is staring at him knowingly, and Jade nods again, mumbling something like ‘that would be appreciated’

* Nobody knows what happened that night. Not even you do. But Jade came back with a clear head, so it doesn’t matter much.

Floyd:

* Floyd was honestly a little pissed at Grim

* He likes Shrimpy too, but they want to go home, so we should let ‘em.

* When he feels something pulse behind him, he doesn’t get a clear look.

* He’s also screaming, but his screams are somewhere between delight and fear.

* He’s grabbing onto Jade’s ankle to keep them from separating as they fall.

* Once he’s through the portal, he lands face first on top of Jade and Azul, unconscious. He may have hit his head.

* When he first wakes up, he notices his mouth feels different too.

* He also immediately notices Jade standing four feet away and whispering with Trey

* He then notices Azul rocking in a corner, Riddle passed out with a pillow under his head, Leona without his fluffy ears, and Ruggie following You around like a lost puppy.

* He’s not really panicking yet because the fact they’re in a different world separated from their own hasn’t set it

* But let’s be honest, this is pretty fun

* An adventure! With his brother and his takoyaki and his Shrimpy and a few others!

* Maybe this world is more fun?

* So he’s up, wandering around, looking through your stuff.

* He 100% tries on one of your shirts and decides it’s his now.

* He also lays in your bed and reads anything of yours that seems personal

* Letters, diary, postcards, legal documents, whatever.

* “Koebi-Chan? I didn’t know that you liked this~”

* “FLOYD PUT THAT DOWN”

* He also spends his time immediately getting on Riddle’s nerves as soon as he’s awake (see: Riddle’s)

* Once he does realize he’s separate from home, he’s in a dark mood, but he’s more thoughtful than anything. He’s thinking about the things he’s gonna miss, how they could get home, if there’s any way to just see Twisted Wonderland, if there’s something he could do to get his favorite things here.

* Overall he’s not pressed though. He does make Leona play one-on-one basketball though.

[bysaber]

Meeting a pretty stranger ft. Kakashi Hatake

Day 06 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — you’re feeling down after all your christmas plans got canceled when a dog wearing elf clothes jumps on you.

word count — 1.1k

content — fluff, reader is a bit depressed, mentions of alcohol, fastburn i guess, modern au (kakashi still wears a mask)

notes — pretty happy with this one even though i almost didn’t finish it on time (so it’s not revised sorry)

THE FIRST time you and Kakashi Hatake crossed paths was rather an unusual experience.

You walked home wearing a disappointed expression, your hopes of having a nice Christmas had disappeared after all your plans got canceled; all of your friends were going out of town with their partners and families, and your short-term relationship had ended a few weeks prior.

Living far from home, you couldn’t celebrate it with your family either – you simply didn’t have enough money to afford that kind of trip.

So what awaited you was a lonely Christmas, with a liquor bottle and maybe a few treats, if you felt sympathetic enough about your own situation. You had 14 days left to plan for your “big night”, after all.

You stood in front of a liquor store, wondering if you should step in or not. Maybe I should start warming up, you thought, forget a little about my increasing melancholy.

“Pakkun, wait!”

A shout brought you back to the real world, but not fast enough to avoid the– what was that?– that jumped on you. You yelped, surprised, as you processed the small dog in green elf clothes that clawed at your sweater.

When you finally understood it was just a small dog, you chuckled and held him to keep him secure and away from your sweater, “Hi, doggy! Why so angry?”

In a heartbeat, a white-haired man with a mask covering his face was by your side, breathing heavily, “Gosh… I’m so sorry! Did he hurt you?”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. He looked so desperate, “No, don’t worry. Did he outsmart you or something?”, you asked as you handed him his dog back.

The man grabbed the elf-dog and glared at him as if he was about to scold him for several minutes, but then his attention was back on you, “Yeah, something like that. I bought this cute little costume for him but he is an ungrateful dog…”

The dog growled and you threw your head back, laughing out loud, “I don’t think he wants to be an elf. What’s his name?”

“It’s Pakkun.”

“Well, Pakkun, you should know you look adorable,” you said, petting his head. Pakkun seemed to soften and you smiled, all the while the man watched the interaction. “I should get going now, but it was nice meeting you two.”

“You too,” the masked man said and, as you walked away, you could hear him whispering to the dog, “To her you listen, huh?”

You realized you ended up not buying any liquor and, fuck, you should’ve asked for his name as well.

THE SECOND time you encountered him was something else.

10 days left for Christmas and your sadness kept building up.

Grocery shopping and having to go through all those Christmas decorations, meals, and even gifts was a different kind of torture for you.

You gloomily roamed around the islands, picking only the essentials for your house and to keep yourself alive when you spotted that white hair you couldn’t quite forget.

“It’s Pakkun’s owner!”, you greeted, a bit of light taking over that sorrow inside you.

He turned to face you, confused at first, but his eyes lightened when recognition hit them, “It’s Pakkun’s victim!”

You both laughed like old friends. He seemed like a really good person, even with that mask covering half of his face, maybe it was the fact that he dressed his dog as an elf or his soothing voice or the way he closed his eyes when he laughed.

You couldn’t tell, but you liked his company already.

“What is your name?”, he asked you the question that was burning in your tongue. You told him and he repeated it as if testing how it sounded in his voice.

“What’s yours?”

“It’s Kakashi. Kakashi Hatake,” he smiled again, his eyes closing and you felt like you could melt right there and then.

“Kakashi… such a beautiful name,” you complimented and, if he wasn’t wearing that mask, you would see him blushing.

You both got lost for a moment, in your own thoughts and in each other, until he called your name again and you hummed, “I gotta get going… feed my dogs,” he explained.

“Oh, sure. See you around, Kakashi,” you say, stepping away so he could pass.

But you still stood in that place for a while, watching as he walked away.

Catching him when he looked back.

THE THIRD time Kakashi met you was intentional.

You stepped out of the liquor store, a pout on your lips and a bag with two bottles in your hand when you saw the man standing outside the door, apparently waiting for something.

“Kakashi?”

He looked at you, his eyes closing in that way that told you he was smiling, “Oh, hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

You tried to hide the alcohol you just bought; you had 4 days left until Christmas and still hadn’t pushed away all the melancholy you felt towards the date, but you didn’t want him to think you were some sort of an alcoholic or something like that.

“I was waiting for you, actually,” he said mindlessly. Noticing your confused expression, he added, “This is the place we first met, around this hour. I was trying my luck, since we didn’t exchange numbers.”

You could feel your cheeks warming up, your heart tightening in such a good way, and felt like a fool for wanting to drink your sadness away.

“I know we didn’t talk much, but… I’d like to know you better. Can I walk you home?”

THE FOURTH time you saw Kakashi was on Christmas Eve.

You didn’t expect it.

You had such a good time when he offered to walk you home; he ended up on your couch, talking with you for hours about everything you could think about. You hadn’t laughed so hard in years, but eventually, he had to leave.

So you didn’t expect it when, on Christmas Eve, you open your door to see Kakashi with Pakkun and two big bags of food, with a close-eyed smile.

“Kakashi!”

“I hope you don’t mind, but that day you said you would spend Christmas alone and, well… it was my case as well,” he chuckles. “So I thought it would be nice if we spent it together.”

Pakkun barked as if to prove his owner’s point.

You felt your eyes stinging, tears forming, and immediately let them in, “Please, come in.”

Never, in a hundred years, would you imagine this turn of events.

“Are you okay?”, Kakashi asked when he noticed your red eyes, approaching you carefully after putting the food bags on the table.

“I’m…” you looked at him, at Pakkun, at the food. You looked at the alcohol you were about to open, also on the table. Your lips tremble, but you smile, “I’m happy.”

[ultralightpoe]

hi ultra:D can I please request a song for an Eddie Munson imagine? I was thinking maybe ‘Time’ by NF? if it’s not a song you are comfortable with or if you don’t write for his character - disregard this with no worries!:) glad to have you back and posting!! I hope you are well darling

Time - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: AN EDDIE REQUEST! YES! I HAVE NEVER HAD AN EDDIE REQUEST

Warnings: Angst, trauma, depression Eddie is a massive dickkkkkkkkkkk

Word Count: 2436

Description: Eddie can't ever seem to open up to you.

Enjoy!

Even if we both break down tonight

And you say you hate me, and we go to bed angry

I know everything will be alright

I'll be here waiting, I promise I'm changing

I just need

Eddie woke up on the rug of the apartment living room floor, eyes stinging from the crying and throat dry from the night of yelling that had taken place. It took him a moment to regain himself, picking himself up to look around the apartment, a hopeful feeling in his chest that you would be in the room and you hadn’t actually left. 

No such luck, you were nowhere in sight. 

A dull ache in his chest to match the one in his head caused by a hangover, the chest was due to heartbreak. He was sure of it. 

Trudging through the hall to get to the kitchen and find the bottle of Advil you always restocked. A harsh curse escaped him when he stepped on a piece of glass, pulling his foot up to hop away from the shattered bottles on the tile of the floor. 

“Jesus fuc-”

“Eddie?” Linda, your neighbor, calls before knocking on the door. 

“Yeah! Just um- one sec!”

A little time to show you I'm worth it

I know that I can be a difficult person

I'm a stress case, drive you up the wall when I'm workin'

Actually, I'm probably worse when I'm not, you don't deserve it

Make you nervous 'cause you know I'ma break soon

Every time I do, I say somethin' that hurts you

Actin' like I'm gone, but we both in the same room

I don't like to be wrong, which I know you relate to

And I know I make you feel like you're at the end of your rope

—-------------------------

He had come home drunk, four hours after telling you he was going out for spaghetti noodles, and you were waiting by the front door with your arms crossed and lips sneered. There were frown lines forming on your face and your hair was all out of place. 

“Please don’t star-” Eddie whines, using the wall to walk to the couch, woozy and halfway gone. “Always with the nagging.”

“Nagging?” You laugh dryly, following him to the living room. Watching as he lays on the couch and you stay standing. “Enough. Enough of this.”

“Enough of what?” He laughs, acting incredulous. 

“Eds, you said you were going out to get spaghetti noodles for our dinner and you stumbled in four hours later drunk as a skunk.” You seethe, reaching a hand to snap at him back awake. “This is a problem-”

“You don’t understand-”

“And here we go with the ‘you don’t understand’ bullshit. ‘Y/n I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. I nearly lost my life. I can’t talk about it but it was so traumatic-’ I’m so sic”

“Are you mocking me right now?” He snaps, sitting up on the couch to glare at you. “Fuck you Y/n.”

“No FUCK YOU!” The first yell of the night, and you were expecting it to be the last as you stormed off down the hall. Normally he would give up and stay on the couch, but tonight seemed to be a good night to fight. 

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” He shouts, following you down the hall just in time to see you snatch a bag from the closet and start filling it with clothes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” 

“LEAVING. Packing.” You reiterate, sparing him a side eye right as he lunges forward to try and snatch the bag. You keep a firm grasp on it and for a moment you both are wrestling over the bag. “I am tired. Eddie, I am so tired of this.”

“Tired of what?!” He snaps, finally pulling the bag from your grasp. 

“I am wasting my life on you!” You sob, the tears you had been fighting all night finally releasing. “I get it, you went through something terrible, and I am sorry I mocked it tonight because that is completely fucked up. But Eds you can’t do this. You can’t do this to me.”

“Do what to you?” He sneers. “I’m sorry Y/n, is my pain hurting you?!”

“IT IS! YOU!  THE SECRETS AND THE DRINKING!”

“WHAT FUCKING SECRETS?!”

“EDS I NEVER MEET YOUR FRIENDS! YOU NEVER LET ME MEET THEM AND YOU NEVER SPEAK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED!”

“BECAUSE IT’S NONE. OF. YOUR. FUCKING. BUSINESS!” His face is beet red now, hair swinging wildly as you stare at him in shock. The silence of the room makes his heart start racing rapidly. 

“Then why am I here?” You ask softly, shoulders slumping.  He stares for a moment before walking out of the room, your bag still in hand. 

That's when I look at you and tell you I'd be better alone

Just the pride talkin', isn't it? 'Cause both of us know

I'm the definition of "wreck" if you look into my soul

Comes out the most when I feel I'm in a vulnerable place

Made a lot of mistakes I wish I knew how to erase

When I'm afraid, might get distant and I push you away

But no matter the case, I'ma do whatever it takes even if

The older woman is smiling softly when he opens the door, the overly blushed cheeks round and puffy as her teeth flash. “Oh hello Edward dear.”

“Morning.” He nods, clearing his throat as he tries to stand straighter and seem normal. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh well, I- uhm, well while you usually…..sleep in in the mornings Y/n comes over and makes some breakfast with me and last night I heard some yelling and she didn’t come by this morning-”

“I have no clue where she is.” Eddie interrupts, a harsh wave of panic filling his body as he realizes he had no clue where you were. “But I will send her over when she comes back.”

“Oh….okay.” She nods, walking away before he can say anything else, leaving him standing there, finally coming to terms with it. 

How long had you been going to breakfast with the neighbor when he slept in hungover? How had he not known you were that close with your neighbor? How much was he missing? How much did he not know about you? How much had he hurt you?

Even if we both break down tonight

And you say you hate me, and we go to bed angry

I know everything will be alright

I'll be here waiting, I promise I'm changing

I just need

—-----------

Although everything in you screams to just fall into bed and forget it you follow him down the hall anyways, watching as he throws your bag on the living room floor before marching into the kitchen and swinging the fridge door open. 

Some of the magnets fall, a glass one snapping when it hits the floor, and you watch as Eddie reaches a ringed hand to snatch the pack of beer he had in the fridge. 

“What are you doin-” You’re cut off, a scream tearing through you when he lifts his hand up and slams the bottle into the floor. Glass goes flying and beer spraying everywhere, and you cover your face so you don’t get hit. 

“THIS WHAT YOU WANT? HUH?!” He shouts, snatching another bottle from the pack and repeating the action. This time you were not so lucky and a piece of the glass catches your arm, and then everything breaks. 

Your world shatters to bits when the blood starts leaking from the wound, it wasn’t enough to actually hurt, but the idea of it hurt more. The illusion that broke finally left you broken. 

This was not the Eddie you knew. And this was not the Eddie you would stay with. 

Leaving him to have his fun breaking bottles you go and snatch your bag from where he threw it and watch from a safe distance as he breaks the last bottle. 

When he is done he looks at you and your face is hot from the tears. “I hate you.”

“I hate you too.” He laughs. 

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!” You scream, a cracking feeling in your chest as you make your way to the door. “You’re better off alone-”

“I AM BETTER OFF ALONE! WITHOUT YOUR ANNOYING FUCKING SELF ALWAYS NEAR ME!” He screams, and you don’t waste your breath on a reply, slamming the door behind you. 

Yeah, way before I bought you the ring

We were fighting back and forth like you were wearin' the thing

Two passionate people not afraid to say what they think

Lead to passionate conversation when it's hard to agree

You know me well, sittin' on the edge of my seat

Lookin' at life, overanalyzin' everything

Always depressed, tryna find a better version of me

Searching for somethin' I know's prolly right in front of my feet

The sickening feeling was not from the hangover, that he was sure, and throwing up would do nothing to fix it for you would still be gone and he would still be alone on the living room floor. 

He had proposed, almost 4 months ago, and he doesn’t remember the last time you both talked about the wedding. Had you even talked about it at all? Or had you known not to waste time on him? 

The phone rings around noon and Eddie launches up to answer, panting a bit as he puts the receiver against his ears. “Y/n?”

“No, Eddie, it’s Dustin.” The voice on the end answers, disappointment filling him at the sound, though he had never been disappointed by Dustin calling before. “Everything good?”

“Oh yeah….yeah man-”

“Are you sure because last we talked you sounded pretty bad.”

“I…. just need time-”

“You say that a lot Eddie. Look, I know I’m just a freshman at Harvard…..one of the best schools EVER, but I think you really need help. Not that my opinion matters, just a straight A HARVARD student and all……”

“I don’t want to talk about-”

“How about therapy?”

“Dustin I really-”

“Steve is in therapy. And Nancy and robin, max, lucas, will,-”

“Got it. I got it. Thanks.” Before his friend could respond he hung up and lay back down, closing his eyes to stop the tears. Jesus, he had really messed things up. 

Stubborn as me? Maybe not, but you're close to it

Got a lot of issues, I'm tryin' to work through 'em

Going to therapy for you's somethin' that's worth doin'

When I know you been there for me through all of my worst moments

And I know it hurts knowing that I carry this weight on my chest

Making it difficult for me to open up and connect

Lot of regrets, I apologize for all of the stress

That's not what I meant to do, you know I love you to death even if-

You didn’t come back for a few days, but Eddie was hopeful that you would considering you needed the rest of your things. 

So he busied himself, cleaning and cleaning and more cleaning. Anytime he wanted a drink he went and laid down, or stared at the picture of you on his nightstand. 

By the time you did come back he had the place completely spotless, and you stopped short when you saw it, and blinked at him where he sat on the couch. 

He was terrified to move, terrified that if he moved you would leave and he would never see you again. So he sat still, muscles tense, as he blinked at you while you blink at him. “I…….”

Just as he expected, the peace broke. Within moments you were walking away, heading to the room and he was doomed to follow. 

He stands in the doorway of the room, watching as you unpack the bag which he took as a really good sign. “I….. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Neither do I.” You mutter, rubbing your face as you move to sit on the bed. “I was way out of line for mocking you and-”

“You’re not the one that apologizes here. That’s me. You did nothing wrong-”

“I did-”

“No. I…… I have wasted so much of your time and…….I would like to tell you…..about- I want to talk about it.” 

“About what?”

He takes three easy steps across the floor and sits on the bed with you, pulling his sleeve up to show some of the scars. You knew they were worse on his stomach and he seemed just fine with showing you the arm at the moment. “This is gonna sound absolutely insane……”

Even if we both break down tonight

And you say you hate me, and we go to bed angry

I know everything will be alright

I'll be here waiting, I promise I'm changing

I just need

Time (oh)

I, I need time (oh, oh)

I just need time (oh)

I, I need time (oh)

Time (oh), time (oh)

I just need time (oh)

I, I need time (oh, oh)

I just need time (oh)

I, I need time (oh)

Time (oh), time (oh)

You were waiting outside the therapist office, smacking your gum harshly in a slight attempt to amuse yourself as you waited for Eddie in his session. 

You had packed a book and snacks, but the book ended up boring you and the snacks were long gone so you had taken to hanging your feet out the window to catch them in the sunlight as the radio played some crappy tune. 

You hum, terribly since you had never heard the song, and closed your eyes. This was the new normal, once a week you would hang out in Eddie's van as he spent time with a therapist and after that you would go get dinner together. And you loved it. 

A scream rips from you when something touches the bottom of your foot and you sit up quickly to reveal the face of Eddie. He laughs, leaning through the window to kiss you before slapping your calf lightly. 

“Okay, let’s go.” He smiles, rushing around to his side and hopping in. You smile, lifting your head until he is comfortable then laying it on his lap. “Anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?”

“Be serious.” You blush, reaching a hand up to flick him. 

“I am serious, baby. Dead serious. Dead sober.”

“It just takes time.”

[jamiesfootball]

After careful consideration and a lot of angry tags, I think I have pinpointed for me where Ted Lasso, especially season three, fails to succeed all the way at the themes it explores.

The narrative uses the deconstruction of toxic masculinity to paint their characters as being stronger for having let go of their preconceived notions of acceptable behavior - but the narrative also never lets their characters be weak or fragile without having toxic masculinity to blame. And there are a lot of situations in this show where you would expect someone to go ‘hey man, are you okay? Are you doing alright? because that was a shit thing that happened. it’s okay if you’re not okay.’

And it never does.

There’s an undercurrent in how scenes play out that suggests that the male characters should be strong enough to deal with hand they’ve been dealt. The narrative suggests that they’re the ones who need corrected. They can act better, but they can not be treated better themselves as a result. The male characters are allowed to express themselves, but they are not allowed to ask for anything back from the situation.

Which is why you can have a fight with your assistant coach, but when he comes back to apologize you don’t articulate how it made you feel. You don’t tell your friend how he hurt your feelings. You just accept it and move on.

The Diamond Dogs give advice on how to handle external problems with  emotional roots. They never discuss how they feel internally on its own merit.

The closest we got to a male character just having a bad one and expressing it without a clear source of external conflict? Jamie in the boot room. And that was played for laughs.

Which is why you could be in a deep depression over losing your career of twenty years and part of your mobility, I guess. But also maybe that’s a problem of you not being able to let go, and maybe you should apologize for not moving on sooner? We should pity Roy for getting so stuck in his own shit all the time. Not because the man has lived an incredibly stressful and emotionally isolated life in a high pressure environment for so long he doesn’t have the tools to deal with it, but because the narrative would like us to know if he just stopped getting in his own way all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Is your ex-wife seeing someone else, who happens to also be the person who was your marriage counselor? I don’t know man, relationships are hard. Don’t worry about how hard that must have shaken your trust in a profession that already made you feel skittish. Maybe you should stop obsessing over her and move on.

Your girlfriend can tell all your friends and coworkers how you’re too smothering. Yes, this is the ‘learn how to communicate better’ show, but that was on you, really. Good on you for apologizing for smothering her.

The women may have worrying relationships with people who love bomb them or turn out to be controlling, but Jane and Beard are just a bit weird. Don’t worry about it, Higgins.

You can take accountability for your actions, but if it was your email who was hacked - who cares? You apologized, and everyone is very proud of you. We won’t ever bring up how incredibly mortifying that must have been for you to realize, because something more mortifying happened to someone else.

You can show your emotions, but not the angry ones, not the bad ones - those you should get a hold on, no matter how warranted they are. The stronger you are, the more divorced from toxic masculinity you are, the less those things should matter.

Struggling with your abusive dad and how his relationship with you has literally scared you so badly that you keep looking over your shoulder, afraid he’ll be there? That is clearly the anger talking. This is definitely not a situation that calls for your pseudo-father figure to put his hand on your shoulder, look you in the eye, and say, “i’m really sorry to hear that, son, but you know we got your back. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen to you while we’re here.” 

No no, this is a you problem and you can correct it by forgiving that man who hurt you. In fact, you thank him for motivating you. It was the anger that got you this far. It wasn’t getting up at 4am every morning for extra training. It wasn’t your mentor, the one invested all his time in helping you. It wasn’t the coach who gave you a second chance when you blew your whole life up to get away from that man. It wasn’t your own drive and passion and love for the sport that pushed you towards succeeding in a career you only had a one-in-a-million chance of ever getting. No, it was the anger that carried you. You should let that go. And hey - what if hypothetically speaking, he might try to be better too one day? You can’t hold it against him. You should let that go too.

Breakdowns and displays of crying are fine, but expecting people to care or show concern afterwards? The narrative doesn’t know her. The narrative will not validate that. We don’t see what happened after Wembley. We don’t see what happened when Isaac came back to the locker room after blowing up. What the show will validate, however, is moving on. Just be a goldfish, or forgive and forget. 

And finally-

Embrace your feelings, but not too hard - you can’t be trusted with them, actually.

Can you imagine that we actually got a scene of Roy telling Jamie that he was worried if either of them pursued Keeley it might ruin their friendship? Can you imagine? From the beginning they have butted heads. From the beginning, Roy has struggled to actually articulate his feelings, especially to the people they involve. And here is Roy doing exactly what the narrative has been teaching him to do - he voiced a feeling that was bothering him to the person who was involved in the problem. Unprompted. He did that on his own. After three seasons of being told that is what he should do when he has a problem, that should have been the moment of narrative reward. That would have been the audience’s release of tension: they’re still at odds, they’re still the same bull-headed people they’ve always been, but they’ve learned to talk about it. No matter what happens next, at least, they’ve gotten this far.

Instead the narrative rewarded him, and us, by having them fight it out in a back alley. Because they’re idiots, and they can’t be trusted to handle their feelings without someone else in the narrative (Keeley) setting them straight.

Yes, people backslide in real life all the time. But when the narrative backslides at the very end of the story - that’s just nihilism. That’s what this felt like - all that progress and promise that you can be better, and two of the people who struggled the most tripped at the finish line. The audience don’t even get to see them pick back up. I mean they’re fine now, I guess. They went for kebabs. I have to assume it worked out. I guess after that they found a way to be happy, but I would have preferred to see them find a way to be happy by way of their own actions. Not in a fanfic. Not by way of imagining how it went afterwards. Not by what’s implied in a montage. By the story actually showing me they could get there on their own.

And the worst part about all of this is that when the show gets it right? It fucking sings. The team coming together to repair Ola’s? That sings. Ted’s ‘ain’t nobody in this room alone’ speech? Wonderful. Trent telling Colin that ‘some people need time to adjust; it’s not fair, but they do’? So delicately wielded, so painful. Beard’s speech to Nate about stealing a loaf of meth? Chef’s kiss. Ted forgiving Rebecca when he learns why she brought him to coach Richmond? The tears in his eyes when he tells her ‘divorce is hard’?

The hug at Wembley.

That’s what I wanted, from start to finale. When the show knew how to wield its empathy, it wielded it like a knife, cutting into the deepest parts of your heart.

Which is why when it does mess up, it hurts so much worse. Because by season three, the show has sunk so far into the deconstruction of things that it’s forgotten that what it fixed were not the only problems those characters ever faced. The show zoomed in too close on the themes. It forgot that at its roots, the its biggest strength has been its empathy. And that to me is where the show failed.

[combatcorgi]

i think the appeal of juri to me is that women do not often get to have the comically edgy, so-far-gone it loops around to being kinda cool again visual designs, like she has a dyed hair streak and a spider tattoo and heterochromia and one eye glows bright purple its really a lot.

but also shes just a really depressed angry person who lashes out at anyone around her, especially people who try to get closer to her. which is kind of an interesting place to take a design like that. its more understated than just “i look evil and i am”

i have a big soft spot for characters who try to compensate for the lack of control and/or security they feel in their lives with anger/violence and thrillseeking. i know i’m talking about fucking street fighter here but i really am just still thinking about how at the end of your master missions with juri, after she’s kind of opened up to you and spoken frankly to you a number of times with a lot less of an emotional wall up, she abruptly pushes you away and tells you to not bother her again. idk.

there’s nothing after that. that’s just the end. you finally take two rounds off her in a fight and she just tells you “I just thought if I could get some meathead to copy my moves… maybe, just maybe, that’d be fun. But I’ve had enough. I’m sick of it.” there’s no resolution here. in her arcade mode there’s also no resolution, even though she acknowledges the fact that she feels awful — she has no idea how to fix it. she resents chun-li for her ability to heal and grow and for encouraging juri to do the same.

idk.

she lies to you about how influential and powerful she is, lies to you about her friendly relations with others, tells you the truth about her family and childhood trauma then tries to pass it off as a lie, candidly expresses her dissatisfaction with life to you. and then that’s that. it’s over.

obviously, speaking in terms of real-world motivation, her visuals were made with horny/rule of cool first and tying in with that characterization second, but in the context of that characterization it feels more like a deliberate attempt to project volatility and unapproachability. it’s kinda interesting to think about.

i will not speak on the feet thing