#and all of these feelings in my head converge into one thing at the end of the day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 21 days ago

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nonsense christmas — nanami kento.

“Tell you what, Kento.” you said, voice low and teasing. “If you don’t kiss me under a mistletoe by the end of the night, I’ll stop. No more flirting, no more teasing. I’ll leave you alone.” Kento tilted his head slightly, as if considering your words. “And if I do?” Your breath hitched at the question, but you managed a grin. “Then I’ll finally have my Christmas wish.” His lips parted softly, as though he were about to respond, but instead, he exhaled slowly, his warm gaze dipping to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your bright teasing eyes again. “You’re impossible.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: AFAB! Reader, Safe For Work (SFW), Romance, Crushes, Getting Together, Classmates, Friends to Lovers, Persuasion, Teasing, Teenagers, Feelings, Friendship, Fluff, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Humor, Domesticity, Slice of Life, Mild Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Confessions, Pining, Kissing, Mistletoe Kiss, Christmas;

WORD COUNT: 5k words.

NOTE: nanami kento come to the front because??? you made your lover wait for this long??? but its okay guys, he'll love you forever so that he'll make up for his making you wait. anyway, i hope that you enjoy christmas!!! ill come back with more stuff!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR. The ballroom felt alive, sparkling with the magic of the season. Music drifted through the air, a soft, lilting melody that seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment. You couldn't help but notice how the warm golden light cast a soft glow on Nanami Kento's sharp features, making him look even more handsome than usual. His presence in the crowd was magnetic, his quiet strength standing out against the festive chaos of the room.

You couldn’t help but admit it: you liked this man too much. Nanami Kento was just that man. More than anyone else in this room. Maybe even more than anyone in the entire world. It was a thought that lingered in your mind far too often, but you couldn’t shake it, not when every moment with him felt like the only thing that mattered.

You decided that he was the one the moment you both were at Jujutsu High. The very first time you saw him, sitting there in the classroom, casually dressed in his uniform, a book in his hands. The image was burned into your memory, as clear as if it had happened yesterday. The way he looked—so effortlessly cool, so calm, so utterly engrossed in his reading. It could’ve been plucked straight from the pages of a shoujo manga.

And yet, as much as it was cliché, it was perfect. Every detail about that moment was perfect. His sandy blond hair, the way it fell in messy waves over his brow, the soft crease of his shirt, the relaxed way he rested his chin in his hand as he flipped the page. You could almost hear the soundtrack of a gentle string instrument playing in your mind as you watched him, caught in a moment that felt as if it had been orchestrated just for you.

You could still remember the flutter in your chest, that instant of realization. It wasn’t just admiration. It was more. It was the kind of feeling that felt destined, as if the universe had conspired to place you in that moment, in that room, with him. And just like that, you were hooked.

You didn’t even need to know him then to know that you wanted him. His presence was magnetic, his energy effortless, and you found yourself thinking of nothing but how perfect it would be to spend the rest of your life with him.

Looking back now, you could trace the beginnings of your feelings to that very moment—so simple, yet so profound. A single snapshot in time that made you realize that sometimes, the best things in life happen when you least expect them. That moment with him, so ordinary and yet so extraordinary, felt like fate pulling you toward something you didn’t even know you wanted.

And now, here you were, so far from that classroom, so far from the days when the idea of him seemed like an impossible dream, and yet… it was real. He was here, and he was yours. You smiled softly to yourself, your heart full as you looked at him, knowing that it all started with one perfect moment—and you would always fall for him, every time, in every way, for the rest of your life.

The memory of that moment still lingered in your mind, vivid despite the years that had passed. You had spent weeks psyching yourself up, rehearsing your words in front of Haibara, who always smiled and encouraged you.

“He’s too serious, but you’ll break through!” Haibara had said with his usual sunny grin. “You’re good for him, you know? Like sunshine cutting through all those storm clouds he carries around.”

Those words had fueled your determination, and when the day finally came, you’d found him sitting under the big tree near the practice field, reading. His tie had been loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and he looked so effortlessly put-together that it made your chest tighten.

“Kento, hey.” you’d called softly, your voice shaky.

He’d looked up, his expression calm as always, though his brow furrowed slightly when he saw the nervous way you fidgeted with your hands. You shouldn’t be nervous like this in front of him, but you were. It was hard, when you felt overwhelmed by someone.

“Can I talk to you?” you’d asked, and he’d nodded, setting his book aside.

The confession spilled out in a rush, your words tumbling over each other as you tried to make sense of your feelings. You’d told him how much you admired his dedication, how his quiet strength made you feel safe, how you couldn’t stop thinking about him. By the end, your cheeks burned, and your hands trembled.

“I like you, Kento.” you had finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami Kento had listened without interrupting, his expression steady but unreadable. When you finished, he let out a quiet sigh, his caramel gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours.

“I don’t think I can give you the answer you’re looking for.” he had said, his voice even but kind. “At least, not right now.”

The words had stung, but they hadn’t been a rejection. You nodded, forcing a smile. “That’s okay, Kento. Don’t worry.” you’d said, and you meant it. You didn’t want to pressure him or push him into something he wasn’t ready for.

Haibara had found you afterward, your head resting on your knees as you tried to process everything. “How’d it go?” he’d asked, sitting beside you.

“He didn’t say no, Haibara.” you’d replied quietly, your lips twitching into a small smile. “That’s something, right?”

Haibara had nudged your shoulder gently. “It’s more than something. He’s just the kind of guy who overthinks everything. You’ve planted the seed, though. Give him time.”

But time had passed, and Nanami Kento left Jujutsu High not long after. You never got another chance to talk to him like that again. You told yourself you were content loving him from afar, finding solace in the way your heart still fluttered at the thought of him.

But when he returned, something in you had stirred—a flicker of hope, fragile yet insistent. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different now. Time has changed both of you. The boy who had quietly declined your feelings at Jujutsu High had grown into a man, more self-assured but still carrying that same steady, composed demeanor that had drawn you to him in the first place.

You were adults now, and that alone made you believe there was a chance. Life has taught you patience, resilience, and the courage to keep trying, even when the odds seemed slim. That was why you hadn’t given up on him.

And so, you pursued him.

Every opportunity to be near him, to share a moment, you seized with the quiet determination that had defined your feelings for years. You sought him out for coffee when you knew he preferred a quiet café to the bustling city. You’d “accidentally” bump into him at the farmers’ market, pretending it was a coincidence even though you’d memorized his routine.

“Kento!” you’d say with a teasing grin when he raised a suspicious brow at you. “What a coincidence running into you here. Do you always buy the same sourdough every Saturday morning?”

He’d sigh, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, a ghost of a smile he didn’t quite let show. “You’re persistent.”

“Someone’s got to make sure you don’t spend your weekends brooding, you know?” you’d reply, nudging his shoulder. “Come on, loosen up!”

It became a habit, this delicate dance of seeking his company without being too obvious about your intentions. You’d ask him to spar under the guise of “staying sharp” though the truth was, you just liked the way he’d carefully correct your stance or the brief flicker of admiration in his eyes when you managed to land a hit.

“You’ve improved, a lot.” he’d say, his voice calm but laced with sincerity, and it would make your heart race.

“Good teacher, as always!” you’d reply, hoping he couldn’t see how much his approval meant to you.

Every moment with Kento, no matter how mundane, felt like a gift. Whether it was sharing a quiet cup of coffee on a rainy morning, or simply sitting in comfortable silence while reading, there was something in the way he looked at you, spoke to you, and allowed you to be near him that made everything feel extraordinary.

And though he didn’t openly reciprocate your pursuit, even after all these years. Never rushing into declarations of affection or sweeping gestures—he didn’t push you away, either. It was a slow process, but he let you in, bit by bit, his walls coming down in small, subtle ways.

You could see it in the way he’d glance at you when he thought you weren’t looking, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You noticed it in the way he trusted you enough to share a casual comment or a fleeting thought during the moments when he felt most comfortable.

One evening, you found yourselves sitting on the couch in his modestly minimal apartment. The sound of the rain pattering against the window and the occasional crackle of the radiator filled the air as the two of you shared a bowl of popcorn.

Nanami Kento looked so effortlessly at ease, his long legs stretched out and his sweater sleeves pushed up to his forearms as he focused on a historical documentary you’d both stumbled upon online.You leaned your head on his shoulder, your voice soft as you broke the comfortable quiet.

“You know, you’re not as cold as you pretend to be, Kento.” you said, stealing another handful of popcorn.

He glanced at you briefly, his lips parting slightly in surprise before he let out a small, amused chuckle. “Not cold?”

“You’re warm, always.” you said with a grin. “You let me in. You don’t push me away, even when you could.”

There was a moment of silence as Kento stared at the television, his hand resting on the couch beside you. His expression wasn’t guarded, but it wasn’t entirely open either—just enough for you to read the smallest hint of vulnerability.

“I guess I never really had a reason to push you away.” he finally said, his voice low but steady. “Never.”

His words lingered in the air for a moment, and you could tell he’d chosen them carefully. His voice had a softness to it that was rare for him, but just enough for you to feel the weight of his trust.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, catching the faint glow of the television reflecting off his glasses. “Why’s that?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He hesitated for a moment, his shoulders shifting as he adjusted his position, and then he looked at you fully. “Because you make things easier,you make life feel kinder, in some ways.” he admitted, his words simple but honest. “You don’t ask for much, you listen, and you’re just there.”

You held your breath for a moment, your heart tightening at his words. His walls had come down, even if only by a fraction, and you could feel it. His tender tone, his presence, his warmth—it all felt so sincere. Too sincere for you to handle.

“I care about you, Kento.” you said softly, unsure if he truly understood the depth of your feelings.

His caramel gaze lingered on you for a moment, his hand reaching for the bowl of popcorn absentmindedly. His lips pressed together, his expression unreadable, before he looked back at the screen, the conversation shifting back to the documentary.

But the weight of his words, and his willingness to let you in, lingered with you, wrapping you in a warmth that felt both fragile and strong. You knew there was still much more to uncover with Kento, but for now, this….his presence, his openness, his choice to let you stay—it felt like it was more than enough.

And sometimes, enough was everything.

But sometimes, you know that doesn’t fill the hole.

You still wanted more than what enough was.

And that was human of you, truthfully enough.

You weren’t naive enough to think it would be easy. Nothing about life, especially when it came to love, had ever been simple. You knew this, just as you knew there was a layer of reluctance in Kento—a hesitation, a kind of guarded distance he fought to keep even when you could feel the pull between you both.

Kento was, and still is, someone who struggles with the idea of letting go completely. His walls were strong, built from years of experience, loss, and quiet battles that no one but him could fully understand. It was clear to you that he struggled with the need to distance himself.

As if pulling back were his only defense against the weight of inevitable heartache. His fear of loss, perhaps, weighed heaviest on his mind, an unspoken ache that lingered just beneath the surface. And he’s never gotten over it.

He never told you, not in words, though you could feel it. Sometimes, late at night, you could see it in his tired caramel eyes or hear it in the hesitancy of his voice. He still dreams of Yu Haibara sometimes, in the most grievous ways.

And it was there in his moments of quiet, the small ways he hesitated to open up, even when you wanted him to. His reluctance was both a shield and a barrier, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to feel things he does for you.

Because even through that fear, even through his uncertainty, you knew he still wanted you close. He still wanted you around him. His need wasn’t entirely spoken, but you could sense it in the way his hand would linger near yours, in the way his shoulders would relax just a bit when you sat beside him, in the way his smiles felt so much warmer when they were aimed at you.

He wanted your companionship. Your warmth. Your smiles. Even if just for a little while.

And you found yourself wondering if you could ever bridge that gap, if you could ease away the weight of his fears, of his walls, just enough to allow him to breathe. But you knew it wouldn’t come easily. It wasn’t about convincing him or rushing him. It was about staying close without suffocating, about being the kind of presence that felt like home without overwhelming his heart.

So you stayed. Patient. Gentle. Hopeful.

Because sometimes, love wasn’t about having all the answers. Sometimes, it was just about simply the ability to be there. But of course, that didn’t mean you didn’t like being playful with him sometimes.

Sometimes you ended up teasing, flirting absentmindedly when the mood suited you. It kept things light, kept the tension from building too heavily between you both. And you knew Kento liked it, even if he would never openly admit it.

Now, you watched him, standing by one of the tall windows with his usual composed grace. The snow was falling outside, the icy tendrils of white dancing against the backdrop of the gray sky, and it cast a dreamy, ethereal glow over his figure.

His sharp handsome features looked even more striking in the pale light, his stoicism seemingly as solid as ever, but something about his posture seemed a bit softer, more contemplative, more… approachable.

He had a half-full glass of champagne in his hand, the bubbles dancing at the surface as if mirroring the cold, soft beauty of the snow. His gaze was fixed outside, distant, a world away from the warm interior you occupied.

You felt that familiar pull—the urge to go to him, to close the distance, to connect. It wasn’t a conscious thing, really. It just happened. And as you took a step toward him, you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you took his hand gently, drawing his attention as you swayed toward him. His stoicism faltered, ever so slightly, his usual confidence wavering under the warmth of your smile.

“Care for a dance?” you asked, your voice light, playful.

His eyes flickered down at you, the quiet surprise in them both unexpected and endearing. He hesitated for only a heartbeat before nodding, his lips parting into the faintest, almost-smile. “I suppose one dance couldn’t hurt.”

You held his hand as you moved into a slow, natural rhythm, the sound of the music faint in the background as you swayed together. His movements were smooth, calculated, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders ease as he allowed himself to follow your lead. His fingers were strong, steady, warm as they pressed into your hand, grounding you.

For a moment, everything felt still. The soft sound of the snow outside, the faint music, the warmth of his touch—everything blended into this gentle, fleeting moment that felt like it belonged to just the two of you.

You met his gaze, playful and soft, as you twirled, and he followed you easily, his composure blending seamlessly into the rhythm you created together. You could feel his walls, his hesitation, but this time they felt far less imposing. His defenses, ever so slightly, had come down.

It was in these moments, in these small dances and quiet gestures, that you felt yourself reaching him bit by bit. Not with force or words, but with your presence, your laughter, your warmth. You grinned again as he looked at you, a genuine, rare smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and you knew this was enough.

“Come on.” you teased gently, tugging him toward the floor. “It’s Christmas, Kento. Loosen up a little.”

His grip on your hand tightened briefly, a subtle indication that your forwardness had caught him off guard. Still, he followed, the faintest hint of pink brushing against his ears. As the two of you swayed to the music, you let your fingers glide lightly over his shoulder, relishing the solid warmth beneath your touch.

“You know, Kento.” you began, your tone playful, “I wasn’t lying earlier. You’re on my wish list this year. Like last year and the year before that.”

Kento raised an eyebrow, but the slight flush deepened across his cheeks. “That so?”

“Mm-hmm.” you replied, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’ve got that whole ‘Santa-but-make-it-dashing’ thing going on. Makes a girl want to write a love letter to the North Pole.”

He cleared his throat, his warm caramel eyes darting away briefly before returning to yours. “I doubt Santa would entertain... that kind of correspondence.”

You leaned in, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Good thing I’m not sending it to him, then. I’d deliver it straight to you. No middleman required.”

For the first time that night, Kento faltered. His confident posture shifted, and his eyes widened just a fraction. “You’re relentless, you know that?” he murmured, a hand coming up to adjust his tie, though it wasn’t even out of place. “Always have been.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm and teasing. “Oh, Kento, don’t tell me I’ve made you nervous. It’s just a little harmless flirting…….but well, unless you want it to be more.”

His lips parted, but no immediate response came. That small victory sent a thrill through you, and you leaned closer, just enough that your words were for him alone. “Tell me, does this kind of thing make you uncomfortable? Or are you just not used to someone being so... direct?”

Kento’s hand tightened slightly on your waist, his composed exterior visibly cracking. “It’s not discomfort, not at all.” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “Just unexpected.”

“Unexpectedly charming?” you pressed, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

He exhaled sharply, a sound that might have been a stifled laugh. “Something like that.”

Encouraged, you let your fingertips trace the seam of his suit jacket. “You know, Kento.” you continued, a playful lilt in your voice, “if you’re ever feeling generous this season, you could always fulfill my Christmas wish.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, the words coming out more strained than he probably intended.

You leaned in, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear. “You. Under the mistletoe.”

When you pulled back to gauge his reaction, you were rewarded with the rarest sight: Nanami Kento, speechless. His hand flexed slightly on your waist, and his gaze flicked away as he struggled to compose himself. He looks at you for a moment.

“You’re incorrigible, really.” he finally muttered, but his voice betrayed him—soft, amused, and maybe even a little flustered. “You haven’t changed.”

“Only with you, Kento.” you said sweetly, squeezing his shoulder before stepping back. “But don’t worry, I’ll wait for my gift. After all, good things come to those who are patient.”

As you walked away, a satisfied grin on your lips, you couldn’t help but glance back to find Nanami Kento standing exactly where you’d left him, his calloused fingers brushing absently over his tie, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and something you dared to hope was intrigue.

The night carried on, the hum of conversation and the swell of holiday music forming a cozy backdrop, but you couldn’t keep your attention off Nanami. He had retreated to the edge of the room, standing by one of the tall, arched windows. The faint reflection of twinkling lights played across his face as he stared out at the snowfall, the earlier flush still faintly visible on his well defined cheeks. You decided you weren’t quite done with him yet.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing server, you wove your way back through the crowd, your dress swishing lightly with each step. When you approached him, you tilted your head playfully, holding out the glass.

“For the most stoic man at the ball, our dear Santa.” you teased.

He glanced at you, his lips quivering in what might have been a reluctant smile, and accepted the drink. “I didn’t realize I had a title.”

“Oh, you’ve earned it, Kento.” you said with a wink, leaning against the window frame beside him. “But don’t worry—I like a challenge.”

Nanami Kento took a measured sip of the champagne, but you caught the way his jaw tensed, as though he were bracing himself for whatever you might say next. It only spurred you on to tease him even more.

“So, Kento.” you said, turning slightly to face him. “Are you enjoying the ball, or are you just here to fulfill some jujutsu society obligation?”

He hesitated, clearly weighing his words. “I suppose I’m here out of tradition. And obligations. These events aren’t really my style.”

“I could’ve guessed that, you know.” you said, grinning. “You’re not exactly the life-of-the-party type. But you know, Christmas is about more than tradition. It’s about joy. And sharing it with someone.”

Kento gave you a sidelong look. “You’re quite persistent.”

“And you’re quite stubborn.” you shot back, smiling. “But I think there’s a soft side to you, Kento. One you don’t show often enough.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think that?”

“Well, for one, you haven’t walked away yet. I’m sure that you could end up doing that, knowing how much I tease you.” you said with a smirk. “And two... you keep looking at me like you don’t know whether to scold me or kiss me.”

His composure faltered again, a faint cough escaping as he set his glass down on the windowsill. “You certainly have an active imagination.”

“Oh, come on,Kento.” you said, your tone playful but insistent. “Admit it—you’re at least a little tempted. And if you’re not, then prove me wrong.”

Kento looked at you then, really looked at you, his sharp gaze softening just slightly. For a moment, you thought you might have pushed too far, but then he straightened, adjusting his tie with a deliberate slowness.

“I don’t think I need to prove anything.”

“Ah, I see.” you said, stepping closer, emboldened by the flicker of challenge in his tone. “So, you are tempted.”

He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. The tension between you was palpable, the space narrowing until you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. You bit your lip, deciding to go all in.

Kento tilted his head slightly, as if considering your words. “And if I do?”

Your breath hitched at the question, but you managed a grin. “Then I’ll finally have my Christmas wish.”

His lips parted softly, as though he were about to respond, but instead, he exhaled slowly, his warm gaze dipping to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your bright teasing eyes again.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stalling for a while now.” you countered, a laugh bubbling up. “But that’s okay. I can wait. I always will.”

You stepped back, letting the tension linger as you gave him a playful wave and walked away. You didn’t have to look back this time—you knew he was watching. He was trying to memorize this moment, to observe it for what it was. And somehow, you had the distinct feeling that before the night was over, Nanami Kento would be fulfilling your wish.

As you moved away to get another glass of champagne, your heart fluttering with equal parts exhilaration and nervousness, you wondered if perhaps you’d gone too far. But before you could fully retreat into the crowd, you felt a hand on your wrist. It was a gentle, but firm pull enough to stop you in your tracks.

You turned around, with a surprised look on your face as you found Nanami Kento still standing there, his expression unreadable. His warm fingers lingered just a moment before he released you, his caramel gaze steady but softer than you’d ever seen it. The air between you seemed to hum with unspoken words.

“I—” He hesitated, his usual composure slipping just enough to make him seem almost vulnerable. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as if surrendering to something he’d been holding back. “I need to say something. I should have, a long time ago.”

Your pulse quickened, and you nodded, stepping closer. “I’m listening.”

Kento glanced away briefly, as though gathering his thoughts, before looking back at you. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet but steady. “I’ve been aware of your... feelings. For a long time. I always knew about it. You were frank about it.”

Your cheeks flushed at the admission, but you didn’t interrupt. His words felt heavy, deliberate, as if each one had been carefully chosen. You could see the warmth in his eyes and the guilt and the desperation swirling through into one, your reflection echoing softly.

“I didn’t know how to respond, I never have.” he continued. “I thought it was... better to stay distant. With how things are….To keep things professional, I thought it was the best course of action. But… I made you wait. And that wasn’t fair.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly, and when he looked at you again, there was something raw in his eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve realized I’ve been lying to myself.”

Your breath caught, and you stared at him, hardly daring to believe what you were hearing. “Kento... you don’t have to—”

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual calm veneer cracking further. “I like you, I think I’ve always have.” he admitted, the words escaping like a confession he could no longer contain. “I’ve liked you for longer than I care to admit. More than I can express in words. Maybe…Maybe if I had loved you less, I’d be more able to talk about it.”

You gasped at his words, your mouth opening as wide as your eyes in surprise. “But I didn’t know how to handle it. You... you’re bold, and relentless, and you make it impossible for me to think clearly. You make it impossible for me to know what to do. Because I’m overwhelmed by you. And I…I surrender to it.”

“Kento, I just….” A surprised laugh bubbled out of you. “This is just….”

Kento gave you a small, self-deprecating smile. “You challenge me in ways I’m not used to. And while I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve found that I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to keep playing games, especially tonight.”

Your chest felt like it might burst, a mix of disbelief and elation washing over you. “So... does this mean I get my Christmas wish?”

Kento let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, darling.” you said, stepping closer, your voice playful but trembling with emotion. “You like me anyway.”

He sighed, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “I suppose I do. More than I could ever understand.”

“You made me wait a long time.”

His eyes looked warmly at you. “I know. And I have….I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, for making you wait for so long.”

Before you could overthink it, you closed the remaining distance between you, your hand resting lightly on his chest. You smiled at him. “Good. I’ll take that as your apology.”

“Does….does this mean—”

“Kento.” you murmured, your voice soft but sure, looking at his eyes more closely. You smiled at him. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

His warm caramel gaze dropped to yours, and for the first time, you saw no hesitation in his eyes. Not one bit. He smiled back at you, his warm palm resting against the tresses at the edge of your hair, tracing it as though to memorize every bit of you.

“I think I do.” he said, his voice low and steady, and then, as if finally giving in to everything he’d been holding back, he leaned down and kissed you.

The world seemed to fade around you, the music and chatter of the ball becoming nothing more than a distant hum. His lips were warm, firm, and deliberate, and the way he held you. His one hand steady at your waist, the other lightly brushing your cheek. It made you feel like the only two people in the room.

Your heart soared, the years of unspoken feelings and quiet longing finally culminating in this perfect moment. His kiss wasn’t rushed or hesitant. Everything about it was purposeful, full of emotions he’d kept bottled up for far too long. Everything about it made you swore into the clouds, ever so happily.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, you couldn’t help the soft, giddy smile that spread across your lips. His face was red as the scarlet sunrise, but he smiled even warmer than that as your gazes lock in an embrace.

“Merry Christmas, Kento.” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

He huffed a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin. “Merry Christmas.” Then, with a smirk that was both rare and devastatingly charming, he added, “I suppose you got your wish after all. After all this time.”

You laughed, the sound bright and uninhibited, before teasing back, “Well, you are my Santa, you always have been.”

“Am I really?” He responded back, heartily.

“You do have a big sack too, so……” You trailed off, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “Let me unpack it tonight, Santa?”

His face turned into an even more impressive shade of red, his composure slipping for a moment as he stared at you in disbelief. You laughed as he looked away for a moment, trying to gather himself. Your arm wrapped against his own.

“You—” He cleared his throat, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as if to steady himself. “That’s... incredibly bold.”

You tilted your head playfully, your grin widening. “My boldness worked on you, didn’t it?”

He exhaled sharply, his lips twitching as though trying to suppress a smile. “I’m starting to see that, darling.” he muttered, his voice laced with reluctant amusement.

The nickname had made you feel even more giddy inside. “Hm, I suppose so, my love.”

“I’m sure that you’ll be more creative about it.”

“Well, you are right.” you said, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Stick with me forever, Kento. I have plenty more where that came from.”

Shaking his head, but unable to hide the warmth in his warm mahogany gaze, he leaned in again, ever closer this time. You could feel his voice in a low murmur against your ear. He gives you a small smile as his fingers trace the back of your neck.

“Something tells me I’m in for quite the adventure.”

“Absolutely, my love.” you said, beaming as his lips found yours once more, sealing not just a moment but the beginning of something you’d both waited far too long for. “Buckle up.”

He snickers. “I look forward to each and every nonsense Christmas then.”

You laughed. “Expect it for all your days too.”

“Hm, that’s what I signed up for.”

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morganski-19 · 2 months ago

Text

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 48

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 45, part 46, part 47

Everyone forms a circle in Steve’s living room. Sitting crossed legged on the floor, waiting. Some people are missing, El wanted to stay with her dad, and Jonathan’s still avoiding Nancy at all costs. There’s a walkie in the center of the circle, open to the same channel. If El needed them, she could listen.

Steve, Robin, and Nancy are talking in the kitchen. Probably getting a little bit drunk. Coping in a way that they won’t let the rest of them. Trying to be the strong ones, when they don’t have to. Tonight’s going to be rough for all of them, they could break just once without consequence.

It’s almost time, Dustin goes to get them.

“Nance,” he hears Robin say, “he won’t come. He’s still pissed at you.”

“And me,” Steve adds.

A glass gets placed hard on the counter. “I don’t care. Before all of this, he was my friend.” He hears their steps move toward the front door and the rustle of keys. “We were there for each other when this started, we’re going to be there for each other as it ends.”

“But if he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Steve tries to reason.

“I don’t care.” There’s a slight waiver to Nancy’s voice. Dustin’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry over this. Seen any of them cry over this. “I don’t know how I can get through this without him, and I’m not going to find out.”

Dustin walks to the hall as the front door opens. Jonathan’s behind it, looking like he was in the middle of a debate with himself. He doesn’t look good. Eyes red rimmed and drooping. Clothes rumpled and looked like they were a few days old.

“Hey,” he says with a hollow voice.

“Hi,” Nancy responds.

He clears his throat. “I’m still pissed at you, but—” he trails off.

“I know.”

The clock on the wall ticks five minutes till nine. “Guys,” Dustin calls down the hall. “It’s almost time.”

Steve’s head nods, solemn. “Let’s go.”

Eddie’s there when they return to the living room, sitting on the floor. “Kids said I could join,” he says to Steve. Something unreadable in his eyes. “Is that ok?”

“Course it is,” Steve says as he sits next to Eddie. Closer than Dustin was expecting.

The circle closes and they join hands. Tangible proof that everyone is still here. Dustin is between Robin and Erica, with Steve just on the other side of Robin. Right there. Alive.

Right on cue, the fireworks start.

Dustin squeezes his eyes shut with the first boom. Sparks visualize in his mind. Red arms of flesh swinging at him. He takes the fireworks and throws it. They win, but at what cost.

Erica tightens her grip on his hand. He squeezes back to show her he’s alive.

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Still alive,” he responds. Voice wet.

Dustin feels her shift closer to him.

He forces his eyes open, forces the visions to stop. Those of the group who have their eyes open meet his gaze. All of them in a state of fear or grief. They are all in this together. The fireworks continue to boom.

Nancy keeps looking over to Mike to make sure he’s there. Before nodding at each of them, counting heads. Jonathan’s legs are pulled up to his chest. Will keeps flinching his one arm, ready to feel the eeriness creep at his neck. Lucas moved his arm around Erica’s shoulders, holding her close.

He looks at all of them and knows that he isn’t alone. He isn’t alone in his pain, or his wishing things could be different. As Mike and Nancy look at each other again, he knows they spend so much time wishing the other wasn’t a part of this. As Max can’t hold in her cries anymore, he knows that Lucas wishes he never told her about the upside down that day.

As Steve mutters out a quiet, “I work at Scoops,” Dustin wishes he never dragged him into this.

But the past can’t change. It’s already been written. Dustin can hope and wish and pray that things played out differently. He can blame himself for the rest of his life, but it won’t change anything. Because their paths would have always converged in the same way. Always leading them here.

The radio crackles in the center of the circle, El’s voice comes through. “Almost over.”

He knows that he’ll always probably blame himself. That he will always wish that things were different. That he’ll wish the nightmares were normal ones about his teeth falling out in class or forgetting he had a test. He’ll wish that time was different, that his life never had to change like this. But maybe he can make peace with the fact that it will never change.

Maybe he can make peace that these people don’t blame him for this. They’ll wish the same as him, that they never got involved, but it was inevitable. That night when Will went missing, it changed the paths for everyone in this room. Choices were made that can’t be taken back, and they’ll regret some of them for the rest of their lives.

But, with each other, they can move forward from this as one and finally heal. The last fight has been fought. Been won. As the time moves forward, so can they. Together.

“Brace yourselves,” Dustin whispers, knowing what the big finale is like. They all wait for it to end.

He used to love fireworks. Would beg his mom to bring him to the fair every year just so he could see him. And when he was old enough, he would bike there with the party and just stand there in awe. The perfect mix of science, his greatest love, making art in the sky.

As the last boom of the night rings through the air, Dustin hopes he can enjoy it again someday. He promises himself that one day, he will.

No one moves for a few minutes after they end. Sitting still to calm the beatings of their hearts. They made it through.

Almost in synchrony, they all start to move. Standing up, wiping the tears from their eyes. Returning to normal. Finding themselves again.

“Steve?” Eddie asks softly after Steve doesn’t move. Sitting there rigid.

He nods. “I’m ok.” He straightens his back, revealing the wet trail of tears down his cheeks. “You ready?” he asks Robin.

“Yeah.”

She gets up first, holding out her hand for him. They go in two different directions. Robin getting a bag from the hallway, while Steve grabs a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet and a box of matches.

Dustin follows them as they go outside. “What are you guys doing?”

Steve places the bottle of alcohol, what looks like expensive tequila, next to the fire pit. “After that night, we made a pact. A year from then, we burn our uniforms.”

“To prove that we made it out,” Robin continues, her voice sounding dry. “To prove that we never have to go back.”

She hands Steve the bag and he dumps the uniforms into the fire pit. The blood and sweat soaked uniforms ready to be set ablaze.

Steve unscrews the tequila and pours it over them, wasting more than he probably should.

“You want to do the honors,” he asks Robin, handing her the box of matches.

She takes it with shaky hands, striking the match and tossing it into the pit. The fire starts instantly.

Robin sobs as she falls into Steve. His cries are silent as he wraps her in a hug. Holding each other as they watch the outfit from the worst night of their lives burn to ash. Dustin walks back inside, letting them have this moment to themselves.

Eddie is watching from the sliding doors. “What are they burning?”

“Their Scoops uniforms, they were wearing them when it all went down.”

Nancy walks up to the door. “I never knew what happened to them that night, every time I try to ask, they avoid answering it.”

She looks at Dustin for answers he doesn’t even know the whole of. “I think they were tortured. When we went into that bunker, we got separated. They held the door closed so me and Erica could escape into the vent. After we rescued them, Steve’s face was beaten up and they were tied to chairs, and drugged. I never got any confirmation, but I knew.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes out. Still staring out the glass. His arms held close to his chest.

“Do you remember their faces when we went into that vent,” Erica asks from behind them. “They were scared, but they still chose to save us.”

Dustin turns, seeing the group that had formed behind him. All watching the fire outside. He nods. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

“There are so many things from that night that I won’t forget,” Max speaks up.

“There are so many things from the last four years that I won’t forget,” Mike adds.

Will reaches to grab his hand. “Yeah.”

“We should go back to the living room,” Nancy says. “So we’re not just staring at them.”

Eddie is the last to leave the room, still staring at them through the door.

“He’s been acting weird all week," he explains as Dustin hangs back. “I knew it had to be something bad, I just didn’t imagine that.”

“No one wants to imagine half the things that we’ve been through.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They rejoin the group in the living room. Jonathan grabs his keys and fills his car with the people who want to go home. Him and Nancy talking before he leaves. She hangs around, making sure everyone left is taken care of.

Eddie just sits on the couch, looking out of place. But he’s waiting for something, Dustin can tell.

“Hey,” Mike nudges Dustin’s shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re going over to my house for the night. Just in case you didn’t want to go home.”

Dustin thinks about it. He was going to see if he could stay the night here. Be close to Steve. But he might be ok. And by not being here, Steve could worry about just himself for a night. Not Dustin as well.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Eventually, Steve and Robin come back inside. Robin nods at Nancy before climbing the stairs up to Steve’s room. Steve and Eddie share a look when they pass. He stops and places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug, before following Robin up the stairs.

Before Eddie can get to his room, Dustin stops him. “I’m going over to Mike’s, call me if anything happens.”

Eddie nods. “I got them, don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

Nancy waits by the door. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin follow her out to the car. They drive to the house is quiet. Everyone is still reeling from tonight.

Jonathan’s car is parked out on the street when they get there. Will, Max, and Erica coming out with their bags.

“You could stay too, you know,” Nancy says to Jonathan. “No one should be alone tonight.”

“I thought about it, but I think it’s better if I go home.”

Nancy nods, accepting.

“See you around, Nance,” he says before getting back in his car.

“You could stay in the basement with us,” Mike offers, “if you need to.”

Nancy nods again, blinking away the tears in her eyes. Following them inside.

The basement floor is covered in blankets and pillows. Everyone finding a spot to lie down comfortably. Dustin stares at the ceiling, waiting for the tired fall of his eyes. So he can wake up tomorrow and feel better. Feel less like pure dread.

Slowly, he can hear the people around him start to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better than today, he repeats in his mind. Peaceful sleep taking over.

the notes you guys left on my last post literally made my day, you have no idea. hugs for all of you.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger thigns #stranger things fanfic #dustin henderson #dustin pov #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #mike wheeler #will byers #el hopper #erica sinclair #the party

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izzabela · 4 months ago

Note

Can you write about Syzoth trying to kiss the reader but he's so nervous because he hasn't kissed someone in a long time? ☺️

Kiss the Girl - Syzoth x fem!reader (4+1)

in which Syzoth tries to kiss his dragonfly four times, and the one time he gets it right

a/n: shalalalalala my oh my

ship[s]: syzoth x fem!reader

warning(s): silly lizard boy learning how to kiss again, various moments within the mk1 2023 kanon

You and Syzoth had been dating for a year now, but due to the trauma of the loss of his first family, intimacy was hard for Syzoth. Thank the elder gods you were so patient with him.

And thanks to your patience, Syzoth feels he's ready to make it official with a kiss!

Except... he's a tad bit nervous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 - Sunbathing

You and Syzoth lay atop a boulder together, the warmth from the rock and the sun filling your bodies up and relaxing you.

With nothing to do, no chores or training, you and Syzoth wanted some private time together. Why not sunbathe?

As you lay there quietly, occasional sighs and breaths of relaxation heard, Syzoth stares at you longingly and worriedly.

He wants to kiss you, really badly too.

You patience with him was what he needed to build courage to overcome his trauma of love and intimacy, but now that he feels ready, his mind plagues him with thoughts of failure and fear.

What if he misses? What if you don't like it? What if, what if, what if. It was exhausting for him, and the only way to get rid of it right now was him squirming and shifting in his spot.

He's also thinking of Johnny's advice- Just go for it! (no, Johnny, it's not that simple)

You rise a bit, adjusting yourself on your belly and arms crossed over one another as your head rests on your forearms. Syzoth tries to make it look like he wasn't moving, but you chuckle.

"You're not very good at lying, Sy," you mumble with a lazy smile.

Syzoth holds your face with his right arm, thumb rubbing over your cheek as you lean into his touch.

Alright, go for it! Syzoth hypes himself up, lips moving closer to his beloved dragonfly's very own.

You also close your eyes, smiling faintly because the moment has finally arrive for you- Syzoth's kiss with you.

Just as he's about to go for it, a faint buzzing noise is heard around him. To your human ears, it's extremely quiet, but to him it's like a gnat buzzing around his head.

Syzoth's eyes are shifting like lightning, and he's fighting for his life that his primal instincts don't take over.

Sigh, poor Syzoth lost still. The little thing landed on your other cheek, and his inner lizard won as his reflexes took over. His wet tongue slapped over the fly, and you open your eyes in shock.

Syzoth ate the fly quickly, but that doesn't erase the fact he messed up. Thank goodness you were such a good sport about it.

You bursted out laughing, no longer drowsy as you wipe the faintest bit of saliva off your cheek. You slide off the rock in a fit of hysterics, wiping your tears as Syzoth is helplessly trying to wipe your face.

"Oh darling, you kill me," you say after calming down.

You walk away and Syzoth stands there, shoulders down with hunched posture as he conjures up a new plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 - Post-Training Clean Up

You, Syzoth, and Raiden were in charge of cleaning up the dummies as part of evening chores before dinner.

The tournament may be over, and the timeline convergence was over, but that didn't mean the danger has passed. All of Liu Kang's champions needed to stay sharp.

"Sharpness also lies in discipline," Liu Kang told you all before ending training for the day. "Those on chore duty are tasked with fulfilling them with diligence and tenacity."

AKA, finish your chores or else.

Chores are usually hell if Johnny or Kung Lao was partnered with you, but thank goodness it was Raiden and Syzoth this time. And speaking of Syzoth, he seemed to be following you around lately.

Perhaps it's because he loves you, or perhaps it has something to do with the rock incident. Most likely the latter, but you didn't press because Syzoth is really trying hard to make you happy.

You were carrying bamboo bo staffs by the dozen, while Syzoth carried dummies. He was in lizard form, so a huge green lizard was just following you while swishing his tail happily.

Every piece of training equipment was to be put back in a huge storage shed in the corner of the courtyard. As you and Syzoth carried your stuff, Raiden came out from the room. His hat was off as he wiped sweat off his forehead.

"Be careful in there," Raiden warns with a smile. "The door is hard to open if it shuts completely. If you close it gently, it will not lock."

Syzoth nods, a huff coming out of his nose. You smile in reciprocation as well, "Thanks for the tip, Raiden!"

You set the bo staffs down and open the door. Syzoth gets in first, and you carry the bo staffs again to put them back inside. The shed was massive inside, and there were spaces to hold everything in its place. To make sure you two weren't locked in, you held the door open with a loose rock at the corner.

As you walked in, you lost grip on one of the staffs you were balancing. It slipped, and it knocked on the rock you used to hold the door open. The door shut, and you two drop everything to try and open it.

"Oh dang it," you curse yourself. "I'm sorry, love. I got us locked in here..." While Syzoth was externally sad, he was jumping in his soul.

Ever since the rock incident, Syzoth has been trying to find out how to kiss you again. He had gotten advice from Raiden this time around, the thunder-wielding lad telling him to seize a moment of vulnerability (with consent, of course).

Syzoth gently puts the dummies away, then grabs the staffs you dropped and puts them back carefully as you continue to bang on the door to signal for help.

Unknown to you, Raiden had already left the courtyard since the staffs and dummies were the last of the items to be put away. So all that ruckus you were causing was futile.

"Ugh, no one can hear us! Damn it!" you curse, kicking your foot into the old, yet oddly strong, door. Syzoth just grabs your shoulder, rubbing them up and down as he pulls you into a hug.

You can't help but relax in them, and you breathe a sigh of comfort and relaxation as you inhale the natural scent of your lover. He smells like the outside, but in a dewy grass type of way. Combined with the lingering scent of maple wood, he smells heavenly.

"Do you feel better?" he asks, tilting your head up to face his eyes. You nod and smile happily, and he kisses your cheek gently. When he pulls away though, his eyes become a little hooded, and his face is closing in on yours.

Ah, again, you think as your eyes close. You wait patiently for his lips to contact yours, to feel the warmth of him on you as he finally gives you a kiss.

However, you both stop and pull away, looking at the door as you see two metal curvatures on each hinge, pulling on the door as the creaking gets progressively louder and louder. Syzoth pulls you behind him, transforming into his lizard form to protect you.

"There you two are!" Kung Lao says excitedly, kicking away the pieces of wood that fell and broke from impact. "We have been looking for you everywhere!"

Johnny's behind him, wiggling his brows as he throws an arm around Kenshi, who stands next to him.

"Seems they were perfectly content in here though," he says suggestively, and Kenshi knocks the back of his head.

Syzoth groans, shifting back into his human form and taking your hand, leading you away from their stares and Johnny's inappropriate whooping and cheering.

So much for the second try...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 - Private Dinner

You lay on Syzoth's shoulder as you two sat together on a picnic blanket over the grass.

Syzoth asked you out on a date, and by date it was a private dinner away from the canteen hall. With training occupying most of your guys' time, dates with total intimacy were hard to come by.

With exceptional planning though, Syzoth managed to step up and pull this gig off. Now, he has his favorite food in front of him while his favorite dragonfly sits next to him.

What more could a shifter want? Oh yeah, to get his fucking kiss right.

According to human terms, third time is a charm. Syzoth made all of this effort to take you away from the bustle and cacophony of men's antics of the canteen, and now the opportunity of a lifetime sits in front of him.

You take a big bite out of your rice bowl, gnawing on the beef that is so rarely served. You moan at the way it melts in your mouth, savoring the fatty flavor of the meat.

You got some sauce on the side of your lip, and Syzoth lifts his thumb to wipe it off quickly. You look at him with a quirked brow.

"Swuave, darling," you say cooly. Syzoth rolls his eyes playfully, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you closer to him. You carefully put your bowl down, not wanting to waste the food you had.

There's a glimmer of confidence in his eyes as you push his hood back and on the nape of his neck. His eyes relax just a tad, and you can feel the air around you two shift once more.

He's doing it for real this time! You squeal internally, closing your eyes as you can feel the warm breath of Syzoth fan gently over your lips.

Though, Syzoth's eyes still remain partially open. Thank goodness your eyes were closed, because Syzoth did not want you to look at the obvious tweak-out he was having. You were right here, lips puckered out and awaiting his. He did everything right, and yet, he did not push through.

Sighing, Syzoth melts into your shoulder and rests his head there, nuzzling into the little crevice he so perfectly fit in. You open your eyes, and you look down with a gentle smile and an even more genteel look.

"My apologies, dragonfly..." he whimpers. "I just.. I-" You shush him, quieting him with soothing pats on his head.

"There there, dear. It takes time," you assure him, and he nuzzles in deeper (if possible).

Though Syzoth might have been fine momentarily, he realizes that this third time did not work.

Now, he's wondering if luck exists outside the common (human) rule of threes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 - Infirmary

You lay on the linen sheets quietly, staring at the ceiling as the wooden fan on the ceiling spun annoyingly slow.

You had gotten injured during this month's mini tournament. No, it wasn't to prepare for another cross-realm kombat tournament, it was just a new ritual Liu Kang implemented.

Just to keep his champions sharp, nothing too high stakes.

If it wasn't high stakes, why the hell was your forehead bandaged and wrapped up like a mummy? Seriously, Kung Lao needs to learn how to chill out.

As you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling waiting for the hours to drone by, stomping could be heard outside. You could also hear the soft gasps and scurried steps of other people- like they were moving out of the way.

Through the door, Syzoth came through in his reptilian form. His pupils were skinny, dilated in anger as he huffs and finds his beloved. When he makes contact with you, his face softens and relaxes.

In the blink of an eye, he switches into his human form and is on his knees in front of you. You don't wanna laugh, nor smile, but the way he's hold your cheeks and squishing them like a stress ball.

"Oh dear... dragonfly what," he's breathing a bit hard, gently rubbing the bandaged area with his thumb. "Dragonfly, are you alright?"

You nod, kissing his forehead, "I'm alright Sy. It's no big deal, just a scratch." But Syzoth doesn't look convinced.

"You are hurt. You dod not look good, tired," he says softly. You give him a playful smile.

"Maybe a kiss will help," you probe him, and you can see him visibly stiffen. "O-only if you want! No rush..."

Still, Syzoth does his best. He sits on your bed, hands holding your face as he begins with a kiss on your head. Then, he gently kisses the bandaged spot.

A feathery kiss on your nose, gentle taps on your cheeks. The lightest touch over your eyelids. He's pouring love all over you, yet the one spot he hasn't makes him nervous.

You look at him after his parade of love, eyes creased gently as Syzoth's are still closed. He leans in slowly, and you close your eyes again to wait for impact. Except it doesn't come.

Opening your eyes again (what a guy, huh?), you see Syzoth just staring at you. His brows are furrowed and confused, and you can feel his hands shaking as he still holds your face.

"I... uh... I do not believe I have your cure..." Syzoth says sadly, letting go of your face as he prepares to leave the room. You stop him though, gently tugging him back with his wrist.

"I have the cure just enough," you play along. "Perhaps a stronger dosage next time."

Syzoth smiles again, scooting close to you as he takes you in his arms, and you two cuddle and talk quietly about the things that happened during your day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

+1 - Trip to Outworld

Because of Syzoth's double duties to the imperial crown and to Liu Kang, he often travels between the realms to do his jobs. You're not usually free, but for once you had some time.

Syzoth had to return back to Outworld because Empress Mileena had something important for Syzoth to deliver to one of the provinces up north. It had lined up with a planned break you had, and you told Syzoth you had time.

For four days, you explored Outworld- well, the capital. You weren't allowed to travel with him to wherever he was going, but you were promised a tour with protection.

The first day you had Syzoth to yourself as he showed you around the city. From the expensive homes in the upper-sides of the capital, to the busy streets of the main area where the tourist traps and street food are.

When Syzoth was gone for the next two days, the palace guard's leader, Tanya, personally showed you around. Something about the Empress saying 'his friend is our friend'- yeah, along the lines of that.

And now, your last day in Outworld. It was late at night, and you were tossing and turning to find the perfect spot to knock out and sleep. Unfortunately, you came up empty-handed. Even worse, Syzoth woke up.

"Oh, Sy? I'm so sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you," you apologize and kiss his forehead. He rubs his eyes, shaking his head tiredly as he scoot closer to you.

"'M not..." a yawn, "I'm not tired, dragonfly..." he gets up completely this time, stretching his arms as a few grunts and little stretch noises were made.

"Would you like to walk with me?" he asks, and you grab his hand to stop him from leaving the bed. Syzoth insists, however.

"It will wear you down, tire you more," he convinces, and you get up and throw on an extra shirt over your sleeping dress.

Leaving the hotel room, the streets of Sun Do look like a new world when there isn't a river of people trying to fit in with the flow of getting place to place. When they aren't fighting for your attention with fake wares and dinky souvenirs.

And above you, the stars shone brightly against the blackness of the sky. The perfect backdrop for a midnight stroll.

"Sun Do, the palace, and everywhere else... Outworld is magnificent," you compliment Syzoth's home world.

"It is indeed a beautiful place," Syzoth agrees. "Though, I find home much better when you are present."

You look at him with a playful gasp, "Was that a pick-up line?" Syzoth looks away quickly, humming a tune as you lightly smack his arm. He stares at you blankly first, before smiling and tickling your sides as he chases you down the empty streets.

Finally, he catches you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you close.

"Are you feeling sleepier?" Syzoth asks quietly, forehead resting on yours. You yawn a bit, but shake your head softly in defiance.

"Not yet..." he smirks a bit at that. "Not tired yet..."

He cups your cheek, his thumb gently sliding up and down that side of your face, and you feel your body grow a bit sleepier. Syzoth presses a kiss on your forehead before asking again.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and you shake no again. "Then, perhaps this could help."

Gently, yet with passion, Syzoth leans in and kisses you. Normally, your eyes would be open and wide, but they're closed as you pull him in closer. His lips are warm, and his lizard-like tongue is not extended fully so you do not get skeeved or weirded out.

But by the elder gods, was he tender. He was soft, like blowing a dandelion into the wind. Like a gentle breeze during a summer day- you were delicate in his hands, and he was afraid of breaking you.

Letting go, Syzoth is panting as he looks at you with determination and pride. You kiss his cheek, and you cuddle his chest as he rests his head on yours. He strokes your hair, patting your head gently in between to really get you to nod to sleep. He also draws circles on your back, and it practically seals the deal.

"Thank you, Sy," you say quietly, yawning rather widely before you can feel your body get hoisted into the air.

"Thanks to you, dragonfly... all thanks to you."

Finally, after weeks of failure, he got it right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in the middle of revamping my MLs again, this time including hella links (the parasites)

the last set of requests are more HC than actual fics, once they're over with i'll be writing on my own terms

so no, requests wont be open for a while

thank you all so much btw for getting me to 120+ followers! im surprised this acc actually took me somewhere

hopefully when i start my Cod fics, you all show them the same love too

see yall in the next fic!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #x reader #syzoth mk1 2023 #syzoth mk1 #syzoth x reader #syzoth #syzoth x you #reptile x you #reptile mk1 2023 #reptile mk1 #ask izza

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angelofsmalldeaath · 8 months ago

Note

your slice of life style has become such a comfort for me i pick one out to read before i go to bed and they make my heart all warm

if you feel like taking requests/want inspo I’d love to read a rainy day in the life vibe (no pressure tho!! genuinely would read something about watching paint dry if you wrote it)

mwah xx

reading this ask made me feel all warm and fuzzy, you are so so sweet!! 🥹 no like i love it when people tell me they enjoy my writing, it's such a good feeling!! so thank you sm for this ♡︎

i really hope this was what you wanted it to be ♡︎

cw: references a previous fic, suggestive

“jesus fuck!” i jump in my seat and glare at him when he snickers. the thunder rumbling is unexpected and loud—louder than it has any right to be.

“scared?” he teases.

“of a little thunder?” i turn my nose up at him, faking bravado, “never. i just don’t wanna get stuck in the rain.”

“too late,” he tsks, and together we look out the cafe window as the light turns watery. the wind picks up, so does the footfall of people running to find shelter. some gather under the awning of the cafe we’re in, some run across the street and find shelter in other establishments.

he takes hold of my hand. “we could still make it if we ran…”

i look down at our table—at our empty coffee cups and breakfast plates—and then back up outside the window. fat drops of rain hit the glass, one after the other, racing down until they all converge into a tiny puddle.

“could we?”

“what’s the harm?” he points at his jacket, “we could use this as cover.”

i contemplate it for a second, picture it in my head and laugh—the two of us dashing through the rain under a jacket that isn’t nearly big enough. another rumble from the skies makes me jolt. this time he manages to stifle his laugh.

“so?”

“alright,�� i nod, gathering my things and wiping my hands on the tissues. he holds my hand the moment we scramble to our feet. the door chimes softly as we push it open, and immediately the wind and rain rush to greet us.

“fuck!” i squeal, “‘m freezing my tits off!”

i groan the moment i hear his little juvenile giggle—an uncharacteristically boyish sound from a giant of a man. “i could warm them for you, you know?”

“you’re such a man!” i roll my eyes, trying to stifle a smile but he pulls me out from under the awning and right into the torrential rain.

under the thin shelter of his jacket, we huddle close, our bodies pressed together to keep as dry as possible. the rain is colder than i expected, and the pavement is already slick beneath our feet. we take off running, his laughter ringing in my ears, mingling with the roar of the storm.

“shit, we’re so unhealthy,” i huff, breathless and barely a street down from the cafe.

he raises his brow at me. “we?”

“shut up,” i punch his shoulder lightly. he’s barely out of breath though, looking at me with amusement and mostly drenched from the rain now.

his hair is plastered to his face too. the water clings to his eyelashes and a drop falls on his nose, making its way down to his lips. it’s mesmerising, in a way—a drop of water on his lips and suddenly he’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.

when the thunder rumbles again—much louder than before—i stagger to a stop, right in the middle of the pavement like a deer caught in headlights. this time he doesn’t laugh, he just pulls me into him and pulls us into a little alley that seems a bit shielded than the main street.

“you’re okay,” he tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear.

“we always end up in alleys somehow,” i try to wipe my face on my sleeves but it’s useless.

“we do,” he nods. we stare at each other—me, completely breathless, him, breathing in this odd rhythm that makes me think of all sorts of things.

he moves towards me, our toes touching, his wet body pressed into mine. it’s darker here, in this alley. the buildings tower over us, but the rain is just as relentless.

“we should hurry up and go home,” i point out but it holds no conviction at all.

“we should,” he nods and bends down to kiss me.

on his lips i taste the raindrop from before. it’s sweet—or perhaps it’s just the taste of him, sweet and familiar and like home. and even when the rough wall digs into my back and thunder echoes all around me, i melt into him, fist my hands into his jumper and pull him so close that no air can pass between us any longer.

“you…” he swipes his tongue over my lip and i shiver, “should have listened to me.”

“the breakfast date was your idea!”

“in bed!” he protests against my mouth, kissing me a little harder.

“and who was going to make the food?” i challenge, holding back a moan.

“who said i wanted to eat food?”

my cheeks heat up. i laugh and hide my face in his chest—something he always finds particularly endearing. “so we should hurry up and go home then… i am dying to get out of these clothes.”

this time when he nods, there’s a twinkle in his eyes. he pulls away and i shiver from the cold until he holds my hand again and pulls us back on the main street. the jacket is back on our heads, drenched and utterly useless but i like how the world looks from under it and from by his side.

when the thunder rumbles again, i don’t stop. i only hold onto him tighter and we run through the streets faster.

#requests #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne x reader #writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #mdni #minors do not interact

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Fair Play

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Logan Sargent x Liam Lawson

Genre: fluff and crack (Look! I can write fluff!)

Summary: The quartet try to have a fun night out which lands them a trip to the emergency room.

Warnings: a hospital trip and Liam being an absolute menace

Notes: For @bad268, I hope you like it! I would like to point out that I've been to maybe two fairs in my life so this might be inaccurate.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Going to a fair is not something the group gets to do often. The racing season keeps them all busy. The quiet moments are few and far between.

But it's summer break, and they have time to indulge themselves for a night. A nice relaxing night to forget about things and just enjoy each other's company. Like nothing could possibly go wrong.

How wrong they were.

"Haven't been to one of these in forever." Logan pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The colder air of the night breeze ruffling his hair.

Oscar, determined to stay in his eternal summer, is in his usual attire. "Have any of us ever been?"

"I've been a couple of times when I was younger." Says the female. Liam is spinning her around as they attempt to walk forward. "I was terrible at all the games and never won anything, though."

The three boys stop in their tracks. There is a playful smirk on each of their faces. "I swear, if you three make this a competition, I will lose it."

Liam drops his mouth open in feigned exasperation. "What if the intent is to be corny and win you a prize or something!"

"Well then, that's fine. I won't say no to being spoiled."

Liam hands her off to Logan as they make their way inside. The American is the gentlest of the three. He always makes himself available for comforting hugs.

The boy's beeline straight to where the games are. Not even sparing a glance in the direction of anything else. Typical competitive spirits. Three weeks with no racing means they have to get it out somehow.

She looks at Oscar in a desperate attempt to get his attention. Liam and Logan have launched themselves into another game and are not currently paying attention.

"What do you say to ice-cream, Osc?"

"I say lovely."

The two signal to the other boys and say they'll be back. Already wrapped up in their activity, they pay them no mind. Liam is gesturing wildly with his hands. A good indicator they won't notice they are even leaving.

"I feel like this is a bad idea."

"What is?"

"Leaving them on their own."

Liam and Logan are staring down some kind of bebe riffle shooter game. Not because of the game itself, but because of the prize they could potentially win.

The massive teddy bear sits behind the counter, taunting them. It's begging to be in the arms of another. Specifically, in the arms of their girl. It's begging to be cuddled by her.

"This should be easy for you, Lo!" Liam snickers and takes up a spot. "Being American and all."

Logan rolls his eyes, face completely blank. "Yes Liam, your over used joke is so funny and I'm laughing so hard." He can't keep the straight face for long and both boys end up laughing at themselves.

Liam picks up the rifle and is instructed to take a test shot. He attempts, with nothing to show for it. Logan descends further into laughter.

"Would you like a hand from someone who knows guns?" Liam groans as Logan takes a step forward.

"Maybe it's jammed-"

The plastic gun makes a clicking sound. Logan lets out a yelp and clutches his wrist. "Liam..."

"Logan, listen, we can talk this out!"

"You asshole! You shot me!"

In the distance, the other half is carrying back ice-cream for them. The sudden yelp causes the female to startle and nearly drop the two cones she is holding.

Oscar is somewhere between a laugh and a pained sigh. "I told you it was a bad idea."

She takes another lick from her ice-cream and look directly into Oscar's eyes. "I regret nothing."

Liam is trying desperately to fight back a laugh as the group converges together.

The female ditches her ice-cream in Liams hands and inspects Logans wrist. "You hurt the baby, Liam! How could you?”

“Y/n, he’s the oldest.”

“Doesn’t matter! Liam hurt the baby.” She begins to walk away with the boys in tow. “We’re heading to emergency because I don’t feel like hearing about this from Alex if Logan is hurt.”

Liam is trying to drive while Oscar sits passenger side still holding ice-cream. It’s dripping down his fingers at this point. An entertaining sigh to the two in the back.

Liam looks over at a red light, leans in obnoxiously close, and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey Osc, can I lick it off your fingers?”

“Liam, I swear to god-“

The light turns green and Liam is once again speeding off to the nearest A&E.

The wait inside is long enough for them to actually finish the melting treat. People give them weird looks, but they are wrapped up in their own little bubble and couldn’t care less.

The nurses all giggle as they retell the story of what happened. The injury is hardly serious, but they wrap it all nice anyway. They ask if Logan would like a band aid at one point and he just groans (he whispered yes right before they left).

“You realize nobody is ever going to believe us, right?” Oscar looks towards Logan’s hand with raised eyebrows.

Logan groans again. “Do they have to? Could be our secret.”

As the female lifts Logan’s hand to her mouth to ‘kiss it better’, she leans over to whisper to him. “I don’t we can hide this one, babe. You have a crayon band-aid on.”

“Yeah, no, I’m telling everyone about this.”

“It was your fault!”

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eddiexmunsonlover · 7 months ago

Text

One Step Away From You (Chapter 10)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Follow my new blog for future chapters & fics @cherryxhaze

Series Masterlist

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Chapter Summary: You and Eddie attend the concert you gave him tickets to for Christmas. The concert and Eddie's birthday celebration bring up feelings that are getting harder to ignore. WC: 3.9k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Underage drinking. Implied and assumed fatphobia. Descriptions of anxiety and emotional overwhelm. Lots of angst. I know, it's torture. I know this is a tad shorter of a chapter, but the end felt like a good place to separate it from the next chapter, which will be bigger and longer. Might even be the chapter we've all been waiting for, perhaps? And we've gotta have a bit more angst before we get there! Series taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot @littlexdeaths

Thursday, January 16th, 1986

You study yourself in the mirror, contemplating your concert outfit with a level of uncertainty. You’ve decided to go bold, show a little more skin than usual. It is a rock concert, after all.

Scandalously high-cut black shorts, fishnet tights, combat boots, a WASP shirt cut into a tank top, and your newly patched jean jacket to keep you warm from the winter air outside. Hair big, curled, and teased. Face fully beat.

You look damn good, and you know it. You feel confident too as you look at yourself from different angles in the mirror. There’s no doubt you’ll be turning heads tonight, whether it’s from a place of judgment or lust.

For Eddie, it’s the latter. From the second you step out of the trailer, his eyes nearly bulge out of his head as they take you in. He quickly picks his jaw off the ground, clearing his throat as you near before you can notice the way he’s ogling you. He can’t erase the heat that’s gone right to his cheeks, however. At least he can blame the harsh winter air on that.

“You look… stunning, sweetheart.” He throws on his usual boyish smile, hoping it’s enough to hide his true reaction. You return the compliment with a shy smile, looking down at your outfit.

“You think so? You don’t think it’s too much or… too little?”

“No no no, you uh, it’s perfect. Trust me.” His reassuring smile calms your hesitation as you quickly follow him to the passenger side of the van.

He holds the door open for you as usual, cursing himself and whatever cruel god there is when his eyes catch sight of your ass as you climb in. He huffs in frustration as he rounds the van to the driver's seat, wondering how the hell he’s going to keep it together tonight with you looking like this. He knows one thing for sure, it’s going to be a long one.

You spend the drive to Indianapolis blasting your WASP tapes, hyping yourselves up for the show. Big grins as you sing and bang your heads together to the beat. Excitedly sharing what songs you hope the bands play as the mile markers on the highway fly by. Before long, you see exit signs for downtown Indianapolis.

From the passenger seat, you let your eyes roam along the buildings littering the city, people walking along the sidewalks. Spotting the concert goers within them walking toward the arena. Friends, couples, strangers. You wonder what their lives are like, thousands of different people converging in one spot for the same purpose.

The van comes to a halt amongst a sea of cars outside the arena, bright lights shooting off the building and illuminating the parking lot. You and Eddie practically skip the distance from the van to the line outside the doors. After a short wait, you’re inside and amongst crowded halls of people roaming the arena. The merch table catches your eye, you pat Eddie on the shoulder.

“Wanna get some merch before the show starts?” He gives you a wary look as he sees the line for the table. “We’ve got time, plus once we get out there you’re not gonna want to leave the floor.”

You know him too well. He finally nods and you’re off.

You both look over the plethora of different tour shirts for WASP and KISS, contemplating which ones you wanna get. When it’s finally your turn, you pick out your shirts. Before Eddie can fish for his wallet, you quickly pull out yours and hand the attendant the cash.

“Uh, wha- Hey, I can pay for that”

You give him a soft smile as you pass his new WASP shirt to him.

“Your birthday is next week, Eds. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart.” He throws his arm around your shoulder, leading you away from the merch table and back into the crowd.

As you walk through the crowded halls and wait at the bar for drinks with Eddie’s arm draped over you, your wandering eyes catch onto ones staring at you in judgment. Normally, you’d be unfazed, it’s far from the first time strangers have stared at you in a less than friendly way. But as you meet the eyes of multiple girls, pretty and skinny, you can’t help but feel like they’re not just judging you, they’re judging you standing next to the smokeshow that is Eddie with his arm around you. Assuming you’re with him. Wondering why the hell he’d be with a girl like you.

It’s no surprise to you that outside of the small town of Hawkins, Eddie would be seen for the attractive guy he is, especially within the scene. That notion is not extended to you however, plus-size body not fully accepted even within the confines of a crowd of outcasts by society’s standards.

When Eddie hands you a cup of beer, you quickly begin taking sips. Hoping the alcohol will calm your anxieties as you move your way back through the crowds, making an effort to not meet the eyes of anyone but Eddie’s.

As you make your way onto the floor, Eddie quickly takes your hand in his. Leading and weaving his way through the crowd with you in tow, falling in close step behind him through the hundreds of warm bodies already filling the floor ahead of the show’s opener. The crowd is overwhelming enough to your senses that you don’t think much of your hand in his, a typical action friends take together at concerts, after all. When he finds a spot close enough for you to see with enough space to move, he pulls you up next to him.

Shoulder to shoulder, sipping on your beers as you listen to the soundcheck. Anticipation fills your bodies until the sound of chatter from the surrounding crowd silences at the first note of the first song of the night from WASP, quickly turning into a loud cheer that you and Eddie join in on. You’re quickly immersed and pulled in as the bass and drums reverberate through the air and into your body. The colorful flashing lights, leather clad band members in ass-less chaps and high heels. The show, alcohol, and Eddie’s loud singing next to you fully flushing out any anxiety and worry from your mind. You’re fully living in the moment; jumping, headbanging and singing your favorite WASP songs together.

When you look next to you and see Eddie smiling wide as he shouts the lyrics, you’re filled with an indescribable feeling.

Satisfaction, fulfillment, happiness.

Knowing you were able to give Eddie this opportunity to see one of his favorite bands and seeing the joy it’s bringing him.

Love.

His gleaming eyes turn to meet yours in excitement, pulling you back into the moment with him as the last song of the set begins. Screaming at the top of your lungs when the band finishes, wishing the crowd a farewell before the roadies take over to change the stage over for KISS.

You take deep breaths with Eddie as the energy fades.

“That… was metal.” he exhales, ending with an excited giggle as you bump your shoulder into his. Sweat making your bangs cling to your foreheads. You slide off your jacket, wrapping it around your waist to help you cool down before KISS’s set begins, the first time either of you have ever seen their show.

They open with Detroit Rock City, immediately lighting up the crowd. You and Eddie bob your heads around, laughing as you dance around each other, singing along to every word. You feel so light in this moment with him, so carefree.

You make me feel like I am fun again.

Neither of you know every song in the setlist, but you dance around and headbang to them like you do. Just fully enjoying the experience.

At one point, you feel Eddie’s skin on yours. You look down to see his hand around yours, fingers entwining.

They fit so perfectly together.

The simple action with the high tempo of the music quickens your heart rate. He’s not even looking at you, his eyes glued to the band performing on stage, his hands sliding between yours so naturally, as if it’s second nature to him despite never doing it before. You inhale deeply through your nose, attempting to catch your breath and calm your heart, hoping he doesn’t look at you and notice how frazzled his touch has made you.

As soon as his hands parts from yours to clap at the end of the song, your heart craves his touch again. It’s a craving so fierce, so overwhelming you don’t know what to do with it.

A craving that’s quickly subsided when his hand moves to your bare shoulder, pulling you flush against him as he leans his lips to your ear.

“You’re my best girl, you know that? Thank you for this.”

You don’t know if it’s the little bit of alcohol in his system, the immersive energy of the show making him delirious, but you don’t think he realizes the gravity of his words as his hot breath fans over your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. You close your eyes as your chest flutters, collecting yourself before you smile up at him.

“Anything for you, Eds.”

His words and the lingering sensation from his touch on your skin stay present in the back of your mind for the rest of the show that passes by too fast.

Before you know it, KISS plays their last encore song of the night before the lights on the stage darken, and bright lights illuminate the floor. Sticky with sweat, Eddie takes your hand in his again as you fight the crowd out of the exits. Groaning at the relief of the cold January air on your hot skin as you break from the crowd and into the outside parking lot.

You share your favorite moments on the drive home, reliving the excitement of the night as his WASP tape plays quietly in the background. The overwhelming energy of the night begins to take its toll on you as heaviness takes over your body, lazily watching the mile markers on the highway countdown your way back home.

The roar of the van quiets as Eddie parks in Wayne’s driveway. You turn to each other with a soft smile before you groan with a stretch, pulling a soft laugh from him. He walks you the short distance to your front porch steps. When you turn to face him again, he’s smiling down at you before his arms quickly wrap you up. Your head rests against his chest, the calming sound of his heartbeat against your ear. Everything about him is so addicting, intoxicating. It makes having to part from him and his embrace that much harder.

“Thank you, again.” he whispers.

Your eyes meet one another as you part, his fingertips lingering on your arms as you smile at each other.

“You’re welcome, Eds. I’m glad you had a good time.”

You stay like that for a moment, not speaking a word but so much conveyed in your eyes nonetheless.

This is my moment.

He considers taking his chance as he looks at you. Doing what he’s wanted to do for so long, just kissing you here and now. Before he can muster up the courage, you sigh softly.

“Guess I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for school?” you mutter, already dreading the sound of your alarm clock in the morning.

His gaze breaks away from yours for a brief moment as he nods, muttering a “See you tomorrow” before watching you walk up your steps and into the trailer. Mentally kicking himself for letting the moment pass and not taking his chance. Everything in his body pushing him to do it, only to chicken out again.

His hands find their place in his jean pockets as he crosses the street, kicking spare rocks in his slow stride.

You hang your head as the water pours over you, seeping into your hair and soaking your body. Relishing in the relaxing sensation of the warm water beating against your tired body, washing away the hairspray and sweat from the night. In the quiet isolation of the shower, your mind replays the events of the night, lingering on the moments of newfound intimacy Eddie showed you.

Eddie’s always been one to push boundaries in good fun, always quick to wrap you in a hug to show his affection or when you’re feeling down.

Tonight was different. It seems like he was touching you more than he wasn’t, a hand lingering on your shoulder or waist, fingers entwining around yours… that one was new.

You convince yourself he was just caught up in the moment, being a protective best friend in a big, rowdy crowd. Grateful for the experience you’ve given him.

But the thought only makes you feel worse, putting a tightening grip on your heart.

His words.

You’re my best girl.

He has no idea the effects those few words would have on you. Stinging your eyes at what could be, what is, and what never will be.

The mental fight you’re having with yourself adds a heaviness to your chest and a building pressure in your head.

You lay your head against the shower wall as your mind rapid fire relives the moments with Eddie tonight, the last 4 months, the past years. You feel yourself begin to crack. Feelings and memories flooding your system. All the emotions you’ve bottled up the last few months building enough pressure to blow the lid off, everything you’ve held in spilling out of your eyes. Your tears mix in with the shower water as they stream down your cheeks.

As much as you want to fight it, you know that’s exactly what’s led to this moment. You give in, sitting with the pain, crying all the tears you can until the water runs cold.

As you crawl into bed for the night, you hope it was enough to be able to move on tomorrow as if nothing happened. Closing your puffy eyes and letting exhaustion overtake you.

Friday, January 24th, 1986

Eddie’s birthday

You watch as the ice in your glass cup of Coke melts, hoping you don’t appear as bored as you feel. Wouldn’t want to put a damper on the boys’ fun, not on your boy’s special day.

Limited options in Hawkins have left you celebrating Eddie’s 20th birthday at the Hideout with Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. Fake ID’s and Eddie’s previous employment as a barback have kept the drinks coming.

It’s not the worst place, but the stuffy, stale air and faded, peeling walls leave much to be desired. You’re sure with a bit of alcohol, you wouldn’t even notice. Like Eddie and the boys, carrying the hype from tonight’s campaign to the bar with them. Lively chatter filling the space, you make a few comments here and there, but you’re not fully in it.

You hate feeling this way on Eddie’s birthday, but the drunker the boys get, the more irritated you become. You promised to be the sober driver tonight. Your history with your Dad has always made you easily frustrated around drunk people when you’re sober, but you throw on a smile for him. Refusing to bring down his celebration.

He’s leaning against the jukebox, bobbing his head to the drums as Cum On Feel the Noize by Quiet Riot begins to play. When he turns, his eyes immediately land on you. Your stomach drops as he dances over to you with a smile, already anticipating the next words out of his mouth.

“Come on, sweetheart. Get off that stool and come dance with me!” You sigh and give him an unimpressed look to which he returns with a pout, effectively making a smile tug at your lips. You roll your eyes and walk towards him.

“You’re lucky it’s your birthday” you mumble joining him as his smile beams at you. You move your body side to side, bobbing your head with him to the beat. The other boys singing along loudly to the chorus from their bar stools grab your attention, making you laugh before you start singing along too. It doesn’t take much convincing from Eddie until they’re joining you on the empty floor. Jumping around each other and singing your hearts out, no doubt looking like a bunch of fools to the handful of middle aged regulars at the bar, but none of you care.

A few rounds later when it’s clear they’ve reached their limit, you’re corralling the drunken boys out of the bar. Eddie leaning onto you with his arm around your shoulder before you load them all into his van. When you climb into the driver's seat, he adorns a shit-eating grin as he attempts to buckle his seatbelt.

“Hehe, I get to be the passenger princess tonight.”

As irritable as you feel, you can’t fight the grin from pulling at your lips before you bring the engine to life and pull out of the Hideout parking lot.

You grab your pack of cigarettes, quickly lighting one and inhaling the smoke as the sound of blabbering from the 3 boys in the back fills the van.

Ahem.

You look to your side to find Eddie giving you puppy dog eyes with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Would you be so kind?”

“Oh, where are my manners? Anything for you, princess.” You enthuse dramatically, bringing the lighter to the end of his cigarette.

The flame illuminates his dimples and the smirk forming them. Even drunk off his ass, he’s so damn cute.

With his cigarette lit, you pull your attention elsewhere. Keeping an eye on the road while you thumb through his collection of tapes in the center console. You find the perfect one, quickly sliding the Queen tape into his radio, fast forwarding to the exact time Bohemian Rhapsody starts. Earning a chorus of “OHH”s at the easily recognizable piano notes in the intro. The five of you sing at the top of your lungs as you barrel down the nearly empty Hawkins streets. Laughing until your stomach hurts at the boys’ best attempts to hit the high notes.

After dropping off Garth, Jeff, and Grant, you find yourself pulling into Eddie’s driveway.

“Well, I’ve got one last thing for you, birthday boy.”

Though already nearly nodding off, he gives you a lazy smile with raised brows. You get out of the van and hurry to the other side to keep Eddie from stumbling up the stairs to the trailer, hand keeping a tight hold on your plush waist. You bring him to lean against the kitchen counter before moving to the oven that hid the cake you’d made earlier while Eddie got ready for Hellfire. You light the candles as quickly as you can before slowly turning to reveal it to him. His eyes widen, a one-sided smile on his lips as you bring the cake to rest on the counter in front of him, singing Happy Birthday. His eyes glance between the cake and you as you sing, warmth filling his gaze and his cheeks.

It takes him a few tries, but he blows out all the candles before he looks to you again.

“Happy birthday, Eddie” you give him a soft smile before he pulls you in for a tight hug.

“Thank you, sweetheart. For everything” he mutters into your hair, arms wrapped tight around your waist. You expect it to be brief, but his hold doesn’t budge.

“No need to thank me, Eds”

He’s drunk, so you let him hold you longer without thinking much of it.

“I love you so much” he whispers, voice deep and sincere. The alcohol causes his body to sway side to side, his grip on you pulling your body with him.

His words shoot right through your heart, and you’re thankful for his hold on you, keeping your face out of view as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Not the way I love you.

You take a deep breath, settling your nerves and voice before you return his words.

“I love you too”

You let him hold you for a few seconds longer before it becomes too much to bear.

“Come on, have some of your cake” you pat his back, pulling his attention back to the cake sitting on the counter. His grip on you loosens as he turns back to it with a drunken smile.

You grab a knife, fork and a paper plate, cutting him a slice. He wastes no time digging in, leaving remnants of chocolate icing covering his lips.

“Mmm, you’re such a good baker” he groans, closing his eyes and reveling in the taste. Normally, you’d smile at the compliment, but you can’t bring yourself to as you watch him.

“Hey… you’re not gonna have some?” He asks when his eyes open and he comes back to his senses through the alcohol.

“No, trying to cut back on sweets. It’s your cake, anyway.”

“Bulllllshiiit. You’re perfect the way you are” he insists, slurring his words with unchewed cake in his mouth. The counter he leans on being the only thing keeping him upright.

“Thanks, Eds… but really, I’m fine.” You give him a muted smile. It’s enough in his drunken state for him to shrug in response, quickly diving back in to finish the last few bites.

“Alright, I think it’s time we get you to bed. Come on.”

He doesn’t argue with you, only wrapping his arm around your shoulder again as you lead him down the hallway to his bedroom.

You flick on his light as he stumbles in, fighting to pull off his vest and leather jacket. You begin to move to help get him into bed but he doesn’t stop there. Pulling his Hellfire shirt over his head and throwing it across the room carelessly. Revealing his bare chest, a tattoo you’ve never seen decorating his left pec.

When his hands fumble with his belt, you quickly look away, trying to distract yourself with the posters on his wall as you feel warmth creep up your chest and into your cheeks.

When you hear him groan and his feet shuffling against the carpet, you take a chance in looking back at him. With barely open eyelids and sporting only his blue checkered boxers, he falls onto his bed with a huff. You pull his covers over him, huffing a sigh as you look over his probably already sleeping figure.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

When you’re met with silence, you flick his lights off and spare one last glance at him before leaving and shutting his bedroom door behind you.

You quickly cover his cake and grab your purse before making your way across the street to your trailer.

Heaviness hanging in your chest. It’s a far from unfamiliar sensation at this point. It’s the same heaviness that hasn’t left since the concert a week ago, now only intensified tonight with his drunken words and embrace.

Freshly changed into your pajamas, you spare a glance out your bedroom window to the trailer across the street. Only one thought lingering in your mind.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fem reader #one step away from you

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medra-gonbites · 4 months ago

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A Whirlwind of Caresses

A one shot chapter for @bloodweaveweek 2024

Day 5 | Sharess' Caress

Word Count: 1166

NSFW - Dub Con, Hurt/Comfort

When the drow twins proposed to them in the lavish showroom of Sharess’ Caress, Gale couldn't help but feel extremely uncomfortable. He thought of declining at first but was cut off by Astarion’s enthusiastic response.

"I'd like to try doing things like this again now I'm free to find my own desires." The vampire mewled, leaning on Gale's shoulder, leaving a tentative kiss on his cheek.

The two men had not had physical relations since their night together at the Tiefling party. Not that Gale minded at all. But he reckoned this was an important step for Astarion. It was Astarion’s chance to reclaim some agency, some ownership over his body: he had been deprived of it for so long.

Gale wanted to make his lover happy above all else. Casting his own insecurities aside, he accepted the offer. He would simply power through this. He might even enjoy it, if he persuaded himself enough.

They followed the two escorts to the underdark room. Nym Orlith was devouring Gale with her eyes. The mage felt naked before he even had the time to undress. She took his hand and placed it on the claps of her blouse, while Sorn was gently wrapping his arms around Astarion's hips and pulling him into a chaste kiss. Gale felt a little pinch in his heart, seeing his mouth claimed by someone else than him.

Delicately taking his chin between her index and thumb, the other drow guided Gale's head back to her and with a sultry voice, purred in his ear.

“Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight.”

Gale’s mouth became dry and his heart started pounding. Nym kissed him lavishly. She parted her lips and slipped her tongue in his mouth and Gale could taste her. Wine and cherry. Despite the sweet scent and gentleness of his temporary lover, Gale felt nauseous. With an assertive yet soft tuck, she steered him toward the bed. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sorn lightly pushing Astarion in the same direction.

All four of them converged there and fell onto the silk covers. Began a whirlwind of caresses: grinds, thrusts, pulls and pushes. There were tongues, and fingers and arms and legs. Slick and folds sliding across all sorts of flesh. A lewd melody composed of moans and wet squelches against the skin.

Gale was overwhelmed. He wanted to misty step away from this mess but he could not leave Astarion alone.

The wizard sought his lover’s gaze. He was laying at the far end of the bed on his side. Nym had her back to him, bucking into his hips and pressing a hand on his lower back to encourage and guide him. She faced Astarion and peppered his lips and neck with moist kisses while Sorn cradled him from behind, nipping at his shoulders and ears and running his hands up and down his chest and lower.

When Gale finally met Astarion’s eyes, a cold shiver crawled down his spine. They were empty, staring into nothing. He was passively submitting to the touch of the twins, giving them access to the spots on his body they desired to explore. A perfectly conditioned automaton, he stroked and patted and caressed and kissed the places that were sure to elicit moans and whimpers. Pliantly and impassable, he let himself be touched and groped and lapped and bitten without a word or an emotion.

Gale had seen enough. He reached over and grabbed Astarion's hand. With a flutter of his fingers and a deep murmur, he pulled at the strands of weave and a flash of yellow light engulfed both men as they both teleported away from the bed. Astarion blinked and looked around him, assessing his new position. Feet planted on the ground, his fingers intertwined in Gale’s, his eyes lively once more though still slightly dazed. He squeezed Gale’s hand, his relief evidenced by the immediat relaxation of his face and body.

The twins remained on the beddings, confused, before turning to their escaped guests.

“Apologies.” Gale declared, not the least bit sorry, “My partner and I would like to end this merry session here, if that’s all the same to you.”

Nym let out a disappointed moan, stretching her arms above her head. Her brother was already reaching for his abandoned garments on the floor.

“It is your money, wizard. Your wish is our command.” He chuckled.

“On that matter,” Gale added, “Would you mind us using the room for a little while longer?”

Nym was slipping into her blouse. She walked over to him on her way out the room, her hands ever so slightly brushing against his bare shoulder as she passed.

“You can take all the time you need…”

With the pair gone, Gale sat Astarion on the edge of the mattress. He kneeled down in front of him, cupping his cheek and examined his ruby eyes with an enamored and concerned look.

“Are you alright, my love?” He whispered.

“I am. And I’m sorry, I spoiled the fun… I thought I was ready”

The vampire looked down, as if ashamed by his coyness. Gale lifted his chin up to retrieve his gaze.

“You didn’t spoil anything… In fact, I didn’t really want this at all, but...”

Astarion frowned fiercely. His nostrils flared and he bare his fang with an outraged hiss. He was clearly furious.

“Why would you do something like this if you didn’t want to!” He shrieked.

“Because I thought that was what you wanted.” Gale stuttered, taken aback by the sudden anger of his partner.

Astarion grabbed the mage's head, his hands firmly clamping on each side of the other man's temples. His eyes were burning with indignation as he spoke.

“Never do that again! You hear me?!”

“Yes…” Gale breathed.

Astarion sighed, slowly calming himself down. He placed a gentle kiss on the wizard's lips, a token of his love and a sweet apology for his risen temper. He was about to get up from the bed when Gale pushed him backwards onto the silken sheets.

“Where are you going?” He playfully asked, joining him on the soft fabric, “We’ve got the room to ourselves, there are plenty of things we can still do!”

Astarion tensed up.

“Like what?” He hesitated.

Gale grabbed a pillow and gently lifted the other man's head in order to place it under it. He took a second one for himself and laid on his belly. He rested his head on the plump cushion, and winked mischievously.

“Nap!”

He kissed Astarion’s forehead and nuzzled next to him, closing his eyes and letting out a tired sigh.

Astarion remained immobile for an instant, eyes open wide in surprise before his lips stretched into a comfortable smile. In turn he kissed the brow of his lover, and let his eyes slowly close shut as he slipped into a well-deserved trance.

#bloodweave #gale x astarion #astarion x gale #galestarion #gale/astarion #astarion/gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #astarion #bloodweaveweek2024 #bloodweaveweek #bwweek #blood weave #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate fanfiction

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bird-inacage · 9 months ago

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The Heart Killers Trailer: Initial Observations (FirstKhao Edition)

I'd like to thank Jesus, Buddha, Santa, Thor, whatever holy BL spirits reside above, and all hail our lord and saviour P'Jojo. This exceeded my expectations of what was coming and then some. So here are my initial takeaways from the trailer that blew my head clean off.

General premise goes: By night, Fadel and Bison are assassins for hire, but they only kill who they deem are the 'bad guys' (most likely corrupt politicians, sketchy businessmen and the like). By day they run a seemingly ordinary restaurant. A cop asks tattoo artist Kant for his help is getting these two caught. He agrees on the basis that this will clear his criminal record. In order to keep Fadel distracted from his advances on Bison, Kant convinces his mechanic friend Style to woo him. I expect to see cat-and-mouse, games of deception type plot here which should be really good fun.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: BISON

Aside from the fact that Bison kills for a living, he actually seems like a sweetheart. He comes across as the more jovial, friendly and optimistic of the two brothers. He has no hesitation in offering to make special accommodations for Kant's dietary preferences. He seems to fondly prod his brother to open up to people, and to allow 'sunshine' into his life.

Fadel says, "Because I'm selective, not easy like you". "In this line of work, don't trust people too easily", a signposted concern that his little brother may struggle on this front. Seems to make a point of warning him to use his head rather than his heart.

Bison also tells Kant that his trust once lost means the person is question may as well be dead to him. If he does tend to trust easily, any betrayal would be understandably much more hurtful in his eyes.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: KANT

Kant's ulterior motive is what brings him to Bison in the first place. The two supposedly have a one night stand, which leads to Kant falling in love with him. Whilst both parties are hiding who they really are, and what they're really up to, Kant appears increasingly guilty and conflicted by this. "What if I'm not who you think I am. Would you hate me then?" But on the other hand his feelings of guilt go hand in hand with the knowledge that Bison's capture or downfall would be his ticket to get what he wants. A decision that has him trapped. He seems to question whether he should trust Bison and whether that will come back to bite him. "My brother always says, don't trust anyone too easily. Otherwise, you end up being the victim."

It also speaks volumes that a cop would approach Kant with this proposition. It means Kant is clearly very competent at what he does, and has side-hustled as a vigilante before. So Kant must be pretty cunning or smart. For example he appears to knock his knife off the table in the restaurant to test Bison's reflexes.

RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC

There's definitely a connecting theme of secrecy. Their intimacy is kept in secret due to Bison claiming his brother will kill them both if he finds out. Bison is keeping his murderous activities a secret (for obvious reasons). Kant is keeping his investigative activities a secret.

We can obviously expect this to all come to a head when the truth is revealed and identities are fully out in the open. Can Kant accept Bison for what he does and his lifestyle, potentially forgoing the possibility of clearing his record, in order to protect him? Can Bison forgive Kant for hiding his true motives, and trust him again - at the risk of both himself and his brother?

There will be a clear point of convergence between these two, when Bison starts to consider changing his life, if it means staying in Kant's. This echoes how Kant wants to clear his criminal record, perhaps in an attempt to wipe his slate clean so he can finally move on from whatever life he led before. There's a shared vision of moving away from the lifestyles that are bad for us.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS

STYLE / AESTHETICS: One thing P'Jojo knows how to do so well is create a distinct sense of style and atmosphere. This man is a pro at combining the right set design, styling, music and ambience to create a really identifiable flavour that is instantly recognisable. The music in this trailer is a friggin' BOP.

THE EFFING TATTOOS: I will say this till the end of time, but First as Yok was one of my favourite things ever. And seeing First with tattoos again just made me weak in the knees in all the best ways possible.

LEATHER GALORE: Khaotung in leather jackets. That's it. That's my observation. And I was staring. Very appreciatively may I add.

Also, the fact that Khao, who looks noticeably dinky next to the hulking giants of this cast is called Bison. BISON.

#the heart killers #the heart killers the series #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #kant x bison #bison x kant #khaofirst #firstkhao #how many times have i watched the trailer? YES

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ipegchangbin · 11 months ago

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— lines, lines, and more lines

hyunjin x reader | 4.5k words

♡ ... accompanying playlist. Hyunjin stared at the unfinished painting. It always seemed to stare back. And its eyes — it had none — looked like yours.

❥ angst. hurt, comfort. hopeful ending. ❥ not beta read. gender neutral reader (no pronouns). past breakup. declining mental health (depression). mentions of suggestive activity. exes to…

📝 happy valentine’s day! art & playlist by me. otherwise, enjoy.

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Should he have called you?

He loves all sorts of art. He has not once ever hated a single piece, thinking that all works were masterpieces in their own right.

Standing in the corner of the room, though, was a canvas he hated to see. Hyunjin didn’t dislike your unfinished painting, but he hated being reminded of what could’ve been.

It had been a year yet nothing in that corner of the room had changed. He always used the studio, of course, the large open workspace full of ideas that came to fruition and stored the ones that didn’t in unsealed paint cans and palettes with stories in them.

The room was littered — half-clean thanks to weekly maintenance — but not dusty. It was a calculated mess, typical for an artist, atypical for a depressed romantic.

Because all but one goddamn corner of the room changed. That one painting stood on that easel, paint dried yet not chipping once off its canvas.

It was supposed to be a portrait of his face. You finished the perimeter of his head, his bangs and mullet colored in, and an underpainting of his skin was in the works. His lips were as luscious as you used to claim — one of his favorite compliments, he wouldn’t admit — and they were frozen in an ever-present gentle smile. He didn’t have any eyes yet, but your rendition of him stared back at Hyunjin like a warped reflection in moving water.

Yet it seemed to stand still in time.

That’s why he called you. After months of no contact, he dialed you up at 2 AM in a state of slightly calmed panic. Hyunjin wasn’t thinking; he didn’t want to think, not anymore. All he wanted was to see you.

He bit his lips that you once said were luscious and full. The anticipation in his system only seemed to outweigh the feeling of his teeth clamping his lower lip.

Autopilot drew over his actions. Your phone rang. His own vibrated in his hand. He allowed the speaker to ring across the colorfully-decorated walls of the studio.

Please, pick up.

“Hello?”

Hyunjin blinked and suddenly he was back to where he was. The call had been over twenty minutes ago. It would be approximately ten more minutes before you’d arrive at his doorstep.

Was that really your voice that he heard?

Can’t be stupid, of course that was you. There was no mistaking the calm and soothing timbre of a voice that had just awoken, not from sleep, but from resting a stretch of time without speech.

Maybe he dreamt it up again? No, he didn’t. Then, why did he do that?

Hyunjin, are you fucking stupid? He couldn’t help his thoughts.

It’s no secret that he’d slip into that same blurry headspace, the one where he’d stop thinking and just do. Do things. Do whatever. It would take a bone to the head for him to even stop him at this state and it was painfully clear whenever he was in this trance.

He wouldn’t speak much. He’d pick up whatever he was supposed to hold and focus with deathly control. He’d zone in instead of out; this regularly occurred when he was painting, and he’d lose track of thought and simply keep going.

Is that why my works are more soulless lately? I don’t think when I make them. Hyunjin waved a hand in front of his sleepy eyes.

The downside to this was that, after the autopilot switches off, the flurry of thoughts would race and speed and subsequently crash. His thoughts were bullet trains that resumed motion and his head had tracks suddenly converging at a point. It’s wild, even to him, and he still isn’t sure if he’s gotten used to it yet.

All that he knew is that he missed you dearly.

You would know him better than he does. You would know how to comfort him. You would know — no, understand him better. Process his feelings more than he could ever do alone.

He never knew what love was until he loved you. He still loves you. It’s a love that eats away at him, as it’s the only love he knows.

It’s the only love he had. It’s the only love he lost.

Knock, knock, knock.

And it’s the only love that answers his call.

Startled by the sudden noise, Hyunjin got up from the dark amber floors of his well-loved studio and stopped staring at the painting.

It told him something. It seemed to know that someone was there. The artist behind his unfinished face, you, returned to his home no matter how absent-minded he seemed to be as he called you.

But he could leave the door unanswered. He could half-lie, pretend that he was drunk and fell asleep, text you a simple apology. It could be simpler.

But you were waiting so patiently by his door.

Curse you. Why have you always been patient with him? Why do you always wait for him? He didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve to date you then break up with you. He didn’t deserve to waste a single second of your time.

Even if you weren’t together anymore, why do you wait so loyally for him behind a door that won’t open in the dead middle of the night?

Hyunjin pondered whether or not to unlock the entrance and let you back into his life at least for one more fleeting moment.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said, guiding you through the halls of his house as if you hadn’t memorized it by now.

Maybe he wanted the moment to feel special all over again. After several months of calling it quits, he wanted to make it feel as if you re-entered a dream from where you left off.

Ignore that it looked nightmarish now. If it at least holds any bearing, it did feel like you picked up from where you left off, though.

The more you traversed the familiar walls you once called home, the more it seemed apparent that life and time both flowed and stopped within the house. Some things were stuck in time, like the one-fourth full shampoo bottle sitting in your former corner of his shower. The sink was newly wet, water still dripping from the porcelain. It wasn’t like you wanted to pry, but the bathroom door was wide open to begin with, the scene more apparent when you noticed Hyunjin sniffling behind you.

Did he break down in the restroom again?

You knew he always did that. He didn’t have the habit of keeping to himself, but when he didn’t want to display his vulnerability to you, the same bathroom became his space if an outlet. Drawings weren’t always an answer, especially if it was his job, so he’d sob in the restroom — and it seemed, in his dissociative episode, he cried for a minute before calling you.

You walked further into the house. Your steps creaked against the wooden flooring that he promised to fix several months ago — had it been a year?

Maybe so. You haven’t used the same brand of the three-fourths empty shampoo bottle since last year. You switched brands since you left him.

He must’ve noticed. Hyunjin always made it known to you that he loved taking whiffs of your scent when you once were lovers. Now that he was trailing behind you while simultaneously guiding you through the depressive home, he must’ve realized that once was a lavender-scented head became lemon and lime.

It was unfamiliar. It shouldn’t affect Hyunjin. It’s just you. You’ve changed, so did the house, so did he, but it wasn’t anywhere near your level of maturation and growth.

Because how the fuck does a change of shampoo beat an unchanging home?

“Hyune,” you called to him, “do you need help with anything over here?”

He blinked. Even he didn’t know why he called you.

“I thought you needed help with the furniture?”

Right…right? He said that? Caught up in the sight of you after months, Hyunjin didn’t even remember his own excuse. He just craved to see you. See the person you grew to become.

See the person who left for the sake of love.

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Hyunjin sniffled with a weak smile. “Had to move a table in our—the studio, but your stuff’s in there.”

A genuine shock washed over you. “Shit, I forgot some things? I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin shouldn’t be this delighted to see your emotions.

He always loved watching you talk. He listened with full observation, relishing in the way you expressed yourself because you were beyond entertaining. You were his opposite, but also his twin flame. So maybe that was why it burnt his chest with charred edges to see that you were so much more confident in your words.

Was it speech therapy? Was it freedom? Was it because you left him, that you learned to love yourself more? Was it really not him, but you? “It’s not you, it’s me?”

Shit. He was overthinking again. His temples started to hurt more than it did. Sweating and despairing and wondering when — if it would all end by staring at you long enough.

He led you through the corner leading up to the studio. The first thing you saw, thankfully, wasn’t the mess he was creating around the corner; it was your painting. The haunting aura of Hyunjin’s portrait seemed to surprise you, taking one step back on your left leg. The studio was rampant of Hyunjin’s constant and bustling work ethic and then there was your corner, pristine in the way that it hadn’t moved at all. The painting stared at you both. You wondered if that had really been the state at which you left it — the state at which you left him.

You’re not the same. There’s comfort in the fact that you’re still you, the you he fell for and cherished. The you that he deemed his darling. His co-artist, his muse.

Standing in his studio after months, taking a gander at your unfinished work; you have the same backside but your silhouette has changed. Hyunjin couldn’t seem to grasp it. How could he, when you were his one and only love?

“God, that thing’s still there,” you joked. For a moment, Hyunjin’s thoughts seemed to calm themselves as you both chuckled silently.

“It’s funny, I stare at your painting and it looks like it’ll never crack.” He pointed at the painting, forgetting about the furniture he pretended to need help with. “You haven’t even varnished it and yet I feel more brittle than it ever will be.”

There’s a solemn look in his eyes as he stared at the spitting image of him, albeit rough around the edges and eyeless.

“Bits and pieces of my heart chipped when you left,” he whispered, though you caught it.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from uttering the petname “darling.” Force of habit, even after months — yet nobody could blame him, especially after you left him to wonder what you both were.

He knew how to mix orange paint better than knowing the mix of emotions you gave him.

“I’m sorry?”

The guilt washed over his shoulders as he realized that he spoke aloud, suddenly hoping that you could just go back to furnitures. He pretended to clear his dusty table, only for your hand to catch his. Skin on skin had never felt this refreshing. He’d realized that he never had another being touch him after you left.

“No, nevermind, I—”

“Hyune, no, I’m sorry.” The sincerity in your voice gave him goosebumps that he hoped you hadn’t felt under your palm. “I didn’t think I’d affect you like this…”

“It’s nothing big, really,” he scoffed, his own eye bags from losing sleep over you proving him otherwise. Hyunjin started feeling weird, like his head was spinning and he could faint at any moment. He was losing balance while holding onto the table. All he wanted was for you to talk.

Your concern only ever grew. “But you even kept the painting like that. Why didn’t you just take it down?”

You turned to him after he gave no response.

He thought and thought until he lost himself in a sea of overwhelming ideas and questions. He tried to come up with answers until he concluded that these were the same questions he’d ask himself every single day as he worked in the same exact studio. If only his clutter could talk, they’d know his secret; he’d stare at your art in between his works and mourn.

Mourn the future he couldn’t have with you. Mourn the lost love.

“Couldn’t take it down I guess.” Hyunjin huffed, defeated. “I just…couldn’t.”

That’s when it hit you. A lot of things in his house were merely things he simply couldn’t let go of.

The shampoo bottle from earlier. The painting. Trinkets stacked in the corners of the hallway you slowly walked through were keychains that you and Hyunjin bought at art fairs together. The hat you’d been missing was hanging by the entrance all along, untouched. Some brushes in his studio were yours.

He’d been stuck in a limbo between the past and present, unable to see a future from the dust on his table. Hyunjin stood in silence as you both shared a knowing look.

A look you couldn’t even spare him when you left.

For the past months, he couldn’t stop fixating on the last time you made love — the night before you left. It was great, satisfying and full of sweat and tears, full of kisses and promises that you’ll be back someday. You were going to focus on yourself, that you realized that love isn’t for you if you didn’t love yourself first. Hyunjin believed in it. He believed in you. You weren’t lying, but you weren’t sure of your words either. You figured that was the point of leaving, so that you’d “come back” as a sure, secure, and mature person.

It’s just that the world had been so unkind to you both. The things that you used to enjoy with him became something of nothing, and you realized that it was your end that needed fixing. To you, coming back wasn’t a promise to Hyunjin. To him, it was something he was willing to wait for even until the next lifetime. Love to you was for yourself to grow and familiarize with, but love to him was something he only knew through you.

That was the last time he’d ever touched another person, let alone himself. That was the last time he had ever uttered “I love you.” But maybe, just maybe, you were too set on leaving to care about the sex. It was full of love to him but it was probably empty to you. It was probably one last promise that you wanted to fulfill—let go of. You didn’t even pack your shampoo bottles when you left.

Hyunjin sat on the ground, legs about to give in from the sheer weight of his emotions and thoughts. You followed suit, sitting beside him.

I feel weird again.

Hyunjin clutched his arms closer to his chest, squeezing his knees in between the embrace, trembling in fear of another barrage of racing thoughts consuming him, eating away at his space.

There was nothing he could do about it. It always just seemed to happen.

Everything hurt, his brain was throbbing, your presence alone was too much in his shitty abode that he calls a home, his studio is one shabby excuse of a room that shouldn’t have you in it, you didn’t deserve to be here, in his place, in his damned, shitty place—

“Hyune.”

You reached out behind yourself to grab his arm.

“You’re not okay.”

It took two full, quiet seconds before anything. You stared not at his arm, but his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious,” he tried to joke. Once he caught a glimpse of your unwavering concern, he looked back down.

You made the grip on his arm firmer. You stroked his forearm with your thumb. It seemed to ground your ex, but he still felt just as broken as he was earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I keep saying it but I don’t think it’ll ever be enough. I’m sorry I left you like this. I’m sorry I even left you. I just…you know that I had to do this for me, for us…”

You felt something in your throat. You swallowed it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me. I know how shitty it is and now, I’m here for you.”

Hyunjin wordlessly listened, nodding at your now-real and sincere promises. Tears were falling down his eyes in the same tracks his previous tear stains ran down.

Your painting had been staring at you this whole time, the strokes around the eyes sticking out like sore thumbs to him — they were more of pinky promises to you, left hanging and ignored yet still innocently waiting.

“Let’s fix that,” you sighed.

“What?”

You looked at Hyunjin with a smile, half fond and half despondent. “May I finish this real quick?”

Hyunjin simply stared at you. The tears in his eyes fell but he didn’t dare blink. His eyes were wide open, in awe of your smile, scorn growing in his chest that you are both incredibly hurt people.

He hated, still hates, and will always hate the way that this world wronged either of you to the extent that you smile with unhappiness.

Alas, you got up to finish your work, thinking he nodded when he didn’t.

You stumbled to get up on two legs, struggling in your trembling body to even put a hand on your knee to get up. It was less of heartbroken now and more of tired, emotionally exhausted, sleepy, and slightly frustrated at the sight of your unfinished work.

Though it was your painting that your chose to abandon for months, you finally took the brush and picked up a surprisingly active thinner and a semi-dry pigment — random color that you couldn’t bother to check — off his palette with its bristles. You started slashing in a semi-calculative fashion, not minding the strokes but rather the picture you were painting, burning butterflies from your brain right onto the canvas.

Hyunjin stared curiously with hands on his knees still close to his chest. The eyes that were promised on the canvas became less and less like his own until they weren’t.

And there they were, butterflies sitting on a portrait of his face.

“There,” you said, accomplished. For some reason though, the lump in your throat returned.

You figured it was the thought of slightly finishing in the way you never intended to. You remembered working on the piece while you were still together, promising to paint him a portrait as a signifier of your love for him. He sat in front of your easel for hours, not because you couldn’t paint his face right, but because you and him couldn’t finish your work from laughing together and talking endlessly.

You couldn’t get it done even if you wanted to just because he loved you so much. He loved you enough to make you smile and laugh. He loved you to the point of obsession and fixation. Nowadays, you aren’t sure how you feel about that, but then, it was refreshing and alive.

Maybe that’s what killed love for you. You didn’t want him and his explosive bouts of love to get in the way of your love for your work, your life, yourself. You loved him, you still do. It’s no question. So, what is it?

Is it that you didn’t love him the way he loved you?

You left to focus on yourself. You left to find the love that you needed for yourself. Or maybe, is this his consequence of loving too much?

Or did you not love him the same?

“It’s…” Hyunjin slowly spoke, “it’s so pretty.”

Your eyes sparkled at him. He was fixated on the butterfly in your painting.

“Your work is always so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you nervously said. The tears started to pool by your eyes. The nostalgia, the pain in his voice, the longing for you and him…was it all too much?

Hyunjin seemed to have an answer.

“Though we won’t be certain about what’s in store for us,” he mustered up the courage to say, “I’m certain that you’ll always be in my picture.”

“What if I don’t want to be in your picture anymore?” You asked.

Hyunjin’s lips shut.

You didn’t know what overcame you when you said that. The frustration of thoughts, from having to answer your ex’s call and seeing him break down like this, to questioning the love that you still have for him. It was all much.

“I’ll be hurt,” he sniffled, “I’ll respect it.”

While you were at it, you had to ask. “Is it selfish to say that I wish you didn’t love me so that you leaving would’ve been easier?”

A part of you wished this too much. You hoped that he could just move on. But again, how could he? How could he when you were his first, his supposed last? You were the one who taught him love and he loved you with his all. It’s not a love that you’re used to and it’s not a type of love you could give to him let alone yourself.

Your eyes shifted towards the painting again when he couldn’t answer, until you felt his hand reaching out for yours.

“I love you most. It isn’t selfish, but I think I’m selfish for still yearning. You just know me better than I know myself.” Hyunjin spoke with a sudden eloquence that gave you shivers.

It wouldn’t last long.

“Thank you.” You held his hand with your other. “But Hyunjin…you should know yourself better than most.”

“Darling—” His voice broke slightly. The habit creeped back, betraying his tongue as it chased you. “Y/N, I don’t even know anything, so how else am I supposed to do that with myself?”

It became trickier to respond as his tears exploded. “Then understand yourself,” you said, “It’s hard, it sucks, but look. You have to care for yourself before you get to love others.”

“Like you?” He asked with swollen, slightly bitten lips. “You know yourself.”

“I don’t. Not yet. Not completely.”

Hyunjin nodded with sorrow in his eyes. “It’s just…”

He took a deep breath as he glanced at the butterfly. It seemed like a breed of bug that would be free in the wind. He wished to become that, a wandering creature with beauty and nothing in its simple mind but the love of life.

Hyunjin exhaled.

“I’ve been trying to accept that you left because you found yourself, and I’m happy for you. But I can’t help myself. I can’t help but think about you. I can’t help but miss you. I can’t help thinking about how you are, I can’t help staring at the things you left for me, I can’t help the thought that—”

You don’t love me.

“That…th-that…you’re better off without me.”

Holding his hand tighter, you urged him to look at you. “Hyunjin…that isn’t the case. At all.”

“Yet I can’t help it. I…I can’t lose you.” He started choking in his words. “I see my own portrait and all I’ll think about is you.”

Words started to hit like pangs to your chest. He’s right; it’s difficult to separate the art from the artist especially in your circumstances. He couldn’t let the notion of you go at all.

“You painted it. You stared at me. I’ll never forget the concentrated face you made while drawing me. It all goes back to you, and I love you, and I just…”

“Hyunjin…”

“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear any of this. It’s so early, I…” He gulped and bit his bottom lip. “And I can’t kick you out now. God. I’m so fucking stupid…”

Pity and sincere concern washed over you. “You aren’t.” You’ve been in this scene before, back when you were together. Hyunjin’s grateful that you still have the right words to say. “Hyune…I still care for you deeply. I love you.”

“I love myself too and I’m sorry I prioritized myself. I left you in the dark. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tilted his head at that. “No. You deserve to be happy.” He’s right, there was no need to be sorry for choosing yourself when he could only choose you too.

You tried to smile. “Hyune, I always hope that you’ll be happy too.”

A few seconds of silence passed before a glint amidst your ex’s crying appears in his very real eyes.

“We can go back to painting maps. I hope by then, you’ll find yourself too.”

Profound words became skipped heartbeats. If you knew what to say, then he would always be ahead. That’s what you loved about him.

“If I do find it…the way back…” Hyunjin stuttered, “Will you come back to me too?”

“Maybe.” You smiled. “There’s a point that fate will take me to. Hope to meet you at that point.”

The both of you prepared coffee as purple streaks of daylight broke into the sky. You caught up with yourselves and shared a few jokes over the dining table. It had been a while since Hyunjin — nor you — felt this kind if human connection again. The bitterness of the caffeine and sweetness of the sugar would be fitting for you both if it weren’t for the fact that you both downed your drinks with ease, just as you would before.

Things are different, things are the same. Hyunjin promised to be healthier. You picked up one of his extra paper bags and got some of your stuff.

“Hyune, I want to apologize one last time,” you turned to him. “Sorry I pulled the “it’s not you, it’s me” thing even if I knew next to nothing either. And sorry for leaving this.”

You held up the unopened shampoo bottle next to your head. Hyunjin blinked before smiling fondly.

“Do you still want it?”

“Well, you probably need it.”

“I have stock of a new one at home. I miss this one though. Do you mind?”

Familiarity returned at last once you gave him the look with the big, curious eyes.

Hyunjin realized that you, no matter the distance, were never going to be too far from his heart.

Like a butterfly, it always returns to the flowers. Chipped paint can be retouched with new, brighter pigment. Love isn’t off the table, it changes — it grows. Maybe it branches in different directions, but just like butterflies, they don’t fly in straight paths.

He smiled wider when he realized he took too long to respond.

“Not at all.”

#skz angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #stray kids x reader #💬 z is writimg

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a-driftamongopenstars · 3 months ago

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apogee; crow x f!guardian ficlet

thinking about the final shape today and rotating my blorbos (crow and cherish), so have some feelsy fic I Guess. my heart 😭 also on ao3

How strange for all of them to reunite within the Traveler, yet stranger things have happened. Nightfall comes, and their plans are at a halt as bottles are passed around and their bodies demand recharging.

They take a much needed moment of respite. Ikora meditates, Zavala and Cayde talk quietly to the side, while Crow and Cherish huddle side by side on the ground, their backs pressed against a stack of crates. They are facing the ever-swirling portal of the Traveler, watching it, almost hypnotized.

Even in a moment of danger, this feels serene. The Traveler's presence envelopes them into a blanket of safety, of reassurance, even if it needs it more than they do.

Crow's fingers slide between Cherish's, while she turns her face to press her lips against his. Their kiss vacillates between passion and tenderness, and they catch seconds for air.

When either one is out of breath, Cherish presses her head against Crow's face.

"I've missed you," she whispers, putting every day of those longest months in her words. And every day she did, ever since Crow left through the portal. Every day she prayed to the Traveler that he would be safe within its embrace.

"I did too," Crow echoes. She believes him, wholeheartedly.

They hold each other's hands and watch the sky. The night is beautiful, deep and meaningful. An occasional star falls across it, a spark of Light, distant and yet not. Every now and then the ground beneath them heaves as the Traveler gasps for freedom. But it is strong to wait and to give its warriors, its Guardians, a moment to prepare for what's to come.

"It reminds me of our stargazing back in EDZ," Cherish says with a small smile on her face.

"I doubt we shall find the same constellations here."

"No, but it is just as good. Actually, I don't care where we do it. As long as..." she looks up at Crow, her thumb resting over this chin, "...we are side by side."

Crow kisses her fingertip, leaning into the cup of her palm. Cherish bites on her lip, bidding away the tears that have been threatening to spill for hours now. Instead, she focuses on the warmth of Crow's cheek, on the Awoken markings that line his face, on the glow of his eyes. How lucky is she that this is the face she gets to love, for years now?

"Keep safe tomorrow, yeah?" Crow whispers. "It'd be... sad if anything were to happen to you. After everything."

"Says who," Cherish smiles, but even her smile is bittersweet. "I'll be fine. And you will. We have to be."

She makes a promise for him. They are at the end of the road, all the paths they have taken, all the choices they've made, all converging on this point, on this hour. Deep inside, they are both frightened.

But their duty calls, and their Light is to be tested by the highest power. But as long as there is something to come back to, someone, it might all just be possible.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 fanfiction #guardian x crow #yw x crow #the young wolf x crow #the guardian #the crow #cherish #fanfiction #driftcreates #i love them so much i'm ASDFG

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breyito · 5 months ago

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Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.” His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket. “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left.

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years.

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch.

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back, and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed.

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside.

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down.

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back.

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled.

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard.

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped.

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street. But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical.

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .”

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin.

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue. They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again.

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled. She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight.

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her.

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications.

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. ��Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical.

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use.

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch.

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper.

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup.

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy.

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

#fear your sins not your monsters #payneland #painland week #edwin payne #charles rowland #edwin x charles #dead boy detectives #dbda

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

right people, wrong place — nanami kento.

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?” The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly. “I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” he said quietly, almost like an admission of guilt. “But this was always going to be the cost.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, angst, marriage separation, salvaging the marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, car-fuck, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, hurt/comfort, alcohol, crying, drunk, emotional, pining, happy ending, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of breakdown of a marriage, depiction of alcoholic beverages, depiction of getting drunk, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, sorcerer! nanami, non-sorcerer! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7.7k words.

NOTE: finally!!! im putting out this chapter on my birthday which is crazy but i feel like putting it out on my birthday shows how much i really love nanami. i really wondered a lot how to do this because i don't think nanami's the sort of person who would end up hurting his lover/partner like this. but hm, i suppose it works out in the end!!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this a lot like i did!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

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IN YOUR YEARS LIVING, YOU’D NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN. You never thought you would find yourself in this position, but sometimes marriages just don't last. It’s been a while since your husband, Nanami Kento, and you became estranged. His constant absence, wrapped up in his work as a sorcerer, eventually took precedence over your marriage.

At first, you understood, even tried to be patient. But over time, the long hours, missed moments, and growing distance became too much to bear. You found yourself frustrated, feeling as though you were competing with a world you couldn’t fully understand or be a part of.

Slowly, that frustration turned into resentment. Despite your efforts to keep things together, the silence between you grew louder. Eventually, the separation felt inevitable. Now, standing on the other side of it, you reflect on the painful truth: sometimes love isn't enough when life pulls you in different directions.

You sighed, staring at the empty side of the bed where Kento used to sleep. The memories of better days flickered in your mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. The silence of your apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of the outside world.

“Did you ever regret it?” you whispered, almost as if speaking to the ghost of your past, hoping for an answer you knew wouldn’t come. “Did you ever think… maybe I was worth staying for?”

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself for even asking the question. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew how much responsibility weighed on Kento's shoulders. Being a sorcerer wasn’t just a job; it was a duty. But sometimes, you wished he would have chosen you, just once, over the weight of the world.

Your minds rushed to those memories again. That night when he left the house. You looked as he packed everything he could carry. His clothes, his books… small pieces of a life you once shared now reduced to what he could fit into a suitcase. The silence between you stretched, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, almost suffocating.

“Is this really it, then?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had hung in the back of your mind for months, but now, with him standing here, packing the last remnants of your life together, it felt real. Permanent.

Kento paused, his hand resting on one of his neatly folded shirts. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all you can say? After so many years?.....Kento....this is…” you replied, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Not even a reason?”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he still didn’t turn around. “If I say something, it would be a fight and then that fight would hurt you and I again. Do you really want that?”

“No, I don’t.” you shot back, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “But maybe it should. Because then I would know if it actually mattered. Because it didn’t feel like it mattered, Kento. It felt like I was always second place to your work, to the missions, to everything else.”

He finally turned to face you, his expression unreadable but the exhaustion in his eyes undeniable. “I never wanted it to be like this. But you knew what I was from the beginning. Being a sorcerer… it’s not something you can just walk away from.”

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.

“I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” he said quietly, almost like an admission of guilt. “But this was always going to be the cost.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to your own ears. “So that’s it? We were just collateral damage to your sense of duty?”

Kento didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the suitcase with a soft click, the finality of it settling like a stone in your chest. “I thought I could do both. I thought I could be there for you and still do what needed to be done. But I was wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, waiting for something more—an apology, a plea, anything. But all you got was that same calm, distant resolve that had driven you apart in the first place.

He picked up the suitcase, his fingers tightening around the handle. “Goodbye.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and the emptiness of the apartment swallowed you whole. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. It was over.

But somehow, it still didn’t feel like closure.

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EVERYTHING THAT CAME AFTER WAS HARD. In the days that followed, the silence in your apartment became both a comfort and a curse. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but for the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uncertainty was gone.

Kento was gone, too. But in a way, that absence, painful as it was, felt like a step toward something else. Healing, maybe. And it didn’t help, how empty the rooms were. Half of his belongings were gone and packed up when you weren’t in the apartment.

It was slow at first. You’d wake up some mornings expecting him to be there, just a shadow of his presence lingering in the air. You’d make coffee for two out of habit, only to pour the second cup down the sink. Little reminders of him still clung to the edges of your life, and each one was like a small tug at the thread of your resolve.

But as the weeks turned into months, you started to piece yourself back together. You learned how to be alone without feeling lonely, how to fill the spaces he left behind with your own life. You started to find joy in the little things again—quiet mornings with a book, walks in the park, laughing with friends who had long been neglected while you tried to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Still, there were moments, late at night when the world went still, that the ache of missing him crept back in. It was like a dull, persistent pain—manageable, but never quite gone. You’d find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, too. If he ever would come back and say that he regrets walking away.

Because the truth was, you still loved him. Deeply. And that was the hardest part. No matter how much you tried to move forward, to heal, the love you had for Nanami Kento never fully disappeared. It lingered, bittersweet and aching, tucked into the corners of your heart.

Some nights, you found yourself replaying those last moments with him—the way he stood in the doorway, his back turned to you, the finality of his goodbye. You couldn’t help but wonder if things could have been different. If you had fought harder, if he had tried just a little more. But those thoughts always led to the same conclusion: no matter how much you loved him, love wasn’t enough to fix what had broken between you.

And yet, despite everything, there was still a part of you that wanted him back. It was foolish, you knew that. But the heart rarely listens to reason. You missed the way he made you feel safe, even when everything else in your world felt uncertain. You missed the way he’d brush his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while reading or the quiet moments where words weren’t needed because you both just… understood.

But loving him came with a cost, one you couldn’t ignore. You knew that being with him meant sharing him with a world that constantly demanded more of him than you could ever give. It meant always being second place, always waiting for him to come home, always wondering if this time would be the last.

You weren’t sure if you could live like that again.

It was hard, knowing that despite how much better you were feeling, the part of you that still longed for him wasn’t ready to let go. You tried to distract yourself—work, hobbies, anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of something that reminded you of him—a certain tie in a shop window, a scent in the air—and the pang of longing would hit you all over again.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourself standing at the edge of your balcony, staring out at the sunset. The sky was painted in hues of gold and pink, the world so quiet and still that it almost felt like a dream. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he were here beside you. If, somehow, you could make it work. If the love you had was enough to outweigh everything else.

But as the colors faded and dusk settled in, you realized something—wanting him, loving him, would always be part of you. But so would the pain. And maybe, just maybe, the best thing you could do was let both of those things exist without trying to fix them. To let the love you still had for him be a memory, something you carried with you but didn’t let define you anymore.

It was hard. But you were learning that sometimes, healing isn’t about forgetting the past. It’s about accepting it and finding a way to move forward anyway. Even if part of you will always wish things had been different.

You sighed, staring at the empty side of the bed where Nanami used to sleep. The memories of better days flickered in your mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. The silence of your apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of the outside world.

“Did you ever regret it?” you whispered, almost as if speaking to the ghost of your past, hoping for an answer you knew wouldn’t come. “Did you ever think… maybe I was worth staying for?”

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself for even asking the question. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew how much responsibility weighed on Nanami's shoulders. Being a sorcerer wasn’t just a job; it was a duty. But sometimes, you wished he would have chosen you, just once, over the weight of the world.

The doorbell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. For a moment, your heart raced—an absurd part of you hoped it was him. But you quickly brushed the thought aside. That chapter was closed. Or so you tried to convince yourself.

When you opened the door, there he stood—Nanami Kento.

“I came to pick up the rest of my things.” he said, his voice low and steady, as if the weight of the words didn't matter. But they did. Every syllable felt like a punch to your chest.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in, though the sight of him in the apartment again felt like a knife twisting in an old wound. He walked past you without another word, heading to what used to be your shared bedroom. It was strange—after all the time that had passed, he still moved like he belonged here, like nothing had changed. But everything had.

You followed him, your footsteps quiet as you watched him start gathering his things. His clothes, his books… small pieces of a life you once shared now reduced to what he could fit into a suitcase. The silence between you stretched, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, almost suffocating.

“This is it, huh?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had hung in the back of your mind for months, but now, with him standing here, packing the last remnants of your life together, it felt real. Permanent. “Is….is this what’s left?”

Kento paused, his hand resting on one of his neatly folded shirts. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything, everything.” you replied, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “I just want to know if any of it ever mattered to you.”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he still didn’t turn around. “You know it did. You matter to me. More than you know.”

“Did I?” you shot back, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Because why have I never felt it? When will I feel it?”

He finally turned to face you, his expression unreadable but the exhaustion in his eyes undeniable. “I showed you everything I could. I gave you everything I could. Was that never going to be enough for you?”

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.Nanami didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the box with a soft touch, the finality of it settling like a stone in your chest.

“I thought I could do both. I thought I could be there for you and still do what needed to be done. But I was wrong.”

He picked up the rest of his belongings, his fingers tightening around the handle. “I have to go.”

But somehow, it still didn’t feel like closure.

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YOU DIDN’T EAT MUCH IN THE PAST FEW DAYS. But that was to be expected. You couldn’t eat in the place where you had so many memories. Yet you were feeling unwell as time went on and so slowly, gently, patiently — you tried to be good to yourself. Tried to be understanding. Going through separation, this suffering, it was never going to be easy.

The silence in your apartment became both a comfort and a curse. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but for the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uncertainty was gone.

The emptiness felt different now. It wasn't just about loss or absence; it was about space—space to breathe, to think, to feel without the constant dread lurking in every corner. Still, the quiet held an echo of everything you had left behind, and that made moving forward all the more difficult.

But as the weeks turned into months, you started to piece yourself back together. You learned how to be alone without feeling lonely, how to fill the spaces he left behind with your own life.

You started to find joy in the little things again—quiet mornings with a book, walks in the park, laughing with friends who had long been neglected while you tried to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Still, there were moments, late at night when the world went still and you’re watching television alone by yourself — you could feel that the ache of missing him crept back in.

It was like a dull, persistent pain—manageable, but never quite gone. You’d find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, too. If he ever regretted walking away. Or if he missed you just as much as you did.

But you had to move on. Life wasn’t going to wait for you to get better, to be better. It demanded that you keep going, even when you weren’t sure how to, even when the ghost of what you had still weighed heavy on your soul.

So, you kept going, step by step. Some days were easier than others, filled with the distractions of work, the warmth of sunlight on your skin, and conversations that pulled you out of your own head. Other days were harder—when memories of him resurfaced without warning, when a familiar scent or an old song hit you with the force of a tidal wave, threatening to drown you in nostalgia.

But you had learned by now how to weather those moments. You’d remind yourself that healing wasn’t linear, that some days you would falter, and that was okay. You had to let yourself feel the sadness, the longing, without letting it consume you.

And in time, you began to see the future more clearly, not just as a continuation of what you lost but as something entirely new. You began to make plans for yourself, not the version of you that existed with him but the person you were becoming on your own. You started to imagine new possibilities—new experiences, new places, and maybe even, eventually, new love.

But for now, it was enough to simply live. To wake up each morning with the quiet acceptance that the pain would fade, slowly, until it was just another part of you, like a scar that healed over time. And though Nanami Kento would always hold a piece of your heart, you knew that piece was no longer all you had. There was more to you, more to your life, and you would find it, one day at a time.

And maybe, tonight was just one of those nights you didn’t plan. Tonight was one more night where you tried to forget. It was just a spontaneous meeting with the friends you made because of your estranged husband.

In a way, you think that Shoko and Utahime, were the only people who had really been there for you throughout this entire mess. You met up at a quiet bar tucked away in a corner of the city, a place that felt far removed from the chaos of sorcery and everything that came with it.

Shoko sat across from you, her usual laid-back demeanor a source of steady comfort, while Utahime leaned in, her voice soft and warm, coaxing you into laughter with her lighthearted banter. The night had started out innocent enough—a few drinks, some stories, and shared frustrations. But as the alcohol flowed, so did your emotions.

“Honestly.” you groaned, swirling your drink before downing it, “I don’t even know what I miss more—him, or the idea of what we could’ve been if his work didn’t always come first.”

Shoko raised her glass, giving you a sympathetic smile. “It’s never easy, is it? Being with someone like him. The duty comes first. Always.”

Utahime nodded, her eyes full of understanding. “But that doesn’t make what you feel any less valid. You loved him. That doesn’t just disappear.”

The alcohol in your system made you bolder, more honest than you’d been in a while. You leaned forward, placing your elbows on the table, and slurred slightly, “It’s not fair, you know? I tried, I really did. But how long am I supposed to wait? How many nights am I supposed to spend alone, wondering if he’s even coming back?”

Shoko reached across the table and squeezed your hand gently. “You’re not supposed to wait forever. You deserve more than that.”

But instead of finding solace in her words, you found yourself feeling more emotional, the weight of everything you’d been holding back finally cracking open under the influence of too much alcohol. A tear slipped down your cheek, and before you could stop it, you were sobbing into your hands, overwhelmed by a mix of heartache and frustration.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Utahime said softly, sliding into the seat beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re doing great. This is just… part of the process.”

Shoko, usually so calm and collected, looked a little more concerned than usual. “Okay, I think it’s time to slow down on the drinks, girlie.” she said, gently pulling your glass away from you.

But you were too far gone to care. The mix of pain, regret, and alcohol had you in a place where you didn’t want to think anymore—you just wanted to feel something, anything other than the ache of missing him.

You let out a half-laugh, half-sob and raised your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m a mess! A total mess! And you know what? I miss him. I still miss him even after everything!”

Utahime tried to keep you grounded, but your emotions were all over the place. “We know. We get it. Just breathe.”

Shoko sighed, reaching for her phone. “I think we might need backup here.”

You were too busy giggling uncontrollably to notice her dialing a number, the alcohol buzzing in your veins, making you feel invincible, heartbroken, and foolish all at once.

“I’m calling Nanami.” Shoko said, her voice firm as she stepped away to speak quietly into the phone.

The name hit you like a punch in the chest, and suddenly, the laughter was gone, replaced by a pit of regret. “Wait… Shoko, no. Don’t… don’t call him.” you mumbled, slumping against the table.

But it was too late.

Half an hour later, as the bar started to empty out and the world around you became a blurry haze, you felt a familiar presence. Nanami Kento stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable, though his posture was tense, like he wasn’t sure what to expect. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on you—wild-eyed and completely drunk, your face flushed from crying and too many drinks.

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a glance as Nanami walked over to the table. “She… might’ve had a bit too much tonight, you know?” Utahime said sheepishly, standing up to give him space.

Nanami didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you—really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time in months. You could see the subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, even if his face remained calm, composed.

You, on the other hand, were a mess. “Kento….” you slurred, your voice thick with emotion. “Why did you come?”

He crouched down beside you, his voice low but steady. “Shoko called me.”

You frowned, trying to process that. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid. You wanted to say so many things—to tell him how much you missed him, how much it hurt to love him, but your thoughts were too muddled, and the alcohol made everything feel distant and surreal.

Nanami sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Let’s get you home.”

Too tired and drunk to argue, you leaned into his touch, letting him guide you out of the bar. As he helped you into the passenger seat of his car, you felt a pang of sadness wash over you. Even in this state, the warmth of his presence made you remember why you had fallen in love with him in the first place.

But as the car started and the city lights blurred by, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you’d ever be to him now—a fleeting responsibility, a problem to fix.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you glanced over at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you still care, Kento?”

For the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Of course I care.” he said quietly, almost like it hurt to admit it. “I always have….I always will.”

But as the darkness of the night pulled you under, you couldn’t help but think that maybe caring just wasn’t enough.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the distant noise of the city filling the silence between you and Nanami. You leaned your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your flushed skin, the alcohol still buzzing faintly in your veins. Everything felt muted, distant, as if you were floating just outside yourself, watching the scene unfold from afar.

Nanami’s presence was steady, calm as always, but there was something different about it tonight—something almost tender in the way he glanced over at you every few moments, checking to see if you were okay. He was a man of few words, but the weight of everything left unsaid between you felt heavy in the small space of the car.

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythmic motion of the car lull you into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Your thoughts drifted in and out, a hazy mix of memories and half-formed feelings. The pain of your separation, the love you still held for him, the impossible wish that things could’ve been different.

“Do you need anything?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something restrained.

You shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts through the alcohol fog, but the room spun, and you could feel the tears welling up again, unbidden and unwelcome. The frustration, the love, the hurt—all of it crashed over you at once, too heavy to hold in any longer.

“I miss you, Kento.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I just…..I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

He didn’t respond right away, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. Afraid of the truth you already knew—that no matter how much you wanted him, how much you loved him, some things were just too broken to fix. Your face contorted in distress as you felt like you were going to hurl.

Kento stopped the car on a quiet side of the road and took a breath. He moved towards your side of the vehicle. He opened the door and brushed his hands on your back as though to soothe you. But nothing came out of you. Instead, you were just hiccupping. Tears were falling down your face by this point, as your eyes met his.

Nanami Kento sighed softly, kneeling down in front of you. He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with the back of his hand, his touch gentle, hesitant. “You shouldn’t have to feel like this about me, about everything.” he murmured, his voice low, filled with regret. “You shouldn’t let this hurt you. Not anymore—”

“But you did.” you cut him off, your voice cracking. “Every time you left, every time you put your work first… it felt like I didn’t matter.”

He bowed his head, the weight of your words sinking into him. “I know.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of the couch beneath you. “I loved you, Kento. I still love you. But I don’t know if I can keep doing this… if I can keep feeling like I’m waiting for something that will never come.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for the first time in a long while, you saw something break in his calm façade. “I never wanted you to wait. But I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know….I didn’t know how to stop saving people.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty, made your heart ache even more. You could see it now—his struggle, his conflict between the duty he felt as a sorcerer and the love he had for you. But that didn’t change the fact that you had spent so long feeling alone, abandoned in a relationship that demanded more from you than you could give.

“Why did you come tonight?” you asked, your voice shaky, desperate for answers. “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

Nanami was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I couldn’t. No matter how much I tell myself it’s better for you if I stay away… I can’t stop caring about you. Nor could I just….Nor could I just leave you like that. You don’t need to be alone, not like this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was the truth you had always known, deep down—that he loved you, that he cared. But caring wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between the life he led and the one you needed. And that was the most painful part.

“I don’t know how to stop loving you.” you admitted, tears streaming down your face now, unrestrained. “But I also don’t know how to keep living like this. I don’t want to keep living like this.”

Nanami looked at you then, his expression conflicted, torn between his duty and the love he had for you. “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could be what you need.”

His honesty only made the hurt deeper, and you choked back a sob, turning your face away from him. “I wish that too, Kento. But wishing doesn’t make it real.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the silence heavy and suffocating. Nanami stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

“If you ever need me.” he said quietly, his back to you, “I’ll be there. Always. No matter what. I…I’m telling you the truth.”

His voice was low, a smooth, steady rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The way his fingers touched your skin, soft yet firm, made your breath catch in your throat. You hated how even now, after everything, he still had this effect on you. Your body, your heart—they responded to him instinctively, as if drawn to him by some invisible force you couldn’t control.

Your eyes met his, those deep, unwavering eyes that had always been so hard to read. Dark, focused, filled with an intensity that both excited and terrified you. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for your answer, his thumb brushing lightly against your lower lip. The heat between you was palpable, electric, pulling you closer despite the distance you had tried so hard to create between your lives.

But it wasn’t just lust. It was the ache of wanting something you knew you could never fully have.

“I—” You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you fought to find the words. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

It was the truth. You were caught between desire and heartbreak, between the pull of your body and the ache in your chest.

Nanami’s gaze softened slightly, though his hand remained firm against your chin. “You can always tell me. Even if you don’t know, I’m here to listen.”

His lips were inches from yours now, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your breath hitched, and you felt the throbbing in your core intensify, the need rising within you. But it wasn’t just physical—it was the need to feel close to him again, to bridge the distance between you, if only for a moment.

His thumb grazed your lip again, this time slower, more deliberate. “Tell me what you need.” he whispered, his voice like silk, coaxing you to let go of everything you were holding back.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes fluttered shut for just a second, your resolve slipping away. You wanted him—needed him—but the weight of everything between you still clung to the edges of your mind.

“I want…” you began, your voice trembling as you opened your eyes to meet him once more. “I want you. But I don't want you.”

There it was. The painful truth, laid bare between you.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe understanding. He leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I know.” he said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

But even as he apologized, his hand slid down from your chin to the curve of your neck, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path that sent waves of heat coursing through your body. You inhaled sharply, your resolve crumbling further with every second that passed.

He always knew how to touch you, how to make you forget the pain, the doubts, the distance. It was intoxicating, the way he could pull you in without even trying, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but lean into it. Into him.

His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but he didn’t close the gap. He never did—he always waited for you to make the choice, to cross that line. He gave you control, even when it felt like you had none.

“What do you want?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a breath as his hand settled at the base of your neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

You could feel the tension coiling in your body, the way your heart raced, the way every nerve seemed to be on fire. You wanted to push him away, to tell him that this wasn’t right, that you couldn’t keep doing this. But the pull of him was too strong, and your body betrayed you.

“I want…...” The words caught in your throat, your breath shaky, your lips barely an inch from his. “I want you to make me forget.”

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the pain, not the past, not the uncertainty of what the future held. All that mattered was the feel of his hand on your skin, the way his eyes never left yours, the way his presence grounded you and made you feel alive all at once.

Nanami’s lips finally brushed against yours, a soft, tentative kiss that sent a shock of electricity through your body. You responded instinctively, pressing into him, the taste of him familiar and yet still enough to set your senses ablaze.

His other hand slid down your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. You moaned softly into his mouth, your body melting against him, your mind blissfully empty of everything except him.

For just this moment, you let yourself forget. Forget the hurt, the separation, the longing that had been eating at you for months. Right now, all that existed was the heat between you, the way his hands moved over your body, the way his lips claimed yours with a tenderness that both healed and hurt.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself fall into the moment, into him, knowing that tomorrow would bring all the same questions and heartache. But for tonight, you let yourself be with him, no matter how fleeting it might be.

The kiss lingered, both tender and desperate, a blend of longing and unresolved emotions that seemed to pulse between you. Nanami’s hands roamed your body with a careful intensity, as if he were trying to memorize every curve, every shiver that ran through you. His touch was both familiar and achingly new, a reminder of what you once had and what you had been missing.

You clung to him, your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer as if you could erase the months of separation with just this physical connection. Every touch, every caress felt like a balm to the wound that had been left open for so long.

But even as the moment enveloped you, reality kept its sharp edge. Every kiss, every touch was a reminder of the distance that had come between you, the reasons you’d tried so hard to move on. The passion that ignited between you was a bitter-sweet symphony, playing a melody of both desire and regret.

Nanami broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of yearning and sadness, the weight of everything unsaid pressing heavily between you.

“I’m so sorry.” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “For everything.”

You could only nod, your throat tight, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “I know.” you managed to say, your voice trembling. “I know.”

He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had silently fallen. “You mean everything to me, you know?” he said softly, his gaze unwavering. “But I know I can’t just come back and expect everything to be okay.”

You nodded again, tears blurring your vision as you tried to process the complexity of the moment. The feelings between you were still raw, unhealed, and the reality of your situation pressed down hard on both of you. You wanted to hold onto him, to keep him close, but the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future loomed large.

Kento's massivehands slowly slid from your face to your shoulders, his touch grounding and reassuring. “We can’t go back to how we were.” he said softly, a note of resignation in his voice. “I can’t promise you that everything will be perfect.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions. “I don’t expect perfection,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just… I just want to know that you still care, that there’s still something left between us.”

He looked at you with a deep sadness in his eyes, as if he were trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. “I care,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know. But we both need to heal, to figure out what’s next. I can’t keep coming and going, leaving you with more pain.”

You swallowed hard, trying to reconcile his words with the longing you still felt. “What happens now?” you asked softly, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air.

Nanami sighed, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “I don’t know.” he admitted.

“Me neither.” You whisper to him as your eyes echoed to him and narrowed. “But I want you to love me. Tonight. Right now.”

“But—”

You kissed him, hungry and passionate. You pull at his jaw, wanting him closer than ever before. You want him near. You want him enveloping you. As though an embrace that would lock you away in his warmth for the rest of your lives. It was as though the fire of young love reawakened after a long hibernation. And you want more than anything this spring, this warmth of spring. His love.

Kento hesitates for a moment, his gaze heavy with concern and desire, before he finally whispers, "Are you sure?"

You nod, breathless, your hands trembling as you reach for him. "I'm sure, Kento. I want you… I've always wanted you."

His resolve falters, and he leans forward, capturing your lips again with a fervor that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. His hands slide over your back, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of his body pressing against you. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips, coaxing you open to taste him, to feel him.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting, your breaths mingling in the confined space of the car. There's a moment where neither of you speaks, just staring at each other, the weight of your shared desire hanging in the air.

Kento's hand moves between your legs, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and you shiver at the contact. He’s gentle at first, almost hesitant, but when he sees the way your body responds, a low growl escapes his throat. He’s lost in the moment, his mouth descending to taste you, his tongue working deftly to unravel every ounce of pleasure he can from you.

You gasp, your back arching against the seat as his tongue dances over your most sensitive parts, his spit mixing with your own arousal. His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you like a man starved, each stroke and flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge.

When you finally break, a cry tearing from your throat, he doesn’t hesitate. He lifts you easily, pulling you onto his lap, his lips finding yours again in a messy, desperate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, the tang of your desire mingling with his own.

He fumbles with his pants, freeing himself from the constraints, and you feel the heat of him, hard and ready, pressing against you. Your eyes meet, and for a moment, there’s a silent understanding — a shared want that transcends words.

With a quiet groan, he grips your hips, guiding you over him, his breath catching as he finally pushes inside. You both gasp, a moan escaping your lips as he fills you completely, your bodies moving in a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. He clings to you, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, and you cling back just as fiercely, not wanting this moment to end.

“I won't stop anymore." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear, and you know he means it — neither of you want to stop.

Kento’s words hang heavy in the air, igniting something primal within you. You shift your hips, pressing down harder, taking him deeper, and a guttural sound escapes his lips, his hands digging into your waist as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

He starts moving, thrusting up into you with a roughness that takes your breath away. You hold onto his shoulders for balance, your nails digging into his skin, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

You couldn't help but groan over and over with every sensual movement, the windows fogging up as the air grows thick with your mingled breaths and moans.

Kento’s mouth is everywhere — on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. His lips are hot, leaving trails of fire across your skin. He sucks and nips, marking you as his.

And it makes you gasp, makes you arch closer, needing more, craving everything he can give you. Your body moves on instinct, rolling your hips against him, each motion driving him deeper until you feel like you can’t take it anymore.

“More, more….Oh—” you whisper, a plea escaping your lips. He groans in response, tightening his grip on you, his hips slamming into yours with a desperate rhythm.

He shifts, one hand sliding down between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive nub. He circles it, presses down, and you cry out, your body clenching around him as the sensations intensify, as every nerve feels like it's on fire.

The sound of skin against skin fills the car, mingling with the soft creak of leather and the panting breaths escaping both of you.

Kento’s pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent. “God, you feel so good.” he murmurs, his voice ragged, almost broken.

He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe reassurance, maybe something deeper.

"Tell me you want this." he breathes, his thumb circling faster.

“I want it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I want you, Kento… don't stop, please…”

That seems to be all he needs. He growls low in his throat, his grip tightening as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor, each movement harder, deeper, pushing you both to the edge of oblivion. Your hands clutch his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the coil tightening in your belly, threatening to snap.

He shifts again, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you, and you scream, the sound raw and needy, your body trembling. You can feel the heat pooling, feel the tension building to an unbearable point.

He leans back slightly, watching you with hooded eyes, and the sight of him — pupils blown wide, lips parted, sweat slicking his skin — sends a new wave of desire crashing through you.

“Come for me, baby.” he commands, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Let me feel you.”

The words push you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you shatter, pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Kento groans, feeling you clench around him, and he thrusts a few more times before he’s there too, his own release surging through him with a low, guttural sound.

You collapse against him, both of you panting, bodies trembling and slick with sweat. For a moment, you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the aftershocks of what you’ve just shared. He strokes your back gently, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding against yours.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "More than okay, baby." you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, tasting the salt of your shared exertion on his lips. "I don't want this to end.”

“I missed you.” He whispered lowly as he pressed a kiss on your palm. “More than you ever could know.”

You smiled at him. “Me too, my love.”

“I want to come home….and make things right.” Your husband tells you, his eyes tortured by desperation. “I want to make it up to you.”

“I know.” You nodded at him, leaning forward and kissing his chin. “Just come home. We’ll figure it out….like we always do.”

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