#for giving me More and More punctuation >:)

[fear-is-truth]

nsfw | mdni !

rafe cameron has always been spoiled, always had everything handed to him—except when it comes to you.

you make him work for it. make him beg, even when he’s too proud to admit it. like now, when he’s got you pinned against the mattress, hands braced against the headboard, legs spread. and yet, he still doesn’t have enough.

“rafe,” you whine, rolling your hips back against him, feeling the way he twitches, how badly he wants it.

“don’t,” he bites out, voice rough with restraint. “don’t fucking play with me right now.”

you hum, tilting your head, all faux-innocence, because you know exactly what you’re doing. he’s already stripped you bare, already worked you open with his fingers, but he hasn’t given in yet—hasn’t pushed in, hasn’t fucked you like you both know he’s dying to. and it’s killing him. his hands tighten their grip on your waist, trembling slightly.

“you think this is funny?”

you do. just a little.

but then rafe makes a sound, a desperate and broken bubbling from his throat, and suddenly, it’s not funny anymore. suddenly, you need him just as bad as he needs you. you reach back, fingers curling around the back of his neck, nails scratching at his scalp.

“please,” you whisper.

and that’s all it takes.

he’s inside you in an instant, a sharp thrust that makes you gasp, makes your knuckles pale from gripping the headband for leverage. he groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, one hand bracing against the mattress while the other drags up your stomach.

“you think i was gonna wait forever?” his voice rasping against your ear, every word punctuated by a roll of his hips, deep and unrelenting. “not fucking happening.”

you keen, pushing back against him, taking him deeper, and rafe chokes out a curse, his grip tightening, his body pressing against yours like he’s trying to crawl inside you.

“so fucking greedy,” he groans, his hand sliding up to your throat, tilting your head back so he can press his lips to the side of your jaw. “but you like it when i give you what you want, don’t you?”

he’s right. you do.

but the way he’s fucking into you now, makes it clear—he likes it even more

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Red Ropes- Choso Kamo

Note: sub!choso tied up and being pathetic. Hope y'all like it's been a bit. I miss yall <3

The red ropes cinched tightly around Choso's toned torso. With every deep breath, his muscles dared to bulge out of their confinements. The veins from his strong arms and biceps flex with any subtle movement he does. Soft whimpers escape his plump lips, red and flushed from biting on them. His cheeks match along with them as he looks up at you. 

“Ha… ah,” He exhales deeply.

“Awe, what’s the matter?” You ask, as you slowly circle around him, your fingers lightly trail around the diameter of his waist. You admire how his pale skin is littered with beautiful splotches of deep red and rich purple. Chills run down his spine as he feels your fingertips brush against his skin. Once you made it in front of him again, you trail your fingers from his abdomen and up to his chin. You grip his chin and pull it up so his gaze lands on you.

“Choso,” his name falling so sweetly out of your mouth, forces him to look at your lips. His mind tries to imagine them on any part of his body that makes him ache.

“Should I stop? You’re not answering me.” You lean in.

“N-no,” His voice is hoarse and weak. Desperate, lust-blown eyes flitting between your mouth and eyes.

“Please don’t stop.” The last word drops into a soft whine, and he leans in to try and meet you halfway when you pull back.

He looks like he wants to cry and that's just what you planned. You push him lightly, so his back is flat against the chair. You take a good look at the pathetic man in front of you, no shame to be found. He indulged in being treated like this with the silent promise that you’d praise him afterward. Your gaze falls low to the prominent tent strained against his tight boxers. The fabric clung to every thick inch of his throbbing cock. 

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak softly, "Look at you, so hard and aching and completely at my mercy.” Your fingernails trail down his chest, as you settle down on his lap. The heat of his body radiates through the thin fabric of your panties, making you hyper-aware of what you’re doing to him. 

“Tell me how much you need it, how badly you need me…” you voice a sinful purr against his ear. “How desperately does your cock want to be inside me?” you punctuated each word by rolling your hips, grinding against the rigid tent straining his boxers. 

Choso's eyes fluttered shut, his breath hitched as he lost himself in the sweet sensation. “So bad,” his voice rasped, strained and thick, full of desire. “I want to be inside you so bad.” 

His whines are like music to your ears. His hips roll up to meet your grinding, seeking more and more. You could feel him fighting for his life against the ropes. His fingers clenching, knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to grab and flip you over, changing your positions but, Choso knew better than to defy your wishes. 

“Beg for it,” honeyed words fall from your lips and slip into his ears. Your nails dig a little deeper into his biceps and squeeze, that pain mixed with the pleasure he knew he was about to receive makes all the better. “Beg for my pussy Cho…” 

You lean back slightly allowing your hand to come up and squeeze his neck, with just enough pressure to make him give in to you. His head tilts back and you could almost cum from just the look he gives you. His eyes bore into you, dark, intense, and all-consuming. His lips parted slightly as he began to speak again, “Please, I’ll fuck you with everything I have…” Choso’s voice dropped to a rough and desperate rasp. His words spilled out in the filthiest manner. “Please, please give me what I need.

You could feel him on the last threads of his resistance, he wanted you and needed you soon. You tighten your grip around his jaw before pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Good boy,” you purred, your voice full of sinful lust. “Such a good boy, begging all pretty for me…” 

With that, your hand finally reaches down to set him free. His throbbing cock sprang free from his boxers, slapping against his abdomen. You wrap your hand around his pulsing shaft, feeling it jerk and twitch in your grip. 

Choso let out a strangled moan, his hips bucking up into your touch, wanting more of that succulent feeling. “Thank you, fuck… thank you so much.” He gasps, his voice choking on the words. 

You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way they glazed over with pure submission as you stroked his aching cock. His whole body goes limp beneath you, surrendering to all your whims. He was completely and utterly yours. 

“Please let me feel your pussy, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do anything for you.” Choso begs, his words spilling out in a quick and nervous tumble. You could feel the need radiating off his body, and you finally decide to give him what he desperately wants. 

You adjust your hips and with one swift motion you move your panties to the side, your dripping sex finally exposed to the hungry eyes before you. You grip his hair, forcing his head slightly back, as you finally undo the red ropes that restrained him. 

His hands like clockwork fall to your waist as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. “Can I please fuck you now, please…” He mumbles into your skin, before looking up at you with those brown pleading eyes. 

And you could never tell him no… 

[soraphic]

mean!remus lupin would take any excuse to fuck the attitude right out of you.

he would relish in the fact that the slytherin princess; descended from an extensive heritage of respect and noriety, one of the highest achieving students in his year — known specifically for giving Sirius Black a run for his money — and a temper so severe students cowered at the prospect of you turning a corner; was his obedient little slut behind closed doors.

he would love the way your sleek, dark hair cascaded over your shoulders like a shadowy cloak, the angular point of your features just visible under the dark shield of anonymity you kept — the same gorgeous hair he had wrapped tightly around his fist while you gagged eagerly on his cock in the odd broom closet or tucked away behind a bookcase when you just couldn't wait.

though his friends could never understand his amusement toward you; seeing that, in their eyes, you were the wickedest bitch they'd ever met; he would find a certain air of fun in the way you'd berate him in public, finding it all the more enticing when he'd drag your arse right back into line later.

"It's coulis. They don't have that where you're from?" you'd snap, your mossy eyes staring at him with certain animosity while your lips were pulled into a deep grimace of disgust.

while James & Sirius both scowled at you defensively, Remus would simply flick his spoon into the blood red mixture, aiming directly for the emerald green of your tie and showering the fabric in hot pink splotches; "'guess not."

you'd scoff at the action, petulantly trying to wipe the steady forming stain with the back of your hand— "It's like jam. It goes with cakes."

It had been the most conversation you'd ever allowed Remus to get out of you in a public setting, despite your visible display of faux detest for him, he excited himself at the prospect; and the way he would use it to taunt you after hours.

he adored the way you'd slip into his dorm room late into the night following the interaction, bodies working like clockwork as his slender fingers wrapped tightly around the back of your throat, forcing your head deeper into the pillow and delighting in the way your little ass perked up at him.

his silky voice would whisper cruel rhetorics into your ear, his sick words dripping with lust— "Not so gobby now are you,baby?"

he'd pull you roughly by the hair connecting to the base of your scalp, making you cry out as your back hit his chest; and he'd laugh meanly at the pathetic little noise you made— "Who's daddy's good girl,hm?" he'd punctuate with a particularly hard thrust, getting a good look at the way your face contorted with a mix of delicious pain and pleasure; the thrill of enjoying something you knew was forbidden.

and if at any point you'd refrain from answering, his short tempered self would be quick to fuck an answer out of you; "Answer me, doll. You like when daddy fucks you like this?"— and he'd only let up with a satisfied groan at the way you'd painfully wail a 'yes,remus!'; addressing him properly so that everyone within a mile radius of his dorm room knew exactly who you belonged to.

[andy-15-07]

hii i read always about pedro pascal characters being grumpy towards reader and then feeling bad about it and comforting her so i just wanted to ask maybe reader being grumpy about something and being angry towards pedro himself or any of his characters and they are like confused and hurt, did they do something and then reader comforting them and shushing them that everything is okey and that they did nothing wrong, like babying them🩷🩷

Shushing the Storm

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 3247 | Requests are open! (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The wind howled outside the ramshackle shelter you’d taken refuge in, its mournful song echoing the turmoil that churned inside you. The remnants of a once-bustling world lay in ruins beyond the makeshift walls—a constant reminder of loss and struggle. Inside, however, the conflict was of another kind. It was raw, messy, and incredibly personal.

You sat at a battered wooden table, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring daggers at Joel as he meticulously cleaned his old revolver. His normally stoic face was shadowed with an expression that seemed a blend of regret and confusion. The silence between you had stretched thin over the past few days, each passing moment weighted by words left unsaid and wounds unhealed.

“Joel,” you finally said, your voice low and edged with frustration. “Why do you always have to be so damn grumpy? I’m tired of it.”

He paused, the clink of metal against metal echoing in the quiet. Slowly, he set the gun aside and turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an answer he didn’t quite have. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered, his tone soft and uncertain, as if he were afraid any misstep might shatter something fragile between you.

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, the anger bubbling over. “Every time something’s off, you shut me out. You snap, you grumble, and you leave me hanging without an explanation. It’s like I’m not even here.” Your words were harsh, each syllable laced with the pent-up hurt of countless moments when you felt invisible, unwanted.

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he stepped back as if physically recoiling from the weight of your disappointment. “I—I'm sorry,” he murmured, but his apology sounded more like a reflex than genuine remorse. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the rain that began tapping against the metal roof of the shelter.

The tension in the room grew palpable. You could see the conflict in his eyes—his hardened exterior cracking just enough to reveal a vulnerable, confused man beneath. “Sorry isn’t enough, Joel,” you said sharply. “I need to know that you’re really here with me, that you care enough to try to fix this.”

He shifted his weight uneasily, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I do care,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I just... sometimes, I can’t help it. I’ve been through hell, and sometimes, I carry that with me, even when I don’t want to.”

You softened slightly at his confession, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “That may be true, but I’m not your enemy,” you whispered, the bitterness in your tone giving way to genuine concern. “I’m here, Joel. I’m right here. And when you push me away, it hurts.”

Joel’s eyes dropped to the floor, shame mingling with a hurt he couldn’t quite hide. “I didn’t realize... I—I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was sparing you from my baggage,” he confessed, his words a murmur of regret.

You leaned forward, your expression softening further as you reached out a tentative hand towards him. “You’re not a burden,” you said, your voice gentle yet insistent. “You never have been. I know things are hard, and I know you’re scared sometimes. But I want to help, Joel. I want us to face this together.”

For a long, heart-stopping moment, silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the rhythm of the rain. Joel looked up at you then, eyes glistening with unshed tears and confusion. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I’m scared of letting you in, scared that if I do, you’ll see how broken I am.”

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe,” you said softly, “but I’d rather see that brokenness and help put it back together than never know the real you at all.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours for any sign of mockery or disdain, but finding only sincerity and compassion. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” he whispered, his tone laden with self-doubt.

“Shh, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.” The simple words carried the weight of your promise—a promise to be there even when things were messy, even when the storm inside him threatened to spill over.

Later that evening, as the storm outside began to wane, you found Joel sitting alone on the splintered porch of the shelter, staring blankly at the rain-soaked horizon. The world might have been falling apart, but you couldn’t bear to leave him alone with his demons any longer.

You approached quietly, settling down beside him on the creaking wooden steps. “Hey,” you said softly, nudging his shoulder with your hand. “Talk to me.”

Joel didn’t immediately respond, his eyes fixed on the distant, darkened skyline. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You turned to face him, studying the lines of exhaustion and regret that marred his face. “Joel, it’s okay,” you reassured him, placing a comforting hand over his. “I know you’re hurting, and sometimes you don’t know how to handle it. But I need you to understand that when you shut me out, it leaves me feeling alone too.”

He looked at you, the hurt in his eyes deepening. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmured. “I thought I was protecting you, keeping you safe from my pain.”

“You’re protecting yourself, Joel,” you replied firmly, though your tone was gentle. “And I get that. But you have to let me in too. You’re not alone in this fight. I’m here, and I want to be part of your healing.”

There was a pause, during which the only sound was the soft murmur of the evening breeze and the distant echo of dripping water. Joel swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’m just so tired,” he confessed, almost inaudibly. “Tired of pretending, tired of feeling like I’m always on the edge. Sometimes, I just... I just don’t know how to stop the storm inside.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your eyes filled with compassion. “Then let me help calm that storm,” you whispered, your voice laced with tenderness. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Joel. It’s okay to let your guard down. I’m here to remind you that you’re not broken beyond repair.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was more sorrow than humor. “You make it sound so simple,” he remarked, his tone bittersweet.

“It isn’t simple,” you admitted, shifting closer so that your shoulders touched. “But sometimes, even when things seem impossible, a little kindness can go a long way. I’m not trying to fix you, Joel—I’m just here to remind you that you’re loved, flaws and all.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked at you, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability etched in every line of his face. “I—thank you,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “For not giving up on me.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Never,” you promised, your voice gentle yet firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The following morning, the shelter was filled with a tentative warmth. The storm had passed, leaving behind a calm that was reflected in the clear, pale light of dawn. Over a modest breakfast of canned beans and stale bread, the atmosphere was markedly lighter than it had been in the preceding days.

“Joel,” you began hesitantly, “can we talk about what happened? I don’t want us to just sweep it under the rug.”

He looked up from his cup of weak coffee, eyes filled with a cautious hope. “Of course,” he replied. “I know I’ve been... distant. I’m sorry for how I acted. I—” He paused, searching for the right words, “I’ve been carrying a lot of guilt about my past, and it sometimes makes me push you away. I don’t want to do that. I’m trying, I really am.”

You reached out, placing your hand over his, offering silent reassurance. “I appreciate that,” you said softly. “But I also need you to understand how it affects me. When you get grumpy or distant, it makes me feel like maybe I’m not enough. Like maybe you’d rather be alone than deal with my needs.”

His face fell, and for a moment, you saw the raw sting of his insecurities. “That’s not true,” he insisted, his voice shaking slightly. “You’re more than enough—if anything, you’re the reason I keep fighting. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You offered him a small, forgiving smile. “I know you don’t. And I’m not angry with you, Joel. I’m angry because I know you’re hurting, and because I care about you so much. I just wish you’d let me in more often.”

A long silence passed as he absorbed your words. Finally, he said, “Maybe I’ve been too afraid of being vulnerable. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I showed any weakness, it would all come crashing down. But… maybe it’s time I learned that it’s okay to lean on someone else.”

Your eyes shone with relief and tenderness. “It is okay,” you assured him. “Sometimes, being vulnerable is the bravest thing you can do. And I’ll be here to help carry the weight when it gets too much.”

Joel’s fingers curled around yours in a tentative grasp, as if testing the strength of the connection between you. “Promise me,” he said, his voice earnest, “that you’ll be patient with me. That even on my worst days, you won’t give up on me.”

“I promise,” you replied without hesitation. “I’m here for the long haul. Even when things get rough, I’ll always be here to shush the storm inside you and remind you that you’re safe.”

He gave a small, grateful laugh. “You really do have a way of making things seem less terrible,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

“Maybe it’s because I know that sometimes, the roughest storms hide the most beautiful rainbows,” you said, your tone light but sincere. “And I believe in you, Joel—even when you can’t believe in yourself.”

As the days turned into weeks, the delicate dance between anger, hurt, and healing continued. There were still moments when Joel’s grumpiness would flare up—when memories of his past would surge forth like unwelcome ghosts—but each time, you found yourself ready to meet him with understanding instead of frustration.

One chilly evening, after a particularly difficult day scavenging for supplies in the ruins of an abandoned town, you returned to the shelter to find Joel slumped in a corner, his face obscured by shadow. The weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air. You approached slowly, not wanting to startle him, but determined to offer the comfort he so desperately needed.

“Joel?” you asked gently, crouching beside him. “Talk to me, please.”

He looked up, eyes rimmed with tears and haunted by exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice cracking under the strain of emotions. “I know I’ve been a mess lately. I... I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to come up for air.”

You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you spoke softly, “It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize for feeling like this. It’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to cry.”

He leaned into your embrace, the rawness of his pain palpable. “I feel so weak, so broken,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I keep pushing everyone away because I think it’s easier than facing how much I need them.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re not weak, Joel. You’re hurting, and that’s human. It’s okay to let yourself feel it. I promise, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself.” Your words, soft and earnest, were meant to be a soothing balm to his wounded spirit.

He sniffled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I’m scared that if I let you in completely, you’ll see just how damaged I am and… maybe you won’t want to stick around.”

“Joel,” you said firmly, “I’m not going anywhere. Every scar, every mistake—it all makes you who you are. And I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world because it led me to you.” You paused, your tone shifting to a tender, almost playful lilt as you added, “Besides, you’re kind of adorable when you’re trying to be all tough and mysterious. It’s like I get to be the one who gets to shush you and remind you that you’re safe.”

A hesitant smile tugged at his lips, the hint of humor breaking through the gloom. “Adorable, huh?” he teased softly, though the vulnerability in his eyes remained.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your tone light but filled with warmth. “Just promise me you’ll try to let me in a little more, okay? Even if it’s just a little bit at a time.”

“I promise,” he murmured, leaning into your embrace once more. “I’ll try. For you.”

In the weeks that followed, the shifts were subtle but profound. There were mornings when you’d catch him watching you with a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was silently apologizing for all the times he’d been distant. And on days when old habits threatened to resurface, you’d gently remind him with a tender smile, “It’s okay, Joel. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’d chuckle, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I guess I do need reminding sometimes,” he’d say, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and gratitude.

One particularly quiet afternoon, as you both sat by a small fire outside the shelter, you found him staring into the flames, lost in thought. The dancing light painted shifting patterns on his weathered face. You settled beside him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll ever get past all this?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

You sighed, thoughtful. “Every day,” you admitted. “But I also believe that every storm eventually passes. And until then, we have each other. We have these moments—small, quiet moments—that remind us that even in the worst of times, there’s still hope.”

He turned to look at you, eyes softening. “You make it sound so simple,” he said, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“It isn’t simple,” you replied gently. “But sometimes, the simplest things are the most profound. Like a soft word when you’re angry, a gentle touch when you’re hurting, or a quiet reminder that you’re never truly alone.”

Joel’s gaze drifted back to the flames, and for a moment, the silence between you was comfortable—a shared understanding without the need for constant words. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “Do you really think I’m worth all this? With my baggage and my broken pieces?”

You turned to him, your eyes steady and full of certainty. “I don’t just think it, Joel—I know it. You’re worth every bit of struggle, every tear, every moment of pain, because you’re you. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

He reached out and pulled you closer, as if trying to hold onto that assurance with all his might. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I make it hard.”

“Never,” you promised, smoothing your hand over his hair. “I’ll always be here to shush the storm inside you, to remind you that it’s okay to be vulnerable, and that you’re loved—no matter what.”

As the fire dwindled to glowing embers, you both sat in companionable silence, the trials of the past few days melting away in the warmth of your mutual understanding. In that quiet moment, beneath a sky slowly clearing of its dark clouds, you knew that despite the scars and the struggles, there was something undeniably beautiful about the way you and Joel were learning to navigate the chaos—together.

Time moved on, as it inevitably does, carrying with it both hardship and healing. There were days when Joel’s grumpiness would creep back in, a stubborn remnant of the pain he’d carried for so long. And on those days, you’d catch him off guard with a teasing remark or a playful nudge, lightening the mood with a reminder that even the toughest exterior could be softened by a gentle touch.

One afternoon, after a long day of foraging near the outskirts of a crumbling city, you found Joel standing by the old, rusted gate of what once might have been a grand estate. The wind tousled his hair as he gazed out at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. You approached quietly, a small smile on your lips.

“Hey, Mr. Tough Guy,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “Remember our little promise?”

He turned slightly, a wry smile forming on his lips despite the lingering shadows in his eyes. “And what promise might that be?” he teased, though there was a softness to his tone that hadn’t been there before.

“The promise that no matter how rough things get, you’ll let me in just a little more each day,” you replied, your voice playful yet sincere.

Joel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he pulled you into a gentle hug. “I think I can manage that,” he said, the warmth of his acceptance resonating in his tone. “Especially if you keep reminding me that it’s okay to be a little... weak sometimes.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I get to be the one who shushes all that unnecessary grumpiness with a smile.”

He shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him as he held you close. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a grin. “But I wouldn’t trade our little chaos for the world.”

In that moment, as the sun dipped low and bathed the ruined city in a golden glow, you both understood that life was a series of storms and quiet moments—a tapestry woven with threads of pain, hope, and the enduring power of compassion. And as long as you had each other to lean on, there was no storm too fierce, no wound too deep, and no darkness that couldn’t be softened by the light of understanding.

So here’s to the grumpy days, the moments of anger and hurt, and to the gentle shushing that followed—each a testament to the messy, beautiful journey of healing together. And as you and Joel continued to navigate the uncertain path ahead, you knew that every soft word, every tender touch, and every moment of vulnerability was a step towards mending not just the scars of the past, but the promise of a better tomorrow.

“I love you,” Joel murmured one evening as you both settled down to rest after a particularly hard day, his voice raw but sincere.

You smiled, your heart full. “I know. And I love you too—grumpiness, storms, and all.”

In that moment, as the last embers of the day faded into night, everything felt exactly as it should: imperfect, challenging, but undeniably real—and infinitely worth it.

[hanasnx]

Hop hop 🐇 hiya :). I like the thought that the first time reader really got a hint of Peter's strength is when he ate her pussy for the first time. He spread her legs and locked em down with his forearms and hands on her waist. For all her squirming and bucking with pleasure his muscles didn't budge a single millimeter, he didn't even notice her trying. It's not like he meant to, he was just losing himself a little, overeager, a pleaser, and that morsel of strength that peaked through was enough to tip her off that he's not normal. She doesn't know he can lift a bus. 🐇 Hop hop

“ SWEET KIWI, YOUR JUICE’S DRIPPIN’ DOWN MY CHIN ” — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this shit made me bite my fucking finger. eyes rolling into the back of my head type shit. melting in my seat i’m liquid. bcos this is exactly it. WARNINGS: not proofread, barely correct grammar/punctuation bcos i wrote this in a goddamn fevered rush. i’m not usually like this. established relationship. smut via fem receiving oral.

you look at PETER PARKER and you know he’s got a sleeper build, he may be tall and lanky but you’ve seen what he looks like flexed. but there are limits, you’re not kidding yourself here.

so when you finally get over it and let him go down on you, all nestled up into some pillows, real comfy, watching him get your legs undressed, your suspicions are at an all time low. you feel the excited pool into your core, the anticipation making you a little bubbly and nervous. he starts off small, lets you get used to things, tries to gauge your reactions to delicate sensations. he knows he’s prone to overstimulation, last thing he wants to do rn is give you too much too fast. he doesn’t know you that well, so he wants this to be a learning experience for him while you relax.

you sink further into the mattress while he licks at your clit, a fragile and unstable pace, looking up and over the mound of your pussy to gauge your reactions—both in expression and audible. when he starts sucking on it between his silky lips you cry out, throwing your head back instinctually. the way he’s restraining himself is more torture than it is pleasant, and all he’s done so far is kiss on your little clit you feel like a virgin.

your feet pick up, your hand comes to palm the back of his head, get all up in his hair. he hums against you, and your hips buck. toes pointed and back arched, you try to grind his face into your cunt. he takes the hint, and ups the fervor. sweeping his face side to side, he digs in further, and when he dips down to lick the moisture up your slit you can barely take the suspense. your hand draws him in to keep attention on your clit. you don’t want penetration, you need friction. you crave it.

it’s the kind of feeling that has you literally fighting to fuck his face. your entire body is moving as you’re keeping him pinned there and using him to get off.

when your hips start to stutter, and a shudder locks up your spine, peter doesn’t get the gist. you’re close but he’s not done. he starts putting in place some key features while you’re occupied. one arm scoops under your leg, wrapping your thigh with his bicep and the crook of his elbow. the other does the same one after another. his hands, big and warm, rest on your stomach and lace together, locking you in. the weight of them press down on your lower abdomen while he eats you out. all in the name of getting you as close as possible while your body writhes.

you’ve released his hair, jelly-like arms falling to your sides while your hips chase your release. peter’s eyes fall closed while he gets lost in it, taking in the taste of you, taking in what you smell like, what you sound like. it’s the kind of sensory overload he can get carried away with, a symphony of chemicals in his brain whisking him away while you’re left with the exhilarating and torturous reality. your body is screaming. you can’t shut the fuck up either. he’s locked you in while your little hands futilely grab at whatever they can reach to try and make him let up. if you just had a break or a second to breathe then things would be different, but even if peter were conscious he’d know better anyway.

while you’re squirming, you can’t help but feel like there should be more budge. there’s a give that’s missing when you jerk your body. it’s an odd discovery. perfectly flexed muscles don’t move a single millimeter when you try to wiggle your hips out of his grasp. his laced fingers stay intact when you try to ground your feet and pick yourself up. and when you try to crawl out from under him there’s not spare room to slip your thighs under. you’re trapped. and peter’s warm mouth envelopes your pussy with spit sodden lips while his tongue flicks at your clit. the kind of shit that makes you clutch at his wrists and beg, “peter, peter!” bcos you’re about to flood his face.

[melercies]

pairing(s): thanos x (slightly implied fem reader, but gender-neutral pronouns) x nam-gyu (separately + together)

warning(s): shower sex/smut [minors dni], dirty talk, gender-neutral pronouns, physical/psychological intensity, tension and coercion, rough handling, dubious consent, lowercase usage is intended, and my best interpretation of the two characters.

author's note: can we please talk about as to why thanos chest moved like that in the gif after he chest bumped nam-gyu. LIKE WHAT. otherwise, i was holding back myself from losing my sanity writing this. I WAS GIGGLING. please let me know if i missed anything! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated!

Showering with Nam-gyu... he isn't the type to voluntarily suggest showering together. he's too prideful, too rigid in his own habits. if you try to invite him, expect resistance—he'll scoff, wave you off, maybe even sneer, "what, you think i can't wash myself?" but if you're persistent—or if he's in a vulnerable state, exhausted or frustrated—he might begrudgingly accept.

the moment he's in there with you, though, everything shifts. he doesn't like feeling exposed, so he overcompensates—gripping your wrist a little too firmly as he takes the soap from your hand, washing you instead. his touch is rougher than necessary, his jaw tight. he's testing you, seeing if you'll let him take over completely.

nam-gyu has his moments—brief moments—where he lets his guard slip just for a little bit. if you turn around and gently wash his back, he stiffens, like he doesn't know how to react. but he won't stop you. he won't say anything, but the way he stands still, the way his breath comes a little slower, tells you more than words ever could.

after you guys get out of the shower, he dries off quickly, efficiently even—wrapping the towel around his waist, avoiding eye contact, acting like nothing just happened. but if you grab a towel and start drying his hair for him? he grumbles at first, tries to shove you away, but if you're patient, he stops resisting. he won't admit it, but the warmth of your touch, the way you're taking care of him, gets to him.

Sex with Nam-gyu in the shower isn't romantic. it's raw, messy, and filled with frustration he won't ever admit. he doesn't do slow, drawn-out foreplay—his hands are rough, gripping you with a possessiveness that makes it clear this isn't about pleasure. it's about control.

you barely have time to register the heat of the water before he's pinning you to the cold tiles, his body pressing against yours, trapping you between the slick surface and his overwhelming presence. "you knew what you were doing when you pulled me in here," he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. his tone is sharp, but beneath it, there's something hungrier, something dangerous.

he doesn't give you room to breathe. his hands roam your body like he owns it, dragging down your hips, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin as he pulls you closer. the cool metal of his rings bites against your heated skin, adding an extra sharpness to every touch, every possessive grip. there's nothing slow or teasing about the way he takes you—it's intense, unrelenting, a mix of frustration and something far more desperate he'd never admit.

the shower's heat made everything slicker, your skin was burning under his touch, water running down both of you in rivulets. his lips are at your neck, biting, sucking, marking—because he wants you to remember this, to feel it longer after you step out of the shower. his hands grip your waist, tilting you just the way he wants, and when he finally thrusts into you, it's without hesitation, without restraint. you cry out from the abrupt intrusion. he grits his teeth, eyes dark with something almost feral, his grip bruising.

he's relentless, every thrust punctuated with a sharp exhale, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you still. the rings on his fingers leave ghostly impressions on your wet skin, a reminder of how firmly he holds you, how thoroughly he's claiming you.

"look at you," he growls, voice thick with amusement and something darker. "already falling apart on me?" but there's something in his expression—something deeper than just the pleasure itself. it's possession. you're his, and he's making damn sure you know it. if you look away, he doesn't hesitate to grab your jaw and lock eyes. "don't look away, look at me while i ruin you, yeah?"

even when he finishes, he doesn't pull away immediately. his arms tighten around you, his chest rising and falling heavily, forehead resting against yours for just a moment—just enough to make your heart stutter. then, as if realizing what he's done, he pulls back, his hands sliding away almost reluctantly. "get cleaned up before the water gets cold." he sounds almost as if he doesn't care, but the way he lingers for a second too long tells you everything you need to know.

Showering with Thanos/Choi Su-Bong...thanos doesn't need to be asked twice. he's casual about it like it's the most natural thing in the world. he'll lean in the doorway, shirt already half-unbuttoned or taken off completely, watching you with that cocky, knowing smile. "water's already running. you coming or what?"

he's not rough like nam-gyu—he's intrusive and deliberate. he gets too close, under the pretense of helping. fingers brushing over your collarbone as he lathers soap onto your skin, lips ghosting your temple as he murmurs something about how good the water feels (and the view too). everything he does is slow, controlled, and meant to sink into you.

he's watching your every reaction, noting every small shift in your breathing, every flicker in your gaze. "you're tense," he'll say, dragging his hands down your arms. but the way he smirks? he likes that tension—like how he can pull at it, stretch it, toy with it practically.

he'll wash your hair too gently, his fingers massaging your scalp, whispering something about how you're so trusting. but there's always something unreadable in his voice. like he's seeing how far he can push, how much you'll let him get away with. "what if i just held you under for a second?" it's a joke—probably. but you feel the way his fingers tighten, just for a moment, before he lets go.

after you guys get out of the shower though, he actually takes his time drying off, watching you as he runs the towel over his arms, down his torso. there's always something suggestive in the way he moves, in the way he watches you. and if you're still standing there, a little shaken from the whole experience? he'll just chuckle, and tease you about it before tossing the towel over his shoulder and leaving you with a lingering, too-knowing smirk.

Sex with Thanos in the shower is an entirely different experience. where nam-gyu is rough, desperate, needing to assert control, thanos takes his time. or at least, he tries to. but patience? that's not really his strong suit.

the second you step under the water, he's already behind you, hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him like he's been starving for this. "think i can wait?" he mutters, his voice low, breath warm against your ear. "not a chance, sweetheart."

he's not gentle—he acts like he'll take his sweet time, but the second he feels your skin slick under his fingers, the temptation is too much. his hands roam over you, pressing soap into your skin, but his grip is firm, his fingers pressing into your thighs, your waist, your chest, everywhere at once.

"you're all wet for me already," he muses, his lips grazing your shoulder before he bites down just enough to make you shudder. his hand slides lower, between your legs, fingers teasing, rubbing slow circles—but only for a moment. because teasing? it's only fun for so long before he needs more.

when he finally thrusts into you, his grip tightens, one hand wrapping around your throat, the other pinning you against the glass wall of the shower. his pace is ruthless and deep, his voice a low growl against your ear. "you feel that?" he murmurs into your ear between rough thrusts. "taking me so well."

unlike nam-gyu, thanos doesn't pace himself—he loses himself in it, breathing hard, groaning your name as he ruins you under the scalding water. his impatience bleeds into every movement, his fingers digging into your skin, pulling you back against him with every sharp roll of his hips.

when he finally finishes, he doesn't even pretend to pull away. he keeps you pressed against him, breathless and spent, his lips dragging along your damp skin as he smirks. "told you i couldn't wait."

Showering with both Nam-gyu and Thanos/Choi Su-Bong? you seriously think showering with one of them was chaotic? try both. you're barely even in the water before they start their usual back-and-forth. "move over, dumbass, you're hogging all the water with how wide you are."—"this is all muscle! besides, maybe if you weren't so short, you wouldn't have to fight for it." meanwhile, you are just standing there, already regretting your life choices.

despite the bickering occasionally, they somehow effortlessly work together when it comes to messing with you. nam-gyu grabs the soap, rubbing it into your skin with just enough force to make it clear that his presence is still strongly there, while thanos watches with an infuriatingly smug expression. then, just as you're adjusting to nam-gyu's rougher touch, thanos steps in behind you, running his hands over the lathered skin nam-gyu worked over, softer but too slow, his voice dropping into something mockingly gentle. "is nam-su being too rough? let me fix that." "it's nam-gyu."

being in the shower with both of them means that the teasing will never stop. if you flinch when the water turns too hot, thanos hums, "sensitive, aren't they?" nam-gyu scoffs, "they're just weak." if you get flustered from the way they're both touching you, thanos leans in, lips ghosting your temple, "look at them, bro. they don't know what to do with themselves." nam-gyu only presents a shit-eating grin on his face, "pathetic. perhaps, we can fix that, hmmm?" and you? poor you was trying so hard not to combust in between the two males.

thanos pretends to be the more helpful one, offering to shampoo your hair like he's doing you a favor, but it's all a setup. he takes way too long, his fingers massaging your scalp in slow, circular motions, his breath warm against your neck. nam-gyu watches with narrowed eyes before stepping in and dumping way too much water over your head to rinse it out, "took too long," he mutters, but you know he did it on purpose."

the moment the shower is over, nam-gyu is out first, muttering under his breath about some things that happened during the shower. thanos, on the other hand, surprisingly, takes his time drying off with a smug expression as he watches you. he's obvious that he's clearly amused by how rattled you look. he leans in before leaving, whispering, "you should've known better than to get in with both of us."

you wanna know the worst part? they both act like nothing happened afterward—except for the occasional smirk from thanos and the side-eye from nam-gyu when you avoid looking at them. and if you get even slightly flustered thinking about it later? oh, they notice.

Having sex with both of them in the shower at once? like I've mentioned before, it was a mistake. a trap. you never stood a chance.

nam-gyu gets to you first, gripping your waist, and pulling you back against his chest. "you should've known better," he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. "letting both of us in here?" his tone is sharp, laced with amusement, but his grip is firm.

thanos, standing in front of you, just smirks. his tilts your chin up, eyes gleaming with amusement. "i think they wanted this..look how eager they are." his fingers trail down your slick skin, teasing, ghosting lower but not quite touching where you need him to.

you barely have time to react before nam-gyu decides he's had enough of thanos's games. his hands tighten on your hips, tilting you exactly the way he wants, and he doesn't hesitate when he finally thrusts into you—rough, deep, making you gasp.

thanos is only amused by the little sounds you make, watching the way your body jolts. he steps closer, tilting your head back, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "let's see if you can handle both of us."

and from there, it's over for you.

one of them is relentless, unforgiving in his pace, making sure you feel every inch of him. the other is just as impatient, just desperate, and you're caught between them, drowning in the intensity of it all.

by the time they're done with you, the water is cold, your legs are shaking, and both of them look way too pleased with themselves.

and worst of all? they aren't going to let you live it down.

[mononijikayu]

crush me in your arms (give me a lovelier kiss, lover) — nanami kento.

"Look at this thing." you murmured, running your hand along the edge of a nearby shelf, trying to feel it to understand it. "It’s like a scene out of some surreal dream." Kento’s gaze lingered on the mannequin. “Feels more like a ghost town out here. But that’s to be expected.” he said, voice low. He stepped further into the shop, his boots crunching softly against scattered debris. "Everyone left. And now everything is left behind, just... waiting."

GENRE: alternate universe - apocalyptic world;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance, strangers to lovers, falling in love, post-apocalyptic romance, bittersweet, found family, mutual pining, domestic, feelings, moments in the between, slow burn, humor, fighting, survival, emotional, loss, trauma, sci-fi fiction and fantasy, disabilities, blindness, deafness, ambiguous ending, depiction of disabilities, depiction of post-apocalyptic world, depiction of fighting, depiction of trauma, depiction of survival, mention of pre-apocalyptic world, mention of disabilities, mention of trauma, deaf! nanami kento, blind! reader;

WORD COUNT: 14k words

NOTE: so far, i think this is my favorite. this is based on iu's love wins all mv. i've used the title before, but i don't think i've made use of the lyrics. so here is another love letter to the masterful artistry of iu, as well as kim taehyung, who played her counterpart in the mv. i hope you enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it. the ending is up to you. in any case, i hope to see you on the sukuna one on valentines day!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

buono san valentino, 2025;

══════════════════

THINGS HAD ALREADY CHANGED IN THE FUTURE. The world that once was had already disappeared and gone. That was to be certain. All that had been left behind in this accursed world was the wasteland it had become, barren of life and bastardized by darkness had consumed it all to nothingness.

There remained in this world, the crawling shadows and terror–ridden screams, living in this nightmare where daylight was nothing more than a sham. Daylight no longer offered no sanctuary. And the night? All it could have held was unimaginable horrors no one can imagine.

Curses — those grotesque abominations birthed from humanity’s deepest fears and hatred  had now started to roam freely in abandon, their misshapen bodies defying the logic of what could be known, writhing with malevolent energy.

They had long been born from the fears and the hatred and the grief of the humans it had long ago consumed. They were creatures of chaos, all gnashing teeth, clawed limbs, and endless hunger. And they had not stopped since. And you don’t think they will ever stop, not until the last of humanity becomes consumed by them.

Cities and towns, nations even, that had once bustled with the tenderness and light of life had all but crumbled under their relentless assault. All that remained of the once magnificent skyscrapers were broken skeletal ruins, streets littered with ash and shattered glass. Smoke clung to the air, thick and acrid, choking out the remnants of civilization. Nothing was meant to live anymore. 

Silence was a rarity, that was to be certain. 

And yet, it was always punctuated by distant screams or the low, guttural growls of curses hunting for their next meal.

On and on, the cycle does repeat.

Hope had long since withered away for you. And there remained that fragile ember snuffed out by despair and bitter loneliness you were forced to endure. Those who had once clung to dreams of salvation were now either dead or broken, wandering the ruins as hollow shells. And if they were still alive, and unbroken — then they hid from the world, hiding in the far flung of the unfathomable earth to disappear.

You have been alone ever since you were born. There was no one to consider family, there was no one who could understand you, there was no one to give you a name. All that had been left behind was the burden of survival on a babe crying alone, unable to see anything but the darkness.

As you grew up, you could only surmise that your family has long been gone, consumed by the darkness of the world. You could only surmise that you were the lone survivor of what had been life as you know it.. One of the remaining human surface colonies, where your family had once resided, were wiped out. And there was nothing left of it. Nothing, but you.

If there was a god, there was quite an irony with the way he does things.

A blind with nothing has been the luckiest to survive this apocalypse.

And you had kept surviving year after year, running and running, frightful in the dark.

But you had to admit that the fear of it all had all but paralyzed you more and more as time went on. They have mutated, become more frightening and powerful after all this time. You could feel it. You could feel them become worse, you could feel them make everything worse of everything.

Every bit of this nightmare unravels over and over again into a more hideous monster you couldn’t comprehend. It continues to grow hungrier, that monster. And that monster continues to grow hungry, while you cower and run and survive for a little bit longer.

Yet this was all you knew since then. 

There was no other life for you to have.

As long as you were alive, that’s all you had.

You have to live, no matter what happens.

So, you ran again despite the fear gripping you in its merciless claws, clawing at your chest and strangling your breath. You ran as fast as you could, even if darkness was all there was ahead. You let your ears, your hands and your feet see for you. 

You ran, as though it wasn’t just the fear of death you feel every single day, but the terror of the unknown, of a world turned inside out. Your hands trembled uncontrollably, sweat slicking your palms as your thoughts shattered like fragile glass underfoot. You couldn't think. Couldn't plan. Survival was a foreign concept, buried beneath the weight of your panic.

So you did the only thing you could — you ran.

Again and again, you let your feet burn until they bled.

Again and again until the world you knew was far behind.

Your legs burned as you stumbled through desolate streets, weaving through abandoned cars and piles of rubble. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and every step echoed with the threat of something lurking just out of sight. Your heart pounded like a war drum, each beat a desperate reminder that you were still alive.

But the curses were everywhere.

Their twisted forms slithered and crawled through the shadows, grotesque silhouettes against the broken landscape. Eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, locking onto any flicker of movement. Their growls reverberated through the ruins, low and menacing, promising a fate far worse than death. You could hear them closing in — the scrape of claws against concrete, the sickening sound of flesh shifting unnaturally.

Then they found you.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Time seemed to stretch, each second an agonizing eternity. Your body betrayed you, paralyzed by terror as the curses crept closer. Their misshapen forms shimmered with dark energy, mouths opening wide to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

A scream built in your chest but never made it past your lips.

This was it. The end.

And there was nothing you could do.

Tears started to flood your ghostly eyes, bitterly. 

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to lose your life like this. 

You could hear them. You could hear their guttural snarls echoed in your ears as they closed in. The world blurred around you, your body numb with terror. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t fight. All you could do was brace for the inevitable.

And then — he came.

A flash of steel. The curses shrieked, their forms cleaved apart by a single decisive strike. Silence fell, heavy and thick, broken only by your ragged breathing. He stood there amidst the carnage he had ended, a calm figure in his tattered clothes, blood splattered across his person. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was steady, grounding.

He turned to you, caramel eyes sharp but not unkind. But you couldn’t have known that. You couldn’t have known how warmly he had looked upon you. Perhaps that is why you were still ever so afraid as you cowered in your corner. 

Tears continued to flow, breaths echoed incoherently. You were shaking uncontrollably, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Without a word, he was at your side, one firm hand pressing against your shoulder to hold you steady.

“Breathe.” he instructed, his voice low and measured. “You’re safe now.”

The weight of those words shattered something inside you. 

The fear, the loneliness, the sheer helplessness, they were recognized.

All that relief suddenly turned into the outpouring heaving of endless sobs.

“It’s okay.” he murmured, his tone unwavering. “Let it out. You’re going to be alright.”

Those were the first words from another human you had heard in a long time. They had been so warm and so tender, so full of kindness. And yet for the longest time, they were words you’ve waited to hear.

They were words of reassurance.

And the truth of it is, you believed him. 

You didn’t know why. You didn’t know what he looked like. And yet, you believed him. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to take him as your safe zone, even just for a little while. You clung to him like a lifeline, your tears soaking into his suit. He didn’t pull away, didn’t tell you to stop. He simply held you, anchoring you to reality as the storm within you raged.

That's how you met Kento Nanami. On that warm moonless night, in the fifth year of the tragedy, there was you and there was him. And in a world consumed by darkness, he became your light. And somehow, in that single, fleeting moment, you dared to hope again.

══════════════════

HE UNDERSTOOD WHY YOU HAD TAKEN A DISTANCE FROM HIM AFTER THAT NIGHT. It had been so long since anyone had found another human being by their side, with all of humanity disappearing. With who remained, it was hard not to know what to do, even if they saved your life. You had your reasons, and he didn’t ask about them. 

It took time. Days, then weeks — for your nerves to settle enough to even sit near Kento without tension stiffening your body. Trust wasn’t a luxury you afforded anyone easily anymore, not in a world where survival hinged on suspicion and instinct. 

Especially knowing your limitations, and the mutation of curses, who knows if they could pretend to be humans. But Kento never found himself forcing a conversation. Nor did he try to go beyond actions that were necessary. If anything, he let you take your time.

At first, silence hung between you like an invisible barrier. He respected it, though, treating it like something fragile rather than uncomfortable. He had a way of being present without demanding attention, moving through the world with a quiet certainty that felt rare in this shattered existence.

Kento understood what fear did to a person. Especially living like that for so long, moreso your entire life under these circumstances, it was hard. He could only imagine how it hollowed you out.

It had left you raw and mistrusting, jumping at shadows long after the danger had passed. You didn’t need to explain that; he had seen it all before. And he has no doubts he would see it for even longer, even by your side.

What surprised you was how well he understood loneliness, too.

He’d never said much about his own past, but it was there in the way he spoke sparingly, in the subtle weight behind his words. The way his tired eyes scanned the world, searching for something he probably hadn’t found yet. He had walked through the same cold, unrelenting darkness as you, trying to carve out a place for himself amidst the ruin.

At night, when the weight of it all became too much — when memories of terror clawed their way back into your mind, he was there. Close but never overbearing, his steady presence grounding you. Sometimes you sat in silence under the fractured sky, neither of you speaking, just breathing.

Kento never offered hollow reassurances or told you to forget the past. What he gave was something more profound to even have, now more so than ever before. The permission to be broken without shame, to be yourself in a world where it was impossible to be. And maybe that was what you needed most.

Gradually, something shifted. You found yourself lingering near him longer, the once-awkward silence now comfortable. Perhaps the thought of someone being there at all comforted you, or perhaps the need to feel safe from the curses perhaps lurking by. You didn’t know which of them was in your heart, in truth. You couldn’t explain it. But he didn’t mind that either.

In that time you both were together, he taught you small, practical things. You sat there, just listening to him go on for hours, quiet enough to ward off curses and yet audible enough for you to hear.

He spoke about how to recognize cursed energy trails, where to find safe shelter, and even how to wield a weapon with steadier hands. He taught you about where to find supplies and how to sleep safely without being caught by curses. 

But it wasn’t just about survival, no. It was the moments in between that. When he talks, you could tell that there was a rare glimmer of warmth in his otherwise solemn gaze. You don't know how you could tell, but there was a feeling of it that had made your tummy feel butterflies.

Somehow, with the way he sits beside you, there was less tension in his body to contend with. When he laughs, the sound feels like the beautiful tunes of hummingbirds. You could feel all the tenderness that he had been hoping to express for a long time each and every time.

Those flickers of humanity reminded you that there was still something worth fighting for. This human joy that had been long robbed and long forgotten, with no one to remember it, was now being remembered and lived by the two of you, perhaps who are the last people on earth. The last two people on earth enjoying the last vestige of humanity in each other.

He had been alone just like you, he has said. He has for the longest of time been a wanderer in a ruined world. And he, like you, only lived for survival over and over again. But now, maybe neither of you have to be alone anymore.

As you sat there, you couldn’t help that maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep moving forward, living for more than survival. Perhaps you two could live for each other. 

The ruined city stretched beneath a fractured sky, hues of ash and shadow blending into a wasteland of muted shapes. Jagged remnants of buildings clawed at the heavens, skeletal reminders of what once was. The air was thick with the smell of soot and decay, heavy enough to press against your lungs.

You and Kento sat side by side on a crumbling ledge, the world eerily quiet except for the distant groan of shifting debris. He worked silently, sharpening his blade with deliberate strokes. The rhythmic scrap of metal on stone was one of the few sounds that remained constant in your chaotic existence.

Your fingers absently traced patterns in the dust-covered concrete, grounding yourself in touch as you always did. Though the world had faded into darkness for you long ago, you had learned to navigate its bones through sensation — the brush of wind against ruined walls, the subtle tremors of approaching footsteps, the feel of textures under your fingertips.

But tonight, Kento’s voice broke through the fragile quiet.

“You walk too carefully for someone who can see.”

The statement hung in the air, sharp and pointed.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. "What?"

He set down the blade, turning to you with that same calm, analytical gaze he always carried. “I’ve noticed. You feel your way through the world more than most. Like you're mapping it with your hands and feet.”

There was no accusation in his tone, just observation. But it made you uneasy, like being seen too clearly. You purse your lips into a soft line, blush appearing in the apex of your cheeks. Had he not noticed yet? 

"I'm blind." you admitted softly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "I’ve been this way since it all started."

Kento was silent for a moment, processing the revelation with his usual stoic demeanor. “I see.”

No pity. No awkward questions. Just quiet acceptance.

“I apologize.”

“O–oh, no no. It’s nothing. You didn’t know.”

“And now I know.” He says to you, sighing. “No excuse now, no?”

You hummed to him. But then you tilted your head toward him. “And you?” you asked, hesitant but curious. “Why do you flinch when I speak from behind you? Or why do you never react when the curses roar?”

There was a faint shift in his expression — something almost like wry amusement.

"I can’t hear."

Your brow furrowed. "At all?"

He shook his head. "Haven’t been able to since year 25. It was a curse’s parting gift."

“Then….Then how do you hear what I say?”

“I read your lips.” He admits to you. “It’s the only way I’ll know what you’re saying.”

“And….and you get it right each time?”

“Have I ever been wrong in replying when we talk?”

“N–No…..I don’t think so.”

The revelation hung between you, strange and fragile. Blind and deaf. A pair of misfits stumbling through the ruins of a broken world. You couldn’t help but exhale a hearty laugh, shaky but genuine. His face contorts into confusion. 

“Why are you laughing?”

"So let me get this straight: I can't see, you can't hear, and we’re supposed to survive like this?"

"We’ve managed so far, I guess," he said dryly, a sly smile finally wide on his face. "Though I doubt we’ll win any awards for it whatsoever."

Despite the grimness of it all, a smile tugged at your lips. "Guess we balance each other out, huh?"

"Perhaps we do, don’t we?" He stood, brushing dust from his trousers, then extended a hand to you. "Come on. We need to move before nightfall. If we live, we can continue to balance each other out."

You snickered at his words, but when you found his hand, you took it tenderly and without hesitation, his grip firm and steady as always. Slowly but surely, you both navigated the uneven terrain you had rested in. Kento carefully guided you with quiet efficiency, looking back and forth to see if everything was clear.

“You’re sure this path is safe?” you teased, stepping carefully over the uneven rocks as Kento’s hand held yours firmly, guiding you through the trail.

“It’s perfectly safe if you actually listen to my instructions.” he said with a faint smile, his thumb brushing reassuringly against the back of your hand.

“So bossy, aren’t you?” you quipped, earning a soft chuckle from him.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the crisp air brushing against your skin. Curiosity tugged at you as you remembered something he mentioned the other day. “Hey... was what you said yesterday true?”

“About what?” he hummed back, his voice warm and steady.

“You really see in monochrome?”

He was quiet for a beat, the sound of distant birdsong filling the air. “Yes. I do.”

“What’s it like?” you asked, unable to hide your wonder.

“Well, mostly quiet. Static, really.” he said thoughtfully. “It gets hard when it's nighttime. But manageable.”

You mulled over his words, stepping carefully over another jagged stone. His grip on your hand tightened instinctively, steadying you. He softly tells you to be more careful, but you were too into your thoughts that you did not hear him. You gasp, a question entering your head.

“What do I look like to you, then?” you blurted out suddenly, the question hanging in the cool air between you.

Kento’s steps slowed as he considered your question, his lips parting but no words immediately following. He doesn’t think he could answer and he didn’t answer you — not verbally, at least. Instead, his mind wandered before he could stop it.

In the muted, broken world he knew, you were the only vibrant thing he saw somehow. Not in color, but in essence. The way you moved, spoke, and laughed felt like the warmth of sunlight breaking through endless shades of grey that he sees. Beautiful. That’s what you were to him. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop thinking that.

But the weight of his unspoken thoughts lingered too long, and you tilted your head curiously, prompting him back to reality. “Kento?”

He cleared his throat, the sudden self-awareness making him stiffen slightly. “You look... fine, I suppose.” he managed, his tone steady despite the warmth creeping into his chest.

“Fine?” you repeated, raising an incredulous brow, clearly unimpressed with his vague response.

“Yes.” he said firmly, though his lips quivered ever so slightly. “Perfectly fine.”

You couldn’t help but roll your ghostly eyes, but the fondness in your expression made his heart lurch all the same.  You nodded, accepting his words back to you. You squeezed his hand. 

“Well, I suppose I can’t complain. You can’t have it all.”

Kento’s lips twitched, torn between amusement and guilt as he glanced at you. “No, I suppose not.”

“You’re surprisingly bad at compliments for someone so polished, hm?” you teased in response, your steps more confident now as the rocky path evened out beneath your feet.

“Perhaps so.” he admitted without defense. “But honesty is better than empty flattery, wouldn't you agree?”

“Oh? So I’m just fine, huh?” you shot back playfully. “Not even slightly charming or, I don’t know... radiant?”

He exhaled softly, shaking his head as if your wit were both a challenge and a comfort. “If I said anything beyond the word fine, I doubt you’d never let me hear the end of it.” he countered, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You might be right about that, I suppose.” you conceded, grinning.

As you walked in companionable silence again, Kento's mind drifted back to what he couldn’t say aloud, the way your presence cut through the static greyness of his world, bringing warmth and vibrancy he hadn’t realized he was missing. There was beauty in that, he thought. More than he had words for.

“You’re quiet again.” you observed, squeezing his hand again.

“Thinking about something.” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Care to share?”

“Not yet, not right now,” he admitted. “But... maybe someday.”

You arched a brow back at him but you think about letting it slide for now, sensing that he was still carrying unspoken truths. And that was okay — you were patient, willing to wait for when he was ready. Just as he was, when waiting for you to be comfortable with him too. 

 "Then I guess we’ll just have to keep figuring this mess out together." You tell him softly. “That’s the only way I’ll get to know that from you.”

His voice was steady, as resolute as ever. "We will."

“Do you promise?”

He grips your hand back in a squeeze. “I promise.”

And for the first time since the world had fallen apart, the weight on your shoulders felt just a little lighter. Because you weren't alone anymore. And somehow, in this ruined world, that was enough. It was enough to have a reason to survive. No, no. To live.

The road ahead was treacherous, littered with debris and fragments of a world long forgotten. Cracks in the pavement swallowed chunks of asphalt, and twisted metal glinted faintly under the dim light filtering through thick, oppressive clouds. The air smelled of rust, dust, and faint traces of rot.

Kento walked with practiced precision, his movements deliberate as he guided you forward. His hand brushed yours occasionally, subtle but reassuring, letting you know he was there without needing words.

"Step up a bit." he instructed calmly.

You lifted your foot over a jagged piece of concrete without faltering, trusting his guidance. Despite his inability to hear and your inability to see, the two of you moved as one, to  a seamless rhythm forged by necessity and understanding, by things that couldn’t be expressed. As you walked, the tension in the air shifted, heavy with an ominous weight. You felt it first, the faint vibration underfoot, subtle but unmistakable.

"Kento, I can feel it." you murmured, your voice low. "Something's coming."

He didn’t need to hear the warning. His body tensed, instincts sharp as he scanned the horizon with those monochrome eyes. His hand brushed your arm, a silent signal to stop. The ground trembled again, stronger this time. The distinct guttural growl of a curse echoed faintly through the ruins, reverberating through your chest.

You clenched your fists, heart racing. "How close is it?"

"Close enough," he said grimly.

He drew his blade, the soft whisper of steel cutting through the thick air. You reached for the makeshift weapon strapped to your side. It was not elegant or beautiful, but it had kept you alive this long.You trusted it enough. You moved forward, trying to ready yourself with the weapon in your shaky hands. But you felt Kento’s warm hands move you, and you grunt as he pushed you behind him.

"Stay behind me." Kento instructed, his voice steady despite the looming threat.

You didn’t argue.

You knew you couldn’t defeat this one.

It was too massive, it was too….monstrous.

The massive curse emerged from the shadows, its twisted form shimmering with dark energy. You could feel your heartbeat as you felt it move forward to your direction. Kento could see its eyes gleamed with malevolence, teeth bared in a grotesque snarl. Even without sight, you felt its presence — a suffocating, oppressive weight that made the air thick and cold.

Kento moved first, swift and precise. His blade sliced through the air, each strike calculated. The curse shrieked, its movements erratic as it lunged toward him. You felt the shift in the air, the curse’s presence moving closer. Instinct took over. Gripping your weapon tightly, you swung toward the sound, the impact reverberating up your arm as your blade connected with flesh. The curse howled in pain, but it wasn’t enough to feel it.

"Kento!" you called, your voice raw with urgency.

He didn’t need to hear your voice to understand. His blade flashed again, cutting through the curse with brutal efficiency. It let out one final, agonized wail before dissolving into ash, the remnants scattering on the wind.

Silence returned, heavy and thick. Your breathing was ragged, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Kento lowered his blade, his posture relaxing slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

"Yeah," you managed between breaths. "Thanks to you."

He nodded, wiping the blade clean before sheathing it. "You did well."

A faint smile tugged at your lips. "Not bad for a blind person, huh?"

"Not bad at all." he agreed, a rare flicker of warmth in his tone.

“Then it’s not bad for a deaf person too.” You grinned back at him.

Kento blinks and then he bursts out laughing as he takes your hand. “I suppose not at all.”

As the two of you resumed your journey, the weight of the encounter lingering in the air, a strange sense of reassurance settled over you. In this broken world, you had each other. And somehow, that had made living possible once again.

══════════════════

THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU HAD FOUND YOURSELF IN SUCH A PLACE. But you could only assume that this was one of the last intact and well preserved types of places that had been left behind by the curses and humans.

The silence between you and Kento stretched as you both took in the sight of the old store. Time seemed to slow, the world outside fading into the background as the forgotten relics of a once-vibrant era captured your attention.

The quietness of the store swallowed Kento’s words, leaving only the soft scrape of his boots against the dusty floor as he stepped closer to the mannequin. You could sense the tension in his voice, a touch of reverence mixed with a hint of unease as he looked at it, that strange relic from a life you couldn’t fully grasp.

“What does it look like, Kento?” you asked again, your voice softer this time, a gentle plea for him to bridge the distance between you and the unseen world. 

Your ghostly eyes scanned the space where the mannequin stood, but it was like trying to interpret a memory that wasn’t yours. You reached out, fingers trailing through the air in search of something familiar. 

“The texture sure is...interestingly odd.”

Kento's voice lowered, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the fragile silence of the store. “They were mannequins, at least from what I read.” 

He paused, his hand hovering near the base of the mannequin’s stand, where it met the ground. “They were once used to display clothes, so people could see them before they bought them.”

The quiet of the store wrapped around the two of you like an old blanket, a forgotten relic in itself. You couldn’t see the mannequin, but you could feel the odd coldness that it exuded — like an echo of something that no longer made sense in this world. It was as if you were touching a piece of history, something frozen in time, forever stuck in its own reflection.

“People used to come in and look at things like this?” You asked, still moving your hands slowly through the air, trying to sense what Kento was seeing. "Just... for something to look at?"

Kento’s voice was gentle but thoughtful as he responded. “Yeah. It was how they showed off clothes. You'd walk into a store, see the mannequin dressed in the latest fashion, and decide if you liked it enough to buy it. It was a way of displaying things so people could imagine themselves wearing them.”

A quiet laugh slipped from your lips, though it was tinged with sadness. “It sounds... so trivial now. People worry about what clothes they wore, what things they bought. And here we are, just trying to survive.”

Kento was silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on the mannequin’s frozen hand, still in that unnerving wave. “It’s not trivial, though." he said, his voice quieter now, the words more reflective. "It was part of what made life feel... whole. People had their worries, yes. But they had the luxury of not just surviving, but living.”

Your hand brushed the mannequin's arm gently, your fingers brushing against the smooth plastic. It felt so strange, so cold, a stark contrast to the warm memories that Kento had shared.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it. A world like that... where people could take time to care about things like clothes.”

Kento’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his monochrome vision scanning your face with quiet understanding. “You’ll get there. We will. It may take time, but we’ll find what we need to keep going. Even in this mess, there’s still something worth holding onto.”

The words hung in the air between you both, quiet and almost sacred. The mannequin, still and lifeless, seemed to listen in on your conversation, a quiet observer of the world that used to be. For a brief moment, you wished you could see what it had looked like — the vibrant clothes, the bustling streets, the ordinary lives of people simply trying to get by.

But you couldn’t. All you had were the fragments of stories, the faint remnants of a world that had once been full of noise and color.

“What do you think happened to all of them?” you asked, feeling the weight of the question more than you had expected. “The people who used to buy clothes, and visit places like this?”

Kento’s voice was soft when he replied, like he was speaking to both you and the mannequin, as though the answer was still lost in time. “They became a part of the world we’re in now. Curses, souls... maybe they’re still somewhere, waiting for the world to wake up again.”

You shivered at the thought, your fingers tightening slightly around the mannequin's arm as you felt the weight of the loss that had already come before in the fifty years this has been going on,  the irreplaceable loss of those lives, those small, quiet moments of normalcy.

Kento stood beside you, his eyes also fixed on the mannequin. His usually calm expression was softened with a touch of thoughtfulness. “It’s like the whole store is frozen, though.” he mused, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it was abandoned in an instant, never to be touched again.”

"Look at this thing." you murmured, running your hand along the edge of a nearby shelf, trying to feel it to understand it. "It’s like a scene out of some surreal dream."

Kento’s gaze lingered on the mannequin. “Feels more like a ghost town out here. But that’s to be expected.” he said, voice low. He stepped further into the shop, his boots crunching softly against scattered debris. "Everyone left. And now everything is left behind, just... waiting."

You followed, careful to avoid the broken shards of glass near the doorway. The air was thick with dust and carried the faint scent of mildew, but the place was remarkably preserved compared to the crumbling ruins outside. Your fingers brushed against a rack of clothes, light summer dresses with swirling patterns, faded but still beautiful in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

"What do you think this clothing store was for?" you asked, tilting your head as you tried to imagine it full of life. "What sort of clothes were they selling? What I touched earlier felt like feathers. That just seems so….. flashy."

Kento examined a rusting tin sign on a shelf. It read: “Summer Sale: 50% Off All Dresses!” in bold, cheerful letters. He raised a brow.

“Probably some kind of boutique.” he said. “Or a place people came for things they didn’t really need.”

You laughed softly, the sound strange in the stillness. "Things they didn’t need? Like this?" You pointed toward a shelf stacked with peculiar trinkets, a miniature statue of a cat wearing sunglasses, an old snow globe with a tiny city inside, and a mug shaped like a pineapple.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “Exactly like that.”

You picked up the snow globe, shaking it gently. The tiny flakes swirled around the miniature city, glittering faintly in the dim light. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone want this?”

Kento shrugged, his gaze shifting to a jukebox in the corner. The once-shiny machine was tarnished and dusty, but it still stood tall and proud, a monument to a world neither of you had ever truly known.

“Maybe it made them happy, you know?” he said after a moment. “Even if just for a little while.”

You set the snow globe back down, your fingers lingering on its smooth surface. “Happiness seemed so… extravagant. Doesn’t it?”

Kento didn’t respond immediately. He was staring at the jukebox now, his hand brushing against the side as though testing if it still worked. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t." he said finally. "But maybe that’s what made it worth it."

The two of you continued to go and wander deeper into the store, pausing by a rack of clunky shoes with impossibly high heels and neon colors that almost hurt anyone’s eyes when they looked at it. You frown as you feel the unfamiliar texture with your fingers. Your frown gets deeper at the edges, touching the heel.

“People wore these?” you asked, incredulous.

Kento raised a brow, a faint glimmer of amusement in his usually solemn expression. “Apparently. Must’ve been hell on their feet.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as your ghostly eyes stared at the mannequin’s polka-dotted dress, delicate fingers touching the brightly colored fabric feeling so out of place in the world you now knew. 

“I can’t even imagine a life like that. People worry about clothes, shoes, decorations. It’s so... ridiculous.”

Kento gave a quiet, almost wistful nod, his gaze lingering on the dress for a moment before looking back to you. “It was a different world, you know?” he said softly. “One where they had the luxury to worry about those things. We don’t get that anymore.”

You sighed, the weight of his words hanging in the air, then letting your hands touch the dresses once again. “Should I try some of the clothes?” you asked with a light laugh, the suggestion playful but tinged with a quiet seriousness, as if it was some small rebellion against the ruins of the world you both lived in.

Kento raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement passing through his eyes. “Try the clothes on?” he repeated, almost as if the concept itself was absurd now. “You mean, like how they used to do? Just... because?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like to do that.” you said with a small shrug, smiling despite the heaviness in the air. “Maybe we could pretend, for a moment, that it’s normal. That the world isn’t falling apart.”

Kento looked at you for a long moment, then slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He shook his head, but there was no judgment in his expression. “You really want to try?”

“Why not?” you responded, your voice lighter. “It wouldn’t make anyone think we stole them. No one’s here to say no! Well….unless you will?”

Kento’s lips twitched in amusement. “No, I won’t.”

“Good to hear. I like that answer!” you grinned triumphantly, releasing his hand to wander toward the racks of forgotten garments. Dust clung to faded fabric, but as you ran your fingers over them, you imagined what they might have looked like once, bright and bold in a world not broken by ruin.

Kento stood nearby, arms crossed, watching you with quiet curiosity. He always observed more than he spoke, and right now, he looked as though he was trying to understand what made this moment so important to you.

“So?” you called back to him. “Should I go dramatic or practical? What would you prefer? Bright and loud or mystique and rogue?”

He huffed softly, shaking his head. “Why not both?”

You laughed, the sound light and rare, and pulled a gown off the rack. It was a flowing deep indigo piece that still held some of its former elegance despite the faded stitching. Turning toward Kento, you held it up against yourself.

“I can’t see it. What do you think?”

“I think it’s missing a sword belt if you’re going for practical, to be sure.” he said dryly, though there was warmth behind his words.

“Oh, so now you do have opinions about fashion, huh?” you teased.

“Only when it involves combat readiness.” he deadpanned.

As you drifted away from Kento, his steady voice followed you. “Don’t wander too far, okay?” he called, firm but gentle, like he always was when concern threaded through his otherwise calm demeanor.

“Yeah, yeah.” you retorted absently, waving a dismissive hand without looking back. “I’m not a child, Kento.”

His faint sigh echoed faintly behind you, but he didn’t press further.

Your fingers danced idly across rows of neglected garments, the fabrics coarse from time and abandonment. Most were stiff, lifeless. They felt like mere remnants of a world long gone. Yet you kept searching, guided by curiosity and a quiet defiance against the bleakness around you.

Then your hand paused.

This one was different. The fabric beneath your fingertips was unexpectedly soft, worn into something tender by time rather than ruined by it. You pulled the garment from the rack, the material clinging slightly as if reluctant to leave its forgotten home. It was a simple dress, muted in color but elegant in its simplicity. The fabric had a subtle sheen, catching the dim light filtering through shattered windows.

You rubbed it between your fingers, testing its texture, half-expecting it to crumble under your touch. But it held firm, surprisingly resilient despite its delicate appearance.

“Huh…..” you murmured to yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think I’d find anything like this.”

Behind you, Kento remained watchful, his quiet presence grounding even as you wandered. You lifted the dress higher, studying it with a critical eye. It wasn’t perfect — far from it. But something about it spoke to you, as though it carried a whisper of a world where softness and beauty still had a place.

“What did you find?” Kento’s voice broke through your reverie, closer now as he approached.

“Something interesting.” you mused, holding it up for him to see. “Think it’s my style?”

His gaze flickered over the dress, thoughtful as always. “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

“Diplomatic as ever, aren’t you?” you teased, though warmth curled in your chest at his simple acceptance.

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

You looked back at the dress, fingers still tracing its gentle lines. “Yeah, yeah.” you admitted softly. “I think I do.”

There was something defiant in choosing beauty, however small, in a world that had tried to strip it away. And right now, that felt like victory enough. This felt like reclaiming what had been lost nearly fifty years ago. Just in this one dress. 

You went ahead into the other corner, hiding away so you could put the dress on you. Kento asked you if you would be okay, but you reassured him enough and made it through by yourself. 

As you pulled the faded dress over your head, the fabric sliding smoothly against your skin, you couldn’t help but smile a little, even though you couldn’t see what it looked like.  The weight of the dress felt comforting, and for a moment, it felt as if you were transported to another time.

It felt like a time when life was filled with simple pleasures, like trying on clothes without worrying about curses or survival. You hummed quietly as you ran your hands over the texture, trying to sense its shape, its softness. Everything about it was perfect.

If this were a normal world, you thought to yourself, maybe I would have been wearing something like this too. 

The idea of all of that felt like a dream now, something distant and almost impossible, but as the dress settled comfortably around you, a small part of that dream seemed to come alive again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

You moved toward the door, feeling your way carefully with your hands, as you had learned to do in this strange new world. When you finally stepped out into the open space again, you took a deep breath and called out to Kento, your voice light with curiosity. Slowly, he made his way to you and he stopped, seeing you in front of him.

"Kento, what do you think?"

For a long moment, there was silence — an odd, thick silence that made you wonder if something was wrong. Then, Kento’s breath hitched sharply, and you heard him take a step forward, though you couldn’t see his face.

"You..." His voice faltered slightly, and he paused, clearly at a loss for words. You could feel the tension in the air, a kind of stillness that only existed when someone saw something they didn’t expect. 

“Me?” You asked, waiting for his reply.

"You look... stunning." He said it slowly, like he was trying to find the right words, and you could hear the astonishment in his voice.

A knot twisted in your chest. You didn’t know what you looked like, couldn’t see the dress at all. You were used to the uncertainty of blindness, but in moments like this, it felt more intense. "What color is it?" you asked hesitantly. "What does it look like?"

There was another long pause, and when Kento spoke again, his voice was a little rougher, like he was still trying to steady himself. "It seems to be….. white." he said quietly. "It’s... beautiful. It would have been something considered for weddings back in the day."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you processed his words. A wedding dress? That was what you were wearing? You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a little nervous but also amazed at how surreal the whole situation felt. 

"A wedding dress? But... I’m not getting married."

Kento cleared his throat, his voice sounding more composed now, though there was still a trace of wonder in it. "Yeah, I know," he said, his tone almost shy. "But... it suits you. Very well."

You paused, your fingers brushing over the fabric of the dress as you tried to imagine what it might look like, though you knew it was impossible. Still, there was something in Kento’s voice, something that made your heart flutter just a little.

The weight of the world, the despair that had surrounded you for so long, felt a little lighter now. As if in this moment, just for a second, you could pretend that things were different.

"Are you still there?" you asked, your voice quiet, a little unsure. You hadn’t heard him move, and the silence between you felt strangely thick.

Kento’s voice was steady now, but there was a softness to it that made you smile, even if he couldn’t see it. "Yeah. I’m here."

You took a small breath, still unsure of what to make of the situation, but feeling something warm and comforting growing inside of you. "Thank you, Kento."

There was a long, almost thoughtful pause, and then he said softly, "You don’t need to thank me for anything.  You’ve always been amazing, you just didn’t realize it."

His words, simple but sincere, made your chest tighten with emotion. You couldn’t see it, but in that moment, you felt more seen than you ever had before. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be beautiful again.

Even in a world as broken as this one, life can breathe into the surface once again. Even if it’s just between the two of you.

You stood in front of Kento, the weight of your dress still sinking in, though you couldn’t see what it looked like. But you could feel it,  the soft fabric, the way it fit you in a way that felt almost... right. A thought crossed your mind, one that made you smile despite the broken world outside.

“Kento, hey….” you said, the words light but carrying a playful undertone. “You should wear something too. Something to match me.”

He blinked, taken off guard by the suggestion, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you said. “What?” His voice was almost a chuckle, but there was hesitation in it. “I—no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice coaxing, teasing him gently. “Come on, you can’t let me be the only one dressed up. It’ll be fun.”

Kento shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking away as if the idea made him shy. “I really don’t think I should. It’s just... silly. You’re already wearing something... so nice. I can’t just—” He trailed off, clearly unsure of how to finish his sentence, a slight flush creeping up his neck.

You smiled softly, knowing that you were getting to him. “Please, Kento.” you said, your voice low and earnest, a hint of pleading in it. “Just for me? It’ll be like we’re actually living in that other world. For just a moment.”

He looked at you, his expression a mixture of reluctance and something else — something softer that you couldn’t quite place. The silence stretched between you both for a few moments, and for a second, you thought he might refuse. But then he let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Fine, alright.” he muttered, as if resigning to a quiet surrender. “But only because you asked.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Thank you, Kento.”

A few minutes later, Kento returned back to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you walked towards him standing there. He purses his lips before he takes your hand. He presses it against the fabric he wore on him.

“Do you like it?” He asks, almost shyly as your fingers wander across the fabric. “It’s….It’s the best one that matches you.”  

He was wearing a suit, a dark one with fine tailoring, the fabric sleek and smooth. And it matched your dress perfectly. The same shade of white, that’s why he chose it. Though with slight variations in texture and cut, as if you two had been made to complement each other. 

The tie he wore was a darker shade, but still complemented the subtle elegance of the suit all the same. His sandy hair was slightly tousled, a few stray strands falling out of place as if he hadn’t spent time fixing them.

He stood still for a moment, caramel eyes shifting uncomfortably, as if he didn’t know whether to expect praise or criticism. But there was a quiet softness in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for your reaction. As if he was waiting for your approval.

You couldn't stop the quiet gasp that slipped from your lips. “Kento...” 

The word carrying his name came out in a breathless whisper, as you took in the sight of him. The suit fit him perfectly, and something in you fluttered at the sight of how effortlessly it seemed to match with your own dress.

Kento’s face reddened, but he tried to play it off with a soft chuckle. “You really wanted me to wear this, huh? You like it?”

You nodded, your voice caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. “You seem so….amazing. We match, don’t we?”

He scratched the back of his neck, awkward but still slightly proud, his gaze flicking down to the suit, then back to you. “We do…. We do match.” he said, trying to downplay it, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “B–but it’s nothing. It’s just a suit, it's not something—”

You stepped closer to him, your hand gently reaching out to adjust the collar of his jacket, a small gesture that made your heart flutter. A small gesture that makes his own heart skip a beat. 

“It’s not just a suit, Kento. It’s... you. And it looks perfect.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just stood there, as if unsure of what to say, his gaze softening as he took you in. Then, finally, he sighed and let out a small laugh, a real one this time, the tension easing from his shoulders. 

“Well, if you’re happy, then I guess that’s all that matters.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest, the world outside for once not feeling so cold. “I am happy, very much so.” you said, your voice soft but full of gratitude. “And I think we make a pretty good pair. Don’t we?”

Kento didn’t say anything for a moment, but the softness in his tender eyes spoke volumes. He looked at you like he could almost see what you couldn’t — like he understood the weight of the moment. And for once, you didn’t feel blind. It was as if you could see for the very first time. And all the same, you finally felt seen. 

And for a moment, you weren’t just surviving. 

You were like all the people who had walked in these walls.

You finally were living the life that could have been.

“Yeah.” Kento finally said, his voice quieter now, almost fond. “I think we do.”

You took a step toward him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. The room around you, the empty storefront, the dusty mannequins, the crumbling world outside — everything that surrounded you, that existed, all of that seemed to fade as you found your skin touching his own.

"Kento." you said softly, your voice carrying a new kind of confidence. "Dance with me."

He blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise. For a moment, he looked like he might laugh it off. "Dance?" He shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "I can't even hear anything, let alone am I knowledgeable at that. How am I supposed to dance?"

You tilted your head, a smile pulling at the corners of your own mouth. "You don’t need to hear. We can still feel it, and that’s better, don’t you think? You don’t need the sound to make it real."

Kento opened his mouth to say something, but paused, clearly unsure how to respond. The gentle warmth in your voice, the simple conviction in your words, seemed to stop him in his tracks. You reached out, your hand finding his, and for a moment, everything seemed to still.

"Please, Kento." you whispered, the request sincere, almost pleading. "Just for a moment. Let’s pretend."

He couldn’t help but feel hesitant as he looked at you, still feeling unsure about what to do. But then, as if something inside of him shifted — he let out a soft sigh into the air. His large hand moved toward yours, his fingers wrapping around yours with a quiet steadiness. Somehow, your hands fit so well together.

"Alright. Just this once." he said, his voice softer than before. "I’ll give it a try."

You smiled brightly, the excitement bubbling up inside of you. Without waiting for another word, you closed the distance between the two of you, placing your other hand gently on his shoulder.

You took a slow, deep breath, letting the stillness of the moment wash over you. The world outside, the curses, the madness, none of it seemed to matter in this space. It was just you and Kento — two souls, finding something simple and beautiful.

Then, with a quiet hum, you began to move, the melody born from within you, an instinctive rhythm flowing through your body. The tune wasn’t anything familiar, just something you felt, something deep inside that had always been there, waiting to be shared. Your feet moved slowly at first, tracing gentle circles on the floor, and Kento followed you, his movements tentative but steady.

You hummed, the melody shifting like a soft breeze, flowing and floating between you both. And though Nanami Kento couldn’t hear the music, you knew he could feel it,  in the way his body moved with yours, in the way his gaze never left yours, soft and filled with something unreadable.

Kento’s caramel eyes were fixed on you the entire time, studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He wasn’t just following you; he was there, fully present, every part of him connected to the moment. His handsome face was serene, you knew that even if you didn’t see him.

Everything about him was something you admired. And he could see it, in the way your ghostly eyes gazed at him like he was the only one that could ever belong to you. And all he knew was that he was looking at you like that too.

The two of you moved together, your steps blending, your rhythm in perfect sync, though there was no sound to guide you. It didn’t matter. The silence was filled with everything you both needed. The soft pressure of his hand against yours, the gentle pull of his presence, the warmth that grew between you as you danced in the quiet.

At one point, you let yourself close the gap even further, your head resting lightly against his chest. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his breath, steady and calm, as he held you close. His arm tightened around you slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile beauty of this moment.

You continued to hum, lost in the stillness of it all. And for once, you didn’t need to say anything. Kento’s presence, his quiet understanding, was enough. There was no need for words. All you needed was the steady movement, the connection between two people who had found something beautiful in the middle of so much chaos.

When the hum finally faded, and you slowly came to a stop, neither of you said anything. Kento didn’t move away. He simply stood there, still holding you, his hand gently resting on your back as if savoring the feeling of the moment.

"That... was different." he said quietly, his voice low, almost like he was still trying to process the experience.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Different good?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kento took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "Yeah... different good."

And in that moment, the world outside seemed just a little farther away, as if for a brief instant, you and Kento had created something of your own. It was a fleeting, beautiful moment that the darkness outside couldn’t touch.

Kento’s hand lingered on your back for a moment longer before he gently pulled away, his fingers brushing against your skin. He looked at you, his expression soft, almost as if he were contemplating something. Then, his voice, low and tender, broke the silence.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” He asked, his tone so gentle, like he was offering you a place to rest, a space to just... be.

You looked up at him, your chest warm with the lingering comfort of the dance, the quiet intimacy you’d shared. You didn’t have to think long. The world outside was too dangerous, too harsh, and the last thing you wanted was to leave the safety of this little corner of peace you’d found.

You nodded at him, your voice soft but sure. “Yeah... it’s getting late.”

Kento studied you for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded in agreement. “Alright. We’ll stay here.”

There was a quiet understanding between you both. Neither of you needed to say more. It wasn’t just about the safety of staying inside. It was about the unspoken connection you shared — the comfort of being in this moment, of finding solace in each other’s presence when everything else was broken.

Kento moved toward one of the old, dust-covered chairs in the corner of the shop and set down the bags he had been carrying. He looked around the abandoned store, his expression thoughtful as he took in the strange stillness of it all. 

"We’ve got everything we need right here.” he said with a small smile, his voice steady despite the chaos of the world outside. "It’s not much, but it’s enough for tonight."

You smiled back at him, feeling the weight of your body relax as you sank down onto a nearby bench. "It’s more than enough." you said quietly.

You could feel your ghostly eyes following Kento as he began to rummage through the remnants of the store for anything that might make your stay more comfortable. He returned a few moments later with a blanket. It was old, but it was still capable of warming the body.

The simplicity of the moment felt surreal. In a world where survival was the priority, where every day was a battle, you had found a small, fragile slice of peace. And it was with him. No, no. It was him. He was your piece of peace. 

Kento draped the blanket over the two of you and settled beside you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence enveloping you like a comforting blanket of its own. The outside world, with all its curses and destruction, felt like a distant nightmare —  a reality that, for now, you could escape.

You hummed as Kento leaned back against the wall, his arm resting behind you, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder. You closed your ghostly white eyes, leaning into the warmth of his presence, the quiet safety of being with him.

"I’m glad we found this place, Kento." you murmured softly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. "It feels like... like we’re living, just for a little while."

Kento didn’t answer right away, and you couldn’t see what expressions he had in his face in the meantime. So, you waited as your ghostly eyes slowly gathered itself to slumber. When he did speak, his voice was steady and calm, a quiet comfort in the midst of it all and most of all, you were already asleep.

"Yeah." he said, his hand resting lightly on yours. "For tonight... we are."

══════════════════

THERE WAS MUCH TO SEE HERE, AND THAT’S WHY YOU STAYED. The next morning, the two of you wandered deeper into the abandoned storefront, curiosity leading you through the quiet, forgotten aisles.

The building seemed to stretch on, revealing layers of time that had been sealed away, waiting for someone to discover them. There was an odd beauty in the decay. A sense of history woven through the dust and shadows, waiting to be remembered by someone.

As you walked with care, your fingers brushed along the old shelves, feeling the cold, faded remnants of what had once been. Then, you turned a corner, and there it was — a fine dining restaurant. At least that’s what Kento says it was. 

The tables were set in an almost eerie stillness, the chairs pushed back from the tables as if the patrons had simply walked out. Dust covered the countertops, but there was something oddly peaceful about the place, as if it had frozen in time. Plates, some cracked and chipped, sat on the tables. It’s remnants of meals long gone cold, long forgotten by the people who had wanted to taste it.

You and Kento sat down at one of the tables, the deafening silence between you almost natural. It felt strange to see these abandoned places, as if they held echoes of lives once lived here — stories that had been left unfinished. Plans left unattended to. Lives left to nothing. 

The plates before you were strange, the food half-eaten and hardened by time. You picked up a fork, turning it in your hand as you observed the scene, then glanced at Kento, who seemed just as lost in the moment. The sight of the old food, of meals that had once been shared between people, felt like a ghost from the past.

Kento broke the silence first, his voice quiet but thoughtful. "I wonder what it was like for all of them." he said, his gaze moving over the plates. "Food... before all this happened. Do you think people took it for granted?"

You thought for a moment, trying to imagine a world where food was plentiful, where people sat together at tables like these, laughing, talking, sharing. A world where they didn’t have to fight for every meal. A whole world where they were enjoying what was there to be had. 

“I don’t know, really.” you replied, your voice soft. “It’s hard to imagine. Everything feels so different now. Back then... people must have had so many choices. So much variety.” 

You reached forward and gently poked at a plate of dried food, a cracked piece of what might have been bread, now hardened with age. "You could just walk into a place like this and have whatever you wanted."

Kento nodded, his hand resting on the table as he stared at the plate before him, his expression distant. "I imagine there were so many things... dishes people cherished. Foods that reminded them of home or celebrations." His eyes flickered to the faded menu on the wall, barely legible but still hanging there, frozen in time. "I wonder what it would have been like to taste something like that."

You smiled faintly, leaning back in your chair as you thought about it. "I think I would have liked sweets. You know, cakes, candies, things that people probably shared on birthdays or special occasions."

Kento raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you. "Sweets, huh? I can picture that. You always seem to know how to make the best of things... even when everything else seems so... dark."

You shrugged, a small laugh escaping you. "Maybe. But I think everyone had their favorites, right? Some people liked savory, others liked sweet. And meals were always a reason to gather. I bet... I bet it was different back then."

Kento leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the empty space around you, as if he were trying to piece together the history that had been lost. “I bet there was laughter, too. People talking about their days, making plans. It wasn’t just food. It was about the company.”

You nodded, glancing at the empty chairs surrounding you, imagining them filled with life. “Yeah. It’s not just the food. It’s the people. The moments. The sharing.”

For a few seconds, there was a quiet understanding between the two of you — a shared longing for something that no longer existed, something that felt out of reach. Fifty years ago, that could have been your life. Had you both been born much earlier, enjoying what was normal. You could only wonder who you could have been then? 

“I wish I could’ve tasted it. Or at least cooked it.” Kento said, his voice softer now. "I wish I could've lived in that world... just for a little while."

You looked over at him, the sincerity in his tone reminding you of the weight of it all. "Me too." you whispered. "I think we all wish we could’ve had more of it... more of the little things that make life worth living."

Kento nodded slowly, his eyes distant but filled with something almost wistful. "It’s strange, isn’t it? To think about all the things we took for granted. We never thought we'd lose them. And even stranger….to mourn something we never had."

You let out a soft sigh, reaching across the table and resting your hand on his for a moment, a silent gesture of understanding. "No. We didn’t."

For a while, neither of you spoke, both of you lost in the quiet, the memories of a world long gone. The food before you, abandoned and forgotten, was just another symbol of everything that had been lost.

But there, in the midst of the silence, you found comfort in knowing you were together. Maybe it wasn’t food or laughter that you had, but you still had this, this quiet company, the shared understanding of what the world once was. And that, for now, was enough. You don’t have to wallow in the past alone.

You leaned back in your chair, your hands absently moving to the side, brushing against something solid that wasn’t part of the table or plate. Frowning, you felt around a little more, your fingers gliding over something cold and metallic.

You furrowed your brow and lightly touched it again, your fingers tracing the shape. It was oddly smooth, but with little ridges. You couldn’t make sense of what it could be, but it certainly felt out of place among the dust-covered, abandoned plates and old utensils.

Curious, you gently pulled the object closer. "Kento... what is this?" you asked, a bit of wonder in your voice as you continued to feel it. "It feels like... a box with a lens. Could it be some sort of device?"

Kento, who had been watching you with a slight smile, moved in closer as you gently prodded at the object. His brow furrowed as he examined what you were holding. With a slow exhale, he gently took it from your hands and held it up to eye level, his fingers brushing over the device, his expression thoughtful.

“That…” He paused, his tone a little more serious now as he inspected it. “That’s a camera."

"A camera?" you echoed, your mind trying to piece together what that could possibly mean. 

You had heard of cameras, at least from the radios that were blaring in the human settlements.  They were things that captured moments, or so you’d been told — but you’d never really seen one, at least not in this way. You felt a little thrill run through you at the thought of it, but you were still unsure of how it all worked.

“Yeah.” Kento continued, his voice soft, as he examined the lens carefully. “They were used to taking pictures... to capture moments. People would use them to remember things — memories, places, people.” 

He glanced back at you, a soft, almost nostalgic expression crossing his face. “It was one way for people to hold on to things they didn’t want to forget."

Your fingers tingle with excitement. "So... it takes a picture of... of anything?"

"Yeah." Kento looked down at the camera, still running his fingers over it with a careful curiosity. “This particular one is an old model, but I think I can still make it work." He adjusted a few dials, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to remember how to operate it. After a moment, he gave a small nod. “Alright. I think it’s working. It just needs a film roll inside, but I can still try."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Can you take a picture with it?”

Kento’s lips twitched up at the corners, his eyes twinkling with something that almost felt like amusement. “Yeah, I think I can. But it’s not exactly instant — you'll have to wait for it to develop later."

You didn’t care about the developing process. The thrill of the idea made your chest tighten with excitement. You leaned forward eagerly, your voice a little breathless, “So... Can you take one of me? Right now? Please?”

He glanced up at you with a hesitant smile, his gaze soft. "You sure? I mean, it’s kind of old. It might not turn out the way you expect. It might not even work.”

You were already grinning, already imagining what the moment could be like. "I don’t care! It’s a picture. A memory. And... I don’t know when I’ll ever get the chance to do something like this again."

Kento’s expression softened, and despite the chaos and uncertainty of the world outside, he nodded slowly. "Alright." he said, his voice almost teasing. "Just hold still, then."

You sat up straighter, smiling even wider as you tried to pose, though you had no idea what you were doing. The world outside, the endless darkness, the curses — all of it felt so far away in that moment. All that mattered was this fragile little piece of normalcy, a snapshot of something real.

Kento adjusted the camera, looking through the lens with a concentrated expression. “You ready?”

“Yeah!” You replied with a little too much enthusiasm, your hands folding neatly in your lap.

For a brief moment, the world felt still. Kento’s tender caramel eyes met yours, soft yet steady, before his finger pressed down on the shutter. The click of the camera filled the empty, and you felt a surge of excitement at the sound of it. It works.

“Did you get it?” you asked, practically bouncing in your seat. Your smile was practically glowing, the joy in your chest making the air feel lighter.

Kento lowered the camera, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer. “I think so.” he said, his voice laced with a soft smile of his own. “But we’ll have to wait to see.”

You leaned back, your heart fluttering with the thought of it, as if something small, yet precious, had been captured in that moment. You sat back in your chair carefully, your hands still buzzing with excitement as you imagined what the picture might look like — if it even worked at all. 

The thought of having something tangible, something that captured this fleeting moment between you and Kento, filled you with a warmth that had been absent for so long. You couldn’t help but be so giddy and joyous about all of it.

“So... now we just wait, huh?” you asked, glancing up at Kento, your voice full of wonder.

Kento nodded, still looking at the camera in his hands with an expression that was a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. “Yeah. It’s not an instant thing like the ones they have in the old stories, where the picture just pops out. It takes time to develop.” He turned the camera in his hands thoughtfully. “It’ll be a while before we see the result.”

You nodded, though a small part of you wished it could happen right away. Still, the thought of it being something you would both share, something real and permanent, even if it took time — was enough to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

The quiet of the restaurant settled around you again, but it felt different now. The stillness no longer seemed like a reminder of what had been lost; it was a space where you could be present, where you could hold on to a memory that was yours, even if only for a brief time.

Kento looked over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “You know... we could make a habit of this. Taking pictures, I mean. Maybe not with this old thing, but...” He trailed off, then gave a small shrug. “Maybe we can find another way.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’d really want to keep doing this with me?”

Kento chuckled softly, a warmth spreading across his features. “Why not? It might be the one thing we can do that feels... normal.” He hesitated, glancing down at the camera again before meeting your eyes. “It’s nice. Having something to hold on to, something to remember.”

You smiled, the weight of his words settling in your chest. The world outside might be in ruins, and everything might feel uncertain, but right here, in this moment, there was something beautiful about it. The idea of creating memories with Kento, the promise of even more of it in the future and being able to capture those fleeting moments — that had made everything seem a little less overwhelming.

“Maybe we could take more pictures later, you know?” you said softly, the thought of it making your heart a little lighter. “Maybe of the things we find. The places we go.”

Kento's eyes softened, and he gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. We’ll make our own memories, even if the world around us keeps changing. Maybe those will be the ones that matter the most. For as long as this can exist.”

For a while, neither of you spoke once more.  Kento busied himself with getting to know the camera. You sat there, surrounded by the remnants of a life you’d never fully experienced but could now, in some way, hold on to. The old, abandoned restaurant felt a little less lonely. The world, too, seemed just a little bit kinder.

When the moment finally stretched long enough, Kento looked over at you with a thoughtful expression. “You know... even if we never develop the picture, I’ll always remember this.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “This moment. With you.”

You looked at him, your heart full as you whispered back, “Me too, Kento. Me too.”

And in the quiet of that old, forgotten place, you both sat together, with the promise of more moments to come. 

You had finally made a move on from the storefront. After a full day’s walk, you found yourselves at the river crossing. The river stretched ahead of you, winding its way through the landscape like a lifeline. It was a quiet flow that mirrored the stillness of the world around you. The sky, an endless gray, hung over everything, casting a dull sheen across the scene. But it didn’t matter. Not really.

You walked side by side, each step taken in unison, even if the weight of the world outside tried to press down on your shoulders. It was strange, how you could both walk through the ruins of this broken world and still find something like peace in each other’s presence.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. If anything, it was now a language that existed between the two of you. The silence wasn’t that terrifying anymore. Now, it was a silence that was a friend, a loved one. It had become familiar, one where no words were needed to fill the space. The world had become so still, so void of sound, that even the river's gentle flow felt like a soft murmur in the distance.

But then, something inside you stirred. You turned your face toward Kento, your ghostly eyes distant, yet sharper than usual, as if the weight of everything you were feeling suddenly found its way to the surface. It felt important, this moment — like you had to say it.

“You know…” you started, your voice soft, but enough to break through the stillness, “Sometimes it feels like you’re all I can hear.”

Kento, who had been walking beside you, glanced at you with a small frown, his brow furrowing slightly. He slowed his pace, unsure of where you were going, his expression focused on understanding your words, making sure he didn’t miss anything. He didn’t speak right away. He never did, always giving you the space to explain, always waiting until you were ready to say it all. That’s how it was. That’s how he wanted it.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently, his voice laced with curiosity, the same care he always took to hear you out.

You let your gaze drift ahead again, looking at the river, but your mind felt far beyond it. “In this world… everything else is so quiet.” you said, your lips curving upward slightly, though it was bittersweet. 

You continued, smiling back at him. “The birds are gone, the hum of life has faded. But you… The sound of your breath, your voice when you choose to speak. It cuts through the silence. All the time. It always keeps me sane.”

As you finished speaking, Kento’s hand found yours, slow and steady, the rough warmth of his fingers curling around yours, grounding you. His gaze didn’t leave your face. You felt his eyes searching you, trying to understand, trying to hold on to the weight of your words. You knew he couldn’t hear the exact meaning behind them, but you could feel that he understood — he always did.

His eyes softened, and there was something unspoken in his gaze that made your chest ache. Kento didn’t need to hear you to feel the depth of your thoughts. He’d always been able to read you, even without the sound of your voice.

He exhaled, taking a moment before speaking again. “And you… You’re all I can see.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the way he said it so simply, so truthfully, made the air around you feel charged. Kento stopped walking, and for a moment, you both stood still, the only movement being the gentle pull of the river’s current.

“The rest of the world….” he continued, his voice low but steady. “It’s gray. Empty. But you… You’re vivid. You’re technicolor. You’re… everything.”

He trailed off, and a faint flush spread across his cheeks, but it was the quietest of moments, where the world felt like it had paused to let those words sink in. Kento’s voice was always steady, but now, there was a soft vulnerability in it, a quiet tenderness that made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t quite name.

Your fingers squeezed his, and your heart felt full, full in a way that only moments like this — quiet, soft, and real — could make you feel. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was nothing more needed. The weight of the world could wait. In that instant, you both had each other. And that, in this broken world, was everything.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the world silent around you, but the connection between you both felt louder than anything else. The emptiness of the world, the stillness that had replaced what was once alive, couldn’t touch the bond between you. It was as if time itself had slowed to give you both this moment — this quiet, profound space where nothing else mattered.

You didn’t need to hear him to understand how deeply he cared. You could feel it in the way his hand held yours, steady and strong, as though he would never let go. You could feel it in the softness of his gaze, in the way he looked at you like you were something irreplaceable, something worth protecting in this broken world. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t empty. It was full of everything that had never needed to be said.

And he didn’t need you to see it to know the same. The way you leaned into him, the way your presence filled the space between you, made it clear. He saw everything in your small, quiet gestures, in the way you trusted him, in the way your fingers curled around him like they had always belonged there. You didn’t have to speak to tell him that he was everything to you. He felt it, loud and clear, through the warmth of your touch, the stillness of your eyes.

It was a rare kind of quiet. One that was full of everything that mattered more than anything else. The world around you had long since been swallowed by shadows, but here, in this moment, with him by your side, it was like you had created a new world of your own. One that couldn’t be broken, even by the silence, even by the ruin.

It wasn’t about what was lost. It was about what you still had. And, for now, that was enough.

You stood there beside him, the silence enveloping the two of you, and something about the stillness felt like the perfect moment to say the words that had been lingering in your heart for so long. Your voice was soft, almost as if you were afraid the world would swallow your words before they could reach him.

“I’m… I’m really happy, you know?” you said, turning your face toward him, the warmth of his hand still holding yours. “I’m happy that I’m here with you. Even in all this… darkness. Even when everything’s falling apart. I’m happy to have you by my side.”

Kento blinked, his caramel eyes softening as he looked down at you, his hand squeezing yours just a little tighter. He didn’t say anything, just waited for you to continue, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, a silent invitation for you to speak your heart.

“I know that if the darkness ever… consumes me….” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper. “I’d want to have you with me again. In the next life. I’d want you to be by my side, even then. Even if everything was different.”

Kento’s brow furrowed, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he processed your words. His voice came out in a soft, almost unsure tone, “Even if I look bad? If I’m different…?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes, always.” you said, your voice steady, unwavering. “It doesn’t matter. I’d still be happy to sit beside you. No matter what. Even if you were just… a rock I had to carry. I’d be happy.”

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like he was struggling to find the words. But there was something in his eyes. It was a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something almost vulnerable — that made your heart flutter.

He pulled you a little closer, his hand cradling yours gently, and his voice, when it came, was softer than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t need to be anything else, then. I’ll be your rock, as long as you’ll have me. You’ll never have to carry me alone.”

You smiled, a small, quiet thing, but it was enough. Enough for both of you to know that no matter what this broken world threw at you, you had each other. And that, in the end, was more than enough.

And if you did find yourselves reborn, in another life where everything was new and different, you'd carry this with you. The love, the quiet moments, and the promise to always be there, side by side.

══════════════════

ONLY DARK DAYS TRULY CAME AND WENT, EVEN IF YOUR SPIRITS WERE HIGH. The days had grown darker again. The curses had become more relentless, their presence more suffocating.

It wasn’t just the way they twisted and tore through the remnants of civilization, but the way they seemed to feed off the very air. It was as if the fear, pain, and grief of those still left in the world had reached a boiling point.

Kento’s face had hardened with the growing realization that the curses had started to evolve. They were bigger now, more dangerous, more ferocious than ever before. It wasn’t just that the world had broken.

It was that the darkness was feeding off every lost soul, every fragment of hope that had been shattered along the way. It was as though every bit of suffering, every tear, was fueling the very monsters that stalked the earth.

He glanced at you, his expression grim but resolute, as you both stood in the ruins of what had once been a safe place. The walls around you had cracked and splintered, the air thick with the residue of battles fought and lost. Both of you were bruised and bloodied, wounds that had become all too familiar over time.

“They’re getting stronger, I fear.” Kento murmured, his voice tight with the weight of the words. He was staring into the distance, eyes clouded with concern. “The curses… I think they’re feeding off the grief. The fear. The pain. It’s like… it’s escalating. The world’s been broken, and now it’s feeding them.”

You didn’t need to say anything. The truth was written on your face — and in every ache in your body, every breath that rattled in your chest. The world was closing in, suffocating you both. The curses weren’t just hunting anymore. They were becoming the shadows that swallowed everything.

You looked at Kento, your eyes hollow from exhaustion, and the weight of your thoughts threatened to drown you. Maybe this is the end, you thought. It was hard to escape the creeping feeling that all of it — the fighting, the running, the hope you both clung to. It might soon slip through your fingers like sand.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep doing this…” you whispered, your voice betraying the fear you tried so hard to suppress. 

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, and despite everything, you could still hear the silent, insistent whisper of doubt clawing at you. Is this how it ends?

Kento turned toward you, his gaze softening, though his own fear was buried deep beneath the surface. He took a slow breath, as though trying to steady both of you with the quiet strength he always carried.

His hand found yours, and though the grip was firm, it carried an unspoken promise. That no matter how bad things got, he would never let you face it alone.

“I don’t know either, I really….” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. He stops himself before nodding with resolve. “But we’ll face it together. We’ve made it this far, right? Even when things got hard. We’ll keep going… Whatever comes next, we’ll deal with it. Together. Okay?”

You nodded back at him. But even his words, as reassuring as they were, couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was closing in. The curses were out there, bigger and angrier than ever, and the weight of it pressed down harder with every passing moment. Still, Kento held your hand tightly, as if his touch could be the anchor in this storm.

But deep inside, you couldn’t help the growing fear. 

What if this was the end? What if there was no more fight left in the both of you? 

Would the darkness truly, finally swallow everything that had been?

As you held tighter to him, letting him be close to you, letting his warmth rule your cold fingers — you prayed to whatever god there is. You pray that It wasn’t the end yet. You hadn’t given up yet. You prayed for more time. You prayed and you prayed.

But you know that perhaps there was no god.

And everything was a miracle that had run out of luck.

Yet, even then, you found yourself holding firm.

If this was the final stretch, if the end was truly coming…  You would face it together. No matter how hard it got. You have to. You will not part from Nanami Kento, not in this life. Not in the next. You would not let that happen. Not ever.

Kento’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. The sudden screech of a curse, followed by the sounds of pounding footsteps, cut through the air, and your heart seized with panic. 

Before you could process what was happening, Kento was already moving, urging you forward with him. You stumbled behind him, trying to match his pace, but every part of you screamed in terror, the distant snarls of the curses closing in, faster than you'd ever imagined.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your heart hammering against your chest like it was trying to break free. The world blurred around you — not just because of the adrenaline, but because you couldn’t see the way Kento could. You could only hear them coming.

The deafening sounds of claws scraping against stone, of hissing, snarling voices, and the unmistakable thud of massive feet hitting the ground. Fear blossomed in the pit of your stomach, threatening to overwhelm you.

The noise behind you grew louder, closer, and you felt your body freezing in place for a brief moment,  the weight of it all trying to drag you under. Kento’s voice cut through the panic, steady and firm, pulling you from the storm of your thoughts. 

“Don’t fear it.” he said, his tone strong but gentle, like a lifeline thrown into the chaos. “I’m with you. Trust me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, a silent promise that he would never let you go. You could feel the reassurance in the way his fingers locked with yours, as if he was willing you to find courage again, even when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

You barely had a chance to respond before he looked over at you, his brow furrowed in intensity. “Do you trust me?” His voice was clear and unwavering, despite the chaos surrounding you.

You swallowed hard, your breath shaky but steadying as you forced yourself to focus on his words. His presence was grounding, the only thing that remained familiar in this world of terror. You nodded, gripping his hand even tighter, your voice raw but certain. 

“I do.”

It wasn’t just a promise; it was a truth that felt like it was carved into you, deep into your bones. In a world that had been shattered, Kento was the one thing you knew you could count on.

“Then we’re getting out of this.” he said, his voice low but filled with an unshakable confidence. “I swear to you.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled you forward, running faster than before. You focused on matching his steps, not daring to think about what might be behind you. Every part of your body screamed to stop, but you held onto the certainty that Kento was right beside you, leading you through the storm. The curses were closing in, but you didn’t have to face them alone.

You and Kento barely made it to the clearing, your breath ragged and desperate as the curses closed in behind you. But to your horror, it wasn’t just a safe haven. The place had been overtaken by the same dark creatures that had been chasing you. The curses were everywhere — larger, more monstrous, their grotesque forms looming in the distance, ready to swallow everything in their path.

There was no escape.

There was nowhere to run.

This was it.

You felt the ground beneath you tremble as the curses’ twisted forms approached, a guttural, bone-rattling growl filling the air. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked around, panic setting in. But then your eyes found a sharp metal pipe on the ground. Without thinking, you scrambled toward it, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Before you could grip it tightly, however, Kento was already there. His hand shot out, grabbing the pipe before you could. His movements were swift, but there was a sharpness to his focus that only came from years of training, years of survival in a world that had long lost its sense of safety.

With a swift motion, Kento swung the pipe toward the nearest curse, the metal screeching through the air as he lashed out. He was a blur of controlled force, using every bit of his strength to push back against the wave of curses. 

You could feel the shape of his mouth, his jaw tight as he screamed, though the sound was lost in the chaos. His breath came in harsh gasps, sweat dripping down his face as he fought to keep the monsters at bay.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was never going to be enough.

Time had run out.

Kento’s movements slowed, exhaustion and pain taking over as the curses relentlessly advanced. He stumbled, his knees buckling beneath him, and in that moment, it was clear, the battle was too much. Overwhelmed, he fell to the ground, landing hard against the cracked earth.

You rushed to him, heart dropping into your stomach as you knelt beside him. The curses were drawing closer, their forms massive and powerful. Fear rushed through you, but you refused to leave him.

You took his hand, his fingers trembling as they grasped yours. The world around you felt like it was closing in, the suffocating weight of everything pressing down on you both.

Kento’s face was deathly pale, his body trembling as he lay there, clearly drained. But he didn’t let go of your hand. He clung to it like a lifeline, his eyes flicking to you as though searching for something — anything — to hold onto.

Tears welled in your ghostly eyes as you held his hand tightly, trying to be strong for him even as your heart shattered. The curses continued to grow, becoming more monstrous, their bodies glowing with an ominous, fiery light. The world around you seemed to twist and ripple, the air thick with the stench of their power.

Without thinking, you leaned down, your hand moving to gently cover Kento’s eyes. The light from the curses was blinding, and you didn’t want him to see it — the chaos, the terror, the overwhelming explosion of destruction that was coming. You didn’t want him to see the world collapsing around you.

A tear slid down your cheek as you held your hand over his eyes, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. You could hear his soft, ragged breath beneath you, the quiet tremor in his body as he clung to you, needing you just as much as you needed him.

“I’m here.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the growing chaos. “I’m here with you, Kento. Always.”

Kento’s grip on your hand tightened even more, and you could feel the wetness on his cheek where a tear had slipped down. He was scared, just like you were. But in that moment, all you could do was hold him, hold onto each other, as the world seemed to shatter around you.

The curses were growing, the air crackling with their power. You didn’t know how much longer you had. But in this moment, as Kento’s trembling form pressed against you, you felt a quiet resolve settle in your chest. No matter what came next, you would face it together. You would never let go. Never, never never—

The moment stretched on, suspended in the chaos, as time seemed to slow. The curses were closing in, their eerie glow illuminating the world around you, painting everything in hues of fire and decay.

Their twisted, grotesque forms swayed like shadows, blotting out everything that once was beautiful. There was no escape now. You could feel the cold, suffocating weight of the inevitability pressing down on you both.

But in the midst of it all, in the suffocating grip of the approaching darkness, you held onto Kento as if he were the only thing that made sense in this broken world. His hand, though trembling, was still strong in yours, anchoring you in a reality where the two of you existed. It was  where love still mattered, even if the world had crumbled around you.

You could feel the heat from the curses, the air thick with their power, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you drew him closer, pulling him into your embrace as if to shield him, even though you both knew there was no way to protect each other from the inevitable. 

The space between you vanished, leaving only the steady thrum of your heartbeats, both wildly racing in their own way. Your pulse was loud, drowning out the sound of everything else.

His face was near yours, the pain in his eyes apparent but mixed with something else. A sense of peace. A quiet acceptance, as though the words you had shared were all that mattered now.

“I love you.” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. 

Your heart was raw, wide open, vulnerable in a way it had never been before. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You couldn’t pretend that you weren’t afraid, that you didn’t fear the end. But with him here, with his presence filling your world, you knew that you had lived a life worth living.

Kento’s gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if the chaos outside melted away. His hand, now pressed firmly against your chest, was the only thing you could feel. His breath, warm against your skin, was all you needed.

His words were soft, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. “I love you too.” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “I always have.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping away any lingering doubt. The world might have been breaking around you, but here, in this moment, with his hand in yours and his body against yours. Nothing else truly ever mattered. No curses. No impending doom. Nothing. Just him. Just you. Just the love of his life.

And even as the ground shook beneath you, even as the curses closed in, your hearts beat together, a rhythm of shared understanding. It was the final, beautiful connection in a world that had forgotten what peace felt like. The darkness outside didn’t matter. It couldn’t touch the bond you shared, not even in its final moments.

Kento’s eyes, though filled with fear, also held a quiet determination. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not without making sure you knew. Not without making sure you both had one last, shared moment of peace. His grip on you tightened, as though trying to hold onto you with every ounce of strength he had left. He didn’t need to say more. His actions spoke volumes.

“I’ll always be with you.” he whispered, the promise hanging in the air like a fragile thread, one that neither of you were ready to break, even if the world around you was collapsing.

You pressed your forehead against his, the world fading into the background as the reality of the moment settled in. This was where you were meant to be. And no matter what happened next, you knew you’d be okay as long as you were together.

The world around you seemed to close in, the curses drawing nearer with each passing second. The ground beneath you cracked and groaned as though it, too, could feel the weight of the inevitable end.

But in that small, fragile bubble between you and Kento, time stretched out, holding you in a quiet eternity. Everything else blurred and dimmed, leaving only the two of you, holding onto each other as tightly as you could.

His breath was shallow now, but it was still there, still warm against your skin. You could feel the faint tremor in his hand as it grasped yours, the weight of the world pressing down on him, just as it was on you. 

Yet, even in this moment of impending loss, there was a strange kind of peace. The peace that came from knowing that you had found someone who truly understood you — someone who had walked with you through the darkest of times and had never once turned away.

“I don’t want this.” you whispered, your voice trembling, but it was a truth you couldn’t hide. "I don't want to leave you, Kento. Not like this. I don’t even have a name.”

Kento’s eyes fluttered shut, his forehead still resting against yours, his voice soft but steady. “I don’t want it either. But we’ve come so far. We’ve been through hell together... and even if this is where it ends, I’m glad it was with you. I’m glad it was with someone who understood me.”

Your heart felt as though it might burst, the love you felt for him growing beyond what words could express. The gravity of the moment hung in the air between you, but instead of feeling like a heavy weight, it felt like a lightness, a quiet acceptance of the journey you’d shared. There was no regret. There was no what ifs. There was no hesitation. Just the certainty of love.

And then, in the silence, you heard it. Not the sound of the curses or the chaos surrounding you, but a faint, barely perceptible shift. The ground rumbled, and for a split second, it seemed as though the air had thickened. It was a strange kind of stillness that felt almost like a breath held in the universe itself.

“Love.” He whispers to you, causing you to look at him. “That’s your name.”

You could feel the tears rush from your ghostly orbs. “Thats….That’s a beautiful name.”

“Yeah, it is.” Kento smiles at you, tears too rushing down his face. It's warm orifice falls on your hand. “Because it’s who you are. My love.”

You couldn’t breathe as you pulled him closer to you, tears rushing more than ever before. “I know.”

You felt Kento’s grip tighten, his voice a whisper against your ear. “We’re not alone, are we?”

A strange energy seemed to pulse through the air, vibrating with intensity. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Something was changing. Something was happening. It was something you couldn’t quite place, but it was there. The curses loomed closer, but in that moment, you felt... something else. The possibility of something more.

It was then that you realized — you hadn’t given up. Even if it was the end, there was still courage in you. You had held onto each other so tightly, to the very end, that maybe, just maybe, that love was powerful enough to change things. 

The world outside might have been consumed by the darkness, but in this small, intimate space, the light between you was enough to push back the overwhelming weight of the curse. You looked at Kento, his caramel eyes shining even in the face of the inevitable. He was holding you. He was still there, still fighting with you. And that was enough.

“Maybe we’re not meant to go out like this,” you whispered, almost as if speaking the thought aloud would make it real. “Maybe... maybe we get another chance.”

He presses a kiss on your temple. “Maybe in another life, my love.”

Kento met your ghostly gaze, his eyes soft with a mixture of hope and acceptance. He didn’t speak, but the way his thumb traced circles against your palm told you everything you needed to know. Even in the face of the world’s destruction, in the face of everything that had been lost, you were still together. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was all you needed to face whatever came next.

The curses grew louder, their grotesque forms now within arm’s reach, but there was no fear left. 

You had each other. And that was more than enough.

A camera glimmers in the silence of the rubble.

[onegayastronaut]

Always With Her

Requested by anon: IF U STILL WRITE FOR JENNIFER JAREAU PLS MAY I REQUEST ONE BASED ON THR CLAIRO (i think? SONG WHERE IT GOES she’s so prettyyy when she goes down on me (x reader)

Words: 1059

The first time you realize you might be in over your head with JJ, it’s late—the kind of late that blurs into early morning. You’re both seated on her couch, bare feet tucked under you, a glass of wine balanced precariously in her hand. Her laugh—rich and melodic—spills into the quiet of the room, wrapping itself around you like a favorite sweater.

She’s just told you a story about an ill-fated college road trip, punctuated by wild hand gestures and her inability to stop giggling at her own misfortune. Her cheeks are flushed from the wine, her hair loose around her shoulders, and when she looks at you, it’s like the air is sucked out of the room.

“You’re staring,” she says softly, the laughter in her voice giving way to something more intimate, more dangerous.

You swallow hard. “Am I?”

Her smile tilts at the edges. “A little.”

You’re about to come up with some half-baked excuse when she leans in, her free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her fingers linger at your jaw, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly you’re not thinking at all. She kisses you softly, hesitantly, like she’s testing the waters. When you respond—pressing into her, letting the taste of her settle on your tongue—the hesitation melts away. The glass in her hand is abandoned on the coffee table, and her hands find their place at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no room for doubt.

Loving JJ is easy in theory. She’s kind, thoughtful, and endlessly selfless, always putting others before herself. But there’s a quiet intensity to her, a weight she carries that’s both magnetic and devastating.

You see it in the way she pours herself into her work, in the long nights and the phone calls that pull her away at a moment’s notice. You see it in the way she’s with Henry, her gentleness wrapped around her like armor, her love for her son so palpable it nearly brings you to your knees. And you see it in the way she loves you—with a ferocity that’s sometimes overwhelming, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on tightly enough.

It’s in the stolen mornings when she’s still half-asleep, her body warm and pliant against yours, her hair a mess across her pillow. It’s in the way she presses lazy kisses to your collarbone, her voice gravelly and soft as she murmurs your name. It’s in the way she watches you with quiet reverence, as though she’s memorizing every inch of you.

And it’s in the nights when she’s gone—when the emptiness of your shared bed feels like a physical ache, and you’re left wondering how you ever survived before her.

The first time she tells you she loves you, it’s not planned. She’s standing in the kitchen, her hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing one of your oversized sweatshirts. There’s a smear of flour on her cheek, and she’s laughing at something you’ve just said. The sound is so pure, so genuine, that it fills every corner of the room.

“I love you,” she says, the words tumbling out unbidden. Her laughter fades, replaced by a wide-eyed vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. And then you’re closing the distance between you, cupping her face in your hands and kissing her with everything you have. You taste the salt of her tears and realize she’s crying, and it breaks something inside you.

“I love you, too,” you whisper against her lips. “So much.”

She smiles through her tears, her arms winding around your neck, and you’re both laughing, crying, and kissing all at once. It’s messy and beautiful and entirely perfect.

The thing about JJ is that she’s all-consuming. When she’s with you, it’s like nothing else exists. She’s fully present, fully engaged, her attention fixed solely on you. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

There are nights when she’s on her knees before you, her hands gripping your thighs, her lips leaving a trail of fire across your skin. She looks up at you, her blue eyes dark and hungry, and you’re struck by how utterly beautiful she is. She’s breathtaking in her intensity, her devotion, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs, her voice husky and reverent. “So damn pretty.”

You’re about to respond, to tell her she’s the one who’s beautiful, but then her mouth is on you, and all coherent thought is wiped away. She takes her time, her movements deliberate and precise, unraveling you piece by piece until you’re nothing but a trembling mess beneath her.

Afterward, she’s all soft smiles and gentle touches, her body curled around yours like she’s afraid to let go. She presses a kiss to your temple, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, and you wonder how you ever got so lucky.

But things weren’t always easy. There are times when the weight of her world threatens to crush her, and by extension, you. There are nights when she comes home looking like she’s carrying the weight of the universe on her shoulders, her eyes hollow and distant.

You’ve learned to navigate these moments with care, giving her the space she needs while quietly reminding her that she’s not alone. Sometimes, she’ll let you hold her, her head resting against your chest as you stroke her hair and whisper words of comfort. Other times, she retreats into herself, and all you can do is be there, waiting for her to find her way back to you.

It’s in these moments that you’re reminded of just how human she is. She’s not the invincible, unshakable force she appears to be. She’s vulnerable, flawed, and achingly real, and you love her all the more for it.

Your relationship isn’t perfect, but it’s yours. It’s in the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the whispered promises. It’s in the way she looks at you like you’re her entire world, and in the way you feel when she’s by your side—whole, seen, and completely loved. And as you lay in bed beside her, her fingers intertwined with yours, her breathing steady and calm, you know without a doubt that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[crimsonnsstuff]

really need mean gi-hun!! my man doesn’t get enough attention and nobody writes anything like this for him, but i know you’ll perfect it 😽

Gi-hun has a bruising grip on your hips as he thrust into you desperately, his cock ramming into your deepest area areas and bullying your insides.

He didn’t bother being gentle, grabbing you by the hair the moment you walked into the door. He dragged you upstairs and just slammed into you raw, no time for foreplay.

It all started because you went out with your friends and came home late. He was blowing up your phone but your phone was dead.

Now here you are, face down ass up as he slams into you. He slaps your ass, then leans over your back, whispering in your ear, “such a bitch, staying out late, leaving me worrying.” It was more of a low growl than a whisper.

He leans back, gripping your hips tighter as he fucks you roughly. You gasp as you feel his vein on the side of his cock rub against your insides.

You grip the sheets, lifting your head up. He’s quick to grip your hair and push your head back down. He grabs a handful of your ass, causing you to whine.

Suddenly, his hand moves down to where your bodies meet. You feel this thumb press against your asshole, causing you to cry out. Not from the pain, but from the fact you know he will push too far.

“W-wait, please!” You cry, but he shoves his thumb into your tight hole :(

You yelp as he does so, crying out in pain. He knew you never had anyone back there, he also knew he was being an ass.

"You think you can just play games with me?" Gi-hun growls, his voice low and menacing.

Before you could respond, he shoves his thumb in deeper, causing you to yell, tears streaming down your face.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice laced with a cruel satisfaction as he continued his relentless pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your own moans, which you couldn't suppress despite the roughness of the act.

His grip on your hip tightened, sure to leave marks that would remind you of this moment for days. Gi-hun's movements were all about dominance, showing you who was in charge, every thrust claiming you in a way that was both primal and consuming.

You moan in relief as he pulls his thumb out, only to push his middle and pointer finger back in. This time, he thrusted them.

“Please stop!” You whine loudly. “Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growls, thrusting them deeper.

As the rhythm built, you felt the coil of tension in your belly tightening, the pleasure mixed with pain, pushing you towards the edge. Gi-hun, sensing your climax approaching, leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear, "Come for me," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper.

And you did, your body shaking with the force of your release, the intensity of it all drawing a sharp cry from your lips. Gi-hun wasn't far behind, his own climax hitting him with a growl, his movements becoming erratic before slowing to a stop.

He pulls out of you, making you slump into the bed. He gives one last thrust of his fingers before pulling them out with a wet squelch. You lie there, panting heavily.

He grabs one of your ass cheeks, spreading them so he can see your cum drip out of you.

“Worthless fucking slut.” He growls, but you know he loves you.

[ghostieblr]

Thawed Wind

The hand in his hair is gently rough. Thumb and pointer finger cascading through his short hair, resting intermittently at the nape of his neck. Strong, soft grip tugging him forward into slick, sweet lips. He bites, and the hand on his hair stops for a moment, before starting again, insistent.

He giggles, and the lips against his own fans into a responding smile.

"Beautiful," Derek murmurs, the smile turning brighter, hands moving downwards. Down to the small of his back, his waist. Both hands on his hips, then up, then down again. Continuous, ravenous, wandering hands.

Stiles' response is another bite, a successor to drinking in the absolute sunshine from this ethereal man he gets to call his own. His own hands are resting on Derek's body: one on his bicep, the other on his waist.

Their hands entwine between them, a gesture and a promise. Their kisses halt, words of affirmation cascading against the other: oaths to be at the other's side, to always be there, to chase down the other if need be.

Oath of always being honest. To never let themselves be more of an idiot and let happiness be kept at bay because of assumptions.

"I'm glad you found me," Derek whispers against his skin, their closeness new but centuries old. Stiles' spit-pink lips glisten under the moonlight, his heart jumps with joy. He strokes Derek's back, the henley warm to the touch, despite the slightly chilly wind.

"When am I ever wrong?"

Another smile, a soft curve up of the lips. He knows how the taste and feel of them, now. "Never." The word is punctuated by a kiss on his nose, followed by a peck on his lips.

Stiles' response is to pull Derek back for another kiss.

Behind them lies the seldomly travelled road, his blue jeep parked haphazardly in the middle; argument and a nearly-dead Derek in his passenger seat had been like old times, but his determination to save and Derek's to be let go had been ten-fold. He had won, and Derek had stumbled away from him, in the middle of nowhere, and he had followed.

He'll always follow, and be at Derek's side, a truth so stark it is written in the stars. A truth so everlasting it will live as long as the universe is alive. And yet, Derek had resisted it, argued against it.

The argument had turned into a desperate effort — his to convince, Derek's to not ruin him.

Stiles still doesn't know how he'd gotten through. It does not matter, now. Derek is in his arms, convinced, happier, his.

It is enough. Although...

"It's getting colder."

"Of course it is. It's winter and the middle of the night."

"Don't give me that look, you're the one who decided jumping out a moving vehicle would be the best course of action."

"Again: your anxious scent and my own assumptions aren't a good mix, Stiles."

"But you, me, and a motel are, right?"

Derek's cheeks are definitely pink, though he can't really see it. The moonlight isn't enough. "Stiles!"

"What?" His grin is mischievous, he can admit it. He doesn't need Derek's judgy eyes to tell him that. "You need sleep, I need sleep, and I need a heater, since not everyone of us here is an awoooo."

Derek rolls his eyes, hands reaching for Stiles' which he readily gives. Except, Derek is a cheeky bastard, and soon Stiles finds himself in a bridal carry towards his own jeep. "This awoo will show you what a personal heater is."

"More ooo sound," he corrects, just as Derek dumps him in the passenger seat — sticky with blood, ugh — and the only response he gets is a head shake before the driver's side door is being opened.

"I don't know why I like you." Derek starts the jeep — the engine switched on throughout, never turned off in the first place — and turns to look at him. Whatever Derek sees, it brings a small, genuine smile on that gorgeous, tired face. "That's a lie."

The whispered confession makes him blush, and he's back to being seventeen with an unattainable crush, concocting scenarios to make the impossible happen. Except, now, the impossible has happened, and he'd like to let the younger Stiles know that.

Derek eases the jeep onto the road, and Stiles eases his hand onto Derek's, their fingers entwined, their hearts in sync, and the cold of the wind thawing with the warmth of their love.

[marianasbored]

So, I’m gonna need more gihun x chubby!reader 😭 perhaps he makes her wear a tail butt plug while he fucks her, and he’s a little (very) mean. Also, I need to be restrained from your page :(

Yesss I love this sm :3

I live for your requests bro ily 🙏

Mean!Gi-hun x Chubby!reader

Warnings: pet play, pervy gi-hun, dom gi-hun, slapping, degrading, reader is wearing a collar, slight dumbification, uses of “puppy” “slut” and “pup”, I got kinda lazy at the end :P sorry 💔

Not proofread !!

‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆

Gi-hun had you in doggy style, your back arched and your ass in the air for him to see. He just wanted to stare at your ass while he pounds into you relentlessly :( . . . Especially since he shoved a tail butt plug in you >.<

He loved listening to your whines, he loved hearing you say it’s too much, or that you can’t take it..or that he should slow down..it only made him pound harder !!

But maybe he should get you to shut up..because who are you to tell him what to do? He tugs at the collar around your neck, causing you to let out a loud moan

“Good pups don’t tell their owners what to do..” he said, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust “I know what’s best for you.. you’re just a dumb puppy, right? You can’t think for yourself..” He slapped your ass, watching it jiggle and letting out a groan

“P-please!” You moan “slow down!!” You were squirming so much !!

“Shut the fuck up..” He spanked you, this time harder “what did I just say? You’re just a dumb slut who doesn’t know what’s good for you. Be a good puppy and let me do all the thinking for you...” He kept spanking you as he spoke

You couldn’t reply, too busy moaning and whining into your pillow.

He chuckled, delivering another firm slap to your ass “good puppy..can’t think about anything but my cock, hm?” He teased, hearing you moan in response

“Mmh.. you gonna cum?.” he groaned

“Y-yes..p-please..!” You choke out

“Aww go ahead and cum puppy..” he started rubbing your clit >.<

You came, legs shaking as your pussy tightened around his thick cock, causing him to moan

He started pounding into you even faster now, overstimulating you and getting impossibly harder from listening to your sobs :(

“Fuck..” he moans “gonna cum so fucking deep in this pussy..” he groaned, a broken cry escaping you

He finally came, releasing his cum in your tight pussy <3

You whined as he came, cumming again at the same time due to how sensitive you were :( . . .there were tear stains on your face now !!

When he finally pulled out, he started groping your ass, giving it another slap for good measure

“Maybe I should leave this in hm, puppy?” He played with your tail, chuckling as you whined..₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[ikol-art]

So where is my 'Arthur lives' fanfic where he realizes as he asks Merlin to hold him while he's dying that he was an idiot for refusing Merlin's hugs all those years and now that he's still alive he plans to make up for that?

[cisthoughtcrime]

.

[wayward-sherlock]

pov you Experience something so now it’s time to Project (2am edition)

[neims-skeleton-obsession]

Was looking through the books for any descriptions of skug or his family (as in parents and siblings) because. i wanted to do a design for alive skug

and I’m pleased to announce that all I found- in all 15 books and the grimoire- was that height was varied as shit, some of his siblings are blond, some with darker hair and all of his family is apparently hot. dammit derek. like genuinely even his dad is described as “fair In countenance” or something. skug said he wasn’t too bad looking Val thinks one of his brothers is good looking these are all just ways of saying they’re hot this isn’t useful derek

[graciousdragon]

Can people stop fucking bullying CG5 please this is genuinely pissing me off. I don't give a shit if someone likes his music or not (personally, I do really like his music) but if you don't like his music you can literally just. Shut up and not engage. I and anyone with common sense isn't going to be mad over a difference in music taste. But how much longer are we going to have to deal with people on the internet who think its okay to literally tell people to kill themselves for no reason? It's not okay to say that to anyone regardless of reason, but the only thing he's done is make songs about memes that some people find cringe. Can we just fucking grow up and be mature about shit please?