#i like the lighting in the left one a lot more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mercillery · 3 days ago

Text

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

275 notes · View notes

dashing-disaster · 2 days ago

Text

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

“I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommy fanfic #sal deluca #lucy donato #gina deluca #this is actually terrifying i haven't posted anything i've written in like a decade #totally did not accidentally put the title in wrong at first

179 notes · View notes

trashydez · 3 days ago

Text

like a phoenix. (2.7k words)

what if phoenix- instead of being virtually indestructible, actually wasnt? what if he was actually incredibly prone to death, but he just… never stayed dead?

(trigger warning for a multitude of causes of deaths!! some in detail and some not. other tw’s include implied suicide attempts, implied child neglect, derealisation and thinking one is already dead. be warned! take care of yourself!)

at 9, he wakes in his bed after having a high fever and his mom ships him off to school hours after it began. he finds it odd, because last he’d checked his temperature (that morning, when he told his mom he felt like he was going to die and his mom had left to go run errands, barely sparing him a glance), his temperature had been at 107 degrees farenheit. that was definitely high, but after he slipped into unconsciousness, writhing and restless and in a lot of pain, he woke up to his mother checking his temperature and saying he was fine to head off to school. he didnt feel fine, but his temperature had gone down significantly enough that his mother felt like he had no excuse not to go. hes glad he went to school though, even as he shivered, sneezed and sniffled, because there he found a friend in a boy with a funny bowtie and a heart made of gold.

he crunches and chokes on glass shards and poison but doesnt die. the doctors dont find anything wrong with him, aside from feeling a bit ill, so he goes back into the courtroom and dollie is convicted of murder. hes happy his roommate is away for some theatre troupe thing, because the sickness eventually catches up to him and he throws up shards of glass, acid and blood. it cuts into his throat and burns his eyes and he swears, he swears he dies right then and there, freezing and shaking and everything hurts. but when he wakes up hours later, the sun having set and the only light source in his dingy dormroom the moon outside, hes amazed to not feel sick anymore. but the puddle of sludge is drying beside his face and he considers himself lucky, or maybe unlucky, because unlike dahlia’s other victims, he actually lives to tell the tale.

phoenix arrives early to the office, having been in the public library nearby reading a book on reincarnation. he enters the office and promptly has his skull caved into his brain. he does not see his assailant, but when he wakes, theres an oddly dressed girl crying, crouched over his boss’ cold body. he doesn’t think about the drying blood in the back of his head, or how cold mia’s body is (and why he can even tell, considering the fact he has not touched her corpse) or the chapter in the book he’d been reading that talked about quantum immortality— all he thinks of is proving maya fey’s innocence.

as it turns out, being constantly anxious and terrified of mortal peril actually has its perks. maybe the fact he’s a lawyer whose only ever dealt with homicide cases definitely wasn’t benefiting his mental wellbeing either. in any case, its that fear of literally everything and constant feeling of impending doom that makes his body react before his mind does. taser! danger! maya! so, he gets tasered. and it fucking HURTS, but he feels more relieved than frightened as the searing pain shoots through him, because he’d been able to push maya away before von karma got to them both. wasnt a symptom of death by electrocution an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and imminent death? maybe he was going crazy. when he comes back though, its to his head in the lap of a crying spirit medium, so maybe a psychotic break isnt too bad if it means everyone else gets to escape with no damage to their own psyche.

its only after she stops screaming in terror- oh my god, nicks a zombie!! kyahh!!!- and nearly beating him with her bulky magatama necklace, that she tells him what she saw. (“like, there was a sudden bright light and then i realised it was coming from you! but when i tried to touch your glowing skin,” she says it like its the most absurd thing she’d ever seen, which really said something considering the fact she was from a family of people who could channelthe dead “it was HOT! like, japanifornia summer hot! blazing! i was only able to check your pulse after you cooled down a bit…”). maybe its this that makes him less alarmed by the way his skin glowed in the dark of his trashed bedroom, after drinking himself to death following a certain phone call from a terribly sad, newly bossless detective. he doesnt think he can bear the taste alcohol ever again, after that.

maybe the number of times he’s died of blunt force trauma to the head should be a cause for concern, even more so when he wakes up without any of his memories. he’s terrified, and doesnt even knows who he is, until he does, and is able to prove maggey byrde innocent. fun times! he should probably watch out to make sure his next death wasn’t to the head, lest he be as mentally impaired as a number of people liked to say he was… (and he should probably also be concerned by the fact he was already thinking of the next time he’d die, but ah well, blame it on the concussion).

as it turns out, getting whipped to death was not on his list of ways he thought he’d die next, but life liked to mess with him like that, it seemed. still, dragging his delirious self to the bathroom of his office to try and save the infected wounds from killing him wasn’t all that fun, and he’s immediately reminded of his first death, slow and painful, alone and scared of what came next. he feels bad for feeling relieved when maya shows up and screams upon seeing the state he and the bathroom (that’d he’d accidentally trashed when his legs gave out after he opened the door, a number of bottles fallen to the floor beside him) were in. he stops her from calling the police- there was no point, he didn’t have much time left. but when she asks what she could do, he goes quiet. (…just… stay here? i dont- he coughs up a distinctly red shade of spit. maya makes a noise between a choked cry and a whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. but phoenix was shivering worse now, and hugs himself tigher. i dont want to die alone.) so she stays with him, on the cold bathroom floor, as his labored breathing eventually slows. when he awakens, he finds maya asleep leaning against him, and promises to get her burgers as a thank you.

who knew death by a monkey throwing a giant bronze bust of max galactica at you could happen? at this point, he’s almost glad he was basically immortal, because there was no way in hell he’d allow his autopsy report to say ‘cause of death: monkey manslaughter’! edgeworth would laugh himself to tears if he saw! not that he could see. or cry, because he was dead. and not coming back. damn.

so edgeworth isnt dead! yippee? he thought it was his thing to get reanimated after death, not edgeworths. when he saw him, standing in the middle of the police department, alive and breathing and very much not dead, he nearly started laughing. he must’ve finally gone insane! curse the amount of times he’d died of brain related injuries, not that he knew how many of them there were at this point. he might actually have laughed a bit, because pearls was looking at him like he was losing it (he was) but he couldnt really bring himself to care as he had more pressing issues at hand, like saving his best friend from a crazy serial killer holding her hostage, and punching his other best friend in the face for faking his own death (because really, dying was his thing! not edgeworths!). and if he pulls edgeworth into a hug immediately after, throwing caution in the wind (you only live once, right?), the warmth- a normal, human temperature, unlike his burning hot when he came back from death- is enough to stabilise his harried mind for just a moment, before he has to return to his guilty client and his hopeless situation.

by some crazy turn of events, he actually doesnt die from having boiling hot coffee thrown at his face. it burns, and maya screams when she sees the boils on his face after that first trial with godot, but after throwing a wet towel over his face and putting him in timeout on the sofa for 12-hours, the burns go away as if they were never there. he fell asleep at some point, and after alot of back and forth debate, they eventually came to the conclusion that 1. his body heat rising to burning levels when he dies must have caused his body has to grow immune to heat and 2. since sleep was like a ‘temporary death’, a ‘temporary wound’ would just heal like it did when he died of normal wounds, right? he didn’t want to dwell on it too much, because maya was looking at him like she wanted to test that theory for real, so he quickly changes topics before things got out of hand.

so their theory on the immunity to heat thing was correct! …almost. larry had tried to stop him, but it was fire and he was basically immune to heat, right? nope! his skin burned and boiled but he didn’t die as he tried to run across the burning bridge. even so, nothing hurt more than falling through one of the burnt planks and slamming onto the surface of the freezing cold rushing stream below. luckily the death was near immediate, but unfortunately he came to while in the water still, so he swallowed a sizeable amount of water before paramedics arrived. he hears the doctors find his survival miraculous, despite the scorching hot fever he was now under. he blacks out again, and comes to in the hospital, feeling absolutely terrible.

the horribleness feels familiar though, and when edgeworth walks in, he realises what it must be, when the man presses the back of his hand to his temple and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. (oh. he thinks, tearing up despite himself. it must be the fever. i’m going to die like this again.) his internal monologue must’ve been external though, because edgeworth balks (‘again?!’). but phoenix was crying in hiccups and sobs, feeling terrible and like he was nine years old again, wishing his mother were there to nurse him back to health like she’d never done before. he faintly hears edgeworth sitting down on his bed and reaches out, gripping the mans waist like it was a lifeline. in a sense, it was. “don’t go.” he whispers, gripping the man tighter like he’d disappear into thin air (again). “please, please don’t go.” in his delirium, he nearly wails in despair when he feels edgeworth move, but he was only moving to readjust himself so he’s lying next to him, their bodies so close that it must burn, but the only sign edgeworth shows that he’s in pain is a wince and the crease of his brow. he allows himself to be cried on, curling a protective arm over phoenix’s burning body. “i- i dont know what’s going on, wright, but i’m not, i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he seems to be attempting exasperation, but it comes out terrified and concerned, but phoenix is fading quickly, so it might just be his waning mind making up things that don’t exist. “i am terrified. your body is life threateningly hot and— wright? wright!”

he comes to with nurses surrounding him, and a distressed edgeworth swearing on his life that that man was dead, his body was seizing and on fire and- and his heart stopped beating! but phoenix couldn’t dwell on it, because the mention of fire immediately brought him back to why he was in the hospital at all. and plus, it gave him the chance to use his best friends sensitive treatment of him afterwards to convince him to play defense attorney, so that was nice. still, he feels like he dies when he finds out dahlia had actually been iris and that godot was actually his dead mentors apparently not dead boyfriend. oh, and he was also a murderer. he also feels like he dies when dahlia- actual, serial killer and dead by execution dahlia, was exorcised from maya’s body. but that had more to do with his soul leaving his body in terror rather than actually dying, so that was a nice change of pace… probably.

later, he’d had to have a conversation with edgeworth to give him an explanation on just what the hell he’d witnessed in that hospital room. although, apparently his re-aliving symptoms must’ve started becoming more dramatic, because miles describes it as his whole body glowing as bright as the sun, and then his eyes opening for a moment to reveal nothing but white, glowing eyeballs with no irises. phoenix has to convince him to still board his flight the day after, that he was okay… probably. maybe not safe, but definitely okay. (still, edgeworth stays the night at his, and they hold eachother close, basking in the shared warmth of two alive bodies in heat equilibrium, listening to eachothers breathing and rhythmic heartbeats, no signs of impending mortality in sight, save for, what did the french call it? la petite morte? most of all, phoenix basks in the promise miles makes to him. “i’m not going anywhere,” he repeats, over and over like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was phoenix. “i’m not going anywhere, i promise.”)

and when he loses his badge, he thinks he really does die, permanent and definitively. he feels far away from his body when the forger is called to the witness stand. feels like a ghost when the council walks out the room and past him, making no eye contact and answering the unanswered question on the tip of his tongue. feels his life crumble to pieces when a blonde man with a pleasent, almost saintly smile gives him the most maddeningly sympathetic look and tells him he is sorry for his loss, as if there really was someone dead. only, the only one dead must’ve been him, because there was no one else there who had just lost their life. he couldn’t even hear himself as he laughed, which turned into sobs, as he excused himself and fleed to his bicycle. not one pedestrian bats an eye at the state he is in, so he must really be a ghost, cycling past speeding cars and large trucks and buses as if it couldn’t kill him, because he wasn’t there, he was already dead. when he reaches his office, freezing and quiet and dreadfully void of any human life, he passes by the window his boss had died at and sees his reflection, unkempt and red faced and badgeless. he wants to scream, but he couldn’t because no one would hear a ghost scream, so instead he just sits down in the spot his mentor had lost her life in, and mourns.

when two weeks later a warm, incredible alive life falls into his hands in the shape of a little girl with a too big tophat and a joy for being alive that he’d lost years ago, well, maybe he is glad that he couldn’t die for real, if only to be able to wake up to that beaming grin as his little girl tries to pull her daddy out of bed because she’d made breakfast, and it only smells burnt because of the magic something she’d added as a special ingredient. he eats it, char and all, because he can’t taste the burnt-ness of it anyway, but he could taste the love and care put into it, and that was more than enough to take his mind away readying himself for his next death. instead, he thinks of his daughter’s next performance at the wonder bar, and their next trip to kurain, and miles’ next visit. for once, he thinks of living.

117 notes · View notes

alexanderwales · 3 days ago

Text

I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

#death note

109 notes · View notes

weenie-extraordinaire · 1 day ago

Note

Okay, I know reading comprehension on this website is non-existent, so I'll try to use small words in non-complex ways.

The USA was the first country in the world to recognize Israel as a State. Not a United State of America, an independent Nation State.

Do you know when Israel started receiving US financial aid? The late 1940's, after they recognized Israeli sovereignty.

Do you know when Israel started receiving US military aid? The 1960's. It started with Kennedy and the Raytheon Hawk Anti-Air missile system.

Do you know how many treaties, agreements, memorandums of understanding, and defense cooperation agreements the USA has with Israel? A lot. A hell of a lot.

What does this mean, you ask? It means that your country has got a shitload of bureaucracy tying your government to their government, and despite all the enthusiasm to blame "the Biden Administration" for providing the means to slaughter tens of thousands of Palestinians, invade Lebanon, and bomb Iran, well, Israel already had nearly 600 Foreign Military Sales authorized through the US Foreign Military Financing program(as of October 2023), with a ten year Memorandum of Understanding signed in 2019 and valid until 2028. This wasn't some snap decision from "sleepy Joe" to arm Israel; y'all have been doing so since before the towers fell, since before the Berlin wall fall, hell, since before the assassination of JFK.

Do you understand now, or do you need a bit more explanation?

I'm gonna assume you still don't understand.

Close to 60 years of inertia cannot be brought to an immediate halt by any President. There are far too many intelligence, military, economic, and diplomatic ties with Israel to just make it all just... go away. It ain't happening overnight. It didn't happen under Biden. It certainly ain't happening in the next four years. And you might wanna include the full context of the quote you pulled, because cherrypicking is for cowards.

riotbard wrote: surprising absolutely no one but in a contest between 99% Hitler and 100% Hitler the voters wanted full Hitler. They don’t want bargain value Hitler they want the full thing. Oh well, guess next time we’ll run 102% Hitler and see if THAT excites these ungrateful assholes. Didn’t even want Dollar Tree Hitler smh

weenie-extraordinare wrote: This looks and sounds both incredibly fucking unhelpful and terminally online. So Joe Biden and Kamala Harris aren't perfect and beautiful beings of light here to save the world from a shitty celebrity criminal. So they didn't singlehandedly tell a sovereign nation explicitly to stop committing genocide. So they didn't go far enough left for you. Okay. Instead of spending your time crying over how much everyone else in your country loves Hitlers, maybe go outside and talk to people instead of holing up online and blaming the political party that does not want to strip you of your rights for not beating the party that does want to strip you of your rights. Like, I get it, it's not a great time for America. But it could be worse, and now, it will be worse. And if you thought Joe and Kamala were Hitlers, well, just wait and see what Trump has planned for women, Palestine, and Ukraine.

Motherfuckers be like, "Do you know your history?" Better than you yankee-fucking-doodles, apparently. Thank god y'all are just screaming into an internet void instead of saying this kind of shit to people's faces. Y'all make a huge deal out of pointing the finger at your politicians, carrying on like Biden is out there personally, when it's Israel's IDF pulling triggers and slaughtering children. Yeah, the USA is selling them munitions and bombs. It's Israel that's using them. Don't get it so twisted that you're ignoring who is actually murdering the people of Palestine. And let's be real here, y'all pulled a post about "Kamala Harris is not Hitler because a nation she is not the VP of is committing genocide" and turned it into "Look at this fucking verminous approbate, he thinks the black woman isn't a hitler!" And then it kinda swung into "OF COURSE the Biden Administration was solely responsible for allowing them to bom Palestine, and not the blank check written by the US FMF(Foreign Military Financing program)." Y'all so up your own asses over your moral rectitude that you'll dogpile any motherfucker who doesn't bark how you do. Maybe write some letters to your congress, your governors, anyone who represents you, and make your opinions heard. Maybe present those opinions as staunch opposition to the Israeli genocide of Palestinians instead of trying the "Kamala Harris is 99% a Hitler" approach.

And for the record, I have opposed the Israeli occupation of Palestine since the first time I hear about it in the 90's. I still oppose it. I will continue to oppose it. The absolute carnage that is being wrought today is inexcusable. It was inexcusable from the first Nakba, through each fresh conflict, and to the present day.

Free Palestine. End the genocide.

Hey, quick question, who's killing Palestinians? Is it Israelis, or is it Americans? I'd have replied, but you have replies restricted.

September 2, 2024

You know as well as I do that Israel wouldn't have been able to commit this holocaust or invade Lebanon or bomb Iran without the enthusiastic steadfast unwavering zero-red-line ironclad support of the Biden administration. I'm not going to entertain your faux incredulity. It is transparent horseshit.

254 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 10 hours ago

Text

and there was something 'bout you (that now I can't remember) — fushiguro megumi.

Then, you smiled, soft and genuine, the kind that made his heart ache with both joy and longing. “It’s a good thing I have someone like you, though.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment, as if seeking reassurance. “My Megumi.” "My Megumi." you said softly, the words like a balm that soothed every ache, every frustration he’d been holding onto. The way you said his name, it reached down to the deepest part of him, pulling at heartstrings that felt knotted and tired. It made him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, like for just a moment, the world could pause and bask in that glow. It was always like this with you. The way you spoke his name, the way your voice wrapped around it like a melody, made everything else fade away. It was as if the sun itself came out just to light the room when you said Megumi. He knew with a certainty that startled him that he couldn’t live without this, without you.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern no curses au;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, fluff, aged up characters, brief one sided romance, eventual romance, slice of life, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, sad ending, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, internal conflict, future, letting go, break up, getting back together, depiction of character death, depiction of romance, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, depiction of illness, mention of illness, mention of loneliness;

WORD COUNT: 21k words

NOTE: when i sent this to my beta reader last night, it was like 17k words. it ended with 5k more words than it needed to be. but with how i write, i just end up being the most unpredictable person. even to myself. i wanted to write about megumi cause i missed him. i hope yall guys understand. anyway, i hope you enjoy this a lot!!! i'll see you soon on the next one!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

MEETING YOU FELT LIKE DESTINY. And he would not have it any other way. If one was being honest, you were the only other constant in Fushiguro Megumi’s life – besides his sister Tsumiki and Gojo Satoru. But that was to be expected. He trusted no one.

He likes to think he was a tough crowd, that he wasn’t easy to please. But Megumi expected that. After all, what child wouldn’t have that issue, when his dad left him and his sister to fend for themselves at such a young age? He was bound to have mistrust for everyone and anyone who can’t prove themselves.

He hadn’t expected to make a friend, not really. If he was being honest, talking to people wasn’t something he excelled at, and reading others’ expressions felt like a puzzle he was never meant to solve.

He was and always will be someone who had a hard time with people. But then there was you, full of unexpected warmth, approaching him on the playground, holding out your prized Charizard card in exchange for his Jigglypuff. You seemed to be the exception.

“Hey, you!” You pointed at him like he was a riddle you had just solved. Megumi blinked, glancing around to make sure you weren’t talking to someone else.

“Yes?” He answered, the single word sounding more like a question.

You marched up to him, unbothered by the silence that followed. “I’ll trade you my Charizard for your Jigglypuff.”

Megumi’s brows knit together in disbelief. He stared down at the holographic card you offered, one that every kid in school would beg to have, and then at the tiny, pink Jigglypuff in his hands that no one ever wanted.

“Why?” he asked, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Charizard is powerful. Why do you want this weak card?”

“Because it’s cute! And I love cute things! Well…everything cute, really!” you said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Your smile was bright, eyes crinkling as if you were laughing at a secret only you knew. When he slowly handed over the Jigglypuff card, your face lit up with such joy that it made Megumi feel like he had done something incredible. You hugged the card to your chest and then looked at him with a grin.

“Thank you for trading with me! Do you wanna be friends?”

Fushiguro Megumi stared at you for a good few seconds, stunned by your straightforwardness. You were smiling all throughout that. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. And he could feel it, even then.

You pulled him so close to you with your magnetic pull. He spun around you almost immediately, like the moon embracing the earth. But before he could answer, you added with a playful tilt of your head.

“I’ll even let you win in tag! And…and I can share my candies! My mommy gave me a lot to share!”

A small, surprised smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn’t notice it himself at first. But he likes to think that he only remembered how he smiled years later, when you pointed out to him. Yet all he could focus on is how you smiled at him. How you were so happy, waiting for his answer to your invitation.

“You’re on.” he said, his voice soft but resolute.

That continued on as you both found yourself living in bodies that grew older and minds that grew wiser. Years passed and yet you had only gotten closer to one another. Both of you were now in middle school, and almost everyday since then — you had always been together.

Fushiguro Megumi could not remember a day where you both were ever even apart. Just one smile and he was hooked. His morning, his noon and night would be consumed by you. And he rinses and repeats.

The playground turned into hallways and classrooms, and those silly childhood games were replaced with quiet study sessions and whispered jokes. But the feeling you gave him never changed.

He still felt like he was holding something rare and precious whenever you smiled at him like that. Everything about your smile was the most precious warmth he could ever feel, that he admits.

One evening, as you both sat under the orange sky, your laughter from an earlier joke fading into content silence, you turned to him, resting your chin on your knee. “Hey, Megumi?”

He glanced over, meeting your eyes that were as warm as ever. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about how lucky we are to have met?” you said, your voice light but sincere.

Megumi looked down at his hands for a moment, feeling the weight of your question. “Yeah.” he replied, his voice low. Then, looking back at you with a rare, soft smile, he added, “More than you know.”

You blinked in surprise, cheeks turning pink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Megumi shrugged, eyes glinting with a teasing challenge. “Figure it out, you dummy.”

As your laughter rang out, he knew, in that moment, that he was irrevocably in love with you. He always had been, and he always would be.

Your laughter bubbled into the quiet evening air, filling the space around you both with a warmth that wrapped itself around Megumi like a familiar embrace. You playfully nudged his shoulder, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Oh, so now you’re mysterious, huh? Fushiguro Megumi, you’re supposed to be the serious one!”

Megumi huffed a soft chuckle, a rare sound that made your heart skip. “Maybe I’ve been keeping secrets all this time, you know?” he said, his tone light, though there was a weight behind it that he didn’t dare show.

Your eyebrows rose as you leaned in, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Secrets? Like what?” You poked his arm playfully, eyes alight with mischief. “Spill it, or I’ll never let you live it down.”

He met your gaze for a moment, searching your face, the sunset casting warm shadows across your features. The thought of confessing everything—how many nights he’d spent thinking about you, worrying about you, loving you, it all made everything tighten in his chest. But he pushed it back down, letting the familiar wall settle back into place.

“There are some secrets that are better left unsaid, you dummy.” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You pouted, crossing your arms with a huff. “You always do that. You’re always hiding things from me, Megumi. You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes softened, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I know, I know.” he said, pausing before adding. “But you shouldn’t hide things from me either. Like when your boyfriend stands you up.”

The playful expression fell from your face, replaced by surprise. You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. “How did you—”

“I just know.” he interrupted, looking away, his jaw tightening as he bit back the frustration that had been building inside him for weeks.

He hated the way you always made excuses for people who didn’t deserve you. He hated even more that you loved the wrong ones. You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing as you gave a small shrug.

“He’s busy, you know he’s on the baseball team.” you said, though your voice was thin, even to your own ears.

Megumi clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to argue, to tell you that being “busy” wasn’t a good enough reason. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t want to ruin this moment, didn’t want to see you upset. So, he said nothing.

"My Megumi." you said softly, the words like a balm that soothed every ache, every frustration he’d been holding onto.

The way you said his name, it reached down to the deepest part of him, pulling at heartstrings that felt knotted and tired. It made him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, like for just a moment, the world could pause and bask in that glow.

It was always like this with you. The way you spoke his name, the way your voice wrapped around it like a melody, made everything else fade away. It was as if the sun itself came out just to light the room when you said Megumi. He knew with a certainty that startled him that he couldn’t live without this, without you.

The air between you was heavy, charged with words unsaid and emotions kept at bay. Megumi felt his fingers twitch again, that familiar pull to reach for you, to close the space that always felt like miles, even when it was only inches.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows knitting in concern as you noticed the silence. “Megumi, are you okay?”

Your voice was soft, searching, the way it always was when you sensed something under the surface. He forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking? Now that’s dangerous!” you joked, nudging him lightly, your eyes sparkling with mischief. It was an attempt to bring back the lightness, and he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, a sound that surprised even him.

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” he replied, his voice low, but there was warmth in it, the kind reserved only for you.

You tilted your head, studying him like he was one of your favorite puzzles to solve. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’m here, right? You don’t have to keep things to yourself.”

The sincerity in your eyes, in the way you said those words, nearly broke him. He swallowed hard, willing the emotions to stay under control. I know, he wanted to say. And that’s why this hurts so much.

“I know.” he said instead, and it was all he could manage. The truth weighed heavy on his tongue, but he bit it back, holding on to this moment instead; the warmth of your presence, the sound of your laughter lingering in the air.

For now, this was enough. He would live in the warmth of your voice calling his name, over and over, in this moment that felt like forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE ALREADY EXPECTED FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. Fushiguro Megumi came as soon as he got your call. How could he not show up? He had to. You needed him. More than ever, especially now. The moment he heard your shaky voice, his heart clenched with worry and anger. He had to get to you. He had to put his anger aside.

But he can't help it. He'd never liked him. That jerk of an ex-boyfriend of yours. And now all he could think is, how dare he break your heart? He was unworthy from the beginning and now he thinks he gets the right to you miserable?

His mind raced, weaving through every memory of seeing you smile, laugh, and light up at the smallest things, now replaced by the image of you in pain. Even that thought makes him even more angrier. He hated it. More than anything, more than you jerk of an ex-boyfriend.

Megumi felt like he was going to lose it. He always loses it when it comes to you. Everything about you was something that he felt like he had to cherish and treasure. And so, he bears everything about you, happiness or joy, as a part of him.

Because he loved you. More than anyone else in the world, he liked to believe. His love wasn’t flashy or loud; it was quiet, deep, and constant, like an unspoken promise woven through the moments you shared.

And yet, people claimed to love you and then hurt you without a second thought. The unfairness of it all made his love even stronger, more resolute. It was a love that stayed in the silent spaces between words, in the way he noticed when you were tired, or remembered how you took your tea, or lingered on your laugh long after you’d left.

But saying it out loud? That was different. He didn’t think he could do that—not now, when you were hurting. Now, when the shattered pieces of your heart weren’t his to fix, but his to hold steady until you could piece them back together.

The rain came down harder as he found you, sitting alone on the cold, wet bench, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your hair was plastered to your face, water streaming down your cheeks, indistinguishable from your tears. You looked up when he called your name, and the raw anguish in your eyes made his breath hitch.

Everything was soaking through his jacket as he searched the park. But he could care less. Not when he stood here, watching you continue to sit on the bench under the dim glow of a streetlight, your knees pulled to your chest and your shoulders trembling with silent sobs. The sight made something twist in his chest so fiercely it hurt.

“Hey.” he called softly as he approached, his voice steady but urgent. You didn’t look up, too lost in your world of hurt, raindrops mingling with the tears that fell freely down your cheeks.

“Megumi…….” Your voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding rain.

He dropped down in front of you without hesitation, his jeans soaking through as he knelt in the puddles. “Hey.” he whispered, reaching out to push a wet strand of hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, deliberate, as if afraid you’d break.

“Are you alright?” The question was hollow, a placeholder for everything he couldn’t put into words.

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and fragile. “No. Not even close.”

Megumi’s jaw clenched. He wanted to say so much—that you deserved better, that he would give you the world if you let him, that he’d never let anyone hurt you if he could help it. But all he could do was cup your face in his hands, fingers warm against your chilled skin.

“I’m here, okay?” he said, the words weighted with every unsaid promise. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shuddering breath, your eyes filling with fresh tears as you looked at him. His eyes, dark and fierce, were fixed on you with such intensity it made your chest ache in a different way, something softer, more hopeful. For a moment, the world around you blurred, the rain and cold forgotten in the heat of his gaze.

A fresh wave of tears welled up, but this time they weren’t just from pain. They were from the sheer relief of having him here, solid and real, when everything else felt like it was crumbling. He hated seeing you fall apart like this. He hated seeing you in so much grief about things you didn’t even need to grieve.

“I can’t believe he—” You started, voice cracking, but Megumi cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No, no.” he said firmly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a fierce protectiveness. “You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve someone who would never make you feel this way.”

A shiver ran down your spine, part from the cold and part from the warmth in his voice. The rain dripped from his hair, tiny rivulets running down his face, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stayed there, eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Slowly, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, clinging tightly as if he was the last piece keeping you together. He pulled you close, the rain forgotten as he whispered, “I’ve got you. Always.”

“Why can’t everyone be like you, Megumi?” you whispered, the question hanging between you, filled with everything he couldn’t say.

He closed his eyes, the weight of his love pressing against his ribcage, aching to be let out. But he simply pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“Maybe someday, I’m certain about it all.” he whispered. “You’ll see that some people are.”

In that moment, as he held you close under the downpour, Megumi vowed that even if he never said it out loud, you would always know it in the way he stayed. And as the storm raged on around you, for the first time that night, you felt a little bit safer.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IF YOU WERE BEING HONEST, LIFE WAS GOOD NOW. And it was because you had Fushiguro Megumi. Around Megumi, for the first time that night, you felt a little bit safer. His presence anchored you, solid and reassuring, as if the world could rage on around you, but you’d be alright as long as he was there.

The days that followed that stormy night were different. Your shared moments became longer, and your conversations deepened. You found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t with anyone else, and he listened, offering small, thoughtful words that seemed to echo in your mind long after he said them.

Megumi and you became closer, like pieces of a puzzle finally finding their fit. You leaned on him more, seeking the comfort of his steady, unwavering support. Whether it was the simple act of sharing a quiet study session or walking side by side down the crowded school halls, you started to feel his presence as a constant, a pillar in your life. And with each passing moment, Megumi found himself falling deeper.

It was in the little things—the way your laughter returned, hesitant at first, then full and bright whenever he made a rare, dry joke. You’d throw your head back, eyes crinkled with genuine joy, and he’d pretend to be focused on something else just so he could hide his smile.

“You’re not even funny, you know that?” you teased one afternoon, nudging him with your shoulder as you both walked through the park, the sun filtering through the leaves.

“Oh? I didn’t know you laughed at unfunny things.” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I guess I make exceptions.”

It was also in the way your hand would find him during the quiet moments—when you both sat on the school steps, waiting for the last of the rain to clear, or when you talked late at night under a sky full of stars.

Your touch was unconscious, as if you didn’t realize the effect it had on him, but each time it sent warmth radiating through his chest, melting the layers of doubt he wore like armor.

One evening, as the sky painted itself in hues of pink and orange, you sat together on the small bench in your favorite park. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. You turned to him, your eyes soft and thoughtful.

“Do you ever wonder why some people come into your life at the exact moment you need them?”

He met your gaze, the question settling between you. His heart thudded, a mix of hope and nerves. “Yeah.” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “I think about it a lot.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a smile that made his pulse quicken. “I’m glad you’re in mine, Megumi.”

The simple statement was enough to send a rush of warmth flooding through him. He looked away, the hint of pink dusting his cheeks, and muttered, “Me too.”

Moments like these made him realize just how deeply he’d fallen for you. Fushiguro Tsumiki had caught on, of course. She knew Megumi best in the world. She’d grin knowingly whenever he brought up your name, and she wasn’t subtle about giving him nudges when you came over. Megumi thinks he would have no peace at home knowing all that.

“You need to tell them, your feelings.” she’d say with a pointed look. “They deserve to know.”

Gojo Satoru, in his typical flamboyant manner, took every opportunity to pester him. “If you don’t say something soon, I swear I’m going to set up a banner. ‘Confess, Megumi!’ at your school. It’ll be perfect. I’ll even use sparkles!” he’d joke, bright blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Megumi would glare, a mix of irritation and anxiety bubbling inside him. But when he was alone, his mind would wander to the what-ifs. What if he told you, and everything changed? What if the easy moments between you became strained? He couldn’t stand the thought of losing this version of you, where your laughter was shared and your touch was easy.

One evening, when you were leaving after spending the day together, you turned back at the door, eyes bright. “Same time tomorrow?” you asked.

He nodded, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest. “Yeah, same time.”

You beamed at him, that smile—the one that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. And as you walked away, Megumi felt the pull to call out, to say something, anything.

But the fear gripped him, held him back. For now, he’d stay in the safety of what you had, even as his heart whispered that someday soon, he’d need to be brave enough to reach for more.

And more and more, his sister and Gojo were starting to notice how he’s falling for you. Tsumiki noticed the way he watched you when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes softened when you spoke.

After dinner tonight, she caught him staring at his phone after reading a text from you, a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Megumi wasn’t even sure that he was that obvious. But he was.

Everyone was aware, more than he would have liked. It was his private life and yet, it was his own fault how it seeped in the real world. Yet, it was like that when it came to you. He can’t help it.

“Megumi.” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “it’s high time you tell them how you feel.”

He looked up, startled. “What? No. It’s not… I mean—” He fumbled, cheeks turning red as he struggled to find an excuse.

Satoru, who had been lounging nearby and catching every word, let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. Megumi knew that Gojo Satoru was going to annoy him about this. Tsumiki is one thing. But that was his elder sister.

He was bound to just let her get into his life. But it was different when it came to their guardian. He was more of an annoying adult to Megumi. And he didn’t like how he touched his life like that. Even if he knew it was care.

“Kid, if you don’t confess, I’m going to make a banner and announce it to the entire school I teach at, when you visit.” he teased, eyes gleaming mischievously. “It’s so painfully obvious. Even the kids at the school picked up on that fact! Do you know how obvious you have to be that kid Todo picked up on?”

Megumi glared at him, but his usual annoyance didn’t stick. Instead, a flicker of anxiety gnawed at him, deep and stubborn. He knew Tsumiki and Gojo were right. He’d heard the whispers of his own heart long enough; he knew he was in love with you. But the idea of confessing it out loud? Of risking everything he already had with you? It paralyzed him.

“What if… what if it ruins things?” he muttered, looking down at his hands. The idea of you looking at him differently, of you stepping back, distancing yourself—it was unbearable. “What if they don’t feel the same? I don’t want to lose what we have now.”

Tsumiki’s smile softened, and she walked over, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Megumi, you’ll never know unless you try. And if they care about you even half as much as I think they do, nothing will change.”

Satoru chimed in with a rare moment of seriousness. “Megumi, you’re braver than you give yourself credit for. You’ve faced the worst of the world already with Tsumiki. But this? This is one small leap compared to that.”

The words made sense, but fear wrapped around his chest like a vise. Every time he opened his mouth to tell you, doubt clawed its way in. He could picture the worst: your kind eyes turning sad, the warmth between you cooling into awkward silence.

But as days passed and your laughter echoed in his ears, each missed opportunity stung. Every time you looked at him with that bright smile, it chipped away at his fear, replacing it with a longing stronger than any curse he’d faced. And Megumi knew, deep down, that he couldn’t put it off forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IT WAS A RARE DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL. So, it was easy for you to come and call Megumi to hang out. Megumi was someone who had a hard time going with the flow of things. He liked order in his life. But when he is with you, everything is unpredictable.

Everything was a surprise. And so he enjoyed it. He enjoyed letting you wreck his life into things he couldn’t predict. Chaos is livable when he was next to you. And perhaps, you knew that more than he did.

And today’s request was to go to a skate park. You didn’t know how to skate, nor do you have the balance that allowed you to do so. But you saw an ad for it and you thought that trying was something that would be enjoyable for the two of you. So, Megumi sighed. But he nodded and immediately walked as you practically hopped to the booth where they rented out their skates.

The skate park was buzzing with life when you and Megumi arrived, the warm glow of the setting sun casting a golden hue over everything. Laughter and the sound of wheels on concrete filled the air as you glanced nervously at the smooth expanse of the park. Megumi noticed your hesitation and smirked, handing you a helmet.

“Don’t worry, okay?” he said, voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll be here the whole time. Just hold on if you need to.”

You nodded, cheeks warming at the idea. The two of you stepped onto the rink, and you immediately reached out, grabbing his arm for balance. He tensed slightly at the contact but relaxed when he saw the nervous smile on your face.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt.

“Ready.” you replied, even though your heart was thumping wildly in your chest.

The first few minutes were shaky. You wobbled and stumbled, and every time you did, Megumi’s arm was there, strong and steady. His hand eventually found its way to yours, fingers intertwining as he guided you along, step by careful step.

The warmth of his touch sent a pleasant jolt up your spine, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, noticing how focused he looked, his hair slightly messy from the helmet. You could feel yourself looking at him for a while and then becoming flustered when he looks back at you.

“You’re doing great.” he said, a rare smile appearing as you both glided a little more smoothly across the rink.

“Thanks to you!” you laughed breathlessly, holding on tightly when you hit a slight dip.

He steadied you immediately, the closeness making your heart stutter. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, dark and intense under the rink’s twinkling lights, and you felt a rush of something that made your stomach flutter.

As the sky darkened into twilight, the skate park began to empty, and an announcement boomed over the loudspeakers. “The park will be closing in fifteen minutes.”

You sighed, a little disappointed that the night was coming to an end. “I guess that’s it for tonight, huh?” you said, a wistful note in your voice.

Megumi nodded and helped you off the rink, his hand lingering on yours a moment longer than necessary. You sat on a nearby bench, taking off your helmets and catching your breath. The sounds around you faded as you felt the cool evening air settle around you both.

“You know…..” Megumi started, his tone unusually hesitant. He looked at you, eyes searching yours as if gathering the courage to speak. “I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, teaching you how to skate. But I’m glad we did it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking in your gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

He exhaled, a subtle tremor in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because… being this close to you makes it hard to keep things to myself.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your brows knit together slightly. “Megumi?”

He looked away, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I think—I know that I’m in love with you.”

The confession hung in the air, suspended between you as the world seemed to stand still. He winced, realizing what he’d just said, and moved to apologize, but your soft gasp interrupted him.

“You… you’re in love with me?” you repeated, eyes wide and cheeks turning rosy.

His breath caught, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want things to change if you don’t feel the same. But I couldn’t keep pretending that I don’t—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his, your eyes glistening. “I do. I feel the same way, Megumi.” you whispered, a smile breaking through as his eyes widened.

The tension melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and warmth. He let out a breathy chuckle, the sound rare and real. “You do?” he asked, almost as if needing to hear it again.

You nodded, your fingers finding him and squeezing them tightly. “Yes, I do.”

The skate park around you was closing, but neither of you noticed. For now, the world shrank to just the two of you, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights and the lingering thrill of confessions finally shared.

Megumi's surprise softened into a smile, rare and full of something warm and unguarded. He still held your hands, fingers intertwined as if anchoring himself to this moment, the world around you blurring into a comforting haze.

The distant sounds of closing gates and murmurs of the last stragglers leaving the park faded away, leaving only the two of you under the soft, golden streetlights. Yet that all faded to the background. All you could do was focus on the warmth in Megumi's beautiful blue-green orbs. All you could think about was how the world felt brighter when he was by your side.

“Say it again, please.” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if part of him still couldn’t believe it.

You laughed, the sound light and full of joy as you leaned in a little closer. “I love you, Megumi. For a while now. I love you then and now.” you said, your eyes searching his face to catch every flicker of emotion.

The way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes softened as if he could melt under those words. Everything about it had made your heart flutter even more. You like to think he was just good at that. He swallowed, unable to suppress the smile that stretched across his face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” he admitted, his voice rough but sincere.

“Probably about as long as I’ve wanted to say it.” you teased, nudging him playfully. He chuckled, the sound deep and unfamiliar even to him, and you couldn’t help but notice how it made him look so much more at ease. “I’m sorry if I took a long while.”

The cool breeze picked up, rustling the leaves in the nearby trees, and you shivered involuntarily. Without thinking, Megumi slipped out of his jacket and draped it around your shoulders, his hands lingering at the collar to pull it snug. The fabric smelled like him; fresh and warm, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place but that was uniquely Megumi.

“Thank you.” you said, your voice soft. Your eyes met his, and the look you exchanged was filled with so many unsaid words, promises and relief, all bundled together in a way that made your chest ache in the best way.

He glanced down, a subtle blush creeping up his neck. “We should probably get going before they lock us in.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

You nodded, but neither of you made a move to stand just yet. You both sat in that quiet moment for a little longer, soaking in the newness of what had just unfolded. Finally, Megumi stood up and offered you his hand, a small smile playing at his lips as he pulled you to your feet.

“Let’s get you home.” he said, the weight of the evening settling comfortably between you as you walked away from the now-closed skate park, your hands still intertwined.

As you strolled through the quiet streets, the gentle hum of the city wrapping around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. There was a contentment in his expression, a relaxed curve to his mouth that spoke of unguarded happiness.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

He glanced at you, eyes soft under the glow of the streetlights. “How I’m going to make sure I never keep something like that from you again.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you smiled, leaning against him as you walked. “Good.” you said. “Because I plan on telling you every day.”

And as the two of you continued on into the night, the air between you felt different—not just safe, but full of new possibilities, laughter, and love that was finally yours to share.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

EVERYTHING HAPPENS AND CHANGES ALL THE TIME. You and Megumi were the happiest you’d ever been for a long time. Moving into the city had felt like an unspoken promise, a step forward toward a shared future.

A bright beautiful future that had once been only whispers in the quiet of your conversations. Together, you carved out a life in the heart of the bustling city, with its endless hum of activity and its ever-changing face.

You found an apartment that felt like it belonged to both of you. The floors creaked underfoot, their sound a reminder of the stories they held, the small, quiet moments of shared joy and unspoken understanding.

Big windows let the sunlight pour in during the mornings, catching the dust in beams of gold as you sat side by side with your coffee. The place was imperfect, but in that imperfection, it was beautiful, just like your life together.

Your days were spent in a rhythm that had once been in sync, the sounds of laughter and comfortable silence filling the air. You’d talk about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes, it was about the art you were working on, the colors you’d used, or the gallery you were preparing for.

Other times, it was about his latest case, his eyes alight with the thrill of a challenge. You would stay up late, your feet tangled together under the blanket as you exchanged stories of the day, dreams for the future, and the occasional silly moment of laughter.

But, as the years passed, everything started to shift, imperceptible at first, like the gradual turning of the pages in a book you thought you knew so well. The city, which had once been your shared adventure, now became the thing that kept you apart.

The rhythm of your lives grew more erratic. Megumi, with his sharp mind and steady resolve, excelled in the high-stakes world of law. His career took off with rather good ease, and he quickly found himself buried in cases, depositions, meetings, and late-night strategizing. He became the star of the law firm he worked for. Everything was great for him.

You could see it in the crease of his brow, the way he stayed up into the early hours of the morning to prepare for court, his suit always a little wrinkled, his tie always a little loose, but his focus razor-sharp.

His world was all deadlines, high-profile clients, and courtroom battles that never seemed to stop. He thrived in it; he was good at it, brilliant even—but it took him away from you, slowly but surely.

You, too, threw yourself into your work, determined to build something of your own, to carve out your place in a world that sometimes felt like it was moving too fast for you. Your art became your refuge, the studio your sanctuary.

The city, with its mix of people, cultures, and experiences, was your muse. You found inspiration in the chaos and the beauty that wove through every street, every corner, every passerby.

But the more you painted, the more you found yourself lost in the solitude of it all. Late nights in galleries preparing for shows or days in the studio felt like your only real connection to the world.

Your mind was constantly racing with ideas, concepts, colors that needed to be captured before they slipped away. Your hands, once so used to holding his, now spent more time wrapped around a paintbrush than around his.

And so, the distance between you grew. The gap that once felt small, just a quiet space between moments, now felt insurmountable. You would come home to an empty apartment, the silence of it pressing in on you. Megumi would still be at the office, still lost in the whirlwind of his cases, his phone buzzing with messages that had to be answered immediately.

You’d sit at the table, dinner half-eaten, waiting for him to walk through the door, but he rarely came home before midnight. When he did, he’d be tired, exhausted, really and you’d try your best to carry the conversation, but the words never came as easily as they once had.

He’d ask about your day, but his eyes would already be half-closed, his attention already elsewhere. You’d tell him about the gallery event or the new piece you were working on, but his responses would be short, distracted. Everything else besides his work became second. Everything else started to fade away into the background. Even you.

The moments that once felt so natural disappeared into the fog. You had always, the both of you, understood each other without speaking. But soon enough, everything began to feel strained, stretched thin under the weight of your respective worlds. You’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing beside you, as he focused on reading case files on bed. Every night was like this.

It felt like he was a million miles away. You couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t feel him. It was like he wasn’t there. And that broke your heart over and over. Because all you wanted was him. Yet you couldn’t even have that. You couldn’t even have a moment. You couldn’t win. Not against fate itself.

There was no more laughter, no more stolen moments of joy in the middle of a busy day. It was as if the world around you was moving faster than you could keep up with, and you and Megumi were just trying to hold on to what little of each other remained.

The city, which had once been your shared adventure, now felt like a vast, indifferent landscape, a place where the two of you had become lost. And no matter how hard you tried to cling to the life you’d built, the distance between you was undeniable. It became this seesaw game. Both of you are waiting for someone to step out of it.

The silence grew, and the cracks started to form. Megumi, buried in his work, became more distant, his tired eyes unable to meet yours for longer than a few moments.

And you lost in the world of your art, your mind constantly in motion could just feel like it began to feel as though you couldn’t do anything but chase. You were chasing something that would always stay just out of reach. You were chasing a ghost.

In the stillness of those long, lonely nights, you began to wonder how it all had slipped away so quietly. You had promised each other that nothing would come between you that no matter how much life changed, you’d always have each other. But promises, like time, sometimes slip through your fingers, and before you knew it, you were both holding on to something that wasn’t there anymore.

And it hurt more than anything you’d ever known.

The times when your paths crossed grew fewer, and each time they did, it felt more like a fleeting moment you couldn’t quite hold on to. Mornings that once held the warmth of shared cups of coffee and quiet conversation were now replaced with hurried mornings.

That quick abrupt hum of the alarm clock pulling you out of bed faster than you could stretch. You’d barely exchange more than a quick kiss goodbye as you rushed out the door, his briefcase already in hand, your mind already occupied with the tasks of the day ahead.

The breakfasts that had once been filled with laughter, with soft smiles and small talk about what lay ahead, had transformed into something mechanical. You’d grab your coffee, he’d grab his briefcase, and you’d both be off, each of you retreating into your own world before the day even began.

Evenings weren’t much better. The quiet, intimate moments you’d shared over dinner, the kind that had made your world feel so right, had all but disappeared. Now, there were nights when you would come home to find him already asleep on the couch, his suit still on, papers scattered around him like a battlefield.

His face was soft with exhaustion, the tension in his body unmistakable even in sleep. His tie was loosened, his shirt wrinkled, but still, he’d sleep through it all, the weight of the day too heavy for him to shed. And he wouldn’t notice that look in your eyes. That sadness you couldn’t help but carry for this doomed relationship.

You’d watch him for a moment, your heart aching at the sight, but then you’d quietly tiptoe past him, too tired yourself to wake him. The faint sound of his breathing was the only noise in the apartment, and you’d retreat into your own solitude, thinking maybe tomorrow would be different.

Sometimes, you’d come home after a late gallery event, the city lights outside your window blurred in the reflection of the glass. You’d see the faint glow from his office, a soft halo of light against the shadows.

He wouldn’t even notice how your presence creaked the wooden doors open. He wouldn’t even budge at the sound of your keys clanking. Or your familiar footsteps merging with the mahogany ground. He wouldn’t notice a damn thing.

But you would notice everything about him. Fushiguro Megumi would still be sitting there, case files spread out on the desk, his eyes glazed from hours of staring at legal jargon that never seemed to make sense. You’d try to keep the frustration at bay, try to remind yourself that this was just temporary, that everything would settle soon.

But every time you’d reach out your hand and you would ask.

“Do you want to take a break? Maybe we can grab dinner?”

Sometimes you wish you didn't ask.

Because his response would be the same.

“I can’t tonight. Too much work.”

And you’d nod, the words dying in your throat, as you retreated again, feeling the ache in your chest grow with every passing day. The apartment, once a place of warmth and shared moments, now felt cold and empty, no matter how many art pieces you filled it with. It was just you, and him, but you were worlds apart.

And then the fights started.

They were small at first—an offhand comment here, a sigh there, barely even loud enough to be called a fight. But they were enough. The tension built in the small spaces between words, in the way you’d avoid eye contact when you both spoke. You’d complain about him missing dinner again, how you’d waited hours for him to come home, only for him to slip quietly into bed without saying a word.

“I can’t be in two places at once, you know that.” he’d reply, his voice tight, a trace of guilt mixed with irritation in his words. “You knew what I was getting into when I started this job.”

And you knew, deep down, you had known. But that didn’t make it any easier. The dinners you’d missed together, the quiet evenings you spent alone, your frustrations, your loneliness. It all built up until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. You tried to be patient. But you know that patience always has an expiration date. And yours had started to tick, like a bomb just waiting for the right time waiting to explode.

Everything felt useless now. Everything was one blow away from cracking down. The things you used to say to each other, the things that had made you feel so close, now felt hollow and distant. The love that had once been so certain now felt strained, fragile, as though it might crumble at any moment.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week for both of you, you came home from a late gallery event to find Megumi at the dining table, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than usual.

He had papers scattered everywhere, the remnants of his latest case still strewn across the table like debris from a battle he couldn’t quite win. He didn’t even look up when you entered, his focus entirely on the papers in front of him.

“Another late night?” he asked, not even looking up from the papers in front of him.

“Yeah.” you said shortly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “Like every other night.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We never see each other anymore.”

“Whose fault is that?” you shot back before you could stop yourself. The room felt colder immediately, your own words stinging in the silence that followed.

“You know this is important, both our careers are.” he said, voice strained, but his tone didn’t soothe the growing ache in your chest.

“And what about us, Megumi? When did we stop being important?”

He looked up at you, eyes tired but holding that glimmer of hurt. “We are. We’re just… trying to keep up.”

“It doesn’t feel like we’re keeping up.” you whispered, eyes starting to sting with tears. “It feels like we’re falling apart.”

The silence that settled was heavy, pressing down on both of you. He stood up, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident. “What do you want me to do? Stop working? This is what I have to do. You know that.”

“And this is what I have to do.” you said, gesturing to your art supplies strewn around the room. “But we’re not making it work, Megumi. We’re barely making it through the day without fighting.”

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, a flicker of the old Megumi shining through. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the weight of reality.

There was panic in the way he looked at you. You felt a bile form at your throat. You knew what it looked like. He was realizing it. He saw that sadness in your eyes. The sadness that he had hated so much on you, he had caused it on you.

“I don’t know how to fix this. I….” he said, his voice low and raw. “Babe, I’m so sorry—”

You took a shaky breath, the words you’d been avoiding suddenly tumbling out. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t try to fix it anymore. I’m tired of all this, Megumi. I am….I am genuinely exhausted from trying to make it work.”

“Babe, listen we can talk this out and we can make it work. I know we can. We—”

“Maybe we should break up.”

The room went still, the echo of your words ringing louder than anything else. His blue–gren eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and hurt coloring his features. Those words were the hardest you could ever say.

But perhaps it was the right words to say. Because he looked at you for the first time ever and finally, he saw you. He finally sees you, after such a long nightmare.

“You don’t mean that. You—” he said, almost pleadingly, stepping closer.

“I do.” you said, voice breaking. “I can’t take this anymore, Megumi. We’re just making each other miserable, and it’s not fair to either of us.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time in a long while, he looked defeated. He reached out, almost as if he wanted to pull you back into a time when things were easier, when love was all you needed to bridge any gap.

But he stopped himself, letting his hand fall to his side. A sad small smile dances on your lips, biting them soon after. You could feel the tears fall from your weary eyes.

You were tired of fighting for something he couldn’t. You were tired of doing it by yourself. And he knew that. He knew that all too well. There were no other ways for him to stop you from leaving him, from leaving all this pain behind. Pain he had caused you over and over again. Pain that would scar you for as long as you lived.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said softly, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

You looked away, fighting the sob that threatened to break free. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we’re already losing each other.”

The words were so raw, so full of meaning, that it made your heart ache. But you could feel the wall between you two now, the one that you’d both been building without realizing it. You both don’t know your place in this relationship. You have outgrown it and it wasn’t even both your faults. It just….is life.

“I don’t want to lose you either, you know that.” you said, your voice shaking. “But I don’t know how to fix this, Megumi. I don’t know if I can keep waiting for you to come home when you’re already gone.”

The silence that fell over the two of you was deafening. The room felt colder, the space between you growing with every word that went unsaid. You stared at each other, both lost in the same silence, both unsure of where to go from here. The city outside continued to hum, oblivious to the cracks that were starting to form in the life you’d once built so carefully together.

The silence this time, it felt final. And as you both stood there, the city’s lights flickering through the window, you realized that sometimes love isn’t enough to fight against the things that pull you apart.

There were city lights, lights brighter than anything else. It was like the universe was here, and the stars beamed towards you both, like lovers. And yet, you were everything but in that moment. You were two people who finally saw the seesaw needs to fall down.

“I’ll pack my things.” You say to him, smiling ever sadder than before. “I’ll stay with a friend tonight. And…I’ll come back for my things.”

He doesn’t say another word. But you can tell. He was close to crying. Yet he gives you one singular nod as you slowly walk towards him and place your hand on his cheek. As though it was the last time you would ever touch him.

He looks up from his gaze on the ground, trying to memorize this image of you. You can tell there was desperation. What if he doesn’t see you again? What does he do?

“I loved you so much.” You said, the past tense making him flinch slightly. It was the hardest word to even pronounce. It felt harder to say five words than the usual three. “I still do. But…I have to go. For our sake.”

“Don’t….” He whispers weakly. “Don’t tell me this, not after we just….”

“Goodbye, Megumi.” You tell him, with finality. A smile blunt on your face, trying to make this memory redeemable. “I hope you live a long and happy life.”

When you walked out, the city lights looked at you and blinked.

And yet, Fushiguro Megumi felt like he didn’t know what to do.

But he doesn’t stop you as you walk away, taking warmth away.

He lets you go, because loving you meant living without you too.

That was the risk of loving someone, that was the risk of living in love.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A LOT CAN HAPPEN WHEN YOU BLINK. And that’s what happened. He didn’t expect it to happen, change will always have permanence. As much as time. Both are uncontrollable forces of nature. And he hated it.

It’s been five years now since you and Megumi had last stood on solid ground together, since the life you built had slowly crumbled under the weight of work, time, and distance.

The memory of your arguments, your silences, still lingered in the back of his mind like a distant ache, a reminder of what once was and what was no longer. But time had done little to heal that wound.

In fact, Fushiguro Megumi had become even more entrenched in his work, burying himself in his career as a lawyer, trying to forget that, in the end, he had lost the one person who meant the most to him.

Now, sitting in a sterile hospital room, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose, he felt like he was living in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. His eyes were locked onto the doctor in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere, still processing what had just been said. The words hung in the air, thick with finality.

“Mr. Fushiguro, the test results confirm that you’ve inherited a hereditary condition from your father. It’s genetic and unfortunately, there's no cure.”

The doctor’s voice was calm, clinical, as though she were explaining a minor inconvenience, as though it was him talking to the jury at court. But Fushiguro Megumi heard nothing but the echo of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He could barely process the words, the shock still settling in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He’d always heard whispers about his father, that old man. Megumi didn’t care when he left. He still had Tsumiki. And then he had Gojo and then��..

Megumi stops himself. He frowns deeper. He was not having the best of luck in lif. He likes to think he never has. Now, he is haunted and suffers more about this man who left them. He has to come back in the form of this stupid illness.

This stupid illness that would now be killing him slowly and fully. He wants to laugh out loud. Because, this was something else entirely. How cruel fate can be. How much of a comedy it is, how much of a stupid thing it is.

He leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. The room seemed to tilt around him, the walls closing in, suffocating him. A laugh threatened to slip from his lips, but it did.

Everything about it wasn’t one of humor. It was jagged and bitter, a laugh born of frustration, anger, and the overwhelming sense of betrayal that had simmered in his chest for years.

His blue–green gaze didn’t leave the doctor, but his eyes darkened towards the doctor. The doctor seemed to be unfazed by his reaction. Megumi felt like he was the same as the doctor when he was at court sometimes. Those cases don’t faze him.

He had seen it all. And everyone had gotten mad at him at times too. And yet there was only disbelief now. He was on the other side of the aisle now. There was only surprise and then anguish and then bitterness. All of that didn’t taste good in his mouth.

“So, let me get this straight, doctor.” he began, his voice tight, almost controlled, but with an edge of fury beneath it. “My father, the man who abandoned me and Tsumiki after Mom died, is now showing up in my life, and now I’m supposed to care that I’ve inherited something from him? Something that’s going to kill me?”

The doctor faltered for a second, clearly caught off guard by the venom in his voice, but she remained professional. “It’s not quite like that, Mr. Fushiguro. Your father may not have been around, but—”

“No.” he cut her off, his fist clenching in his lap. “Don’t give me that. Don’t try to justify him. You think I care about a condition that’s been passed down through the blood of someone who doesn’t even care enough to be there when I need him?”

“Mr. Fushiguro, please—”

His laugh returned, sharp and hollow, a bitter sound that didn’t belong in a place like this. “I never even wanted to know him. I was better off without him. And now that old man comes back. Oh god, what a fucking mess! What a comedy!”

His mind raced, the thoughts swirling in a chaotic dance of anger and disbelief. His father had left him and Tsumiki in the wake of their mother’s death, promising them nothing but silence. And he was bears with it. He always did. He always knew how to get on with life. That’s how he came to be where he is now.

But he can’t help it. How could he? All that misery he had buried as a child comes back once more. He had thought it would never come back to the earth again. Everything about it was just as good as dead to him.

And yet, fate laughs at him. He laughs at how easy it is to push Megumi’s buttons. And he knew Megumi would react. Fate loved games and he would continue on and on, until he was satisfied.

“You said it’s genetic, right?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little more brittle, the edge of his anger still cutting through the words. “How long do I have?”

The doctor looked at him with sympathy, but Megumi didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t want the pity in her eyes. He didn’t want any of this.

“It depends on the progression of the disease.” she answered carefully, giving him the facts. “It could take years. Maybe even months. We do not know. But knowing some cases I’ve seen, It could be faster. We can try treatments, but we can’t reverse the damage already done.”

Megumi closed his blue–green eyes for a moment, his chest tightening. The realization hit him with full force: his life, the one he had built, the work, the efforts to stay busy, to keep going. None of it had prepared him for this.

None of it had prepared him for the idea that he might not have much time left. How is he going to tell Tsumiki or Gojo? How could he prepare them for this? And to make matters worse, it was a legacy that had come from the very man who had never been there for him in the first place.

His laugh died in his throat, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake.

“Tell me this is some kind of mistake.” he muttered under his breath, as though saying the words would somehow make them untrue.

The doctor’s eyes softened, but she shook her head, handing him a folder with the test results. “I’m afraid it’s not.”

The weight of it all pressed down on him, his mind spinning. He stood abruptly, shoving the folder into his bag without a second glance, his hands trembling slightly. He couldn’t stay here. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of this sterile room before it suffocated him any further.

As he walked out of the hospital, the cool air of the evening hit him, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t help but wonder about it. What was the point of this? What was the point of surviving a life without a father only to be cursed with his legacy, a legacy that had already been stained with abandonment? What did it all mean?

He didn’t have the answers. But one thing was clear. He would never be able to look at his father the same way again. And now, he’d have to face the consequences of that. Whether he liked it or not. One way or another, it was just how it works. Fushiguro Megumi has to see that life goes on. It always has. Even in the face of death.

Yet for a moment, even if he has resigned himself to fate, he stops.

He stops for a moment and thinks to himself and that warmth returns.

He wishes that for what remains of life — he wished you were there with him.

Fushiguro Megumi wishes that he could see your smile and live in it again.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE FOUND HIMSELF DISASSOCIATING FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES. But after news like that, who wouldn’t find themselves despondent. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in the hospital lobby. He’d left the doctor’s office a while ago, but his feet felt frozen to the ground, the weight of everything pressing down on him.

His thoughts felt scrambled, and all he wanted was to get out of there, away from the sterile white walls, away from the suffocating reality of the diagnosis. The last thing he expected was to run into someone, you—after all this time.

But there you were, standing at the hospital’s entrance, your hair a little longer, your eyes just as bright, the warmth of your smile still able to stop his heart dead in its tracks. He hadn’t expected it. Not in such a place. And yet here you were. He hadn’t expected to see you here, of all places. After all, you took care of yourself well. But there you were, as beautiful and alive as ever.

At first, Megumi wasn’t sure what to do. Should he approach you? Should he pretend everything was fine? There was so much that had passed between you, so many years, so much silence.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late for him to fix things. But before he could make any decision, you were already walking toward him, your gaze locking onto his like it always had when you were younger.

“Megumi.” you said softly, almost hesitantly, as though you weren’t sure how to say his name anymore.

You were still the same, and yet, you weren’t. Your voice was familiar, but the years between you had made things feel… off, awkward in a way that he hadn’t expected.

“Hey.” he said, his voice almost gruff, unsure of how to speak to you after so long.

He took a step back, unsure whether to smile, to say something casual. It was almost like he didn’t know who he was around you anymore. The man who used to be able to talk to you about anything had disappeared somewhere along the way.

You smiled, though, and for a brief moment, Megumi felt like he could breathe again. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you're here for a checkup too. You look fine to me.” you teased, and there was that playful spark in your eyes that he had missed.

Megumi shifted, looking around, as though searching for an answer that didn’t exist. The truth was, he didn’t want to tell you why he was here. Not yet. Not when he had no idea how to explain the mess his life had become.

“I’m just here… taking care of some stuff.” he muttered, the lie slipping out before he could stop it. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension build again. “You know, business stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing your face, but instead of pressing him further, you just shrugged. “Well, I’m not here for anything too serious. Just visiting a friend.”

"Oh, I see."

Your gaze softened as you spoke, the smile on your face softening the more you looked at him. "I didn’t expect to see you here. Not after all this time."

Megumi nodded, biting his lip. No kidding, he thought to himself. The years had passed, but he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. He hadn’t expected to feel so... unsure. He wasn’t used to this distance between you two. Not like this.

“Well....” you said, after a pause. You rubbed the back of your neck. “Do you want to grab dinner or something? I don’t know about you, but I could really use some decent food after dealing with all this hospital nonsense.”

At first, Megumi hesitated, unsure if he should take the invitation. But something about the ease in your voice, the casual familiarity of it, made him relent. “Sure. I guess I could go for something... edible.” he said, trying to joke, but it came out more stiff than he wanted.

You laughed, the sound of it bringing back memories of the good old days when life was simpler and he didn’t have to carry the weight of unspoken words between you. You waved him off, but there was something in your eyes, something gentle and patient, like you weren’t rushing him to explain himself.

The two of you walked out of the hospital together, falling into step like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was awkward at first, the silence between you hanging heavy, but as you got settled at the restaurant, everything started to fall back into place.

You ordered something light, and Megumi, on autopilot, ordered something simple—a dish he could eat quickly. The waiter left, and for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, not quite knowing how to bridge the gap that had been there for years.

“So…..” you began, after a while, trying not to be awkward. “Why were you at the hospital? Don’t tell me you have a broken bone or something.”

Megumi’s eyes flickered over to you, and he was about to brush it off, to avoid answering; like he always did when it came to anything about his past, about his father. He hoped you weren’t noticing it. He hoped that you weren’t able to see through him again.

But before he could think of a way out, he realized something: you weren’t just anyone. You were you—the person who knew him better than anyone. The person he had lost, the person who had been there for him when everything else fell apart. You had and always will know more about him than anyone else. Even if he doesn’t say anything.

He exhaled slowly, and then, without thinking, he shrugged and said, “I guess you could say I’m getting some bad news.”

You furrowed your brow in concern, and before you could ask, he let out a dry laugh, something hollow that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s not contagious.”

You shook your head, already knowing where this was headed. “Megumi, your jokes are still as bad as they were when we were kids.” You leaned back in your seat with a fond smile, your eyes soft. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled under his breath, feeling some of the weight lift off his chest. The familiar rhythm of teasing, of falling back into old patterns, felt surprisingly good. His heart, which had felt heavy and weighed down for so long, was starting to feel lighter with each passing moment.

“You should’ve known,” Megumi muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m the best at bad jokes.”

You laughed again, the sound like music to his ears. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Fushiguro.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to fix what had been broken. Maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the person who used to be everything to him.

But for now, he would take the little moments like this—the laughter, the shared memories, and the warmth of simply being in your presence again. Everything felt like the sun had shone on earth again. Everything felt right like this.

And, for once, he wasn’t afraid of what came next.

Fushiguro Megumi sat back in his chair, watching you as you laughed, as you teased him, and it felt like the whole world faded away for a few moments. For the first time in months, his chest didn’t feel so tight, his mind didn’t feel so heavy.

The hospital, the test results, the news about his father; they all felt like distant memories, like something that could be put on the shelf and forgotten for a while. Because in this moment, right now, the only thing that mattered was you.

He liked this. He liked the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled, the way you still knew how to make him laugh even when everything inside him ached. There was a calmness, a sense of peace, in being around you that he hadn’t felt in years.

The world around him had become chaotic, unpredictable, but here at this small, unassuming restaurant, sharing a quiet dinner with you. Everything about it, it made him feel… warm inside. It felt like coming home, after a long time away from it.

As the conversation flowed easily between you two, Megumi found himself watching the way you moved, the way you spoke, the way you were still you. It was like nothing had changed, like time hadn’t passed at all. Except it had.

Five years had come and gone, and he had spent most of them buried in work, in his own personal mess of anger and hurt, while you had lived your own life. But now, seeing you here, smiling at him like this, it was like he had been given something precious he hadn’t realized he’d lost: you.

And then it hit him. That sharp pang of realization.

He was dying.

In a few months, his life, everything he had worked for, everything he had wanted, would be over. And the one thing he had always wanted, the one thing that had never wavered was sitting right across from him, smiling at him like he was everything.

You, the person he had spent his whole life running from, running toward, the person who had always been there.

And now, here you were again.

His heart skipped a beat as he processed it all. It was all coming at him fast, like a car speeding fast towards him. He doesn’t know what to do, how to do it. Everything overwhelmed him. But then again, he thinks he’s always felt like this when it came to you. He can’t deny that whatsoever.

Everything made him feel like a boy again. All these feelings he can’t describe makes him so overwhelmed with what life means. How much he had missed you, how much he still needed you in his life, they all started to make him wonder about it all.

The joke, the casual teasing, the familiar warmth between you two—it was what he wanted. It was what he had always wanted. He had never allowed himself to admit it fully, not back then, not when you were both young and carefree. But now, with the weight of his diagnosis hanging over him like a dark cloud, he couldn’t deny it any longer.

It wasn’t just that he wanted to be around you. No, it was more than that. He needed to be around you, to feel your presence, your warmth, your love. The idea that he might never get to hold you close again after all this time made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t put into words.

You caught his gaze, your smile faltering just for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?” you asked, the concern in your voice immediate and genuine. “You’ve been quiet all of a sudden.”

Megumi blinked, realizing he had zoned out. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t press. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, then set it down, eyes watching him carefully. “I get that a lot lately,” you said, half-joking, half-serious. “I tend to get lost in my head too.”

He chuckled softly, trying to push away the heaviness that was creeping back into his thoughts. But it was hard. It was hard when every little thing in this moment reminded him of what he was going to lose.

He didn’t know how much time he had left. And that thought scared him more than anything. But what scared him even more was the idea of never telling you how he truly felt, never having the chance to fully be with you.

“So, what about you?” Megumi asked, his voice quieter than before. “How’s life been? Really, how are you?”

You blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the change in tone. “You know, same as usual. Gallery events, late nights at the studio… You know, the usual chaos,” you said with a small smile. But then, you tilted your head. “And you? You’ve been working so much, Megumi. You’ve been pushing yourself.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I have,” he admitted. “It’s just… it’s easier, you know? To bury myself in work rather than deal with what’s going on in my head.”

There it was. The truth, just slipping out. His chest tightened again, the weight of everything catching up to him. You watched him with soft eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited, patiently, for him to continue.

“I think…” He hesitated, unsure of how to say it, unsure if he even had the right to say it now. But his heart was screaming at him to be honest, to be real with you. “I think I’ve been afraid for a long time. Afraid of how I feel about you. I never said it before… but I think I’ve always loved you, even when I couldn’t show it.”

Your eyes softened, your lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. Megumi could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the silence stretched on.

“I’ve always loved you, you know?” he repeated, the words stronger this time. “And… I know it’s late. I know it’s probably too late, but I want you to know. I want you to know that I needed you. That I want to spend whatever time I have left with you. Whatever time I can get.”

His voice faltered as the confession hung in the air, and the weight of it felt almost unbearable. But then, slowly, you reached across the table, your hand gently landing on his.

“I never stopped loving you either, Megumi. I hope you know that.” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.”

The words hit him like a wave, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could breathe again. Like everything wasn’t falling apart. Maybe, just maybe, the time that was slipping away didn’t matter as long as he could be with you in these final months, these final moments. He looked at you, the warmth of your hand in his, and a fragile smile tugged at his lips.

“Then let’s make the most of it.” he whispered. “Even if we start out again and be friends first. I’d love to make the most of it.”

You smiled at him warmly in response. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t have the time he wanted. But in that moment, as you sat across from him, the love of his life, he felt at peace.

And perhaps, maybe, just maybe – that was enough.

Maybe, this was all he needed in life.

His life was going to be defined by loving you.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

BEING SENTIMENTAL, IT WASN’T WHAT HE WAS GOOD AT. He knew too well what this will be in the end. He knew that it was going to hurt you both, that it was going to hurt him most. It wasn’t the best idea, you knew that.

Letting Fushiguro Megumi back into your life after everything that had happened, after all the years apart—it wasn’t exactly the most rational choice. You’d spent so long building your own life, carving out your space in the world, and now, just as you’d begun to find your rhythm again, life threw you a curveball you never saw coming.

The diagnosis.

Dementia. A rare form. And to make matters worse, it was hitting you far too early before you’d even reached thirty-five. The doctors had explained it all in somber tones, but the truth was, none of it really sunk in at first.

It was a shock, a blow you weren’t sure how to handle. The thought that, in just a few years, you might forget everything, the art you created, the people you loved, the moments that had shaped your life, was downright terrifying.

And yet, here you were, staring at your phone screen with Megumi’s name blinking back at you. He’d reached out. You hadn’t heard from him in so long. The last time you saw him, things were… complicated. So many years spent apart, so many unspoken words, and yet, when you saw his name, your heart skipped a beat.

You thought it might have been fate. Or maybe just a desperate wish. The idea that you had a shot at all was one in a million. In this small window of time, before it all slipped away— to make some memories. To live whatever life you could, before the inevitable began to take hold. You wondered how that could be.

So you called him back. And when he answered, the voice on the other end was familiar and steady, just like you remembered.

“You really want to see me?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice. “It’s been a while.”

You smiled softly, your fingers curling around the phone. “I do. I want to see you, Megumi. I need to. I—” You paused, unsure how to explain it. How could you? “I just want to make some memories.”

There was a long silence before he spoke again, and when he did, his tone was gentler. “Okay. Let’s make some memories then. How about we go to the aquarium? I know it’s random, but… I thought it might be fun.”

You felt a small laugh escape your lips at the thought of it. Megumi…Your Megumi. He was always so serious, always so reserved, ever so practical — but somehow, a trip to the aquarium seemed like just the thing you needed.

He was keeping you afloat, keeping you alive, wanting to do things. Wanting to make life interesting, even with that orderly fashion of his. It makes you warm inside. It always has. It always will.

“That sounds perfect.” you said, the words coming out easily, almost relieved.

And so, there you were, standing in front of the entrance to the aquarium, waiting for him. Your heart was a little heavier than before, the weight of the diagnosis still there in the back of your mind. But in this moment, with Megumi on his way, you felt something else: a little spark of hope. A little spark of life.

You caught sight of him as he rounded the corner, looking just as you remembered, though maybe a little older, a little worn around the edges. His eyes were still the same, dark and intense, but there was something softer about him now, something that made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “Long time no see.”

You smiled back, the weight of the years between you almost forgotten. "Yeah. It’s been too long."

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, his gaze lingering just a little too long, as though he could tell something was different. You didn’t have to say it out loud. He could read you like a book. He always has. You don’t think he’ll stop now. You hope he wouldn’t. You smiled at him.

“I’m glad you called.” he said softly, as if unsure of how to proceed, but that familiar warmth in his voice was still there. It had never really gone away, had it?

"Me too." you replied, and for the first time in a long while, you meant it. "I needed this."

Megumi nodded, and the two of you walked into the aquarium together, the world around you a blur of soft lights and flowing water. The sound of distant laughter and the rhythmic swoosh of fish in tanks filled the air, but all you could hear was his voice, the way it brought comfort, the way it made you feel like maybe you weren’t alone in this after all.

You pointed out the exhibits as you wandered through the aquarium, asking him what he thought of the colorful fish or the playful otters, though truthfully, your mind wasn’t always on the sea creatures. You couldn’t help but glance at him, at the way he reacted to everything, his quiet smile, his dry humor. It felt so familiar. So right.

“Remember when we came here when we were younger?” you asked, your voice soft. “We didn’t know anything about what we were doing, just wandered around aimlessly.”

Megumi chuckled, though it sounded bittersweet. “I think I spent most of the time trying to keep you from getting too close to the sharks.”

You laughed, the sound light and free, just like it used to be when you were younger. "You always were protective."

He didn’t respond to that, but the way he looked at you said it all. You both knew. You both remembered the connection you had once shared. And now, as you stood together, surrounded by glass tanks and exotic sea life, it felt like maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as broken as they seemed.

Megumi turned to you after a while, his blue – green eyes searching yours, as though considering whether to say something, something important. Sometimes Megumi gets like this.

He tries to do well when figuring out what to say, how to say them. To avoid misunderstanding. To be clear. And yet in that moment, he seemed like he already had those words. But he doesn’t want to bring it up. At least not yet.

“Do you… do you remember what you used to tell me?” he asked, his voice hesitant. “When we were kids, you said you wanted to live life fully. You didn’t want to waste a single second.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. It took a moment for you to recall those words, but when you did, a small laugh escaped your lips. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You still want that, right?” Megumi’s gaze was steady, unwavering.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. There was no need to speak the truth aloud—it was clear. Even with everything you had to face, you still wanted to live, even if it was just a little longer, even if it meant creating new memories, even if it was messy and imperfect.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

And with that simple admission, Megumi smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, a little brighter than before. He didn’t ask you what was coming next, or how much time you had left, or any of the things you had to worry about in the back of your mind. He just stood there, by your side, ready to make the most of the time you had left.

And in that moment, you realized something else too—maybe it wasn’t the best idea to let him back in, but it felt like fate. Fate had given you a chance, and you weren’t going to waste it.

Not now. Not ever again.

As you and Megumi wandered through the aquarium, the world outside seemed to fade away. There was something peaceful about the soft glow of the tanks, the gentle movement of the sea creatures, and the quiet way you and Megumi existed in each other’s space. The sounds of the outside world, the murmur of people and the occasional squeal of children, felt far away, like they were part of a distant dream.

Megumi leaned closer to one of the tanks, his eyes following the delicate movements of a seahorse. You caught yourself watching him more than you watched the creatures inside the glass, his expression thoughtful, like he was lost in the quiet beauty of it all.

His features softened in a way that made your heart flutter. It wasn’t just his looks, though—it was the way he was. The way he had always been there for you, even when life pulls you in different directions. Everything about him makes you orbit around him, like he was your earth and you were his moon. He kept you balanced. And you like it. You always have.

“Hey, Megumi.” you said, nudging him lightly. “You’ve gone quiet. Do you still hate fish?”

He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow in that familiar, teasing way. “Not the fish, just... I can’t believe you’ve dragged me here, of all places.” But his words held no real malice. There was warmth there, a soft playfulness that made you smile.

“Admit it already.” you teased him. “You like it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Megumi snorted, and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Maybe I do. But don’t go getting any ideas. I’m not a seafood enthusiast yet."

You grinned, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You both wandered deeper into the exhibit, laughing at the odd little creatures, pointing out your favorites, and making light-hearted jokes. At one point, you found yourselves standing before a tank of jellyfish, their long, flowing tentacles creating a mesmerizing dance in the water. You both watched in silence, the gentle sway of the jellyfish almost hypnotic.

“This is kind of like us, isn’t it?” you asked, turning to Megumi, your voice quieter now. “Just... floating along, not really knowing where we’re going, but just kind of going with it?”

Megumi looked over at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” he murmured, his voice soft and a little more serious than usual. “But, you know, I don’t mind floating along with you.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hand wrapped around yours almost instinctively, and in that moment, it felt so right. So simple. So perfect.

"You're really good at this." you whispered, giving his hand another squeeze. "At making things feel easy."

Megumi’s fingers tightened around yours, and he turned his head slightly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I think you’ve always made it easy, you know?” he said quietly.

You both stood there for a while, hand in hand, watching the jellyfish move. Time seemed to slow down as you both took in the moment, each of you content in the other’s presence. The world around you felt like it had paused, just for a little while, just for the two of you to exist together.

As the day began to wind down and the aquarium started to empty out, Megumi pulled you closer, his arm lightly draped around your shoulder, a natural, easy gesture.

You leaned into him, grateful for his warmth, his presence, the way he made you feel like everything would be okay. You knew it was, even when you weren’t sure about anything. As long as you have Fushiguro Megumi, life will turn out alright. It always has. It always will.

“Thanks for today, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice full of meaning. "I needed this."

Megumi glanced down at you, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad. I needed it too.”

As you made your way to the exit, you felt lighter. The weight of your diagnosis, the fear of what was to come, was still there in the back of your mind—but in this moment, with Megumi by your side, everything else seemed distant. The future, no matter how uncertain, didn’t feel so scary anymore.

You both stepped out into the evening air, the cool breeze brushing past your faces. The city lights were just beginning to flicker on in the distance, and the streets felt full of life.

You glanced over at Megumi, his expression soft, content. The night was still young, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were living in the moment, not worrying about what was to come.

“You know……” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe we should do this again sometime.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow. “What, go to an aquarium?”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Why not? You never know, next time we might get to see the dolphins.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was unmistakable. “You and your love for sea animals,” he teased.

“I’m serious!” you said with a laugh. “But next time, maybe you’ll actually like it more.”

“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle. "Just maybe."

As you walked side by side, the cool evening air wrapping around you, your thoughts wandered again to the future, the future that was becoming a little more uncertain with each passing day. But then you looked at Megumi again, at the soft smile on his face, and for a moment, it didn’t matter. For now, everything was perfect.

And in that perfect moment, you realized: this—him—was what you wanted. Not just tonight, not just this moment, but forever. Or at least, as long as you could have it. You didn’t know how much time you had left, but in this instant, you were going to savor every second of it.

You glanced up at Megumi, squeezing his hand gently as you whispered, “I want this to last forever.”

Megumi squeezed your hand back, his voice steady and warm. “I do too.”

But you knew, you knew too well, as he did.

Nothing on this earth was bound to last forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DIDN’T EXPECT HOW THIS WAS GOING TO END. But then again, you too didn’t expect it. Everything was unpredictable. But he expected this to happen. Even if he didn’t want it to. That was just his fate. The pain had been creeping up on him more and more, gnawing at his insides like a constant reminder that his time was running out.

Every movement, every step, felt like a battle. His body wasn’t his own anymore, and no matter how much he tried to push through it, the heaviness of his condition weighed on him more than he cared to admit. Everything was miserable, and he hated it. He hated how this was happening.

But there was something, someone, that made it all seem bearable. You. The thought of you kept him going, even when his body felt like it was betraying him. At the time when everything was starting to know its place, to fit perfectly. Right time, right place, right person. And yet, this had come to pass. He was sick. Beyond fixing.

Yet Megumi was certain that he was going to fight it. For as long as he can still do it. For as long as he had the strength to. He still wanted more time with you. More chances to make up for those five years. But he knew that it was getting harder. He didn’t want you to see how bad it was getting.

Sometimes he can’t even move himself. Sometimes he felt like he was going to throw up everything he ate. Sometimes he feels like he was going to pass out. But he doesn’t want to give up just yet.

He can’t. It wasn’t time, not just yet. He still needs to live. No matter how painful it all gets. He wants to live. He wasn’t giving up. Not when he still wanted to be there for you. Not when he still wanted to make you smile.

And he wanted to prove that. He always wants to prove that. That he was strong enough. That he can still stay here. That he can still take care of you. Tonight was one of those nights. It was already late when he got your call. But he didn’t care about the time. He had to go there for you.

He rushed out with his meager winter coat and rushed over there. The sound of your voice was filled with frustration and a little bit of panic, and that was enough to get him moving immediately. It kept ringing in his head, the tone of your voice. He doesn’t think he had ever heard that voice from you before.

All the way there, he thought more about your frustration and your panic more than his own pain. He didn’t even think about how exhausted he was or how much his body ached. You were what mattered to him at this moment. Nothing else. You mattered more to him. He was always going to put your first, especially now.

When he arrived at your apartment, he found you standing by the door, frowning and rifling through your bag. Your face lit up with a mix of relief and embarrassment when you saw him. He took a moment to breathe before greeting you.

“Megumi, I’m so sorry.” you said, wiping a hand over your face. “I can’t find my keys. I’ve looked everywhere. I—I think I’ve lost them.”

The distress in your voice was enough to make his heart tighten. He immediately stepped toward you, trying to hide the wince that flickered across his face as he reached for the door handle.

“It’s okay, hm?” he said softly, his voice steady, even if the pain inside was threatening to make it crack. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

He tried to ignore the way his legs ached as he crouched down to check the bottom of the doormat, his hand shaking slightly as he pushed it aside, looking for any sign of the missing keys. You stood beside him, still fretting, your hands wringing together.

“I’m sorry, Megumi. I don’t want to be a burden to you.” you murmured, your voice trembling.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stood up again. “You’re not a burden. You never have been.” He reached out, gently wiping the tears that had started to fall down your cheek. "I’m happy to help."

I’m happy to be needed. He thinks to himself, looking at you. I’m happy to be wanted by you.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing from the warmth of his touch. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm and collected when you felt like you were falling apart. But then again, it was just like him to make sure you were okay, even if it meant putting aside his own pain.

“I’m so sorry, again.” you said again, this time more softly. “I shouldn’t have let this get to me.”

Megumi just shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our moments. It’s normal to get frustrated. I’ll help you find them, I promise.”

He glanced around for a moment, and then his gaze softened as he met your eyes. For a brief second, the weight of his own pain seemed to vanish, replaced by the quiet, soothing comfort of being close to you. The way you looked at him like he was the one thing that made sense in the chaos made everything feel a little easier.

“Let’s check inside your bag again.” he suggested gently. He took the bag from you, unzipping it with a practiced hand. As he rummaged through it, you watched him carefully, your anxiety easing just a little from the reassurance in his tone.

And then, as if by magic, he pulled out the keys from the deepest pocket of your bag. He held them up with a small, triumphant smile.

“Found them, dummy.” he said, and the relief in his voice made your heart swell.

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still lingering in your eyes, but a smile now tugging at your lips. “I’m so hopeless sometimes.”

Megumi’s smile widened, his eyes softening. “Don’t say that. You’re not hopeless. You just had a moment.”

His hand brushed against yours as he handed you the keys, and for a second, it felt like everything was perfect. Just you, him, the simple act of being together in the quiet, unspoken moments.

You met his gaze, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Thank you, Megumi. For everything.”

His bright blue–green orbs could only soften even more, and for the briefest moment, you could see the quiet ache in them, but it wasn’t pain. No, it was something else, something deeper. Something more beautiful, something more true. Everything about him felt so genuine. More than ever before.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just happy I’m here with you.”

And for that moment, in that small, shared space, it felt like nothing else mattered. The world outside could have been crumbling, but in his presence, you felt a quiet sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

Megumi gave you one last, reassuring smile, wiping away the last of your tears, and then offered his arm to you as he moved to open the door for you. You stepped inside, the cool air of the apartment a small comfort after the small storm of emotions. Megumi was right. Everything would be fine.

At least, for now, it was. You could forget about the worries of tomorrow and just be in the moment. As he followed you inside, a part of you couldn’t help but think how much longer you wanted this moment by your side. How you wished you could hold onto these moments forever.

The evening had grown colder, but the light snowfall made everything feel magical, like a scene out of a dream. You and Megumi had just finished your little excursion to find the perfect hotpot place, and as you sat at a cozy table by the window, the snowflakes drifted lazily outside.

The warmth of the restaurant was a nice contrast to the chilly air, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Everything about tonight was what would make winter feel the want to enjoy being alive, being warm in the cold breeze of its existence.

You pulled your phone from your bag, feeling the impulse to capture the moment. You glanced up at Megumi, who was poking at his bowl, looking surprisingly content for someone who usually seemed to prefer avoiding anything too flashy.

His serious demeanor had softened, and his usual guarded expression was replaced with a rare sense of comfort. With a smile, you snapped a quick picture of him. Megumi looked up, startled by the sound of your camera clicking.

“Hey, no pictures, you dummy.” he protested, though his tone wasn’t harsh. He reached for the camera, but you pulled it away quickly, holding it to your chest with a grin.

“Why not? You look cute, you know?” you teased, winking playfully at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “You always say that. Why do you take so many pictures anyway?”

You leaned back in your seat, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess… I just want to remember things. The little moments that matter. You never know when they’ll be gone, so I figure I should capture the ones that make me happy.”

Megumi’s eyes softened, and he gave a quiet nod, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m glad you do that. You’ve always had a way of making ordinary moments feel... special.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad you’re here to make them feel special too.”

The rest of the meal passed in a comfortable silence, filled with small chatter and the occasional clink of chopsticks. You felt more at ease than you had in a long time, the weight of the world outside the restaurant seemingly lifted.

Once dinner was over, you both left the warm comfort of the restaurant, stepping into the crisp winter night. The air was fresh and sharp, and the snow had started to fall heavier, painting the streets in a blanket of white. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at the sky, the snowflakes drifting down like confetti.

You walked ahead a few steps, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, when you suddenly realized that Megumi wasn’t next to you. Turning around, you saw him standing still, almost frozen in place, his posture slumped in an uncharacteristic way. You paused, confused, until you saw him sway slightly before collapsing onto the snow-covered pavement with a soft thud.

Your heart stopped.

“Megumi!” You rushed over to him in a panic, your breath catching in your throat as you knelt beside him. His face was pale, and his body was limp in the snow, the cold seeping through his clothes.

You gently shook his shoulder, your voice shaking as you called his name again. “Megumi! Hey, wake up, please…”

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stir. You were beyond scared now. His condition had been worsening for a while, but seeing him like this made your entire world feel like it was crashing down around you. You could feel your heart beating, faster than it ever has. You had never felt such fright in your entire life.

“Megumi, stay with me, please. Please, oh my god—someone help! Please!” you say, your voice breaking as you hovered over him, panic rising in your chest.

You couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Warm tears were starting to fall from your eyes, contrasting the cold. Everything about this moment felt like you were losing to fate.

You hated this feeling. You hated this helplessness. You hated the thought of losing the love of your life. Everything about this was cruel. And that had just made you cry even more.

You take a breath, calming yourself, as you quickly pull your phone from your pocket, dialing the emergency number, your hands trembling as you explained the situation to the operator.

You try to check on him, trying to get him to wake up. Tears still pouring endlessly, like raindrops in the winter hale. The minutes stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity.

Megumi stirred slightly, his eyes opening just enough for him to give you a half-smile, his voice weak but still trying to reassure you, even though he clearly wasn’t fully conscious. You gasped, trying to explain to the operator that he woke up. But he immediately cuts you off, his hand on your own. He weakly squeezes it.

“Don’t... don’t worry about me.” he mumbled, his voice barely audible through the cold air. “I’m... fine.”

You shook your head, your tears threatening to spill as you grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “No, you’re not! You’re not fine, Megumi. You’re really not fine.”

“Hey, you…you dummy.” he said, his words slurring slightly. “You... should smile. You... should still... take pictures.”

You shook your head again, laughing through the tears that had started to fall. “I don’t care about pictures, Megumi. I just care about you.”

His eyes fluttered closed again, but he seemed comforted by your words, the faintest hint of a smile still on his lips. You kept holding his hand, never letting go, until the sound of the ambulance arrived in the distance. You didn’t want to, you never wanted to leave. Not him. But you could only pray that he’s just as resolved not to leave you too.

After all, how could you live without him?

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU HATED THE SMELL OF HOSPITALS. You don’t like the smell of death, the smell of grief. The smell of suffering all at once gathered through the halls. You were aware just as much that Megumi doesn’t like hospitals either. He’d always hated it as much as you. Even just doing check–ups made him upset. But there was no other choice. He has to live.

This was the only way to keep him alive. This was the only way he wouldn’t leave you. You'd rather he spend the rest of his life hating the smell of this one moment than let him die. You'd do anything to have him for what time is left.

The cold hospital lights buzzed above you as you sat next to Megumi’s bed, your fingers clutching his hand so tightly it almost hurt. His body was hooked up to various machines, the soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor the only sound that filled the sterile room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sight of him lying there, pale and fragile, making your chest tighten with every passing second.

The ambulance ride had been a blur of frantic moments, the flashing lights reflecting off the cold pavement as you gripped Megumi’s hand, trying to keep him awake, trying to keep him here with you. But he slipped in and out of consciousness, each time his body growing weaker, his breath shallower.

When you arrived at the hospital, the doctors didn’t waste any time. They immediately ran tests and checked his vitals, and within what felt like an eternity, they informed you of the worst news you could have imagined.

You felt like you were going to lose it when you finally heard all of it in detail. You didn’t want to hear more of it. But you had no choice. You needed to know. You needed to know so you could understand.

Fushiguro Megumi had been battling a terminal illness, something that had been eating away at him for months, maybe even longer and he had never told you. They told you about his rare, degenerative condition, how it had been causing him excruciating pain, and how little time he had left.

You didn’t even know how to process it. There was no true way to process it. He was dying. And you just got him back. You were going to lose him, just when you had him back. And that made you feel like you were dying too. Because how? How does one not go mad with it already?

You wanted to scream, to yell at the world for being so unfair. But instead, you sat there, numb, tears streaming down your face, your hands trembling as you held onto Megumi like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Why didn’t he tell you? Why had he tried to carry all of this on his own?

And yet, there was a part of you that knew exactly why. It was just like him. Megumi, ever the stoic, ever the quiet one, always putting others before himself, always bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help.

The sound of his voice broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was weak at first, a soft murmur, but it was unmistakable.

“Hey… stop crying…..you dummy.”

You froze, looking down at him as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing the familiar dark eyes you had always loved. They were dull now, tired, but there was still that softness in them. That quiet strength that had always drawn you to him.

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Megumi, please, I—I can’t…” Your voice cracked as the words caught in your throat. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

His hand weakly squeezed yours, his grip not as strong as it used to be, but the touch still sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He shifted slightly in the bed, his brows furrowing as if trying to find the strength to sit up, but his body betrayed him, and he sank back into the pillow, wincing in pain.

“Don’t cry over me. Enough.” he whispered, his voice low and strained. “I’m... I’m not worth it.”

You let out a small sob, your head dropping to the edge of his bed as you tried to compose yourself, though the tears kept coming. “Megumi, you are. You are worth it. You always have been.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his eyes still clouded with exhaustion, but there was something softer there, something almost apologetic. You hated that look on his face. Because there was nothing to apologize about. Not even once. All you wanted to do was take care of him. All you wanted to do was keep him safe.

“I’ve been so... selfish, haven’t I?” His voice was barely audible, the words coming out in a rasp, but you heard them clearly. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to burden you with this...”

“You never burdened me, Megumi. You should know that.” you whispered, your fingers brushing against his. “You never were a burden. I would’ve done anything for you...”

He let out a quiet sigh, the corners of his lips twitching up in the faintest smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make your heart ache even more. He looked so resigned to his fate, to all of this pain. And you didn’t like it. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be in pain. He shouldn’t be content. Not when you just got back together.

“I know, I know.” he murmured, his voice so weak now that it was almost lost in the hum of the machines around you. “I know you would’ve.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but it was difficult with the weight of everything pressing down on you. “You don’t have to be strong for me anymore, Megumi.” you whispered, the words barely escaping. “It’s okay to let me help you. Please don’t push me away. I can’t lose you like this.”

His eyes closed again, and for a moment, you thought he might have fallen asleep again, but his voice broke through the silence, softer now, as if he were speaking to himself as much as to you. It was such a low voice, so weary and exhausted. You didn’t like seeing him like this. So beaten by something he can’t control.

“Maybe... maybe I should’ve let you in sooner. I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I told you everything.”

You gently cupped his face with your hand, wiping away the tears that still fell freely. “You don’t have to apologize for any of it. I just wish I’d known. I wish I could’ve helped sooner.”

Megumi’s lips parted, but his breath hitched in a shallow cough before he could say anything more. His hand gripped yours again, and this time, he managed a little more pressure, just enough to make you feel the sincerity in his touch.

“I’m glad you’re here, you know?” he whispered softly. “I don’t have much time left... but I’m glad I have you now.”

Your heart shattered at those words, but at the same time, you held onto them, clinging to the fragile thread of time that remained between you. You leaned over and kissed his forehead softly, your heart aching with the knowledge that you didn’t know how much time you had left with him, but you were going to make the most of every precious second.

“I’m here, Megumi. Always.” you whispered. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Days blended together as the winter months stretched on. The world outside seemed to freeze, as if mirroring the heaviness in your heart. Snowflakes continued to fall softly outside the hospital windows, blanketing the world in quiet white, but inside, it felt like the world was slowly slipping away.

You didn’t let yourself dwell on the inevitable. You couldn’t. Every time you looked at Megumi, you saw the man you loved, the man who had always been there for you, even when you hadn’t known you needed him. You stayed by his side every day, holding his hand, speaking to him, telling him about everything you hoped for.

About how the world was still turning outside, how you wanted to keep making memories, even if it felt impossible. You even began taking photos again. Photos of him. You didn’t know how much time you had left, but you were going to capture every moment, every smile, every soft word between you.

It wasn’t easy. Some days, you couldn’t remember where you’d put your keys, or where your phone was. Little things, fading memories, were slipping through your grasp, like water running through your fingers. But what stayed, what never faded—was how deeply you loved him. How every moment you shared with Megumi had become a treasure in your heart.

It was late one afternoon, the sky already darkening as the cold winds howled outside, when you sat next to him again in his hospital room. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was almost rhythmic now, and the other sounds of the machines had become a steady background hum.

You watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with the shallow breath of someone who had fought so long to stay with you. You had asked the doctors, of course, but they had never promised anything. They always do that. They say, they can only do their best. Promises are the hardest, especially when it comes to people’s lives.

You ran your fingers over his hand, brushing against the cool skin that had once been warm, but you didn’t mind. It was still him. Still the Megumi you knew, the Megumi you had spent years beside, growing together, building a life together. Even if that life had been cut short, you would never stop cherishing it.

You whispered softly to him, hoping he could hear, even as he drifted in and out of sleep. “Megumi... I love you. And I’m never going to forget that. No matter what happens, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember you.”

For a long while, there was silence—just the sound of the wind outside and the soft hum of the hospital machines. You thought about the future, or rather, the lack of one that you’d once planned.

The future you had dreamed of with him, one where you could grow old together, laughing at silly jokes, holding hands as you walked through life. But the truth of the situation lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

And then, just as you were about to close your eyes for a moment’s rest, Megumi’s voice broke the stillness, faint and barely audible.

“Hey...” he said, his voice raspy, but full of that familiar warmth.

You sat up straight, your eyes immediately focusing on him. He was awake, just barely, his eyes blinking slowly in the dim light. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. He looked so exhausted.

As though he doesn’t have any energy left to live. You hated that, you hated that smile too. You can’t help it. It made you aware how fragile everything is. How fragile life is. How you were far too near to losing him.

“You... you’re awake?” you whispered, leaning closer, your heart pounding with hope.

He nodded slightly, though the movement seemed to take a lot of effort. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m... sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you said, a smile slipping onto your face, even though your eyes were still damp. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Megumi. I’m just... glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me.”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his lips parting slightly as he struggled for the words. “I’ve always... wanted you to be happy. Even now, I... I want you to be happy.”

Your heart clenched, and you leaned down, your forehead resting gently against his. “I am happy. Because I’m with you. I have been, and I always will be.”

Megumi smiled again, his hand weakly squeezing yours. His smile was small, but it meant everything to you. The most precious thing in the world. You would carry that smile with you, even if the days grew darker, even if the cold winds of winter began to steal more from you.

In that moment, you made a promise to him in your heart. You promised that, no matter what, you would keep loving him. Even if you forgot everything else, you would never forget the love you shared. You would never forget him.

The room felt colder than it ever had before, despite the soft hum of the heaters and the warmth of the blankets wrapped around Megumi. You sat there beside him, holding his hand, feeling his pulse slowly fading.

The soft beeping of the heart monitor had become slower, more erratic. Your eyes were fixed on him, waiting, hoping for some miracle that you knew would never come.

The doctors had already said it to you, clearly. His time was up. There were no more treatments, no more hopes left to cling to. The harsh reality of it all was suffocating, but you didn’t want to let go. You couldn’t. Not when he had been your everything for so long.

You leaned down closer to him, brushing his bangs out of his face, memorizing the way his features were so familiar, the way his eyes had always held that quiet strength. You whispered to him softly, your voice shaky, as tears slid down your cheeks.

"Megumi... please, please stay with me. I love you so much."

His breath was shallow now, ragged. But he turned his head toward you ever so slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes still holding a glimmer of something.

Even in the face of his end, there was a calmness in him, a peace that you couldn’t quite grasp. And you wondered, not for the first time, if he had known all along that this was the way things would end.

He barely opened his mouth, but his voice was soft and full of the kind of warmth that you’d come to treasure, the kind of warmth that had always been his, even when he was hurting.

"I'm glad that you were my final view, you dummy…..my love." he said, his voice so quiet, so weak, but full of meaning. "I'm glad that you were my beginning... and my end."

Your heart shattered at the words, but you swallowed back your sobs, trying to stay strong for him. He had always been strong for you, even when he didn’t have to be. And now, it was your turn to be strong for him.

"I love you, so so much." he whispered, the words barely audible but carrying more weight than anything else he could have said. His hand tightened around yours, just for a moment, but it was enough to make your heart soar and break all at once.

You pressed your forehead to his, your tears falling freely now, each drop a painful reminder that time had run out. You wanted to cry out loud. You wanted him to wake up. You wanted him to come back. But you know he won't. He won't ever come back.

"I love you." you whispered back, over and over again, as if saying it would somehow make the pain of losing him easier. "I love you... I love you... I love you."

But there was no answer. No more words. His chest rose and fell one last time, and then it stilled. The beep of the heart monitor flatlines, and with it, the world around you seems to collapse in on itself.

He was gone.

You stayed there, for what felt like an eternity, unable to tear yourself away from his side. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of his hand, even though you knew he was no longer there to hold it. The warmth of his skin was already starting to fade, but you still clung to it, as though holding on to him would keep him with you forever.

The quiet in the room was deafening, a silence so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. You closed your eyes, trying to push away the overwhelming sorrow that threatened to drown you. But in the quiet, you could still hear his voice, still feel the warmth of his love in your chest.

I love you, he had said. And that was all that mattered now. That was all you could hold onto.

The nurses came in, gently moving you aside, but you didn’t care. They tried to comfort you, to tell you everything would be okay, but nothing would ever be okay again. You had lost the person you loved most in the world, and no one could take that pain away.

Hours passed. Or was it days? You couldn’t remember anymore. The world outside continued to turn, the snow continuing to fall, but all you could think about was him. Megumi. Your Megumi.

The man you loved with every part of you. The man who had been your best friend, your lover, your everything. And now he was gone, and you were left with nothing but the aching emptiness of his absence.

You didn’t leave the hospital that night. You stayed there, next to him, holding his hand, telling him you loved him over and over. You didn’t know if he could hear you. You didn’t know if it mattered.

You just needed him to know. He had been the love of your life, and you would carry that love with you forever. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you’d forget, you would never forget him.

The days that followed were a blur of sadness and quiet moments of reflection. The funeral. The family. The friends who came and went, offering their condolences, their words of sympathy. But none of it mattered. Not without him.

Winter gave way to spring, the snow melting and the world coming back to life, but you felt like you were still stuck in the cold. The world had moved on, but you were stuck in that one moment, in that one room, with Megumi.

It was as if time had frozen the moment he left, and you couldn’t break free from it.

But still, you held on to him. You held on to the love he had given you, the smile he had worn for you, and the life you had shared together. Because that was all you had left.

And no matter how much the world tried to take it away from you, you would never forget him.

You will never forget Megumi.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

SOME DAYS ARE EASIER THAN OTHERS, YOU NURSES THINK. But today was not one of those days. Somehow, the days seemed to slip away like water through your fingers, and the world around you grew hazier with each passing moment.

You didn’t know the date, the year, or even your own name anymore. Sometimes, when the nurses spoke to you, you’d hear their voices and understand their words, but the world beyond that seemed so far away.

But there was one thing you could never forget. No matter how much time passed or how much your memory faded, there was always him.

His face, his eyes. Those blue-green eyes that shone with a warmth that made your heart flutter even now. They felt so familiar and yet you couldn’t remember who they belonged to. Who this man was. And yet, you always felt at ease when you painted him. You always felt like life was beautiful, when he stared back at you.

It didn’t matter if you couldn’t remember all of it. How you’ll repeatedly ask what you did and who you met. Or what you were thinking about and or what you wanted to eat. That didn’t matter. All you knew was that whenever you had a brush in your hand, whenever you felt the quiet pull of the canvas, it was his face you painted. It was always him.

It had become a ritual of sorts. The nurses would often find you at the small desk in your room, your hands trembling as you carefully added strokes of color to the canvas. Sometimes it was a portrait.

Everyone could see his strong jawline, his dark tousled hair, the way his lips curled into a gentle smile. Other times, it was an abstract piece, his image lost in swirls of color and light. But it was always him.

No one ever questioned it. The staff knew you were once a famous artist, known for your ability to capture the most subtle emotions in a single stroke. Perhaps that’s why they never seemed surprised to see you lost in your own world, creating pieces of art that you couldn’t fully understand anymore.

But they saw the joy in your eyes when you painted him, and that was enough. It was more than enough. You were suffering already, in so many ways. What is letting you have some little joy in the things you painted? And so one afternoon, as you carefully placed another layer of paint on the canvas, one of the nurses peeked in.

"How’s the painting today?" she asked softly, her voice kind.

You looked up, smiling at her, the brush still poised in your hand. "It’s him again." you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "His eyes… I remember his eyes."

She smiled at you, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You’ve been painting him every day, haven’t you?"

You nodded, not quite understanding why it felt so important to paint him. "He’s got the kindest eyes," you said with a quiet certainty. "The softest face."

She watched you for a moment, her expression filled with understanding. "He must have meant a lot to you."

You blinked, as if the question had never occurred to you. You couldn’t remember the details, couldn’t remember how he had come into your life or who he was, but the feeling that lingered when you thought about him, when you painted him—that you couldn’t deny. It was love. A deep, unshakable love that you could feel, even if you couldn’t understand it completely.

"Yes, I think so." you said, your voice is a little softer now. "He was special. He seems like it."

You looked down at the canvas, the figure of the man emerging once more from the swirls of paint. He had this way of looking at you, even in the paintings—this gentle warmth in his eyes that made you feel safe, loved, and understood, even when the rest of the world seemed so distant.

There was peace in that.

There was a quiet comfort.

The nurse gave a soft smile, nodding her head before quietly excusing herself. But you stayed, lost in your thoughts as your brush moved again, creating another piece of him. Another piece of your memory, even if it was the only one you had left.

It wasn’t about the name. It wasn’t about remembering the details of the past. It was about the feeling, the love that had lived between you two, that was what mattered. The man with the blue-green eyes, the man who had the kindest smile, was the one you could hold onto in your heart, even as everything else slipped away.

As you continued to paint, a small smile curled on your lips. He was with you. In every stroke, in every color, he was there. And as long as you could still remember that love, you would keep painting him.

No matter how many times the world around you faded, you would never forget him.

He had been the brightest part of your life, and even now, in the quiet of the care home, he was the only thing you still held close.

And that made everything a little easier.

110 notes · View notes

itwasthereaminuteago · 2 days ago

Text

|| Perfect Fit ||

Pairing: Huge monster boyfriend x regular female gf

Tags/warnings: choose your own monster! I've left it fairly open description-wise apart from him being generally huge and the massive cock... he can be whoever or whatever you like 😉

Minors DNI, size kink, fairly gentle monster!bf, until things get going? Pet names, praise, begging, massive cock kink, bucketloads of come, creampie, aftercare.

WC 2.2k of pwp.

Reblog if you enjoy! 🖤

I'm talking about that usual trope of your monster boyfriend having a monster-sized cock but that there's just absolutely no way he's gonna fit and it's making you upset.

Even though you both have a multitude of other ways to give each other pleasure, you're so very desperate to make this happen, you're having almost constant daydreams about how utterly full he'd make you feel, your mouth watering and body melting at the mere thought of what would happen when you… and if he... 🫠

"I want to try!" You whine, annoyed that you sound so pathetic but you're so frustrated by his doleful eyes and the way he's shaking his head at your insistent pleas.

"No, sweetheart, we've already been over this. I'd never want to risk hurting you."

"But y-you wouldn't, I know you wouldn't, I can do it, I want to do it. We can try, please just let me try!"

"Is it because I’m not doing enough to satisfy you?" He traces his claws lightly against the side of your face, bringing his huge hand to cup the side of your jaw. His brows are knit together with concern. "You've got to let me know-"

You shake your head emphatically, placing your hands on the vast expanse of his chest. "No you do, of course you do, but I really want this."

"Kitten, just... just let me use my mouth on you, you know I'll make it so good-"

He lets out the tiniest oof as you ineffectually push him back in mild annoyance.

"This is me letting you know my love, you're just not listening to me!" You sigh dramatically, throwing yourself face down on the huge bed you share.

You hear a resigned sigh behind you, and then the tender touch of his hand on the skin of your back, moving downward to give your ass a gentle squeeze. "Well, we're gonna need a lot of lube." He concedes.

You quickly spin around, a huge, bright smile on your face. "I know, I've already been shopping!"

Now that it's about to happen, you're shaking, laid on your back with your knees up and spread wide, sweat dripping from your shuddering body and soaking into the sheets as your handsome monster boyfriend brings you to your third orgasm using one of your biggest cock toys. You've worked your way up gradually but it's still nowhere near the same massive girth of his own. Even so he was extremely insistent on spending plenty of time on preparing you properly. The rippling waves of your latest high are slow to dissipate, but that doesn't mean you aren't anxious about what's to come next.

"M'gonna leave that in there just now, you okay with that sweet girl?" He pushes on the thick base of the soft silicone, making sure it stays seated in your pussy while you're still contracting around it.

"mmhm," you hum, opening your eyes to look up at him. "Feels real nice..."

"Looks real nice." He says, in that familiar low tone that so often marks his arousal.

Your gaze is automatically pulled down his body, and no matter how many times you've seen it before, you're always left mesmerized at the unsheathing of his cock. It fills up and firms steadily, blood pumping to make it heavy and thick, so painfully thick…

He must notice the slightly apprehensive look on your face. “You know we don't have to, you can tap out any time. You know I'd be more than happy just fucking those pretty tits of yours.”

He flashes a grin that breaks the worry, your light laugh turning into a gentle moan as he palms your bare breasts, pinching your nipple between his claws.

“I told you, I want to.” you pout, and he finally grunts in acknowledgement.

“Alright princess, I'll give you what you want.”

You had already made clear you wanted him over you despite his claims that you being on top would give you more control. There was no way you could keep holding yourself up on your thighs above him after the earth shattering orgasms you'd already had, so he'd promised to go as slow as you needed and you fully trusted that he would.

He slowly pulls the dildo out of you, a wet flood of your arousal following as you murmur softly at the sensation of suddenly feeling so empty.

You're looking up at him now as his massive bulk shadows you, opening yourself as much as you're able to let him fit between your thighs. The very tip of his bulbous cock slides slowly between your folds, deep reddish purple in colour, shining as he bathes it in your slick juices eagerly nudging at your entrance.

“You ready, pretty girl?”

Even though your pussy is so engorged and puffy after all the prior stimulation, you're still tiny next to his enormous and angry looking thick-ridged shaft. He’s almost having second thoughts about if he will fit at all, but turns his attention to the bud of your swollen glistening clit, spitting right on it. It's not like you really need it with the way you're soaked with your own arousal and the generous amount of lube he'd used earlier, but your reaction as he starts to rub slow sloppy circles around it makes him sure it was the right decision.

“M’ready- unnh!” You mewl as his hips push forward again and you feel him breaching you.

“That's good, you're doing so good...” he soothes. “just relax.”

You start to pant, moaning louder as he presses in further, you already feel stretched, so full up, you don't know how much more you could possibly take.

“Ohh- oh! Is there much more? It's so big!”

He's not even got past the thickest part of the head yet… but he's not gonna worry you with that.

“Just a little more, take a big deep breath for me sweetheart, you can do it.”

Your tight little cunt flutters so maddeningly around him as he starts to rub your clit faster and firmly. He listens to you breathe in, then, as you exhale, he punches forward, growling as the fat head of his cock finally pops inside you with an obscene squelch. You squeal, writhing uncontrollably beneath him, back bowed up from the bed as your body tries to accept the blunt intrusion. You've never felt so incredibly stuffed and overwhelmed, thinking you've really bitten off more than you can chew, panting so hard, trying your hardest to just relax because you know it'll make it easier but he's just too much, he's too big…

“There we go, that's it baby, just breathe. You're such a good girl, you know that?”

You have to force yourself to gulp in more air, blowing it back out in a slow shuddering breath. You nod even as you whine with the effort, your wide wet eyes blinking up at him in adoration.

“Okay, m’gonna give you a little more now. Nice and slow, hm?”

More?! There's more?? It can't be possible, it feels like he's reached right up inside to your navel already, like there's just not any space left for him to go. Your eyes are starting to sting from holding back tears, more of frustration than of pain. Your hands are clasping and gripping to hold onto the small part of his massive shoulders you're able to reach, and you're aware that you're whimpering constantly now.

You wanted this, you remind yourself, as he reaches for the large bottle of lube and drizzles a generous amount on to where his monster dick disappears into you.

He draws his hips back slightly and then gives another small thrust forward causing you to moan out his name long and loud. It's a lot, but as he gives your body some time to adjust it's also beginning to feel good, your walls clenching repeatedly around his girth.

“Mmn… y’like that, huh?” He husks close to your face. He holds himself so steady with his immense strength above you, it must be difficult for him to reign in his desire and enact such patience, that's he's holding back from just letting fully loose and fucking you hard and fast. The thought drives you wild. A squeak escapes as you feel him twitching inside.

“Sorry baby, can't help it when you're so tight and feel so good like this.”

He leans down towards your chest, eyes glinting and tongue emerging to lick around and over your pebbled nipples. You arch again, this time due to the fact your sensitivity has increased tenfold, the movement dragging his cock so much deeper within you, easily probing against the sweet spot that makes you lose your shit. He's still only halfway in, pushing the backs of your thighs back closer to the bed allowing him to squeeze another fat inch inside.

“Uhhh fu-ck!” your voice breaks as you think you just might explode. He tries another short thrust, more lube squishing out from your stretched hole as he nudges in even further, your nails digging deep into his skin as you whimper with increasing pleasure.

“That’s it princess, almost there…” he grunts through gritted teeth. “so perfect, doing so well.”

He starts slowly moving his hips back and forth, gradually working that massive dick in and out of you, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll back into your head. You feel the soft weight of his heavy balls against you each time he pounds into your weeping pussy, your mouth hanging open, every forward thrust punching loud desperate sounds from you.

“S-so goood!” You mewl up at him, and he smiles as he leans down to kiss you. As he licks into your mouth he reaches between your joined bodies, a gentle finger brushing over your slippery throbbing pearl yet again.

“Oh- ohhhh!”

He draws tight focussed circles as he fucks you, and before you can even warn him, you're coming hard, crying out as your poor stuffed cunt clenches over and over.

He doesn't stop. Just rolls you both over so you're sitting above him now, thighs spread so wide you think you'll break in two. You're surrendering as you tire, you want him to use you as his own personal little fucktoy.

As if reading your thoughts and feeling your body adapt he starts to fuck you faster, holding your hips, taking your weight in those big hands, bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your cream coats his length every time he withdraws, making slick wet sounds so loud yet you're not embarrassed by them, it only makes your next orgasm more intense, your come dripping down to his sac. Those huge balls bounce up against your ass as he keeps on going, drawing up and tightening as he gets close.

“Such a good girl, you can give me another one, can't you sweetheart? Yeah I know you can…”

Breathing is difficult, nevermind trying to talk, you're only capable of gasping and whining as he toys with your overstimulated clit. Could you even come again? You don't know, your body feels so wrung out, but the thought of being able to have him come inside you for the first time gives you the boost you need to carry on. You slide your hands from where they rest on his stomach up to your breasts, knowing how much he adores watching you play with them. You're clutching and pushing them up, teasing and pulling at your nipples as you moan, eyes locked with his. The way he's looking you can tell that he's almost there, even before you feel the first powerful throb of his cock.

“Fuck-…” his growl reverberates through every nerve of your body. “You ready, baby?”

Pleasepleaseplease you beg, and he hisses through sharply clenched teeth, spearing you on his giant shaft again and again, the thick, raised ridges of it stretching your cunt wide every time it forces its way inside your warmth.

Another twitching pulse within your tight walls has you wailing, the wave of feeling inside you crests and you fall forward, clinging on to him as it seems his cock is swelling even larger still.

Then it happens, your fifth orgasm rips through your entire body like a tsunami, your mouth opening to set free your little uh uh uhhs when you finally feel the hot rush of his seed as he unleashes with a magnificent roar.

It gushes inside forcefully, filling you up in thick spurts until it physically can't anymore. You obviously had experience of his ejaculation before, but this was different, his pulsing cock wasn't showing any signs of stopping, come leaking out in thick, viscous rivulets down your quivering inner thighs.

Instinct drives him to keep it deep inside you, pulling you close to lie flush against his body, hot grunts puffing against your neck as his hips snap up sharply, trying to push it all back inside. When he finally slows his movements and stops, his cock still throbs for a long time after. Mine, he purrs with a possessiveness that makes you feel so loved, snuggling you close and kissing the top of your head as you both wait for it to soften. When it eventually slips free you're on the verge of sleep, woken when you feel the flood of your mixed fluids trickle out of your sensitive core.

“Mm, I knew I could do it.” You murmur, nuzzling into his chest. You're very sore but satisfied, even a little bit proud of your achievement .

He grins, carefully scooping you up, carrying you to the shower where he is amazingly gentle and soft whilst cleaning you up. “You did, sweetheart, you were incredible. Never felt anything as good as when I'm with you.”

When you're done he kisses your sleepy face, on your forehead, your eyelids, and finally, a small kiss on your lips as he gets you warm, dry, and tucked into a cosy clean bed.

"My princess."

#monster!boyfriend x regular girlfriend #monster fucking #monster!bf x regular gf #monster smut #choose your own character #monster x fem!reader

81 notes · View notes

h50europe · 2 days ago

Text

BUCK / TOMMY - HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A FANDOM SCORNED!

I did some thinking. Never good, but my brain can't wrap around the breakup that came out of the left field.

Recently, it was announced that a spin-off of "9-1-1" is in the works. While no locations have been finalized, Hawaii and Las Vegas have been suggested as potential settings. The showrunner is already working on the project, with filming set to begin in March 2025.

However, one of my biggest fears has come true: the focus of the showrunners is being diverted from the current show to concentrate on this new spin-off. All the energy runs in the new project. Also, at this point, we don't know if the mothership will be renewed. Without an early renewal, we must wait until May for the announcement. That is another reason why they are focusing on the new show. I wonder if this is why the plots feel rushed and repetitive. It's nice to revisit the past, but not ad nauseam. 9-1-1 does it too often lately. What's the point in bringing back Gerard and turning him into the butt end of a joke? What's the point in digging out Abby's Tommy and hanging it around Tommy Kinard's neck when nothing was ever mentioned in the past. The focus is clearly not on the current show. It feels like Tim abandoned the ship to board a new one. It's fresh, it's crisp, it leaves room for a lot of things. Even if the breakup was meant as a shocker. If your focus is somewhere else, you don't see it. Right now, the mothership is leaking and starting to sink. If Tim keeps his focus on the new project and isn't invested in the current show, the lights will go out sooner rather than later.

Bringing in an established character was probably the biggest mistake Tim could have made if he wasn't meant to stick around. Bring in Mary Sue or Marty Stu to be a LI but not a character with a history that connects to so many people on the show. You can't sideline them forever. Especially as Buck's bi-arc was announced as something big. And it was big. A bit too big to be treated the way it was. The fanbase that had built around TEVAN, or BUCKTOMMY, within weeks, was massive. It drew so many members of the queer community into the show. Suddenly, many of them felt seen. Tommy and Buck were different from the other queer characters out there. Different from what was represented on any other show. People were willing to watch to get the slightest glimpse of them. Because they felt real. Their chemistry shot into the stratosphere.

And then you go and end it on such a horrible note? I don't care if the haters call Tommy a plot device. Everyone on the show is one at some point—even Christopher, Eddie, or anyone else from the main or recurrent cast, Karen, for instance, the Wilson kids. You name it. Tommy Kinard came, saw and conquered. So why not give him more room? They did it with Taylor (yes, I know JLH was pregnant then, but that's reason enough? I doubt it). As I said in my other long post, you could cut in a sequence of 5 minutes and show a summary of Tommy's and Buck's life.

Tim makes the same mistake as many showrunners do. Cramming a shitload of plots into 42 minutes of airtime. Is it really necessary to tell that many stories in such a short amount of time? That feels like speed dating. You blink, and you miss an important scene. Every episode, you jump from plot A to B to A to C to B. We didn't have this fast pacing in season 1 or 2. Stop it. Make Quality plots over quantity stuff.

In Tommy's voice: And for God's sake, clean up that mess you created with that shitty breakup, or the audience will wither away.

I'm sorry. I could write a book about what is happening in my head. You'd get Super Brownie points if you made it here.

#Bucktommy #tevan #911 on abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #tim minear

65 notes · View notes

shalotttower · 1 day ago

Text

Will-o'-the-wisp

Title: Will-o'-the-wisp

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader (female)

Summary: Reader encouters fae!Chrollo and breaks some rules along the way.

Word count: 1700+

Notes: yandere!Chrollo, fae!Chrollo, abduction, manipulation, AU, modern setting with fae, Chrollo is charming af and a bit creepy as usual, Reader is doomed long before they know it and slightly depressed

You walk home the same way every day, like many people do. There's comfort in routines. Comfort and security which you crave. The familiar routes, the repetitive programs on TV and the books you've read a million times. You like to know what happens next and hate surprises.

The fourteen-year-old you wouldn't approve.

Maybe even express a little pity, because she always thought you two were destined for an adventure, like in fantasy books you used to devour one after another. Every free second was spent reading or dreaming, but life went on and adventures didn't happen. The girl grew older, a lot more careful and a lot less hopeful.

When you finish work, it's usually around six. Your adult self is practical and prefers to save money on the bus, besides, every other time you take it, you end up having to stand, squeezed between people. It's not worth the frustration; a fifteen minute walk isn't that long and the crime rate in the area is low.

There's a small grove nearby that nobody has bothered to turn into a park. The residents made their own paths in time, put a few signs so the joggers wouldn't get lost, but that's it. Once or twice a month you stroll through there, picking up trash left on the side. People make you want to move to the woods altogether sometimes.

That's how the day starts or ends — with crossing a bridge which connects the grove to your neighbourhood.

And this is where you see him for the first time.

The man looks so out of place among the rustic wooden railings and rushing water below. Nobody wears this kind of clothes here. Expensive and elegant, something that blends well in a big city. They don't stare at passersby like he does either. You hate when people do that ─ block already narrow spaces by just stopping midway. Or groups who spread across the entire sidewalk.

"Excuse me," you say politely. Polite is good. Polite can be used as a shield and always makes you look better than you are. "I need to pass."

He smiles, then moves aside. "Of course."

His face is exactly what you imagine when thinking of pleasant: beautiful grey eyes with long lashes, pointed chin and a strange mix of delicate and sharp edges.

"Thank you."

The smile widens. "You're welcome."

---

It's time to accept that you've grown into an average person with a simple desire to live in comfort. Dreaming isn't your strength anymore, the last book you picked up was several years ago. Movies bore you fifteen minutes in, even if everybody else praises them; the idea of a relationship seems exhausting.

You do enjoy gardening.

Growing tomatoes is a far cry from distant fictional lands, but they taste nice with a pinch of salt.

The condo you live in doesn't have enough space and light, so you chose a small patch of ground in the grove to start a garden. A few tomato plants and some herbs like chives and basil. It might be illegal, yet nobody has come to yell at you. Most people don't pay attention to what's happening here, as long as you don't damage the trees or leave trash.

You water and prune, weed, add fertilizer if needed. There're some flowers too; mother told you that marigolds scare pests away from veggies and keep the soil healthy. They're pretty, little orange spots.

---

You find a crystal at you patch. Azure would be too bland to describe its color ─ maybe more like a mix of cerulean and moon stone. It's round in shape, polished so nicely that the outlines of your face are reflected in the surface. Did a magpie bring it? Or a kid? The thought of someone poking around your garden makes you frown. You hope they didn't step on your basil.

The stone is heavy and cool. You turn it around, entranced, before stuffing it into the pocket of your jeans. Maybe you can ask the neighbours' kids about it later.

"Would you look at that," you mutter and bend to inspect a tomato plant. Two green fruit, each no bigger than your knuckle, hang there, sprouted over the weekend. "Hello, my pretties."

---

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It's past 1 AM, you should sleep; instead, you keep twisting the stone in the moonlight.

You asked kids from around here, but nobody claimed it.

Maybe it's a lucky charm, you've had a wonderful day. Got a call from your cousin in the morning, she has't contacted you in a long while and it was nice to catch up. After lunch, the resource manager praised your work, then an elderly lady from the store complimented your cardigan.

At a certain angle, the stone seems almost glowing. A summer night sky condensed into a tiny orb. Your fingers trace its smooth surface without much thought until eventually it drops onto the pillow by your side.

You don't notice when exactly you fall asleep.

It's the strangest dream you've ever seen.

Gone is the condo building with its stuffy kitchenette and old pipes that constantly rumble. Instead, you feel damp grass underneath your feet. Wind brushes through the hem of your nightdress, carrying the scents of rain and moss. So many shades of black and raven blue swirl together that you barely recognize a signpost nearby. It's the grove, but you've never seen it like this, as dark as it can be only at night.

It's uncomfortable to stand barefoot, with a chill creeping up your legs.

After a while your fingers touch the rough bark of a nearby tree to get a sense of direction, and you start walking, because there isn't anything else to do.

There's the bridge, you think. If you just get to the bridge, the rest will be simple.

You're walking there, or that's what you think when a small ball of light appears right before your nose.

Fireflies don't glow blue. It doesn't falter, doesn't flicker, coming up closer then farther like a pendulum. There's something uncanny and fragile about it. For a second you forget everything and stand mesmerized, until it starts moving.

Through the trees, past the branches, onwards.

It's more instinctual than anything ─ you don't want to be left here alone again, so you follow. Light is good, darkness isn't. The ground becomes more uneven as you go, the grass changes to moss, but you can barely register anything at this point apart from that lonely glow. It halts at times as if making sure you're keeping up.

Is that a clearing ahead? Your eyes hurt from trying to focus.

The blue dot continues to float, never speeding up, never falling behind.

Then it disappears.

No. Not disappears ─ settles on the tip of a pale finger.

There's your tomato patch, your plants, the empty box that you forgot to take back to the condo.

But it's impossible.

Your garden should be not very far from the border, yet it feels like you've walked through half of the grove by now.

Why is he here?

"It took you a while," he says, the stranger from the bridge whose eyes made you pause before you caught yourself. "I was waiting, my dear."

Maybe you shouldn't ask. Maybe the wisest thing would be to turn around and run. You step back and trip on a root which somehow snuck between the moss. He catches your hand before you fall and doesn't let go. Instead his thumb caresses your skin in leisurely strokes.

There's a faint scent of lilies coming from him, and something else. Something heavy, equally sweet that lingers on the edge of cloying and enticing.

Smells aren't supposed to be so strong in dreams.

"I need to go."

"Where?"

This simple question asked in an equally plain tone makes you falter. What does he mean 'where'?

"Home," you say softly and try to free your hand again without success. The man leans in close enough that you can see his face, illuminated by that blue light.

"And where is home?"

"I-" you swallow. "I have to go."

He releases you with surprising ease; you don't waste any time rushing towards the path. The long walk has exhausted you, and the lack of light makes it difficult to tell which turns to take. You stumble multiple times. The hem of your nightdress catches a few twigs. You sprint past the trees, past the low bushes along the familiar trail, and it's there, suddenly in front of you: the wooden bridge.

Out of breath, you grab the railing. And then open your eyes on the same side where you started.

How?

Again and again, you dash across it, yet every time there's a single step left to cross over the stream, the view shifts. Your feet land at the beginning of the bridge. On the ninth time when it's impossible to run any longer, you press your forehead to the railing. Every breath feels short and raspy.

"That's enough, dear."

"What is this?" You grip the planks with trembling hands. "I don't understand. Why can't I-"

A coat falls over your shoulders; you clutch at it mindlessly, because it's warm and you're shaking all over.

"You thanked me. Claimed my land, charmingly audacious of you. Such care and love, right under my nose."

There's no malice in his voice. Gently, finger by finger, he uncurls the tight grip of your hand. The stone is there, cerulean blue like summer sky condensed into a tiny orb.

"Took my gift and kept it close to your heart."

It takes some effort but eventually you manage to speak. "I didn't," you whisper urgently, despite the shiny proof in your palm. "I didn't know! Take it back."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that."

"I didn't know!"

He lifts you in his arms when your knees give out and you sink to the ground, still gripping that damned stone. His coat carries the same distinct scent of lilies and heavy sweetness. The sceneries you dreamed of when younger pop in your head, like old postcards covered with dust, of mystical beings hidden from human eye, fantastical places no one has seen, grand adventures where heroes defy impossible odds and come out victorious.

Those were tales for the brave and imaginative. You're neither.

"It doesn't matter. The land claims you," he says. "And so do I."

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter fanfic #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader

80 notes · View notes

levandright · 1 day ago

Text

WHAT THE HEART WANTS ★ K.SN & Y.JW | TEASER

synopsis. you love your best friend, kim sunoo. but scared of confessing and possibly losing your precious friendship, you'd rather let these feelings left unsaid and buried in your heart. so, what do you do if a popular underclassman confesses to you on valentine's day?

pairings : bsf! sunoo x f!reader, jungwon x f!reader ♦ content / warning(s) : unrequited love, yn is scared to confess, yn has a hard time choosing, fluff, jungwon is a sweetheart ♦ est word count : 4-6k ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : hopefully i can post the first part in a week or two, this is based a lot from my experiences but happier(bcs of the poll) i estimate there will be 3 parts in total for this because of reasons i cannot spoil for now ^-^

of all the secrets you hold close, the feelings you have for sunoo are by far the heaviest. they live in the quiet spaces between you: in every smile he gives you, in every joke you share, in the warmth of every comforting hug, and in the countless secrets you’ve entrusted to each other. he knows so much about you, maybe even more than anyone else. but there’s one truth you’ve never told him, one that sits like a stone in your heart, heavier than all the others.

truth is, sunoo is more than just a friend. somewhere along the way, he became your safe place, your first call in moments of joy and the one person you seek in times of pain. he’s become the one person you feel you can tell anything to—anything, that is except how much he truly means to you. and no matter how many times you imagine confessing, a familiar fear always rises up, wrapping around you like creeping vines: what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if telling him shatters this beautiful, fragile bond you share?

so you make a decision. you decide not to tell him. instead, you resolve to stay silent, to hide your feelings and let them fade on their own, like colors slowly washing out in the sun. you tell yourself that it’s better this way, better to preserve the friendship you cherish than risk losing him altogether.

it’s harder than you imagined. every day with him feels like a test of your willpower, a delicate dance of pushing down what your heart keeps trying to whisper. you start training yourself to see him as just a friend, catching yourself whenever your thoughts drift too far. when he laughs at one of his own jokes, that contagious laugh lighting up his face, you remind yourself that he’s just sunoo, your best friend. when he smiles that bright, heart-stopping smile of his, you train yourself to look away, to ground yourself in the friendship you already have.

there are moments when the urge to reach out and just say everything rises up so suddenly it almost takes your breath away. but each time, you swallow it back, promising yourself that this silence is worth it, that keeping the friendship untouched by unspoken confessions is worth the cost of unexpressed love.

days turn into weeks, and then into months. slowly, it gets a little easier. you start focusing on other things—leaning into hobbies you’d neglected, spending more time with other friends, and setting new goals for yourself. the ache in your heart begins to dull, like a bruise fading with time. you find yourself thinking less about every text he sends, letting go of the habit of analyzing every word, every emoji. the butterflies that once took flight at the smallest hint of his affection start to quiet down, becoming memories of something you’re learning to let go of.

then one day, it happens. the two of you are sitting together, laughing over some ridiculous story he’s telling, and you realize with a sudden, quiet clarity that you’re no longer waiting for something to happen between you. the pang you used to feel when you looked at him—that longing for something more—feels almost absent, replaced by something softer, more comfortable. and just like that, you understand: maybe, just maybe, you’re finally moving on.

the realization fills you with a bittersweet sense of relief. there’s freedom in it, a lightness that settles over you as you realize you can finally be by his side as just a friend, without the constant weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you. you’re proud of yourself, too. proud of the strength it took to let go of what could never be, to find peace in what you already have instead of yearning for something more.

as days pass, you find yourself enjoying this new stage in your friendship. without the burden of your secret feelings, every moment you spend together feels lighter, easier. you laugh freely, knowing there’s no longer an unspoken confession lurking in the back of your mind. the quiet ache that once colored every shared joke, every smile, is gone—or at least, you tell yourself it is.

and sunoo notices the change, too. one day, as you’re both walking home after a long day, he glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“you seem… different lately,” he says, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

you smile back, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight blush on your cheeks. “different? how?”

he tilts his head, squinting at you thoughtfully. “i don’t know. happier, i guess? like something’s changed.”

you laugh, brushing it off with a casual shrug. “maybe i just finally figured some things out.”

and it’s true. you feel lighter now, free from the weight of what-ifs and unspoken desires. for so long, you had convinced yourself that sunoo was the only one who could fill that place in your heart, that loving him was something you had no control over. but now, you understand that love doesn’t always need to be confessed, that sometimes, the strongest kind of love is the one that allows you to let go, to find happiness in simply being close.

yet, even as you convince yourself that you’ve moved on, there are quiet moments that betray you. sometimes, when he throws his arm around you casually, or when he looks at you in that way that’s both familiar and fond, you feel a faint flutter, like an old feeling waiting to resurface. it’s a quiet, buried warmth, something you’re not sure you’ll ever truly get rid of. but you keep it hidden, folded away in a place you don’t have to look at too often. you’ve buried it well, but it’s still there, waiting.

for now, you’re content to keep that love hidden, unspoken and safe. you tell yourself it’s okay. the soft warmth in your chest isn’t a burden anymore—it’s just a part of you, a gentle reminder of a love that didn’t have to be spoken to be real. you’re happy by his side, as his friend, sharing laughter and secrets and every small, precious moment in between.

so you continue on, content in the simple joys of being sunoo’s friend. and if that buried love still lingers in the quiet, unguarded moments, well, that’s something you’ve learned to live with. it’s enough, you tell yourself.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!)

requests. open!

©levandright

91 notes · View notes

aimibeautytrend · 11 hours ago

Text

SYNOPSIS satoru gojo, one of the most popular boy in college, plays on the basketball team, has a large reputation of being a player and dismisses most girls, leaving them coming back for more dk why , and you; a depressing fashion designer major, looking towards being a model. one night at a frat party that your best friend, shoko dragged you to, you went to the bathroom to hide away from the party but…

PAIRING fratboy! gojo x reader

WARNINGS 18+ , lowercase intended , cursing , fluff + angst , strangers to situationship (unfortunately) to lovers(?) , badly written smut , fem! reader , slow burn-ish , drinking/smoking , idiots in love , opposite attract + fell first/fell harder trope , never proofread

11:22PM; you shouldn't be here at all. loud music, drinking, smoking, making out in the corner shamelessly. This is not your crowd. This wasn't your fun, it's your best friend fun.

"oh come on y/n! this will be so fun!" you recall your best friend, shoko, pleading with you for you come tag along with her to go to a frat party that she was invited to once again (for the nth time in the past three weeks) "no thanks shoko. i have work to do." you half lied, you don't really have any work but you have work in the morning since you have no classes tomorrow in the morning.

"just this one time please!" she clasped her hands together in front of your face. that's a lie, one time turns into two, then three, then so on and so forth. but you are so tired and bothered by this point that you don't care anymore. "fine, just this once, but i'm not dressing up for anything." You get up and heads intot he bathroom, through the muffled door you can hear shoko's little cheers of excitement.

And now you regret agreeing in the first place. as soon as you arrived, shoko already left to go to her party animal friend group and started heading towards to kitchen for drinks probably.

11:46PM; you’re felt like leaving, but you didn’t want to leave shoko here with no ride and no conscious to call herself a ride home. plan b; hiding the bathroom. you notice that there’s a basement and a unused bathroom down there. you sneak around people and start heading downstairs.

it quiet, if you exclude the muffled bassed music from upstairs, its clean and empty, the bathroom door is right there. so why do you feel a weird sensation throughout your body not to open the door, much less step closer to the door? you decide to ignore it and approach the door, you didn’t hear anything through the door, well barely at least. you grab the doorknob and open the door.

a random girl. bent over the sink base, a drunk dazed look in the mirror as she moans, a really tall guy, looking around six feet tall, really pretty white hair and white lashes, straight up eating her pussy. you let out a small shriek, the girl barely notices but the guy snaps his head around so fast, you could have sworn he almost broke his neck. you slam the door close and bolted out of the basement.

12:12AM; you’re driving home. fuck shoko, she’ll most likely end up sleeping in another guy’s bed in that house anyways, she’ll live. but you refuse to stay in that house any longer, especially not after what you witnessed. it’s not like you’re new to sex, you never done it but you know about it but also you refuse to actually get a front row seat to real life porn show.

you made it back to the apartment, driving your car into the underground parking lot and heads into the elevator. your mind was spiraling, that reoccurring memory infecting your mind like a parasite. the guy’s crystal blue eyes, shining in a bathroom light, particularly blinding you, filled with shock and panic. you unlock the apartment door and went inside; about ready to shut down for the night.

6:12AM; you wake up at your phone buzzing rapidly on the bedside table, alarming you in your slumber. you slap around the table until you yanked the phone off the charger to turn it on. just to be blinded by the brightness. “fuck…” you mumbled to yourself. adjusting your eyes while still squinting.

“hello?” voice hoarse and dehydrated, “hello? is this y/n?” a male deep voice on the other line. “yes it’s y/n, who is this?” small noises in the background, “this is gojo…satoru gojo, you’re shoko’s roommate, right?” you make a small ‘mhm’. “yea, can you come pick her up soon? she has no ride and is really hungover..” you run your temple in a growing headache.

“uh yea…i’ll be over soon.” you hung up before hearing gojo out. yea you’re already tired of today.

TAGLIST @luvsymai @gojodickbig @sad-darksoul @kaemaybae @yukii-1 @juneslove21 @loverzxi

any tags in blue and italic means your tags aren’t working or aren’t on

previous `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ masterlist `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ next

89 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 2 days ago

Note

What about...Aventurine, Ratio and Boothill w/ a s/o who's a model?

“Confidence is the best outfit. Rock it and own it”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship, Model!Reader, Playful Affection, Introspection.

A/N: VICTORIA'S SECRET ANGEL ADRIANA LIMA!! 🗣️🔥

Aventurine leaned against the entrance of the studio, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched you prepare for the photoshoot. The elegant, confident way you moved, every step purposeful, made his heart race. He wasn’t one for admiration, but there was something about the way you owned the space that made him see you in a whole new light.

"Do you always look this dangerous?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes scanning your outfit—a daring, high-fashion ensemble that reflected both your elegance and your strength.

You turned to him, a playful smile curling at your lips. "You know I always keep it risky." you replied, giving him a wink. The mischievousness in your voice matched the glint in his eyes.

As the photographer called you to the set, Aventurine’s gaze never left you. He saw not just the model but the strategist—the one who played the game as skillfully as he did. You and he had a shared understanding, a bond built on your mutual appreciation for calculated moves.

"You’ll own this shoot," he whispered, his voice low and intimate. "But remember, the risk is what makes it fun."

Later, when the shoot wrapped up and you joined him in the lounge, you shared a quiet moment over drinks. He leaned in close, his hand gently brushing yours. "I think I’ve found my favorite model." he teased, his words filled with affection and unspoken admiration.

The soft hum of the city echoed in the background as Boothill stood by the window, his mechanical arm resting casually on the ledge. His gaze never wavered from the skyline, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on you. The way you commanded attention in front of the camera, the way the light reflected off your model features—everything about you made his mechanical heart(?) skip.

He wasn’t one for the glitz and glamour of the fashion world. He was used to the roughness of the streets and the harsh realities of the galaxy. But there was something captivating about you—your beauty was as fierce and untamed as the storms he chased in the wild.

You approached him, the elegant attire you wore shimmering in the low light. Boothill’s sharp eyes softened as you smiled at him. "You think I look good in this?" you asked with a teasing grin.

Boothill let out a soft chuckle, the sound foreign to his usual gruff demeanor. "You look like you could kill a man with a single glance." he said, his voice laced with admiration.

You smirked, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Then you won’t mind me stealing your heart while I’m at it."

Boothill placed a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. His usual bluntness softened in your presence, and for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace. "Never met anyone quite like you, darlin'. You’re a lot more dangerous than you look."

Ratio stood with arms crossed, his hair cascading down one side of his face as his eyes focused intently on you. You were sitting across from him, preparing for your latest photoshoot, and though he would never admit it, he found the entire process... fascinating. The way you held yourself with such poise, the way your movements were as precise as any equation he solved in his lab—there was something undeniably perfect about you.

“Your posture,” he remarked, breaking the silence. “It’s… immaculate. A study in controlled elegance.”

You chuckled softly, adjusting your position slightly. "You’re too kind. But I do strive for perfection, as you do."

He tilted his head slightly, his piercing eyes narrowing with approval. "Perfection is an elusive concept," he replied, his voice always measured. "But you, my dear, come closer to it than anyone I’ve encountered."

The photoshoot proceeded, but Ratio remained transfixed by your every move. He had seen brilliance in many forms, but your beauty wasn’t just skin deep—it was the perfect blend of intellect and grace. As the shoot ended, he walked over to you, his hand brushing the edge of your attire as he offered a small but genuine smile. "You are a work of art." he said, almost to himself.

You smiled back, a warmth radiating from you that even his stoic nature couldn't ignore. "And you, Doc, are the one who can truly appreciate it."

He studied you for a moment longer, his expression softening. "Indeed, I am." he admitted, his voice tinged with rare admiration.

72 notes · View notes

mysumeow · 16 hours ago

Text

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 5: SCENT KINK

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body, mentioned to wear a skirt. Public sex (no one gets caught though wink wink), fingering, cunnilingus, scent kink.

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: You agreed to meet with Ace at the library to work on a project. However, who shows up is not him, but Leona...

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: I know october is over but this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago ;7; I had a lot going on the past week but i finally got some time to share this filth >:DDDDDDDD

🎃 . . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | TWST MASTERLIST

You groggily open your eyes, the bright lights glaring at your pupils as you woke up. The annoying burn became a secondary thought—memories from what led you to be in the college’s library this late.

“And people complain about me napping anywhere.”

At the sound of Leona’s unexpected voice, your drowsiness left your body.

“Leona?” you jolted. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be the one asking you that. This is not a place to nap. And this late? Even less.”

You were about to retort back with a snarky comment of your own, but the memories of why you were here in the first place stopped you.

"Ace, that jerk, did he stand me up?” you fished your cellphone out of your pocket. Ace could be a jerk sometimes, but would he dare to abandon you when you were supposed to work on the upcoming project?

You sighed, relieved when you found his messages, explaining that he wouldn’t make it to the library this time because Riddle assigned him some tasks in their dorm.

The day had been arduous, and the moment you sat on this couch, in the silent place that is a library, you couldn’t help but nod off...

Leona sat next to you on the couch and leaned closer to peek at your messages. In the middle of you typing your response back to Ace, Leona couldn’t help but notice the obvious scent of that other guy on you.

“You hang out around that herbivore too much. His pesky scent is all over you.” The lionkin complained.

“Well, he’s a friend. Of course I’ll hang out with him.”

Without exchanging any other words, Leona snatched your cellphone away from your hand and placed it on the table.

“Hey—What’s the big deal?”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him, until your chests pressed together. The abrupt movement made your knees bump into each other; however, the second his mouth made contact with your neck, you couldn’t bother paying it mind anymore. His fangs grazed on your skin, teasing about a possible mark he could leave there with ease. The way he inhaled your neck made goosebumps rise. It both tickled you and made arousal pool between your legs.

He even tugged at your shirt to reveal more skin for him to lave with his tongue. In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the place to do this, and yet, the thrill of the situation wouldn’t allow you to care about it enough.

Leona slid a hand under your skirt; his fingers sought the growing wetness concealed by your underwear without hesitation.

“I was about to tell you to move this to my room, but it looks like the place isn’t an issue…” he kissed the tip of your ear after he whispered, meanwhile two fingers eased inside. Leona groaned at your warmth and tightness, fingering at a languid rythm.

The heel of his hand rubbed against your clit while he thrust his fingers. The pleasure was overriding your thoughts, and you lost yourself in it.

Leona chuckled when he noticed you were relaxing into his touch, your position becoming slack.

You discerned him pulling away, his mouth opened to welcome his drenched fingers into his mouth. A look of pure carnal desire glazed his eyes as he lapped his fingers, swallowing the remnants of your pleasure. His attention shifted back to the source of said arousal under your skirt and crouched in front of your parted legs.

“Wait,” you panicked a little.

“Relax, no one’s around. No one comes here a Friday after classes.”

“What if someone comes?”

“I’ll be able to pick up footsteps before they even put a foot inside. Trust me, I’ll notice someone’s around before you do.” His lion ears flicked while he said that, a hand on your thigh as he waited for your response.

You gazed at Leona, his piercing green eyes giving away his eagerness despite his laidback demeanor. Well, beastkin had way better hearing than humans. And, as he said, no one wanted to spend their free time in the college’s library at this hour on a Friday.

At last, you opened your legs again for him. You were sitting at the furthest point away from the entrance. You would have plenty of time to fix your clothes before someone saw you.

Leona had similar thoughts, preferring to push your underwear to the side instead of pulling them off.

Before he feasted upon your dripping pussy, he grabbed you by the hips to pull you closer, positioning them in an angle that would make things easier. With this new position, he spread you open and slid his tongue against your needy clit. A gasp escaped you from the sensation; you reminded yourself to cover your mouth for extra precaution. The more his hot mouth sucked your clit, the closer to your orgasm you were.

The scent of you was driving him crazy. He could smell your slick dripping the moment he kissed and bit your neck. It wasn’t enough to erase Ace’s scent from you, but it was a start.

He would have you in his room soon enough, and he would make sure to get rid of it.

The more of your fluids coated his fingers, the more he was pleased. His mouth occupied with your nub, and his fingers worked your cunt with purpose. He didn’t even care about the fact that you were tugging at his hair, your hands dangerously close to his ears. Whatever, if you tugged on those too, he would make you pay back for it…

Leona hummed pleased once he felt you become undone under his touches, your walls clenching around his fingers. How antsy he was about feeling that around his cock—

“Careful there. Don’t forget whose hair you’re tugging here,” he pulled away to speak; his fingers didn’t abandon your tightness, however.

“Ah! I’m sorry.”

Once you tidied your appearance to the best of your ability and Leona led you to his room, you wondered why you bothered to tug your shirt into your skirt in the first place…

After that night, you noticed beastfolk would glance at you with a certain... knowing look you quite didn’t like. You didn’t like it because you didn’t know what the reason was. Even Jack would seem flustered whenever his eyes landed on you, quick to excuse himself.

#twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #twst x reader #leona x reader

56 notes · View notes

katuschka · 2 days ago

Text

Pierrot Sleeps

Josh Kiszka x f!OC/reader

/friends to lovers/

8.036 words

I dedicate this one to everyone who needs some healing...

Pierrot sleeps, silently He’s dreaming next to me Painted black tear, on his soft face And the sweetest lips; they never speak to me My Pierrot sleeps (Barbora Mochowa – Pierrot)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): heartbreak, unrequitted love, pining for a friend, breakup, friends to lovers, slow burn, sweet Josh, kissing, fluff, smut: petting, oral sex, vag. sex, a few allusions to a suicise of a minor character (in the past), briefly mentioned attempted suicide (retrospective), depressive thoughts, expressive language, bad weather

You can also view my Masterlist, join the Taglist or listen to Pierrot Sleeps Playlist 🎶

At least it stopped raining… eventually.

Josh had expected there would be morning fog, so the fact that the world around them was shrouded in a thick blanket of clouds did not surprise him. Not only was it just as the forecast predicted, but he had been even looking forward to it. Foggy woods looked dreamy at this time of year. They’d have the best time, surely, and he could take a lot of pictures...

He however did not expect to be woken up by heavy rain drumming on the roof above them, and – on top of that – a whole half an hour before the alarm clock was supposed to rouse them. Too early to be happy about being awake, and too little time left to go back to sleep. Had it been the fall morning sun shining right into his face, he wouldn’t say a word. But rainfall? That didn’t go according to the plan.

He had been warned though, and despite his own nature, he chose to believe the technology instead.

The initial rhythmic patter only grew in intensity and it soon sounded as if the cabin was built right under a waterfall. That, together with the obtrusive light coming from the screen of his phone, finally woke her too. She didn’t make herself known at first. She listened silently for several seconds to the downpour growing stronger and waiting for his reaction with malicious glee. She was rewarded pretty soon, and his loud, annoyed grunt made her chuckle.

“Told you…,” she mumbled from under the cozy blanket sleepily, suddenly hopeful that they’d just stay inside, sipping sahlep in front of the fireplace. She would eat almond truffles and he could have his dried apple chips, or whatever. Maybe they could even try to play a game of chess. Josh had been telling her that he didn’t have the right brain for that, but she was adamant; and determined to teach him. His annoyed face, illuminated by the light blue light, however told that it probably wasn’t the best day for that. Again.

They had been both really looking forward to the trip, so she wasn’t even sure why she suddenly felt almost glad that their hiking plans might be ruined. The prospect of getting wet and numb with cold didn’t appeal to her at all, but it usually didn’t stop her. And when it did (When the heavens literally opened just like that morning), she’d be pretty pissed off for being forced to stay inside. Not this time though. Not when she was enveloped with the warmth and the scent of him. And that was something she had been looking forward to even more.

They shared the bed, just like many times before, just like friends often do. The cabin had two separate bedrooms, but it didn’t even occur to them to part their ways for the night. Not when the whole point of this trip was not to be alone. That would be silly.

And just like many mornings before, she closed her eyes again in a pretense of having fallen back to sleep just to revel in the morning smell of his body close to her for a little bit longer. But he wouldn’t be fooled by her closed eyes; being already quite familiar with her breathing patterns.

“Yeah, you did, weather girl, but let’s not get discouraged, yeah? The…the app says it’ll be over in an hour. So, we’re still on schedule. AND it also says there might be some sunlight by midday, and so does the radar… Hey, hey, wake up! Tea?”

“Coffee!” she huffed in exasperation. After all that time, he still kept trying. Coffee’s bad for you, blah blah blah… And maybe he was right. Just look at him! Fit and bubbly, filled with sunshine and energy right from the moment his eyes opened to greet the new day. Even when he was hurting, he always mustered enough energy to fill every room with light and love. As long as there were other people willing to share the moment with him, he was ok. Meanwhile, she felt like Gollum, torn between love and hate for the things that kept her (barely) functioning. Not just coffee… him, too. Her precious. She kept pursuing him, seeking his presence, while hoping that one day, she would be free, while not really wanting to. It was always the worst on mornings like this one, when she almost had him in her grasp, and then he always slipped out, because he was never hers.

She watched him fumbling for his clothes in semi darkness, pondering. Sleeping just in his briefs right next to her never seemed to faze him, and the thought always made her heart sink. Maybe he didn’t like the way she looked, so he never considered those moments to be overly intimate. That’s fine. But didn’t it ever occur to him how much she loved his body? Probably not. They were such good friends, after all. Right? Truth be told, she really tried her best to hide the truth from him. There were so many things to say, but she never did.

‘Come back to bed.’ What a simple request; one that people often say in situations like this one. ‘Come back to bed and just be with me. The world can wait…’ Yet she couldn't. She had no privilege to ask that.

Such good friends. That’s what everyone kept saying: ‘You two are such good friends.’ Everyone except Jake; that nosy, observant asshole. He mentioned his suspicion just once, and then abandoned the topic forever after she made it VERY clear that she didn’t want to discuss it and threatened to cut his balls off if he ever mentioned that to Josh.

They had been so close from the very start – she and Josh – despite the fact that they were from two seemingly different worlds. Or maybe because of that, because he seemed to deliberately seek the company of the people who didn’t care what he was. He didn’t have to pretend anything in front of her; she just let him be himself, even when it was not always nice or flattering. She loved all of him.

Yeah, she did. She loved him. And she knew she would from the moment she first saw him, when he ran into the coffee shop she worked in to hide from the rain...

The bell chimed, and she looked up, together with several other people, all of them surprised by the sudden commotion that disrupted the serenity of that lazy afternoon. He literally fell through the door, giggling awkwardly before he looked around, beaming and taking everything in, like a child in a toy store.

Are you familiar with those cheeky and extremely cliche movie scenes when the hero sees the object of their desire for the very first time and everything suddenly turns to slow motion? So melodramatic and stupid, very stupid indeed; so stupid they use it mostly in parodies these days. And yet, it’s also exactly what happened to her when her eyes first fell on the dampened halo of his messy curls. What a tiny, beautiful, ethereal man. He looked like an angel on vacation, dressed in pale jeans and a simple white long-sleeved shirt. Quite ordinary. It was the long string of beads around his neck, almost like a rosary, that made him look out of this world. But nothing could prepare her for the feeling that swept through her and he finally looked at her.

When she was very little, maybe two or three, she had a very strange dream once. The sun fell from the sky, landed on their street right next to their house and she watched, quite mesmerized, how it rolled behind their windows like a huge fiery balloon. She was too small to know that the sun was literally just a ball of fire, and yet that’s exactly how it appeared to her in the dream, except “her” sun didn’t have more than two meters in diameter and it didn’t scorch anything. That strange and bizarre dream left such an imprint on her young and expanding mind that it eventually became one of her core memories. Then, as years went by and adulthood hit her with brutal force, she almost forgot about it.

Until he appeared.

He introduced himself as Josh without even being asked, ordered matcha tea and then he took a barstool by the counter right opposite to her, because she was the only person in the whole room willing to talk to him; everyone else was staring at their phones or laptops and just minding their own business.

And it was SO easy talking to him, despite the fact that she was completely and utterly smitten with him, which usually tied her tongue in similar situations. Not with Josh. They talked for only half an hour about nothing important, but it was enough for him to unknowingly etch himself in her brain and gut.

Then he finally picked Josh up, just when the rain stopped, and they left together, seemingly forever.

Her mind was still full with the images of him when she went to bed that day, and he even materialized again as a drunken memory in her dreams. Her conviction that she wasn’t destined to have people like him in her life made the apparition both sweet and distant, but destiny never prevented anyone from having dreams about it, right? His existence seemed almost unreal the morning after. He became a vision – and an illusion – of a better world where people were actually nice to one another. Like a character from a favorite comfort book: someone who never really existed, but it was still nice to imagine.

Then, five days later, Josh came back.

He stayed for three long hours, as if he had no responsibilities in this world except for filling it with his contagious laughter. He ordered a whole pot of oolong and charmingly voiced his desire to pester her for the rest of the afternoon. When she asked why, his answer was simply ‘why not.’ That’s what the places like the one she worked in were for, and she shouldn’t get excluded, he said.

So they talked again, pausing only when other people came to take their order. They talked about poetry and cartoons and favorite sweets (she loved almond truffles!). She told him about her early childhood and a grandmother who could bake heavenly pastries, and he shared funny stories about his brothers and praised the wit and beauty of his sister.

There were times when such stories would make her feel miserable, but his own tales filled her with hopefulness. He exuded so much love and light no doubt because those people he talked about had always been there for him. If only she hadn’t failed to be there for her sister when she needed her the most. People kept telling her that it wasn’t her fault, but their words fell flat. Convinced that she should have known, she almost followed the same footsteps. They just found her in time…

Back then she told him that she was an only child.

The next time, Josh came back with a small bag full of almond truffles, which he traded for her number. And so they slowly became regular friends, with their lives gradually intertwining even outside of that coffee shop.

Days went by, then weeks. Slowly, she learned all about his passions and dreams, and nothing about his job. Then one day, just before Christmas, a group of people asked for a picture and he had to come clear afterwards. Nothing shocking in Nashville, It just made her admire him even more, and he couldn’t get mad when she finally told him her truth. Months passed by and finally there were no more secrets, even though her initial childish idea that he must have fallen from the sky was crushed.

At least she wasn’t surprised when he disappeared for months.

He often said ‘I love you’ and sometimes she imagined how it would feel if one day he’d mean it in a way that would make her skin tingle and cheeks burn. But that was not to be. The meaning was reserved for someone else, because he belonged to someone else. Plain and simple. They were so in love. Even through the veil of her jealousy, she could see the pure miracle of it. Everything Josh did seemed miraculous. It kept breaking her heart in the most peculiar and strangely addictive way.

He was always there for her as a dear friend, but never as someone who could keep her warm at night. He was unavailable.

Until he wasn’t. And yet…

He called her around two am that night, crying so hard he couldn’t even talk coherently. She wasted no time; having thrown just a long cardigan over her pajamas, she ran out the door, jumped in the car and headed straight to their… to his house.

They snuggled together in his bed, and she kept holding him tight until he finally relaxed and fell asleep. And when she woke up a few hours later, feeling his limbs wrapped around her body and his hot breath on the exposed skin of her shoulder, she looked up at the ceiling and her heart broke in a thousand little pieces once again. So this was how it felt… and she was destined to experience it only when they both felt like that, only not for each other… His touches during waking hours kept whispering ‘I’m glad’, but never ‘I yearn’.

He mewled suddenly, no doubt tormented by some disturbing dream, and grip around her only tightened. She turned to her side and hugged him back, watching his peaceful, doll-like face and listening to his light snores that made his parted lips quiver ever so slightly.

“Why didn��t you call one of your brothers?” she asked once he finally opened his eyes and, seeing her face right in front of his, greeted her with his sweet smile, even though it was short lived.

“You don’t judge me…,” he mumbled after a while.

“Your brothers don’t judge you either, silly! I know that, and so do you.”

“Yeah, but…I guess I needed a hug, and not just having my shoulder squeezed. Besides, they…they have their own people and, uh… other creatures to take care of...”

Ouch…

The truth is, he had tried to set her up with other people in the past, oblivious to the fact that the only one she wanted was him. So she kept lying to him, making up reasons why the dates and hook-ups never did work out. Even when she ended up in bed with them – and some of them were really good – it never made her want to see them more than just a couple times.

She had been like that even before she met him, to be honest. Men and women had come and gone, and her heart had remained closed, save for a few youthful infatuations. Her resolve not to commit to anyone only strengthened after what happened to Shania. Then one day, Josh appeared with a golden key, forced it in the lock and occupied the tiny space ever since, unaware of what he really did.

And the reason why she always tried to hide it the best way she (physically) could was because she was too grateful for what she already had in him. Such good friends… The risk of ruining it all was too great and too foolish. Because, by being there for her as a friend, he had already helped her more than she could possibly imagine. He had danced into the darkness of her dreary life and brought sunshine into it. She had a wonderful friend in him. The fact that she loved him romantically was just a minor snag. Maybe, just maybe, if she had known him sooner, she wouldn’t have to keep hiding the scarry reminder of forecast days on her wrists. But for everything there is a season…

… and fall is perfect for hiking.

So was the summer after he left, and so they – Josh and her – took advantage of every opportunity to spend it together in nature… or at least in his garden. Because, in spite of all the bad things happening, one could always rely on nature to be beautiful and welcoming, at least for now.

Josh’s busy schedule and constant traveling blessed him with the mercy of having his mind occupied, so that he wouldn’t have to think about the breakup so much, but everytime he got home – even when it was just for a few days – he kept seeking her company as well as her hugs, because his house suddenly seemed too big and silent and scary, and his brothers naturally wanted to spend the valuable time with their own significant others.

After that first, painful night, falling asleep in each other’s embrace became at first a frequent occurrence, and later almost a habit. Their movie nights, Sunday outdoor trips or late night garden picnics often ended that way. Lying on a blanket under a cloudless sky and pretending they could actually see any stars, they cuddled more often than not as the temperature dropped. He cried a few more times in early June, but after a while it just became a pleasant habit. Josh was never the person to shy away from physical contact, so it felt completely natural to him. It was always innocent, too, with their hands never wandering to any inappropriate places. A few times she could feel his lips brush against her locks – feather-like kisses that never touched the skin – but that was it. It always left her hungry for more, and the hunger kept growing…

The smell of coffee and vanilla coming from the kitchen put an end to her reminiscing, as it made her stomach rumble and pulled her mind back into the physical reality of the cabin. She finally managed to drag her lazy body out of bed and, after a short stop in the bathroom, followed the smell and the sound and the light, like a curious cat.

Josh was not a fruit loop guy and she was not allowed to eat that shit either, at least not under his watch. In consequence, their days spent together also meant that she was eating properly for a while.

She found him standing by the stove, making oatmeal with raisins and swaying to some unknown tune he was humming. She caught just a few words, something about bed and needing to touch again, and immediately wanted to go back, because damn! He was reading her mind.

Her footsteps made him stop and turn around, greeting her with his radiant smile. Snap. Another beautiful picture for the photo album of her mind. Having been blessed with an excellent memory, she often used it as an internal polaroid, taking snapshots of the beauty of the world to browse through when old. She, however, cheated with her stills of Josh, replaying them in her mind every time she was alone in her own bed.

“Finally! I thought I’d have to drag… you’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?” She couldn’t help but to reciprocate the toothy smile.

“You know what!” He threatened to pat her head playfully with the stirring spoon, making her duck down so as not to have chunks of hot oatmeal in her hair. “Save some space in that fancy brain of yours for the wonders of nature. Today’s gonna be EPIC!” He swung the spoon epicly towards the milky blue nothingness outside the window.

“It’s still raining, Josh.”

“Mmmm, not for long, I’m tellin’ya. Now grab that mug before that bitter shit gets cold.” He nearly overturned the cup of coffee with the large spoon and she snatched it out of his reach just in time to save the valuable fragrant liquid. He turned back to the stove, chuckling. “Gonna serve this heavenly manna in a sec, so take a seat, mademoiselle,” he added playfully in a low voice. “Cinnamon?”

“Yeah, why not. Just a pinch.”

“As you wisssssssh… Here comes the sun, little daaaarling, here comes the su-un, and Iiiiii saaay…”

Moments like these often made her mind and body dissociate. The body was drawn to him, yearning to hug him from behind and bite at his exposed earlobe, while the mind knew her place was at the table, where she was told to patiently wait for the breakfast to be served, while admiring his beauty from a respectable distance. The mind always won. Their new-found closeness, however exciting and really borderline intimate sometimes, had its boundaries.

He was right. The rain stopped eventually, so they packed their bags with all the necessities they might need for the whole day outside, and together they entered the misty world of barren bony branches, orange leaves and hidden horizons. It was already almost 8 am when they left the warm confines of their rented cabin, but the landscape remained shrouded in early November murkiness. They walked for at least an hour without speaking, the ubiquitous mist still unwilling to dissipate.

“It’s almost like a completely different planet, isn’t in,” she finally broke the silence.

“M-hm,” was the only response she got. She honestly often preferred it that way, being able to get lost in her own thoughts and daydreams, but that very rarely happened when Josh kept her company. His need to share everything that was on his mind – which was usually a LOT – could often be quite overwhelming. It also never failed to entertain everyone around him, because the vastness of his mind could compete with the plains on Mars, and it was just as untamed.

The fact that he was suddenly so unusually taciturn made her a bit uneasy. Something was wrong. She already noticed it the night before, and thought it was only understandable, given the recent events. She was devastated as well, thinking about Shania again, and how it would break her heart if she hadn’t chosen to make it stop beating willingly.

But then they talked quite openly about that and he returned back to his normal, radiant self as soon as they climbed in their shared bed. Now she had that nagging feeling once again… as if he was hiding something from her. Something was different.

“Are you still sad?” she asked tentatively.

“About what?” His tone was wary, making her uncertain whether she should even continue or just let it be. Alas, her nosy nature prevailed.

“The breakup.”

It took him a few seconds to respond, clearing his throat and kicking a few pebbles first. She’d swear she could sense a brand new kind of tension in the air, but she couldn’t really put her finger on it. It was almost just a split second.

“No, not anymore. Sometimes at night, when the house is quiet, I feel a sense of melancholy, you know? I guess I’m just not used to being alone. But I welcome the feeling, really. I think I wrote my best lyrics feeling just like that. And…” And he kept on talking. On and on and on. She asked a simple question and he could have provided a simple answer, but after three minutes of babbling, just when his mind somehow wandered to Sam’s ravioli, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and started laughing. The bitch was back, as he himself would say, although that was not really it. He sensed her worry and just wanted to do anything he could to disperse it.

“What?” He really tried to frown at her accusingly, but failed miserably, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“It’s just… you could have just said ‘no’, but I admire the lengths you go to prove that you’re not.”

“Keep mocking my eloquence, love, and you’ll regret it, I tell ya!” Already a few steps ahead of her, he started walking backwards, pointing his finger at her menacingly.

“Josh, be care…”

“FUUU…ouch!”

“...ful… Moron!”

Of course he stumbled over an exposed tree root and fell right on his butt. Thankfully, he managed to land in the middle of a small heap of wet foliage instead of stones or worse – down the steep slope adjacent to the path they were on. She offered him her hand with an exasperated sigh and helped him get back on his feet, feigning anger – anything to hide how much that one word reverberated inside her ribcage. Love…

“C’mon! Don’t be mad. My ass is damp and freezing now, so it’s fun, yeah?” Once back on his feet, he grabbed her shoulder for support in order to regain balance and smiled reassuringly to wipe that frown off her face. To no avail. No, it wasn’t exactly fun, and seeing his beautiful eyes so close only made it worse. She stared back into those dark beads before her gaze slid down to his lips that he licked just a moment ago, and the chilly mist filling her lungs suddenly felt like water, together with a totally unwelcome wave of arousal that swept through her body. She was genuinely mad all of the sudden, but only at herself.

“You’re an idiot, Josh.” She let go and stormed up the path, forcing him to speed up to catch up with her.

“Y/N, hang on… why are you so angry?”

“You were literally just a few feet from breaking your leg… or something else!” she spat in response and with her eyes set on the path ahead.

“No, I wasn’t. And nothing happened!” Josh raised his voice just a notch, his own anger growing. They were side to side again and he finally forced her to turn back to him. She tried to fight it, she really did, but in spite of her efforts to behave reasonably, she could feel her eyes prickle again, threatening to betray her.

“It’s been almost five years since she jumped… in November…just…stop scaring me like that, ok?” Her voice quivered under the burden of her sudden deliberate machinations. What she said was true, but it wasn’t the real reason why she felt so upset at that very moment and she felt bad instantly for using it as an excuse. That was completely unfair to both of them.

Josh’s features immediately softened and he pulled her in for a tight hug. “I know… sorry,” he whispered, and she melted into his touch, no longer caring how she “deserved” it. They remained like that for almost a minute before he commanded that it was time to move if they didn’t want to return back after dark.

The rest of the morning was spent more or less in silence once again, interspersed with occasional casual chit chat. As the path grew steeper and more stony, pale patches of light cerulean blue began to show up through thinning low clouds, making them both hopeful. The air temperature grew gradually milder, too. “The inversion season’s finally here! Yay!” he exclaimed with childish enthusiasm – one of many things that kept people drawn to him like moths to a flame. It seemed just impossible not to love him.

They reached the ridge – their final destination – just around midday, and just in time to step out of the clouds that still hung low in the surrounding valleys. It felt like reaching the sky, with the ridge and a few surrounding rounded peaks looking like floating islands in the midst of a foamy ocean.

“Aaaah, this is beautiful!” She tilted her head back, letting the sun warm up her damp cheeks.

“Told ya,” he smiled softly and she expected him to continue teasing her, but he seemed unnaturally quiet and serene once again. Pulling his camera from the bag, he took a few snapshots of the misty sea below them. They watched the clouds roll by slowly for a while before he spoke. “I used to dream about telling stories through pictures...”

She knew all about his old passion, but she also thought he was exceptional at what fate chose for him eventually. “You do tell stories Josh. You help people paint their own internal landscapes.”

“Do I…”

“Of course you do!”

“So I believed. Pictures, words, soundwaves, doesn’t really matter, that’s not my point. I mean,.. I wasn’t really telling the… the truth yesterday. I am scared…I mean, not for myself, not really, but…I don’t…I guess, sometimes things are just destined to remain broken no matter how hard you try, you know…I’m mostly heartbroken, really.”

She wasn’t really sure where this was going. Having been familiar with his insecurities for quite some time, she knew too well that he was sometimes too humble for his own good, but he hardly ever sounded that defeated. “Well, you know…how was that line…’Take your broken heart and make it into art.”

“But what’s the point?”

And just like that, with a snap of a finger, the temperature dropped, making her shiver. Speaking to the world through art was the core of his whole existence and she’d rather die than watch him doubt the importance of it.

“Josh!”

“Y/N!”

His feeble attempt to mock her sudden urgent tone annoyed her, but definitely not enough to stop her from trying to prevent him from going down that gloomy path. “Listen, asshole! Stop with the bullshit, ok? You believed we’d have sun today. And look! I absolutely needed this, and would have missed it if it weren’t for you. And MANY people feel the same, because you inspire them, so cut that defeatist crap or else I’ll smack it out of you!”

He looked at her as if she had already really slapped him in the face, but his shocked and astonished expression slowly morphed into a soft and grateful smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“WELL YOU’RE WELCOME!” she responded with an unnecessary theatricality, unwilling to abandon the angry pose just yet, just in case. “Now give me this, because I think you need to see what I see.” She snatched the camera out of his hand and took a step back so that the viewfinder showed exactly what she wanted to capture. He, however, started fumbling for a phone in his jacket, completely ruining the shot.

“No, let’s take a selfie,” he said when he finally found and unlocked it.

“Selfie? You? Since when have you been taking selfies?”

“I DO from time to time.” He looked almost offended, pouting at her like a defiant child. Sighing exasperatedly, she finally agreed to it, stepping closer to him, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder.

“But you need to look into the lens Jo…” On the display, she could see him looking sideways at her, his eyes slowly tracing the contours of her profile. His jaw clenched and she could no longer finish the sentence. Instead, she slowly turned her own face to meet his gaze. He lowered his arm, snaked it around her and she held her breath, barely conscious of his other hand slowly finding its way to cup the nape of her head just below her ponytail. Dreamily, she watched his lips growing closer to hers until they met and she could swear her heart stopped.

He tasted like apples.

It was soft and tender at first, his pouty lips just brushing over hers like the wings of a butterfly. She leaned into it and invited him in, and soon they could taste each other properly, with their tongues entangling and dancing around languidly. She turned deaf and blind, but acutely aware of every cell of his body she could reach and taste and caress and devour, and getting high on it, her head spinning more and more with each passing second.

When they finally parted and her sight returned, they looked at each other and even though neither said a word, they could both see the same question in each other’s eyes.

What now…

The entire walk back into the cabin was spent in silent anticipation. The way he held her hand was completely innocent, even with their fingers intertwined…

The contents of their minds, not so much. They didn’t dare to speak about it just yet, in fear that they might jinx it. She kept replaying it in her head, over and over again. The feeling of his soft lips on hers still lingered and her insides twisted and turned with the primal need for him to do it again. It was just as strong as thirst, and much more overwhelming.

As the hour grew late, even the valleys were now sun-soaked. The world joined them in their silence and only the rustling of gravel and foliage under their feet disturbed the unearthly peace. Having kept her eyes on the ground, she looked up when they left the shadows of trees behind them and set foot on the vast clearing that separated them from their cabin… the fireplace… the bed… The road to it was blinding, as the late afternoon sun turned the distant horizon into silver ribbons, making them squint. She squeezed his hand involuntarily as her heart freaked out again, and he responded by stroking her knuckles with the tip of his thumb. The lust was palpable, making them both alert like lonely puppies just before hearing the door knob turn.

Having avoided the topic for a few long hours, the tension between them only grew when they reached the cabin, only to be replaced with a sense of panic and uncertainty when they stepped inside.

“So…”

“Are you hungry?” She interrupted him, before he could say more. Please say yes, so that I can cook us dinner and...

“Not really, no.”

“Me neither.” She was fidgety, biting her lip, scratching her arm nervously, looking up at him and then averting her gaze repeatedly.

“Y/N… we don’t have to…”

“I want to!” she blurted out and then sank her teeth in her lower lip again.

Ok… calm down baby, let me…follow me…” he offered her his hand and slowly led her into the bathroom.

They stripped each other slowly and then they kissed again. He turned on the shower and she bashfully stepped under the streaming water next to him. He pulled her closer and kissed her some more, while tracing the outline of her shoulders with his fingertips. Only then he dared to venture lower.

His fingers brushed over her left nipple before he cupped the whole breast gently in his palm and she could swear it felt like he was cradling her very own heart in it instead, making her hold her breath. His eyes were lowered the whole time, watching his own actions intently and attentively, almost apprehensively, waiting for her reactions and receiving none. She was frozen with illogical fear. He looked up suddenly, making her head spin. “Tell me what you like,” he whispered.

“Everything.” His brows shot up in question, so she clarified: “I like everything about this, Josh.”

She meant it as encouragement, but it wasn’t helpful at all. He cleared his throat nervously and stroked her arm gently, from her shoulder all the way down to her elbow. His eyes once again followed the motions of his hand. “I wanna know everything about you.” This time he wasn’t talking about her life or soul. He already knew almost everything about that, after all those hours and hours spent talking and daydreaming together. Her body, however, was an unknown instrument, and he was desperate to learn how to play it well.

Feeling wanted, and with all the newfound courage she could muster, she cupped his cheeks and kissed him with long suppressed passion, pausing only briefly to ask him back. “Can I learn everything about you, too?”

“Please! You must,” he whispered against her lips, while she wrapped her fingers around his full-blown erection and started stroking him tentatively, making him moan in her mouth. Encouraged, she tightened her grip and quickened her pace. He gasped, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against hers instead. “You learn quickly, baby,” he whimpered, leaning with his outstretched arm against the tiled wall behind her. She kissed his flexed bicep in response and slid down on her knees in front of him, but he only shook his head and pulled her back up.

“You don’t want that?” she asked, confused. There was a hint of hurt in her voice, so he pulled her in an embrace and kissed her wet hair as the water kept pouring down on them.

“Just the idea of your lips wrapped around my dick tells me it’d be very quick… and I don’t want that. Let’s take this slow, yeah? Let me…”

She let him take the lead and his lips went on a journey. They traced the edge of her jaw when he shampooed her hair and she tilted her head in delight. This new intimacy could only be described as ecstatic. Everything turned into a blur. She was just barely aware of him wrapping her in a bath towel, and she couldn’t remember how they got in bed. It was his tongue licking a stripe up her inner thigh that made her acutely aware of her surroundings once again. She gasped in surprise when she felt his hot breath on her wet pussy. Looking at her daringly, he hovered just an inch above it, the tip of his tongue resting on his upper lip tellingly. “May I?”

She swallowed harshly to relieve her parched throat. “I want you fuck me, Josh. Please.”

“And I will… but let me make you fly first.” Without any further ado, he darted his tongue between her folds and she arched her back as if struck by electricity. After a few more teasing licks, he wrapped his lips around her clit and started sucking gently, with his velvet tongue drawing slow circles on the underside before it started fluttering rapidly over the whole bud. Soon he sent her into orbit, just as he promised. She was still shaking and gasping for air when he swiftly climbed up her body and positioned himself in between her legs.

Once inside her, he could no longer keep it slow. He let out a deep guttural groan and, as if a bolt of electricity shot through him, started thrusting into her with newfound virility. She wrapped both her arms and legs around him and pulled him even closer to her, almost afraid that he would float away and dissolve in midair if she stopped holding him tight enough, just like he always had done in her dreams. Even her own mind never allowed her to feel like this, so how could this possibly be real? After all that time. It felt too good to be real. His hands cradling her head, his own loud moans so close to her ear, urgent and melodic and almost lewd, all in one. With his elbows on each side of her head, and his lips brushing against her earlobe, she felt enshrined under him. It was overwhelming, it made her head spin as if high on oxygen…which she probably was. Unable to control her wildly beating heart and her quickened breath, she was barely conscious of that pleasant feeling he was stirring deep inside her. It didn’t even matter. She arched her back again and shivered as his singing grew louder. She could come just from listening to him.

The skin on his back under her wandering hands, warm and velvety at first, soon turned damp and sticky from exertion, as his movements grew even more frantic and wild. She tilted her head back and cried out when he hit her cervix particularly hard… and he stopped.

“What…” she asked dreamily.

“You’re so tender and soft, I don’t wanna hurt you.” His face was hovering mere inches above her, as he was searching for more cues. Still inside her to the hilt, the blissful feeling of her velvety walls caressing his cock still lingered and it took all his will to keep himself from moving momentarily. His hips jerked involuntarily and she responded by deliberately tightening around him, making him hiss.

“You’re not hurting me,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I don’t even know if I ever felt this good. I’ve been waiting for this for so long…” Her own words made her freeze. She opened her eyes again and looked at him, frightened. His own expression was somber and almost unreadable. Oh god, you stupid cow, why did you say that?

“How long, Y/N?”

Please, don’t make me ruin this even more, Josh. Just go on, just let me feel this at least once…

His eyes never looked more beautiful. He kept looking down at her, searching for the answer. She knew she should say something, but the sudden lump in her throat made her only gasp for air as she tried to fight off the tears. Stupid, unstable bitch!

It seemed that he took mercy on her. Instead of pushing the subject, he leaned down and pressed his lips on the pulsing point under the skin of her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed in delight, waiting for him to resume the previous pace and make her mind go blank once more, letting her dream about her sun before the real one would come.

He remained still though. His dick twitched inside her, making it known that he too wanted more, but he wasn’t merciful enough. And he wouldn’t let it go.

“How long, Y/N?” Josh whispered once again against her skin. Each syllable was like a kiss, soothing. He left a physical trace of his words along her jugular, smoothing the gravity of that question mark with the tip of his nose. There was a new kind of urgency in his voice. At last, as if really reading her mind, he finally moved inside her once again, rolling his hips slowly as if to say ‘I’m not going anywhere’, encouraging her.

“Since the first matcha tea,” she sobbed and he tried to soothe her nerves with yet another slow and deep thrust. But it was no use, the dam that had been holding her pent up emotions broke. He pulled out and lied down beside her. She missed him instantly but had enough dignity not to beg. She expected him to get up and leave. Instead, he pulled her closer and patiently waited for her to calm down. Only then he spoke.

“Y/N, he left because he…he thought that I liked you a bit too much. And, uh, after I called you and you came to me that night, I realized he might have been right…”

Josh was crying, he was yelling, he even tried to beg eventually, as the warm spring breeze coming from the open window suddenly felt like a winter gale on his exposed skin. He kept repeating ‘what does it mean, what do you mean…’, only to be told that it was up to him to figure it out. ‘But I love you!’ Josh cried some more, and it was met with silence for the first time. ‘I can no longer say it back,’ he broke that silence after a while, and Josh’s hopeful eyes veiled with even more tears. ‘I wanted to be the only one. I’m not an idiot, so I beg you to stop treating me like one. Goodbye, Josh.’

And once again, Josh’s words were met with silence. The only difference was that she wanted to scream it back. “I’m so sorry,” she said instead after a long minute. “I didn’t want to be the reason for his leaving.”

“Y/N…” he inched closer and buried his face in her still damp hair. “You weren’t. I was. Didn’t you hear me?”

She did, but her self destructive mind chose to ignore it. His cryptic might-have-beens couldn’t penetrate the armor that she had spent long years building. Thankfully, he knew her well enough to realize his mistake. Enough of all this beating around the bush.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear and this time it made her skin tingle and her toes curl.

His caressing hand traveled from her shoulder down the middle of her chest, where he could feel the fast rhythm of her wildly beating heart. Her eyes were closer and she lay unmoving, except for her hand that wrapped around his fingers, stopping them momentarily. “I’m sorry babe, I just had to say it,” he continued. “And since you…”

“I love you more than life.” Her own words startled her, as if something fell down with a crash. Without waiting for him to make another move, she pulled his hand down to her wet pussy and his middle finger slid inside with ease.

It quickly made him hard again. She spread her legs, inviting him back in. He shifted just a bit, with his head still resting next to hers on the pillow. She turned towards him, threw her leg around him and he entered her again just as their mouths reconnected again in a hungry, sloppy kiss.

It was slow this time, but no less intense, with their senses heightened by the recent revelations. They were making love. She kept her eyes open, watching how his own rolled up and he moaned loudly with his tongue still swirling around hers, their parted lips barely touching. She could feel a second orgasm building soon and her breathing quickened, turning her own moans into short, high pitched gasps, making him hiss when her fingernails dug deep into his skin.

Suddenly, he shifted and straightened, sliding his knees under her legs and grabbing her hips possessively. “That’s it baby, one more, go on, let go,” he urged and started thrusting into her with a new force that made her thighs tremble. She looked up and her jaw slackened at the sight. Her sweet and radiant Josh looked almost demonic in the twilight. He was watching her too, with his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed and glistening with sweat.

“Harder,” she cried out and he obeyed, hissing and baring his teeth as he tried to hold on a little longer. Then suddenly, she could feel it snap and her whole body tensed, making him groan as she squeezed him inside her. A few more deep strokes before she could feel him falter. “Fill me up,” she whispered and her eyes widened. He placed his hand between her breasts, bent his head down and let out a long, high pitched whine, his body jerking erratically as he spilled inside her. Then he collapsed on top of her, panting.

Josh

She looked like an injured doe, you know? So lonely and abandoned behind that counter. The room was full of people of all sorts, but – as it often happens – nobody paid attention to the things that desperately needed all the attention in the world. So I stayed a while – even though I didn’t really have to – watching her face brighten up, growing more and more beautiful with every passing second. I knew she had it in her.

Someone ordered an irish coffee and she had to grab a bottle of whisky from the upper shelf. That’s when I saw the scars on her wrists, and the shadows behind her deep blue eyes suddenly made perfect sense.

There are millions of people on this planet who are hurting and I’ve always believed that nothing happens without a reason. When I was younger, I wished I could have saved everyone, but that’s impossible. There’s only so much burden one can bear. But I believe that every wounded soul has their person somewhere. A sibling, a parent, a friend, a lover… Someone willing to share the load. Sometimes they don’t find each other in time, otherwise the world wouldn’t be full of tragedies and tears. Sometimes you don’t choose it. It just happens. And sometimes, you fuck up in the process. Colossally, even. I’m painfully aware of the fact that I did, too. But everything happens for a reason.

I just had to go back…

I can't imagine how it is To be forbidden from loving (ah, ah) 'Cause when you walked into my life I could feel my life begin And then I learned the truth How everything good in life seems to lead back to you And every single time I run into your arms I feel like I exist for love Only for love (Aurora – Exist For Love)

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable

60 notes · View notes