#dark eyebags under his eyes

[unscrunkalicious]

Put on some Viktor clipz while doing hw and was jumpscared by his crying and screamz of pain,,,, since I wasn't looking at my phone screen the soundz were much more prevalent

OH MY BOG I STARTED CRYINF HELP ME OH LORD SHIZ MAN LET ME TAKE THIS PAINED MAN INTO MY ARMZ AND HOLD HIM GENTLY,,, LET ME SHOW HIM HOW I LOVE HIM GOD DAMN

[bloodydeanwinchester]

stanford era dean series ↳ dark angel: 1x18 pollo loco

[apostase]

patch 7 is pissing me off so im taking away leuthere's face tattoo

(he's pretty so it's fine) (tw for eye contact below) (try not to smile blush or giggle /ref)

[netripper]

rat

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[sugurizz]

(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ── lover boy! Yuuta

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's playing handball with his friends. His soft dark locks and slender body caught your eye; running around shirtless as his tall frame prances around left and right. with his shiny lips curled up in a smile and his bubbly laughs resonating through the breeze.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who gets so shy when he sees that his ball landed next to you; the cute girl he's been eyeing up throughout the whole game. your sparkly asscheeks barely covered in your bikini strings and your breasts flushed against the warm sand really sent his brain spiralling.

He shyly grabs the ball as he approaches you, asks you if you'd care to join in. Then he furiously blushes when you redirect the question at him "Why don't you come chill under my parasol instead?"

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's hoping your parasol is large enough to cover up on both of you. you're straddeling his lap, messing up his hair and telling him that "he's the cutest boy you saw in the whole beach" as you plant kisses everywhere on his cheeks, chest, neck and lips. You giggle at every flustered whine he lets, until he grabs your hand, asking you to follow him...

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's eating your ass in his little cabin, smothering his face in your tender skin and drowning himself in the milky scent of your pussy. his blushy cheeks, cute eyebags and adorable noises make your pussy wetter for him.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who (un)surprisingly under his cute aura and puppy eyes hides the thickest cock that dangles alongside his left thigh..

"Oh, sorry...is it too b-big?" he mumbles when you tug down on his boxers, his veiny length springs free, almost slaps your cheek as it stands proud against his stomach.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now humping you like a bunny in heat. heavy breathes and frustrated sighs escape his pretty lips. face is still soaked in your sweet juices but he could care less..

"You sure you can take me?...don't wanna see you in pain".

"I'd die for your big cock, handsome angel." you whisper, grabbing his mushroon tip and smearing it across your pussy lips.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now into demon mode, the sweetness and shyness are long gone with his schlong bullying your pussy senseless. He groans over and over in your ear "you'll be my cute girlfriend...we'll feel good together..every day..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who watches you with blown dark pupils as you squirt all over his stomach, fevereshly crying out a "Yess daddy.. I'm all yours! Make me yours!.."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's so embarassed to see his thick cum spurt uncontrollably out his tip because of how hard you squirted on him.

"Sorry, I cum a lot...I'll bring a-"

He stares at you as you collect the ropes of seed he freshly spurted on your breasts, slowly lift your fingers then smear them on your tongue as you lock eyes with him.

"Come kiss me, Yuuta..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's shamelessly snowballing with you, making the loudest sloppiest sounds with his own cum bubbling on both your lips and dribbling down your chins. "One more round, angel boy?" You smirk as he struggles to hide his cute boner again...

[unboundprompts]

ways to describe eyebags/visible tiredness?

Ways to Show that Someone is Tired/Exhausted

dark circles under eyes

red eyes

difficulty concentrating

fatigue

lack of energy

dizziness

irritability

headache

blurry vision

accidentally falling asleep

Prompts for Showing Exhaustion

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She looked-- for lack of a better word-- awful. Dark circles stained the skin under her eyes and her face drooped. She blinked slowly at their approach, forcing a smile onto her face.

"You look like death," he said, face scrunched in concern. "Thanks," they replied, "I feel like death."

Their eyebags were dark and sunken in, making them appear more dead than alive.

She stumbled, closing her eyes for just a moment too long before brushing her hair out of her face.

His eyes were bloodshot.

"You look dehydrated," their friend had commented. "Probably," they responded simply, "add that to my list of problems."

She watched his eyes flutter closed before he jolted back awake. A desperate attempt to stop himself from falling asleep.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[miirohs]

birds of a feather [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: bad hurt/comfort (?) an: i got that skibidi found family type brainrot fs 😂 on gyatt.... anyways i promise i will get back to writing formula one but i need to simp for this man solidly. also i can't write hurt/comfort ive said this a million times but ugh man does it suck to write.

The house in Japan was a lot more peaceful than the one in the States. More secluded, quietly overlooking the city. 

Every day you came home from work, the house dark and empty with Ken gone to his other job.

You didn’t bother him about it, keeping the delicate balance between his two jobs. You didn’t mind it either. It gave you time to yourself, time to adjust, but you weren’t sure you could’ve said the same about Ken.

Ever since his last run-in with the KDF, he’d been exhausted. His eyebags only grew instead of shrinking, and his watch went off almost every possible moment it could. You had asked him what was wrong, but he’d never been one to let you lick his wounds for him, watering it down to some kind of side effect of the stress on him.

Unlocking the doors, you hopped inside, pulling your shoes off as you looked around.

You could hear the tv running in the background, the clinking ice against metal. It wasn’t strange for him to be off duty after games, but you just assumed he wouldn’t be.

The beatdown was probably worse than usual, if you had to guess.

You wandered into the living room, and there he was, sitting in his ice bath. You couldn’t see much because of how dark the room was, but part of his face was lit by the replays on the screen. 

You could almost make out his eyes narrowing at the screen, huffing as he sunk deeper into the water.

“Ken?” He turned to you, eyes pained as he pushed himself up.

“Hi baby.” He greeted softly, a hand tenderly moving to his side as he turned to you.

“Are you okay-“

“I’m fine.” You flinched at the strained quality of his voice.

“My bad. I was just trying to check on you.” You mumbled, holding up your hands as you stood stuck to your spot.

He saw, and his eyes softened, extending an inviting hand to you.

“I’m sorry. The seasons been kind of rough lately.” He murmured as he held your hand gently, squeezing it.

You hummed in response, eyes trailing down the expanse of his body. You could see some bruising, blooming in splotches of yellow, purple and red under his skin. It looked like it hurt.

“I’m taking it you got into a fight on field?”

“Not this time, no,” He scoffed, leaning against the warmth of your hand, “I collapsed, tried crawling my way to the last base, and failed. I was so close to getting those points.” The last part was tinged with embarrassment, his face pulled into a grimace as your hand ran across his arm.

“That's terrible, I'm sorry Ji.” He shrugged, eyes staring ahead at the screen, those embarrassing scenes reflecting back in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“So you’re off duty tonight then?” He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

“For now, but who knows?” He said sullenly. You couldn’t stop your hopes from crashing entirely, hand slipping out of his unconsciously.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know how it is. I can’t control what happens, I…” He stopped, a look of regret creeping onto his face.

“I'll join you in a bit. Promise I'll try not to leave tonight?” He tried softly, looking at you with poorly disguised hope in his eyes. 

It worked, and you released the breath you were holding.

“You’ll be okay?”

He didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him for one, quietly leaving the room.

True to his word, he appeared at the door an hour later, dragging himself across the threshold. He looked worse than he did earlier, wincing slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, hunched over into himself.

“That must have been one really good ice bath…” You trailed off, eyes narrowing at the various injuries on his arm.

“Those look awfully fresh Ji, did you at least get Mina to look at those?” 

“No! No. Uh, no. I didn’t want her to.” He spluttered, crossing his arms. You couldn’t see his face, but you could almost imagine the expression he was making.

“Take off your shirt.” He blinked, a baffled look on his face as turned to you.

“No, why the-“

“Take off your shirt Ken, don’t make me say it again.”

He crossed his arms tighter as you got closer, hand outstretched. You paused, looking at him.

“Would you be okay with me looking?”

He nodded reluctantly, grumbling about not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He had turned away from you, breathing uneven as you got closer.

You pulled up his shirt, heart thumping at the sight. It was worse than what you’d seen earlier.

“Ji, what is this? How…?” He didn’t respond immediately, rubbing his face as he took a deep breath

“I didn’t think they were that bad,” He muttered, wincing as he pulled the shirt over his head, holding it in his hands tightly, “Not as bad as they were last week, babe.”

“How did you even get these?” You questioned, finger tracing up his spine, avoiding the poorly bandaged cuts and bruising.

“Do I have to tell you?” He said, flustering you with the defensiveness in his tone. 

“No. No, you don’t have to.” You reaffirmed quietly, returning to your side of the bed to rummage through your night chest till you found what you needed. “But I would’ve liked it if you did.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I figured it would be. Hold still for me?” 

You shook the bottle of neosporin, spraying down the wounds. He tensed up, a squeak escaping his lips.

“It hurts!” 

“Would you rather Mina do it?”

He shook his head. 

“That’s what I thought. Luckily these were already somewhat decently clean. That bruising looks like a muscle injury though.” You whistled, setting down the neosporin in favor of some bandaids. 

He continued to let him work on your, mostly silent other than the occasional wincing. You could tell he was trying his hardest to play tough, unaware you could see through it all.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” He muttered suddenly, fists clenching the bedsheets as you gently laid the bandages on his back. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Kenji, I know it's tough for you, but I'm here because I want to be. I care about you." You scooted to the edge of the bed, looping a hand into his loosening fist.

The dim lights highlighted the sharpness of his face, eyes cutting through the dimmed light as they looked out the window. He looked beautiful, as exhausted as he was.

“I want to tell you. I don’t know if there will ever be a right time for you, and you deserve better than me being on the move all day and night.”

“Nope.” You popped the p, clutching his hand tighter. “We promised to stick together, remember? Hell, I followed you all the way from the states because I was confident we could work together. So, I need you to speak to me. Make it work.”

A heartbeat passed. And then he spoke.

“The pressure, the expectations... I feel like I'm constantly running, trying to keep up." He confessed quietly, “There's a lot riding on what I’ve done.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about baseball.”

“I’m not,” He laughed humorlessly, “I’m just worried I’m not doing enough. That I’m not enough.”

"Ken," you said softly, turning to him “I can’t pretend to understand what you do, but you’re making so many people proud. Your mother, your father, me.”

His eyes were glossed over, and he brought up an arm to cover them, sniffing slightly.

“I hope you know I’m here for you. Birds of a feather, we gotta stick together, you know? I’d follow you to hell and back Ken, and you know that.” You continued, bringing up his hand to press a kiss to it.

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the tears. "Thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "For everything."

“Of course,” you replied, leaning against him carefully.

“The next time you get injured, just let Mina or me know, understand?”

“Perfectly.”

[banj0possum]

Hate To Love You

YANDERE!BULLY X READER

Cw: stalking, bullying, general yandere silliness

this is my first attempt at making an x reader ! we'll see if i'll continue making these for you guys :3

🖤 This man is in very much in denial of having a fat crush on your cute ass

🖤 He bullied a lot of people during his years in high school, but something about you when you enrolled at the start of junior year felt different.

🖤 The first time you met, you were by your locker when he noticed you, he grinned at the thought of fresh meat to torture and slammed the locker next to you menacingly.

🖤 The little yelp you made when he approached you gave him a small tingle of…something…

🖤 Although he’s seen many many people cower under him before, the way you shook and avoided eye contact was utterly adorable to him.

🖤 His face grew red, and he pushed himself off of the lockers, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked away frustrated, grumbling to himself. After the feeling of confusion went away you went on with your day right after that.

🖤 He started focusing on bullying you now, all the other people he’s picked on before you were forgotten and left alone, you’re making him feel this weirdly nice feeling so you must be his new rival!

🖤 No it’s totally not an excuse to see and talk to you more often! He hates you!

🖤 He tries to bully you, insult you, annoy you in some way, but every time he talks to you, he starts getting all nice, he hates it! Why do you have to be goddamn interesting!?

🖤 “Hey loser! I heard you got that role you wanted in the school play! I mean why wouldn’t they pick you? You’re so good at acting and you’re so attractive and your voice is so..h-hey, that wasn’t a compliment!”

🖤 If he ever sees you in bad shape like dark eyebags or if you look like you didn’t eat, he’d hand you water, some of his lunch, hell he’d drag you under the bleachers with him, so you’d sleep peacefully on his shoulder.

🖤 “Hey nerd, drink some water…I’m not worried about you! You just look like shit and…j-just take the bottle!”

🖤 If he sees anyone talking to you all friendly, he starts bullying them too in order to scare them off.

🖤 “Going home alone? Pfft, what happened to you loser friends?...You don’t hang out anymore? Hah! What a loser! I guess you’re all mine then…not in a romantic way or anything…”

🖤 If other bullies start bullying you, he will throw hands.

🖤 “What are you doing being pushed around by those assholes? You should’ve told me!...Of course I care! I’m your bully, not them!”

🖤 Sometimes he’d follow you home and watch you through your window, lying to himself that this is for getting dirt on you for blackmail or…something.

🖤 He stares intently at you as you remove your clothes and change into your pajamas, his pants getting a little tighter.

🖤 He’d watch you as you touch yourself in bed, not knowing that he’s pumping his throbbing cock the same pace as you.

🖤 He’d start to be more physical with you after that, eating with you, wrapping his arm around you protectively, with yet another excuse of “to make sure you don’t snitch to the teachers”

🖤 You’d then notice things going missing in your room, small clothes, jewelry, makeup, a spoon?

🖤 Meanwhile Yan!Bully is in his room hugging and nuzzling his face in his pillow which he covered with one of your shirts.

🖤 Under all that rough exterior, he’s just a nervous, perverted simp who doesn’t know how to express his emotions healthily.

🖤 But he won’t admit that.

🖤 Ever.

🖤 …

🖤 Maybe..

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[flamingoofeathers]

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡' || 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗧

pairings: bridget x fem!reader

summary: tired out of your mind, you confessed to Bridget.

genre: fluff

one-shot; wc: 1.2k

main masterlist bridget masterlist

a/n: i apologise for not posting yesterday but i did not feel well bc of the heat, like what the fuck, why is it so hot, but here i am with a one shot for the lovely Bridget, because i am down bad for this girl both the character and the actress, Ruby Rose Turner…the woman that you are.

It had been a long day or rather, a long week for you. Midterms were coming and you were panicking, studying never came easy for you, so you have to study twice as hard than everyone else to receive a passing grade, which caused you to cram all night long, with no sleep, while during the day, as student body president, you were required to patrol the halls and then di extra curricular activities, you didn’t have time to study at all during daylight.

By the end of the week, you were like a walking corpse, eye bag clinging to your under eyes, slouching not caring whether you were about to bump into something or someone.

Friday afternoon, walking to your after school club, dragging your feet with your eyes barely staying open, to others you look like zombie, some students looked at you with worry but none cared enough to actually help you that is until you bumped into a certain bubbly pink haired girl.

The sound of a falling metal tray startled you, watching the seen in front of you, you panicked when you saw a bunch of pink cupcakes on the floor, looking back at the girl, she just looked at at you horrified.

“Bridget! Oh my god, i am SO SO SORRY!” You said apologetically as you were about to lean down to grab the fallen tray and cupcake a hand grab at your forearms stopping you, you look up to see Bridget’s worried eyes.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” Bridget asked, you were confused as to what she was talking about.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Your eyes..” realising what she was talking about, you immediately pulled your arm away from her hand, grabbed the cupcakes and the tray before handing it back to her hurriedly.

“Im sorry again” you said before rushing away from, sudden burst of adrenaline from embarrassing yourself in front of your crush.

How can you forget about the eyebags surrounding your eyes, you almost look like Hook with his eyeliner from how dark your eyebags are.

After basically running to the fashion club, you were even more exhausted than before, causing you to poke yourself self while sewing a shirt, it would’ve been fine if it happened once or twice, but as the hour passed, the other members couldn’t help but look at you everytime you say “ow”.

“Y/n? You good, girl?” The club president asked, but you didnt hear her.

“Y/n? Y/n!” The president shook you wake when she noticed you actually had your eyes closed while using the machine.

“Wa-what?” You said blinking your eyes back open.

“Y/n, i think you should go get some sleep”

You fake chuckled “whaaat? Im fine, im totally awake” you said activating the machine again but your eyes began to close once more.

“Nope, you’re not, c’mon” the president said before grabbing you and dragging you out of the room with you mumbling protests, it was clear very very crystal clear that you were exhausted.

The president was silently scolding for not taking care of yourself but once you reached the courtyard, you felt as if you were handed to another pair of arms, much softer arms and mmmm they smell good too.

The only part you heard of their conversation was “i’ll take care of her” before you were once again dragged away.

You looked drunk from how much you were stumbling and babbling about being “super awake and super energised” you heard the person carrying you chuckle and you recognised it as Bridget’s laugh, but you didnt have the energy to even blush around her.

As she guided you back to your dorm, she scolded you about needing to manage your time better and taking better care of yourself which made you sulk a bit.

When you arrived in front of your dorm, you were already passed out in her arms, making it hard for her to ask you for the keys of your dorm so she checked your pockets and that made you giggle in your sleep.

"𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴" you said murmuring.

Bridget chuckled opening your door. She guided you to your bed, making sure to lay you down carefully but what you said made her drop you to your bed but you didn’t even realise as you close your eyes snuggling into your blanket.

"𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩?" 𝘯𝘰. 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

The next day you woke up more active and aware of your surroundings, but what made you confused is why Bridget is talking to you and blush-y around you, not that you minded of course, you just don’t know why.

It went on for the rest of the day, she was happily talking to her, so she confronted her about it.

“Bridget, im sorry, why are you talking to me?” You said, and the girl suddenly looked confused and hurt.

“Not that i mind, of course, in fact i enjoy it a-lot, its just…you never really talked to me this much before, did something happen?” You defended immediately.

“Well, yesterday you said-“ she hesitated noticing the confused look on your face “ you know what, nevermind” she said smiling but you can see that it wasn’t a genuine one.

“Im just gonna go” she said attempting to leave but you grabbed her wrist.

“No, please tell me what i said yesterday” you were dreading to know what you said.

“Um, well….you said you liked me, but you were totally buzzed out yesterday so i understand that you didn’t really mean it, so no worries” she hurried say with nervousness in her voice.

“Oh. My. God. Bridget, i am so sorry, i didn’t want to confess that way.” You said blushing, embarrassed about your actions from yesterday “you know, you can totally reject me immediately, you don’t have to let me down slowly or whatnot, i don’t want to force you to hang out with me, just because you know i like you” you said apologetically.

“No, y/n, i li-“ Bridget said.

“You’re too kind that you cant even say it, oh my goddd, i totally get it, no hard feelings, you dont have to say it, im gonna go now so- yeah” you said turning around to leave.

The next thing you knew, lips were pressed against yours. Your eyes widen at the sudden situation, you saw Bridget with her eyes closed ACTUALLY kissing you.

'𝘰𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬' you thought and when the situation finally registered in your brain you kissed back and you felt her smile against your lips.

When you pulled away, you looked at her shocked “𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙪𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙠..." you whispered while touching your lips making her chuckle.

She grabbed both of your hands as she stepped closer to you.

“I like you too, silly” she said bashfully.

“Oh my god, you’re so cute” you said dazed making her blush.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Bridget said fidgeting with her hands.

“Ask you?” Youre brain was NOT working at all.

“To be your girlfriend?” She smiled shyful.

“Oh-“ you were short circuiting “oh!” you cleared your throat.

“Bridget, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me and becoming my girlfriend?” You smiled.

“YES! YES! YES!” She squealed hugging you “i’ve been dreaming of that question for so long”

"𝙞 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪"

[socially-anxious-wizard]

I don't think we talk enough about the fact every time Shouta has interacted with the public/Press he has looked like this:

(Not counting the Sports Festival in which he was all covered up.)

And whenever he's interacted with parents or Guardians of the kids, he looked like this:

Now this is how Shouta usually looks:

Curly and wild hair, facial hair as well, dark eyebags, he's scared many characters just by his looks. (Ochako, Izuku, etc.)

Shouta is a man that has no care for appearances nor how others view him. And yet, he cleaned up in the name of his kids. He, or someone, straightened his hair, maybe even cut it a bit, he shaved, put on a suit and tie, I even think he could have put make up under his eyes because of the lack of heavier eyebags.

Now, we know this. Old news.

But consider:

There's a real possibility that the kids parents have never met Shouta when he was not dressed up, and do not know him as anything else but that cleaned up version.

Can you imagine you meet your kids teacher, he's quiet but polite and well kept. Very straight to the point and well mannered.

Time goes by, parents evening comes up and you're talking with all the teachers, asking about your kid's grades and such, you ask where the homeroom teacher is, Mr Aizawa, they point across the room, you expect to see that quiet but polite man talking to another parent maybe.

Instead you see a sickly tired looking man, curly hair unbrushed and knotted, he's holding a ugly yellow sleeping bag under his arm. He's drinking out of a jelly packet, next to him is a punk rock guy with the ugliest fucking moustache you've ever seen, and a woman who looks like she's from Victoria Secret.

Tell me you would NOT wonder what the FUCK happened.

[pileofmush]

In the dead of night, he crawls into your bed. 

Your eyes flutter open, but you already know who it is, for you are intimately familiar with the pad of his feet against the carpet. With the dip of your mattress underneath his weight. With the sense of calm that washes over you whenever he graces you with his presence. And that’s the best way to describe whatever you and the sorcerer have going on. Intimate—and familiar. 

You never know how to categorize it when your friends ask. 

Not friend, nor foe. Maybe both. Or maybe something in between?

There’s a tug of war inside your brain that struggles between wanting to tangle your legs with his under the soft press of your duvet, and wanting to climb atop him, wrap your hands delicately around his neck, and squeeze.

Most nights with him, you do neither. Just lie flat and stare up at the peeling ceiling tile, just barely illuminated by the midnight glow of the moon streaming through your blinds.

Some nights, you do both. Yuuta never seems to mind, either way. Says he just wants to be near you, as he wraps his limbs around you and pulls you to him, snugly. You play dead; go limp in his arms and count the warm puffs of air against the back of your neck like sheep.

It’s not normal, you know.

But it works for the two of you.

It goes like this: Okkotsu Yuuta is a lonely, lonely man, with too much heart and not nearly enough sense. 

It goes like this: You want to crawl into his skin, make home inside his chest.

And that’s really all there is to it. 

Tonight, you sit up and turn on the lamp that sits on your nightstand, casting a muted yellow glow over your surroundings. You blink, rub your eyes, and lift your head in greeting. 

“Hey,” he whispers, black eyes roving over you curiously. He seems alright—whole—though his shoulders sag with an inconceivable weight, and his eyebags speak of many sleepless nights. “What are you still doing up?” Gesturing to the clock on your nightstand that reads 3 am.

You hum. Press your tongue against your teeth. “Waiting for you,” you say, candidly. You understand he's a busy man. That he has responsibilities—'missions', he calls them. But it’s been two weeks since he last visited you. Far too long since the last time. Not long enough. 

At your admission, Yuuta’s mouth melts into a cotton-candy smile. “I missed you, too.”

…

You hadn’t said all that, but you’ll allow it.

Yuuta’s hand slips under the covers, searching for yours, and gives a firm, quick squeeze. He pulls away, reaches behind him and pulls off his navy blue sweater—the soft, cashmere one that you said would look good on him one relaxed day at the mall. The ministrations expose the taut, pale sheen of his skin as the hem of his tee slides up, and you have to breathe deeply to ground yourself.

He folds the sweater in his lap while you push the covers back, then leans over you to set it on your nightstand. Something about him hovering over you flips a primal switch within you, and without thinking you flip it so that it’s him on his back and you leaning above him. Yuuta, to his credit, doesn’t bat an eye. Gets settled between your thighs and waits calmly for…

For you to inhale deeply; to breathe him in and try not to choke. His scent is a cloying, sickly sweetness. A poisonous flower, luring you to something sinister. Begging you to taste him and face the consequences.

It’s a sight to behold, his dark hair fanned out against your pillow, his darkening cheeks, and his dark, dark gaze that pins you in place. 

His hands rest on the back of your thighs, flexing assuredly, and your hands rest on his rising and falling chest, then slowly trail up, up, up, to his cheek, his jaw, his neck. You pinch his skin gently between your thumb and forefinger. Feel his pulse jump in his throat. 

He swallows, and you feel the lump of spit travel down his esophagus.

Intimate—and familiar. That’s what you are to Yuuta. Who else can say the same?

Not one. 

Your hands smooth down to his shoulders as you slowly bend to his ear. Goosebumps prickle across his flesh as you whisper, softly, “Text me the next time you’re going to be away this long.”

Yuuta’s shudder is sinful. 

“I won’t,” he croaks, then backtracks. “Take this long again. I promise.”

Your lips twist into a wry grin. “Good.”

ty for reading (๑´`๑)♡ for my lovely anon, rosie <3

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

It's just a cigarette - Nanami Kento

The keys jingle as you open the door. You walk into the dark apartment , plopping your bag on the floor, not bothering to hang it in its respective place, you sigh. The dark circles under your eyes are proof of what a tiresome day you had. Feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated you remove your jacket, throwing it on the couch. 

You head to the kitchen, opening the drawer and reaching to the very back. You find the pack of cigarettes you keep hidden for days like these. Almost ashamed, you head for the balcony. The cool night breeze hitting your face, you exhale. 

You gently open the box, taking out one of the cigarettes. Placing it between your lips, lighting it immediately. You inhale softly, tasting the bitterness of tobacco on your tongue. Shoulders going slack as you continue smoking. Slowly feeling the stress releasing from your body, mixing with the smoke you exhale from your mouth. 

You hear the sliding door to the balcony open. There he was. You didn’t need to turn around to sense his presence, to know his smell, his voice like a rich, aged whiskey, smooth yet with a hint of ruggedness, resonating with warmth and depth through your ear drums. He feels like a comforting embrace on a cold night.

“Rough day?” He strides behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You feel yourself going limp in his embrace. You don’t respond as you toss your head back onto his chest. 

“You know these harm your pretty lungs.” He reiterates after a long pause of silence, still holding onto you. 

“Well, it's only twice a week so there's not much of a chance.” You finally croak out as you close your eyes, feeling a little ashamed that he was once again scolding you like a father. 

“What if it turns into 10?” His free hand comes up to softly grab your chin to make you look up at him. 

“Honey, can't you trust me? When I want to stop, I can." You open your eyes to see his soft brown ones… light wrinkles starting to form on the corners of his eyes, reminding you of his age. The age gap doesn’t stop you from sporting the same dark eyebags. 

He chuckles. The hand once on your chin, comes up to fix his reading glasses. “Let’s head back inside, preferably the bed darling.”

You extinguish the cigarette, throwing the butt into the tray. You grab his hand as you walk back into the apartment. A mere “okay” escaping your lips with a soft smile, feeling less stressed. 

[m30wk1ttycat]

Sleepyhead

Contains: cuss words, cuddling (*omg*) Pairing: Newt x Reader Summary: You can't fall asleep, so he tries to help you, somehow.

Even after all those years, stuck in the Glade, trying to find a way out - you finally did it. But you weren't happy. How could you? Everything was going wrong in so many ways possible. Your family, friends from school - all gone. The Flare was spreading. Alby was gone, Chuck was too. There was no way anyone could be happy.

Thankfully, you still had that one boy you could trust with your entire life. The one and only, Newt.

That same boy who dragged your ass out of the Maze so many times, you'd be counting for days. The same boy who always made sure you were safe and sound after your morning runs with Minho and the other Runners. That same boy who tended to you after you were the one challenging to fight Gally during one of the bonfires.

Good old times.

Nothing's changed. Or, well, at least he hasn't changed. Not one bit. He's still the Newt who's always nice to everyone, but isn't afraid to be a bit more aggressive when he needed to prove a point.

Now that you think about it, Thomas and Minho haven't changed much either.

Thomas? The boy is still curious, too much for his own good. You weren't sure if he was either smart, or dumb as fuck. But he made a good friend regardless.

Minho was just as sarcastic, if not more than before.

Now you were stuck in some facility, "a haven protecting them from the Cranks" in Janson's words.

"This place has actual beds?" Newt grinned, making that signature face of his. "Y/N, we're so gonna share a bunk bed."

At this point, it didn't even sound like a request. More like a.. command, maybe? No, you were just overthinking this.

"This is Heaven," Minho joked, plopping down onto one of the beds.

This was far from Heaven. But it was still better than the Glade, probably.

Right in the middle of your thoughts, you were interrupted by Thomas. "Huh, new clothes."

"What, never seen 'em or something?" You say, walking into the room with a furrowed brow. This was suspicious. Janson was acting a bit too sweet.. There was no way this was going to end well. Just no.

"Y/N, chill out," Frypan says.

You weren't even doing anything wrong, why was Frypan suddenly telling you to chill out?

After everyone took a shower and all, you were supposed to go to sleep, but you just couldn't. You were tired - obviously. But you couldn't sleep. You were tired, but not tired enough to actually go to sleep.

Shifting under the blankets, Newt seemed to have picked up on the movement in the bottom bunk. He let out a small chuckle, that only made you realize he wasn't sleeping. Damn it.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered, leaning down from the top bunk. Even in the darkness, you could still make out his features. His messy, sandy blonde hair, his chocolate brown eyes, his smooth jaw, and of course, those barely visible eyebags.

"No."

He wasn't sure whether he should, or shouldn't frown. You were tired, he knew that. He realized, when you almost fell asleep on his shoulder when you were eating in the dining hall. Those weird looks from the guys would probably forever haunt his mind.

With a slight huff, he whispered a quiet "come here, then". You were confused for a moment, but you did as he said, climbing up the ladder. He laughed softly, trying to muffle out his laughs and giggles by covering his mouth with his hand. Unsuccessfully at that.

With a swift movement, he manages to pull you into a cuddle. You'd beat the life out of him, if only you weren't too tired to do so. He played with your hair, whispering some random stuff into your ear, but you could barely focus on anything else other than your hair getting twirled by his fingers. Those whispers mainly consisted of quiet comments, like "you're so adorable when you look like a lost pup" "you're so huggable" "try to get some rest, huh, love?" "cutie"

"Y/N," he whispered, "you still awake?" To which you didn't reply. He figured you were asleep, so he let out a sigh, kissing the top of your head, still fiddling with your hair.

i'm so sorry its so short, i jus have a ton of school workkk

[driaswrld]

apocalypse — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.5k

summary : suguru comes back from a mission, with more hurt than he left with. reader and satoru pull him out of the abyss he's headed to.

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : the beginning before the beginning. really, this is how it all started in terms of how the trio branch off into their new life taking caring of the kids, starting off with the twins first and rlly just how suguru felt during it all. IM SORRY U WILL GET MORE FLUFF SOON !! this is more hurt/comfort than angst though.

other : fem!reader but no prns rlly stated, star plasma incident spoilers!! dating but not dating stsg x reader, mentions of blood, death, nothing too dramatic dw

current cassete : cry - cigarettes after sex

September 2007.

You woke up in Suguru’s dorm that night, the spot beside you where Satoru should’ve been lying empty, pillow cold and hanging off the side of the bed.

Something feels wrong.

Suguru had left for a mission earlier in the day, you tied his bun tight while Satoru helped him get dressed, the fluid routine you’ve developed becoming nothing but second nature, a simple promise of – you carry me and i’ll carry you and we’ll figure it out through crumpled sheets and eyebags and too many syrupy pancakes.

But something felt wrong the moment you rolled over to your side and the clock on the bedside table read 2:18 am.

Barefoot and dressed in one of the boy’s shirts, hands stuffed in your pajama pockets to ease the chill of your fingertips, you stalk through the darkened corridors, past empty dorm rooms, searching for any sign of where Satoru disappeared to, or any sign that Suguru had come back safe.

It’s been a month since Haibara’s death.

A little over a year since Riko’s.

The pieces haven’t been put together. You know deep down that maybe, there’s no recovering from this. Everytime the three of you weather one storm, another appears, and you’re back where you started.

“...Suguru.” A breath leaves you, something between a gasp in relief and a sigh of exhaustion. The door to the infirmary is ajar, and you lean against the door frame, Suguru locks eyes with you from where he stands next to the examination table, the curtain behind him drawn, a tuft of Shoko’s brown hair peeking out.

“Name—” Satoru peers around the corner, your eyes never leave Suguru’s. He has his arms around himself, a coping mechanism — he doesn’t want to be touched.

“What’s going on?” You ask, just as Satoru rounds to stand in front of you, hair tousled and eyes heavy with sleep, there’s a soft jingle in his pocket everytime he moves.

Keys.

He went to pick up Suguru.

But—

“It’s okay, everything is—” Satoru begins to say, but you ignore him, stepping forward to get a good look at Suguru, the dark haired boy tensing under your gaze, screwing his eyes shut. He doesn’t look the same as he left. Something’s wrong, you can feel it. “Tell me,” you whisper, and a soft clink comes from behind the curtain, and it’s pulled aside by Shoko.

Two little girls, no older than five years old, peer up at you from the examination table.

Shoko looks at you, and before you can say anything, or ask more questions, Suguru’s hand is holding onto your arm. Even now, he’s still the most rational, says so much without even speaking.

Not here, not in front of these two, whatever happened to them must be too much to even question right now. You close your mouth — Suguru’s hand is cold, and when you look to Satoru, he has his head down.

And there’s the tinge of a familiar metallic smell, crimson against your elbow.

“Suguru… why are your hands bloody?”

The sun rises, and you’re sitting in the stairwell opposite the infirmary.

Suguru sits to your left, between you and Satoru, his breathing soft, yet heavy, almost pained.

In the silence of the orange sky, autumn air finally beginning to take, you and Satoru have your arms wrapped around Suguru’s shoulders.

“What… do you need me to do?” Satoru whispers, and Suguru’s head falls limp on your shoulder, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

It’s different, it makes your heart feel heavy, you’re scared even.

If Satoru is an empty map, and you the pencil freehanding lines of latitude and longitude, Suguru is the coordinate. Always guiding you two, always the voice in the back of your heads that you consult.

Satoru doesn’t trust his own instinct, you don’t trust your own emotions.

You both trust Suguru’s heart.

But now, the moral compass you two depend on, points nowhere.

“I don’t need you to do anything.” Suguru whispers, and he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “I need to—” He moves, as if to get up, as if to walk away again, like the three of you have been doing too much this past year. But you grab his arm.

His hands are still cold. A little wet from you and Satoru scrubbing the blood off them.

Suguru remembers the first time he met Satoru, the first time he met you. His hair was shorter then, things were simpler, he didn't feel like a parasite in his own body back then.

“We.” You say, firm.

Satoru looks like he wants to cry, and Suguru’s gaze is turned away from you. How can you say that so simply? Suguru doesn't even know what he's feeling right now. It's something akin to a blade twisting inside his gut and bile collecting in the back of his throat.

We. Together. Not as the strongest, not as sorcerers, but as friends. As...

“We need to and what we will do.” Your voice goes soft, and here it goes to weathering another storm. But this time, not with syrupy pancakes or crumpled sheets or eyebags. “We’ll carry each other — just…”

Just don’t walk away from us, Suguru.

Suguru has always prided himself on his level headed abilities, his attentiveness. The way he can see beyond Satoru's limitless and through the gaps in the keyholes of your heart. But now, he feels naked.

Is this what it feels like to be seen?

“You called.” Satoru smiles a little, and he tugs you and Suguru close to his side, your face in the crook of Suguru’s neck and his pressed against Satoru’s chest. “I’m sorry,” Suguru whispers, and for the first time in a long time, he cries.

“No, don’t say sorry for that.” Your breath goes inaudible against Suguru. How long? How long have the three of you been ignoring this hurt? “Don’t ever think we wouldn’t answer you if you called out.”

Maybe things have changed.

Satoru keeps a roll of bandages in his uniform pockets now instead of sweets. Suguru doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat, there's a stranger where his reflection used to be. You can’t look at them without seeing the strength you failed to have, the end of everything you once knew.

He shouldn’t be sorry for hurting. He shouldn’t be sorry for feeling trapped.

He should never be sorry for feeling so alone.

Because you and Satoru feel it too. Maybe you were just cowards for not saying it out loud.

“I should’ve heard you two sooner,” It leaves Satoru’s mouth like a confession, an admittance of failure, and your heart clenches. “I should’ve known.”

“We’ll figure it out…” You whisper, and Suguru thinks his whole body has gone numb, he doesn’t think he can feel anything right now.

For once, just this once, he’ll let you and Satoru do it for him.

He doesn’t want you two to let him go, because if you do, he’ll disappear into a corner of his mind he didn’t even know existed til tonight.

Or maybe it was last month. Or a year ago. He doesn’t know. He’s just tired. So tired.

“Sleep… I want… I need to…” How does a person ask for help? Suguru cries. The ugliness of everything in this world bubbles beneath his skin like acid. “Please.”

Who said the word please for you to hate it so much, Suguru?

I did.

“—mhm! It’s so pretty!” Mimiko is clutching the strawberry colored doll to her chest, giving it a few happy squeezes. Sure, it was a little torn when she first came with it a few days ago, but now, it’s all stitched up and good as new. “Yeah? I’m really glad you like it, Mimi” You grin at the dark haired little girl, your head tilted to the side.

Across the vacant classroom, Suguru is hyper focused on trimming Nanako’s hair, his fingers measuring at the strands, not so subtly eavesdropping on your conversation with the other twin, the softest sliver of a smile twitching on his lips.

It's been three days since the twins came. Three days since your lives flipped on its axis again. The girls live at the dorms now, taking Suguru's old room instead of moving into a new one.

It's new, it's scary. But you'll find your footing bit by bit. Sometimes it helps to remember that you're not alone. That none of you were ever really alone.

Because between the bad things, there's always good. Always.

“I’m hungry!” Satoru groans from where he’s laid atop two desks pushed together, sunglasses dangling from his hair — You all ignore him for a beat, as Nanako tosses crumpled paper balls towards him, infinity bouncing it off and making the blonde girl giggle. “You’re just mad ‘cause you’re not getting a cool haircut.” You ruffle Mimiko’s hair, and her eyes go a little glossy, no doubt still entranced by Satoru’s antics, and dopey from being next in line to get her hair cut by Suguru.

“Bleh.” Satoru grumbles.

Suguru makes a face, his nose scrunching up. “I want my hair all white like Gojo-san’s!” Nanako says to Suguru and for a moment, it almost looks like Suguru’s considering it, with the way he pulls the scissors away and tilts his head in thought.

“You want your hair all messed up like that idiot?” Shoko slides the door open and enters, white plastic bag rustling in one hand and a lollipop in her mouth. “It’ll all fall off soon, you know?”

Satoru winces. “Women like my hair just as it is!”

God forbid someone tells him that the messy playboy hairdo is not what he has.

“I want my hair like Geto-san’s…” Mimiko whispers to you. “I think it’s prettier.” You nod and lean over to her, “Girls like Suguru’s hair better, you know?”

“Don’t lie to children, name!”

And Suguru bellows a laugh. A loud one — just like he used to.

It’s just that, in this world,

I couldn’t laugh from the bottom of my heart.

“Suguru…” You look up at him, and his eyes are shut, laughter rattling his chest, shoulders trembling. You’re in awe of him.

Laugh more, Suguru. Never stop letting us make you laugh in this twisted world.

Satoru looks over to you and then to Suguru, and he can’t help but laugh too. Shoko rolls her eyes and you chuckle, Mimiko and Nanako covering their mouths in between soft giggles.

Maybe everything has changed. Maybe Satoru will continue covering his eyes more, maybe Suguru will never just see himself anymore - the person that he used to be, maybe you'll never truly be strong enough.

But, if change is unstoppable force, you three are immovable object.

“What’re you laughing at mop head?”

“Huh!? We were having a moment, Suguru!”

“So sappy, ‘toru.”

“You two tryin’ to fight!?”

September 2007. The new beginning.