Bootysnatcher401 - ˚₊‧꒰ა (rin) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚:

mmm yummy SAGAU rambles

Childe who recognizes you at first sight. he’s one of the first people to hear about an “imposter” and is immediately up and armed to go hunt them down himself- how dare someone try to impersonate the Creator, his god, the one who gave him the courage to drag himself out of the Abyss and back into the light? no one yearned to find and eliminate the imposter as much as Childe, to tear that arrogant fool apart with his own hands and watch them die before his eyes- it was the only thing that would satisfy his fury. 

so he begins hunting, bow in hand and dull blue eyes blazing with anger and bloodlust. he’s allowed to, of course, as the only person who matches his rage is the Tsaritsa herself- in fact, she commands that the Fatui turn their efforts into finding and bringing this imposter to justice, and Childe- Tartaglia- is more than happy to comply as the Eleventh Harbinger.

but when he does find you, the so-called “imposter”, he instead finds a broken heap of a person, divine blood dripping from every injury as you cover your face and cower.

between sobs you beg for him not to hurt you, and Childe’s heart breaks as he hears the voice that so often hummed and laughed inside his head, the sign that the Creator was watching over him, now pleading, desperate to just be able to live.

he knows you love his Foul Legacy form- he’s heard you fawn over it during the weekly fights you bring him to- so within a second he’s transformed, the pain that usually lingers mysteriously gone as he kneels before you, delicately lifting your bruised hand to his forehead with a soft rumble. you’re shaking, breaths coming out as wheezes from fear, and Childe whines sadly.

so he promises that he will protect you- never again shall a Fatuus harm you in any way, instead they will guard your precious life as you heal, and Childe will be by your side. his Foul Legacy is unhindered by pain; now it feels whole, complete, you filling the missing link between him and the Abyss. he will be your guard, even if the rest of the world is against you, so he never has to hear that kind, wonderful voice of yours filled with fear ever again.

Modern AU! Diluc who starts making videos on social media to promote the Angel’s Share by showing how he makes drinks- only to take a wrong turn when the comments end up being down bad for him.

This video makes me thirsty, and Im not talking about the drink.

Pls handle me like the cocktail shaker 🙏

Suddenly I have the urge to cook and clean 🛐

In case anyone asks, the drink is blue.

The drink in the video was orange, by the way- he caught on the implication of the commenters distraction very quickly. And worst of all, his brother Kaeya laughing at the whole situation in the comments, not helping at all.

“Listen to this one ‘Luc: ‘Who needs a napkin when I could be cleaning his hands’, drooling emoji.”

Your poor husband, can’t even look you in the eye anymore. His fingers had been pinching the crease between his eyebrows for a while now, a little embarrassed at the totally different response than expected from his audience. He can't believe the viewers are more interested in his forearms than drink making.

“Y-You’re not helping, my love.” He says. He's frustrated at the comments, but can't help the blush when you say something so desperate. You feel a little bad for adding fuel to the fire (secretly giggling along with Kaeya), but it’s tough when you can’t deny the truth in the comments paired with your husband’s cute reaction.

“Perhaps you just need to cover up a little.” You suggest. Yes, he thinks. His next short video has him wearing his long sleeve dress shirt and gloves, instead of rolling up the sleeves. He's got them now, Diluc thinks as he hopes for normal comments.

However, the viewers are quick to find another way to "simp" for your husband (which you had to teach him the meaning of). With his arms covered now, some comments expressed their disappointment. But most focused their attention on the reveal of skin of his neck and the slightest view of his collarbone.

"It's no use." Diluc grumbles after a long day, his head resting on your stomach, defeated. You smile, bringing your hand to comb through his fiery red hair.

"I can't disagree, you do have nice hands." You tease, referring to the previous video's comments. Diluc looks up at you from your stomach with an annoyed expression. "You're too handsome, my love."

Diluc flushes pink when he hears your compliment. You say it quite often, but he'll never get tired of it.

He feels as if there's no solution to this. Wear his wedding ring? People would probably still focus more on his fingers, or create more down bad comments on being married to him. Bring you into the video? He absolutely does not want people to comment on you. Get his father to make the drink instead? No- he remembers the time his father was in two seconds of a past video and caught mortifying comments of the word "Zaddy" being spammed along with a timestamp. It was quickly deleted. He knows the pattern.

"So what will you do, my handsome husband?" You ask, interrupting his train of thought. You calling him handsome twice was enough for him to take a deep breath before composing himself to answer you.

"I'm too tired to handle this anymore." He sighs. "Maybe I'll give this job to Kaeya, offer him free drinks."

"Bold move, but I like it." You reply.

As for the results of Kaeya's efforts, let's just say that free drinks were not enough to help combat the thirsty comments. However, the Angel's Share social media continued to rise in popularity.

can you write something where the reader has Childe babysit their little sister Diona? Except she hates him because he's a "fatui bad guy."

Strayed a little off the request but I hope you don't mind lmao

Lol casually 1.2k words look at me go

Pairings; (Sibling) Diona x reader, (Romantic) Childe x reader

Warning(s); Mention of reader going out on a hunt

Keep reading under the cut!

You hum as you see Diona turn up at your door

“Morning Diona, I’ve got to run some errands, do you mind just sitting with Ajax?” you ask getting down onto her level. Diona sighs

“But I came here to see you” she huffs and pouts, you chuckle at her

“Don’t worry about it Diona, I’ll be back before supper and tomorrow we’ll spend the day together” you comfort bringing her into a hug “Don’t worry, Ajax has a ton of siblings so I’m sure he’ll entertain you just fine, okay?” you ask. Despite the fact you desperately needed to run these errands you could probably bribe Childe to do them for you if Diona desperately didn’t want to be without you

“Fine” she huffs hugging you back, you grin at her

“Great! You’re the best” you tell her planting a kiss on her forehead “Come on in, let me introduce the two of you before I leave” Diona nods at your words and lets you pull her up onto your shoulders and enter the house.

“So, what does your bozo boyfriend do anyways?” Diona asks attempting to not sound even a little bit interested

“Why don’t you ask him while I’m gone?” you ask “And he can tell you himself”

“Ah so this must be the sister you were telling me all about” Childe turns, his coffee cup in a hand, he uses his other hand to wave at Diona

“It’s Diona” she tells him with a pout

“Attitude and all” you jest causing Diona to attempt to kick you. You place Diona onto the counter so she stands about as tall as Childe. She leans forwards with a cock of her brow

“I feel like I recognise you…” she trails off, but you interrupt her thoughts by giving her another forehead kiss then giving Childe a kiss too

“Thank you for this Ajax” you thank kissing him again, Childe shakes his head

“It’s no problem love” he smile “Have a good day” he adds waving you out the door.

Just as you leave Diona punches the palm of her hand.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaims “That loser wine tycoon told me all about you guys!” she adds pointing to Childe “You’re one of those harbingers” she accuses, Childe raises his hands in defence

“What do you mean, I’m a toy manufacturer” he tries to argue

“But Ajax isn’t your name…” Diona trails off “It’s Tar-Tartaglia or something” she adds stumbling over the pronunciation of his alias. Childe chuckles awkwardly

“I guess I’m caught huh” he says with a close eyed smile

“Does my sibling know?” Diona asks feeling the coldness of her cyro vision beg to be let out on the harbingers face. Childe smiles and nods

“Of course they do” he replies “That was one of the first things they knew about me” he reassures remembering the memory of their first meeting, your dagger held at his neck. Diona raises a brow

“They better” she threatens and Childe finds himself chuckling again

“Is there anything you’d like to do today?” Childe asks changing the conversation, Diona shakes her head a few times. She’s not really sure what she’d want to do anyway, she barely ever gets time off work and when she does it’s usually just to hunt. “I think my brother, Teucer, left some things from the last time he was here” he offers “Maybe a colouring book or two” Diona nods

“Colouring sounds fun” she says, her guard isn’t fully down around Childe, which he finds a little amusing, but Diona finds herself settling in the more she sees your things littered about the house

“Here do you want some help down?” Childe offers, but Diona shakes her head and jumps down off the counter and bounds into the living room.

Childe looks in the spare room and finds a couple unused colouring books and some pencils. When he renters the living room he finds Diona looking at a picture of a younger you, a baby Diona, and both of her parents. Diona smiles lightly and wipes her eyes of any tears that dare leak from her eyes. She then looks at the next picture depicting a large family unit, she picks out Childe from amidst the people, she smiles lightly. She probably feels a little better knowing that he has a family too.

Childe smiles and announces his presence by placing down the books onto the table. Diona jumps a little bit and scowls at Childe, who only laughs in response.

“Here knock yourself out” he says patting the books, Diona rolls her eyes and sits at the coffee table.

It’s easily dark by the time you get home, you look a little dishevelled. You move to the kitchen and start unpacking the various meats in your bag, you see Childe walk into the room his brows raised at your appearance.

“I thought you told your lackeys to lay off me” you complain looking to your partner “I had to wipe out three fatui camps while I was hunting” you huff

“I did…” he trails off his brows raised “I should send out another notice” he adds sighing, he may be a harbinger but some of these fatui love to do as they please

“How’s Diona?” you ask changing the subject, Childe chuckles lightly

“She’s apprehensive of me” he starts “But she seems sweet, she told me about your dad over lunch” he adds looking to you, you shift on your feet looking away

“I’m glad she felt comfortable enough telling you” you reply taking off your jacket

“Speaking of, we went out for lunch,” he begins “Nothing exiting, she just had some fish and that was about it” he adds following you into the lounge, you see Diona trying to make paper aeroplanes fly with her vision

“How was your day?” you ask your sister, who smiles upon seeing you then puts on an angry face

“And why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend is a fatui?” Diona asks standing up just to stomp her foot

“Sorry” you apologise opening your arms for her to come hug you, she does “I forgot” you add with a laugh

“Why are you so dirty?” Diona asks poking at the layer of dirt on your cheek, you smile at her

“What didn’t Dad tell you about the super secret hunting trick?” you ask with another laugh “You’ve got to roll about in aaaall the mud so the boars cant see you” you add

“That’s not right” she pouts “You shouldn’t listen to Dad less when he’s drunk” she adds with another huff, you chuckle at her

“Anyway, why don’t you help Ajax with the meat? He’s horrific at filleting steaks” you ask changing the subject “And clean myself up” you add with a smile,

“Hey I heard that you know” Childe huffs from the lounge door, Diona nods a few time

“Can I stab him if he cuts the meat wrong?” she asks, you laugh and shake your head

“Maybe just freeze him a little bit, I wouldn’t want blood all over my nice wooden floor” you tell her putting her down. She sighs and goes into the kitchen

“Okay harbinger, lets cut this meat!” you hear Diona exclaim as you go to clean yourself up

Blood Washes Out

Sylus x gn!Reader

Had this idea and had to spend like a week writing it

Warnings: hurt/comfort, blood, injury, murder, swearing, vomiting, panic, pet names, sharing clothes, cuddling, crying, guilt, broken bones, guns

Word Count: 2,801

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The phone rings by your ear, waiting to be answered. The copper stench of blood latches itself to your senses. You can taste it on your tongue, against your teeth, at the back of your throat.

The call is picked up and a whimper of relief rips from your mouth against your will. “Sylus!”

“What’s wrong?” he demands. His voice is stern. You’re glad for its strength right now. “Are you alright?”

What a shit question for him to ask.

“I need you to pick me up.” You turn your head to the side to spit out the blood pooling in your mouth. You wish it would just fucking stop.

“Send me your location, but don’t hang up.”

You feel blood stick to your ear as you pull the phone away. The touch screen is covered in red fingerprints. You’re shocked it still reads your input as you go to your messages and send him your location. You feel a burn at the back of your throat as you put the phone back to your ear, disgust wrapping its hands around your esophagus and churning your stomach.

He says your name. It’s so rare to hear him say it nowadays. That’s how you know he’s really worried. “I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m sending Mephisto ahead of me. Stay on the phone.”

You nod even though he can’t see, squeezing your eyes shut and curling into yourself as you wait on the curbside. If there’s anybody else around, anybody else who witnessed what happened…

Panic floods your veins like ice.

What if someone did see what happened? Or- Or maybe someone who didn’t and just stumbles around the corner to find-

You clamp a hand over your mouth. Bloody fingers aggravate your nose. More blood pours over them, warm and wet, sliding over a layer that’s already congealed. The metallic twang stings your eyes.

You can’t tell whose blood is whose anymore.

“I’m coming, sweetie. Just a few more minutes.”

You gasp out, “I’m gonna be sick.”

You don’t get a chance to hear his response before you drop your phone to the sidewalk. Your body moves on its own in a mad dash to turn and hurl into the gutter. It burns. It burns so fucking bad. And the taste-

Your body convulses and shakes, acting against you until your stomach is empty and you’re coughing around dry heaves.

A motor pulls up nearby. Heavy boots scuff the pavement as they rush to you. A gloved hand pulls your hair back, collecting it at the base of your head. An arm wraps around your chest, keeping you upright. A caw sounds from above you.

“I’ve got you. Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.”

Sylus surveys the scene around you. A body lays several feet away on its back. A dark red trail worms its way through cracks in the sidewalk and follows the uneven ground to a drain intended for catching floodwater. A gun hangs limply in its hand. Yours is discarded nearby.

He ducks his head to look at your face. Your eyes are clamped shut, lips trembling as you try to catch your breath. Tears glide down the curve of your cheeks.

Your nose is broken. Blood oozes from it slowly, dripping into your mouth and down your chin. It mixes with your bile and saliva as you weakly spit it out. More blood covers your clothes and your hands. It’s hard to distinguish what’s all yours, or if your broken nose is your only injury.

He grabs a handkerchief from his pocket. It cost more than your apartment and he couldn’t give a damn as he uses it to gently wipe at your mouth. “Just breathe, sweetheart. Can you stand?”

You take in a deep, uneven breath, and nod. He lets go of your hair and grabs your phone, sliding it into his pocket without worrying about the blood. He tucks the handkerchief right next to it. His arms are strong and grounding as he helps you to your feet, putting himself between you and the body as he leads you to his bike. If he’d known what state you were in, he would’ve brought the car. As it was, he was more concerned with getting to you as fast as possible.

He doesn’t force you to put the helmet on this time. As much as he’d normally insist, he didn’t want to trap you in a helmet if you were still nauseous. He slips it over his own head as he gets on first and gives you his arm for support as you climb on behind him. Your arms wrap around him tightly, bloody fingers clinging to his shirt under his leather jacket. Your body rests heavily against his back.

“My gun…” you say quietly, halfheartedly, like your concern for it is only a distant afterthought.

Sylus squeezes your hands reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get it back for you later.”

You nod against him. The engine purrs beneath you as he turns his bike around and peels off back home.

-

The ride is a blur of passing lights and buildings, a collage of Linkon City and the N109 Zone meshing together until you relent to just keep your eyes shut. You don’t open them again until he slows to a stop in front of his mansion.

The twins are rushing out the door to greet you. “Boss! Woah, what happened to you?” Luke winces as he catches sight of you. Kieran smacks him upside the head and rushes to help you off the bike.

Sylus gets off after, pulling his helmet off and resting it on the seat. He pulls out the phone and handkerchief, and passes it over to Luke. “Get this cleaned up.”

“Sure thing, Boss!”

He takes you gently away from Kieran, wrapping an arm behind your knees and back and lifting you into his arms. “Follow Mephisto. Deal with it.”

Kieran nods. “On it, Boss.” Mephisto’s metal wings slice through the air as Sylus leads you past the twins and inside.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble. You turn your head from his shoulder, trying not to get blood on his shirt. Your hands sit limply in your lap.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie,” he assures. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The mansion is warm and familiar, dark and comforting in a way the night outside isn’t. He carries you all the way to his room and the ensuite bathroom where he sits you on the countertop. He removes his gloves, grabs a white washcloth, wets it under the faucet, and gently works on cleaning the blood from your face. The pristine white cloth stains pink, and eventually red.

You stare at his shirt. Despite it being black, you can see the remnants of blood you left on him.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He holds your chin delicately in one hand, tilting your head up to look at him. “Talk to me.”

Fresh tears burn at your eyes. You want to forget tonight ever happened. Want to find someone with a time-traveling Evol just so you can go back and do everything different.

It’s a fruitless wish. Everything already happened. It was already burned into your mind. There would be no do-overs.

Your voice cracks as you speak. He frowns at the sorrowful sound. “I was going to the convenience store to get some snacks. I-I wanted some chocolate, and I didn’t have any, so… B-But I guess one of my neighbors followed me. A lot of them are Hunters, too. Said they heard me talking to you.”

“They recognized my name from the Association.” It wasn’t a question. You nod. He folds the cloth over and brushes away some splatter from your face, gently wiping away some stray tears in the process. “Did they threaten you?”

You don’t need to answer. He already knows. That gun in their hand wasn’t just for show.

“They…” You swallow uncomfortably. Your mouth feels tacky. “They said they were gonna turn me in, but wh-when they approached, I freaked out. I just started fighting back, I-I didn’t know what else to do. They punched me and I fell to the ground. Th-Their gun was aimed at me, I couldn’t think, a-and I…”

The weight of the weapon in your hands never felt heavier than in that moment. Tears fell freely now. Your lungs shudder, gasping for air you can’t seem to get enough of. Your face crumples into a horrible grimace as you sob. Sylus cradles the back of your head and pulls you into his chest. He drops the cloth in the sink to wrap his arm around you. You grab onto his shirt. The blood on your hands is dried and crackly, seeping deep into your pores and staining your flesh.

“I tried saving them,” you whimper. “I tried, but there was just so, so much blood, I- I couldn’t do anything.”

He hushes you softly. “You were threatened and you protected yourself.”

“What if the Association finds out? What’re they gonna do when they find out someone’s missing? Fuck, Sy, what- What’s gonna happen?”

“Nothing’s going to happen. They’ll put up missing posters around the block, wondering where they went off to. It’ll remain an unsolved mystery, a story to tell the grandkids.”

It’s not reassuring. He sighs.

“What do you want to happen, sweetheart? You tell your boss what happened: you don’t get tried for murder, but you have to come clean about sneaking into the N109 Zone and being besties with the big bad leader of Onychinus. Or you don’t say anything, and nothing happens.” He pulls away slightly to look down at your face. You stare at the glass door of the shower, eyes glazed over and distant. “Which option sounds better to you, hm?”

You wrack your brain for a third option. Something that doesn’t take away the job you love and permanently ruin your life, while giving the Hunter you killed some grace in death. But there is none. Not really.

So you sigh. Long and drawn out. Will this guilt ever get any easier to carry?

You pull away from Sylus and he lets you. You cringe at his shirt. “I got blood on you.”

He chuckles. “Blood washes out, kitten.”

“Not very easily.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I have my ways.”

This is no longer a simple conversation about laundry.

Sylus picks the cloth back up and wets it again. The excess water that isn’t squeezed out drips into your lap. He wipes the fresh blood coming from your nose. “We need to set this. Do you want something to bite down on?”

-

Your nose still stings as you stand under the shower spray. The heady scent of his shampoo saturates the air, swirling in tandem with the steam. There’s no more blood in your hair, on your ear from the phone, or on your face. And there isn’t any on your hands, either. But as you look down at them, water collecting in your palms and slipping between your fingers, you could feel the hot blood that had been there.

A knock on the door startles you from your revelry. It opens before you can say anything, and you can see the blurry silhouette of Sylus as he sets something on the counter.

“Here’s some fresh clothes. I’ll be out here when you’re done.” His face doesn’t ever glance at the shower door, even when you call out his name to stop him while he’s leaving. He just stands there, head ducked slightly and ear turned your way, listening.

“Thank you.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s just clothes, sweetheart.”

You sigh bitterly. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

The door closes with a faint click as he leaves.

You put some soap in your hands and scrub until the skin is raw. Until you can’t trick yourself into thinking there’s still blood on them. Until the water begins to run cold. Only then do you feel clean enough to turn off the water and step out of the shower.

The clothes are large, practically drowning you in excess fabric. The familiar athletic shorts only stay on because of the elastic waistband and a hidden drawstring that ties on the inside of the shorts. The sweater’s sleeves go past your hands. You can’t imagine wearing anything else right now.

Just as he promised, he’s sitting on his bed when you open the door. The deconstructed parts of your gun lay spread out on the blanket, neatly sorted out. He diligently cleans every piece, ensuring he gets every speck of blood while giving it basic maintenance.

“Sorry about the clothes, sweetie. I’ll have some tailored for you.”

You pad across the floor and carefully climb up onto the bed, doing your best not to disturb the array. He doesn’t stop you when you snuggle up to his side. Rather, he allows you to wrap your arms around his, adjusting how he works for your sake. You shake your head and rest it on his shoulder.

“This is fine,” you assure him. The silence goes on for a beat or two too long before you add, “I might just steal this sweater from you.”

He chuckles. “Go ahead, sweetie. I can get more.” He sets down a cleaned part and picks up another one he hasn’t tended to yet. “Tell me what materials you like and I’ll have a whole closet of them you can steal, if you’d like.”

You smile slightly. He only notices when he glances down at you. He sets the piece down and begins to quickly assemble it all back together. You inhibit his movements somewhat, so it takes a few seconds longer than he’s used to, but he doesn’t complain. Your gun looks brand new, just as pretty and perfect as it was when you first got it at the Academy.

He flips it to offer the handle to you, a silent question. It’s all too reminiscent of your first meeting with him. Even then, even after you’d pulled the trigger, frightened for your life, you’d tried to save him. If it hadn’t been for his Evol…

Well. Lightning never strikes the same place twice.

You hide your face in his shirt, the casual grey one he usually lounges around in. The clinking of the gun disappears with the sound of a drawer opening and closing. His hand brushes your hair.

“You should get some sleep, sweetie. It’s late for you.”

“I’m not tired.” Your body says otherwise. You’re practically melting into him, into the bed. If you stay there for just a few minutes longer, you’ll be fast asleep.

“Now why don’t I believe that,” he teases.

You sigh and force yourself off of him, beginning to slip off the bed. “Let’s watch something.”

He sighs, too, but at your unrelenting stubbornness. It’s almost reassuring. At least you weren’t in a heap under the blankets, sobbing. He follows you into the living room, to the couch directly across from a large TV. You grab a blanket and wrap it around yourself until you are securely cocooned and tucked against an armrest. He sits next to you, drawing you into his side. His Evol carries the remote to his hand.

You command him along through menus and catalogues until you reach one of your favorite comfort films. The lights automatically dim as it starts playing.

You’re not even three minutes into the movie before your eyes are drooping closed. He knew it would happen, knew the exhaustion would catch up with you eventually. Still, it was quite cute, watching you fight to keep your eyes open and your head off his chest. Slowly, slowly giving in. Resting your head on his chest. Listening to his unusual heartbeat. Losing the battle against consciousness.

Still, he lets it play through to the end. It’s not a bad movie, he decides. You enjoy it, so it must have some merit. And you can always tell a lot about someone based on their favorite things.

Careful not to wake you up, Sylus lifts you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest. He carries you back to bed, not bothering to unwrap you from your cocoon at all. Despite being wide awake, he lays down beside you, continuing to hold you close to him. If you have a nightmare, he wants to be there. If you wake up in a dazed panic, he wants to be there.

As accustomed as he’s become with taking lives, he’s unfamiliar with the crisis you’re facing and how to comfort someone through a crisis of any kind. He wants to help. As best as he can, he wants you to be okay. He needs you to be okay.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow

Hihi

if your up for it can I request (imposter au) reader whos on the run from everyone and ends up in snezhnaya. Exhausted from running, ends up collapsing in the snow. Childe finds them, foul legacy recognises them as the creator and yeah... Just sort of fluff/comfort if possible, I'm finding it hard to find works on him in sagau. Thank you

an yes! The classics, back in the prime days of sagau you’d find these in no time, but ofc ofc Childe is one of my favourites so I need to write this too!

i think, I wrote this too much out of what i wanted el oh el, as much as I love the carefree childe who’ll probably try to cheer you up by popping jokes, I’d like to dig deeper into their actual obsession to you. Reminder, I believe that, they don’t really worship you, you as the person but as a embodiment of the god that create them.

i don’t see a lot of people write about that, and it might be ooc but I really want to dig deeper into this!

—————

BLUE’S ALWAYS BEEN MY FAVOURITE COLOUR.

honey’s notes : hello, hello! I’ve been trying my hardest to get back into genshin impact, im currently trying out tower of fantasy + marvel movies, it’s been a busy year for me! Please do be patient with me when it comes to putting things out, im trying to continue both my series and see if im able to progress where I left off. As of now, have this small fic I wrote, I hope you enjoy this!

summary : ever since you’ve been small, you’ve always had the connection with the colour blue, it was the first thing you ever felt happy seeing. whether it’s the blue sky, the serene waters, or even, your favourite acolyte’s eyes.

pairing : childe x reader. [can be platonic/romantic.]

reader uses they/them pronouns.

may contain really bad grammar.

taglist : will be placed in later!

recommended song : once upon a december - christy altomare.

a cough escaped your lips, frail and shivering. you clutched the now tattered and ruined cloak, the fabric barely clinging onto your bruised and battered skin. Your fingertips run themselves against your arm, trying to create warmth.

you couldn’t tell if people were still hunting you, chasing you. their yells and distaste ringing in your ears, their words so thoroughly clear in your ears, never leaving. you grit your teeth. You haven’t slept in days, you remember. You told yourself you couldn’t, not until you’ve passed Liyue. Then you will rest.

You grit your teeth in anger and disappointment, your legs wanting to give way but your will won’t let them. You could remember the amber eyes that laid their gaze on you, full of hatred, full of distaste, as if, you were to blame of the way you looked. Were you?

You have no idea how long you’ve been on the run, how long have you had a full meal? Clean water? Warm clothing? A home? Every step you took, it felt like your body would cave in. You remember what Venti has told you once,

“there’s no home for you here. As long as you carry a face we so adore, you are always to be considered a curse.”

Your gaze stays on the floor, you can no longer tell when you’ve crossed lands, you no longer remember when you’ve stopped to take a rest, because you knew, they’re always near by, the people who despise you so, the ones who can never let go of the face you so wear.

For once, for once in your long walk, you look up. The silver storm of a suspicious land greets you so, you could almost see, every unique snowflake’s design, so intricately made. Your head makes a click, Snezhnaya. You could see the sigh that escapes your lips, forming a small gust of air in front you.

You just now start to feel the ice freezing up to your feet, your toes no longer being able to move, how long have you been walking this barren land? The icy blue was the only thing you can remember. For once, you smile. Blue was your favourite colour, it reminded you of the good things in life.

The blue sky, the calm waters you’d play at as a child, the bluebells that’d grow outside your home. You can no longer feel energy to walk, you knees give way, a soft thud onto the snow, you can barely feel the cold creep up to your limbs. The white snow, reminding you of a blank canvas. So peaceful, yet so horrifying. You’re alone, in what seems like a never ending field of ice and snow.

A hum is heard from behind you, you don’t turn your head, no longer feeling the will to, just staring at the white fields that lay itself in front of you. weirdly enough, you’re warm.

“your celestial highness, you must be cold no? don’t you worry. This one, will take care of their most beloved.”

You don’t remember what happened after, the last remnants you do, you remember staring at a beautiful creature, reminding you of the galaxies they’d talk about back in your world. Oh how gorgeous you remember it. You felt a warmth surround you, as you slowly close your eyes, letting yourself be consumed by the tiredness you’ve finally acknowledged.

blue eyes stared at you, you felt your eyelids still droop, your tiredness not going away. a hum, once again, though you can’t tell if that came from him or you.

Childe stared at you with uncertainty. Although not at you, archons, never at you. You force your fingertips to life, you felt it twitch, shaking. Your eyes slowly move around the room, the fireplace in the far corner, the countless pales of warm, boiled water. The bucket that lay at your feet, your feet’s draped in a hot towel.

You could tell why, from your ankles to your calf, it grew bright red, you though, from the snow, must be. Childe watched you scan the room, you remember him as awfully noisy, so, carefree. Almost child-like. It kind of weirds you out, how quiet and so, calculating his gaze was on you.

“tartaglia..” your hoarse voice calls out, as if a machine turning back to life, he moves, his hand reaching for a glass of water from the bedside table, slowly placing the rim of the glass to your lips, quenching your thirst.

“shh..beloved. you’re still weak.” His hushed whispers tell you, slowly tipping the glass more and more, so you could get as much water as you needed.

you force yourself up, childe supporting you from the small of your back, the soft plush bed dipping as childe stacked your pillows up behind you.

“where..” a hum silences you, you stay silent for a moment, almost afraid to speak.

“I cannot apologize for, what the other nations did to you, your highness..” childe replaces the now cold towel on your forehead, only now feeling the wet sensation as he peeled it off and placed it in a pale with warm water, you watched his hands wring it damp before dipping it back into the water.

“they know not, when their god possess such a weak mortal body, and for that, they are insolent idiots.” Childe continues, wringing the towel damp one more time, before folding it neatly, into a small shape, big enough for your forehead.

“but here, in snezhnaya, we adore you so dearly.. here you are, our treasure. the most wondrous.” you took the time to admire him, as he gently placed the warm towel on your head. You could see his ginger curls, lay so perfectly on his frame, his hair was a mullet, small cuts litter his cheeks, you mustered it was from the countless spars you always imagined he’d love to do.

his freckles littered his face so perfectly, his lips in a thin line, his gaze flickers from the towel to meeting your eyes. His cerulean eyes meet you, his eyes carry adoration, care, love and affection for you. a truly magnificent acolyte.

You could not think of anything to describe laying your eyes on childe for the first time, almost, as a breath of fresh air, but you can feel yourself bubble up, especially his eyes, oh how his eyes affected you so. Your favourite colour, Blue.

“we, snezhnaya as a nation, will restore you to your peak greatness. I, your loyal acolyte, the 11th harbinger. The holder of your foul legacy, will promise you so.” His words stun you back into silence. You aren’t sure how to respond to him, his declaration has you so curious. Why hasn’t he had the same reaction as the other characters you’ve met?

and if he knows who you truly are, then why doesn’t the others?

you didn’t let words speak for you, rather your actions. Your hand shakily raised to meet your beloved Ajax’s face, it was almost if it was a perfect fit, his cheek to your warm palm, his eyes flutter close, as he yearns more for your skin, your touch. Your thumb slowly runs through his cheekbone, delicate, soft and gentle.

“ajax..” you mumble as he hums even more, the vibration ran shivers down your spine. he looks up at you, a small smile on his face, determination and his face shows serious listening, wanting to hear every syllable your lips tells him.

“will you…will you protect me, till then? till I give them their judgement, my revenge?” You whisper, voice still hoarse, ajax leaned his lips against the inside of your palm, nodding enthusiastically, kissing it ever so gently, as if you’ll break from under his touch.

“I promise, I will restore you back to your divinity, and I will stand by your side, the day you take back the world you once created..” his eyes glisten, never breaking his gaze on yours. you couldn’t help but, fall a bit in love with his eyes. after all, blue is your favourite colour.

“we must get started then, no?”

For the event, just wait until they get Y/N to like Friendship level 4 and find out they actually have sad backstory. The soft bois get hit right in the feels, while the tougher of the bunch try not to cry but you know they are on the inside.

I'm not talking about the time when I was sobbing about Xiao and Diluc, no, not at all *nervous sweating*

— eclipse

in a world where genshin characters pull for you, how will they react to your sudden sad backstory? ft xiao and diluc!

note. i have no idea if this is a request or not but i’m writing it anyway- for a twist, the backstory of y/n is the backstory of the character~

“.... Y/N is not this yaksha's true name, but a name given to them in the interests of their own protection.

Back in a younger, more naive time, a god had gotten a hold of Y/N’s weakness and forced them to serve as their bloodhound, in which capacity they were forced to perform cruel and violent acts.

Many died at their hand, many hopes were crushed, and they were even forced into devouring their victims' dreams. As much as it pained them to do this, they were helpless to resist.

Finally, on the battlefield of the Archon War, Morax, the Geo Archon, had a fateful encounter with the yaksha's master.

The current state of the world has already revealed the results of that battle.

Rex Lapis liberated the yaksha and gave them the name "Y/N”....”

xiao was so devastated when he learned of your true past in the game

he was trying So Hard not to tear up when he learned how much you suffered under that evil god’s rule, the pain you must’ve felt

definitely the type to type in “Y/N backstory lore” so he could learn more about you

he despises that god so much he would swear that if he was ever isekaid to your world he will beat their ass for even laying a hand on you

becomes more attached now because of what happed

“Sometimes, life can change in an instant."

The day that Y/N’s father spoke these words to Y/N would turn out to be the latter's last day as a Knight of Favonius.

For on that day, a horrific monster attacked the transport fleet Y/N and Y/N’s Father were traveling with.

There was no time for Y/N to send for help. The monster was stronger than any foe the young Cavalry Captain had ever encountered and overpowered them.

Y/N could never have anticipated the way this battle would end: Their Father, who had denied admittance into the Knights and who was shunned by the gods, defeated the monster with an unknown evil power—before that same power backfired, mortally wounding Y/N’s Father. Y/N’s Father died shortly after in his childs’ arms. With a heavy heart, Y/N returned to the Knights' headquarters, only to receive an unthinkable order from Inspector Eroch: "Conceal the truth."

Eroch insisted that the incident must be portrayed as an unfortunate accident in order to maintain the reputation of the Knights of Favonius in the eyes of the public.

Such was the sheer outrageousness of this request that Y/N did not think it was even worth trying to argue. Y/N’s father had once said to them that the world would never turn its back on the faithful. But now, the Knights of Favonius trampled on their faith like it was nothing. They couldn't help but wonder: What was their father's view on faith in his final moments?

Y/N resigned from the Knights that day and left everything behind, including their Vision. They swore to avenge their father's death, and to find the source of the occult power which had caused their father's demise.

diluc would be in shock when he finds out what happened - the true nature of your past that the creators of the game created

he would feel pity for you, anger for the people you supposedly trusted, for them to trample on your trust like that

he would try so Hard not to cry but if tears rolled down his cheeks silently, only his Y/N plushie saw okay?

diluc would be so mad at this and would actually start debates with people who makes fun of your past in the bird app

he grows even more attached to you and swears that he will never remove you in his team

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑!𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐗 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑!𝐘/𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

if u want to be tagged, then send an ask bc i somehow already have a taglist for this 🐥

the tag for this series will be #streaming dreams

Keep reading

ᥫ᭡。 with a smile.

⟢ pairing: sylus x reader

⟢ synopsis: as devastation rains down on your world, you find sanctuary in the one who loves you most. be it the first time or the last, you will remain at his side for as long as you are able.

⟢ cw: angsty angst, character death, canon universe but not really? blood, injury descriptions, apocalyptic vibes, this is sad

⟢ wc: 1.3k

⟢ a/n: not quite as long as I’d like it to be but I saw one (1) of sylus and mc to die with a smile and I just had to do this :cc

Everything burns. 

The trees. Grass. Buildings. Even the heavens are alight with flame and smoke. 

Your eyes. Your shoulder. Your throat. Your shoulder. Your lungs. Your shoulder.

There’s something protruding from it, through a clean puncture, a pointed limb belonging to a monstrous Wanderer, left behind after it was severed and the creature was slain by your own hand, the sword you once wielded with pride now laying uselessly on the ground. All around you, the battle rages on, screams piercing bloodied skies, the yelling from your comrades swirling into the cacophonous din that surrounds you. If hell exists, then this is what it must look like.

But none of it registers. Not the shouts of your name, or the wailing and screeching from friend and foe alike, not even the deafening gunshots or the singing of steel. All of it is nothing more than white noise in your ears, muffled as though your head is submerged under the sea. And yet, over all of that mess, the beat of your heart is clear as day, pounding disjointedly throughout your body like a drum as you stumble towards a tree that is yet to be touched by the destruction that rages on around you.

The tree is old. Tall, with a thick, strong trunk and heavy branches that are in full, blushing bloom - a cherry blossom tree. It’s a beautiful sight, the little flowers still clinging to the branches swaying with the breeze, each petal glowing as the sun climbs above the horizon, as though it emits its own unearthly light. 

Beneath that tree, nestled amongst the gnarled roots, sits the figure of a man. You drag yourself towards him, every movement you make causing excruciating pain to lance through your every limb. Your shoulder throbs and aches, rivulets of crimson sluicing down the edges of the wound and soaking your already saturated sleeve. 

Though he is only a short distance away, the trek feels as though it takes an eternity to reach him. Slowly, through your blurring vision, you can begin to make out his sleek, silvery hair, his usually pristine suit ruined by dirt and ash. 

And blood. 

So much blood. 

His shirt is soaked with the stuff much like yours, oozing from several gashes and stab wounds on his torso, smeared all over his pristine skin. His face is paler than usual, coated in a sheen of sweat, screwed up in pain as he uselessly presses a hand to his injuries. It’s an unusual state to see him in, for one who is usually so composed and vigilant, the sun steadily rising at your back and illuminating his weakened body. He grimaces as the warm light kisses his cheeks, turning away from it feebly. 

“Sylus!” you call out hoarsely, throat closing up with the threat of more tears. “Sylus!”

He squints as you come closer, a smile curling the corners of his full lips once your face becomes clearer. “An angel,” he murmurs. “My angel. Who ever thought someone like me could see someone so beautiful in his last moments?”

“You lied to me,” you sob brokenly, dropping to your knees once you reach his side, scrambling blindly to take his hand. It’s colder than usual.

“About?” he hums quietly.

“You told me- you told me that you couldn’t be killed! You said-”

Sylus coughs, a cross between a chuckle and a groan sputtering from his lips. “Do I look like I’ve been killed, sweetie? I’m still breathing. Still here. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Then fix yourself,” you beg through your tears. “Please. Like you did the day we met, remember. Please Sylus. Fix it.”

“It’s a little late for that,” he says softly, raising his chin towards the sunrise. “Guess you were right. I really am like a vampire.”

With a petulant, frustrated cry, you reach up to your shoulder and pull at the thick limb that’s still plugging your wound. A sharp, pained noise leaves your lips as you yank it out with all your strength, the blood that spills free coloured dark and murky as you toss it aside. Sylus’ eyes blink at you blankly, only now realising that you’re badly hurt. “Sweetie-”

“Don’t. A medic can’t help me now. It was poisonous.” You shuffle closer to him, leaning back against the tree trunk, bleeding bodies pressed side by side.

“They can still try-”

“So can you.”

“Sweetie, please-”

“No.” There’s a beat of silence and he scoffs, the desperation in your tone keeping him from pushing back again. He really can’t hold his ground against you - you make him so weak. Weaker than any amount of sunlight ever could. “Not without you.”

“Such a stubborn kitten,” he mumbles, hissing slightly as he readjusts himself to take your hand in his. They’re both sticky with blood and sweat, but you hold onto each other and squeeze like you do each night before you fall asleep. “If I hadn’t been ambushed at dawn, I would’ve dragged you kicking and screaming to that tent.”

“Believe me, I know.”

More silence passes between you, comfortable and almost serene, as if the tree you take refuge under is bubbling you both in peace during these precious moments. The pain is easier to bear like this as well.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“C’mere. I wanna hold you. Just for a while.” You can’t seem to stop the tears from flowing but you nod softly at his request, helping him loop his arm loosely around your waist before gently leaning your head against his shoulder. There’s no energy left in your body to sob, so you weep silently, freely, as he turns his head to press his lips to your temple. “Don’t cry, my love,” he whispers. “Look… the sunrise is so beautiful… isn't it?”

“You hate the sun,” you mumble, blinking blearily at the sky. There’s a destructive beauty about it, the reds and oranges swirling together with plumes of grey and streaks of pink to paint a hellish picture.

“Mm… I do burn so terribly.”

“You’re the worst vampire ever,” you sniffle tiredly. There’s not an ounce of strength left in your body and judging by the way Sylus’ words are slowing and slurring, he’s losing his battle with consciousness.

“Can’t be good at… everything…” he chuckles. “Like… making you smile…”

“You do make me smile, Sy…”

“Yeah?” he wheezes. “Why’re you… crying then? Hm?”

“‘M not.” You blink away the tears, too drained to wipe them from your cheeks. “Got somethin’ in my eye.”

Sylus snorts, the puff of breath warm against your hair. “Liar.”

Seconds tick by sluggishly, feeling more like hours as the sun steadily climbs into the sky, The battle begins to dim and fade from your view, and when you let your eyes flutter shut, the world feels different. The air is cool and clean on your skin as Sylus continues to hold you, the lines of his body where it presses against yours as familiar as home. It’s like you’re laying in his huge, comfortable bed at the base, using him as a pillow whilst his slow breaths lull you to sleep. 

“Sylus?”

“Hm?”

“I’m tired…”

“I know, sweetie... So… am I…”

“Nap with me?”

“...Sure.”

Softly, he begins to hum. From some place within him, he finds the strength to make his vocal cords work enough to weave a familiar tune. It’s the one from your dreams. The one he hums to you each night before you fall asleep in his arms. A song spun from your love and his. It brings a little smile to your face.

“You’ll… be here… when I wake up…. won’t you?” you whisper. Body heavy and weak, your lips barely move, but he hears you all the same.

“... ‘Course,” he says, taking a tremulous breath. Something wet drips into your hair. “... Nowhere else…. I’d rather…. be.”

how jjk men would react if they found out you sh…

Warning(s): cw//self harm, graphic depictions, mentions of depression, anxiety, sensitive content, angst/comfort

-> if you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, etc., know that you aren’t alone. as someone who used to struggle with these things myself, i understand how difficult it can be, but know that you are strong and you are loved. and thank you for the ask, this is a very important topic and i appreciate the vulnerability of the request. sending all the possible love in the world to all of you.

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna

satoru gojo: satoru has an incredible sense of sight, thanks to his gift of the six eyes, as well as very keen observation skills. he picks up on little habits you harbor very quickly during the beginning of your relationship. you always choose to wear long-sleeved clothing, even when it’s warm, and you tug at your sleeves as though you are desperately trying to conceal a certain part of yourself from the outside world, from him. he doesn’t understand why at first. the thought crosses his mind that you just aren’t comfortable in sleeveless clothing, but you’ve shown him pictures of yourself from a decade ago when you’d wear variations of different tank tops, short sleeves, and more. he doesn’t understand what changed somewhere along the line. perhaps your sense of style has shifted? maybe you don't like your arms? (he can't understand how because he finds them to be the most gorgeous arms he's ever seen).

but no, something is nagging at him in the back of his head, churning the contents of his gut as though there is something he needs to know, to see that you were hiding, and when the moment unveiled itself, he instantly saw. 

you’re in your kitchen while satoru watches you from the other side of the island, leaning over and gazing at your movements with a soft smile. his blue eyes scattered across your body, admiring you while simultaneously searching for any clue, any answer to his hovering questions.

“where’d i put the containers,” you murmur to yourself in the midst of making lunch for the week, moving about your space rather slowly. 

satoru offers his own help, pointing a slender finger over to the space above your head. “did you check that cabinet?” he asks.

you turn over your shoulder and quirk your brow. “oh, do you live here now? suddenly know where everything is?” you ask playfully, a small smile rising to your lips as satoru chuckles. 

“not yet,” he winks. “but i sure am working on it, though. you know i have to make myself familiar with the space in case we share it someday.”

“is that so?”

“or, of that doesn't work out you could always live with me. i’d love to have you.”

“we’ve been together for three weeks, satoru.”

“yeah, but what does that matter when it comes to loveeee,” he pouts and you giggle, shaking your head as you turn back to reach for the cabinet. you stand on your tiptoes and reach out, sleeve of your sweet draping down to your elbow.

satoru is quick to his feet to help you, though you’re more than capable, when he catches the sight of what looks like a scar streaking over the inside of your wrist. his face falls and his brows angle, marching over to you quickly with a look of urgency on his face.

you don’t register how fast he is moving until you feel him behind you. you turn and look up, caught off guard by the way his eyes had hardened and his pupils shrank. your hand stalls on the cabinet handle, the scars on your arm completely slipping your mind momentarily.

“satoru? you okay?”

he doesn’t answer, grasping your wrist in his hand gently and pulling it down from above you. your eyes flicker up to the movement, and when you realize what is happening, your heart sinks. your eyes go wide and you try to tug your arm away, but satoru’s grip tightens slightly, extending your arm by your wrist to display the inside of your forearm before him. 

he thinks his vision is blurring over, his heart ringing in his ears, his breaths quickening as his eyes detail over the row of rigid scars lining from your inner elbow up to your wrist. his world collapses around him, lips stretching into a disbelieving grimace as his wild eyes survey the damage. some of those scars look newer than others, scabbing over with specs of purple, while the others are far older. 

you panic, trying to tug away again, but satoru’s grip on you is too secure. a lump forms in your throat as you search for things to say, anything to say that could take your boyfriend’s attention away, that could excuse the sight before him as something else. “s-satoru, wait-” you stammer, your voice weaker than you had intended it to be. 

satoru looks like he can’t hear you, nose flaring as he stares, and stares, and stares, and suddenly, your vulnerability is bare naked before him, on display for him to judge, to belittle, to curl his brows at and determine as pathetic and weak. you can feel yourself about to cry already, shaken by this sudden attention.

“satoru,” you whisper, arm trembling within his grasp.

“what is this?” he breathes out so quietly, his voice betraying himself and hardly reaching over a brush through the wind. when you do not answer, those pained eyes are on you, tormented by the sight he has just witnessed. “(y/n), what is this?”

you feel small, avoiding his eyes and looking all over the floor. “i- it’s nothing,” you murmur.

“nothing?” he repeats, as though he has been burned by your response. the white haired man quickly seeks out your other wrist, reaching down to your other side as you try to turn away, but he, of course, manages to seize it and extend it like your other arm and roll up that sleeve. the same row of scars litter your beautiful skin.

satoru’s a mess, frightened, confused, devastated. this is what you had been hiding from him all this time? “this isn’t fucking nothing, (y/n), they’re all over you! what did you do?”

you still can’t respond, you can’t muster up an excuse, you can’t do anything. satoru’s concern is far too overbearing, his gaze too intense, and his hold on you too secure. it feels like he has you laid out on a slab before him, stripped of your clothes as he examines your body with contempt.

he’s disgusted. he’s ashamed, you think. 

amid his grief, he catches the terrified look in your eye, your lips tugged downward as if to prevent yourself from crying. you look so scared.

how could he have not seen this sooner, that you’re hurting? that you’re hurting yourself? 

“baby, what did you do?” he repeats, softer this time as he leans down to look at you, your body trembling in his hold. his thumbs graze your inflamed skin, hesitant to touch you for fear that you may break.

“please don’t,” you breathe out in a huff, voice wobbling as you scrunch your eyes closed. “please, don’t look. just forget you saw it, please.”

“forget i-?” satoru has to stop himself from lashing out poorly, from allowing his emotions to overcome him in what he understands is clearly your moment of need. “how could you ask me to do something like that? (y/n), your arms, baby!”

“satoru, please-” you shake your head. you want to shrink away, to hide, to vanish into thin air. “i don’t wanna talk about it. please.”

“(y/n),” he exhales, closing his eyes to gather himself. “(y/n),” he repeats softly, hands releasing your wrists slowly and sliding up your arms to delicately hold your shoulders. “we can’t not talk about this. you have to tell me what’s been going on. you have to, baby, you have to understand how scared I am right now. help me understand. let me help you, let me take on whatever burden you’re carrying, please, I’ll do anything as long as it means you’re not hurting yourself.”

his hands move to your neck, cupping over the skin as he ducks his head down to look at you more clearly. 

“i can’t stand the thought that you’ve been- and i haven’t-” satoru was stumbling now, throat straining as the urge to cry rose. “why didn’t you come to me? i’m right here for you, (y/n), i always have been. why didn’t you tell me?”

“...it’s embarrassing,” you manage to say, your voice fragile, on the verge of breaking. you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes peering into you even with your own eyes closed. “didn’t want you to see… I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

satoru’s heart is breaking for you, hurt that you could even think of yourself as a burden to him. “have i- have i done or said anything to you to make you feel that way?” he asks genuinely, and you cringe, turning your head to the side to open your eyes.

“no, of course not.”

“then why would you think that, baby?”

you shrug helplessly, tears welling into your eyes. satoru sees you, all of you, his heart thrumming to capture the pain you feel and to lift it from your chest, to help you breathe even just a little bit. he releases a weighted sigh, one of sadness, of love, of heartache for you, and he’s pulling you into him as your arms dangle limply at your sides. 

you scrunch your eyes and immediately break down into him, sobbing into his shirt as his warm hands wash over your frame and cradle your head to him, the muscles in his face tight with anguish. he holds onto you like he’s horrified that you will fade away within his arms. 

“i’m just so tired, toru,” you cry into his chest, dampening the fabric of his shirt. “i’m sorry.”

satoru doesn’t respond, afraid that if he speaks, he’ll end up crying too. you’re his girl, his beautiful, loving girl, and the fact that you have done such harm to yourself is incomprehensible to him. if you love him so, how can you hate yourself enough to have done this?

“how long?” is all he can ask you, breath heaving into your hair and ear. you hesitate, for he already seems so wounded by his discovery. “tell me.”

“...two years…”

he’s crushed. how did he not see sooner? how could he have been so blind after having bragged about being able to see everything so clearly? how could he have left you like this?

he holds you tighter, digging his head into the crook of your neck and hunching over, your eyes now seeing over the curve of his broad shoulder. 

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes to you in turn, fingers curling into your hair as he holds your scalp. “i'm sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

you’re confused as to why he’s apologizing to you since the entire thing is your fault. satoru has a tendency to take on your emotions, piling them onto his own weight of carrying the title of the strongest. you never understood why he did so naturally and willingly, and why even now as you stood limply in his arms, he’s crying for the things you did to yourself.

he pulls away with shiny red eyes, gazing down into your shiny red eyes and tear stained cheeks. you’re so beautiful, he thinks. he hates that such beauty has been suffering in so much silence.

“(y/n), I love you more than anything in this goddamn world. please don’t- don’t keep doing this to yourself. if you’re hurting, come to me. hurt me if you have to lash out, but don’t hurt yourself beautiful.”

“i would never even think of hurting you, satoru.”

“then don’t think of doing it to yourself,” he says firmly, and you press your lips together. 

“…i-i don’t know how to… to stop,” you mumble, and he’s taking your hands in his and kissing them gently.

“i’ll help you. we can get you help, baby, I promise. just promise me, please,” he begs you, holding your hands close to his heart. “you come to me when you feel like doing that, okay? you come to me. and I’ll do whatever I can. let me help you. let me be there for you. i won’t let you push me out, (y/n).”

you're crying again, tears streaking over your face as satoru’s love captures you within his words, within his warmth as he forces you to understand that you are not alone, and never will be. 

satoru kisses your hands again. his lips reach your cheek, and his hand comes to tuck your head into his shoulder again, holding you and telling you that you have him to go to when your world grows dark.

geto suguru: if suguru could sum you up into one word, he would say that you're his universe.

everything in his life he does for the sake of you and his girls, for the sake of keeping you safe and making you happy. your happiness and your comfortability are the only things that suguru prioritizes above all else, making them his very goal to serve each and every day.

suguru's not the most stable, you know that and he knows that himself. he has his off days, where he falls quiet and the world around him numbs itself and the noise becomes a muffle in his ears until you step into view, giving him a smile and wrapping his big frame up in your small arms, your voice whispering to him and breaking through the fog. you're his sanctuary. you're his safe place, and he loves you so much. he owes his entire life to you, therefore ensuring that you feel just as loved as you make him feel is very important to him.

so when he catches sight of the scars on your stomach one day by accident, when you lift up mimiko to sit on your shoulder as nanako jumps up for you to pick her up to, and her shoe kicks up your shirt from your waist momentarily, suguru freezes.

are you hurt? did someone do this to you? did you do this to yourself?

countless thoughts are racing through suguru's mind as he stares at you in a daze, watching you laugh so joyfully along with the girls as though no trouble plagues you.

but there is. you've just been hiding it. hiding it far too well.

his mind is elsewhere for the rest of the day, unsure of if he had been imagining things or not. he knows you so well, or at least he thinks he does. how have you been hiding those marks littering your lower abdomen? how had he missed them?

he thinks back to the moments you two were intimate and recalls that you never wanted to remove the tanktop you wore or let him kiss further than your ribs. he recalls the days you all went to the beach and you kept a white shirt over your swimsuit or elected to wear a onepiece. he recalls how quickly you change when he's with you, your back turned to him as you rush to throw something on over your upper body.

the signs... they're all there. you've been hiding yourself from him, but why? what have you been doing? have you truly been harming yourself, or is that thought a trick of suguru's worst fears?

he tries to keep himself calm around you and the girls for the remainder of the day until they are put to sleep and the two of you are alone again.

you sit on the edge of your shared bed, rubbing lotion over your arms with your back facing suguru again. he watches you carefully, back resting against the headboards and hazel eyes trained on your figure as though you aren't real.

he waits for the proper moment, waiting for you to crawl up and curl under his side, his arm subconsciously wrapping over your waist as your head lays on his chest. he stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking as weighty silence overcomes you, then he's cautiously speaking.

"(y/n)?"

the soft call of your name brings your head up to peer at him curiously, blinking innocently. he turns down to look at your face and his heart clenches. while he knows that he knows what he saw, he doesn't want to believe it. he doesn't want to think that you, such a selfless and caring person for him, would hurt yourself.

you hum up at him, wondering what he has called you for. you see the pensive look in his face, the subtle knit in his brow as he stares at you, gears in his head turning. "yeah sugu?" you say gently.

he doesn't want to ask, but he has to. he doesn't want the confirmation, but he needs to know.

"i want to ask you a question..." he says, and you grow slightly befuddled.

"...okay?" you start. "is it serious?"

"yeah, it is," he admits, and you suddenly grow nervous, immediately catching an idea of what this could be about. you don't like the look on his face, the way he appears so serious.

"...alright," you mumble, suddenly meek.

the black haired man stares for a few more moments, just looking at you, taking in your the features he feel so deeply in love with, the features that bring him comfort and peace. "i saw something earlier, when you were holding mimiko," he begins softly, thumb caressing your back to ease you into the conversation.

you feel your heart jolt anxiously, trying to keep a straight face so as to not give your nerves away, but knowing suguru, he could likely already tell that you're getting antsy.

you lift your head to look at him, hand resting over his chest, and his eyes follow you smoothly. his eyes are focused, lips in a firm line.

"your shirt lifted, and i saw your stomach. i saw some marks. a lot of them, actually," he says, and you still completely, like a deer caught in headlights. his hand presses gently into your back, trying to keep you present with him as his concerns grow worse when he sees you stiffen against him. he frowns, denial still taking hold of him. "(y/n), please tell me those aren't what i think they are," he sighs heavily.

you feel caught.

you knew that suguru would find out at some point or another, but that didn't make this moment any less horrifying for you. it's so quiet in your room, so isolating, no background noise of the girls giggling or the distant buzz of the tv to help weaken the intensity of this point in time. you feel like a spotlight is shining overhead, an audience awaiting eagerly for you to reveal your secrets to the crowd.

suguru sits up slightly, his calmness gradually shifting into terrified incredulity. your eyes are on his face but your gaze is elsewhere, far off. you look uncomfortable, stuck, and no explanation hits suguru's ears.

"(y/n)," he says your name again, looking desperately down at you. "tell me i'm wrong."

you wish you could, you really do, but you can't lie to suguru. he knows you too well, he loves you too much, and to lie to him would be like denying his understanding of who you are.

you feel your skin flush with shame and anxiety, heartbeat likely loud enough for your boyfriend to hear.

you worry. you worry about your boyfriend's judgment, for his reaction. is he going to be angry with you?

"hey," he snaps you out of your daze with the drag of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he stares at you helplessly. you look at him and frown, ashamed that you are the reason he looks so pained. "what's going on?"

the question comes out so delicately, it makes your heart break. a whisp of understanding blends into his tone with empathy, yet a crushing sense of sadness and guilt that overpowers the aforementioned emotions. you struggle to look him in his kind eyes, dreading his consolation that you feel you don't deserve.

"talk to me, (y/n)."

you chew angrily on the inside of your lip, looking down at your finger as you pick at his shirt. he watches your brows furl, an array of different feelings capturing your features. "i was gonna tell you about it..." you murmur, and suguru is floored.

"what?" he breathes out as though he has no more air. you wince, lowering your head. "you-" he pauses, mind jumping from one place to another. "you did that to yourself?"

"i'm sorry, i-" you can feel your throat growing tight. "i've been trying to-"

"to stop?" he tries to finish for you, grasping for any kind of explanation. he's devastated, not only because you've been harming yourself, but because you've been so busy looking after him and the girls that he hasn't noticed. you're the one who always comforts him, but while you've been doing that, you've been aching on the inside and trying to hide it.

you nod meekly when he concludes for you. "i just- i thought the feelings would go away, so i didn't say anything, but they're just getting worse and i don't know what to do anymore and i only feel better after i..."

"(y/n)," he stops you gently, his heart shattering upon listening to you ramble, spilling out the things you have been holding onto for what he assumes to have been so long. "you've been dealing with this all this time?"

"...it's on and off," you confess. "some days are better than others, but..."

suguru finds your words familiar, for he often finds himself in the exact same mindset; feeling functional and confident some days, and others, not so much, but you're the reason why he's able to handle his bad days, yet he hasn't been the same for you for as long as the two of you have been together.

he feels almost sick. he loves you to death. you're his everything, but you've been in pain, and he hasn't seen it.

the way he's looking at you now makes you feel guilty, remorseful, embarrassed. you know you should have told him, but you could never find the strength to. you had always been too scared. and the longer you self-harm, the less you are willing to admit to yourself and to your boyfriend that you have a problem.

you're shocked, though, when suguru's hands tighten over you and his face grows bitter, not with you but with himself. "how could i have been so stupid?" he grumbles, distraught. "and so selfish? all this time, you-"

"no, suguru, please, it's not your fault," you try to tell him.

"i should have seen, baby, i should have noticed something sooner. and all this time, instead you've been looking after me when i should have been looking after you."

"don't say that, suguru," you shift, looking sadly into his eyes. "it's my fault. i'm the one who did this, i'm the one who's to blame. i'm the stupid and selfish one, not you."

suguru's frown deepens, sad eyes looking over your face. you blame and belittle yourself just as easily as suguru does, and he can't stand it. he can't stand to see you like this, to be so aware of hurt before him. he wants, no, he needs to take all that pain away from you. he needs to exorcize it, rid your body of it, cast it away so that you can be happy from now until the rest of time. he needs you to be okay.

"i swear on my life, (y/n)," he begins firmly, eyes boring straight into yours, holding your cheek. "i will do everything in my power to get you through this. whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes, i will be here for you. you're not alone, you understand? you don't need to pretend for me. the girls love you- god i love you so fucking much, and i can't stomach to think of the times you've suffered in silence for my sake. i'm no good if you're no good, baby. i need to know these things, i need to be able to help you."

your nose twitches and your jaw clenches as you look into him, breathing growing unstable. suguru has always been so generous and so loving. he has a way with his words and how safe they make you feel even during your worst moments.

"but what if i can't do it, sugu?" you whisper, his thumb catching the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye. "what if i'm not strong enough to get better?"

"you are strong enough," he affirms confidently. "more than strong enough. and when you feel weak, lean on me. but you have to promise me something."

you nod slowly, mutely, keeping his gaze as he stares at you lovingly, wistfully.

"promise me you won't do it," his words come out as a quick, hasty breath. his brows curl further upward, his desperation plain on his pretty face. "promise me you'll let me know as soon as you want to, but don't hurt yourself again, (y/n). don't do it. i'm begging you. you don't deserve that pain."

though you are unsure if you can even make that promise to yourself, you force yourself to try. for suguru's sake. "okay," you mumble, and he sighs, kissing you softly and pulling you to his chest to whisper sweet nothings as his hands soothe over your stomach and your back.

nanami kento: you twist your fingers around each other as you sit in the living room while kento cooks in the kitchen. you're nervous, more nervous than you have been about anything in your entire life, but you know that you need to rip off this bandaid to approach your boyfriend about such a serious matter.

recently, you find yourself returning to the old habit that you believed to have been relinquished. you thought that you had gotten better, that the urge to self harm had completely gone away after having spent so much time in therapy trying to heal, but recently, you've been feeling down again, useless, angry with yourself. you didn't want to tell nanami at first because you didn't think that your current mood would go beyond feeling depressed, but now that you've started scratching away at your thighs and your arms again, you know that you need to let him know what's going on. you know that you can't go on like this anymore.

but you have no idea what to say.

nanami has been nothing but doting toward you, bringing you flowers every morning, making your meals, ensuring that you remember to schedule doctor's appointments or to keep yourself warm when it's cold out- the man's life revolves around your comfortability, and while you know he would be far more offended if you keep this to yourself, you're horrified to see his reaction when you tell him that you relapsed.

nanami is well aware of your past difficulties with your mental health, and he always tells you that if you are ever in a dark space again, he needs to know. even so, he hasn't been with you when you're like this. the two of you got together after the multiple therapy visits that helped you to shift mindsets, so now that you feel this way again, and while in a relationship with nanami no less, you feel petrified.

you don't even notice when he rounds the kitchen counter to make his way over to the dining table, setting down two plates of food. he looks over and catches the way you stare ahead blankly, lost in thought. you've been doing a lot of that lately and he wonders if something is wrong.

nevertheless, he knows that if something is bothering you, you'll tell him. "sweetheart, dinner's ready," he calls out, and you snap your head over to him, his voice bringing you out of your daze.

you stand wordlessly, movements somewhat robotic, as you slowly make your way over to the table. "thanks, ken," you say softly, lacking your usual energy, and at this point, your partner knows for certain that something is off.

he watches you carefully as you sit down, pushing in your seat for you and pecking your forehead before sitting down next to you. "tell me how your day was," he starts, brushing off his hands and reaching one out to rest one on your knee as he always did at the table. he's prying, you can tell, trying to learn if something that happened throughout the day affected your mood.

your heart is hammering loudly, your eyes stuck to the plate and unable to look up at him. "it was okay," you respond.

"just okay?" he questions and you nod slowly. "did something happen?"

you flicker your eyes up to his brown ones suddenly, caught off guard by the question. he sees the questioning in your eyes and replies accordingly.

"you seem to be a little off, this evening, that's all."

you hum, unsure of how to respond to his observation. you look away again, contemplating. just say it, you think. just tell him, just get it over with.

as you struggle against yourself, nanami only grows more concerned. you don't confirm or deny his comment, and the way you turn away has him wondering if he's done something to hurt you.

"did i do something wrong, darling?" he asks.

you furrow your brows and quickly shut down the idea. "no, no. not at all, ken. it's nothing you did."

"then... there is something troubling you?"

you stall a bit more now that you're on the spot, cursing the fact that kento is always so quick to pick up on the smallest changes in your demeanor.

"(y/n)?" he calls you when you don't answer.

"i have to tell you something," you say abruptly. you see nanami's brows raise ever so slightly, soft brown eyes looking over your face in an attempt to read the situation before you tell him anything. "it's... a lot. so i need you to just... bear with me. and please don't be mad."

nanami's brow twitches slightly as he looks at you, head tilting. he grabs the bottom of his chair and shuffles it closer to you, leaning over slightly and running his hand over where it resides on your knee.

"i could never be mad at you," he tells you earnestly, as though it's the most honest thing he's said in the world. "what's the matter, my love?"

god, he's so sweet to you it makes you physically ill that you have to break this news to him.

"...do you remember when we talked about... um..." your voice fades off, nanami's concentrated gaze only making you more nervous for what his reaction will be.

"take your time," he encourages you, and you only feel worse.

you return to chewing on the inside of your lip anxiously, picking at your shirt under the table. the blonde man beside you is ever so patient, allowing you to gather your thoughts before you verbalize them.

"...um...it's.... about what we talked about a while ago..."

"...and that would be regarding?"

"my... past."

nanami furrows his brows, still not quite understanding. "i apologize, honey, what about your past?"

just rip the bandaid. just rip the bandaid.

"my past with self-harming," you rush out, and the weighty silence that follows is enough to make you want to sink into the floor and let it swallow you whole.

you can feel his eyes burning into you, processing what you just told him, and all you can hear is the pound of your heart in your ears as his hand stills upon your knee.

nanami, on the other hand, is completely shocked by your revelation. while he understands that your relapsing has always been a very realistic possibility, he never wanted to entertain the idea that it could very much so happen- at least, not while he's around.

a sense of fear grips him. are you going to tell him that you relapsed? have you already hurt yourself? has he failed to be there when it happened??

"did you-" he doesn't know what he wants to ask, or how. he hates that he is already jumping to conclusions, but the way you are structuring this conversation with him only leads him to believe the worst. "what happened?"

your head hangs low and your fingers taut on your shirt, lips tightening as they press together. you can hear the disbelief in his voice already, and it breaks you.

"i relapsed."

the brown-eyed man clenches his jaw, falling completely silent once more to not react in a way that may worsen your state. you feel his hand tighten into a fist over top of your leg as he lowers his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and inhaling sharply. you feel like a child who is awaiting punishment as you look at his hunched state, a million questions of what he will do next running through your mind.

you hate to do this to him. nanami already has so much on his plate, you know this is the last thing he needs to be stressing over. you wish you could be okay for him. it's not his fault that your mind takes you to these places, and you don't want him to bear responsibility as though it is his doing. even so, you already know that he will because that's the type of man kento is. that's the type of boyfriend kento is.

you wait a few more moments in unbearable muteness. after what feels like forever, kento lifts his head again and rests his chin on his fist, elbow propped on his knee. he's looking to the side, deep in anguished thought. he no longer looks surprised, but rather guilty and frustrated. "when?" is the first thing he asks.

"yesterday," you answer dejectedly, and he almost jerks, his body twitching in reaction. "...are you mad?"

nanami looks at you and his hardened expression immediately softens into something melancholy. "no- no, of course not, (y/n), no," he shakes his head as if the notion is unfathomable, releasing his fist to cup your knee again more securely. "i will never be angry with you for what you're going through. never. no, i'm not mad."

you nod quickly, a meek sense of relief and sorrow taking over you, a weight heaving from your chest upon letting it out. "okay," you whimper.

"come here, my darling," he coaxes you softly, opening and grabbing your hand from under the table delicately to lead you to stand over him. his hand guides over the small of you're back once you're up, leading you to sit on his lap with your back pressed against the table and your legs dangling over one side of his chair.

he holds your forearms gently, looking up at you with sad, understanding eyes. "are you comfortable showing me?" he murmurs so intimately, easing you into his warm consolation.

you don't nod or answer him verbally. instead, you wordlessly roll up the sleeve of your sweater to reveal angry red scratch lines running up your inner forearm. nanami's lips curl in pain as though he can feel the sting of your scars, holding your arm gently for him to look over it.

the sight kills him, though he tries to keep his cool. this isn't about him, it's about you, but goodness, the image of the scars on your beautiful skin makes him hurt like no other pain he's experienced.

"is this all of it?" he asks you, and you shake your head.

"there's some on my thighs," you mutter, looking down.

he nods. "alright," he sighs. "alright."

"...i know you have so much on your plate already... i just-"

"don't. don't even," he stops you, eyes still roaming over your irritated skin. nanami usually commends himself for remaining collected in times of crisis, but he's desperately fighting a part of him that wants to yell out and cry for the sake of you.

he imagines you struggling with this on your own, long before he came into your life, and the thought makes him cringe to picture just how far this must have gotten. these scratches he is surveying now already look bad enough. were the other ones worse?

"(y/n), you know this isn't okay," he looks up at your face and sees how you are avoiding his eyes. you look so small compared to how you usually carry yourself, and it kills him. "to harm yourself like this... you can't treat yourself this way, darling, you know you can't."

"i know," you mumble. "i just had a moment, and now i'm scared that- that i'll go back to how things were."

"as long as i'm with you, you won't. i promise you that," nanami swears. "it was just this one time since you last?"

you nod. "yeah..."

"okay," he nods once more, convincing himself that this is something he can help stop before it gets any more out of hand. "why'd you do it this time, my love? what were you thinking that led you here? is there something i can do differently? is it work? is it a combination of things?"

"i wish it were that easy to explain, kento," you frown, glancing up at him helplessly. "but it's just... it's just a feeling i can't put into words. i can't pinpoint the source. i just... one minute i felt like i couldn't breathe, and the next i was..."

"okay," he repeats, letting you know that you no longer need to say anything more. you don't have to revisit it. he understands. he will take care of it. he'll help you. "okay, darling. how about this. i call off of work tomorrow and we can sit and talk about seeing a new therapist. then we can go out and do whatever you want. just for fun. does that sound okay with you?"

your nose flares and your lips tug to the side as you nod, truly not comprehending how you managed to find a man so patient with you. "yeah, that's good," you say softly, and nanami is at least relieved that you are willing to take further steps into a better direction.

"good," he whispers, rolling the sleeve of your sweater back down so that you no longer feel exposed or feel like you have to think any more about the things you did to yourself when you felt alone. "it's alright, my love. we'll get through it. you'll get past this just like you did last time," he encourages you, moving to caress your shoulder lovingly as you hold his gaze. "it's okay," he tells you again, and you nod weakly, leaning over to plop your head against his shoulder.

nanami holds you to him and exhales, food completely forgotten. his only priority now is to be there for you in the ways he could not before the two of you met.

"thank you for telling me."

choso kamo: choso worships the ground you walk on because he can not fathom a world without, nor the fact that you happened to stumble into his life on a whim. to imagine you hurt is the very worst thing that the man can think of, and the notion that you would hurt yourself is beyond his comprehension.

you aren't actively trying to hide any of your scars when he finds them. the scars are old, faded reminders of the pain that you used to endure and how you attempted to cope with it. while you are now six months free of self harming, the scars remain very present.

choso happens to catch sight of your scars when you are getting changed. he's sitting at the edge of your bed, face flushed, as he watches you blissfully change out of your pajamas and into clothes that you feel are best suited for a walk to the ice cream shop that choso has proposed. it's a bright sunday afternoon, and the brunette is eager to take advantage of the weather with the woman he holds close to his heart as well as his baby brother, who the two of you intend to meet at the store.

you're now dressed in nothing but a large white shirt and underwear, your legs bare as you strut around the space freely. choso's jade eyes follow you as you walk, completely obsessed with the way you move. he could watch you do the most mundane things for hours, which he truthfully tends to do anyway.

your back is to him before you round the bed, disappearing into the bathroom momentarily before coming back into the living room. choso's eyes still don't leave you, tracing over your face down your figure and finally to the front of your bare legs.

he falters, and his brows draw together when he catches dark marks littering over your inner thighs, only revealing themselves with the movement of your limbs as you walk.

the pale-skinned man grows confused and slightly concerned. he's never seen those marks on you before, and simultaneously, never on anyone else he knows either. he finds them to be a strange form of battle scars, especially due to the placement, the small size, and the sheer number of them. some of them take different shapes too, blurring together or over each other, while some stand out alone. they almost look like burns, but it's hard for choso to really tell.

you proceed about your business, searching through your drawer to pull out a skirt, when choso speaks up.

"love? what are those?" he asks curiously, perplexed.

you turn over your shoulder, shutting your drawer closed with your foot. "hm? what's what, cho?" you ask him, unsure of what he's referring.

choso, still slightly flustered by the vision of your half exposed body, nods his head into the direction of your lower legs. "those," he says again, and you look down, still lost.

you lift your foot momentarily, checking to see if something is stuck under or on top of it. you then survey the rest of your body, searching for something out of the ordinary. "uhhh," you trail off. "i'm not sure what you mean, baby. you're talking about my legs?"

you are far too desensitized to and familiar with the image of your scars to process that choso has never seen them before. the brunette, however, is unsatisfied, wanting an answer that you have yet to provide.

he leans forward, lifting his hand and pointing his finger directly to a patch of dark spots peeking out from your inner thighs. you follow his gaze, eyes landing on the culprits, and your shoulders drop in realization. "oh," you say shortly, choso retracting his hand.

he looks at you innocently, awaiting a response while you try to figure out how to explain this sight to him.

you don't want to worry him, but knowing choso, if you lead with the fact that these scars are there because you inflicted them onto yourself, he would have a heart attack, failing to find reason to your words.

even so, you know choso only wants to understand you as much as you desire to understand him. he wants to see the ugly parts as well as the beautiful parts of you that he is so drawn to, and if you hide it from him, that would only create a rift in your budding relationship that you aren't entirely too keen on creating.

you want him to know you, all of you, and these scars are as much of a part of you as the bones in your body and the blood pumping through your skin.

they're a sign of what you've been through, what you've overcome, and who you are now. they're important, and choso should know why they are there.

"that's a good question," you sigh, putting your skirt on the bed as you move to sit next to him at the edge of it. choso immediately turns to you, glancing over the marks shamelessly now that he has a better view of them.

"did someone do that to you?" is the first thought that crosses his mind, red drifting into his vision at the mere idea that someone has hurt you in such an intimate way.

"...no," you shake your head, lifting one leg up onto the bed, brushing his own, as the other dangles. "i put them there. a while ago," you explain honestly.

choso scrunches his brows tighter, eyes flickering up to your face then back down to try to identify what exactly the marks are. "what are they?" he repeats.

you exhale, puckering your lips as you prepare yourself for this difficult conversation. "they're burns, cho. from a match," you tell him.

now, the half-curse is incredibly confused. burn marks? on your lovely skin? in a place where only you could reach? put there by yourself?

you burned yourself?

"i don't understand," he frowns, shifting to face you better. "why would you..."

"i used to be in a really bad place, baby," you purse your lips, watching as his face contorts with consternation as he comes to understand that you purposefully harmed yourself.

"what do you mean? bad enough to do this to yourself?" he sounds mortified, his voice growing ragged the moment his tone picks up volume.

his pupils, moments ago blown pools of affection, are now shrunken dots of shock.

"don't look at me like that," you beg him, placing your hand over his own. his eyes snap to the sudden contact, then back to you with concern. "sometimes, when certain people are suffering from depression, or anxiety, or just overall bad thoughts and they feel like they have to... break out, or maybe punish themselves in a sense... they resort to hurting themselves."

choso gulps, lump forming in his throat as he listens to you with shaking eyes. "and that's what you did? you felt like you needed to punish yourself?"

"it's hard to explain to someone on the outside. i know it sounds... crazy, but it was the only way i knew how to cope with everything that i was dealing with."

"why didn't you come to me instead?" he immediately asks and you give him a sad, knowing look.

"because, we didn't know each other then, cho?"

"i don't care," he shakes his head, eyes keeping yours. "you should have found me."

the idea brings a hint of a smile to your lips, choso's sweetness warming your heart. "i didn't know who you were, baby, that would have been like begging a stranger for help."

"so?" he scoffs. "i loved you the moment i met you. it wouldn't have made any difference to me.

you sigh again, bringing your other hand to rest over top of your boyfriend's as you smile softly at him in an attempt to get him to calm down.

the panic is still written all over his face as he takes in your smile, the vision somehow only making him sadder. you're so gorgeous, inside and out, and that smile is only scratching the surface of your unending beauty.

to know now that your radiance was once outweighed by the torment in your mind encouraging you to harm yourself... well, it makes choso want to ball his eyes out. it makes him want to confront the physical manifestation of your past traumas and pummel it into the ground, bashing its head in for all the hurt that it has caused you.

"i ended up just fine, cho," you reassure him.

"why didn't you say anything before? were you trying to keep it from me?"

"no, baby, i just didn't think to tell you. i kinda forgot about them," you say, and that comment alone makes choso soften his features slightly.

"you forgot..." he recites your words. "does that mean you're better now?"

you hum in affirmation, smiling warmly. "it's been a while since i've hurt myself or done anything like that. i got through it. i'm okay now, these scars are just a permanent reminder of the past."

his frame sags slightly with relief, brows lifting as he looks over you with a blank expression. "i think i understand," he mumbles, looking back down at the marks. "i'm sorry you ever had to go through any of that."

"it's not your fault. you weren't there."

"i wish i had been. so i could have helped more. i know you said you're better, but maybe if i had been there i could've stopped you from hurting yourself at all."

"i wouldn't put that responsibility onto yourself, cho. it was my responsibility."

"still," his brows arch slightly. "i would have stuck with you every second of every day to make sure that you never had a second alone to do any of it. i wouldn't have let you, and i won't let you now." a thought seems to pop into his head when he finishes his last sentence. "you wouldn't go back to trying to hurt yourself, (y/n), would you?

you exhale. "i mean, i'd like to think i wouldn't, but sometimes these things aren't linear," you admit. "i just know that for now, i'm okay."

"the second you're not, though, you'd tell me?"

"yes. i would."

"you promise?"

"i promise, baby."

"okay," he sighs. "because i don't think i'd be able to function knowing you're upset."

the brown haired man leans over, carefully holding your thigh as he looks over your marks again, no longer flustered by your bare skin but entirely focused on the severity of your burns. you look down at him, hands slipping from his own as he surveys you closely like he's a doctor.

"they don't hurt anymore, do they?"

"nope. just scarred."

choso looks at you for a bit longer in silence before looking back up at you from his hunched state. "can i kiss them?"

you laugh softly, hand falling into his hair at you gaze at him with your heart aglow. "you want to kiss them?"

he nods. "so they can feel loved."

you coo, thumb smoothing over his temple as his eyes swell with adoration right before you. "of course you can."

toji fushiguro: toji is absolutely no stranger to scars. he's a human man with no cursed energy, having had his fair share of close calls on risky jobs that have left him with slashes over his calves, small pierces in his flesh, and cracked callouses. then, of course, there's the scar on his mouth bestowed upon him by his oh-so-loving family, which will be stuck with for the rest of his life.

scars follow toji like moths follow a flame, and he's numb to it. he believes that they are a part of life, both physically and mentally, especially with the kind of life that he leads. whether the wound is a large one or a small one he can barely see, he accepts scars as a part of who he is-

who he is.

while toji likes to parade around with a hardened exterior decorated with faded, scabbing wounds, that is something he deems fit for him and him only. he doesn't care what other people do with their lives as long as they leave him the hell out of it, but for the love of all the money that he has acquired over the years slaughtering sorcerers, he will be damned if he finds a single, tiny little scratch on your body.

scars are for toji, not for you, his darling little girlfriend and the day he finds out someone has hurt you enough to leave behind a mark is the day he's putting several bullets into the culprit's head.

toji's worst fear, though he hardly discusses it, is losing you and watching you get hurt. god, he practically lives to protect you, and to feel as though he has failed to do so would wound him detrimentally. he's a tough guy, but you make him so soft, and admittedly he wouldn't want to be soft for anyone but you. you're his rock, his little hot head, and he loves you more than life itself.

if you're hurt, he will lose it.

therefore, when he finds out that you're self-harming? oh, he's on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

he does a double-take when you step out of his room and into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your body, his eyes widening and his brows arching immediately.

now, toji knows your body inside and out. he's explored every inch, he knows every crook, every crevice, every mark, every texture, and he has never once in the six months you have been together seen the red lines over your inner wrist.

he watches you with twisted lips as you grab an orange from the counter before walking back into his direction. you're almost back into the room when toji calls you.

"uh uh," he stops you, and you pause, turning over your shoulder and purposefully moving your left wrist to press into your towel.

"what?"

"come here," he orders and you give him a strange look.

"why?"

"i wanna see somethin'. come here."

you're quick to snap back easily with your own sarcastic retort, clearly in a foul mood over something. "if you want to fuck, can you wait until i'm fully dried off and after i finish this?' you hold up the orange in your other hand, a perturbed look on your face.

"i don't want to fuck, (y/n), i want you to come here."

toji's voice comes out sternly, and on the verge of anger. you survey his posture, his arms leaning over his legs as he cranes to look at you with a suspicious, firm expression. you can tell that he's serious, and a sudden sense of fear overtakes you that you mask with annoyance.

you don't say a word when you slowly walk up to him, crossing your arms over your chest to conceal your wrist, the hand holding the orange tucked under your elbow.

"what is it?"

toji holds out his palm. "give it."

"...my orange?"

"put it in my hand."

you huff, carefully maneuvering your arm around to keep your inner wrist pointed toward your body as you bring forward the orange and plop it aggressively into his hand. toji watches your other arm the entire time, taking clear note of how you refuse to let your wrist show, and you know you're fucked.

the green-eyed man tosses the orange to the side of the couch and holds out his large palm again, eying you intensely. you look down at him with a frustrated frown, shrugging. "i don't have anymore oranges."

"don't be cute, doll."

"what? do you want my hand?"

"you know i want your hand."

you roll your eyes, raising the hand you had held your orange with when he stops you. "not that one. the other one."

your heart pangs, shaking your entire body as he looks to you expectantly. how the fuck had he managed to notice the scar on your wrist so quickly?

the moment you hesitate, he knows that what he saw earlier is something to be concerned about. you normally never hide yourself from toji, and the way you go about hiding your arm now is defensive enough to raise several brows. he knows you're not dumb, too. he knows that you know exactly what he wants to see.

"(y/n)." he cocks a brow, the severity of his demeanor only making you more uneasy.

he can't see. he can't see what you've just done. he'll hate you. he'll look at you like you're crazy.

"what if i don't want to give you my hand?"

"then i'll just grab it for you, and i don't think either of us wants to go there."

you release a trembling, aggravated breath. you can't get away with anything when toji's around, and while you ponder having chosen to get an orange later, you know deep down somewhere you wanted toji to see. you wanted him to help you, which is why you walked out of that bathroom half an hour after having put those scars on your arm.

"hand, now."

you turn your eyes away with a grunt, slapping your wrist into his hand facing downward. toji is quick to whip it upside once he has a grip on you, and his eyes seem to freeze over the sight of three fresh slices on your upper forearm up close.

his jaw clenches, then unclenches, then clenches and unclenches again as his lips twitch and his eyes adjust to the vision. you're hurt. not only are you hurt, but it looks as though you've recently been hurt. you've hurt yourself.

toji has a hard time figuring out what to do. he's not good with things like this, but he knows that seeing you with scars on your arm is quite literally about to set him off. he always imagined having to defend you from others who seek to hurt you, but never having to defend you from yourself.

he can't fathom it. he's struggling, the muscles in his eyes are twitching, and he can't handle it. he can feel his heart begin to race, unsure if he is angry or scared or mortified or devastated.

there are three lines in your arm. bright red. staring right back up at him.

and you put them there?

no way, you put them there.

but you did. clearly you did, or else you wouldn't be looking so guilty right now.

but when did you? how did you? why did you?

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to say. he swore he'd always protect you, but how does he even begin to try to protect you from yourself?

"are you out of your mind?"

the question leaves him rather calmly, a low inquiry that you are unsure is meant to be directed as an insult or a genuine ask.

you can't look at him. you don't even know what to think yourself. it had all happened so fast while you were in the bathroom, before you got into the shower.

one minute, you were staring angrily in the mirror, cursing your reflection as your wicked thoughts sprouted grubby arms and guided you toward the pair of brow scissors that you kept in your makeup cabinet on the left side of toji's bathroom.

you wanted to feel in control of the disdain you felt lurking within your soul. you wanted to feel something for fear that you would never be able to feel again, and before you knew it, you were dragging the exposed blade over your skin.

"d'you wanna explain why i'm looking at these cuts on your arm, (y/n)?"

and you know, you know that it's a bad sign when toji uses your name instead of the plethora of pet names he normally elects to call you: doll, princess, mama, girl, pretty baby- anything but your actual government name, and when you hear it roll from his tongue under these circumstances, you can only imagine what's going through his head.

you shift on your bare feet, looking down at your toes. "dunno," is all you say, and toji scoffs in disbelief.

"you don't know?" he emphasizes. "that's all you have to say?"

"if you wanna embarrass me, go ahead, toji. seriously, i'm tired."

"what the fuck makes you think i wanna embarrass you? i wanna know why the fuck my girlfriend walked out of the bathroom with cuts on her arm!"

you rip your arm away immediately when he yells, storming back off into his room and slamming the door behind you.

toji jumps up, suddenly frazzled. he doesn't want you alone in there. he doesn't want you out of his sight.

the navy haired man moves quickly to his door and grabs the handle, only to find it locked. he jiggles it harshly and bangs on the door. beginning to panic. "open the door, (y/n)," he shouts, meeting no reply.

little does he know, your back is pressed against the other side as tears crash over your cheeks. you don't know how you expected toji to react, but the look on his face just now and his tone of voice was enough to send you running off.

you feel ashamed, weak. you shouldn't have gone out there at all. you should have waited until you were dressed, discarding the whole idea of letting toji see what you did so that you could suffer in silence without his help, because what help could he truly provide anyway?

toji's a tough man, but he's soft for you. he would stand in front of a moving train for you. he would sacrifice his life for you, so when you don't answer, he imagines the worst.

"open the door," he says again, weaker, tugging desperately at the handle though he knows it won't budge. he knows he could break the door down, and he's prepared to until he hears you sniff amdist his pounding. he immediately stops, face dropping.

fuck.

this is bad.

he knew it was before, but for some reason, it's only now registering how bad this is.

you're in pain. you hurt yourself because you're in pain and you need him, but he doesn't know how to help you. he's never dealt with anything like this before.

his hand slides from the door and to his side, forehead knocking against the door though his other hand remains tight on the handle. he just needs to see you.

"princess," he mutters defeatedly. "don't make me kick this door in."

silence.

"please," he softens even more. "please, (y/n), let me in."

the house falls quiet once more and you give in. you feel so lost, and the only person who can at least comfort you, in his own way, is toji.

you slowly turn to unlock the door and step back as toji opens it swiftly, staring down at you with wide eyes and at least relieved to see that you haven’t done any further harm to your body.

he does, however, see your tears.

his face tightens as he bends down to scoop you up in an instant, your legs and arms tightening around him as you snivel into his shoulder, his large palms sliding over your body. he feels your small body tremble against him as he walks the two of you over to the edge of his bed, sitting down as you cling to him like a koala.

"i dunno what happened," you whimper into him. "i dunno why i did it. i dunno. i dunno."

you say it over and over, your voice as broken as toji feels listening to you.

he wishes he knew what to do. he wishes he was better equipped to handle this, but never in his worst nightmares did he dream that he would find you here, his fiery girl, the love of his life.

he's been so busy trying to protect you from the outside world that he hasn't even thought about the things that could harm you from within.

he stays silent as you babble to him through tears, holding you just like he knew how. he doesn't want to picture those scars on you. he doesn't want to picture what led you to put them there. he just wants to hold you, to at least let you know that he's here and he's not going anywhere. he may not know how to help, but he knows how to love you and he hopes that's enough.

"i'm not letting you out of my sight, y'hear?" he says gruffly into your ear and you nod meekly. "i'm not letting this happen ever again. not as long as i'm alive."

he mentally swears to rid your house and his of any and every sharp object he can find and to throw it all in a safe as you sink into him.

toji knows how to protect and toji knows how to fight. though he's more acclimated with fighting others, if he has to fight to protect yourself from your innermost demons, then hell, he will find a way to do just that.

sukuna ryomen: lord help you and lord help anyone within a fifty-mile radius when the king of curses discovers that you've been harming yourself.

sukuna is not at all very good with his words or his expressions of affirmations. he is a being of action, and he believes that he has proven his love for you enough by simply allowing you to be in his presence longer than anyone else ever has or ever will.

at first, when he sees a scar or two on your leg, he thinks its just an accident or a result of you being clumsy. then, three more pop up, then five, then far more than he's even willing to count, and he decides that this scar pattern is somehow intentional.

he knows no one else has marked them onto you because he is prepared to kill anyone who comes too close, especially if they have ill intentions. if you were in danger at someone else's hand, he would be the first to know and the person meaning you harm would be dead before they could even think about touching you.

therefore, when he sees that the only person normally within your company is him, uraume, and yourself, the process of elimination leads him to you.

he goes about confronting you rather harshly, as well, for he knows no other way to be.

you're out in the garden of his large residence one day, soaking up the sun, when you hear familiar, loud stomps heading your way from behind.

you turn around and squint to peer up at sukuna, who is standing over you with a menacing glare in his crimson eyes. you don't necessarily find this out of the ordinary, so you greet him as usual.

"hi, kuna," you say sweetly. "you good?"

he is not good. not at all, so he gets straight to the point. "come inside, woman."

you quirk a brow. "why? i just got out here?"

"do not question me."

"can it wait, like, fifteen minutes?"

"do you wish to live in the next fifteen minutes?"

you sigh, entirely too used to sukuna's facade of cruelty around you. you know by now that the king of curses would never dare to hurt you.

"i do intend, to live, yes," you smirk.

"then you will come inside as i have demanded."

"no, sukuna. i want to stay out here for a bit. i've been inside all day."

the pink haired man fumes, teeth grinding together in agitation. he doesn't want to delay this conversation any further than it has already been delayed, but of course, you choose to be difficult.

"very well, we will do this out here," he growls and you smile.

"good."

you don't prepare yourself for when sukuna grabs the back of your chair and whips out around to face him with the unpleasant screech of the legs against the cobblestone. you wince, then retract your face when sukuna lowers his to stare at you from mere centimeters away, one of his arms grasping to push up the lose leg of your shorts up to reveal the set of scars littering your skin.

your eyes go wide, his movements too quick for you to process all at once.

"are these your doing?" he hisses and you gulp.

"s-sukuna-"

"i did not ask for you to say my name. i asked if these scars are your doing."

his eyes are piercing, striking directly into yours. "what are you talking about?" you whisper shakily.

"are we going to pretend like you're an idiot now?" he snarls. he's so mean, but he feels it's for good reason. your body has been tainted, and for some reason, you have been doing the tainting. he needs to know why.

you shake your head weakly. "no..."

"then answer me properly. i will not repeat myself a third time."

you bite down on your lower lip, heart ringing in your ears. you didn't even know sukuna paid attention to you enough to catch wind of something like this.

"yes... i did this," you finally tell him, and sukuna is livid.

"and why would you be doing something so foolish? scars are not something you are meant to give yourself, human."

"please don't be a dick, sukuna, not right now."

"i am asking a perfectly reasonable question and i expect you to answer it," he glowers. "now."

"you wouldn't understand if i told you," you frown and he clicks his tongue.

"stop assuming things of me before i lock you inside of my room where you can not escape or even fathom doing something like this to yourself again under my supervision."

you curl your brows, frowning up at your boyfriend. "if i tell you, you'll call me foolish."

"because this is foolish," he grunts. "but i will not if my doing so will get you to fucking explain yourself."

you shake your head, looking down and contemplating before deciding to just get it over with so that he can stop putting you on the spot. "sometimes i just feel shitty," is all you elect to say.

but sukuna is hardly satisfied with this response. "so you choose to inflict pain upon yourself instead of calling upon me?"

"i told you, you wouldn't understand," you say. "it's not something i can easily explain to you either."

sukuna narrows his eyes. "fine."

he lowers himself to grab you legs and throw you over his shoulder. you squeal, grabbing onto his back as he begins to walk you back into his home and toward his room. "sukuna!" you kick your legs around. "put me down!"

"no. you're coming with me, and you're going to sit and talk me through every single thought that has crossed your little mind to make you think that injuring yourself in such a way is tolerable within the walls of my residence. then after that, you'll come with me everywhere i go from this point on."

"what?!" you exclaim from where you hang upside down. "I don't wanna go everywhere you go," you wine.

"too bad. you should have thought of that before you decided to harm yourself."

sukuna is horrible with words, and far more horrible with expressing his concerns, but despite your temporary discomfort with how he goes about approaching the situation, you can still see in the pinch of his brow and the stiffness of his posture, combined with his refusal to let you go without a proper explanation, that he cares very deeply for your wellbeing.

I'm so tired seeing her getting her ass kicked and it's a shame like THIS WOMAN IS A UNIT!!!

Her body tea. She's super thick. She's super pretty💖

Idc she's 6'0 to me

I do love seeing characters all bloodied up from a fight. I truly do, and I feel like we don't appreciate that art enough.

Lost a fight to Vi and got a lightsaber sword second round like good for her.

Like I do understand why folks would go FERAL especially if she grabs you like this

Her voice is music to ears ✨️

She doesn't get enough credit for all the shit being handed to her. From dealing with snakes and silco's business to losing to a pair of sisters and needing to repair her arm each time. Hopefully, she finally quits smokin and train harder cause Finn did say there's bigger fish than silco. Who really knows