#[noelle's works (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)]

[noellerain]

Antithetical ♡ [suguru x afab!reader]

noe: this man is living rent-free in my mind for days now so you can consider this fic a brainrot/love letter to this gorgeous son of a bitch.

Warnings: [ DEAD DOVE! ] dark smut, noncon/rape (reader to Suguru), somnophilia (reader to Suguru), femdom, babytrapping (reader to Suguru), profanities (vulgar words), intoxication, spitting, implied that Suguru is drugged but not by the reader, obsessive behavior (reader to Suguru), proofread once, Gojo has a cameo lol, just over all madness. [LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING! THANK YOU!]

+ BLOCK, DON'T REPORT!

[If you read the warnings then proceed to click/press the cut button, you consent on reading the dark material below.]

Suguru Geto is midnight personified. His jet-black hair reminds you of the night sky when it's void of the moon and the stars. His eyes are blackholes that can consume your entirety if you look hard and long enough. His scent smells like the Earth after rain: a unique, addicting scent that makes your stomach flip yet still brings you a sense of warm melancholia.

Suguru Geto is way out of your league. You know that. But while everyone is fawning over his annoying best friend, Satoru, your love-struck eyes are fixated on that enigma of a man. Just one look, whether it's intentional or in passing, can shake and blow you away like the flimsy petals of dandelions.

Tonight, as you stand in the dark corner of Satoru's living room while everyone else drinks and dances to the rhythm of the song booming from the speakers, the walls seem to close in on you. 

There he is, sitting on the couch with his arm around a girl. His hair is up in its usual bun; tresses hanging on the side of his face. He's wearing a simple white shirt and black cargo pants. The simplicity amplifies his good looks.

They say that he and Satoru are two different sides of the same coin. Satoru's boisterous personality is on the face; one look at him and your alarm immediately goes off. Meanwhile, Suguru's serenity is the reason why he catches people off-guard when his true colors show.

He is a fucking mastermind. He plays the good guy role; carefully making the bed and patiently inviting his victim to lay down on it. Perhaps that's their difference: Satoru's always in a rush, his thirst never quenches. Suguru, on the other hand, takes his time. You conclude that it makes the game more enjoyable to him. That sweet, sweet reward of fucking someone dumb after all the efforts you exert may be Suguru's personal brand of drugs.

He leans closer to the girl, whispering something in her ear. She laughs and the bubbling jealousy in your chest tastes more bitter than the liquor you're currently drinking in a red cup.

It's a vicious cycle of his. For two years now, you've been nothing but a bystander. Always in the corners, watching. You've seen him lay out an elaborate plan, working his way down to different women's panties. When he finally gets what he wants, he puts his pants up and throws them away like ragdolls. Then he puts his façade— back to square one again and again and again.

Your face contorts into a frown when he smoothly puts his hand on the girl's knee. From your perspective, it looks unintentional; like his hand just happens to be there. She smirks at him, obviously enjoying the situation she's in. Your eyes narrow on his long, slender fingers, now gently rubbing her skin. It's fucking funny how life slaps you in the face over and over; there he is, the object of your obsession, sitting next to someone else, to anyone else, to everyone else but you.

His fingers slide up her thigh and give them a squeeze; the hem of her miniskirt bunches up on her lap. Your mind is beginning to go into overdrive. It's so unfair. So fucking unfair. What do others have that you don't? You take a big gulp on your drink.

"Oh? What a pleasant surprise!" Satoru's loud voice snaps your mind to sanity; your soul back to the dark corner where you're standing.

You look up at him as he strides lazily over to you, a red cup in his hand as well. He's wearing a tight black shirt and jeans that hang loosely around his waist. "I don't usually see you at my parties. What's a pretty girl doin' here in the dark?"

He leans against the wall and takes a big gulp on his drink. You don't humor his attempt for a chat. You can still feel your simmering envy as you look down on the brownish liquid in your cup.

"Not gonna entertain me, huh?" He laughs; an annoying sound that grinds your ears. "I understand, though. After all, I have a better vision than my best friend over there."

You whip your head to him, confusion all over your face. Heart beating loudly in your chest at the mention of Suguru, his one and only friend. Your lips are pursed and your brows are deeply furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He drinks again, his electric blue eyes glimmering with malice. When he puts down his cup on his side, he gives you an impish smirk. "Heh. Watch."

He pushes himself off of the wall and begins to walk away. But before he's beyond your earshot, he yells: "Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

You roll your eyes. As usual, Satoru is a menace. A baffling menace. You do not get a single word he says and you have no plans on trying. After all, guys like him are meant to be heard, not to be listened to.

Your eyes go back to Suguru. He's still on the couch but fortunately, his hands are now off the girls' body. Instead, he's pressing his forehead with his thumb while his eyes are shut tight as the girl next to him continues to babble away. The sight strikes some chords in your heart. You notice the creased skin between his forehead. It only goes away temporarily when Satoru appears and hands him a red cup.

You gnaw on your bottom lip as he taps on his forehead again with the pad of his thumb. You glare at the girl whose red lips continue to move. What is she even saying to him?

Your mind begins to wander. If it's you who's next to him right now, you're fairly certain that you won't be talking at all. You'll stare at him and listen to everything he says; hang on to every word. But Suguru is not selfish like Satoru. You know that it will be a conversation between the two of you; not just him yapping away like Satoru does.

Your heart skips a beat just by imagining how he'll look at you while you talk. He will nod, smile... Laugh. Gives you pennies for your thoughts. You pray to a higher power for the chance though you're certain that you won't be able to mutter anything coherent.

A few minutes pass by and the girl leaves. Suguru also leaves and a part of you dies inside again and again every time you see him with another girl. Where are they going? Is he going to sleep with her? Kiss her, touch her, claim her in places your mind does not dare to imagine? You finish your drink in one gulp before storming to the kitchen to grab more.

Your childishness tells you that your anger and envy are valid. After all, you've been pining over Suguru for two years now. Every time you try to move on, there is a pang of guilt in your heart. You never had him but he lives in the trenches of your heart, his name emblazoned in your mind.

But the rational part that's left of your intoxicated brain tells you that it's wrong. That you have no right to feel this way. Suguru doesn't even know you. How can you let him put a chain in your limbs and control you this way?

You wipe the liquor that dribbles down your chin. You look up and see through your hazy eyes that there are less people in the living room now. What time is it? You look down on the bottle of alcohol that you're cradling in your arms. Hiccuping, you realize that you drank half of its contents.

You stand up and the world around you begins to spin rapidly. Your knees feel like boiled noodles, unable to keep themselves upright. But still, you persevered. You leave the living room, determined to see Suguru. You decide that the madness has to stop once and for all. You can't live your life—

"Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

"Fuck you." you mutter beneath your breath as you hit your head with your fist repeatedly. For some reason, Satoru's voice decides to pop up out of nowhere.

You hiccup and begin your search to find Suguru. You look for him outside, trying to spot him in smaller crowds. At the pool area, staring at the people fucking on the water, the bathrooms… he's nowhere to be found.

You crawl your way upstairs, opening the rooms but either they're locked, empty or some people are fucking like rabbits inside.

You squint your eyes as you peek through the crevice of another door you opened. Another couple is fuck— wait. The jeans pooling on his ankles, the tight black shirt and the messy mop of white hair...

"Satoru," you drawl, inserting your head through the space between the door and the doorframe.

He whips his head, bullets of sweat dripping down his face as he smirks. "Hey. Anything I can do for ya?"

His breath is labored as he speaks; his hips continuously drilling against the girl's cunt. You can't see her from the angle but knowing Satoru, he's into beautiful girls. Beautiful, whiny girls. Her moans sound pretty, too.

"Where's Suguru?" You ask, blinking slowly.

"Told ya," he laughs. "Second floor, last room on the west wing."

"K," you sigh. You close the door and pray for the poor girl. You've never seen Satoru in action before but gods, are the rumors right. He is merciless and bursting with vigour.

You drag yourself to the last room on the West wing. Frankly, you don't even know what you're going to say to him. Does he even know you? Is he going to even hear you out?

Dread fills you to the brim when you stop in front of the door. What if he's not even here and Satoru is just messing with you? Worse, what if you see him fucking someone else inside? Gods.

You slap your cheeks to try and get a hold of what's left of yourself. It's a good thing that you're still somewhat sober despite drinking half of that bottle. You thought the liquor will make you forget but here you are, about to make the most stupid choice you've possibly ever done in your life.

Staring hard at the door, you take a sharp breath in. Your shaking fingers close around the cold knob before slowly turning it. The door finally opens and you feel your heart throb in your chest.

You peek inside then gasp in surprise.

"Su... Guru?" You whisper, pupils blown wide from the sight sprawled in front of you.

He's laying down on the mattress with his luscious long black hair spilling on the pillows. His eyes are closed and his chest is heaving erratically. Bullets of sweat drip down his forehead and there is a deep frown on his face. He seems asleep but he looks far from being peaceful.

You enter the room; your eyes languidly take in the curves of his shoulders, the muscles on his arms and his chiseled torso that are illuminated by the shaft ray of moonlight pouring through the window. Suguru always opts for loose clothing; his naked image that you've sculpted in your mind is a drastic comparison to the real thing. You thought he's going to be built like the gods but... He isn't. There is still softness; a mix of godhood and humanity in his features and your fingers twitch with the desire to touch and hold him.

Your eyes travel down his black sweatpants. The poor garment is hanging on for its dear life on his prominent v-line. His lower abdomen has a pathway of light black bush that leads to his...

You swallow thickly. There is an indentation of his dick against the fabric. You know it's wrong but your body begins to feel that familiar warmth. Here he is, the source of your mirth. The destination of your late night adventures when deep-seated desires stir. The subject of your dreams, of your fantasies, the muse of your high as thick hot cum dribbles down your inner thighs while you gasp for air; reality settles and you feel pathetic with your fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt.

You should leave. But then what? Remain on the sidelines, longing for him, envying other girls and touching yourself to the idea of him? Here he is, served with his walls down. If you can have him once, just once…

You close the door. The sharp sound of the lock's bolt sends tingles all over your body. Slowly, you approach him. Shame burns your gut and makes your cheeks flushed. But you're here. You're here now. What matters is right now.

Slowly, you kneel in the space between his spread legs. The mattress shifts and you eye him nervously. But Suguru is still in deep sleep even when you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and his cock springs free.

"Ah..." You breathe out, calming your heart. It's beating in your ears now as you stare at his length that's resting on his lower stomach.

The picture of his dick that you've crafted in your head is similar to the real deal and that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. It's on the longer side and its bulbous crown is pinkish in color.

With shaking fingers, you reach for it. He stays still even as your hand closes in around the base and gives him a few pumps.

"Suguru…" you whisper. The normalcy of you whispering his name like a prayer is true only in your bedroom as you touch yourself. But right now…

You continue your ministries as you stare at him anxiously. Is he going to wake up? A part of you wishes he does. Hoping that you will get to experience the stories you've heard from the women he fucked before. For him to watch you as you serve him, the memory ingraining in his mind. Your chest burns with envy again but you get a grip of yourself.

Who cares? The pad of your thumb caresses his tip. Your experience will be different. Exclusive.

You lean your entire torso down, your ass hanging in the air. You purse your lips and gather a blob of saliva before spitting it out on his dick. You use your own fluid as lube, pumping him a little bit faster now.

"So pretty, Suguru," you giggle when he breathes deeply. His cock is smooth and it's now starting to take a rigid stance. "I'm sure you taste pretty, too."

You descend your lips and pepper his length with feathery kisses. Lolling your tongue, you give him a few kitten licks, particularly the tip that you find endearingly charming.

He smells so good, too. Sweet like warm vanilla. You open your mouth and shove his length in. He's a bit longer than what you can take so your hands wrap around what's left of his dick, pumping it simultaneously as you bob your head.

He moans in his sleep, tossing a bit. Tears prick your eyes when his length hits the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively squeeze his hips, putting him in one place. You hollow your cheeks and pick up your pace, tongue swirling and licking the tip that's now leaking with precum.

"Haaa…" he gasps and you freeze.

You look at him; your eyes widen when you meet his dilating pupils. "W-what…"

He seems at loss but he doesn't push you away. Suguru blinks a few times at you as he heaves. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turn as he takes it all in.

You quickly release his dick with a loud pop before straddling him by the waist. "Shhh… It's okay."

You cup his face as panic settles in your nerves. You stare deeply into his eyes but notice that they're… absent. It's as if they are somewhere else even though they're looking at you.

"It's fine," you whisper. "It's fine. You're good. Trust me."

His head falls back on the pillows and he winces. You take the chance to finally kiss him, your legs pressing against his sides. He lays motionless, his eyes now closed. Panic dissipates from your nerves… now replaced by the thrill of it all.

You cup his cheeks and forcefully slither your tongue in. You shut your eyes and moan into his lips; he tastes like peppermint. Hollowing your cheeks again, you suck on his tongue.

When you pull away, a string of saliva keeps your lips connected. He opens his eyes, whispering something along the lines of "Who are you?"

You don't answer. Instead, you kiss and lick his skin. Worship every nook and cranny of his flesh, marking him. Your hands are all over the place too, touching him, staining his body with your shameless, scorching affection that you can no longer contain.

Your mouth envelops around his nipple as your other hand kneads on the other. You look up at him while you suck like a starved baby. He groans, his weak body trembling a bit.

"You like it?" You ask, swirling your tongue on his perked nipple. "You like being sucked like this, Suguru?"

He mumbles something that you didn't catch and do not honestly care about. Your lips go south, reaching his happy trail and his cock again.

"S-sto…p," he sighs when you press your face against his dick. "Stop… it…"

"But it makes you feel good, though…" you reply. "See? You like it. You're hard."

You shove it in your mouth again. Suguru groans like an angel as his hips buck upwards; his dick reaching the back of your throat again. He says he wants you to stop but his entire body's reaction does not match his words.

"Stop!" He screams, trying to pull away. But you keep your head in place, gripping his hips. Greedily, you suck him off until his cock trembles and spurts hot ropes of milky cum in your throat.

You pull away and swallow hard— he tastes salty. You smirk at him. He's frowning while gasping for breath.

"Wh…"

"Shhh," you shush him, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "It's alright. You taste so good, Suguru."

The words spilling out of your mouth, as well as the desire that is overtaking your body are beyond the heavens now. Your mind is in a haze and your pussy pulsates with need. You want him. You want him so bad it hurts.

"You seem weak," you whisper. "What happened to you?"

"I…" he mumbles.

You coo and kiss him again. "Shhh. It's okay. You're safe with me. I love you so much, Suguru. I love you so, so much."

You sit up on his stomach and take off your top. Your breasts spill out of the garment and Suguru can only watch with droopy eyes.

"I've always wanted you…" you mutter as you lift your hips. You take his hand and bring his fingers to your mouth to suck them.

When they're wet enough, you guide them to your aching cunt. You hold onto his index finger and use it to rub your warm clit. You keep your eyes on him as he remains still, letting you do whatever you want. He looks confused and it makes your heart ache. What's going on with him?

"Gonna put 'em in…" you whisper and slowly ease in two of his fingers inside you. 

A moan rips out of your lips when his slender fingers fit snug inside your walls. You move your hips— up and down, up and down until his entire fingers are coated with your cum.

You take them off, licking the middle finger before you align the index in his mouth. He whips his head to the side— a stubborn act of defiance that makes you annoyed.

"What the fuck? You did this with other girls, I bet. Other girls that don't fucking care about you," you angrily snap, cupping his jaw. "And you can't do it for the one who loves you? How dare you?!"

You squeeze his cheeks until his lips form a small opening. You shove his index finger in, coated with your cum. With a maniacal smile on your lips, you watch as he struggles.

"I taste good, right?"  You laugh and kiss him on the lips, tasting your own essence on his tongue. "I taste so good."

"S…sto—"

"Sh," you hush him. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you talk. I only want to hear you whine and moan. Understood? Such a good boy, Suguru."

You get off of him. Hastily taking off your jeans and underwear, Suguru's eyes widen in panic. Before he can move away, you position yourself on his waist, straddling him again into place.

"I was so fucking envious of the girls you fucked," you laugh. "They say you're good in bed. I'm a bit sad that you're too weak to show me but don't worry, okay? I love you. I love you so much, I'm going to make you feel good."

Suguru shakes his head when he sees you lift your hips. He winces when he feels you drag his dick along your clit, using your cum as lube. You spit on the crown before finally shoving him in.

You hiss in pain as his bulbous tip bullies its way inside you. Suguru thrashes for a bit before you finally take him all in. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you quickly move to ease the pain; bouncing your hips on his cock.

You look down and see him completely helpless. He's too intoxicated to even think straight, moreso move. It delights you to see him like this; beneath you as you use him like your personal toy.

"Suguru," you gasp for breath, leaning closer to him. "Does it feel good? I feel so good."

He whips his head to the side again but you don't care this time. You're too lost in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you; caressing your gummy walls perfectly.

You anchor your hands on his chest and pick up the pace of your hips. It's starting to strain your legs and thighs but you're determined to reach the highest of highs. Strings of whimpers and groans escape his lips. You laugh upon realizing that he doesn't have a condom on and you're not taking any pills.

"Hey, Suguru—" your breath hitches in your throat when he hits that particularly sweet spot inside you. "You're gonna be so mad at me when you wake up tomorrow. Might as well get my fill, huh?"

It's all getting in your head. You arch your back as you put your hands on his knees to anchor yourself. You throw your head back, sliding in and out of him with ease. The squelching sounds of your skins are music to your ears.

Your mind wanders as your legs begin to tremble. God. What happens if you get pregnant? Just the thought of carrying Suguru's baby makes your entire body tingle and the knot in your lower belly tighten. You look down at him and smirk.

If by chance, you get the privilege of carrying his child, will he stay in your life? That's uncertain. But one thing's for sure and that is you will have a piece of him with you forever. A laughter slips out of your lips as the knot in your belly loosens and turns into a mess— hot cum gushes out of you and sprinkles his lower abdomen.

But you continue to move despite your shaking body. You need him to reach that high. You need him to cum deep inside you and fill your womb. Suguru's hips stutter as he lets out a guttural growl. You laugh once again when you pull out and see his sticky cum drip down your inner thighs. Quickly, you gather the fluid and shove your fingers inside you, not letting a drop go to waste.

The reality sets in, akin to the times you spent alone in your bed. But this time, it's different. You don't feel pathetic. Matter-of-fact, you feel happy. Your dream is now fulfilled. This experience is yours and yours alone. And even if Suguru fucks other girls, it doesn't matter anymore. You have a piece of him in you now. You're certain that no girls had their ways with him until you. You were in charge and that made you feel powerful.

Suguru's eyes flutter until they finally close. Sweat drips down his forehead as his chest begins to heave deeply. His face does not look like he's in pain anymore and that makes you smile.

You lean towards him and kiss him for the last time on the lips before you get dressed. You pull up his sweatpants, his cock now flaccid. You don't bother wiping him clean. Even just for tonight, you want him all over you.

You leave the house with your head above the clouds; your throbbing cunt misses him already.

[noellerain]

• Arabella [Luca Kaneshiro x fem!reader]

Warnings: smut, spitting, huge age difference (sixteen years), curse words, vague mentions of violence in Luca's past, implied sexual acts in ShuVox's part, Alban is Luca's nephew lol [please let me know if I missed some! Thank you!]

MINORS DNI!

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It’s a summer night and the wind is hot and dry. Had he known how disastrous that date would be, he would’ve ditched it and opted to stay home with his little nephew. They would watch cartoons all night, or maybe set up the toys he bought for him a few days ago after a job well done at school. He’d be in his sweatpants, sipping root beer and he’d watch the little boy run around the living room, letting time pass by. Maybe– just maybe– you’d be there too.

But nope. He wore his best suit, and asked you to babysit his nephew until he comes back. He could only groan in regret while he walked briskly down the sidewalk. You came on time, just as you always did. You were out with your friends, you said. But you came as soon as he called. And while he subtly stared at your black crowning glory, a few strands caressed by Midas’s selfish hands, your round eyes that possibly held all the secrets of the universe and the way you bore your entirety with such grace, confidence and innocence… As if that wasn’t enough, you stood close to him, fixed his necktie and when he took a deep breath and smelled papayas in bloom, he swore that it made his head spin.

It’s wrong. He knows damn well it’s fucking wrong. You’re sixteen years younger than him, fresh out of college with your life ahead of you. And he’s old, way past his prime. He knows that and he sees that the first thing in the morning when he looks at his reflection on the mirror: his salt and pepper hair that he dyed a few times before eventually giving up, the wrinkles surrounding his eyes that were testaments to the laughters he had throughout his life, and even the tattoos that are symbols of fearlessness and his dominance in his organisation as a mafia boss had started to fade. The multiple scars, wounds and scabs he got on the job that represent each trial he had surpassed were now deeply embedded in him. So much that those became one with his skin.

He had a fair share of experiences when it comes to women. But what we had with those women is something different. Being the leader of his organisation, he had no time nor could hardly care less for a serious relationship. Those women were a one-time fun. Flavours of the month. Beautiful and confident women who knew what they wanted and who knew what he wanted. And the most important requirement? No strings attached.

He may sound crazy, and no one might believe him but the moment you moved in next door, befriended his menace of a nephew and could easily go inside their home and hop around the house wearing his large apron, clean up after the little boy and make his life bearable… no. Not bearable. In fact, in the last years he spent with different women who only wanted his deep pockets, women who slept with Mr. Kaneshiro and woke up with Luca, only you made life thrilling again.

He raked his fingers through his long, blonde hair before pressing the doorbell button situated at the side of the large gates. He glanced at his wristwatch that read 7:30 PM and he thought… Surely, they aren’t doing monkey business up there, yet?

He had been friends with four men for many years. They were there through the bestest and the toughest of times.The only thing is that three of them are now facing the greatest challenge in a human being’s life: the incessant and non-stop ticking of time.

The infamous detective had retired, enjoying the rest of his time. Every now and then, authorities get caught up in hard detective work and that’s when he’s summoned. The novelist is now living in a province with the love of his life. He’s still writing stories under aliases, his craft getting better like fine wine.

The other two… well, there’s a little secret about them.

“Good evening, Luca.”

He looked up and saw Shu. Unlike his physique that had seen better days, Shu still looks the same after all these years. Beguiling eyes and smooth porcelain skin… except now that he’s standing in front of him, wearing a loose haori in black and red ombre. His neck and collarbone were littered by red and purple marks, some of them are even bleeding. Luca could only groan and shake his head in disbelief.

“Shu, it’s freaking seven in the evening!”

Shu could only rub his forehead in embarrassment and chuckle lightly. “I’m sorry… it’s just, you know, Vox’s been–”

“I don’t want to know the details. Please– Please spare me from knowing, Shu.” Luca pleaded. Shu just nodded shyly and opened the gate a bit wider for Luca to go in. However, the blonde man seemed to hesitate.

“Nevermind, Shu. I… I’ll just…” he took a few steps backward, and that’s when Shu reached out his hand and squeezed Luca’s shoulder tight.

“Come on, Luca. Get in. Let us know what happened.”

This is not his first time visiting the household. But he always got chills whenever he stepped inside and saw the red and black interior of the house, with a touch of violet on the decorations. Their other two friends might have gotten used to what is now the status quo, but Luca is still adjusting and still can’t wrap his head on how, why, where and when his demon and sorcerer friends started knocking boots.

“Hello, big guy!” Vox greeted when he stepped out of the master’s bedroom, wearing a matching haori. His arms were widely opened when he walked towards Luca, immediately wrapping the blonde man in his arms. Luca shivered. He’s still cold to touch even after so many years but the embrace was tight and sincere, reminiscent of his father’s.

And just like Shu, Vox still looks the same. Smooth, porcelain skin, long black hair with streaks of red but this time, his eyes are in the pinkish colour rather than the usual red. When they met each other’s gaze, Vox’s eyes went soft. Just by the exhaustion plastered all over Luca’s face, he already had a gist of what happened.

“I’ll go get you some whiskey. Vox…” Shu looked at Vox. The demon immediately turned to his lover whose brows were deeply furrowed and his hands were clutching the sleeves of his haori. Vox could feel his tension hence, he gave him a reassuring smile before cupping his cheeks and planting a long kiss on the forehead to which Luca smiled at. So many years had passed… yet the love and warmth he felt from the two remained the same. He felt at home with the familiarity and kept it close to his chest.

“I got it from here, darling.” he whispered.

You were in the deepest part of the ocean. No, you weren’t drowning. You were just slowly being carried away by the currents, sinking deeper yet never reaching the rock bottom. You continued to drift in the darkness alone with the beating of your heart. It has always been like this, you thought. So often that you’ve become one with the darkness, and the water could no longer knock your breath away.

But suddenly, a light appeared at the surface. A hand dipped down the water, and using its firm yet gentle grasp, it held and pulled you up. Your eyes shot open, consciousness gradually coming back to your body. You looked up and saw him. You felt his hand on your shoulder, thumb pressing on the straps of your summer dress. He’s blocking the harsh light coming from the lightbulb, and in his position, little strands of hair that couldn’t be tied in a ponytail, were falling.

Luca. The voice inside your mind rolled his name out gently. Your mouth hung ajar, taking little sips of air to fill your clenched lungs.

“Good evening. Why did you sleep here? You could’ve used the guest bedroom, you know.” he asked, his voice the perfect amalgamation of hoarse and smooth. Deep and light.

You looked around and saw that the television was still on… Oh goodness. What time is it? You brought your hands to your eyes and rubbed them while you slowly stood up. He retracted his hand on your shoulder and sat down next to you on the sofa, watching every little move you make.

“I was just watching this… uh, drama while waiting for you. I didn’t even notice that I fell asleep already.” you explained in the middle of a yawn. “Alban has been excited since I came to babysit. We played all day and he helped me cook– oh, right. Did you already have dinner? We cooked some tonkatsu.”

Luca looked at you for a few seconds before he slowly shook his head, a shadow of a smile appearing on his lips. With that, you stood up and went to the kitchen to heat up leftovers. He stayed on the sofa, eyes following every sway of your dress’s hem, while the conversation he had with Vox kept playing in his head over and over and over again.

“I knew right off the bat that all she wants is money.” he explained to Vox while he sipped on his glass of three fingers of rye whiskey.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Luca.” Vox gently said. “Would you perhaps want me to ask my beloved to make you a love potion?”

Luca fell into a pit of laughter. “What?”

“No, I’m serious. We can talk to him right now and he can make you a potion that could attract women who are dead serious in finding love just like you. My darling is that amazing.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want that, Vox.” Luca told him, shaking his head. “I… you know. I want what you have.”

The sudden confession made the demon’s eyes go a tad bit wide. He pursed his lips, contemplating his friend’s words while Luca downed the rye in one go. Moments passed and the demon uncrossed his legs and walked towards Luca, who was leaning against the counter.

“You know…” Vox trailed off, looking quite unsure on where he should start. “That was flattering. It really is. But for me, buddy, I think… I think you already have it. I think you’re just looking at the wrong places.”

Luca felt his heart skip a beat. He knew what and who Vox was talking about. Slowly, then rapidly, he shook his head, shutting down the possibility as quickly as possible. “No, Vox. It’s just… you know. It’s awkward. She has a life ahead of her. I don’t want her to be with a pathetic old man like me. Everyone is going to say something. There’s only so much I can filter and protect her from.”

To which Vox replied with a smirk, “Luca, I didn’t mention anyone.”

The demon patted the blonde’s shoulder, whose lips sealed in an instant, and said, “I know. Everyone is going to say something. It’s natural, especially we’re beings that are capable of thinking. And just like me, there’s only so much I can protect my beloved from. But you know… I would rather die protecting him than not being by his side at all.”

“Luca?” You called out while waving your hands in front of his face. He seemed to be in a deep thought for a few seconds before he finally blinked, and looked at you with those soft, jet-black eyes that made your heart squeeze.

“I… the food is ready. Don’t you wanna eat?” You asked. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled and stood from his seat. You swallowed the lump in your throat and boldly grabbed his hand that was limply hanging on his side.

“Come on, it’s good! Alban said he made it with lots of love!” you exclaimed and dragged him towards the kitchen, pushing down the bubbling giddiness and warmth surrounding your stomach. His hands were bigger than yours, rough and coarse. But they felt warm, comforting… safe.

“Sit, sit, sit!” You urged him to the table where a plate of steaming rice and tonkatsu sat, waiting for him.

You noticed that he remained standing, looking at you. For the past year that you’ve moved in and became close with his nephew and him, you’ve always thought that there’s something about him that’s so bright. The brightness that reminds you of the sun each day you wake, its beautiful and majestic beams pouring through your window.

He may be a tall, large man who intimidated Alban’s playground friends, but he is the same man who gave up many things just to keep his nephew safe. You know what he’s capable of– heck, he was a mafia boss. He sat down with you on the sofa and confessed what you needed to know over glasses of white wine a few months ago. And though you may not know how the mafia works, you know that it’s dirty business, and a roll of dice can cost you more than you paid for. You’ve seen enough movies and read too many books to have an idea how dangerous and dark it is.

But he was a mafia boss.

It was in the past. Bygones be bygones. Because right now, he’s just the fun uncle who accompanies his nephew to school events, joins the mom community in their zumba and yoga sessions, and the neighbour who was kind enough to help you unload boxes during your moving day. He was the one who helped you with your resume and recommended you companies to apply for, the one who made sure you walk on the safe side of the road, the one who ditched his date just to fetch you from work while it was raining and the traffic was heavy, the one who takes note of the little things about you and remembers them, the one who makes you laugh with his incredibly different sense of humour, the one whom you can sit with for hours, talk with or be with in a comfortable silence just watching TV or watching Alban play, and the one who sat down and opened his heart to you– took your hand, and walked you through his past that was inked with blood, the stench of sins that were masked by the scent of lavender and baby powder. He showed you how the big transition of his life took place and told you about the peaceful future he’s working on.

God, the urge to say out loud to him how much you wanted to be a part of that future he’s talking about. To stop looking for someone because you’re right here.

“I see you,” he whispered. You looked at him, face contorted in a frown. You didn’t quite catch what he had said. He only smiled and said once more, “I see you, my Arabella.”

Then he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes almost crossed by the proximity. You can smell the pungency of alcohol, and his scent of musk and wood. And in a matter of four deafening heartbeats, you felt his lips softly land on yours.

Your head spun. What? What was happening?

He wanted to say sorry. Sorry for not being able to keep it in but he also wants you to know that he tried his best for the past months. How it took him almost everything to stop his fingers from tracing the curve of your nose, the bow of your lips, and your nape down to the arch of your back.

He ran his fingers on your scalp, your hair gliding in between his fingers. Your lips tasted of strawberries and rosé, a flavour so intoxicating and dizzying. He cupped your jaw, pressed harder– wanting more and more of that sweet taste while he whispered, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, baby.”

You’ve always thought that it must’ve felt like seeing stars. Blinding light in your eyes, your tight grasp to rationality slowly letting go as you transcend higher to the skies, away from the ground. You couldn’t be anymore wrong.

It was messy. Your lips were swollen by the time you felt the cushion behind your back. The hair tie that was keeping his hair in a ponytail was long gone, strands of his golden locks tickling your flushed skin while his lips smothered wet kisses on your navel. Your summer dress was discarded on the stairs, and he impatiently ripped the white, button-down shirt he’s wearing. He threw it across the room, left to gather the floating dust coming from the moonlight spilling through the window.

It was uncomfortable. Your arms were crossed, legs shut. Your eyes were closed, not daring to look him in the eye. This isn’t how you imagined your first time to be. You wanted it to be certain, and you laid there with a bit of sanity left, wondering in fear of what happens after.

“Hey, hey.” he called, his voice gentle and soft. His hands cupped your jaw, thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.”

And you did look at him, threatening tears blurring your vision. You put your hands on top of his, cheeks snuggling to the base of his palms. “I… I just don’t want to give you something–”

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I love you and we can stop here if you want. It’s okay, baby. I love you and we’ll figure things out, okay?”

You felt hot tears sliding down your cheeks, his fingers were quick to wipe them away. Without inhibitions and hesitations, your hands reached out for his jaw, his stubble tickling your fingers. You pulled him close and kissed him ferociously and longingly. Your legs started to relax and soon felt yourself open up, his chocolate-dipped fingers leaving butterfly kisses on your inner thighs. You felt him in, and you fought real hard to hold his gaze. Memorise him. Take pictures with your mind, prove to yourself it isn’t a dream.

He wanted to seize you with his hands and embed his body in yours. Til your bodies become one– he would crawl on your skin and bask in your warmth, be close to your heart and savour its every beat.

His hands situated on the plush of your thighs, fingers squeezing the smooth, plump flesh. His eyes were in daze, staring at you while your lips went down on each wound and scar that he once tried to hide from you. Yet here you are, planting light kisses on each one, reminding him that those scars are his and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of because regardless, he’s loved and accepted. Your fingers delicately traced each line and curve of his tattoos which are symbols of his bravery and the representations of his positions in that society, a world you’ve never been before.

He sat up, held you by the waist and pulled you close until your bodies were almost combined. His lips sank into the nook of your neck, each suck and bite knocked your breath away. Your fingers combed his long hair and gathered a few strands once you reached the ends. You brought those golden strands to your lips, gently pecking and inhaling their scent. You lightly chuckled once the sweetness of the flowers wafted through your nose.

“Hmm?” he hummed after hearing your small laugh and feeling the light vibration of your body. You shook your head and pressed a kiss at the top of his head.

“Nothing, sweetheart. For a big, tough man, you smell rather sweet.”

“I’m a big tough man?” he asked, eyes shining in awe. It reminded you of an adorable and energetic golden retriever. You threw your head back in laughter before nodding, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yes, you’re my big, tough man, Luca.”

His eyes were tightly shut, his body almost close to convulsing while he held the back of your knees while your feet were hung in the air. Fuck, fuck. Strings of profanities bombarded his mind while he held you close, trying his best to calm down and not scare you. But how the fuck could he do that when you’re this fucking tight? He held to that last string of sanity he has like his life depended on it, reminding himself to take it easy.

“Slowly, please…” you begged, lips buried on the flesh of his shoulder. Your hands are on his back, freshly-painted nails digging his skin. In the middle of it all, you have half a mind to suppress the noises coming out of your mouth, in fear that Alban, who was sleeping next door, might hear.

But there’s only so much you can do. Because when his hips started to snap, and your breath was knocked away, body bobbing up and down– fuck– you lost it. No, there were no stars that appeared and shone brightly in your eyes. What you’ve seen were his jet-black eyes that held your gaze while he continued his ministrations slowly.

“Come on, baby. Hold on to me, yeah?”

“Hmm.” you hummed and melted into his arms, your hips started to snap in sync with his. You heard him groan, which– heavens above– made your insides clench. You took it as a cue to continue and go faster, meeting him halfway through.

It was too much. By the time you reached the one hour mark, the blanket you stuffed in your mouth was dripping wet. Your voice is long gone at the back of your mind, throat dry from the lewd noises that never faltered to slip out for the past hour. Your head is spinning, body spent and filled to the brim. But you refused to let go, legs tightly wrapped around his waist while he bent you in half, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept a faster pace and rhythm. His one hand was encircled on your neck, while the other was cupping your cheeks.

Your throat started to itch and in a desperate attempt and twisted plea, you opened your mouth wide, tongue slipping out, begging for a drop of water in the middle of Sahara. He understood, puckered his lips and spitted. The thick blob of saliva fell on your tongue– tastes like whiskey– and you swallowed hard, an act that made him go even more feral.

You laid down on the bed, time suddenly became an unknown concept while your eyes went in and out of focus. You heard the door creak, and you wanted to turn your head and look at him but your body felt like it wasn't yours anymore: tear-stained cheeks, limp arms, sore legs and aching back. The euphoria was now dissipated, replaced by the kind of silence that was slightly nagging, begging to be acknowledged. He came into your vision and even though it hurt, you couldn’t help but to smile. He reached for your hair and fixed some of the mess before wiping your entire body with a wet cloth.

His hands, big and calloused, dipped in experience and blood suddenly became like Alban’s. Clumsy, shaky… heck, even a little queasy. While he was washing the cloth, he still couldn’t believe what just happened. He could still feel the softness of your lips, the intensity of your gaze, your scent all over him that smelled like ylang-ylang. And heavens… the small whimpers and moans that he had secretly wondered and thought about before… Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was supposed to be one kiss and a confession. How did it end up like this?

“Sorry.” he whispered while he wiped your stomach using the warm cloth.

“Hmm?” you hummed, way too out of it to even comprehend what he had said.

He retracted his hand and looked at you again. God. Even if your hair’s a mess, your body is marked with his tattooed kisses, you still look so beautiful. A goddess. Or maybe an angel sent from above that he doesn't deserve. In a low whisper, he said: “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you asked in a tiny voice, your eyes starting to blink slowly. Hypnos had arrived, and was slowly cradling you in his arms.

“I didn’t… I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted you to know how much I love you yet–”

“I love you too.” You said with what’s left of your voice. Once those words came out, your heart almost burst into millions of butterflies, lifting the heavy load up, up and away.

His eyes went wide, mind slowly registering what you just said. Soon, a smile slowly creeped in on his face. You couldn’t help but break into a smile, too. God. If you could only move your arms, you’d pull him in for a tight hug and whisper to his ears that you love him, how much you care for him and Alban, and that he made you feel so, so loved and cared for tonight more than all of the men you’ve gone out with for the past years combined.

“So don’t say sorry, okay? I’m really, really tired and sleepy, Luca… but I love you, okay? I love you and we’ll figure it out…”

Those were the last words that came out of your mouth before you slipped into the darkness and fell. He pulled the blanket up and laid down next to you. Strange. The bed used to feel huge, and no matter how much he covered himself using either a blanket or a duvet, it never felt this warm.

Your hands immediately grabbed onto him, your cheek pressing against his chest. And when his palms held the arch of your back, you felt cold to touch. He pulled you even closer, tangled his legs with yours… Then while he waited for sleep to come, he stared at your peaceful sleeping face, in awe of how tiny you looked in his arms.

Finally, after so many months of hesitations, and searching in the wrong places, he finally has someone whom he shall treasure with the entirety of his heart, along with Alban. Someone who listened to him, didn’t berate and leave him even after knowing his past. He finally has someone who cares for him and Alban, someone he’d be delighted and absolutely honoured to care for, love for, and spend the rest of his life with… oh, wait. That’s looking too far in the future. But he’d let you know tomorrow morning how he intends to make it come true.

He pressed a kiss at the top of your head and inhaled your scent, wishing it would linger on the sheets, on the pillowcases and on him.

“I love you. I love you and thank you, my Arabella.”

•••

Noelle: AO3 saw this first teehee :D [inspired by the song Arabella of Arctic Monkeys]

Thank u for reading!!! 🥹

©noellerain

[noellerain]

Random Conversations of you (afab!reader) and your ex-boyfriend, Vox Akuma, whom you have a son with.

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Noelle: This is just a goofy ahh scenario I thought of haha lol and yes... Doppi is Vox's child and u cannot change my mind.

Will continue to update this! Haha it's fun :D

©noellerain

[noellerain]

Random Conversations of you (afab!reader) and your ex-boyfriend, Vox Akuma, whom you have a son with. (PART 2)

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> next

Noelle: Part 2! 😁✌️ (Also I would very much appreciate if u guys can comment ur thoughts haha lol I wanna be fwends :') )

©noellerain

[noellerain]

• Always Remember Him That Way [Luca Kaneshiro x fem!reader]

Hate is not the word you're looking for. Certainly not. It is a strong, four-letter word that holds all the resentment that a person can have towards something, or someone. You don't hate him, yet you'd rather jump off a cliff than to admit that somehow, there is a small space deep within you where a sliver of admiration resides. 

Your peripheral view caught his obnoxiously blonde hair all the way from the other side of the room. The little hairs on your nape stood, and like a built-in alarm, it tingled your spine, and sent a message to your brain immediately. He's here.

It's not like you need that reminder anyway. See, he is the kind of person who walks through a door and announces his arrival, like a tyrannical king; commanding everyone's attention, basking in people's cheers or songs of praises... except, you don't think that he sounds as arrogant or as smug like those pop culture depicted kings. Or how he doesn't even look a bit like those men painted on hundred years of age canvases who either have deep frown embedded on their faces or look like they don't have any fucks to give. On the contrary, every single day he walks in, his eyes are always bright, a toothy grin plastered on his face. Ah, forget it. He isn't a tyrannical king at all. What he really is, is a giant, fluffy, golden retriever.

You turned your head to the side the moment the whole class turned into a festival fiasco. The boys howled his name and tapped their desks madly. Some of the girls huddled together and sang songs about him through soft whispers and hums. You... you should be rolling your eyes right now. You should be sighing and muttering how stupid the whole thing looks.

But the wind blew, entering through the crevices of the jalousies. It swept the curtain off its feet and they waltzed in the air, lost to the song of nature. You closed your eyes, felt the wind caress your hands, arms, neck, all the way to your face, its fingertips icy. It reminded you of last week's fluttering moment, in the middle of the night, under those watchful gaze of the stars, inside the small car on a convenience store's parking lot.

There had been a small party in one of your classmate's house. You remember sitting down on a sofa, munching on a glazed donut and washing it down with a carbonated drink that made your chest and throat burn so good, aware yet could hardly care of the consequences. You were chatting with the others, having fun... until you found yourself getting dragged out by a sly fox, pushed inside a small car and sat next to the blonde and his rowdy friends, on the way to the convenience store to get more snacks.

You don't hate them. Again, it's a strong word. You actually admire their friendship: always got each other's backs. It's just that, they're notorious for being chaotic and noisy. To you, serenity is as precious as Prince Rupert's drops, its properties can conquer even the fastest triggered bullet. When the arguments over bland dinners and kitchen bills get a little louder, the stillness of your small closet holds you against its chest. When the classroom was filled with incomprehensible, dizzying noises, the crisp sound of billowing air on the school's rooftop drowns it all.

Dread filled your being when you tried fishing your earphones out of your jeans, only to realize halfway that you left them at home. Instead, you pressed your arms against your chest, glued the side of your body against the car's window, careful not to brush your shoulder against his.

They're their usual selves throughout the whole drive to the store, yet years and years of solitude made your eyes sharper and your gut wiser. You noticed how the sly fox kept accidentally pushing him to you. Thank the heavens for his strength, otherwise his body would have definitely crashed against yours from all that stunt. Moreover, the demon in the driver's seat kept braking carelessly, supporting whatever agenda the fox had in mind. You kept your tongue pressed firmly against the roof of your mouth, the remaining two are laughing, shaking their heads.

When the car stopped, they swiftly got out. He was also just about to go, but then, the novelist (whom you bothered so many times to ask for help in your literature class) shut the door on his face then they all ran away like giddyuped horses, leaving you two alone. You didn't know what to make out of the situation, really.

You decided to let things go and stay on your seat when he didn't follow the others outside. You wanted to go out and inhale some fresh air but that would risk telling him to move so you have enough space to crouch your way out. You pressed your side even harder against the window, pretending you're all alone inside the car... except you couldn't because you can feel his jet-black eyes drilling holes into your skull.

"What?" You snapped.

"Nothing. I didn't expect you to come. The party's kinda pog, isn't it?" 

You would never understand his way with words. You let them hang in the air, as you sank deeper into your vibrating seat, the smell of lavender permeating in the car. You look up at the sky through the tinted window, wishing on (possibly) dead stars for the others to hurry up and save you from this situation.

"Hey... you... you know, you should smile more."

He's always like this, you thought to yourself. He's always picking on you, and feels great satisfaction whenever your face contorts to a deep frown. Your mind then goes into overload, trying to think of many, many ways to retaliate, counter his remarks faster. But you never win. You know that you will never do. Because in every single one of your banters, like a cherry on top, he always says something that smooths out your furrowed brows, and relaxes the tense muscles on your face.

He always says something that could mean something, if you didn't know any better. You inhaled sharply and kept all the air in your lungs until you heard the erratic beats of your heart. Slowly, you turned your head towards his direction and held his eyes with yours.

"Stop doing that," you whisper, a spasm of embarrassment and displeasure shoot up from your chest. You swallowed the thick saliva that coated your tongue and licked your glossy lips that tasted of strawberries, wanting to claw your chest. "Stop saying things you don't mean."

"What? I mean it, though. I mean it." He was quick to say. "You definitely should smile more because it suits you."

"Then maybe get off my back so I can smile more? You annoy me too much, I barely remember how to smile and be happy anymore." You retaliate, teeth gritted, words were spat with the intention to make him stop talking and ruin your night that's been going well so far. 

When those words left your mouth, his eyes were quick to reflect how much those words weighed on him. You stare in horror, suddenly wanting to take them back and swallow them whole. Four years of being classmates, and you have never seen his eyes look the way they did that night. Although there were no lights inside the car, the neon light from the convenience store made his eyes shine yet lost their brightness at the same time.

It baffled you. A humongous question mark appeared, begging to be recognized and answered.

"Lu—"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to... I didn't know it was that bad..." he trailed off, voice raspy and low- almost inaudible. You had only felt relief before when he turned his back on you. Because that used to mean that he's done for the day and you could go back to your own little bubble. 

But that day, it was different. Like something important, something new and different just slipped from your grasp before you could even hold it. Your fingers itched to grab the hem of his shirt, yank it, pull him back. But they remained against your chest, unmoving, unsure and trembling.

"Don't worry! I'll get off your back, okay?" 

You watched while he opened the car door and followed his friends inside. You looked down on your cold, shivering fingertips. Your eyes shifted and blurred so you blinked to clear your vision. In a matter of a heartbeat, you're not in the parking lot anymore, alone inside that small car. You held your gaze up and looked around, realizing that you're also not inside the classroom anymore. The familiarity is gone and replaced by poker faces, eyes glued and unmoving on their screens. The school uniform was long gone also, people now donned in corporate attires. The air is cold and crisp but felt inauthentic, coming from the large air conditioner that stood next to the glass doors.

Glass doors. Outside, you can see vehicles skipping towns, and people walking steadfast toward their destinations. Sands of time never falters, and everyone's stuck on its palm, running away, buying more just to stay a little longer. Oh, the things you're willing to sacrifice just to stay in that car for a little longer.

You realized that his jests were annoying but never hurtful. He pinched your cheeks whenever he caught you dozing off, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder and dragged you to the cafeteria to grab food. Whenever there were groupings for a project, he followed and joined you. He teased you about your messy hair when you forget to brush it before coming to school, but he never made you the butt of his jokes. Your classmates probably saw and knew. But you didn't.

You took his playfulness to heart. You disliked his loudness, you disliked his long blonde hair that he used to tie in a messy, tangled bun. You disliked how he hyped you up during individual reporting, or how he cheered for you in school-based competitions thinking he's only embarrassing and distracting you so you'll fail. To you, he was this sharp needle that pierced your bubble, forcing you to deal with numerous situations.

Your mind was wired to think that way since day one. So you never really noticed and understood why he'd insist on walking you home, even if your house was farther than his. Why he'd slip chocolate bars on your desk during exams, because you once shared to one of your classmates that you eat chocolate because it improves focus and memory. How he looked at you after cracking a joke, waiting to see how you'd react and how he pumped his fists every single time when he saw a shadow of a smile creeping across your lips. How you're the first person he'd approach whenever he needs help, not because he wants to give you a hard time but because he knows he can rely on you.

You never really noticed those things before. 

You did, however, finally notice when he started doing those things to someone else.

The clock shows 12:00 PM. You stand from your seat and go straight for the mess. You forgot to make your bento this morning because you woke up late. Your clothes are also wrinkled, after forgetting to steam them last night. As if those things weren't enough, you have a raging headache that feels like your head is being split in half and your eyes look like they're bitten by large bugs.

You sat down on a table, alone with your sandwich and soda. Years and years of solitude trained you for situations like this. But as you look up and stare at the empty chair, you wonder what could have been if you said something, did something that night, or for the rest of your last year in high school.

But you remained on your seat, both in the car and on your desk. You only looked away or detoured when you saw him, pushed down your wise gut that kept telling you to go and talk to him. To take a leap of faith and risk something. Yet you didn't... and now you feel like you lost everything.

You opened your phone and went directly to the gallery, where a screenshot of his Facebook post sat unsolicited. In the photo, he looks grown, taller and muscular. Strokes of experience painted his face, yet he still has the same old toothy grin you last saw in person lifetimes ago. His blonde hair, now a little bit shorter than the last time, his jet-black eyes now brighter compared that night. You also noticed maps of tattoos on his arms and hands that held someone else's. You never took him as a guy who likes needles and tattoos but you remember that the image of him in your mind was the guy in high school, not the man he is today.

In your mind, you held on to that high school boy, you held on to that adorable golden retriever, and told him every now and then that you were sorry. An answer never came but you knew he would definitely understand if only things weren't a little too late.

You stared at the photo a little bit longer... and God, you thought that the amount of crying you did last night was enough... but turns out, it wasn't. Even when his image went out of focus, and you saw teardrops fall on your screen, you just can't look away.

Because even if he is a completely different person now, in your mind, he was still the same boy who made your high school memorable. And even if the sands of time and your hesitation pulled you two apart, ripped your chest in half and broke your heart into little shards, you can't help but hope and pray that in the next lifetime, or maybe in a parallel universe, he'll be here in the cafeteria, sitting in front of you.

And if the chance was given, you promise not to hesitate. 

But tomorrow is not promised... and all you have are memories. So you close your eyes and play them like a film in your mind. And that even if things changed, you will always remember a certain Luca Kaneshiro, the blonde high school boy with a toothy grin and hearty laugh, whom you so foolishly relinquished.

And even if you find someone else, have a family of your own, even if the sun explodes into billions of stars, and even if your body and soul or even the whole world falls into oblivion, you will always remember him that way. You will always remember Luca Kaneshiro that way.

•••

Noelle: published this in AO3 first more than a year ago so if you read this somewhere in that holy place, yes. I wrote it. :))

My first ever Luxiem fanfic starring my kamioshi, Luca. Hope you enjoyed. (obv inspired by Always Remember Us This Way by Lady Gaga)

©noellerain