#i hope it makes sense this one was a pain to write

[jasmineoolongtea]

i wish i hated you - geto suguru

"wish there was worse to you, i wish that you were worse to me"

contents: geto suguru x gn!reader, lovers to exes, angst, hurt + comfort, hurt + no comfort, following the events of the hidden inventory arc, gojo and shoko appearance as well

summary: it's been a few weeks since your seemingly happy relationship with geto came to and end in the blink of an eye, leaving you reeling from the aftershock. now tasked with cleaning up your dorm for graduation, you're sent down an unfortunate trip down memory lane of your and suguru's relationship and end after his departure.

wc: 2.4k ish

a/n: inspired by i wish i hated you by ariana grande. even though i do like writing fluff, my true passion is actually angst, especially writing gut-wrenching angst to sad music. hope you guys enjoy this one and any likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <33

A clean breakup. No tears, no snot, no painful begging to rethink the other's actions or to fight for whatever was left of the relationship. "It was better this way." He said, "We're not like those other couples, we're better than that." All you could do was nod as the knot at the bottom of your throat began to constrict itself into a weight that felt like it was going to drag you down with it.

What if you weren't better than them, you would think to yourself late at night. It wasn't like you were asking for a massive breakup fight like one straight from the movies, screaming and crying at each other through a thunderstorm, broken plates being tossed around haphazardly with you two spitting venomous insults at each other. You just wish that at least it ended like it was something, rather than nothing but even in your dreams, all you can find yourself doing is repeating the mistakes of your past as you stand there frozen in place, watching as his silhouette fades into the foggy recesses of your mind.

No matter where you went, it felt like you were constantly haunted by his presence, or whatever remained of it at this point. Hell, even your room didn't feel like it belonged to you anymore. You were a temporary guest that drifted through its old walls that echoed the haunted past of happier days, where you would lay with Suguru under the blankets, whispering sweet nothings, until both of you fell asleep. Every single thing in that room had been touched by him, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, to the point where if you closed your eyes hard enough, you swear you could feel him hovering in front of you. In times like those, you foolishly reach out to see if you steal back a few seconds of happiness, to see if you can experience his touch for only a fleeting second but are only met with nothing but the cold, empty silence around you.

If it was up to you, you would take nothing from your room when the time came. Ideally, it would become a time capsule, perfectly preserved to the point where you could still see the shadows of a not-so-distant past dance across the walls once the sun had set. Maybe once in a while, you would find yourself there again, making your way towards the bed that barely smells like him anymore and curl up to the memories of days when you and him would plan your futures together.

"Suguru," he hums in response, his back towards you as you card your fingers through his raven locks from the mattress behind him. "What are your thoughts on getting a pet together?"

"I could see us getting a cat together in the future." He replies, leaning his head against the mattress. "Actually, I could see us doing a lot of things in future."

At his words, your attention was immediately peaked as you let go of his hair and rearranged yourself on the cramped bed to lay on your stomach, arms wrapping around his neck as you silently implored him to continue on. He smiles softly at your antics.

"I could see us moving out of this dorm and into our own apartment where we could bribe Satoru and Shoko to become our very own moving company." You giggle to yourself at the thought. Good for you guys that your friends were so transparent with their wants. "Maybe in a few years down the line, we might decide to take the next step and at our high school reunion we would show off our matching rings." You murmur a few words of approval at his vision of the future. You could see it, stretching your left hand out in front of you as you envision a delicate ring resting upon your ring finger, a constant reminder of the love between you two. His gaze lands upon your outstretched hand and reaches up to intertwine his fingers with yours. Suguru starts rubbing circles around your ring finger as if testing how it would feel to be met with the coolness of a metal band around it instead of just the softness of your skin. Gently, he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss against your interlaced hands that elicits a shy giggle from you.

"A few years more, we might even have kids." He says suddenly, looking off into the distance through your dorm window.

You raise an eyebrow at him, curious about where he was planning to go with his vision. "Oh yeah? How many?" You question. It wasn't like you were necessarily thinking about having kids when you were barely on the border of adulthood. However, if you ever were going to raise children with anyone, you think you would want it to be with Suguru.

"I think 2 would be nice. Both girls." It sounds like he's thought a lot about this, considering how resolute his response is. You choose not to comment on though, despite feeling your cheeks grow with warmth at the thought of him taking so much care to plan his future out with you down to a detail like this. Sensing that you were starting to get lost in thought, he gave your hand a slight nudge. "What do you think?"

"I think it'd be nice." You respond back, leaning further forward to rest your head upon his shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Suguru gives your cheek a soft kiss before standing up from his position on the floor. Your hands are still interlocked as he hovers above you, pointing towards you on your bed. He always does this. Ever since you guys started dating and even before this, he always asked for permission to enter your space. He does this with 3 knocks on your door when he wants to come into your room, a shy tap on your shoulder when he wants to pull you closer to him and a point towards your bed whenever he wants to clamber in with you. You've told him before that he doesn't need to do this. To you, your space is basically his space at this point and he's always a welcomed guest. He only brushes off your comment with a simple smile and a brief kiss against your lips and continues on with this habit. Even now, with everything that had transpired, you think you would still let him in no matter how long it was since he came knocking.

Using your grip on him, you pull him down onto the mattress with you, shuffling back to the point where your back is against the wall as he rests his head against the pillow. Suguru opens his arms, inviting you into his embrace which you gladly accept with your head now resting against his chest. His arms encircle your figure as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart lull you into a sense of security. In this room, between these papered walls, is a sanctuary that the two of you had carved out for each other with your bare hands. Though you had only known Suguru for 3 years and were only dating for 2 of those years, you don't think you could ever fall asleep or feel even as safe without hearing, feeling and sensing the steady drum of his heart right next to you.

You knew first-hand how draining the world of jujutsu and curses was, even more so for those who were first-grade or special-grade sorcerers, and so it always warmed your heart knowing that Suguru was comfortable enough to relax around you. You could physically see how his shoulders would sag with relief every time he saw you safe and sound and you let yourself believe that with every brush of his hair and every soft touch, you were pulling away all the tension and stress away from him. It wasn't enough as you would soon come to find out and maybe, it would have never been enough.

The memory is only temporary. Like all memories are really. Just a recollection of the past and its ensuing ghosts. Holding out for a second longer in this state of limbo between reality and your mind won't make the memory last longer. You know this, but it doesn't stop you from trying to squeeze your eyes shut just a bit tighter hoping that you might be able to grasp onto its tendrils for just a bit longer. Eventually, you give up on trying and get up from your curled-up position on the bed. The sheets are crumpled but there's only the indentation of you on its surface, the usual presence of the second one now long gone.

As you begin to undertake the arduous task of cleaning out your closet, it dawns on you how much stuff that was left behind by Suguru. Prior to this, you thought that it would be you and him spending a lazy afternoon here cleaning it out before you moved into your shared apartment, reminiscing on the glory of your high school days together. Hell, you even entertained the idea that Suguru might have ransacked the room for his belongings when he decided to up and leave that night. It would have spared you all this pain of dredging up old memories. You never thought that it would be you who was cleaning it up alone.

If this was a normal breakup, you would pack his things up into a tidy little box and ship it off to wherever he was in the world with a note wishing him the best for his future endeavours. Out of sight and out of mind, you would think to yourself as you did it. Or maybe if you were more the vengeful type, you would throw a match onto it and watch with a cheap can of beer from the convenience store, the ones that you would always complain tasted like nothing but foam, in hand as the flames burned away remnants of the past. You could even picture Shoko taking a sip with you as you two both sat in silence. But you could never do that. No matter how badly you wanted to, even if it was a small mercy you could have afforded yourself.

A lot of this would be easier if you would dare to take that more permanent step of trying to erase him from your life. It would be a lot easier if you could understand why he chose to do this, breaking up with you days before he went to that village. You thought you two were happy, at least on your end you were. You think about what you've heard about how he ended things with Satoru. Why did he have to be so good with you until the end? When you broke down crying on that day, he turned around in his step and sat with you on a bench while you melted into a blubbering mess. He didn't need to do that. He wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He wasn't even your friend anymore with how he worded his goodbye. "It's better for us if we don't talk after this." was what he said. Yet, despite all of that, he still remained with you, rubbing soothing circles on your back whilst you sobbed against his chest. The next thing you remember from that day was waking up in your bed, eyes red and swollen, a dry throat and tucked into your bed with a glass of water on your nightstand.

It's not like you haven't tried to be angry at him. You think back to a few days ago when you tried to destroy some of the origami cranes that Suguru folded for you and left on your desk. According to Shoko, she said that stuff like that could be "cathartic for the soul." though you're pretty sure she stole that quote from a poster advertising a rage room. When you asked him why he did that late one night, he was as cryptic as ever, only sending you a soft smile as he started to fold another one right after finishing the first. You later found out from Satoru that he was planning to fold a thousand of them as he wanted to wish for your happiness and safety, he only got to about 20 before he left. It only took ripping up the first one for you to immediately regret your actions. Whatever anger there was in you dissipated the second you saw the shredded and butchered remains of the crane in your hands. Apparently, when Satoru and Shoko came to check in on you, it was already sunrise and you were still sitting there at your desk, trying to glue together whatever was left of the paper at that point.

All emotions felt manufactured to you when it came to Suguru. If you couldn't be angry at him, then you thought that you could be annoyed but that was a failure as well when you realised that it was a fault of your own that you didn't speak up when you had the chance to voice your thoughts to him. Regret wasn't an option as well because if anyone would ask if you regret meeting Suguru then your answer would be a resounding no. You wouldn't trade your time with him for anything. Trying to be happy could never work when you felt like there was a gaping, empty hole in your chest from where someone had ripped out the Suguru-shaped piece that managed to worm its way into there. Every time you put on a smile, it's like a failed imitation of what one pictures a smile to be, making you out to be a fraud amongst the sea of people who were still intact.

In all honesty, all your problems would be solved if you hated Suguru Geto. Then, just maybe, there was a sliver of a chance that you wouldn't feel burdened by all this pain and yearning for what once was and what could have been. It would be easier if he was worse, but that could never be that because that wasn't who he was. He was someone who cared for those around him with every beat of his bleeding heart, too much if you asked those close to him to the point where he would try to shoulder the weight of their world tenfold. Just like how there could not be worse things about him, you could never hate Geto Suguru despite everything.

[madarasgirl]

His Immortal

Permission to use art from the INCREDIBLY talented @vanerchest. Feeling very honoured! I think about this piece often whenever I write Alucard angst.

C/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x senior!Reader, angst, on death and dying, hospital setting, hurt/no comfort, shadow writing. Inspired by the legendary song "My Immortal" by Evanescence Words: 998

You supposed you were the one who was selfish for choosing this mortal fate and leaving your greatest love behind.

Did you regret this path? Sometimes you thought perhaps you did. There would have been tons to gain by becoming an ageless vampire at his side, and on occasion, you used to speculate 'what if?'

It didn't matter. It was far too late to backtrack anyways, and it would be an insult to do so, after living such a beautiful, full lifetime spent with Alucard, teeming with precious memories and magical experiences. He aged with you through the decades –at least he made it so his appearance did.

But as with all mortals who lived long enough, you too eventually grew very old, frail, and sick. Your body betrayed you and no longer belonged to you. It didn't obey when you wanted to walk, speak, eat, or even breathe.

So here you lay in a hospital bed, intubated and sedated, machines replacing the function of vital organs while multiple drugs dripped nonstop to hold you captive in this realm. What a sight you made, with tubes protruding from every corner on your skeletal form.

Your body may have failed, but fortunately you never developed dementia. Your mental faculties were as crisp as the night you met so long ago. A piece of you was still buried within, floating from above and somehow aware of the happenings around you in your comatose state.

The various alarms and buzzing were only background noises by now, and there was little commotion this time as well, but you felt a sense of relief. Sighing inwardly, you wished Alu would leave your side for a moment so you could just die already, though you knew that was an empty hope. The vampire had not parted from the bedside your entire stay.

Was he scaring the nurses by crying again? You hoped he'd remember to make them forget this time. And not to terrorize the staff and force them to do whatever it took anymore. You recalled the time you surfaced with another set of thick tubes in your neck and groin, and how painful they were. How frightening it was.

"You must live," he whispered to you at night at first. For his sake. So you did, trapped in the confines of your weathered shell, you continued to exist for him, slowly spiralling downhill until now.

With any other man, you'd be helpless to communicate in your vegetative state, but Alucard had never been as mediocre as 'normal.' So you begged him through telepathy. After all these years, reaching for his mind was as easy as sifting through your own thoughts, as natural as breathing (well, back when you were still able to do so independently). You implored him again to let you go. You were terminal and old, with no hope for recovery or any good prognosis. Being connected to every form of life support was not life, just a sad fate that prolonged your suffering and delayed your inevitable expiration.

Long ago, he promised not to let you suffer.

Alu, please don't make them bring me back again when my heart stops.

The weary, congested muscle thudded weakly towards failure. You were already dead in every way except you still possessed vital signs. The numbers were just evidence of the drugs, transfusions, and machines at work though.

The irony wasn't lost on you. At the end of the road, after declining his many offers to turn you when you were a maiden, you were finally just like Alucard, the living dead. You'd laugh if you could.

...More than anything, you didn't want him to see you like this, a husk of the vibrant woman you once were when you fell for each other. The unlikely circumstances of your meeting and scenes from your life flashed by in an instant. The vampire would tell you throughout the decades, when he'd get in one of his romantic moods, that you'd always be his sprightly young woman no matter your age. He actually only told you again yesterday. Or was it last week? 

How long have you been laying here?

The mind's eye saw his seated figure clearly and smiled. Actually, your tired mind pondered, you certainly did not regret a moment of your life with Alucard. He was the perfect partner and his unchecked devotion never gave you a reason to regret choosing him. Your lifespan was too short for that, he used to tell you.

But you regretted leaving him behind to be alone once more.

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

Your heart stopped. And he loved you enough to let you go.

You were free.

Your spirit lifted from the prison of your flesh and you soared, wrapping around your love with your incorporeal form, sinking into him and caressing the unbeating heart that had ever belonged to you. This time, you wiped away the blood tears that fell.

You quivered.

Liberated from the pains and illnesses of advanced age, it was as if you'd become new and for the first time ever, like the fog lifted and you could finally see with clarity. Your non-existent chest tightened at the sight of your love crushed by your death, looking utterly devastated and lost. There was no sobbing or outward breakdown, but you knew his expressions well.

Nebulous fingers smoothed over inky black locks while you cradled his cheek. Glistening eyes the colour of polished rubies stared blankly at your lifeless corpse, your chest still rising and falling mechanically before the ventilator was turned off. He could not feel your soothing touch anymore and it broke you.

...

You will watch over your vampire from above and wait for him for the rest of your eternity, until he returned to dust and was no more. Then you'd meet him wherever he ended up. Just as he was, you were bound by the life you left behind.

And even if he was unaware, he still had all of you.

~End~

(For more angsty romance, check out my one-shot “Without You” on AO3. Warning: Smut abounds in that one. It is about the occasion when Reader chooses to remain human for her remaining days with Alucard. You will find similar themes to this short scene)

[moonxytcn]

a night of new beginnings

Leighton Murray x fem!reader

summary – Leighton and you reconcile at home on a movie night full of hugs and kisses

warnings – fluffy

a/n – heyy! someone sent me an ask if I wrote about Reneé or her characters and I was thinking about it and this came out, I hope you like it

English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

–––

The night enveloped you both in a cocoon of tranquility as you and Leighton nestled on the plush cushions of the living room couch. Soft lamplight cast gentle shadows across the room, dancing with the flickering glow of the TV screen, which bathed you in a warm, comforting aura as it played the chosen movie for the evening. It was one of those rare moments when the outside world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intimate embrace of your shared space.

After weeks of tension and uncertainty, Leighton had summoned the courage to reveal her true feelings for you, stepping out of the shadows and baring her heart completely. The confession had sparked an intense confrontation, a whirlwind of emotions culminating in tears, harsh words, and shattered expectations. But now, as you sat side by side, there was a palpable sense of reconciliation in the air, a silent agreement to mend what had been broken.

Leighton's arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you close as you settled into the movie. Despite the softness of her touch, there lingered a tension in the air, a fragile bridge between past hurts and newfound hope.

As the movie unfolded on the screen, Leighton's fingers traced absentminded patterns along your arm, the gentle caress a silent apology for the pain of the past. You turned to meet her gaze, the soft flicker of the TV casting a halo of warmth around her features.

"I'm sorry for everything." Leighton whispered, her voice a fragile echo of regret. "I was scared, and I acted foolishly. But I want to make things right, Y/N. I want us to work."

You smiled, a flicker of understanding dancing in your eyes as you reached for Leighton's hand. "I want that too, Leighton. I love you."

The words hung in the air, a delicate thread weaving between you, binding your hearts together once more. Leighton leaned in, her lips finding yours in a tender, apologetic kiss. It was a moment of vulnerability and forgiveness, a silent promise to leave the past behind and embrace the future together.

When you finally pulled away, Leighton's eyes were filled with a soft, hopeful light. "I have something for you." She said, her voice tinged with excitement.

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Leighton rose from the couch, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she disappeared into the darkness of the room. Moments later, she returned, a DVD clutched in her hands.

"Do you remember the movie we watched on our first night together?" Leighton asked, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

You nodded, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was a memory etched in your mind, a moment of connection and intimacy that had shaped your relationship.

"I thought we could watch it again." Leighton said softly, her gaze unwavering. "As a way to start anew."

You nodded, a rush of warmth flooding your chest at the thought of reliving that cherished memory. "I'd love that."

And so, you settled back onto the couch, the glow of the TV illuminating your faces as you lost yourselves in the timeless embrace of the movie. As you watched the scenes of love and redemption unfold on the screen, you knew that you were writing your own story, a story of forgiveness, hope, and a love that would withstand the test of time.

By the end of the movie, your hearts were light, your spirits lifted by the promise of a new beginning. You turned to each other, your smiles mirrored in each other's eyes, and you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, hearts entwined.

And as the night stretched on, you savored each moment, each kiss, each whispered promise, grateful for the chance to start anew and to rediscover the depth of your love for each other. The world outside may have been uncertain, but in the warmth of each other's arms, you knew that together, you could weather any storm.

[frvnkcastles]

hiii!! i hope you're okay ❤️ so i was thinking of a frank x reader where she's asthmatic but hasn't had an attack for a long time, so they're watching a movie and she has a very strong attack and he helps her and comforts her.

thank you, i love the way you write ❤️❤️❤️❤️

FEEL THE RUSH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You have an asthma attack, and Frank is there to help.

Warnings: Asthma attack, language

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: Anon I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this! Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this <3

Maybe you had been foolish to sink into the false sense of hope and security — maybe you had been foolish to think another attack simply wasn’t going to rear its head and you could live your life without care or worry about the air in your lungs.

Truthfully, it was something you always had to deal with, always a part of your daily routine that you had just grown accustomed to. Being asthmatic could be a real pain in your ass, but for the most part, it was manageable. For the past months, you had been spared of an attack, and you almost forgot how constricting and terrible it could be.

You liked to think your sudden lack of symptoms had something to do with the man by your side. He seemed to make everything better, after all. You had been friends for a long time, but a few months back, he had taken the plunge and kissed you — with caution, as not to take your breath away entirely. He had worked backwards, first cradling your face in his massive hands and clashing his perfect lips against yours, noses brushing together as he handled you with ease and effortlessness… and only after, he shyly backed away, wondering out loud if you’d do him the honor of joining him for a date. He had enchanted you entirely and you had agreed in a heartbeat, and ever since then, you had been inseparable.

He spent a lot of time at your apartment, and it already felt like he belonged there, like he was what turned it from a house into a home. You were completely comfortable with the burly, hulking man who fixed your furniture and learned the contents of your kitchen cabinets in an effort to cook you dinner even without asking. In fact, you were head over heels for him and his tendency to always have his hands all over you, sometimes in a protective manner, sometimes hungry and needy to feel your body under his calloused fingertips. He made every day a dream come true, heaven on earth, and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

So, it was easy to forget about your health concerns. He was the concerned one, always looking out for you and making sure you were alright, and you were just happy to have him.

But of course, bliss could only last so long, and you were pulled back into reality on a seemingly uneventful Friday evening, your body nestled against Frank’s with his strong arms around you and your fingers drawing patterns on the back of his cut-up hand. It was all so domestic, something he never thought he’d have again, and in that moment, you were both undoubtedly content.

It started out with a wheeze, a shallow attempt to inhale air into your system. Frank was immediately alerted, well-aware of your condition, and with a cocked eyebrow, he pushed himself off of the soft cushions enough to give you a knowing look full of worry and willingness to jump into action.

”I’m okay”, you managed, but he didn’t settle back into the couch, only continued to observe you, and his instincts proved to be right — in the next second, panic erupted on your face and you felt the familiar, suffocating grip, making it difficult for you to breathe. Your chest tightened and you burst into a fit of coughs, sitting up while struggling to haul air into your lungs.

Without a word, Frank got up from the couch. ”Where’s your inhaler, sweetheart?” he asked with a clear and firm voice, trying to stay calm and rational as he quickly glanced around the living room.

”The—the bedroom?” you theorized, silently cursing yourself for neglecting your inhaler. It had been months since you had had a full-blown attack, and days since you had needed to prevent smaller symptoms with the device, and in the rush of the moment, it was hard to think back to where you had left it.

Frank wasted no time, making his way to the bedroom

where you heard him ransack every nook and cranny. You tried to control your wheezing and regain composure, but it seemed the symptoms were only getting worse with every passing second, and it became blatantly obvious that the inhaler alone was going to offer any relief. It scared you, the thought of it being utterly lost, but before you could start panicking any further, Frank was running back to your side.

”Got it. Fucker was in the bedside table”, he announced gruffly, seating himself next to you on the couch while handing over the inhaler. As you desperately brought it up to your mouth, Frank caressed your cheek and wiped astray strands of your hair behind your ear. ”It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be better soon”, he spoke with reassurance, swallowing thickly as he watched you slowly get the upper hand.

As you began breathing easier, he smiled, the feeling of being useless subsiding. He hated not being able to help, even if realistically he knew there was nothing else he could do. ”Attagirl. You did so good, sweetheart”, he praised you, leaning in to kiss your temple before lowering his face to your level to meet your stare. ”Feelin’ better?” his voice was soft as he addressed you, care in every word.

You nodded, the panic in you melting away as you gripped the inhaler with a vice-like hold. ”I’m never losing track of this thing again”, you grumbled, making Frank chuckle as he gently pulled you into his arms and stroked your back.

”Y’know I hate bein’ so fuckin’ useless. Just wanna make it better for you”, he lamented, and with a tender smile, you hugged him tight.

”You’re not useless. I would’ve been screwed if I had to start looking for the inhaler myself”, you reminded, and supposing you were right, Frank nodded.

”Fair ’nuff, sweetheart. Lemme know if you ever need anythin’ else from me, aight? I’m here for ya”, he swore, and full of love for the man and his big heart, you withdrew from his embrace just enough to place a careful kiss right on his lips. He returned the fervor, greedily kissing you back, almost losing his cool as he ached for more of you.

”Thanks, Frankie. You’re my hero”, you grinned, half-joking, and with a snort, he rolled his eyes.

”You’re your own hero, pretty girl. ’M just the lucky asshole who gets to admire you in all your glory.”

[sharpth1ng]

Now…this may be a dumbass question…feel free to say so.. HOWEVER i really do not understand whats going on with billy rn. Like you DO make it clear what his thought process is but like- WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING 😭 For someone who wants to “hit his head against the wall until he passes out” because he’s so upset about what just happened, he’s uh not making decisions that make sense regarding his boytoy. Cuz like- was it not a sub-point of the killings to be together afterwards?? ‘No one will be in the way’ so they can be together now‼️ Only no they cant because Billy’s like, Ha ha no feelings are scary🚶. So does he not think about the fact that Stu almost died FOR and BECAUSE OF him? Like wheres the sense of obligation? Wheres the duty? Wheres the ‘okay i need to make up for being such a shit head’? Im sorry i just don’t understand him rn 😞👍🏻🔊

I get the confusion, he’s contradictory and he’s not the most reliable narrator. But also maybe I should have made this more obvious in my writing? Idk.

The reason Billy ran away isn’t just that he’s afraid of having feelings for Stu, it’s about the fact that those feelings make it devastating to lose him. Billy got a taste of how that would feel when Stu was in a comatose state and it scared the hell out of him. To him the pain and stress he’s experiencing by leaving Stu is only a fraction of what he would feel if he lost Stu involuntarily, so this is like ripping off the bandaid. A little pain now to avoid a lot of pain in the future.

Maybe this is just a me thing, but sometimes when I get something good I get scared and I want to run away because it hurts less to walk away than it does to have that good thing taken away from me involuntarily. So that’s kind of what’s happening here. It’s paradoxical but sometimes I want to run away because I want something very badly, and wanting something is scary because of the way it feels when you don’t have that anymore.

You also ask about a sense of obligation and duty, but the thing is that this is fundamentally selfish. Fear makes us selfish, and for Billy running away is an act of self preservation. Duty doesn’t matter when you’re terrified, it just becomes something to hate yourself for because you know you’re failing to meet it.

There’s also a not insignificant amount of guilt at play here. Billy sees the hand he had in Stu’s near-death experience, remembers feeling out of control when he stabbed him, and as a result he doesn’t totally trust himself anymore. So on some level he thinks Stu will be safer with out him, and he’ll be safer without Stu.

(Cough cough he’s in his new moon era)

So anyways yeah I hope that helps explain a little?

[i-yap]

Hello here another request from Dick Grayson. I hope you are well and that you are not putting pressure on yourself with these requests, sleep well.

Could you write something about Dick's Girlfriend who is an artist 🎨 she went to university and graduated with a degree in Literature or something like that she is like an artistic soul she writes, plays the piano, paints maybe she knows a little about ballet [she is just as flexible than Dick] and speaks several languages. Maybe Dick convinced her not to "work" [on a schedule for someone else] so they could spend more time together and so she wouldn't fill her little head with things like forced labor or bills. He covers all expenses and more. He spoils us too much. ...it also makes it so that you focus only on your art out of passion, writing, painting, playing music, learning to play the guitar 🎸 just because you want to and have the time.

and on the nights when he has patrol you go out with your friends "Sex And The City" style.

You also learn to cook in the huge kitchen of their shared apartment and he tries everything you make, he also cooks for you (sometimes) you also do a Skincare routine for him and he loves to smell just like us.

Dick Grayson x artist!y/n

man has money, I can see bruce paying all his vigilante children and he got alfred's billion plus man is the best detective at the pd .

So how could you expect him to not feel sorry for his -pretty but stressed overworked surrounded by idiots who don't know art having to commercialize herself and loosing her sense of style and art because of the nonsense requests of her bosses -gf. Your pain is his pain after all.

You know you are very creative I mean- your ballet could give grayson a run for his money. You have always been talented, drawn to the creative arts. But here you are stuck being a designer for a corporate job. AND IT SUCKS BALLS.

The boss keeps asking you to design templates and after designing 3 boring asf template she's like yea that fine now just do content. But even the content cant be fun or innovative. It has to be corporate and easily consumable and its just so dumb like let ai do it and why even hire you if she wants you to do the labor that is just ctrl c ctrl v LIKE FUCKK

And your creativity is dyinggg. you cant remember the last time you picked up a paintbrush and you loved art. Now you're loosing a sense of self and you don't even know if any of this is worth it. WHY NOT BE A BARISTA?? AND DO ART ON THE SIDE...CUZ OF THIS FUCKING ECONOMY. ONLY THE RICH CAN BE ARTISTS ONLY THE RICH AHHHH

(sorry this turned into a little self vent ahem ahem)

anyways dick sees your talent and he sees your pain and...he wont take no for an answer.

So here you are, live in girlfriend , but he calls you an investment whenever you feel down because dick is paying for both of you.

So other than art, you make him food. And he makes you food too dw girlie but you do it out of passion of trying out new recipes .

You go out and teach students dance at underfunded public schools and perform without contracts...just for the love of performing or focus on writing a book.

You spend the day focusing on your passions and build up your skill, having a loving supportive boyfriend.

Dick is really busy with detective work then as Nightwing so you spend the alone time focusing on your work rather than being distracted by your pretty boyfriend...that too actually.

And with this amazing man by your side, you have plenty motivation.

SO when you do become a hit, No one is prouder than Mr grayson here who believed in his girl all along.

and If you don't? you can always start a small art school, language school or ballet school. There is no lack of talents

And with such a talented gf , dick has the perfect trophy wife who he loves very very much. You are the talk of every gala, you accompany him on business meets (language skills and art is universally needed) and honestly dick couldn't ask for more!

In modern society its now believed that the only way to get self respect is to be a working woman. Why cant we stop telling woman to be something? Staying at home, raising or not raising kids, focusing on your passion and loving your husband ( future husband too) is just as acceptable as going to work( if you can find a man like dick ofc). you do work hard, you did have a degree or not depending on your circumstances and you are genuinely working towards your goals. And dick comforts you in it. He sees your passion he sees your talent and more than that he loves you so no matter what, he's supporting you through this journey.

I am actually writing a batboys skincare thing which ill post over the weekend. Im sorry this turned into a personal rant. Im working two jobs and studying 3 courses while preparing to start university..so this hit a little close to home . What I would do to have a dick grayson just marry me and let me focus on my passion rather than juggling various stuff. This blog is maybe the only thing I do for myself..which is sad cuz I had a lot of hobbies. Anyways ...hope this didn't suck too much.

[makittuu]

GUYS. GUYS.

I found this amazing fanfiction! It's going to be at the top of my lists for sure. It's a Steven Universe AU fic where an apocalypse takes over the earth; and corrupted gems and Spinel's pain are further explored 🙌

I drew Red, one of the characters from it! I absolutely adore the concept for this character; you should definitely give the story a read to learn more! 🙏 I really hope I did Red justice in my art 💕

Red belongs to @prophet-of-calamity

and here is their fic!👇

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50458486/chapters/127488331

She has a lollipop at one point in the story, so I drew her with a couple hehe!

Also, the writing is very masterfully done; it flows very well, is complex, and it's such a nice read!

FURTHER DISCUSSION, (IF INTERESTED)👇

Going into it, I was a little cautious, as I would be for any fanfic, just because it's about one of my favorite characters. Spinel is so much so one of my favorite characters that I really wanted to like the author's representation of her! It's obviously okay to think about characters however you want to. And to represent them however feels best to you! But going into this, I was really hoping to like the way Spinel was represented by this author! And I left feeling beyond impressed at the way the author handled Spinel's inner thoughts and the way she can be compassionate for others, but also feel trapped and overtaken by her thoughts and pain sometimes. She was never given the chance to fully heal, so it makes sense. And even if she were, she was hurt pretty badly; it's understandable if she never fully, truly and completely stops hurting over it. Healing isn't a linear path, and I think the author did a wonderful job of representing all of this.

AND OMG this story does such a good job of representing other characters in a way that feels so true to them too! Lapis felt so lined up with her character that I could even hear her lines in her voice as I was reading!

The descriptors and imagery throughout are stunning, and done in a way that made me feel fully immersed as I was reading. Even when I left and came back to keep reading, I felt immersed again as I got into it, which is hard for me sometimes.

On top of that, the author found so many clever connectors to link Spinel's character in with other events. I'm very impressed by it, and please go give it a read! <3

There's also a detroit become human reference in chapter two that really struck me, I have not heard that joke in a long time bahahahha 😭

I hope I came off the right way, I absolutely recommend this story! It's not completed just yet, but what's written so far is 100% worth a read all on its own, and it deserves to have a bunch of loyal readers! And it's so beautifully done, I'd still happily recommend it and believe how worth it of a read it is, no matter how long it ends up being in the end! Writing is hard and finding motivation can be difficult at times, and this author has done such an amazing job tackling this project, putting in so much care and developing all the characters so strongly! Even Red is developed so well that she fits in really seamlessly with the official su characters :)

Thank you for making it to the end if you did! :)

[grapejuicegay]

Being haunted by a legacy

They want us to be aware of how memories of people can haunt and influence us. It’s why Mes exists. Mes is a ghost in the narrative, haunting only Akk. He serves as a legacy and a ghost and a memory all at once. He has never shown up in the current time and he never will because he doesn’t matter outside of his influence on Akk.

And he exists for a very important reason. To highlight how ghosts can haunt everything you do. Just like Dika, for both Ayan and Chadok.

Dika’s influence on Chadok goes the opposite direction - he is a reminder that Suppalo needs to be worth it. That if Suppalo’s rules and traditions are not worth it, he has given up everything for them.

Part of why I believed Suppalo was a cult was because of the use of terms like “faith”.

We know more about Dika than we do Mes, but for all we know he was haunted by what he had done too. For us, it doesn’t matter. Because outside of what he has left behind, he doesn’t matter. But for Chadok, it does matter. Because what he left behind is what haunts him.

‘Have faith in Suppalo’s rules’ is not just a reminder from him to Akk, it’s a reminder to himself (for all we know, it’s the same of Mes).

The only reason Dika matters outside of this is because someone else was left behind too. Ayan, who believes in the true meaning - in knowing the truth, in finding answers.

And Ayan is haunted by the truth he has found. The truth that his beliefs need to change

That his uncle is not the person he thought he was - that he was in love with Chadok, a person Ayan hates for so many reasons.

They’re all also haunted by the literal death of their legacies.

Thua killed Chadok’s legacy by exposing him as the originator of the curse. He can no longer uphold Suppalo, not the way he wants to, not when everyone knows this.

Akk is dealing with the death of his belief in Suppalo.

Ayan is not only haunted by the death of the image he had of Dika, but the fact that he can never be like him. He wanted to be like his uncle, so understanding, a comfort, but he knows where being like Dika leads.

They’re all haunted - by memories of people no longer here, by legacies they can’t live up to, by beliefs they have to let go of. Dika and Mes exist to highlight that.

[sneez]

victor kain chronic pain nation rise up (credit to @transdankovsky for this idea :-D)

/ id: two digital drawings. the first image shows victor kain and daniil dankovsky sitting together; daniil is taking victor’s pulse. inside a speech bubble above victor’s head is a screenshot of a question from the duolingo russian course, in which the sentence ‘я – хороший пациент, у меня всегда всë болит’ is translated as ‘i am a good patient, i always have pain everywhere’. the second image shows daniil looking politely horrified. end id. /

[mordremrose]

I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!

1000 words later? Whoops

Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]

Bloom

“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.

“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.

“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.

“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”

Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.

“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”

He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.

Trahearne wished there was another way.

“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?

“Strike now or—“

Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.

Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.

“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.

“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.

Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.

“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.

There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.

If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.

Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.

All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.

Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.

Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.

Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.

The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.

Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.

Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.

It had to be.

He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.

Traherdremaneth.

It didn’t matter, really.

He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.

He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.

His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.

He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.

He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?

They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.

The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.

The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.

He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.

There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.

It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.

He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.

[itsnotacostume]

yeah <3

[clemencetaught]

a heart to heart with best gremlin child ( @mythvoiced from here )

It’s always the victors from the rebel districts who take it the hardest.

Oh yes, Patrick might be considered part of Snow’s council and among the victors, the inner circle most favored by the Capitol, but saying he’s ignorant is like saying Devora has lost her edge.

It helps, on hand, knowing someone who wades shamelessly amongst the rebel circles. Whether he wanted to or not is a very different story mind you- it still amazes Patrick to this day, Hyuk insisting that they keep their bond despite opposing philosophies. It also helps living in one of the strongest hubs for anti-Capitol sentiments. Sure, the districts have been at the mercy of the Capitol for more than half a century, but just as time can weaken sentiments, it can easily strengthen the very same ones. Even if the original holders of such resentments have gone to the grave, does not mean the anger follows.

Their descendants will carry it, cradle it alongside their own. 

It’s no wonder María’s so angry. A young victor, barely even twenty and expected not only to swallow her own anger, but also close to 74 years of anger from District Eight, a particularly rebellious district. Patrick wouldn’t be surprised if Hyuk had some kind of communication with the rebels from there. 

Joan of Arc was the Harbinger of Hope for an ancient kingdom under tyranny, they once said, but what they forget is that hope is merely anger, well channeled. 

“But that’s the reality, is it not?” Or so he says, a shroud falling over his eyes. Her touch burns and for a moment he’s on his last line of defense- if they can see past the facade then, he will make sure there is a chasm waiting for them beyond. It’s safer that way. Easier that way too. 

Sure, he doesn’t care much for what happens to himself, hasn’t for a long time- in comparison to her, if they call her Joan of Arc, then he’s one of the soldiers she’s slain in the name of her crusade. Something depraved. Less than human. But it doesn't mean that it still...smarts when he thinks about it. Hurts more than he'll ever admit to, looking back on the long line of deeds he's degraded himself with. “It doesn’t do to deny what lies in front of us.”

For all the rage that emanates from her very being, she’s a small thing. A tiny, fragile candle flame in the face of a long winter. Even if she wanted to grow into a wildfire, they’d snuff her out before she could even realize how far she could go. Maybe he’s using his height to his advantage here, staring down on her not too differently from a disappointed teacher at their student. There’s a reason he and Devora are considered two peas in a pod.

They both know he is right. That winning the games is only the beginning. That being hollowed out from the inside by the violence, the bloodshed of the games is only the first part and now the remaining husk is a mere plaything for the Capitol to lay their hands on. 

They say she is a harbinger of hope, but the reality is that she’s just the newest commodity of dissent that the Capitol’s youth so love to listen to. 

“Whether you want to believe me or not,” he continues, “This is the reality we live in now- whether you want to change it or uphold it, you will still have to adapt to it. The Capitol may have made the rules, but if you understand them, then you will know more about the Capitol than it does about itself.”

Fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, he leans down, sternness giving way to something…gentler, more sympathetic. Nevermind the fact that the handkerchief is as white as snow ( and that it was a ‘going-away’ present from one of his ‘very generous’ clients ), he wipes away the mascara that has trailed down her face. The makeup stains his handkerchief in ink black rivelets; her hair is next. He’s just glad she hasn’t ruined the dress the stylists have put her in ( yet ). Fixing a piece of clothing is not within his makeshift expertise- he picks up the brush on the dresser.

Patrick wouldn’t have seen this for himself, being scarily proficient at doing hair and applying makeup to others when he barely does neither on himself, but isn’t that who Patrick is supposed to be? The unofficial mentor for the victors and when words aren’t enough, then actions will bridge the gap. Tangible movements that make this hellhole just a little more bearable. He hands her the brush.

“Do you want me to do it, or can you do it yourself?”

[dravidious]

ur cool

More uncommons!

[jasp-3-r]

Stan Marsh fic but it's based on Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers

[gay-dorito-dust]

hiiii!!! im not too sure if requests are open, if they arent please just ignore this!!!!! i really really loveeeee the way u write angst!😭✌️ could i please request blade, dr ratio, aventurine and sunday reacting to finding their loved one on the floor barely alive? UGHHHH I IMAGINE THE SHOCK AND FEAR AND BREATHLESSNESS aqhjddkkxnsk

thank u smmm!!!!!😭🩷🩷

Aventurine

Didn’t think it was possible to physically feel his heart being ripped from his chest anymore then it already had, until he spotted your bruised and barely conscious body lying on the floor in a way that made his blood become ice cold.

‘No.’ He whispered to himself in disbelief as a tight feeling blossomed within his chest. It felt as though he was being painfully constricted or squeezed tightly by an invisible hand, a feeling that only grew worse with every step he made towards you until he was finding it hard to breathe.

‘No.’ Aventurine whispers again, not wanting to think of anything that he was seeing before him as real but more of a realistic nightmare. ‘Please don’t take them away from me, I’ll have nobody left.’ He pleads as he drops to his knees and struggled with unsteady hands to pull your body towards him and holding you tightly in his arms as he rests his head against your chest, desperate and hopeful of hearing your heart beat as proof that you were alive.

‘Haven’t you taken enough from me!!?’ Aventurine screamed at the top of his lungs, staring up at the ceiling as though the Aeons would hear the rage, the heartbreak and the pain within his voice. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough by your hand?! You have taken everything and everyone I have ever loved and now you think you can take from me again just because you feel like it!?!’ He continued to scream, letting everything he’s kept inside out as rivers of tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision of you as he looked down at you as he felt his soul cry out for yours.

Everything within Aventurine was hurting and it was hurting like hell but that didn’t loosen his hold on you one bit, if anything it made him tighten it, almost as though he was the only thing stopping the deities from claiming your soul as theirs. Aventurine would fight them to keep you if he must and he didn’t care what the consequences of doing this would be, his left hand was more unsteady then ever as it desperately grasped for your hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing; letting out a whimper when he didn’t feel you squeeze his hand back like you always did to reassure him that you were not going anywhere.

‘Please.’ Aventurine begged as he pressed his forehead against your own, not wanting to walk through this life if the one person who stood by his side wasn’t going to be there. ‘Don’t take them away from me, not now, I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Sunday

He’s seething and seeing red.

He’s unable to contain his anger as he rushed to your side, clasping your hand tightly between his own, as though he could transfer some of his strength to you in hopes it would allow him to look in your pretty eyes again.

‘My love, I beg of you, tell me who did this to you.’ He pleads as could only watch your body with a sense of hopelessness and desperation for a sign. ‘Tell me who did this to you and I shall make them pay tenfold.’ He adds as his anger became harder and harder for him to conceal, how could he possibly keep his composure when you had been attacked because of your ties to him? Someone was out to get him but did so through underhanded means rather than direct confrontation and for that Sunday couldn’t help but think of a multitude of ways to capture this cowardly assailant for harming you.

When you did not answer him Sunday felt parts of his sanity begin to slip away as his breath hitched in his throat and his hands tightened on yours. ‘My love I beg of you to stay with me, for I cannot loose you now nor ever, I forbid you from leaving me this way. I cannot breathe without you, I cannot smile without you, for you are my lifeline in every sense of the word.’ He says as he felt the colour in his life begging to fade from view and become monochrome.

You were the colour in his life, you always have been, and without you he couldn’t see the beauty nor value in anything anymore as you were the most valuable thing to him. Sunday felt himself grow cold with every second they passed where you didn’t do anything to tell him that you were okay, all reason had left him as revenge took it’s place and almost as though a switch had been flipped within his head, Sunday stopped crying as his face became a blank slate.

‘I’ll keep you safe my beloved.’ He said as he lifted you in his arms. ‘You’ll never have to worry about anything else ever again once I bring back the person who did this to you at your feet, pleading for mercy and to spare their pathetic life.’ He then presses a kiss to your forehead as he looked ahead with a pair of dead, unfeeling eyes. ‘I promise this to you and so much more, just you wait my heart, I shall gaze upon your eyes soon enough.’

Ratio

He kind of internally shuts down upon seeing you laying on the floor, barely alive.

He stands there for prolonged periods of time not saying anything but it was clear within his eyes that Veritas was struggling to comprehend the situation before him in a logical manner.

Everything was quiet as though someone had just removed all sound out of the room and all he could focus on was the fact that you were barely moving, barely breathing but the expression on your face made it seem as though you were in a peaceful slumber. Veritas would soon snap himself out of his own mind and made his way towards you before kneeling by your side, he then placed two fingers to the pulse point in your neck and letting out a uneven sigh when he felt your pulse beat softly against his fingertips.

He hasn’t even noticed that he had been crying until he felt something wet hit his clothed thigh and reached up to touch his cheeks that were wet with the trail his tears had left. Nothing felt real yet everything was becoming too much for the scholar as felt himself actively trying to disassociate from everything as a way of dealing with the possibility of you dying.

His body is wracked with fear of an uncertain future as he kept his fingers glued to your pulse as a way as to ground himself in the reality that you were still alive despite what your current state looked like. He remained by your side silently, not a single word left his lips as he remembered your last conversation, it wasn’t pretty and a few unsavoury words were exchanged before you left his office with a heavy heart.

Veritas felt partially guilty for your current state even though everyone knew he had no part in it but he felt guilty regardless for how things were left between you two. He regretted not apologising for his blunt words and harsh criticism earlier, and now he had to deal with the horrible idea that that could’ve been your last ever conversation you had with him, along with the idea that you thought he might’ve hated you as you were left alone in a empty room after having been attacked in what you believed were your final moments.

Something of which that wasn’t true at all, Veritas loved you dearly and held you close to his heart whenever you were apart, finding himself longing to come back to your side and fall asleep together within the comfort of each others arms. However that didn’t mean much when he could barely hold you without touching a wound by accident and keeping his hands to himself for the rest of the day in fear of hurting you further.

Veritas had never felt such raw fear in his life until you were almost taken from him and on such negativity terms too. Something he wishes to never experience ever again.

Blade

Death refused to claim him and so it decided to try and stake its claim over you -the one person whom Blade cared deeply for -which didn’t sit right with Blade as he wordlessly held you in his arms, his jaw clenching at the sound of your pained whimpers.

‘Death won’t have you,’ he began, ‘I won’t allow it to because if it refuses to give me what I have been long since owed, then I will keep you from its clutches for as long as I can until it submits to our whims.’ Blade then kisses your forehead. ‘I will not let it claim you when you have so much to do, whereas I on the other hand, have nothing left ahead of me.’

Blade hated seeing you hurt but this only made him want to hunt down whoever did this to you and make them pay with their life, but he knew he couldn’t leave you on the assumption that they might come back and finish you off when he turned his back, so he stays by your side like a guard dog with his hand at the hilt of his sword constantly as he awaited for help.

Blade never thought he’d find himself in a situation where he wished death didn’t come, especially when that person was you because you were his guiding light, his only love and he would do anything to keep you safe and protected from all harm that came your way; even if that meant denying death to have your soul.

In comparison to him, you had so much more to offer and so much to accomplish in life, and Blade knew he would never forgive himself if he were to let you die before you even saw the fruit of your labour with your own two eyes. He wanted you to reach the stars and see that all your work wasn’t for nothing and then see you reach heights that he could only dream of touching.

He didn’t care what happened to him, he could heal as fast as he was hurt but you, you couldn’t heal like he could and the wounds that littered your body would become scars, scars that would look similar to his own that reminded you of what you had survived by the skin of your teeth. Blade didn’t want to loose you to something he could’ve easily prevented from happening, he felt as though he had failed you and for that he couldn’t forgive himself for what happened to you, calling it a mishap on his behalf in ever leaving you unguarded.

So now he stayed close to you, hand at the hilt of his sword, tempting fate to try and take you away from him again.

[kenntolog]

𝝑𝝔 an: i don’t really like this much :( im feeling so sick ngl reader is me i am reader, just need me a boyfie like sukuna here :((( anyways, i posted this because i felt the pressure to do it sk bare with me please!! i love you all <33 read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!

so you’ve been silent through the whole day, which has been bothering sukuna whenever he was reminded of it. nervously checking his phone at practice every chance he got, which got his teammates interested in whatever the hell happened that got him so invested in his phone(only toji tbh). his mind being focused on you instead of the upcoming game which reflected greatly on his practice and made everyone worried.

sukuna just waved them off and continued calling you with no results and texting you, which also got him nowhere. so of course, he decided to check on you after being done with university.

no one answers your door, radio silence, which leads sukuna to taking out the poorly hidden spare keys from under the fake plant and going in, still uninvited but determined to find you. he calls your name a few times, walking around the rooms with a frown on his face. the sight that greets him when he enters your room is even more confusing than your silence throughout the day.

a big pile of blankets on your bed. the longer he stares at it the clearer he can see the faint movement of it — slowly up and slowly down, up and down. he approaches it, looking over only to find a tuft of your hair peeking out from under it.

“what the hell..?” he mutters under his nose while his hands tug down the blanket to reveal your face.

even in your sleep you manage to frown and you only do that when you’re not feeling well, so sukuna leans in closer, sensing the heat radiating from you, and touches your forehead with his lips, eyes widening at how hot you feel. “the fuck happened to you?”

you blink sleepily before opening your eyes and looking up at him for a few seconds. sukuna sits down by your side, hands caressing your face gently as he inspects your condition quickly, “what’s up, loser?”

you say his name, yet he can barely hear it before you start coughing and turn away from him. he can see your face scrunch in pain; his heart squeezes in his chest when you lie back and this time your lips wobble slightly as you mouth his name, barely audible, “‘kuna~ think ‘m sick~”

“yea, no shit.” he rolls his eyes with no real annoyance in them. “let’s make you feel better, yeah, baby?”

you nuzzle into his palm and he smiles gently at you… until you unintentionally sneeze right into it, leaving slimy boogers and gross spit, and sukuna’s eye twitches as he tries to contain his curses.

of course, first thing sukuna does — calls his older brother jin, because the former doesn’t even remember the last time he got sick and jin always knows what to do, especially in a situation like this since little yuuji hasn’t developed the best immune system yet.

“are you sure you can take care of her properly?” jin asks worriedly from the other end of the line, causing sukuna to roll his eyes.

“have some faith in me, will you?” jin only sighs, barely listening to him as he writes down the list of various medicine and things he must buy to make you feel better. yet, he still catches his younger brother’s almost incoherent mumbling. “i can take care of her like no other.”

“then do just that.”

sukuna hums and presses end call, continuing to look through your kitchen cabinet full of different medicines in hopes of finding whatever the hell jin sent him.

you’re not a very obedient person when you’re sick though, he notices. sukuna can tell you’re still a bit hazed from the high body temperature and trying to sleep it off without any care, yet the sickness makes you more stubborn than ever.

and he can’t find it in himself to push you around when your body is hurting and muscles are sore from spasming in an attempt to warm up. so he just lets you sit on the chair in the kitchen, wrapped tightly in your blanket, dazedly watching him make you some soup.

he feeds you the soup himself, too, agreeing a little begrudgingly of course. you whine a bit with that pitiful broken voice of yours and he just gives in because your eyes are watery and your lips wobble, and he is just a weak man around you. don’t judge him!

sukuna is so caring, though, it makes you fall in love with him all over again. he’s a bit clumsy when it comes to cooking you stuff and making you curing beverages; rough around his the edges about his timing and maybe a little too annoyed with your childish antics, yet never showing it directly like he usually does.

watching your favourite movies and shows with you, when he’d usually just shit on your taste and choose something of his own(which you also eventually like, but nonetheless get angry at him). getting invested in them too — just so he can entertain you afterwards and take your mind off of your ill state.

not commenting on your messy state; sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, complains about cold when changing your equally sweaty shirts to clean ones, whines about the tea being too hot or the syrup being too gross(okay, that one kinda angers him he just shoves the spoon in your mouth to make you drink it since you wouldn’t do it yourself).

he also sleeps with you later that night, ignoring your warnings about him getting sick too :(( holds you tight, shares his body heat and wakes up every now and then to check if you’ve sweated any more.

needless to say, you feel a lot better the next morning!! all thanks to sukuna.

(also he gets sick a day after, but don’t ask about that pls heh).